My wife, Annie, and I were recently at Jerusalem’s Hadassah Ein Kerem hospital navigating the tortuous challenge of parking in the indoor parking garage. We were caught in the thick of an underground traffic jam with cars behind us, as well as cars coming toward us. Then a space opened up, and a small car driven by a young Arab woman wearing the traditional hijab appeared.
She was anxiously trying to maneuver her car into the space, without much success. I was amazed to see how patient the other drivers were – and then the honking started. The woman tried not to panic; she was clearly desperate to get the space.
Suddenly, a young Israeli guy jumped out of his car which was stuck in the jam. He valiantly stood by the woman and helped her reverse into the space. I was astonished to see this. Especially now during the war, one would have thought that the unconscious bias of Jew toward Arab would manifest itself everywhere. This, of course, is not the case.
10 years in Israel
In August, my wife and I reached the milestone of 10 years as immigrants in this beautiful country, our homeland of Israel. If I cast my mind back to my pre-aliyah days, I have to be honest and admit that I harbored certain prejudices against Israelis. We thought of them as rude, unsophisticated, and not easy to get on with. It took me less than a year to discover how wrong I was. In the early days, I took the initiative and decided to approach semi-retirement by doing volunteer work. I chose to volunteer in several colleges and universities, where I offered my services as a business coach and an English-language coach. It was the best decision I ever made. Since 2014, I have had the pleasure of getting to know many young Israelis from diverse backgrounds. Every week until the pandemic, I would travel to these educational institutions and meet with men and women face to face. The key challenge was to get them talking in English about all sorts of topics, particularly those that they found meaningful and interesting. Because of this, I began to learn a huge amount about them. They talked to me about their families, their family histories, their life experiences, their studies, the IDF, and their work. I found it fascinating to observe and interact with my “students.” Each week they would share their views on Israeli society, the Jewish Diaspora, as well as many other topics, including their perceptions of the challenges facing their generation.
By the time the COVID pandemic struck in early 2020, I had been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. It was a very traumatic time for us. Not having children of our own, we were quite isolated. I had to undergo chemotherapy sessions, as well as other treatments, for almost eight months. At the same time, Jerusalem was in lockdown for a large part of this period. It was during this challenging life experience that I really learned to appreciate, understand, and admire the Israelis with whom I came into contact. I am referring not just to the students who remained in touch with me via Zoom but also complete strangers who worked at the supermarket, pharmacy, or in the hospital. My wife and I got to see a side of Israeli society that totally demolished the unconsciously biased stereotype of Israelis being aggressive, uncouth, and lacking empathy. People were incredibly kind, helpful, and generous. For a start, my students, some of whom we barely knew, came to our assistance. They went shopping for us and delivered our groceries to our closed front door. They could not do enough for us. Because of the imminent danger of infection, we weren’t able to reciprocate. They expected nothing and were simply offering support at a time when we needed it. During that time, before Sukkot a young secular Israeli professor from the Hebrew University came over with his young children to help us put up our sukkah. He was part of a Jerusalem volunteer program made up of Israelis. When we asked him what made him volunteer, he said: “We enjoy it, and it’s a great way to teach my kids about being good citizens in the community.”
Part of the joy of coaching or teaching others is learning from the people you work with. Many of the young people that I have met are themselves committed to helping others as part of their career vision. This has impressed me so much. In the Diaspora, young Jewish people are encouraged to build successful careers with a strong emphasis on a certain lifestyle accompanied by the achievement of financial goals. True, in Israel there are many who have joined the Start-Up Nation and have been very successful in hi-tech. Nevertheless, they represent only 14% of the working population. Most young Israelis have grown up differently and see themselves as citizens of a country that they want to serve, be it in education, public diplomacy, scientific research, local government, eco-agriculture, or working for an NGO. This is where Jewish values stand out in Israeli society. It is embedded in the Israeli DNA.
Yes, Israelis are assertive. They are brought up to take the initiative and to stick their necks out. They have learned from their history: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” This quote from the Mishna is not talking about conceit and arrogance but rather discussing the ugliness of selfishness and self-centeredness. The quote continues: “And if I am only for myself, what am I?” Our sages tell us that if we do a favor for others and do it altruistically and have no ulterior motives, we are living by noble principles and values. I have seen these values rooted in all sectors of Israeli society. One day I was coming home by bus and happened to meet one of my students. He was a free-spirited young man, highly talented and very unconventional. In the middle of our conversation, he jumped up and disappeared. At first, I was a little taken aback; but before I could get insulted, I looked out the window and saw him bending down to set up the metal ramp for a disabled passenger in a wheelchair so she could get off the bus. I was amazed and impressed with what I had seen. I told him so when he came back to sit next to me. “No big deal,” he responded in his delightful Israeli accent.
Since October 7 we have seen acts of hessed (kindness) demonstrated from all sectors of Israeli society including Jews, Christians, and Muslims. Sadly, the Hamas massacre and ensuing war have had a massive impact on young people. It seems that most have woken up to a new reality which is not aligned with their previous expectations. Nevertheless, what I have witnessed is an incredible rallying cry, an unprecedented sense of mutual commitment to helping where help is needed. We read about this all the time in the media in Israel. We see things on television that are so uplifting in the way that all sectors of society have come together despite the political cynicism that has infected people. Where the government has not been helping, the citizens of Israel have stepped in to do whatever is needed. Whether this means volunteering in hospitals or schools or soup kitchens or in the agricultural settlements bordering Gaza, Israelis have joined forces. It is incredibly and inspiring to see how all the generations have responded. The Israeli Generation Z, or Millennials as they are sometimes called, are totally different from their peers in other countries in the West. They are mostly selfless and unentitled and embrace a healthy worldview. At the same time, they try to hide the emotional trauma that most of them are experiencing. Most of them have been called up for reserve duty, and it’s hard to broach the subject of the war. I am acutely aware of the sense of pain, loss, and grief that so many are experiencing. There is hardly a family in Israel where individuals have not been affected by casualties and fatalities. Yet the prevailing attitude is to persevere, to meet the challenges on a day-to-day basis and, above all, to help one another.
Teachers, doctors, social workers, and other citizens volunteer to help as much as possible. In Jerusalem and all across the country, there are farmers’ markets where produce from the North and the South are brought to the cities by the farmers whose businesses have been almost ruined by the war. Local people flood in to buy the produce from the vendors who travel in regularly to try to recoup their financial losses.
Over time, I noticed that Israelis are a lot more tolerant of “pushy” behavior than those of us who come from the English-speaking world. The toughness of life in this country over the years seems to have internalized the need for more tolerance and patience as a way of surviving psychologically in a place where war, terrorism, and tragedy are ever-present.
Of course, there are annoying Israelis just as there are annoying Americans, Brits, or French people. In Israel, this is especially challenging on the roads, where Israeli drivers are notorious for speeding and undisciplined behavior. An Israeli friend once jokingly told me: “In Israel, the law is viewed as a set of recommendations, not laws.”
Nevertheless, despite the seemingly endless agony of war, the current hostage crisis, and the turmoil wrought on us by our enemies, Israelis refuse to give up. They know that this is an existential war. To quote the popular song originally performed by Gali Atari “Ein Li Eretz Acheret,” which means “I have no other land,” the song goes: “With a painful body, with a hungry heart, here is my home...”
This song resonates with me almost every day as I look around, pray for peace, and thank God that I am living here among my own, among the people I love.■