By Leah Garber
Like me, you are undoubtedly glued to the news coming out of Israel at a time that is unlike any I have experienced. A legislative overhaul of the judicial system that could change the very character of the Jewish State has brought hundreds of thousands of Israelis of every background and disposition into the streets—not once, but week after week, and of late, day after day. Concerned citizens are taking time off from work or from their studies to add their voices to what many believe is the fight of their lives—to protect what is dearest to them—their country, our home.
I write these lines this morning from New Jersey, where I am privileged to participate in the Martin Pear Israel Fellowship gathering’s inaugural gathering. This conference, attended by 18 early-tenure professionals (between 3-5 years in our field) from JCCs across the continent, is part of a full year of study and professional development intended to strengthen their understanding of and experience with Israel. We certainly picked an interesting week to gather…
As of this writing, Prime Minister Netanyahu is still debating whether and how to respond to the urgent calls to suspend the legislative process to allow for greater discussion, deliberation, and debate. These calls are coming from protesters, senior military officers, hi-tech entrepreneurs, lawyers, educators, scholars, current and former political leaders—and countless representatives of the wider Jewish world.
To me, it feels like my country is on fire, and I am heartbroken by the seeming readiness to compromise national interests and risk the abandonment of values and of the common good for the sake of narrow political agendas.
Much of the Israeli economy is shut down today following the announcement of a nationwide strike by the Histadrut—the national workers union, in solidarity with the struggle. The universities are closed. There are major disruptions in flights at Ben-Gurion Airport. The number of stores and businesses joining the shutdown is growing by the hour. Meanwhile, the entire country is bathed in blue and white, the colors of our flag, carried with overwhelming pride by hundreds of thousands of protesters in cities and towns across the land. I have never seen so many flags concurrently flown nor heard Hatikvah—our national anthem—sung with such passion; a passion rent with anxiousness and concern about how this will all play out.
This week we are making final preparations for Pesach and celebrating our liberation from bondage in Egypt. This moment marked our transformation from enslaved Hebrews to a free and independent nation. Newly liberated, we walked across the desert together, determined to return to our country, our homeland, and in doing so, we became a people—the people of Israel.
And yet, I am preparing for my seder this year with growing apprehension. When my grandchildren sing “ma nishtana, why is this night different from all other nights?” perhaps we will struggle more so this year with the answer. Our sense of unity has been diminished. That kinship between brothers and sisters that defines us as a people. And our enemies from without watch with eagerness, salivating at the prospect of a divided Israel.
I didn’t sleep last night, and it wasn’t only because of the jet lag. I am waiting. Waiting for the Prime Minister to issue a statement announcing the suspension of this legislative process. Affirming his commitment to all the citizens of Israel and to the steps necessary to restore confidence in our government and its leader.
We are all familiar with the cry of “Hineni” – “I am here”. To me, it has always meant—I show up prepared and ready for the task.
Together with countless Israelis, I believe that now is the time for “Hinenu”—WE are here, one nation prepared to work together to heal the break, repair the rift and restore our sense of self—a sense of Peoplehood, one nation on the cusp of celebrating 75 years of independence, and the miracle of the modern Zionist Movement.
I know in my heart that, as it has been many times before, we will emerge from this crisis too, having grown stronger and wiser along the way. It will take time, will, and devotion. But we can, and we don’t have a choice. HINENU!
I Have No Other Country
By Ehud Manor
I have no other country
even if my land is aflame
Just a word in Hebrew
pierces my veins and my soul-
With a painful body, with a hungry heart,
Here is my home.
I will not stay silent
because my country changed her face
I will not give up reminding her
And sing in her ears
until she will open her eyes
I have no other country
even if my land is aflame
Just a word in Hebrew
pierces my veins and my soul-
With a painful body, with a hungry heart,
Here is my home.
I won’t be silent because my country
has changed her face.
I will not give up reminding her
And sing in her ears
until she will open her eyes
I have no other country
until she will renew her glorious days
Until she will open her eyes
I have no other country
even if my land is aflame
Just a word in Hebrew
pierces my veins and my soul –
With a painful body, with a hungry heart,
Here is my home.
With a painful body, with a hungry heart,
Here is my home.
Leah, in reading your “view” this week , I am filled with your strong heart and determined will to save Israel’s soul in these difficult times. Please know we are with you in the struggle and pray for the outcome you demand.
Much love,
Ann & Stephen
Todah rabah, Leah, for your thoughtful comments. I know it’s hard being away from the discussions at home, and harder still to answer the questions you must be getting this week. We are all with you, and we too have no other country.
Wishing for shalom
My fervent wish as well Leah. This is a time like no other, and I hope sense and the need for unity prevails.
Have a meaningful seminar, and a chag Pesach sameach.