Showing posts with label Forest Rain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Forest Rain. Show all posts

Education in Israel (Forest Rain)




Last week I attended the graduation ceremony at Tiltan, one of Haifa's two art schools.

It is stunning to consider that, in a city with a population of approximately 300,000 residents, we have two universities, including the world renowned Technion Institute, two art colleges and a teacher's training college. Haifa also has one of the most famous high-schools in the country - which was founded 103 years ago, before Israel became a State. We have one of the best grade-schools in the country as well.

Education has always been important to Jews. We are, after all, the People of the Book.

Tiltan is a school of design and visual media. The student population, like at all the institutes of higher education in Haifa, is mixed Jewish and Arab.

The graduation ceremony I attended took place on the roof of the school. It was packed. The sheer amount of creative people all together was amazing to consider and doubly so after learning that the ceremony was split in to two sections, according to what the students studied. There were simply too many students to include in a single event. When considering that this is just one of two art schools in Haifa it becomes even more remarkable.

There was an exhibition of student projects on each floor of the school. The projects are made available for public viewing so that, in addition to displaying the students' achievements for friends and family, business people can come scout out fresh talent they would like to work with.

The building itself is interesting. The funky interior design is what could be expected of any art school, anywhere in the world. It is in the basement where visitors can see the building's past – under the British Mandate it was used as a bank and it still has safe-rooms, where the money was once stored, fortified doors and all.

The ceremony was uniquely Israeli; very simply arranged and ultra-casual but it was the content that made it unlike anything you would find anywhere else in the world.

The ceremony started acknowledging students who had been killed in terror attacks over the years, people whose families donated scholarships in memory of their loved ones. These scholarships were given to exceptional students: men and women, Jews and Arabs.

First, second and third year students who were outstanding in their field of study received certificates of excellence. More than one student was honored for their kindness towards others, for going out of their way to assist people in need.

From the beginning of the ceremony a woman sat at the side of the stage, translating everything in to sign language. Who was she translating for? Simultaneous sign language translation is done for prime time news on tv but is not something one would normally see at a graduation ceremony. It wasn't long before I discovered the explanation. The student deemed the overall most outstanding in her studies also happens to be deaf. This translator had attended every class with her throughout her three years of study! Many of students, her friends, surrounded her, also speaking in sign language.

Everyone in the audience quickly learned that raising your arms and shaking your hands signifies applause which was given with great enthusiasm.
In an aside, the Master of Ceremonies, noted that this student would also be participating in the upcoming Olympics though he did not say in what capacity.

At one point a certain student was invited to the stage. I wondered how he would mount the stage as he was in a wheelchair and there were a few steps to reach the stage. Out of nowhere a few students unfolded a mobile ramp, set it in place and made sure it was safe for the young man to roll up and take center stage. To my surprise music began playing and the young man began singing.

Did you know it's possible to dance in a wheelchair?


His song was about hopes, dreams and achievement. The crowd was moved by the strength of his performance, the uplifting music (not by his handicap).

For those attending, not already familiar with the story, we were given an explanation. This young man had not been wheelchair-bound all his life. It was in 2009 that his life changed. He was one of the victims of an attack that horrified the nation: a psychopathic nut shot up a youth LGBT nightclub, murdering two and injuring others. This was one of the injured.

He will never be able to walk again but he soars on his music, proving to us all that it is possible to skip walking and move straight to flying…

As the ceremony continued, the ramp was moved aside just as swiftly as it had been put down. A representative of the bereaved families stood up to speak and present the scholarships. He spoke of his daughter who had been blown up in a suicide attack in Haifa. He spoke of her creativity and how he was happy that other students could expand on her ideas, how the students should grasp on to even the most fleeting of ideas, never dismissing them, because it is impossible to know what something that began small could eventually grow to be...

I watched as the graduating students received their certificates. Jews, Arabs, new immigrants, young and older students. People of all shapes and sizes. One mother received her diploma with a baby in her arm and her older children by her side. The ramp was again brought out to accommodate a different student in a motorized wheelchair. It seemed like he was born with cerebral palsy which weakens and can, as in his case, deform the body but does not affect the quality of the mind inside the head.

After the ceremony was over, the exhibition of student projects was officially opened. Some were not that great. Most were really interesting, thought provoking and unusual.

It was a night celebrating academic achievement, education and accomplishment.

Education is important but the real education isn't in books.

In a ceremony honoring so many talented people and so much obvious academic achievement, the real accomplishment, the real education was in being a better human being: someone who knows that value is in content of character, not the way a person looks, their background or anything else.

The real education was in the understanding that if you allow your spirit to soar and you try hard enough nothing can ever hold you back: "If you can dream it, you can make it real."

How very Israeli.




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The Arab world has an empathy problem (Forest Rain)


The Arab world has an empathy problem.
Yes. I said it.
Don't jump on me, hear me out. This is not about being derogatory to an entire culture, this is about a little discussed but very dangerous trend that is effecting the entire world.
Yes. This is a generalization. Again - this is NOT about individuals, it's about a culture.
To clarify (because many people find this confusing):
Not all Arabs are Muslim, there are Arab Christians too. In addition, not all Muslims are Arabs; for example the Muslims in Iran, Indonesia and Africa (who are converts to Islam). Arab culture stems from Islamic domination but is not consigned only to people of Muslim faith. There is an empathy problem in the Arab world. People of Arab decent raised in Western cultures will have more difficulty identifying with what I am writing. Looking to the Middle East (and ideology exported from the Middle East) things become more clear.
Empathy: the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. To be moved by the joy of another, to feel someone else's pain. A word seldom used, an idea seldom discussed... where does empathy come from? What happens when it is missing?
Nature abhors a vacuum. Where there is a lack of empathy, something else will enter the void and take its place.
In recent years it has become impossible to ignore the violence that seems to permeate the Arab world. 9/11, 7/7 and an ever increasing list of terror attacks have brought Arab violence in to focus: violence against women, animals, gays and the handicapped – violence against anyone weak. 'Honor killings,' fathers killing their own daughters, sons killing their own mothers in the name of 'honor'. Violence against Christians, Jews… Muslims killing Muslims that are not the right kind of Muslim. Muslims killing Muslims, killing their own neighbors. Trading in slaves. Terrorism: Muslim Brotherhood, Hamas, Al Qaeda, ISIS, Jabat Al Nusra, Boko Haram, Al Shabab, Hezbollah, Hizbut Tahrir… Did I miss anyone?
Even the most politically correct amongst us have difficulty explaining it away: "its workplace violence," "because poverty," "because Israel." None of these often postulated "reasons" stand up under scrutiny. Others, knowing there is no excusing the inexcusable, often go to the other extreme, saying that the solution is to ban all Arabs (i.e. all Muslims). There are those who add all kinds of unhelpful descriptions, the most popular being "monsters" and "in-human animals".
None of this does any good. In fact it is exactly the opposite: BOTH attitudes create a lot of damage. Turning a blind eye to atrocities does not make them go away. Defining people as monsters is equally damaging. Monsters can only be expected to behave in a monstrous fashion.
The true horror is that we are talking about people. It is people that are hurting other people (and animals) in atrocious, sickening ways.
The real question is: how can people commit acts of unspeakable violence and cruelty?
And the very politically incorrect but oh so crucial question: Why are atrocious acts so common in Arab society?
How could 17 year old, Muhammad Tarayra, sneak in to Hallel Yaffa Ariel's bedroom, look at the sleeping 13 year old and think it reasonable, even honorable, to slit her throat? How could his mother declare that she is proud that her son is a murderer?
How? Why?
It is not enough to say: "hatred flamed by incitement". There is something sacred about the life of a person. It takes an enormous void, a deep darkness inside to get to the point where it feels right to take the life of a child. Something is terribly wrong with the mother that rejoices in the death of her son, rejoices that he ripped away the life of someone else's child.
Neither saw Hallel as a person. To them, no life is sacred. Not hers or their own. There is no horror in slaughtering a child in her own bed. That was only a means to an end and thus both justifiable and praiseworthy.
This is not the existence of hatred for hatred burns itself out. Hatred can be transformed in to love – both are strong emotions, passions that are flipsides of the same coin. This is the lack of emotion, the inability to identify with emotions – not Hallel's, nor those of the people who loved her or even their own.
Empathy starts with small things. Early in life.
I have Arab friends (does that surprise you?). They are good, decent people. They aren't terrorist or violent, they are just normal people trying to live normal lives. With all that, it was in their home that I recognized the empathy problem.
A small incident connected the dots for me, something most people would probably overlook. It happened when they were playing with their grandson.
Their first grandson, a boy named after the grandfather, is a source of extreme pride and joy. They love the boy very much, spoil him rotten and would do practically anything for him.
I watched the grandmother take the grandson, a toddler about one year old, lift him high in the air and then roll him down her chest in a kind of summersault. The grandmother was laughing at the game she invented. The baby, frightened by the height and being turned upside-down began to cry. She knew it was just a game, nothing bad would happen so she continued – up in the air, flip upside-down, laughing while he cried.
The grandmother, did not feel the fear of her beloved grandson. A woman who would never purposely hurt this child in any way, scared him and laughed while he cried. She could not feel his pain. She had no empathy for him.
This is just a tiny incident but it is one amongst countless incidents in a life. A message from the people closest to this child, the people who will be the most influential in forming his personality.
If the people closest to him do not recognize his pain, if they laugh when he cries, what will he learn?
If, when he grows a bit older, he hurts an animal and it cries out in pain, will it be so strange for him to respond by laughing? (This too, I have seen far too many times.)
When he grows up and gets married, if he hurts his wife, emotionally or physically and she cries, how will he respond? Will it be strange if he does not see a reason to reach out in compassion?
Remember, this is a good family. A kind and decent family. What happens in families that are cruel and violent? In families that pro-actively support violent activities?
Most people are focusing on the manifestations of violence. I think we should take a good hard look at their source. Understanding the cause is the beginning of the solution.
It's all about empathy.
It begins with small incidents, very early in life. The void created by the lack of empathy is an open door, beckoning for violence to enter. The problem begins small but it is like a vacuum in space that pulls everything in to it. Light does not shine in the vacuum, everything implodes inwards.

The Arab world has an empathy problem. A big problem. And we are all suffering from the consequences.  



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Why do I love Israel? (Forest Rain)


Daphne Anson has regretfully told me that she no longer has time to write her Tuesday column for EoZ, as she has other projects. We are sorry to see her go and wish her luck.

I am pleased to say that we have another new columnist, Forest Rain, a talented young woman whose writing I have admired for several months.  - EoZ

Why do I love Israel?
By Forest Rain | Inspiration from Zion: www.forestrain.wordpress.com



On the rare occasions this question is asked, it's often answered with facts and figures.

The problem is that caring does not grow from characteristics. Israel has excellent qualities such as tolerance or being the only democracy in the Middle East however, these are not reasons that lead anyone to love Israel. Love is a result of a feeling, of connection and belonging.

As the brilliant Chloé Simone Valdary put it, we do not love our parents as a result of their “cool features” but because they are family.

This is something everyone in the pro-Israel community should consider. When was the last time you tried to explain to yourself why you love Israel? If you can't articulate your reasons, how can you possibly convince someone else to think differently about Israel?

This is why I love Israel.

I love Israel because I belong to her and she belongs to me. She is my home and my family, her people are my people.

Through Israel my existence expands outward and encompasses much more than my individual self. I am more than just me – I am my family, my friends and the strangers that live beside me. I am not limited to my individual space or time. I am the Nation of Israel living in Israel, around the world and spanning centuries. I am me and at the same time I am also my ancestors stretching out behind me and future generations stretching out before me. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Mosses, Solomon and David. Yael, Devorah, Rivkah, Sarah and Rachel. My fellowship is the strength, wisdom and belief of all these people as reflected in me. I am the bones in the ground in Jerusalem, the ashes in the concentration camps, the soldiers and the children of Israel. I am the blood soaked into each grain of dirt in this country. I am all the tears ever shed by my people. I am the centuries old longing to be free in our own land.

I love Israel because she is more than just a place; she is also an idea and I don’t know of any idea that is more beautiful. She is the origin of the morals and values the free world is founded on and in her existence, she proves that anything is possible.

I love Israel for the same reason I love “The Lord of the Rings” or “Harry Potter.” She is inspiring. Epic, sweeping stories of adventure, heroes, glory, honor, the battle between good and evil where, although tragedies occur, love always wins are not a fantasy – they are our reality.

In Israel I don’t need faith I just need to LIVE. God is in the earth I walk on, the air I breathe and the water I drink. God is the flowers, the birds and the stars. I don’t need a synagogue to commune with God. I meet with God every time I go to the supermarket or walk my dog.

And like in any family, the people of Israel often annoy each other. We fight and we bicker. Sometimes we sincerely dislike each other. And yet it is love that holds us together. No external enemy can ever bring us down (the only real danger to Israel is from within). Woe on to the enemy that rises up against Israel. Many a Nation has risen and fallen and Israel still remains…

While other nations belong to each other because they have similar traits, likes or dislikes, Israel is a nation because she is a family. The children of Israel belong to everyone in Israel. One of the more stunning examples of this was when the people of Israel collectively held their breath, waiting for Gilad Shalit on the day he was returned from the bondage of his Hamas kidnappers. An entire nation stopped for a single person. It happens over and over – every person matters, every life must be accounted for… Israelis take this for granted, it is only the reaction of foreigners that shows us how unusual this mindset is.

I love Israel because her heart is bigger than her tiny self. This nation believes in the sanctity of life and strives to protect all life: our own, that of our friends and even our enemies… Israel reaches across the world to help people in need, no matter who they are or what they believe in. All Lives Matter is not a slogan, it is a law of nature. This is why there are so many vegetarians and vegans in Israel. This is why there are so many conservationists. Animals matter, the earth matters too.

I love Israel because she is passionate. Our reality can be harsh but it is also invigorating. The contrasts here are sharper: the topography is high or low, there are hills with rivers and then there is the desert. You drive through a city, turn the corner and there is no one in sight for miles. Even the sun seems closer and larger in Israel. There are people here from everywhere in the world, all with different languages, cultures and religions. Tradition and modern life are intertwined. Everyone is passionate about something. People care, no one is apathetic. Life has meaning. You are either loved or hated. However someone feels about you they will let you know. Strangers will die for you so that you may live. Israelis don’t wait for the government or the “authorities” to save them. We save ourselves. And each other. And anyone else we can help on the way. There are so many heroes in this country people stopped counting a long time ago.

Like any home, in some places Israel is run down, dirty, broken and needs to be fixed. I love Israel for her stubbornness. No matter how big the challenge, she always tries and often succeeds beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Israel knows she isn’t perfect but she tries damn hard to get there. Our standards are high and our stubbornness keeps them steady. We aim for the stars and beat ourselves up for “only” reaching the moon. We fall, dust ourselves off and try again the next day.
Israel is inspiration. She is spirit made tangible. She is home for the Jewish people but welcoming to all friends who, through love can also become family. She exists not just for her people but for all people, proof that they too can be bigger than themselves.

Israel is my home and my family. I belong to her and she belongs to me. She has shown me what love is and that anything is possible. She makes me better than I would be without her and for that I am grateful.

Israel is more than just a place. She is an idea, a promise and proof. All anyone has to do is look.

“An age is called dark, not because the light refuses to shine but because people refuse to see.”

That is why I love Israel.

What about you?




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