Touchstones

I recently returned from my first trip to Israel as part of a tour group from my synagogue. I'm still processing it, but was able to capture some of what it meant to me in the following poem.

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Touchstones

From the concrete and glass of the airport

To the plastic and fiberglass of the plane

Crowds and hushed whispers and sleep that would not come

It was night and then it was morning—twice over

The first days

Venturing out into the heat

I am awestruck by this city of stone

Modern yet historic

Creating new technologies

While honoring those who fought for this space

From start-up to start again

Failure is but a step

Along the path to tikkun olam

Inspired by an idea

Brought to life with a speech

As we rise and sing.

Tunes familiar and different

Yet the same genuine smiles

We welcome Shabbat

Though we speak different languages

To say the same words

We want to learn and understand and know

What do you make from your life?

Are you ever separate

from the bedrock of this place?

And it was evening and it was morning. The third day.

Words of Torah

Written in sand, in stone

Who are we if we act based on what we fear

Instead of who we know ourselves to be?

On the shores of the Mediterranean

We look into the past

And see ourselves.

Driven by a vision

A thirst for both water and freedom

Hiding in plain sight

Fighting to make an idea manifest

A homeland

A makom kavua for am Yisrael

One volunteer at a time

One bullet at a time

While the giraffes look on

I stood in this place

Where they sang about peace

Only to be silenced by a gun

I touched the stone

And was moved

Then it was evening and morning

The fourth day.

A morning talk about happiness

About haves and have-nots

One thing is clear: when we have ice kafé

We are happy

From the serenity of biblical gardens

We share our gratitude by planting trees

Hope for the next generation

While honoring the walls

That keep us safe

As we travel deeper into the mystery

The visions of the merkavah

As we place ourselves in the sefirot

And ourselves become the Tree

Planted long before

And it was evening and it was morning

The fifth day.

An oasis of beauty

Leads to more stone

Solid walls of justice

Through the gate that bears

The language of our ancestors

And our new friends

A stone that proves we were here

In ages past.

I want to touch it

To connect here to there

Now to then

But there is no need

I am here

In this place

It is enough.

Loud booms shatter the stillness

Smoke etches the sky

As hate wreaks more destruction

We watch, safe on our mountaintop

As the air shudders around us

And we remember

Peace is a choice

In every moment.

Then with wine and chocolate and water

We celebrate with our Muslim cousins

There can be laughter

As we navigate the rapids

Of our lives.

And a shared meal

With friends we hadn’t yet met

Brings us back to our center

The why of it all

It is the connections we make

That bind us together

And it was evening and then morning

The sixth day.

From the youth of today

To the leaders of tomorrow

From the graves of those who came before

Who left us to be the caretakers

Of their children, their legacies

To the stages that once teemed with Jewish blood

And now resonate with music

We travel the last leg home

Ready to embrace the stone at the center

The heart and soul

Yerushalayim

And it was an evening of lights and a morning of light

The seventh day.

We slip into a tunnel

Beneath the heart

Surrounded by stone

Silent with the weight of history

Layers upon layers

It serves as a reminder

That connection with the holy

Requires we go deep.

As we approach the Kotel

The energy is thick

With prayer and emotion

All of life’s struggles

That are too heavy to bear

Are brought here to this wall

Seeping into the cracks

Our hopes and dreams and longing

Becoming the mortar

Touching stones worn smooth

With tears and caresses

And words uttered in pain and joy

Never meant for human ears.

There are claims upon these stones

Sacred places, sacred lands

And the lines are neither simple nor clear

Truth can be a mirage

Not found on any map

As the sun sets and rises again

The eighth day.

A song of descents.

Even as we rise

In the blistering heat

From the top of a camel

To the top of a mountain

Our tether to this place

Tenuous as a cord

We ponder martyrdom

And the price of freedom

And what it means

To truly fall.

Mountain to sea

Dry stone to sticky mud

We descend until there is no more to go

And for this moment

As we rest and lean back

Peace floats around us

And it was evening and then morning

The ninth day.

Every gain has required loss

Every hope comes on the heels of despair

And this Hope

This place

These stones

Mark both ending and beginning

Their memory haunts us still

We honor them

With a place and a name

And will never forget.

As Shabbat comes to us again

It sinks into every sense

Everything we have experienced

Every food tasted

Every song sung

Every stone touched

We will carry with us always

And it was evening and morning

The tenth day.

It is art that speaks of who we are

Who we were

The lives we led

So it is fitting that we end our journey

With art that gives purpose and brings joy

The art of architecture and the art of love

Knowing that the shreds of who we were

Can be molded into new strength

And become the touchstones of our lives.

As we begin the long flight to the west

Home now has two meanings

And I can live in both

No matter where I reside

And it was evening and it was morning.

Copyright ©2017 by Sheyna Galyan

A Reason for Jewish Optimism: Part 1

I recently attended a lecture in St. Paul by Israeli author Tsvi Bisk and in some very real ways, it changed my life.

First of all, Tsvi Bisk is an incredible speaker. He had a large room with a standing-room-only audience mesmerized for nearly two hours. This is hard to do under the best of circumstances but he pulled it off successfully. Part of it may have been his resonant voice, growing louder to emphasize some points and then pulled back to a soft this-is-between-you-and-me camaraderie. But most of it was the message itself:

We can

• neutralize the war on terror
• significantly decrease antisemitic propaganda around the world
• bring both religious and secular, Diaspora and Israeli Jews together, and
• put a dent in global warming

all in one program. And we can do it within twenty years or less.

The answer: become energy independent.

Not everyone agrees with this, but hearing Tsvi Bisk talk, it is hard to find fault with his logic, his passion, or his proposals.

Much of the detail about what he calls the Jewish Energy Project is detailed in his latest book, The Optimistic Jew, reviewed here on this blog. In the lecture, he summarized much of it with the following:

• A great deal of the antisemitic propaganda and literature spread around the world originates in Iran (big surprise)
• The vast majority of Iran's income comes from the sale of oil
• Reducing or even eliminating dependence on foreign oil will hurt these anti-Jewish, anti-Israel governments far more than sending more troops to the Middle East to risk their lives against roadside bombs and insurgent attacks
• Energy is something that can bring together both young and mature, secular and religious Jews in Israel and the Diaspora; it is something consistent with Torah values and taking care of the earth
• By showing our local communities, regions, states, countries that it is possible to reduce or eliminate dependence on foreign oil by tapping alternative energy resources and conserving energy, this is a grassroots campaign that can make a global difference. This is an important way we can become (again) a light unto the nations.

"I don't care if it is down-up, top-down, grass roots, grass tops, so long as it is done," said Bisk during the lecture. Everyone has a share in it, he emphasized. Everyone needs to participate.

Among attendees were representatives from the Alliance for Sustainability, who agreed with Bisk that energy independence and conservation are the keys not only to neutralizing the war, but to avoiding future wars that would, experts agree, likely be about either energy or water. Or both.

There was much discussion on the feasability of Bisk's Jewish Energy Project, on its impact at the legislative level and the response (or lack thereof) from American and Israeli political leaders. Bisk quipped that the term "Israeli political leader" was an oxymoron, and admitted that this can only succeed if people demand it of their representatives and leaders. The payoffs for current political leaders to maintain the status quo is simply too tempting.

What, I wanted to know, can we, as individuals, as small communities, do right now?

That was where it got really interesting.

Continued in Part 2.

The Optimistic Jew

It seems appropriate today, the day after Tisha b'Av, to turn toward the future with hope and optimism.

Tsvi Bisk, Director of the Center for Strategic Futurist Thinking in Israel, is the author of the just-released and very well-written The Optimistic Jew: A Positive Vision for the Jewish People in the 21st Century. Somehow he found li'l ol' me and asked if I'd consider writing a review. Just a summary of the book had me intrigued, and The Optimistic Jew is well worth the read.

As an added bonus, Tsvi will be speaking in St. Paul this Sunday at 10:30am at the St. Paul JCC, and also at the World Future 2007 Conference at the Minneapolis Hilton between July 29 - August 1. I'll be attending his lecture at the St. Paul JCC. If you're in town, come see him! (And me! I'm friendly, honest!) With any luck, I'll be able to post an interview with him here, too.

So without further delay, here's more on The Optimistic Jew.

With the sobering predictions from successive American Jewish population studies, it’s easy to become pessimistic about whether it’s going to be worth it in the long run to raise an increasingly smaller new generation with a strong Jewish identity. Is there a reason for paying thousands of dollars for a child’s Jewish education?

Unequivocally, yes, says Tsvi Bisk in his new book, The Optimistic Jew (Maxanna Press, 2007). Director of the Center for Strategic Futurist Thinking in Kfar Saba, Israel, Bisk not only knows that there’s a reason to be optimistic, he outlines exactly how we can create a strong, vibrant Jewish future, attracting younger generations of disenfranchised and unaffiliated Jews in the process. And we can do it in our own lifetime.

There are several keys to achieve this, according to Bisk. One is embracing cultural pluralism, and he likens it to an environmental paradigm:

“Environmentalism recognizes that “monoculturalism” (the cultivation of a single crop over extensive areas) endangers the health of the entire ecological system. Ecological systems that have an increasing variety of species and ever-increasing interactions between these species are healthy, vigorous, and robust. Ecological systems that have a diminishing variety of species and diminishing interaction between these species are sick and susceptible to collapse.” (p. 31)

And Bisk dismisses the idea that one has to choose between cultures: Jewish versus American versus Israeli versus any other cultural heritage, stating, “Individuals who cultivate within themselves a plurality of cultures also have a much better chance of succeeding. […] To the extent that Israel and the Jewish people at large can make this cultural attitude a norm, we will truly be a light unto the nations.” (pp. 139-140)

Another key is redefining Zionism for the 21st century. While Zionism was indeed a success, it is no longer applicable either to Israelis or the Diaspora. Writes Bisk, “Many young Diaspora and Israeli Jews have grown distant from Israel in recent years because Zionism is a 19th century ideology trying to come to terms with a 21st century reality.” (p. 57). In clear, down to earth language, Bisk retraces the history of Zionism, how it grew, how it succeeded, and what needs to happen to reinvent it for today and the future.

The third key relates to the role of Israel, within both Israeli and Diaspora culture. Since the creation of the State of Israel, the primary relationship has been one of the Diaspora financially funding Israeli organizations, ultimately directed by Israeli politics. Some Israelis, Bisk writes, claim that not only have these contributions had little effect on Israeli citizens, they have actually become detrimental.

“The time has come for a new paradigm wherein these relatively small sums go directly […] to more efficient and effective public administration, innovative educational initiatives and national projects (such as energy independence) that could mobilize the energies and skills of large numbers of uninvolved Jews.” (pp. 68-69)

Bisk casts a sharp eye on the secular European Enlightenment, citing it as the basis for a global return to fundamentalism in any religion. While Jewish responses to the Enlightenment brought us this far, he writes, they cannot sustain Jewish identity into the future. This is not simply a case of changing beliefs or creating belief where there was none, but rather creating entirely new Jewish expressions.

Pulling together politics, psychology, economics, history, sociology, and ecology, Bisk describes where we’ve been, where we are, and where we can be. He offers specific ideas and suggestions for creating the optimistic future he envisions, and cites actions we can take as both individuals and a people. Of particular interest is his outline for the Jewish Energy Project, which can all at once invigorate today’s Jews, reassert Israel’s place in Jewish life, and tackle the growing dependence on foreign oil.

For anyone who is interested in what the future of the Jewish people can look like—if we will it—this is a highly recommended solid read with a potentially real outcome.

On Israel: Hope, Safety, Identity, Existence

Jack has an important post here on a longer article by Daniel Gordis here regarding the future of Israel.

I read it all. Sobering. Troubling.

"This is not about Israel," Gordis writes. "It’s not even about Zionism. It’s about the future of what we call the Jewish people. Hezbollah gets that. Hamas gets it. Ahmadinejad gets it. Gaarder gets it. Why don’t we?"

From my tiny, somewhat ignorant perspective, I wonder if the answer can be found in an assertion he made in one of his earlier books: identity.

As much as American Jews support Israel with words, money, people, are we willing to take a stand and identify ourselves as Jews before we identify ourselves as Americans? What about non-Israeli Jews in the rest of the world?

Do we really believe that safety can be found in a renewal of hope, justice, all the good that the State of Israel stands for, or do most of us in the Diaspora make a louder statement in how we identify ourselves, that real safety is found by hiding our Jewishness in a larger non-Jewish culture?

We grumble and complain about anti-Jewish, anti-Israel media bias. We condemn antisemitic speech and actions. We urge our government(s) to support Israel, to stand against the fanaticism and hate that seeks to rid the world not only of the State of Israel, but of all Jews.

At the same time, so many hide their identity as Jews while going about day to day business. I see it. I've been called a "religious nut" because I'm visible as a Jew. I've been called that by other Jews. (And not as a joke.)

Are those of us in the Diaspora saying that it's okay if the world's hatred is focused on Israel because then at least it's not focused on us? Do we really think that if, G-d forbid, Israel disappeared, we'd be safe again? Do we really not get it that all of us are at risk, that Judaism itself is at risk, and that Israel is carrying the biggest burden?

Do we care enough about being Jewish that we're willing to acknowledge the problem so we can find a solution?