Tzipiyah.com

Last night I babysat for an American family who made Aliyah; last Shabbat I ate a meal with nine American seminary girls; and all last week I helped out an American family here for the chagim.

I’ve been talking a lot of English and I’ve been spending time with a range of Americans: some live here; a bunch wish they could live here; and others are happy they don’t live here.

To be frank, I felt very American. Which is a good, because I am. But I was also comfortable with that feeling. Which surprises me because I’m usually not.

I am careful to speak Israeli and look Israeli and act Israeli.

It’s an issue with which I often struggle: I want to properly acclimate to Israel’s culture and social setting and yet I cannot disregard my American roots; I will always be American. The desire to become “Israeli” is appealing and complex and impossible all at once.

I was caught off guard, therefore, when I found myself in conversation with one of those nine seminary girls. She was American and intelligent and this was her first time in Israel and she was frustrated. Israelis are rude, she generalized: at restaurants the waitresses are impatient; people rebuke her for crossing the street when the light is red; and the Israeli girls outside her seminary yell out crude, or perhaps clever, variations of the word ‘American’. She described them as malicious and abrasive.

I found myself immediately on the defensive. As an Israeli citizen, I was hurt and, perhaps, offended by her difficult characterization of our country. I began to gently explain to her the delicacy of the situation: There are cultural differences, you must understand. No, no, that is purely a result of social differences. And don’t forget: it is important to respect the social norms and expectations of the country one is visiting. Yes, Israel is your homeland as well, but it is their home.

As her accusations increased, though, my ability to justify perhaps unjustifiable behavior was stagnating. I wanted to validate and rationalize and excuse and make everything okay because that’s the way it should be; and yet I know that is no solution.

And so eventually I simply listened. She suggested that the root of the issue is the confrontation of the I-don’t-need-your-democratic-and-capitalistic-freedom-for-all-and-equality-loving-values attitude and the obviously-you-need-our-democratic-and capitalistic-freedom-for-all-and-equality-loving-values attitude.

That seemed too simple, though. And then I remembered: a good friend recently introduced the concepts of oneness and sameness. As members of society, as individuals of humanity, we pursue affirmation—of ourselves and of others—through ourselves and others. We, thus, revere conformity and adore consensus. We stifle individuality and subscribe to monotony. We seek sameness.

There is a different way, though. There is a path in which affirmation of the individual as a single entity as well as a social creature is possible. It is rooted in understanding and appreciation—understanding of the self and thus an appreciation of the other; appreciation of the self and thus an understanding of the other. It is a path which recognizes humanity as a system powered by individuals. It deplores conformity and recognizes the place of consensus. It seeks oneness.

We must seek oneness. In an era where she looks different and he acts differently and they speak differently, we must overcome the differences. Because, apparently, we all have a problem with different.

How, though, do we teach oneness to one people divided by one too many cultures?

Perhaps we can start with those nine seminary girls. Perhaps it is possible to implement programming which will supplant the shana ba’midrasha / yeshiva with a semantically appropriate meaning to shana ba’aretz. Perhaps it is possible to encourage encounter and dialogue which will alleviate the differences.

How, though, do we go about that?

Are we even interested in going about that?

Any takers?

I would love to hear individual and individual’s ideas, reactions, and experiences.