On Love

This place is exhausting. Absolutely exhausting.

The political situation is depressing, the government is half-the time out of its mind. And all that doesn't even begin to take into account all the other (perhaps bigger?) problems with this place: the wanton disregard for common decency in interpersonal relations, the degradation of the environment, the secular-religious divide, the utter lack of good drip-coffee.

So often I find myself wondering, "Was it worth it?" "Is this what Herzl wanted?" "So much work, for this?"

Or, worse, "Get me out of here!"

Please, let me leave. Let me have my Starbucks and Target, straight streets with traffic lights. Let me have my lines and rules, order above all.

So often I am depressed by the momentum and direction of this country, so ready to give it all up and stop worrying, to retreat back to my care-free life in Los Angeles, where I am many miles away from the poverty of Compton and the illegal immigrants of the Central Valley, so very far from Sacramento's political battles and the Death Row of San Quentin.

I want to run, to give it all up, but I can't. Something pulls me back. Despite all the pessimism and short-term depression, I cling on.

My exhaustion stems because I place on the Israeli state hopes and expectations that I would never hold for any country other than America. And, because I am so vested in the success of failure of this place, any deviation from perfection is necessarily a personal insult.

We just ended eight years of leadership by one of the more negligent, inflammatory and criminal governments in the world, I remind you. George Bush saddened me deeply. More than that, actually, he scared the hell out of me. But he made me love America - its ideals, its promise, what it is all about - no less. Rather, just the opposite. He made me care more - enough to do all the little I could to elect someone as amazing as our current President and Nobel Prize winner. He reminded me why it is that I believe in America, why I stand firm in support of the dream of one nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all.

That's what love is. And I love America.

I also love Israel.

In reality, I don't actually think that I have the right to act on my exhaustion in any way other than to stay just as engaged as I've always been, if not more. Who am I to stop loving someone because it seems to scary or difficult?

It would be easier. It would certainly be a more relaxing way of being, to just disengage. But doing so would bring into question, I think, whether I actually ever loved Israel in the first place.

Israel is a real place with real people, onto which I graft lofty hopes and expectations. I know that, some day, these can be achieved. But history is messy. And the road to that perfection is long and hard. There will be turns down roads that terrify me, just as there are new avenues of hope opened.

That is reality.

I'd love it to be different. I would love an Israel that lives up to what it is supposed to be, that is not filled with racism or xenophobia, ecological degradation or petty thievery. I would especially love an Israel living in peace, which did everything, all the time, in the interest of peace, even when that interest conflicted with other desires of the State. But that's probably not real life. It's something more akin to Disneyland. (Or, to be more on-key, Mini Israel).

I love Israel because I believe in the Jewish People. I love Israel because it does invigorate American Judaism. I love Israel because my brethren, against all odds, have been able to create a mildly-functioning commonwealth in the land of my forefathers. And I love Israel because of all the people and places here in this country that I have come to personally know and love over the years.

This place drives me crazy. Not a week goes by without me wanting to throw up my hands. Not a day goes by without a moment where I would like nothing more than to cry over a dream unfulfilled.

But potential unmet is no reason to fall out of love. Rather, it is reason to fight even harder for what can and should be.

Love is the rallying cry to lead us through these moments of exhaustion.

So I will keep on loving.

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These ideas are an amalgamation of thoughts derived from a recent conversation with a friend who, having read this op-ed, was disturbed by its resonance with him. I recommend reading that opinion piece, followed by a direct response by Rabbi Daniel Gordis, here.

Comments

[kaimanidies]

I think this article adds an interesting layer to the conversation.
http://zeek.forward.com/articles/115882/