JULIAN RESNICK writes from Israel
I am in Tel Aviv right now, in Sarona, a few paces from Kaplan Street. The once anonymous Kaplan Street is now synonymous with protests. Once upon a time – seems like decades ago – against the attempts by our government to implement major judicial changes. Now, Kaplan is the street where many of us gather to demand the release of our hostages each week.
Normalcy is only skin deep.
In a few minutes I will be walking through Hostage Square trying to keep it together and pretending that, on some level, life goes on. How am I doing that? By going to a play at the Cameri Theatre. (I am now post-theatre and I have to admit that, during most of the play, I felt terribly uncomfortable knowing that just a few yards from the theatre relatives of the hostages are sitting together, desperately waiting for an answer, a glimmer of hope).
Normalcy is only skin deep.
But, life does go on. Next week I fly to visit my son, daughter-in-law and four of my grandchildren in Birmingham, Alabama where they are doing fellowships at UAB Children’s Hospital. A normal thing for a grandparent to do, especially if, like me, you miss the little ones so much.
But, as with everything else over here right now, normalcy is only skin deep.
Instead of spending time only with them and with friends from the local community, I have four teaching gigs while I am in the States. Three connected to the JCC movement – that wonderful network of Jewish Community Centers which are to be found almost anywhere there are a handful of Jews – and one in a large Methodist Church in Mountain Brook, right outside Birmingham.
Normalcy is only skin deep.
Besides the usual items in my suitcase – you know, basic toiletries and clothing – I pack light. There will be a few additional items in keeping with the times we are living in. I am taking a Yahrzeit candle with me so that, when I speak in the church, the community will be aware that we are all in mourning in Israel. Mourning for both those murdered in cold blood by the waves of terrorists on October 7th, and for the soldiers who have fallen subsequently in this battle for our survival we are in the midst of, both in Gaza, and on our border
with Lebanon.
Then there are the yellow flags, pins and wristbands from the activists who keep the hostages in all our minds. They will be placed on a few chairs. I will ask people not to sit on them as a reminder that some of our people are missing, being held captive by brutes.
And I am taking texts with me. Specifically for my teaching session at the Methodist church, copies of that wonderful poem by Israeli poet Yehudah Amichai, “The Jews”.
(A short excerpt for you to enjoy:
The Jews are not a historical people
and not even an archaeological people, the Jews
are a geological people with rifts
and collapses and strata and fiery lava.
Their history must be measured
on a different scale.
The Jews are buffed by suffering and polished by torments
like pebbles on the seashore.
The Jews are only distinguished in their death
as pebbles among other stones:
when the mighty hand flings them,
they skip two times or three,
on the surface of the water before they drown.)
Normalcy is only skin deep.
There is one last item in my luggage. A painting I fell in love with. A beautifully delicately rendered, small painting, small enough to fit into the one carry-on I am taking with me. A family of four is just visible in the painting. It is as if this family, two larger adult figures and two very young children, are in hiding, or possibly being hidden. Tal Kaminer, the wonderful artist, as delicate as her paintings, did not necessarily have the Bibas family (Shiri, Yarden, little Ariel and baby Kfir) in mind when she created it but, for us Israelis, always aware of this nightmare scenario, a young family ripped out of their normalcy and now probably below the surface in a literal way, underground, hopefully all alive, a painting such as this, surfaces all our pain.
There is nothing normal about how I packed for this journey, nothing at all.
Julian Resnick was born in Somerset West and grew up in Habonim Dror. He studied at UCT, and made Aliyah in 1976. He’s conducted numerous shlichuyot and educational missions on behalf of Israel, to Jewish communities in England and the USA. He works as a guide in Israel and around the world (wherever there is a Jewish story).
He’s married to Orly, and they have three children and eight grandchildren and is a member of Kibbutz Tzora.
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