I figured some of you may have worried since the last time I wrote I was describing my legal difficulties with the Jerusalem City Hall.
It was months ago--and yet, no progress has been made. We're set to have a preliminary hearing next week, just in case you are curious. I find myself wanting to be positive but unable to actually think optimistically . . . If only Judge Judy were here.
On other fronts, in the last 2 months I have managed to:
1) Finish all of my papers for last school year (just in time to start this school year)
2) Travel to America to see the folks
3) Buy a wedding dress (sorry, I would post it, but my groom-to-be is very anxious to catch a glimpse of this hot pink (note: to throw him off) bejeweled creation)
4) Oh, yeah, get engaged (reason for #3)
5) Completely forget my loving fans and horrendously neglect my blog
(note: if you are not so loving of a fan, don't comment)
In order to ease myself back into this whole "blog thing," I would like to share a few--some more comical than others--reflections on the third anniversary of my immigration to Israel.
Today's topic: "Going up . . ."
People here don't call us "immigrants." They call us "the ones who go/came up." Well, there's a certain amount of truth to that phrase, especially for someone who "came up" from sunny, flat Florida. The mountains of Jerusalem are far more impressive than the highest point in Florida (all of 327 feet above sea level); I know, I was there three weeks ago. But in my three years here, I've learned that even though Israel's dugree (direct) ways of expression--spoken or otherwise--are more abrupt, more straightforward than "Jo Ann," the cashier in one of Pensacola's five Super Wal-Marts, euphemisms exist here as well.
And this is exactly what oleh (new Jewish immigrant) is--a euphemism. To call it a misnomer is incorrect and lacks an understanding of Israeli society itself, which is, despite much of the world's view, always trying (however successfully or not) to improve itself. The Jewish concept of tikkun olam (repairing the world) is deeply ingrained in Israeli society--there are just so many ideas about what "repair" the world needs that objective progress is somewhat derailed. In any case, on the commemoration of the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin, a day which holds a special place in my heart (click here for "Do I Believe in Peace?" Scroll Down), and the anniversary of my choosing to make aliyah as well as the day I actually did it, I realize that we are far, far from where we want to be and the idea that we are currently serving as a "light unto the nations" is a dream that has been overladen with reality or vice versa, depending on the day and the action in question.
As a student of the social sciences and as someone whose favorite past time is watching and analyzing people, I find it harder and harder to successfully place my world--that is, Israel--into a category. What is perhaps easier is to engage in this mental exercise and end with an oft-quoted phrase at our Shabbat dinner table, "Well, there's a lot of work to be done." This is something I would have said three years ago upon my arrival and my induction into Israeli citizenry, but I probably would have had some stars in my eyes, envisioning how it would happen while I was still alive. I still believe that "there's a lot of work to be done" and that the moral, spiritual, and social challenges that face us are gargantuan in nature. I must say, though, that every time I am disgusted by what I read in the news--another murder, another human rights abuse, another harmful act to the environment--I look and (thank G-d) successfully find an article about a law suit, a demonstration, a strike that is making our government and leaders pay attention to the problems we have.
This society is by no means perfect. But, I think, it is awake.
Stay tuned for more (admittedly tree-hugger-esque) soliloquies on the Art/Frustration/Englightenment/Satisfaction of Aliyah.
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