By Paul Sorenson
On this incredible Rubin Israel Experience, I often felt like time had become unstuck — mixing the past and present but only offering a hazy future for the Jewish State. We “climbed” Masada, learning about both the Zealot rebellion against Rome and the reclaiming of the space in the early 20th century by early Zionist pioneers. We visited a biblical nature reserve, a serene landscape interrupted by sounds of gunfire from a nearby IDF shooting range. And today, we experienced Yad Vashem and Mt. Herzel — commemorating the Holocaust and Israel’s founding — alongside a trip to the Knesset and the Hand in Hand school, presenting two vastly different visions for Israel’s future.
Though we visited late in the day, it seems appropriate to start with Yad Vashem. Our walk through the museum began with a video of the Jewish past — families in Poland waving hello (or goodbye), vibrant street life, a choir of children singing Hatikvah, Israel’s national anthem. The floor slowly sloped downward as the Nazis rose to power, and Jews were persecuted throughout the West. “All of Europe has turned into a monster,” said a German Jew who was forced to flee.
It’s hard to capture the gravity and scope of Yad Vashem. At its lowest point, literally and figuratively, we learn about the mechanics of the death camps and the murder of 6 million Jews, a third of the total world Jewish population and 2/3rds of Europe’s. Slowly, however, the floor starts to lift back up again. Nazi power is pushed back. Jewish rebellions are celebrated. A stunning Hall of Names commemorates those who were lost, collecting faces and testimonies to remind us of the gravity of humanity’s greatest crime. Finally, we exit the museum to a beautiful lookout over Jerusalem. The message is subtle but clear: We have overcome, returned to our past and future home.
We leave Yad Vashem and explore another part of Mt. Herzel memorializing the founders of the nation and those who lost their lives in Israel’s many subsequent conflicts. Theodore Herzl, Golda Meir, and Yitzhak Rabin are buried there, as were family members and friends of our guide and guard. It is difficult, as a younger American, to grasp how these modern conflicts shape the Israeli people and society. The US hasn’t seen a war on our soil since 1865. For Israel, its last declared war (the Second Lebanon War) was only a decade ago. The Shoah displayed the tragic necessity to establish a Jewish homeland. But what about its future?
For that, we return to the morning and our visit to the Knesset. Benny Begin, its oldest member and son of the first Likud Prime Minister, Menachem Begin. Begin is admired on both the left and right in Israel for making principled stands. He is logical and engaging, throwing out Groucho Marx jokes and synthesizing the Jewish past and Israeli present during the course of the conversation. “You can’t build a future without extrapolating from the past,” he tells us, highlighting the strength of the Israeli economy in the midst of the last 70 years of conflict.
Begin does not have high hopes for peace, eschewing “diplomatic nonsense” in favor of what he views as a more realistic stance. “It should be inconceivable that Jews can live everywhere else — in St. Louis, in Europe, near the JCC — but not in their ancient homeland.” He speaks proudly about Israel surviving, and even thriving, in the midst of a “bad neighborhood.” But he insists that the “maximum of any Israeli [peace] offer does not meet the minimum of [Palestinian] requirements.” Begin is okay with accomodating Arab citizens and neighbors, but doesn’t believe they can be integrated and embraced. His view can seem rational, presented without resorting to cheap politics of fear. But it also condemns Israel to perpetual conflict, one of continued tension with what he views as hateful and irrational neighbors. “I’m not sure my answer satisfied you,” Begin tells me as we leave the meeting.
We head next to the Hand in Hand school, a Jewish and Arab co-education center that is partially funded by the Jewish Federation of St. Louis. Though it lacks the power to form international ageements — Peace with a captial P — Hand in Hand is slowly but surely building a smaller peace, one that gives children and their families language to co-exist. They teach all children both Hebrew and Arabic, giving Muslim, Jewish, and Christian religious holidays off for all students. They also grapple with the competing narratives of people who live in this land — how Israeli Independence Day contrasts with Palestinian Nakba Day, and how each people have difficulty feeling safe here. Pluralism is hard, but they are committed. Hand in Hand currently serves 1,500 students across Israel (680 in Jerusalem), reaching 5,000 people through their efforts. They have long waiting lists and are looking to expand, offering a high quality education alongside introducing Jews and Arabs to each other as “normal people.”
As I prepare to leave Israel, it’s difficult to parse the promise and problems with pursuing a grand Peace and purusing everyday peace, the reality of living in Israeli society, and the backdrop of a vast and often tragic Jewish history. Like most Israelis, however, we Rubinites cannot expect easy answers, nor an end to the ongoing dialogue about the future of our people. But we will all leave thankful to understand the beauty and tragedy of Israel, a place where we have built a strong and ongoing connection.