Israel’s Topsy Turvy World

       This past summer, my wife and I travelled abroad. Our first stop was a small country mired in a war with neighboring countries. Bombings and shootings happen so frequently in the north and south that 94,000 people are still displaced, evacuated from their homes near the restive borders. Our state department had issued warnings about travel to this country, and many airlines cancelled flights. The tourist industry upon which the country depends is reporting a huge drop since the previous year. The volatility, the uncertainty, the lack of knowing what’s going to happen next is profound. According to researchers, 23% of adults in this polarized and besieged country suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and about 55% of adults suffer from clinical anxiety.  

     My wife and I then went to a country that Gallup’s recent World Happiness Report lists as the fifth-happiest nation on Earth, behind Finland, Denmark, Iceland, and Sweden. The US ranks twenty-third. In this particular country,  traumatic events spur an unprecedented wave of solidarity and mutual support. The sense of “togetherness” and shared destiny became palpable. People discover a mental fortitude and a sense of meaning that transcends individual struggles. This collective resilience is a crucial factor in this country’s happiness. People in this country remain determined to go about their ordinary lives. Even if there’s a war, it’s business as normal — the beaches, markets, and bars are still full. The presence of so many rifles and uniformed soldiers indicate definite low-level stress in the air, but people are still going about their lives.

     The countries I am describing are actually one and the same place. Since its inception, Israel has combined an outer toughness over an inner soft core, like the sabra plant which defines any Jew born in the land. Calm, pragmatic, hopeful seem to be the markers of the good people of Israel. They are used to the sword rattling of their enemies all around them and have strong faith in their military.

     I witnessed that personally on this trip and also back in 2001 when I went in the midst of the second Intifada. Then as now, Israelis were living on the precipice of a prolonged war with seemingly no end in sight. The situation was a breeding ground for helpless and hopeless feelings that can lead to profound depression.

     Yet despite all of this, I witnessed people getting along with their lives in a remarkable way. There is a level of tension and dislocation, but the basic flow of life continues. I saw a vigilance, but not a sense of paranoia; I saw anger, but not violent, vengeful rage as a way of seeking justice.

     In 2001, I used the term “flow” coined by the psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi to explain how Israelis transform a hopeless situation into a new controllable flow activity. The Israeli key to infusing normality in life, I said,  is going with the flow and maintaining a sense of control over your life.

     But I now think that the flow that I described in 2001 does not completely describe the Israeli approach to coping with traumatic and chaotic situations. It does not account for the hopefulness, the sense of “togetherness” and shared destiny, the creativity and the ingenuity as well as the ability to embrace disorder as a necessary step in problem solving. They don’t call Israel “Start-Up Nation” for nothing. More and more foreign companies set up their research and development facilities here. Indeed, Israel’s main resource is its talent, with hard-working innovators all over the place. Israelis, it seems, can think of a solution to any problem; its very survival demanding new security, defense and intelligence measures.

Hope Springs Eternal

    One of the main factors contributing to happiness in Israel is that Jews do not believe in fate. Jews believe in freedom: there is no “evil decree” that cannot be averted. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks has brilliantly noted that the word tragedy doesn’t exist in Hebrew, reflecting the Jewish resistance to a worldview that embraces despair. Instead, we believe in hope, which is also the title of Israel’s national anthem. There is a spirit of unity and mutual responsibility. The word for crisis in Hebrew, also means a childbirth chair. According to Rabbi Sacks, the Jewish reflex is to see difficult times as birth pangs. Something new is being born.

     The Greeks gave the world the concept of tragedy. Jews gave it the idea of hope. Judaism is a set of laws and narratives designed to create in people, families, and communities habits that defeat despair. Judaism is the voice of hope in the history of mankind.

It takes a Village to Raise a Child

     Another factor in Israel’s ability to persist is a sense of solidarity and connection that exists among all levels of society, especially when dealing with outside enemies. Being an Israeli is not something private and personal but rather something collective and historical. It meant being part of an extended family, many of whose members are not known, but with whom one nevertheless feels connected by bonds of kinship and responsibility.   

    According to the political historian Gil Troy, Israelis pursue happiness through family and community, by feeling rooted and having a sense of purpose. He adds: “Despite disagreeing passionately, Israelis live in an intimate society that runs on trust and generates hope. Israelis feel that they’re never alone, and that their relatives and friends will never abandon them.”

     Amid unspeakable suffering, Israelis have found comfort in one another and a higher calling. Too many Americans feel lonely and lost.

     While Americans might honor or respect their soldiers, the writer Forest Rain Marcia notes that Israelis love their soldiers passionately. Honor is something you do from far away. Love is up close and personal. To Israelis, according to Marcia, soldiers aren’t heroic figures for whom you throw parades and give medals. Soldiers are their boys, their girls, their family. You feed them, make sure they are warm and comfortable. You let them sleep on your shoulder if they fall asleep next to you on the bus. It doesn’t matter if you never saw them before and don’t know their name. It doesn’t matter if they come from a different background than you or have a personality you don’t like. The minute they put on the uniform, they belong to you and you belong to them. Each soldier could be anyone’s soldier so you do for someone else’s son or daughter exactly what you would hope someone would do for yours. No one calls them “Sir.” Rarely will anyone thank them for their service but everyone will love them.

Life is a Balagan, Old Chum

    The final crucial factor in Israel’s resilience and happiness, I believe, comes from a societal mindset best described by a word for chaos or fiasco borrowed from modern Hebrew (where it is a loan word from Russian). Balagan is a term commonly used in everyday Israeli life: from waiting in the supermarket line, to riding on a bus, to visiting a governmental office, to participating in a political protest, to Israeli children in a typical playground, to fighting a war. There is always balagan.

     “While this may seem chaotic to an outsider, in Israel, it is simply the way social interactions operate,” wrote Inbal Arieli, an Israeli businesswomen and author. “Balagan encourages adapting and adopting new and unforeseen parameters. It encourages both us and our children to continuously reconsider our deepest biases and assumptions regarding the ‘organization of things,’ and allows us to consider alternative possibilities.”

     As such, balagan is central to the Israeli way of life — disruptive, often rude — because it doesn’t follow conventions. It encourages kids to understand there’s no single way to do things. if you put the word ‘Yalla’ which is slang for ‘get a move on’ or ‘lets go,’ in front of ‘Balagan’ (Yalla Balagan) then you are basically saying ‘great, let’s go for it, it’ll be great fun.’

  In Israel, the thrill and excitement of living in such a dynamic environment significantly contribute to psychological well-being. Research shows that 55% of Israelis prefer an unconventional life filled with excitement over a tranquil one. This constant stimulation, whether positive or challenging, keeps life engaging and fulfilling and  is part of the Israeli identity, making the country’s citizens resilient and adaptable.

     Judaism is no comforting illusion that all is well in this dark world. It is instead the courage to celebrate in the midst of uncertainty. Accepting life as a balagan is a decision to live calmly and carefree in the face of chaos and impending problems

    Using the concept of balagan, Israelis have developed an attitude of “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.” Although this expression is often said jokingly, regarding small uncomfortable situations like going to the dentist or telling a child to do something they don’t like, Israeli’s experiences as individuals and as a nation have taught that terrible things will happen. Some people will die as a result but those who survive will be stronger because of it. Apparently, under certain circumstances, we are capable of achieving things we wouldn’t have been able to achieve without the stress and trauma. This is the mindset of post traumatic growth. This is beyond resilience. It involves far more than just returning to routine and functioning normally. It’s about genuine growth and positive change. It’s true on a national level, too. Throughout history, every attempt to destroy the Jewish people has not only failed, but it has caused us to grow stronger.

 Israel needs American Jews: Israel has long benefitted from the political and economic support of both the United States and American Jewry. Now when Israel  is vilified for everything it does, it needs American Jews to  lend aid and supplies. My daughter Suzie, I am proud to say, did just this when she volunteered to work as an anesthesiologist in Jerusalem and to bring medical equipment.

American Jews need Israel: In the U.S., there is unprecedented antisemitism and campus  riots. Are my wife and I happier after this trip? For sure, as we had a chance to show solidarity with the country and to meet friends and relatives. It was so heartening to us to see how Israel has seemingly patented its own brand of happiness despite the challenges and conflicts,  This happiness is not necessarily tied to the quality of life but rather to excitement, action, hopefulness, belonging, and strong community bonds. In a world increasingly plagued by loneliness and depression, a thriving, vibrant, resilient Israel is key to restoring pride and steadfastness in Jews like us in the diaspora.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Wife's Fabulous Aunt Florence, Tante Faiga

 The Torah tells us specifically in Genesis 24 that marriage involves leaving your mother and father and cleaving to each other. But cleave it or not, at the same time they leave the nest, the couple marries into each other’s family. Like it or not, the newly married now have siblings, aunts, uncles and sundry other in-laws that unlike outlaws, are not always wanted.

My wife Annette and I both came from very small families that were largely matriarchal, both our fathers having died before we even met. Upon marrying, we each “inherited” a sibling, a mother, and a bevy of aunts, uncles and cousins. In this exchange, we both were winners although I would say unquestionably I won the largest jackpot. That was when I was first introduced to the incomparable Florence Epstein Lesser, my wife’s aunt. When she passed away recently at age 101 (although she would argue heatedly that she was only 99), her family, me included, felt a profound loss. 

What was so extraordinary about this woman whom we called Tante Faiga? For one thing, although she was the descendant of renown rabbis as well as the famous Epstein/Rivlin family, pioneers in the land of Israel in the early 1800’s, my wife’s aunt grew up in abject poverty in a cold water flat in Chicago during the height of the depression. My parents and aunts and uncles were also immigrants or the children of immigrants. I have described in earlier writings how difficult it was for my mother and aunts to grow up on a farm in the Jewish colony of Edenbridge in Saskatchewan, Canada. They had to endure frigid cold weather or intense heat, depending on the season; and getting to school was a several miles trek. But at least they had education, Jewish culture, family and daily food and sustenance to help them survive. 

Florence had a father who was a brilliant scholar but who was essentially preoccupied and away from his family for most of her formative years. As the youngest child in an essentially single parent family of three children, Florence spent many days and nights hungry and cold. But from an early age she demonstrated the will and grit to rise above the challenges of her life. As one of her sons said in his eulogy, “she was very determined in her life to achieve success in her goals. She wanted very much to rise out of her hardships and to raise a family who would not experience, as a child or young adult, the poverty she experienced.” 

Rather than receive encouragement from her family, Florence was pressed to find a job and/or a husband and to forget about going to school. But Florence showed a drive to succeed that would not be blocked by what others thought. So stealthily she enrolled and subsequently graduated from IIT, the Illinois Institute of Technology in 1944, one of the few women in her class. Her next goal was to become a doctor and to marry someone she loved, not some pious scholar picked out for her by the family or a matchmaker.

As the pictures show, Florence was an exceedingly beautiful young blond woman with striking movie star features. Fate played a role when a handsome young pre-med student from Brooklyn came to Chicago to go to Chicago Medical School. Howard Lesser had earned straight A’s and a Phi Beta Kappa key from NYU, but he was not allowed entry into NYU Medical School because of a Jewish quota. Luckily, this act of antisemitism had a happy ending.

Legend has it that Howard and Florence met on a train one afternoon, and there was mutual attraction from the start. Both had to overcome resistance from their families of origin. True, Howard was Jewish; but to Florence’s family of rabbis and scholars, this unobservant and uneducated man was not kosher! Howard, an only child of a physician and a woman who had been raised in a wealthy debutante lifestyle, was marrying a poor girl below his class, the Lessers thought.

But love conquers all, and they were married in what would be a happy union blending their disparate styles and personalities. Howard was more serious, a consummate physician and a man set in his ways. Florence had a more joie de vivre, a love of new experiences and meeting new people. But together they loved travelling extensively all around the world. They went on numerous safaris to Africa where Howard used his skill in photography to capture photos that grace my office and our apartment. They loved going to concerts at Lincoln Center and were long-time subscribers.

Florence and Howard had two sons, Steven and Robert (Yossi), both of whom grew up to be doctors like their father. Because she was too poor to go to medical school, Florence concentrated on being a wife and mother although she also worked at times as a travel agent and as a biology teacher.

It was obvious from an early age that my wife Annette was precious to Florence. Her sons have said she loved Annette as the daughter that she never had. Tante Faiga was always there for Annette whenever she needed her. In her own family, my wife was like Rodney Dangerfield. She got no respect. Her father, who made a living as a mohel (one who performs circumcisions) wanted a boy, and he reportedly hung up the phone when he was told this he was a she. When Annette was a toddler, her parents placed her in an orphanage nursery in Chicago so they could concentrate on her sister’s medical issues. Tante Faiga found out and rescued her, she forced Annette’s parents to take her out. Another time her parents arranged to have a photograph taken of her sister, but they didn’t want to pay for Annette to be photographed. She was four years old. Her aunt found out and came over and did her hair and made sure that the photographer stayed and took her picture which she has to this day thanks to her aunt. From Tante Faiga, my wife always got love and respect.

Throughout Annette’s life, it has been her aunt who has introduced her to the beauty and glory of such cultural events as the Philharmonic Orchestra, the Metropolitan Opera and the wonderful museums in New York. Annette learned style in art, clothes, entertaining, and housekeeping from her aunt’s examples and from the times they would go shopping together. When Annette still lived in Chicago and her aunt and uncle had settled in Brooklyn, my wife visited her aunt in New York in the summer. Florence made sure to take Annette to the beach, and my wife developed a love of beaches and waters. After that when Annette moved to New York for college and then to settle into married life with me, there were many times that my wife and her aunt went together to the beach in Bell Harbor. Florence loved listening to the waves in the water as Annette does, although the former was an excellent swimmer, and the latter never learned to swim!

How do I fit into this picture? Well, anything Annette did was fine as far as Florence was concerned. But when it came time for her gorgeous niece to look for a serious relationship, I imagine she expected her to choose a chic, good looking future doctor with a strong Jewish background, someone like our future son-in-law, Dr. Yosef  Kilimnick! But Annette chose me, even though I was none of those things. How can I be a physician if I hated hospitals and the sight of blood? And I was colorblind to boot. Of course, that meant that I wore clothes that didn’t match, and I had no fashion sense and no definite career path.

Frankly, I was intimidated by Annette’s elegant and well-to-do aunt and uncle, and I thought they would never like or accept me. When I was invited to meet them for the first time, I wanted to impress them with a special gift. So, I went out and bought them a waffle iron. You heard me right; I bought them a frigging waffle iron. I don’t know what prompted me to make such a purchase unless subconsciously I wanted to show them that Annette and I were not going to “waffle” in our choices.

In the end, the box with the waffle iron was still unopened when her sons cleaned out her house almost 60 years later. But Howard and especially Florence did open their hearts to me over the years, especially when we raised our children whom they came to cherish like their own grandchildren. When I saw the usual stern and stolid Uncle Howard shed tears of joy at my daughter’s bat mitzvah, I knew I had finally won him over. I felt that Florence became a fan of mine even earlier, and I always enjoyed and felt welcome at her annual Thanksgiving parties. I got to see close-up how she never waffled in her values and how she impressed on her sons, on Annette, and even on me her ironclad determination that you can succeed in anything you set your heart to do.

Above all, she loved the Jewish people, and she loved the land of Israel. Although she was not fully observant, her sons remember that every Friday night, she lit Shabbat candles. Every Passover when they were young, she shlepped her boys to Chicago or to Uncle Jacob in Syracuse. When Steven, who now lives in Israel, was 5 and his family was in Germany where Howard was an army doctor, Florence took him for a tour of the concentration camp Dachau. When Yossi was 10 and Steven was 13, she took them to Israel. She wanted to etch into their minds the Importance of Israel as a place to ensure the safety of Jews from the enemies that arise in every generation.

Florence was always someone who accepted people and encouraged them. She was even doing this in the last years of her life in the nursing home. She never protested when her sons became religious or earlier when they went through a period of rebelliousness. She only wanted them to become educated, to go to college, and to fulfill their own dreams. After Howard passed away, she enjoyed spending Sabbath and holidays with Yossi and Carol or with me and my wife.

Florence and Annette loved visiting places that I don’t think Howard would have ventured to see had he been alive. On one of the last trips to Israel that we took as a family, Florence and Annette told everyone they were going to a day spa. Instead, they went to see Petra. We are talking about one of the great ancient cities that lies half hidden in the wind-blown landscape in southern Jordan. You heard right, two Jewish women traveled alone to Jordan! Nothing untoward happened because as usual, Tanta Faiga had everything carefully orchestrated and knew what to do in a pinch (and they had a few near emergencies). Nonetheless, it was one of my wife’s peak experiences.

.Back on the home front, we spent countless Sabbaths, high holidays, and Passovers together; we always had a fun time. While she was the epitome of elegance, she was also very down to earth and was comfortable in our mostly relaxed, informal home atmosphere. We loved talking to her about anything because she was so well read and versed in so many things. She always gave unconditional love, but she could grill us like a prosecuting attorney if she didn’t agree with what we were saying. To my wife, she was the ideal Jewish female role model, committed to family, to education, to Israel, and to preserving traditions, along with being part of modern secular society.

The past five years she experienced continual decline in her mental capacity. The family was no longer able to ensure that she was safe and well fed at home, even with round the clock aides. The last two years of her life she spent in Gurwin Assisted-Living, specifically, the Memory unit. The staff was wonderful, and she had company every day with all the other residents. Even when she was in the nursing home, she would often sing Yerushalayim shel Zahav (Jerusalem of gold) and other Israeli songs that she still remembered.

In so many ways, Annette attests that she has become the person she is today not so much from what she was taught in school, but what she caught from being around her aunt. I agree and it has been an honor to be able to cleave to her for so, so many years. We are glad our children and grandchildren have been blessed by contact with this incomparable matriarch.