What Israel Means to Me

by Darcy Silvers

Israel is much more than a tiny piece of land in the Middle East. She is living proof that
the Jewish people have survived, against all odds, and will continue to survive -- and
thrive.

Israel's citizens live in a constant state of the unknown. They don't know when or where
the next terrorist attack will occur. They don't know which countries, Arab and other, will
turn against them in the court of world opinion. They don't know how their economy
will fare, thanks to the intifada. But they do know that they will continue to live their
lives with some semblance of normalcy. They do know that, unlike many of their
Palestinian counterparts, they will continue to cherish life. They are an inspiration to me.

Many of the world's most advanced technological and health care innovations
originated in Israel. For a country the size of New Jersey, this is nothing short of
remarkable. I kvell every time I hear of another Israeli breakthrough.

As a Hadassah volunteer, I also am particularly proud of the fact that Hadassah hospitals
treat everyone alike – would-be suicide bombers, terrorist victims, innocent bystanders
and heroes. Walk down the hospital hallways and you'll see kippot alongside keffiyahs
and crosses.

I do know that, regardless of politics, I support Israel. I am a Zionist, and that transcends
party lines. Likud, Labor, right, left, religious, secular… it's of no consequence to me. The
only thing that matters is Israel's existence.

To me, Israel is a gem in the midst of a turbulent region. She's perhaps a little rough
around the edges, but it's nothing a little polishing can't fix.

Israel feeds my spirit and my soul. She is an intoxicating mélange of sights, smells,
tastes, sounds. From the rosy Jerusalem stone to the buoyant Dead Sea to the mouth-
watering falafel stands, Israel awakens my senses. She is filled with irony, as a Shabbat
melody is pierced by the wails of sirens… followed by the wails of the terrorists' latest
targets and then, a deafening silence.

I may live in the Diaspora, but Israel is in my heart. I think of Israel constantly. I think of
her when I check my emails daily for updates on the intifada. I think of Israel at bedtime,
when my youngest son prays for peace. I think of Israel when I hold look at the walls of
my home, covered with the creations of Israeli artists. Or when I put on a piece of
jewelry crafted by Israeli artisans. I think of Israel every time I glance at my hand, which
bears a ring carved with my Hebrew name – a ring I never remove.

Just as I dare not remove the ring from my finger, I cannot remove Israel from my being.
I am Israel. She is me. We are one. When all else in the world seems dark and hopeless,
Israel is my beacon of hope. Am Yisrael Chai.

What Israel Means to Me

by Moshe Teutsch, age 8

Israel means going to the Kotel and praying for the sick people of Israel.

Israel means going to Mt. Hermon and skiing.

Israel means going to the zoo in Jerusalem and riding on the train.

Israel means going to a pidyon petter chamor (redemption of first-born donkey -- see
Exodus 13:13), and afterwards eating lamb at the barbeque. (I really did that!)

Israel means seeing the almond trees blossoming on Tu B'Shvat.

Israel means growing the special seven species (wheat, barley, grapes, figs,
pomegranates, olives and dates) in our garden. (But we don't have them all yet…)

Israel means living in the land that God promised to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

What Israel Means to Me

By Sarah Rosenblum

"Where did Abraham almost sacrifice his son Isaac? Where did David fight Goliath?
Where did Jacob dream of the angels going up and down the ladder? Where did Lot
turn to a pillar of salt? Where was Moses leading the children of Israel to, the place they
called the land of milk and honey?" my mother used to say. "It is in the land of Israel.”

I loved hearing these bedtime stories as I fell asleep. Wow! What a place that must be. I
will go there one day!

I was born in Scandinavia one year after the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948.
Ten years later we were on the ship heading south as new immigrants to live in
Australia. Sailing through the Suez Canal one could see Egypt on the right side with its
funny-looking trees (palm trees!) and the strange mud brick buildings we had never
seen before.

But I stayed on the left side of the ship staring toward the dry, sandy desert, asking my
mother, “How far from here is Israel? Why do we have to go to Australia? Why can't we
live in Israel?”

"Because we're not Jewish!" my mother answered.

Living in Queensland, Australia, when the 1967 war broke out, I was glued to the radio. If
only I had enough money I would go to Israel and fight for the Jewish people! But those
young years were full of other distractions and it wasn't till many years later, in 1982,
that I set foot for the first time on the Israeli soil. By then I had traveled all around the
world and I thought this was to be just another mark on the map for me. But I was
wrong. It wasn't a mark on the map, but a mark on my soul. All I knew was that I would
be back one day. Israel is where I felt I belonged, with these people, all strangers, but I
felt a part of them.

In October 2003, I again stepped onto the holy soil, this time as a Jew, with my husband
and son. We had made aliyah!

Compared to where we came from, life here is hard. But we feel at peace here, and truly
feel that we have come home, after a very loooooong trip. Australia seems so far away
and such a long time ago. Life has purpose here in Israel. My very soul and spirit comes
alive. Life has meaning. We have no relatives living here, but we do not feel alone, for we
are amongst our people, the family of Israel… in the Land of Israel… my home.