We see so much good and beauty in Israel as it skitters before us over the hilltops—and then we recall its many shortcomings and problems as its glory falls out of view behind the mountains. But when we look at the horizon and see nothing but the fleeting image of what could be, it is hard to remain encouraged. Perhaps all that’s missing is to view the mountainside from the proper angle?
Any evaluation of Israel at sixty must weigh the reality of the State against the Messianic expectations of a large segment of Orthodox Jews. For those who envisioned that the State would herald the Messianic Era, there’s bound to be disillusionment.
The Jewish State was conceived in dreams—dreams of a glorious past and hopes for an even more glorious future. Yet, from its inception, the State was confronted with overwhelming difficulties and was forced to grapple with existential problems not faced by the Jewish people in two thousand years.
One of the most hackneyed things one can say about Israel is that it is a land of contrasts, which is, perhaps, a polite way of saying that it is a land of contradictions; and that, in turn, may be a polite way of saying that Israel is not a normal country, despite the best efforts of the “normalizers.”
General Mordechai Piron fought in four Israeli wars without a grenade, M-16 or Uzi. Armed with a holy sefer Torah and the power of an encouraging word, for thirty-four years the former chief rabbi of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) placed himself in mortal danger to support thousands of Israeli soldiers in their time of greatest need.
Many Orthodox Jews seem to think that as long as the food is kosher, what one eats is not so important. They believe that if having five servings of fresh fruits and vegetables daily were vital to our health, that fact would have made its way into the Torah.
Most parents would name cancer as the greatest health risk they fear for their children. But in reality...
Jewish history can be summed up like this: Someone tried to destroy us, Hashem saved us, let’s celebrate. This, of course, translates into the family gathering together and eating, eating and more eating.
A strange thing happened on the way to my becoming a ba’alat teshuvah: I discovered I was not a Jew.
We were 150 people, participants in a communal Seder I led last year in Timisoara, a Romanian city in the western part of the country near the Hungarian border. We were in the utilitarian dining hall of the Jewish community building, turned for two nights into a festive setting of tablecloth-covered tables crowned with Seder plates and bottles of kosher wine.
Anyone with the proper attitude and preparation can lead a Seder. To get the most out of your Seder, try using my “Ten Commandments.”
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