Published in the Washington Jewish Week Sept. 2011.

Jewish history has way too many episodes marked by limitations - lack of power and autonomy, scarce resources, and short horizons imposed by others.  This often meant our ancestors rarely left the regions of their birth, unless they were being chased by others or by extreme poverty.

What a blessing it is to live in a world that is a global village. Media, transportation, technology, and personal resources have given families an extended horizon, and the ability to experience life from a variety of perspectives. The good news is that families are mobile for work and play; the bad news is that families may live oceans apart. What follows are examples of how two families spent time together this summer, one in America and one in Israel, in a modern world that Dickens would still describe as "the best of times and the worst of times."

Avi’s West side story

Our son left for Israel after graduating high school in 1997. Before we could blink away the tears of joy/fear/nachas, our son finished the army, college, got married, and soon had three children who called us sabba and savta.  Our challenge was to find ways of being grandparents who were involved in and essential to the lives of our grandchildren.  Our strategy this summer was to bring the family to Silver Spring for a month of "Shehecheyanu" experiences that could supply us with memories and talking points for a year's worth of skyping.  There is nothing like taking your grandchildren to their "firsts:" their first major league baseball game, their first time ice skating and bowling, that first plunge on a rollercoaster, their first theater experience, meeting their new baby cousin.  Nothing restores hope and meaning to a jaded adult's life more than watching these first experiences through the eyes of a child. 

On the other hand, respecting new boundaries in your relationship with grown children who are now parents is an art and science not easily mastered during short visits.  We sometimes complain about the 6,000 miles that separate us, but these summer visits remind us of those things that help overcome the distance.  Shared languages, traditions, rituals, and memories sanctify the time we do spend together, and sanctify any space where it all happens.  It is not a lack of faith to voice concern for our family living “on the edge of the volcano,” as Israelis have called it.  Eruptions from outside the country are matched by internal tremors of social, economic, and religious upheavals. Ironically (from a Zionist perspective), it is a blessing when a visit to grandparents provides “normalcy,” a sanctuary from some of the daily pressure.  We want our kids to get the most out of living in Israel; but we also feel blessed to be able to broaden their horizon to experience being Jewish in America.

James’ East Side Story

Our summer took us in the opposite direction. After a great deal of thought (and debate), our 12 year old son decided that he wanted to have his bar mitzvah celebration in Israel this summer. So after 18 months of planning, off we went with our immediate family along with some other close relatives and friends from Canada to Jerusalem. The kids had been to Israel before. Both my wife and I had spent a good deal of time there. I lived in Israel for almost 5 years, and I had visited many times for work, but I had never gone primarily as a tourist.

The bar mitzvah celebration took place at a beautiful restaurant and art gallery in Jerusalem called “The Anna Ticho House.” It was a small crowd, with some close friends from Israel rounding out the event. Our son did a great job. I borrowed a Torah from a local organization that I am connected to. Once the bar mitzvah celebration ended, we began to travel. From Jerusalem we went to Masada and the Dead Sea. After that we headed up north to Tivon, a town just east of Haifa. We spent Shabbat on kibbutz Ma’agan on the Kinneret. We made it to the Golan Heights where we visited a chocolate factory, and then to Kiryat Shmona before heading for Tel Aviv. After a few nights in Tel Aviv we shed all of our guests and headed to Eilat for some diving and fun in the sun.

Seeing the country through the eyes of our children was both surprising and a little alarming. I know a good deal about the history of Israel, and I spoke to them of wars and victories, terrifying moments in the history of the country and the difficult reality of living on a postage stamp size piece of land that two very different groups of people claim as their own. They enjoyed the trip, and found much of the country beautiful (though they were perplexed by the vast amounts of construction going on in virtually every place we visited).

However, certain things were very distant for them. Wars that happened during my lifetime were ancient history to them. It got me thinking: I was born a mere 11 years after the State of Israel was created and not long after the end of WWII. And yet I always thought of both events as historical -- they were never a part of my life. I came of age in the late 1960’s, and my teenage years took place in the 70’s.

As an educator very committed to both Israel and Zionism, it made me think about what Israel looks like to people born decades after it was created. How do we make it relevant and meaningful to generations that see it through a distant historical lens?

It was a wonderful trip, filled with great memories for all of us. But also made me think about the challenges ahead, and what we will need to do to continue to make Israel and Israelis an important part of the life of 21st century American Jews. Stay tuned.

Dr. James Hyman is CEO of the Partnership for Jewish Life and Learning; Avi West is Director of the Shulamith Reich Elster Resource Center and Master Teacher at the Partnership.  The Partnership is a non-profit, communal agency that serves as a catalyst for innovation and transformation in Jewish educational and identity building experiences for people of all ages throughout the Greater Washington area.  For learning opportunities or to find out more, log on to www.pjll.org or call 240-283-6200.