Despite the mixed balance sheet of changes that have taken place in this country’s society and politics over the past 30 years since I moved to Israel, it is a privilege to be part of a meta-historic, grand drama of Jewish national renewal and redemption.
David M. Weinberg..
A Citadel Defending Zion..
07 August '20..
Link: https://davidmweinberg.com/2020/08/07/aliyah-a-30-year-retrospective/
Israel has changed quite a bit since my wife and I moved here 30 years ago yesterday, exactly.
(It was four days after the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in 1990. Little did we know what we were flying into. Remember the safe rooms and gas masks of the First Gulf War?)
When we moved here 30 years ago, television ads were for drinking milk and eating oranges; not for 40” flat TV screens and “Survivor.” You could not get a regular telephone line for years, even if the prime minister intervened on your behalf. Today, every 16-year-old has two iPhones running on 4G internet, with TikTok and Instagram and a dozen other communication and entertainment apps.
Back then, all cars were white, and air conditioning was an uncommon luxury. The country’s wadis were filled with sand, not silicone. It was illegal to hold foreign currency, even for most businesses. Anatoly Sharansky was a Prisoner of Zion and Shimon Peres was on the right wing of the Labor Party. English was the country’s second language, not Russian.
When I moved here, serving your country was a privilege; living here was its own reward. Draft dodgers were people who closed their front doors when the evening breeze started. Israelis who moved to America were yordim (embarrassing dropouts) – even if they went to play basketball or star in the movies.
Passover and Succot vacations were for hiking the streams, mountains, and flower fields of the Galilee. Not for shop-till-you-drop excursions in airconditioned Azrieli mega-malls or for flights out to the casinos of Greece. We danced hora, not trance.
Back then, our lives were governed by the Ten Commandments, good judgment and common sense. ‘Grass’ was mowed, ‘coke’ was a soft drink, and ‘pot’ was something your mother cooked in. Most youngsters had both a mother and a father – of two different sexes. The Bible Quiz was the highlight of Independence Day television. The big festival in the spring was the May Day march, not the Pride Parade.
Non-kosher restaurants were rare. Shabbat was truly a day of reflective rest, down-time for every Israeli. The Bible was a best-seller, not When and How the Jewish People Was Invented by a post-Zionist Tel Aviv University professor, or Sapiens by a fiercely atheist Hebrew University professor. The Western Wall was where Jews went to pray, not protest.
Meretz meant the strength to work hard. Shas was the six orders of the Mishna. Lapid was a torch you held high with pride at state ceremonies. Burg and Barak were the names of veteran, thoughtful and erudite leaders. Oslo was a wonderful, far-away place where you could get away from Middle East politics. Zoom was something you did with a race car.
The Law of Return brought Jews to Israel. The Chief Rabbinate sought to build bridges for religion with secular Israelis. The Supreme Court dealt with legal issues and left it to you and me and the Knesset to decide what is “reasonable.”
Even the intellectuals were unabashedly patriotic. Zionism was considered the country’s heroic and defining ideology, not a chauvinist and politically incorrect prejudice. Settlement was not a dirty word. Nobody would dare use the epithet “apartheid” to refer to anything other than institutionalized racist segregation in South Africa.
Jerusalem was the first choice for Israeli school trips; a unifying symbol. It was the eternal, undivided capital of Israel – without question or debate. Withdrawal was a financial term (something you did with money at the bank), and disengagement meant breaking someone’s lovesick heart.
Now What?
1 year ago



















