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Experiencing Israel fully in the course of one year is an exercise<br />

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

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

expect more is to empty the sea in a bucket of sand.<br />

Although study at the University falls in the shadow of the larger<br />

reality of Israel, we hope the program served to deepen your insight and<br />

commitment to that larger reality. Students from abroad are one of the<br />

few but vital links with the world outside. Your continued contact and<br />

concern with Israel and the Hebrew University will strengthen that link<br />

which will forestall Israel's tendency to retreat into itself and counter<br />

the indifference of an embattled world.<br />

,mN“inn’7i nnVx p i<br />

Aaron M. Singer<br />

Assistant Dean<br />

One-Year Program<br />



This year means: the long summer nights chatting until 4 a.m. in the<br />

Elef; having to deal with tears shed over boyfriends and family across the<br />

ocean; waiting for the stragglers to catch-up during walking tours around<br />

Jerusalem; learning that being in Israel for over two years, whilst providing<br />

the impetus for self-discovery, dulled some facets of my cultural awareness;<br />

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

floating on the Dead Sea; "The Harem"; a myriad of trunks under the noonday<br />

sun; having a "chocolate goop" fight whilst "boogeying" through the Sinai;<br />

spending a few lonely nights in Hadassah's Emergency Room with people who ate<br />

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

exploring Jerusalem's hidden wonders; carrying an Lizzie or a World War II<br />

vintage rifle on University trips after facing arrest for civil disobedience<br />

at the Main Gate of an Air Force base in Massachusetts; trying to explain to<br />

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

Americans about the problem of integration at the University; telling a few<br />

people in University offices to "go to Hell" and being told to do likewise;<br />

pleading with the Head of Customs to give "student discounts"; wishing Jerry<br />

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

only two people signed-up; discussing the danger of becoming too egocentric<br />

in terms of my interaction with the kids in the Ulpan during a repentive chat<br />

with Yoram on Yom Kippur; the "gold plated bullhorn"; learning about "social<br />

process" from a mentor-friend; drawing schematic diagrams and looking at bored<br />

faces during Pipeline meetings; getting copies of THIS WEEK returned with red<br />

circles around the mistakes and cute little notes attached signed "I.R.";<br />

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

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

things could be worked out; explaining my theories of social interaction to<br />

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

where I lived; feeling betrayed after a weekend seminar; telling profs in the<br />

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

meeting in Goldsmith "; eating "cubbeh" in Bet Jaan; falling asleep at a meeting<br />

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

Hebrew"; and, finally, explaining to Judy that "something came up."<br />

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

Moshe Margolin<br />



D’D m n n<br />

s x j Q i i j n<br />



During the summer U1pan, several people were asked to participate<br />

in what was to become the "Pipeline Committee". Tne group functioned<br />

as a representative body, providing feedback from the members<br />

of the OYP, presenting suggestions and criticism to the Madrichim<br />

and the OYP staff as well as working on special OYP projects.<br />

The following are extracts from a Pipeline Committee Meeting:<br />

Chevreh. This meeting will now come to order. We nave a lot to<br />

discuss tonight, including the final results of the People Power<br />

Project, Shmirah and an analysis of plans for the upcoming seminar.<br />

But first, what has the OYP Chevreh been thinking, lately?<br />

Moshe-<br />

Donna-<br />

Amy-<br />

Moshe-<br />

Lisa-<br />

Donna -<br />

Scott-<br />

Steve-<br />

Sandy-<br />

Generally, people seem to be quite satisfied.<br />

There was a suggestion to post all announcements in the dorms in<br />

English for those of us who are not quite the "Ptor" level and<br />

would like to know what's going on.<br />

Good idea. I can surely sympathize with that!<br />

Along the same lines, some of the older members of the OYP have<br />

been complaining that those announcements should be written in<br />

Yiddish as well as Hebrew and English.<br />

Another suggestion was that, to coincide with Ecology Day back in<br />

the States, we should organize a Garinim Shell Pickup and Recycling<br />

Day around the grounds of Goldsmith.<br />

It was proposed by some to have a "Summer Ulpan Rememberance Day."<br />

This day would be designed as a time to sit back, relax and think<br />

about the Good Old Days!<br />

Also, in response to our discussion last week about the Pita in the<br />

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

first opens, the Pita is really fresh and the workers even smile at<br />

you.<br />

One ex-JDL member proposed an Aliyah Day where every member of the<br />

OYP will be coerced into reciting an oath stating that he is at<br />

least considering making Aliyah within the next five years.<br />


Some big guy I met insisted that a chorus of "Meet the Mets"<br />

be sung ritually before every OYP softball game.<br />

Students from outside the New York Area are demanding that<br />

a mini-course be taught in Goldsmith entitled "How to prepare<br />

Hummos with two chick peas or less."<br />

Wally-<br />

Janet-<br />

Moshe-<br />

Amy-<br />

Debra-<br />

M oshe-<br />

Wal1y-<br />

Moshe-<br />

Amy-<br />

Judy-<br />

Moshe-<br />

Good Feedback work. I'll take those suggestions right to the<br />

top! But now down to some serious business___ I'm very pleased<br />

to say that our most important project has been completed:<br />

The People Power Project. As you all know well, the purpose of<br />

this endeavor has been to compile a list of skills of all members<br />

of the OYP. In case of war or intense state of alert, members of<br />

the OYP can now be organized, quickly and effectively and according<br />

to their skills, into various civilian jobs which were left<br />

undone due to military call-ups. (social work, crafts, drivers,<br />

first aid, etc.)<br />

Has everyone been contacted?<br />

Some of the students living in the city have been almost impossible<br />

to reach.<br />

But the great majority have registered their skills and indicated<br />

where they will be in case of alert.<br />

Now, in case of a large military call-up, I will be stationed<br />

at the Manpower Center of Jerusalem and each one of you will be<br />

stationed at the central offices of each of your dorms.<br />

Correct. When demands come into the central manpower office,<br />

Wally will relay the information to each of you at the dorms.<br />

You wi11 then be responsible for organizing everyone according<br />

to their skills and location of work.<br />

Wasn't there going to be special training sessions for truck<br />

drivers (and medical assistants)?<br />

Notices will be sent out next week for truck driver training.<br />

I think everything is clear. Let's just hope that we never have<br />

to use the project.<br />

It's getting late already so I recommend that we get together<br />

next week to meet with Dean Singer and also to discuss the<br />


David-<br />

Moshe-<br />

upcoming seminar, "Egged and the Jewish Question."<br />

Are there any comments?<br />

Yes. there has been a vicious rumor spreading throughout the<br />

Elef that toilet paper is not going to be distributed during<br />

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

Now they can go (Expletive Deleted).<br />

David Singer<br />



Scott Cohen<br />

Domna Held<br />

Amy Hirshberg<br />

Debra Hivshberg<br />

Steve Greene<br />

Janet Kern<br />

Wally Klatch<br />

Judy Koliman<br />

Hina Massey<br />

David Singer<br />

Lisa Sinizer<br />

and<br />

Mo she Mccrgolin<br />


The University of California program brought together 43 students from<br />

various California educational institutions. After arriving in Israel, a<br />

segment of the group participated in a Kibbutz-Ulpan program under the auspices<br />

of Haifa University. This experience added diversity to the groups' activities.<br />

The U. of C. contingent organized a number of ti-yulim throughout the<br />

summer and during the academic year. These tours included visits to the Sinai,<br />

via a four-wheel drive Mercedes truck, an excursion through the West Bank,<br />

and hikes to Wadi Kelt and St. Georges Monastery.<br />

As well as participating jointly in the One-YearProgram activities, our<br />

group enjoyed a number of informal get-togethers, including a Thanksgiving<br />

dinner-party and other such events celebrating Chanukah andPurim. These<br />

festivities were marked by singing, dancing, and skits.<br />

One of the highlights of our program has been the UCAL Singing Group,<br />

which made its debut at the final Ulpan Party in October, and has continued<br />

to entertain at various benefits, and H. U. functions throughout the year.<br />

And finally, in order to provide a bit of intelledtual stimulus within our<br />

Chevra, we have had several forums to discuss pertinent ideas and experiences,<br />

including our present topic, "the moral-ideological-practical dimentions of<br />

returning to the States."<br />

All in all, the University of California program has had a successful<br />

experience in Israel, enjoining its own projects with those sponsered directly<br />

by Hebrew University and the 0. Y.P.<br />


From Arad to Bet Jaan<br />

The One Year Program conducted two Study-Tours during the year. The<br />

purpose of the tours was to give students an opportunity to gain insight<br />

into aspects of the Israeli scene not usually explored on regular University<br />

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

successes of the two experimental projects this year, a broader program of<br />

such tours is being planned for next year.<br />

The first Study-Tour dealt with Development Towns in Israel. The threeday<br />

program included tours and lectures in Dimona and Yerucham and a full-day<br />

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

Kitan textile plant in Dimona; a discussion on the problems of Dimona at the<br />

Community Center; a tour of Dimona'sNew Immigrants' Center; an unexpected<br />

encounter with the Black Hebrews in Dimona; a tour conducted by volunteers from<br />

America of Yerucham's windowless grade school; lunch at Ein Avdat; a tour of<br />

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

aspects of security and economic development in Development Towns by a representative<br />

of the Ministry of Labor.<br />

The second Study-Tour gave thirty OYP students a rare opportunity to visit<br />

the Druze Sanctuary near Tiberias for the holiday of Nebi Shueib and spend a<br />

weekend with Druze families in Bet Jaan. The weekend was planned to give the<br />

student an opportunity to experience life in Bet Jaan and get a background in<br />

the customs and lifestyle of our hosts. Besides the information gained during<br />

the weekend, all of us were impressed with the hospitality and cuisine of Bet<br />

Jaan.<br />

Moshe Margolin<br />


crHjywa maw?* nu'oiaMwn<br />

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MR<br />




Sand, genial orchards, swarthy,greasy women, prickly pears,<br />

date trees; the climb to the Holy City in panting buses. Suddenly<br />

every heart beat violently. Walls, battlements, fortified gates;<br />

odor of dung, spices, and rotted fruit. White jelabs, fierce<br />

guttural voices. The shades of all the murdered prophets rose<br />

from the soil; the stones came to life and cried out, all<br />

covered with blood.<br />


Nikos Kazantzakis Report to Greco<br />


One day 3 as the vain stopped, as the clouds parted 3 and<br />

the sun shone bvightly thvough3 a rainbow formed above the<br />

northern hills.<br />

Resting gently against the clouds 3 the great arch<br />

spread forth its legs3 in a desperate attempt to take root on the<br />

small mountains 3 in order that it could remain 3 for just a<br />

short while 3 in Jerusalem's presence.<br />

Then 3 bumped by the clouds3<br />

the rainbow reluctantly took flight 3 and disappeared.<br />

Oh3 but<br />

for those few brief moments when beauty looked upon beauty3<br />

and saw that not even she3 with all her colours3 could compare<br />

with the City of Gold.<br />

Scott Staiman<br />


Put down the gun, pick up the backpack, a fried egg sitting in my<br />

stomach and off I went, to the desert. Riding, talking, looking, listening,<br />

looking through a dirty view finder, picking up rocks, learning, laughing,<br />

climbing, taking pictures, standing on anticlines looking at synclines, dams<br />

with no water behind them, a settlement that symbolizes a great man's dreams<br />

of life in the desert. A cistern from two thousand years ago carved in the side<br />

of a cliff, and water inside, and a tree growing there, in the middle of the<br />

Negev. Avdat; ruins, columns, caves, stairs, graves, cisterns, churches, walls<br />

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

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

more runoff into more canals and more irrigation. Green on tan, dogs barking,<br />

cameras clicking, pens writing, feet walking, etc. A ghost town; with gazelles<br />

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

sky white clouds, but no people, boarded up windows, grown over patios. Down<br />

into the maktesh, stop to take pictures, and the sun sets painting the sky<br />

purple over the colorful mountains of rock.<br />

Sleeping eating walking writing, Naha! Yael (danger radioactivity]<br />

rain collecting tubes with dead bees, rain guages-telemetric recording, multiple<br />

stage suspended sediment samplers (Hayim 7), painted rocks, marbles, rocks sit<br />

in a row on the side of a slope, rainfall runoff discharge stream gauge system,<br />

how fast? for how long? how much? once a year, once every 18 months that<br />

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

writing, feeling the desert the rocks, Triassic limestone, Jurassic sediments<br />

now rock, slate on granite. To the top, looking at the view, Eilat, Akaba, the<br />

gulf, the green of the kibbutz, the white of the hotels, and the many shades of<br />

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

running down taking pictures running faster out in the mountains where nature won't<br />

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

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

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

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

desert, only the camels and the beduins remain today where once lived civilized,<br />

citified post-Cain man, and family.<br />

Back to the city with empty hommus cans sunflower seed shells sand in my<br />

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

Coming from green growing alive smooth quaint mellow sublime poetic New England<br />

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


seasons, and everything always changes, not like the desert, old stagnant, stable,<br />

harsh and dry.<br />

(Two nice stormy days here in the city, all that wasted water running<br />

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

their lights and sleep not thinking of the world on the other side of the<br />

mountains.)<br />

And what a different world.<br />

Debra Hirshberg<br />



In the land of milk and honey<br />

where one needs patience and plenty of money<br />

It seems to me that it's all a bizarre dream<br />

an ice cream sundae with no whipped cream<br />

Chick-chack, fast-fast<br />

the Time ascends in smoke<br />

the Sabras whiz right past<br />

the Tempo is their Coke<br />

Yerushalaim<br />

the Holy City<br />

filled with beggars<br />

and nitty-gritty<br />

I keep on going and continue hoping<br />

that very soon I'll be coping— with life<br />

September 1, <strong>1974</strong><br />

Linda Chevkas<br />

July 11, <strong>1974</strong>--arrival at Ben Gurion airport--coming out<br />

of the dark, stuffy piane--bright hot sun strikes me.<br />

Suddenly, I feel as if I am about to tumble down the<br />

stairs, but somehow my legs support me, and slowly, using<br />

the handrail, I make my way to the bottom.<br />

Becky Gvonnev<br />




Well I'm sitting here in Idelson<br />

Looking for a little fun<br />

Waiting for it to hit me in the face<br />

But I think this is just like the other place<br />

Shikun Ha Elef - Ha Caleb - What a dump.<br />

When I first got to the Holy Land<br />

I started looking around for all that sand<br />

But what's the first thing that I see<br />

But about ten thousand Uzzi<br />

im? - ot? Lo Hashuv.<br />

Now we had here four Madrichim<br />

Pretty nice folk, or so it seemed<br />

I gave to them all my trust<br />

'Cause the folks in New York said I must<br />

First Mistake!<br />

Then there was my second mistake<br />

I let one madrich my money take<br />

An hour goes by or maybe two<br />

And I don't know what to do<br />

But sit, on the bus,<br />

It was here I learned to cuss.<br />

(Madrich! You know who you are.)<br />

First day at my brand new school<br />

The same madrich says, "Let's take a Teoul"<br />

"I'll show you all there is to see"<br />

"All ya gotta do is walk like me."<br />


Well all I know is he walked fast<br />

And pretty soon I was last.<br />

And lost-in Mahane Yehuda-Just before Shabbos.<br />

Well it weren't so bad, and I was new<br />

But then there was something else to do<br />

They said all you gotta do is sign right here<br />

But somehow registration took a year<br />

Piles of paper - all in Hebrew - Oh Shit!<br />

But then I started my Ulpan class<br />

Learned my Hebrew hard and fast<br />

Out like a native it would come<br />

But somehow they always knew where I was from<br />

RRak RRega-Apho Ha Autobus? Ma?<br />

Once or twice a week at least<br />

We faced this talking mechanical beast<br />

It kept us captive an hour or so<br />

So after a week we just didn't go<br />

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

Now I've been here the summer through<br />

And now I know just what to do<br />

I know how to act in a Zionist Land<br />

How to catch that- and get rid of that hand<br />

Bli yada'im, Buddy!<br />

And the summer here it weren't so bad<br />

I can think of worse times that I've had.<br />

*Sung to the "Talking Blues tune- Chords G-C-D<br />

Lisa Sinizev<br />

Naomi Proohovniok<br />

Shannon Eegavty<br />



Dark clouds hovor over the blessed Holy City of Jerusalem, mingling<br />

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

towards the Gate of Judgement where the Messiah may someday pass to the Temple<br />

Mount, now covered by the golden Dome of the Rock. As my eye surveys the<br />

landscape, that joyously familiar landscape in which I love every stone,<br />

every tree, and every person, an intense combination of rage and grief<br />

becomes acid frustration burning into my very soul. For war, the ultimate bane<br />

of all goodness, love, and civilization is once more rolling from his<br />

disgusting slough of a bed to see if humanity will again mate its Holy Queen<br />

Jerusalem with his debasing passions.<br />

The clouds grow yet darker and heavier. The cool dampness in the air makes<br />

one want to run and seek refuge in his bright warm home from the violent<br />

deluge which now approaches with unrelenting inevitability. Vet no one runs,<br />

nor hesitates, nor even interrupts his schedule of the day, since we are<br />

home already, and there is no place to go.<br />

Allan Goldfarb .<br />


FIRST IMPRESSIONS - The Old City<br />

Smells, sounds, sights, and the heat.<br />

Feelings of intense excitement-<br />

The first taste of an addition-<br />

Which has the potential of becoming a habit.<br />

Outside a tremendous circular wall,<br />

the beggars sit all day, the sun<br />

beaming on their crippled bodiesthey<br />

remain for what seems like eternity.<br />

You have not yet entered, but are in awe<br />

of the bigness and strength<br />

that the imposing structure before you<br />

displays.<br />

You penetrate - Walk through the gates.<br />

Immediately life changes. You are insecure<br />

from one step to the other puts you<br />

in a world so unknown, foreign, and<br />

a^little hostile that you are closed<br />

inside.<br />

You begin your amazing journey,<br />

so many people to deal with and the<br />

sun is beaming down on every persons<br />

back.<br />

The merchants at the beginningscreaming<br />

all their prices-<br />

"please buy mine" in their own special<br />

language. You casually eye their<br />

merchandise always looking.<br />


You are siezed by an overwhelming<br />

smell that prevails throughout. It isn't<br />

strong yet. You walk deeper, all the<br />

time realizing the inner intricacy of<br />

this walled-in city and you are amazed.<br />

A little deeper and you pass the sacred<br />

pipe being passed around endlessly.<br />

Even that little fire brewing in water,<br />

passed by men in black dresses makes<br />

you think of the intensity of the heat.<br />

You are very deep and you pass the dead<br />

carcasses of cattle, with flies on their<br />

every pore. You can't believe the smell<br />

and try to run to what you did not<br />

Know would be the eventual end<br />

of this journey. You remain locked<br />

within the walls.<br />

Finally, you reach a stop, it's more<br />

than before, the smell has almost vanished.<br />

You feel excited, almost as though<br />

you have been freed, a search by<br />

familiar voices, foreign faces and<br />

hands, but familiar voices - so alright.<br />

You walk a few feet more and the sight<br />

you behold is exquisite. You are looking<br />

down on a tremendous segment of a<br />

stone wall, centuries old, split in two<br />

sides. You finally get the courage to<br />

step down and walk closer, the whole<br />

journey you've just completed slips<br />

through your memory now and you are<br />

captured by the wall.<br />


You see an old women crying bitterly,<br />

clutching on the stone, in any crevice,<br />

seemingly holding on to the last piece<br />

of something tangible. She justs sobs<br />

and weeps- nothing on earth can effect<br />

her, she is lost in her own thoughtsterrible<br />

as they are.<br />

You touch it- you have reached it.<br />

You arrive at a strange feeling of not<br />

knowing what to do and it becomes an<br />

ultimate decision. You just stand and<br />

become lost in your thoughts, although<br />

only those of your immediate situation<br />

effect you now.<br />

You stand back, sit down, watch people,<br />

and their reactions to the wall,<br />

capturing the images to keep forever<br />

in your mind. You go to leave and<br />

your freedom leaves with you. You<br />

don't look back, you've taken what<br />

you could take, and you have that<br />

to keep.<br />

The journey back is short, you make the<br />

transition once again from familiar to<br />

unfamiliar, but this time you don't look.<br />

You are not aware of the merchants and<br />

their wares, the dead animals, the smell.<br />

You know the path, you have already travelled<br />

it before. The people are literally pushed<br />

out of your way and you finally take the<br />

last step.<br />


You are outside once more, secure and<br />

stable, you know the ground under your feet.<br />

You have experienced something too vast<br />

to understand- only later will the fullness<br />

really set in.<br />

You are tired, you become aware of the sun<br />

again, you pass the beggars once more.<br />

Now you are on your way home,<br />

carrying with you one more life<br />

experience, one more short journey<br />

inside of a large one that makes you<br />

aware of your real existence.<br />

J.K.<br />


A Poem<br />

When things are rough,<br />

And all seems down;<br />

When dreams<br />

Somehow<br />

Become nightmares,<br />

And all<br />

Goes wrong;<br />

When you find it<br />

Difficult to smile,<br />

And impossible<br />

To cry;<br />

When words<br />

Seem<br />

Meaningless,<br />

Thoughts--<br />

Fruitless<br />

Feelings--<br />

Senseless;<br />

When you1re<br />

Angered<br />

By those<br />

Around you,<br />

And by<br />

The<br />

Insensitivity<br />

Of those<br />

You've<br />

Thought<br />

As friends:<br />

Know there<br />

Are those<br />

Who<br />

Have shoulders<br />

To share.<br />

Look into their<br />

Eyes<br />

And<br />

Know they really<br />

Care<br />

For they<br />

Are friends....<br />

Yoel Abells<br />


Out of the Closet and into the Rehov<br />

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

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

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

as a catharsis for my own angers and sorrows and frustrations which have<br />

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

dignity after a year of hiding and lying.<br />

underlying psychological motives, I feel this needs writing.<br />

frightened--I1d be a fool if I weren't.<br />

to this will be.<br />

Well, whatever the reasons and deep<br />

Even now I'm<br />

I have no way of knowing what reaction<br />

Will I be ostracized? Probably, at least to some degree.<br />

Will I be asked strange questions by the curious straight? No doubt.<br />

I lose my roommate? Why not? I lost my first roommate that way, last summer<br />

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

went running to our madrich who in turn came running to me one midnight with<br />

Gestapo tactics that still cause me to tremble occasionally (maybe he<br />

thought I was going to rape her too.<br />

Will<br />

Who knows?). Will straight men start<br />

coming on to me? Possibly--apparently making it with a Lesbian is a favorite<br />

fantasy.<br />

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

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

No.<br />

Because it did happen, and is happening, and if I'm to go<br />

on living with myself I must deal with that fact as best I can.<br />

I arrived<br />

here an incredibly naive dyke, having no knowledge of what living in hiding<br />

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

In a society<br />

as marriage-and-family-oriented as Israeli society is, the possibility of Lesbianism<br />

isn't even considered.<br />

in, to allay suspicions.<br />

life much harder and more oppressive.<br />

of silence, to approach the subject.<br />

On one level that makes life easier--to hide, to fit<br />

But on another, and more important level, it makes<br />

It's much harder to break the conspiracy<br />

Because of the silence there's no real<br />

social knowledge of reactions (other than religious and legal), and thus I was<br />

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

land, which did nothing to decrease my fears and paranoias.<br />

comfortable way to live.<br />

with any men who became interested in me.<br />

It is not a<br />

There was also, of course, no dignified way to deal<br />

I guessed early--and rightly too,<br />

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


over here, and so I resorted once again to lying, usually about the boyfriend<br />

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

others to deny my existence; by allowing the myth to continue that because<br />

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

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

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

No matter what the publicity, Israel is not a country that embraces all Jews<br />

and welcomes them home, and it hurts every time I realize that. I have never<br />

felt as alone as I have felt this year, surrounded completely by my fellow<br />

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

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

understand what I'm going through. How can they? There's nothing they can<br />

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

in Israel.<br />

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

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

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

in countless little ways that the "Jewish" in me is negated here by the<br />

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

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

Naomi, Pvochovnick<br />


"We regard the PLO as the overall<br />

umbrella organization of the Palestinians."<br />

Joseph Sisco3Ass't Secretary of State - USA<br />

Nov. 20j <strong>1974</strong><br />

A gray billow covering all, as far as the eye can see<br />

Oblique, enclosing all, from within there is no way out<br />

A barrier, enclosing evil, supressing good, encouraging blindness<br />

A chamber of he!1.<br />

I cry out for light<br />

For a crack in the wall<br />

For humanism I plead<br />

Yet I fear the worst.<br />

It never will be<br />

For all are deaf to my voice.<br />

Is it brainwashing,<br />

Or inbred in genes,<br />

Or a withering of life?<br />

Why must it be?<br />

I fear not bullets or bombs.<br />

I fear not Arab extremes.<br />

But I shiver and shake<br />

At the voices of others;<br />

Their thoughts devistate;<br />

They annihilate.<br />

We are in the midst<br />

Of a Holocaust.<br />

A unified action of Barbarism-<br />

Destruction of a People.<br />

Ovens not needed<br />

First we will drown in our blood.<br />

David Wilder<br />


Shuffling of shoes, ruffling of pages<br />

Bored moans and shrugs of helplessness<br />

Intellectuals with pipes and mustaches<br />

Intellectuals with blue jeans and earth shoes.<br />

Beaky Gvonner<br />



The siren sounded a 8:00 in the morning. Moving vehicles paused in their<br />

tracks, people stopped activity or awoke and stood quietly.<br />

and a hush descended upon the whole of the country for two minutes.<br />

All movement ceased<br />

So was ushered in Yom HaShoah or Holocaust Day. Services were held around<br />

the country in remembrance of the millions of Jews murdered during<br />

World Wac II.<br />

Throngs crowded Yad Vashem, the museum in Jerusalem dedicated to the commemoration<br />

and researching of the Holocaust.<br />

I went with a group of American students to the Forest of the Six Million;<br />

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

the 1948 War of Independence while trying to open the road to besieged Jerusalem.<br />

Holding candles, we entered a manmade cave and chanted the Kaddish after singing<br />

the haunting Ani Ma'amin -<br />

I Believe. We then climbbd a hill, upon which stood<br />

the magnificent sculpture "Megillat HaEsh" -Scroll of Fire, forged out of despair<br />

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

savagery.<br />

During our Pesach vacation, a girlfriend and I travelled to Europe with<br />

a Jewish travel book in hand. Amsterdam - a thriving Jewish community in the<br />

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

We meet Anton Witsel, a non-Jewish painter of Jewish subjects, most concerning<br />

the Holocaust.<br />

He helped Jews during World War II and saved the Anne Frank<br />

House from demolishment by moving in with his family.<br />

The faces of Jews in<br />

concentration camps or in hiding stare at you from the paintings crowding the<br />

room.<br />

Countless eyes mirroring resignation, sadness, bewilderment,bitterness,<br />

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

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

Is it wisdom, hope,determination, tenderness or all four? Whichever, it is not<br />

tiredness.<br />

We walk through the Jewish ghetto where Jews live no more (most of those<br />

remaining have moved out to the suburbs) and tour the Anne Frank House with its<br />

momentos of past happiness and tragedy.<br />

We pass through Germany by train and see through the window the old Rhine<br />

communities where Jews perished in an earlier Holocaust during the Crusades.<br />

In these towns flourished a highly learned Jewish civilization during the 10th<br />

and 11th centuries.<br />


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

person I see killed innocent people either by his actions or his silence.<br />

Next stop - Prague: red stars and Communist slogans adorning buildings;<br />

Communist party chiefs with stiff gait in green uniforms trimmed in red;<br />

thick inescapable industrial filth that sticks to your skin and grays the<br />

once lovely perusing dull, make-believe displays in the shop windows.<br />

Prague! the majestic, the mysterious, the cultured - slfght glimmers<br />

linger on but flicker between life and death. And the Jewish Town - renowned<br />

center of Jewish life and learning and culture for centuries. Jews have<br />

lived in Prague for over 1000 years. The cold of the old synagogues preserved<br />

by the state chills the soul; the precious Hebrew manuscripts are but printed<br />

paper in their sterility; the over-crowded Jewish cemetary begun in the 15th<br />

century and no longer in use stands forlorn and whispers, "Leave, leave this<br />

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

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

Jewish woman (who directs tourists for the state) when she learns we are<br />

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

We leave quickly this city, which fascinates, but depresses more. Upon<br />

reaching Austria, we breathe the fresh air of freedom and exult; yet we have<br />

added a touch of wisdom to our souvenirs.<br />

Vienna is elegant, sophisticated, magnificent; cultured Vienna of music,<br />

music, and music. The Jewish travel guide strains to find things of Jewish<br />

interest. All but one of 59 synagogues were destroyed by the Nazis. In<br />

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

world celebrated as Viennese culture in the 19th century was promoted, nourished,<br />

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

the Jewish community of 176,034 was the third largest in Europe.<br />

Short stay in quaint Salzburg, then on to Venice, Italy.<br />

From German and Italian Fascist persecutions immediately preceding<br />

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

deportations (most of the deportees eventually died), conversion, and<br />

emigration. The persecution indirectly caused a sharp decline in birth and<br />

marriage rates.<br />

Enchanting, gay Venice. We feel at home; the liveliness and loudness<br />

remind us of Israel. Mailmen, clerks, gondolier drivers break out into<br />

voluptuous song; hands fly and tempers flare; laughter abounds. We go to<br />


the old Jewish ghetto and the new Jewish ghetto and the very new Jewish ghetto,<br />

all separated from the rest of the city and reached by passageway. One<br />

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

One young boy playing in the courtyard greets us with "Shalom." Crumbling<br />

buildings, black cats that eye you suspiciously.<br />

Jews first arrived in 1090; the community became the financial heart<br />

of Venice's great trading operations. Nourishing the arts and sciences, it<br />

developed a rich cultural life, reaching its peak in the 16th century.<br />

About 1000 Jews remain, a largely assimilated, aging group with intermarriage<br />

at a rate of over 50 per cent.<br />

Almost the same statistics describe the Jewish community of Florence,<br />

the next city we visited. Lovely Florence, city of art; a magnificant<br />

synagogue which remains closed and empty most of the time. The Jewish community<br />

thrived in business and culture under Medici protection in the 15th and<br />

16th centuries.<br />

In Rome, the main synagogue's interior is the most beautiful I've ever<br />

seen. We ask to be accomodated for a Seder but families are not interested.<br />

The Seder to most is not very important, as a young Italian Jewess confirms<br />

(who is flying to Israel to spend Pesach with relatives). The Roman Jewish<br />

community of around 15,000 does, however, have much more communal life than<br />

elsewhere in Italy. It is the oldest in Europe; Jews have lived in Rome<br />

continuously since 161 B.C.E. and developed there a flourishing artistic and<br />

intellectual life. Compared to the other European citied we visited, Rome's<br />

Jewry thrives.<br />

We change our flight so we may be in Israel for the Seder. With<br />

revived spirits from our flight on El A1, we return to our beloved Jerusalem<br />

and enjoy a lovely Seder with our advisor's family, American immigrants.<br />

The abysmal silence of dead Jewish communities shatters our hearts and<br />

we realize more poignantly the major reason for the existence of a Jewish State.<br />

Karen Tucker<br />


v r*<br />

' * ml' if<br />

. « a<br />

' :1 > * < £ - 1T 1 m<br />


HANUKA<br />

The candles lit, a blessing said, and the magic spirit<br />

begins to flow out:<br />

Flickering tiny flames unite in their task to softly<br />

light the room with love and hope and memories<br />

of a time when a war was won, but more important,<br />

the miracle that it was remembered.<br />

I become part of our long past, my head swirls with<br />

its enormity...<br />

I am in Spain and I know the glorious fire of a Golden Age;<br />

The cold wind blows about a lonely Russian town<br />

as I kindle the flame of Zion.<br />

I an at once in a small ghetto room in Germany<br />

and I see the distant lights of hope;<br />

and in Israel I light the candles of love<br />

for the world in spite of itself.<br />

But the children's eyes-those wide stares with<br />

large dark pupils that reflect the playing lights!<br />

Eyes that have never changed in wonder<br />

nor intensity throughout the Ages.<br />

It is they who taste the Holiday cakes, hear the songs,<br />

feel the ancient Joy, and sense the Truth.<br />

Sparks from the candles ignite a flame in their hearts-<br />

And truly the People of Israel Live on.<br />

Allan Goldfavb<br />

Snow swirling against the lights of the ear,<br />

Like small darts of fireworks going in the<br />

wrong direction.<br />

Dark slushly streets bring back memories of home,<br />

And small brown army jeeps bring me back<br />

to the present.<br />

Beaky Gronnev<br />



The Eyes of an Old Man<br />

I once<br />

Looked into the eyes<br />

Of an old man,<br />

And cried,<br />

Because,<br />

In those eyes,<br />

I saw myself.<br />

I saw<br />

What I was,<br />

What I am<br />

And what I will be.<br />

I once<br />

Searched into the eyes<br />

Of an old man,<br />

And trembled.<br />

For those eyes<br />

Burdened me<br />

With their laughter.<br />

Tney mocked me,<br />

Making me aware<br />

That<br />

The shackles<br />

Of my existence<br />

Still bound me<br />

T o a world<br />

Which possessed my soul.<br />

I once<br />

Gazed into the eyes<br />

Of an old man<br />

And saw in .them<br />

The tears<br />

Of mankind;<br />

The pain<br />

Of those<br />

Who suffered;<br />

The broken-down bodies<br />

0 f those<br />

Who were governed,<br />

The sneers<br />

Of those<br />

Who ruled.<br />

The cries<br />

Of those<br />

Who died,<br />

And the sighs<br />

0 f those<br />

Who never 1ived...<br />

1 once<br />

Peered into the eyes<br />

Of an old man,<br />

And was swept up<br />

I nto<br />

A ballet of 1ife--<br />

An intangible series<br />

Of uncertain<br />

M ovements,<br />

Graceful,<br />

Yet clumsy;<br />

A co Ilection<br />

Of mismatched moments<br />

Each leading nowhere,<br />

Y et,<br />


Spelling out<br />

Why--<br />

A tale<br />

But could not<br />

I had hoped<br />

A man<br />

To ignore.<br />

Who asked<br />

Questions,<br />

...A tear appeared<br />

Which<br />

In the old man's eye,<br />

Would<br />

And,<br />

Never<br />

As it slowly<br />

Be answered.<br />

Made its way<br />

11 was<br />

Along those wrinkles<br />

The<br />

Which<br />

Salty droplet<br />

Formed<br />

Of<br />

His face,<br />

A<br />

I laughed.<br />

Bi tter<br />

Indeed,<br />

01d man,<br />

I laughed<br />

Who<br />

So hard,<br />

Had suffered<br />

I cried<br />

S',much<br />

For<br />

That<br />

I was confused...<br />

He had become<br />

0 blivious,<br />

... It was Indi fferent<br />

The tear<br />

Towards<br />

Of a child,<br />

Li fe.<br />

Sad,<br />

A man<br />

Because<br />

Who longed<br />

A<br />

For<br />

Cherished toy<br />

The day,<br />

Had been broken--<br />

When<br />

It would never be repaired.<br />

His soul,<br />

It belonged<br />

Woul d<br />

To a young man<br />

Leave<br />

Who tried,<br />

The confines<br />

In vain,<br />

Of<br />

To determine<br />

His<br />


Painfully<br />

Sore body<br />

And<br />

Find the<br />

Peace<br />

It had never<br />

E njoyed...<br />

And now,<br />

Those<br />

Eyes<br />

Bore<br />

Deep<br />

Into my<br />

Soul,<br />

They<br />

Pierced<br />

My heart,<br />

They<br />

Burned<br />

My insides,<br />

Till<br />

I<br />

Became<br />

Nothing<br />

More<br />

Than<br />

A shel1.<br />

"You<br />

Must live”'<br />

They said,<br />

"For<br />

Only then<br />

Will<br />

You<br />

Deserve<br />

To die.<br />

You<br />

Must<br />

Suffer,<br />

For<br />

Only<br />

Then<br />

Wi 11<br />

You<br />

Have<br />

Lived.<br />

But,<br />

You<br />

Must learn<br />

To smile<br />

For<br />

Only<br />

Then<br />

Will you<br />

Be born..."<br />

Frantically<br />

I tried<br />

To turn away<br />

From those eyes<br />

Who's haunting<br />

L ook<br />

Captivated me.<br />

Till now<br />

I<br />

Had been<br />

The child<br />

Of his<br />

Nightmares,<br />

The inheritor<br />

Of his dreams,<br />


For he was<br />

Mi sunderstood.<br />

My possessor,<br />

It<br />

And I<br />

Crept<br />

Was possessed;<br />

Through me,<br />

He was the potter.<br />

Li ke<br />

I, A<br />

His clay;<br />

Cancer<br />

PI iable,<br />

Destroying<br />

Lifeless,<br />

The dreams,<br />

Yielding.<br />

I<br />

His<br />

Strove<br />

Slightest glance<br />

To retain.<br />

Molded me<br />

I<br />

Into a million<br />

Searched<br />

Grotesque<br />

For<br />

Shapes--<br />

A<br />

My<br />

Soothi ng<br />

Only hope<br />

Lie,<br />

Was to be<br />

But found<br />

Shattered<br />

None.<br />

And<br />

All<br />

Ignored.<br />

I<br />

Could<br />

Enough,<br />

Do<br />

I could<br />

Was<br />

No longer<br />

Plea<br />

Bear<br />

For<br />

The truth.<br />

The<br />

It Tormented<br />

Power<br />

Me,<br />

To<br />

Making me<br />

Deny.<br />

A casualty<br />

To<br />

Suddenly,<br />

A<br />

My grief<br />

Life<br />

Seemed<br />

I<br />

To provide<br />


Me<br />

With<br />

An inexplicable<br />

Strength,<br />

A will<br />

To disclaim<br />

The old man's<br />

Reali ty.<br />

For now,<br />

I became<br />

The prophet,<br />

The soothsayer,<br />

The fortune-teller,<br />

The reader<br />

Of palms,<br />

Of minds,<br />

And everything else.<br />

But,<br />

I was more,<br />

For<br />

I was<br />

A parasite.<br />

I possessed<br />

The power<br />

To sap<br />

His strength,<br />

To peruse<br />

His mind,<br />

And,<br />

To rob<br />

His soul.<br />

The light<br />

Which<br />

B1azed<br />

From<br />

His eyes,<br />

No longer<br />

Held me<br />

In its<br />

Grasp.<br />

Instead,<br />

It<br />

Reflected<br />

Tal es<br />

Of years<br />

Gone by.<br />

As the pages<br />

Of his<br />

Life<br />

Unvield<br />

Themselves<br />

Before me,<br />

I envisioned<br />

How he<br />

Had once,<br />

Borne<br />

The will<br />

Of all<br />

Young men;<br />

How<br />

He had once<br />

Longed<br />

For<br />

The might,<br />

The wisdom,<br />

And the courage,<br />

To understand.<br />

Yet,<br />

He was<br />


N o more<br />

Than<br />

A<br />

Weakly<br />

And<br />

B1 ind<br />

Samson,<br />

A<br />

Young<br />

And<br />

Demented<br />

Solomon,<br />

A<br />

Frail<br />

And<br />

Cowardly<br />

David.<br />

Indeed,<br />

He had hoped<br />

For more,<br />

For<br />

He wished<br />

That he,<br />

Like<br />

Elijah<br />

The prophet,<br />

Could die,<br />

Yet live,<br />

And ride<br />

In a chariot<br />

Of God,<br />

Towards<br />

A world<br />

Of immortality.<br />

I could tell<br />

That<br />

He had<br />

Been crucified,<br />

Burned<br />

At the stake,<br />

Mocked at,<br />

Scorned<br />

Deemed a heretic,<br />

And<br />

A<br />

Common criminal.<br />

I could see<br />

That<br />

He was<br />

A Jew,<br />

A Gentile,<br />

A Bhuddist,<br />

An Atheist,<br />

An Agnostic,<br />

A saint,<br />

Yet<br />

A sinner;<br />

He<br />

Was<br />

A worshipper,<br />

Yet,<br />

He was God;<br />

He<br />

Was<br />

The Messiah,<br />

A leader,<br />

Yet,<br />

He was<br />

A follower.<br />


He was<br />

A man,<br />

Yet,<br />

He<br />

Was<br />

N othing.<br />

Having<br />

The upper hand,<br />

I<br />

Taunted him.<br />

I<br />

Laughed<br />

At his<br />

Ancient<br />

Self.<br />

"You are<br />

An old fool,"<br />

I said,<br />

"Look at me;<br />

I am young,<br />

But,<br />

I<br />

am wise.<br />

You have<br />

Taught me<br />

Very much,<br />

But,<br />

This amounts<br />

To very little.<br />

Your lessons<br />

Are illusions,<br />

And<br />

They<br />

Bear<br />

No truths.<br />

Your parables<br />

Form<br />

Senseless<br />

Paradoxes.<br />

You are<br />

The happiest man<br />

I have ever<br />

Seen,<br />

Yet,<br />

You<br />

Are<br />

The saddest.<br />

It<br />

Is you<br />

Who<br />

Is confused,<br />

And<br />

Not I.<br />

So,<br />

Stay away<br />

Old man.<br />

Return<br />

To your<br />

Place<br />

In the ground.<br />

Return<br />

To the<br />

Dust<br />

From whence<br />

You came,<br />

To the land<br />

Which<br />

Brought<br />

You up,<br />

In disgust..."<br />


...But<br />

N ow,<br />

I was drawn,<br />

Once again,<br />

To the tear.<br />

It had become<br />

A drop<br />

Of blood,<br />

And,<br />

As it fell<br />

Down<br />

Along<br />

His face,<br />

It seemed<br />

As if<br />

It contained<br />

A multitude<br />

Of tiny knives,<br />

Each<br />

Leaving<br />

A<br />

Small cut behind,<br />

From whence<br />

A new drop<br />

Flowed.<br />

And,<br />

All at once,<br />

Each bloody droplet,<br />

Cried<br />

For revenge.<br />

Each tear<br />

Became<br />

A judge,<br />

A jury,<br />

And a prosecutor.<br />

Each drop<br />

Pointed<br />

Accusingly<br />

In the direction<br />

Of the defendent,<br />

Who sat,<br />

Motionless,<br />

Lifeless,<br />

Obscured<br />

By<br />

The history<br />

He had forsaken.<br />

I could not<br />

Tell<br />

Who he was,<br />

But,<br />

N evertheless,<br />

I<br />

Pitied him,<br />

For<br />

His fate<br />

Was a forgone<br />

Conclusion...<br />

Suddenly,<br />

As if<br />

Overtaken<br />

By some virus,<br />

I began<br />

To feel weak.<br />

I<br />

Felt<br />

As if<br />

I was<br />

Inside-<br />

Out.<br />


My legs Indeed, But<br />

Could It could not, I knew.<br />

No longer Be my face, I now<br />

Bear the burden For Realized<br />

Of my Its contours That<br />

Body. Were It<br />

Was this N ot Was<br />

To be At all, I,<br />

The Familiar. I<br />

Outcome But, Who was<br />

Of the power If not mine The<br />

I momentarily Then Old Man.<br />

Commanded?<br />

Whose<br />

Would<br />

Could<br />

I, It be?<br />

Once more,<br />

Slowly,<br />

Fall prey<br />

I<br />

To the trap Lowered Joe l Abells<br />

Created<br />

My hands<br />

By<br />

Cautiously<br />

Those eyes<br />

Searching<br />

I wished<br />

For<br />

To<br />

My<br />

Avoid?<br />

Mirrored<br />

I<br />

Image<br />

Covered<br />

In<br />

My face,<br />

The old man's<br />

To shelter it,<br />

Eyes.<br />

From<br />

And then<br />

The arms<br />

I knew.<br />

Of<br />

I<br />

His glance.<br />

Was startled,<br />

But,<br />

And<br />

This was not,<br />

I was scared,<br />


tr^iinv<br />

d i*?u;<br />

t d<br />

D'TW v w b<br />

□ v bw<br />

nbiuri<br />

niDW^ DD3 IN<br />

u n<br />

i n n un<br />

□"DJ U N<br />

ini in*?<br />

*?Niin<br />

]V2 p,s*<br />

‘’I'T^n 7 n-

n'Vc'i-i-<br />




mr. RICHARD M . NIXON<br />




ON SUNDAY. JUNE 16 .19 74 AT 4 P J L<br />








Do you remember...<br />

...thinking about how long a year in Israel would be?<br />

...your first falafel?<br />

..."hey, Motek!"?<br />

...your first Egged bus ride?<br />

...the first time you went to a movie in Jerusalem on a<br />

Saturday night?<br />

...when you found out you were supposed to save that little ticket<br />

the bus driver insisted on giving you?<br />

...Shikunei ha-Elef?<br />

..."'Alio, 'alio, 'alio, you student?...I give you special<br />

price!"?<br />

...how many Summer Ulpan classes you skipped?<br />

...going to Machane Yehuda for the first time?<br />

...when you went on your first tiyul and you were anxious to<br />

get back "home" to Jerusalem?<br />

...the Watergate Affair's end?<br />

...the first time you used an Israeli phone?<br />

Steve Love<br />

Running down the steps to catch the 9:20<br />

As I hand over<br />

to be punched<br />

the bus driver qazes into mv eves and<br />

murmurs<br />

Plopping down on any available seat<br />

before the bus whips around a dangerous curve<br />

I quickly skim the seats for familiar faces.<br />

Finding none, I settle down to contemplate<br />

the new day.<br />

e<br />

Beaky Gvonner

HANITA<br />

I see sunrise fiery crimson<br />

Mellow orange dominating<br />

Sky clouds mountain<br />

Upon which I Stand-<br />

All Present All Changing<br />

I gaze at fertile fields<br />

Banana grapefruit cotton<br />

Painted green brown wide-<br />

Hand of Gentleness Watches<br />

There! Forest on mountaintop<br />

Rugged mountains protruding rocks<br />

Stubborn windswept pines<br />

Noises of birds animals<br />

Reverberate across valley-<br />

Wild virgin Northern mountains<br />

Revolution of Creation<br />

Sea of distant misty blue green<br />

Very old wrinkled with waves<br />

Always fresh alive giving-<br />

All in me for me of me.<br />

We Are One<br />

The houses cling to the hills of Jerusalem, pressing against the bare<br />

rock and scrub asjf seeking protection and security from a long hostile world.<br />

The birds chirp and a dog barks in the distance. The sun slowly<br />

builds up strength for the long hot day as the night reluctantly evaporates<br />

from the hills. A bluish-purple haze covers the distance, while the<br />

houses rush to have their windows filled with the golden morning sunshine.<br />

As I turn to see a bird, loudly celebrating the new day beside me,<br />

he darts off, and the hills of,Jerusalem become bleached, the roar of<br />

climbing bus engines echo in the distance, and a new day has begun.<br />

56<br />

Allan Goldfarb

~ U' V \ \


The idea for this was developed from Prophetic Narratives, a course<br />

given in the O.Y.P.<br />

It is semi-based on what was learned in the class<br />

about II Kings 4:8-35 although the characterizations do not reflect<br />

the conventional understanding of the text nor the view of the author.<br />


In the Galilean heat, Sha-el trekked with a brown sack clasped in<br />

his hands over his shoulder.<br />

We are approaching,<br />

he thought.<br />

Several steps behind him blond Hagazi watched his master intently.<br />

Sha-el was a man of communication expounding upon stories to increase<br />

Hagazi's knowledge of the world.<br />

Though the distance they walked was impossible<br />

to measure Hagazi was surprised that his feet ached for listening<br />

to his master made the distance short.<br />

what made them so were their truths.<br />

His stories were eerie and<br />

"When God created heaven and earth he created the generations of<br />

man as well.<br />

And man, being subordinate to Gdd must be aware of time.<br />

This is one of the first things learned by the first generation, though<br />

they learned it the hard way. We must learn from them. Now listen..."<br />

Hagazi, a sharp listener was able to foretell the meaning of Sha-el1s<br />

narratives before they were fully expounded.<br />

But for some time it was like<br />

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

glade would metamorphosis into silence.<br />

Not only was his voice silent but<br />

his face.<br />

It was as if the entire journey was taken in reticence.<br />

In the distance the mountain vertex formed the outline to a piece of<br />

a puzzle against the arched blue.<br />

From where they stood, the ground, lined<br />

with grass and multiples of purple rocks ,ran up the mountains detouring the<br />

huge boulders submerged into the elevated terrain.<br />

The clouds appeared inches<br />

away from the protruding stone, merging the entire picture into one.<br />

If the<br />

mountain could be penetrated, one would find God.<br />

Beyond these hills was a house and its plantation.<br />

The rich fields were<br />


enjoyed by the animals owned by a Shunamite woman and a man. The woman, dark<br />

and rugged was loved and feared by her husband. It was not long after they<br />

had settled there that he felt his authority dwindle while the subtle wit<br />

and cunning of his wife emerged into dominance. For reasons that he could<br />

not guess nor bothered to ask, she one day invited two wanderers into their<br />

home to eat and soon they became frequent guests,treated with the same hospitality<br />

and warmth. One day the Shunamite woman said to her husband,<br />

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

not build up a little roof chamber with a bed, table seat and light and let<br />

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

God sought rest there whenever he could.<br />

After repletion and resting in the upstairs chamber, Hagazi found his<br />

master in the same mood he had been in since he discontinued his story of<br />

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

seeking a sign but finding confusion. His eyes were straight, expressionless;<br />

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

uttered an affirmation of incomprehensive Nothingness and Hagazi was forced<br />

to look away.<br />

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

people Israel and performed miracles in Your name. All this You had me do<br />

and I did. But by Your will and great plan I am also human."<br />

"Hagazi."<br />

Hagazi jumped.<br />

"Call this Shunamite woman."<br />

The Shunamite woman appeared at the threshold, her personality reflected<br />

in her firm but respectable stance. Her face, beneath a veil of pretented<br />

innocence and curiosity indicated a definite vehemence of success.<br />

Slowly the intention of this woman became clearer to Hagazi.<br />

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

How he must want to say it to her himself, though Hagazi.<br />

"Shall I tell of your deeds to the king?" Hagazi asked her.<br />

She said, "I am content here, among my own people."<br />

Very well put, thought Hagazi. An artist. It occurred to him that she<br />

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

a woman at her age.<br />


arri val.<br />

"Is it well with you and yours?"<br />

"It is well."<br />

She headed straight to Sha-el and Hagazi had to catch her arm just<br />

before she came too close.<br />

Leave her.<br />

and has not told me."<br />

There is something bitter here and the Lord has hid it from me<br />

Hagazi knew too that her son was dead and that she had come to Diace<br />

blame on his Master.<br />

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

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

of the face of the chi Ids."<br />

Hagazi's hand reached out to receive the staff but his master's eyes<br />

were looking towards the sky.<br />

ground crying stone tears.<br />

The Shunamite woman was on her knees, head to the<br />

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

master as a man.<br />

How could he respond to the call of a woman without assurance<br />

from God?<br />

The. Shunami te woman spoke, "As the Lord lives and the soul lives I<br />

will not leave thee."<br />

Where does she get the courage to speak to a man of God like this?<br />

Hagazi ran ahead.<br />

When he arrived at the house and found the boy's body lying on the master's<br />

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

When Sha-el arrived he ordered the two of them to remain outside while<br />

he went inside the room with the prostrate body.<br />

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

Sha-el closed the door.<br />

would be the last remnant of his master.<br />

It suddenly dawned on Hagazi that the door<br />

He looked at the Shunamite and watched<br />

her expressionless eyes stare at the angle the floor made with the door.<br />

Inside Sha-el stood silently over the body for some moments. Then he<br />

stretched himself upon the boy, hands to hands, mouth to mouth, eyes to eyes,<br />


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

Master, are you so blind? Can you not understand? Remember what you<br />

told me of Solomon?<br />

A faint smile crawled on the mouth of the Shumamite. Hagazi had guessed<br />

right. She had won. He had no choice but to suggest to his master the primary<br />

objective of all her hospitality and false kindness.<br />

"She has no child. Her husband is old."<br />

" Cal 1 her back."<br />

The Shunamite stepped forward.<br />

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

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

Sha-el said no more and Hagazi indicated that she should leave.<br />

When the boy grew old enough to work in the fields he looked neither like<br />

his father or mother.<br />

The sun was strong, a good day for the crops but not for the tillers.<br />

The Shunamite woman maintained her position in the household and her husband<br />

and son worked in the fields. She was, however, nrenarinq the afternoon<br />

meal when the door opened and a servant walked in with her child hanging<br />

motionlessly in his arms. The Shunamite gasped, her utensil splashed into<br />

the pot and ordered the servant to lay her son on her lap. She massaged his<br />

warm body and prayed. Gradually the boy's body became cooler and then, cold.<br />

She had to stop, eyes wet, and almost almost fainted. "He deceived me."<br />

The Shunamite woman carried the body of her son uo to the bed of the man of<br />

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

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

she reached Mount Carmel.<br />

His old but keen eyes distinguished her in the distance and though his<br />

movements and face were nnrevealing, his heart raced.<br />

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

her husband? with the child.?"<br />

Hagazi had hoped thathis master would not have to see this woman for a<br />

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


and cried and prayed to the God of Israel. He arose and paced the floor<br />

clutching his chest. Strangely it felt that he had walked this way on this very<br />

green rug once before for the same purpose.<br />

A sneeze.<br />

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

bosom.<br />

Hagazi could not hold himself back. He flung open the door and suddenly<br />

standing before him was the young boy. The Shunamite's eyes sparkled white<br />

and random movements of her lips emerged into a triumphant smile.<br />

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

"I didn't think He would let it bs done."<br />

"Why did you do it?1<br />

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

"You knew what would happen to you?1<br />

"Yes." And closed his eyes.<br />

But the prophet3 that shall speak a word presumptuously in My nccme3 which I have<br />

not commanded him to speak3 or that shall speak in the name of other gods3<br />

that same prophet shall die.<br />

Deut: 18:20<br />

Lenny Getz<br />


FREEDOM - THE ANOMALOUS VISION (A poem written on Pesach)<br />

People degrade the meaning of freedom by overuse<br />

They speak of it like it was a commodity-<br />

Something that could be bought or sold,<br />

like a kilo of balony or a roll of toilet paper.<br />

Only through wisdom can its acquiring begin.<br />

Slaves can be freed in a physical sense,<br />

but no one can free them internally.<br />

A person can rebel against the external oppression by violence,<br />

but the internal rebellion is a self-destructive one.<br />

Kris Kristoffersen defined freedom as another word<br />

for when there's nothing left to lose.<br />

Nothing...<br />

No pride, no lifelong goals, no feeling for a sense<br />

of propriety, no desires, lusts, passions...<br />

How ironic that one must be willing to<br />

give up everything in order to have everything,<br />

that is to have the pleasures of freedom.<br />

Few survive in this abstract domainthe<br />

rest let society or sub-societies and their norms dictate all behavior.<br />

The people we come into contact with,<br />

even most of our friends, are the enforcers.<br />

How can rebellion against the oppressor begin<br />

when the oppressor says, "I am your friend"?<br />

We have no Moses to lead us out of our<br />

societal and personal realms of imprisonment, so freedom<br />

is something we can only work at, hope for, and dream about.<br />

But one can be happy in one's dreams.<br />

Gary Rissman<br />


JERUSALEM; the face visible yet hidden, the sap and the<br />

blood o f all that makes us live or renounce life. The<br />

spark flashing in the darkness, the murmur rustling through<br />

shouts of happiness and joy. A name, a secret. For the<br />

exiled, a prayer. For all others, a promise. JERUSALEM:<br />

Seventeen times destroyed yet never erased. The symbol<br />

o f survival. JERUSALEM: the city which miraculously<br />

transforms man into pilgrim; no one can enter it and go<br />

away unchanged.<br />

Elie Wiesel<br />

A Beggar in Jerusalem<br />


"Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad;<br />

let the sea roar, and the fullness thereof.<br />

Let the field be joyful and all that is therein:<br />

then shall all the trees of the wood rejoice before the Lord."<br />

Psalm 96: 11-12<br />

No other song of celebration could be more appropriate a description of<br />

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

sunburned faces of the people - a parade of tourists, students, soldiers,<br />

families, who become as involved with the rebirth of the land as a momma dog<br />

with her pups. The air is fresh, fields are sprayed with wild flowers like<br />

a never ending rainbow, aqua skies cut the mountainous horizon, freckling<br />

stars. The spring is such a positive time, electric and alive, especially in<br />

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

cleaned of winter time smells, of old chametz and non-Pesach dishes.<br />

New apartments loom where only a few months before a flock of goats resided.<br />

Greeness like in the Land of Oz, and the streets smell of soft, fresh tar.<br />

In spite of the political conflicts, the constant uncertainties, the internal<br />

tensions, there is such a feeling of anticipation, renewal and life as can<br />

only be found in a people pregnant with hope.<br />

Last week we celebrated two holidays, rather, we expressed a single<br />

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

commemorate Yom Ha Zikaron. The solemnity and heaviness seemed to tease the<br />

warmth of the April evening. Another siren on Tuesday morning announced<br />

the start of the procession; streams of mourners poured into the national<br />

forests, families migrated to cemeteries. I could not help but think,<br />

"We have become a nation of mourners." Each face held claim to a lost<br />

husband, brother, son, lover. Each wrinkled forehead told a history all<br />

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

finding comfort in a prayer, a hand held, a familiar face.<br />

After the programs, the prayers, and the sunset, came a transition<br />

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

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


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

Jerusalem<br />

was transformed into a giant carnival; bright lights, bands of music,<br />

dancing in the streets, throngs of people, young and old.<br />

with chocolate smeared faces.<br />

Wide-eyed kids<br />

The streets throbbed with the blood of a<br />

nation. Campfires covered the Judean Hills like the Milky Way. And the<br />

mixture of sweat and falafel from a people drunk on life.<br />

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

a whisper crept into my thoughts and would not let go.<br />

"Where are all those<br />

people I saw this morning? Where are the mothers of all those dead soldiers?<br />

Are they here dancing too?"<br />

I looked around me; amidst the spin, the blur<br />

of faces, the shadows of light, I saw a people who knew the essence of life,<br />

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

it. The rebirth of the spring, the hope and the faith, unfolding before me.<br />

The dancing stopped and the singing began: 'Yismichu ha shamayim e-<br />

tahgale ha eretz...'<br />

(Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad).<br />

Amy Hirshberg<br />

April 22, <strong>1975</strong><br />


Wandering is...<br />

watching two little children play and remembering<br />

how painful or happy the past has been.<br />

observing the sunset while perceiving a constant change of<br />

conditions, one moment it is x and the next moment it is y, yi, yang<br />

realizing a constant transition flowing from one fieTd<br />

to another until there are no longer any nameable catagories<br />

to flow to.<br />

Walking, searching, tramping, wondering-<br />

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

But one always knows where one could end up; just like a man<br />

who looks over the edge of a cliff and sees an abyss.<br />

One who wanders wanting permanence is trapped in a hopeless<br />

endeavor because one is always wandering.<br />

This endeavor to them lacks promises, never ceases, and always consumes.<br />

We are forever traveling on,<br />

That is the way is-<br />

There may be a twinge of sorrow, a tear of regret.<br />

But we MUST be always traveling on.<br />

A categorized, labeled entity is not our destiny.<br />

A lack of labeling destroys phoniness, creating<br />

momentary irresponsibility which can be honesty.<br />

Wandering takes many forms...<br />

a pilgrims search through countries for spiritual palaces,<br />

the hitchiking of an idle hermit, the regulated traveling of a tourist,<br />

or even the slippery sneakings of a thief.<br />

One. can wander excitedly because of lust, through<br />

confusion, or even under the auspices of insanity.<br />

It doesn't matter what facades are used - wandering is basically mental;<br />

a state of mind.<br />


Forever missing what was<br />

Forever wanting what could be had<br />

Forever thihking of what can't be.<br />

Wandering can be an eternal process.<br />

Gary Rissmart<br />


IN BLOOD<br />

Impatiently I await the hour when the mighty<br />

silver eagle will carry me home.<br />

Like a tree uprooted I thirst<br />

for the precious life<br />

giving soil.<br />

Deceivingly barren it is far more fertile then any other.<br />

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

perhaps before my time as part of the price.<br />

Sorrow and joy do battle within,<br />

goodbye tears like April showers<br />

may bring old dreams to flower.<br />

Mother - America GOODBYE!<br />

I'm off to meet my chosen bride.<br />

Two loves - two thousand miles and more apart.<br />

A distance more them the difference between <strong>1975</strong> and 5735.<br />

A divided heart that long ago decided against G.M., nine to five,<br />

a suburban haven and Merry Christmas.<br />

Divided I decided for eternity.<br />

I am a link in a Priestly chain.<br />

On my eighth day in blood was sealed my claim.<br />

Robert Brack<br />



I was sitting on a rail on King George Street the other day, spitting<br />

garinim and watching the traffic accidents, when my friend Oscar strolled<br />

up. Oscar always smiles. Oscar smiled the day a bottle hit his leg in the<br />

aisle of a local movie theater. Oscar smiled an entire 30 minutes, bankbook<br />

in hand, while a teller drank coffee. Oscar smiled when someone bruised<br />

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

I assumed he was upset.<br />

"Oscar, what's the matter?" I asked. "Why the long face?"<br />

"Don't you know what day this is?" he muttered.<br />

"Grounding day?" I half-heartedly queried.<br />

Oscar snarled: "No, it's May 3rd."<br />

"So what?"<br />

"So that means I have to go back in two months!"<br />

"To prison, or something?"- I was noticeably confused..<br />

"No, idiot, to the States!"<br />

I was now noticeably unconfused. So Oscar had the "Leaving Israel"<br />

blues. I decided to console him.<br />

"Listen Oscar, aren't you looking forward to filling your lungs<br />

with that good old New York City air again?"<br />

"Very funny." Oscar harumphed.<br />

"Seriously, don't you remember what Mayor Lindsay once said about<br />

never being able to trust air that he couldn't see?"<br />

"Come on, give me a break."<br />

"Look Oscar, don't you miss locking yourself in at nights in the<br />

safety of your home, and watching everyone else get mugged through the<br />

wi ndow?"<br />

"Believe me, I could live with the crime, the pollution, and<br />

everything else. But the important thing is not just what I would go back<br />

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

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


I saw that I was getting nowhere fast. Oscar was rapidly slipping<br />

into a deep state of depression. I decided to pull out my heavy artillery.<br />

"But Oscar, what about your family? Don't you miss them?"<br />

"Of course. But it's my Grandma Gertrude."<br />

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is she ill?"<br />

"No, no, but when I get off the plane at Kennedy, I just know<br />

she's going to say - 'Bo, how was Israel?"'<br />

"So can't you answer?"<br />

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

question, and everyone is going to want a quick answer. How do I answer<br />

that question? How do I sum up my emotions about Israel, my experiences<br />

that took place over the course of a whole year? It would take another<br />

whole year, at least!"<br />

I was losing him. Another few minutes and he would be beyond my help.<br />

I was running out of ideas when suddenly an argument broke out between two<br />

Sherut drivers about whose turn it was to buy sandwiches, while the customers<br />

fidgeted nervously in their seats. Upon hearing this, Oscar lifted<br />

his head, and the trace of a gleam began to emanate from his eyes.<br />

"You know, Steve, I was just thinking. After the One Year Program<br />

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

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

that year, right?"<br />

"Of course, Oscar" I gladly agreed.<br />

Oscar was the same old person again. He smiled, bid me Shalom, and<br />

danced away. I happily turned back to the traffic, brushing a garin seed<br />

off the tip of my nose.<br />

Steve Montag<br />


Shalom to You Jerusalem<br />

It's been many long-short months<br />

Since I set foot on your soil<br />

Soaked in deep with blood<br />

And sweat of long, hard toil.<br />

I've wandered in your streets,<br />

Your shouks and alleyways<br />

And learned about your past<br />

About your long-gone days.<br />

But now I've got to go, I hate to leave,<br />

But I must be on my way.<br />

To go back to my friends and family.<br />

It'll be too long<br />

Till I touch yoru earth again<br />

Till I climb your hills<br />

Till I walk thru your valleys again.<br />

And it'll be too long<br />

Till I see your walls again.<br />

But for now<br />

And until then,<br />

Shalom to You Jerusalem.<br />

Your people I have known<br />

In all their different ways.<br />

Carved into my heart,<br />

There they will forever stay.<br />

The beauty of your hills,<br />

The forests all around,<br />

The beautiful sunsets,<br />

I will not soon forget.<br />

All the friends I've made, I'll miss<br />

Them I'll never see again.<br />

But to you I always can return<br />

Though it'll be too long.<br />

And it'll be too long<br />

Till I touch your earth again<br />

Till I climb your hills<br />

Till I walk thru your valleys again.<br />

And it'll be too long<br />

Till I see your walls again.<br />

But for now<br />

And until then,<br />

Shalom to You Jerusalem.<br />

Larry Sklar<br />


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

trying to figure out how to figure out how to express this year in words.<br />

It is a difficult task.<br />

Sitting here, watching a glaring sun sink slowly towards the horizen,<br />

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

left is a large, oddly shaped structure. Its dull white walls perch high<br />

above the rocky ground on which it tests. The Israel Museum seems to represent<br />

a good part of this year. Within its confines is an accumulation<br />

of tradition ahd culture. It is a history of Israel, past. Many of the<br />

sights I have viewed this year display the ruins of an ancient Israelite<br />

nation, a heritage rich with life.<br />

Directly in front of me is a brown brick edifice planted in the midst<br />

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

Monastery symbolizes religion, which has been for me, an enormous part of the<br />

year. Significantly, I think, this aspect of the year is not represented<br />

by a Jewish structure. The Jewishness of Israel need not be represented by<br />

a building. Israel is, in its name, in its People, and in everything about<br />

it, a Jewish State, and its primary identity will always be that of a Home<br />

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

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

amongst a largely hostile world. Perhaps, for the present, Israel cannot be<br />

a perfect host to all Peoples. But it must be remembered that the Jews<br />

were Chosen to set an example to the rest of the Peoples of the world, and in<br />

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

Behind the Church of the Cross is the Knesset. It is, by far and away,<br />

the most distinguished looking building of the three. Ensconced in a small<br />

forest of evergreens, it is a manifestation of politics and law, both of<br />

which have been prime topics of conversation during my stay in Israel.<br />

Whether by parlimentary action, or Cabinet debates, theis building represents<br />

Israel's present, and future. Within its walls, many of the principles<br />

on which this country was built will stand of fall.<br />

So, there we have it: History, religion, tradition and culture; Past;<br />


and politics and law; present and future; three essential characteristics of<br />

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

be mentioned. It lies within the smaller buildings, closer to me. It is<br />

the people-the society of Israel. They are the ones who are preserving history,<br />

preserving religion, and legislating the laws. They are living, and working,<br />

and dying to preserve this State, Israel. Without them, for us, this year<br />

would not have been.<br />

The sun has now set. The sky is a pinkish blue, a beautiful part of a<br />

fading day. As this year approaches twilight, I know that its memory will<br />

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

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

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

of love, of happiness, of disappointments, and sorrow, and, of coarse,<br />

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

be "has been", and for that, I will be forever grateful.<br />

David Wilder<br />



Editorial Board:<br />

Lenny Getz<br />

Allan Goldfarb<br />

Shannon Hegarty<br />

Janet Kern<br />

Judy Kollman<br />

Garry Rissman<br />

Ellen Rosenberg<br />

David Wilder<br />

Art:<br />

Shannon Hegarty<br />

Garry Rissman<br />

Photography:<br />

John Germanow<br />

Debra Hirshberg<br />

Typing:<br />

Judy Kollman<br />

Myra Krupkin-Schindler<br />

David Wilder<br />

Proofreading:<br />

Debra Hirshberg<br />

For the OYP:<br />

Moshe Margolin<br />

Special Thanks to:<br />

Rachel Schachter<br />

Leah Weitz<br />

Amira Segal<br />








Trinted in Israel by the Hemed Press3 Jerusalem<br />


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