By JTNews Staff, other
JTNews received missives from readers, and Assistant Editor Leyna Krow dropped in to chat with community members about their personal experiences in visiting Israel during one of Hillel at the UW’s Passover lunches. The stories people shared ran the gamut from anecdotes about public transportation to inspiring visions of Jewish celebrations to unsettling accounts of violence and fear. Here are some of the memories shared with us.
Sukkot 1981: Tzfat
In the art gallery, we admire some Vasarely-like geometric paintings.
“Would you like to meet the artist?” the manager inquires. “He has a gallery down the street. He’s very interesting, a young Hassid from France. He used to be a hippie.”
We start down the street. No one is about. All the shops seem closed. We come to an open square. A young Hassid comes toward us, dressed for the holiday in fur shtremel and [a] brocade robe, crocheted cap under his hat, trousers tucked into white socks. He is incredibly good looking. He speaks, in beautifully accented English, “I believe you are looking for me.”
We are stunned. We’re in Tzfat, the city of mystics, having a mystical experience. “How did you know that?” we ask.
“The woman in the gallery telephoned me.”
So we met Yaacov Kaszemacher, raised in post-war Paris, a denizen of Greenwich Village during the 1960s, (where he produced psychedelic light shows), emigré to Israel and now a Torah-observant Hassid. His rebbe encourages him, he says, and has one of his paintings hanging in his office. We bought some small prints.
February 2008: Our first return to Israel
We’re in Tzfat again, looking for Yaacov Kaszemacher. The streets are crowded, with many galleries. We ask, and we’re told, “Keep going, keep going.” Finally we see Ohr Yaacov Gallery. We step inside. An elderly-looking Hassidic man, long, scraggly gray beard, hairline receded under his yarmulke, approaches.
“We’re looking for Yaacov Kaszemacher.”
“I am he.”
“You’ve changed so much!” I blurt out. Then I correct myself. “But so have we.”
Don rescues me. “You still have your French accent.”
We tell him about our earlier encounter. He graciously says that he remembers us.
Kaszemacher’s art is less geometric now. He uses photographic images and computer graphics, which he manipulates, creating multiple images, double exposures, to present the timelessness of Torah and mystical concepts. He has exhibited in the U.S. and Europe as well as Israel. He is developing a Web site.
We buy some more prints.
— Goldie Silverman
We went to visit our brother in Israel in 1987 and we were there for Passover. And it was amazing because the whole country celebrates Passover the same way everyone in the United States celebrates Thanksgiving. It’s not like we were doing this weird thing with just our family. Everybody was doing it. I will never forget how that felt. It was wonderful.
— Michelle Hassom
Christmas in Israel: no Christmas lights, no Christmas music. It felt great. And it was Hanukkah at the same time. Menorahs on top of every building. Dancing in the streets. It was joyous. And I thought, this is the way of my people.
— Allen Safer
When I went to the Western Wall, there were Bar Mitzvahs going on and there were tons of people there. It was very exciting. I was on the women’s side and there were all these mothers and grandmas and aunts hanging over the divider, screaming and throwing things at their kids.
— Nina Mowat
I spent 10 months with a leadership volunteer program where we were exposed to different aspects of Israeli life. Part of that was being set up with an adoptive family. It was really special to me, the connection I had with my family and then going back the next year with my own daughter to have her Bat Mitzvah and having her meet my adoptive family. They showed me Israel off the beaten track and took me to different areas that I wouldn’t have seen on my own.
— Cheryl Puterman
The year after high school, I went to Israel with the Young Judea youth movement. About three or four weeks in, I was at a café in Jerusalem, right off the Yoel Salomon, and on my way out, all of a sudden I heard lots of pops. At first I thought it was firecrackers because that’s the only thing I could think of. But everyone else knew differently and hit the ground and the lights went out. I lay on the ground for about 40 minutes, thinking I was going to die. Basically, there were a couple of terrorists who had run down the street with machine guns… At a certain point, someone came running into the café and then we really thought it was the end. But it was a soldier who told us to stay put and that he would come back and tell us what to do. Finally, someone did come back and told us we could leave. And out in the street, as you could imagine, it was just crazy. I mean, there were tanks in the street. Then we caught a cab and went back to Hebrew U., where we were staying. And then, you know, Israeli mentality is get on with life, and that was the mentality of [the Young Judea program] too — wake up in the morning and push on. But after that, we kind of just lived in this suspended state of fear.
— Rabbi Jacob Fine
I was actually in Israel during the second Lebanon war, up in Haifa. And there were a few times where we heard sirens and then bombs fall on the city. We actually had to go to the bomb shelter for a few days. Luckily I was on the University of Haifa campus with all the other students and they taught us their bomb shelter drinking games, which were pretty fun: like take a shot every time something blows up and you don’t die.
— Jeremy Sambler
It was 1975 and I was traveling by myself. Not knowing where I was going to stay or anything. Just went to Israel with a backpack. When I got there, the bus driver told me just to stay on the bus and he would take me some place afterwards. So I got on the bus and waited until he finished his run and he took me to this little hostel that he knew about, that I never would have found on my own. It was so nice. A great way to start the trip.
— Allan Steinman
I got off of an El Al flight and was waiting in line to go through customs. In the old days, before they built the new customs hall, there’d be all the people waiting for you up on top, looking down. Anyway, this woman started yelling “That’s my sister, I haven’t seen her in 30 years! You’ve got to let me through!”
And the Israeli guard said, “Look, if it’s really been 30 years, ten more minutes won’t kill you.”
— Arnold Barer