tobealonesoldier

Ok, so maybe my last post was a bit heavy on the play-by-play of my life. Let me mix it up a bit. I'll be more than happy to open my life a little more to you and try to convey what it's like to be a lone soldier. I also think I promised a post more about thoughts and feelings a few weeks ago. One thing that my studies over the past year have taught me is to always repay my debts as soon as possible.

I was told/cautioned back in Chicago that is it easy for a lone soldier to become an alone soldier. I have been so fortunate to have an incredibly supportive family in Tel Aviv. David and Amy and their daughters have been like an adoptive family to me. They initially welcomed me in with open arms and I am yet (I hope, haha) to overstay my welcome. I come home on weekends and return to base on Sunday. I don't see them so much anymore, but they are always happy to see me and provide me with anything I need. (One cute story: the other week, Amy was home with Shai (3), who wasn't feeling well and wanted to know where everyone in the family was. 'Where's Lena?' 'At school, honey.' 'Kaya?' 'Also at school.' 'Abba?' 'He's at work.' 'Daniel?' 'In the army.' I'm just extremely humbled and honored that Shai considers me a part of the family, or maybe just the apartment's new jungle gym [see photo]. First, I would like to thank the Academy, and of course my fans, and I would also like to thank....) I cannot imagine what it would have been like to come to Israel without any connections, as many of my friends did months before Mikveh. Kudos to them.

Lone soldiers have different living options in Israel. It is common for us to live with extended family (if we have any), stay on a kibbutz (where we can be adopted by an Israeli family), or to rent an apartment. I have begun to look into moving to a kibbutz. I love it in Tel Aviv, but I'm looking for a place with, quite frankly, my own room. Also on kibbutzim are other lone soldiers, so it'll be a good place to chill with more guys my age, going through similar experiences as me, when I come back every few weekends. It's an option I'm strongly considering, but the process takes time. I've talked with the Mishakit Tash (a girl on base who's job is to help soldiers with personal issues) and as it stands right now, I should get the next opening at one of two kibbutzim where a few of my friends already live.

Even with a family all around me, I certainly still feel like a stranger in a strange land. Never mind trying to feel like an Israeli, I'm simply concerning myself with feeling at home 6,000 miles away. I used to think to myself "why am I here?" However, since Mikveh Alon has ended and my IDF future is imminent, I have gotten caught up in my life and have become more certain in my decisions. Still, life (or the IDF) gave me a big slap-in-the-face reminder that I am indeed a lone soldier. During the tekkes last week for the conclusion of Mikveh Alon, many of the soldiers had families in attendance. I was left alone, with only my thoughts and other lone soldiers to keep me company. It was one thing to finish Mikveh, but it will certainly be another to make it through seven months of basic and advanced training and be alone for that tekkes. It is one thing to go through this life in the military in your own country, and quite another to do it in such a foreign place. Even when I am home on weekends, I often feel hurried, already looking Sunday morning when I will again walk to the train station and travel back up north. It is very difficult to feel grounded. Maybe this has something to do with living with David, Amy and the family, how I come home on Friday, and each family member is often busy with their own lives, running here and there for school, activities, work. It has been difficult to feel grounded and completely at ease since joining. Part of this, I believe, is because I've been anxious to get out of Mikveh. I want to start the 'real' army, as I've talked about before. Eventually I will develop a routine at my new base and start to feel more at home in Israel. but for now, such is the life.

The fire in my heart to serve Israel is alive and burning. Even if I were completely alone, it would not be extinguished. What keeps it strong? In large part, it is what this week has brought to many US college campuses: Israel Apartheid Week. From Monday to Friday, pro-Palestinian academics, professors, activists, and students host events or speakers dedicated to denouncing Israel as an apartheid state, likening it to South Africa. Last year during IAW was the first time that I really started actively advocating, or rather, defending, for Israel. It amazes me how intelligent, supposedly liberal and open-minded people can demonize a nation and a state to the extent they seek to achieve. Last year's IAW really brought out the reality, for me, that pro-Palestinian supporters are really anti-Israel demonstrators.

On my campus last March, IAW was complete with its own events, including a faux "apartheid wall" where hyped-up students, many of whom spewed non-sensical phrases and slogans, shouted through a microphone to classmates passing through to class about the supposed evils of Israel, the world's only Jewish state. Needless to say, I took exception to this and decided to have a few words (pleasant ones, I hoped) with a few of them. What started as a simple conversation, in which I searched, in vain, for moderate voices, turned into a five-on-one free-for-all. Can you guess who was the one? Damn straight, and proud of it! However, what I soon learned was that it was impossible to reason with people set in their beliefs. People who are for Israel or against Israel are not able to be convinced in the merits of other arguments. That goes for me too; no one will be able to tell me that Israel should not exist. Instead, what Israeli activists should focus on is convincing the majority of people who know nothing about the issues people face on this side of the world. That itself is a very difficult task, but there are people who are on the vanguard of this effort. One of these is Sgt. Benjamin Anthony.

A few weeks after IAW, the Jewish organizations on campus held Israel Peace and Israel Independence Weeks. It was a fortnight of activity for the promotion of Israel and hopes for peace. One night, we had a former IDF soldier come to speak to a group of pro- and anti-Israel students. Ben Anthony made aliyah from Britain and fought the Second Lebanon War in 2006. After his service, he started an organization called Our Soldiers Speak (click), in which he explains to audiences the front-line experiences of Israel's conflicts, as opposed to what the media portrays. When he came to my campus last year, he requested a diverse audience, with supporters and detractors. I believe his intent is not only to field difficult questions from anti-Israel people and provide a solid and carefully crafted response, but also to demonstrate to the pro-Israel students that we don't have to be cowered into intimidation by the often volatile-prone nature of anti-Israel activism and their use of such difficult and emotional terms like "genocide," "apartheid" or "human rights violations." For example, in response to a comment that one Palestinian posed explaining how his grandmother feels humiliated while trying to pass through security checkpoints in the West Bank, Sgt. Anthony took the time to explain the purpose of the checkpoints (they were established during the Second Intifadah where the only way Israel knew how to defend herself was to physically create a barrier to control and monitor the flow of people to and from Israel proper) and then provided perhaps the most human of all arguments in support of Israel's practices: "I am truly sorry for the inconvenience your grandmother faces, but, simply put, I don't want to be blown up."

It is this most basic of human desires--to exist, to live--that was one of my initial driving forces pushing me to fight for Israel. There are many people out there who do not wish me, as a Jew, to have even the simplest of earthly desires. (Anyone who tells you that anti-Semitism is a thing of the past is sadly mistaken. In fact, in many parts of the world, it is on the rise.) I spoke to my brother, Eric, the other week and he mentioned how Sgt. Anthony had returned to U of I for another talk. This time, however, he spoke more about struggles he and his soldiers faced with themselves, not so much about Lebanon or living in Israel. According to Eric, there were times throughout his service that they pondered the following scenario: someone has a gun toward your head and says, 'convert or die.' What do you do?

Eric posed the same question to me. I didn't have a quick response. On the surface, I suppose it is certainly something that I need to consider, being in the military. But on a deeper level, this simple question is directed at something much more profound: would I be willing to die for my religion, for my belief in Judaism? On the one hand, it is easy to say, "Yes! I feel that strongly and am willing to sacrifice my life to practice as I please." On the other hand, I could respond with, "Sure I'll convert, then I'll just quietly practice Judaism" (much like Jews in Spain did after their expulsion in 1492). The truth? I don't know what I would do. The Israelis' response? Action; take the gun or die trying.

I wear a kippah everyday to remind myself of many things, but one of them is that I am here as a Jew. I am not Israeli, nor am I a mercenary fighting for any certain political cause (there's no way I can ever be given 'mercenary' status making 700 shekels a month!). So, to an extent--and I'm not going to skirt around this reality--I am certainly fighting a religious war. However, the battle lines have shifted. As I've mentioned before, I do not believe Israel today is threatened by Damascus, Beirut, Riyadh, or Baghdad (Tehran is a different story). Instead, Israel is losing the political and public relations battle. And where are those battle lines? On college campuses and in government corridors. It starts with IAW or the BDS (Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions) Movement (click). It appears to be directed at the Knesset's (Parliament) policies. It soon develops into a cause and then becomes a necessity. But if you come to Israel, if you study its history, if you learn about the relations between Jews and Arabs/Muslims, Israelis and Palestinians, if you take the time to listen to all sides, learn the facts, and see the results, then, I believe, you will get a much different picture than the ones who spearhead IAW or BDS paint for their consumers. You soon realize that much of anti-Israel rhetoric and activity is in fact anti-Semitism, but, unfortunately, there aren't enough people with the chutzpah necessary to call it as such.

Although not always the biggest advocate for Israel, Thomas Friedman said it best: "Criticizing Israel is not anti-Semitic, and saying so is vile. But singling out Israel for opprobrium and international sanction--out of all proportion to any other party in the Middle East--is anti-Semitic, and not saying so is dishonest."

So, how does it feel to be a lone soldier? How does it feel to be fighting for my people in one of the world's strongest militaries, in a volatile region, amidst a hotbed of upheaval and unrest? How does it feel to know more parts of the M-16 in Hebrew than in English? How does it feel to be living in one of the world's most beautiful and diverse country? A country that is energetic, humanitarian, passionate and also lawless on so many levels? How does it feel to be on the other side of the world, without constant connection to friends and loved ones? And how does it feel to be in Tzanchanim, the Paratroopers, for my IDF service? (BLEEPING) AWESOME!!!