אוירא דארץ ישראל Avira DEretz Yisroel

‘Abba, Is There Also a Kosel in America?’

Two Sides of One Land

Feivel A., Ramat Eshkol, Yerushalayim

I grew up in Los Angeles as an ordinary frum kid, no different than many others on the block.

My parents often spoke lovingly and longingly about Eretz Yisroel. We actually visited the Holy Land a few times when I was a child. We spent a summer in Eretz Yisroel and enjoyed it immensely and a year or two later, we spent yet another summer there as well.

My mother’s parents had relatives in Eretz Yisroel. To their great pride, their son, my uncle, made aliyah a few years after his marriage. My parents spoke openly about themselves also wanting to move to Eretz Yisroel, but unfortunately, it never happened – they are still in L.A.!

I was always intrigued by the many books describing Eretz Yisroel and its mekomos hakedoshim. I perceived a certain ancient charm in the pictures of cobblestone streets and dirt roads. When I arrived here for third year bais medrash, I was very excited, and enchanted, by the ruchnius opportunities that seemed to be growing from the trees – the Kosel, the kevarim, the Gedolim. I just couldn’t get enough!

I joined a fairly small yeshiva which was under the leadership of one of the Gedolim. It had a close-knit following of devoted talmidim, many of them yungeleit only a few years older than me. They warmly welcomed me and the rest of the bochurim into their homes. The warmth, the simcha, and the sense of camaraderie was very special. There was an overall feeling that we were part of something. This was my first inspiration, so to speak, to consider establishing my home in Eretz Yisroel. As my years in the yeshiva went on, this sentiment only grew stronger.

When the time came to pursue a shidduch, I considered doing so in Eretz Yisroel. My parents, though, felt that I should return to the States to find a wife, and only afterwards move back to Eretz Yisroel, as a married couple. It’s not that they wanted me to stay in America; they were actually very happy that I wanted to live in Eretz Yisroel.

I then spent a year learning in Lakewood. Although I did enjoy the learning there, I felt very much out of my element. I truly missed Eretz Yisroel and desperately wanted to come back. I even convinced my parents that it would be worth letting me go back to Eretz Yisroel, even if only for an Elul Zman. It was definitely worth it!

While in shidduchim, I did make mention of my special experiences and feelings for Eretz Yisroel. I certainly expressed a desire to live there, but I did not ask for a commitment to live in Eretz Yisroel as a prerequisite or condition for a shidduch. This was under the guidance of my Rosh Yeshiva, who also advised against making long term plans right away. Unfortunately, the girl who would become my wife was given the impression (by some well-meaning individuals) that this was a condition, and that she was indeed signing her life away to living away from her family forever! This backfired many times, over the years. I guess it wasn’t enough just to listen to my Rosh Yeshiva; I should have made sure that everyone else did as well. Ultimately, we married and moved here, taking each year, and each day, one at a time.

For the first three years here as a married couple, we lived in the Yerushalayim neighborhood of Har Nof. The apartments were quite large and comfortable, but from a social aspect, we felt a void. There weren’t too many young couples our age, with children the same ages as our children. We therefore moved to the Sanhedriya / Ramat Eshkol area, and have been living there ever since. In a certain sense, we are now considered part of the ‘older,’ more permanently settled crowd here.

The demographics here in our neighborhood have changed since we arrived. The language on the street is now basically English, and the shuls and ganim (preschools) are filled with Anglos. Although I do enjoy the comfort of having landsmen next door, I miss the nostalgic Israeli charm and simplicity. To begin with, it was that culture that I had felt drawn to, not the one I had grown up with!

Nowadays, it is much simpler to live in Eretz Yisroel. In neighborhoods like mine, your friends and neighbors are all English speakers. Over the past few years new shuls have opened up, led by American rabbonim, which serve the American tzibbur. You can get all the amenities of America here – three bagel stores, ice coffee, Snapple and Gatorade too! – and there are even chadorim and Bais Yaakovs that cater to the English-speaking tzibbur. “For the Americans, by the Americans!” There are surely blessings in this new age, where people can move here while staying very much in their comfort zone, but I do miss the charm, the chein, and the innocence of the other, “authentically Eretz Yisroel,” side.

Our side, though, is also becoming an authentic part of the mosaic that makes up Eretz Yisroel…

 

The Difference

On a recent trip to America, my five-year-old daughter made a comment that seemed to capture the purity and innocence of a child’s perspective. She was enjoying bubby’s pool, going on outings, and having a blast being wined and dined, but she still felt she should ask: “Abba, is there also a Kosel in America?” “No,” I told her, “there is not.” “Is America kadosh like Eretz Yisroel?” “No, it’s not.”

Maybe she’s only five, but she chapped the difference! The mekomos hakedoshim, the sanctity of a land seeped in kedusha – that is what makes Eretz Yisroel special!

R’ Yehoshua Yankelewitz: ‘Yerushalayim Is Not Just Real Estate!’

Waking Up to the Geulah

Yehoshua Yankelewitz, Bayit Vegan, Yerushalayim

As a bochur in shidduchim in the U.S., I was very clear that as far as I’m concerned, living in Eretz Yisroel is the only option. This conclusion of mine was after researching the issue thoroughly. I had been learning previously for a few years in Eretz Yisroel by R’ Dovid Soloveitchik zt”l, and had the zechus of learning with R’ Eliyahu Zilberman shlita as well. He advised me not to give “hashkafa” drashos while in shidduchim, rather simply state that I know that being in Eretz Yisroel was highly valued by gedolei Yisroel throughout the generations, and even if I don’t exactly understand why it was important to them, it is probably important for me too.

Time went on and it may have seemed that shidduchim did not pull through due to this stance of mine on Eretz Yisroel. It was actually assumed that as time went on with no shidduch materializing, my stance must have softened. In truth, my resolve had actually gotten stronger over time.

One of the main points of contention was “concern” with my parnassah. How could I insist on living in Eretz Yisroel if I didn’t know how I would make a parnassah there? My reply was that last I checked, it was the Ribbono Shel Olam who provided parnassah, and I was sure He could provide in Eretz Yisroel too. In an interesting twist, I make part of my parnassah here in Eretz Yisroel in a way I could never do abroad—I’m a tour guide in and around the Old City of Yerushalayim. This is something I can do during Bein Hazmanim and bein hasdorim, and it allows me to devote much of my time to learning. Even when social distancing was mandated, I was able to work by giving virtual tours. In addition, I also am involved in the publishing of manuscripts of Rishonim and Achronim, as well as in the collection and research of various sifrei Torah.

There is much to see in the Old City of Yerushalayim—spanning the entire history of the Jewish people up until today—from the place where the Beis HaMikdash once stood (and will soon B”H stand once again and for eternity) to the places where the sounds of Torah and tefillah can be heard once again. There is so much to learn and so much we can connect to, from our magnificent past through our miraculous rebirth in HaShem’s Land, and up until our strong present presence and promising promised future.

After two thousand years in golus, I feel that we are in an amazing period in Jewish history. I would even say I feel a sense of closure as some aspects of the golus of Am Yisroel are gradually coming to an end.

My first Tisha B’Av in Eretz Yisroel was the day after I first landed here. I distinctly remember waking up and hearing the cooing of the doves in Eretz Yisroel’s clear blue sky, and thinking to myself, “Wow, I am really here, in Eretz Yisroel!” I just couldn’t believe the reality that I was here. It was simply unreal. I mean, just the day before I was in the USA, where the regular normal guys are…. Here in Eretz Yisroel, hearing everyone around me saying kinos just felt a bit strange to me. This was in Arzei HaBira in Yerushalayim, a typical Yerushalmi neighborhood; it wasn’t even a place of specific historic significance such as the Kosel. This emotion was triggered just by being in Eretz Yisroel, breathing its air and walking its streets, and being next to so many Yidden who have come back home. Though I could not determine exactly why, it was an overpowering emotion.

This was the feeling I had after just one night in Eretz Yisroel. It is interesting to note the words of Rav Avraham Azulai ztz”l (a forebearer of the Chida ztz”l): “When one is zoche to enter Eretz Yisroel, a new nefesh from Yetzirah comes to him, and envelopes his old nefesh. On the first night that he sleeps in Eretz Yisroel, both nefashos leave him and go up, and only the new one returns to him.” (Chesed L’Avraham, Ma’ayan 3, Nahar 12).

One Chol HaMoed, when I was still keeping two days of Yom Tov, I was a guest in the sukkah of R’ Eliyahu Zilberman. A discussion had come up earlier about committing to live in Eretz Yisroel and keeping one or two days of Yom Tov. The rav said with much passion that when someone commits to living in Eretz Yisroel he is at once terminating for himself at least some aspects of two thousand years of golus, in a very literal sense, and the time to make such a commitment is right now… The tremendous significance of this reality was not lost on me. With just one firm decision I would make—in a certain sense— two thousand years come to an end!

Of course, significant as it is, coming to live in Eretz Yisroel is only one part of this journey. As a nation, we still have a way to go, up until the ultimate “v’haya HaShem lemelech al kol ha’aretz,” speedily in our days. However, being back as His children in His Land, living according to His rules and performing as many of His mitzvos as we can and yearning for more, we are actually headed in the direction of having that become a reality.

Living in an Esrog

While in the U.S. for a chasuna, my wife met for the first time, some of my nieces living in the U.S. They could not believe that we managed to live in such a small apartment in Yerushalayim, and one of them started boasting about their much larger living quarters in America. My wife told her that she did not have anything to boast about since we could buy three American-sized houses for the price of our little piece of Yerushalayim. I later reasoned this with the following mashal, succinctly differentiating for a friend between those two pieces of real-estate: “How many lemons can you buy for the price of one Esrog?!”

Yerushalayim is not just real-estate…

Reprinted with permission from Avira D’Eretz Yisroel.

The Best Part? In Eretz Yisroel It Is Difficult To Be a ‘Someone’!

A Better Focus

Shmuel Diamond, Sanhedriya, Yerushalayim

Living in Eretz Yisroel helped me understand that the world I had come from was not the only normal and functioning reality, as the Western world might make people feel. There may be nothing more correct about two yellow lines delineating a no-parking zone, as it is in my hometown of London, England, than any other way of delineating the area. In one banking system, the banks act as if you are doing them a favor by depositing your money with them, and they pay you for doing so; in another, it’s them doing you the favor, and you have to pay for it (maybe here in Eretz Yisroel it’s more like that…). In many areas, there is no default, correct way of doing something. This understanding made it easier for me to cope with the differences.

The reality here is just different. It includes how business is done here – I may have to be persistent, stubborn, and unrealistic in order to get things done. It includes having workmen in my house, and learning that when they tell me they’ll be here at ten in the morning that’s not necessarily what they actually mean. Learning to be more easy-going and flexible definitely helps one function within this reality.

One of the things I appreciate here is the lack of pettiness. This may apply to some places in chutz laAretz as well, and may not apply to all of Eretz Yisroel, but it is the general atmosphere here. If someone would scratch someone else’s car, it probably wouldn’t be made into a big deal. People are just busy doing chesed, working to pay their rent or mortgage, and to put food on the table; keeping up with the Joneses is just not part of the culture.

What might be misconceived as a certain haughtiness of some of the people here is, I think, just a product of another aspect of the culture here; there’s a lack of intellectual sophistication that maybe makes it more difficult for them to relate to other people’s reality. It is this same temimus though, that makes for a more profound emunah, not necessarily achieved by the intellect but just as a natural part of these people’s reality. It might also be their directness and no-frills honesty that creates this misconception. Understanding the source of this perceived “arrogance” can prevent a lot of frustration. The more intellectually inclined who come here can get along in this atmosphere – the fact is, the likes of a rabbi, an accountant, a doctor and a lawyer can all find their place within our community.

In Eretz Yisroel it is difficult to be a “someone.” In the Torah-learning world, for example, one would have to be a tremendous Torah scholar to stick out. This aspect of life in Eretz Yisroel has taught me a lesson in life: It’s fine to be a nobody (in a sense of social status; of course, not in a ruchniyus sense). This is anathema to the Western culture I grew up in.

I have learned that to be part of a community here doesn’t mean you have to be part of a chassidus or a specific shul or kollel. Many locales, such as where I live, in the Sanhedriya neighborhood of Yerushalayim, have a community feel.

At least in the Chareidi world here, there is not much consumerism. This causes there to be a slower cash flow and a more limited cash supply. When there’s less money floating around – it’s less common here to have a gym subscription, replace a couch or kitchen, go on a holiday, or own a car – the economy moves much slower. Around the Yomim Tovim there is a marked increase in cash flow and activity – lulav & esrog, matzos, etc.

Although, as may be found elsewhere in the world, there are many financially disadvantaged families here, there is a benefit to that in a bit of a backwards kind of way. It’s not like they live in another community removed from my conscience; as a part of my community I see them close up, I can sense the urgency of their need, and I can actually witness how the help extended to them can go a far way in helping them. It makes my giving more real. There is also less of a shame to their poverty; after all, their lifestyle is the same as many of their neighbors.

Yiddishkeit in general is more experiential here. There is a tangible spiritual dimension that even children can relate to, which cannot be found elsewhere. Instead of a mundane trip to a Six Flags attraction, we take our kids on trips which can include a hike and some cave climbing, with a climax of reaching one of the mekomos hakedoshim and saying a kapitel Tehilim there. The Kosel, Kever Shimon HaTzaddik, and Kever Shmuel HaNavi are all within easy reach here in Yerushalayim, as are shuls of historical interest. This is true of other areas in Eretz Yisroel, especially when traveling up north.

It is in this culture and background, with all its differences, that our children are growing up. Also, my lack of proficiency in Hebrew actually benefits my children; they know how to speak English very well, as that is the language we speak in at home. They attend Chassidish schools where the language of instruction is Yiddish, so they are actually trilingual. All in all, we are all very happy here.

A ‘Picture’ of My Business Here

Growing up, I had a hobby of taking pictures, mostly for family and friends. After coming to learn in yeshivah here, I put down my camera in order to concentrate on my learning. After several years here, and at the encouragement of one of my roshei yeshivah, I got back into photography for parnassah.

Soon after I started, I was contacted by a frum woman who was interested in doing photography. This was a big siyatta d’Shmaya for me, as I didn’t want to take pictures of women, and therefore needed a female photographer. Many of my friends were getting married at the time, and we did their wedding photography, which helped my business initially take off.

Five years ago I opened the Shmuel Diamond School of Photography, which has B”H been very successful. Additionally, I started teaching online about three years ago, allowing me to tap into a huge base of clients while living here In Eretz Yisroel.

Eretz Yisrael Is Not a ‘Bear’!

Growth In – and Acceptance of – a Different Culture and System

Rachamim Schwab, Tel Tzion

Though I am now acclimated to the Israeli system, it was a gradual process. When I first got here as a bochur, I was basically living in a “little America.” I started out in a very American yeshivah (Derech); shiurim I attended were in English, and basically everyone I knew was an English speaker. It was only when I moved on to the Mir Yeshivah (where I was in Rav Asher Arieli’s shiur) that I got to have a bit of an association with some Israelis. Living in Har Nof after getting married, and continuing to commute to learn in the Mir even after moving to Tel Tzion, enabled me to move out of my bubble bit by bit, as gradually more and more of my life was inside the Israeli system.

My real immersion into Israeli culture began when I transferred to a local Tel Tzion kollel, a branch of Rav Yaakov Hillel’s Ahavat Shalom. At its peak, there were about fifty avreichim there, of which about 80% were Sephardi and only 20% Ashkenazi – somewhat reflecting the makeup of Tel Tzion at the time – and almost all Israeli. Most of my day I was speaking Hebrew – although I had never formally learned to speak it – in my clearly discernible accent, which will not go away! I must have sounded funny at times. Knowing my place and knowing how to be myself and holding my own hashkafos, while at the time having the space for everyone else with their different background, culture, mentality and worldview, was something I absolutely needed to learn.

The mahalach halimud (learning style) in that kollel was nothing like the Litvishe mahalach I was used to. I had no real safety net guiding me to learn the way I had been taught; this made me work so much harder and learn that much more on my own. I grew more in my five years in that kollel than in any comparable time period, except maybe when I first got to Mir.

For those whose only way to make it in Eretz Yisroel would be to live in these “out-of-town” type of places where rent is more affordable, I would strongly encourage them to look seriously into these many options, and not to give up on the amazing learning going on in Eretz Yisroel just because they can’t afford to live in a place like Ramat Eshkol. They do need to realize and understand though that they are guests in someone else’s kehillah and culture; in my experience this was actually an opportunity for growth.

My impression is that here in Eretz Yisroel it is easier than it is in America to make do with very little. I have a driver’s license, but I never had a car or related expenses, as managing without a car is still possible here. There are a lot of things like that here.

One thing that makes it easier to make do with a lower level of gashmiyus is that here it’s still considered normal. When we first moved to Tel Tzion, it was a less affluent crowd, and we were the “loaded Americans” who moved in. At the time, I was still an avreich in Mir, and we had basically nothing, but it’s hard to feel bad about it when everyone in the building is looking at you as the “high roller.” B”H we made it for many years like that. Though in the vast majority of families I know here, both spouses work, for my wife it was important to be able to devote herself to our kids, and B”H we were able to manage that as well.

When I started out in kollel about fourteen years ago, a really well-paying kollel would pay $1000 a month, which was then about 4,000 shekels. Those kollelim were very hard to find. 1500 shekels was a normal kollel paycheck, and 2000 shekels was already impressive. My impression is that although every basic need went up in price – i.e. the price for chicken is almost double nowadays, and rent has obviously gone far up – the kollel paychecks stayed the same. With that amount of money, you can no longer do the things you could’ve done once upon a time.

We got to a stage in life where we had to see what we would do in terms of parnassah. We consulted with daas Torah and decided that the best thing for us would be to stay here in Eretz Yisroel and move out of kollel and into working, just to keep things going and make ends meet. On the advice of friends I taught myself programming, developing an expertise in a certain niche. I simultaneously started learning in a college program geared to Chareidim, although that didn’t work out for me at the end.

Like many Americans, we may have had some issues with certain aspects of Israeli chinuch, but we did have the open-mindedness to realize that it’s an entire system here, which includes both pros and cons relative to how things are done in America. Allowing our children to embrace what they were offered in terms of school friends and other such things, enabled us to give them a much healthier experience than if we would have been fighting the system.

From what I have seen, it seems that most of the families who fight to prevent their kids from becoming Israeli fight an uphill battle, end up suffering greatly, and even lose some kids in the process – they are not American enough to be American, and not Israeli enough to be Israeli.

Not fighting the system didn’t mean that we ourselves couldn’t be “American,” or that we had to change our own hashkafos; we were still able to be ourselves, but we accepted the fact that our children might act and conduct themselves differently than if they would have been growing up in America. B”H, my kids are having a great time in the mosdos here.

Working in Eretz Yisroel

At a certain point, as our family grew, it wasn’t just about making it through the month – we wouldn’t be able to cover our obligations to others if we didn’t figure out a way to increase our income. I joked to my wife, “I’m willing to be moiser nefesh for my learning, but I don’t get why the baal dira (landlord) also has to be.” B”H, I had rebbeim who understood my situation and who I was able to talk to for guidance.

I found a computer programming job in Tel Aviv for much of 2018. I had no issues with the chilonim (irreligious), who were generally respectful but very ignorant. And yes, I wore a hat and jacket to work… The only person who would notice if I dropped it was myself, as for the chilonim it was all just different modes of black and white, with the hat or without it… B”H I am now working near home, from a friend’s machsan (storage unit) which I converted into an office, for a foreign-based company.

I understand that a lot of people think that here in Eretz Yisroel, an avreich who leaves kollel for work is going to get it over the head; he’ll have problems with the mosdos and is going to be looked at as weird. My own experience has not been like that; I have had absolutely nonegative social experiences from it. I’m not sure if that may be a product of where I live or who I am. At least where I live, there is a realization that people need some kind of a parnassah, and need to somehow make it and not burden themselves on the tzibbur.