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Orit is a painter and writer living in Tel Aviv.
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By Orit
March 17, 2006
Thursday night -- yet again. I don't want to go out.
A friend invited me to a happening party, and another friend invited me for a drink, but I still don't feel like dancing or drinking. I'm not in the mood for small talk and frivolity. Sometimes I wish I was. I know that in the past month I have sunken into a slight depression.
Now I'm wondering if Tel Aviv is not the only problem.
About two weeks ago I thought that maybe I had to leave the city and live on a settlement -- to become a "hilltop youth." Friends told me about an outpost deep in the Judean desert -- between Jerusalem and the Dead Sea -- that mixes religious and secular singles and couples. Maybe there I would find my place.
I was intrigued for a while and even spent Shabbat at this secluded hill consisting of a dozen caravans. I thought that maybe that's what I needed -- a simple life in the Judean desert to clear my head and to hear the Word about what I was supposed to do with my life. I had a good time -- I ate Shabbat meals together with some of the residents and we talked at length about the horrible state that Israel is in. I felt that I could unleash the frustrations I couldn't unleash with my friends in Tel Aviv.
Problem is, this desert outpost, while built legally, has no more vacancies. The Gush Etzion municipality no longer provides them with any caravans or support of any kind. I offered to try living there for a period -- if I really liked it I would raise money and buy my own caravan -- but the woman in charge of absorption said that they are giving priority to families. She wants more children around for her kids to play with.
Needless to say, it was a big turn-off -- here I came with all this idealism, good will, and enthusiasm, only to be rejected. I noticed that even settlements and outposts, which preach about the evils of selfishness in Israel, can sometimes be parochial and cliquey. At the end of the day most people are concerned with their own needs and desires, which, ultimately, is human nature.
Where does this leave me? I don't know, but I'm thinking more and more of moving back to the States. The Land of Israel is sacred, but the State of Israel is a blasphemy. I'd rather live freely under a gentile government than be oppressed by a Jewish government.
Sometimes I think that we live in galut even in Israel. Our government is more oppressive to the Jews than the American or even some -- but certainly not all -- European governments. The rights and religion of Jews as individuals are protected in the States far more than they are here. And that's why being Jewish is cool and hip in the States, whereas in Israel Judaism is to be thwarted. So while I wouldn't be on Holy Land in the States, I won't always feel persecuted and undermined by the government and the people who vote for it.
Jews like to think that they own each other. Because we are all Jews we like to think we have the right to abuse, uproot, and control each other. In the United States the separation of religion and state and the relative protection of individual rights lend to a society where Jews can live according to their conscience and religion. In Israel the mish-mosh between religion and state and religion and society creates rifts and turmoil. Israel needs an intellectual revolution if it is to survive.
There is a lot I need to think about -- and I still have revolutionary ideas I want to get on paper -- but I don't know if I could do so in Israel -- confined, alone, struggling, and poor. The walls are closing in on me -- literally. And I feel as if I'm always besieged by stupidity, mediocrity, and barbarism -- in the media headlines, in the cafes, in the government offices - that turn the knife that is already in my back.
I've been here for almost seven years -- seven years of hard toil and labor. Yes, I had unforgettable and amazing experiences and I met extraordinary people, but maybe it's time for shmita -- a seventh year sabbatical. I'm worn out.
If two weeks ago I didn't want to speak to my secular friends, now I can't talk to my religious-Zionist friends. I know they'll try their hardest to convince me to stay. I know they'll call me a traitor. They'll tell me not to give-up. But their lectures will only make me feel more alone and invalidated.
So I'm planning to spend Passover -- the time of our liberation -- with my family in the US. It will be somewhat of a pilot trip. All I want is freedom, for me and the entire house of Israel.
Views expressed by the author do not
necessarily reflect those of israelinsider.
 
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