Showing Our True Colors (Article# 115) 5/7/2009

Getting back to normal life is always a bit of a change. When Pesach vacation ends, the kids have been off for more than two weeks and the schools generally wind down their activities in the last couple of months of the year here anyway. It is strange actually. Serious learning is mostly done “between the holidays,” with the time before Sukkot and after Pesach seemingly run at something like two-thirds or half speed. Yet, even with a shorter time period of more intensive learning than we had in the USA, they cover the Judaic subjects and even some secular subjects (specifically math) so much more comprehensively.

I think it all stems from less time being focused on the Judaic subjects. Hebrew is natural, so they spend less time translating and can cover a lot more ground in less time, freeing time for other subjects. I also think it is an outgrowth of the way (at least in our children's schools) many of the “home room” teachers stay with their class for two-year stretches (Mordechai’s morah has seen him through both first and second grades) and their familiarity with the students (and vice versa) make the second year much more productive. Of course, that is only my opinion and by many means of measurement we (as a country) are woefully behind, so…

In any case, as opposed to the frustrations of the pre-chagim fall term when no learning is done, this is a very busy time of year for the kids. Packed into these few weeks are sefirat ha’omer, several national holidays, and then finally Shavuot—so there is a lot for them to do, even if it means less focus on core subjects.

Yom HaShoah is the beginning of a week of special days, ending with Yom HaAtzma’ut, for the entire country. In anticipation of the festive week, Goldie and I went out and bought a couple of huge Israeli flags to display outside our house (we also bought four flags to fly outside our car windows). It is the season for such things, and our old flag was kind of tattered, so we knew we needed a replacement.

Last year one of our community representatives got a call from our across-the-street neighbors instructing us to take down the flags, which were offensive to them. This year, knowing we needed to replace our existing flag, I bought two seven-by-five flags and prominently displayed them. I also took orders for some of my neighbors, and we all were quite happy to hang the flags as visibly as possible.

Our kids asked us why we bought four flags for the car when we only displayed two of them. Unfortunately, that night they got their answer. (Warning: Rabbi Ginzberg should kindly skip ahead to the paragraph beginning “As I noted…”)

Mordechai had stabbed himself in the hand with a knife while cutting an orange, and I took him to the local night clinic belonging to our health plan, which is situated in Ramat Bet Shemesh Bet (a.k.a. Chareidi-land) to be checked by the on-call pediatrician. We were there for no more than 15 minutes and returned to the car to find that both of our flags had been broken off the windows, with just the plastic bases remaining.

Boy was I angry!

After quite vocally shouting that somebody owed me ten shekels for my stolen property, I got into the car and began to back out of my parking spot to leave when I was suddenly inspired. I slammed on my brakes and jumped out of the driver’s seat. Reaching into the back seat, I grabbed my two spare flags and proceeded to quite loudly inform the (very few) people watching that I WIN—and that I will ALWAYS display the flag, no matter how much they hate it.

I still have one of the plastic bases in the car window. I keep it there as a badge of honor. I want everyone to know what the hoodlums do and to be reminded that we do not give in to thuggery.

Of course, this year brought a new twist to the disgusting displays of our anti-Israeli brethren: black flags. Put up as an obvious rebuke of our Israeli flags, they are an obnoxious statement by people who clearly have no hakarat ha’tov. Thankfully, I only saw three of them this year (although one was directly across the street from our house).

As I noted last year, I personally feel that the close proximity of both Yom HaShoah and Yom HaZikaron to Yom HaAtzma’ut adds to the celebration and is incredibly meaningful, especially for the children. Even the littlest of them are taught to respect the memories of the fallen on both memorial days; and understanding the Shoah’s role in leading to the creation of the State of Israel is a major part of the spring curriculum here. In fact, an overwhelming majority of the 12th-grade students here have a trip to Poland (similar to the “March of the Living”) as their school-sponsored class trip.

A week later, on Yom HaZikaron, I took Batya (10) and Mordechai (8) to the Bet Shemesh municipal memorial service for the residents of Bet Shemesh who perished either in service to the country or in terrorist attacks. It was an incredibly moving ceremony and I never cease to be amazed at the tremendous respect that servicemen and servicewomen get in this country.

The memorial opened with the sounding of the air-raid sirens. Even though I knew it would happen, the sudden silence as a few thousand people stood in unison for the siren was breathtaking. The MC truly captured the essence of the day in his opening remarks, as he spoke about the losses the families and the country as a whole have suffered: Children and grandchildren never to be born. Husbands and wives never to meet. Generations of people taken away in the ultimate sacrifice to the safety and security of our country and our people.

After his brief remarks, they presented a slide show on large screens erected for the day. Every person’s picture was displayed as a narrator informed us of their birth dates and death dates as well as the war or terrorist attack in which the person perished. I didn’t think the kids were paying attention until both kids commented together, “Abba, a lot of people died in the Six Day War.”

After the slide show, a memorial torch (similar to an eternal flame) was lit adjacent to the permanent war memorial we had assembled in front of. A “Keil Malei Rachamim” was sung and then all the male relatives of the victims came up to the stage to recite Kaddish in unison in memory of their loved ones.

We left toward the end (the kids were getting antsy) after the singing of HaTikvah. I can honestly say that I really felt a part of Bet Shemesh that night. This city is so cosmopolitan, and we (admittedly) live in a very insular Anglo neighborhood. Even though some of our other neighbors (the ones I don’t like—you know who they are) hung up their black flags and totally disrespected the sacrifices of those who risk everything for the protection of every Israeli, everyone else united in a very positive way, and it was awesome!

In Batya’s school, the fourth grade puts on the Yom HaZikaron presentation for the entire school, and Goldie and I attended. I thought it would be sappy, but was again impressed by the serious tone and approach the girls took in putting on the dramatic performance.

That afternoon we went as a family to a local shul’s memorial assembly and transition into Yom HaAtzma’ut. They had a special Maariv davening, and when we finished we capped off the night by walking down to the local amphitheater to enjoy the municipal fireworks.

The next day we had a Katz family extravaganza. My sister (who decided to be a homebody) didn’t come, but everyone else went for a hike through the mountains here to a cave known as the Batcave (insert joke here) and a natural rock slide (the kids loved it). After the hike we were all joined by Bubbee and Zaidy at our house for a special Yom HaAtzma’ut BBQ.

It is truly a great time of year to be an Israeli and to live here in our land. As time goes by and we become more familiar with the language and the practices of our adopted country, we feel more and more comfortable in calling this place home. It is an amazing place of contradictions and dispute—but it is still the only place for Jews like you and me to live.

A special Mazal Tov to our good friends and fellow olim Dani and Tzippy Lieberman (who have appeared in these pages before) on the bar mitzvah of Avrumi, their bechor (firstborn). As Avrumi’s bar mitzvah teacher, I was especially pleased to participate in the celebration, and we look forward to sharing many more s’machot together.