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STAND WITH ISRAEL COMMITTEE
ISRAEL MISSION: A FIRST HAND REPORT
Memories from the CBI Israel Mission
Led by Rabbi Paul Citrin, July, 11-25, 2005
By Edith Kodmur
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Author Edith Kodmur and her husband Milton
celebrating a special occasion. |
Thirty Americans – ages nine to 80 – went to Israel on a Pilgrimage ['journeying to a sacred place'] last July, led by Rabbi Paul Citrin. The 12 days and nights were packed with sights, sounds, tastes and emotion — experiences we will remember and cherish. Despite many 100-degree days, the camaraderie, courtesy and thoughtfulness of the participants made the journey a thoroughly positive experience.
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Visiting the Ethiopian
Absorption Center pre-school. |
Among the sounds I will never forget were the "Shalom, Shalom, Shalom" sung by enthusiastic toddlers greeting us at the Ethiopian Absorption Center pre-school. The tiny children's shining brown eyes and broad grins captivated us. Here the entire family is housed, learns Hebrew and is acclimatized before entering the greater Israeli society.
Celebrating A CBI Bat Mitzvah
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Isabelle Gettinger celebrates
her Bat Mitzvah. |
Bird calls and gentle breezes were the only interlopers as Beth Israel student Isabelle Gettinger confidently chanted her Bat Mitzvah portion. We sat in a semi-circle before her, under the shade of an enormous pine in the Mount Carmel Nature Preserve. The idyllic setting and Izzie's grace are other precious memories.
Nine-year-old Myles Cohen stood at Independence Hall and recited, from memory, Ben Gurion's speech declaring the birth of the State of Israel. Never had the guides there experienced anything like it, nor could we restrain our pride in his fine performance.
"And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper." Our erudite guide, Frances Oppenheimer, read the First Psalm aloud as we stood under towering pistachio, fig and laurel trees, with the river Dan, Jordan's largest tributary, roaring by.
Strong Visual Memories
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| The blue doors of Safed. |
Among the most vivid of my visual memories are the blue doors, blue window-frames, blue stairways and blue planter boxes which enliven the narrow passageways of the picturesque, stony hill-town of Safed, home of the Jewish mystics. Rabbi Abuhav's synagogue there is a veritable piece of folk art, with charming paintings of palm trees, olive trees, musical instruments and the twelve tribes filling its white-washed oval dome. Ornately carved and velvet-curtained Torah arks and brilliant red, green, gold and yellow hanging glass lanterns add richness to the unusual gaiety of the setting.
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The sea cove in Caesarea. |
A surreal azure sea gleamed before us in Caesarea, once a major Roman port. Some of us lunched, waving to Rabbi Citrin, his father and others of our group, who swam in the cove below.
Yet another kind of blue was tied to car antennas, woven onto fencing and flown as a symbol of support for the withdrawal of settlements in the Gaza. The opponents tied just as many bits of orange fabric to their cars, houses and fences along the highway, a somber reminder that leaving Gaza was not a unanimous decision.
Wind-blown, we sat in a tight circle at the crest of the hill, facing Southernmost Lebanon, just across the cyclone fence. We could see the green flag of Hamas flying defiantly from the rooftops. Where there had once been 'sugar-borrowing neighbors,' who ate with the Israeli Kibbutzniks when their own land suffered famine, now there is animosity. Tall, dark-haired, Brooklyn-born Mike Ginsburg, an ambulance driver by day and security expert for the Kibbutz Misgav Amm, wearing an 'NYPD' visor, outlined the thirty-year see-sawing history of the area.
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| The road to the Golan Heights. |
Bumping up hill and down dale in rugged Land Rovers, we were driven to the Golan Heights. Thirty-two years after the last battle there, it still looks, feels and smells like a war zone. Shelled bunkers dot scorched hillsides where large areas are fenced off with warning signs in 3 languages: 'Danger: Mines!' Only ten miles from Damascus, that no-man's land stands as a profound contrast to the fertile green valley below, which early Zionists turned into an Eden.
The Stones of Jerusalem
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A Jerusalem market. |
Once experienced, never forgotten. An age-old heritage, reinforced by the design of our own Beth Israel buildings in San Diego. On Friday at noon, the large, open marketplace is filled with the hustle-bustle of shoppers. Men and women, young and old, carefully carrying their precious parcels — often including flowers — all in preparation for Shabbat.
Black-clad Chasids contrast with the green-uniformed young soldiers strategically standing at points of entry. Walking together that evening along quiet streets, we worshipped with the oldest reform [they call it 'progressive'] congregation in the nation, Kehelat Har-El. True pioneers, they have struggled to survive without the financial support the Orthodox synagogues routinely receive from the government. They have published several editions of their own Siddur, which is used by 'progressive' congregations throughout Israel.
Early one morning, two reporters from The Jerusalem Post met with us. Khaled Abu Toameh is an Israeli Arab who has reported on the West Bank and Gaza for many years. He originally worked for the P.L.O. and Al-Jazeera, but left when they censored him. He also writes for U.S. News and World Report and has produced segments for major U.S. television networks. He calls the Palestinian situation "a culture of hatred" and also warned that we should always listen to political leaders in their own language. His colleague, Kezvia Svelova, is a Russian émigré and among the 30% of journalists who speak Arabic. She emphasized that there is no such unit as "the Arab World" nor "Arab Culture" — each group is unique, individual.
Emotional moments Were Many
Seeing black-clad, sobbing teen-agers march in a procession as they were burying their 16-year old friend, a bomb victim. Meeting with the family Beth Israel has partially supported through our OneFamily program, who lost their son while he served in the military; visiting the heroes and martyrs on Mount Herzl.
After leaving the new Yad Vashem, I entered a separate space and experienced total darkness. Fumbling, I found a railing alongside one wall. Clutching it, I moved slowly through the darkness until I saw a glimmer of light. Soon I saw countless tiny flickering lights, gradually magnified to infinity by glass and mirrors. Then I heard voices, alternating man and woman, reading a name and a country. The names are of the million and one half children who were murdered in the Holocaust.
Names and origins
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| Our guide, Frances. |
Names and origins were the revelation of the trip for me. Our guide Frances speaks 'the King's English' because she grew up in Great Britain. She made aliyah from New Zealand after her parents moved there. In the hotel's diamond shop, Mirielle has a French name because her parents fled France for Columbia, which she left six years ago. Lean and handsome Dr. Michael Goldsmith cured me of a tummy upset as he revealed how very much he was looking forward to running in the Maccabia Games later that week — all in a pronounced Australian twang. Vivian, our guide at the Golan Heights winery, lectured on vinicultural techniques in a thick Scottish brogue.
Brilliant journalist Kezvia Svelova is fluent in Arabic, but her spoken English immediately reveals her Russian origins. Mike Ginsburg's final words to us on that windy hilltop overlooking Lebanon were delivered in a deep bass 'Brooklynese': "Remember: this is your home. Where you choose to live is up to you, but Israel is always here for you. And what you do when you return home is important."
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