Close to twenty years ago I stood outside a Jaffa playhouse, waiting for the doors to open. Chattering was all around, everyone eagerly anticipating the performance of a blind theater troupe. But it was the amount of English spoken that grabbed my attention. When one of the speakers saw my eyebrows lift, she asked: “Where are you from and where do you teach?”
The woman was part of a Jewish teachers group visiting Israel. Her question led to a discussion about Israel and where it stood in the American Jewish mindset. It was her bottom line that reverberates today, gnawing at my mind: “The further away the Holocaust, the greater the distance to Israel.”
How unhappily prophetic. Not just for me personally, but all Israelis who for over two-and-a-half years have been witnessing, and unfortunately some experiencing, parallel Holocaust horrors.
The reason for my own dismay is short but NOT sweet. What brought me to move here forty-nine years ago was a 1967 back-to-back experience of exhilaration and devastation. Israel was the world’s adored David with a slingshot. I was a first-time tourist, smitten by palpable Jewish pride. I was here with my parents. Our next stop was Vienna, the country my father fled, and was now returning to for the first time. His every step was taken with agony. The Viennese recognized his accent and were sneeringly polite. It was the visit to the neglected Jewish cemetery that personally sealed the Israel deal. Rows and rows of family tombstones, their descendants all obliterated. At that moment in time the picture of my grandmother standing on my father’s dresser was no longer just a photo. I felt robbed by the hands of Hitler, and for the first time understood the importance of a Jewish state.
Today the existence of a Jewish country has never been more vital. Not just for Israelis, but for all Jews. While I wish that all of my fellow Jews abroad felt the same, I get it. It’s not easy for Diaspora Jews to wrap their heads around what we have been enduring and how it directly connects to them. It’s like the photo of my grandmother. You see it but you don’t live it.
On the flip side, countless Anglo-Israelis don’t get that. They moan about the lack of attention on the part of family and friends abroad. So they post long diatribes on what we’ve been dealing with. Falling on blind eyes and deaf ears? Not exactly. There are a lot of tut tuts, and “so sorry about what you’re going through.” What Israelis have to understand is that the hearts and minds of Diaspora Jews are presently focused on their national place and the antisemitism they are experiencing. And yes, some blame Israel for that.
And so we come to the very point of connecting the dots. Worldwide antisemitism demands that ALL Jews remember the lessons of the Holocaust, not treat it as a narrative of long ago. Antisemitism is a constant in Jewish history. So too is the yearning for a Jewish State. Otherwise we would not end every Passover Seder year after year with the words “Next Year in Jerusalem.” Jews around the world should be mindful of the fact that it was the Holocaust and its aftermath that opened the eyes of the world, pushing to reality our national homeland.
As we embark on the commemoration of Yom HaShoah, let us all remember that regardless of how distant the Holocaust, statelessness is no longer a Jewish option because Israel was born out of its ashes.
Tami Lehman-Wilzig made Aliya in 1977 with her husband, Professor Sam Lehman-Wilzig. She is an award-winning author of 16 published picture books. Her titles include “On the Wings of Eagles,” “The Henna Helper,” “Rembrandt’s Blessing,” “SOOSIE, The Horse That Saved Shabbat,” “Keeping the Promise,” “Nathan Blows Out the Hanukkah Candles,” and “Passover Around the World.” You can find out more about Tami and her books by visiting https://www.tlwkidsbooks.com/.