Saturday, April 24, 2010

I'm Jewish I'm not Israeli

The Jewish calendar is a constant holiday. In Israel, when you mix that with the Israeli holidays - the country is constantly mourning something, observing something, taking part in something or abstaining from something. And all of these things have meaning. Being a student on a program in Israel, there is a push to feel like an Israeli. As a Jew, people don't welcome you to Israel, they welcome you to your home. On Birthright, its so easy to buy into all of this. When your playing house in Israel for 5 months, I personally have had a lot more time to think about this, and find out if I really do feel at home here.

On Yom HaShoa, Holocaust Memorial Day, the tone is solemn. A siren throughout Israel, calling for a moment of silence through the country, rings at 10:00am. We left class at 9:50am, and found the closest intersection as we waited for the siren. 10 am - the loud ringing begins, and for one full moment, all of the people and cars stop. Cars halt in the middle of the road, people get up out of their vehicles and stand in memory of everyone who died and lost anyone in the Holocaust. At 10:01 - life proceeds as normal. This was a holiday that I had been a part of for years - it was not foreign to me. But still, in the Israeli framework, I struggled to fully accept the Holiday, and celebrate (for lack of a better word) it as they do in Israel. I have a constant fear that I will become 100 percent Zionist and unable to see any other side. Shamefully, I have to admit that part of me was still even frustrated with Yom HaShoa. I keep blaming Israel for being unable to see through a lens that isn't racist against Arabs, isn't defensive against every piece of criticism, and yet I sat there and criticized the state itself for addressing only the Jewish issues. Inside, I wish when they had said, "we are here to make sure that genocide never happens again..." all I heard was, "We want to make sure that a JEWISH genocide never happens again..." I was frustrated because I knew that this cause would only forward the elimination of antisemitism, but not anti-hate. I had to struggle to realize that it doesn't matter what agenda people have when promoting a cause or an event, because the 6 million that died deserve this day, deserve to remembered, and what am I, a 3 and a half generation American, with no family ties to the holocaust, to have an opinion on the matter?

Only about 8 days later does Israel find two "holidays" back to back. First is Yom Hazikaron, the day of remembrance for all of the soldiers and lives lost fighting for the country. 24 Hours later is Yom HaAtzma'ut, the craziest Independence Day of any country I've ever experienced. It's basically 48 hours of memorial day, only much more intense, and much more extreme, on both ends of the spectrum. On the day of remembrance, I almost felt inappropriate mourning. On Holocaust memorial day, I may have had my qualms, but I am Jewish. It was a Jewish holiday, and every year I feel it. Remembering the soldiers - I felt as though it almost wasn't my place to feel this way. I never served in the army. I do not live here. I do not know one person that has been hurt fighting. I'm quite lucky in that way. But still I thought that this is a moment, where again I feel pushed to be Israeli simply because I am Jewish, and in reality, they are not the same. An Israeli is not always an observant Jew, and a Jew does not always have to be Israeli. (I think too, that almost every political issue that this country runs into stems from this very issue of confusion as well). Israelis here was somewhat baffled by this: You don't need to be Israeli to mourn, this is you! I couldn't explain the feeling.

On this day again, a siren goes off. For this ceremony, I went to Har Hertzl, where (most/ all?) soldiers in the IDF are buried. People from all over the country pile into this enormous cemetery, although on this day, you would never be able to notice it's size. The siren and ceremony here is unlike anything I've experienced. Similar to Yom HaShoa, the siren calls for solemn silence. Except at this point, I'm not standing near an intersection, and the silence does not seem out of place. Some of my rough footage below shows this this event. I wanted to capture it for two reasons. First, I needed to start shooting - something, anything. I knew this being at this place, on this day, would be a once in a lifetime opportunity. Secondly, I did want to think about how I could implement some of this footage into the bigger picture. As I begin to develop my idea of analyzing the relationship between secular and religious jews in Israel- I wanted to think, as my friend Jason always says we should, with the end in mind. Seculars have this idea about what they've done for the country, and how the Haredi (ultra religious) are getting in the way - and the Haredi as well think they know how to run the country, and disagree often with how the seculars want to advance the country. On a day like this, however, when all types of people have fought and died, and both sides can finally agree on one thing - Israel for them - I think that this is one place where their differences can be put aside, and everyone can come together. The footage is very raw - and I didn't want to spend too much time editing, I really just wanted to give a good idea of the space. I'd love to hear outside thoughts.


Yom HaZikaron from Kady Buchanan on Vimeo.



At sundown that evening, everything changes. You go from mourning a loss, to the biggest and best outdoor party ever. It's fun and incredible and so easy to become so patriotic and nationalistic. So easy to get caught up in and think wow- this country is amazing - it is important - we need to keep this spirit alive. At the end of it all, however, as much as I love this country and know it needs to be kept alive, I kept thinking at how there's much work to be done. People in the past week are being literally thrown out of Gaza, extreme inequality not just between Israelis and Non Jewish Arabs, but between Israeli Arabs and Palestinian Arabs (in areas that are still governed by Israelis). I'm not sure if this makes me a bad Jew, an even worse Israeli, or just an extremist leftist. I think I force some of these feelings as part of a bigger effort to not to be completely entranced by the Zionist agenda - because it would be so easy.

Monday, April 12, 2010

AMERICAN

Tel Aviv, a city I described to my mother as "The Vegas of Israel," goes out of its way at time to say, HEY - WE ARE NOT KOSHER. Tel Aviv also is filled with a lot more Arab - Christians and Muslims. Looking for some fun on a Saturday afternoon in Tel Aviv during Shabbos, we headed for the more dominantly Arab and Christian area, Yafo. Walking around the local businesses and parks, seeing people wear crosses, dressed head to toe in what obviously was not orthodox Jewish wear - I, (for the first time in a number of weeks) felt more comfortable. I am finding more and more ways each day how I am the product of an American upbringing - and not necessarily a Jewish one. I am from a country where it is normal to be surrounded by people of other faiths, by the notion that it is better to separate church and state, where it is better and a much more advanced way to run a society, and that separate but equal is never quite equal. Be it ultra orthodox women or black men and women - the back of the bus is not separate but equal.

But I must remember that the way I grew up is not the only way to grew up, and that just because I grew up Jewish does not mean that I grew up Israeli. I still feel an on-going struggle to feel at home here. I guess one could classify that as culture shock. To go further: every week for Shabbat I make attempts to step out of my comfort zone, to explore Judaism in some way, to make the day holy - if only for a moment. At the end of my five months here I could be an orthodox Jew, or I could be an atheist Jew, but I will never know unless I take this time to explore. At the end of every Shabbat, I somehow always feel isolated. With the secular crowd here, I feel as though I have something to hide whenever I want to explore Judaism in any way (classes, services, etc) With the more religiously observant crowd here, I feel as though no matter what I do, I've disappointed them in some way, that I am not observant enough, that I did not give up enough, and did not make enough of an effort to connect. So I find myself constantly somewhere in the middle - almost always with a small feeling of guilt. Now I realize in trying to "explore" it is very debilitating to constantly compare yourself to others - when I am probably in a different place than most. But when joining something such as a religious institution - it becomes difficult not to.

In an interesting conversation with a friend the other night about my personal views on Palestinians in Israel, my friend brought something to light I believe I have been doing for years - but have never really understood until this night. My view, again something that isolates me in this pro-zionistic group and program I am apart of, and is far from everyone else on this topic. I believe I am the only one that believes in rights for non-Jews in Israel. (My specific views are more suited for another day.) I don't automatically side with the Jews, as a Jew, because I don't necessarily see that as enough justification, when I look at the history, and both sides. When I look at the situation, I try with all of my might not to bring my emotions to the table, but to look at it, as if the topic is a subject in a documentary, as if I owe that subject and the audience something, and that I have a ethical obligation to choose a stance that is as objective as possible and the most beneficial not just to myself, but to both sides. Now, when dealing with a subject for a documentary, this all seems relatively sound. But in dealing with my personal beliefs, values, politics, etc I believe this might make me somewhat crazy. It seems that it has put me in a place where my views are barely based on what I believe, but what is most ethical, and what side of the story is the best for the people whom it involves. It hit me that this continues to be my issue in Jerusalem, what continues to isolate me here. I like the idea of being more observant, but maybe not necessarily because I believe in G'd, the 613 commandments and the right of the Jewish people to Israel as mandated to Moses on Mt Sinai; but because it is what the "most dedicated" people here believe. Maybe it makes me uncomfortable to observe because it is not what I want to do in the first place, but only what I think someone who wants to be religious should be doing. As my friend said to me, maybe I need to stop looking at the situation as what someone who is interested in pursuing Judaism further, and just think about what I do want to do, what I might believe - and just stop apologizing for it.

Or maybe I'll just continue to experience what is known as Jewish guilt.

For whatever reason, the connection I felt with Judaism in Boston existed in a way that does not exist in the holy land. the HOLY LAND. And that makes me think. Maybe it wasn't Judaism I connected with - but something else.

And this, is the last blog without footage. After today, I am hitting the streets - with a new way to meet people, start shooting, and stop making excuses. In the days to come hopefully some of what I see will be clear to you in moving picture form. My religious struggle has been dominating this blog, and I'm ready to move on.