My Story 32

The 1984 elections resulted in the formation of the "National Unity Government", with the two major parties sharing power, and their heads, Peres and Shamir, alternating as Prime Minister. Rabin served as Defense Minister. The two leaders were constantly working against each other, and almost nothing was accomplished during those four years. However, two major things were done in the first year of this government. Shimon Peres instituted policies that, while harsh, brought the inflation rate down from over 400% to almost nothing. A far more negative development was the "Jibril Deal" The terrorist group headed by Ahmed Jibril, had captured three Israeli soldiers, who had been playing basketball while they were supposed to be doing guard duty. Israel has a policy of "no man left behind", and almost 1,200 convicted terrorists were released in exchange for their freedom, including many who had killed Jews. Criticism of this deal was twofold. One was that other Israelis who had been captured were not part of the deal, and it was only these soldiers' parents' pressure that made Shamir favor them. Secondly, many thought that returning 1,200 terrorists into the community was a very bad idea. The government issued assurances that they would be carefully watched. In fact, this never happened. The released terrorist began forming the backbone of Palestinian resistance, leading up to the 1987 Intifada. No one knows for sure exactly which incident sparked the Intifada. It had long been the situation that clashes with the army would spark a few days of rioting in Judea, Samaria, and Gaza. These rarely lasted more than three days. But, in the fall of 1987, that all changed. A real, organized, sustained uprising occurred, fought with stones and firebombs. Several events may have sparked it. One, Ariel Sharon had purchased an apartment in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem. This infuriated the Arabs. A few days later, a single terrorist, flying on a hang glider, infiltrated an army base. The soldiers, instead of following procedures for such cases, made a chivalrous attempt to bring the female soldiers to safety, resulting in many casualties. The terrorist managed to kill six soldiers, and wound eight, before he himself was killed. Euphoria swept through the "Palestinian" community. One determined Arab could strike a deadly blow against mighty Israel! The next day, an Israeli trucker in Gaza lost control of his vehicle, plowing into a crowd, killing six. This was widely seen as a revenge attack for the hang glider incident. Riots erupted all over the "territories".The released terrorists became the organizers and leaders of these riots. An emergency meeting was called in Beit El, with the rabbi of the community set to speak. I imagined that a militia would be set up to protect the community. I might be called upon to lay down my life for my country. I felt tremendous pride walking into that meeting. The rabbi said that we should ignore what was happening. It was the "Arabs' last gasp", knowing that they were defeated. We should stop listening to the radio. It took me a few days to digest what I had heard. I finally realized that our leadership was delusional. In the meantime, Defense Minister Rabin, in Washington at the time, did not take the situation seriously, and did not return home for a week. Not seeing any meaningful response to their riots, the violence escalated. When Rabin did return, he found a situation that was out of control. He gave the order "break bones". Many rioters were captured, and had their legs broken by IDF soldiers. Sima was on a bus coming back from Jerusalem, when she saw this being carried out on an army truck just ahead of the bus. There was as much screaming coming from the Israeli women on the bus, as there was from the truck. My friend, Hussein, told me "two weeks ago, 90% of the Palestinians were satisfied with the situation of Israeli rule. Now, 90% see Israel as both vulnerable and cruel.".The first actual Jewish victim (other than the accidental death of a girl, shot by an Israeli when a stone hit his head) was my neighbor, Dov Kalmanovitch (later deputy mayor of Jerusalem). A firebomb hit his car, and he was burned over 70% of his body. He did survive, and became active in politics. The head of Central Command of the IDF, Amram Mitzna, came to Beit El to speak. I expected a riot. But Beit El was a community that literally saw government as sacred. When Mitzna walked into the room, everyone stood up out of respect, as they would for a great rabbi. There had been talk of organizing a militia. He said that such a move would amount to a vote of no confidence in the IDF. Everyone applauded. He went on to say that some people thought that the army should be doing more to protect us, some thought it should be doing less. He was taking the middle road and acting by national consensus. I was outraged. My safety, the safety of my family and my community, would be decided by the people of Tel Aviv and Haifa. Lovely. But, to my astonishment, everyone applauded again! He said "anyway, don't worry. Now it's just rocks and firebombs. But if they take to weapons, we "take the gloves off".(This proved to be a lie). The feeling began to grow inside me that I had "bet on the wrong horse" in moving to Israel. In 1988, new elections brought a Likkud government to power. Yitzchak Shamir's policies were generally to keep violence on a low burner, rather than confront it. Occasional killings of Jews were tolerated, with minimal response. In 1988, President George H.W. Bush pressured Shamir into direct talks with the "Palestinian" leadership. Shamir told everyone who would listen that Bush was a rabid antisemite, but he had no choice other than recognize the terrorist leadership. (He denied saying this when questioned by the media, but I knew people who heard him say this). Talks were held in Madrid. In true Shamir style, he insisted that they only meet once in two weeks. This was a stalling tactic. Many of his coalition partners quit the government at this point. Shamir was forced to form a new coalition with some of the Hareidi parties, whose primary concern was funding for their institutions. In 1990, Peres organized what became known as the "Stinking Trick" (targil hamasriach). He offered the Hareidi parties money and influence, in order to bring down the Shamir government in a no-confidence vote. Rabin, who hated Peres (he called Peres the "tireless subversive") warned vociferously that it would not work. But the day that it was to come to a vote in the Knesset, the Lubavitcher Rebbe issued a ruling that this must not be done. Two Hareidi Knesset members withdrew their support for the no-confidence vote, and it failed. Peres, for the meantime, lost his leadership position in his party, and Rabin took his place. Rabin immediately began a campaign for reaching a compromise with the Arabs, and delegitimizing, or even demonizing, the Jewish residents of the "territories'. Eventually, a strange alignment of ultra-Left, that saw the Shamir government as not going far enough in negotiations with the Arabs, and the ultra-right, that saw recognition of the PLO going much too far, succeeded in bringing down the government. Elections were held in 1992. Rabin won handily, running on a campaign of land for peace, and portraying the settlements, and Israel's occupation of the "territories" as the cause of all of Israel's problems. Political fliers featured Shamir, with the caption "you are disgusting".A wild card in the elections was the Russian immigrants. A million and a half had come since 1990. At first, they were Right Wing, having experienced Socialism firsthand in the Soviet Union. But by election time, they were convinced that their economic and social problems were due to Shamir's ineptness. They voted Left. While campaigning, Rabin was careful to say that he would not go so far in compromising so as to endanger Israel's security. But coalition talks negated those promises. Within hours after the election, he had made a pact with the ultra-Left Meretz party. He told its head, Yosi Sarid (who had outed Rabin's drinking problem almost twenty years earlier) "I will be Prime Minister, but will act on your policies". Everything was now on the table. For the Right, and eventually for most Israelis, the nightmare had begun.

My Story 31

We all live in the shadows of both great, and not so great men. Our collective and private lives are influenced by their decisions, actions, and inactions. I have already written about the disastrous effects of Shlomo Carlebach on my life, and on the lives of many others. Yet, there are even more who, to this day, regard him as a great spiritual leader. Those who cry out in their pain are branded as liars and lunatics. Another such person was, at this point in my story, about to bring about the deaths of thousands, and yet be regarded by millions as a great statesman. Although I was not harmed by him bodily, he killed my Zionism, and my dreams of living and raising my family in the Holy Land. Yitzchak Rabin (y.sh.), had, in his youth, been a leader in the Palmach, one of the paramilitary groups that fought for Israel's independence. After Statehood was declared, the Palmach put itself under the command of Prime Minister David Ben Gurion (y.sh.). Two Right Wing groups did not. Immediately after independence, the surrounding Arab countries launched an attack on the fledgling State. The two Right Wing groups fought separately, seeing the leftist coalition as little more than stand-ins for the British colonial government. (Only after his death, was it revealed that Teddy Kollek, left-wing politician and longtime mayor of Jerusalem, had been a paid agent of MI5).  Menachem Begin's Irgun was, however, conducting negotiations for the eventual uniting of the various militias. June 1948 saw Jerusalem under siege. Begin was bringing in a boat, named the Altalena, loaded with armaments and fighters, to take part in this battle. Ben Gurion feared that the arms would be used in a takeover of the Israeli government. A compromise was reached, in which the weapons would be divided between the Irgun and the IDF. Then, Ben Gurion had a change of heart. He ordered pilots to sink the ship while it was yet distant from shore. The pilots refused. He then ordered Rabin to destroy the ship as soon as it arrived in port. This was carried out. The ship was sunk a few kilometers off the coast of Israel. All the much-needed arms were lost. Sixteen Irgun fighters were killed, plus three IDF soldiers. Israelis still argue if the term "murder" should be used in this context. Ben Gurion, upon hearing of the sinking, said "Blessed is the cannon". When Rabin lost the 1977 election to Begin, he said "Too bad I didn't finish him off that day on the beach". Books that spoke of the incident were banned in Israel until Begin came to power. No remorse was expressed (until recently by President Rivlin, who called it an "unforgivable crime"), and remains a sore point between the Israeli Right and Left, and a stain on Rabin's name. Rabin rose through the ranks of the military. It is not generally known that it was he who drew up the brilliant battle plans for the Six Day War. He was the Chief of Staff. Mysteriously, he was replaced immediately before the fighting started by Moshe Dayan, the hero of the 1956 Sinai campaign. Only later was it revealed that, after informing the Cabinet of the battle plans, Rabin broke down, and started screaming "But nothing will work! We are all going to die!" He spent the next several days in a drunken stupor. Yosi Sarid (y.sh.), who had been at that meeting, is the one who revealed that information, which he said he regretted doing for the rest of his life. For the Israeli Right, Rabin would always be "the drunkard". As late as the 1992 elections, the Lkkud campaign ads would picture him with a liquor bottle and glass in the background. But Rabin's legacy is primarily to be judged by his actions in the 1987 uprising known as the Intifada, and its aftermath. Here he becomes, depending on your viewpoint, one of the greatest heroes, or one of the greatest villains, of Jewish history. My view is that he was a villain. I see myself as a victim of his actions. To be continued.

My Story 30

I had originally come to Rabbi Kiwak as a result of my agonizing over Rosh HaShanah. Was the Jerusalem kibbutz (gathering) the "right" one, or the one in Miron? How was I to relate to the large numbers of people in each who seemed so obnoxious? Here, he taught me his views of people's motives. Most people are totally wrapped up in their own physical and emotional needs. People are "wound up" like a spring. They are full of tensions, which are expressed in every area of their lives. We should expect little altruistic behavior. Lying, cheating, steeling, are all expressions of this state of being "wound up". When a baby is born, he is totally centered on his immediate needs. This is what Kabbalah refers to as "Din" (harshness, judgment). When a spring is released, it immediately unwinds. This is an expression of that Din. From the mischievous actions of a child, through the terrible acts of crime of some adults, are the unwinding of that spring. But there are two ways for it to unwind. There can be an immediate release that eases tension, but accomplishes nothing, or a slow release, like the workings of a wind-up clock. The release of tension in the latter case will turn wheels and gears, resulting in great meaning for that release. We may know what time it is, and learn how to properly pace our lives; moment by moment, day by day. Most people simply go through the motions of everyday life. But one who has attached himself to an ideal, has placed himself into the works of a clock. The tensions are still there, but, upon being released in a controlled manner, can make the wheels and gears work their magic. Everyone who comes to a gathering of prayer and introspection has placed his "spring" in the clock. Each one who comes is a work in progress. Some are advanced, some are just beginning. The rudeness I had seen the previous year in Miron, was an expression of each person's Din; trying to be released, but not yet doing its job. However, even the worst of them, are light years ahead of those who are smug and satisfied with their faults. As far as where to go for Rosh HaShanah, it was essentially a non-issue. He showed me documentation that this entire subject was one of illusion. Rabbi Nachman had urged his followers to come to him for Rosh HaShanah. As he had repeated this exhortation days before his death, Rabbi Natan had understood that he intended his followers to visit his grave on the eve of Rosh HaShanah, and pray together on Rosh HaShanah every year. Rabbi Nachman's original instruction was that they should gather in the community's main synagogue. But, as numbers grew, and persecution of the Breslovers became more widespread after 1834, it became necessary for them to pray separately from the wider community.  This, however,  was not ideal. Breslov had spread from Ukraine to Poland about the time of the first World War. The borders were largely sealed, making the Uman pilgrimage virtually impossible. The Polish Breslovers, in the early 1930s, made their own kibbutz in Lublin. The elders in Uman were consulted. They wrote a letter to the leaders in Poland, in which they said: "There is no kibbutz outside of Uman. But, gathering together is a good idea, in order to help concentration in prayer, and to bring about encouragement and "awakening" in the attendees." Rabbi Kiwak had shown me that the assumption that Breslovers needed to go to any one place (other than Uman when possible) was simply illusion. However, how nice it would be to pray where one is aroused to G-d!.He told me that he had his own small kibbutz of about twenty people. I could come if I wished. A friend who was going to Miron for Rosh HaShanah allowed me and my family to use their Jerusalem house for the holiday. I attended Rabbi Kiwak's kibbutz. Everyone was smiling. One could see the wonderful things happening inside of them. But I still had another lesson to come. Rabbi Nachman would speak inspirational words at twilight between the first and second day of Rosh HaShanah. This had become the tradition at every kibbutz; to have someone speak words of inspiration at that time. Rabbi Kiwak gave a lovely talk for about twenty minutes. To my great surprise, when he was done, he gave the same talk all over again. To my astonishment, he began it a third time. Five minutes into this third time, he turned to the people and said "Rabbosai! (gentlemen), how many times do I need to repeat this until everyone stops thinking: "this doesn't mean me!'" That was it! That was the key! That was the problem with present-day Breslov, as well as most of the Jewish world! Everyone sits, listens, and then thinks "this doesn't mean me!". I have known Rabbi Kiwak for thirty-seven years now. He has always been there for me and my family, through thick and thin. He has taught us that it DOES mean us! But the first rule is still "don't worry!".

My Story 29

Rabbi Nissan Dovid Kiwak was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. As a young man, he already thirsted for G-d. I heard from one of his classmates that in High School he would often get into trouble for hiding religious works inside his secular textbooks, so as not to waste a second from his Divine Service. He came to Israel, and, like me, was very disappointed with the spiritual level he found there. Yet, he was always filled with joy, and refused to worry about anything. Many people have told me that when they sat next to him, even if they were completely calm, they felt like a bundle of nerves compared to him. Whenever I tell him that I am worried about one problem or another, he will always interrupt me and say "first rule: don't worry". Soon after I met him, I heard that he had cosigned someone's mortgage (standard with Israeli mortgages that one needs at least three cosigners), who had subsequently left Israel, leaving him with the debt. I called him to offer my sympathy. "I don't talk about such things on Yom Tov" he replied. "But today isn't Yom Tov". "To me, every day is Yom Tov". At the time I met him, he was trying to remain anonymous. People who would get turned on to Rabbi Nachman through him, would be directed to one of the leaders in the Breslov community. He eventually saw, alas, that all the people who really "got it", were so hounded by opposition, as to render them ineffective. He soon accepted the mantle of leadership, and now has a following of thousands. However, he is careful to avoid trappings of honor and authority. He refuses to allow people to stand up for him. Once, before Rosh HaShanah, when Hasidim visit their Rebbes, and present a sum of money for "redemption" (pidyon), I approached him with a small sum. He said to his close followers who were standing nearby "look what a racket this is! I didn't do anything for the guy, and he's giving me money!". (In fact, he had done a great deal for me!) Another time, I gave him pidyon before Rosh Hashanah (about $100). he said. "Oh, thank you! You just reminded me that I also need to give pidyon". He returned to me all of the money except for $3. Essentially, he wanted to make clear to me that he is not a Rebbe. There was only one Rabbi Nachman who taught the truths of life. Once we begin to attach significance to the disciples, the message is either distorted or lost. To him, the presence of G-d was so real, that all other things paled in comparison. Rabbi Nachman had taught that joy and confidence in G-d's plans were the essence of life. I had heard that from many, but I only saw that in Rav Kiwak. The question that I had come to discuss with him the day I got off the bus, expecting a short clarification, was a very minor halachic issue, where Rabbi Nachman seemed to be siding with a small minority view, which seemed to me to be illogical. At the end of two hours of halachic and Kabbalistic exposition, he said to me: "Look at this pile of books we needed to analyze one small point. Every word in Likkutei Moharan deserves this kind of analysis. No commentary has yet been written that even scratches the surface. Ninety-seven percent of the teachings that we have from Rabbi Nachman fit together beautifully. Three percent contradict the other ninety-seven percent. We must conclude that either we are missing information, or else the ones who transmitted the information may have been mistaken. What do I do? I ignore the three percent. What does everyone else do? They conclude that something in the three percent is the main message! That is why there are twenty factions in Breslov!". The question I had asked, he concluded, was a mistaken understanding on the part of Rabbi Natan, Rabbi Nachman's main disciple. But it was not such a big mistake that arguments and strife must result! He made it clear that, in his opinion, most rabbis did not know G-d, but were about power and honor. Of those that do, each has a peripheral issue that they see as being beyond all others. The wise man only seeks G-d, and ignores the falsehood and pettiness. He left me with the following story: A donor to a mental hospital came to visit the facility. The director greeted him at the door. "Welcome! Here is a plaque with your name and the names of your family members. Here is the room for people who think they are lions. We feed them raw meat. Here is the room for people who think they are eagles. We have perches in trees where they build nests". Likewise, the director showed him many other rooms, filled with people with different delusions. "But this room, we will skip". The donor asked why. "This room is for the most horrible people in the world! Because of them, there is death and pestilence! All human agony comes from them! Let's not go there"! "But who are they?" demanded the donor. "These are the people who think they are the Messiah!" "So?" asked the donor. "They can't be the Messiah! I'M THE MESSIAH!". With that, Rabbi Kiwak had answered nearly all of my questions. I wasn't wrong in my perceptions; I was all too right! "Leadership", in all areas, was mostly about people with ego issues. Those who were sincere generally missed the point of Judaism, and became captives to their own illusions and delusions. Our job? To serve G-d, be happy, and enjoy the show! Rav Kiwak was only thirty years old when I met him. but he seemed to possess the wisdom of the ages!

My Story 26

Beit El seemed like paradise. Actually, there were two Beit Els at that time. Beit El Alef was a run-of-the-mill wishy washy Modern Orthodox community. Beit El Bet was centered around a Yeshiva, which was based on the teachings of Rabbi A.I. Kook, and his son, Rabbi Tzvi Yehudah Kook, who had just recently passed away. It was a type of Judaism I had never known. They looked Modern Orthodox, they dressed Modern Orthodox, but they were most certainly not Modern Orthodox. The men studied Torah every available moment. The women also had many classes available to them. Prayer was taken very seriously. No one spoke during the Torah reading., There were no short cuts in matters of observance. At the same time, they were also unusual. They bore no animosity towards the secular Israelis, many of whom hated them. But there was considerable animosity towards the Hareidi (Ultra) Orthodox. Many told me that when they walked through Hareidi neighborhoods, they would be filled with rage at these people's non-recognition of the Redemption that was "obviously" taking place. As to the secularists, since they were part of the Zionist enterprise, they were part and parcel of the process of Redemption. Rav Kook had even written that observance of mitzvot was insignificant at this point. (This was my first, but certainly not my last, inkling that the Kookian approach had been influenced heavily by Shabbateanism). Later, those distant would come back to Torah. (His assertion that if not, there would be a revolution, has been carefully expunged from the later editions of his books, though people spoke of it in whispers.) The women of Beit El Bet wore tichels; head scarves. The women of Beit El Alef went either bare headed, or with hats or wigs. In fact, when Sima had worn a wig during our first Shabbat there, she was informed by other women that it was not acceptable. Over the years, tensions gradually eased, and the two Beit Els merged into one. We were so excited to be in Eretz Yisrael, and especially in Beit El, a place with much Biblical history. Secular Israelis feel an affinity to the coastal plane, which had little Jewish history behind it. (Yes, there is a Tel Aviv mentioned in Ezekiel, but that one was in Babylon). Biblical Israel was Nablus (Shchem), Shiloh, Beit El, Jerusalem, Beth Lehem, Hebron; what is now called the "West Bank". Troubles came, but we chalked it up to being new, and needing to learn the ways of our new homeland. First, shortly after our arrival, a relative in Jerusalem got us in touch with a man who had bought a beautiful prefab house, only to learn that his community wasn't zoned for that kind of house. We could have it for only $20,000. Within six months, we could have our permanent home! The community secretariat told us that we were not living there long enough to have building rights. Shortly thereafter, a joint building project was launched. I now had building rights! I purchased a parcel of land (actually, it was a 99 year lease. The Israeli government retains ownership of virtually all land). The price was reasonable. Veteran Israelis had to pay a 5% tax. But new immigrants were exempt. Six months later I got a huge bill in the mail. A law had been passed RETROACTIVELY that all immigrants had to pay 1/2%. So now, I must pay the 1/2%, plus interest and penalties for the time I hadn't paid, before the law came into existence. I complained to the authorities. I got my first dose of "Kacha Zeh Ba'aretz!" (that's how it is in Israel). Then came the mortgage. Many government agencies had to approve. I, and the others who were building, spent weeks going from office to office, getting permits for our homes. At the end, we each had to cosign each other's mortgages, as Israeli law, in order to protect the consumer, makes it almost impossible to evict a person, even if he is not paying his mortgage. But the cosigners CAN lose their homes! If any of us were to default, we would all go down. The mortgages were approved on a Friday. BUT, a certain official in a certain government office, must stamp the documents. We went there, only to be told that he only stamps documents on Wednesdays. This was the era of galloping inflation. The mortgage was officially okayed by the dollar equivalent of Friday's exchange rate. But we didn't get the money until Wednesday, which meant a loss of over a thousand dollars in the value of the mortgage. We would pay back according to Friday's rate, but only receive according to Wednesday's rate. But we had our money. However, the community's agreement with the contracting company was based on a 400% inflation rate. The galloping inflation ended two weeks later, as a result of a new economic policy. The new homes would now be ridiculously expensive. The company refused to budge. The deal was cancelled. We each lost $700 (equivalent to $1,700 now) for the plans that had been drawn up. Another building company was engaged, this time by Beit El Alef. High quality prefab houses were available. The offering price was extremely reasonable. Plus, if we got more than fifteen families interested, there would be a 17% discount. We were ready to sign. However, the company kept mentioning additional costs which they had "forgotten". Suddenly, it wasn't cheap, but still not too bad. We signed. After that, the company seemed to disappear for about a month. At that point, the Israeli government decreed a policy of raising the cost of all building contracts already in force by 17%! (The company had apparently been tipped off to this move, which would account for the delay in beginning construction). Many of us were furious. Negotiations between the company and the residents were set up. One of our number, who was also a high ranking military official, was chosen to negotiate on our behalf. (Big mistake). A "compromise" was reached, in which they would forgo the 17% government raise in the contract, in exchange for us forgetting the 17% group discount. The army man proclaimed this as a great victory. I pointed out to him that we were at exactly the same place we were before negotiations. He said "you can't make them feel like they got nothing". The "logic" was lost on me. I suddenly understood why Israel, victorious in battle, always lost in negotiations.Seven of us wanted to drop out of the deal., The company pointed out that we had a signed contract. I found out that the company was, at that time, signing people up for building in Florida. I called them, and told them that I was calling a press conference for the Miami Jewish Herald, letting them know how this company was treating American immigrants to Israel. We were called to the company office. The man in charge glared at me. "If you have come to threaten, it is of no avail. However, before you raised this terrible, immoral threat, I was just going to tell you that we have decided to let you out of your contracts, providing you sign an agreement not to disclose what has transpired between us. And by the way, the real reason for the raising of prices, is that Beit El Alef wants us to build a new synagogue, and have you guys pay for it. Your own people have been screwing you." Private, unlicensed contractors descended upon us. Several of us chose to build with a "gentleman" named Rafi. Rafi finished the frame of the house, and told me "I'm about to go bankrupt. I will collect money from the person after you in line, and finish your house, but leave him with nothing. Your money has been used for the house before yours". I was faced with a terrible dilemma. Should I inform the person after me, and not have my house completed, or keep quiet and ruin him? I knew what I must do, but it wasn't easy. I told the other person, who immediately canceled his contract with Rafi. Work on my house stopped. Rafi had taken my money and run. I was paying rent. I was paying a mortgage (which, by the way, was supposed to be a negative interest immigrant mortgage, but, with the new economic policy, the 25% interest of the mortgage, which with 400% inflation, should have been practically a gift, was now at usurious rates). I had no funds, and no hope of ever completing the house. I felt ashamed to appear in public. Eyes were either pitying or mocking me. I fell into a deep depression. I needed and received anti-anxiety medication. But there was still no hope. I went to a lawyer. He said I had a good case, but, as all of Rafi's assets were in his mother-in-law's name, I would never collect. But I should sue anyway...on principle. I immediately understood that the lawyer also wanted to rob me. My life seemed to be over. But HaShem thought otherwise. He sent my salvation through a new friend who came to my aid. He did more for me than any other human being has ever done (outside of immediate family). But at the same time, I was faced with needing to reevaluate my basic concepts of "us" and "them", of "friend" and "foe". My new friend was named Hussein 'Abd El Qadr. That will be my next post.

My Story 28

Spiritually, I was at a great low. The Israeli Jews I knew were, for the most part, not very pleasant. Although their personalities were, to say the least, fine, their ideologies had rendered them unthinking, and often unfeeling. In many ways, these ideologies were more insidious than the lack of ideology of secular Israelis. The rabbis of the Kooknik communities espoused a neo-Fascist concept of Klal Yisrael (Universal Israel) that put a great divide between Jew and non-Jew, and put a huge emphasis on "Mamlachtiut" ("Kingdomism"). Israel, according to them,, is a kingdom, governed by G-d, through politicians who were, to be sure, corrupt, but were being used by G-d to fulfill the prophecies. Individuals were of little significance. The settling of the Land was the supreme ideal, leading up to the full Redemption. A community leader once said to me "I would gladly lose my entire family in a terrorist attack if it would strengthen our hold on the land, and support of settlement activity". A few months later, he was driving home from a Hanukkah party at a relative's home, when terrorists shot up his car. His wife was killed, as was his son (a friend of two of my sons), while a daughter was badly wounded. This man is one of the two owners of Arutz 7. A media circus ensued. Politicians came to pay condolence visits. But they were told, "don't cry for my wife and son. Build more houses here instead!". All the official, government-approved rabbis were politically involved as well. Most were party hacks. But even those who weren't would come out before elections with outrageous statements that the Torah requires us to vote for this or that party. This even resulted in divorces when husbands and wives honored different rabbis, who declared it an obligation to vote for a particular party. Among the followers of Rabbi Nachman, too, there were numerous warring factions. The Breslovers I had known in America, were, for the most part, like brothers. There were squabbles, but they were few. Rabbi Nachman had commanded that his followers were to "come to him" for Rosh HaShanah. It had been impossible to get to Uman for Rosh HaShanah for half a century. Breslovers began to gather in central places instead. Ah, but which central place? In Israel, there were two; Jerusalem and Miron (the resting place of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai). People would argue about which was right. There was even one man who would alternate each year between the two, so that he would at least be "right" for half the years of his life. I had been in Israel barely three months when Rosh HaShanah came. Sima had given birth less than three weeks before. She had not had an easy time of it. The nurses and midwives neither gloved nor masked, and she got a serious infection. When I spoke to the hospital officials, I was informed that "everyone who gives birth gets an infection". Nevertheless, she told me that she wanted me to go to the "kibbutz" (gathering) for Rosh Hashanah. I went to Miron. This caused me a great crisis of faith. The people were plain nasty to each other. In the tomb of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, there were about a hundred people praying fervently. Outside the tomb, there were thousands milling about, drinking coffee, talking politics, and, in some cases, throwing spitballs. There were communal meals. But the first ones into the dining room quickly grabbed the food, leaving little or nothing for those who didn't push. I was perplexed. Was this the embodiment of the noble teachings of Rabbi Nachman? For the first time, I questioned the value of being a Breslover. This "cooked" in me all year, but I tried not to think about it. Anyway, I had many other problems that kept me preoccupied. But when Rosh HaShanah loomed again, I felt the crisis. I took time off from work, and went to Tsfat to pray and contemplate. I particularly prayed at the tombs of the Holy ARI, and of Rabbi Shimon of Kremenchug, who had been a student of Rabbi Nachman. Our sages tell us that after the destruction of the first Temple, prophecy was given over to children and fools. At the grave of Rabbi Shimon, a man approached me who looked and spoke in a most abnormal way. I couldn't understand how he was allowed to walk the streets. He asked me "why have you come?" I told him that I was praying about what to do for Rosh Hashanah, which was only a month away. He said "Rosh HaShanah is a big Klipah" (Klipah means "shell" or "husk", and is used in Kabbalah to mean a great evil that is hiding a great good.) He proceeded to tell me about my life; my wife and kids, my work...he knew it all! He even ventured to tell me what "blemish" was causing my problems. He took me to his apartment. The walls had burn marks from a fire. The windows were broken. I slept on his floor that night. He advised me to visit a hidden Tzaddik in Jerusalem, named Rabbi Kiwak. I did so a few days later. We had a pleasant talk, but nothing that I would call special. A week later, I was riding on a bus in Jerusalem, studying the Likkutei Moharan; Rabbi Nachman's main teachings. A question popped into my mind. I looked up, and saw that the bus was passing Rabbi Kiwak's home. I got off the bus and knocked on his door. "Excuse me Rabbi for coming without calling first, but I have a quick question on Likkutei Moharan". "come in and sit down". He smiled, and said "your question is this, right?" I was flabbergasted! "Yes". He proceeded to speak about my question for the next two hours, taking down from his library books of both halachah and Kabbalah. In the meantime, he had given me a new perspective on life. He seemed to completely understand what I was going through. What's more, he had answers! What were his answers? That will be my next post.

My Story 27

In my experience, unless one is dealing with  politicians, people are usually as nice to us as we are to them.  I have lived in many parts of the United States, and have traveled to many parts of Europe, rarely experiencing antisemitism, even in Eastern Europe during Cold War days. A smile goes a long way. Nearly every nationality, other than the French, are thrilled and flattered if we attempt to speak in their language. (In France, make one mistake in French and you will be spoken to in English). The Arabs in Israel were, until the 1987 Intifada, no exception. I had minored in Arabic in college. But it wasn't "street Arabic". It was the literary language, close to Classical Arabic. The difference could be compared to Shakespearean English, compared to a strong Brooklyn or Bronx accent and dialect. (Fuggetaboutit!) I knew but little colloquial Arabic, but I was fairly fluent in the literary dialect (Nahawi), which Arabs know and love. It is used even today by orators. Most Israeli Jews know some colloquial, but few know how to speak the literary form, let alone to read and write it. Speaking in Nahawi brought out in Arabs huge smiles, as well as invitations to come have a cup of coffee. Once, when I was working in the Beit El Tefillin factory, I was speaking Nahawi to an Arab who was sweeping the floors. He said "I'll bet you can't write it!" "Try me!". He gave me a sentence. I first corrected the grammar, and then wrote it down. His mouth flew open "By G-d! You are an Arab!". I smiled, and took it as a compliment. A coworker, also an American, said to him "He's an Arab like you're a Jew". The Arab quit on the spot, and ran out furious. The boss had to apologize profusely for my coworker. The Arab construction workers at Beit El called me "the Sheikh", and showed me great respect. At the point where I had lost hope of having a home, or even just being able to survive, an Arab plumber, Hussein 'Abd el Qadr, who was working on a neighbor's house, came over to me and introduced himself. He was a decade my junior. He had a pleasant smile, radiating compassion and humility. My Hebrew name is Yaakov, but the Arabs knew me as Ya'aqoub. "Ya'aqoub, I feel very sorry for you. You have been cheated by Jews, Christians and Muslims. I will finish your house for free. Anything I am not qualified to do, I will get you workers...at Arab prices. Any supplies needed, I will get them for you at wholesale." True to his word, he came every day at 6 am, working until his regular job began at 9. After work, he would come back for another two hours. We would talk about religion, politics, family. He was single, because he wanted to first make enough to put his younger siblings, Musa (Moses) and 'Isa (Jesus) through college. He was pious in his own faith, and yet was most respectful of mine. He brought his younger siblings to meet me. Once, when my Mother came for a visit, he came into the house and bowed before her. Whenever he came to the house, if I wasn't home, he would talk to Sima from outside the doorway, averting his eyes out of modesty and respect at all times. He worked on my house for six months until it was completed. We lived in that house for the next eleven years.Others asked him "How come you work for everyone else at high prices, but for Siegel you work for free?" His response? "Ya'aqoub is my friend". On one occasion, one of my neighbors tried to cheat him. He asked me what to do. "Go to the Rav of the community and demand a Din Torah". He did, and he won! After the house was finished, he came back every few weeks, seeing if it needed any maintenance...always for free. Every Sukkot, he would come by and put up our Sukkah, also taking it down after the holiday. I was terribly ashamed when one day I went to the grocery with him. The proprietor kept calling him "Goy" in a derisive tone. On top of that, he was grossly overcharging him. I asked the proprietor the next day about it. "That's how I keep prices down for the Jews, by overcharging the Arabs". I wanted to crawl into a hole. A few years later, I saw Hussein after the Intifada was in full swing. "Ya'aqoub" he said "I'm getting married. I would love for you to come to the wedding. In fact, I would love for you to perform the ceremony. But I realize that neither one of us would come out alive". A few days later, after a terrorist incident, some residents of Beit El began throwing rocks at Arabs. My friend Hussein took one to the head. He recovered, but he never stepped foot in Beit El again. I wondered "Hey...I thought we were the good guys!" I was left to ponder this. At the same time, I was beginning a process of questioning a great deal about the religious establishment in Israel in general, and the Breslov community in particular. My distress in this led me to meet a person who has been, ever since, my guiding light in understanding Judaism, and why it seemed so dysfunctional. More than that, he taught me how to survive spiritually and emotionally. That will be the next part of my story.