Hatikvah

We’re getting ready to throw a 75th birthday party in the family–2,000 years in the making.

We’ll celebrate the independence of Israel–a safe haven for our people; a “house of prayer for all people” (Isaiah 6:7); a hub of faiths, cultures, voices, and languages; and a vibrant hive of artistic exploration and scientific discovery.

But this tiny sliver of a country is a complicated place, and lately has been enmeshed in strife. Like in any family, when a loved one is struggling, the rest of the mishpacha feels their pain. Israelis and diaspora Jews alike have been agonizing over current events playing out on two fronts: First, violence has been escalating, as it perennially does, between Israelis and Palestinians. Simultaneously, we’re witnessing hundreds of thousands of Israelis taking to the streets a few times a week, in protest of the current government’s sweeping proposals to materially diminish the judiciary vis-à-vis the legislative and executive branches, thereby threatening–in the view of many ardent Zionists in Israel and abroad–to curtail Israel’s thriving democracy.

With all these feelings swirling in the mix, I’ve been thinking a lot about Israel, and how blessed I’ve been to have visited the country many times. I’m buoyed right now by these memories–all revolving around song–from my travels to the Jewish state at what seemed like more idealistic times in Israel’s young life. In a country built on hopes and dreams–and lots of sweat and tears–we pray that Israel will return to brighter days ahead. 

The hug

It was the summer solstice. I bumped into hundreds of people lining the streets of Jerusalem at sunset holding hands and dancing. They were singing “Salaam (Od Yavo Shalom Aleinu), “ an Israeli song with lyrics sung in Hebrew and Arabic, that has become an anthem for peace. Some wore dreads, others  kippot, and still others wore  keffiyehs . A few revelers beat on drums, forming circles with children in the crowd.   

I was feeling the love, and figured, “When in Jerusalem…” So, I jumped in, interlacing hands with an Asian woman on one side and a kippah -clad man on the other.  

“What is all this?” I asked the man. ”It’s called the ‘Jerusalem Hug,'” he told me. The celebration, he explained, beckons hundreds of Jerusalemites and visitors to the city to stand shoulder to shoulder in a demonstration of love.

The harmony 

Shabbat was coming, and some friends and I were on our way to visit the Kotel, when we stopped near the entrance to prepare. Inspired by the time and place, we linked arms and started a chorus of “Hineh Ma Tov.” (Tehilim 133/ Psalms) Then, from up above, we saw a group of Orthodox men link arms too, and join our singing in perfect harmony. I’ve been singing that hymn since I was 3, and yet I never stopped to think about the words until then: “Behold, how good and how pleasant,” the psalmist says, “it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.” 

The hope

On the first day of a Jewish Federations of North America National Young Leadership Trip to Israel, I stood with my Chicago peers at Independence Hall, the landmark edifice where Israel was first declared the Jewish state. The music ramped up, and then together we sang Israel’s national anthem “Hatikvah.”  

I’d tried to make a cool first impression in front of my peers, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. Tears welled up in my eyes for Israel, home to every person in that room, home to every Jew in the world.  

“Hatikvah,” means “The Hope,” and even in this most complicated place, it all seems to boil down to that one word: Hope. Hope for peace, hope for love, hope for unity. The anthem’s lyrics ring as true today as they did when Israel was founded 75 years ago:   

“As long as the Jewish spirit is yearning deep in the heart…our hope–the 2,000 year-old hope–will not be lost: To be a free people in our land, The land of Zion and Jerusalem.”