My Story 25

 The first three years of aliyah are spent in a euphoric daze. Things go wrong, bureaucracy looms large, violence and bloodshed are all around, but the sheer joy of being in Eretz Yisrael, plus the overriding feeling that soon all will be fine, keeps one not only going, but excited about the journey. All was scheduled for July 1, 1984. Sima, I, our two kids, plus a third due in two months, boarded a plane for Israel! We were on our way! A taxi had been hired by the Ministry of Immigrant Absorption, to take us to an "absorption center" at Kfar Chabad, about a quarter of an hour from the airport. The taxi driver was less than enthusiastic. "I'm from Romania. I hate it here". But I wasn't going to let any Negative Nelly rain on my parade. I was starting out better than most. Mishmeret Stam, the organization that had trained me as a sofer, had offered me temporary work at their Bnai Brak office as soon as I could start. I had also been in touch with the Beit El Tefillin factory, which assured me that if I were to move to their settlement, a job was waiting. The absorption center was less than pleasant. Some families had been there for years; no job, no place to move to, and no hope. The sounds of strife-filled the air each evening, with husbands and wives cursing each other. Sima was adamant. She refused to stay there long term. We must find a permanent situation before her due date in early September. In the year leading up to our aliyah, we had settled on two possible options. We either wanted to live in the holy city of Tsfat, a backwater in the Upper Galilee, replete with holy sites and an incredible history, or else the settlements of the Shomron, where the redemption seemed to be happening before our eyes. As Tsfat was our preferred option, we took two buses to make the three hour trip almost as soon as  we had arrived. We first took our two boys to the ancient cemetery, in order to pray at the tombs of the many Tzaddikim buried there; foremost among them was the Holy ARI. We arranged to meet a representative of a new housing complex that had recently been constructed by the Vizhnitzer Hasidim. Rents or purchase were extremely affordable; $40/month to rent, $20,000 to buy. By this time, our two boys were having a melt down in the July midday heat. The representative was less than enthusiastic. "I never saw such wild children! I don't think we want you here." She nevertheless handed us a list of rules for the development. I was asked to agree to a long list of behaviors that I was uncomfortable signing. It enumerated where I was to pray, promising not to organize new Torah classes, how we would dress, and how we would observe the Sabbatical year (Shmittah) in accordance with their standards; consuming only Arab produce. I declined. There was, in fact a Breslov community in Tsfat as well. But I had met their representative in New York. He had told us that we couldn't possibly afford an apartment among them, as they were upscale. When I received a publicity newsletter from them shortly after arriving in Israel, it touted how much they were doing to provide housing for the poor of Tsfat. I was angry. I have, ever since, had a bad taste in my mouth for Tsfat Breslov. The Israel I found in 1984, was a far cry from the Israel of the Six Day War and the Entebbe raid. It was the last days of the very unpopular Lebanese war. Many Israelis were now refusing to do military duty. The government had, incredibly, issued an ultimatum to the warring factions in Lebanon: make a deal with us, or we would withdraw our troops unilaterally (!!!). Inflation was galloping at over 400%. Although it was illegal to own dollars, nearly all Israelis would cash their paychecks at the black market for dollars, hiding them under a floor tile. Elections were held that month. A joke was circulating that a man told his friend that he was leaving Israel. "Why?" asked his friend. "Two reasons. First, I hate the Likud". "That's no reason! After the elections, Labor will be in!" "That's the second reason!". Yes, Zionism was dead. Idealism, or even ideology, had no place in the Israel of 1984.The two largest parties that had campaigned primarily about how the other party was evil and incompetent, formed a "National Unity Government", which many called a "National Paralysis Government" with little accomplished except each party ensuring that the other would not implement any policies. One day, as I was working in Bnai Brak, a settler from the Beit El community visited the Mishmeret Stam office. I told him that I was considering moving to the settlements. He invited us to come take a look at Beit El the following Sunday. We spent Shabbat with friends in Jerusalem, and took the bus north, passing through scenic terrorist enclaves Ramallah and El Bireh, to the community of Beit El. It was a different Israel. People had a sense of purpose. Neighbors looked out for each other. Everyone was religious, most deeply so. Most did not lock their doors at night. When knocking at a neighbor's door, they would simply shout "Ken!" (Yes). Never a "who's there?" There was a fierce nationalism, that most Israelis couldn't understand, and of which they were fearful. There was a sense that government was actually a value in and of itself. This was not just the government of Israel. It was G-d's Kingdom. Anything it did, no matter how bad, was actually very good, even if we could not now see that. I later came to see this cognitive dissonance as a form of Fascism. But for now, it seemed very appealing. The man who was showing us around, whose name was Gabi, informed us that he had American neighbors who had an apartment for rent. We went over there. The lady of the house opened the door and seemed startled. "You're Jeff!" She had been a student at Ohio State eleven years earlier and had been active in the Hillel. We moved in a week later. That is how we became settlers.