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The Day I Started Wearing My Mogen David

Until now, I’ve never worn a Jewish symbol in public. I don’t wear a Kippah, I don’t have a necklace with my name in Hebrew, not even a Star of David jewelry. I never felt like I needed it. Or more broadly, never felt the need the express my Jewish identity physically. Before I came here, I thought a lot about what to wear. What should I do, that will send a clear message about all the different identities I am holding. Mizrachi, Ashkenazi, Israeli, my love for books and mythologies, my taste in music, my heritage. I am always thinking about what first impression people will have of me. None of those involved Jewishness.  

In Israel, the Jewish is the public space. I believed that if you do put on a Jewish symbol, it reflects your level of faith. How strong are your beliefs. And I am not a religious person, quite the opposite. And like me, so are many other Israelis. We feel like Judaism is for religious people, and we have other worlds. But since I joined the Shlichut, I started a journey. Changing the way I view Judaism, changing the place Judaism holds in me.  

And then October happened. And then Antisemitism rose. At first, I felt attacked. My Israeli identity was being attacked; my Jewish identity was attacked. I heard suggestions not to show any Jewish signs, not to provoke, not to stand out. I didn’t follow. I saw many others showing proudly their Jewish and Israeli identity, each one in its own way. I felt more than just Israeli, I felt Jewish. And I wanted to make sure no one was missing that piece. Davka, out of spite. Just because. 

And then a thought came to mind. I felt more complete. Not because I believe there’s a higher power, that’s a different conversation. I felt like I was looking back and seeing 3000 thousand years of history, each one growing through a different challenge. Gam Ze Ya’avor, this too shall pass. From one to another, each one of us is facing our own trauma. And that collective wisdom, of how to act better as a community, to act better as individuals, is making us stronger, more resilient.  

I didn’t believe in phrases like “Am Israel Chai,” now it brings me to tears. I didn’t used to wear a Mogen David, now I wear it wherever I go. Things are changing, or maybe it’s because I am getting closer to 30 and introspective. Who knows. It is a question I will think about for a long time to come. 

 In the meantime, let’s focus on another Jewish holiday where somebody tried to get rid of the Jewish people and didn’t succeed, and celebrate it the only way we know… with food, wine, and company.  And pray that all the hostages, and everybody else, are safe and back in their homes.  

Chag Purim Sameach! 

Not Just Another Trip to Israel

How was your trip?” Such a simple question, but as I have discovered since returning from Israel, almost impossible for me to answer. This was my Bar Mitzvah trip, my thirteenth time visiting Israel, and my first time in more than seven years. I had been yearning to return since my last planned trip was Covid-cancelled in 2020, but life always seemed to get in the way. After October 7th, I felt a stronger pull to visit than I had ever felt before, and at the same time, for the first time, I also felt trepidation. Would it feel different? Would it be different?

More than the place, I missed the people. Two people in particular, who I’ve known for twenty years, but who I think of as family, my “brother” Shaul Zohar and my “son” Yonathan Hefetz. For me, no trip to Israel is complete without spending time with these two special men, so when JCCA put together its extraordinary Leadership Solidarity Mission to Israel, I knew that I would be going, and extending my visit.

Shaul and his wife Karin live in the north of Israel in Kiryat Shemona (KS). Shaul’s parents moved to Israel from Iran in 1959, so Shaul has lived in KS his entire life. Karin is originally from Holland, and moved to Israel without knowing a word of Hebrew. They have four children, three of whom I have known their entire lives: Chen (23), Shi (19), Shir (17) and Or (15). In other words, a typical Israeli family.

My usual “home away from home” in Israel is the “zimmer” at Shaul’s house. Not this trip. This time, I stayed with Shaul and Karin in Club Hotel Tiberias, the formerly closed hotel which was hastily refurbished and reopened to accommodate more than 800 evacuees from KS. While many evacuees have since found alternative places to stay, there were still more than 300 at the Club Hotel when I arrived on Friday afternoon. Shaul and Karin share a two-room suite with Or, two of their cats, and their bird. Chen and Shir share another suite with their other two cats and their rabbit, and Shi is deployed at a base in the Golan Heights. We welcomed Shabbat in their room, with wine, a roll, and song, and then headed to dinner in a dining hall filled with evacuees: children, elders, and everyone in between. I have spent so many Shabbat evenings with the Zohar family, but this was like no other.

Shabbat morning we toured the north, enjoying the lush beauty of the Golan Heights and Hula Valley. We picked up Shi at the base and took her out for lunch – it was so strange to see her in uniform. We drove close to KS, but as I promised my wife Marcia, we did not venture into the evacuated area. After three months in Tiberias, the family is bracing for many more. After Havdalah back in the hotel room, we headed to the dining hall for another communal dinner, and then Shaul and I took a long walk together. We talked well into the night, and ended the long day with a long hug.

Sunday morning Shaul drove me to Tel Aviv, and after more hugs, we said l’hitraot and I checked into the beautiful David Kempinski Hotel. More and more hugs as friends and colleagues arrived at the hotel to begin an emotional roller coaster ride together. I began to think of this trip as a solidarity mission sandwich. Nestled between brief visits with my dear friends was an itinerary like no other I have ever experienced or imagined. I know that the details are readily available, so I will confine my writing to highlights, takeaways, and reflections. The mission was overwhelming, exhausting, and inspiring. The source of inspiration was the Israeli people that we met, their resilience, determination and perhaps most extraordinarily, their hope for the future. It was clear from everything that we did and saw that October 7th was a game changer, a pivotal moment in history, and that Israel, the Jewish people and the world would never be the same.

For me, Tuesday was by far the most difficult day, as we traveled to the Gaza Envelope. On the bus, we were joined by Middle East strategic intelligence analyst, Avi Melamed. Avi provided what was for me an illuminating and terrifying tutorial on Hamas, Hezbollah, and other Iranian proxies, describing what he called “Iran’s Hegemonic Vision,” and the implications for Israel and the Jewish people, the entire Middle East, and beyond. We then saw first-hand the manifestation of that vision as we visited Sderot, Ofakim, Kibbutz Nir Oz, and the site of the NOVA Festival which was transformed into a killing field. It is hard to describe the feeling I had as we walked through the makeshift memorial to those who were beaten, raped, killed, or taken hostage that day. I have only felt that way once before in my life, and that was when visiting Auschwitz.

So where does the hope come from? We finished the day sharing BBQ with an IDF unit. We visited with the soldiers, heard about their lives and experiences, shared a few laughs, handshakes and even some hugs. We are, after all, family. At this moment, I understood the idea of Jewish Peoplehood on a very different level than ever before. It wasn’t an intellectual understanding; it was deeper and more personal. We were thanking them, and they we thanking us. That’s right – They were thanking us! They understood why we were there, and it meant something to them. It gave them strength. I don’t know if Israeli and Diaspora Jews have been this close, and mutually dependent, since 1948.

As we wrapped up our mission over dinner in Jerusalem, we all reflected on our experiences together. We are so fortunate to be part of the JCC movement. This group of dedicated, insightful, and inspiring leaders shared their most intimate thoughts, and once again brought light to what could have been a very dark trip. As we headed towards our buses, one heading to the airport and the other back to the hotel in Tel Aviv, everyone was hugging. Some of us were already close to others in the group, but after our shared experience, we were truly bonded. I climbed onto the hotel bound bus, ready to begin the final phase of my trip.

Upon arrival at the hotel, I was welcomed with a bear hug from my dear friend Yonathan. We went into the hotel for a drink and a quick catch-up before he took me to my new hotel, the Brown Brun Hotel in Tel Aviv. Once again, I was the rare tourist among a hotel full of refugees, this time from Kibbutz Erez. It seemed like the perfect bookend of hotel experiences during this surreal visit to Israel.

Two days with Yonathan and his wife Chen was just what I needed after the intensity of the solidarity mission. We had Shabbat dinner with Yonathan’s parents, played tennis (Yonathan was the Israeli junior champion when he was 17), went to amazing restaurants and walked through Tel Aviv markets, neighborhoods and along the beach. Other than a visit to Hostage Square, my time with Yonathan and Chen seemed almost normal. We talked about life, family, jobs, and yes, war and politics. How do Israelis do this? Live their lives in the midst of war? Rabbi Doron Perez speaks of “Gam v. Gam,” but that is a discussion for another time.

After an extraordinary dinner at Claro (Yonathan’s lifelong friend is the chef), I was off to the airport for my flight home. When Yonathan dropped me off, and we shared one last hug, I knew that my relationship to Israel had changed. I will never again let seven years pass between visits. This is my homeland. These are my people. I want to dig deeper into my Israeli roots, meet family who I have never met, but I know are there. I yearn for a peaceful future for Israel, even as I understand that we have a long, challenging, and dangerous road ahead. 

Nobody gives better hugs than Israelis. For this, and many other reasons, I am hopeful.

Am Yisrael Chai!

This Moment in Time

Dear family, friends, community here in Northern Virginia, around the US, and throughout the world. I’ve been reposting and sharing messages of desperation, anger, solidarity, and hope on social media from friends and organizations because I wasn’t ready to put into the ether, my own thoughts about this moment in time. Perhaps I’m still not ready, but can’t stay silent any more.

In the early months of the pandemic, I recall feeling that the word “unprecedented” had evolved into white noise as it was written and spoken in every communication referring to what was taking place around the world. Yet, in the beginning, that was the perfect word to describe the impact of Covid on people, hospitals, communities, and economies the world over.

Like many of you, the lens from which I view the world forever changed on Saturday, October 7, 2023. And now, I’m asking myself, will the words “horrific,” “terrifying,” and  “unimaginable horrors” also become white noise? As the images coming out of Israel are viewed on digital screens, whether handheld or larger, will the world become desensitized to the atrocities on display? Will it seem like it is just another Arab-Israeli conflict that’s “over there” and “not my problem”? Is human decency not our problem?

This moment is not about Pro-Israel or Pro-Palestine, there will be time for that. This is about Pro-Humanity. Anti-Terror. This moment is about supporting those who are willing to risk their lives to fight in the name of peace, security and acceptance.

My father, Al Fuchsman (z”l) passed away two weeks ago. In our community, he was well respected and is being remembered for his lifelong commitments to three pillars: Family, Tikkun Olam (Repairing the World), and Justice for All. What would he say now when all three are so deeply impacted in this moment? I find myself wondering if his untimely passing was actually timely so he can lend a helping hand from above. Perhaps he was meant for greater work than he could accomplish here on Earth. I’d like to believe that.

Many Jews and Israelis are being asked if they are okay. Likely, they are not. I am not. But, as a people, we are resilient and are individually, and as groups, finding ways to feel that we are doing something, anything, to help change the trajectory that we are on. The Pozez JCC is a place for belonging – where people of all backgrounds, identities, religious beliefs, and political affiliations can gather in harmony. On Thursday, October 12, more than 1,600 community members came together in solidarity for Israel and for each other. It was a moving evening and the feeling of connection and Peoplehood was palpable. The J will continue to provide and to share opportunities for healing and action over the coming days, months, and years as we lean deeply into our role as a community connector. (I invite you to see this page for what can be done now to Stand with Israel and click here to view the vigil).

I hope that however you are impacted by this historic moment in which we find ourselves, that you have the support and sense of commUNITY needed to move from darkness to light and hope you join me in praying for our friends and family in Israel and for a time of peace, security, and acceptance for all.

B’shalom, Laura 

No title can fit the horrors

We just returned to the U.S. a few days ago from Israel. We missed this community and had a lot to share about our visit there. But the last few days have been a waking nightmare. We have friends who’ve been killed, kidnapped, wounded or unsafe. Everyone does.

A tragedy on a massive scale happened on October 7th. A coordinated attack initiated at 6am by Hamas, sent to butcher as many Jewish people as possible. Attacked by land, sea and air, a joined invasion of more than 3,000 rockets and hundreds of armed terrorists towards the cities of Israel’s south. It began at the army bases, murdering everyone they passed, then to cities. Going from one house to another, butchering entire families, torturing them and dragging them screaming back to Gaza. Men, women, children, elderly and infants. All. The last time so many Jewish people were killed on the same day was during the Holocaust. Israel hasn’t experienced this terror since the Yom Kippur war, exactly 50 years ago.

We are heartbroken and devastated. We are worried sick and have been glued to the screen since it started. Israel is caught off guard, and we are still counting casualties. Hamas is taking pride in that, publishing videos and pictures of the victims as trophies. Families had to find out their loved ones have been killed or kidnapped from videos on social media. This war crime being committed against citizens has one target alone – to eliminate the Jewish people and to destroy the state of Israel. Jews and Arabs alike were killed that day, every soul that was in their way. And that goes both for the citizens of Israel and the Palestinians who are the residents of Gaza who refuse to obey Hamas. No one is safe.

And the only thing I could think of, is whether to stay and continue my role as Shaliach here or go back to the reserves and fight. This is a decision I am not yet ready to make, and doing something, anything, helps me to cope. But there are some heroic moments to take pride in. There have been people fighting bravely to save their friends, families, neighbors… and some have paid the ultimate price. Not just soldiers, people. Children. The IDF is at 150% capacity, every single person who can fight has volunteered. And we will win, whatever it takes.

I’m sure I am not the only one. We gathered yesterday to mourn together. Pray, light candles, and talk about what we can do to help. And there is a lot. Israel is still figuring out what is needed, and we are doing our best to understand them and share them with you. Together, as a community, supporting each other, and our families in Israel, we will win. Am Yisrael Chai.

Stay safe.

My Shnekel: High Holidays – High Emotions

Last year, Rotem and I moved here, to Fairfax, for this Shlichut chapter. Today, exactly a year later, we are spending the same Rosh Hashanah back in Israel, surrounded by family and friends. And for some reason, even though we are home, we are still missing home. Even though it’s only been a year, we settled in and got used to it. In the passing year, we missed our family and friends back in Israel, and now that we’re here, a little part of us misses the home there, across the pond. Strange feeling, attachment, and what you eventually find yourself attached to. But it does tell you a lot about the place, how welcoming everyone was, and how lovely the community is, that after only one year we’re already missing it.

But let’s not focus on that. I want to share with you a little bit about the High holidays in Israel, and how they compare to the US. Think about a place where being Jewish makes you the majority. The resting day of the week is Shabbat, and everyone gets a day off during High holidays. School is off, shops are closed, so there’s very few options for those who don’t celebrate the holidays. On Yom Kippur itself, roads, even highways, are empty. Israel TV isn’t transmitting on that day, no radio either. Kids drive around on bikes, rolling down highways. That is definitely something a person must experience at least once.

How does that make sense, in a country where the majority of its population is secular? According to the central bureau of statistics, 2022, 75% of Israel’s citizens identify as Jewish. Out of that, 45% of them identify as secular, the largest group. 25% identify as traditional, 16% as very religious and 14% as Haredi (Ultra-Orthodox). Maybe the tides have shifted, but that has been the case for quite a while now. How does it make sense, that a religious country (a Jewish state for the Jewish people) that has a favorable religion, with a majority of the secular population, still have that level of participation in religious ceremonies? It’s probably odd to someone not from Israel to imagine. Or, if you’d never visited Israel as well.

To me, the missing link here, is the growing notion that Jewish isn’t just a religious belief. In Israel, and to an extent in the US as well, Judaism is also an ethnicity, a culture. And the one in Israel has evolved to a national narrative. You don’t celebrate Rosh Hashanah just because you believe it’s the beginning of the Jewish year. You do so also because that’s an Israeli thing to do. It’s because you’re expected to participate as a member of the society.  And with the current political climate that pushes toward polarization and divides the democratic and the Jewish, it’s also rupturing the social fabric that has been constructed, since it’s relying on both.

Or maybe, it is that crucial debate we kept postponing for so long. Maybe we’ve finally hit the point where we must make a resolution that will eventually dictate the guidelines to balance those two conflicting natures. I keep saying that the Jewish Agency is paying me to remain Optimistic. But in this case, after spending a few weeks here in Israel, I’m more optimistic than ever.

My Shnekel (My POV): Our Home Across the Pond

Who would have thought that it’s already been a year, and that September is already around the corner?! With Chagim, end of summer, and visiting home, September is going to be a very, very interesting time. 

September is a busy month as it is. My wife, Rotem, and I are already struggling with deciding where to go when we return to Israel, what to do, and who to visit… yet, there is still something magical about it. And then, there’s the preparations for Rosh Hashanah, family gathering from all over, and the new year celebrations. Now, add doing this as part of a short visit to Israel! Oy vey! Don’t you worry though, because we got married and moved to another country in two months… we’ve got this and we’re excited! Excited to visit home, to see all the family and friends who’ve been waiting for us, and of course, the food! Vegetables with flavor! Finally!

It’s also odd, the feeling of going back to where you grew up, only now as a visitor. That you’re there for a few weeks, trying to do everything, to accomplish as much as possible, and then, to again leave it behind for a while. Like taking a deep breath before diving back in. Too big of a breath and your lungs collapse, too little is not enough.

But at the same time, it’s so chaotic. It’s hard not to wonder how the passing year will shadow a year renowned as one of the most chaotic and divisive ones. Will there be protests? Has something changed drastically? How different will it look? In addition, September is filled with crucial political events, all of them happening while we’re there. I’ve been keeping up very closely with the happening, reporting, and covering as much as I could, but I wasn’t there, not in the flesh.

I’ve talked a lot about the polarity we’ve been experiencing here and there. About the ever-growing gap that divides us, making it harder to see each other. And I worry. I worry that my family will not act the same. That there will be no discussions around the Shabbat table. That whenever it will come to our shared future, it would be better to avoid that conversation. I worry that our rage and discontent will make it impossible. I cannot ignore that concern, but it’s not the only thing I am thinking of. 

A lot of different thoughts roam my mind in preparation for next month and our visit home. Excitement, concern, worry, homesickness, all of them mixed. Last year, we spent the high holidays here, in Virginia, as new arrivals. A year went by, we’ve settled in, and have gotten used to it. Now, it feels like it might be similar there, as tourists in our own hometown. And it’s not just about politics. A year gone by, people changed, events happened, and we weren’t there. But we’re still excited and grateful. We’re grateful for the opportunity to go back, even for a short visit. We’ve missed our families dearly. Even more so, we’ve missed our home dearly, our home across the pond.

Shanna Tova and Happy High Holidays!

Humans of Israel: Photographs by Erez Kaganovitz

The Humans of Israel project combines photojournalism with digital storytelling to give a sense of what makes Israel and the diverse humans in it tick. Here you will find ultra-religious Orthodox Jews, Muslims, and Christians alongside asylum seekers and the one percent on Rothschild Boulevard. You will see Ashkenazi and Mizrahi, American, Russian, and French Jews, and basically all the ingredients that make Israeli society one of the most diverse in the world. After seeing this exhibition, you will better understand what the Israeli story is all about.

With intriguing, thought-provoking photographs and the stories about the humans behind them, the project puts a human face on an extraordinary place and challenges preconceptions those outside of Israel may have by communicating a sense of our shared humanity. The Humans of Israel project offers a fresh look at the rich and remarkably diverse lives of Israelis and showcases Israel’s diversity, multiculturalism, and vibrant civil society.

This exhibition captures fascinating people in Israel to tell the Israeli story as a whole. Each photo and story provide a glimpse into the hearts and minds of a variety of Israelis.

Photographer, native Tel Avivi, Erez Kaganovitz is the human behind the Humans of Israel, Humans of Tel Aviv, and Humans of the Holocaust projects. Through his work, Erez has helped bridge a cultural gap in society both within and outside of Israel. His compelling work brings understanding, emotional connection, and unity to many around the world. His TEDx talk, “The Humans behind the pictures on social media” is an eye-opening discussion on the power of digital storytelling, offering a different approach to how we should tell the stories that we know. Take in the visual journey illustrating the impact of technological storytelling on the world online at https://youtu.be/VD7-sx3sch8?si=TqiJPmBTW12rnkyX 

The Humans of Israel exhibition at the Pozez JCC is presented in partnership with the Edlavitch DC JCC, in celebration of Israel’s 75th Birthday in 2023!

Humans of Israel: Photography by Erez Kaganovitz
On view through October 19, 2023

Relationships the day after

As I set down to write my monthly recollections about life here and in Israel, I wanted to write about the wonderful speech the Israeli president, Isaac Herzog, gave to Congress. I wanted to write about the fact that this is an event so rare, it has only happened twice in Israel’s history. And write about how he was cheered for three minutes and thirty seconds by all members of Congress – Democrats and Republicans alike. I wanted to cherish that moment to be thankful for the relationship our two countries have, and the success stories shared by the homes of the two largest Jewish communities today. But as the week progressed, I couldn’t.

Dramatic would be an understatement of past week’s events. The Reasonableness Bill was passed, resulting in what seems to be the largest rift ever seen in Israeli society. But it is not the content of this Bill that is driving hundreds of thousands of protestors to the streets. Israel’s heart is a little less democratic today, but it is still beating. What drove so many people to protest is the sheer will to win and defeat the other side, to do things out of spite, to eliminate the opponent. Democratic culture cannot exist under those conditions. Laws can be re–written, but this rupture will take decades to heal.

It is painful to sit here and watch the country that I love being torn apart. To watch the authentic connections we had slowly breaking. We used to sit around the Shabbat table and discuss everything. Politics, ideas, news, everything. The argument could get heated, but we were always a family. Now it is too painful to talk. We drift apart and decide that because we can’t hear each other anymore, it’s better to not talk at all. And we look for someone to blame.

It is very easy for us to think, if it wasn’t for this specific political figure, we could’ve gotten along just fine! We need to ask ourselves, Is it just because of them? Could we really get along well without them? In our world today, we choose a side because we love our country. We choose a side because we are sure that we know what is right. We are sure that we are walking in the correct lane and that the other lane leads to disaster. We are sure that the other side doesn’t care for our shared fate. We are sure we have nothing in common.

And now what? Separation is not optional. We need to find a way, any way, to talk to each other again. To find a common denominator. A favorite writer of mine, Micha Goodman, once said that today’s greatest illness is Polarity, and that the cure for that could be curiosity – Curiosity for the other side. I believe him. We need to look at our differences and to be eager to learn why. Why do we think so differently? Is it really that different? I could be wrong, but there is no harm in trying.

I am concerned, overwhelmed, and more worried than ever. But I am also hopeful. And to quote another favorite person of mine, the Israeli Rapper Tuna:

“Sometimes we got to keep walking even if we don’t see where to.”

Rounds of Escalation

“Rounds of escalation” is a common phrase in Israel. It is what we say every time the security situation deteriorates. Sometimes it refers to the situation in the west bank, and sometimes it is the security in Gaza. Lately, it’s both. On the one hand it is alarming, marking that it is becoming increasingly more dangerous to live your life. To remind you that you are not safe. On the other hand, it means that this is temporary, and it will pass. Eventually you could go back to live your life again. For us who grew up in the south of Israel, in the area that is closer to the Gaza Strip, it is a lifestyle.

It wasn’t always like this. When my grandparents were young in Beer Sheva, about 40 years ago, they remember the situation very differently. I still hear the stories about them going to the market in the main street of Gaza, or to the beautiful coastal strip for a swim. It all changed after the situation escalated. Terror organizations like Hamas and Jihad entered the area, and with the disengagement plan in 2005, they gained full control. After that, they started terrorizing the area. Both the cities of the south and the residents of Gaza. Jews and Muslims alike.

This is how my life has looked like for the past 20 years. With rounds of escalation, one after the other, every few months. They fire missiles towards us, we go to shelter, wait a few days\weeks until it is over, the army reacts, eventually a ceasefire fire is struck, and repeat. It doesn’t require a lot to ignite things in the area, and when things do escalate, the first question that comes up is who shot first. The argument about facts and responsibilities is important, but it’s not what this piece is about. What I do want to focus on is the experience of growing up in a conflicted environment, my childhood.

And again, at the end of June we saw another round of escalation. Two armed Hamas affiliated men opened fire, murdering 4 Israelis in a restaurant, causing a violent retaliation from settlers towards innocent others. These rounds of violence hurt every time. And all of us pay the price. We are stuck in a loop of rounds of escalation. Waiting for the current one to end, and for the next one to begin.

A lot of Israelis are not afraid of a successful Palestinian state. We are afraid that it wouldn’t be. That it will deteriorate to chaos, enabling terror organizations to arm themselves and fire missiles to all of Israel, north to south, and not just from Gaza. But we can’t give up on the dream of a peaceful life. We must work for it, actual groundwork, and hope that one day a fitting solution in the right conditions will emerge.

Asur Le’abed Tikvah – We can’t lose hope.

Pride in Israel

Watching Israel from afar feels very strange to me. As someone that used to be very involved with the happenings, being on the sideline makes me uncomfortable. At the same time, there is slight relief. For the first time ever, I got to experience a military operation that didn’t affect me physically. I didn’t have to go into shelter every few minutes or to consider showering because an alarm might start in the middle.

But what does that have to do with Pride? Keep reading if you want to find out.

The months of April and May are always full in Israel. Ramadan, the Yoms, Jerusalem Day, Eurovision… everything takes place at the same time. It is a time when we are both proud to be citizens of our country and have constant reminders of its imperfection. And so is the relationship of Israel with its LGBTQ community. For June, which is pride month, I wanted to highlight that relationship and do so while sharing what it’s like living in Israel today.

Gay marriage is not allowed in Israel. As a Jewish state, it was decided once that marriage in Israel must go through the Rabbinate, which is the Jewish authority national institution. Through the years, there were several battles over that decision. Several groups participated, each one with its reasons. Some did it for LGBTQ rights, some did it for secular marriage, and some did it for interfaith marriage.

An historic decision made by the Israeli Supreme Court, created an opening for a resolution. Civil marriages can still not be performed on Israeli land, but if you enter Israel married, the state will acknowledge that. This created the phenomenon of Cyprus weddings, which were not only an opportunity for multi-faith and same sex weddings, but also a gateway for young couples to escape their families during stressful wedding times (and yes, my wife and I considered that). And it has gone on for 30 years now, a decision to avoid a decision forced the public to adapt and create alternatives. A common thing in Israel.

A surprising progress came during COVID – via the internet. Now, being forced to marry without your closest 700 people (a typical Israeli wedding… by contrast, ours was very small with only 250 people), an alternative has popped up, Zoom weddings by the state of Utah. Yes, I know, several questions come to mind, the first one being “Utah?” But so is reality, and that’s how the first civil marriage was conducted on Israeli soil, following a decision to avoid a decision.

This is just one example of the complicated relationship between the state of Israel and the Pride community. It’s progressing but remaining far behind. One of the most colorful, beautiful, and prominent LGBTQ communities in the world still lacks its basic rights. Israel is the home of one of the largest pride parades in the world, and one that does not allow equal adoption possibilities. And so is Israel in all matters, dealing with everything at once, making small indecisive steps. And to fully understand a certain aspect, you need to be ready to fully dive in, headfirst.