Thoughts on Israel
Sandy Farber
Rosh Hashanah 2002
I sat down to write this with overwhelming ambivalence. I am of so many minds about the subject of Israel, the reactions of others to this subject, and even the process of talking about it. The question is a very difficult one for me.
I begin with my father, involved in the 1930’s and 40’s as a radical Zionist in underground central Europe, surviving Nazism, and later active in the kibbutz movement and the emerging state. My image of life in Israel from these stories is of a struggle for independence, self-sufficiency and respect, in opposition to a biased, unfair and repressive status quo, that to me seems uncannily parallel to the struggle of the Palestinians today. That image – of Israel and Israelis as tough, fair-minded, and righteous, was held up as a paragon in my childhood, yet my parents did not choose to raise their family there. Instead, they expressed their views through commerce and close personal involvement in an industry that was among the first in pre-state Palestine, based on local citrus groves.
As an adult I have retained some of that romanticized vision, borne out in part by several visits to the ancient cities, the beautiful beaches, the hypnotizing desert. And as a young adult, through years of progressive, anti-racist and radical feminist activism, followed by years of law practice on behalf of low income people, I developed a strong identity as a Jew based on a sense of what I think are Jewish values of community and fairness. No other member of my family has affiliated with a Jewish organization or regularly celebrates the holidays; I derive comfort and peace from both and wish that for my son as well. Yet I strongly disagree, and do not identify with, mainstream American Jewish Zionism, including support for settlement of occupied land. My most vivid memory of my first visit to Israel, as a young girl in 1969, is of being taken into a Palestinian home in newly conquered Jerusalem, and seeing one room, empty of furniture, occupied by a woman and her disabled child, powerless to stop us from entering and gawking.
My last visit to Israel was just before the High Holidays in 2000 – a different era. Asked to travel there since then, I feel torn: I have not found a good way of assessing the risks. I cannot bring myself to leave my son home, and I cannot bring myself to take him. Israelis I know are visibly impatient with me, dismissive of my fears, maybe a little hurt. My parents travel there frequently and relentlessly, apparently unconcerned, making a point. And I continue to wrestle with the contradictions.
