Letter to the Editor By Shmuel Katz 1/1/2009

Dear Editor,

I was quite dismayed to see Rav Aryeh Z. Ginzberg’s letter in last week’s paper, in which he criticizes the tone of some of my recent “Aliyah Chronicle” articles. It was all the more distressing because Rav Ginzberg’s last comment upon my articles (“A Personal Response,” April 27, 2007) imparted an inspiring sense of tremendous chizuk for Goldie and I when we were going through such trying times. To face such a sharp rebuke from a friend who has in the past been a source of inner strength and confidence—a person who enhanced our bitachon when it was truly ebbing—was quite painful. I respect and admire him and certainly hope that his letter and my response do not mar our personal friendship in any way.

Twenty months ago, Larry Gordon, publisher of the Five Towns Jewish Times, approached me with what I thought was a tremendously novel idea. He was convinced that the public would be interested in hearing about aliyah from a personal perspective and that people would respond to a personal journal of the everyday experiences of an oleh. Perhaps, he added, coming to understand that the many hurdles faced in making aliyah can be overcome will inspire others to follow in our footsteps. And thus “Our Aliyah Chronicle” was born.

Almost immediately, it became apparent that Larry’s idea was right on target. From the first week the column hit the paper, we were approached by people who told of their admiration that we were taking the plunge, of a relative who had gone before us, and even a few who thought we were making a terrible mistake. I remember a conversation I had with Rav Ginzberg, at the annual Hatzalah barbecue in 2006, in which he predicted that my articles would inspire many others to come on aliyah in our footsteps.

Over time, it was made clear to me that one of the most compelling parts of the series was my willingness to be honest about not only the highs, but the lows as well. At his son’s bar mitzvah, Larry shared some feedback he had gotten from a friend in the Five Towns about how my articles were more captivating than any other series he had read about Israel because “you never know what is going to happen with Katz. One week he is higher than a kite and the next week is the worst week he has ever had. He writes life.”

In the feedback that I have gotten from those who have chosen to follow us or are considering following us to Israel, that same message appears. They see from our experiences that there are highs and there are lows, but that the lows can be overcome and it is just that piece of reality that encourages him. I often hear, “If you could do it—with all that you have faced—so can I.”

So, at least in my opinion, the fact that I share the bad along with the good actually enhances my message. No one reading my articles can accuse me of glossing over the tough spots. Which is a good thing. The last thing I would want on my conscience is someone having a claim that I misled them or failed to be honest with them about such a life-changing endeavor.

And, according to my inbox, many of you feel the same. I want to thank Rabbi Ginzberg for inspiring feedback that I got this week from others. Last week’s criticism of my articles has inspired people to show me their support, and I appreciate it.

Rav Ginzberg also says that he misses the wonderful inspiration that my stories of life in Eretz Yisrael used to bring. The fact is that I am still writing stories about my other experiences here, such as being interviewed for the radio for the USA elections, a story about my speaking to Batya’s fourth-grade class (in Hebrew for 45 minutes) about being a kohein, and the overwhelming feelings we had in Chaya’s getting her first citizen’s ID card—I wrote all this in the month of November. (In December, I wrote two articles: one, the article in question, and the other focused on my USA trip.)

Rav Ginzberg raises additional issues, saying that what I wrote is akin to the sin of the meraglim, telling lashon ha’ra about our holy land of Israel. He certainly makes a compelling case, and asks some serious questions about the justification for my treatment of the radical chareidim and their outrageous behavior.

I am not a Torah scholar; I have no semichah or any other form of rabbinic or scholarly ordination. If I err in my interpretation of the following source or in my interpretation of halachah, I apologize.

In the Ramban’s analysis of the sin of the meraglim, he specifically states that their sin was in the use of the word “efes,” (translated as “but”). The meraglim said wonderful things about Israel, then said “but” and proceeded to tell negative things about the land. In that instance, the “but” was used as a means to say, “Yes, it is a great land, but we cannot live there, because…” This, according to the Ramban, is their sin. It’s not the fact that they told the truth, but that they lacked faith that such obstacles could be overcome by the Divine.

I defy anyone to find the “but” in anything I have written. Never have I said that people should not come to Israel, and in the article in question, I specifically closed with a disclaimer that all neighborhoods worldwide have tensions at times, and that this is simply the tension that we are facing in Bet Shemesh at the current time and my hope is that we will overcome such tensions.

I am not criticizing the Land of Israel; I am only decrying the horrible sins of those who by their actions are creating a chillul H-shem. It is their actions that are denigrating the holiness of the land—not mine. At no point do I ever say that this is an Israeli problem or something which is awful about Israel. I am even very particular to point out (on a regular basis) that we are not talking about the vast majority of chareidim, just a very effective minority.

Interestingly, it does not appear to be lashon ha’ra about Israel when I talk about issues relating to the chilonim (non-religious) or the Arabs. They live in Israel, as well, and are part of the aliyah experience. I have written about our concerns about our kids’ future military service and my nephew’s current military service—certainly topics that might make someone reconsider coming on aliyah. Yet, this didn’t seem to be of concern, either.

Rather than criticize me, I respectfully suggest that, as a religious leader, Rabbi Ginzberg should be the first in line to repudiate any connection such thugs and goons have to Torah and the holiness of Israel. All the rabbanim of Bet Shemesh were indeed quick to do so, each one of them calling for every person in the community to do “whatever he can” to stand up to such hooliganism. One of them went so far as to say that any rabbi who encourages such actions is not a rabbi in any sense of the word.

I think some of the difference between our attitudes towards the situation stems from the fact that my children are endangered by these people. My wife and daughters have to walk the streets of Bet Shemesh, and these criminals are a serious threat to their safety. One might have a different perspective if it were his own daughter that was thrown to the ground, pelted with eggs, kicked repeatedly, and called a Nazi (and other, unprintable, names).

I invite anyone who is critical of my reporting to show their own love for the land of Israel and to lead by example—by making aliyah themselves.

Shmuel Katz
Bet Shemesh