Yiddy Lebovits, Romema, Yerushalayim

I grew up in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY, and attended the Spinka and then the Satmar cheider there. While learning in Satmar, I learned first-hand their unbelievable quest to do chessed, collect tzedakah for others, and help people in need—a trait which makes Satmar shine in their own unique piece of the puzzle that is Am Yisroel. At the same time, I learned about their strict view on the concept of Eretz Yisroel in today’s age, lumping most positive aspects of Eretz Yisroel today under the blanket term of “Tzionus.” I even participated in many of the protests. Because of this upbringing, I lacked any connection to the Land and its history, including any yearning for it. The thought of living there never crossed my mind, unless a supernatural phenomenon would start happening. Then, we, the Satmar chassidim, would surely be allowed a front seat to the excitement of Moshiach, because we had it right and everyone else sadly bowed to the avodah zarah. So, I thought, until…

Twenty-three years ago, my wife, who had already been in Eretz Yisroel before, surprised me with tickets for a trip to Eretz Yisroel, and so I reluctantly agreed to travel. Ten hours into the flight, when the announcement came on board that we were landing in Ben Gurion Airport, I looked out the window and I heard my wife asking me “Are you crying?”

It was then, still on the tarmac, that I made a mental vow that I wanted to age in Eretz Yisroel—my home.

I once heard a well-respected person speak at an event; it was a fiery speech about the merits of shalom. I was blown-away, not because of the powerful content of his speech, but because this very chashuve person was then mired in a terrible brawl within his kehillah, and while the fire of machlokes burned around him, he felt very comfortable expounding on the topic of shalom. “How can that be?” I wondered. I then realized that for him and sadly for many others, shalom is an abstract concept that does not pertain to reality.

That is when I understood that the same is true when it comes to the idea of yishuv Eretz Yisroel for many in the Diaspora, especially in the Heimish community. True, they’ll daven three times a day about returning to Eretz Yisroel, say “boneh Yerushalaim,” and Moshiach will be mentioned here and there, but it will all be part of an abstract concept that one day, only when miracles will happen, will such a reality be feasible. To think of it as a current requirement—as a mitzvah in our times—is too scary to think about. It’s much more convenient to seek out those Gedolim who held that it’s not an obligatory mitzvah in today’s day and age. People who never adhere to the Satmar way of life and don’t follow any of the Satmar Rav, zt”l‘s, rulings in halachah, all of a sudden find it very easy and convenient to say “the Satmar Rav, zt”l, held that it’s not a mitzvah bazman hazeh.”

What’s really happening here? According to most Poskim, mitzvas yishuv Eretz Yisroel is shayach for every Jew in every time zone, and it doesn’t matter who the rulers of the Land are—the Turks, the British, or even the Zionists. The essence of the Land is not changing and the mitzvos hateluyos baAretz are still on. Like in any halachic disagreement, there are Gedolim that hold all kinds of opinions, all based on their view of the halachah. One shouldn’t be dismissed as a “Zionist” because he expresses a love for the Land and believes that a Yid must do what he can, to be oleh and live there.

After that initial trip, it took me twelve additional years of intense yearning, hoping, and praying, all while educating myself about Eretz Yisroel and filling up my hunger with as much as possible pertaining to our holy Land. I remember complaining to my father, the Nikolsburg Rebbe, shlita, that my yearning to live in Eretz Yisrael is becoming “erger in erger” [worse and worse]. He answered, don’t say worse, say “shterker in shterker” [stronger and stronger], noting the positive outlook of such yearning. Then, one memorable Shabbos afternoon, my wife announced, “Let’s do it!”…

We are now approaching our seventh year in Yerushalayim. Seeing the giant cranes filling up the skyline in Eretz Yisroel is living a prophecy. Our Neviim told us about this very moment—the rebuilding of Tzion. When I travel this remarkable and beautiful country, I see the foretold vineyards, wheat fields, and paved roads. The gemara in Bava Basra says that in the End of Days, so many Yidden will live in Yerushalayim, and the way all of them will fit in the city, will be through tall buildings of thirty to forty floors. This gemara gave me the shivers.

When I daven in a minyan that consists of Jews from Hungary, Poland, and Russia mixed with Jews from Iraq, Morocco, and Yemen, it makes my heart swell with joy, because I am seeing kibutz galuyos happening right in front of my eyes. Almost seven million Jews from over 137 countries—now, that’s what I call the real cholent, the Jewish melting pot.

Thank you, HaShem!

Sharing the Dream

One sefer that left a great impact on me was “Eim HaBanim Semeicha” by HaGaon Rav Yissachar Shlomo Teichtal, zt”l, hy”d. Every time I would go through a few pages of the sefer, in my thoughts, I would live in Eretz Yisrael like the Baal Shem Tov said (Keser Shem Tov 2:12), “Where the thought of a person reaches, there he is.” It left a strong impression on my dream of living in Eretz Yisroel.

Knowing that many of my friends would love to learn the sefer but that Yiddish is easier than Lashon HaKodesh for them, I decided to translate the sefer to Yiddish and release it in parts in the form of a weekly sheet called “Bishvilei HaAretz.” It is accompanied with collections from other seforim on the topic of Eretz Yisroel, as well as a small writeup on various locations in Eretz Yisroel.

Shlomo M., Ramat Beit Shemesh

I grew up in a Modern Orthodox home in Los Angeles. Though this meant we had strong “Zionistic” ideals and involvement, for me, as a youngster, this did not get into my conscious level. It meant going through the motions, even to be fortunate enough to visit Israel a few times.

It was only once I came to learn in yeshivah here in Eretz Yisroel that I felt that this was my home. Although my three years here in yeshivah really linked me to the Land, I went back to America for college just as my parents wished.

Once back in Los Angeles, a good friend and I arranged tours of Eretz Yisroel for boys from modern backgrounds, some of whom would have otherwise gone in mixed groups. For me, the purpose of these trips was to strengthen the kesher of these boys to Eretz Yisroel and to frumkeit, and it was also to get “free” trips to Eretz Yisroel myself (though it wasn’t really free considering the amount of effort we put in).

After finishing college – still single – I unofficially “moved” to Eretz Yisroel. While I was still living in L.A., I frequently came back to Eretz Yisroel to learn for Elul zman—now the whole situation was reversed: I was learning in yeshivah in Eretz Yisroel and only going back to L.A. for tax season to work for a couple of months.

That last Elul zman before I moved, I had attended Yeshivas Netzach Yisrael of R’ Gustman zt”l in Shaarei Chesed, and this is where I came back to learn. At that time, there were many Americans attending, including singles, avreichim, and retirees. I got married in Eretz Yisroel and continued learning in kollel for about half a year.

We then moved back to the U.S. in order to finish my CPA. It was clear to us that it was a temporary move – the very day I got my CPA I told my wife, “We’re outta here!” This took her a bit by surprise, because by that time, six years and three kids later, she had already become accustomed to living in chutz laAretz. Upon mentioning my Aliyah plans to my employer, I was offered a promotion if I would stay, but I turned it down in a heartbeat – Eretz Yisroel was waiting for us.

Our first stop was Har Nof, where my wife had two married sisters and fourteen nieces and nephews. Our family already living here served as a wonderful support group. Though originally from Miami Beach, my wife had been in Eretz Yisroel from after high school until we moved back to L.A. She had schooled and taught here and I had been in yeshivah here for several years, so we didn’t experience the culture shock that some others do. Our oldest child was entering first grade and at that age and stage the transition was much easier. Since 2000, we have been happily living in Ramat Beit Shemesh.

Continue reading on Avira D’Eretz Yisroel here…

Mordechai Fast, Meitzad

My first exposure to Eretz Yisroel was at the age of fourteen when my family came for a visit, and though I did return to the States excited about Eretz Yisroel, my next opportunity to come here was only a few years later as a post high school yeshivah bochur.

I had been learning in Ner Yisroel in Baltimore when a few of my friends from there had gone to a new yeshivah in Yerushalayim for American bochurim, so I took the opportunity to join them, especially since I also liked the learning mehalech [learning style] of that yeshivah. After about two years in the yeshivah, I went back to Baltimore and started shidduchim, and although I was excited about the idea of living in Eretz Yisroel, I knew it would depend on what my future wife would want.

My wife had been to Eretz Yisroel on a frum Birthright trip which was arranged within the framework of her seminary, so she had only been in Eretz Yisroel for a few weeks. Though she was also excited about living here, we decided we would try it out first before committing to establish ourselves. We arrived after Pesach. For our first Yom Tov here we kept two days, but by that following Sukkos, we were keeping only one day.

We first lived in the Yerushalayim neighborhood where the yeshivah was located, but four months later, the yeshivah moved to Beitar Illit. Most of the yeshivah’s fifty kollel families, as well as about thirty bochurim, moved with the yeshivah, and we moved along with them.

Eretz Yisroel has many communities built around yeshivos. When one comes to Eretz Yisroel to be part of a yeshivah, he is usually going to be part of the yeshivah‘s community as well. As many young kollel couples are here alone without family, being part of a community—at least for the first few years—is an absolute necessity. Without such support, it would be difficult to survive. I can easily see how one can feel “lost” here without family or community support.

We lived in Beitar for about twelve years. Although there were still people my age drifting around the yeshivah and its kehillah, for some of us it was down to only davening with the yeshivah for the Yamim Nora’im. The yeshivah consisted of mostly bochurim and young avreichim, and although there still was a community feel, we were outgrowing the community and were ready to move on to the next stage. We were at a point in our lives when we were more involved with raising our own family and less connected to that community.

Having been here for several years, we were already used to living here in Eretz Yisroel. For a while, we had been davening in a shul which included both Americans and Israelis. We also had Israeli acquaintances and coworkers. All of this made us familiar and comfortable with the Israeli mentality and culture. This was a result of living in Beitar where the population is primarily Israeli Chareidi. This might not have happened had we chosen to live in some of the more Americanized neighborhoods of Yerushalayim. Another advantage of living in Beitar is that although it is a fully functioning city, it does not have the same nostalgic feeling as Yerushalayim, which prevents some of its residents—who cannot afford to buy there—from moving out to more affordable places. Our expanded horizons meant that we had more housing options.

Bechasdei HaShem, we were paying less than the market rental price all through our stay in Beitar. After ten years though, we decided that we really did want to own our own home. Ideally, we would have wanted to stay in Beitar, but for the price of the smallest three-bedroom apartment there, we bought a large, new, and private five-bedroom house, surrounded by half a dunam [over 5300 square feet] of our own private yard, in the nearby Chareidi town of Meitzad.

At the time, there were seventy families in Meitzad. Besides for the spacious living quarters, we were attracted by the prospect of helping to build a community which is still in development. Every opinion counts here, and so, you can do more to shape and drive the direction of the community while interacting with the people “on the bottom.” Being from Seattle, I was a witness to this kind of dynamic, where my father was on the shul board and the president of the kollel for many years.

Another added value of living in Meitzad is the fact that we’re making an impact on the Jewish hold of Eretz Yisroel. Meitzad is a half-hour drive further into the “West Bank” [Yehuda and Shomron] than Beitar Illit. Interesting to note though, while Yerushalayim has quite a few Arabs in its eastern section, and Beitar has an Arab village right across the road, I feel much safer in the yishuv of Meitzad, with no Arabs in sight. Although we once did have rocks thrown at our car on the road coming to Meitzad (no damage), overall, I think it’s actually safer here.

We’re not the only ones who have found Meitzad to be attractive. We’re in Meitzad for a year and a half already and another thirty families have joined. Most of the residents are Israeli, but there is a substantial percentage of English speakers here as well.

Buy!

When we first came to Beitar, we rented an apartment. Although we were considering buying one like many others in our yeshivah‘s kehillah did, in the end, we invested our money in real estate in the US. This was just before the subprime crisis and it took ten years to break even on our initial investment. The sale prices for housing in Beitar skyrocketed. By that time, a suitable apartment in Beitar would have cost a lot more than we would want to pay. In hindsight, we really should originally have bought in Beitar.

I think it’s worthwhile to buy as soon as you’ve decided where in Eretz Yisroel you want to establish yourself. This way, you won’t have to move around and can really settle yourself here.

Yehoshua Wiseman, Beis Yisroel, Yerushalayim

The blossoming of this Land of HaShem is a source of inspiration for me. It can be in the fields, by the trees, around the streams of water. In can be of the new Jewish homes being built, both the ones made of brick and mortar and the ones made of a chosson and kallah. As for the physical homes being built, I recently had the opportunity to say the bracha of Baruch Matziv Gevul Almanah [reinstating the border of the widow], said upon seeing a new neighborhood in Eretz Yisroel, with Sheimand Malchus [HaShem’s Name and Kingship—Elokeinu Melech ha’olam]. As for the Jewish homes of new chassanim and kallahs—at every wedding here, when “Od Yishama” is sung, I practically cry. For some things, we don’t need faith here; we can actually witness the fulfillment of age-old prophecies in front of our eyes.

Eretz Yisroel is a Land of nissim. Of course, HaShem’s hashgacha is everywhere, but over here we really feel His hand while being cradled in His embrace. Every Jew who lives here can tell you how they feel and see His hashgacha in matters of chinuch, parnassah, and many other areas. I have personally seen so many miracles here with parnassah that they could probably fill an entire book. In this Land of emunah, HaShem guides you to find the resources for whatever you need. A reaction to your missing needs might include going to the koselto daven, saying tehillim, and singing to HaShem, to help make yourself a kli[vessel] for the reception of HaShem’s bracha and hashgacha. If only for that, it would be worthwhile to live here. I also think that because of this closeness to HaShem, people here are happier.

The light of Torah seems to shine much more here. In chutz laAretz you may read about Avraham Avinu, but here, you can see where he walked and lived. You can go on a tiyul [trip] with the children and trace the footsteps of the personalities from Tanach. I feel there is more sincerity here. The discussions taking place here are more often about purpose in life and other such elevated subjects.

Yes, there is a strong battle going on here about the essence of Eretz Yisroel and Am Yisroel. Is a goy whose grandfather may have been Jewish, which the secular State is often importing to the country, considered a Jew? Is Eretz Yisroel the fertile ground for fulfilling Am Yisroel’s national mission of being a mamleches kohanim ve’goy kadosh [holy and priestly nation] and an ohr la’amim [light unto the nations]?

Opening the gates for goyim is definitely an accursed part of the “Law of Return” of this still secular State, causing a serious problem of intermarriage that it doesn’t yet seem to be bothered about. The fact that the law does allow for any Jew to come here is of course a blessing, but it must be utilized by each and every one. Every Torah observant Jew who is here pushes out more of the sitra achara [lit. other side; forces of evil]. Every Jew is critical in tipping the scales towards the G-dly enterprise of the supreme dominion and revelation of Torah. This is a great zechus, but it’s also an obligation. We must be involved not only in our own issues, but also together as a nation in our Heavenly ordained joint enterprise.

A Jew needs mesirus nefesh to fight for a stronghold for kedusha and for raising the banner of Torah above this Land. Although it is a battle, we have here with us what Dovid HaMelech would say, “HaShem tzilcha al yad yeminecha” [HaShem is your shadow on your right hand]. We can feel “ke’ilu amaram Dovid HaMelech” [as if Dovid HaMelech himself had said those words (from the supplication after recitation of Tehillim)] for our own struggles, as he would for his own.

I’ve heard people say that if there weren’t Jewish philanthropists in America, we would have no yeshivos here in Eretz Yisroel. I am sure that if all those people who are keeping the Torah were physically here, they would have much more of an impact on the government’s priorities.

Many tourists come to visit my painting studio in the Old City. I try to pass my inspiration onto the canvas, with the intent of in turn inspiring the viewer, whether to aspire to higher levels of avodas HaShem, to arouse their love for Eretz Yisroel, or to increase their yearning for the Geula [Redemption] and for the Beis HaMikdash. I have goyish tourists who express interest in the paintings of visibly observant Jews davening in a forest or other such portrayals of authentic Jewish life. Even the goyim feel that this is the real thing, the epitome of dignity, the ideal aspiration for kedusha. This is the truth about the observant Jew, and it contrasts starkly with the images created by some “outsider” non-observant artists who portray images of old and sad people. Those who keep the Torah are the real and vibrant expression of Jewish life—where is there a more proper place to express it on a national level than in Eretz Yisroel?

Languages

When I first came to Eretz Yisroel as a searching college student, I made it a point to immerse myself with Israelis, so I would know how to speak the language and otherwise get along easily here. It was then that I got to see many frum people from up close, something that had not happened in my hometown of Pasadena, California. It did not take too long for me to decide that I would also become observant.

Although I eventually ended up marrying an Israeli, I try to speak English at home, so my kids can know enough English to get by if they need it, even if they’re not fluent in it.