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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. 

“Pause for Dramatic Effect”

As Israel’s government holds up its efforts with the Judicial reform to focus on the holidays and regroup, so do I. This month’s Shnekel is a bit longer than usual, but for good reason. It’s difficult for me to write about it, so I hope you will bear with me.

The Yoms, as we call them, are these couple of weeks where we get together to commemorate Israel’s Holocaust Remembrance Day (Yom HaShoah), Israel’s Memorial Day (Yom HaZikaron) and Israel’s Independence Day (Yom Ha’atzmaut). The combination is always complicated; a celebration mixed with remembrance; happiness mixed with grief; joy mixed with bitterness.

Recently, we had a great program with Avi Jorisch, a wonderful speaker who gave a talk about Israeli innovation and made a reference about the Yoms. He said that Yom HaShoah serves as a reminder of the cost for not having a country for the Jewish people, Yom HaZikaron reminds us of the cost for having a country for the Jewish people, and Yom Ha’atzmaut serves as an opportunity to be grateful for it. That didn’t always resonate with me. How can you not be overwhelmed with so many emotions all at once. How can you distinguish happiness from sorrow, and switch so rapidly from grieving over lost loved ones to celebrations? I’m definitely still processing that mixture.

During my military service I was a logistics officer, I did an extra year and a half and commanded supply convoy. But before I became an officer, as a soldier, I was part of Operation “Protective Edge,” Tzuk Eitan in Gaza, 2014. There, on one sunny summer morning, a missile hit my unit, causing multiple casualties. Eight people died that day, and we had to move on and continue what we did for that day, that week, even that month. I spent two months on the border of Gaza.

It took me quite a while to recover from it, and to talk about it. That was only two months out of the four and a half years I served, I did so much more than just that, I participated in a lot of educational work, helped young adults of all religions with income problems to complete their service and gain a profession from it. But those two months took the longest to overcome. It still does. And Yom Hazikaron serves as a constant reminder for that.  

There is a point here, I promise you. Most people are probably not going to experience that, To feel first-hand the toll, and no one should. But sometimes it feels like because you didn’t go through that sacrifice, you are not “allowed” to participate with Israel’s current event, to be heard. It feels like you don’t have the legitimacy to do so. There will always be people who are going to make you feel that way, and that’s a challenge for a relationship.

But there is a way. Through acknowledgments and appreciation, we can still talk about our shared future as the Jewish people. We need to talk about how every action taken by Israel effects the Jewish world while still acknowledging the toll Israel has paid and is still paying every day for security. My very smart wife once told me, “Ze lo Bimkom,” it is not overlapping. Pain is felt in Israel, and pain felt in the diaspora are both painful. It shouldn’t be about who suffered more.

And like the Yoms, we need to endure that conversation with mixed feelings. We need to feel sorrow, but also hope, to enjoy but always remember, together, we have a bright future.

The battle for Israel’s identity

Where is Israel heading? That is the question many ask these days. And it’s getting harder and harder to answer. The reality in Israel has always been unexpected, and now even more so. This week, we saw a major escalation when Israel’s minister of Defense was fired for objecting to the proposed judicial reform, resulting in a national strike by major organizations, private companies, and city councils. Even the airport was shut down.

It’s hard to watch Israel being torn apart. What is clearer now is that this is no longer solely about the judicial reform; this is a battle for Israel’s future. A battle that is violent and brutal, but necessary; a battle to define what Israel needs the most – a structure and a constitution. A document that is rigid, but crucial. One that will finally define the nature of Israel as a Jewish democratic state.

And with the future so dim, I wanted to talk about hope, and that’s because every crisis is an opportunity. And this is, by all means, a crisis. Global Jewry has decided to take a stand and speak up in public. Every day, more Jewish organizations are speaking their mind and helping shape Israel’s future. This is an opportunity to revisit the relationship between Israel and global Jewry, led by the American Jewish community, to be an honest, critical, relevant, and hopeful relationship.

Now, more than ever, global Jewry is willing to speak, and Israelis are willing to listen. And with that I say – do it. Speak your mind, help shape Israel in the image you believe it can be. Together, we can make sure it will continue to be the home of the Jewish people.

And if you want to talk about, or hear more about it, you are welcome to join my weekly Israel update & conversation session at the JCC, or just reach out to me personally.