FROM MIDWEST page 58
grew up in the States. I think this is natural, as these
are the kind of people with whom I have the most in
common."
"In the neighborhood where we live [Har Nof, a pre-
dominantly Orthodox neighborhood in Jerusalem],
there's a large American population and that feels good
for me, especially since we don't have family here," Ms.
Kagan said.
Ms. Phillips attributes her own mainly English-speak-
Mg social circle to the fact that her Hebrew is "not great."
The exception to the rule, Mr. Koenigsburg said he
socializes with both North Americans and native Is-
raelis. Because his South African wife has lived in Is-
rael since she was a teen ager, he has met many native
Israelis through her. He also felt that the culture shock
in Israel was less acute for him than for many immi-
grants because the Israelis who study in yeshiva with
him share his values.
Despite the difficulties, the Michiganians who re-
main in Israel say they prefer their new to their old lives
and, aside from their relatives, do not miss much about
the United States.
"It's a different standard of living," Ms. Phillips said.
"But the spiritual aspect here makes up for that. I heard
someone say once that [coming to Israel] is a trade-
off of quality of living for quality of life."
She has been impressed with the degree
to which the residents of her predomi-
nantly Orthodox neighborhood are willing
to help each other. She also enjoys "hav-
ing shuls on every corner and the Western
Wall in our backyard."
In contrast to Ms. Phillip's Orthodox
neighborhood in Jerusalem, Ms. Lapides
lives in a predominantly secular suburb of
Tel Aviv, but she also commented on the
feeling of community in her neighborhood.
"I know my neighbors, I know the shop-
keepers. It's a real neighborhood atmos-
phere," she said, adding that "here, people
look out for each other." Furthermore, as
a single parent, Ms. Lapides finds Israel
more convenient than Michigan; the lack
of crime and abundance of public trans-
portation allows her 13-year-old daughter, Simah Phillips and family in Har Nof, Jerusalem.
liana, to be more independent.
"In Detroit, everything was so far apart, you had to ing exposed to things that have a Jewish source. I feel
drive your kids everywhere," she said. "Here, things are like we're part of a larger picture."
"I have no complaints about the United States," said
accessible to kids. It's a great way to grow up."
Like Ms. Lapides, Ms. Kagan feels like Israel is a bet- Chaim (Charles) Levi, who made aliyah with his wife
ter place for her children than Michigan. She said she in 1971. "But [Israel] is where we belong." ❑
finds its rewarding "to see [my children] growing up be-
On The Rise: Aliyah From
North America Has Inc eased In The 1990s
Ur mike the vast majority of Israel's immigrants,
North AmericanJews who move to Israel under
the Law of Return are not seeking better eco-
nomic conditions or freedom from persecution.
Instead, many of them choose to give up a comfortable
existence in a relatively peaceful country and subject
themselves to high taxes, required military service, a new
language, and a hectic day-to-day existence mired in long
lines and bureaucracy. Not to mention, they are plunk-
ing themselves down in the midst of the volatile Middle
East.
In Hebrew, the word for immigration to Israel, aliyah,
means "rising." But until recently, for many American
immigrants the rise was followed quickly by a fall. Ac-
cording to Akiva Werber of the Israel Aliyah Center's
Chicago office, in the 1970s return rates for American
immigrants were "disastrous."
But he said that in the past decade, "sticking numbers"
(the percentage of immigrants who stay in Israel) have
improved, with more than 80 percent of American im-
migrants remaining in Israel.
Mr. Werber attributes the change to a shifting focus
in the World Zionist Organization's aliyah department.
Prospective olim are now discouraged from "leaping into
Bound for Israel
NORTH AMERICAN JEWISH EMIGRATION, 1986-1996
that cold water." Instead they are urged to prepare by
first living temporarily in Israel, studying Hebrew, learn-
ing more about Israeli life and then making the deci-
sion to immigrate.
In addition to the heightened emphasis on prepara-
tion, Israel's improved economy means that new im-
migrants face better job prospects and a higher standard
of living. Kalman Grossman, executive director of the
North American Aliyah Delegation, credits the peace
process with the rise in immigration, and anticipates
that if it continues, so will North American immigra-
tion.
"We expect aliyah will increase once we have a much
quieter situation," he said.
According to Israel's Central Bureau of Statistics, a
total of 71,480 American Jews immigrated to Israel be-
tween 1948 and 1995. Although extremely low in com-
parison to the influxes from the former Soviet Union
and Ethiopia, North American immigration has mod-
erately increased in the 1990s, from 1,805 immigrants
arriving in 1989 to 3,269 arriving in 1996.
Michigan Aliyah shaliach (emissary) Jeff Kaye says
that his office sends roughly 25 new immigrants from
Michigan each year. Mr. Kaye says that Michigan olim
86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96
-
`Data was provided by the Israel Aliyah Center, New York, N.Y.
are a diverse lot, representing Jews of all ages, politics
and religious affiliations.
Mr. Grossman says that American olim are on aver-
age the youngest of Israel's new citizens, with 72 percent
of new immigrants under the age of 32. ❑
From Detroit To Jerusalem And Back • •
One Couple's Brief Life As Israelis
M
ichael and Elaine
Serling look back on
their time in Israel
as a "life-changing
experience."
As new immigrants in 1971,
the Serlings had a lot going for
them. They quickly became
friends with their classmates in
ulpan (intensive Hebrew class).
They had many relatives in Is-
rael. And they easily mastered
Hebrew and found jobs.
But like many Americans who
moved to Israel in the 1970s,
they ended up deciding it was not
where they wanted to spend
their lives.
"American Jews were used to
the good life, and unless they
were Orthodox there wasn't a lot
that was holding them [in Israel]
— unless they were really ad-
vancing in their work," Mr. Ser-
ling said.
Raised in a Conservative-
Zionist family, Mr. Serling went
to Israel for the first time in the
summer of 1967, weeks after the
tiny country had impressed the
world by defeating Syrian,
Egyptian and Jordanian armies.
"I don't imagine that there
will ever again be a time like af-
ter the Six-Day War," he said.
"Thousands of tourists were
coming in and Israelis from all
over the country were making
pilgrimages to the Kotel [West-
ern Wall]." Mr. Serling got
caught up in the excitement of
the time, and when he returned
to Detroit all he could think of
was Israel.
The following summer he
traveled to Israel again, and by
the end of his trip he decided to
make his life in Israel. When he
married Elaine, who had never
been to Israel, he told her he
wanted to make aliyah. She
agreed to give it a try.
The two became new immi-
grants in 1971 and spent six
months on an ulpan in Netanya.
After ulpan, the couple settled
in Jerusalem. Mr. Serling found
work at Bank Leumi, and Ms.
Serling accepted a nursing job
at Sha'arey Zedek Hospital.
"We liked our jobs and liked
our apartment. Things were go-
ing nicely," Mr. Serling said.
"But after a while, we realized
that we didn't have a lot of mon-
ey, we wanted to have kids, and
we missed our families."
Mr. Serling liked Bank Leu-
mi, but was concerned he would
never be able to find a job in his
real field: law. Openings in the
field were hard to come by then,
and had to be preceded by years
of internship service.
"It's a lot easier to go to Israel
with money," Mr. Serling said.
"Trying to start out there can be
extremely difficult. Today's econ-
omy is better."
Although aliyah did not work
out for them, the Serlings do not
regret having tried.
"Aliyah was a necessary step
in our lives to make sure there
were no feelings of wanting to do
it but never trying," Mr. Serling
said.
Residents of Farmington Hills
with two daughters, the couple
frequently travel to Israel.
❑