Does Might Make Right (8/5/2009)

This week, I am writing not at all about my personal experience, but rather about current events and my take on them. Over the past couple of months, the Israeli media has been abuzz with various protests that have been taking place in Yerushalayim (and for a couple of days even spilled over into Bet Shemesh). We have read accounts of uncontrolled violence and rage. We have heard accusations and counter-accusations. Yet beneath it all is a struggle for power that is all too familiar.

I am referring to various "protests" and "riots" that have taken place in response to two different actions taken by the Jerusalem municipality. The first was the opening of a parking lot on Shabbat to be used by non-religious Jews as well as non-Jews who visit the capital city on Shabbat. The second was the arrest of the chareidi mother who allegedly starved her three-year-old son.

Before you get nervous, this is not another "Shmuel hates chareidim" article. I certainly fail to understand the more radical of them, but in this instance I understand their motivations and even agree that-in part-they had no choice but to act as they did. And I wonder why it is that things have to come to such straits.

Many years ago, when the first non-religious Jews began to move to Jerusalem, the local rabbinate faced an immediate crisis. For the communities in the eastern part of the city, the only Jews that the majority of their kehillah had been exposed to were observant. They had never witnessed chillul Shabbat or any other of a range of transgressions of the Torah. The rabbis worried that these newcomers would have a detrimental effect on the Jews of the city.

One of the actions they took at the time was to institute the practice of crying "Shaaabbbiiis" whenever one saw another Jew desecrating the Shabbat. They wanted people to remind themselves that the Shabbat was a holy day, and therefore the call of "Shabbis" was not directed outward at the other Jew, but rather inward as a reminder to keep the day holy and special.

In fact, in story after story, the original rabbanim who were involved in protests and activities in honor of Shabbat observance were incredibly particular not to say anything to a Jew who was transgressing the Shabbat, lest it represent a halachically valid warning. A Jew so warned is then guilty of violating Shabbat on a Torah level and not a rabbinic level, something they wanted to avoid at all costs.

Unfortunately, as tends to happen, over the years and generations this practice has evolved into an accusation against the non-religious Jew - almost in direct conflict with the original intention.

About two months ago, the mayor of Jerusalem, responding to safety concerns within the city, opened up a municipal parking lot for use on Shabbat. It is important to note that (i) the lack of parking facilities in the city on Shabbat creates safety issues for pedestrians and emergency personnel who have to navigate the narrow streets of Jerusalem, which used to be filled with haphazardly parked cars blocking traffic; (ii) the lot is operated by non-Jews on Shabbat with no chillul Shabbat taking place in the actual opening and operation of the lot itself; and (iii) the plan was done with the consultation and eventual approval of members of the chareidi religious parties in the city council (who had rejected using the originally proposed lot and insisted upon the use of a lot further from the chareidi neighborhoods).

In my opinion, the demonstrations (which have at times turned violent) against the opening of the parking lot were unreasonable. The only chillul Shabbat being performed was that being done by private parties, not the municipality. Those who were actually driving and parking in the lot were certainly guilty of this, but they would have been driving on Shabbat with or without the parking lot being open. (The only argument that is even slightly valid is that these drivers might not have come to Jerusalem if not for the parking-but historically, that is inaccurate. They came and parked in the streets.)

I believe that these protests were a simple muscle flex being done by the fanatical minority. They saw an opportunity to inflame people and make a point to the mayor and the country that they are a power and force to be reckoned with. I also believe that the city overreacted and that things quickly got out of hand. I am convinced that these initial protests quickly became a game of chicken. I also think that the mayor, as well as the secular community, was outraged by the "betrayal" of the chareidi parties who had helped formulate this plan but who quickly abandoned it in the face of public pressure.

It was this climate (a climate that has continued with protests and sporadic violence each Shabbat) that I believe became the catalyst for the second crisis that arose. I believe that in their zeal to smack down the chareidim, no matter what the issue, the municipality overstepped its bounds with their next step.

Much of the following may be inaccurate, and for that I apologize. I am trying to sift through the media reports and accusations from both sides and the result is what I hope is a close approximation of the truth.

There is a woman in Jerusalem who I believe has a terrible illness. Her illness has led her to do a terrible thing to her own son, which is an unimaginable tragedy. She apparently withheld food from her infant son and allowed him to waste away. The police claim there is even a video, shot by the hospital staff with a hidden camera, of her removing her son's feeding tube in the hospital and at times putting some foreign substance into it.

Faced with this evidence, the hospital had no choice but to report her to social services and the police. However, when the police wanted to have her arrested, the hospital balked and refused to allow it to happen in the hospital. Instead, a plan was devised by the police (independent of the social service workers who were still investigating the issue) to have the woman arrested outside of the social services offices, in the heart of her neighborhood.

The chareidi community, outraged at the arrest of one of their own, quickly went on the offensive. The social services offices were trashed and torched, garbage bins were set aflame, street signs and traffic lights were destroyed, and general mayhem and mischief ensued. There were both violent and nonviolent protests in Bet Shemesh, as well.

My initial reaction was one of disgust. After all, the police and hospital had been very vocal about having evidence, and this was a horrific crime. How could the chareidim defend this woman and protest her arrest? In my mind I had convicted her of terrible things; the information being presented was simply too inflammatory.

The mayor, responding to the violence and threat to civil servants in the city, pulled all municipal services from chareidi neighborhoods. He publicly regretted the fact that the innocent were swept up in this punishment, but charged the innocent with restoring order and civility to the area so that services could resume. I thought this was a long overdue move that was certainly justified and commensurate with the crimes.

Then came the news on erev Shabbat that the mother had been released into the custody of a high-ranking chareidi lobbyist, who paid $100,000+ bail for her. A deal had been struck where the woman, after initially refusing to cooperate with the investigation, agreed to be evaluated by a psychiatrist two days later, on Sunday. I was upset that they had let her out. How could they cave to the demands of hooligans and rioters? Didn't the rule of law apply here?

On Monday, a story was released that the mother had failed to show up for her mandated evaluation. The judge was quoted as saying that he hoped this wasn't an effort to undermine the court system, and there were quick condemnations.

She eventually presented herself for evaluation at midnight a couple of days later. Within hours, the chareidi community leaked reports that the psychiatrist had concluded that there was nothing wrong with the mother and that she did not constitute a threat to the members of her family. In the ensuing days, the psychiatrists for the prosecution contradicted the original psychiatrists, and there have been claims and counterclaims of misrepresentations and lies. The original psychiatrist has written a letter retracting his evaluation and was discovered to be a disgruntled former employee of the hospital in question, as well.

A judge, having seen the evidence, remanded the woman to house arrest. She is allowed to visit with her other children, but not the one she is accused of starving. The judge also explicitly criticized the police for blowing things out of proportion. The investigation continues. So does the posturing.

Although in my initial reaction I was outraged at the behavior of the chareidi community, I think I am changing my mind. They were wrong to be violent, no question. But at what point do we realize that their anger was justified, if not their actions?

The hospital and the mental-health professionals both had the ability to insist that the woman be arrested or have a restraining order issued against her. Why didn't they? Perhaps it was because they felt that with the child in the hospital's custody and now being supervised, the woman did not present an immediate risk to him. Perhaps also because they had determined-in their professional opinions-that she did not present an immediate risk to the rest of her family or the public at large. The police, whose job it is to enforce the restraining orders and maintain law and order, did neither. They took it upon themselves to make a judgment in this case that they had no expertise in and no business making.

A woman is sick. Her child is sick as a result. That is a tragedy-not a public relations opportunity. There is a system to handle these types of issues. Help, both medical and psychological, were called for, not condemnation and ridicule. The state, which is responsible to be impartial in the effective use of its power, was supposed to reach out and help, and instead slapped down and figuratively "spat" upon this family and community.

Perhaps this happened because the police were smarting. The chareidim had been making a mockery of their efforts to maintain safety with the opening of the parking lots, and maybe they wanted to get them back. So they jumped the gun and made the arrest.

So I wonder-and this is really why I have gone through the whole sordid story with you-what would have happened if this had been a non-religious mother? Would the police have been so quick to act, or would they have let the system process the case normally, waiting for the professionals to decide the next step? If they had acted, would her community have "gone nuts" and effectively forced a quick decision on getting her out of jail, or would she still be sitting in jail waiting?

What if it had been someone from my community, the Religious Zionist community? There is no question that people would have been up in arms. But would we have gotten violent? Almost assuredly not! Would we have forced the issue by virtue of our threats? Again, no. So I wonder if maybe we, outside the chareidi community, are the fools here. They saw an injustice and acted swiftly, strongly, and decisively to address it as soon as possible. More knowledgeable people than I have weighed in on the situation and agreed that the steps taken by the government were indeed well beyond what was required. This family was most probably being persecuted. Amazing for me to say it, but the chareidi community's emotional reaction to the second crisis was probably right-even though their actions (which were the catalyst for a fair hearing) were still wrong.

This is why the juxtaposition of the two crises is so compelling. It is the reaction to the first crisis that most probably caused the second crisis. In one situation, a bunch of punks got together to cause trouble because they felt ignored. In the other, a community banded together and took action in protest of persecution. It is unfortunate that, for this community, they seem to go hand in hand.

Note: After the above was written, the child involved was released from the hospital. He was reported to have gained weight and has shown significant improvement since being removed from his mother's care.

Dog Days of Summer (7/29/2009)

We have officially reached the dog days of summer here. As usual, the entire country is gearing up for the annual "everyone goes on vacation in the month of August" fest, which means the kids are home and bored and the weather is nice and hot. Not only that, but many of the Anglo families are on their summer trips overseas, so the shuls are half-full, too. And it is hot.

No, not hot like you think. You have it hot in the 90s and 100s for a day or two-or maybe up to a week or ten days-and then it cools down to normal temperatures in the 80s and even as low as the 70s. We have day after day after day of 90 degree heat for over a week, one day of 85 and then right back up to the 90s and 100s. The sun is incredibly strong and I do not know how anyone lived here before there was A/C. I guess that is why we have "Shemesh" in our name here.

Of course, our employers still want us to give them the full value of work for our pay, so the kids get to be bored without me in the house and Goldie home only part time. But they are used to it from the rest of the year-they come home from school early here, and almost all the kids in the neighborhood are busy playing outside from the minute they get home until the minute they go to sleep. So they are very independent and, at least play-wise, are very self-sufficient.

We are members of a pool at one of the local kibbutzim, so Goldie will at least have a nice free activity for them. They love swimming. We go to the pool every Friday and they cannot get enough of being in the water. But we definitely miss summers in the U.S. summer camps (day and sleepaway) that last the entire summer, days that aren't all 100+ degrees, and, my favorite-Sundays. I would gladly trade my relaxed Friday if it meant that I could get my family Sundays back.

We are looking forward to trying out a new activity for the Katzes this summer. Israel is a country of hikers and campers. We have never really been into camping, but after our very successful Lag B'Omer hiking experience, I got Goldie's OK to schedule a camping night or nights. She will probably end up sleeping in the car, but the kids will have an awesome time.

Since we are still newbies, our day trips, hikes, and basically anything we do is an adventure for us. We have been to one amusement park since we arrived, so that is definitely on our short list of things to do. Plus, the kids always love the beach, the zoo, and anything that involves food-so we have an outline for some fun days with them as well.

They deserve it. After a year of six-day school weeks, they are entitled to get out and have some fun. Things are definitely less structured here. We see it in the school year, when the kids play on their own and can freely roam the neighborhood safely. We see it at s'machot, where formality is just not so important. And we see it in the summer, where there aren't programs and camps for the whole season. After all, if there was camp, there wouldn't be family fun time.

I got an e-mail from someone wondering why the change in the headline last week. If you hadn't noticed, we decided to stop numbering the Aliyah Chronicle articles. You see, the prior article was number 120 and in keeping with an "ad meah v'esrim" theme, we had to make some change, and that was it. From now on, we are simply "Our Aliyah Chronicle," and I look forward to sharing our experience-the highs as well as the lows-with you.

As I write this, Tishah B'Av is still in the future. By the time you read this, I hope that you all enjoyed coming to the Beit HaMikdash to enjoy the avodah as much as my father, brothers, and sons enjoyed performing it. On the off chance that the geulah did not happen, I hope you had a meaningful and easy fast and are looking forward to a terrific August.

To the Grandparents (7/16/2009)

Earlier this week, I got an e-mail from one of our friends, Chani Schwartz, asking me if I thought it would be a good idea to tackle a sensitive area of aliyah: the difficulties and tensions that arise in families when the children (even those who are grown and have families of their own) decide to make aliyah. She, as a new olah having just gone through the process, had been getting calls from some of her friends who are coming this year. One of the major issues that kept coming up in conversation was the lack of support from their families.

I actually checked the archives and saw that I had written an article a few weeks before we left about how tough it was going to be for Goldie’s family (two of my three siblings were in Israel at that time; we are all here now, so the transition on my side was not as difficult). At that time, we knew that it would mean missing s’machot and other family get-togethers, yet we also hoped that it meant something positive for our family’s growth. We were right on both counts.

I cannot say that our extended family has been universally supportive 100 percent of the time. Yet I know that they also believe in what we have done and that they even have some measure of jealousy for the fact that we can and do live here (some more than others, none more than David). So, for our part, we have not faced the situation where our family was opposed to our coming to Israel.

I invited Chani to be a “guest columnist” and not only give me a semi-vacation (as I got last week as well), but also to provide a different voice from the one you have been hearing these past few years. I still have things to say, but for this week, the floor is Chani’s…


Are Your Children Making Aliyah?
An Aliyah Letter To Grandparents

By Chani Schwartz

The summer is upon us, and aside from thoughts of finishing school, summer camps, and family vacations, there is something else that permeates the air and peppers each conversation: “Did you hear who is making aliyah?” Most everyone in the greater New York–New Jersey area will know of someone taking the giant leap and moving to Israel.

Just under a year ago, my family was the topic of that conversation. On August 12, 2008, my husband Jason and I uprooted our family of then seven children from our comfortable home, stable jobs, and loving community in Teaneck, N.J., to move across the world to Israel.

This summer will welcome a number of new olim from the United States, many of whom will be coming after an arduous and soul-searching process culminating in the decision that aliyah is indeed for them. Many of these olim will be coming with their parents’ blessing, but unfortunately many without. It is those families that have prompted me to write to you today. I have seen far too many families and heard far too many stories of families making aliyah without their parents’ consent.

My husband and I both grew up in Woodmere. We are products of Woodmere of the ’80s and ’90s. I want to direct this article to the parents and grandparents of the children choosing or contemplating aliyah. How will you react when confronted with that fateful call of “Mom, I’m making aliyah”?

Unfortunately, all too often, the parental response is that of dismay. Parents become belligerent and angry, and sometimes even refuse to speak to their children. In response, many exclaim, “How did this happen?” Moms and dads, let me explain it to you: You helped us.

It was you who saved to take us on the ultimate family vacation to Israel, taking pictures by the Kotel, which in turn made it into every bar/bat mitzvah video. It was you who sent us to pro-Israel schools. You were the ones who picked out our clothes when we had to wear blue and white on Yom HaAtzma’ut, and it was you who helped us sing the proper words of HaTikvah when we came home in first grade garbling the stanzas.

Certainly you cannot forget when you took us, rain or shine (often rain), as far back as each of us can remember, to the Israel Day Parade. It was on Fifth Avenue that you pointed out all the schools, the floats, Mayor Koch (if we got there early enough), telling us, “Look, he’s the Mayor of the whole New York City, and he’s Jewish!” and explained why it is so important that we show our support each and every year. Finally, it was you who allowed us our rite of passage to spend a year, sometimes two, studying in Israel, post-high-school. How can we not develop a love for Israel—a sense of entitlement that this is where we belong?

It’s hard to let go at any point in life. Not everyone has the luxury of having his or her children living right next door, but many do. But the question is, are you prepared to stay in the Five Towns the rest of your lives? What happens when you decide to retire and move to Florida? Do we have the right to ask you not to move and enjoy your retirement because we want you to stay nearby? When we do ask, what will you do?

Mom and Dad, you’ve raised us to be independent. You sought for us to be accomplished professionals. You hoped for us to grow up, get married, and have lives of our own. Part of that maturity is making grown-up decisions about what is right for our nuclear family.

Please do not think that we did this to hurt you. We understand what our decision means for you. We are taking away your grandchildren and not allowing you to see them grow on a daily basis. We will no longer have the fluidity to pop over as you or we please, and we are limiting your involvement in the practical raising of our children. Just know that it is a major loss for us as well.

Please consider that we are the ones leaving our family and friends behind. We realize that our children will be some of the few not to have their grandparents front and center for every siddur play and presentation. We are the ones that will not be able to join every family simcha. Yes, these are the choices we made; and yes, these are the consequences we will endure. But know that we make aliyah in the hopes of a better, albeit possibly harder, life for our family.

I am blessed that our decision to make aliyah was met only with support by my parents, who are still living in the Five Towns. That’s not to say there weren’t any tears (on both sides), wisps of regret in voices, and conversations brought to abrupt ends due to lumps in the throat. But to our faces, my parents were the picture of strength, admiration, and support.

They helped in every way possible, and they were there at JFK airport waving the entire time as we passed through the gates to board our plane until they could see us no longer. Having their support meant the world to us. It allowed the stressful process to be just a little easier, knowing we had our parental love and support. For that, I thank G-d…and my parents.

So, if the time comes and you are placed in this position, please be careful with your response. Think what you want behind closed doors, and even voice your concerns once to ensure your children have thought of all the angles. But to your children be supportive and be happy, and you will see how much it is appreciated in return. It makes all the difference.

Shmu the Activist (Article# 120)

Last November, Goldie and I signed a contract to buy a house that (at least on paper) was supposed to be built in the second stage of construction in the new Nofei HaShemesh neighborhood of Bet Shemesh. (Some of you may recognize this as the neighborhood to which Rabbi Rosner and his family made aliyah.) Having been involved in the building of the neighborhood’s new shul since week one, we were very excited to make this commitment and finalize our choice of Bet Shemesh as our family home.

Throughout this process, as you have read, we have had some concerns about the future of the city and our interactions with some of our neighbors. Yet we felt so good about the neighborhood and our children’s adjustment to being in Bet Shemesh that we decided to take the plunge despite our concerns. We were excited about this opportunity and were looking forward, along with several other families, to be a part of a new beginning.

As time went by, we became more and more concerned about the changing of Bet Shemesh as a city. We came to a city that had a large, although minority, chareidi population, but was still known as a welcoming home to both the non-religious and religious Zionist populations. In the interim, we have seen increased tensions across the “fence line” (where we live), the election of a chareidi mayor, and an announcement by the Minister of Housing a few weeks ago that Bet Shemesh is going to be the flagship city for the development of new chareidi housing, with 100,000 new units to be built over the next several years.

As I am sure you can figure out for yourselves, adding 100,000 chareidi families to a city of less than 100,000 residents will significantly alter the city and its face. Should this plan come to fruition, I fear that the Bet Shemesh we came to will no longer exist—and it will become a Bet Shemesh that we are not sure we would want to be a part of.

Once again I feel compelled to comment that, in general, I do not have problems with the chareidi public at large. It is a fringe group of fanatics that cause the trouble. However, this fringe has yet to be reined in by their peers and, quite frankly, in my opinion the fringe sweeps up the general public in their hysteria (as evidenced by the recent rioting in Yerushalayim). It is the fringe who are trying to make our lives miserable, and if the city becomes a chareidi city we fear that it will only increase.

I am sure that this column will once again result in letters to the editor proclaiming outrage at my “chareidi bashing” and decrying the decision to run it in the paper. Many of you identify with the chareidi public and feel that I am being hypercritical of their actions. I disagree.

I do not think that you identify with any of the things these people stand for, not in the least bit. We have gotten letters in our mailbox threatening harm to us and our families because some of us have televisions. We have gotten letters (I will gladly e-mail you a copy if you don’t believe me) telling us that we do not dress properly in the privacy of our own homes and that such immodest dress is offending them when they look into the windows of our houses to which their eyes are “naturally drawn.” The Israeli flags in front of our homes and on our cars disappear overnight and are regularly burned by their children in Lag B’Omer bonfires. The list goes on.

This fringe stands for intolerance of others, for intimidation and bullying of people who have every right to act in the manner of their choice. Yes, we do tend to generalize when we lump all chareidim together—but the good guys need to take action to distinguish themselves from the bad guys, instead of being intimidated by them.

For example, the photo shown here was taken three weeks ago on a Thursday morning. In their never-ending harassment of us, some of the fringe guys decided to take up artwork. A week after spray-painting their “modest dress only” message in two places on the sidewalk next to our home (messages that I painted over the very same day they appeared), these fine neighbors came back and spray-painted 14 different messages of their hatred of our community overnight. On the sidewalks and on the retaining walls it was impossible to not see their message.

What would you say if this had happened on your street?

We know who the spray-painters are. Their entire community knows who they are. Yet nothing is done about it. Why? If this was something done in your neighborhood and you knew the guy doing it, and his kids were in your child’s school, and he davened in your shul—what would you do? Nothing? I doubt it.

As we cleaned up the graffiti, Goldie and I were accosted by various members of their community. They had complaints about dress, television, and many other issues. We agreed that they had a right to be concerned, but asked what justification they had for the spray-painting behavior. On the whole (with one exception) they agreed that such behavior was inappropriate. I asked them why they don’t do anything to stop such people. No answer.

There was one fellow who answered differently from all the rest. This man came over to me as I was painting over the sidewalk and asked me why I was making such a mess of the sidewalk. Incredulously, I responded that it was not I who had made the mess, it was his friends who had made it and I was just cleaning it up. He responded to me, “Oh no—this message is supposed to be here” and then walked away. Goldie commented to me that she would not have believed that such a thing could be said to my face if she had not personally heard it.

Would you stand idly by under these circumstances?

The latest set of graffiti prompted some attention from City Hall. Some of our city councilmen came to see the graffiti, and in our discussions with them they told us that MK Ariel Atias (Shas), the Minister of Housing and Construction—who had announced the plan to add 100,000 chareidi housing units—would be coming to Bet Shemesh the following week to discuss the plans with the mayor and representatives of the City Council. We decided to protest.

I filed a permit with the police and organized a protest for the morning of the meeting. The plaza in front of City Hall has room for only about 50 people, and we showed up with about 100. Before the protest, the security agent for the minister approached me and told me that the minister is interested in speaking with us before the meeting.

When he arrived, he did indeed come over to the barricades to speak with us. I showed him some pictures of the graffiti and asked him if he had considered what impact his plan would have on the current residents of Bet Shemesh. He responded that we obviously would not solve our problems while standing in the streets and that it was also obvious that there were many groups who have concerns. He then invited me to organize a meeting in his office to discuss the issues—which I did.

He was extremely gracious and open with us. I have to give him credit for that—and for his willingness to meet with us at all after he had publicly announced his intention to do the opposite of what we wanted.

We came with eleven people from various walks of life, and he gave us all as much time as we needed to present our concerns with his building plans, of which there were many. He then engaged in a discussion with us, explaining that he indeed shared many of our concerns, but that as the Minister of Housing and Construction he is responsible for solving the chareidi housing problem and that if we had concrete plans to solve our concerns as well, he would be happy to review them.

In effect, he said, “I feel your pain, but cannot help you.”

While this was happening, we were notified that building permits would not be issued for our own construction project to which we had committed, and that our purchase contracts were going to be revoked. Apparently, the Land Registry Office would not approve the plot subdivision of the project (or so we were told) and there is no clue as to when, if ever, the project will get off the ground.

So, we are again at decision-making time. We love Bet Shemesh. We really do. Our kids are happy here and we have built great friendships and bonds. Yet we are concerned for the future of Bet Shemesh and what will happen if the city indeed becomes a chareidi city—which is not what we signed up for when we moved here. So we have to consider what we will do.

Unlike many of our neighbors, we still have a choice. We do not have any encumbrances here, other than the emotional ones. We may stay and decide that we will deal with whatever comes our way. Or we may move to a city or town that does not face these issues. Wherever we go, we will face some kind of issue. There is no such thing as Utopia. When we lived in the USA we had issues as well, and choosing where to live was a conscious choice about which issues mattered and which didn’t. This is what we are facing here as well; it is no different.

My neighbors have harangued me for “airing our laundry” in public, in fear of my turning people away from Bet Shemesh as a place to live. Yet in my opinion it is not fair for me to continue touting the city as if there are no issues here and duping people into something they are not prepared for. Come to Bet Shemesh—but come fully prepared and with an understanding of the issues we face. I wish I had known some of them before I came here; ultimately we might have made the same decision, but at least it would have been an informed one.

The Next Step (Article# 119) 6/25/2009

I am very excited to share some of our latest news. On July 1, I will be taking on the position of international director of development of Machon Puah: The Puah Institute for Medicine and Fertility in Accordance with Halacha, in Yerushalayim. For those who do not know of Puah, it is an 18-year-old global organization focused on helping Jewish couples become Jewish families. It is a terrific opportunity for me to grow, and as a new oleh (yes, I still consider myself that—more on this topic later), it brings a new stage of growth as an Israeli as well.

As part of the “shidduch process” with Puah, I met several times with different people in the organization. Of their 100+ employees, only a handful speak English, so most of the meetings were held in Hebrew. I am comfortable with Hebrew on a conversational basis, but this was an entirely new level of conversation for me. Furthermore, most of my daily interactions there (as well as written communications in the form of memos, e-mail, etc.) will be conducted in Hebrew. I am a bit intimidated by the challenge of going from a 10–15 percent Hebrew day to a 65+ percent Hebrew day, but I will have no choice.

I am sure that as time goes by, I will look back and wonder what I was so concerned about, but for the time being it is quite an overwhelming challenge. Yet I am sure that it will make my long-term adjustment as an Israeli much easier.

When we came on aliyah, I went to work almost immediately following our arrival (three days later). While it was certainly a great benefit to have a job to go to (many new olim spend months if not a year or more looking for a job), we also missed out on the many things that new olim do in exploring the country and familiarizing themselves with the language and “the Israeli experience.”

I didn’t take ulpan. I didn’t do any touring. I didn’t explore the city I am living in nor get a chance to participate in many of the special events that are geared toward newcomers and helping their acclimation to the country. Some of these opportunities are gone; others can still be seized.

Knowing that my Hebrew language skills are about to undergo an involuntary ulpan experience, I decided to see how I might do some of the other things that I had missed. I therefore decided to take a couple of weeks off before starting at Puah and use that time for myself.

Taking a break is not always the easiest thing to do. With everyone’s school schedules to coordinate and the various family events we have (and are thrilled to be a part of), our calendar becomes full quite easily. Although I have definitely enjoyed a few days here and there with my family (and a three-day holiday with Goldie in London, since I was there on business anyway), this would really be the first extended period of time that I had to do with as I pleased.

So far, my efforts have met with mixed results. Those days for which I have been able to coordinate full-day schedules for myself have been very productive.

I spent a terrific day in Yerushalayim, visiting the Begin Center, a Holocaust museum in the Old City, as well as a couple of archaeological museums in the Old City. At the end of the day, I went to the Kotel for a few minutes (as I get to do whenever I want to, ’cause I live here). I arrived at the Begin Center without a reservation (I had no idea I needed one). An English tour was not scheduled for several hours, so I joined the next Hebrew tour with a special headset to simulcast movie presentations in English for me. Although I definitely needed the headphones for the movies, it was gratifying that I understood the general tour without a problem.

I took Aliza for a special day in Tel Aviv, as well. We started the day in Bet HaTefutzot. In my research about the museum, I found that there was a special discount for new olim. I perked up at the thought of a discount, and when we got to the museum I asked if we still qualified for the discount after being here for three years. The ticket seller asked if I feel like I am new or not. I wasn’t sure and I said, “You know what, just charge me the regular price.” For 10 shekels, the guilt wasn’t worth it.

I then noticed that they had special headphones with an English language option as a tour aid. I turned to Aliza and asked her in English if she wanted to get the headset. The ticket agent looked up and said, “You are still speaking English to each other? You get the discount!”

The museum was very informative, but about two-thirds away from the end, Aliza began to lose patience and we rushed our way through. After enjoying a lunch in the museum coffeehouse (another Israeli treat—kosher food in the shopping malls and other convenient places) we then went to (Aliza’s favorite part) the Diamond Museum.

Although it was not necessarily something I needed to do, I knew that Aliza would get a big treat out of learning how diamonds are mined and made into gemstones. I wasn’t wrong. It isn’t every day that we get to spend time one-on-one with our kids, and this was a great treat.

Yet this isn’t a vacation, and the aforementioned kids and their needs sometimes dictate that I am around the house on certain days (especially at the end of the year with its various parties and graduations), and those days were mind-numbingly horrid.

I spend the better part of most days with Goldie. We work ten feet from each other (although that is now coming to an end), and with all the different things that we are involved with in our family, we are together quite a bit. Which has been pretty good so far.

However, being home alone is clearly not for us. We rearranged bedrooms (letting Batya take Chaim’s empty room) and did other at-home projects, and that kept me busy for a bit, but I learned quite quickly that I will not be retiring when the time comes. It would drive me crazy.

One of the days I stayed home was spent with Moshe, in advance of his “graduation” from preschool for 4-year-olds. Moshe has had a terrific adjustment here. Having brought him at age 1, Goldie made a decision (contrary to what many new olim do) to place him in a Hebrew-speaking gan in order to facilitate his Hebrew skills. It worked.

He is a terrific little kid. He speaks both Hebrew and English equally comfortably. He loves to have books of either language read to him, and as the youngest of six is a spoiled brat with a sunny disposition and a patient approach to the world.

His graduation, unlike the ones I attended for my other kids in the U.S., was filled with both mothers and fathers. In America, there was always another father or two in the room. In Israel, it is normal for the majority of fathers to come. Events are run in evenings specifically to encourage the participation of both parents throughout the year.

We really enjoyed this graduation and are excited to see Moshe move up to the next level of preschool. We had a choice of what to do with him for the upcoming year. Preschool has two levels for three years of schooling (ages 4–6). Most kids do two years of the lower level (t’rom chovah), moving up for a single year of the higher level (gan chovah) prior to first grade.

However, both the preschool administration and we feel that Moshe, being one of the oldest kids of his year, is too mature to repeat another year of t’rom preschool, and have decided to move him up a level and have him stay in the gan chovah for two years. We feel that he needs the challenge of moving to the higher level and (giving credit where credit is due) it was really Goldie’s decision to encourage his Hebrew language development that made this a possibility. She made the right call.

I have a meeting scheduled with the Minister of Housing for later this week. It is partly in response to some of the activism I am involved with here in Bet Shemesh and I hope that I can report positive results next week.

Children Move On (Article# 118) 6/18/2009

This is going to be a tough week to write. I had originally intended to discuss changes in my life, both personal and professional. However, my denial of events couldn’t stop time, and our oldest son has left the nest—a change that was expected yet still traumatic.

Chaim boarded a plane on Monday night and headed back to America, this time quite possibly for good. We’ll still see him for vacations and on our trips to the USA, but he is entering college in the fall and has expressed his desire to live his life there. No matter where he ends up, this was our last full-time experience with him being home.

Had we stayed in America, he would of course be coming to Israel this fall with the rest of his American peers. After a year or perhaps two, he would have returned to the USA, and gone to university. Had he chosen a dormitory university, we would have seen him only on Shabbatot and vacations, yet he would still have been based at home until he either took his own apartment or got married.

Here in Israel, his peers are heading to either a year of preparatory college (in advance of university) or straight to the army. They too will come home for furloughs and weekend breaks. They will certainly set up their own lives once they finish their military service, yet the country is so small that it is much easier to maintain that parent/child connection that is so vital to us as parents.

Of course, it is possible that Chaim would have decided to stay in Israel for the long term (as did my sister, who only came back for brief visits after her year in Israel). This is not unheard of, and in a family of six children there is a good chance that this would have happened to us with one of our kids anyway—although perhaps not at 18, and not in this direction (moving from Israel to the USA).

We are actually a bit lucky that he was here for this year at all. His original plan was to go to college following a single year of post-high-school learning. Having earned his high-school degree quite early, he had intended to go to YU at 17, and he only decided to stay for a second year of learning late in the year. He was convinced to stay an additional year partially by his friends but also by the university itself, whose representatives expressed their concern about a 17-year-old’s maturity and ability to handle a rigorous schedule.

I am sure that many of you have already experienced this feeling of pride and sadness and can probably tell me that this is the way things go. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.

He goes with our hopes and dreams, all our wishes and plans for who he will become, the life he will lead and the family he will grow. He leaves having been a superstar in dealing at age 15 with a life-altering move of 6,000 miles to a land he never wanted to live in. He lost his friends and everything that was comfortable in his life, yet he somehow found a new life and a new existence here in Bet Shemesh. An emerging love for Israel was just the icing on the cake.

He has his own dreams and, for the time being, they do not intersect with ours. Despite all the hardship and struggles he went through in coming here, I think he is a much stronger person. He has devoted the past two years to his Torah learning and has become much more of a mentsch than we deserved for him to be. He will follow his own path, and we look forward to continued pride in him wherever he goes and whatever he does.

The departure was traumatic for some and not much of a big deal for others. Moshe, the baby, thinks that Chaim went to “Damerica” for a couple of days and will wonder where he is at the end of the week when he hasn’t come home. Mordechai was much more upset, saying, “I don’t want him to go!” and “If he goes, I go!” Batya was also quite upset. Aliza and Chaya were a little sad, but the tears only began to flow in earnest when Chaim went to say goodbye to Goldie, who did not take things well at all. She refused to go to the airport, because she didn’t think she could handle it, so she said goodbye at the door. With all the crying going on, I myself was able to remain pretty calm about the whole thing. But I definitely felt the passing of time and the realization that we are entering yet another stage in our growth.

My sister Bluma’s son had his own transition this past week, as well. Her third son, my nephew Idan, became a bar mitzvah last Monday and, for the first time ever, my entire family was able to participate in the simcha. In fact, my brother Ozer noted later that it was the first time since my wedding that all the Katzes were in the same room at the same time. There was someone missing for all subsequent s’machot, be it my brother-in-law or Goldie or our kids.

My brother-in-law Arieh is of Tunisian descent, so we had a really Sephardi celebration. Having been through this a couple of times, I am prepared for the constant barrage of candy from the women, the “Kooooolooloolooloolooloolooloo” yodels that serenade each person’s ascent for his aliyah, and even the different cantillations and nigunim. The only thing that makes me crazy is the amount of TIME they spend on davening. Everything is said out loud by the chazzan. Each word. One thing I remind myself at each simcha is that I simply do not have the patience to be a Sephardi.

My brother-in-law has a terrific family. Twelve brothers and sisters, and they really represent all walks of Israeli society, yet they are accepting and loving of one another in a way that is truly inspirational. I have come to know some of them, and their encouragement and support to us, both in making aliyah and in all the trials we have had since coming here, has made us feel so loved.

On Shabbat, my sister’s sisters-in-law all said to her, “You cannot serve or help in any way”; they wanted her to enjoy the simcha without having to worry about the details. It is apparently an unwritten rule in their family that you might need to work like a dog in preparing for the simcha, but once the day arrives everyone else pitches in so you can enjoy.

Goldie had such a terrific time with them that she asked Bluma if it might be possible for her (Goldie) to be adopted into the Uzan family (especially the ones with Temani spouses who were really the most fun of all the siblings) so that she could enjoy them all the more.

Of course, as generally happens, “when it rains it pours.” So, we missed the bar mitzvah of Yehoshua Rosner (Rabbi and Mrs. Rosner’s son), the first bar mitzvah in our shul—although we did get to the Sunday-night party in Yeshivat Reishit Yerushalayim and got to visit with former Five Towners Gary and Kiki Schickman, Martin and Debbie Rothman, Gary Wallin, and Bonnie Polansky, who we don’t usually see, as well as shul members Mutty and Penina Eichler, Josh and Daniella Rudof, and Jon and Sarah Paley.

We also missed the bar mitzvah of Chaim Jacobs (son of Zvi and Amy) in the USA. I remember Chaim as a teeny tiny kid posing with me as the extra-small and xxx-large models for a Yeshiva of South Shore sweatshirt (he was standing on a table and still only came to my shoulder). We apparently missed my cousin Shua and Devorah Ray’s daughter Kayla’s bat mitzvah in Chicago last month (our invite got sent back in the mail, taking over two months to make the round trip from Chicago to Israel and back; mail service here is spotty at best) as well as the birth of her newest younger sister Libby last week.

Mazal tov to them all. For those who we were able to share in their simcha, we were glad to be there and celebrate together. For the others: Why are you still in America?

Spying out the Land, Again (Article# 117) 6/11/2009

It has been a few weeks, hasn’t it? For reasons that will be clearer next week, I took a mini vacation from writing. However, knowing that this week is Parashas Shelach (in Israel; you chutz la’aretz guys messed things up by having two days of Shavuot and missing the right week to hear Nasso, but it is OK—you will catch up in a couple of weeks), I couldn’t resist the lure of the keyboard.

Last year, in response to Nefesh B’Nefesh’s request that olim send a list of reasons (à la the original meraglim) to come live in Israel, I wrote a column entitled “Spying out the Land” giving the top 10 reasons

to come live in Israel (in correlation to the 10 meraglim who recommended against entering Israel) which I urge you all to reread by visiting http://tinyurl.com/lo6vwj. However, if those reasons weren’t enough, here are another 10 reasons you should embark on an aliyah adventure of your own.

10. It’s the economy, stupid. Although Israel has struggled along with the rest of the world, most indicators tell us that (gasp) Binyamin Netanyahu’s financial reforms (enacted when he was Minister of Finance in the previous Likud government) put Israel in a strong position to withstand the worst of the crisis. The shekel has proven to be a strong and resilient currency and inflation looks to be as stable as can be expected in these recessionary times. Make no mistake: we are suffering here too with layoffs, pay cuts, and a loss in income and assets, but it isn’t as bad here as it is there (although that is hard to prove to someone who is out of work).

9. Vacationing in Israel is much cheaper. There is a connection to this land that keeps so many of you coming back on a regular basis and/or sending your children here for a visit or even a year. Even with the recently lowered cost of airfare, it still costs several thousand dollars for a family to make the trip here before they even embark on a single day trip.

Europe is much closer too. When you are looking for that additional treat, the flights are incredibly cheap at times. Some of the deals require very little notice, but if you are flexible you can take advantage of great pricing. For instance, airfare for a weeklong trip to Italy was priced at $188 this week with similar deals for Hungary, Spain, and a host of other European destinations.

8. Gentile neighbors are a thing of the past. Unless you live in a major urban area or are specifically looking to be in a mixed-religion community, your family will not have that much to do with people not like you. Yes, I may rail on about some of the chareidim in Bet Shemesh (not all of them; only an acknowledged minority) but they are still Jews and they are still more like me than most of my former neighbors from Woodmere. I may not like/approve of their actions, but we are all one nation.

There is very little chilul Shabbat in our neighborhood—maybe 12-20 cars each week and even the most irreligious people have a basic “Jewish education” including Tanach and Jewish history. Bet Shemesh is a hamlet of sorts, as is Chashmonaim, Efrat, Neve Daniel, etc., but a main attraction of all these small communities, which seem to be Anglo magnets (aside from the English), is their existential Jewishness.

7. The food. I have always been a fan of Israeli food, enjoying falafel and shwarma as much as the next guy. Or at least I thought I did. When I began to eat “Israeli food” in Israel, I realized what a poor imitation I had in the U.S. No insult to the “Israeli” places in the U.S., but I rarely eat in them when I am on a trip to the U.S. Once you go authentic, you can’t go back to the imitation.

Even non “Israeli” foods are great here. There are a host of wonderful kosher restaurants overseas (that means over there), but you cannot experience the great range of options we do unless you live in a major metropolitan area. Even then, the sheer population advantage of kosher consumers we enjoy here allows for a much broader spectrum of choices and opportunities for a great meal.

Theme restaurants are kosher. Where else in the world can you enjoy the experience of eating a delicious kosher meal in total darkness, served by blind waiters? How about enjoying a meal from one of our several all-you-can-eat Brazilian steakhouse chains? Pizza Hut? Sbarro’s? We even have a (mehadrin) kosher KFC (I think their coating is way too salty)!

6. Fitting in. This is both a positive and a negative. Here in Israel, there are so many communities that there is somewhere for everyone, no matter what their religious practices and/or political leanings are. There are like-minded people for almost everyone, which makes for a comfortable existence and life.

However, this also provides a natural breeding ground for disagreements and antagonism. Since we Israelis share a common bond as Jews, we have to look harder than you do to find the things that make us different. Our distaste for those who do not share the same beliefs/values is much stronger than we experienced in the U.S. (I am guilty as well) and emboldens people to do things they never would consider doing outside of Israel. This is reflected in the fact that in some (social) ways, you in galut enjoy more achdut than we do (a fact I have lamented often).

On the whole, being part of a united community vastly outweighs the negatives but I have to be honest and this point cuts both ways.

5. Leining the “right” parshiyot. We are technically all in galut. You are just in the furthest galut, being outside of Israel. Last year I talked about having only one day of yom tov for the chagim, but this year another funny quirk popped up—the last day of a yom tov fell out on Shabbat.

We celebrated one day of Shavuot as always (with Megillat Rut, Akdamot, and Yizkor all done on the same day—beginning at 4:30 a.m. after Tikkun Leil Shavuot). The next day, although flowing naturally from Shavuot, was a regular Shabbat for us and we read Parashat Nasso. You (as noted above) still had that day as Shavuot and read a special yom tov leining, delaying Nasso until the next week (when we read Bha’alotcha). Through July you will be a week behind us (you catch up with a double parashah on Matot-Masei). I am not in any way saying your way is wrong but wouldn’t it be better to do it the way it was originally intended to be?

4. The shopkeepers. We try to shop “Jewish” whenever we can in order to support other Jews. While it is almost impossible to totally avoid buying non-Jewish/Arab products (for instance, the overwhelming majority of cucumbers here are grown on Arab farms), we want to benefit the Jewish shopkeepers as much as possible.

While this is relatively easy to do in Bet Shemesh, it becomes harder in major cities. Almost all Jewish shopkeepers are aggressive and incredibly knowledgeable and helpful (as opposed to civil servants or those who work in service industries like bank tellers). They understand that their eagerness to please and their help in identifying just the right product leads to loyal customers and more business.

We have a couple of local “variety” type stores in Bet Shemesh about 200 feet from each other. One is more for hardware and the other is more for housewares. They are owned by a father and son and you could not find friendlier and more helpful people.

One of the main reasons we like them (aside from their good natured friendliness) are the little things that they do and know. We recently bought some coffee glasses in the housewares store and as Goldie peeled the labels off, she commented on how easily they came off. The owner responded that he stocks a specific brand of glasses and price tags in order to make it easier to peel the labels off prior to dunking them in the mikvah. That is service.

We patronize a local appetizing store owned by really nice Gerrer Chassidim. The owner greets us personally every time we walk into the store and makes sure to wish us a Gut Shabbos before we leave. At the shuk in Machane Yehuda, a storekeeper once told me that I could not shop in his store for Pesach products because his ingredients were kitniyot and I am Ashkenazi.

They might all be out to make a buck (or shekel as the case may be), but they are super friendly and their recognition of halachah and the value we place on halachah (even if the shopkeeper himself is not religious) is comforting.

3. Tuition, tuition, tuition. This is the only repeat from last year. I should really repeat my points about the holiness of the land, doing mitzvot in Israel, being in the land of the Tanach, or any of the other ones dealing with the fact that Jews belong in the land that was given to us and that it is the holiest place for us to be and enhances our every action (both good and bad).

However, as a regular reader of the Five Towns Jewish Times this past year, I have seen a recurrent theme in its pages: “The Tuition Crisis” and “The Cost Of A Jewish Education.” The costs are incredibly high and I am amazed that in this time of recession it is still possible to pay up to $30,000 to send a single child for a year to high school. What are you people thinking?

I may earn less and pay higher taxes, but the benefits in health care and education are incredible. I pay less than a 5 digit dollar figure to send all 5 kids to school, and there are so many schools to choose from here.

None of our schools have building funds, dinners, or any of the other fees and taxes that your yeshiva has been hitting you with. We are therefore less tied in to a specific school and it is not a big deal to send kids to different schools, allowing you to send each kid to the school that is best for him/her as an individual instead of them all being lumped into the same building for convenience/cost.

2. Davening. There are many wonderful shuls and chazzanim outside of Israel. However, most of the people in those shuls don’t fully understand the words they are saying. Hebrew is a foreign language to them. Even people who have studied the davening and can literally translate them don’t fully appreciate what they are saying.

Almost all of davening (all of Tehillim) is poetry written by David HaMelech. Most of us cannot fully appreciate Italian, Greek, or Latin poetry, even when it is translated to English because we lack the fluency to understand the nuances that make the poetry especially beautiful and meaningful. The same holds true for davening.

Israeli born Jews do not have such a handicap. Even immigrants stack up better than foreign Jews because they are forced to be somewhat fluent in order to conduct their everyday lives. Most of us know where the accents are supposed to be and pause at the correct moment. Singing a tefillah that you understand (especially as a group) is unbelievable.

1. Write your own Chronicles. I have enjoyed tremendous support from the overwhelming majority of my readers. Larry Gordon’s vision of enabling the average reader to visualize the aliyah process and connect a little more closely with Israel turned out to be prophetic in a way. Your support has seen us through many of the trials and tribulations we have faced and comforted us when we needed it most.

Yet, it is practically impossible to please everyone. I have heard it all: “Katz is too religious,” “Katz isn’t religious enough,” “How could you have done that in public” and of course, my all-time favorite “Katz is a jerk for beating up on the chareidim because we identify with them.”

Firstly, you only think you identify with them. I complain about those who do things that no one in the Five Towns would even dream of doing and behave in such an immoral way that it is impossible to defend them. I have repeatedly said that I understand that the majority of the chareidi public are nice people and want to live their lives the same way I do—without interference from outsiders. My complaint to them is that they (by their silence) enable the worst elements in their community to terrorize us all.

Yet no matter how many times I say this, there are always a handful of people who think I am an agent of evil and have no “right” to say (in a column that is supposed to be a journal of my personal experiences and thoughts in making aliyah) anything negative about this minority of people who have tried to enforce their standards on me and my neighbors. So please, come prove me wrong.

I would eagerly look forward to reading about your experiences and hearing your opinions, since you too will have made the sacrifice of uprooting your family and committing yourself to the future of our country and our nation. Having walked a mile in each other’s shoes, I have a suspicion that you might not be as critical of me as you are now. Or you might be. We’ll never know until you move in.

I am a total advocate for everyone to come here and add to the mosaic that is the population of our homeland. In another few years we will have 50%+ of the Jewish people resident in Israel for the first time in thousands of years. Mitzvot specific to Israel will become obligatory from the Torah then. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of that?

On a separate note, mazal tov to Goldie’s brother David and his wife Marcia on the engagement of their daughter Tova to Yitzy Klapper of Hillcrest. We are very close with David and Marcia (and especially Tova who was in seminary in Israel when we initially made aliyah). We owe tremendous appreciation to them for all they have done for us over the years. They have always been staunch supporters of our aliyah, when other relatives were not, and we feel a special bond with them. Hopefully Yitzy and Tova’s aliyah plans will come true.