Israeli Independence Day?

I saw an article yesterday.  The title was Israel lost its independence in 1967.  Ironically, when I tried to open it, the Israeli newspaper Haaretz's app closed on me.  And since I have the attention span of a goldfish, that's all I can tell you about that article.  If I was a diligent writer, I would go back and read it before I wrote this.  But then I wouldn't write the post.

Welcome once again to the inside of my brain.

Let me digress for a second to answer your burning question.  Why are you blogging about Israeli Indepence Day, aka Yom Ha'atzmaut, on your blog that we have all labelled in our brains in the category of fat positive, self-help, wellness blogs?  You're kinda fucking up our whole filing system by getting into the political stuff here.  You did it with that #taxmarch post on April 15th and now you're doing it again.

Let me address the question that I am assuming--rather, let me address the judgement from my readership that my brain has concocted in an attempt to sabotage me from writing this post.  I am not going to fit neatly in any boxes.

Ever.

It's also why this blog is posted on my website www.benmosche.org. Right now it's the only thing up there, but I am hoping to get some information about my work as a rabbi for wedding couples and other life celebrations and then the blog will just be a page.  My writing  about my personal journey toward healthy IS relevant to the organization I am developing--The Benmosche Project: inspired by Jewish traditions, open to the mosaic of humanity.

There is no boundary between my personal self and my professional self.  And I get shit for that all the time from professionals who have tried to teach me to be more professional.  There's nothing that I want to hide in a closet or be protected about.  Just the other day my old friend,
Aviva, said--you know, you might want to edit out the word "fuck" from your posts because (I don't remember exactly what she said, but improvise the rest, end with some hysterical laughter and you'll get the point). No, I don't want to, I answered.  This is me--take it or leave it.  Fuckity fuck fuck.  If you don't want your rabbi to say fuck--don't hire me for the rabbi job. I can live with missing out of a job for people who would want me to be smaller, quieter, more polished.

But I digress.  Always.

And now you kind of understand why this post is completely perfect for today.  It's Israel's independence day.  Palestinians call this day al Nakba, which literally means "the disaster."  I usually equate Nakba in my mind with Holocaust.  Yes, the word has a technical literal definition, but now it primarily refers to an historical moment.


I got a text from my friend Susan who said she would try to call me later because she was running in and out of meetings today, "interspersed with Yom Ha'atzmaut parties, interspersed with actively avoiding yeshiva boys holding flags and chanting." Her text made me so homesick.  It also made me realize why I had a deep craving for a burger last night (the hallmark of secular Israeli celebrations of today is grilling--sound like 4th of July anyone?).

I'm not good at politics.  One of my best friends, Michal, lives in the West Bank.  She's an Orthodox Jew, and as she said at my first (actually second) wedding, our relationship is proof that parallel lines do meet.  We run in COMPLETELY different circles.  You would never know that we knew each other if you looked at the stereotype of us.  But we do. You can also find the beginnings of our blog at this site: http://www.therabbiandtheskirt.org

I miss being in Israel for Independence day the way I used to be proud of being out of the country for the 4th of July, but still went to watch the fireworks at the beach in Tel Aviv.  I grew up in America.  I hate the idea of white supremacist Trump America, and yet--even if I actually ex-patriated (is that a word?), every one would know I was an American. You can hear my accent in my Hebrew, even though I learned to speak Hebrew when I was 4.  You can hear it in my Spanish, even though I learned Spanish from my mother when I was a baby.  You can hear an American accent in my mother's Spanish too--because she spent her first 5 years in Yonkers before they moved to Venezuela and then she came back here for high school. Because her mother tongue is English (despite the fact that her mother's tongue was actually laced with a heavy German accent, and her father grew up in Poland speaking Yiddish).

Israel is my home. I leave you with the most inspiring speech I have heard in years--the keynote from this year's JStreet conference, Mika Almog, the granddaughter of the late former President and former Prime Minister of Israel, Shimon Perez.

She speaks the words of my soul more eloquently than I could ever say them. Please watch this. Michal--you, too ;)

https://youtu.be/I6EpId7w1kk

I love Israel because it is mine. Because I want to make love with my eyes open.  Because I love Israel the way I have loved the women in my life, and the men, of my life. I look at its roses even as they prick my fingers. Because we are ALL living such unlikely lives. Because the stuff I am made of is the future.



Thank you/not you #g!dnotGod for creating a homeland for the Jewish people.  Let us all work for tikkun olam. Somehow we have this beautiful mess of a Jewish homeland in the world.  I want to help make it better.  Today, I do that by writing this post.

And that passion makes me healthier today.

#lovematters #jstreet #g!dnotGod #69 #happybirthdayisrael #israelishome #yomhaatzmaut