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Experiencing Israel fully in the course of one year is an exercise 

in futility. t-isri riK y’lwa yaipn p K This is the "built-in" frustration 

of the One-Year Program. At best one can catch a ray of immortailty; to 

expect more is to empty the sea in a bucket of sand. 

Although study at the University falls in the shadow of the larger 

reality of Israel, we hope the program served to deepen your insight and 

commitment to that larger reality. Students from abroad are one of the 

few but vital links with the world outside. Your continued contact and 

concern with Israel and the Hebrew University will strengthen that link 

which will forestall Israel's tendency to retreat into itself and counter 

the indifference of an embattled world. 

,mN“inn’7i nnVx p i 

Aaron M. Singer 

Assistant Dean 

One-Year Program 

2

3

This year means: the long summer nights chatting until 4 a.m. in the 

Elef; having to deal with tears shed over boyfriends and family across the 

ocean; waiting for the stragglers to catch-up during walking tours around 

Jerusalem; learning that being in Israel for over two years, whilst providing 

the impetus for self-discovery, dulled some facets of my cultural awareness; 

having toast, tomato juice and chocolate pudding for breakfast at 6 a.m.; 

floating on the Dead Sea; "The Harem"; a myriad of trunks under the noonday 

sun; having a "chocolate goop" fight whilst "boogeying" through the Sinai; 

spending a few lonely nights in Hadassah's Emergency Room with people who ate 

too much of the Old City's culinary delights or got bruised and bumped whilst 

exploring Jerusalem's hidden wonders; carrying an Lizzie or a World War II 

vintage rifle on University trips after facing arrest for civil disobedience 

at the Main Gate of an Air Force base in Massachusetts; trying to explain to 

the Israelis in my dorm why I invited Arab students to talk with newly-arrived 

Americans about the problem of integration at the University; telling a few 

people in University offices to "go to Hell" and being told to do likewise; 

pleading with the Head of Customs to give "student discounts"; wishing Jerry 

would decide not to go on a midnight tiyul to the Old City when I found out 

only two people signed-up; discussing the danger of becoming too egocentric 

in terms of my interaction with the kids in the Ulpan during a repentive chat 

with Yoram on Yom Kippur; the "gold plated bullhorn"; learning about "social 

process" from a mentor-friend; drawing schematic diagrams and looking at bored 

faces during Pipeline meetings; getting copies of THIS WEEK returned with red 

circles around the mistakes and cute little notes attached signed "I.R."; 

hearing "That's impossible" or "What do you expect, this is Israel" all too 

often; in a moment of anger reminding Dean Singer that he isn't a Sabra and 

things could be worked out; explaining my theories of social interaction to 

someone I'd later fall in love with; sometimes wishing people wouldn't know 

where I lived; feeling betrayed after a weekend seminar; telling profs in the 

English Department "Well, I didn't get the paper in on time because I had a 

meeting in Goldsmith "; eating "cubbeh" in Bet Jaan; falling asleep at a meeting 

of the madrichim; being told after every meeting that "it's time you spoke 

Hebrew"; and, finally, explaining to Judy that "something came up." 

That, in a sentence, is what this year as OYP madrich has meant to me. 

Moshe Margolin 

4

THE MADRICHIM 

D’D m n n 

s x j Q i i j n 

5

PIPELINE RIDES AGAIN 

During the summer U1pan, several people were asked to participate 

in what was to become the "Pipeline Committee". Tne group functioned 

as a representative body, providing feedback from the members 

of the OYP, presenting suggestions and criticism to the Madrichim 

and the OYP staff as well as working on special OYP projects. 

The following are extracts from a Pipeline Committee Meeting: 

Chevreh. This meeting will now come to order. We nave a lot to 

discuss tonight, including the final results of the People Power 

Project, Shmirah and an analysis of plans for the upcoming seminar. 

But first, what has the OYP Chevreh been thinking, lately? 

Moshe- 

Donna- 

Amy- 

Moshe- 

Lisa- 

Donna - 

Scott- 

Steve- 

Sandy- 

Generally, people seem to be quite satisfied. 

There was a suggestion to post all announcements in the dorms in 

English for those of us who are not quite the "Ptor" level and 

would like to know what's going on. 

Good idea. I can surely sympathize with that! 

Along the same lines, some of the older members of the OYP have 

been complaining that those announcements should be written in 

Yiddish as well as Hebrew and English. 

Another suggestion was that, to coincide with Ecology Day back in 

the States, we should organize a Garinim Shell Pickup and Recycling 

Day around the grounds of Goldsmith. 

It was proposed by some to have a "Summer Ulpan Rememberance Day." 

This day would be designed as a time to sit back, relax and think 

about the Good Old Days! 

Also, in response to our discussion last week about the Pita in the 

Goldsmith Cafeteria, if you go there at 8:00 A.M. when the cafeteria 

first opens, the Pita is really fresh and the workers even smile at 

you. 

One ex-JDL member proposed an Aliyah Day where every member of the 

OYP will be coerced into reciting an oath stating that he is at 

least considering making Aliyah within the next five years. 

6

Some big guy I met insisted that a chorus of "Meet the Mets" 

be sung ritually before every OYP softball game. 

Students from outside the New York Area are demanding that 

a mini-course be taught in Goldsmith entitled "How to prepare 

Hummos with two chick peas or less." 

Wally- 

Janet- 

Moshe- 

Amy- 

Debra- 

M oshe- 

Wal1y- 

Moshe- 

Amy- 

Judy- 

Moshe- 

Good Feedback work. I'll take those suggestions right to the 

top! But now down to some serious business___ I'm very pleased 

to say that our most important project has been completed: 

The People Power Project. As you all know well, the purpose of 

this endeavor has been to compile a list of skills of all members 

of the OYP. In case of war or intense state of alert, members of 

the OYP can now be organized, quickly and effectively and according 

to their skills, into various civilian jobs which were left 

undone due to military call-ups. (social work, crafts, drivers, 

first aid, etc.) 

Has everyone been contacted? 

Some of the students living in the city have been almost impossible 

to reach. 

But the great majority have registered their skills and indicated 

where they will be in case of alert. 

Now, in case of a large military call-up, I will be stationed 

at the Manpower Center of Jerusalem and each one of you will be 

stationed at the central offices of each of your dorms. 

Correct. When demands come into the central manpower office, 

Wally will relay the information to each of you at the dorms. 

You wi11 then be responsible for organizing everyone according 

to their skills and location of work. 

Wasn't there going to be special training sessions for truck 

drivers (and medical assistants)? 

Notices will be sent out next week for truck driver training. 

I think everything is clear. Let's just hope that we never have 

to use the project. 

It's getting late already so I recommend that we get together 

next week to meet with Dean Singer and also to discuss the 

7

David- 

Moshe- 

upcoming seminar, "Egged and the Jewish Question." 

Are there any comments? 

Yes. there has been a vicious rumor spreading throughout the 

Elef that toilet paper is not going to be distributed during 

the winter months. If so, it's going to be a long winter- 

Now they can go (Expletive Deleted). 

David Singer 

8

PIPELINE COMMITTEE 

Scott Cohen 

Domna Held 

Amy Hirshberg 

Debra Hivshberg 

Steve Greene 

Janet Kern 

Wally Klatch 

Judy Koliman 

Hina Massey 

David Singer 

Lisa Sinizer 

and 

Mo she Mccrgolin 

9

The University of California program brought together 43 students from 

various California educational institutions. After arriving in Israel, a 

segment of the group participated in a Kibbutz-Ulpan program under the auspices 

of Haifa University. This experience added diversity to the groups' activities. 

The U. of C. contingent organized a number of ti-yulim throughout the 

summer and during the academic year. These tours included visits to the Sinai, 

via a four-wheel drive Mercedes truck, an excursion through the West Bank, 

and hikes to Wadi Kelt and St. Georges Monastery. 

As well as participating jointly in the One-YearProgram activities, our 

group enjoyed a number of informal get-togethers, including a Thanksgiving 

dinner-party and other such events celebrating Chanukah andPurim. These 

festivities were marked by singing, dancing, and skits. 

One of the highlights of our program has been the UCAL Singing Group, 

which made its debut at the final Ulpan Party in October, and has continued 

to entertain at various benefits, and H. U. functions throughout the year. 

And finally, in order to provide a bit of intelledtual stimulus within our 

Chevra, we have had several forums to discuss pertinent ideas and experiences, 

including our present topic, "the moral-ideological-practical dimentions of 

returning to the States." 

All in all, the University of California program has had a successful 

experience in Israel, enjoining its own projects with those sponsered directly 

by Hebrew University and the 0. Y.P. 

10

From Arad to Bet Jaan 

The One Year Program conducted two Study-Tours during the year. The 

purpose of the tours was to give students an opportunity to gain insight 

into aspects of the Israeli scene not usually explored on regular University 

trips. The Study-Tour was a new concept for the OYP and as a result of the 

successes of the two experimental projects this year, a broader program of 

such tours is being planned for next year. 

The first Study-Tour dealt with Development Towns in Israel. The threeday 

program included tours and lectures in Dimona and Yerucham and a full-day 

seminar in Arad. Among the highlights of the Study-Tour were: a visit to the 

Kitan textile plant in Dimona; a discussion on the problems of Dimona at the 

Community Center; a tour of Dimona'sNew Immigrants' Center; an unexpected 

encounter with the Black Hebrews in Dimona; a tour conducted by volunteers from 

America of Yerucham's windowless grade school; lunch at Ein Avdat; a tour of 

Arad by one of it's founders; and a seminar which included a lecture on the 

aspects of security and economic development in Development Towns by a representative 

of the Ministry of Labor. 

The second Study-Tour gave thirty OYP students a rare opportunity to visit 

the Druze Sanctuary near Tiberias for the holiday of Nebi Shueib and spend a 

weekend with Druze families in Bet Jaan. The weekend was planned to give the 

student an opportunity to experience life in Bet Jaan and get a background in 

the customs and lifestyle of our hosts. Besides the information gained during 

the weekend, all of us were impressed with the hospitality and cuisine of Bet 

Jaan. 


11

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' SCHOOLh.nOVERSEAS STUDENTS **

13

Sand, genial orchards, swarthy,greasy women, prickly pears, 

date trees; the climb to the Holy City in panting buses. Suddenly 

every heart beat violently. Walls, battlements, fortified gates; 

odor of dung, spices, and rotted fruit. White jelabs, fierce 

guttural voices. The shades of all the murdered prophets rose 

from the soil; the stones came to life and cried out, all 

covered with blood. 

JERUSALEM ! 

Nikos Kazantzakis Report to Greco 

14

One day 3 as the vain stopped, as the clouds parted 3 and 

the sun shone bvightly thvough3 a rainbow formed above the 

northern hills. 

Resting gently against the clouds 3 the great arch 

spread forth its legs3 in a desperate attempt to take root on the 

small mountains 3 in order that it could remain 3 for just a 

short while 3 in Jerusalem's presence. 

Then 3 bumped by the clouds3 

the rainbow reluctantly took flight 3 and disappeared. 

Oh3 but 

for those few brief moments when beauty looked upon beauty3 

and saw that not even she3 with all her colours3 could compare 

with the City of Gold. 

Scott Staiman 

15

Put down the gun, pick up the backpack, a fried egg sitting in my 

stomach and off I went, to the desert. Riding, talking, looking, listening, 

looking through a dirty view finder, picking up rocks, learning, laughing, 

climbing, taking pictures, standing on anticlines looking at synclines, dams 

with no water behind them, a settlement that symbolizes a great man's dreams 

of life in the desert. A cistern from two thousand years ago carved in the side 

of a cliff, and water inside, and a tree growing there, in the middle of the 

Negev. Avdat; ruins, columns, caves, stairs, graves, cisterns, churches, walls 

and floors, wine presses, but no water, not that day. Farm; small plots more 

plants, more water, if stones are piled in the middle of the plot to allow for 

more runoff into more canals and more irrigation. Green on tan, dogs barking, 

cameras clicking, pens writing, feet walking, etc. A ghost town; with gazelles 

and a view; Mitzpeh Ramon, and its crater; rocks, red pink black white brown,blue 

sky white clouds, but no people, boarded up windows, grown over patios. Down 

into the maktesh, stop to take pictures, and the sun sets painting the sky 

purple over the colorful mountains of rock. 

Sleeping eating walking writing, Naha! Yael (danger radioactivity] 

rain collecting tubes with dead bees, rain guages-telemetric recording, multiple 

stage suspended sediment samplers (Hayim 7), painted rocks, marbles, rocks sit 

in a row on the side of a slope, rainfall runoff discharge stream gauge system, 

how fast? for how long? how much? once a year, once every 18 months that 

storm worth all this work/waiting. In the sun; climbing laughing taking pictures 

writing, feeling the desert the rocks, Triassic limestone, Jurassic sediments 

now rock, slate on granite. To the top, looking at the view, Eilat, Akaba, the 

gulf, the green of the kibbutz, the white of the hotels, and the many shades of 

red in the rock of the mountains facing us and the ones we're on. A nice day 

running down taking pictures running faster out in the mountains where nature won't 

let wo/man win, not here not yet. Nature feels it has to keep something out of 

the reach of our new-world ideas, progress won't be so easy here, against nature. 

In Neviot it worked, alluvium stores water and it was found, used, (one point for 

people). Cliffs with the past carved in them, record- of peoples stay in the 

desert, only the camels and the beduins remain today where once lived civilized, 

citified post-Cain man, and family. 

Back to the city with empty hommus cans sunflower seed shells sand in my 

shoes rocks in my pack, pictures to help me remember what the desert is like. 

Coming from green growing alive smooth quaint mellow sublime poetic New England 

with autumn leaves and winter snow and spring rain and summer sun/flowers, four 

16

seasons, and everything always changes, not like the desert, old stagnant, stable, 

harsh and dry. 

(Two nice stormy days here in the city, all that wasted water running 

down the streets into peoples basements/bomb shelters. The people turn off 

their lights and sleep not thinking of the world on the other side of the 

mountains.) 

And what a different world. 

Debra Hirshberg 

17

SEPTEMBER SONG--TIME AND TEMPO 

In the land of milk and honey 

where one needs patience and plenty of money 

It seems to me that it's all a bizarre dream 

an ice cream sundae with no whipped cream 

Chick-chack, fast-fast 

the Time ascends in smoke 

the Sabras whiz right past 

the Tempo is their Coke 

Yerushalaim 

the Holy City 

filled with beggars 

and nitty-gritty 

I keep on going and continue hoping 

that very soon I'll be coping— with life 

September 1, 1974 

Linda Chevkas 

July 11, 1974--arrival at Ben Gurion airport--coming out 

of the dark, stuffy piane--bright hot sun strikes me. 

Suddenly, I feel as if I am about to tumble down the 

stairs, but somehow my legs support me, and slowly, using 

the handrail, I make my way to the bottom. 

Becky Gvonnev 

18

19

TALKING SUMMER ULPAN BLUES* 

Well I'm sitting here in Idelson 

Looking for a little fun 

Waiting for it to hit me in the face 

But I think this is just like the other place 

Shikun Ha Elef - Ha Caleb - What a dump. 

When I first got to the Holy Land 

I started looking around for all that sand 

But what's the first thing that I see 

But about ten thousand Uzzi 

im? - ot? Lo Hashuv. 

Now we had here four Madrichim 

Pretty nice folk, or so it seemed 

I gave to them all my trust 

'Cause the folks in New York said I must 

First Mistake! 

Then there was my second mistake 

I let one madrich my money take 

An hour goes by or maybe two 

And I don't know what to do 

But sit, on the bus, 

It was here I learned to cuss. 

(Madrich! You know who you are.) 

First day at my brand new school 

The same madrich says, "Let's take a Teoul" 

"I'll show you all there is to see" 

"All ya gotta do is walk like me." 

20

Well all I know is he walked fast 

And pretty soon I was last. 

And lost-in Mahane Yehuda-Just before Shabbos. 

Well it weren't so bad, and I was new 

But then there was something else to do 

They said all you gotta do is sign right here 

But somehow registration took a year 

Piles of paper - all in Hebrew - Oh Shit! 

But then I started my Ulpan class 

Learned my Hebrew hard and fast 

Out like a native it would come 

But somehow they always knew where I was from 

RRak RRega-Apho Ha Autobus? Ma? 

Once or twice a week at least 

We faced this talking mechanical beast 

It kept us captive an hour or so 

So after a week we just didn't go 

Ma'abada - "Pssst, you can hear Arabic at the end of the tape. 

Now I've been here the summer through 

And now I know just what to do 

I know how to act in a Zionist Land 

How to catch that- and get rid of that hand 

Bli yada'im, Buddy! 

And the summer here it weren't so bad 

I can think of worse times that I've had. 

*Sung to the "Talking Blues tune- Chords G-C-D 

Lisa Sinizev 

Naomi Proohovniok 

Shannon Eegavty 

21

23

Dark clouds hovor over the blessed Holy City of Jerusalem, mingling 

with each others' masses to form an all pervasive grey fog. I look out 

towards the Gate of Judgement where the Messiah may someday pass to the Temple 

Mount, now covered by the golden Dome of the Rock. As my eye surveys the 

landscape, that joyously familiar landscape in which I love every stone, 

every tree, and every person, an intense combination of rage and grief 

becomes acid frustration burning into my very soul. For war, the ultimate bane 

of all goodness, love, and civilization is once more rolling from his 

disgusting slough of a bed to see if humanity will again mate its Holy Queen 

Jerusalem with his debasing passions. 

The clouds grow yet darker and heavier. The cool dampness in the air makes 

one want to run and seek refuge in his bright warm home from the violent 

deluge which now approaches with unrelenting inevitability. Vet no one runs, 

nor hesitates, nor even interrupts his schedule of the day, since we are 

home already, and there is no place to go. 

Allan Goldfarb . 

24

FIRST IMPRESSIONS - The Old City 

Smells, sounds, sights, and the heat. 

Feelings of intense excitement- 

The first taste of an addition- 

Which has the potential of becoming a habit. 

Outside a tremendous circular wall, 

the beggars sit all day, the sun 

beaming on their crippled bodiesthey 

remain for what seems like eternity. 

You have not yet entered, but are in awe 

of the bigness and strength 

that the imposing structure before you 

displays. 

You penetrate - Walk through the gates. 

Immediately life changes. You are insecure 

from one step to the other puts you 

in a world so unknown, foreign, and 

a^little hostile that you are closed 

inside. 

You begin your amazing journey, 

so many people to deal with and the 

sun is beaming down on every persons 

back. 

The merchants at the beginningscreaming 

all their prices- 

"please buy mine" in their own special 

language. You casually eye their 

merchandise always looking. 

26

You are siezed by an overwhelming 

smell that prevails throughout. It isn't 

strong yet. You walk deeper, all the 

time realizing the inner intricacy of 

this walled-in city and you are amazed. 

A little deeper and you pass the sacred 

pipe being passed around endlessly. 

Even that little fire brewing in water, 

passed by men in black dresses makes 

you think of the intensity of the heat. 

You are very deep and you pass the dead 

carcasses of cattle, with flies on their 

every pore. You can't believe the smell 

and try to run to what you did not 

Know would be the eventual end 

of this journey. You remain locked 

within the walls. 

Finally, you reach a stop, it's more 

than before, the smell has almost vanished. 

You feel excited, almost as though 

you have been freed, a search by 

familiar voices, foreign faces and 

hands, but familiar voices - so alright. 

You walk a few feet more and the sight 

you behold is exquisite. You are looking 

down on a tremendous segment of a 

stone wall, centuries old, split in two 

sides. You finally get the courage to 

step down and walk closer, the whole 

journey you've just completed slips 

through your memory now and you are 

captured by the wall. 

27

You see an old women crying bitterly, 

clutching on the stone, in any crevice, 

seemingly holding on to the last piece 

of something tangible. She justs sobs 

and weeps- nothing on earth can effect 

her, she is lost in her own thoughtsterrible 

as they are. 

You touch it- you have reached it. 

You arrive at a strange feeling of not 

knowing what to do and it becomes an 

ultimate decision. You just stand and 

become lost in your thoughts, although 

only those of your immediate situation 

effect you now. 

You stand back, sit down, watch people, 

and their reactions to the wall, 

capturing the images to keep forever 

in your mind. You go to leave and 

your freedom leaves with you. You 

don't look back, you've taken what 

you could take, and you have that 

to keep. 

The journey back is short, you make the 

transition once again from familiar to 

unfamiliar, but this time you don't look. 

You are not aware of the merchants and 

their wares, the dead animals, the smell. 

You know the path, you have already travelled 

it before. The people are literally pushed 

out of your way and you finally take the 

last step. 

28

You are outside once more, secure and 

stable, you know the ground under your feet. 

You have experienced something too vast 

to understand- only later will the fullness 

really set in. 

You are tired, you become aware of the sun 

again, you pass the beggars once more. 

Now you are on your way home, 

carrying with you one more life 

experience, one more short journey 

inside of a large one that makes you 

aware of your real existence. 

J.K. 

29

A Poem 

When things are rough, 

And all seems down; 

When dreams 

Somehow 

Become nightmares, 

And all 

Goes wrong; 

When you find it 

Difficult to smile, 

And impossible 

To cry; 

When words 

Seem 

Meaningless, 

Thoughts-- 

Fruitless 

Feelings-- 

Senseless; 

When you1re 

Angered 

By those 

Around you, 

And by 

The 

Insensitivity 

Of those 

You've 

Thought 

As friends: 

Know there 

Are those 

Who 

Have shoulders 

To share. 

Look into their 

Eyes 

And 

Know they really 

Care 

For they 

Are friends.... 

Yoel Abells 

30

Out of the Closet and into the Rehov 

I am a Lesbian (there — I thought that would get your attention). Why 

now, after all this time, am I writing this? I'm still not sure. Perhaps 

as a means of trying to raise the awareness of anyone who might read this; perhaps 

as a catharsis for my own angers and sorrows and frustrations which have 

been building all year; or perhaps just to salvage what might be left of my own 

dignity after a year of hiding and lying. 

underlying psychological motives, I feel this needs writing. 

frightened--I1d be a fool if I weren't. 

to this will be. 

Well, whatever the reasons and deep 

Even now I'm 

I have no way of knowing what reaction 

Will I be ostracized? Probably, at least to some degree. 

Will I be asked strange questions by the curious straight? No doubt. 

I lose my roommate? Why not? I lost my first roommate that way, last summer 

when she freaked out (did she think I was going to rape her? Probably) and 

went running to our madrich who in turn came running to me one midnight with 

Gestapo tactics that still cause me to tremble occasionally (maybe he 

thought I was going to rape her too. 

Will 

Who knows?). Will straight men start 

coming on to me? Possibly--apparently making it with a Lesbian is a favorite 

fantasy. 

So am I being crazy, to risk all this now, when it's so close to 

the end; when I can almost go home and pretend this year never happened? 

No. 

Because it did happen, and is happening, and if I'm to go 

on living with myself I must deal with that fact as best I can. 

I arrived 

here an incredibly naive dyke, having no knowledge of what living in hiding 

meant; I'm leaving with a strain of bitterness that is new to me. 

In a society 

as marriage-and-family-oriented as Israeli society is, the possibility of Lesbianism 

isn't even considered. 

in, to allay suspicions. 

life much harder and more oppressive. 

of silence, to approach the subject. 

On one level that makes life easier--to hide, to fit 

But on another, and more important level, it makes 

It's much harder to break the conspiracy 

Because of the silence there's no real 

social knowledge of reactions (other than religious and legal), and thus I was 

forced to live in a vacuum, often suspecting there wasn't another dyke in the 

land, which did nothing to decrease my fears and paranoias. 

comfortable way to live. 

with any men who became interested in me. 

It is not a 

There was also, of course, no dignified way to deal 

I guessed early--and rightly too, 

I think--that a line like "Sorry, but you're the wrong sex" simply would not go 

31

over here, and so I resorted once again to lying, usually about the boyfriend 

back home. I've often wondered if I've added to my own oppression by helping 

others to deny my existence; by allowing the myth to continue that because 

we're hidden, Lesbians don't exist in Israel. But I'm an individual, and not 

all that strong a one at that. It was hard enough being a feminist in Israel; 

there didn't (and still doesn't) appear to be room here for a Lesbian/feminist. 

No matter what the publicity, Israel is not a country that embraces all Jews 

and welcomes them home, and it hurts every time I realize that. I have never 

felt as alone as I have felt this year, surrounded completely by my fellow 

Jews. I have made many good, close friends, most of whom already know I'm a 

Lesbian; but excepting a few gay friends (mostly male), none of them can really 

understand what I'm going through. How can they? There's nothing they can 

relate it to in their own lives--the special pain of being a Jewish Lesbian 

in Israel. 

This may read like a cry for pity— it isn't. Neither is it 

an apology or a begging for tolerance. It is simply a statement of fact: I 

am leaving Israel, very possibly for good, having had it enforced on me daily and 

in countless little ways that the "Jewish" in me is negated here by the 

"Lesbian" in me^-that Israel will never truly be the home for all Jews until 

she stops driving me and others like me away with her own form of anti-semitism. 

Naomi, Pvochovnick 

Z2

"We regard the PLO as the overall 

umbrella organization of the Palestinians." 

Joseph Sisco3Ass't Secretary of State - USA 

Nov. 20j 1974 

A gray billow covering all, as far as the eye can see 

Oblique, enclosing all, from within there is no way out 

A barrier, enclosing evil, supressing good, encouraging blindness 

A chamber of he!1. 

I cry out for light 

For a crack in the wall 

For humanism I plead 

Yet I fear the worst. 

It never will be 

For all are deaf to my voice. 

Is it brainwashing, 

Or inbred in genes, 

Or a withering of life? 

Why must it be? 

I fear not bullets or bombs. 

I fear not Arab extremes. 

But I shiver and shake 

At the voices of others; 

Their thoughts devistate; 

They annihilate. 

We are in the midst 

Of a Holocaust. 

A unified action of Barbarism- 

Destruction of a People. 

Ovens not needed 

First we will drown in our blood. 

David Wilder 

33

Shuffling of shoes, ruffling of pages 

Bored moans and shrugs of helplessness 

Intellectuals with pipes and mustaches 

Intellectuals with blue jeans and earth shoes. 

Beaky Gvonner 

34

35

The siren sounded a 8:00 in the morning. Moving vehicles paused in their 

tracks, people stopped activity or awoke and stood quietly. 

and a hush descended upon the whole of the country for two minutes. 

All movement ceased 

So was ushered in Yom HaShoah or Holocaust Day. Services were held around 

the country in remembrance of the millions of Jews murdered during 

World Wac II. 

Throngs crowded Yad Vashem, the museum in Jerusalem dedicated to the commemoration 

and researching of the Holocaust. 

I went with a group of American students to the Forest of the Six Million; 

it is spread among the Judean Hills, near an area where many soldiers died in 

the 1948 War of Independence while trying to open the road to besieged Jerusalem. 

Holding candles, we entered a manmade cave and chanted the Kaddish after singing 

the haunting Ani Ma'amin - 

I Believe. We then climbbd a hill, upon which stood 

the magnificent sculpture "Megillat HaEsh" -Scroll of Fire, forged out of despair 

and hope by a Polish Jew who lost his entire family in the flames of German 

savagery. 

During our Pesach vacation, a girlfriend and I travelled to Europe with 

a Jewish travel book in hand. Amsterdam - a thriving Jewish community in the 

18th and 19th centuries; now over 12,000 Jews, in 1941 well over 79,300. 

We meet Anton Witsel, a non-Jewish painter of Jewish subjects, most concerning 

the Holocaust. 

He helped Jews during World War II and saved the Anne Frank 

House from demolishment by moving in with his family. 

The faces of Jews in 

concentration camps or in hiding stare at you from the paintings crowding the 

room. 

Countless eyes mirroring resignation, sadness, bewilderment,bitterness, 

hope faith. An old man hugs a Torah with the expression of infinite joy; Anne 

Frank gazes longingly out the window of her refuge. And Witsel's eyes show what? 

Is it wisdom, hope,determination, tenderness or all four? Whichever, it is not 

tiredness. 

We walk through the Jewish ghetto where Jews live no more (most of those 

remaining have moved out to the suburbs) and tour the Anne Frank House with its 

momentos of past happiness and tragedy. 

We pass through Germany by train and see through the window the old Rhine 

communities where Jews perished in an earlier Holocaust during the Crusades. 

In these towns flourished a highly learned Jewish civilization during the 10th 

and 11th centuries. 

36

Durinq an hour stopover in Nuremberg, I can't help but wonder if each older 

person I see killed innocent people either by his actions or his silence. 

Next stop - Prague: red stars and Communist slogans adorning buildings; 

Communist party chiefs with stiff gait in green uniforms trimmed in red; 

thick inescapable industrial filth that sticks to your skin and grays the 

once lovely perusing dull, make-believe displays in the shop windows. 

Prague! the majestic, the mysterious, the cultured - slfght glimmers 

linger on but flicker between life and death. And the Jewish Town - renowned 

center of Jewish life and learning and culture for centuries. Jews have 

lived in Prague for over 1000 years. The cold of the old synagogues preserved 

by the state chills the soul; the precious Hebrew manuscripts are but printed 

paper in their sterility; the over-crowded Jewish cemetary begun in the 15th 

century and no longer in use stands forlorn and whispers, "Leave, leave this 

city of death. We must remain as testimony. You have seen, now leave and 

live, but let no one forget." And tears form in the eyes of a centuries-old 

Jewish woman (who directs tourists for the state) when she learns we are 

Jewish, but she dare not speak her mind. She only shispers, "Shalom!" 

We leave quickly this city, which fascinates, but depresses more. Upon 

reaching Austria, we breathe the fresh air of freedom and exult; yet we have 

added a touch of wisdom to our souvenirs. 

Vienna is elegant, sophisticated, magnificent; cultured Vienna of music, 

music, and music. The Jewish travel guide strains to find things of Jewish 

interest. All but one of 59 synagogues were destroyed by the Nazis. In 

World of Yesterday Stefan Zweig (1881-1942) wrote, "Nine - tenths of what the 

world celebrated as Viennese culture in the 19th century was promoted, nourished, 

and created by Viennese Jewery." About 12,000 Jews reside in Vienna; in 1936 

the Jewish community of 176,034 was the third largest in Europe. 

Short stay in quaint Salzburg, then on to Venice, Italy. 

From German and Italian Fascist persecutions immediately preceding 

and during World War II, Italian Jewry's numbers were cut by about 40 per centby 

deportations (most of the deportees eventually died), conversion, and 

emigration. The persecution indirectly caused a sharp decline in birth and 

marriage rates. 

Enchanting, gay Venice. We feel at home; the liveliness and loudness 

remind us of Israel. Mailmen, clerks, gondolier drivers break out into 

voluptuous song; hands fly and tempers flare; laughter abounds. We go to 

37

the old Jewish ghetto and the new Jewish ghetto and the very new Jewish ghetto, 

all separated from the rest of the city and reached by passageway. One 

synagogue remains in use but all is closed, even the museum, when we come. 

One young boy playing in the courtyard greets us with "Shalom." Crumbling 

buildings, black cats that eye you suspiciously. 

Jews first arrived in 1090; the community became the financial heart 

of Venice's great trading operations. Nourishing the arts and sciences, it 

developed a rich cultural life, reaching its peak in the 16th century. 

About 1000 Jews remain, a largely assimilated, aging group with intermarriage 

at a rate of over 50 per cent. 

Almost the same statistics describe the Jewish community of Florence, 

the next city we visited. Lovely Florence, city of art; a magnificant 

synagogue which remains closed and empty most of the time. The Jewish community 

thrived in business and culture under Medici protection in the 15th and 

16th centuries. 

In Rome, the main synagogue's interior is the most beautiful I've ever 

seen. We ask to be accomodated for a Seder but families are not interested. 

The Seder to most is not very important, as a young Italian Jewess confirms 

(who is flying to Israel to spend Pesach with relatives). The Roman Jewish 

community of around 15,000 does, however, have much more communal life than 

elsewhere in Italy. It is the oldest in Europe; Jews have lived in Rome 

continuously since 161 B.C.E. and developed there a flourishing artistic and 

intellectual life. Compared to the other European citied we visited, Rome's 

Jewry thrives. 

We change our flight so we may be in Israel for the Seder. With 

revived spirits from our flight on El A1, we return to our beloved Jerusalem 

and enjoy a lovely Seder with our advisor's family, American immigrants. 

The abysmal silence of dead Jewish communities shatters our hearts and 

we realize more poignantly the major reason for the existence of a Jewish State. 

Karen Tucker 

38

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33

HANUKA 

The candles lit, a blessing said, and the magic spirit 

begins to flow out: 

Flickering tiny flames unite in their task to softly 

light the room with love and hope and memories 

of a time when a war was won, but more important, 

the miracle that it was remembered. 

I become part of our long past, my head swirls with 

its enormity... 

I am in Spain and I know the glorious fire of a Golden Age; 

The cold wind blows about a lonely Russian town 

as I kindle the flame of Zion. 

I an at once in a small ghetto room in Germany 

and I see the distant lights of hope; 

and in Israel I light the candles of love 

for the world in spite of itself. 

But the children's eyes-those wide stares with 

large dark pupils that reflect the playing lights! 

Eyes that have never changed in wonder 

nor intensity throughout the Ages. 

It is they who taste the Holiday cakes, hear the songs, 

feel the ancient Joy, and sense the Truth. 

Sparks from the candles ignite a flame in their hearts- 

And truly the People of Israel Live on. 

Allan Goldfavb 

Snow swirling against the lights of the ear, 

Like small darts of fireworks going in the 

wrong direction. 

Dark slushly streets bring back memories of home, 

And small brown army jeeps bring me back 

to the present. 

Beaky Gronnev 

40

41

The Eyes of an Old Man 

I once 

Looked into the eyes 

Of an old man, 

And cried, 

Because, 

In those eyes, 

I saw myself. 

I saw 

What I was, 

What I am 

And what I will be. 

I once 

Searched into the eyes 


And trembled. 

For those eyes 

Burdened me 

With their laughter. 

Tney mocked me, 

Making me aware 

That 

The shackles 

Of my existence 

Still bound me 

T o a world 

Which possessed my soul. 

I once 

Gazed into the eyes 

Of an old man 

And saw in .them 

The tears 

Of mankind; 

The pain 

Of those 

Who suffered; 

The broken-down bodies 

0 f those 

Who were governed, 

The sneers 

Of those 

Who ruled. 

The cries 

Of those 

Who died, 

And the sighs 

0 f those 

Who never 1ived... 

1 once 

Peered into the eyes 


And was swept up 

I nto 

A ballet of 1ife-- 

An intangible series 

Of uncertain 

M ovements, 

Graceful, 

Yet clumsy; 

A co Ilection 

Of mismatched moments 

Each leading nowhere, 

Y et, 

Each

Spelling out 

Why-- 

A tale 

But could not 

I had hoped 

A man 

To ignore. 

Who asked 

Questions, 

...A tear appeared 

Which 

In the old man's eye, 

Would 

And, 

Never 

As it slowly 

Be answered. 

Made its way 

11 was 

Along those wrinkles 

The 

Which 

Salty droplet 

Formed 

Of 

His face, 

A 

I laughed. 

Bi tter 

Indeed, 

01d man, 

I laughed 

Who 

So hard, 

Had suffered 

I cried 

S',much 

For 

That 

I was confused... 

He had become 

0 blivious, 

... It was Indi fferent 

The tear 

Towards 

Of a child, 

Li fe. 

Sad, 

A man 

Because 

Who longed 

A 

For 

Cherished toy 

The day, 

Had been broken-- 

When 

It would never be repaired. 

His soul, 

It belonged 

Woul d 

To a young man 

Leave 

Who tried, 

The confines 

In vain, 

Of 

To determine 

His 

44

Painfully 

Sore body 

And 

Find the 

Peace 

It had never 

E njoyed... 

And now, 

Those 

Eyes 

Bore 

Deep 

Into my 

Soul, 

They 

Pierced 

My heart, 

They 

Burned 

My insides, 

Till 

I 

Became 

Nothing 

More 

Than 

A shel1. 

"You 

Must live”' 

They said, 

"For 

Only then 

Will 

You 

Deserve 

To die. 

You 

Must 

Suffer, 

For 

Only 

Then 

Wi 11 

You 

Have 

Lived. 

But, 

You 

Must learn 

To smile 

For 

Only 

Then 

Will you 

Be born..." 

Frantically 

I tried 

To turn away 

From those eyes 

Who's haunting 

L ook 

Captivated me. 

Till now 

I 

Had been 

The child 

Of his 

Nightmares, 

The inheritor 

Of his dreams, 

45

For he was 

Mi sunderstood. 

My possessor, 

It 

And I 

Crept 

Was possessed; 

Through me, 

He was the potter. 

Li ke 

I, A 

His clay; 

Cancer 

PI iable, 

Destroying 

Lifeless, 

The dreams, 

Yielding. 

I 

His 

Strove 

Slightest glance 

To retain. 

Molded me 

I 

Into a million 

Searched 

Grotesque 

For 

Shapes-- 

A 

My 

Soothi ng 

Only hope 

Lie, 

Was to be 

But found 

Shattered 

None. 

And 

All 

Ignored. 

I 

Could 

Enough, 

Do 

I could 

Was 

No longer 

Plea 

Bear 

For 

The truth. 

The 

It Tormented 

Power 

Me, 

To 

Making me 

Deny. 

A casualty 

To 

Suddenly, 

A 

My grief 

Life 

Seemed 

I 

To provide 

46

Me 

With 

An inexplicable 

Strength, 

A will 

To disclaim 

The old man's 

Reali ty. 

For now, 

I became 

The prophet, 

The soothsayer, 

The fortune-teller, 

The reader 

Of palms, 

Of minds, 

And everything else. 

But, 

I was more, 

For 

I was 

A parasite. 

I possessed 

The power 

To sap 

His strength, 

To peruse 

His mind, 

And, 

To rob 

His soul. 

The light 

Which 

B1azed 

From 

His eyes, 

No longer 

Held me 

In its 

Grasp. 

Instead, 

It 

Reflected 

Tal es 

Of years 

Gone by. 

As the pages 

Of his 

Life 

Unvield 

Themselves 

Before me, 

I envisioned 

How he 

Had once, 

Borne 

The will 

Of all 

Young men; 

How 

He had once 

Longed 

For 

The might, 

The wisdom, 

And the courage, 

To understand. 

Yet, 

He was 

47

N o more 

Than 

A 

Weakly 

And 

B1 ind 

Samson, 

A 

Young 

And 

Demented 

Solomon, 

A 

Frail 

And 

Cowardly 

David. 

Indeed, 

He had hoped 

For more, 

For 

He wished 

That he, 

Like 

Elijah 

The prophet, 

Could die, 

Yet live, 

And ride 

In a chariot 

Of God, 

Towards 

A world 

Of immortality. 

I could tell 

That 

He had 

Been crucified, 

Burned 

At the stake, 

Mocked at, 

Scorned 

Deemed a heretic, 

And 

A 

Common criminal. 

I could see 

That 

He was 

A Jew, 

A Gentile, 

A Bhuddist, 

An Atheist, 

An Agnostic, 

A saint, 

Yet 

A sinner; 

He 

Was 

A worshipper, 

Yet, 

He was God; 

He 

Was 

The Messiah, 

A leader, 

Yet, 

He was 

A follower. 

48

He was 

A man, 

Yet, 

He 

Was 

N othing. 

Having 

The upper hand, 

I 

Taunted him. 

I 

Laughed 

At his 

Ancient 

Self. 

"You are 

An old fool," 

I said, 

"Look at me; 

I am young, 

But, 

I 

am wise. 

You have 

Taught me 

Very much, 

But, 

This amounts 

To very little. 

Your lessons 

Are illusions, 

And 

They 

Bear 

No truths. 

Your parables 

Form 

Senseless 

Paradoxes. 

You are 

The happiest man 

I have ever 

Seen, 

Yet, 

You 

Are 

The saddest. 

It 

Is you 

Who 

Is confused, 

And 

Not I. 

So, 

Stay away 

Old man. 

Return 

To your 

Place 

In the ground. 

Return 

To the 

Dust 

From whence 

You came, 

To the land 

Which 

Brought 

You up, 

In disgust..." 

49

...But 

N ow, 

I was drawn, 

Once again, 

To the tear. 

It had become 

A drop 

Of blood, 

And, 

As it fell 

Down 

Along 

His face, 

It seemed 

As if 

It contained 

A multitude 

Of tiny knives, 

Each 

Leaving 

A 

Small cut behind, 

From whence 

A new drop 

Flowed. 

And, 

All at once, 

Each bloody droplet, 

Cried 

For revenge. 

Each tear 

Became 

A judge, 

A jury, 

And a prosecutor. 

Each drop 

Pointed 

Accusingly 

In the direction 

Of the defendent, 

Who sat, 

Motionless, 

Lifeless, 

Obscured 

By 

The history 

He had forsaken. 

I could not 

Tell 

Who he was, 

But, 

N evertheless, 

I 

Pitied him, 

For 

His fate 

Was a forgone 

Conclusion... 

Suddenly, 

As if 

Overtaken 

By some virus, 

I began 

To feel weak. 

I 

Felt 

As if 

I was 

Inside- 

Out. 

50

My legs Indeed, But 

Could It could not, I knew. 

No longer Be my face, I now 

Bear the burden For Realized 

Of my Its contours That 

Body. Were It 

Was this N ot Was 

To be At all, I, 

The Familiar. I 

Outcome But, Who was 

Of the power If not mine The 

I momentarily Then Old Man. 

Commanded? 

Whose 

Would 

Could 

I, It be? 

Once more, 

Slowly, 

Fall prey 

I 

To the trap Lowered Joe l Abells 

Created 

My hands 

By 

Cautiously 

Those eyes 

Searching 

I wished 

For 

To 

My 

Avoid? 

Mirrored 

I 

Image 

Covered 

In 

My face, 

The old man's 

To shelter it, 

Eyes. 

From 

And then 

The arms 

I knew. 

Of 

I 

His glance. 

Was startled, 

But, 

And 

This was not, 

I was scared, 

51

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‘’I'T^n 7 n-

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JER U S A LE M j ^ j MUNICIPALITY 

CITIZENS OF JER U S ALEM ! 

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES O f AMERICA 

mr. RICHARD M . NIXON 

A TRUE FRIEND OF OUR COUNTRY, IS DUE 

TO COME TO ISRAEL FOR A STATE VISIT, 

MR. NIXON WILL ARRIVE IN JERUSALEM 

ON SUNDAY. JUNE 16 .19 74 AT 4 P J L 

CITIZENS OF OUR CAPITAL! 

LET US ALL WELCOME AND APPLAUD OUR DISTINGUISHED 

GUEST AS HE PROCEEDS ALONG THE STREETS 8F OUR CITY 

& SEPARATE ANNOUNCEMENT WILL BE MADE IN THE PRESS AND OR 

THE RADIO RELATING TO THE EXACT ROUTE OF OUR GUEST 

TEDDY KOLLEK 

S3

Do you remember... 

...thinking about how long a year in Israel would be? 

...your first falafel? 

..."hey, Motek!"? 

...your first Egged bus ride? 

...the first time you went to a movie in Jerusalem on a 

Saturday night? 

...when you found out you were supposed to save that little ticket 

the bus driver insisted on giving you? 

...Shikunei ha-Elef? 

..."'Alio, 'alio, 'alio, you student?...I give you special 

price!"? 

...how many Summer Ulpan classes you skipped? 

...going to Machane Yehuda for the first time? 

...when you went on your first tiyul and you were anxious to 

get back "home" to Jerusalem? 

...the Watergate Affair's end? 

...the first time you used an Israeli phone? 

Steve Love 

Running down the steps to catch the 9:20 

As I hand over 

to be punched 

the bus driver qazes into mv eves and 

murmurs 

Plopping down on any available seat 

before the bus whips around a dangerous curve 

I quickly skim the seats for familiar faces. 

Finding none, I settle down to contemplate 

the new day. 

e 

Beaky Gvonner

HANITA 

I see sunrise fiery crimson 

Mellow orange dominating 

Sky clouds mountain 

Upon which I Stand- 

All Present All Changing 

I gaze at fertile fields 

Banana grapefruit cotton 

Painted green brown wide- 

Hand of Gentleness Watches 

There! Forest on mountaintop 

Rugged mountains protruding rocks 

Stubborn windswept pines 

Noises of birds animals 

Reverberate across valley- 

Wild virgin Northern mountains 

Revolution of Creation 

Sea of distant misty blue green 

Very old wrinkled with waves 

Always fresh alive giving- 

All in me for me of me. 

We Are One 

The houses cling to the hills of Jerusalem, pressing against the bare 

rock and scrub asjf seeking protection and security from a long hostile world. 

The birds chirp and a dog barks in the distance. The sun slowly 

builds up strength for the long hot day as the night reluctantly evaporates 

from the hills. A bluish-purple haze covers the distance, while the 

houses rush to have their windows filled with the golden morning sunshine. 

As I turn to see a bird, loudly celebrating the new day beside me, 

he darts off, and the hills of,Jerusalem become bleached, the roar of 

climbing bus engines echo in the distance, and a new day has begun. 

56 

Allan Goldfarb

~ U' V \ \

58

The idea for this was developed from Prophetic Narratives, a course 

given in the O.Y.P. 

It is semi-based on what was learned in the class 

about II Kings 4:8-35 although the characterizations do not reflect 

the conventional understanding of the text nor the view of the author. 

A PROPHET'S NEED 

In the Galilean heat, Sha-el trekked with a brown sack clasped in 

his hands over his shoulder. 

We are approaching, 

he thought. 

Several steps behind him blond Hagazi watched his master intently. 

Sha-el was a man of communication expounding upon stories to increase 

Hagazi's knowledge of the world. 

Though the distance they walked was impossible 

to measure Hagazi was surprised that his feet ached for listening 

to his master made the distance short. 

what made them so were their truths. 

His stories were eerie and 

"When God created heaven and earth he created the generations of 

man as well. 

And man, being subordinate to Gdd must be aware of time. 

This is one of the first things learned by the first generation, though 

they learned it the hard way. We must learn from them. Now listen..." 

Hagazi, a sharp listener was able to foretell the meaning of Sha-el1s 

narratives before they were fully expounded. 

But for some time it was like 

being deprived a blessing from God when Sha-el, while walking on the trodded 

glade would metamorphosis into silence. 

Not only was his voice silent but 

his face. 

It was as if the entire journey was taken in reticence. 

In the distance the mountain vertex formed the outline to a piece of 

a puzzle against the arched blue. 

From where they stood, the ground, lined 

with grass and multiples of purple rocks ,ran up the mountains detouring the 

huge boulders submerged into the elevated terrain. 

The clouds appeared inches 

away from the protruding stone, merging the entire picture into one. 

If the 

mountain could be penetrated, one would find God. 

Beyond these hills was a house and its plantation. 

The rich fields were 

59

enjoyed by the animals owned by a Shunamite woman and a man. The woman, dark 

and rugged was loved and feared by her husband. It was not long after they 

had settled there that he felt his authority dwindle while the subtle wit 

and cunning of his wife emerged into dominance. For reasons that he could 

not guess nor bothered to ask, she one day invited two wanderers into their 

home to eat and soon they became frequent guests,treated with the same hospitality 

and warmth. One day the Shunamite woman said to her husband, 

"I know that this man who comes here regulary is a holy man of God. Why 

not build up a little roof chamber with a bed, table seat and light and let 

him retire there whenever he wishes." The room was finished and the man of 

God sought rest there whenever he could. 

After repletion and resting in the upstairs chamber, Hagazi found his 

master in the same mood he had been in since he discontinued his story of 

Jacob, Leah and Rachel on the path outside. He looked at his master intensely, 

seeking a sign but finding confusion. His eyes were straight, expressionless; 

the skin on his face was like barks from a tree deep and obscure. It 

uttered an affirmation of incomprehensive Nothingness and Hagazi was forced 

to look away. 

"Lord God of Israel, I am your servant. I have spoken your words to the 

people Israel and performed miracles in Your name. All this You had me do 

and I did. But by Your will and great plan I am also human." 

"Hagazi." 

Hagazi jumped. 

"Call this Shunamite woman." 

The Shunamite woman appeared at the threshold, her personality reflected 

in her firm but respectable stance. Her face, beneath a veil of pretented 

innocence and curiosity indicated a definite vehemence of success. 

Slowly the intention of this woman became clearer to Hagazi. 

"Say to her, you have done all this for me, what may I do in return? 

How he must want to say it to her himself, though Hagazi. 

"Shall I tell of your deeds to the king?" Hagazi asked her. 

She said, "I am content here, among my own people." 

Very well put, thought Hagazi. An artist. It occurred to him that she 

had been planning this moment for quite a while. It is obvious what she wants, 

a woman at her age. 

60

arri val. 

"Is it well with you and yours?" 

"It is well." 

She headed straight to Sha-el and Hagazi had to catch her arm just 

before she came too close. 

Leave her. 

and has not told me." 

There is something bitter here and the Lord has hid it from me 

Hagazi knew too that her son was dead and that she had come to Diace 

blame on his Master. 

Sha-el sat down, his right hand on his left bsaast and said to his servant, 

"Go and take my staff; see and speak to no one on the way and place the staff 

of the face of the chi Ids." 

Hagazi's hand reached out to receive the staff but his master's eyes 

were looking towards the sky. 

ground crying stone tears. 

The Shunamite woman was on her knees, head to the 

Hagazi thought, was he not a man of God? For the first time he saw his 

master as a man. 

How could he respond to the call of a woman without assurance 

from God? 

The. Shunami te woman spoke, "As the Lord lives and the soul lives I 

will not leave thee." 

Where does she get the courage to speak to a man of God like this? 

Hagazi ran ahead. 

When he arrived at the house and found the boy's body lying on the master's 

bed, he wondered what would be done and feared for his master's life. 

When Sha-el arrived he ordered the two of them to remain outside while 

he went inside the room with the prostrate body. 

"Master don't! It is against God. He will not let you do it." 

Sha-el closed the door. 

would be the last remnant of his master. 

It suddenly dawned on Hagazi that the door 

He looked at the Shunamite and watched 

her expressionless eyes stare at the angle the floor made with the door. 

Inside Sha-el stood silently over the body for some moments. Then he 

stretched himself upon the boy, hands to hands, mouth to mouth, eyes to eyes, 

61

Sha-el turned to his young comoanion, "What can be done for her?" 

Master, are you so blind? Can you not understand? Remember what you 

told me of Solomon? 

A faint smile crawled on the mouth of the Shumamite. Hagazi had guessed 

right. She had won. He had no choice but to suggest to his master the primary 

objective of all her hospitality and false kindness. 

"She has no child. Her husband is old." 

" Cal 1 her back." 

The Shunamite stepped forward. 

"At this season, when the time comes around, you shall embrace a son." 

The Shunamite laughed. "My lord, man of God, do not lie to your handmaid." 

Sha-el said no more and Hagazi indicated that she should leave. 

When the boy grew old enough to work in the fields he looked neither like 

his father or mother. 

The sun was strong, a good day for the crops but not for the tillers. 

The Shunamite woman maintained her position in the household and her husband 

and son worked in the fields. She was, however, nrenarinq the afternoon 

meal when the door opened and a servant walked in with her child hanging 

motionlessly in his arms. The Shunamite gasped, her utensil splashed into 

the pot and ordered the servant to lay her son on her lap. She massaged his 

warm body and prayed. Gradually the boy's body became cooler and then, cold. 

She had to stop, eyes wet, and almost almost fainted. "He deceived me." 

The Shunamite woman carried the body of her son uo to the bed of the man of 

Ggd, called out to her husband to fetch one of the asses and a servant and prepared 

herself to leave. She mounted, turned her ass to go and did not stop until 

she reached Mount Carmel. 

His old but keen eyes distinguished her in the distance and though his 

movements and face were nnrevealing, his heart raced. 

"Hagazi, the Shunamite is afar. Go and ask is it well with her? with 

her husband? with the child.?" 

Hagazi had hoped thathis master would not have to see this woman for a 

long time. As they approached each other he tried to analyse the meaning of her 

62

and cried and prayed to the God of Israel. He arose and paced the floor 

clutching his chest. Strangely it felt that he had walked this way on this very 

green rug once before for the same purpose. 

A sneeze. 

Sha-el saw water trickle out the boy's nose and felt the pain in his 

bosom. 

Hagazi could not hold himself back. He flung open the door and suddenly 

standing before him was the young boy. The Shunamite's eyes sparkled white 

and random movements of her lips emerged into a triumphant smile. 

On the cot they saw Sha-el gasping for breath and holding his heart. 

"I didn't think He would let it bs done." 

"Why did you do it?1 

"Do you think we are not human? I had to do it. To show Him." 

"You knew what would happen to you?1 

"Yes." And closed his eyes. 

But the prophet3 that shall speak a word presumptuously in My nccme3 which I have 

not commanded him to speak3 or that shall speak in the name of other gods3 

that same prophet shall die. 

Deut: 18:20 

Lenny Getz 

63

FREEDOM - THE ANOMALOUS VISION (A poem written on Pesach) 

People degrade the meaning of freedom by overuse 

They speak of it like it was a commodity- 

Something that could be bought or sold, 

like a kilo of balony or a roll of toilet paper. 

Only through wisdom can its acquiring begin. 

Slaves can be freed in a physical sense, 

but no one can free them internally. 

A person can rebel against the external oppression by violence, 

but the internal rebellion is a self-destructive one. 

Kris Kristoffersen defined freedom as another word 

for when there's nothing left to lose. 

Nothing... 

No pride, no lifelong goals, no feeling for a sense 

of propriety, no desires, lusts, passions... 

How ironic that one must be willing to 

give up everything in order to have everything, 

that is to have the pleasures of freedom. 

Few survive in this abstract domainthe 

rest let society or sub-societies and their norms dictate all behavior. 

The people we come into contact with, 

even most of our friends, are the enforcers. 

How can rebellion against the oppressor begin 

when the oppressor says, "I am your friend"? 

We have no Moses to lead us out of our 

societal and personal realms of imprisonment, so freedom 

is something we can only work at, hope for, and dream about. 

But one can be happy in one's dreams. 

Gary Rissman 

64

JERUSALEM; the face visible yet hidden, the sap and the 

blood o f all that makes us live or renounce life. The 

spark flashing in the darkness, the murmur rustling through 

shouts of happiness and joy. A name, a secret. For the 

exiled, a prayer. For all others, a promise. JERUSALEM: 

Seventeen times destroyed yet never erased. The symbol 

o f survival. JERUSALEM: the city which miraculously 

transforms man into pilgrim; no one can enter it and go 

away unchanged. 

Elie Wiesel 

A Beggar in Jerusalem 

65

"Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; 

let the sea roar, and the fullness thereof. 

Let the field be joyful and all that is therein: 

then shall all the trees of the wood rejoice before the Lord." 

Psalm 96: 11-12 

No other song of celebration could be more appropriate a description of 

the vibrancy of spring in Eretz Israel. The land wears a smile, as do the 

sunburned faces of the people - a parade of tourists, students, soldiers, 

families, who become as involved with the rebirth of the land as a momma dog 

with her pups. The air is fresh, fields are sprayed with wild flowers like 

a never ending rainbow, aqua skies cut the mountainous horizon, freckling 

stars. The spring is such a positive time, electric and alive, especially in 

the Eretz. Beginning with Pesach, there is a sense of cleansing; houses are 

cleaned of winter time smells, of old chametz and non-Pesach dishes. 

New apartments loom where only a few months before a flock of goats resided. 

Greeness like in the Land of Oz, and the streets smell of soft, fresh tar. 

In spite of the political conflicts, the constant uncertainties, the internal 

tensions, there is such a feeling of anticipation, renewal and life as can 

only be found in a people pregnant with hope. 

Last week we celebrated two holidays, rather, we expressed a single 

concept in two very different ways. Monday night at 8:00 a siren blew to 

commemorate Yom Ha Zikaron. The solemnity and heaviness seemed to tease the 

warmth of the April evening. Another siren on Tuesday morning announced 

the start of the procession; streams of mourners poured into the national 

forests, families migrated to cemeteries. I could not help but think, 

"We have become a nation of mourners." Each face held claim to a lost 

husband, brother, son, lover. Each wrinkled forehead told a history all 

its own. Three wars later* and where are we today? Piling into graveyards, 

finding comfort in a prayer, a hand held, a familiar face. 

After the programs, the prayers, and the sunset, came a transition 

so stark that I felt, at first, a bit frightened and ashamed. This was 

Yom Ha Atzmaut. It was like nothing that I had ever experienced, and made 

66

the fourth of July look like a bar-b-que at an old age home. 

Jerusalem 

was transformed into a giant carnival; bright lights, bands of music, 

dancing in the streets, throngs of people, young and old. 

with chocolate smeared faces. 

Wide-eyed kids 

The streets throbbed with the blood of a 

nation. Campfires covered the Judean Hills like the Milky Way. And the 

mixture of sweat and falafel from a people drunk on life. 

A tiny voice ran through my mind as I danced the Horah at Yemin Moshe, 

a whisper crept into my thoughts and would not let go. 

"Where are all those 

people I saw this morning? Where are the mothers of all those dead soldiers? 

Are they here dancing too?" 

I looked around me; amidst the spin, the blur 

of faces, the shadows of light, I saw a people who knew the essence of life, 

who held on to it with such tenacity, not in spite of death, but because of 

it. The rebirth of the spring, the hope and the faith, unfolding before me. 

The dancing stopped and the singing began: 'Yismichu ha shamayim e- 

tahgale ha eretz...' 

(Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad). 

Amy Hirshberg 

April 22, 1975 

67

Wandering is... 

watching two little children play and remembering 

how painful or happy the past has been. 

observing the sunset while perceiving a constant change of 

conditions, one moment it is x and the next moment it is y, yi, yang 

realizing a constant transition flowing from one fieTd 

to another until there are no longer any nameable catagories 

to flow to. 

Walking, searching, tramping, wondering- 

One really never knows where one is going - until it's too late. 

But one always knows where one could end up; just like a man 

who looks over the edge of a cliff and sees an abyss. 

One who wanders wanting permanence is trapped in a hopeless 

endeavor because one is always wandering. 

This endeavor to them lacks promises, never ceases, and always consumes. 

We are forever traveling on, 

That is the way is- 

There may be a twinge of sorrow, a tear of regret. 

But we MUST be always traveling on. 

A categorized, labeled entity is not our destiny. 

A lack of labeling destroys phoniness, creating 

momentary irresponsibility which can be honesty. 

Wandering takes many forms... 

a pilgrims search through countries for spiritual palaces, 

the hitchiking of an idle hermit, the regulated traveling of a tourist, 

or even the slippery sneakings of a thief. 

One. can wander excitedly because of lust, through 

confusion, or even under the auspices of insanity. 

It doesn't matter what facades are used - wandering is basically mental; 

a state of mind. 

69

Forever missing what was 

Forever wanting what could be had 

Forever thihking of what can't be. 

Wandering can be an eternal process. 

Gary Rissmart 

70

IN BLOOD 

Impatiently I await the hour when the mighty 

silver eagle will carry me home. 

Like a tree uprooted I thirst 

for the precious life 

giving soil. 

Deceivingly barren it is far more fertile then any other. 

It is the same ground to which in time I'll give my life, 

perhaps before my time as part of the price. 

Sorrow and joy do battle within, 

goodbye tears like April showers 

may bring old dreams to flower. 

Mother - America GOODBYE! 

I'm off to meet my chosen bride. 

Two loves - two thousand miles and more apart. 

A distance more them the difference between 1975 and 5735. 

A divided heart that long ago decided against G.M., nine to five, 

a suburban haven and Merry Christmas. 

Divided I decided for eternity. 

I am a link in a Priestly chain. 

On my eighth day in blood was sealed my claim. 

Robert Brack 

71

MAKING THE SCENE IN DOWNTOWN JERUSALEM 

I was sitting on a rail on King George Street the other day, spitting 

garinim and watching the traffic accidents, when my friend Oscar strolled 

up. Oscar always smiles. Oscar smiled the day a bottle hit his leg in the 

aisle of a local movie theater. Oscar smiled an entire 30 minutes, bankbook 

in hand, while a teller drank coffee. Oscar smiled when someone bruised 

his elbow trying to get on an Egged bus. Today, Oscar wasn't smiling. Perceptively, 

I assumed he was upset. 

"Oscar, what's the matter?" I asked. "Why the long face?" 

"Don't you know what day this is?" he muttered. 

"Grounding day?" I half-heartedly queried. 

Oscar snarled: "No, it's May 3rd." 

"So what?" 

"So that means I have to go back in two months!" 

"To prison, or something?"- I was noticeably confused.. 

"No, idiot, to the States!" 

I was now noticeably unconfused. So Oscar had the "Leaving Israel" 

blues. I decided to console him. 

"Listen Oscar, aren't you looking forward to filling your lungs 

with that good old New York City air again?" 

"Very funny." Oscar harumphed. 

"Seriously, don't you remember what Mayor Lindsay once said about 

never being able to trust air that he couldn't see?" 

"Come on, give me a break." 

"Look Oscar, don't you miss locking yourself in at nights in the 

safety of your home, and watching everyone else get mugged through the 

wi ndow?" 

"Believe me, I could live with the crime, the pollution, and 

everything else. But the important thing is not just what I would go back 

to, it's what I'm leaving. Jerusalem, the Old City, my friends here at 

Hebrew University, the people. I'm telling you man, I feel at home here." 

72

I saw that I was getting nowhere fast. Oscar was rapidly slipping 

into a deep state of depression. I decided to pull out my heavy artillery. 

"But Oscar, what about your family? Don't you miss them?" 

"Of course. But it's my Grandma Gertrude." 

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is she ill?" 

"No, no, but when I get off the plane at Kennedy, I just know 

she's going to say - 'Bo, how was Israel?"' 

"So can't you answer?" 

"In 25 words or less? And then everyone I see will ask me that 

question, and everyone is going to want a quick answer. How do I answer 

that question? How do I sum up my emotions about Israel, my experiences 

that took place over the course of a whole year? It would take another 

whole year, at least!" 

I was losing him. Another few minutes and he would be beyond my help. 

I was running out of ideas when suddenly an argument broke out between two 

Sherut drivers about whose turn it was to buy sandwiches, while the customers 

fidgeted nervously in their seats. Upon hearing this, Oscar lifted 

his head, and the trace of a gleam began to emanate from his eyes. 

"You know, Steve, I was just thinking. After the One Year Program 

is over, I go back to the States and I'm a senior in college, right? That 

means I only have one year left, right? So I can always come back after 

that year, right?" 

"Of course, Oscar" I gladly agreed. 

Oscar was the same old person again. He smiled, bid me Shalom, and 

danced away. I happily turned back to the traffic, brushing a garin seed 

off the tip of my nose. 

Steve Montag 

73

Shalom to You Jerusalem 

It's been many long-short months 

Since I set foot on your soil 

Soaked in deep with blood 

And sweat of long, hard toil. 

I've wandered in your streets, 

Your shouks and alleyways 

And learned about your past 

About your long-gone days. 

But now I've got to go, I hate to leave, 

But I must be on my way. 

To go back to my friends and family. 

It'll be too long 

Till I touch yoru earth again 

Till I climb your hills 

Till I walk thru your valleys again. 

And it'll be too long 

Till I see your walls again. 

But for now 

And until then, 

Shalom to You Jerusalem. 

Your people I have known 

In all their different ways. 

Carved into my heart, 

There they will forever stay. 

The beauty of your hills, 

The forests all around, 

The beautiful sunsets, 

I will not soon forget. 

All the friends I've made, I'll miss 

Them I'll never see again. 

But to you I always can return 

Though it'll be too long. 


Till I touch your earth again 

Till I climb your hills 

Till I walk thru your valleys again. 


Till I see your walls again. 

But for now 

And until then, 

Shalom to You Jerusalem. 

Larry Sklar 

74

It is May 8. In less than 6 weeks Israel will be a memory. And I am 

trying to figure out how to figure out how to express this year in words. 

It is a difficult task. 

Sitting here, watching a glaring sun sink slowly towards the horizen, 

I can see three buildings directly within my line of vision.- On the extreme 

left is a large, oddly shaped structure. Its dull white walls perch high 

above the rocky ground on which it tests. The Israel Museum seems to represent 

a good part of this year. Within its confines is an accumulation 

of tradition ahd culture. It is a history of Israel, past. Many of the 

sights I have viewed this year display the ruins of an ancient Israelite 

nation, a heritage rich with life. 

Directly in front of me is a brown brick edifice planted in the midst 

of a garden park, with trees and grass surrounding it. The Greek-Orthodox 

Monastery symbolizes religion, which has been for me, an enormous part of the 

year. Significantly, I think, this aspect of the year is not represented 

by a Jewish structure. The Jewishness of Israel need not be represented by 

a building. Israel is, in its name, in its People, and in everything about 

it, a Jewish State, and its primary identity will always be that of a Home 

for the Jews. Yet it can also be a settlement for other people, Now, times 

are hard and life here is by no means perfect. A State is fighting to survive - 

amongst a largely hostile world. Perhaps, for the present, Israel cannot be 

a perfect host to all Peoples. But it must be remembered that the Jews 

were Chosen to set an example to the rest of the Peoples of the world, and in 

some future day, a day of true peace, Israel will be a nation to welcome all. 

Behind the Church of the Cross is the Knesset. It is, by far and away, 

the most distinguished looking building of the three. Ensconced in a small 

forest of evergreens, it is a manifestation of politics and law, both of 

which have been prime topics of conversation during my stay in Israel. 

Whether by parlimentary action, or Cabinet debates, theis building represents 

Israel's present, and future. Within its walls, many of the principles 

on which this country was built will stand of fall. 

So, there we have it: History, religion, tradition and culture; Past; 

75

and politics and law; present and future; three essential characteristics of 

this year, and of this State. And the most important of all, that has yet to 

be mentioned. It lies within the smaller buildings, closer to me. It is 

the people-the society of Israel. They are the ones who are preserving history, 

preserving religion, and legislating the laws. They are living, and working, 

and dying to preserve this State, Israel. Without them, for us, this year 

would not have been. 

The sun has now set. The sky is a pinkish blue, a beautiful part of a 

fading day. As this year approaches twilight, I know that its memory will 

always lie deeply inside me. Whether I will return or not, that is for time 

to tell. But regardless of that, these days will always remain as a unique 

part of my life - the people, the places, and the events. It has been a year 

of love, of happiness, of disappointments, and sorrow, and, of coarse, 

education. And for me, this year is, and always will be - really it will never 

be "has been", and for that, I will be forever grateful. 

David Wilder 

76

YEARBOOK STAFF 

Editorial Board: 

Lenny Getz 

Allan Goldfarb 

Shannon Hegarty 

Janet Kern 

Judy Kollman 

Garry Rissman 

Ellen Rosenberg 

David Wilder 

Art: 

Shannon Hegarty 

Garry Rissman 

Photography: 

John Germanow 


Typing: 

Judy Kollman 

Myra Krupkin-Schindler 

David Wilder 

Proofreading: 


For the OYP: 


Special Thanks to: 

Rachel Schachter 

Leah Weitz 

Amira Segal 

THIS YEARBOOK WAS MADE 

POSSIBLE THROUGH A 

GRANT FROM THE 

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 

OF THE AMERICAN FRIENDS 

OF THE HEBREW 

UNIVERSITY 

Trinted in Israel by the Hemed Press3 Jerusalem 

(1975)

1974-1975

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