July 16th, 2014:
Our son Yoni , who lives in Israel and served in the IDF,called a little
while ago that he received a call and he is going to a meeting point and
then will be taken to Gaza. I asked him what his job is in the army and he
told me that his unit is in charge of making sure that no one is left
behind. Yonoson Dovid Ben Feiga besoch col hayalei tzvah Hagana L'Yisroel
Elchonon and Feigi Oberstein
Jewish Unity Acheinu Kol Bais Yisrael (from the print WWW)
There is an anecdote from the early days of the Chasidic movement. The grandson of Rabbi Akiva Eiger was drawn to chasidus, and his family objected. Once, when he returned from a long stay in Kotzk, his father asked him what he had learned there. He answered “I learned that there is a Ribono Shel Olam (G-d).”
The father called in the maid and asked her if there was a G-d and she answered, “Of course.”
“You see,” the father said, “she didn’t go to Kotzk, and she knows, so what did you accomplish?”
The son answered,”Zi sogt, uber ich veis – She says, but I know.”
We in Baltimore are used to slogans like “We are one,” “Jewish unity,” etc. Having just returned from several weeks in Israel, during the time when all of Israel was united due to the tragic kidnapping of the three boys, I can say, Zi sogt, uber ich veis: she says, but I know.
The feeling of brotherhood, that we are all one family, that these boys could have been our children, and that we really do care about each and every Jew was palpable. This was true whether one was religious or secular. The whole country was praying for their safe return, even those who admitted they had not prayed in years. There is a feeling of family that I always feel in Israel but this time it was even more so. To give a small example, every page of the newspaper Yediot had a picture of the three boys and the number of days they were missing. It consumed the newscasts. Everyone was personally concerned and emotionally involved. “Acheinu kol bais Yisrael,” our brothers and sisters, the whole house of Israel, were meaningful and real descriptions of the mood. This affected my visit, of course, and gave it a special dimension of “We are all in this together.”
* * *
I arrived on Monday evening, and on Tuesday evening attended the wedding of Bracha Erlanger, whom I know from Baltimore. Although she and her husband were both living in the U.S., their families live in Israel, and I was happy to share in the simcha. I told her father that it was worth coming just to see the pure joy on his face as he led his daughter to the chupa.
Rabbi Tzvi Teichman was also there. I asked him what brought him to Israel at this time and he told me an amazing story. Twenty years ago, he was a rabbi in Los Angeles and did outreach to Russians. A 13-year-old boy attended his classes, and Rabbi Teichman also helped the boy’s father find a job. He had not heard from this boy in all these years. Out of the blue, the now-grown man contacted him. He is the CEO of a major American corporation in Russia with a son who was about to celebrate his bar mitzva. When the son asked his father who influenced him to be observant, he said it was Rabbi Teichman, which led to him inviting Rabbi and Mrs. Teichman to attend the bar mitzva in Israel as their guests, all expenses paid. As someone who was also in kiruv/chinuch/rabbanus, I appreciate how nice it is to have someone show hakaras hatov (appreciation) after so many years. It makes it so worthwhile.
* * *
On Tuesday, I also visited the Michael Levine Lone Soldiers Center in Yerushalayim. Many young people come without their families and volunteer in the IDF. These chayalim bodedim, lone soldiers, are greatly appreciated and receive special benefits. The center, a private charity set up in memory of one such Lone Soldier, provides extensive help and socialization opportunities; it is a very worthwhile undertaking.
* * *
On Thursday, at midnight, I went with my son Shmuli and his daughter Zoe to her sixth-grade end-of-the-year ceremony. The students and their parents boarded four buses, and we all went to Masada in the middle of the night. There, in an outdoor amphitheater facing the mountain, the students put on a cantata, and there were speeches. We saw a sound-and-light show on the mountain itself telling the story of Masada. By this time, it was 5 a.m., and all the students and most of the parents walked up the Snake Trail to the top of the mountain. In my heart, I wanted to do it, but I also didn’t want to get a heart attack, so I left to go back to Modiin with Shmuli and some other people.
The reason Shmuli had to leave was because that Shabbos, we would be celebrating Zoe’s bat mitzva, and he had to prepare for family members who were spending Shabbos with them.. Zoe gave her speech in English for the benefit of the family members from chutz la’aretz, including her 90-year-old great grandmother, who made the trip from Florida and made sure her children and grandchildren were all there. On my side, our daughter Estie Fertig and her family came, as well as our son Yoni, and our grandson Dovid Lasson.
When I booked the flight many months ago, it was to attend the bat mitzva. Little did I know at the time that Estie was expecting. She gave birth that Sunday night. My return flight was for the following Monday night and, if the bris was on time, I would be able to attend without changing my ticket. It worked out. So I came for one family simcha and stayed for another.
On Monday night, the major event, for 200 of Zoe’s family and friends, took place in a beautiful hall; it was really like a chasana. . This is the norm in Modiin, which is considered the Lawrence or Teaneck of Israel. The dancing was separate, and there was a mechitza between the men and the women. I was told that this, too, is the norm.
Zoe attends a religious public school in Modiin, where at least 30 percent of her classmates are children of immigrants from English-speaking countries. She gave a beautiful and learned discourse in English on the history of the modern bat mitzva observance, quoting from a number of teshuvos of great rabbis of the past century. The Seridei Eish, Rabbi Yaakov Yechiel Weinberg, zt”l, wrote that, in our day, when girls are highly educated and in contemporary society, it is vital that a girl’s coming of age be celebrated in a public way. I had the same discussion with Rabbi Yaakov Ruderman, zt”l, many years ago. He told me that the circumstances of each family and the environment they live in should inform the decision of how to celebrate the bat mitzva in a way that will most contribute to the chinuch of the girl. This was 29 years ago, and our family followed his advice; each of our daughters had a different type of celebration.
Next, Zoe spoke in Hebrew about the class’s bat mitzva-year project: visiting great and inspiring women of Israel and learning about their deeds. I especially liked the line at the end that she added on her own: “I want to thank my Zaidy for coming and for believing that a girl’s bat mitzva is as important as a boy’s bar mitzva.”
* * *
I spent significant time at the Kosel Maaravi (the Wall) davening for the captured boys. I sat in the shade of the inside area and recited Tehilim for about two hours. This is something I never did before, but I took my time and thought about the words and the emotions. It was a time when all of us were spiritual and wanted to connect to the One Above.
One day I visited the settlement of Eli in Samaria, the “sister city” of Congregation Shomrei Emunah. Members visit Eli when they go to Israel, and the shul supports the causes of that town, specifically the Bnai David pre-army mesifta and Hadar Yosef Talmud Torah. When I visited Hadar Yosef, which has 250 boys up to seventh grade, I saw a boy sitting in the office and asked if he was in trouble. He said, no, he is saying tehilim for the three boys. The school divided up the day and night, and each boy had a turn to say tehilim. This cheder is very much like other chareidi cheders, which some of my grandchildren attend. The difference is not the payos or the tzitzis or the sing-song way that the first grade rebbe was teaching the pesukim. The difference was that this is a village in the middle of hostile Arabs, and the parents are living there because they believe it is a religious imperative to settle the entire Land of Israel.
These people are called chardal, an acronym for chareidi-dati leumi, a combination of the national religious and chareidi. They are very medakdek (meticulous) in mitzvos, and the school has an expanded curriculum of limudei kodesh beyond the religious public school, but they also believe in the religious significance of the State of Israel and they are willing to live out here for that reason. My host and guide, Eliana Passentin, who works for Hadar Yosef, took me to her home for lunch with her children. Her husband works in high tech in Tel Aviv. Her seven children are named Dael, Noam, Oz, and Eitan (the boys), and Nerya, Nili, and Vered (the girls).
I include these names because it gives a flavor of the kinds of names Israelis of a certain type give to their children. They are such nice people, and it pains me that the Israeli government and Peace Now say that their home on a hilltop outside of town is an illegal settlement and must be bulldozed. Eliana pointed out Har Gerizim and Har Eival, visible from one side of her beautiful home. From the other side, you can see two mountains mentioned in the Book of the Maccabees, part of the Apocrypha. On one of these mountains, Judah Maccabee was killed in battle. From a third direction, you can see the site of Mishkan Shilo. Who can say that Jews do not belong here?
* * *
As my visit came to an end, I had the great joy of attending another wedding. Baltimoreans of a certain age remember Boruch and Sara Leah Rubinstein, who moved to Crown Heights in 1998. Sara Leah contacted my wife Feigi and told her that their son Sruly was getting married in Israel, and it was when I would be there. We traveled to the wedding, in Gush Etzion, on chartered buses from Yerushalayim. The wedding was a mixture of Chabad and Morocco. The customs of Sruly’s parents were honored, including a letter from the Rebbe read under the chupa. The customs of the Amsellam family, who live in Florida, were honored with Sefardic pizmonim and reading the kesuva in a chant. The wedding music was a mixture of both sides as well as modern Israeli. The wedding was in Israel because both Sruly and Esther live there, along with their many friends, almost all of them English-speaking fellow olim. Sruly is 22 and just finished the army; Esther is in nursing school. The Americans wore suits; the Israelis wore the most casual clothes you can imagine. I went with my son Yoni, who has completed his army service.
* * *
I conclude with the shalom zachor and bris. Estie and Avi Fertig live in Ramat Beit Shemesh, and their circle seems primarily English speaking. Avi goes to the shul of Rabbi Yaakov Haber, which could just as easily be in Baltimore. Everything is American style: the tunes, the drashas, the ambiance. I said it reminds me of the landsmanschaffen of old. When the immigrants came to America, the first generation felt at home davening in a shul with people from their town, but their children moved on, so to speak. I was very impressed with the Rabbi and the congregation. If I lived in that town and in that neighborhood, I would daven there, too.
The bris on Monday morning was very nice. They chose the name Yaakov Yechezkel. He is named after Rabbi Yaakov Kulefsky and Rabbi Yaakov Weinberg, zt”ls, both of whom had a major impact on my son-in-law. Avi asked me to explain the second name, Yechezkel. I started off by describing the olden days, when there were very few shomer Shabbos young people in Baltimore. Thos few who held on to observance formed a club called the Adas. Yechezkel Siegel, the baby’s great-grandfather was one of those who led the Adas. At that point, a man whom I did not know called out from the audience. “Are you talking about Chester Siegel? He was a tzadik; he was an icon in Baltimore. My father looked up to him. If you don’t believe him, you can believe me, he was a special person.”
I later met the gentleman; he is Dovid Zallis, a retired chaplain who reached the rank of general in the U.S. army. He told me that his father, Leon Zallis, looked up to Chester and his older brother Morris Siegel as examples of what a good Jew should be. “Yehallelucha zar, velo picha.” It is better for a stranger to praise you and not your own mouth.”
Sadly, on Monday evening, just as we were leaving for the airport, the government announced that they had found the bodies of the three kidnapped boys. All of Israel went into mourning, and everyone watched the funeral on television if they didn’t attend. This tragedy united the people of Israel, and it is my prayer that, by the time you read this article, we will still preserve the achdus, the unity, we achieved during those troubled weeks in June.
