My post was published!

The Colombian Jewish community newsletter published one of my posts!
Read the post translated into Spanish here

The country we chose to live in

So this is the country we've chosen to live in. A country in which more than 40% of its population has had to run to find shelter from rockets being fired by Hamas from the Gaza strip. A country towards which more than 180 rockets have been fired in the last 24 hours. A country in which in certain areas, a mother has 15 seconds, the time it takes you to pour a cup of coffee, to gather her four children and run to the bomb shelter. A country in which I have to tell my family, who lives abroad, that the news make it sound worse than it is just to keep them calm. Yet, it is the country I feel safe in. No other country in the world goes to such lengths to keep their citizens safe. We have bomb shelters and iron domes and chayalim who proudly go out to defend our citizens.

Yesterday afternoon I took my kids with a couple of friends to a kibbutz near Modiin to collect grapes and step on them to make grape juice. The perfect afternoon for the kids. We were having a great time. And all of a sudden, the sound of a siren filled the air. We were in the field with no shelter to run into. We gathered the children and hid under tables. I had Ilanit, my youngest, who is a year and a half old, duck under the table and i laid on top of her trying to protect her head and mine, while my 6 year old, Nathan, was hiding with the rest of the children nearby. Not being next to both my children and the uncertainty of whether Nathan was doing what he was supposed to in this situations was terrifying. We hid for what seemed like an eternity, but what must have been two minutes until we felt the ground shake and the resound of a rocket hitting open ground. My first taste at this country's crude reality. I can't imagine a mother who has to go through what I went yesterday several times a day.

Today however, as rockets continue to be fired and we find ourselves at what hasn't yet been cataloged as war, but I cannot find a different name for, Israelis went to work, visited coffee shops and restaurants, went grocery shopping and took the kids to school. Because in Israel, life doesn't stop. Because we are Am Israel, we don't let anyone push us over, we are strong and we want to live in peace and will do whatever is necessary to ensure that we continue to enjoy the freedoms that this beautiful country provides.

Am Echad, Lev Echad

What do you say about the past week's events that hasn't already been said? The impact the death of our three boys (OUR boys because after 18 days of searching for Gilad, Naftali and Eyal, of hoping they would come home, they became our boys), had on every one in Israel was immense and when we heard the devastating news that they would not be coming home because they had been brutally murdered by terrorists, the loss wasn't just for their families, but for every one of us. 

I have read article after article from people from different points of views, from different levels of religiousness, from different backgrounds and nationalities, but all with the same message of support and same tone of sorrowfulness. If I wrote about this week's events, my blog wouldn't be any different. I feel the same sadness, the same anger, the same sorrow that everyone has felt this past week. So instead of writing about the three boys and the terrible loss this country had, I want to share the impact today of all days this week has had on me.

Today, I went with a friend and her family to visit the shiva of two of these boys' families. I didn't want to intrude during this very sorrowful moment, but at the same time I wanted to show my support. To be like one of the thousands of people who have shown the families during these past few days that they are not alone. And so I went, and what I saw and felt was incredible. 

The amount of people at the Frenkel's house was unbelievable. Naftali's parents were sitting under a tent in their backyard surrounded by tens of people tying to give their condolences. Among those, was Sherri Mandell, whose son Koby was brutally murdered by terrorists in 2001. I was not farther than a yard away when one of those moments in which the world starts moving in slow motion took place. Sherri Mandell and Rachel Frenkel saw each other. Two women who had never met, but who recognized each other from TV and who now share an inexplicable bond held each other's hands. I couldn't hear what they said, but I could feel the intensity of the moment. 

We then visited Gilad's family's home. We had the incredible opportunity to sit with Gilad's parents and one of his sisters in their living room and listen to stories about Gilad and we talked about how not only in Israel, but in the US, in Colombia, in Panama and everywhere in the world, the boys are being remembered and memorials are being held in their names. Bat-Galim, Gilad's mother told us how a month ago the parents of these three boys had never met, but today, they share an incredible bond and they have found a new family in each other.

And just like the Mandells and the Frenkels and the Sha'ers and the Yifrahs share an unbreakable bond, Am Israel has bonded together over this tragedy, like we usually bond over difficult times. I have been utterly amazed at how an entire country mobilized to first find these children and now to comfort their families. Am echad, lev echad. The people of Israel is one nation, we are one heart. 

And where are you from?

19 years ago I came to Israel for the first time with 30 of my classmates from the Colegio Colombo Hebrew, the Jewish day school in Bogota, where I grew up. It was a tradition for 10th graders to spend 3 months in Israel traveling around the country, getting to know the culture, studying (and I use the term losely, very very losely) and partying. It is an extraordinary experience that accompanies you for the rest of your life. Back then, the base for our trip was a place called Givat Washington. A student campus near Ashdod.

A few weeks ago, the director of the campus, the same guy who organized our trip 19 years ago and who still organizes the trip for the kids from the Colombo Hebreo, called my friend Ethel (who I know from Colombia and also lives in Modiin and who made aliyah right after high school) and asked her if she would be willing to spend a weekend on campus and give a peula (organized activity) to the kids attending this year's trip in order to promote aliyah. Ethel said yes, as long as she would be able to bring her dearest friends, the Warmans. To my husband, anything free is worth taking, so he said yes right away, before I even had a chance to remember the modest accommodations of the place. Anyways, we were committed to the plan and just a few days before going, I learn the additional detail that I as well was in charge of an activity for the kids.  I pulled out and dusted off old tochniot (activity planners) from my days as a madricha of the tnuat noar (counselor for the youth movement) and started planning. I was horribly nervous. If this 15 year olds were anything like we were, it was going to be a huge challenge keeping them engaged.

The day came to leave for our weekend at Givat Washington. We arrived on Friday right before shabat and as we drove through the gate, memories of my stay there 19 years ago started to hit me. Things looked vaguely familiar. Some of the buildings and pathways were the same, among a lot of new construction. We settled in our rooms and headed straight for shabat services and then dinner where we met for the first time the group of 13 kids from Colombia, now visiting Israel for 3 months, just as we did so many years ago. "13 kids, boy the school has shrunken" was my first thought. The security situation in Colombia hit rock bottom in the late 90's and a big part of the Jewish community fled, so now the school is about half the size of what it was when I studied there. Right after dinner, we went outside for our first peula. I was in charge of doing some ice breakers, and to my surprise, this kids were totally engaged. We spent about 45 minutes in activities and then sat down for some informal chit chat where the kids introduced themselves, this time not by name, but by the name of their parents or uncles, who we were more likely to know.

The next day we met for more peulot. Aliza, the Colombia's Ashkenazi community rabbi's daughter, who also attended the weekend had a peula organized for the morning and Ethel had one planned for the afternoon. During Ethel's activity, we got to talking about identity. What makes up our identity, who we are. How is our identity related to our nationality as living in Colombia or elsewhere and living in Israel.
It got me thinking and I got the chance to share with these 13 kids, who are about to graduate high school and make decisions that may affect the rest of their lives, how my identity
has been forged since the time I graduated high school, to my years in Miami, to now living in Israel. My identity per se, the way I am has been forged by my circumstances, but my identity as it relates to my nationality has been tremendously impacted by my move to Israel.
I was born and raised in Colombia. Growing up, I was Colombian at heart. I owned the jersey and my heart beat for Colombia. When I was 20 I moved to Miami, and despite having spent 14 years there, I never felt American. I did lose my Colombia identity though. I wasn't from here nor there. A citizen of the world as they say. It wasn't until 10 months ago, when we moved to Israel that my Zionism flourished. I feel here what I never felt in the US and what in retrospect I think I never felt in Colombia. This is my country, my land. This is where I belong. It's an inexplicable feeling having only been here 10 months, but I feel like my identity as a person and as a Jew in the State of Israel can be truly shown. I am Colombian, I will always be. When it is time to root for a soccer team, I will root "Si Si Colombia", but the land I love, my land and the land where I want my children to grow in is the State of Israel.
We left that weekend hoping some of these 13 kids decide to continue their future after high school in Israel and like Ethel, Aliza and me, realize that as a Jew and as a person, we belong here.




















 

Holiday A'la Esh

We've been in Israel for nine months now, so we've pretty much witnessed every holiday there is to celebrate in the Jewish calendar and I must say, there is no holiday that shows off the folklore of the Israeli like Lag B'Omer does.

If you’re not sure as to what this holiday is all about, you’re not the only one. It's a minor Jewish holiday turned big by Israeli's love of gathering. The literal meaning is straightforward: “Lag” is the acronym of the Hebrew letters ‘lamed’ and ‘gimmel’, which have a combined numerical value of 33, and the Omer is the period of 49 days between Passover and Shavuot that we count and observe as a period of semi-mourning. It’s said that 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva died during this period and that Lag B’Omer, the 33rd day, marked a respite from battle or disease. Anyway! The newly redefined version of the story is that Lag B’Omer is a day for weddings, first haircuts, festivities, and of course, bonfires.

Israelis are big on getting together with family and friends and have an innate love for cooking A'la esh (what us folk know as BBQing), so a holiday that combines both, well that's bound to be a huge success of a holiday. And Israelis are not about to make anything small. Competition for the biggest bonfire is not official, but evident. People bring doors and pieces of furniture to burn, they bring potatoes and hot dogs and all kinds of food to cook on the fire. Your little park ranger fire where you burn marshmallows is put to shame next to an Israeli bonfire.

Our son's class made plans for a bonfire at a park in the center of town. When we got there, there must have been about another 12 or 15 bonfires. People brought tables and chairs and gather around the fire cooking and singing. We got home smelling like bonfire. The entire city smells like smoke. And the fires will burn, all throughout Israel, all night long.

A country stood still

There is no way for me to describe only with words what I felt today as I witnessed for the first time in my life, the entire State of Israel come to a complete stop as the sirens were sounded throughout the Country in remembrance of those whose lives were taken during the Holocaust.

I had just finished pumping gas at a busy intersection right outside Modiin and was parked on the side of the gas station as a steady siren started to sound. Almost immediately, a bus came to a sudden stop on the side of the road, another car stopped in the middle of the highway and the driver got out of the car, people started getting out of their cars at the gas station, workers stood still. I followed and got out of my car and stood thinking how the entire Country, at this exact same time, was at a standstill. I used the time to think of the lives that were taken, but mainly, I thought of how lucky we are as Jews to have Eretz Israel, how lucky I am to be able to live in this Country, to raise my children Jewish in a State where Judaism is not only taught, but it is lived and breathed every day, in everything we do. I am so lucky to have made the decision to make Aliyah and so proud to be now an Israeli.

Am Israel Chai

To Jew or not to Jew

There's something about living in Eretz Israel that makes us Jews feel, well Jewish. There is no need to show off your judaism in order to feel Jewish. Now, dont get me wrong, I am not one to feel, like many who have made aliyah before me, that just because we live in Israel, we no longer have the need to follow certain halachot and therefore stop fasting on yom kippur, but I do believe that because we are here, the pressure to instill a Jewish education on our children is less, because at the end of the day, Judaism in Israel is inherent.

When we decided to make aliyah last year, we were very excited about the fact that our children would be raised as Jews in a Jewish State. What I didn't realize is that just because our public education sytem includes teachings about the Jewish Holidays in its standard curriculum, it is still our job as parents to instill our family traditions. A few days ago, Nathan, our 6 year old, was talking about how much fun he had during the "bycicle holiday" and how there were no cars on the road and he could ride his skateboard down the hill. It took me a minute to realize "bicycle day" is Yom Kippur. The holiest of the Jewish holidays has been redesigned by Israelies as the holiday in which no cars are allowed on the road and children can safely ridetheir  bikes and scooters. We are a few days away from Pesach now, a holiday that marks our freedom as Jews and which in my opinion is a breeze celebrated in Israel. Breads of all kinds, pizza, cakes, anything you want Kosher le Pesach. Everyone and I mean everyone, takes this two week hiatus to travel around the country. Hotels are overbooked and parks are overcrowded. My mental shock, just like with "bicycle day", is that Pesach break is becoming more commonly referred to as "chag aviv" or spring break. 

I understand and I appreciate that Israel allows us to be as religious or as secular as we see fit, but it has been this past few days that have made me realize that Judaism comes from home.