A Doubt With Every Dance: Yom HaZikaron and Yom Haatzmaut in Jerusalem

A note before you yell at me in the comments: I believe in the right of Israel to exist, and it is because I love Israel so much that I criticize it. I love spending time here, but I don't claim to know everything, and I'm happy to have a discussion with anyone who would like to have a civil conversation. Also, I don't support BDS. 

"Am Yisrael Chai, Am Yisrael Chai, Am Yisrael, Am Yisrael, Am Yisrael Chai"

As we walked down Yafo street, one of the main roads in Jerusalem at around 10:30 pm last Wednesday night, dodging crowds of drunk people covered in blue and white face paint, we heard this song, "the people of Israel live." As we stood next to City Hall, listening to live music coming from two different stages, I felt someone grab my hand and pull me into a circle dance to whatever song was playing. We were all strangers to one another, and considering the fact that my Hebrew is not excellent, I don't know if we would have been able to communicate through words, but we were dancing together, all on the same stone in the same city. 

The unity of the Jewish people of Israel during Yom Hazikaron, the Israeli Memorial Day and Yom Haatzmaut, Israeli Independence Day is truly an incredible thing to witness and be a part of. Standing together, frozen in time during the sirens sounded to commemorate the fallen soldiers, singing Hatikvah with thousands of people, watching Jerusalem switch from mourning to celebrating in the span of an hour were all very powerful experiences. Hundreds of people barbecuing on a sunny Independence Day in the park is lovely. I felt proud to be here, proud of Israel's accomplishments and proud to be a Jew who supports Israel. 

When one experiences these days from the perspective of a Jew, it truly feels like the country stands as one people, united. But then, you start to think more deeply about it, or at least I did. Between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea, there are currently about the same number of Jews and Palestinians. Palestinians are not included in the vision of a Jewish homeland, but they are people, living in this land. Last weekend, I spent Shabbat in the West Bank, and on our way home, we stopped at Shorashim, an Israeli-Palestinian dialogue center, where we heard from a Palestinian man about his experience living in the occupied West Bank. This opened my eyes to the fact that there really are two sides to the story of Yom Haatzmaut which Palestinians call the Nakhba, the disaster. Palestinians identify the creation of a Jewish state, partly on land that was formerly Palestinian, as a disaster. This brought up a lot of questions. What price is being paid for a Jewish state? Are our actions consistent with our Jewish values? And what about the refugees that are being deported or about to be deported from Israel? I don't have answers to these questions, but they need to be talked about. I hope that we look at these issues more complexly and question the media we consume. 

Wincing My Way Down Masada: Chronic Illness in Israel

Day 2 of the 10 day trip: I got up in the morning, screwed around on my phone because the kibbutz we were staying on at that point had good internet, took a shower, taped my feet to protect the sores on the bottoms of them, went to breakfast, stood up, felt a sharp pain in my left hip, sat back down, took Advil and continued with my day. When someone asked me if I was okay, all I said was this: "That's just what decided to hurt today." I did Birthright Israel, a ten day trip for Jewish 18-25 year olds, and I did it with chronic pain.

I want to make a point of saying this: I didn't have any pain-free days on this trip, although some were certainly easier than others. And I haven't had any pain-free days at any point in the past (that I can remember at least). I am not saying this to ask for your pity; I am saying this because I want to make it clear that I am writing this blog post to be open about my own life with the hope that this might make someone who is considering not going on Birthright due to a chronic illness reconsider their decision. It was by no means easy, but it was absolutely worth it.

Chronic illness, especially while traveling with a large group of people, is complicated. You don't have much time to yourself, meaning that it's very hard to hide how you are feeling, and you get a lot of questions if you wear any of the signs of pain on the outside. Additionally, there is a constant struggle between the desire to take in every experience and push yourself to have as much fun as possible in the limited time that you have and the need to take care of yourself and not end up crying on a park bench due to pain, mental or physical. And I am by no means an expert at balancing these two things, although I am a little bit proud that I didn't actually sit out of anything substantial on this trip due to pain. In some ways, I was lucky that I only had to deal with chronic pain. I know how to deal with chronic pain (at least that's what I tell myself), but a large amount of my trip did get the flu and have to sit out of things. I think it comes down to this: the pain you can deal with is also the pain that you have gotten used to. I don't like having to deal with chronic pain, but it's a fact of my life, and I now know, that if I can make it down Masada, I can make it through anything with my beautiful, broken body.

End Note: Thank you thank you thank you to Tamar Brendzel and Cindy Spungin, the chaperones on my trip for bearing with me when the pain was too bad to walk, for asking how I was doing at periodic intervals and just making sure that I felt supported and okay with how I was feeling for the whole trip. I can't thank either of you enough.