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1978-1979

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y s - 9<br />

. . . r v r w n n b y<br />

\ > " b w


I LEAVE FOR. THEE.<br />

For iiqee X leave,<br />

For thee X I to VC, rny past behind<br />

Hi) 'flrrjeric.arL. Dream)',<br />

T/?e. smog-filled sty.<br />

3 ut my Jife,my hopes,<br />

my dreangs still linger on.-,<br />

Ho'aretz, For- -thee X leave.<br />

X so u g h tt th e e , be-fore,<br />

b u t th o u W e r t n o t m i n e .<br />

T h o u g h t h e y w e r e r e a l ik e d<br />

t h e y r e r q o i n u n f u l f i l l e d )<br />

Pi temporary setback-for the strong-willed.<br />

To dream )s easy, but -to live it...<br />

For thee X leave, Hahretc.<br />

Pugusr lo, l°lt& /siodd -Ft above, AiMC.<br />

Uhile in a JHT jetliner<br />

X retros peed the past.<br />

They laughed at the Wright Brothers<br />

ot W/Fy HawK.<br />

Theodore Hcrzl-some, thought to be, cm zy<br />

An unbelievable dream)-a prophecy.<br />

Ha^aretz., For thjee X leave.<br />

For -f-hee X leave,<br />

Far th/eeT leave uuiihmy-future ahead<br />

For the millions uJho dreamjed,<br />

and died unfulfilled-,<br />

For rny parents uuho instilled<br />

me uJith the love that X feel--<br />

X leave far thee} Ha’areht .<br />

(h A RU Flos K<br />

. . . r v r w n n b v


July 12, <strong>1978</strong><br />

Somewhere over the Atlantic<br />

The hour is now striking midnight and the end of the most hectic, adventuresome, and, 1suspect,<br />

important day in my life has come. My nerves are completely shot now. It seems like ages ago when I was<br />

in Englewood Cliffs saying goodbye to Jan, taking the bus to the subway station, going across town then<br />

busing it to JFK. With all these strange people milling around I gave my luggage in. Then with my body in a<br />

state of total exhaustion 1listened to some guy droning on about the year in Israel. But really I can listen<br />

to speeches all day every day about Israel and Hebrew U but still I won’t know what and how I will<br />

experience the coming twelve months. The roar of the engine signified to me that a new destiny awaits<br />

me and I shall never be the same. So far I’ve met some people who seem nice, names and places are flying<br />

past me about as fast as the plane is going. Guess I’ll try to get a little sleep, it’ll be along day tomorrow.<br />

July 13<br />

What a long, unbearable day. I am really experiencing jet lag and<br />

the time difference. My roomate, Yaacov, seems nice. He keeps talking<br />

about Gary Hamburg’s sister whom he met a few years ago. Strange<br />

about how people bring up someone you haven’t thought about in<br />

years and all of a sudden you make it sound like he was your best<br />

friend, even if you were only slight acquaintences.<br />

I’m lonely, tired and wish I didn’t feel so uncomfortable here.<br />

I guess I’ll go take a shower, do I need it!<br />

■ k LL 1 m i<br />

It 1 H •<br />

P f l i JFTi<br />

Kw jL<br />

If in<br />

David Bormel


d i f f e r e n t - p e r s p e c tiv e s ,<br />

Cxpecta.twns a n d purposes<br />

\ d i u )c r e th r o iV ty t o g t l t y r<br />

To for*) friendships arui,<br />

to Tn&Kt Xsracl our 1f)0V)C,<br />

%r\ the process we've<br />

rediiscovered' strong t^S<br />

Uncovered, weaknesses<br />

Mfhiie frccortimg stronger people<br />

h l l t i ) T h e r e cljuL w io r e to g ix > C .<br />

ceil) drUL agxvf) WC<br />

question, ou r in tention s<br />

'But it) questioning We lean)<br />

Arvd in, learning We grow.<br />

• f y i \ ic fri$1y*\a,n<br />

sn.na a t- th e Final U.Ipan P a rty - Septem ber /9 t6<br />

b y "Two out of -three a.in't S a d " - wjickey Itibou/itz,<br />

AncLi W leisele^ a-ncL, Debbie. Weis b ro t<br />

(50 Idler boy)<br />

2, LLIpan - I w e n t to LUpan<br />

For -f-hree rotten m o n th s ...<br />

(feen a n g e l")<br />

Si N ot Iona aao<br />

th a t -fa te fu l d a y<br />

they dropped u s in - o ld S h i k u n e i<br />

ror a. la n d o f m ilk a n d h o n e y th /n y s<br />

w en erit s o s w e e t<br />

X w a n n a . pyo b a s k tv y r m s i j u i i k<br />

Ot) m o m m a . (ooop)<br />

Car you. hear m e 7<br />

Oh) poppra. loot))<br />

Can you. h e a r m e ?<br />

I 'm n o t^su re, w hy I a m h e re<br />

I 'm j u s t re lie ved , it's only o n e y e a n .<br />

{"Breakirj up is hard tv do")<br />

0 La la la., la la, la V , ,<br />

' Jv/rf 'm w f /(3-hm es)<br />

f/e v e /<br />

Why d id u/t come fv -the m iddle east 7<br />

Oder fe r e w h e re th e r e a m 'f no peace<br />

Every p la ce w e 'u e e v e r aone<br />

IWc b a r e ly m is se d a te r r o r is t b o m b 1<br />

!3u t w e are h ere<br />

A n d i t is fu n<br />

luj&'d f e e l s a fe r i f w e h a d a. y u n<br />

Oh,, w h a t c a n we d o c a u s e ^ f/m t'<br />

we do love you<br />

IWt cam e to ' fk i c d m o n th s aao<br />

A n d t-here's a fe w th in a w e waff you -to knou)<br />

UJfve f o u n d you n eed 7 lots o f tim e<br />

'Cause e^try-w here we ao we fin d a very loru> hoe.<br />

("Beauty School Dropout“) "U/pan Class Dropou t " -'nke7j l*ser t fndi<br />

n cUpan cla ss d ro p o u t<br />

a No araduatio y\ day -for y o u -o o -o o<br />

^ U tpan class d r o p o u t<br />

b lew o f f 7/d'O a n d flu n k e d p n OF<br />

lAJtil fh e y c o u ld n 't teach y o u a n(y fh /h a<br />

)ou thir\k_ fo u h e s u c h a s a b r a . -/<br />

B u t n o " p u s k t a h im " iw o u td -fallv. tv Uoiu.<br />

E ven o n - ' I3> 3 /m A<br />

Buddy, -fbraeF i t<br />

'Lou s/m p h f d o n o t h a re th e s t u f f<br />


^ n d ik c u a s k e d of<br />

tSjpead to 1x6 of VJj& JV<br />

^ V n d 4*>e & y u s w e r e d f i v e n v s a i j t n ^ :<br />

^ our ^first cPutlien^e cCu-ruv^ liipaxv wuX b& a^nnvuu^ to (X&6$ on-time<br />

d e n t v d t s p e n d u c H t r c l a s s t i m e o m s t n c c i d e U j :<br />

watedutn c&tdAXuL hvX very, cute T. Vsf^ovVs cm. tape;<br />

rt1 A * a . * .. sC ^', i n 4n .-1 4 a 0/7 i n 4 -U /7 t li/t yVl<br />

%a\x v O t tei^v-tA e art ck sleeping uv" cl^uss Vtlfv uour eyes ^open<br />

And m aster a- sandu} of our people*<br />


5


"C a T fo rn a People "<br />

hang tv -the tune of 'Ca.1 ifor/ud Gird "by the Beach bop<br />

From big L.A. in 4he UX4-<br />

4boa.ro/ a. DC 8<br />

Stopped tn Sangon, W aine o f f tv Plane' ra in<br />

Xn -hhe /a n d o f th e b iff C re p e .<br />

CdiLaht th e tr a n s fe r plane a n d were o f f bqain<br />

Then Tel A viv's tn v/eiw<br />

H<br />

The w e a th e r w a s m u c f yet we boarded the hack<br />

A nd made ou.r w a y to Haifa LL.<br />

Wish they all could be California, f i r Is<br />

(Wish th e y call could be California, boys)<br />

Loved th e Haifa f / j a n d th e Haifa. f//i<br />

A n d th e f e l a f e l on Hecha/u b7<br />

A n d HI p a n class w as s u c h a b /a sf<br />

Because o f SirnanhoU V 'Shoot.<br />

O ur Tiyudirn w e su c h a pereano<br />

D espite S h m r a a ll n g h f<br />

Food w a s s — t - b u t th e cookies w ere a h i t<br />

A s we took in a ll t h e s<br />

Wish they a 11 Could be sum m er days f m g h fs .<br />

The tim e d id f l y , h a d tv s a y f o o d b y e<br />

A n d we m o ved u p -to J e r u y<br />

H a lf g o t dorms w ith sinksy h a lf p o t dorms th a t sti/ik<br />

Wei Ij fh a t's life a t H-ebreu> id.<br />

Ok) weve been a // around tb /s g r e a t big w orld<br />

A n d h a d a uv/id a n d craz.y -h m e<br />

L earned a Jot o f s t u f f b u t c o u ld n f get-enough<br />

Hope po c a i / th is co u n try m in -e /<br />

Wish th e y ail c o u jd be Zsra-e/iguys<br />

(w ish th e y a / / Could be Isra-eti'g ir /s )<br />

A/\in


J~ulf \5<br />

X have ju s t come from the<br />

bustling section of Jerusalem. X+<br />

was incredible, bemg -there with<br />

all the people and excitement<br />

X took, my first bus ride on<br />

Egged and first thing X did Was<br />

drop some of my change on<br />

the -floor -<br />

What a start j<br />

September 7<br />

8 w. I lets just* lost to Tel A\ZiV<br />

W-Hl ■T'm still in<br />

lAaccabee<br />

shook after the game ■V\/ha+ an<br />

exciting -finish M The gwys have,<br />

really let me have if and X can't<br />

blame them. ^Iso all the Israelis<br />

went nixfs. Well gotta get some<br />

sleep, tomorrowJ/rkko.<br />

v\6\ro«5<br />

vlQME<br />

it 91<br />

S e p te m b e r 11<br />

I'm really getting boned in<br />

U lp an.Ihope le a n make it fo<br />

October<br />

Journal excufts- tkvid Bormel<br />

7


Hie vast, mysterious Sinai. A land recognized as hot both politically and geographically,<br />

but rarely seen by most people. During the week of Succos, Hebrew University of<br />

Jerusalem sponsored a six-day tour to the Sinai, in which we would see as much of the<br />

Sinai as possible.<br />

After seven hours, we reached Eilat, the southern tip of the Negev and gateway to the<br />

Sinai. Directly across from Eilat, Aquaba, Jordan’s main port, could be seen. We started<br />

traveling down the main road built by the Israelis in 1968. The road parallels the Gulf of<br />

Eilat and extends over 200 miles from Eilat to Sharm-el-Sheikh.<br />

After passing Coral Island and the Fjord, we stayed the first night in the fisherman’s<br />

" ~ y<br />

village of Nuweiba. There are three areas of Nuweiba, a public beach, a moshav known as<br />

Neviot, and the fisherman’s village.<br />

From Nuweiba our journey shifted to the center ot the Sinai. Our view was no longer<br />

of the sea and Saudi Arabia as we moved down the paved “New Road.” Now it became a<br />

perilous, bumpy trek as we passed large red mountains, canyons and wadis. Soldiers, unlike<br />

on the New Road, were virtually non-existant. The rare people we did see were Bedouins,<br />

the desert wanderers.<br />

The temperature changed dramatically with a wind chill index near freezing. This<br />

proved very uncomfortable when we rose at 1 a.m. to tackle the Jebel Musa, which rises<br />

2285 meters. Jebel Musa is the mountain some geologists believe to be Mt. Sinai.<br />

We walked and climbed for three hours. For everyone there was a feeling ot accomplishment<br />

and exhibition after climbing the last 700 steps and reaching the peak. A few<br />

minutes after we reached the top, the sun rose in a flaming yellow ball with the sky a<br />

rainbow of colors and all the peaks of lesser mountains and plateaus below. It was a sight<br />

none of us will ever forget.<br />

We continued to the western coast, reaching the village of Etur. After the difficult<br />

climb, we were all happy to tind a pool of hot water there. The temperature ot the water<br />

was over 100 degrees Farenheit.<br />

After camping there for the night, we followed the west coast road that skirts the<br />

Gulf of Suez. We traveled until we reached Ras Muhammed, the southernmost tip of the<br />

L<br />

Sinai.<br />

At Ras Muhammed the coral reef that separates Africa and Asia is easily visible. Here<br />

is where the Gulfs of Eilat (Aquba) and Suez join to form the Red Sea itself. Snorkeling<br />

there is a must. Diving experts say the most colorful, abundant and exotic tropical fish in<br />

the world are found at Ras Muhammed.<br />

Another divers paradise is found at Sharm-el-Sheikh also known as Ofira. We spent<br />

Shabbat there with some of the local children joining our festivities.<br />

After Shabbat we returned to Eilat and sat up most of the night singing and joking.<br />

We left the next morning for the return to Jerusalem.<br />

Ftaifi/l K/vrmpl


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**"■<br />

Saturday the 14th of October<br />

I miss the fall. The greens, oranges, reds and browns that symbolize and mark<br />

the passing of time. The realization that it’s my birthday, the gradual change<br />

from sundresses to sweaters, the walks in crunching leaves, the mountains.<br />

Where were the new clothes for the High Holidays? The reunions that to me<br />

were always symbolic of fall? The trite “helloes” “how’s school?” “What are<br />

your plans?” —but no matter how trite, a ritual, a<br />

funny sort of comfort in knowing that every year is<br />

the same.<br />

Stripped of that, and stripped of even the comfort<br />

- t that weather brings, I think of being<br />

away. Learning, adjusting, giving and<br />

receiving. Daily I grow —and daily I have<br />

growing pains. Sometimes I ache so much<br />

that I feel like I’m going to burst.<br />

Renee Frishman<br />

/<br />

•"V<br />

c r" '* *<br />

.. t__; /“ I<br />

15


dJdentilu<br />

J rtcCe busses atone,<br />


Times there are<br />

I speak to you<br />

or to your shadow on the wall<br />

or to the dream of you<br />

within my mind.<br />

Times there are<br />

I laugh with you<br />

cry Lo you<br />

smile at you<br />

and even in the worst of moods<br />

you answer me<br />

and lift my soul.<br />

I ran,<br />

not fleeing<br />

but seeking,<br />

and only in the stopping<br />

did I realize<br />

you were gone.<br />

You always solved my problems<br />

and held me till the dragons went away<br />

and when we were together I believed<br />

the world held more solutions than problems.<br />

But now<br />

I ’ve found the problem<br />

that neither you<br />

nor I<br />

can solve:<br />

you are there, content<br />

and I am here<br />

satisfied as I have never been in all my life<br />

and at the same time<br />

lonelier than I ever thought<br />

a human being could be.<br />

If I had known that<br />

in the running you’d be left behind<br />

I tell you that I know I would have stayed<br />

and given up the peace my soul now has.<br />

But going back is not the same<br />

as never having left<br />

and having tasted of the freedom<br />

I can’t go back.<br />

Know that I love you<br />

know that I cry for the emptiness I feel<br />

and know that there are times<br />

I speak to you<br />

or to your shadow on the wall<br />

or to the dream of you<br />

that still is in my mind.<br />

Leanne Rubenstein


January 7, <strong>1979</strong><br />

Here it is . . . “half-time. ” We’ve been here six months . . . six months in Israel. I remember when it was six months<br />

UNTIL Israel. Well, “time flies when you’re having fun.’’ Trite, but true. Why am I suddenly in the mood to write?<br />

Interesting phenomenon . . . I gave up writing in my journal about two days after I got here. Let’s face it —Ulpan was not<br />

exactly a stimulating topic. And, generally, lam not one to write down my “innermost feelings, ” “wrestle with my emotions, ”<br />

or do anything else that might lend itself to expression in a worn-out cliche.<br />

Yet, here lam —writing my feelings nevertheless. It’s just that what I ’m feeling right now is so nice. I want to save it.<br />

Damn! I ’m having such a fantastic time! If I could be guaranteed that this is what life would really be like I ’d make Aliyah<br />

tomorrow —(I hate that term, “making Aliyah. ” —sounds like the title of a cookbook) but how unrealistic can I be? Here I<br />

am in my little American ghetto, with my terrific American friends. Oh sure, there are some token Israeli friends; but I can’t<br />

help feeling a difference somehow. There is a genuine affection but also a definite gap. Perhaps to them lam an entertaining<br />

novelty . . . and maybe they are the same to me. Who knows? Yet, here I am, living it up, taking a real break from serious<br />

studying, enjoying the freedom of having absolely NO pressures on me, and very little responsibility as compared to what I left<br />

at home. It’s like a year in limbo. The country is beautiful; the people, when you penetrate that outer layer, unbelievable; the<br />

experience of re-establishing this with the “other half’ of my family and coming to truly love them, inexpressible —doing so<br />

much and seeing so much and taking it all in, constantly with that “Aliyah thing” in my mind. Everywhere I go and everything<br />

I do, it nags at me and plagues me. Can I live here? Should I live here? who am I kidding . . . I ’ll never live here . . . But I<br />

SHOULD live here... but can I?<br />

Sometimes I love being in Israel so much, it scares me. We all have our bouts with “Aliyah Fever. ” Something as simple as<br />

a “Shabbat Shalom” on a Friday afternoon can set you off and you’re ready to run down and sign up for life . . . But then,<br />

there are the pushy, arrogant people and the inefficiency and bureaucracy (or —the inefficient bureaucracy —they can be used<br />

synonimously) . . . But then I think what these people have been through. They have been through wars, and live daily with<br />

the constant threat of a new war. Perhaps they have more important things to worry about than getting out of the bank in<br />

under an hour. They’ve all lost friends, relatives, fathers, sons . . . yet they’ve survived. Wouldn’t I react the same way?<br />

Wouldn’t I be proud to be a part of them? I ’m so confused. . . it’s getting to be a real pain in the already!<br />

It’s all so much fun for me now . . . the people . . . I can’t believe I ’ve only known them for six months. We’ve all become<br />

so close . . . BUT . . . we’ll never ALL be together at the same time in the same place. When the year ends, the “Israel<br />

Experience” will end and Israel as I remember it, with these people an integral part of it, will be different. Will it still appeal to<br />

me? I bet it will. But do I WANT it to? Damn!<br />

Andi Meiseles<br />

18


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A Jewish Community Lost<br />

On our recent trip to Egypt, Seth and I had many<br />

unique experiences, the most exciting being our visit with<br />

President Anwar Sadat. However, there was something we<br />

saw which left a greater impression on me, although in a<br />

different way.<br />

Before leaving Jerusalem, I spoke to an Israeli friend of<br />

mine whose father was born in Alexandria, and I received<br />

the address of her great uncle, who still lives there. Upon<br />

arriving in Alexandria we found him, and although he was<br />

not happy to see us, as we had expected, he was cordial and<br />

introduced us to many members of the community.<br />

This community, once numbering over forty thousand,<br />

has been reduced to a remnant of a mere one hundred and<br />

fifty Jews. Nearly every member of the community is<br />

over 60 years of age.<br />

We met the Jews, and heard their tales —one who had<br />

no family, and knew that no one in Israel wants a 70 year<br />

old man who doesn’t know Hebrew; one who spent the<br />

years 1967 until Nasser’s death in 1970, in prison for the<br />

crime of being a Jew of “military age” - about thirty years<br />

old. The saddest of the stories was that of Victor who,<br />

at age 40, was the youngest male Jew in Egypt. His wife,<br />

age 25, is expecting a child in April; he is afraid to raise the<br />

child in Egypt, but is also afraid of leaving, since it’s hard<br />

for a man with a paralysed leg to find work.<br />

Saddest of all was the services in Alexandria’s ancient<br />

synagogue that evening. Without Seth and myself, there<br />

would not have been a minyan. The most remarkable thing<br />

was the synagogue itself —one of the most beautiful I have<br />

ever seen. Once it held over five thousand; now, with Seth<br />

and me, and eight little old men who could barely walk,<br />

whose weak voices couldn’t be heard —the contrast was so<br />

great, so ironical, that it could have been a joke —but my<br />

reaction was nearer to tears than laughter.<br />

That sight, and the feelings along with it, will remain<br />

with me for the rest of my life. Maybe peace will come, and<br />

someone will take care of the building, but that won’t<br />

change the fact that the once great Jewish community of<br />

Alexandria is dead.<br />

Dave Rind<br />

22


Life in Cairo<br />

With the advent of peace, Egypt’s economic needs are becoming a central issue in the negotiations for<br />

finalizing the peace treaty. I was interested in investigating Egypt’s financial needs and reporting my findings to<br />

the U.S. Senate. I received the go-ahead to study the infrastructure and monetary requirements of the Arab<br />

world’s largest country from the senator for whom I work while I am at the Hebrew University. My investigation<br />

was to encompass a visit to Egypt and, thanks to the Senator’s help, an interview with President Anwar Sadat.<br />

While in Egypt I was particularly interested in the conditions in which the people live and their economic<br />

situation. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but the situation is pretty sad. I found that conditions in Cairo were<br />

indicative of the needs of Egyptian society. Cairo, Egypt’s capital and the largest city on the African continent,<br />

is probably the area most in need of assistance. Straddling the Nile, Cairo continues year after year to astound an<br />

endless stream of tourists with the marvel of the Pyramids and the riddle of the Sphinx. I was astounded by the<br />

wretched conditions of Cairo, and by the poverty of the average Egyptian living there. Structurally, the city was<br />

meant to accommodate 2-3 million people, and, presently has three times as many inhabitants. Cairo, which is<br />

growing at an alarming rate does not have room enough for the present population, let alone the yearly increase.<br />

I can only describe the majority of dwellings in Cairo as slum-like and strained beyond their limits. Many of the<br />

more fortunate fellaheen (peasants) were able to procure (often at high prices) mausoleums for their housing in<br />

Cairo’s “City of the Dead.’’ Many of the unlucky are forced to wander endlessly around the city and sleep in<br />

empty lots or on the sidewalks. Literally millions are forced to do this every day. I don’t want to dwell on all of<br />

Cairo’s problems, but I’ll mention that infrastructurally Cairo is “shot.” The phone system is nearly non-existent,<br />

traffic problems are made acute by thousands of horses, camels and donkeys, which further complicate the lack of<br />

decent roads and sidewalks. Health care, transportation, and most other services are out of reach for a significant<br />

number of the population.<br />

An amazing fact is the popular misconception that money (from the U.S.) will solve Egypt’s economic woes.<br />

However, this is not an entirely correct appraisal of the situation. It is true that Egypt is in desperate need of<br />

economic assistance but it also lacks the necessary prerequisite: an infrastructure capable of absorbing large<br />

amounts of capital. A major problem is that the Egyptian economy has been unbelievably strained by several<br />

factors. One of these factors has been Egypt’s 1 million-person standing army which has been an incredible drain<br />

on the economy. Maybe now with the chances of peace greatly improved by the treaty, Egypt may be more able<br />

to turn her attention towards the needs of her people. Interesting enough, when we asked many people what they<br />

desired most, their reply was “Peace with Israel.”<br />

Time has a certain sense of justice, in that after 30 years of war, the Egyptians are being forced to take a<br />

hard look at where they stand and what their future is likely to hold. They clearly see that the situation around<br />

them is sad, and that it is getting worse.<br />

The trip was excellent. My conclusion is, from what I saw of the deterioration of Egyptian society, that with<br />

a lot of work, the process could be reversed some day. Basically, this is what I reported to the Senator. From what<br />

I understand, this new awareness is part of the beginning of future development for both Egypt and Israel.<br />

Seth Frisch<br />

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23


The Rally<br />

Hie Mideast peace negotiations, during the final months ol<br />

<strong>1978</strong>, appeared permanently stalled. The purposeful ambiguity of<br />

1he Camp David Accords, perhaps its own foundation and cornerstone,<br />

had proven to be the Achilles’ heel of the subsequent negotiations.<br />

The United States, in its role of mediator, purported to<br />

project an “even-handed” policy, in the hope that this posture<br />

would enable her to manipulate and stabilize the negotiations. Unfortunately,<br />

the U.S. increasingly, and more overtly, supported<br />

surmounting Egyptian demands; demands for American “interpretation”<br />

which in reality would necessitate the Accords’ alteration.<br />

Israel, adament in her refusal to succumb to the mounting joint<br />

U.S.—Egypt pressure, was chastised by the international community.<br />

To the chagrin of World Jewry, the United States openly and unhesitatingly<br />

condemned Israel for complete and sole responsibility<br />

in deadlocking the negotiations. In fact, it seemed as if the U.S. was<br />

resorting to political blackmail in its efforts to persuade the Israeli<br />

Government to agree to Egyptian demands. ...<br />

It was the stuff dreams are made of: we, the American Students<br />

in Israel, an adhoc conglomeration of OYP’ers, organized a rally to<br />

protest the American Government’s perversion of its role as mediator,<br />

and to express our support for the continued resistance of the<br />

Begin government to excessive Egyptian demands and international<br />

pressure. ...<br />

We may not have received international media<br />

coverage and diplomatic recognition; nor were we<br />

personally acknowledged by Prime Minister Begin<br />

and President Carter. But perhaps our actions did<br />

contribute, in some small way, to the awakening of<br />

World Jewry and the cautioning of the American<br />

Government.<br />

... for those of us who believe in dreams, at<br />

least we tried.<br />

Bruce D. Saber<br />

President, American Students in Israel


25


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Carter in Jerusalem<br />

Many times during our year in Jerusalem the world<br />

focused its attention on the events, personalities and issues<br />

in the Middle East. From the euphoric conclusion of the<br />

Camp David Summit to the collapse of the Blair House<br />

talks in Washington, and finally President Carter’s visit to<br />

Jerusalem in March, the prospects for the conclusion of a<br />

peace treaty between Egypt and Israel have swung from<br />

dramatic breakthrough to failure and back again. Throughout<br />

Carter’s visit here it appeared as if little progress was<br />

being made towards a peace agreement. It was not until<br />

the end, at Ben-Gurion Airport, that a breakthrough seemed<br />

possible. The final confirmation of this triumph came<br />

when Egyptian President Sadat accepted the American<br />

proposals for resolving the remaining issues. This optimistic<br />

finale came as a sharp contrast to the earlier predictions<br />

that the talks had come to a disappointing end. Such sharp<br />

contrast between optimism and pessimism was a significant<br />

characteristic of Carter’s talks with Israeli leaders.<br />

At one point early on Monday (March 12) evening Begin<br />

emerged from his office, following a meeting with American<br />

Secretary of State Vance, Israeli Minister of Foreign Affairs,<br />

Moshe Dayan and other members of the Israeli cabinet, to<br />

proclaim that “great progress” had been made that afternoon.<br />

This sent reporters running for the phones to tell<br />

the world the latest news. A few hours later White House<br />

Press Secretary Jody Powell met with the press at the<br />

Hilton Hotel to say that the talks were not going very<br />

well. Again reporters ran to the phones and telex machines<br />

to file the new developments. When later over-night developments<br />

proved Powell’s assessment wrong and unfounded<br />

he explained the next day that at the time of his<br />

press conference at the Hilton Hotel (11:00 pm Monday<br />

night) the situation had been exactly as he had described it:<br />

“gloomy”. (The Jerusalem Post speculated that Powell’s report that the talks were failing was merely another attempt to<br />

exert pressure on Israel in the peace negotiations.)<br />

In the absence of definite news during the talks, journalists resorted to interviewing themselves or writing about the<br />

food served at state functions. One wire service reported that Carter and Begin began their first dinner with oxtail soup and<br />

finished with petit fours. Television “stars” such as Barbara Walters and Walter Cronkite provided great excitement for<br />

bored cameramen. In addition, demonstrations in Jerusalem by supporters of Gush Emunim and in Judea and Samaria by<br />

Palestinian Arabs were also given much press coverage.<br />

Even when Carter had finally departed for another visit to Egypt on Tuesday (March 13) afternoon, it was still not<br />

clear what had actually been decided at the American-Israeli talks. It was believed that the most stubborn issues facing the<br />

Israelis and the Egyptians were the questions of Sinai oil, the exchange of ambassadors and the question of autonomy in<br />

Gaza and Judea and Samaria.<br />

Following Carter’s stopover visit to Egypt, en route to the United States, it was announced that agreement had been<br />

reached on the outstanding issues. It would appear that this initial conclusion of the peace talks was reached for the sake<br />

of a peace agreement and the actual details needed for the implementation of the treaty would take much time to resolve.<br />

It will be these negotiations where the real problems will be faced and resolved. Problems like the future of Israeli settlements<br />

in Judea and Samaria. These will be long and difficult talks, and will truly test the determination and conviction<br />

of the two parties to end 30 years of war. But this peace agreement in the final ana ysis will not suddenly end 30 years<br />

of hostility and suspicion. This will take much longer than the time needed to merely pull out of the Sinai. ^ 0berlander


in<br />

To A S ta r in Passing<br />

memory of Qolda Mier<br />

prom A he mountains of Judea one needn't crane onels n eck<br />

For we- live in 'J e r u s a le m of Gold1- a c i t y r e a c h in g hig h in to -the heavens.<br />

One need only look -from side to .side^<br />

We live amonj the stars<br />

We are astonished a t -their brilliance<br />

A,nd feel diminutive in their shadow.<br />

But the lytrt we now see is o f a time past.<br />

A s ta r lives now to east light for people of th e -future.<br />

I t too n m st one day die.<br />

A star buried forever i n a dark hole in s p a c e j<br />

Leaving on ly Yr\tmor\es and her guiding light<br />

- Gary Mosk.<br />

December Z3,


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With a lot of good luck and a few connections 1 was able to get a temporary press card from the Egyptian Government<br />

during a vacation in Egypt last March. Getting the actual card itself was not all that easy. At one point 1got lost and stuck on<br />

the eighteenth floor of the Television and Radio building looking for the buttons to push the elevator to go downstairs. All I<br />

could find were two holes in the wall! I finally discovered that to call the elevator you just have to knock on the door, hoping<br />

that the operator inside will pick up your signal on his way down. Once I made it to the International Press Centre on the tirst<br />

floor and received my pass, I was told that a special bus was waiting to take journalists to the airport to see Sadat return<br />

home from Washington. Thinking that this might not take too long and actually be quite exciting, 1decided to go along. So tor<br />

the next hour and a half I sat in a bus, stuck in a typical Cairo traffic jam (made even worse by the millions ot people brought<br />

out onto the street to greet Sadat), speaking Hebrew to an Israeli reporter and listening to Chava Alberstein on a Cairo radio<br />

station! What a combination. Finally at the airport we assembled on the tannac to wait for the Egyptian President to land.<br />

There must have been well over 400 officials out to greet the President, a large military band, and many smartly dressed goosestepping<br />

green uniformed soldiers. Just as things were getting a little boring one of the Egyptian government press otticials<br />

came over to me and asked me if I would like to see the whole show from an airforce helicopter, pointing to a huge Americanmade<br />

Bell helicopter sitting at the edge of the tarmac. I asked him to repeat what he said; he must have made a mistake, I<br />

thought to myself. No, it was quite true, he replied. So throwing caution to the wind, I took my good fortune and headed otf<br />

to the waiting helicopter. About 15 minutes later Sadat arrived and began to greet the enormous crowd. Within a few minutes<br />

we took off, circling the airport. Meanwhile, Sadat finished the ceremony on the tarmac and began his drive through Cairo, to<br />

his palace in Giza, a suburb of Cairo. For the next two hours we sat strapped to the floor of the helicopter peering out over the<br />

edge of the floor, watching millions of Egyptians cheering their President. With me was a film crew from Egyptian Television,<br />

ABC and a Dutch photographer working in Israel. By the time we landed at an airforce base in the northeast section ot the<br />

city, I had had a pretty good look at Ciaro and its inhabitants. I also saw several interesting military bases during the jaunt. My<br />

adventure temporarily came to an end.<br />

Two days later, Israeli Prime Minister Menchame Begin arrived in Cairo. Once again I got out to the airport, but this time I<br />

stayed on the ground. After the historic playing of Hatikvah by the Egyptian army band. Begin left the airport for lunch,<br />

before heading off to see the Pyramids like any good tourist. (Only he didn’t have to contend with hundreds of camel owners<br />

and souvenir merchants selling their wares). Ten minutes after Begin left the airport, I saw, to my surprise, workers removing<br />

Israeli flags from the terminal building and the roadway outside.<br />

After a brief stop at a hotel for something to drink we were off to the Pyramids to join Begin. This time our buses had a<br />

police escort through the traffic, which did very little to move the cars out of our way. In fact, it only created so much<br />

curiosity among the people on the street that the cars and buses next to us stopped to see who was the cause of all the<br />

confusion. At the Pyramids more confusion again. Where was Begin? We stood waiting for a time, while enthusiastic Israeli<br />

journalists ran around taking pictures of each other and the Israeli flags against the Pyramids in the background. Suddenly<br />

three helicopters appeared and circled around the Pyramids, before landing near a government guest house overlooking the<br />

Pyramids. Begin appeared out of the last helicopter. After a few words with the waiting reporters, Begin left the area for a<br />

guided tour of the inside of one of the Pyramids. Again we piled into the buses in pursuit of him. We waited at the bottom of<br />

the Pyramid as Begin climbed twenty feet up the side to an entrance to the tomb inside. In a few minutes Begin reappeared,<br />

looking quite satisfied at what he had seen. Soon it was all over. Begin left us to visit the Sphinx and the Great Synagogue of<br />

Cairo. Again nobody could decide where we should go. So after another long, hot and dry wait (by this time we were getting a<br />

little dehydrated) we decided to call it a day and headed for a cafe at the base of the Sphinx in full view of the Pyramids. A<br />

great way to end a great adventure.<br />

Tim Obcrlander


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RICH#S ^PIZZA'<br />

Standing in Richie’s. Two obviously American girls are reading the notices pinned on the board. One,<br />

anxiously chewing on her pizza, is staring upward at the messages. A little pizza has dribbled on her blouse<br />

where it sits unnoticed. The other girl —shorter and plump —is paying as much attention to her friend’s pizza<br />

as to the board. Every once in a while one or the other glances furtively out into the street.<br />

At the counter is a tall, very pretty girl from the midwest. Having just heard the boy next to her speak<br />

English, she engages him in conversation. They run through the standard dialogue: Where are you from? What<br />

school? Do you know . . . ? Then, having found a name in common, they realize simultaneously that there’s<br />

really nothing to say. A minute or two of uncomfortable silence follows —she, studying the Hebrew characters<br />

in the “Coca Cola” sign, he staring at the ornate Shalom poster on the wall before him. The arrival of his friends<br />

rescues him. After stalling for a minute, she starts suddenly, feigns forgetfulness, and hurries off as if she had an<br />

important engagement at some unknown destination.<br />

“Night Fever” is pulsing out of the radio. Leaning at the end of the counter, two pushtakim are “moving”<br />

with the music. Heads nodding, feet tapping, hips swaying, one can only suppose that they are trying to be<br />

sensual. They’re dressed in standard Israeli punk: tight, high-waisted pants, tight, flashy shirts open to<br />

mid-chest revealing large, gold Magen Davids with a clenched fist in the middle. Black, high-heeled shoes with<br />

pointy toes. Hair combed up and back a la John Travolta. The overall effect, unfortunately, is only to make<br />

them appear sickly and rather humorous. Oblivious of this, one of them sharply sucks in his breath and makes<br />

eyes at two very pretty girls eating nearby. The girls, obviously flattered, act disgusted and turn their backs.<br />

The other laughs and slaps his friend on the back. They theatrically exit into the crowded streets.<br />

35


Out in front one of Meir Kahane’s boys is handing out a paper to the passers-by; most passively accept the<br />

sheet and, after a cursory glance, throw it out. Some —probably trained in New York —walk brusquely by.<br />

One or two stop to argue. A fight breaks out. Suddenly materializing, the crowds close in around the<br />

combatants and block the view. As quickly as it starts, it’s over. The passer-by is dragged off —cursing —by his<br />

friends. The young Jewish crusader fixes his clothes; replaces his kipah on his head and resumes his work.<br />

A tall, red-headed Hassid enters. His black caftan is a size too big, and his pale white face is framed by<br />

neatly curled peyos. His hat is worn high —pushed back on his forehead. His face is a sight in itself: thin red<br />

whiskers too sparse to be called a beard. His cheeks are thin and drawn. Rather than the intense light one reads<br />

of in books, his eyes contain only a dull look of discomfort and mistrust hinged with a trace of contempt. He<br />

orders his pizza quietly —not thrusting his hand in the face of the worker like the rest of the customers, and<br />

eats it all at the counter standing almost defiantly amongst the crowd —an image of the past; mute testimony<br />

to the forsaken spirituality of the city.<br />

Across the street, at the #9 bus stop, a joyful reunion occurs between friends. One boy, having just<br />

returned from a week in Greece answers the smiling questions of his friends. They are sitting on the side rail<br />

looking up at him. “Well, you know, I really missed this place and speaking Hebrew. Not the Israelis, of course,<br />

but the place.’’ His statement is greeted by understanding nods of “yea, we know just what you mean.”<br />

At Shikune Haelef, a girl puts on the final touches preparing to go out. She feels contented: Jerusalem on<br />

Shabbat is so special, the feeling is so indescribable. It’s . . . fulfilling! Just then her friends —all Americans —<br />

come to get her. This week they were forcing her to come with, not letting her beg off with the excuse of being<br />

tired and wanting to read and write some letters. Reluctantly, she leaves her little palace for the city —already<br />

devising ways to escape and return early.<br />

3 b


Sitting at the central bus station, waiting for the bus to go home, one boy from Chicago is casting anxious,<br />

hopefully glances at the beautiful Israeli girl next to him on the bench. He is tired and smelly, having slept on the<br />

beach the night before. Forcing himself to act nonchalant, he is dying inside. “If only I could say something . . .<br />

but what? . . . ‘Excuse me, but I’m trying to learn Hebrew. Would you help me by talking to me?’ . . . No she’ll<br />

never go for that . . . God, what beautiful hair . . .” Her bus arrives and sue gets on. “Damn,” he thinks to<br />

himself, “just as I was about to say something.” The bus pulls away —another potential ‘encounter’ missed —<br />

wait till next time. He thinks he sees her looking at him as her window passes by. Confidence restored, he looks<br />

around for another girl. None . . . he goes home to shower and sleep as always.<br />

It’s midnight. The streets are emptying as people hurry to catch the last buses. The tourists and foreigners<br />

trying to act Israeli, jostle the most in the struggle to get on the bus. One little old lady lowers her head, and,<br />

elbows flailing, plows into the crowd like a piston engine. Grudgingly, the people part. Unfortunately she has<br />

misjudged the position of the door and bangs her head on the side of the bus. Glaring angrily at the people<br />

around her for causing this by their presence, she arrogantly climbs into the bus.<br />

At the back of the bus the following conversation transpires.<br />

—I had the worst time in the bank today. 45 minutes to change $10!<br />

—I know. The bureaucracy here is the pits.<br />

—(laughing). You know what’s most amazing? I hate the people, the pushing, the impoliteness, the army,<br />

the lack of freedom and even the language (I mean, its SO unexpressive —you can’t say half the things you can<br />

say in English) but I’ll still probably make Aliyah.<br />

—(nodding with understanding) yea, me too. The country just gives you such a good feeling.<br />

Larry Kramer<br />

37


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Saturday rides. Yariv loved to take the new<br />

Peugeot, and go. Far away from the family, business<br />

problems, bombs, Iran, Camp David, and all the other<br />

craziness. Behind the wheel he was master of his own<br />

destiny, he could go wherever he pleased with just a<br />

turn of the wheel. MY GOD! A rock slammed into<br />

the door on the driver’s side of Yariv’s car. A second<br />

landed on the roof. . . . A shird shot threw the open<br />

window, striking Yariv’s head. His car spun around,<br />

hitting a wet spot on the road . . . DAMMIT! The<br />

Peugeot smacked into some large rocks on the opposite<br />

side of the road.<br />

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He opened his eyes, and they were coming after him, in black uniforms with tall hats and sideburns dangling. Clutching<br />

large stones. A whole troop of them . . .<br />

They proceeded to peek into the open window at the semiconcious driver. Their pigtails drooped over the window<br />

frame. A small one, not tall enough to look in, yelled “Desecrator of the holy Sabbath! Believe in G-d!”<br />

Due to the situation’s insanity and his weak state of mind, Yariv couldn’t comprehend what was happening. These<br />

harlequins were persecuting him with violence and religious propaganda. A modern crusade?<br />

“This man has been hurt!” called one of their leaders. He was an older man, with passionate eyes. The older man opened<br />

the car door and liften Yariv’s head up from the steering wheel. “Nu, atah beseder?” Yariv opened his eyes. The old man<br />

motioned for something to cover Yariv’s head, which was spurting blood. He pulled Yariv out of the car and leaned him against<br />

one of the newly dented fenders. “Please my friend, come to my house for Sabbath Kiddush.” The rabbi, with the help of his<br />

two sons, escorted their Sabbath guest.<br />

They arrived at the house, and the rabbi signaled for his son to go inside. The boy came back with a kipah in one hand,<br />

and the stone still in the other. The rabbi took the kipah, and scolded the boy for bringing a stone into the house. “You must<br />

put this on your head before you enter my house.” the rabbi said.<br />

head.”<br />

“No!” For many years Yariv’s head had kept warm without any type of headcovering; no need for one now.<br />

“But you need some medicine to put on your wounds, and the medicine is inside by home, so please place this on your<br />

“You are crazy, I don’t wear those things!” Yariv said.<br />

“Well then sit here on the steps, and I will bring medicine outside. It is a shame I could not be honored with your<br />

company in my house.”<br />

Yariv stretched out at the bottom of the stairwell and waited. It was a beautiful Sabbath, dressed in Jerusalem blue. The<br />

suburb of Ramot looked down from the seemingly distant hill. They started to sing. It seemed as though singing was coming<br />

from everywhere. People were finishing meals, and completing them with songs of praise. The singing became louder, and<br />

Yariv’s head started to pound. It was a though a metal hammer was pounding in his brain. The taps became rhythmic and<br />

tranquilizing. Yariv started to sleep.<br />

Yariv looked up at his father. He had not trimmed his beard in years, perhaps never. He was always reading those big<br />

books Yariv couldn’t, or never wanted to, understand. He liked to play ball while his father read. After the game, the boys<br />

would sneak down to the stores in town that were open on Saturday. There they could buy those large slabs of taffy which<br />

mom forbade Yariv to eat. The pieces were so big and hard. After Yariv fought with a piece for a while, he could enjoy its<br />

deliciousness. But quickly, quickly! “By sundown I must be back home for Havdalah!” Still chewing on the last bite of<br />

taffy, Yariv walked through town. He would peer into the Jewish shops, wondering why they were closed when other shops<br />

would be earning twice the amount of money. Yariv would rather buy taffy from a Jewish than non-Jewish shop. Why not<br />

make the Sabbath on Sunday?<br />

Yariv came out of his doze,and the singing still persisted. He thought, “I remember when I was a boy, and we sang the<br />

same songs. Every Saturday, utter lunch. The whole family was together then. Dad sure was fascinated by Judaism. Study,<br />

study, study. I could never figure out why. But Saturday wasn’t for books. It was for . . . TAFFY!<br />

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The rabbi came back from praying Mincha.<br />

“Well, how do you feel my friend? Would you want to come inside?” said the rabbi.<br />

“No, I must really be going.” said Yariv.<br />

“But you cannot go. Your head is still bleeding. Just look at the blood soaked up by the bandage.”<br />

“It is okey. I don’t know if you’ve every been in a war, old man, but this head injury is nothing compared to what I’ve<br />

been through.”<br />

“I have fought in as many wars as you have.”<br />

“Ha! You pray and study too much to fight in our wars!”<br />

“That is why you lose them, because I haven’t studied or prayed TOO much!” said the rabbi.<br />

“What!! I’ve risked my life too many times for this state, to defend it, and you are telling me that it is you who defends<br />

it! Look here!”<br />

Yariv pulled up his shirt, revealing a scar stretching from his left hip to the right breast. The rabbi’s two daughters quickly<br />

pulled down the window shades at the sight of his flesh.<br />

“And you, you fat-bellied bookworm! How do you defend the state?”<br />

“I have prayed for the existence of our people to G-d, who determines all this evil that you and I are up against.”<br />

“Well has all your praying done any good? The Arabs are going to throw us into the sea the first chance they get!”<br />

“Can I ask you if your fighting has served to stop war? No, it only prolongs the next one. If you had prayed to G-d, he<br />

might have taken care of us. Your gun, or the whole army, cannot come near to the strength of G-d.”<br />

“Where was this strength during the Holocaust, when many people who did pray, like yourself, were killed?”<br />

“I cannot answer for G-d’s actions, but I can point out this: THE JEWISH PEOPLE HAVE SURVIVED. Come in my<br />

friend, let us talk.”<br />

“I thinkT’ll stay here and enjoy this sun.”<br />

The rabbi disappeared into the house. His son, who was still clutching the rock, sat next toYariv. Yariv looked down at<br />

the boy. So adorable. Big brown eyes, pudgy nose, round healthy lips. Yet those disgusting tubes of hair dangled over his ears<br />

like salamis in a butcher’s shop. “He will look just like his father, and his children will look just like their grandfather. Why are<br />

such beautiful children made to look so ugly?”<br />

Mark Weintraub<br />

41


The boy smiled. “Are you okay mister?” he said. Yariv took off the rag that was on his wound. The boy looked at Yariv’s<br />

head in surprise. “Where is your kipah?” the boy asked. Yariv put back the rag on his head.<br />

“Want to play a game?” the boy asked.<br />

“What do you play?” said Yariv.<br />

“Let’s play stories!”<br />

“Stories? How do you play?”<br />

“You listen, and I’ll tell a story, then I’ll listen, and you tell a story. I’ll go first,” said the boy.<br />

The boy started. He talked about the Garden of Eden, something good that man had taken away from him. Man never<br />

should have started to be bad. It kept him bad.<br />

“O.K., now it is my turn,” said Yariv.<br />

Yariv started. “Once there were two brothers. One who liked to study and one who liked to work. The brother who<br />

worked, worked hard. The brother who studied, studied hard. The brother who studied was always in his room, and the<br />

brother who worked was always in the field. They never saw each other, their lives were completely different. They never<br />

talked. They never ate together. They never slept together.”<br />

“What happened to the brothers at the end of the story?” asked the boy.<br />

“It is very sad.” replied Yariv. ‘The brother who studies began studying the work of the brother who worked. The<br />

brother who worked hated this and tried to kill him.”<br />

“Did he die?” asked the boy.<br />

“He could not die.” said Yariv.<br />

The rabbi came rushing out of the house.<br />

“It is almost sunset, soon we can get a mechanic to fix your car,” the rabbi said.<br />

“That will be fine. My friends might expect me a bit late tonight.” Yariv replied.<br />

“I am not sorry for the inconvenience, it was a pleasure having you adorn the front of our house. But it is a shame you<br />

could not come in. Come, Yaacov, it is time for Havdalah.”<br />

Yariv watched the sunset, alone. It set over something he still could not understand.<br />

Mark Weintraub<br />

42


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When I first discovered that 1 had won a scholarship to study in Jerusalem I was very excited: I was, however, also in a<br />

great rush as I was informed in mid-June: my first, although sadly not my last meeting with the nugatory Israeli bureaucracy.<br />

Immediately upon my arrival I was introduced to Jewish Geography. Jewish Geography? A group connected with the<br />

Diaspora Museum tracing ancient Jewish roots? An archeological expedition digging up the Negev in search of ancient Jewish<br />

cities? No, no romance, no ancient walls. Ritchie’s Pizza and King George Street on a hot, August Saturday night . . .<br />

“Seriously, you know Chaim: Did you know that my sister went out with his cousin from Chicago?” “Chicago? Incredible! Do<br />

you know Ron so-and-Berg or Debbie Weiss-and-so . . .” Anyway, I soon discovered how to play Jewish Geography and to my<br />

great surprise most of my imaginary friends had connections with JFTY, AZYF, CIA, BBYO, SOS, YJY and PAS.<br />

Soon after I had the unique pleasure of being introduced to a variety of faucets (what has happened to my English?) of<br />

Israeli life. Humous, falafel, old ladies with sharp elbows and tongues, girls dressed in the latest early sixties fashion, creative<br />

uses of the automobile horn (thanks to D.S.), and to my horror, John Travolta, Israeli style! There are three types of disco<br />

dancing: white people disco dancing, black people disco dancing, andlsraeli disco dancing. Not enough space to describe the<br />

first two: but Israeli!!! Stand still, and with the first sound of the disco beat attempt to shake, simultaneously, every part of<br />

your body as fast as possible for ten straight minutes - while all the time looking fabulously disinterested and chain smoking<br />

Time cigarettes. With that completed, learn 6 English words: “Hello, you American girl, you sleep?”<br />

Come November, still wide-eyed with a people who can work six days a week, eat falafel regularly and remain healthy,<br />

see food prices triple in one day and not bat an eye, put up with Jimmy Carter . . . I began to catch on . . . I looked forward<br />

to getting on buses, it is a challenge to beat everyone to the door! See films out of focus and remain convinced that it is a new<br />

Fellini technique. Getting used to seeing thin animals. Stockpiling toilet paper from all the good hotels and providing a good<br />

selection for guests. Being able to answer questions like: “What did you expect when you first came to Israel? Singing Bee<br />

Gee songs in falsetto and having Israeli girls trailing behind. And finally, playing basketball while deftly avoiding the sheep.<br />

Yes I think I’m really going to miss my Israeli civilian, commando training for buses and banks when I m standing in a<br />

long, orderly, North American lineup at McDonalds. Sitting through a movie without the film breaking, or someone playing.<br />

‘Israeli musical chairs’ or the famous (infamous?) hafsaka (“Frankly Scarlet, I don t give a / hafsaka! / ).<br />

But most of all, I’m going to miss going for a thirty minute walk which takes me to the hills where Western civilization<br />

began. Over and through the Mount of Olives stepping from one culture into another. Past people who I can’t understand and<br />

can’t understand me, but nevertheless, exchanging a friendly smile. To the Old City which means so much to so many, and<br />

always will. To the Kotel, the Mosque of Omar, and to Christianity’s disgrace, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Walks which<br />

can end up anywhere; with anyone —Jewish, Arab, Christian or neutral.<br />

Its a special country and it’s been a special year.<br />

Paul Summerville<br />

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Nisan 5739<br />

Israel defies commonplace comprehension. It is first a country caught in a whirlwind of constant and unpredictable change.<br />

What is a certainty today is gone tomorrow and yesterday's fantasy is today’s fact. Further, the dust gathered from the four<br />

corners of the earth to create Adam has all settled on the land of Israel. How does one find a unifying vision in this profusion<br />

of conflicting life-styles7 Finally, the jarring juxtaposition of past and present, dreams and reality, leaves one in a “mild"<br />

state o f schizophrenia.<br />

I only hope that this multi-dimensional experience has opened new doors of insight and that you leave us with a realistic love<br />

of Israel and a stronger sense of self. . nn^Y "|*n<br />

rmN<br />

One-Year Program<br />

It is seldom that I really have the time to stop and think about my job —doing it consumes most o f m y physical and metaphysical<br />

resources. As the end of the year approaches, I too find myself posing the same kind of self-queries that I sense to be<br />

pervading many o f your thoughts. I feel a sudden need to justify and to explain. Perhaps the penning of this essay, which I<br />

have characteristically deferred to the last moment, will help me to answer some salient questionsthat never before seemed<br />

important. Even after a cursory reading of the yearbook, the themes o f being Jewish, seeking roots and self-discovery prove<br />

to be o f paramount important. These motifs intrinsically undergird this essay.<br />

It is already a cliche to say that learning is not confined to classrooms and libraries. The very nature of the One-Year Program<br />

makes this more than an empty catchphrase or abstract term. Students come to Jerusalem and its University in order to<br />

grapple with the absurdities, complexities and stark realities of Judaism, Israel and the Middle East. The textbook term<br />

“experiential learning" takes on a certain vibrance when you venture off campus and attempt to find your individual niche in<br />

Israel. The primary function of the OSA is to help you locate that niche by providing opportunities designed to explore<br />

various facets of contemporary life in Israel. The vehicles for this exploration are lectures, workshops, study-tours and<br />

volunteer projects.<br />

The crux o f the matter — and the core of my individual challenge as an educator — is to determine what types of<br />

opportunities to provide you with and how to make those experiences as meaningful as possible. The question is far deeper<br />

and broader than a mere technical one. The answer is inherently personal. This year’s experiences have taken us to such<br />

seemingly incongruent places as Sde Boker in the Negev, the Good Fence on the Lebanese border, a Jewish settlement in<br />

Judea and an Arab refugee camp in Gaza. We have shared the endless array of settings that is Israel. We have met the<br />

politicians, pioneers, prophets and everyday people who are the Israelis. We have shared the hyperbole of ebullience and<br />

tragedy. We have learned about our roots and, perhaps, been provided with glimpses into our future. We have hiked under the<br />

desert sun and engaged in an ongoing discourse about the intricacies of the Arab-Israel Conflict. We have even tried to capture<br />

our common experiences in the pages o f this yearbook.<br />

It is hoped that the experiences we have shared together, in synthesis with your unique and personal explorations and adventures,<br />

will have helped you to make inroads towards understanding and self-discovery. It is this hope that is fundamental to<br />

the working philosophy of the OSA. This philosophy is neither fixed nor sacred. To the contrary, it must be malleable in<br />

order to be viable. It must change as student needs and contemporary realities continue to evolve.<br />

If some of the experiences provided by the OSA prove to deepen your self-understanding and reinforce your bonds to Israel<br />

and the Jewish people, the philosophy will ultimately be validated and my need for self-explanation and justification will be<br />

satiated.<br />

Moshe Margolin, Coordinator<br />

Office of Student Activities<br />

50


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OR<br />

(THE THREE JOLLY FISHERMEN)<br />

Who are these guys? Why, they are none other than Dean “Bold Eagle” Singer, Moshe “The Bearded Wonder” Margolin,<br />

and Ya’akov “Tomorrow I’ll Start my Diet” Ma’or. So what. What do they do? You ask what they do? Hmmm . . . What<br />

DO they do? Well, Moshe likes to shout for quiet in the office so he can get some work done. Ya’akov lives to talk about the<br />

food they served at yesterday’s Bris. Dean Singer we are not so sure about. You see, he’s been in an “existential void” since<br />

July and there are no signs of improvement in his condition. We will keep you posted on any change.<br />

What do these guys do in their spare time? Now THERE is a question. During their spare time Moshe and Ya’akov are<br />

working like dogs, planning out a year full of activities for the OYP students. And I’ll tell you, off the record, Prime Minister<br />

Begin’s travel agency should take a few lessons from these guys on trip itinerary planning. You ask anybody around about<br />

“I.D.F.,” “Development Towns,” “P.L.O. Weekend,” and they’ll tell you how great a job these two guys do. All I can tell<br />

you about Dean Singer is that I’ve heard him talking into the telephone in his office VERY loudly, and his secretaries are<br />

ALWAYS busy.<br />

But let me say this . . . Probably the most important thing you should know about these guys: they CARE. The doors<br />

to those offices are always open. You want to talk? They love to listen. You need help? They love to help. Are these guys<br />

dedicated? I have yet to meet three other people as wholely dedicated to their jobs as these guys. And I’ll tell you, IT SHOWS.<br />

Aaron, Moshe, and Ya’akov, MORE POWER TO YOU!<br />

Josh Taub<br />

51


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53


“If we don’t remember the Holocaust, no<br />

one else will.” With these words, Dr. Ze’ev<br />

Mankowitz, lecturer on the Holocaust at the<br />

Hebrew University opened an all-night vigil for<br />

Yom //a-S7zoa/z—Holocaust Remembrance Day. Two-hundred and fifty students gathered at Beit Hillel to hear Mankowitz<br />

lecture on “The Sanctification of Life in the Aftermath of the Holocaust.” Many of the students present were already<br />

acquainted with Dr. Mankowitz having taken his course on “Issues in the Study of the Holocaust.”<br />

During the semester-long course we concentrated our efforts of study on three major questions:<br />

1) How was the Holocaust humanly possible?<br />

2) How could the Jews let it happen to them?<br />

3) How could the world stand by and watch?<br />

For the first question we explored different theories and explanations from all aspects of life; sociological, anthropological,<br />

psychological, economical, political and theological. Somewhere along the line each of these theories broke down and left us<br />

were we started - without an explanation of how the Holocaust was possible. There was that element of irrationality that we<br />

will never be able to explain and that escapes our comprehension and understanding: how six million people, whose only crime<br />

was being born Jewish, were so brutally murdered.<br />

54


If we cannot explain nor fully understand the Holocaust where does that leave us? What we can do is to draw lessons<br />

from such an experience. The lesson drawn by Mankowitz is that the Jews must have a land of their own and be prepared to<br />

defend themselves with their own army. The Jews must be in a position from which they can determine their own fate and<br />

never again be at the mercy of a dominant power. The lesson we as Jews MUST learn from the Holocaust is the need for a<br />

strong State of Israel.<br />

To those who say that the Holocaust could never happen again I say that the Arab countries have been trying to destroy<br />

Israel and her Jewish inhabitants since her birth in 1948. A Holocaust can happen again —in the United States, in Israel, in<br />

Iran? But as Abba Kovna sees it, the Jews must now be prepared to show that Jewish blood will not be spilt lightly anymore.<br />

In his lecture on Yom Hashoah, Mankowitz extended his arguments and conclusions further and elaborated on many<br />

important points that were allueded to in his class.<br />

“On the one hand we have the need to remember, but that remembrance threatens to paralyse and create a mood of<br />

despair which doesn’t allow us to move in any direction.” The critical step we must take at this point is to leave the question<br />

of understanding aise. We must reverse the order and do, without any guarantees that we will ever understand. We must move<br />

from a search for meaning to action and response. Any other way . . . is a prescription for paralysis.” “Behind this move into<br />

the realm of response and action we are doing something which is essential to being a Jew and that is an acclaimation of life.<br />

These words crystalized and brought together many confused thoughts that haunted me after studying the Holocaust as I<br />

tried to move out of my own paralysis from despair of the Holocaust and turn conclusion into concrete action.<br />

So if we follow this process from belief in the need for a strong Jewish State, which includes a strong military,<br />

to the understanding of its importance and necessity to the survival of the Jews who, as history shows, must be<br />

prepared for another attempted Holocaust, where does that leave a committed Jew from the United States. Should<br />

this young man - young, strong, idealistic - pick up his “secure” life in the U.S., leave his family and his friends,<br />

and come join the people of Israel in their struggle for survival? The lesson I have learned from the Jewish experience<br />

of the Holocaust is that Israel is the place I must live.<br />

IT IS OUR COLLECTIVE RESPONSIBILITY TO REMEMBER.<br />

Kenneth Hecht<br />

Jerusalem<br />

April 24, <strong>1979</strong><br />

I would like to take this opportunity to express my sincere gratitude<br />

as well as admiration to Dr. Ze’ev Mankowitz who, with great<br />

humbleness, shared his endless knowledge with us on a tragic but important<br />

event in Jewish history. I am sure that every student in his class<br />

will agree.<br />

55


Rarely has a professor captured my interest so completely as did Professor Katz in his “Russian and Soviet Jewry” class.<br />

I think the reason for my fascination with the subject and the fascination of others in the class was because the history of<br />

the Jews was described in more humanistic terms than one often finds in a history class, where names, dates and places are<br />

thrown at one. Instead, each of us felt more personally involved with Russian Jewish history because Professor Katz<br />

described events as they often reflected individuals; he many times added events from his own life. In addition, I was fascinated<br />

by the topic because my grandmother lived under Russian rule and told me stories from her youth that illustrated the periods<br />

Professor Katz was discussing.<br />

Jewish history in Russia is not a happy saga, but reflects the cruel, often brutal treatment of one people towards another<br />

whose only crime was their difference in belief. Perhaps the most tragic fact was that Jewry under Russian control literally had<br />

no place to escape. As soon as they would flee one area, resettle and re-estabish themselves, they would find themselves in the<br />

same unenviable position; harassed, persecuted and often murdered in bloody pogroms.<br />

In addition to a very good history of Russian Jewry we were brought up to the present situation of Soviet Jews through<br />

three class events. The first was a meeting with six Russian-Israeli students from the university, five of whom are new olim.<br />

The session began with an autobiographical sketch by each of the students which was usually related to the Professor in<br />

Russian and then translated for the students in the class. Each autobiography was vastly different from the next, contrary to<br />

what I had originally expected. Each and every Russian Jew who enters a request at the Ovir office (office for visas and<br />

registration), is not harassed by the KGB, though many are. In addition, not everyone of these students faced strong antisemitism.<br />

It seems most realistic to state that in regard to anti-semitism, its<br />

level varies from community to community. Thus, some of the students felt<br />

very strong anti-semitism, while others felt hardly any at all.<br />

The students were extremely interesting, including one young man, a<br />

dissident, who had held prayer meetings at which he and friends had<br />

learned about Judaism together. The only unusual thing about their study<br />

group was that the door to the room remained open the entire time the<br />

meeting was in progress to prevent them from being charged by the KGB<br />

with carrying on subversive activities.<br />

On another occasion, a bus-load of students from our class travelled to<br />

Ben-Gurion Airport to greet a group of Russian olim who were arriving via<br />

Vienna. Anticipation mounted as we waited about 2% hours for the<br />

delayed plane-load of passengers. In the interim we were given a summary<br />

of emigration procedures and we were able to listen to the experiences of<br />

some Iranian olim, who had arrived during the height of the crisis in<br />

Teheran. Many of them emigrated with only the clothes on their backs.<br />

When the plane finally landed it was a moving sight as we students<br />

san “Shalom Aleichem” to these newly arriving immigrants. One woman,<br />

an Argentinian olah with two children who was waiting to be processed, cried<br />

silently as she stood next to me. The smiles of the olim were reward enough<br />

56


for our 1xfi hour wait. It was equally touching to see the children of the younger couples with their new toys: Israeli flags.<br />

In the midst of all the cheering and singing there was comedy too: one women of about 60 years of age came over to<br />

where I and another girl from the class were standing. She wanted to talk to us in spite of the fact that we said repeatedly<br />

that we didn’t speak or understand Russian. We spoke in Hebrew and simple English but to no avail —she didn’t speak either<br />

language. Finally we asked her if she spoke Yiddish. She said yes. So I ran to get a friend of mine who finally was able to help<br />

the woman and translate for us: the woman needed to use the rest-room.<br />

When things finally became a bit more quiet we were able to speak to the new olim. They were a varied group, the<br />

majority of them were over 50 though there were a few young parents and children, but only one person in her early twenties.<br />

One of the new olim had originally been among the early halutzim in the 1920’s but had returned to Russia. It had taken him<br />

almost ten years to finally receive all the required documents and the permission of the Soviet Government to once more make<br />

his way to Israel.<br />

Soon, sorry though we were to leave, we were saying goodbye to the new olim, as they were being processed by Israeli<br />

immigration officials. The last picture that remains in my mind is a combination of the olim waving goodbye; children with<br />

flags, and siddurim with Russian translation being handed out.<br />

Our final excursion was to an absorption center which is about 20 minutes outside of Jerusalem. There, in a comfortable,<br />

relaxing atmosphere we were able to talk with Russian immigrants who had been in Israel only a short time and were<br />

somewhat settled.<br />

We spoke with one young man who had been a dissident and had been followed and questioned by the KGB. One can<br />

hardly conceive of what life is like for Jewish dissidents until one listens to a description of the tension of being constantly<br />

spied upon so that one becomes so suspicious of the things around him that he cannot even express himself freely in his own<br />

home.<br />

The Russians too had questions. They were curious about the experience of American Jews in regard to anti-semitism. We<br />

too, like the Russians, gave a very varied picture of Jewish life in America.<br />

After a group discussion we broke up into small groups where we spoke individually with the new olim. I spoke with a girl<br />

who probably spoke for all the olim in their desire to learn Hebrew and assimilate into Israeli society.<br />

In the end, after participating in all three events, I can say that we students came away with a balanced view of Soviet<br />

Jewish life through our class and association with Jews who have lived a very different life style from American Jewry. I can<br />

think of no better place to have shared experiences with these newly liberated Russian Jews than in Israel, the melting pot for<br />

world Jewry.<br />

Laura A. Weiss<br />

57


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69


Ahad Shtayim, Shalosh Arba became familiar to those students staying at NahalDelmon during the<br />

three day tour of the Israeli Defense Forces, when they joined the soldiers in their routine morning<br />

exercises. This tour took place in February as forty students went to different branches of the Israeli<br />

Army to begin to understand the intricate network that makes up her defenses.<br />

We started out on Sunday morning, splitting into two groups, one considered the “pioneering”<br />

group. This is the one that went to Nahal Delmon. The bus finally arrived, after getting lost a few times.<br />

We were given a quick lecture after a five minute hike to a point overlooking the base. This was the extent<br />

of our “pioneering.” We then went back to the bus and broke down into several groups to talk to soldiers<br />

on a more personal basis about what Nahal was all about. A quick summary: Nahal is the part of the<br />

army which establishes bases throughout the country that may or may not later turn into permanent<br />

settlements. Both men and women soldiers live and work on the settlements for the usual service of two<br />

or three years as well as an additional eight months. The service works in cycles, the soldiers moving to<br />

different places every six months.<br />

We ate dinner and were then given a lecture on the political situation in Iran. We all slept together in<br />

one main room.<br />

We woke up bright and early (with the sun) Monday morning and visited one of the Druze bases,<br />

Base 300. We then moved onto the Youth Hostel in Haifa where we were given a lecture on the Israeli<br />

Army as a whole body, in an attempt to tie together the various sections we had previously seen.<br />

Tuesday morning began with a visit to the Museum for Ships and Illegal Immigrants. From there we<br />

went to the Survivors of the Holocaust Museum where there were exhibits of art works executed by<br />

survivors amongst a short history of the Holocaust. We ended our tour with a visit to one of the training<br />

schools for mechanics. This school resembled a “prep school” : students of exceptional ability in the field<br />

of engineering, not yet old enough for the army, begin at the age of 14 to study the technical aspects of<br />

air force vehicles. Thus, they are given a head start by the army and begin to learn how to assemble the<br />

complex engines of airplanes.<br />

The IDF trip was, in short, three days Filled with information about the different facets of the<br />

Israeli Army, yet just the first step toward understanding the intricacies involved in the defense of a<br />

70 nation.


v T - J K<br />

71


Tell us what you see<br />

Tell us what will be<br />

I see a land of new creation<br />

We’ll live in peace with every nation<br />

I see a time, when deserts bloom again<br />

The faith I have is not in vain<br />

Had I been able to personally interview David Ben-Gurion, Israel’s first Prime Minister, at his home on Kibbutz Sde-Boker,<br />

I imagine he would have described his hopes and aspirations for the Negev similar to the verse above.<br />

Those of us who were fortunate enough to have participated in the first O.Y.P. Study tour, learned about our great<br />

statesman’s visions for the Negev, and much more. We were familiarized with the latest research being done in preparation for<br />

the settlement of the desert. We were eye witnesses to all sorts of agriculture and vegetation, a natural wonder when one takes<br />

a glimpse of the parched desert-earth and feels the strong rays of the hot desert-sun.<br />

Did you know that it is possible to cause rain? Did you know that solar energy is more than just a “sun-day” celebration?<br />

That it is a reality being practiced and perfected today so that it will be able to be put into use on a large scale? What about<br />

potash? Do you know what elements compose it? Does it serve a purpose? Questions that I never would have thought to ask<br />

were being asked during the lectures, and then answered in such a way that I could barely hold on to one concept before a new<br />

one attracted my attention.<br />

I returned from the trip in awe of the knowledge I had gained. Inside my head, thoughts of pistachio nut trees, ancient<br />

farms and farmers, kept swimming around in water. WATER —I kept envisioning it everywhere I went. (That is the secret<br />

ingredient, that is the vital essence necessary to ensure the future of the Negev.)<br />

For those of you who could not participate in this challenging experience, my thoughts may seem a bit muddled. I can<br />

only answer questions about the Negev with action —to go settle in the Negev, and help it bloom and develop —there is so<br />

much land and opportunity there. It is a vast area which harbors secret treasures, waiting to be unearthed. Go, discover a world<br />

unknown.<br />

72 Aviva Gewirtz


The thirty-odd development towns scattered throughout Israel have been established over the<br />

past 25 years with several aims in mind: to provide urban centers that will serve the country’s<br />

hinterland; to meet the preferences of large sections of the immigrant population who wish to live in<br />

an urban rather than rural environment; to further the aim of population dispersal, thus offsetting the<br />

heavy concentration of population in the coastal strip; to make possible comprehensive regional<br />

planning of housing, employment and welfare while coordinating the parallel development of agriculture<br />

and industry in each area.<br />

In most cases the original population of the development towns consisted of immigrants brought<br />

on arrival in Israel to the new towns and who sometimes participated in the initial building process,<br />

and often being directed to any form of employment available; industry or services. Until local leadership<br />

could develop, many of the professionals —doctors, teachers, social workers, senior administrators<br />

—were “imported” and gaps developed between the different strata of the population.<br />

These were some of the phenomenon presented to the 45 OYP students who participated in a<br />

three day study tour of Israeli development towns.


TH E PLQ AND<br />

THE PALESTINIANS<br />

Friday the<br />

8:00 am<br />

8:15 am<br />

8:45 am<br />

9:15 am<br />

9:30 am<br />

11:00 am<br />

12:45 pm<br />

1:30 pm<br />

4:30 pm<br />

6:15 pm<br />

7:30 pm<br />

9:00 pm<br />

16th:<br />

Bus leaves Elef Parking Lot<br />

Bus leaves Goldsmith Building<br />

Check-in at Har Gilo Field School<br />

Introductory Remarks by Israel Roi, Vice Provost, School for Overseas Students<br />

and Moshe Margolin, Co-ordinator of Student Activities<br />

Panel Discussion: "The Palestinian View of Self and State"<br />

Mr. Khader Adeeleh<br />

Mr. Adnan Baidun<br />

Dr. Aaron M. Singer, Dean, O YP (moderator)<br />

Lecture-Discussion: "The Palestinian Case: Arguments & Counter Arguments"<br />

Dr. Herbert A. Kampf, John Jay College (CUNY)<br />

LUNCH<br />

Media Workshop: "Analysis of a P.L.O. Propaganda Film "<br />

Mr. Chaim Azses, Media Specialist, Kiryat Moriah<br />

Break & Tfila (to be led by students)<br />

Kiddush and Dinner<br />

Discussion: "Jewishness as the Ultimate Hasbarah Weapon"<br />

Dr. Mordechai Nisan, Hebrew University<br />

Erev Havai with the Madrichim<br />

Shabbat the 17th:<br />

8:30 am B R E A K F A S T<br />

9:00 am Lecture-Discussion: "The Refugee Problem in Context"<br />

Mr. Oded Inun, Hebrew University<br />

10:45 am Lecture-Discussion: "The Roots, Ideology and Future of the P.L.O ."<br />

Prof. Yehoshafat Harkabi, Hebrew University<br />

12:30 pm LUNCH<br />

1:30 pm Hike with Field School Guides<br />

3:45 pm Lecture-Discussion: "The P.L.O. on Campus and Responses to It"<br />

Mr. Mike Jankelowitz, American Desk, Student Division<br />

4:45 pm Break<br />

5:45 pm Dinner and Havdallah (to be led by students)<br />

7:00 pm Small Group Discussions Led by "Propaganda War" Workshop Members<br />

8:00 pm Summary and Evaluation<br />

8:30 pm Departure<br />

M IN IS T R Y OF FO R EIG N A F F A IR S OSA STU D EN T D IV ISIO N (WZO)<br />

For many of the students studying on the One Year Program, trying to understand the complexities<br />

of the Arab-Israel conflict has become an important goal. A quick glance at the course offerings indicate<br />

the high priority that the OYP places on the Arab-Israel conflict. In an attempt to enhance the courses<br />

offered and provide students with a greater insight into an essential aspect of the conflict —the P.L.O.<br />

and the Palestinians — the Office of Student Activities conducted a weekend seminar on this<br />

controversial topic.<br />

Ninety students joined scholars, authors, media specialists, and two East Jerusalem residents in two<br />

days of lectures, discussion, and workshops to probe deeper into the complex issues involved. The<br />

inherent emotional nature of the “Palestinian question” surfaced throughout the seminar. Differing<br />

points of view, often expressed in loud voices, were heard during the breaks and in the dining hall.<br />

Professor Harkabi, whether answering students’ challenges or engaging in intellectual discourse with<br />

Dr. Nisan, proved to be a catalyst for debate and demonstrated why he is considered a first class scholar.<br />

One of the highlights of the seminar was the media workshop conducted by Chaim Azses. By<br />

analyzing the films “Kuneitra” and “Jerusalem: Prophets and Paratroopers” he brought to light many of<br />

the propaganda techniques employed by the P.L.O. Contrary to the statistics, political theories, and<br />

historical backdrop presented during the seminar, students had the opportunity to hear the personal side<br />

of the Palestinian issue. Adnan and Khader shared their personal and diametrically opposed views with<br />

the students.<br />

The guest lecturers expressed their appreciation for the high level of student participation throughout<br />

the weekend. The high level of student input coupled with the constant controversy, suggested that<br />

there were no easy answers to be found.


Tufik Toubi, a leader of the communist (Chadash) party; Michael<br />

Newlin, U.S. Consul General in Jerusalem; Yigal Allon. former chief of the<br />

I.D.F.’s Southern Command; Marty Sieff, journalist and Zionist historian;<br />

Maurice Roummani, expert on Jews in Arab countries; Yehoshafat<br />

Harkabi, Middle East scholar; Hirsch Goodman, military correspondent;<br />

David Hartman, Jewish philosopher; Mordechai Abir, expert on petrodollar<br />

politics; Harry Hurwitz, advisor to the Prime Minister for External<br />

Information; Chaim Azses, media specialist; Moshe Arens, chairman of the<br />

Foreign Relations and Defense Committee; and Shmuel Toledano, former<br />

advisor on Arab Affairs to the Meir and Rabin governments . . .<br />

These personalities, who represent an improbable amalgamation of backgrounds and political views, were among the guest<br />

speakers who participated in the “Propaganda War: the Arab-Israel Conflict on Campus” workshop. One Year Program<br />

students met on an ongoing basis throughout the year in an attempt to unravel the complexities of the Middle East Conflict.<br />

The workshop was developed on the premise that Israel cannot be honestly and effectively defended against pro-Arab<br />

propaganda unless those who take up that defense have a well-rounded and fundamental understanding of the issues involved.<br />

During the course of the workshop, students discussed such topics as the refugee problem, Israel’s need for secure<br />

borders, the plight of Jews living in Arab countries, the basics of Zionism, realpolitik and the petrodollar, the PLO and the<br />

status of Arabs in Israel. The attempt to distill fact from emotion was sometimes difficult and discussions were enhanced by<br />

trips to Yamit, a refugee camp in Gaza and Jewish settlements in Judea and Samaria. The highlight of the workshop was a<br />

weekend seminar at Har Gilo devoted to learning about the motivation, ideology, roots and tactics of the PLO and the<br />

Palestinians. For some workshop members the weekly sessions proved to generate more questions than they answered. For<br />

many, beliefs were strengthened and intellectual positions solidified. For all the people who joined in the exploration, it was a<br />

unique opportunity to learn about one of the most perplexing issues of our time - the Arab-Israel Conflict.<br />

Moshe Margolin<br />

Workshop Coordinator<br />

Jtcncfa/ the dO^ot Adjust<br />

A buHdin


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about you is so alien to m e<br />

and X knou) i\)c fiudt is nu7)t<br />

and not your ou)rt,<br />

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there's, be no need to y e t to knocO you<br />

but every hour<br />

through a il the questions<br />

X jeel you in , m y h eart<br />

X look into your tired, roaming eyes<br />

and see ttye distances<br />

igouve gone in, o il the years<br />

and tuhO/ X knotO, you're horrje.<br />

help me live icith, y o u<br />

take m e in f embrace me.<br />

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hut through i t a it X need your care.<br />

Bring me to y o u , il£P


78


When we think of the One Year Program at Hebrew University the first things that usually<br />

enter our minds are all the different people to meet, the Meditarranean, fun in the sun and of<br />

course, the notable professors and subjects one can only study here in Israel.<br />

Yet there is more to this story. Behind our secure, little community of Resnick and the<br />

Goldsmith Building exists a totally different world that is virtually unknown to most of us —<br />

the world of the disadvantaged.<br />

A few months ago, I happened to encounter this foreign way of life. After taking Hebrew<br />

sign language lessons every Monday morning since late November at Micha Institute for the<br />

Deaf, it was time to be assigned to work with a deaf child.<br />

Following the initial assignment went along the standard fill-in on the child’s history, which<br />

included his home life as well as his physical state. As a speech therapy major, I had worked<br />

with deaf children before, yet never had I been exposed to such an environment. Not only is<br />

Yisrael deaf, but so are his parents, one older, mentally retarded brother and one younger<br />

brother. His other two brothers have complete use of their hearing.<br />

The family lives in Morasha which is one of the poorest, most underprivileged neighborhoods<br />

in Jerusalem. One day Yisrael took me to his home to meet his parents. Upon pressing a<br />

button on the outside of the apartment which triggers a light on the inside I was greeted by<br />

Yisrael’s mother. I stepped into a big almost bare room which led to a kitchen on one side and a<br />

bedroom on the other where all five boys sleep. Sitting and talking to the parents for a while, I<br />

realized that although I had been working with him at the school a few<br />

times a week, what he really needed was to get out more. Since they<br />

live on a main street he was not able to go outside and play because he<br />

is unable to hear the cars, and since the parents do not really offer any<br />

type of extra activities for their children, he was more or less stuck in<br />

the house once he returned home from school. Therefore, as soon<br />

as the weather began to improve Yisrael and I began taking tiulim<br />

through Independence Park, to the Biblical Zoo and, of course, for a<br />

ten year old boy to be on a University campus is really something<br />

special !<br />

Although it won’t be long before we bid each other “shalom,” the<br />

friendship and special fondness I’ve developed for Yisrael will always<br />

hold unique memories in my mind.<br />

Alice Klain<br />

79


“ Rikudei Am” —Dance of the People —What<br />

better way of capturing the spirit and motion of<br />

Israel!<br />

Some people, this past year went folkdancing<br />

religiously every week in either Moadon 12xh on<br />

Mt. Scopus or Beit Sprinzak on Givat Ram. Did<br />

you ever go? If not, in my opinion, you really missed an “experience” here. Israeli folkdancing is precisely just what they call<br />

it — the dance of the people. There are horas and debkas, Yemenite and Chassidic dances, all representative of the diverse<br />

folklore combining both music and dance, which reflect the heart and soul of the Jewish people.<br />

I have had the wonderful opportunity to dance with an excellent Israeli dance troupe —Hora. There the movements are<br />

quick and the gestures exact. Dancing face to face with all Israeli hands reaching out towards each other. With each additional<br />

step you can almost feel the rhythm and pulse of<br />

the Israeli people.<br />

Hora —sing it, dance it, shout it to the world:<br />

Israel is alive and well and moving with the passion<br />

and spirit of its people.<br />

I’n banur5 □ ?<br />

Aviva Gewirtz<br />

8 0


Shontal’s and my first meeting was like a blind date. By phone we’d arranged a time and meeting-place, and as I rode<br />

to the center of the city that December evening, I wondered who would be waiting for me there. I knew that she was eighteen,<br />

spoke practically no English, and had requested a “ nmn I volunteered, thinking what a good chance it would be to<br />

move my Hebrew from my Ulpan notebook to practical use.<br />

Shontal took me to her small house in Kiryat Hayovel, where she lives with her parents and eleven brothers and sisters.<br />

We went into the only quiet room, closed the door, and somewhat nervously sat down to work. I was suddenly confronted<br />

with the difficulty of teaching a language —second-nature to me, but seemingly unconquerable for a newcomer.<br />

Several hours later, I left her house elated, not just confident about the small progress she’d made, but also pleased with<br />

the rapport between us. We had lapsed from English drills into Hebrew conversation, in which she told me about her life<br />

and family (all of whom poked their heads in during the evening to scrutinize the<br />

nmn , this American stranger in<br />

their home).<br />

We arranged to meet one night a week. I often went to Shontal’s house, where her family soon anticipated my arrivals<br />

and crowded around me with greetings and questions. Sometimes Shontal came to my room to see the “life of a student.”<br />

Other evenings we walked through the city, to the hotel, or went to the movies (Shontal always insisted on treating me, even<br />

though she works to support her family). We talked in English about whatever we saw so that she could learn new vocabulary<br />

and practice speaking and hearing English. But invariably we slipped into Hebrew to compare feelings, experiences, or just to<br />

enjoy conversing. Shontal began one of our meetings by saying she’d learned something new in English: “I am depressed.”<br />

We talked for the rest of the evening about problems of love, family, decisions, growing-up - and we learned how universal<br />

are the plights of young adulthood!<br />

I was invited to Shontal’s brother’s wedding and to Passover celebrations with her family. Their generosity has been<br />

unending. Shontal’s mother gave me herbs from her garden to put in my tea at Resnick. (I then delighted the family with a<br />

jar of American peanut butter.) They wished to express their gratitude for the time I spent with Shontal, but they also knew<br />

how important they were to me, here without a family of my own.<br />

Shontal weaved a beautiful gift for me to take back to America as a memento. She often asks why I must leave so soon<br />

and when I’ll be back in Israel. Her English has improved remarkably, and she promises to write me letters at least partially in<br />

English.<br />

Leaving Shontal may be the hardest part of my exodus from Israel this summer. My concept of this land is no longer<br />

an abstract vision of oil fields and holy mountains. As I reminisce, my heart-warming memories may include the Jewish<br />

Quarter, Begin’s and Sadat’s handclasp, or the Goldsmith cafeteria. But more likely, they will center on my friend, with her<br />

rare appeal, soft-spoken delicacy and grace. Perhaps eventually, Shontal’s English will be advanced enough that she can read<br />

this tribute in gratitude to her. But I trust that she already knows my sentiments, for if one heart can speak to another in<br />

feelings that need no common words, then surely Shontal understands my love for her.<br />

Laurie Feldman<br />

81


9


GIVE OUR REGARDS TO BROADWAY<br />

REMEMBER US TO HERALD SQUARE<br />

THESE ARE THE THOUGHTS THAT CAME TO ALL OF US<br />

WHILE STAGING OUR AFFAIR<br />

WE KNEW ISRAEL WAS LACKING IN SOMETHING OF THAT NEW YORK STYLE<br />

SO WE DEVISED “RECHOV BROADWAY” TO GIVE THE O.Y.P. A SMILE.<br />

ANDI AND DEBBIE STARTED BY THINKING OF A BIG REVUE<br />

THEN WE ASKED MICKEY, MIKE, GAB, AND GINGIT -<br />

GOOD FRIENDS WITH TALENT, TOO<br />

DEBBIE DIRECTED MUSIC; SHE MADE US SING HARMONIOUSLY<br />

THEN WE RECRUITED JAY’S GENIUS TO MAKE OFF-BROADWAY HISTORY!<br />

REHEARSALS IN OBSCURE PLACES<br />

WERE FUN NO MATTER WHAT WENT WRONG<br />

AND WHEN WE’D MEET EACH OTHER ON THE STREET<br />

WE’D ALL BURST OUT IN SONG<br />

THE NIGHT OF THE SHOW WAS FRANTIC<br />

WAS IT REALLY TIME AT LAST"?<br />

BUT WITH THE WORLD’S BEST AUDIENCE,<br />

BROADWAY WAS OVER MUCH TOO FAST!<br />

(to the tune of “Give my regards to Broadway”)<br />

Andi Meiseles


X missed m>| QjkWi's sermon And<br />

having the poaes announced and<br />

having the eXflWsh translation i n<br />

tie. prayer book. T'w not sad<br />

'low fctppur'-'<br />

9/30 PI1<br />

... to look around and see the old<br />

and the yoan


J 1 1 D 1 D<br />

m m x i m y r o r o m<br />

I am -Par -From Santft Claus<br />

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r e i n d e e r a n d p a t c h e d s t o c K in ^ s<br />

but X am close, t o a place<br />

Called home. 31 no peQC^-<br />

5 u t 5 m l i e<br />

x - fe d n o h o l l y t o d e y<br />

x<br />

5 in g n o 6 o n g s<br />

S 0 c h o r a l a n d s n o c o y<br />

B u t p o u r u o a r m o i l<br />

t h i c K i y<br />

And h y h t -fine b u rn e rs<br />

O f r e m e m b r a n c e v<br />

T o d a y<br />

As y e s t e r d a y -<br />

C le a n m y g o n<br />

A \ n d c o u n t m y r o u n d s<br />

S e - fo n e<br />

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doze<br />

vS t r a i n i n g<br />

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Rondo*,


86


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y m r n D r<br />

r u v p “b w n T b " > -p<br />

• i u n n ^ n n h n b ? a n r e r u n l t i z ;<br />

O n b e h a l f o-f a ll m e n i n t h e t a n k s<br />

u i+ h t h e i r d u s t y - F a c e s<br />

W h o p a s s e d t h n o u y h f i r e a n d - f la m e<br />

a n d g u n s h o t s s m o k y -h n aces<br />

O n b e h a l f o f t h e s e a f a r e r s w h o<br />

w a t c h e d e w e r t h e p o r t s<br />

£ y e s h e a v y a n d a c h in g u ) i t h s a l- ly w a i/e s ’ re+orfe.<br />

O n b e h a l-f o f t h e p ilo t s u jh o b u r s t th r o u g h battles s t r if e<br />

5 c o r c h e d b u arrti' - c r a f t a n d - f ir i n a no i s s lie s r i f e<br />

O n b e h a l- f o f t h e p a r a c h u t i s t s b e t w e e n<br />

le a d a n d s m o k e<br />

S e e in g q o u above, th e m a s i-P t h e i r g u a r d iD jn<br />

a h g e l s p o k e .<br />

On<br />

behalf of th e gunners w>ho am ong t h e<br />

bursting .shells^<br />

W e r e a p illa r o f f i r e f o r t h e e n t i r e - f r o n t s h e l l s<br />

O n b e h a l f o f t h e m e d i c a l s t a f f w h o w i t h<br />

a ll t h e i r s o u l<br />

The spirit and t h e blood of )ife> restored ft whole.<br />

o n b e h a l f o f c o m m o n ic a t io n s ' m e n w o r k i n g a ll night<br />

O n b e h a l f o f t h e m e n a n d w o m e n s o l d i e r s<br />

in t h e i r - f i g h t<br />

O n behalt o-f- all t h e - F a t h e r s w h o w e n t o u t<br />

t o W a r<br />

A h d w h o a r e longing t o r e t u r n t o y o u o n c e m o r e<br />

Chaim Chtdr-<br />

r u \ ? p ’ b u ) n T b -1 i b r r m n u * ?<br />

.r u n r v e n n n n b a n tv Tin 1tu>


I came to Israel for many reasons, not the least among them being to see whether I wanted to make AJiyah.<br />

The first time I was in Israel was six years ago. One day my parents had said to me, “Renee, we’re going to move to<br />

Israel.” And we did. My parents were non-religious, so that was not a part of their decision. They were idealistic —they were<br />

tired of listening to the people who wrote their checks and never made Aliyah themselves. But I was not a part of this ideology<br />

—I had no inkling that Israel was different from America, except that in December Hannukah songs are sung, not Christmas<br />

carols. And so we went. We came back ten months later; my parents disillusioned, and I —my Judaism awakened. I was 14.<br />

Now I am 20. I have returned. For five years I had dreamed of this country —remembering every little thing —<br />

Falafel, Schnitzel (then it cost only 4 IL), Garinim Levanim —all the good stuff. I dreamed. The third day after I arrived, and<br />

went to the place where I had lived, I knew it would be different, 5 years different — I also knew I would be different,<br />

5 years older. I wasn’t prepared for the changes. That day I cried over the passing of a dream.<br />

I now could settle down into the Israel of <strong>1978</strong> with the 20 year old Renee. I looked at Israel, at her life-style, at<br />

her values, as an adult making a choice. According to the Jewish establishment I chose incorrectly —I chose against Aliyah.<br />

A funny thing started to happen to me: slowly I felt myself on the outside of all events. I heard “Jewish” and “Zionist”<br />

bandied back and forth as synonyms. Since I’m not Zionist, so the logic goes, how can I be Jewish? Every new pitch for<br />

Aliyah becomes more and more painful: how do you explain to a seventh generation Sabra why you can’t live in his country?<br />

But I know I can’t. Perhaps I am egotistical, perhaps 1 am hypocritical —but I see Israel stagnating. That is very<br />

painful for me to say, let alone feel. There is no place in this society for me and my American values and ideals —for my<br />

acutely Jewish feminism, for my very selfish desire not to see my children blown up in another war. All my life I have fought<br />

for equality —in this country there is none. That came as a shock to me. The greater shock came when I realized that there is<br />

almost no movement towards equality either —that the situation was essentially the same as it was in 1948. How, as a woman,<br />

can I live here? Every time I see an orthodox person on the street, I am reminded of their stranglehold on my private life.<br />

(This raises the terribly painful question of: if you separate synagogue and state, is the state still Jewish? To that I must<br />

answer: no, only compounding my pain.) Every time I go to the Wall, I see the separation of women. The Wall, as much as<br />

anything else, is a symbol of Israel. How fitting that women are separated. As goes the symbol, so goes the country.<br />

What is the Password of Israel? Integration —no longer must a Jew be on the fringes of society. Yet here, in the<br />

Jewish State, I am on the fringes. Not only as an avowed feminist, not only as a Conservative Jew —but also as an American,<br />

and an American Woman at that. Until and if I could ever look “Israeli,” I would always be labeled “American,” and no<br />

American woman need be told about the special hardships this country has for her. Why should I come to this country,<br />

my last haven, to be unassimilatable?<br />

You could come and work for what you believe, I hear you saying. Yes, I could. But the amount of change I, or a<br />

1,000 like me, could create is minimal. I have decided as my parents decided —to work in the Diaspora for a flowering of<br />

Judaism. That does seem contradictory at first glance —to work in the DIASPORA for a flowering of Judaism. In Israel it<br />

doesn’t matter whether you say you’re Israeli or Jewish —the effect is almost the same. In America this is not so —American<br />

and Jewish just don’t mesh that well. American Jews that have made the choice that I have made must not be lost. There must<br />

be a realization on the part of the Jewish establishment that NOT all American Jews will make Aliyah —and even if they did<br />

Israel wouldn’t know what to do with them. The thirteen million diaspora Jews must not be forgotten, they must be related<br />

to not as sinners, but rather simply as Jews, Jews that will stay in the Diaspora. I am part of them, and strangely enough, am<br />

proud of my choice.<br />

Renee Primack<br />

90


“IT’S NOT ENOUGH TO SIT BACK AND WATCH’’<br />

An Open Letter to the One Year Program<br />

The Kotel, Massada, Acco, Eilat, Golan, Ein Gedi, the Galilee - a panorama of Israel. Once these places were mere<br />

dreams, hopes, and aspirations for Jews; today they’re ours.<br />

We know the story all too well. For two thousand years we Jews have wept and yearned and begged to return to<br />

Zion. The birthplace and natural homeland of the Jewish People. Our parents and grandparents relate to us the legends and<br />

tales of their inexorable struggle to remember and keep the “spark of Zion” in their hearts. How they dreamed and hoped<br />

that someday the State of Israel will be a reality - as it was so long ago it almost seems like fantasy - and not just a flickering<br />

dream or a mumbled prayer.<br />

At last we wake up and find that incredibly, it’s not a dream any more. The weeping has ceased, the tears have<br />

dried, and all the begging has turned into shouts of joy and boasts of pride —for we have our homeland again.<br />

Today, after literally dying for this long awaited moment for two millennia, we need no more to dream for the<br />

“miracle” - it’s a living reality. The people of Israel live and thrive in their homeland again. And what do we have to show for<br />

it? Less than a quarter of world Jewry lives here. After all we’ve gone through to preserve ourselves as Jews, with the hope, of<br />

returning to Israel, barely one out of every four Jews makes Israel his home. Pretty ironic, huh?<br />

Sure we support it, visit it, send money, attend rallies and even wear “I am a Zionist” buttons - what a mockery!<br />

We kid ourselves into believing that it’s enough. We watch our religious friends, at home, put on t ’phillin every morning with<br />

“return to Zion” on their lips, or we attend an Israeli bond rally, pledge our share, and then return home feeling as if we’ve<br />

fulfilled our responsibility. We may even point to our Jewish nextdoor neighbor, who doesn’t Support Israel, and feel as if<br />

we’ve done the best as good Zionists.<br />

It’s time to go beyond all the dreaming, praying and supporting OVER THERE. Today we’re so privileged that we<br />

can do all that, and of course much more, in Eretz Yisrael itself. We don’t even have to sneak in by boats - we can come in<br />

broad daylight by 747’s.<br />

I’m tired of going to Israel conventions, of organizing rallies in front of the U.N., of petitioning in my morning<br />

prayers for the chance to be in Jerusalem, while we stay back THERE.<br />

I want to live in Israel. I want to be part of living tradition - to make my grandfathers’ centuries and centuries of<br />

dreams come true —of taking an active role in this monumental event in the history of our people. Do we need a pogrom, an<br />

inquisition, or a Holocaust to remind us of how fortunate we are to have our own country? What are we waiting for?<br />

I’m tired of sitting back and watching what’s happening to the future of my people, while we now finally have the<br />

chance to help decide its destiny ourselves. Is our entire destiny and struggle for this very moment, up to now, all for nought?<br />

It is both a responsibility and a joy to be able to be an active participant in Jewish history and live in Israel, our homeland.<br />

Robert Saposh<br />

vi


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92<br />

AiV UNEXPECTED REFLECTION<br />

I remember the day like it was this morning, sitting on the El Al plan flight number 002<br />

filled with about 300 beginning One Year Program students all with their “Hi, where are you from”<br />

conversations. They were so excited to come to Israel —or should I say return to Israel —for most it<br />

was a place that they have loved so much their first time here, whether it was on a “Mother-Fatherwhip-you-around-in-a-United-Tour-bus-Teeyul”<br />

or a “Youth Movement-spend-the-summer-here-deal. ”<br />

It seemed to me that they were so caught up because they knew exactly what to expect, exactly what<br />

was here and what they could do or couldn't do when they would step off that plane at Ben Gurion<br />

Airport at about 10:00 in the morning on July 13, <strong>1978</strong>.<br />

“. . . Hope for the best but expect nothing, ” my father would always advise and you 'll never<br />

be disappointed. This little Betooey was sitting so fresh in my mind as I was observing all these other<br />

one-timers already on the plane. Granted I had heard so much about Israel, good and bad, that I could<br />

make all kinds of prejudgements. But instead I preferred to sit in my seat 42 row G and wait expecting<br />

nothing but knowing one thing - what it is that Israel has to offer for me, I would find out. I had<br />

vowed to myself that I would be like a pinball in a pinball machine that I would take an attitude that<br />

was developed in the Artzot Habrit —attack each day with all my heart, effort, soul and fatal energies,<br />

to live each day as if it were my last - and try to integrate myself totally in Israeli society to make for<br />

the best learning experience. I vowed that I would as quietly as possible conquer the Hebrew language,<br />

of which I had no previous experience and I would learn first hand about Kibbutz life of which I had<br />

heard so much. I would hike, snorkle, snail, climb and swim, teeyul and totally enjoy all the different<br />

Shetachim that Israel had to offer. It was a personal goal also to find out how the Israelis treat their<br />

handicapped deaf students and how they do lab experiments with live rats testing out plastic tubing<br />

on healing nerves. It would come to be that I would work in one of the most famous, if not the busiest<br />

Pizzaria in the world, 'Richie's,'and how it was to play basketball Israeli style while participating in an<br />

Israel National state tournament and how it was to coach 12-15 year olds in Beit Shemesh development<br />

town. Also in sports I would come to know how it was to try to organize and set up a basketball<br />

team of OYP students and similarly with OYP students how it was to entertain them in variety shows


and Rehov Broadway. I would find the University learning experience a truly successful<br />

program giving me enough work where I'd stay interested and yet where it wouldn’t take away<br />

from teeyulim and secondary activities. Also I would find it extremely fascinating how we<br />

learned about the Via Dolorosa in Historical Geography at the Via Dolorosa and not out of<br />

some outdated textbook or how we had Yad Vashem as a resource center for Ze 'ev Mankowitz's<br />

Holocaust class or even how I felt the extreme emotional situation between the Jews and<br />

Palestinians that Dr. Nisan talked about in class. Then in another learning aspect I would come<br />

to take advantage of some of the Yeshivot in Jerusalem in a surrounding that I ’ve never dreamed<br />

of before or one that could only be found in Jerusalem and never in Port Jefferson Station,<br />

Long Island, my home town.<br />

You see the reason why I mentioned these things that I did is because they, in<br />

reflection, made for a year so special, so beautiful, so unbelievable that I can’t help but want to<br />

share all my feelings with everyone. I ’d be the first to admit that I did have many defeating and<br />

frustrating situations here in Israel from planning a weekend playing with the OYP basketball<br />

team in Dimona and instead spending two hours one rainy Friday afternoon here eating a<br />

“Divine Fruit Salad” —to having heard “ain li moosag” 86 times in one afternoon and having<br />

the secretary giving me her “rega” hand sign and her “tich” Israeli sound while she points to<br />

another office. Things weren’t always easy and there were many times I screamed “B-cha yay, I<br />

got to get out of here. ” But instead I picked myself up because I realized deep down that this<br />

wasn’t any ordinary place — this was Israel — A land so full of spiritualness and a special<br />

incomparable history, a land crying out for the world to know her, understand her and accept<br />

her; A land teeming with opportunities and yet not enough people to take advantage of them<br />

all. I t’s a land from which I expected nothing and in return it has given me golden memories,<br />

silver treasures and a bagful of true Israeli experiences that I will always cherish.<br />

3<br />

P<br />

Mickey Lebowitz<br />

93


Although there are many who had reached and<br />

touched Judy Siegel, it seems that there are many more<br />

who were touched by her. The image of her somewhat<br />

unbalanced smile, relaxed nature, and less than clean jeans,<br />

will ever accompany the reply of her tender laugh and bent<br />

Brooklyn accent.<br />

Judy was not known to frown, or the fruits of her<br />

efforts to sour. She reflected our pleasures and pondered<br />

our pains. She reached inside of herself to reveal a simple<br />

pure being. It was uncontrolable to enjoy what one saw in<br />

Judy. These are the subtitles that will never leave her name.<br />

Now, after too many tears have dried, after the last<br />

good-bye has been questioned, and afterthe love and tenderness<br />

have been forever stored inside of ourselves, individually<br />

we trace an outline of Judy. It becomes vital that each<br />

one of us should share our living, learning, and laughing<br />

with her. Judy would only want us to procede forward,<br />

though uncertain, and battle the emotional difficulties.<br />

Her physical passing from our presence can only be<br />

viewed in a selfish light. No more will we swim in her fresh<br />

smiles, but must unleash for ourselves, in special times, the<br />

same continuous shimmer given us to preserve.<br />

We can never brush Judy away, but most believe in our<br />

traditon and patiently await the time when again we will be<br />

together.<br />

94


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96


It’s funny, so many of us complain about the OYP, how it’s a joke, “Goldsmith High,” how we feel<br />

we are stagnating, and not really learning anything - especially about Israeli life.<br />

I too share these feelings at times, but when I really stop to think, I am confronted with the knowledge<br />

of how much I have really acquired and grown since I came to Israel. From the NOW seemingly simple things,<br />

such as, getting around (not to mention getting out of) Jerusalem by bus and foot, dealing with banks, even going<br />

to school on Sunday’s to the more personal developments - feelings towards m an communicating in Hebrew,<br />

new friends, lovers, independence . . .<br />

I’ve learned what it is like to be a foreigner - something I never really experienced before. “Ah<br />

Americi’it!” Of course I’m American, what else should I be? Yet I’m also Jewish “Zionist”, and in some way<br />

partially Israeli. The question that is most often asked by others and by myself is - could I live here? I’ve learned<br />

in this year that I need many, many more years to learn what Israeli life is “really” like. Am I willing to devote<br />

my life to Finding the answers?<br />

This year has given me the chance to discover many questions which I am now exploring. It has opened<br />

up new ideas and realms. It s been fun, hard, often frustrating, joyful and tearful. It is a year out of my growing<br />

process, and I wonder what its full effects will be?<br />

Lisa Teiger<br />

97


ENCOUNTERSWITHTHOSEWHOCHANGEYOU<br />

You probably forgot about i t . . .<br />

now try to remember me.<br />

Are your memories too vague —Try.<br />

Are they able to focus now . . .<br />

Yes, its me —the one who you met on<br />

one of your trips of discovery.<br />

At first I wasn’t too friendly, but<br />

neither were you.<br />

Then a hand was reached out —Ah,<br />

what a gesture to create a friendship.<br />

Such relief and satisfaction after weeks<br />

of nurturing that climactic moment.<br />

I need that now —a hand —but not just<br />

any hand. Your strong gripping hand —<br />

your fingering touch —Your eyes —those sharp<br />

yet doe-like desert eyes, reflecting and wandering,<br />

Your looks reassured me —Was it only me?<br />

Me who needed it —Do you remember those<br />

walks hand in hand; Your hip hitting<br />

my waist —no we weren't a perfect match;<br />

We both knew it —I was a bit neurotic,<br />

you a bit calm —You were developing<br />

your ways and I was still forming my<br />

personality —I wonder. . . Shall we meet Today?<br />

Would the need be<br />

there —Have you had<br />

that relationship<br />

with many more?<br />

Was I anything in<br />

your life;<br />

Like you were to me<br />

Did you realize then<br />

what you were doing to me?<br />

How so many times<br />

my need for your presence<br />

was so intense that the moment you left me I missed<br />

you. How vulnerable I was. You influenced me and<br />

changed me —I wanted to keep you for this.<br />

You helped me grow. My character was weak<br />

and you helped me strengthen it. If you knew<br />

what I was using you for I know you would’ve<br />

stopped seeing —Oh, how I tried not to let on —<br />

but I guess I did; And, of course, then you left;<br />

Just like that —And I felt like a well —not<br />

full with your contribution but filled a little more,<br />

than what was there before our encounters . . .<br />

I miss you now. —I ’ll always miss you —I ’m not<br />

always thinking about you but I ’m constantly<br />

reminded about you, by still being here and you<br />

being there —And then a smile or a tear develops<br />

on my face with that image of you; you with me.<br />

Did you realize what you did? No, you were probably<br />

oblivious to it all —It was too short<br />

moment in your life —well, anyways,<br />

hank you for all of it. . .<br />

Ih don’t try so hard to remember - its alright,<br />

just came back to tell you —to reach out<br />

ny hand - to let a friendship start again - in spirit<br />

98<br />

Sharon Loewenstein


WHEN I RETURN<br />

WILL THE Y TREA T ME<br />

THE SAME . . .<br />

WILL I BE THEIR NOVELTY FRIEND<br />

FOR A DAY OR SO . ..<br />

WILL THEY TIRE OF MY STORIES<br />

AND WILL I LATER<br />

ASSIMILATE<br />

TO THAT SOCIETY<br />

A G AIN ...<br />

WILL MY EXPERIENCES<br />

FADE LIKE MIST. ..<br />

OR SURROUND ME<br />

LIKE FOG. ..<br />

WILL I LIVE UP TO THEIR EXPECTATIONS?<br />

HAVE IE VEN REA CHED MINE ?<br />

WILL MY MOTHER<br />

STILL THINK ME IRRESPONSIBLE<br />

WILL I BE CLOSE TO THEIR PRESERVED IMAGE<br />

OF ME?<br />

WILL OUR TIME APART<br />

BRING US TOGETHER<br />

OR HELP US TO MAINTAIN OUR DISTANCE . ..<br />

AFRAID TO RETURN<br />

BEGINNINGS<br />

ENDINGS<br />

SEEM ALL THE SAME<br />

MIRIAM S. LEEPER<br />

99


“BUT I DON’T WANT TO LIVE IN ISRAEL!<br />

In an article I read tor a psychology course the other day, the author discussed the difference between the use of<br />

language and reasoning in lower class as opposed to middle class adolescents. He pointed out that the common assumption<br />

that, because of his greater mastery of language the reasoning of a middle class youth was better just didn’t stand up to fact;<br />

that, in reality, it was only excessive verbosity and that in many ways, by its honest straightforwardness, the lower class youth<br />

made much more sense. At the time I read it, I laughed. Later, however, when asked to write this essay on aliyah, it came<br />

back to me —for where is a better example of college educated middle or upper class youth taking a simple and very basic<br />

idea and rationalizing, contusing, and filibustering it to the point where the original question can no longer even be discerned.<br />

It seems as it there must be a myriad of reasons, arguments, and positions for and against aliyah. The bombast of<br />

most advocates and its equivalent in their opponents seems to support and reinforce this idea. Yet basically, religious or<br />

secular, Zionist or universalist, it boils down to one basic question: am I or am I not a Jew? If the answer is in the affirmative,<br />

if I am a Jew and my Judaism is meaningful to me, if I decide that I identify myself firstly as a Jew (and this is in contrast to<br />

an American or a Christian’, that is, a group label —individual expression is possible in any number of environments) then<br />

there is no honest and logical way to rationalize living in Galut.<br />

I can already hear the now wait a sec" ’s and see the heads shaking angrily, but stop for a minute and really think:<br />

what is this Jewish identity? What does it mean to say “I am a Jew?” Is it merely that among the numerous ethnic groups<br />

in my homeland, wherever it is, I call mine “Jew?” That I will tell my sons that because I was a Jew so too are they? That my<br />

wife, friends and country club will consist of other people who make the same claim? Or that given a choice, I prefer lox and<br />

bagels to ham and cheese?<br />

No, my affirmation of a Jewish identity means more —it entails both a risk and a sacrifice. The risk is the commitment.<br />

The American Jew (a phrase which in itself almost begs the question) is spared from choice by that very identity. When<br />

I make that decision —on the morning that I get out of bed and say “I am a Jew,” and accept the inherent sacrifice involved,<br />

I take the risk involved in any choice —action. I make the move, do what is necessary and accept the consequences.<br />

But what exactly is this “sacrifice”? I am not speaking of the resignation of material goods for the hardships of<br />

Israel. The sacrifice is from within; the realization that my affirmation entails a responsibility, that my life is no longer solely<br />

mine in all of its spheres. Judaism is not merely an empty word to be taken up and used as one wishes. It is more than a<br />

symbol to be paraded in front of gentiles as a sign reading “Beware —Product of Suffering.” It is, above all, an historical entity<br />

and a people. In making the decision to be a Jew, I must place myself within its unique historical framework, see myself as a<br />

part of it, as one more link in an interminably long chain in which the way I am formed is symbiotic rather than independent<br />

determined by those who came before me. My Jewish identity was not handed to me to manipulate and play with as I see<br />

fit. Rather, it includes the responsibility to carry on the dreams, hopes and aspirations of my ancestors.<br />

The next step in the argument is clear, for what has been the central dream of Jews since the beginning of the exile?<br />

In prayer every morning to what hope does the Jew address himself? Which direction does he face? Le shana haba’ah be<br />

Yerushalayim. The concept of Israel —the land and its centrality to Jews is so clear that it needs no further elaboration. They<br />

endured and survived in the hope of one day returning to their homeland. We owe our history at least this much. Aliyah is<br />

not a favor to Israel, but instead the least of my obligations as a Jew. Hillel Halkin speaks of the converging threads of Jewish<br />

100<br />

©


history and Israel and claims that anyone who wants to be a part of the one must also be a part of the other. The stark fact is<br />

that - as long as a sovereign state of Israel exists - there is no possible justification for living in Diaspora and still claiming<br />

“I’m Jewish first.” The conflict is not new - but it is still the same. Those Jews who remained in Persia in the 6th century BCE<br />

were no more justified.<br />

Beyond even that, how on earth can anyone who does claim to be a concerned Jew, who feels a part of his people<br />

and its history, not WANT, not eagerly desire to take a part, to be involved in the re-creation of its national sovereignity, its<br />

state?<br />

A brief separation needs to be made here between the religious and non-religious Jew. I have a friend —one of the<br />

most committed Jews I have ever met. Very religious. Yet if ever anyone wanted to remain in the Diaspora it is he. He wrote<br />

a paper to show it was religiously defendable. Search as he did, he was forced to admit that within religious Jewish doctrine<br />

that is no reconciliation between “being Jewish” and living outside of the Jewish sovereign commonwealth. For a believer,<br />

Israel and the people are tied by a sacred bond. Basics, people, basics. A phrase here, a source there, we may confuse and<br />

qualify the issue endlessly and prove what we like - in 400 years Jews have done a lot of writing. But it is clear that, without<br />

each other, Israel and the Jewish people are incomplete.<br />

For the non-religious Jew it is both more complicated and simpler. On the one hand, it is more complicated because<br />

he has lost the traditional hold, the traditional reason to identify and follow. Yet this is precisely what makes it simpler. Why<br />

does he call himself a Jew? He cannot tell you. He does not feel he has a special divine purpose on earth, he only knows that<br />

he exists, his people exists and he feels a part of it. He wants to live it, to feel and express it and pass it on to posterity. Yet he<br />

has no form of expression. In the society in which he lives he has only the formal religious trappings —which he cannot use as<br />

a meaningful form of expression, nor can he pass this on to his children. Thus, his decision is already made —not defining<br />

himself in terms other than cultural, “American-Jew” is a paradox, a contradiction. For him, the only place for meaningful<br />

Jewish expression is Israel. Where Jew and Jewish mean to him the same as French to a Frenchman. Where he can live a<br />

lifestyle and have a culture unique and distinct from anyone else’s that he can call Jewish. Where he can feel that sense of<br />

historicity, of unity with his past and future: HIS holidays, HIS language, HIS calendar, HIS land, and (come what may) HIS<br />

culture.<br />

Now it is certain that these two, the religious Jew and the secular Jew, do not understand one another. Each shakes<br />

his head uncomprehendingly at the shallowness, emptiness of the others reasons. Yet is this so very important? Both have<br />

come to mould, to participate, to actively engage himself in the same task. Both are motivated by the same feeling: I am a Jew!<br />

I want to be active in MY land! Both proclaim it joyously to the world . . . Worlds apart, yet really so close together that they<br />

can, instead of trying to show each other the folly of their ways, join hands and set about the task.<br />

My greatest wonder here has been seeing Jewish garbage collectors and Jewish pickpockets, Jewish whores,<br />

and little children whose first language is Hebrew. A land of Jews! It caused Alexander Portnoy to become impotent. A land<br />

where a Jew doesn’t have to keep a low profile OR walk around looking to show any potential anti-semite he’s in trouble.<br />

Where a certain kind of car isn’t called a “Jew-canoe,” where the Chief-of-Staff of the Army is Jewish —not anti-semitic,<br />

where the first question I ask my son isn’t “Is she Jewish?”, where there isn’t a “Jewish vote” or Jewish Country Clubs, where,<br />

entering a restaurant, I don’t unconsciously look to see who is Jewish, and so on and so forth. A land where we can live and<br />

feel at home, be normal and not forced into any minority behavior patterns. Are we so accustomed to living in a gentile society<br />

that we are insensitive to the fact that we are outsiders? Inherently and forever “different”? A land of our own —to be what<br />

we want how we want to be it, to mold and shape and build and change. It’s not just propaganda, its truth too oft repeated.<br />

It’s our future. How can we who have been here and seen and breathed and tasted the wonder of it (even when that taste<br />

wasn’t too sweet) fail to appreciate it?<br />

Larry Kramer<br />

101


103


105


106


107


Y L A R B O O K S T A F F standing I. to r.: Ellen Fischl, Ken Hecht, Josh Taub, Debby Shalinsky, Andi Meiseles, Cathy Raff.<br />

Sitting I. to r.: Adina Rimmon, Laurie Feldman, David Bormel, Sheri Singer, Aliza Samuel, Aviva Gewirtz<br />

E D IT O R IA L B O A R D<br />

Aviva Gewirtz<br />

Kenneth Hecht<br />

Andi Meiseles<br />

Cathy Raff (Managing Editor)<br />

Adina Rimmon<br />

Debby Shalinsky<br />

Sheri Singer<br />

Josh Taub (Production Editor)<br />

S T A F F P H O T O G R A P H E R S<br />

Kenneth Hecht<br />

Cathy Raff<br />

S T A F F A R T IS T S<br />

Laurie Feldman<br />

Ellen Fischl<br />

Miriam Leeper<br />

Adina Rimmon (Art Editor)<br />

Sheri Singer<br />

L A Y O U T<br />

Cathy Raff<br />

Debby Shalinsky<br />

Josh Taub<br />

S P E C IA L T H A N K S<br />

Typists (3):<br />

Marci Koblenz<br />

Lena Watkins<br />

Jane Davidson<br />

David Bormel<br />

Stephi, Ofra, Rosa, and all the patient<br />

people at Graph Press<br />

To the words of . . .<br />

Chaim Chefer<br />

Amos Etinger<br />

Yosi Gemzo<br />

Swinburne<br />

A D V IS O R S<br />

Moshe Margolin<br />

Aliza Samuel<br />

C O N T R IB U T O R S<br />

David Bormel<br />

Rena Cohen<br />

Glen Cornblath<br />

Janie Feinberg<br />

Laurie Feldman<br />

Seth Frisch<br />

Renee Frishman<br />

Aviva Gewirtz<br />

Kenneth Hecht<br />

Je ff Heller<br />

Alice Klain<br />

Larry Kramer<br />

Mickey Leibowitz<br />

Miriam Leeper<br />

Sharon Loewenstein<br />

Aviva Malkin<br />

Andi Meiseles<br />

Gary Mosk<br />

Jonathan Nedelman<br />

Jim Oberlander<br />

Judah Plotner<br />

Rena Primack<br />

Cathy Raff<br />

Adina Rimmon<br />

David Rind<br />

Leeanne Rubenstein<br />

Ju d y Rubinroth<br />

Bruce Saber<br />

Robert Saposh<br />

Sharon<br />

Sheri Singer<br />

Randy Spiegel<br />

Peter Sprung<br />

Paul Summerville<br />

Joshua Taub<br />

Lisa Teiger<br />

Lena Watkins<br />

Mark Weintraub<br />

Debbi Weisbrot<br />

Lauren Weiss<br />

rm b^n is a student publication of the One Year Program.<br />

Although the School for Overseas Students encourages the<br />

project, it takes no responsibility for the yearbook's<br />

content.<br />

rptv7n was made possible by grants from:<br />

The American Friends of the Hebrew University<br />

The Canadian Friends of the Hebrew University<br />

The Dean of Students Office, Hebrew University<br />

The School for Overseas Students<br />

The Student Division, World Zionist Organization<br />

The Office of Student Activities wishes to thank the<br />

contributors, staff and Editorial Board of rpV?Vn for<br />

giving of their time, talent, creativity, energy . . . and<br />

sometimes tears . . . in making a quality volume that<br />

reflects this year’s experience on the One Year Program.<br />

Printed at Graph Press<br />

Jerusalem, Israel<br />

<strong>1979</strong><br />

I OS


• / J ' 0<br />

Just as Rav Ashi, one of the editors of the Gemmorah, had the privilege of getting<br />

in the last say on a given question, I, a member of the Editorial Board, also have the<br />

opportunity of meeting the yearbook’s final deadline. The yearbook staff has been<br />

working diligently (really) since November, <strong>1978</strong>, to make this book what it is — an<br />

artistic presentation of the One Year Program and a nostalgic look at our year in Israel.<br />

It is not an easy task to put a dozen creative people in a room, plus Moshe Margolin,<br />

and make a smooth-running operation out of it, but we succeeded. A word to the wise,<br />

to those who may consider getting involved in such an endeavor at a future date when<br />

“ poetic license” meets “ artistic temperament” . . . in the future: W ATCH O UT!<br />

Despite the clashes, the crises and the tears, the people who worked on the<br />

yearbook staff have attempted to create a volume that captures some of the events,<br />

feelings and thoughts that are part of the One Year Program experience. r p l’? l7n is<br />

the fruit of their labors.<br />

For me, this has been more than just the first extra-curricula activity that has not<br />

involved a synagogue or youth group. I will probably never know exactly what compelled<br />

me to go to that yearbook organizational meeting back in November, but I did<br />

and now it is going to take some getting used to the fact that I don’t have to go to<br />

Moshe’s office every Monday and Wednesday to read yearbook contributions, reminding<br />

people (especially Dean Singer) about deadlines and running staff meetings. I<br />

briefly recall the times I sat in Moshe’s office reading material, and spun off into<br />

daydreams of days gone by during the year . . . of Shikunai HaElef with its paperless<br />

toilets and shower rooms which can be easily converted into recreational swimming<br />

areas; its cats (which rhymes with “ rats” ) which learned to recognize my person and<br />

stay clear of my path (and my kitchen); of going to Ze’ev Mankowitz’s first lecture in<br />

November and realizing I was on a College program and that I would have to do some<br />

work; of days when all I wanted to do was put down my books, put on an army<br />

uniform, and pick up a gun, and single-handedly rid the Middle East of all its terrorists;<br />

of learning about love all over again; of learning about myself for the first time. These<br />

moments were sparked by Y O U people, the Yearbook contributors. For all of you who<br />

took time out to write for Yearbook, because you wanted to write or felt compelled to<br />

write, the Editorial Board thanks you. Whether your contribution appears in these<br />

pages or not, it made a definite contribution to the yearbook’s completion. And it also<br />

made a contribution towards the completion of my year . . . a year N E V E R to be<br />

forgotten.<br />

Live, love and laugh,<br />

Joshua Taub<br />

FOR THE E D IT O R IA L BOARD<br />

109


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