AS THINGS COULD ONLY HAPPEN…IN ISRAEL!

As I waited by the conveyor belt at Ben Gurion airport in Tel Aviv last Thursday afternoon, I slowly realized that my luggage didn’t make it.  I was the last to leave the arrivals areas and the only one with no luggage.  An optimist by nature, I was confident that my bag would be found – and it was…two and a half days into my six day trip. 
Since I was not prepared to spend Shabbos in Jerusalem in my sweatpants, I went shopping before Shabbat.  I returned fully outfitted with a new shirt, socks, shoes, shirts, belt…the necessary items to look presentable for Shabbat. 

My first lesson with Cantor Herstik (my teacher and Chief Chazzan of the Great Synagogue) on Friday afternoon was a lesson nobody ever taught me – how to iron my new shirts!  While this was a comforting distraction, it did not stop us from discussing the issues of the day – katyusha rockets being fired in the north, the kidnapped soldiers in Gaza and Lebanon, and the threat of a greater escalation in an already tenuous region. 

At Beth Sholom, we recite prayers for Israel, our country and everlasting peace every Shabbos.  This occurs following the Haftorah with an honoree holding the Torah.  Last  Shabbat in Jerusalem, I was given this honour.  I cannot adequately convey the feeling of solemnity standing on the bimah at the Jerusalem Great Synagogue, next to the seat of the chief Rabbi, with Cantor Herstik reciting the prayers in his deep ominous voice.  “May he who blessed our ancestors, Abraham, Issac and Jacob, may he bless the soldiers of the Israeli Defence force who stand guard over our land from the border of Lebanon to the desert of Egypt, from the shores of the Mediterranean to the Jordan River...may the Lord our G-d protect and defend the State of Israel…” followed by a special selection from Tehillim (Psalms) for the safe return of the kidnapped soldiers.  I felt like I was standing next to Moses on Mount Sinai.  The sheer power of his voice echoed through the walls of the Great Synagogue.  The words Cantor Herstik read were so fervent and relevant, knowing that 100km to the north, katyushas were landing on innocent civilians.  The residents of Israel’s northern cities were spending Shabbat in bomb shelters. 

On Sunday July 16 corresponding to the 20th of Tammuz, I accompanied Cantor Herstik to the annual yahrtzeit in memory of Binyamin Ze’ev (Theodore) Herzl z”l, the founder of Zionism and visionary of the Jewish state.  Har Herzl is a site of major national importance for Israel and the Jewish people.  It is the site where the annual official state ceremony marking the conclusion of “Yom Hazikaron” (Memorial Day) for Israel’s fallen and the commencement of Israel’s Independence Day festivities take place.  Along the northern slopes of Mount Herzl stretches Jerusalem’s military cemetery.  On its western face sits the Yad Vashem Holocaust memorial.  Together these sites give expression to the major and tumultuous events that led to the establishment of the state of Israel.  While few in number attended the memorial, millions of Jews around the world owe a debt of gratitude to Herzl’s vision for the Jewish people and the founding of the state. 

The following day we drove out of Jerusalem, through the Judean Mountains down to the lowest place on earth, the Dead Sea.  One of the world’s greatest wonders is receding by a meter each year.  Hotels built on the shores of the sea now offer shuttle service to the beach.  The shoreline recedes further away from these hotels each year.  There are a number of suggestions to reverse this trend, although each is expensive and not of utmost importance during these critical times.  As the sun was starting to fade behind the Judean Mountains overlooking Jericho, Cantor Herstik tapped me on the shoulder: “We need to stop to daven mincha before it is too late.”  Amid the stillness of the Judean desert I pulled the car off to the side of the road and we davened.  Out of habit I naturally faced east towards the Jordanian mountains.  Cantor Herstik reminded me that Jerusalem was to the west -- of course, silly me!  Although we did not have a minyan, we still recited mincha privately (facing WEST) looking onward at the setting sun. 

At midnight, back in Jerusalem we went to the Kotel.  We had a private tour of the tunnels and the ongoing excavations surrounding the Kotel.  The recent excavations are staggering, revealing massive sections of the Western Wall that would be much closer to the “kodesh hakodashim,” the holy of holies.  In this private moment I recited tehillim and a mi sheberach for the continued good health of my wife, the wellbeing of my children, and Klal Yisrael. 

On my last night I drove to Rechovot to visit a great teacher of mine.  He is now 92, but as sharp as ever.  Sitting on his sofa, he recounted stories of his childhood in Poland, his first position as a Chazzan in Vienna and then Paris before he was arrested by the Nazis and sent to Auschwitz.  His left arm revealed the indelible imprint of the Nazis.  He described rebuilding his life after the Shoah and still choosing to embrace his faith in spite of the Nazis, unlike so many of his contemporaries that abandoned religious Judaism.  In the midst of renewed attacks against the Jewish people, he spoke of his concern for Israel, a place he has called home for thirty years.  He told me stories about the wisdom of the Gerer Rebbe.  We talked about music and family and of his wife who died three years ago.  When I hugged him goodbye, my eyes filled with tears, sadly acknowledging that this brilliant mind and link to our past will soon forget all of these stories.  Will I ever have another opportunity to sit by his side and glean but a mere fraction of the knowledge he possesses?

As a student I lived in Israel for three years.  In 1990/91 during the first gulf war and intifada, I was a student at Hebrew University.  From 1994-96, I was in Cantorial school.  I remember witnessing a country in shock and mourning following the assassination of Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin z”l.  I also remember the near daily bombings of buses by fanatical suicide bombers.  Every time I visit Israel, there seems to be a crisis looming over its citizens.  Amid the tensions, life carriers on – Israelis go to work and school by day and to the restaurants and cafes at night.  They find time and resolve for relationships, family, culture and sports. 

The visions of Zionism have been realized.  Herzl’s dream for an independent Jewish state recently celebrated its 58th birthday.  The progress is astounding – construction is booming, technological innovation is very advanced, and the reforestation efforts by the Jewish National Fund continue to beautify the country.  In spite of its problems, there really is no place like it.  I continuously admire the courage and determination of Israeli citizens who carry on with their regular lives regardless of the adversity they face.  I respect the immigrants who have fully integrated themselves into Israel life. 

Before I left the old city last week I called my father.  I was standing on top of a building overlooking the Kotel, Mount of Olives and the Dome of the Rock.  The clouds were in a spectacular formation above, with the sun shining through with hints of pink as it started to set.  The view was breathtaking – the sounds of the old world were haunting.  Jews davening in full voice down below while the sounds of the Al Aqsa mosque echoed above.  I reminded my father that his last trip to Israel with my mother was in 1977.  I urged him to go this year before he gets older and traveling becomes increasingly difficult.  If you have never been or have not visited Israel in a long time, then let this be your year to visit the Holy Land.  L’SHANA HABA’AH BIRUSHALAYIM!

Shana Tovah and AM YISRAEL CHAI!

Cantor Eric Moses