In 'The Land that I will show you': My July in Israel

My July in Israel #2: Taking stock as a "local" - actually 'living' here!

Sunday July 6 - 12

This week marked the onset of my stated purpose for being here, as reported in my previous Substack - to volunteer as a Spiritual Care provider, as an extension of my Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) program through the Jewish Theological Seminary (JTS) in NY.

‘Spiritual Care’ here in Israel, broadly speaking, is a foreign concept. Neither the word “Chaplain” nor “Pastor “ exists in Hebrew. When I tell Israelis what I do, often I get a quizzical “what’s that?” response. Notably however, some 20 plus years ago, Spiritual Care “halutzim,” pioneers, most trained in the US, launched that modality of care in selective Israeli hospitals. It was initially seen as an odd health care offering for this society - for the religious community it was somewhat superfluous - a case of “we got this; don’t really need that;” and for the chee’lu’nee, the secular population - it smacked of religious weighting, a little too “not my thing, no thank you” that made them wary.

Since the start of my explorations of applying my studies here, I have found that “no man’s land” positioning Spiritual Care found itself in early on in Israel, quite incongruous. Israel - a global leader in medicine and science and many of the healing arts; a society, however flinty and resilient it might fashion itself, beset by trauma and emotional strain - that stood to gain immeasurably from the adoption of Spiritual Care, has trailed the US and it remains today an emerging field looking to take deeper root.

And as it has emerged it has come to be called in Hebrew, Lee’vu’ee Ru’cha’nee, Spiritual Accompaniment. Today, there is an official body whose English title is The Association for Spiritual Care in Israel while its Hebrew name hews to (translated) The Association for Spiritual Accompaniment in Israel.

I was fortunate to be able to find my way for my summer work to two advanced outposts of institutional Spiritual Care, that accord it the indispensability and integratedness it holds in many hospitals in the US. One is Shaare Zedek Hospital , Jerusalem’s 120 year old flagship hospital with 1000 beds and 30 in-patient departments which features its own homegrown Spiritual Care program, called B'Ruach for spiritual guidance and training, founded 21 years ago as a then novel care offering. B’ruach has proven a wellspring for Spiritual Care nationwide in Israel, having graduated over 60 providers that populate hospitals and care facilities throughout the country.

The other institution I am working at is a Senior Home called Neveh Horim the oldest nursing home in Israel, nearly 150 years old, with about 220 residents at all levels of care, from independent to memory care to a range of assisted living.

This week I received my orientation at both venues and visited my first patients and residents. At Shaare Zedek, I will be focused on Geriatric, Surgery and Internal Medicine patients. It is an enormous medical facility - enormous on its own merits and many multiples larger than my home hospital - Kaiser San Rafael, CA. I knew well of the reputation of Israeli hospitals for being the locust of Israel’s melting pot culture: 50% of pharmacists in Israel are Arab, one quarter of nurses are Arab of whom over a third are men etc. Still, seeing that workplace in action was remarkable. Jews and Israeli Arabs working seamlessly alongside one another; Haredim scrubbed in alongside secular; Russian doctors working with Ethiopian nurses.

OII

I rented a bike for my time here at a little hole in the wall shop a friend suggested because he knows the owner, who is a very accomplished amateur rider. What a departure from renting a bike in the US — not a shred of paperwork. Nor a dollar paid, at the shopkeeper’s discretion. I doubt he even wrote down when I would be returning it. “When you bring it back, that will be fine.” He has no idea what my name is, my phone — nada. But because my friend Saul vouched for me — he was good “transacting” the rental as he did. Felt like borrowing a bike from a family member!

My first bike ride was a Jerusalem biker favorite: an ascent in the Jerusalem hills above the Zoo and the Aquarium to Yad Kennedy - a memorial to JFK. When I arrived, this truly Only In Israel scene greeted me, backdropped by the gorgeous surrounding hills of Jerusalem. This shot is the embodiment of The Land That I Will Show You.

The charge this blog was given by you dear Readers was to convey the mood of how Israelis are feeling and faring right now. This past week rendered a partial answer, likely echoing what you have been reading or hearing elsewhere in Israel blogs or podcasts but my finding may come more personalized and colorful.

Israeli’s are maxed out, wiped out, exhausted. They relate how the Iran 12 day war stirred a deep seated visceral fear factor which didn’t exist before, and that took a decided emotional toll. The 650 Days post 10/7 and the ongoing unspeakable Hostages hell and Hamas and Houti rocket attacks and having to periodically revert to their mamad or miklat (private or public bomb shelters) - it’s all been terribly fraught. But my friends and strangers (I call new friends) contend they could take all of that more or less, in stride, depending on the day. Basically a version of “we got used to that; we hated it; we protested; but we could deal with it.” But this was different. As they realized their air defenses could not protect them 100% and there were early reports of direct hits and people dying, for the first time “we were really scared” they tell me. Not to indulge in a macabre parlor game of ‘Who had it Worse’ but my friends in Jerusalem, which incurred no direct hits (but of course they did not know that in real time as their phones showed missiles enroute) - even as they recount their own tribulations, at the same time they report their friends in Tel Aviv where missiles did hit, and was targeted every day over and over, had it much psychologically worse, feeling exposed as “sitting ducks” and they are reeling that much more, post Iran war.

As my Shabbos dinner gathering this week also brought out, the War had further fallout - it compounded Israelis’ wariness around Trust - a factor already so prominent and so problematic for so long. Admittedly, my circle here does not count many ardent government supporters but at the same time, there is universal acknowledgment that what Israel did to Iran (with our American help) was essential. Full stop. But it’s their skepticism around what do they REALLY know or knew at the time. that curries a very unsettling prevailing sense of ‘I don’t know what to believe’. For example, the worst kept government secret in Israel is that some as-yet-to-be-identified IDF bases were hit (4 or 5 or 6) as was the IDF “Pentagon” in Tel Aviv, (which prominently and unmistakably abuts the broad boulevard where Saturday night weekly Judicial Reform Protests staged throughout 2022-23 and where I have spent many a Saturday night). A modern residential tower literally across the boulevard from the Pentagon was also hit - as captured in photos that went viral, showing a gouge taken out of one side but that the tower as a whole, withstood. The government maintained, all bases were evacuated prior to the IDF’s surprise attack June 12, so no one was hurt and the IDF HQ damage was not acknowledged but rumored to be “manageable”. Our dinner conversation asked what does Trust constitute, in wartime: what needs to be shared with citizenry, what not, what are the double edges of ‘disclosure’ on the homefront, as your enemy assesses the extent to which their attacks succeeded?

Yet for all these crucible elements, equally in the mix in how Israelis are faring, is a sustained undiminished devotion to joy and blessing. They know that is their inoculation from the disease of war and strife, over which they have zero control. What they can control is tapping their innate sense of and appreciation for joy and family and community and grabbing what they can, big or small. They must, lest the emotional strife take over. On Wednesday, at the kind invitation of my Shaare Zedek supervisor, I went to her home for a heartwarming post wedding celebration of dear family friends of hers. There the newly minted Bride and Groom (Kallah and Katan in Hebrew) drank in the love of their families’ closest friends as part of a traditional 7 day post wedding celebration known as Sheva Brachot (7 Blessings - a succession of gatherings over the ensuing wedding week, mirroring each of the 7 blessings chanted in the wedding ceremony). My supervisor, as Hostess, gave a d’var Torah, words of Torah, in tribute to the couple and she hailed the imperative of celebration and embracing joy, especially in moments of trial and fear.

So too at the aforementioned Shabbat dinner. Our Hosts were relishing their daughter’s Bat Mitzvah upcoming the very next Shabbat - as was the adorable B’nei Mitzvah girl herself, naturally. And here again, our Mom host spoke pointedly of her gratitude for the joy and blessing that her daughter’s Bat Mitzvah was coming when it was.

But as we concluded the Birkat Hamazon, thanking G-d for our festive Shabbat meal, we were paused from getting up by one of our dinner mates whose soldier son is in Gaza, where soldiers fell over the course of prior days, who gently, tearfully, plaintively asked us to bear him in mind and pray for his welfare.

These are the multiple truths, the multiple lives Israelis are having to hold every day.

OOI

One last lighter anecdote to conclude, from that same soldier Mom, which captures the unique set of multiple truths soldier parents hold vis a vis their own kids. One is incessant Worry for absolute certain. But there’s others: The IDF daughter of my friend’s friend, returned home for the Shabbat following the Iran war. She had been gone for the duration of the war and for weeks prior and indeed, was in the waning part of her tenure in the Army. Like most soldier parents here, this young woman’s parents had no idea what she did throughout her time in the Army. Of course, Topic A,B and C and beyond that first dinner home was the war itself, starting with the wondrous broadscale preemptive attacks Israel perpetrated. “So Abba,” the daughter asked her father as casually as she could, “what surprised you the most about those first 72 hours?” The mischievous proud look in his daughter’s eyes spoke volumes and it struck the father like a thunderbolt: this is what his daughter was working on for the entirety of her Army service. These past 12 days. And he was at once so proud of her and so grateful to her and the IDF. “These are our kids!’ He endeavored to answer her question, and of course got only a completely disengaging “oh, interesting; uh-huh; hmmm” in reply.