Yesterday, I went to visit a friend's son in Jerusalem. His yeshiva operates several buildings. On the way, I witnessed a somewhat scary encounter between some kind of official, not a policeman but somebody in a government car, might have been a traffic cop, who was screaming at a Haredi man who had crossed a street. Maybe he jaywalked. I didn't see the beginning part, only the confrontation. Not that this is a law abiding society. People park on the sidewalks, park against traffic, make u-turns into bus stops with the bus there, drop off passengers with the bus waiting, cut in line, knock you over, race electric bikes down sidewalks. The police do nothing, but if you accidentally get in their way, they go crazy. Welcome to Israel.
Took me a little while to find any of the buildings in this cluttered neighborhood where buildings are barely marked, and when I got to the first one, an old junky place, I couldn't figure how to enter. Every door was locked. Not good locks. I rattled the shaky doors. When the bochurim saw me through the window, they gave a quick go around gesture. It took me 1/2 an hour to figure out that the entrance door was on a back street. I thought it would be nice if one of them came out to help me. Once in Michigan a gentile college student walked with me for 1/2 a mile to find a certain building. But nobody did that. Rather, I got that Israeli minimal response.
Finally, I opened the back door and the bochurim there acted as if I were some kind of spy who was sent to infiltrate them or cause harm in some way. I asked "is this the such and such yeshiva?" I got back undecipherable relies. Finally, one spoke some English. I asked is "such and such bochur here?" He said in a cocky way, "Mai nafka minah?" Who knows maybe he thought I was from the government. I laughed. He told me in broken English there was no such bochur but gave me some directions to another building.
I got there. It was packed. I couldn't believe how many people were in the building. It looked like a chicken farm. So I walked around looking for the bochur and got stares, you know those Israeli stares, not as bad as those from chilonim, those we want to kill you stares, but stares. Nobody offered to help. People walked down the aisles practically knocking me over the way Israelis do. There was little room. I had to squeeze around this schtender, this building post, this chair. I tried a few different rooms, all old cruddy rooms, and then onto the stairs where I almost got knocked over a few more times. My anxiety level increased. I started to feel fear. I went across the street to another old junky building. I was thinking, he's probably in a room with Americans.
Finally, I get to a room where suddenly I felt more relaxed. It just seemed more civilized in there. A bachur looked at me, not in the way of a stare, but as if to say, can I help you. I said, is this the American room? He smiled (first smile I had seen all day) and said in American English something like sort of. I said, is so and so here. Then another guy, clean shaven like many in this room, stood up and said in American English, I know him. Then he walked around the room looking for the bochur. This took a little while. I was very appreciative to finally be given some help. Then he went outside with me, made some phone calls, and we figured out how to find the guy. I found out later that this helpful bochur was from Lakewood.
The point of this story is that the difference between the Israeli bochurim and the American ones is like night and day. The Israeli bochurim, still way better than chilonim, were aggressive and didn't want to be bothered. They all looked annoyed. The American bochurim were polite and helpful. My anxiety level lowered considerably with the Americans. I didn't feel as if I were in a contest, didn't feel hostility.
Let me tell you another story. Last week I was at the Azreili center in Tel Aviv, Israel's middling attempt at a fancy building. I was in the take out food area near a table and a young Modern Orthodox woman gestured to me as if to ask if I was going to sit at the table. I was a little taken aback to see an Israeli make such an inquiry, even with a gesture, in such a polite way. I thought well, there are some good ones. She is Orthodox after all. Then I got in line at the order board (note most of the restaurants appeared to not be kosher so there weren't many choices ) and there she was ordering in English. I realized that's why she was gesturing to me instead of speaking. She didn't know any Hebrew. She is American. Ah that explains it.
I feel bad for the Israeli Haredim. They are trying to be shomer mitzvos Haredim, but the influence of the society gets to them. And I'm thinking how difficult it must be for children of American parents, and worse for children whose early years were in America, to spend day and night with these aggressive people. Everything is a stand-off. You feel as if a fist fight is about the break out at any moment.
This can create anxiety disorders. The American olah mothers who sit in their attached houses (fancy for Israel) in Anglo neighborhoods have no idea what they have subjected their children to. The mothers boast "I made aliyah." But you didn't lady. You live in quasi America still. Your children have to deal with these people night and day. You will complain after any encounter with a government employee but then you drive back to the house and maybe go to the American shul on Shabbos. Maybe you have a job online with American customers.
However, your children get on the bus with Israelis and hot tempered Israeli drivers and go to school with aggressive teachers and deal with their shouting. They deal with bullying. They struggle between their American training and what Israel is pushing on them. They become confused psychologically, almost schitzo. Do I act polite now or rough? They get knocked around in school and then come home to parents who tell them to say please and thank you.
You can't mix cultures. People say don't bring children above 8 to Israel. I say bring no children to Israel. If you have children you cannot move here. They must be born in Israel. That's even if you are a crazed Zionist. I suggest that you don't move under any conditions, but if you insist, only without children please.
The rooms were way more crowded and in much worse shape than this one.
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