Survivor Nation
[title type="subtitle-h6"]Isaac Chesler[/title][vc_row][vc_column width="11/12"][vc_column_text]
WRITER’S MEMO:
This essay is a very important topic for me, and would most likely be important and resonate with many Jews across the world. I wanted to show the reader how a Jew feels about Israel, because it is a hard to understand topic for an outsider. Israel is a safe haven for Jews where Jews can live freely, and if needed, Jews can defend themselves. I wanted to show the reader the purpose and the need for Israel to exist, and why we care about it so much. Sean Carmeli for example, gave up his easy American life, and died in an Israeli war. He is an example to illustrate how important Israel is to a Jew, and the sacrifice that most Jews would make to defend Israel. In addition, my purpose is to show how an anti-Semitic event during my stay in Israel can cause such emotions, cause me to feel so strongly about Israel and remember so vividly my heritage. Using a real life example that sparked my emotions, reflecting on it, and also drawing on family heritage helped me the most to explain my stance and feelings. Throughout the essay there are also subtle metaphors that allude to The Holocaust, that are placed to affect the readers’ subconscious thoughts. It is also important to remember that having a bomb shelter in every establishment is mandatory throughout Israel due to threat of rocket attacks. My family has always been Zionist, and Oscar was himself. My mother tells me that Oscar always had a slight sadness that he never moved to Israel. I do wonder how a reader reacts to the idea of a second home, the fact that I feel as though I have more than one birthplace, and that Jews can feel truly safe in Israel. There will never be another Holocaust because Jews now have their own home. How effectively do I portray the importance of Israel, both to accept and defend Jews, and the importance of Israel to an individual person?
As the rubber screeched onto the hot tarmac I knew that I was home. A deep sigh of relief escaped my lungs, and there was static in the air of the 777 jet. There is something that everyone feels every time that they walk into their own home. A sense of satisfaction overcame me, and as the 777, with its hundreds of passengers, rolled up to the terminal, I peeked out the window. Heat waves shimmered off the black skin of the tarmac, and the sun beat down on the plane turning it into an oven. Sweating, I exited the plane and tried to interpret the alien-like, ancient scripture that marked all of the directional signs. I thought to myself, “It’s odd not knowing the language of my people.”Touching down in Israel means so much to a Jew, it’s hard to explain to anyone else. In the moments after we landed, thoughts of my grandfather Oscar flooded my mind. The father of my mother, Oscar was born in Czechoslovakia. In 1943, he was able to hide from the Nazis in Hungary with the help of my great uncle Bernard and his wife. Bernard, his wife, Oscar, and Oscar’s sister Alice, were eventually turned in by the Hungarians. After the Hungarians betrayed them, the Nazi SS separated them all. Oscar then found himself in the worst death camp, Auschwitz. With perseverance, and luck, Oscar survived. When he was rescued by U.S. Army soldiers, the soldiers began to cry just looking at him. Thoughts like these enter the minds of all Jews lucky enough to breathe in the tropical Mediterranean air of Israel.Lumbering under all of my luggage in the scorching heat, I spotted Ze’ev, my long-time family friend. He quickly took my luggage, tossed it into the trunk, and embraced me. He was different since the last time that I saw him, his eyes no longer sparkled, the shine they once had was gone. Standing before me was no longer the kid I knew, instead I saw a warrior. In this moment I recalled the previous summer, a year, a month and three days before. I remembered the vibration of the phone in my pocket while I stood playing drinking games with my friends. Excited to see what news Ze’ev had for me about the war in Gaza, I read the one line WhatsApp message. I remember how my heart sank as Ze’ev told me Sean, a fellow Texan and Ze’evs best friend, was dead. As Sean Carmeli attempted to fix a jeep-mounted machine gun, a sniper shot him in the head. 20,000 people attended the funeral, and he made the ultimate sacrifice for them. As I looked at Ze’ev for the first time in years, I felt as if my phone was vibrating in my pocket once again. This is the reality of the Jewish Nation, while I was drinking with my friends, he was losing his.As we drove north through Israel, I gazed at the farms that stretched out of view, and my heart beat faster. I could glimpse the ocean shimmering in the distance; but my eyes were drawn to the garbage blowing in the wind. At first glance Israel did not seem like the shining, glimmering country I had always fantasized about. As we drove on I wondered if we were really in Israel. Mounds of red dirt were piled stories high on the side of the road, a landfill just a kilometer away from a city. I couldn’t help but imagine that I was driving on a paved road somewhere in Africa, but here in the Jewish Nation the reality is that we fight for survival, not appearance. Despite my troubled thirty-minute drive from Ben Gurion Airport to Ra’anana, I quickly realized that I was in a first world country.In Ra’anana I could see bars, shopping centers, and people walking about tending to their duties for the day. Most people were busily shopping, preparing for Friday night dinners, or for us: Shabbat. On Shabbat most people do not drive, the two-lane and three-lane streets emptied of their hurried Israeli drivers by nightfall. City buses are shut down, and all of Israel celebrates its weekly day of rest. The whole state becomes quiet in a matter of hours. Turning onto a side street, Ze’ev pointed his index finger up at three very tall apartment buildings, “That is where we will be,” he said. The three white apartment buildings stood like three bayonets shining in the hot sun. They stood high above every other building in the vicinity, their long glass windows reflecting light in all directions.Ze’ev helped move me into my new home, a seven-foot by ten-foot concrete bomb shelter without ventilation. I plopped down onto the small bed and flipped the switch of a small table fan. Instead of thinking about how bad it would be to live in this box, I felt as though G-d had blessed me with this room. The apartment itself was far better than the standard living area for an Israeli. It was equipped with three bedrooms, two beautiful bathrooms, a living room, kitchen and a balcony overlooking Israel, all the way until the ocean.Ze’ev is the son of a wealthy Israeli businessman in Texas. He moved to Israel to escape his wealthy family name, and to become his own person when he was fifteen years old. Everyone knew about their wealth, so no one understood why he chose the hard life of an Israeli. All Israelis have mandatory military service at the age of eighteen. Men serve for three years and women for two years. Now, Ze’ev is an Israeli Special Forces Sniper in the Golani Brigade. His mission of becoming his own man—a clear success. He is the hero of our small Jewish community in San Antonio, Texas.Days passed quickly, my Hebrew studies consumed my days the way a starving body devours itself to survive. People passed, school days passed, but as I was studying the night before a midterm my phone buzzed in my pocket. I slid my finger across the screen, excited to talk to my mom, but her voice revealed anything but excitement.“Somebody, we believe KKK, vandalized the Shull,” she said in a dejected tone, “They got some cars, broke some windows, and sprayed fences. The police are searching. We just can’t believe it.”The moment the sounds of my mothers’ voice reached my ears from over 6,744 miles away, my blood started to boil. My body started pacing the room, my mind sprinting across the world. Who would do this to us? What did we ever do? My phone buzzed for the next thirty minutes, with pictures of “JEW!!!” spray-painted on cars with broken windows. KKK painted over the fences of my peoples’ walls, hate hissing at them from the darkness of the night, devoid of any courage. I wanted to grab my gun, and hunt them down. We Jews know that this is exactly how it started many times before, from hundreds of years of repeated history. Storefronts and synagogues were attacked the same way just before the start of the Holocaust. This is how the worst moment in human history began.Oscar’s image drifted into my mind, a handsome blonde young man with blue eyes, his family stolen from him by ruthless hate. Oscar and Alice were plunged into the world as orphans seventy years ago because of the same reckless hatred that I was shown that night in Israel. Now my community and I were being subjected to the same hatred that he was subjected to.Oscar never let what happened hold him back. He succeeded at everything he did in his life; he embodied what Israel is today. I know that within my family we all ask ourselves, “What would Oscar do?” But at that time I couldn’t help but become angry. I realized at that moment that the Jewish Nation is Oscar. The Jewish Nation doesn’t let hateful, evil cowards, and banes on the earth stop it from succeeding. Israel was founded in 1948 so that no Jewish boy and his sister would ever have to be orphans in a foreign country again.I walked slowly to the balcony and peered out at the twinkling city lights. My anger slowly slipped away with the gentle breeze, and the cool night air wicked away the remaining rage. My gaze fell on an Israeli flag flying strongly. It was snapping at the powerful gusts of wind, presenting the symbol of peace and hope to me alone. The flag stood alone in the darkness, as Israel does, the one symbol of hope on an entire continent of darkness. I stood staring at my surroundings, the air, the sea, the trees, and I understood why I was there. All of the rage that I felt returned, but in the form of pride and righteousness. We no longer need to tolerate, endure, and submit ourselves to hate. Here, at home, we make our own fate, and here we fight our own battles, and here we don’t tolerate offense and injustice. Here in Israel we do fight back when attacked. My desire to grab my gun and find these evil people is the duty of the Israeli Defense Forces. The Mossad hunted down Nazis decades after World War Two, to bring evil men to justice. As I looked on that flag blowing strongly in the wind, I knew deep in my heart that this was my home, that this is why we were there and that we are the most resilient people. This is the reality of the Jewish Nation.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]