Shuls are beginning to mushroom in the desert. After 11 years of continuous work, Ayelet Hashachar is finally seeing the fruits of its efforts. Today, shuls of all shapes and sizes are popping up on the Israeli horizon in places where the residents once vowed that no sign of traditional Judaism would ever take root.
Suvivors of the Holocaust, aided and abetted by the new-age Jews of the Jewish Agency, made aliyah to the Middle Eastern shores of Palestine, often with little choice. Many were secular, having been swept up by the mores of modern society and the rising movement of the ‘haskalah’, while others were simply looking for a place where they could survive another day. The horrors of the camps was not far behind them. They came shell-shocked and emaciated, and were soon herded into camps of a different kind by the British, who feared outbreaks of typhoid and other deseases.
Those traditional Jews, forcibly stripped of their religion in Europe, were confused and frightened, trusting no one. Their efforts to outsmart the Nazis left them weary of fighting. They had come to their ancient homeland to be among their brethren, to rest and rebuild their shattered lives. But things were not so simple. The locals viewed them with a combination of wonder and fear. They had to learn a new language, and with the language came a new culture invented on the spot by enthusiastic Zionists. It was a culture of anti-traditionalism, of secularism, of socialism bordering on obsession. The ‘old school’ had been murdered; their traditions and attachment to their Creator had not saved them. Traditionalism was thus to be relegated to the museums of Germany. They dreamed of a new way, a non-Jewish way that would allow them to be ‘like all the other nations’. They would build, till and farm, fight and grow and begin again on their own turf and according to their own rules.
They created the Kibbutz concept, bringing up children communally rather than within the family circle. Children grew up in the ‘children’s houses’, no longer attached to their parents as their first care-givers. Parents were ‘free’ to work the land. Socialists studying their way of life were amazed by the apparent success of the system and lauded it as a viable way of life. Judaism played no part in their lives, other than having the flag of Israel wave in the wind. Judaism had been replaced by a new ism - Zionism.
70 years later, the new kibbutz generation is clearly made of a different clay. Their knowledge of traditional Judaism is colored by media reports of black-clothed men who seem further from their reality than the little green men on Mars. Most have never had the opportunity of speaking to such an other-worldy creature. They have the vague notion that these people obverve the Torah, a set of ancient rules and regulations that leaves women having babies and leaning over a hot stove. They know nothing of the joy of religious practice, the tremendous satisfaction gained from Torah study, the vast amounts of chessed (kindness), and the plethora of organizations that do good.
Ayelet Hashachar works from a number of angles. One is through its educational tours, which take members of kibbutzim out to Yerushalayim and other holy sites with professional guides. The guides' vast knowledge of their own country leaves them a little abashed and amazed. They are taken to the homes of some of our greatest leaders, both male and female, where they learn how to bake challah, have the opportunity to ask questions on the spiritual nature of our world, and get to know the personalities behind the masks.
In parallel, Ayelet Hashachar's Chavrutah program facilitates friendships and Torah-study partnerships among 16,000 people around the country. They get to get to know ‘the other side’ in a personal one-on-one, weekly phone conversation. In this way, religious and irreligious Israelis meet each other on common ground, sharing ideas and studying topics of interest to both. This serves for bridging and ahavas yisrael (love of Israel), far more than all the political parties and organizations that boast and shout from the rooftops. As our Sages tell us, ‘divrei chachomim benachas nishmoim,’ meaning, “the calm/quiet words of the wise are heard."
In the kibbutzim and moshavim themselves, other unique methods allow the secular residents the chance to get to know their own religious brethren through a variety of activities. These range from Bar Mitzvah lessons to Yom Kippur services, Purim, and more. Ayelet Hashachar’s resident workers live among the community with an open-house policy, sharing Shabbat meals, giving talks and being a spiritual guide in times of joy and trouble.
Rabbi Raanan, founder and director of Ayelet Hashachar, finds himself running from moshav to moshav and kibbutz to kibbutz, trying to fulfill their requests to help them. The requests often center around the desire upon part of all of the membershelp to help establish a permanent spiritual center and place to pray. Rabbi Raanan has become expert at assessing the available possibilities to house the synagogue, and actually turning it into a place where G-d can enter, often for the first time, both their hearts and minds.
This past week alone, he was contacted by four new communities, all with the same request: "How do we start?" It is the wonderous reality of a country hearing the footsteps of Mashiach and thirsty to ‘hear the words of Hashem.’ This, despite the lures of the internet and attractions of the Western world. Miraculous indeed!
