Smartly outfitted new IDF recruits in 'hitelmacher' hats being inspected by Col. Chaim Laskov, the Director of Training (and a future IDF Chief of Staff). Photo: Pearlman

On 14 May, 1948 as Independence was declared, the Jewish self-defense movement had to operate in a manner similar to modern field armies and less as a collection of underground armed formations. With varying degrees of coordination and autonomy, the main Jewish armed organizations fought together in all engagements until 28 May, when the Israeli Provisional Government promulgated the law for the creation of a national army to be known as the 'Israel Defence Forces'; the 'Sherut Avir' became the Israeli Air Force (or 'Chayl Ha'Avir').

We are always on the lookout for the creative ways people choose to show their Israel love. Recently, I stumbled upon Leila Fine Gifts & Jewels in the Cabin John Shopping Center in Potomac, Maryland. Although I was thousands of miles from Israel, I was struck by the beautiful reminders around this lovely store. I began to chat with the owner Deb Shalom and realized I needed to share her wonderful story.

Deb grew up in the Greater Washington DC area. She first traveled to Israel on an AJC tour as a young adult with her parents. She was so taken by all that she experienced that she decided she wanted to make Aliyah. Deb reached out to her local shaliach and they helped her obtain job interviews in Israel. She received several offers but she chose the job that was based in Jerusalem.

She said that if she was going to live in Israel, Jerusalem was where she wanted to be. When I asked her why, she replied, "I love the weather, I love the cool breeze, the mountains, there is just something about it, I don't think I can really describe it..."

Having no family there Deb returned to the USA after about a year. She was blessed to maintain a strong connection to the Jewish Homeland when soon after moving back to New York City, she met the man who would soon become her husband. He was Israeli!

When their children were growing up, the family traveled to Israel every year or so. Deb designated a few days every trip to sightsee so her children would not think Israel was just living rooms and back yards with the family playing Shesh Besh! Their extended family includes over thirty cousins living all throughout the land of Israel.

When I asked about her husband's Israeli origins she explained,

"My husband's family comes from Afghanistan. When my mother in-law was pregnant with his oldest brother they left and got stuck in a transit camp in Tehran. His mother gave birth there. When they were able to leave Iran they realized they did not have papers to leave with the baby. So they gave him a few drops of wine so he would sleep and rolled him in a persian carpet. That was the only way to bring him safely out of Iran and into the Jewish homeland."

"They arrived at Lod Airport (now Ben Gurion) in 1952. When my father-in-law was asked his last name (which was Herati, as they were from Herat,) he didn't understand any Hebrew. He wanted to show that he was home so he said the one word he knew, Shalom. That became their last name."

Deb opened her store in July 2012. She chose to use her mother's middle name, Leila, as the two had dreamed of opening a place like this together. To keep up with the Israeli art selections she visits Israel where she has a few designers that she has established close relationships with. Bezalel in Jerusalem and Nachalat Binyamin in Tel Aviv are among the places where she routinely buys pieces. Deb told me, "My friends often visit and will bring items back for me. I know my market. They want Israeli products. They visit, they care."

Deb expressed the satisfaction she derives by providing beautiful jewelry and gifts for her customers. Her desire to connect with Israel is visible throughout her store. Mixed among the eclectic displays of glass and metal art work and jewelry I spotted Stars of David, Hebrew writing, and quintessential Israeli style jewelry.

We are incredibly excited that Deb generously offered to sell our Plant Israel At Home™ Israeli Wildflower seeds. She is asking no money for herself, as she values the opportunity to help us grow the Israel connection in this way.

An added bonus, the first time you shop at Leila Fine Gifts & Jewels, mention you are a Virtual Citizen of Israel™ for a 10% discount!

Order Your Israeli Wildflower Seeds Today!

What better way to celebrate your love for Israel than by growing your own little piece of Israel!

Plant Israel At Home™
Israel@65 Special!

Lord Of The Rings

Well, this is probably the strangest, most compelling advertising campaign I’ve seen in a while: Steimatzky, the iconic Israeli bookstore chain founded in 1925, has issued a series of images of readers asleep in bed with their books… and the fictional—or non-fictional—protagonists of said books.

Each image in the series is accompanied by the caption in Hebrew,
“עם הספר הנכון, את/ה אף פעם לא לבד - With the right book, you’re never alone.”

Quite sweet when the reader in question is a nine-year-old girl curled up with the eponymous Pippi Longstocking, but really, really unsettling when the reader is a sixty-something man in flannel pajamas lying beside a comatose/embalmed Stalin. Yes, Stalin: friend of Jews, Israelis, and book-lovers the world over.

Sweet dreams, Israel!

The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari

Pippi Longstocking

Don Quixote

Stalin

Credits for Creatives:
VP Creative: Tal Riven Customer Manager: Elad Hermel Creative Director: Idan Regev Copywriter: Kobi Cohen Art: Daphne Orner Flning: Noa Palm supervisor: Moore Paso Assistant: Natalie Rabinowitz Producer: Rachel Ztlawi

Join us for an inter-generational conversation with former IDF Lone Soldiers

Each year, thousands of young men and women choose to leave their homes and move to Israel alone to join the Israel Defense Forces. These brave Lone Soldiers do their part protecting Israel and the Jewish people, while their parents and loved ones remain thousands of miles away.

Thursday, June 20, 2013
6-9PM

Embassy of Israel

$25 Tax Deductible Donation

To learn more about The Lone Soldier Project™ visit thelonesoldierproject.com
and email Ricki at thelonesoldierproject@gmail.com

For questions relating to this event, please email Ariana at ariana@israelforever.org

Years ago I began to wonder why every time I was watching the news there was always something about Israel...

How was it that this small nation was the center of attention all the time, and somehow Israel always came out as the bad guy?
So I decided to go there and learn for myself what I could do in order to share my own perspective.

Little did I know that Israel was the biggest surprise for me of all!

Everywhere I traveled in Israel, people kept saying, "Thank you for coming, we are so grateful that you came."
My reply to these comments was, “The Danish people helped the Jews during the 2nd World War, and today, we still want to help you, to stand up for you and give you our love.

I was touched that Israelis met us with so much love and gratitude.

However, all over the world today - including my country of Denmark, Jews are being attacked simply for being Jews. I want to be like Ruth who said to Naomi: ‘Your people is my people, Your God is my God,’ as written in the Old Testament book of Ruth.”

Twice I have celebrated the Feast of Tabernacles in Israel, and I participated in the Jerusalem March, both are big events each year. I received so many hugs and kisses from people saying, “We know that Christians stand by Israel today!”

Being in Israel is like traveling inside the pages of the Bible, it comes to life and I feel God's presence so strongly. I can’t explain it, you have to experience it yourself.

I have met with survivors of the Holocaust, and heard their stories-which makes me say: “We must never, ever forget what happened to them!”

One of my most somber moments took place when I met the mother of a girl who was blown to pieces from an attack by a suicide bomber. As she told her story, she looked so tired, as if she would fall down any moment. There was a sorrow and pain in her eyes that was so deep that it broke my heart.

She looked at me saying, “Why was it my child? What had she done to deserve this?” I choked up, and it felt like I could barely breathe. I didn't know what to say or how to answer her, so I gave her a big hug and just held her in my arms.

In 2010, I met with the parents of Gilad Shalit, who at that time, was a prisoner of Hamas. His parents had been protesting for the release of their son in Jerusalem.

Once again, I saw a mom looking so tired she could barely stand on her feet. The sorrow and pain in her eyes as she looked at me was so heartbreaking. I had to look away for a moment.

I then took the hand of Gilad's mother saying, "My name is Jane, I’m from Denmark and I just want to let you know that I'm part of a prayer group that loves Israel and the Jewish people. We have been praying for your son for years. We stand with you, you are not alone. All over the world people are praying for your son!”

She looked straight into my eyes and said, “Thank you very much!” We just stood there holding hands, where no words were necessary!

I left thinking, no parent should have to go through this!

And even now, Israelis live in danger of when the next bomb is going to go off, or the next rocket to hit from Gaza.

How can I not stand up for this nation, the root of all people? The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob is also my God as a Christian who believes in Jesus.

So let me be very clear: I will stand by Israel now and forever!

I'm on the blessing team! I have a page on Facebook called Israel, One Nation where I share news, love and support for Israel every day.

God bless Israel!!

When a suicide bomb ripped through a pizzeria in downtown Jerusalem in 2001, killing 15 and wounding 130 more, 13-year-old Izzy Ezagui, who was visiting from America, found his calling.

Five years later, the New York-born Ezagui became a dual citizen and joined Israel’s Defense Forces – and not even the loss of his left arm in a mortar attack has kept him from the solemn commitment he made as a boy.

In 2010, Ezagui became the first soldier in Israel’s history to rejoin the army in a military role after sustaining such an injury in combat.

Ezagui, who currently serves in Israel's Special Forces Paratrooper Unit and who received an award for his service from Israeli President Shimon Peres, doesn't consider himself special.

"I’m just an ordinary guy," Ezagui said in an interview. "I had the will to do this one thing and I succeeded because I was passionate about it. I wanted to prove to myself that I was still worth something. If I can do it, so can anyone else."

While the unassuming 24-year-old recounts his personal story of struggle and determination, it's clear his tale is far from ordinary.

Ezagui, a religious Jew who was born in Brooklyn and raised in Miami, had traveled to Israel with family in the summer of 2001 to celebrate his Bar Mitzvah. On Aug. 9, 2001, Ezagui and his parents dropped their clothes off at a Laundromat adjacent to a Sbarro pizzeria at the corner of King George Street and Jaffa Road in Jerusalem – one of Israel’s busiest intersections.

Twenty minutes after Ezagui left the area, Hamas member Izz al-Din Shuheil al-Masri detonated a belt laden with explosives, including nails, nuts and bolts, inside the Sbarro restaurant, killing 13 Israelis – seven of whom were children – a pregnant American and a Brazilian national. Hamas claimed the attack was in retaliation for Israel’s assassination days earlier of its two leading commanders, as well as six Palestinian civilians, including two children.

"It left a mark on me," Ezagui said of the Jerusalem bombing. "I remember thinking, 'This is awful. I want to be able to do something to stop things like this from happening.'"

Arriving at the airport in Warsaw and preparing to board our El Al flight to Tel Aviv, I felt a sense of urgency. My desire to leave Poland and arrive home in Israel had reached a fever pitch. As we waited in line to clear security, all I could picture was boarding the flight and the wheels of the plane lifting off Polish ground.

Finally, I was leaving – escaping the grey skies and damp, gnawing cold which had served as a fitting pathetic-fallacy for the emotional landscape we had travelled over the course of our six days spent in Poland.

As I took my seat on the plane, I closed my eyes.

It had been a week of excruciatingly long days filled with an overwhelming amount of information rife with emotional intensity -- I was exhausted.

My eyes had been shut for less than a minute when the singing began.

Startled, I turned around and found roughly 150 high-school age March of the Living participants from various cities and countries, arms around each other, singing ‘Oseh Shalom’ with what can only be described as joyful abandon.

In that moment, the sleepless nights dissolved and without a moment’s pause, my fellow Young Adult MOTL participants and I joined in the song. Looking around, I noticed flight staff unable to hold back smiles as they
half-heartedly encouraged us to sit down so that we could take off. 

Ten minutes went by before we were all back in our seats and the fasten seatbelt light went on for takeoff.

By Ron Shoshani

Landing in Israel a few short hours later, again my heart swelled.

Our group moved quickly through the empty arrival gate and I slipped outside into the arrivals parking lot of Ben Gurion Airport. The electric doors slid open and a rush of warm, humid air filled my lungs.

I breathed in Israel, I was home. I sank down on a bench outside and could barely contain my euphoria.

I know it’s not unusual to remember significant departures and arrivals. However, the reason these two moments stayed with me, and seem to have become so engrained in my consciousness, has less to do with the physical shifts that occurred and more to do with the emotional impact of the transition.

Practically speaking, the act of leaving Poland and arriving in Israel can be understood from a purely geographical perspective. However, the mileage, climate and time zone have little real baring on the magnitude of the shift that occurred when I transitioned from one country to the other.

It was expressed in varying ways many times during the March of the Living that the structure of this experience was intended to move us from “darkness into light”. I can’t imagine a more apt way of describing how it felt to transition from the ashes of Warsaw and Krakow and arrive in Israel to the shores of Tel Aviv and Haifa.

To my eyes, fresh from the gas chambers of Auschwitz and the mass graves of the Lupachowa Forest, Jerusalem’s cobble stone streets had never looked more paved in gold or felt more hallowed.

Now, home in Toronto, the time I spent in Israel after Poland has taken on new meaning. At the time, the transition felt like the only conceivable antidote to an emotional wound that had left me ravaged after 6 days spent entrenched in the atrocities of the Shoah.

However, nearly a month out from the experience, I have come to see my time in Israel not only as the remedy that soothed me – but, more importantly, as a touchstone that I carry with me, regardless of where I am in the world.

Like my ancestors before me wandering the Egyptian desert, while I was in Poland, the promise of Israel gave me hope and sustained me.

Though I would never presume to speak for the prisoners of the Nazi death camps, I have heard from a number of survivors that even without any idea of what Israel was like; it was this notion of one day reaching the Promised Land that helped them to hold on day after day.

Ultimately, what I have taken away from this particular trip is a simple truth; Israel is so much more than simply a place on the map.

Among innumerable other things, Israel represents freedom from anti-Semitism, the promise of human dignity for all, hope for a better future and is, I believe, the soul of the Jewish people.

Whether I am blessed to be standing in the Old City of Jerusalem or on the busy streets of Toronto, Israel is never far from my heart for I carry her with me wherever I am.

“The heart of Jerusalem is inside its walls, beyond the Jaffa Gate, where ultra-Orthodox Jews make their way to the Wailing Wall,” the film’s narrator says in Hebrew as men, women and children dressed in traditional Ottoman-era and classic religious garb (still visible today in some parts of this ancient city) mill about between the large stone walls.

The film was restored and preserved by a researcher and historian of Hebrew cinema named Yaakov Gross. It is part of a longer film called “Lives of the Jews in Eretz Yisrael,” originally filmed in pre-British mandate Jerusalem for a screening at the 11th Zionist Congress in Vienna, held in 1913.

The film, which begins with visuals from a pre-Passover train ride from the coastal city of Jaffa, through the foothills of Jerusalem and into the holy city, shows an almost exclusively Jewish way of life from 100 years ago, although Muslim sites such as the Dome of the Rock and the Mosque of Omar also feature briefly in the footage.

Sunday, June 9
12-5:00 p.m.
Location:
Union Market
1309 5th St NE
Washington, DC [MAP]

AND GROW YOUR LOVE FOR ISRAEL @
The Israel Forever Foundation's Booth

Visit The Israel Forever Foundation booth where you will be able grow your love for Israel and Plant Israel at Home™ to help make the world green with Ahavat Yisrael!

Kids and Adults of all ages will have the opportunity to decorate pots and plant Israeli wildflower seeds to take home with you for your garden, at the office - anywhere that will always remind you of our one and only Jewish state!

We are celebrating this week Jewish holiday of Shavuot. As all Jewish holidays has unique custom for food at Shavuot we eat mostly dairy treats. I love Israeli-style cheesecakes like this, which are lighter and more delicate than the American versions I grew up with.

This Israeli cheese cake recipe is a family favorite of Orli Ziv who is also the author of Cook in Israel: Home Cooking Inspiration with Orly Ziv.

Ingredients:

For the Dough:
80 g (5½ Tbs.) butter
125 g (1 cup) self-rising flour
25 g (2 Tbs.) sugar
2 egg yolks (reserve whites for cake)

For the Filling:
750 g soft white cheese like Israeli “ski” (sub whipped cream cheese)
3 eggs and 2 whites
200 g (1 cup) sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 cups lowfat sour cream
20 g (1½ Tbs.) vanilla sugar

Directions: 

1. Preheat the oven to 175°C/350°F.
2. Mix together the dough ingredients by hand or in a stand mixer until well combined.
3. Press into a deep, 26-centimeter/10-inch cake pan so it evenly covers the bottom.
4. Bake about 10 minutes, until golden. Remove from the oven, set aside, and lower the oven to 170°C/300°F.
5. Mix together the white cheese, eggs and egg whites, regular sugar and vanilla extract.
6. Pour over the pre-baked dough and bake for 50 minutes. 7. Mix together the sour cream and vanilla sugar and pour on top of the cake.
Don’t be afraid – the pan might look very full but it will deflate slightly.
8. Bake for an additional 10 minutes.
9. Remove from the oven and allow to cool to room temperature.
10. Cover and refrigerate overnight before serving. The longer it stays in the fridge (for 1 to 2 days) the better!

B'teavon and Chag Sameach!

Religion, history, culture, and ethnic cuisine are united on this special holiday as we celebrate our connection to the Land of Milk and Honey.

In ancient times, Shavuot was an agricultural holiday, as, celebrating the the end of the grain harvest as Chag HaKatzir and Chag HaBikkurim (first fruits) of the season that were brought to the Temple in Jerusalem, the seven species with which the Land of Israel is blessed - wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives and dates.

Essentially, Shavuot helped to reinstate the agricultural focus on the land while emphasizing the return to our ancient homeland where this mitzvah could again be fulfilled (albeit sans the Temple in Jerusalem).

The gleaning of the harvest is linked with so many aspect of Jewish history - from the laws of shmitta (7 year cycle of the Land), to the story of Ruth, to the renewal of agricultural settlement in the Land of Israel by the kibbutz and moshav cooperatives.

The rich and colorful traditions commemorating the the first fruits of the season now dominate the Israeli celebrations of Shavuot. Children take part in parades and festivals that remind us of the humble beginnings of rebuilding Israel - when Jews came from all over the world and dug their hands into the soil, helping to make the desert bloom.

Understandably, there is a divide between how Shavuot is celebrated within the Land of Israel from how it is celebrated outside of it. My first encounter with the Israeli-style celebrations was with my son in gan, as I was introduced to the many customs that make this holiday filled with fun, community, and appreciation of the land. Prior to that, I had always thought of Shavuot as the birthday of the Ten Commandments (this year, turning 3325 years old!)

Shavuot came to be associated with the giving of the Torah based on the counting of days from Passover (known as the Omer). In a "deja vu experience for the soul," we listen to the reading of the Ten Commandments on the anniversary that it was given to our ancestors at Mount Sinai.

On this day, the Children of Israel are transformed into a living, breathing nation, on their journey to the one land they will forever be able to call home.

This adaptation of ancient tradition allowed Jews around the world to retain the significance of this pilgrimage holiday when we couldn't all reach the Land of Israel. Rather, we incorporated into our celebrations a recognition of the freedom, obligations and unity bestowed upon us as a Nation.

This year, Shavuot coincides with the historical date of the Declaration of Israel's Independence. Maybe its not such a coincidence after all, as it gives us a chance to reflect on how the two are connected.
 
It is to this land that Jews would come together as one: This is where the Jewish people would prosper as they work together to build a society that embodies the many influences of experience and identity borne from life in the Diaspora.

Wherever we are in the world, whichever interpretation we each embrace, Shavuot gives us an abundance of opportunity to appreciate the land from which our people have come and to which we have returned.

We wish everyone a joyous holiday filled with the sweetness of Israel!

Sing Along! "Eretz zavat chalav, chalav u-d'vash," Land of Milk and Honey"

Cooking Israel:Tastes of Shavuot

As Jews have arrived here from the four corners of the universe, they brought with them a medley of taste and culture. Adding a touch of the specialties of the Land of Israel makes these recipes all the more enticing to try out!

Building Israel

DID YOU KNOW?

There are many interpretations as to the use of dairy on Shavuot.

Some claim that it is derived from the numerical value of the Hebrew letters in the word chalav, meaning milk, which equals 40. Since Moses spent 40 days on Mount Sinai, we eat foods with milk.

Another take is derived from the Song of Songs, chapter 4, which reads: "honey and milk are under thy tongue." This is implied as a reference to the fact that the Torah is as nourishing as milk and as sweet as honey. And since it is believed we received the Torah on this day, we celebrate with an abundance of sweet cheesy goodies to keep us up for our late night learning sessions!

They may not wear those classic blue “kibbutznik hats,” but some Ethiopians, Sudanese, and Eritreans may soon be establishing Israeli-style communes in eastern Africa.

It’s part of an innovative project launched by young Israelis to deal with the problem of the tens of thousands of African refugees who have slipped across the Egypt-Israel border during the past several years.

An estimated 60,000 refugees and migrants from Sudan, Eritrea, and other African countries have made the hazardous journey across the Sinai desert and into Israel since 2006.

Many have been kidnapped and tortured for ransom by Bedouin Arabs in the Sinai. There have also been incidents in which Egyptian border police shot at the migrants. Refugee activists estimate that several hundred have been shot dead by the Egyptians, and several thousand have been murdered by members of the “Rashida” Bedouin tribe.

We had a wonderful Israeli guide who walked us through this emotional building allowing us to ask questions and really take in our surroundings. After many tears we exited the museum and found ourselves overlooking one of the most beautiful spots on earth, the hills of Jerusalem.

By David Shankbone

I was overcome by the beauty and the depths of the meaningfulness of the moment. Here I was, an American Jewish woman standing in my ancient homeland, surrounded by friends, secure thanks to the protection of the Israeli Defense Forces.

Just then my phone beeped with a message. A friend was on her way to pick me up. She was anxious to take me to a Girl's Home in Jerusalem that she is very involved in helping.

This home was created in the early days of the reborn Jewish nation. It was founded because Jewish girls whose entire families had been murdered by the Nazi's were arriving in Israel.

There was a very special rabbi who realized these girls needed an education and a home where they could be cared for and have a chance at a happy life.

Fast forward more than sixty years and you have a massive school with multiple campuses and over six hundred girls in need of a safe loving environment.

The fact that this home rose from the ashes of the Shoah and that I had just left Yad Vashem was not lost to me. I was an emotional wreck as we rode through the city. All around me people were living their daily lives. They were the embodiment of a two thousand year old dream. A dream that was repeatedly discussed before and during the Shoah and here I was, in Israel.

Once we arrived, I was taken on a tour of the facility. It was spotlessly clean. There was a playground in the back. There were dorm rooms. There was a large kitchen. Across the street there was an area for after school activities such as art and dance classes.

Most importantly, there were young girls chatting and giggling as they went about their day. Suddenly, my friend asked me if I would like to sponsor a girl from the home. This required a financial commitment as well as an emotional one to provide a role model of what a loving family is to one of these girls through letters and visits.

"YES!" was my immediate (absolutely no hesitation) response. Under normal circumstances a question like this would elicit a "let me check with my husband" answer but I knew with every fiber of my being that William and I would derive so much from doing this.

The opportunity to help a child in Israel and to grow a relationship with her was a dream come true. Since I had a four year old and a two year old at home at the time, my one request was that we sponsor a little girl who could grow up "alongside" our daughters.

Two days later I returned to meet Eden. A beautiful shy six year old girl who climbed into my heart and has resided there ever since.

Hi there. My name's Emily and this is the story of my Bat Mitzvah.

I know that it's probably considered really weird to introduce yourself at the beginning of a Bat Mitzvah service, but it would be equally weird for those of you who don't know me to sit idly by in confusion while some random girl becomes a Jewish woman or whatever.

First, let me say, that this was not a typical Bat Mitzvah service. Firstly, I had a lack of Justin Bieber apparel, I am not thirteen years old, and we were at a BBYO convention, which isn't your typical venue for a Bat Mitzvah service.

But anyway, as I was saying, my name is Emily. I'm a senior and I've been in BBYO for coming up on about three years now. Three years ago, however, I moved to Maryland from a small town in Michigan where seeing a Jew was about as common as seeing a unicorn prance down main street. My dad is Catholic and my mom was raised Jewish. My younger sister and I (hey, Liv) were raised as both, but when people would ask us what we were, I would always answer, "confused."

I attended Catechism and Hebrew school. While the majority of our hometown was Catholic or some variation, my mom would haul my sister and I out to a synagogue about forty-five minutes away just to get a dose of Judaism. On Monday nights we would listen to our teachers talk about all the good Jesus had done and learn how to say the rosary. On Sunday, we would round out the week with discussions about Noah and his Ark while eating a bagel.

I remember once at Catechism, the teacher asked us all to share our favorite prayers. One girl shared the Hail Mary, another boy recited Our Father. When it came to my turn, I proudly recited the prayer that we say over the candles on Hanukkah. After a moment of silence, the first girl began crying because she thought I was a witch. Oddly enough, this is a reaction I've inspired in many people, most of which haven't even been when I was speaking Hebrew.

After that, my relationship with religion pretty much sizzled out. As the token Jew in my school, I literally had to tell the story of Hanukkah every year while my mom made the same store bought matzo ball soup every year, from kindergarten to ninth grade, to the same kids who sat there with the same vacant expression. Here's something I've noticed: when kids don't understand something, they love to make fun of it.

Needless to say, my Judaism was one factor that loved to get teased and harangued.

So I asked myself: "Why do this?"

I had no ties to Judaism. I had gotten tired of driving so far to listen to some lady tell me about customs that none of my friends partook in and speak in a language that made no sense and sounded a little bit like someone who had a serious phlegm problem.

All of that changed when my mom tricked me into going up to the BBYO offices when we first moved here. What was supposed to be just a social "thing" (also a chance for me to get out of the house and stop watching massive amounts of Degrassi to actually interact with real humans) turned into something that was so much bigger than that.

For the first time, I was celebrating Havdallah.
I learned about Israel and it's importance to the Jewish faith, and I proudly became a Virtual Citizen of Israel™). I actually had the Jewish holidays off for school! This rocked!

But there was nothing that was of substance to me, there was no cosmic moment where a pop up appeared on my screen that said
"Congrats on being our 1,000,000th user. You are now a Jew!"

It was a quiet sort of thing where I suddenly found myself at a Barnes and Noble buying "Judaism for Dummies" so that I would feel up-to-par with the rest of the girls in my chapter, or how I would suddenly find myself easily following along with prayers I had never heard before. Or how I would throw out Hebrew words into casual speech, much to the surprise of my family, like "Beth Kadima" and "n'siah" and "CLTC."



Before I could even say "I accept the honor and the nomination," I was somehow inducted into the intergalactic order of Jews (established in year 0).

But, while it's been great, to me I feel a little bit like someone driving without a license. I think that that's the main reason why I decided to get my Bat Mitzvah. Plenty of people don't have Bar or Bat Mitzvahs, and plenty of people also opt-out of getting their license.

It's a matter of choice - do you want to be identified for the rest of your life as a Jew (or a driver, in the latter case)?

I've spent the majority of my life so far treating Judaism with a nonchalant attitude, but just a little while ago, I decided that I was going to take the driver's seat, if you will, and learn about Judaism…and literally as well, I got my permit!

There's a reason why we called this my shotgun Bat Mitzvah. I mean, the time that it took to pull this together was astonishing. Because of this, I didn't really have the time to learn how to read the Torah, so in my honor, three of my friends who had a better command of the Hebrew language, helped me out with the Torah portions.

Like I've said before, this wasn't the most traditional of Bat Mitzvah ceremonies. But for those of you who know me, you know that I'm not the most traditional of people. I know that there are several of you out there who probably haven't had a Bar or Bat Mitzvah yet, either. I seriously urge you to find an opportunity to partake in your own "shotgun ceremony," whatever that means to you.

Unlike driving, I think that there are a plethora of easier ways to obtain your Judaism.

I was seventeen when I got my permit (the driving kind), and here I am, eighteen years old and partaking in a ceremony that usually happens when you turn thirteen.

And the best part about this one? You don't even have to parallel park!

They say home is where the heart is. If that’s the case, then my heart has at various times and I guess always will belong in England, Australia and the United States, because these are the countries I have lived in. I also lived in Israel for 11 years, specifically in Jerusalem. But I wouldn’t say Jerusalem has my heart.

Israel has my heart and my entire immediate family still lives in Israel. But I would say – unequivocally – that Jerusalem has my soul.

Because Jerusalem is just that kind of place. If you’ve never been, it’s hard to describe. If you have been, then you probably know what I’m talking about. Jerusalem seeps into your pores and is impossible to shake. The sights, sounds and smells of a modern city clashing with an old one is nothing short of miraculous.

As a journalist whose job was to cover the City of Jerusalem every day, I had the extraordinary honour of learning about and interviewing everyone from school children to volunteers to government officials.

I could do my job every day because there’s no real hierarchy – because your mayor and council members are in the phone book and you don’t have to go through 47 publicists to get an interview.

In Jerusalem you can rail against a corrupt municipality and in the same breath witness extraordinary acts of chessed (kindness).

Copyright © Vered Shachaf

I know of no other place where can you walk the streets without a single car on the road on Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) and chat to complete strangers.

Or have a complete stranger open their home to you for a Shabbat (Sabbath) meal because they met you in the supermarket and asked if you had somewhere to go.

It’s in Jerusalem that your heart will break over and over when there’s a suicide bombing and scores of innocent lives are lost; where your cell phone will give out because people around the country and the world will be calling to make sure you and everyone you know is okay. And then you’re heart will break all over again when an Ultra Orthodox organization will rally its volunteers and they will come out and collect every piece of shattered bone and tiny piece of flesh that used to be a person – collect them all and ensure that there is a proper burial.

In Jerusalem you can also rail against those Ultra Orthodox who curse those who travel on the Sabbath or who receive handouts from City officials; who wield so much power in local government.

In Jerusalem you’ll dance in the streets on Simchat Torah and be proud to be a Jew in your Jewish homeland in the capital of the country. And you’ll also be awoken to the unique sound of the muezzin call as the Muslims head to morning prayers.

You’ll haggle in Hebrew with Israeli vendors for a better deal on a dozen apples at the outdoor shuk in Machane Yehuda. And in the Old City of Jerusalem you’ll haggle in English or Arabic in that market too.

In Jerusalem you will find the best falafel of your life; you’ll get up early just to head to the shuk to inhale the smell of pita with za’atar, to sample gleaming olives, to scarf down freshly-baked borekkas and watch old men play shesh besh (backgammon), while drinking strong black coffee or sipping tea with mint.

In Jerusalem you can walk to the Western Wall and touch stones that are thousands of years old; say a prayer; leave a note and then walk across the street to Sultan’s Pool to see a rock concert or a movie.

In the Old City you can simply walk a few feet and be in four different quarters. You can run your hands along the stones in the Jewish, Christian, Arab and Armenian quarters.

You can see the bullet holes in the walls from wars.

Copyright © Brian Negin

In Jerusalem you’ll watch in awe as hi-rises and new buildings tower over some of the most ancient structures in existence and whizz in your car down a major highway while struggling to negotiate the tiny one way streets in the heart of the city (with cars parked on the footpaths), knowing that it’s so much easier to walk to wherever you want to go.

And if you are sitting in your car, who else will stop at the light, hoot their horn and ask you if you want to sell your car? And if you’re in Jerusalem, the chances are that the person who asks will remind you that he saw you last week and asked you once before and do you have an answer for him yet?

Jerusalem is where you can be hospitalized and volunteers will show up during holidays and sing and dance for you and offer to say prayers for you.

Jerusalem is where an old world meets a new one and nobody blinks an eye.

Jerusalem is where a sunset over the Old City Walls will stop your heart; where you know summer is on its way because vendors start selling watermelon on the side of the road.

Jerusalem is where people from all over the world flock to live; to visit; to pray and to play.

Jerusalem is not an easy city to live in. She will break your heart many times over. But she’ll also heal it, too.

Life in Jerusalem is an ongoing love affair of ups and downs and of struggles and triumphs. You have to give yourself over to Jerusalem in order to truly understand the beauty that his her and her alone.

And that is why she has – and always will have – my soul.

Spring is short in Israel: it barely just began and already it's over, as is fall. Soon the rain will wash away the tears of joy shed by millions of Israelis as we celebrated Gilad Shalit's return. Winter lightning and thunder will swallow up the fanfares of the biggest media festival in Israel since the great victory in the Six Day War.

But I am concerned that this festival could turn into a disaster if we do not learn some lessons and draw conclusions. So, just before the story of Gilad Shalit's release moves from the present into the history books, from euphoria to grey, it is important to spend a moment in contemplation.

We want to avoid making a mistake that could seep into the collective Israeli subconscious as the truth, and with a place of honor. It is a young society still trying to find its way on a complex and complicated backdrop.

Gilad Shalit is a Jewish hero. He is not an Israeli hero. It is advisable that we are able to distinguish between these types of heroism, so that we do not confuse them.

Jewish heroism was formulated over two thousand years of exile. It is the heroism of survivors, dwelling in the shadows of darkness and death, under horrific conditions, who decided to continue to exist and, especially, to preserve their sanity.

The theory behind ransoming captives was also formed during those years of exile, when Jews were persecuted and crushed underfoot. There is no other nation that could muster the mental strength to deal with that sort of torture, expulsion and life hanging on a thread. Jewish history turned us into reluctant heroes.

The father of Jewish heroic survival was Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai, who asked the Roman general during the 1st century siege on Jerusalem to at least give us "Yavneh and its sages." He chose to save a small group of scholars because he believed they could help the nation of Israel survive after Jerusalem and the temple were destroyed.

Exile heroism expressed itself during the Crusades, the Spanish expulsion, the Chmielnicki Massacre of 1648-9 and through to the days of the unbearable Holocaust of the 20th century. Even under the harshest conditions, Jews maintained their humanity, their faith and their hope for the day when the heroism of the exile would be exchanged for Israeli heroism.

The father of Israeli heroism was Rabbi Akiva. He was a spiritual giant who believed that Jews need to fight and never give up, even when massive empires try to destroy them. He wholeheartedly believed that a nation not ready to give up its life for freedom is a nation that will never recover from a slave mentality.

Israeli heroism was expressed exceptionally during the days of David and Solomon, in the Bar Kochba rebellion, on Massada, in The Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, in the daring souls of the fighters in the underground against the British in Mandate Palestine and the IDF soldiers who have fought in Israel's wars.

Days before the establishment of the State of Israel in May 1948, Zionist officials met to decide what the new country would be called in Arabic, a document released Thursday by the state archive shows.

The document mentions three options: Palestine, or Filastin; Zion, or Sayoun; and Israel, or Eesra’il.

The three officials — who included Bechor-Shalom Sheetrit, later a prominent Cabinet minister — were working under two assumptions: That an Arab state was about to be established alongside the Jewish one in keeping with the UN’s partition resolution the year before, and that the Jewish state would include a large Arab minority whose feelings needed to be taken into account.

Part of the document on the discussion of the Arabic name for the state.

They rejected the name Palestine, they wrote, because they thought that would be the name of the new Arab state.

“It is likely that the Arab state that will be established in the Land of Israel will also be called Palestine in the future, which could cause confusion,” the officials wrote.

They rejected the name Zion, or Sayoun, seemingly because the words “Zion” and “Zionist” already had a pejorative meaning in the Arab world. Calling the country Zion “would cause real difficultly for the Arab citizen in the Jewish state,” the document says.

In the end, they opted for the most straightforward option: Eesra’il, or Israel.