Community Views
Editor's Notebook
Comforting Disturbances
In The World Around Us
The Student In 204
And Other Israel Tales
IRA WISE SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH NEWS
ELIZABETH APPLEBAUM ASSOC ATE ED TOR
I was given the
honor of giving a
D'var Torah at the
Evening of Appre-
ciation for our Jew-
ish educators two
weeks ago. Like
everything I write
or say, this drash
(interpretation) is
seen through the eyes of a teacher
and parent.
The Torah portion was Ba-
haalotecha. Among other things,
it described the method by which
the people made and broke camp
during their 40 years of wander-
ing after Sinai. It seems that on
the day that the mishkan (taber-
nacle) was erected, a cloud cov-
ered it by day; and in the evening,
the cloud turned to fire. When it
was time to break camp and
move on, the cloud
would lift from the
tent. When it set-
tled back down, it
was time to make
camp. Numbers
tells us, "According
to God's word they
rested and accord-
ing to God's word
they traveled."
It was no doubt
both disturbing
and comforting for
the generation of
the Exodus to have
this cloud of smoke
and fire in their
midst. On the one
hand, they were
cut off from every-
thing they ever knew during their
life in Egypt. Some commentators
say that the time for the Exodus
came when the people no longer
complained about their slavery
— they had grown used to it.
Separated from all that was fa-
miliar, it must have given them
some sense of security that their
God — who after all had brought
plagues upon Egypt, parted the
Sea of Reeds and was revealed at
Sinai — was visibly in their
midst, dwelling among them. It
must have given on one level a
feeling of security, knowing al-
ways that the Divine presence
was always in their camp. Sure,
Moses was good; but hey, we're
talking about God.
How often have our students
(or one of us) agonized over a
sense of detachment from the Di-
vine? Demanded and not received
proof of God's presence among us?
Felt a need to know for a certainty
that God's end of the covenant
was being upheld? It would be
most reassuring to have such a
Ira Wise, immediate past
president of the Jewish
Educators Council, will be the
new director of education at
Congregation. B'nai Israel in
Bridgeport, Conn.
cloud acting like a priest's steady-
ing hand on our shoulders, just
saying, "I am here." It would be
nice not to always rely on faith. It
would also make it much easier
to help our students connect with
and talk about God.
On the other hand, consider
how frightening the cloud and fire
must have been for the wander-
ers in the desert. They had left
Egyptian bondage following 10
horrible plagues and witnessed
the drowning of the Egyptians in
the Sea of Reeds, attended the
giving of the Torah and the de-
struction of the golden calf. It's
possible that not everyone re-
mained comfortable in the pres-
ence of the Presence.
The golden calf episode did not
bode well as an experiment in
personal initiative. At the end of
this parshah, Miriam (and some
contend Aaron as well) is pun-
ished for criticizing Moses and
claiming a stake in leadership.
For some, having a familiar re-
minder of God's presence might
bring about the fear of Big Broth-
er, of having someone looking
over your shoulder all of the time.
In spite of this, Korach and his
followers rebel two parshayot lat-
er and come to a sudden and fi-
nal end, as did Nadav and Avihu.
How often have our students
told us that they are tired of al-
ways being told what to do? How
many leave formal Jewish edu-
cation after a bar or bat mitzvah
because they do not feel their
needs are being met, but rather
that they are forced to learn on
some narrow "adult" agenda root-
ed in tradition? How often do we,
as teachers and educators, feel
that we are being micromanaged
by administrators, laypeople and
parents of our students?
Perhaps having a cloud in our
midst would be more unsettling
than comforting — a God who is
visibly present is much more de-
manding than concept rooted in
faith.
What do we as teachers take
from this parshah? I think at least
three things: Whether or not we
can see the cloud/fire, it is our sa-
cred task to help our students and
ourselves perceive God's presence.
We may do this best by talking
and singing about God, by pro-
viding experiences and ways in
which to reflect about the Divine.
At Jewish summer camp I and
others have attended, there is a
climbing tower. A rope attached
to a harness at the climber's waist
is gradually drawn in, not sup-
porting the climber, but ready to
belay a fall should he slip. A
camper described the rope being
like God. When you are climbing,
you are barely aware of its pres-
ence. Nonetheless, you have faith
that should you slip, it will save
you. We must create more mo-
ments like this.
Secondly, the cloud/fire is there
if we will but see it.
Not to get meta-
physical, I believe
that the clues we
need to tell us
when to move for-
ward and when to
make camp are all
around us if we are
willing to see them.
I mean that in
terms of the class-
room — knowing
when the students
need to review
something one
more time, and
when that review
will be counterpro-
ductive. If a spark
of the Divine is in-
deed in each of us, then we should
be able to take our cues in part
from our students.
I also mean this in larger com-
munal terms. CLAL scholar Tzvi
Blanchard told the Jewish Edu-
cators Council that for the first
time ever educators have been in-
vited to sit at tables of power in
the Jewish community as the bal-
abatim plan a strategy to pre-
serve Jewish continuity. Having
a seat doesn't necessarily mean
that we have a vote or even a say
in the matter. We must read the
signs carefully and make certain
that we are organized as an edu-
cational community to make cer-
tain that our voices are heard.
And third, we must remember
that the Divine presence can be
both comforting and unsettling
and that both of these feelings are
important. It is good to be corn-
forted, but we must beware of
complacency. Our students won't
stand for it, and neither should
we. Being agitated can be dis-
turbing and troubling, but it can
also keep us fresh, challenge us
to reach new understandings.
Change is good, especially if it
leads to growth. Change merely
for the sake of change is merely
unsettling.
I have to confess
to an undying
envy:
There are peo-
ple out there
who can afford to
go to Israel any
time they want,
and they do just
that.
"My wife and I make it a
point to get to Israel at least
twice a year," is something I of-
ten hear. I always act like I'm
happy. Right. Sort of the way
I'm happy for others who win
the lottery.
I was last in Israel three
years ago, though I was lucky
enough to be on a junior year
abroad program in Jerusalem,
and I spent two years studying
for my master's degree at He-
brew University.
I miss Israel every day of my
life, though not for the reasons
most do. It's not that beautiful,
almost overwhelming history
that fills the country, or the
mystical sense of spirituality
that pervades Jerusalem, or
even the fact that the big cel-
ebrations are Rosh Hashanah
and Yom Ha'atzma'ut, not
Christmas and Easter, that
haunt me — though I love all
of that.
What I miss most are the al-
most magical adventures that
came each day, simply by be-
ing there.
I think it's inevitable that life
would be a little, well, differ-
ent, in a country where just
about everybody is originally
from someplace else, or else his
parents were. Israel also is a
country of such profound pas-
sions, from men who, through
some inexplicable miracle ("My
mother looked the Nazi
straight in the eye and said, 'If
you don't let my son go I will
tear you apart with my own
hands'"), survived Nazi Ger-
many and became leading rab-
bis, to secularists such as
Yehuda Bauer. I never agree
with all their views, but I like
the fact that they have well-de-
fined and educated points of
view. Furthermore, because Is-
rael is still so threatened (I
don't care what the peace
treaties say), there is a sense
of urgency to living and a kin-
ship we cannot begin to grasp
here in the United States.
"Any Jew in this country is
ready to lay his life down for
you," a friend of mine, who lives
in Israel, told me. I believe him.
While I was living in Israel
I used to wake up in the morn-
ing and think, "I wonder what
will happen today."
Sonia is a case in point. She
was an immigrant with beau-
tiful, almond-shaped eyes. We
met after a single letter I had
written got through to her par-
ents in the Soviet Union. Her
father had been a prominent
refusenik, and I wrote him a
letter of support from the Unit-
ed States. Miraculously, the
letter arrived in Moscow.
Sonia and I became friends.
I loved going to her apartment,
where she kept a pet turtle in
the bathtub and served me jam
straight from the jar. She told
me about her British husband,
whom she had married to get
out of the Soviet Union. He
used to walk down the streets
of Moscow and "rip down Sovi-
et flags," she said fiercely.
About a year after Sonia, who
called me "Lees," and I had
met, she came to me with hor-
rible news. Her father, who by
then had managed to immi-
grate to the United States, had
a brain tumor. She wanted
desperately to see him, but the
American Embassy told her it
would take a while to get a
visa. Sonia didn't have a while.
I offered to go with her to the
embassy. Full of that bravado
that so routinely characterizes
college students, I managed to
see the vice consul, thrust my
passport at him and an-
nounced, "I'm a U.S. citizen
and I can't believe you can't
help my friend."
Despite my behavior, he was
more than gracious. Once he
learned Sonia's situation, he
immediately issued her a tem-
porary visa.
I also became friends with a
Holocaust survivor named
Avraham who couldn't tolerate
loud noises. He had been in
Auschwitz, and is pictured in
the famous photo of the death-
camp bunker that also shows
Elie Wiesel.
Avraham and his family
went one day to Yad Vashem,
where a copy of that picture
hangs. His children paused be-
fore the photo, then turned to
their father. Now, Avraham
was a large man with a full
head of thick, grey hair. He was
suntanned, handsome.
"It can't be you," they cried.
"I looked at the photo, too,"
he said. "And then I looked at
myself and back at the photo
and I began to think, 'Was that
me? Was it really me?"'
In Israel I had friends intro-
duce me to almond juice and
orchid-flavored desserts. I of-
ten walked by the home of the
prime minister (then Men-
achem Begin). I had a Spanish
tutor from Argentina who had
stories of life under Eva Peron,
and a ballroom dance teacher
whose tiny studio always
smelled of gas heaters. I drank
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