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| 1/23/2009 8:46:00 AM | Email this article • Print this article |
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Far
left: Residents in Ashkelon near the Gaza Strip are often subject to
rocket attacks from Hamas, a situation which prompted Israel to invade
Gaza. Left: Despite the threat of attacks from neighbors, life goes on
in Jerusalem for both tourists and residents.
Meredith Price Levitt
Benji Lovitt
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VOICES: LETTERS FROM ISRAEL
As
Israel's conflict with Hamas in Gaza commenced and later intensified,
two former Atlanta residents and regular JT contributors shared their
thoughts. Meredith Price Levitt, Marietta native and Tel Aviv resident,
was planning to write about her new home's centennial and the feelings
of hope springing up internationally following Barack Obama's
presidential victory when the conflict began. Now her thoughts are with
the Israeli soldiers and their families. Meanwhile, humor columnist
Benji Lovitt departs from his usual jokes to make a plea: Please come
to Israel, it's as safe, if not safer, than any place in the United
States, and it's a life-changing trip you'll never forget.
'All We Can Do Is Pray'
| Meredith Price Levitt
| Special to the Jewish Times
It
was supposed to be simple. Aside from the depressing global recession
and a series of damaging political scandals, Tel Aviv's centennial
birthday seemed to be occurring in a year ripe with promise. 2009 was
basking in the light of potential peace. The growing Iranian threat
that many Israelis feared would incite an Israeli air strike and
possible retaliation in late 2008 came to naught. Stanley Fischer
announced the strength and resistance of the Israeli banks and economy
despite rising job cuts and unemployment. Barack Obama got elected and,
along with many Americans, Arabs across the world joined in historic
celebrations, including many in Israel.
The day after the
election, I made a run to the local fruit and vegetable store. Think
Kroger's produce section condensed into a five-by-five box with
cucumbers, celery roots and fresh pumpkin pieces arranged in boxes from
floor to ceiling alongside hummus, tchina, roasted eggplant salad and
marinated cabbage. You get the point. Like most places of its kind in
Tel Aviv, it's owned by an Israeli Arab family. As I griped about the
ridiculous price of lemons and tried to decide whether or not to
splurge on a tray of homemade bachlava, Yasin greeted me with a wide
smile.
"So ... Obama," he said, leaning back on his heels and
making a "psh psh" sound with his lips. Yasin keeps track of his
clients so that he can talk world politics with the right
nationalities. He knows the immigrants from the locals, and he can
speak a few words of many languages. Merci beaucoup, he'll say to the
French mesdames. Or bonne journée, as he waves them out. Yasin can say
"thank you very much" in German, Spanish and Italin, but his favorite
is the Yiddish phrase - a sheynem dank - which he says as slowly and
carefully as a royal messenger announcing the king's passage. Slim and
gregarious, Yasin is the quintessential salesman that everyone
instinctively loves.
"What do you think about Obama? What's the reaction in the Arab world?" I asked him.
He
thought for a moment and then said, "The Arabs feel that Obama
understands world politics, that he can make a change and bring peace.
All over Al-Jazeera they showed celebrations, people hoping that Obama
will have the answers and be able to make a difference."
I
watched him move a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other
with his tongue - a peculiar habit he'd picked up after quitting
smoking.
"And what do you think?" I asked.
He weighed a bag of oranges for an elderly gentleman before replying. "I think Obama will be good for peace. I like him."
That
was the most hopeful statement I'd heard from Yasin about any
politician in ages, and knowing that his sentiments were joined by many
other Arabs and Arab nations was enough to make anyone hopeful.
As
2008 drew to a close, even Hamas seemed to be conciliatory and
respectful of the latest cease-fire attempt. The peace process had an
illusion of solidity, and I planned to write about Tel Aviv's
fascinating history in January. Since the 60 founding families met on
the sand in the spring of 1909 to receive their plots of land in what
would later become known as the seashell lottery, a lot has happened.
The garden suburb dreamed up by a few Zionists has come a long way.
Then
the plans changed. While I was on vacation for the last two weeks of
2008, another war broke out. It was the second time I had returned to
Israel after a war began, but you never get used to something like
that. The first time, I'd been in the air between Tel Aviv and Atlanta
when the war with Lebanon began in 2006.
"Israel is the only
country that can be at peace when you take off and at war when you
land," my taxi driver had said with an intonation that reminded me of
Rodney Dangerfield. "Welcome to the war zone," he'd chirped. Israelis
have a weird sense of humor.
This time, the landing was
slightly softer. I'd already heard from well-informed fellow tourists
traveling in Thailand that a war had ignited in the Gaza Strip.
"Over
300 poor Palestinians have already been slaughtered, and the big bad
boys at the IDF are talking about putting Gaza back 40 years," a
British guy informed me.
"Oh," I said, picking at a jagged fingernail and closing my book.
He
stood there, waiting for me to say that Israel has indeed been bad - a
powerful parent beating its defenseless child again. The world seemed
to think that Israel should be reprimanded by the courts, and I knew
the point wasn't worth arguing with someone who doesn't understand the
psychological distance between Gaza and Tel Aviv or what it's like to
live with terrorism and constant rocket fire.
I was tempted to
ask a question: What would Gordon Brown do if an imaginary third-world
France suddenly started sending 80 rockets a day its way, hitting major
cities and targeting innocent civilians? Would England not respond
because poor France doesn't have very good aim and it's not really
killing that many people? I couldn't imagine Margaret Thatcher or
Winston Churchill adhering to that line of thinking.
But
instead of arguing, I sighed and held up my hands. I was still on
vacation. I watched the waves crashing onto the sand, trying to
concentrate on sea foam rather than the young IDF combat soldiers I'd
interviewed in early December. "You go on vacation and all hell breaks
loose," my father wrote in an e-mail. But it's not me. It's the reality
of life here. It's just that kind of place.
In the 40-minute
cab ride home in thick Sunday morning traffic on Jan. 4, I heard enough
of the mounting tragedies on both sides to feel sick. "I just hope the
operation ends soon and successfully so I can get home to my wife and
children," said one reserve soldier interviewed on the radio. The
Israeli reporter discussed the grave danger and imminent challenges
posed by a ground assault. Just four days into the new year, people
were already past theorizing about whether it was right or wrong. Most
Israelis agreed that this war was unfortunate but necessary.
And
how can you concentrate on the architectural accomplishments or the
cultural landscape of the eclectic city of Tel Aviv when thousands of
soldiers a few kilometers away are pushing their way into the Gaza
Strip, risking their lives for this country's existence?
Instead, I went to buy some milk and eggs and get some air.
"Where have you been?" asked Gilah the cashier as I walked in to the corner store.
"I was abroad. Terrible about the war," I said, depressed.
She
looked at me for a minute and then replied, "It's not in Tel Aviv
sweetie," as if because I'm American I don't understand the difference
between the Gaza Strip and my city.
"I know, but it's Israeli soldiers and it's other cities and it's mothers and children on both sides," I replied.
"All we can do is pray," she said. "We're all praying."
Meredith
Price Levitt grew up in Marietta and bought a ticket to Tel Aviv on
Sept. 10, 2001. She writes a column on Israeli innovations and cultural
features for The Jerusalem Post. You can reach her at meredithmprice@yahoo.com.
Please Come To Israel
| Benji Lovitt
| Special to the Jewish Times
Do
you remember me? I lived in your fine city just a few years ago. When I
arrived, you were still "HOTlanta" and anybody who was anybody hung out
at Rose 'n Crown Friday night. Times have changed, huh? I recently
moved to Jerusalem after living in Tel Aviv for two years. Sometimes I
run into some nice Atlantans who come here for a visit. In fact, just
last month, I unexpectedly and literally walked right into a group of
Atlanta men in Jerusalem studying Torah for a week.
So why am I
nervous? If you think it's because of the images you're seeing on the
television, think again. I'm nervous because I know what happens when
things heat up in this part of the world. CNN goes nuts, ratings go
through the roof and Jews stop visiting Israel.
To many of you
who have been here before, what I'm about to write will sound familiar.
To those of you who have not, you will probably not believe what you're
about to read. (drum roll...) Ready? Being in Israel is as safe as
being in America. Seriously. No, seriously. If you need a few minutes
to think it over, I'll understand. (pause) Back? OK, let's talk about
it.
Life in Israel is not what you see on the news. Since the
war broke out in Gaza a few weeks ago, the cameras could have filmed me
and numerous other Israelis hitting the late-night bars or eating a
delicious Israeli salad at an outdoor café, but it probably wouldn't
have glued viewers to their seats. People say that Israelis are a
resilient people who quickly move on after adversity, but that's not
the whole story. For most people around the country, during conflicts
like this, when we're talking about day-to-day life, there IS no
adversity. While we take very seriously what goes on in Gaza, it's
going on IN GAZA. Our hearts ache for residents of the affected nearby
areas and we worry about the reservists and soldiers serving there
right now, but for those of us who live elsewhere, it's business as
usual. We go to school, work, the movies, the mall.
When
deciding whether or not to visit Israel, people ask themselves the
question: "So just how likely is the risk of encountering danger?"
Well, we all know its history - Israel must be a dangerous war zone,
right? So just how great is the risk? Maybe not as great as you think.
According to social psychologists, the availability heuristic is a
phenomenon in which people base their prediction of the frequency of an
event or the proportion within a population based on how easily an
example can be brought to mind. We all remember the grisly bus bombings
of the mid-90s and early 2000s, right? You'd be a fool to ride a bus in
Israel, right? The last bus bombing occurred in mid-2004. The next time
you're driving on Atlanta's downtown connector at 70 mph chatting on
your cell phone with your favorite radio show on, you might want to
consider how much danger you're in. Certainly a lot more than you
think. But nobody tunes into the news to watch car crashes and it's too
easy to not change bad habits because "bad things only happen to other
people." Thank goodness for the Israeli bus system; how else would I
get to work?
If an alien were to come to Planet Earth and watch
the U.S. news for a day with the daily acts of random violence in the
mall, schools or on Black Friday, I suspect he might think twice about
stepping foot in America. Meanwhile, Israel is blessed to have an
incredibly low rate of street crime, with women and children able to
walk home late at night in most neighborhoods.
Some of you
aren't convinced. "It can't be. . . . I just can't believe Israel isn't
dangerous." Anyone who's followed the news over the last five to 10
years has learned, sadly, that it's a dangerous world out there.
London, New York, Mumbai, Columbine . . . tragedy can strike anywhere.
But even if you remain convinced that there IS a greater risk of danger
in Israel, you should still come visit. I'll tell you why: When we make
decisions in life, we do so by weighing risk vs. reward. There's a lot
of reward to drive a car on the connector to work so we put up with the
risk (or minimize it in our heads). Who has the time to take public
transportation? Could I convince anyone to visit South Central Los
Angeles and hang out with the Crips and the Bloods? Unless you're
seeing some hidden reward, probably not.
So what's the reward of
visiting Israel? Where to begin? If your Jewish identity means anything
at all, I suspect you might find a visit to Israel anywhere between
quite interesting and life-changing. Don't take it from me; take it
from the millions of Jews who have made a visit to the Jewish state in
their lifetime and have returned home having experienced a feeling and
connection to their Judaism like never before. Ever felt a connection
to God when celebrating Shabbat at the Kotel (Western Wall)? Felt
Jewish peoplehood by volunteering at an absorption center with Russian
or Ethiopian immigrants? Been able to keep kosher at a certified kosher
McDonalds? Gotten off the treadmill at the neighborhood gym to light
Chanukah candles along with everyone else around you? These are special
moments in life, which warm our hearts and connect us to our Judaism in
a way that cannot be recreated anywhere else in the world. And if you
haven't been to Israel, trust those who have. It's that special.
But
there's even more to it - there's a risk to not visiting Israel. Rabbis
and Jewish leaders stress one thing more than any other for the
continuation of the Jewish people: Education. While the importance of
Jewish education at home cannot be overstated, a visit to Israel
provides a seminal moment in the development of a Jewish soul. Parents,
when your children go off to college and begin to make adult choices as
to what kind of Jewish life they plan to lead, it doesn't happen in a
vacuum. They draw from past experiences, memories and lessons. Some of
their most powerful ones will take place in Israel. A visit to Israel
on a group program as a teen or young adult can be one of the most
rewarding and life-changing experiences in one's life.
Years
ago, after an hour-long dispute with a friend who had never been to
Israel, I finally realized that no statistics or reasoning could
convince him to visit. The images we get from the media are simply too
strong for many to overcome. Most first-time or even repeat visitors
return home thinking, "Wow, this hardly resembles what I imagined. I
just can't believe how safe I felt." I implore anyone who has ever
echoed this sentiment to voice it to anyone around you, Jewish or not,
who is considering or questioning a possible trip to Israel. It helps
the economy, it makes a statement to our fellow Jews in Israel and to
the world around us, and it strengthens our connections to our Jewish
identities in a way that simply cannot be achieved in our home
countries.
And if that's not worth taking a stand for, what is?
Thanks for reading and say hello to the Waffle House for me.
Benji
Lovitt is a stand-up comic and writer. While his apartment is in
Jerusalem, part of his heart remains in Atlanta. You can read about his
hilarious immigrant perspective of Israel at www.whatwarzone.com and see his stand-up comedy at www.benjilovitt.com.
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