In this series, two American "transplants," or
chutznikiot describe their absorption in Israel. In
the eyes of both, the point of attraction to life here is not
lifestyle or mentality, but clearly only a high spiritual
level and the existence of Torah centers that enable perfect
Torah study for the husband.
Nechama made aliyah when her eldest daughter was already 14,
and close family waited for her in Israel, therefore she
didn't feel lonely.
True Ideals
I have already mentioned that our children imagined all the
children here as tzaddikim gemurim, who never play and
only learn or recite Tehillim all day. My daughters were very
surprised to see girls jumping rope. The adults'
expectations, that the entire chareidi community here is made
up of only talmidei chachamim who are satisfied with a
little, was also let down. Besides, in recent years, American
culture has been arriving here with accelerated speed, and
this is expressed, among other things, in a more
materialistic atmosphere among segments of the population.
When an American Jew hears about the situation here, he does
some figuring: Why should I send my son/daughter to learn or
live in Eretz Yisrael, if they will dress and live almost
like here? Better that they remain close to home and neither
of us suffer from the separation. This in addition to the
fact, that life in Israel is more expensive than abroad.
American Jews are by their nature idealists. There are those
who see in this innocence or naivete, but they know how to be
true pioneers. I once asked a woman: "Would you like an
`innocent American' boy for your daughter?" She laughed,
because she knew that I'm American and only as such was I
able to laugh at myself. In the first weeks of coming here,
close to Rosh Hashanah, I found it necessary to use our
rights as new immigrants at the Absorption Ministry to get
the promised stipend.
"If you're coming from Bnei Brak," mocked the clerk there,
"why must you come to us to get what you need? It's Erev Rosh
Hashanah; go there, ask for tzedaka and everyone will
give you." The secular Israeli perspective was a living
example of the alienation here. Baruch Hashem I don't
need government offices much today, but in the meantime I
learned to also understand the cynical Israeli style and I no
longer get insulted by it.
In general, I can say that the chareidi community, in spite
of its size and complexity, receives new immigrants warmly,
with understanding and with a great deal of honest
willingness. My neighbor confided that when she heard that a
family from abroad was coming to the building, she feared
that we wouldn't adapt to life in a building like this after
a life of luxury in the `villa' (private home) we had had.
She looked for ways to make it easier for us, and was happy
to discover that the problem didn't arise at all. On the
contrary, I told her that back in the States, most
kollel families didn't have a washing machine, rather,
we used a number of machines we had bought together, a
concept that isn't even heard of in Bnei Brak.
Friends Equal Family
Rina arrived with her husband from America immediately
following their wedding, with no family in the country and no
friends but she felt at home right away. The new society that
welcomed her to her Jerusalem neighborhood was purely
American, and she remains within it to this day. "Today, I
have already enlarged my circle and there are Israeli women
in it also, but at the beginning, my friends were only
American. Firstly, they grew up in a lifestyle and mentality
like mine, so there was understanding between us and we felt
like we belonged and were equal.
"Secondly, all of us, and especially me, being new, lived
here without family, so that the contact and the support that
developed between us was stronger than friendship. We became
a united and supportive family. When there's a need for an
attentive ear, help with a problem or participation in a
simcha, we call up a friend and it's like turning to a
sister. When there's the need for help -- we turn to a
neighbor as if she were a mother or mother-in-law. Then, of
course, there is the common language,so I didn't feel any
difficulty in absorption. From the outset we had decided to
go to Israel just for a year or two so that my husband could
continue at Yeshivas Mir, where he studied before marriage.
In the meantime we've been here already 24 years. We never
decided that we were staying, we just stayed.
Of course, from time to time a suggestion came up to return
to Canada. But as soon as it was broached, it was rejected.
And so we have, Boruch Hashem, married off a daughter
to a thoroughbred Israeli. When I speak of a different
mentality, my main intent is a type of openness. In America,
chareidim are in touch with a broad range of people; it is a
much more multi-cultural society than you find here. As a
result of this, they also get used to those who aren't
exactly like them without compromising their totally chareidi
identity. One example is the relationship to baalei
teshuva, who are more quickly absorbed by the American
community. (It is interesting that this has been emphasized
by all interviewees.)
Labels and their Results
When they called me `American' I was sometimes insulted and
felt like an outsider. One day my daughter and I met a woman
who said: "You look American, but your daughter already looks
like a real Israeli. How is that?" I felt we were being
catalogued according to Grade A and Grade B. My friends also
share their feelings with me that sometimes they're treated
as second rate Israelis and this is expressed in
shidduchim, as well. But we had a story that taught us
that shidduchim are all from The Matchmaker.
A boy from America was suggested, and my husband called a
childhood friend, who was supposed to know him. While
talking, the conversation turned to his children and into
what excellent families he had married them. My husband ended
the conversation reflectively, and said: "Maybe we didn't do
the right thing staying here? If we were still living in
Canada, we would have been considered the creme of the crop,
the Upper Crust, and here we get `For Americans Only'." Well,
that shidduch wasn't appropriate and so it didn't
succeed, and the conversation was forgotten.
A few months later an Israeli boy was suggested to us, a big
lamdan from a prestigious Israeli family whose father
is a talmid chacham; this shidduch was
realized. I suddenly remembered that other conversation and
said: "See how Providence directs each one of our steps? If
we were meant to get an Israeli son-in-law we got one, not in
spite of, but perhaps in the merit of our mesirus
nefesh of living in Israel where you can elevate yourself
in Torah study more than in any other place."
Interesting how our husbands don't feel a difference in the
way they're treated, because a talmid chacham is
respected here more than anywhere else. Perhaps because of
this, the only society in which I feel an equal among equals
is the Mirrer Yeshiva Family. In the homes of these roshei
yeshiva, we were received as one of them, and with them I
feel as if I have close family here in the country, since
principle and qualitative differences don't exist between us.
We're all shomrei Shabbos in the same way, we all
learn the same Torah, the goal of education is the same, but
there are probably different nuances.
My house still has an American flavor. Besides the English
and the mentality, relatives frequently come to visit and
they're all American. My husband's students, who visit all
the time, are also American. I frequently host young couples
who arrive here from abroad after their weddings, and I try
to be their surrogate family to replace the family that
remained there. In spite of all this, my kids grew up with
clear Israeli tendencies and I'm happy about that because
they were born and are growing up here. But I'm also pleased
that I remained American because you can't erase what I
am.
And to prove that I've remained American, a small story:
My husband went to the mikve one erev Shabbos
and didn't return at the regular time. I worry a lot and
after a quarter of an hour, I was already hysterical. An hour
went by, Shabbos was getting closer, and my husband hadn't
returned. I didn't know what to do. I called a friend and in
tears I asked her what to do. She advised me to call the
police and that's what I did.
My husband had a small car and my first question to the
police officer was: Has there been a car accident in the city
in the last hour? The answer was negative. Immediately all
the other possibilities popped into my head. At that time
there were a lot of car bombs, so my next question was: Maybe
they put a bomb in the car and I haven't heard about it yet?
"Lady," said the officer, after having certainly heard my
accent, "do you think you're in Ireland here?" "Yes,
Baruch Hashem, I'm no longer in Ireland," I calmed
down at once. "After all, I'm in eretz Hakodesh and
I'm sure nothing happened to him." And in fact, my husband
arrived a quarter of an hour later. He told me that he had
met a good friend from the Yeshiva and both of them stood and
`talked in learning' and forgot the time.
