There is that old saying that reads, “charity starts at home”. While giving to others is always commendable, the saying speaks to the reality that helping someone else at the expense of your own needs is not living by a higher ethical standard. Ultimately, in order to help others, you must see to your own needs, in order to stay strong, maintain clarity, and retain the tools needed to do so.
Morality is not much different. If anything the need for morality to start at home is even greater, for there is no greater moral requirement than protecting your innocent and helpless. There has been no moment in my lifetime where this issue has played out more clearly and more publicly, and it is happening with Israel and the Jewish people at center stage.
I am not a war monger. I find war at its core to be unethical. I have never been a soldier and I live in a peaceful environment, so even if I didn’t feel that way, I would feel like a coward if I were to push for war for the sake of retribution or vengeance. It’s easy for someone who does not put their physical safety on the line to push for others to fight a battle. Sitting and watching is nothing compared to risking injury or death, or inflicting the same on others. When Israeli troops go into Gaza in search of Hamas terrorists and in the hope of finding the hostages, no matter how bad it gets, us who are far away from the action will not bleed, physically suffer or die. I get that. With all that being said, at the end of the day where every Jew is impacted, whether they admit it to themselves or not, is that this is a fight for the survival of all us.
So then back to the matter of morality. It took a week, give or take a day or two, for much of the world to move its focus from the atrocities committed by Hamas on innocent Jewish families, women, children and babies, to the plight of the people in Gaza. Much of that shift has been generated by those who never saw it as wrong for Jews to be raped, tortured, murdered and kidnapped in the first place. But to those who recognized the evil perpetrated on the Jewish people, who may be authentically worried about the well-being of all people, while I have no quarrel with you, to be brutally honest, your concerns are not mine, for morality starts at home. The government of Israel, the heroic men and women of the IDF, the religious leadership, the residents of Israel and all Jewish people on the face of the earth have one moral priority over all others. Our survival.
So as the images come out of Gaza are seen as sad and tragic, and not feeling that way will be called immoral by many, my current lack of focus on that issue is indeed a product of my personal moral compass. However, it is not for the reason that those who hate Israel will likely attack me. My moral compass is strong. I know that what is possibly the sickest irony in this whole situation, despite the rallies of the ignorant and evil and the outcry of the corrupt United Nations, is that the only hope for the people in Gaza lies in the hands of Israel. For these people to be free and to live a normal life as part of the world community, Hamas must be destroyed. For that to happen, some very brutal actions very likely need to be taken against more than just Hamas. Military action against Hezbollah and even Iran, no matter how devastating these actions may be, if they are what Israel needs to do to survive, they are moral.
In the weeks and months ahead, people will die. Many of them will have done nothing to deserve their fate. But to allow Israel to be demoralized, depleted and God forbid destroyed out of concern for the safety of others, is the most immoral thing we as Jews could ever do. Morality starts at home, and Israel is our home.
For those who do not know, I will give you a brief and simple historical background. B’nei Akiva is an Orthodox & Zionist Jewish youth group in which boys and girls, later to become men and women, from all over the world, Israel and beyond, get together in celebration and solidarity. It was founded in 1929 and has over 125,000 members in over 42 countries. Each age group has what is called a Shevet, or in English, a tribe. Once you belong to a Shevet, you don’t change to another, you are part of that Shevet for life. B’nei Akiva’s slogan is 2 words. Torah ve’Avodah. Torah, which is for the Jewish people very literally the 5 books of Moses, but includes all forms of Jewish study and learning, and Avodah, work, or labor, the physical and supportive efforts needed to build the land of Israel and help the Jewish people.
On a more personal note, I am a proud and happy member of Shevet Amichai. When I was 13 and living in Philadelphia I flirted with a few B’nei Akiva events, meeting a few amazing people including the late Ari Horowitz of Blessed Memory. But it was not until I was 14, after my parents moved to Holland and I began to attend Hasmonean in the Hendon area of Northwest London, that B’nei Akiva (BA) became something so important to me that it would resonate with me till today. Little did I know that during that one lunch hour in school when I was approached by an older student and convinced to come to a BA event, that over 45 years later his younger brother would still be one of my best friends, as would be a number of other of my friends from Amichai. Socially, nothing has ever compared, and to this day, my 6 week BA Israel camp in 1978 is still the best summer of my life.
But today BA and what I can speak to specifically, Shevet Amichai, is so much more than just a gathering of men and women enjoying each other’s company whenever possible. It is an organization of comfort and support. With Israel going through what looks to be its worst crisis since its establishment in 1948, and the Jewish people under its greatest attack and continuing threat since the Holocaust, my friends from Amichai, many who have family, including children fighting in the IDF, Israeli Defense Forces, are stepping up with amazing commitment, resolve, and love. It is no surprise to me, since every time an individual in the group has experienced a crisis or a loss they are always there, but today the sense of responsibility for Israel and the Jewish people has never been on greater display. Their efforts are ongoing, practical and critical, and I have never been so proud and so honored to be part of Shevet Amichai.
If I am to call all of Israel my family, Shevet Amichai is my immediate family. I stand with you, I pray for you, and I love you.
For YEARS I have said that randomly throwing around the word Nazi was dangerous. I have said that comparing someone to Hitler without factual backing is dangerous. It has happened on all sides towards anyone who committed acts or said thing they didn’t like. This is not a political post. As a Jew I feel that we are not in a time of politics, we are in a time of survival.
In speaking out about this, my reasoning was as follows. If you call everyone that says or does something you don’t like or does something that is actually wrong, when someone who is a Nazi or someone who is another Hitler rears their ugly heads, you might not recognize it. Well we are now seeing behavior truly comparable to the behavior of Nazis, lead by the Supreme Leader of Iran, Ali Khamenei, someone whose words and actions truly do compare to Hitler.
And now we have people rallying in favor of Hamas and screaming Free Palestine at rallies around the world, not knowing, or even worse not caring that in doing so they are supporting another Hitler, one who is openly leading a Muslim incarnation of Nazi Germany.
It is now time for all of us who have always understood who the Nazi were, tell the world that these terrorists attacking Israel are truly Nazis. Start calling them by what they are. Let the world know that not only has that disease been allowed to come back, it has come back strong, and there are far too many people supporting their cause.
As the full scope of the barbaric attack on Israel is still unfolding, people’s true colors are on full display. For all those tourists who visited Anne Frank’s House, or movie lovers and Hollywood types who loved and honored Schindler’s List, for all of those who have visited the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C., or took selfies at Auschwitz, this is your time to speak up. The world is on trial now, and the verdict will likely not only determine the fate of Israel and the Jewish people, but very possibly the fate of the planet for decades, maybe even centuries to come.
Adolf Hitler rose to power in 1933. By the time he was conquered in 1945, while estimates vary, the death toll was believed to be around 60 million people in total, more than two thirds of which were civilians. While Hitler rose to power on the back of economic devastation in Germany, much of what powered him was an insane, uncontrollable homicidal hatred for, you guessed it, the Jewish people. Yet the world did nothing while Fascists groups rose and spoke up all over the world, including a pro-Nazi rally in New York City’s Madison Square Garden on February 20, 1939. Had it not been for Pearl Harbor, one could would wonder if the United States would have even entered the war at all. While America and Great Britain eventually played significant roles in defeating the Nazis, their knowledge of the tracks leading to Auschwitz never lead them to destroying them. Ultimately what it came down to then, and still comes down to today, is one very sad truth, and that is the fact that for a large portion of the planet, Jewish blood is cheap.
I know there are many good people. I know there are many who would die just as quickly to save a Jewish life as they would for any other innocent life. But still today there are far too many people out there who are tolerated for unimaginably distorted ideas of what the Jewish people are and what Israel is as a nation. People who saw videos of young women, children, elderly being kidnapped and taken to Gaza. Women raped and brutalized. Families slaughtered in their homes. Jews dehumanized as they were by the Nazis in what would turn into the mass murder of 6 million Jews. Many of who were Jewish women and children, raped, brutalized, humiliated, terrorized and experimented on by evil “doctors”. All lead by the obsessive hatred of one man, whose obsessive hatred led him to seek world domination that ended in the death of tens of millions of civilians.
Are you scared yet? You should be. Because that same hatred has been indoctrinated into a generation of Palestinian youth, youth that have now grown up to want what Hitler wanted, the death of all the world’s Jews.
So, politics aside, if you are anyone who tolerates anti-Semitic rhetoric from your local politicians, you are ultimately digging your own grave. If you are a social activist who is believing the rhetoric that Israel is an Apartheid State, you are digging your own grave. If you are a member of the LGBTQ community marching and shouting Free Palestine, you are marching against the one country in the Middle East where you could live freely, and yes, ultimately digging your own grave. But most of all, if you are watching brutality playing out before your eyes against innocent Israeli citizens, including women, children, and the elderly, and you are still blaming Israel, you are digging everyone’s grave.
This is not a game. The world is on trial, and those of us who believe in God might say that he is watching very closely. Watching to see who makes the right choice, and who makes the wrong one. This is real life, and whether those of you who hate Israel and think Jewish life is cheap want to admit it or not, you are fighting a battle that will end in your own demise. Ironically, not from those you are attacking, rather from those that you are supporting.
There are so many things I could say. After the horrific events of the past few days in Israel, and the terrifying uncertainty of what could happen next, made so much worse by legitimate concerns of the fate of the hostages, I like countless others, have my fears, my opinions, even my theories on what to do moving forward. But to be frank and very honest, my fears, opinions and theories will do nothing to help anyone right now. Since this letter is not just to my friends and family in Israel, but to all of my fellow Jews there as well, I write this not to vent, but as a show of love and support.
I am extremely cognizant of what might be the most important thing for Jews outside of Israel to know right now, and that is that this attack was not just an attack on Israel, it was an attack on every single one of us. So many of us are besides ourselves with feelings of sadness, anger and helplessness. We will look for ways to help, but until then I know many of us will be here to pray for you, speak with you, message you, and look to those who can provide funding to be ready to offer financial support.
As I sit here, I think of those close to me who are frightened for their future, or even more frightened for their children, brothers and sisters and all other friends and family preparing to fight in defense of the Jewish people. The pain I feel for what you must be going through is something I will keep with me until I know all of you are safe and secure. I fight off my tears and the fear I feel because as I sit safe and comfortable in Florida, I feel I need to stay strong for all of you. Even if none of you ever need me or want to reach out to me, I will remain here and ready to do anything within my capabilities to support you. If all I ever do, all you ever need from me is to know that I stand with you, we all stand with you with all our hearts and souls, then at least you know you are not alone.
Furthermore, while there will be questions that need to be answered, this is not the time for Jews outside of Israel to do anything other than offer unwavering support for the government. This is life and death, and any accountability or political issues attached to this need to be shelved until Israel is once again safe and secure.
Finally, I want you to know what I saw the last 2 days as I celebrated Simchat Torah in my synagogue in Florida. As we all found out what was unfolding, the largest percentage of us became increasingly distraught. I came to realize that in some way I owed it to all of you to celebrate the holiday. The young men and women that are about to put themselves in harms way in defense of the Jewish people are doing it so that all of us can live a life as happy, healthy and free people. Remaining distraught was not a victory I was willing to give to Hamas. While my heart was heavy, my mind prevailed, and I found the happiness and joy appropriate on this holiday, because I came to realize how fortunate I am to have been born a Jew. A very proud Jew, not just because our remarkable past, not just because of my attachment to our faith, but maybe most importantly because of all of you, my dear friends and family that live in the place that protects all of us by its existence alone. I love you and continue my prayers for you and for all of us.
Let us know what you need and what we can do to help you. In the meantime know that you are not alone.
In the latter months of 2012, Alexandra Van Hasselt was searching for family members on the internet. In her efforts she would make contact with Ron Van Hasselt, a distant cousin on her father’s side. In his own research, Ron came across information regarding one of his relatives, David Van Hasselt. He found a book in which David Van Hasselt’s death in the Mauthausen concentration camp was documented. The book he found was the book I authored, Jew Face. David Van Hasselt was the first cousin of my mother Sipora and someone very special to her.
After having contact with Alexandra, Ron would forward her my contact information. Alexandra’s father, Vince, would subsequently contact me via email. Vince’s father was Eddie Van Hasselt, the brother of David and also my mother’s first cousin. As good fortune would have it, Vince, together with his wife Melanie and daughter Alexandra, were living in Florida, less than an hour from my mother, who at the time was 90 years old. They would meet, Vince and I would meet in New York, and little by little the whole family would get to know each other and a special connection would develop between many members of my family, and Vince, Melanie and Alexandra. But of all the relationships, perhaps the most special of the relationships was between my mother and Alexandra. Having grown up in a household with diverse culture, my mother played piano, sang, and had a tremendous love for the arts. Alexandra, a young girl of 15, was already a very talented dancer, with a beautiful singing voice and a growing love for acting. The bond that would develop between these 2 newly acquainted cousins, separated by 85 years, was as unique as any imaginable. They would sing together, have long talks with each other, and form the most unlikely of friendships. In Alexandra, my mother saw her younger self, a young lady filled with talent, joy and promise. In my mother, Alexandra saw a kindred spirit, whose age and experience and love, gave her extra encouragement to pursue her dreams and be someone who my mother could live through vicariously. For Alexandra, although saddened by mother’s passing in 2017, that special relationship would always stay with her.
All of this would be what would make today, October 30, 2022 so special. Today I got to see Alexandra perform in Jerry Herman’s play, Milk and Honey. Based in Israel in the early 1960s, this wonderful production was playing at the Wick Theater in Boca Raton, Florida. As I sat there, next to 2 of my brothers, my sister-in-law, and Vince and Melanie, watching Alexandra perform on stage with her powerful and talented presence, in a play about Israel, the magic of what took place 10 years ago and in subsequent years, came back to me in full force. I felt an almost mystical connection between past and present, made even more palpable by the young character in the play who was 9 months pregnant and due to give birth at any time. Her name, Sipora. After the play when I asked Alexandra how it felt when she learned that there was a character in the play of that name, the same name as my mother, she replied that it was very special and that on this day she had thought about my mother a lot.
I know I am far from alone in feeling that the importance of telling the story of what took place under Nazi-occupation can’t be overstated. But I’ve also felt that in telling the story and opening up this connection with the past, we have the opportunity to witness the continuation of life in its most poignant manner. In 1941, when word of David Van Hasselt’s death would reach Amsterdam, it would fall on my mother, a young woman of just 19, to inform David’s mother, Vince’s grandmother, of the death of her son. Today, more than 80 years later, David’s great niece Alexandra would perform on stage in front of 3 of Sipora’s children, and his nephew Vince, in a story about nothing other than Israel, the Jewish state. With all the trials and tribulations life has to offer, it is hard to find something more indicative of how life goes on, and even thrives, as this connection between past and present.
The play and the performance were beautiful, but perhaps nothing was more beautiful than the lesson learned from all the events surrounding it for me and my family. The lesson that what we do matters, and that who we come from stays with us forever.
I am actually writing this letter more to those within the Black community who believe they should be listening to you in regard to your stance towards Jewish people than I am to you directly. I am writing this because it is my hope that people will begin to understand that not only are your words hateful lies, but they also do a disservice to the community you claim to represent. You see, not only should Jews not be seen as the enemy, to anyone truly looking to help people of color, they would recognize that Blacks and Jews are natural allies.
It’s ironic. I am someone who usually is most disgusted in situations such as these because of the unwarranted attack on my people. As a proud Jew and Zionist, I see the world as a melting pot of people of all races and colors. Every person I meet, regardless of color, race, nationality, sexual identity, or social status, starts off exactly at the same place with me. I once met a woman who when I told her that I do not see color, responded to me by saying that she felt my statement was the epitome of white privilege. While I chose to remain silent, I generally tend to avoid wasting my breath on idiots, I did think to myself that a white woman deciding what is right and wrong for the Black community is actually the epitome of white privilege. Remembering what I thought that day, and always making every attempt to not be a hypocrite, I will not sit here today and claim to know what choices black people should make. I will however say that to portray another community as the enemy of your community solely for the purpose of garnishing attention, and with so little merit that it is of detriment to your ability to work positively with that community, is cynical and selfish.
I want black people to know that about 50 percent of civil rights lawyers in the south in the 1960s were Jewish. I want them to know that about 50 percent of the whites that marched in Mississippi in 1964 against the Jim Crow laws were Jewish. I want them to know that Colin Powell, the first African American Secretary of State spoke Yiddish, having learned it from a shopkeeper that employed him at a young age.
Do these points I make mean that everything Jewish people do towards people of color has always been correct and even decent? Of course, it doesn’t. But within every community there are the good and the bad people. What is important to know is that over the years Jews and Blacks have suffered similar attacks of hate, often fought for the same causes, and often worked their way from the bottom to the top. Barack Obama’s first Chief of Staff was the son of a man who fought for Israel’s independence as a member of the Irgun, an underground Jewish organization battling the resistance of Jew haters to the creation of the Jewish state.
So, to any of you in the Black community reading this who want to know the truth, you should know that there is not one group in the entire United States of America more of a natural ally than the Jewish people. And if you choose to believe otherwise because an attention seeking, self-serving, money hungry man who happens to be the same color and was once somewhat talented tells you otherwise, you are not only hurting me, but you are also hurting yourself.
I urge you to not let anyone tell you how to think, least of all someone hiding behind similar skin color claiming to be your advocate.
While I urge you not to hate me for the fact that I’ve never really liked Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream, and therefore have no personal stake in the game, I do recognize that their product is popular worldwide, and more relevant to this conversation, popular in Israel. I also know that if I did like the product, I definitely would have stopped using it when they chose to boycott Israel, and I would have found myself in a tough position now that their ice cream will once again be sold in Israel.
Unilever, Ben & Jerry’s parent company released the following statement. “The new arrangement means Ben & Jerry’s will be sold under its Hebrew and Arabic names throughout Israel and the West Bank under the full ownership of its current licensee.”
While I applaud the efforts of American Quality Products, Ltd. and its owner Avi Zinger, this whole thing leaves a very bad taste in my mouth. No pun intended. It feels a lot like a divorcing couple that got there because one person walked out of the marriage and then came back because they realized they need the economic benefits the marriage offered. You really want to say, thanks but not thanks.
But my quandary regarding the whole matter is quite obvious. While I’m still disgusted with Ben & Jerry’s, and I do not mean the actual taste of the ice cream, I also do not want to push a narrative that takes business away from an Israeli owned company. I guess I am just going to have to swallow it and say, great news. And again, I don’t mean the ice cream.
Before you deduce that you are reading the rantings of someone delusional or at the very least a little off, I urge you to continue reading. I realize that by telling you that I have always been mildly obsessed with the concept of time travel and that my obsession was recently satisfied unexpectedly does very little to argue in favor of my sanity, but nevertheless on my recent trip to Israel that is exactly what happened. I did indeed experience time travel.
When you are a writer you have a tendency to choose words or phrases carefully. It is no accident that rather than saying “I travelled in time”, I wrote that “I did indeed experience time travel”. Allow me to explain. Prior to this recent trip, I had not been to Israel in 28 years. 37 years ago when I moved from Israel back to the U.S. I finished off a stint in which I had lived for 3 1/2 years out of 5 living in Jerusalem. Naturally in that time I traveled to different parts of the country, establishing my own personal relationship with various places and people. When I arrived at Ben Gurion Airport I tried to recognize the place, but I would be lying if I said that I did. In fact, my passage through immigration and customs was so easy I almost felt as though I was in the wrong country. When my friend Danny, whose wedding 28 years ago was the reason for my last visit, picked me up from the airport to take me to his home in Bet Shemesh, while it had been more years than I like since I had seen him, the difference was hardly enough to be shaken by the change. But on the trip to his home, a trip that included part of the original road to Jerusalem, I started to feel that sensation that I knew I had been here before. When I got to his and his lovely wife Anna’s home, and saw his family over the next few days, a family that I had not seen for well over 10 years and of which sons were of age to have changed significantly since I last saw them, I had my first brush with time travel. The next day when Danny had a party and I saw 10-20 people I had not seen in at least 3 decades, I experienced it again. I looked at their faces, I saw the same people, even felt the same feelings, but they had changed. Some more than others, but all of them, myself of course included, had changed. There was the female friend that had been my daily phone call for an unspecified amount of time when I was 16 and arguably my best friend at that time, and that very memorable female that I “went out with” when I was 15 who were very much the same even decades later. All of these experiences pulled me back to the past, but in that healthy way that only made the present more enjoyable.
When I went to Tel Aviv, and visited the area by the beach with the steep steps looking towards the Sheraton Hotel, I could almost feel the time I was there, I am going to estimate 37-38 years ago, the moment a pregnant woman stumbled, only to be caught by the man standing with her, and the subsequent near cardiac arrest I suffered at seeing what thankfully only almost happened. When I looked at the beach nearby I could only look at it and smile inside and out and remember some moments that could only be described as magical.
When I went to Jerusalem and walked to the address where Richie’s Pizza once was and to the location where I think the American Difference once existed, all the way down to the spot where I loved Cafe Atara’s world famous onion soup on Ben Yehuda Street, I felt all these sensations of travelling in time. When I sat at the base of Ben Yehuda, where it meets Jaffa Street, the spot know as Kikar Tzion, Zion Square, I felt an almost mystical connection to my past, present and future. As I wrote in a previous post, that moment made me feel something I did not remember feeling since at least the last time I was there.
All these brushes with time travel only enhanced what was turning into an incredible trip and one that I not only will remember for quite some time, but one that changed me for the better and very possibly forever. That all being said, it was not till I went to Hashmonaim to visit my friend Yonah and his wife Rhonda that time felt as though it had stood still, jumped forward, and shifted all over the place all at once. To understand this better a little historical context is needed.
Some time in between 1981 and 1984 I met Yonah in Israel. He was in a Yeshiva in the Old City of Jerusalem, and as I was prone to do, I went there to visit a friend, or friends. Yonah and I did not take long to become friends, and when we both ended up back in the NY area, the friendship continued and grew. To the best of my recollection, Yonah was at Bar Ilan University with the mutual friend that was the bride at the wedding where I met my once future now ex-wife in September of 1989. I was to be married in September of 1990 and prior to my wedding I shared an apartment with Yonah in Kew Gardens, Queens. As is customary at a Jewish wedding following traditional law, 2 witnesses are required. These witnesses need to be Sabbath observant and not related to the bride or groom and should be someone special to the people getting married. My bride made her choice, my choice was simple. My choice was Yonah. Months later, as a married couple, my wife and I would attend the wedding of Yonah and Rhonda.
The months and years later are a little hazy for me, but one Shabbat at the Lloyd’s in Teaneck, New Jersey not only stands out for me, it is in some ways one of the epicenters of my time travelling experience. I tend to think that based on the age of Yonah and Rhonda’s oldest daughter, and the fact that I can not recall my ex wife being there, this likely happened after my marriage ended in 1996, making it approximately 25 years ago, give or take a year or 2. You know you enjoyed a Shabbat at someone’s house when it sticks in your memory for so long. I remember going to synagogue with Yonah, marveling at how I had never met anyone so demanding of perfection from the Torah reader other than my father of blessed memory, and how there was a man praying with us who had lost a daughter in a terrorist attack in Israel. I remember Rhonda being the most natural, genuine and fun hostess you could ever ask for, and I remember their absolutely gorgeous little daughter Aviva. Aviva could not have been older than 3 or 4 at the time. I do not remember if their second daughter Shira had yet been born-sorry Shira. I’ll make it up to you later in this piece-but seeing as she would have been a baby, she may very well have been and I just do not remember. The one memory that is most etched in my brain of that weekend has always been Aviva wearing a hockey jersey that was so much bigger than her it dragged on the floor and covered her feet. I almost remember, but can’t be sure so no need to thank me Aviva, arriving with and giving her that jersey, but that fact is the smallest and least important fact of this story.
My journey in time at Hashmonaim actually began the moment I saw Yonah. One of the most important things I have learned as I have gotten older is that there is a reason people become friends and that regardless of time or circumstances, that which connected you once, be it spoken or unspoken, instantaneously or over a certain period of time, ultimately has a very good chance of connecting you again. That explains why it took under 2 seconds from the time I saw Yonah for me to feel like I was in the presence of a special friend, and that I had just stepped out of a time machine, just to see my friend 25 years later.
When I went into their home I soon realized that Rhonda had clearly not gotten the memo and did not look much different than she had 25 years ago. But her personality and warmth was so much like I remembered it that I still felt as though I had travelled these 25 years forward. It also needs to be said that when it comes to details, moments, even some conversations that took place decades earlier, my memory can be so uncanny that I blow some people’s minds. I guess I am a savant when it comes to that. But the pinnacle of sorts of this time capsule, was in the kitchen of their home. I almost do not remember moving in what I think was close to an hour and a half there. I walked in and met 2, maybe 3 people I had never met before. Their daughter Shira, I’ll remember you for sure this time, their son Rafi, and their daughter Talia. I said earlier that I do not remember moving. While Rhonda stayed as long as she could before she had to get to something previously scheduled, and Shira and Yonah needed to branch off for a bit to attend to work related matters, the other 2 stayed, and as I remember, they moved as little as I did. Talia seemed transfixed in awe over what she was hearing from everyone, and Rafi reminded me even more of why Yonah and I became friends, because I knew in listening to him speak, that had we been contemporaries, I likely would have become friends with him as I did with his father. I even went as far as thinking that had I met him, hearing him speak I would have felt as though he reminded me of Yonah, even if I had not known Yonah was his father. Also, for the record, it is not as though Rafi had nothing else to do less than 1 week from his wedding. And Talia had such a similar face as Rhonda that I would have seen something very familiar in her as well.
But all of this time travel experience coalesced when Aviva, now a wife and mother and living next door showed up to visit and said that she knew by looking at me that there was something familiar in my face that she remembered and I could still see the face of that 3 or 4 year old girl, now as a grown woman. While it seemed as though all of us were talking about absolutely everything that ever happened, Rafi found a video of his parents wedding. It needs to be said that I was already overcome with emotion on numerous occasions before I saw this-I understand if the kids remember me as their Dad’s crybaby friend-this video tipped the scale. I saw a video of me and my ex wishing the newlyweds a Mazal Tov. Even more overcome by the emotion that time travel induces, I will be forever grateful to Shira for compassionately asking if I was OK. In case I didn’t answer you then Shira, the honest answer could have been, I was never better.
None of these memories, flashbacks, or yes, jumps in time were anything other than a positive experience. When I recall a great evening with my step brother of sorts, Gaby, and meeting one cousin I never met and another I had not seen since he was 16 years old, he is now 44, time was jumping happily all over the place, and I was its center of gravity. We are where we are meant to be, and if we do not accept that and embrace that fact, it is not the fault of what happened then, it is the fault of what we did next. This visit to Israel, this travel in time did not bring closure to my past, it brought continuation, in all the right ways. When I got into the car and left Hashmonaim, while I was transported back to the present, I realized more clearly than ever the role my past had in making today as good as it was.
While questions about the outcome of the election may or may not need to get worked out in the courts, Democrats celebrate a win by Joe Biden in the 2020 US Presidential race. Unlike the hundreds of thousands of experts on social media, I make no claim to know much about voter fraud and election rules. I am at the mercy of the news media to tell me what happens. Unless I see evidence to the contrary, I am neither qualified nor irresponsible enough to question the legitimacy of the outcome. I do however have the ability to observe and read the reactions of people, and as I see many of my fellow Jews declare their joy over the election of Biden, what I have not seen in many of their statements are the words “the Jewish people” or “the State of Israel”. While I do not sit in judgment over what makes someone a good Jew or a bad Jew, as it is not my place to do so, I do find this to be curious, and can’t help but examine and indeed question, why this might be the case.
Everyone of course has their reasons for feeling as they do and saying what they do. I know many people who have done a lot for Jews worldwide that fall into that group that voted for Biden, and I recognize that, but the appearance it gives is that for many Jewish people in America, the best interests of the Jews and Israel were just not an issue of major importance to them in this election. To be clear, I am not merely coming to this conclusion based on reactions to the result, but also from discussions or debates I had in person, on the phone or in social media prior to the election. If anything it appears as though one issue was more important to them than anything else. Their hatred for Donald Trump.
Some make the argument that Trump is bad for Israel and stokes the flames of anti-Semitism in the United States. The debate has been conducted ad nauseum and I have no intention of restarting it, but I will say that this reminds me of something an old friend once said to me when we worked together as salespeople. People buy with emotion, and justify it with logic. I present this concept here because I have to wonder if the hatred for the sitting president is so great that Jews around the country just convinced themselves he was bad for Israel and the Jews in order to justify their vote against him. Or do they really believe that a man that moved the embassy to Jerusalem, something promised by administrations for decades, recognized the Golan Heights as part of Israel, ripped up a deal that paved the way for Iran to have a nuclear bomb, and made peace treaties increasing security and prosperity for the Jewish state is actually an anti-Semite who is bad for Israel, or as many of his haters call him, another Hitler?
I don’t presume to know anyone’s motivation for what they say or do not say, but when one of my fellow American Jews goes on a rant about all the reasons they chose Joe Biden over Donald Trump, and the issue of Israel and the Jewish people is either an afterthought or an omission, I can’t help but get the impression that those issues were just lower on their list of priorities, if there at all. I know the responses many will give is either a list of all the reasons they see Donald Trump as an awful human being, as an existential threat to American democracy and all the reasons they feel the things he has done do not actually make him good for the State of Israel. I’ve heard and read them all. What I have not heard from my fellow Jews and Zionists is why, as part of one or two of those groups they are happy that Joe Biden looks to be their next president. I, as both a Jew and a Zionist am not, and it mattered enough to me to be reason alone to vote for Donald Trump.
While I am not writing this to argue the merits of hating or loving Trump, it strikes me that the number one reason people have grown to hate him is more because they don’t like what he says than it is what he does. I won’t litigate the various issues that people apply this to, but I will say that as a Jew and son of Holocaust survivors, nothing seems more irresponsible to me than choosing someone who sounds nice over someone who has your back. I said before the election that I felt that no matter who wins the election I believe there are dark days ahead for the Jewish people in America. As a Jewish man who is not convinced that Joe Biden will have our backs, I express no optimism over how he will be good for us in the coming years. So naturally I didn’t express any optimism. But for my fellow Jews that voted for him and also didn’t express that optimism, are you holding your breath and hoping for the best, or is it just not an issue that mattered to you enough to dictate your vote? That is a question that each and every one of you can only answer for yourselves.
Ultimately I tend to believe people vote for what they perceive to be in their own best interests. If any Jewish voter doesn’t see the security of Israel and the protection of their Jewish communities as being in their own best interest, then they’ve learned little to nothing from history.
Holland's Heroes 