Growing and Stretching in Israel’s Religious Frontier

Netzach Yisroel

Dini Harris, Afula Illit, Afula

It wasn’t my idea to live in Eretz Yisroel. In fact, I probably never would have agreed to meet my husband if I had known how serious he was about living here. When we were first engaged, we came to an agreement: We were going to start off our marriage in Eretz Yisroel. We’d live there for about two years.

Now, twenty-two years and ten Hebrew-speaking kids later, it seems that, b’ezras HaShem, we’re here for the long term.

And no, we don’t live in Ramat Eshkol anymore, where we first started our married life. We didn’t move to Ramat Beit Shemesh or even Kiryat Sefer either.

About fifteen years ago, my husband felt it was time for him to move on from kollel and start using his talents to teach Torah; we started looking into different opportunities that came up.

Should he join a kiruv kollel in Edmonton, Canada or Portland, Oregon? Ideas and opportunities kept popping up, but for one reason or another, they all got dropped along the way.

Then my husband’s aunt came to visit with fabulous news: Her husband was opening a yeshivah in Afula, a city somewhere in the north of Israel.

I had never heard of Afula before, but that didn’t stop me from saying the first thing that came to my mind: Perhaps the yeshivah had an opening for my husband?

I wasn’t worried about actually moving to Afula because I figured that just like all other opportunities hadn’t ever panned out, the idea of moving to Afula would eventually die down too.

But this time, everything moved along in a positive direction and, a few months later, we found ourselves in a taxi following behind a moving truck taking our possessions to our new home in Afula.

To say that it was an adjustment doesn’t do justice to the sharp contrast we experienced. Only after moving to Afula did we realize that we hadn’t really lived in Eretz Yisroel before.

True we had lived in Ramat Eshkol, but, surrounded as we were by an Anglo community, we had minimal contact with Israelis and had never thought of integrating.

The adjustment was compounded by the fact that when we moved to Afula, the overwhelming majority of our neighbors were Sephardic and non-religious. And even our religious counterparts were of North African descent. Warm, welcoming and friendly as they were, I still felt, accurately so, that I had landed on another planet.

Living in this type of situation — a situation in which I couldn’t send over food to a family when their mother had a baby, because the neighbors couldn’t stomach my (delicious!) food; in which I couldn’t contribute to a group conversation because I didn’t fully understand what was being said; and in which I was never sure how to react in social situations, because the social code was completely different than anything I grew up with — was both difficult and empowering.

It was either do or die. Grow or wither. Baruch Hashem, I hope the experience has promoted personal growth. I am wiser and better-rounded than I was when I arrived here.

My husband, too, has grown and stretched. In a place where there were very few talmidei chachamim, my husband was quickly pressed into service. He’s taught Torah to different types of people in many different forums. He is able to fulfill his lifelong dream of being a mohel and uses his expertise to make sure that local newborns can get mehudar brissim right here in Afula.

But meanwhile, during the fifteen years that we have been here in Afula, something amazing happened. In a twisty, roundabout way — a long story in its own right, about nine years ago, it was realized that housing in Afula is very cheap and, baruch HaShem, it has the infrastructure necessary for frum life. The local Talmud Torah and Bais Yaakov are top rate.

With the berachah and guidance of Rav Aharon Leib Shteinman zt”l, a tiny community opened in the Givat Hamoreh neighborhood of Afula.

When we arrived in Afula fifteen years ago, nobody thought it possible that a thriving frum community could blossom in this secular city. But that little community in Givat Hamoreh starting growing and growing. And every frum family that’s happy in Afula attracts at least another three.

This rush of frum families to Afula has, in the past few years, started to flow into Afula Illit, my neighborhood, too.

From the side, I watch as the benches in our Ashkenazi shul fill up. It was built about sixty years ago by Holocaust survivors who named it “Netzach Yisroel.” Unfortunately, though, by the time we moved here, there was barely a minyan on Shabbos.

But then one new family moved in, then two, and now tens more. Netzach Yisroel now houses a vibrant kollel and minyanim every single day. Today, the shul’s name proudly proclaims: Netzach Yisroel — Am Yisroel and the Torah are eternal. Nothing – not the Holocaust, nor Zionism nor secularism has succeeded in stamping out the flame.

The families moving to Afula Illit today have a completely different experience than I did when we moved here. No longer is the frum person the odd one out; there’s a flourishing community.

Many grocery stores stock up on food with the best hechsherim and there are stores galore for shoes and clothing and other necessities for frum families.

I feel old as I watch the community grow. The families arriving today don’t understand that there once was a different Afula. But I’m happy for them. They’re moving into a neighborhood with a warm, friendly community; a neighborhood with a Torah infrastructure.

Baruch HaShem; as I witness the success of Afula Illit, I know it underscores the growth of the Torah community as a whole in Eretz Yisroel.

Afula Way Back

Way back when, when we were one of the few frum families in Afula, I boarded the bus with my kids. The bus driver couldn’t hold back and counted my kids out loud as they got on. “One, two, three, four, five… Wow, that’s a big family!” was his final comment.

In Yerushalayim, where so many families are careful to only buy foods with the most mehudar hechsherim, the word “Badatz” is synonymous with “Badatz Eidah HaCharedis,” but when we moved to Afula, we learned to be careful.

Badatz is literally the initials of “Beis Din Tzedek” and storekeepers who didn’t know better were quick to assure us that their wares were “Badatz.” Only “Badatz.” Never mind, that they were sometimes Badatz of Umm al-Fahm or Jenin. We learned to say it clearly: Badatz Eidah HaCharedis.

כולל הר הבית בראשות הרב אלישע וולפסון פותח את שעריו לאברכים חדשים

כולל דרישת ציון מבית ישיבת הר הבית
בראשות הרב אלישע וולפסון

פותח את שעריו לאברכים חדשים!
האברכים לומדים ומתפללים בהר הבית ובעיר העתיקה

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תפילה לר”ח על מיתת ילדים קטנים, מאת רבי נחמן מטשערין זצ”ל

תפילה נפלאה לימי ראש חודש, לאמרה בכל ראש חודש, מאת הגאון רבי נחמן מטשערין, הובאה בספרו “תפילות ותחנונים”

רָאשֵׁי חֳדָשִׁים לְעַמְּךָ נָתַתָּ זְמַן כַּפָּרָה לְכָל תּוֹלְדוֹתָם. רִבּוֹנוֹ שֶׁל עוֹלָם: זַכֵּנִּי בְּתוֹךְ כְּלָל יִשְׂרָאֵל לְגַדֵּל אֶת כָּל בָּנֵינוּ לְתוֹרָהּ וּלְחֻפָּה וּלְמַעֲשִׂים טוֹבִים, וְהַצִּילֵנוּ מֵעַתָּה מִכָּל מִינֵי צַעַר גִּדּוּל בָּנִים חַס וְשָׁלוֹם, וְתַמְשִׁיךְ מֵעַתָּה עָלֵינוּ וְעַל כָּל יוֹצְאֵי חֲלָצֵינוּ חַיִּים טוֹבִים וַאֲרֻכִּים. רִבּוֹנוֹ שֶׁל עוֹלָם: אַתָּה הוֹדַעְתָּ לָנוּ כִּי מִיתַת הַבָּנִים כְּשֶׁהֵם קְטַנִּים, רַחְמָנָא לִצְלָן, זֶה נִמְשַׁךְ מִסּוֹד פְּגִימַת הַלְּבָנָה, שֶׁמִּשָּׁם נִמְשַׁךְ בְּחִינַת ‘מְאֹרֹת חָסֵר וָא”ו’, שֶׁהוּא אַסְכְּרָה לְרַבְיֵי חַס וְשָׁלוֹם, וְאַתָּה הוֹדַעְתָּ לָנוּ גַּם כֵּן שֶׁבְּרֹאשׁ חֹדֶשׁ, שֶׁאָז מַתְחֶלֶת הַלְּבָנָה לְהִתְמַלְּאוֹת וּלְהִתְתַּקֵּן, וַאֲזַי זְמַן כַּפָּרָה לְכָל תּוֹלְדוֹתָם, כִּי אָז נִמְשַׁךְ כַּפָּרָה וּסְלִיחָה וְהַמְתָּקָה עַל כָּל תּוֹלְדוֹתָם שֶׁל יִשְׂרָאֵל, שֶׁיִּהְיֶה נִמְשַׁךְ עֲלֵיהֶם חַיִּים טוֹבִים וַאֲרֻכִּים, עַל כֵּן חוּס וְחַמוֹל נָא עָלֵינוּ וְזַכֵּנוּ לְקַבֵּל קְדֻשַׁת רָאשֵׁי חֳדָשִׁים כָּרָאוּי, וִיהִי רָצוֹן מִלְּפָנֶיךָ שֶׁתַּעֲלֵנוּ בְּשִׂמְחָה לְאַרְצֵנוּ וְתִטָּעֵנוּ בִּגְבוּלֵנוּ, וְשָׁם נַעֲשֶׂה לְפָנֶיךָ קָרְבְּנוֹת חוֹבוֹתֵינוּ תְּמִידִין כְּסִדְרָם וּמוּסָפִים כְּהִלְכָתָם, וְאֶת מוּסְפֵי רָאשֵׁי חֳדָשִׁים נַעֲשֶׂה וְנַקְרִיב לְפָנֶיךָ בְּאַהֲבָה כְּמִצְוַת רְצוֹנֶךָ, כְּמוֹ שֶׁכָּתַבְתָּ עָלֵינוּ בְּתוֹרָתֶךָ עַל יְדֵי מֹשֶׁה עֵבְדֶךָ מִפִּי כְּבוֹדֶךָ כָּאָמוּר: “וּבְרָאשֵׁי חָדְשֵׁיכֶם תַּקְרִיבוּ עוֹלָה לַאֲדֹנָי פָּרִים בְּנֵי בָּקָר שְׁנַיִם וְאַיִל אֶחָד, כְּבָשִׂים בְּנֵי שָׁנָה שִׁבְעָה תְּמִימִים, וּמִנְחָתָם וְכוּ’. כִּי בְּעַמְּךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל בָּחַרְתָּ מִכָּל הָאֻמּוֹת וְחֻקֵּי רָאשֵׁי חֳדָשִׁים לָהֶם קָבַעְתָּ.”

רִבּוֹנוֹ שֶׁל עוֹלָם: אַתָּה הוֹדַעְתָּ לָנוּ שֶׁכְּשֶׁעוֹסְקִים בְּפָרָשַׁת הַקָּרְבָּנוֹת נֶחְשַׁב לְפָנֶיךָ כְּאִלּוּ הִקְרַבְנוּ כָּל הַקָּרְבָּנוֹת בִּזְמַנָּם וּבִמְקוֹמָם כְּהִלְכָתָם, עַל כֵּן, יְהִי רָצוֹן מִלְּפָנֶיךָ, שֶׁעַל יְדֵי אֲמִירַת פַּרְשַׁת ‘וּבְרָאשֵׁי חָדְשֵׁיכֶם’ בְּאֵיזֶה זְמַן שֶׁנֹּאמַר אוֹתָהּ הַפַּרְשָׁה, אֲפִלּוּ שֶׁלֹּא בְּרֹאשׁ חֹדֶשׁ, יִהְיֶה נֶחְשַׁב לְפָנֶיךָ כְּאִלּוּ הִקְרַבְנוּ קָרְבַּן רֹאשׁ חֹדֶשׁ בִּזְמַנּוֹ, וְתַמְשִׁיךְ עַל יְדֵי זֶה בְּחִינַת תִּקּוּן וּמִלּוּי הַלְּבָנָה, וְעַל יְדֵי זֶה יִהְיֶה נִמְשַׁךְ כַּפָּרָה וּסְלִיחָה וְהַמְתָּקָה עַל כָּל תּוֹלְדוֹתֵיהֶם שֶׁל יִשְׂרָאֵל, שֶׁיִּזְכּוּ לְחַיִּים טוֹבִים וַאֲרֻכִּים, וּתְזַכֵּנוּ לְקַיֵּם מִצְוַת בִּרְכַת קִדּוּשׁ לְבָנָה בְּכָל חֹדֶשׁ בִּזְמַנּוֹ.

וִיהִי רָצוֹן מִלְּפָנֶיךָ לְמַלְאוֹת פְּגִימַת הַלְּבָנָה, וְלֹא יִהְיֶה בָּהּ שׁוּם מִעוּט, וְיִהְיֶה אוֹר הַלְּבָנָה כְּאוֹר הַחַמָּה כְּאוֹר שִׁבְעַת יְמֵי בְּרֵאשִׁית, כְּמוֹ שֶׁהָיְתָה קֹדֶם מִעוּטָהּ, כְּמוֹ שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: אֶת שְׁנֵי הַמְּאוֹרוֹת הַגְּדוֹלִים, וִיקוּיַם בָּנוּ מִקְרָא שֶׁכָּתוּב ‘וּבִקְּשׁוּ אֶת יְיָ אֱלֹהֵיהֶם וְאֵת דָּוִד מַלְכָּם” אָמֵן.

(ר”נ מטשערין, “תפילות ותחנונים” כ”א)

מאתר ישובניק, כאן.

ALIYAH: Plan For Success!

Haaretz Hatovah: Our Secret of Aliyah Success

Eliezer Liberman’s story By: Gila Arnold

When we told our friends in our Lakewood community that we – I, my wife, and our six children, ages 10 to 1 -were making aliyah, reactions ranged from “Good for you! I’m so jealous!” to the (quite disconcerting) “Why?” (Huh? Why does a Jew want to live in Eretz Yisrael?)
But whatever the emotional response, inevitably, the questions followed.

“But what will you do for parnassah?”
“What about your children’s chinuch?”
“Do you have a support system there?”
“Have you spoken to a Rav about this?”

I understood that the questions were coming out of sincere concern for our welfare – but I suspect they were coming from a different place as well. From a mistaken impression that moving to Israel is so fraught with nearly insurmountable hardship that only a naïve idealist would consider the move.

And so, they felt it their duty to warn me. “But – parnassah! But – chinuch! But – Israelis!”

Typical Lakewood Family

Let me tell you a little about myself. My wife and I, both Philadelphia natives, started off our marriage learning in Eretz Yisrael and then moved to Lakewood, where we lived for ten years before making Aliyah just before last Lag Baomer. We were a typical Lakewood family; we lived in Coventry Square for six years, where I learned in the night kollel and davened by Rav Menachem Mintz, and then moved to Westgate, where I learned in the Westgate night kollel and davened by Rav Yosef Fund. My kids attended Even Yisrael and Nachalas Beis Yaakov.

Here’s something else you should know: My wife and I are very practical people. We do our research. We’re organized. Responsible. We have our heads on our shoulders. We are so practical that, even though we both fell in love with the land while living in Yerushalayim as newlyweds, we sadly determined at the time that we needed to return to the U.S. We didn’t have the financial means to stay. We didn’t have any family support. Practically, we knew it wouldn’t work.

But we never let go of our love for Eretz Yisrael, and our dream to one day make our home there. And so, we waited until we reached a point that making aliyah was not just an opportunity to fulfill a dream and to catapult our family’s ruchniyus level – it was also an eminently practical and sensible decision.

It’s All in the Planning

If you’ve thinking of or have ever considered moving to Eretz Yisrael, here’s something to hang on your fridge:

With proper advance planning, you can significantly reduce nearly all of the risks people associate with aliyah.

I can’t stress this enough, because I think that, unfortunately, this is what’s keeping too many people from making aliyah.

Here’s what the planning looked like in my case: a few years ago, I made a career shift into Network Engineering. Since this type of engineering is more high-tech based, I realized that I could take my profession basically anywhere in the world.

Then, my brother, who had lived near us, announced that he was making aliyah. My wife immediately turned to me and asked, “Why not us?”

We gave ourselves ten months to research properly – to decide where to live, what schools to send our kids to, and put a feeler out for job prospects. A friend in the neighborhood found an apartment for us in Ramat Beit Shemesh Gimmel. We narrowed down our school options for our children. And the responses from Israel-based companies to my job inquiries were encouraging.

Parnassah, check. Family support, check. Community, check. Schools, check. With all systems in place, we were ready and excited to go!

One Year Later

Baruch Hashem, we’ve been here already over a year, and we love it. I was surprised to see how quickly my children made friends and picked up the language – yes, even during this COVID year, when they barely had school! The chinuch here is excellent, and due to learning the language, the children have advanced in their learning much faster than they did in America. My Hebrew has improved to the point that I’ve even started speaking in Hebrew at my work meetings.

And, of course, the most important thing: we now have the zechus to build our lives in Eretz Yisrael. I’ll never forget our first trip to the Kosel after making aliyah. As we walked through the eerily empty Old City, devoid of tourists because of COVID, we felt ourselves becoming more and more emotional; by the time we reached the Kosel, we had tears in our eyes. We also traveled to Tzfas and the Dead Sea that first week. Everywhere we turned, we saw the breathtaking vistas of our land, to the point that one of my children commented, “In America, we have to go somewhere to find a nice view, but here, wherever you are, the views are beautiful!”

That’s our story. No incredible miracles, no eye-popping hashgacha pratis incident involved – just the story of a Jewish family making the thought-out, planned-out, well-reasoned decision to move to the land that HaKadosh Baruch Hu gave us, the land that has kedusha emanating from every crack and crevice, imbued in every air molecule you breathe. The story of a Jewish family returning home after thousands of years.

Is there any bigger miracle than that?

This article is part of our Haaretz Hatovah series featuring Yidden living in, settling, and building up Eretz Yisroel. For more information please contact us at info@naavakodesh.org or visit naavakodesh.org/haaretz-hatovah

Reprinted with permission from Yated Ne’eman

From Matzav, here.