My colleague Shimshon Siegel at Brandeis recently authored this piece. He and I have been collaborating on Impact Boston – a summer service program for high school students at Brandeis that we run in partnership with BBYO.

Bradley recently published a piece on the Reform Movement’s blog that we wanted to share here.

Aliza recently posted a piece on the Mayyim Hayyim blog that we want to share here as well.

This Shabbat is a big one in Israel, it’s the Shabbat after Pesach, and between Yom HaShoa (Holocaust Remembrance Day) and Yom Hazikaron / Yom Ha’atzmaut (Israeli Memorial Day immediately followed by Independence Day).  In addition, we just celebrated the joyous bat mitzvah of our friend Meitav, daughter of Uri and Meryl Feinberg, sister of Ela’s and Gila’s dearest friends, Shira and Adi.

The Jews of Israel have been preparing for this season of commemoration and celebration for weeks.  National and regional flags are being hung from every light post; colorful plastic flags (like the ones you see in car sales lots) decorate every major intersection.  On most street corners you can find teenagers selling 10 shekel (about $2.50) flags to clip onto car windows.

I remember making lots of Israeli flags in religious school, or at summer camp. I remember picking out just the right royal blue marker and using a ruler to get my lines straight and my Star of David centered.  I remember experimenting with waved lines to make it look like the flag was flapping in the wind. I remember singing Kachol v’Lavan (blue and white) and marking each of Israel’s birthdays, with especially big celebrations on the milestones like 40 years, 50 years and 60 years.  This year marks 64 years since Ben Gurion declared Israel’s independence in 1948.

Competing messages in Hebron

This year Yom Ha’atzmaut, like everything else is more complicated for me. The ever-present flags don’t feel only joyous – they feel a little “davka” (best translated as “intentionally” – in this case to revoke a statement of we, Jews, are here and you, Palestinians, are not).  About two months ago I went to Hebron with Encounter and met a number of Palestinian non-violent activists. I remember seeing Israeli flags painted on walls often covering Palestinian flags or Arabic writing, and Palestinian flags painted on fences or houses, often covering Hebrew or Israeli flags. The flag was overloaded with political weight. Each flag was like a statement of “in your face.”   So when I drive down the road and see hundreds of flags my stomach tightens a bit. What do they all mean? How can I feel pride and at the same time shame?

Just when I am feeling the most cynical about the lack of justice, the impossibility of peace, the lack of energy for challenging the status quo – my daughters offer me a break, a chance to lighten up and to simply enjoy this season  – even if just for a moment.

The other day on the way to school, Gila noticed all of the flags and said – “Oh see all the blue and white – that’s just right for Israel’s birthday!” (In her preferred language these days, Hebrew).

Yom Hashoa Ceremony at Ela's school, TALI YOZMA

On Thursday I attended the Yom Hashoa ceremony at Ela’s school, led by the 4^th and 5^th graders complete with poetry, dance, songs and a torch lit by a survivor and his granddaughter, a student at the school. I wanted to be there as all of the kids, dressed in their white shirts, stood at attention for two minutes during the siren (on Yom Hashoa and Yom Hazikaron sirens blast throughout the country and Israelis stop driving, eating, talking and stand still for two minutes – it’s an amazing scene particularly on a busy street corner in any city in Israel). Ela said if felt much longer – “like three or five minutes.”

Yom Ha'atzmaut Celebration at Gila's preschool, Gan YOZMA

Yesterday, Gila’s gan (pre-K) celebrated Yom Ha’atzmaut. All of the children, dressed in white and wearing Israeli flag styled paper hats, sang, danced, listened to stories and ultimately, offered a blessing of peace for Israel. Each class wrote their own blessing, wrote it on a paper dove. The teachers attached the dove to a bunch of blue and white balloons and ceremoniously released their prayers and balloons into the sky. The children were totally engaged in this process, they craned their necks to watch the balloons float away. Then with a rousing song for peace, they went back to their classrooms for falafel and popsicles.

I smiled, sang along, joined their hopefulness and believed, with my whole heart, in the kavanah (intention) of their prayers for a safe, peaceful and joyous future for Israel.

God-willing this new generation, burdened with far fewer memories of suffering and fear and blessed by greater security, will have the confidence to build this peaceful and just future for Israelis and Palestinians.

Nomi working on her homemade matzah

For most of my life my family has been on what I’d call the extreme side of the Pesach preparation spectrum. Changing all pots and pans, cleaning out the dust behind every book, item of clothing, under the bathroom sinks, etc. I always knew that this was part of the physical and even spiritual preparation that was particularly important to my mom.  Generally though—whether in Colorado Springs, Colorado; Monroe, Louisiana; or West Roxbury, Massachusetts—we were the only family on the street timing our spring cleaning with Pesach.

Not so in Modiin – and well most of Israel. Everybody is in the mood. This morning on a run (we are not hosting tonight and I am proud to say that my desserts and charoset were all prepared yesterday!), I passed about 15 separate bonfires, attended mostly by men in kippot and young kids, burning small mountains of chametz – bread, cereal, crackers…  I probably inhaled much more carbon dioxide than I should have.

I also passed by the mikveh – the men’s side door was open and there were a few men and boys walking out, tucking in clean white t-shirts, running a hand through their wet hair.  On the women’s side, there was a long line of men waiting in line to immerse their pots, pans and silverware for Pesach.  I could hear the clinking from down the street.

More flour may have ended up on Nomi than in the Matzah

There were sounds of vacuums and more men and children cleaning out cars.  There were a few scattered women, some exercising like me, others playing with kids – I assume they are also guests tonight. The rest are most likely doing what I normally do before Seder, cooking like mad, finding one last scrap of chametz that I forgot to clean out, setting the table and trying to figure out who should sit next to Cousin or Aunt So and So.

As at Hanukkah I am aware of the assumption that the entire State of Israel is Jewish and preparing for Pesach (it’s closer to 75%). There are Israeli flags hanging at every – and I mean every – light post in Modiin. The stores and shuk are overflowing with everything you might need.

And yet, I feel different than I did at Hanukkah. Perhaps because it’s warm out and everyone seems so delighted that spring has come after a particularly long and cold winter.  Perhaps because preparing for Pesach among crowds rather than as an isolated family feels good. Perhaps I am just giving myself a break and enjoying the benefits of being in the majority.

All I know is that I am excited to bring our homemade date charoset and matsah to tonight’s Seder at Shaul and Tania Feinbergs.  I’m even excited about the inevitable Pesach traffic.   No doubt I will miss being with family and friends in Boston – but this night will be different for me.

On Friday Doda (aunt) Shira came to Gila’s gan to play for her class.

Here is a video and below are some images. Everyone had a blast and they have invited her back for an encore performance next week.