Monday, October 16, 2023

Strengthen one another

 


     Family obligations took me to New York for a quick visit — one full day and out. But I happened to arrive Friday, just in time for the "Day of Rage" that Hamas had announced to inflict their wrath on any random Jew who happened to be nearby.
     Which was worrisome, because I'm nothing if not a random Jew. Would it be safe? Myself, I wasn't concerned, but my loved ones were worried, as loved ones will be.
     So I'm waiting for my plane, about 6:30 a.m., and this gentleman is in line with his two sons — first I noticed the yamulke on the younger boy, about 7, and the fringes of his tzitzit. I saw them and thought, "If he can face the world today, so can I."
     At that moment the man whipped out his tallit, put on tefillin, and began davening his morning prayers, right there in line. Not a lot of wind-checking among these folks. No reading the room. I took one photo, and though I am not a pious person, as you know, thought of a line from Isaiah, "Fear not, for I am with you." That's why he can do this, my wife later explained. Because he believes God is protecting him. I almost pointed out that God is notoriously lax when it comes to watching out for his Chosen People, particularly last week. Hope springs eternal, I suppose. Maybe God means well, but is clumsy. Or pre-occupied. All those physical laws to keep straight, all those galaxies to keep twirling.
     On the plane, he sat a dozen rows ahead, still in his prayer shawl and phylacteries. I wanted to say something to him, out of free-floating goodwill and my own anxiety about going out and about looking like someone from the cover of Der Stermer. But I was aware from past experiences that religious Jews do not always welcome uninvited expressions of solidarity from their weak-tea religious brethren. Just because the Lubavitch are the Welcome Wagon for piety doesn't mean other ultra-orthodox sects are. Some have more of a leave-me-the-fuck-alone vibe.
     I happened to stow my backpack in the compartment over his head. During the flight, I went to get a snack from the backpack, mulling over what I wanted to say to the Orthodox Jew, should I get the chance. What came to mind was one of the few snatches of Hebrew I know: Hazak, hazak v' nit'hazek, which means, "Strong, strong and may we strengthen one another."  It's usually said when a congregation has finished reading a book of the Torah, and struck me as a something that could be repurposed as an expression of encouragement. Or not. I'm no expert on these things. More like someone trying to reconstruct a kindergarten teacher's manual based on having gone to kindergarten, long ago.
     I kept the phrase Hazak, hazak v'nit'hazek on the tip of my tongue, ready to deploy it, even as we left the airplane. He lingered — I wasn't quite up to planting myself and waiting to fake a chance encounter. Finally, I cast a final backward glance, and then vanished into Newark International Airport. Probably for the best. 
       The word hazak unlocked a memory, however. I was at a bar in Jerusalem, back in the day. The Red Windmill? I asked the bartender for a traditional Israeli drink and he made me a bieru hazaka (בירה חזקה) — a "strong beer" — consisting of a glass of ale with a shot of arak dropped into it. It did the trick, and reminds us of how the ancient and the modern mingle in Israel. IF Jews don't belong there, they don't belong anywhere, which is sorta the point anti-Semites are trying to make. Anyone who suggests that the Israelis just abandon their ancient land a) are being by definition anti-Semitic, by expecting Jews to do something that no other people would be glibly expected to do and b) have never been to Israel. It's such a small, beautiful place. There isn't much comfort to be found in this current nightmare of slaughter and atrocity with no end in sight. But this is undeniable: at least they're fighting over something worth having. You can't really blame the Israelis for wanting to be so strong and tough that nobody can take their land away. That's what we do, what every other country tries to do. 

9 comments:

  1. It's hard to imagine there is a god. Let alone that "HE" has a chosen people and that it's the Jews.

    But I'm ok with that. It doesn't affect me in any way.

    It's harder to imagine people expecting to "own" land. Especially not forever. History shows the unlikely chance that will happen. All the fighting over land.

    I'd go back to Italy if I had to. I believe I'm welcome, though I may have aged out of that

    I don't understand the difference between Israelis and the diaspora. How can you be a jew and not go to Israel?
    Or visa versa what's the problem with living somewhere other than Israel? So many others do.

    Hope I didn't step on any landmines here.

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  2. Not to start an argument here, but aren't Jews and Palestinians both Semetic peoples? Isn't the contested land, ancient homeland of the Jews, also the ancient homeland of the Palestinians? I suppose logic doesn't matter when one group denies the right of existence to the other. These religious conflicts are puzzling to a fallen away Presbyterian who is thisclose agnosticism.

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    1. I was thinking the sme thing. I am Jewish. I understand the grief over the loss of jewish life. I believe that most Jews at least in Israel and probably here i well would be happy if every Palistinian was wiped out. I would think there were more Palistinians than Jews in what was once Palistine. I am hardly a historian but it seems like the Palistinians got a pretty raw deal when what was Palastine was divided.

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  3. Such great post and comments. Lots to think about. We tend to forget that humans are 'evolving' animals, acting out hard wired viscious impulses. We will destroy ourselves eventually.

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  4. The more complicated a religion, the further from God. If the Creator is actually listening, I would bet It doesn't care what you are wearing, which building you're in, which way you're facing or how many times day you repeat the ritual. Good Christian mothers say some times the answer's no, Jackie Mason would've said "It couldn't hurt". For me, an occasional "Thanks" is more than enough even if I don't believe any body's listening. Probably better you didn't approach your fellow traveler with that quote, he may have wanted to engage you in Hebrew, for which I gather you weren't adequately prepared. I am sorry to hear that Israeli bartenders also sully the hard labors of brewers and distillers by making Boilermakers.

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  5. Stay strong and keep the faith. I don’t know how to say it in Hebrew. It’s times like this where blind faith comes in handy. Either you get it or you don’t. It’s tough to have blind faith in a world of purportedly logical individuals. No one ever said it would be easy.

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  6. Milan Kundera wrote about the "Creator's computer," in which the Creator (not God) loaded a detailed program into a computer to create humankind, and then essentially said, "You're on your own from now on." He had no further interest in what he (she, it) had done. The program contained all sorts of prototypes for different peoples, each of whom would decide his or her own fate, based on their own actions, and they should not beseech the Creator for relief when things went wrong. That, Kundera wrote, would be like praying to Thomas Edison when a light bulb burned out.

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  7. Past experiences have taught me that religious Jews do not always welcome uninvited expressions or interactions from anybody they don't know, period. Most of the ultra-orthodox sects seem to have that leave-me-the-fuck-alone vibe. Which I'm more than happy to do, because they can get pretty obnoxious if they don't agree with you or if something offends them. I used to know a number of people in NY and NJ who despised them. Not for their religion, but for their rudeness and annoying behavior. I especially felt sorry for the folks I knew who happened to be their neighbors. It often got unpleasant.

    For decades, I have vacillated about visiting Israel. It's small and easy to see a lot of it...or at least...it was until last week. It may be years before that is true once again. Israelis are not going to walk away from it and start over elsewhere, not after what they've accomplished in the last 75 years. It would be like expecting Southern Californians to do the same...ain't gonna happen.

    Most of my reason for not going had to do with Israeli politics and policies, and their treatment of the Palestinians. I didn't want to spend any of my tourist shekels in any country whose actions I disagreed with. But I don't have to look half-a-world away to feel like that. All I have to do is look to the south, to Florida. Not going there, either.

    At this point, though, it's all moot. Nobody's going for a vacation or a tour. Too bad, because there are a lot of good things in Israel. For years, I whined about the bleacher expansions at Wrigley. When I finally saw them in person, back in August, they weren't all that bad. Maybe I would feel the same way about Tel Aviv. I've heard it's a great city. But by the time the dust settles. the rubble is cleared, and American tourists can once again safely visit, I too will probably be dust.

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  8. Hope you get some peace. You provide an outlet for thousands and thousands.
    Good Karma should be catching-up soon.

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