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Never forget: Yom HaShoah
What can you do to help strengthen the legacy of Holocaust remembrance? At
a time when our survivor population is rapidly dwindling, come and show your
support for them and for your community by attending your local community-wide
Yom HaShoah observance. Join us in showing that we will never forget.
San Francisco
Sunday, April 15, 2007, 5:00 p.m., Temple Emanu-El, 2 Lake Street, San Francisco
Short film screening of Zahor (Remember) followed by Yizkor service & candlelighting
ceremony. Transportation for Holocaust survivors who need it can be arranged
through Jewish Family and Children’s Services: 415.449.3865. For more
information call 415.777.9060 or 415.977.7444.
South Peninsula
Sunday, April 15, 2007, 5:00 p.m., Congregation Beth Am, 26790 Arastradero
Road, Los Altos Hills
This Yom HaShoah commemoration will feature intergenerational song, prayer,
music, readings, artwork, and a special message from Israeli Consul General
David Akov. For more information, contact the JCRC Peninsula office at 650.961.1922.
Marin
Sunday, April 15, 2007, 6:00 p.m., Congregation Rodef Shalom, 170 North San
Pedro Road, San Rafael
This year we are honored to have speakers from three generations, as we remember
the past and look to the future. For more information, contact Jewish Family & Children's
Services, 415.449.3865.
North Peninsula
Monday, April 16, 2007, 6:30 p.m., Temple Beth Jacob, 1550 Alameda de las
Pulgas, Redwood City
Special guest speaker Gloria Lyon, holocaust survivor, will recall her experiences.
This program will include a procession of survivors, a candlelighting ceremony,
music and song, artwork and youth participation. There will also be a reading
of martyrs’ names, followed by a service of remembrance at 7:00 p.m.
For more information, contact the JCRC Peninsula office at 650.961.1922.
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“Balagon” in the City of Eight: My OTZMA Experience in Kiryat
Shmona
OTMZA is a United Jewish Communities-sponsored
program offering young adults ages 20-26 the opportunity to live and volunteer
in Israel. San Francisco participant Shana Dorfman wrote this essay about her
time there.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I spent the months of July
and August literally freaking out at the thought of volunteering in San Francisco’s
Partnership 2000 city, Kiryat Shmona. Just ask my boss from my summer internship
in Baltimore, who never feigned ignorance when my prolonged breaks from phone
calls indicated that I was biting my fingernails over my keyboard, engrossed
in the latest headlines from BBC and the New York Times. “Don’t
worry, Shana,” he would bellow from his office down the corridor. “You’ll
be fine, this whole mess will be cleaned up by the time you get there.”
I
had no way of knowing just how right he was until my arrival in the “City
of Eight” [the literal translation of Kiryat Shmona’s name] three
short months ago. I never expected to see everyone completely settled back
into their homes, the town’s businesses and schools up and running, and
Katyusha damage more scarce than a taxi on Shabbat.
But, to put it bluntly, living in Kiryat Shmona sometimes feels like
being trapped in an animal cage at the zoo — or as we say here, the
safari. You’re sitting
in there, trying to help the animals do their thang, and then you look
up and realize that there’s a flock of humans staring at you with
their arms outstretched, tapping on the glass with their index fingers
and cooing at you in condescending baby-talk, all while taking a million
photographs and blinding you with their red-eye offsetting flash.
Week after week, it’s
the same routine: a colorful tour bus parks in front of the middle school,
a crowd of Americans files into the auditorium, principal delivers her “thank
you for your support” speech, a peppy
group of girls performs a touching yet generic song and dance routine,
and then the lights go out for the feature presentation, The
Danciger War Story, a 15-minute film comprised of interviews with students and faculty
from Danciger High School who were personally affected by the Lebanon War.
Sometimes there is a Q&A schmooze session in the beit café following
the demonstration, but more often than not, the tourists are ushered back
onto their bus so they can head to their next destination. I often wonder
how the students and teachers are able to tolerate this nuisance with such
dignity.
I supposed it’s appropriate that my final week here is decidedly
my most emotional one yet. The seventh-grade advanced English classes
are currently reading a chapter about backpacking and touring, so it has been
my job to ask them about their own individual travels. It’s a great
exercise for the children to practice past simple tense as well as relevant
vocabulary, but they generally tend to say everything in present simple,
using their friends as makeshift translators when they forget a word
here and there.
Whenever you ask a kid in Kiryat Shmona about
the last trip he went on, he will most likely tell you about where his
family sought refuge last summer, be it Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Eilat, or
a relative’s
house somewhere in between. Alternatively, if you specifically ask about
his experience during the Lebanon War, he will inevitably tell you about
his travels to exotic locations in the South, and perhaps the size of
the swimming pool or the number of stars of his hotel (“Do they
have 7-star hotels in America?” I
was once asked). Rarely do kids here divulge the emotions they felt when
they heard the first explosions, the choices they made as they packed
their bags or their first impressions of their homes when they returned
at the end of the summer. For that reason, my other assignment of the
week came as a great challenge.
A few days ago, we got word that on Wednesday,
a group of 17 Americans from a conservative congregation in Westchester,
New York, would arrive at our school to deliver a check for $600 and
meet the students whom their money would directly benefit. We had a
two-hour block of time to work with, so Sharon asked me to assist five strong
seventh graders with writing a short speech about how they reacted
to the war. “None of this, ‘I went to Eilat and the Dead
Sea and camped out with my friends’ business,” Sharon instructed. “Ask
them about their feelings.”
I guess feelings are different for
everyone. Matan told me about how his family decided that the best
place to run to was his grandparents’ kibbutz near
the Kinneret, and that the elementary students from Kiryat Shmona
almost had to change schools because of all the damage — but
that fortunately they didn’t have to in the end. Yochai recounted
how his family’s
initial escape to Haifa was cut short when Katyushas landed there
too, so he ended up joining his friend, Matan, on the kibbutz. Ariel
explained that the war was bittersweet for her because she got to
visit a childhood friend who she had not seen in years, but at the
same time she was always on edge from the constant “boom alarms”. Eli
illustrated the terror he felt as he stood on his balcony and watched
a Katyusha fall roughly 50 meters from his house, as well as how
much he enjoyed relaxing at a resort in the desert. Aviv recalled
his first reaction to the sounds, plus his added anxiety because
his parents were in Thailand at the time. I later found out that
Aviv’s older brother
was one of the two soldiers from Kiryat Shmona killed by Hezbollah.
My summaries do little justice to the original words of my students, so I’ll
add a few notable lines:
“At the start I was scared because every moment
could be the last. We were at [Kibbutz] Deganya Bet when we heard our elementary
school ‘Metsudot’ had
been hit. Even though we didn't study there anymore, we were concerned about
it. I felt unsafe because even the place where I felt safe, like my school,
was hit.” — Yochai
“One morning, I woke up and heard a big
bang. Then I looked through the window and saw white smoke coming from
the mountain. When we got home we saw most of the houses were OK. But still
we are never going to forget the war.” — Matan
“I was at my
house when we heard the booms. I thought it was ordinary, I didn't believe
that a war was coming. I was in panic because I saw all the damage and my
parents were not in the country. I went away from home and we didn't plan to
stay there long, but then the war started.” — Aviv
“The worst
experience I had during the war was hearing, for the first time in my life,
a boom alarm. I was terrified and I cried until my parents came and said
that we are going to a friend who lives farther south. To this day I'm still
afraid because there have been a lot of talks about another war starting. But
right now I'm enjoying the peace and quiet which I hope will stay.”— Ariel
“I really really missed my house, my room, and all my stuff, and
I want to stop running from the war. The war was very fun for me but very sad
and scary. It was like an emotion storm — there were many emotions all
at one time.”— Eli
On Tuesday, Sharon called the tour coordinator from Westchester to find out
what time we should expect the group, but she was told that they only had time
to meet her somewhere and hand her the check, that they were unable to visit
the school or to talk to any students due to scheduling conflicts. She begged
him to please give her twenty minutes, just to talk to the kids who eagerly
awaited their arrival; she explained that the money didn’t matter, but
she simply couldn’t let everyone down when they had planned so much for
this visit — however, her requests were to no avail. As she hung up the
phone, she stared down at the tentative schedule sketched into her notebook
and the rough outline of an introductory speech I had helped her write out. “All
this for nothing,” she flatly murmured as she combed her fingers through
her hair. “At least now there won’t be a balagon [huge
crazy mess].”
Fifteen minutes later, he called back to say that we would
have thirty minutes, from 11 to 11:30, so we set to work on what we should
drop from the agenda. Clearly the speech must be kept, and the movie is too
heart-rending to exclude; unfortunately, there would be no time for the students
and visitors to mingle. At that moment, I realized that although this whole
circus-like production may be a disruption to their daily lives, at least
it is a welcome one at that.
The big day finally came, and I stood aside as Jewish Americans oohed and
ahhed over the real live war survivors. “Look, honey, they’re
all getting ready for their bar mitzvahs just like you!” I caught
a mother whisper to her apathetic son.
Together the Diaspora and Holy Land Jews, side by side, watched The
Danciger War Story — it
was my second time seeing the film, but the first for most of the Israelis
in the room. Sharon kept rubbing her eyes under her glasses, and I couldn’t
help but notice a tear running down Aviv’s cheek
as he watched his older sister on the big screen, choking up as she recounted
her last interactions with their brother before he was killed. Everyone
was visibly affected by the poignant narratives, and finally our guests
chose to postpone their next event because they deemed it worthwhile to
spend some quality time with the students.
Perhaps the old philosophical
question, “If a tree falls in a forest
and there's no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?” is
relevant. Do animals continue to eat, bathe, and play when the zoo is
closed? Did streetlights in Kiryat Shmona change color even when the
entire population had fled south? I assure you that in the absence of
curious spectators, the City of Eight undeniably operates on a normal
schedule. But when there is an audience present, something special happens:
the school lets off some steam, the sabras shed their tough exterior,
and everyone is finally able to expose a little vulnerability without
the pressures of day-to-day life holding them back. Looking back on this
experience, it’s hard
to believe that six months ago I was overcome with apprehension about
living in the North; and although the OTZMA volunteers must leave town
on Sunday, I will always be proud to call Kiryat Shmona my home. |
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Other Events
Sunday, March 25, 2007, 10:15 a.m. - 12:00 p.m.
Jewish Community Federation CEO Tom Dine will address the state of our Jewish community locally and globally as part of the Peninsula Temple Sholom's adult education series.
Sunday, March 25, 2007,
2:00 p.m.
Join award-winning children’s author and illustrator Elisa Kleven as she gives a presentation about her work. Afterwards, there will be a hands-on creative workshop for kids ages 5-9.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007,
7:00 p.m.
Featuring Jacob Sharvit, senior archeologist with the Israel Antiquities Authority.
Thursday, March 29, 2007 - Friday, March 30, 2007,
various times and locations
Dr. Gissin serves as a strategic consultant, commentator and lecturer on a variety of topics related to the Middle East and Israel.
Thursday, March 29, 2007,
6:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m.
This unique event for Russian Division donors will be held at one of the world’s premier culinary centers and will include a chef’s demonstration of Passover foods.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007,
7:00 p.m.
After you've celebrated Seders and practiced the plagues, come celebrate freedom from flourless food! Break bread with other young adults in San Francisco.
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