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Pride Mission to Israel 2006 by Phyllis Ehrlich
For me, it was the trip of a lifetime; my first trip to Israel. It was something I had wanted to do and kept waiting for it to be a "safer" time. I realized that if I kept waiting for it to be safe in Israel, I'd probably never get there. Although many thought I was foolish for going to Israel during a time of war, I was convinced that I'd be safe and return with incredible memories, stories and pictures.
This trip was also a first for Jewish Federation, who was sponsoring the first GLBT Mission to coincide with World Pride in Jerusalem. The trip was not just about World Pride but also included briefings on such topics as the current situation in Israel, civil rights of same-sex parented families, meetings with Aguda - the GLBT group active in Tel Aviv, a visit to a kibbutz, the Ethiopian National Project, and a retreat dedicated to Jewish - Arab coexistence. We also visited Camp Erez, a camp for Jewish, Druze and Arab children. Many of these children had come from up north where the other camps could not be held.
What would a trip to Israel be without visits to the Dead Sea, Masada, Yad Vashem and "The Wall?" We even went to see Church of the Holy Sepulcher, which had some amazing history and artwork in it. The other sites were history lessons unto themselves, along with the wonderment of being in places that my ancestors had walked thousands of years before me. Of course, there was also the requisite amount of shopping for those who wanted to purchase gifts and Judaica.
One of the most amazing things that happened throughout Israel was that, wherever we went, we were thanked for coming to Israel in a time of crisis. Everyone, not just merchants, appreciated the support they felt by having us visit during this time. It truly touched my heart to hear this over and over again.
My own highlight of the trip was spending two Shabbats in Israel, where everything closes down and you are really forced to relax on the Sabbath. In Jerusalem, we attended a service at Hebrew Union College with all those who had come for World Pride. It was so moving to be amongst so many GLBT Jews all praying together in one voice. It is certainly a trip I will not forget soon and will be talking about for a long time. When you see me at services, just ask me!
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President's Message by Jocelyn Block
As I write this, it's Labor Day weekend, universal-ly regarded as the end of the summer and a reminder to Jews that the High Holy Days are approaching. For us at BA, it means something additional this year: we will soon be moving to our new home with Congregation Rodeph Shalom on Broad Street.
In the seven months that I've been your president, I've done a lot of writing. Every letter and article I've written has dealt with, in one way or another, the move. Personal-ly, there hasn't been a day since I learned that 8 Letitia Street was being sold when the subject of the move hasn't been on my mind. As we get closer to the actual moving date, I find myself experiencing the full range of emotions, from profound sadness at leaving our long-time home to sheer elation at the prospect of what lies ahead, and every possible emotion in between those two extremes. For all of us who have been riding this emotional seesaw for the past several months, I propose that we crank up the metaphorical stereo, put our dancing shoes on, and listen to Soundtrack for BA Moves: Volume II.
1. Movin' On Up: It's not the East Side of New York, and we're not The Jeffersons, but can anyone quarrel with the fact that that lovely building on Broad Street is our
"dee-luxe apartment in the sky"? After thirty-one years, we certainly deserve our piece of the challah-er, pie.
2. Anticipation: Before there was the ketchup commercial, there was just Carly Simon's song, in which she so wisely observed, "We can never know about the days to come/But we think about them anyway." The story of our BA life for the past seven months.
3. The Times They Are A-Changin': Although Bob Dylan wrote this song in the throes of the Sixties, in a larger and more timeless sense, it's a song about progress, which necessarily involves change. As it was in the Sixties, this remains, for me, a song of optimism.
4. Celebration: But before we ever put a box on a moving van, we have High Holy Days, for the first and last time being wholly observed on Letitia Street, with our own former rabbi, Liz Rolle, conducting services and our own past president and 5766 honoree, Shelly Komito, singing Kol Nidre. Thank you, Kool and The Gang, for providing us with this overused but thoroughly appropriate song.
5. Hello, Goodbye: Although I believe that The Beatles are singing about two people who view the same event in completely opposite ways, this song sums up pretty well the dual nature of our move: hello to Broad Street, goodbye to Letitia Street.
6. Good Vibrations: Yes, like The Beach Boys, "I'm digging those good vibrations/[It's] giving me excitations," or, as we of
non-surfing descent say, "shpilkes."
7. We've Got a Groovy Thing Going, Baby: Who could argue with this sentiment, especially since it comes from those two nice Jewish boys, Simon and Garfunkel?
8. I'm So Glad: Not familiar with this song by Cream? See that title? You now know all the words to the song and also how relieved I'll feel once the move is complete.
9. The Ties That Bind: We have been together for thirty-one years, and, notwithstanding the challenge of becoming a part of a much larger congregation, "You can't break the ties that bind." Once again, my fellow New Jerseyan, Bruce Springsteen, has hit the nail right on the head.
10. Consider Yourself: We end with a show tune, because we are the show tune people. This one is from Oliver!, and it can be sung from us to RS and from RS to us, because it works in both directions: "Consider yourself at home/Consider yourself part of the family/We've taken to you so strong/It's clear we're going to get along."
So there you have it, as promised. Stay tuned for the next volume in the series: BA On Tour: Live from Broad Street.
L'shana tovah to all of you and your families from Donna, my family and me.
B’shalom,
Jocie
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Stand with Israel Rally!
On Monday, July 24th, nearly 2000 people gathered at noon in Love Park near City Hall to demonstrate support for the State of Israel. The rally came as roughly one million Israelis were sitting in bomb shelters, and much of Israel's north had literally been transformed into a war zone.
Participants at the rally carried signs that read "Israel Must Defend Herself" and "Israel Is on the Map to Stay;" others wore IDF t-shirts; and a few even draped the Israeli flag over their shoulders like a tallit. U.S. Rep. Curt Weldon (R-District 7) delivered what was perhaps the afternoon's most fiery speech, blaming the current conflagration on the Iranian government, which backs Hezbollah. If we don't stand with Israel today, we won't be able to stand as a nation tomorrow," said Weldon.
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Israel: A Note from Scott Gansl
August 24, 2006
I am finally back from my trip to Israel. Wow and what a trip it was! Despite being attacked daily by Hezbollah, one would be hard pressed to notice anything different in the daily activities of Israeli citizens and tourists alike. True, I was unable to travel to Haifa or other cities in the North, where thousands of citizens are living in underground bunkers and the remainder having fled to southern Israel.
I spent nearly a week in Jerusalem. One of the most obvious changes there was the huge influx of Israelis from the north, chased out by the rocket fire. Jerusalem usually quiets down near 10 PM on most days except Shabbat; this year it was busy until 1-2 AM. My hotel room's balcony overlooked Zion Square on the Ben Yehuda Pedestrian Mall, where all of the action was taking place. There was a celebratory atmosphere nightly. It was alive and wonderful. All the shops were busy with Israelis and tourists alike. I visited the Old City almost daily, along with the kotel, to see life seemingly going on as usual.
If you were one of those who responded to my offer to purchase Judaica or gifts in Israel to support their economy, I will be in touch soon. Israel thanks you!
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A Letter from Israel by Rabbi Sue Levi-Elwell
August 24, 2006
Dear Friends,
I am writing this letter to you on Friday morning, July 28, 2006 from Jerusalem. Here in Israel's capital, the sun has risen over this sprawling metropolis. We're living in Yemin Moshe, the first neighborhood to be established outside of the walls of ancient Jerusalem. One of our great pleasures while living here has been watching the changes of the light on the city walls as the sun makes its daily journey across the skies. Listening to the cooing of morning doves and watching a cat sit in the morning sun, one feels the timelessness of this powerful place.
The morning news reminds us that we live in a difficult, troubling time. The north of Israel continues to be barraged by rocket fire. Thousands of families and individuals continue to sleep in shelters, and thousands more have sought safety and shelter in the south, flooding Jerusalem, Beer Sheva and Eilat. And the morning news brings the most heart-breaking announcements. Every time we turn on the television, we learn of the deaths and funerals of the soldiers of the Israel Defense Forces. The photographs of these soldiers show us young and vital men, smiling into the camera. Their names and hometowns are always listed. They are 19, 20, 21 years old, survived by grieving parents and siblings. They are 30, 31, and 32 years old, leaving wives and children. Yesterday two young men from the same small town were killed in Lebanon. This town prides itself on its yeshiva that prepares young orthodox men to take leadership positions, both in the army and in community affairs. The US is also involved in a war. But Iraq is many miles away from our shores. And although thousands of American men and women have sacrificed their lives in Operation Iraqi Freedom, and hundreds more have been wounded, most American homes have been untouched by this war. We don't see the faces of our soldiers on our television screens. We don't hear the voices of their bereaved families as they bury and then mourn for the young lives cut short.
Here in Israel, the war is omnipresent. This morning, the quiet of the early morning hours was broken by the sound of planes flying overhead. An additional 30,000 reservists have been called up. Last week, one of my young instructors at the Hartman Institute told us that he might not be able to complete his course of lectures to us because of the impending call-up. He was optimistic, he said, because as a 30-year old, he was considered a "geezer," and would only be called to replace a younger soldier who would then be released to go the front. (He seemed not to notice that the majority of the rabbis he was teaching are the age of his parents!) I believe that this young man is now on his way back to his unit.
Last night, Nurit and I were in the supermarket--many of you know the Supersol at the corner of Agron and Keren HaYesod Streets, right next to Archie Granot's gallery. We realized that the store was filled with police--there were at least a dozen uniformed young men and women in the store with us. As we stood in the check-out line, we realized that they were simply grabbing some food--a late dinner or snack--after a couple of very intense hours of service in East Jerusalem. Earlier in the evening, a would-be suicide bomber had attempted to cross into West Jerusalem. When he was questioned by the police, he began shooting and, after seriously wounding one soldier and slightly wounding another, the terrorist was killed. The young cadet who waited in line in front of us, and paid for one of her comrade's purchase, since he said that he didn't have any money, told us that it had been a long night. She looked like she was about 22 years old, and from her uniform, Nurit recognized that she and her counterparts are still students in the police academy. These are times that even those in training need to be on the front lines to protect the citizens of our beloved country.
Today, Nurit and I will spend some time with a young displaced couple from Kiryat Shemona. We have been connected with them by Rabbi Ofer Beit HaLachmi, a recent HUC graduate who serves Congregation Tzur Hadassah in Jerusalem. Along with his congregation and the IRAC (The Israel Religious Action Center), Rabbi Beit HaLachmi has found housing for 18 families from the north. While Dalya and Ilan, the couple we will be meeting, have found a kindergarten for their two disabled children, they are still trying to figure out a way to manage in a city where they know no one and have little chance of finding work. They want to return to their home, but do not know when it will be safe enough to return. Rabbi Beit HaLachmi specifically asked us to simply spend some time with this couple, who are traumatized by this displacement and unsure of their future and the future of their small family.
As many of you know first hand, Israelis are amazingly resilient. This Wednesday night, Nurit and I joined members of her family and our friends Rabbi Don Goor and Cantor Evan Kent of Los Angeles at the Tel Aviv Opera's free outdoor production of Rigoletto. The concert was held in an enormous park, and a large stage was flanked with four huge screens on which the production was projected. The gates opened at 7 p.m. for the 8:30 production. We were among the first to enter, and were delighted to see the set-up--about 3000 or 4000 plastic chairs set up in front of the stage, and a beautiful sloping hill on which an additional 10,000 or so folks set up blankets and stadium chairs to watch the concert. Like everyone else, we had come prepared with a picnic, including wine and beer and nuts and pretzels. (A young couple next to us were eating sushi with chopsticks--we wondered aloud where they had purchased THAT delicacy!) As the sun went down and the lights came up, the mayor of Tel Aviv came out on the stage and spoke to the crowd. As we sat together, he spoke about the attacks in the north and the severe military losses of the day, and the fact that he and the other city managers had debated whether to continue with this long-planned concert. "How can we enter into the imaginary world of opera when a war is raging in our country?" he asked. But, he said, "we decided to go on with the show. And now, he said, let us rise together to sing HaTikvah."
Ten thousand individuals stood, under the canopy of stars, and, led by a young Israeli singer with a powerful voice, we repeated Imber's now timeless words, "Od lo avdah tikvatenu...l'hiot am hofshi b'artzenu..." We have not lost our hope...to be a free people in our land. I could not hold back my tears. Here, as we were about to enter into the rich world of mistaken identity and intrigue, of young love and misplaced pride, of curses fulfilled and hope abandoned, 10,000 Israelis reaffirmed their hope that this small place on earth be blessed with peace.
As we enter this first Shabbat of the month of Av, I know that your prayers join ours for a month of healing and peace. May this month be a month of menachem, a month of comfort. As I return to you and to the US, I continue to pray with all my heart that the hope that has sustained our people for thousands of years will continue to give us the strength we need to make it through these difficult days.
Shabbat shalom from Jerusalem, Ir Shalom, the city where the hope for peace is eternal.
Sue
Rabbi Sue Levi Elwell
Director, URJ PA Council/Philadelphia Federation
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