Meet the Mayor (10/14/2009)

I had outlined a great article for this week. Chol ha'moed in Israel is always a treat, especially when the yomim tovim both land on Shabbat so we get a full week of chol ha'moed. Between concerts and the perennial ATV trip, we always have things to do and fascinating places to go.

However, I am also busily adjusting to a new travel schedule. My position at Machon Puah will require much more travel than I have been used to (no fewer than ten trips a year, versus three or four). In the past, I had been able to prepare for each trip as its own unit and schedule my time in the weeks leading up to the trip. This year, with trips scheduled to the USA in October, November, December, and January-as well as an anticipated trip to England sometime in November-December-I need to start thinking two and three trips ahead in order to make sure I maximize my efforts. And I have not been doing that.

So I will instead share an invitation with you-an invitation to meet some of the players in Bet Shemesh and find out for yourself what their vision is for the future of Bet Shemesh.

As some of you might already know, the mayor of Bet Shemesh, Moshe Abutbul, will be visiting the Five Towns on Tuesday evening as part of an international tour he is conducting to generate interest in the growth and development of Bet Shemesh. Shalom Lerner (the guy I voted for in the mayoral elections) will be on the trip as a member of the city council coalition. Part of their focus on this tour is generating further interest in Bet Shemesh as a destination for olim and investment.

As you know, Goldie and I have been debating our personal long-term plans for the past several months. Without a permanent solution for housing, we have been weighing the pros and cons of staying in Bet Shemesh versus leaving. It is a very difficult consideration. After all, we have planted roots with our neighbors and with our shul. Our children are extremely happy here and have terrific friends that they aren't excited about leaving behind. Perhaps most importantly, the community was incredibly supportive in a tangible way when Goldie was ill, similar to the tremendous emotional and spiritual support we got from our friends in the Five Towns.

We know the system here (at least enough to get around in it). We have a routine and quality of life that is terrific and provides us with great satisfaction. So leaving would be tough. Yet, as you know, I have grave concerns over the future of Bet Shemesh and the demographic shift that is being proposed by the current mayor and the Ministry of Building and Housing. I am also frustrated by the lack of achdut in the city and the friction that exists (thankfully for now it is not being expressed) between the various communities.

I believe that the future of Bet Shemesh could be bright . . . or perhaps not. And a lot of that future is tied to the people who will be coming to meet you this week. So please take a minute to stop by and meet the city officials who are there and ask them serious questions about the future of our city. It could continue to be a great destination for olim-but our voices need to be heard.

When the mayor invites you to consider investing in infrastructure, make sure he knows that it needs to be invested for all demographic groups, not just his own. When he talks about the diversity of the city, ask him why he supports vast expansion in the city for only one of the demographic groups instead of continued proportional growth designed to maintain the demographic balance that currently exists. Ask him what the plans are for continued investment in new neighborhoods for the religious Zionist and the non-religious citizens of the city. And pay attention to his answers.

We need you in Bet Shemesh; there is no question of that. Yet we have a responsibility of providing you with a place that you (and I) can continue to feel comfortable living in and be proud of. Make sure that the people making the decisions for my future (as well as all of your friends-those who live here and those of you who have not yet made the step up) know that the partnership they seek is not one-sided.

You can be part of the solution for all the residents of Bet Shemesh and help us continue to be a beacon for Anglos and native Israelis alike who share similar values and desires to be a part of the Jewish National dream. The first step of the process happens Tuesday. Take it.

Welcome 5770 (9/23/2009)

The Yamim Nora'im are a time when we have to atone for the errors we have made, a time when each person asks forgiveness from those he has harmed, whether or not the damage was intentional.

Each year I wish a warm welcome to the many olim who have made the move to Israel and joined us in the aliyah adventure. I even try to list the Five Towns/Long Island families that I know by name. Last year, in listing the families, I omitted one family who joined our shul with their move to Israel. I left them off the list because they were on a "trial year" and did not arrive as olim.

Last Thursday, at our hachnassat sefer Torah (more on this later), I was reminded about this family and my commitment to include them in this year's list if they made aliyah. And I forgot to do so in my article a couple of weeks ago.

So I am especially pleased to wish a special mazal tov to Aaron and Aliza Miller and their family upon their aliyah this summer. Formerly from West Hempstead, they joined us last year and have been such an integral part of our shul and community, I had simply forgotten that they were on a trial and only made the move permanent as of this summer.

As with many other chagim or events, our approach to Rosh Hashanah is quite different here in Israel. In addition to its status as the New Year and the almost universal recognition of it as such among all walks of Jews here, it is also the only guaranteed two-day holiday in Israel and is looked at with a sense of unusual anticipation.

Our preparations are unique as well. For instance, consider the simanim that we eat on the first night with dinner. These are fairly easy to get in the U.S. All you have to do is head to the local supermarket and pick up fresh samples of any of the vegetables on the list. Leeks, carrots, beets, black-eyed peas, squash, etc. They are all available almost continually throughout the year.

That is not the case here. As I have written before, in Israel, if a fruit or vegetable is not in season, it is not available. The only way to get something out of season is to buy it frozen or canned. Some of them (like black-eyed peas this year) sometimes cannot be found at all, and we do without.

We also have huge competition here between supermarkets, all clamoring for a piece of the very lucrative two-day holiday grocery bill. I remember this as a practice around Pesach in the U.S. With a purchase above a set amount, you were entitled to five pounds of matzah for free, which makes sense and is tied in to the holiday very nicely.

Here in Israel, the promotions were also tied in to the holiday. Goldie got two free bags of apples (great for dipping in honey) as well as a honey cake from various shopping trips to Supersol in Bet Shemesh. I think they were also offering free honey as an option, but we had bought our honey at a 50 percent discount the week before in a different sale. Another store gave us a four-pack of Pepsi Max (no connection to Rosh Hashanah, but still free).

Rosh Hashanah is also a major school milestone here. The week after Rosh Hashanah is the preferred time for back-to-school night in all the schools (we had four of them this week). It marks the time that the learning is turned up a notch and is the final preparation for the major academic period that begins after Sukkot and runs through Pesach.

It also marked a major milestone for our shul. Having completed our first year as a kehillah, one of our members, Rabbi Menachem Alfasi (a native-born Israeli who serves as a rabbi in the IDF) and his family presented the shul with our first sefer Torah. It was completed only days before Rosh Hashanah, so on Thursday night, the last night of the year, we held a gala hachnassat sefer Torah in the shul.

The final letters of the sefer were written at Rabbi Rosner's home, and almost everyone who attended was able to add this special mitzvah to their account that night (even the policemen who came to secure the route for the procession to the shul were invited in and honored with the writing of a letter and joined in the singing and dancing on the way to the shul).

The sofer was very patient and allowed the children to watch as he wrote each letter (at the event, Goldie commented to me that our shul has a tremendous number of children).

We danced to the shul and enjoyed a terrific reception there, with divrei Torah from several rabbanim and a tremendous sense of togetherness. As we grow and more people move to the neighborhood and come to the shul, we have an increasingly greater sense of belonging to something that has great potential. We just need to further develop the land and make more housing available for our families.

On that note, I have to add that things have been quite settled lately. While there are occasional demonstrations from one group or another, there has been a pretty good sense of quiet and patience in the neighborhood.

A new development is opening up in Ramat Bet Shemesh Gimmel, which will be equally divided (designated housing use) by all segments of Bet Shemesh society-non-religious, religious-Zionist, and chareidi. The equal division will provide for the maintenance of the demographic status quo for the time being, which is really the main goal (of my community at least).

As a matter of fact, a further all-chareidi development was put on hold because an ancient burial ground was discovered at the site and the Antiquities Department has to spend several years examining it. So for now, we are hopeful that we will continue to build bridges with the neighbors and continue to coexist without the complications that have cropped up from time to time.

On a personal level, we still have to figure out what we will be doing long-term. Our lease ends next summer and we already know that we will need to move out. We hope that the development we had originally committed to will be somehow resurrected, so that we can remain in the place where we have developed roots. That remains to be seen.

It rained here on the second day of Rosh Hashanah (which was probably not so good for the grape growers, but great for the rest of us). Mordechai ran out to dance in the rain in the middle of davening. Hopefully, this was a sign of a good and healthy rainy season-something which we need. The Kinneret Lake is at -214.195, still 85 centimeters above the dreaded Black Line (which it looks like we will thankfully not reach this year).

I wish you and your families all a g'mar chatimah tovah-may we all have an easy and meaningful fast as we watch the Kohein Gadol perform the Yom Kippur avodah in the rebuilt Beit HaMikdash.

Haramat Kosot (9/16/2009)

It is once again a few days before the Yom HaDin. As we all do, I too have striven to look back upon the past year and reflect about who I am, where I am, and what I could have done better (which is almost everything). As we all do, I need to ask one and all for forgiveness if I offended or upset them.

I view the mission of these articles as a vehicle for the encouragement of aliyah and the in-gathering of the Jewish people to Israel. Although there are certainly difficulties, and you have read about a lot of them, the general body of work is intended to demonstrate to you, the reader, that anyone can make the move here. If we can make it here, with all the trials and tribulations we have gone through, certainly you can too.

People often ask me why I write about the underbelly of life here if I want people to come on aliyah. My goal is to share the good AND the bad in order to present you with a fair picture of what life is like. I want every Jew to join us here, but I want you to do it willingly, with a full heart and totally prepared for what you will face. I think it would be unfair and dishonest of me to attempt to "fool" you with a totally rosy picture.

I believe this is especially important in regard to Bet Shemesh and the issues the city faces as it grows and develops. I often write that the views I express come from my personal experience as a result of my living right on the border of two neighborhoods. I also add that I do not think these events should, on their own, dissuade people from coming to Bet Shemesh in particular, just that the information should be part of a reasoned process.

We had neighbors right next to our house in Woodmere that I didn't care for, people who made life difficult (especially on Shabbat). They would make tons of noise and had their teenagers running amok at all hours, disrupting our kids' sleep. I had to call the police several times about them. Yet, on the whole, our Woodmere community was terrific, and we were glad to have settled in the neighborhood and on our block.

The same applies to our lives here in Israel. Do some of the charedim make me crazy? Yes! Are they all nut jobs? NO! Are they enough of a reason to keep you away? Maybe-but that is something you need to investigate for yourself. The point is that there is no perfect place to live, here or there. I would much rather have my imperfection than yours. Because I still have the Kotel, the kedushah of Eretz Yisrael, and I am getting the mitzvah of living in the land, among other things.

So please, do not take offense; I do not mean to offend, only to inform and encourage. After all, there is so much that we have to offer.

I experienced a new phenomenon (for me) this year at work. I got to work last Sunday, and there was a note on the bulletin board informing the staff that there would be a "Haramat Kossot" (literally a "lifting of cups") at 1 p.m. that afternoon. Having no idea what that meant, I joined the entire staff in one of the meeting rooms at the appropriate time.

In what is an annual get together, Rav Menachem Burstein, the head of the Machon, shared a brief d'var Torah and then spoke to us about the accomplishments of the prior year and his hopes for the coming year. He reminded us that we are in the chessed business and that as much as it is a job for us, we work with couples who are suffering great emotional distress and that we need to keep our compassion first in our hearts.

He reminded us to remember the couples we work with in our davening on the Yamim Nora'im, and he wished us a terrific year. The executive director, Rav Meir Bitton, also said a few words about always being careful in how we phrase things and in remembering that a Jew is a Jew, no matter what.

There was a table with refreshments, including apples with honey (apparently, unlike matzah, this is something we can enjoy time and again in preparation for Rosh Hashanah) honey cake, and a host of other snacks and drinks. We then spent a few minutes (no more than 15) together, something we rarely do as a staff. I thought it was a very nice way to encourage a sense of camaraderie and share mutual wishes of goodwill between coworkers.

That night I shared the experience with another Anglo, I don't remember whom. Their response? This is normal; everyone does it in Israel. It is especially prevalent in the army, where camaraderie and a concern for the well-being of your neighbor takes on extra meaning.

I was amazed. Such a simple gesture, and it is so genuine and well-meaning. It wasn't a big holiday party or dinner. Just a simple heartfelt brachah from one person to the next. And it happens all over.

At the supermarket, "Shanah Tovah."

From the taxi and bus drivers, "Shanah Tova."

From the teachers in school, "Shanah Tovah."

From the mailman, garbagemen, most of the people you encounter, "Shanah Tovah."

And from the Katz family to you, "Shanah Tovah."

I remember a drasha I heard a few years ago. It was a year like this year in which Rosh Hashanah's first day fell on Shabbat. I davened that year at Anshei Chessed in Woodmere. Rabbi Simcha Lefkowitz shared a thought about the loss of the sounds of the shofar standing in our defense and that the years in which this happened generally turn out to be dark years for the Jews (if I got the message wrong, I apologize to Rabbi Lefkowitz). He encouraged the kehillah to think about this and to concentrate with extra fervor for only good things in the coming year.

I cannot even begin to imagine applying this to our current existence. The world has spent a year hearing about the greed of the Jew that has reinforced the stereotypical image of our people as willing to steal from charities and the innocent. Here in the Holy Land we stand (as we always seem to be) at the edge of terrible options. Our enemies want to chop us to bits to destroy us. Even our friends want to chop us into little pieces to make life easier for them.

People are concerned about jobs, health, safety, and security. And we have no shofar to blast open the doors of heaven for our prayers. We must do anything within our power to add an extra dimension to our davening and secure the needs of our land and its people. I hope and pray that we get to blow shofar as part of the regular avodah on the first day of Rosh Hashanah in the Beit HaMikdash, with the coming of Mashiach. If not, l'shanah haba'ah b'Yerushalayim ha'bnuya.

I wish you and your family a truly meaningful Rosh Hashanah with inspired tefillah and a positive outcome. May you be zocheh to be awarded the things that are best for you (which in most cases should include joining Am Yisrael here in the land that was given to us).

Summer is Done (9/9/2009)

Each summer I get the same concerned e-mail from Larry Gordon. "Shmuel," he asks, "where have you gone?" What can I say? The summer is a slow time of year for us. Many of our friends disappear on vacations. Even our kids head off for camp. So there isn't much to report, and I don't write as much. Hopefully we will now be back to regular life until the next big vacation.

I don't remember being this relieved for school to arrive when we lived in the U.S. School starts earlier here (September 1) and ends later (the last week of June), so you would think the summer break would be easier to handle. Yet, with no camp programs that run eight or nine weeks, the last month is a killer. With kids all over the place with nothing to do, and my first U.S. trip for my new job with Puah, August was a terribly hard month for Goldie.

She had to balance keeping the kids busy and involved with running the household and having to do everything all alone (in truth, she does everything even when I am there, but it is different when she is alone). I, on the other hand, took a couple of days off to do some fun stuff, flew to the U.S. for 10 days, and then came home to another couple of days off with the kids.

We went to the Bloomfield Science Museum (lots of fun, but needs maintenance on the exhibits), an amusement park, the beach, shopping, playing-everything we could to keep busy. Although there is nothing like being here in Israel, I sometimes miss the wealth of fun, educational, or cultural activities that we used to enjoy in New York. There are so many more things to do to keep little kids occupied-probably because there are so many more people there.

As I mentioned, I made my first work-related trip to the U.S. for Puah, my new employer. It was more of a "get to know you" trip than anything else, giving me the opportunity to meet the Puah USA staff and some of our supporters. I am amazed at some of the things Puah is doing in fertility and health issues and the incredible technologies that are involved in helping people have children.

As a benefit of the timing of the trip, I was able to take Chaim up to YU on the first day of orientation. He has been looking forward to this day since grade 4. I know it sounds like a cliché, but it was so much harder for me to drop him off than it was for him to take his leave of us. As any parent knows, while our pride in him has no bounds, our fears and concerns for him can be overwhelming.

We wonder if we made the right decisions for him in life. Schooling. Camps. Friends. Activities. And we had the extra worries about our aliyah and its impact on his life. Let's face it: he only really had one year of high school. He has a diploma and certainly did well on his SAT, but he hasn't written anything or been responsible to study and hand in homework for over three years. So we wonder if we hurt his career potential by making this move.

We personally know some families who have been successful in leaving a child or two behind in the U.S. to graduate with their friends. While we never really considered it as an option for us, it is certainly something we could have done to make sure he was better prepared for college. So we worry.

We also realize that our being 6,000 miles away means that he has essentially moved out. I know I covered this earlier this year, but it is definitely on our minds. Goldie had a terrific minute when he mentioned to her earlier this year that he is now open to the possibility of living in Israel long-term. He even mentioned a couple of yishuvim he would be happy in. So we still have hope on that front.

We are also quite excited with the arrival of several new olim families over the summer. Our shul is getting more crowded and we are getting close to a nexus point for the city, one in which the decision will be made about which direction the city will follow in the future. The municipality can show its equal commitment to the non-chareidi public by encouraging more of us to move here and by continuing to fund services to our schools and shuls. Hopefully they will choose this path.

Although there are many other families who have come on aliyah, I want to wish a special welcome to Dan and Audrey Rosenstein, who joined us from West Hempstead with their family, and to Donny and Ellie Fein, who came from Cedarhurst and have moved to Ramat Shilo (very close to our good friends Doni and Tzippy Lieberman, who often appear in these pages).

Water Update

My regular readers know that I have become quite fanatical about the falling levels of the Kinneret Lake. To refresh your memory, since our aliyah, the rainfalls in Israel have been well below average. Up till this year, consumption had been on the rise, leading to dramatically low levels in the Kinneret, our main source of water.

There are three significant water levels mentioned when measuring the Kinneret. The high water level of the Kinneret is 208.8 meters below sea level. At this level, the lake overflows and the floodgates of the Deganya Dam near Teveria are opened to allow the waters to flow into the Jordan River. This is called the upper red line.

The lower red line is 213 meters below sea level. At this level, the amount of unhealthy contaminants found in the water rises above safe levels. We are currently below that level, and have been so since around July 9, 2008. The next significant level of the Kinneret is the black line, at 215 meters below sea level. At -215, the water pumps of the Kinneret become exposed to the air and must be shut down, eliminating the Kinneret (which provides 40 percent of our total water supply) as a water source.

The good news is that the conservation efforts of the water authority here have had tremendous results. Last month they announced that summer water consumption in July had dropped 13.5 percent from last year's level. So the country is getting the message. As a result of this, in my estimation we will come incredibly close to the black line this year, but will not pass it (depending on when the rains begin to fall).

As of last Thursday (September 3), the Kinneret was 214.04 meters below sea level. Last year on the same date it was 213.72 meters below sea level. The lowest level last year was 214.43 meters below sea level, a drop of an additional 85 centimeters from the September 3 level. Assuming that the conservation efforts totally fail for the remainder of the year and we use the same amount of water as we used last year, the Kinneret should fall to 214.89, a mere 11 centimeters above the dreaded black line. An important 11 centimeters.

At that point, we all need to pray for rain-and I mean pray hard. There are desalination plants being built to help relieve the stress on the system, but they won't be ready for another couple of years, and we could have real problems before then.

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.