Lew Shaw’s Blog from Haifa

I was a young bank clerk in Jerusalem in 1972 when the country heard the news from Munich.  Israeli athletes at the Olympics were taken hostage by members of the Black Sabbath Palestinian terrorist group.  During a botched rescue attempt by German commandos, many were killed.  Israel was stunned and began a period of national mourning.  I had never experienced anything like it, as if the world stood still in shock.

That event seemed so recent as I followed the fate of the hostages in Mumbai over the past few days.  Local news sources gave details of the young Israeli-American Lubbavitche rabbi and his wife who were among the hostages at the local Chabbad center.  Indian officials refused rescue aid from the Israeli government (I expect much flack about that over the next few days, aimed at defense minister, Ehud Barak).  And finally Friday afternoon I read the confirmation that Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg and six others were dead after an Indian commando rescue attempt.  I expect a similar period of national mourning and soul-searching will take place over the next few days. 

I enjoyed a wonderful American-Israeli Thanksgiving dinner at Alonei Abba, hosted by Ron and Abbie Rosner, brother and sister-in-law of my friend Hanna.  Hanna, a 60-year old sculptor and world traveler, had just last month returned from three months in India.  As we raised a glass and gave thanks for so much, we prayed for the fate of those caught up in the on-going terrorist action in Mumbai, apparently aimed at the usual enemies of Muslim extremists – Americans, Jews, Israelis.  Hanna spoke fondly about the work that Chabbad does throughout Asia, unpretentiously tending to the souls and needs of Israeli and other Jewish travelers and local Jewish communities.

It’s been a few busy weeks since my last posting, so I’ll just give a brief update:

As the television broadcast of the Yitzhak Rabin Memorial Ceremony concluded, my dear friends Rob and Joanne (along with their friends, Myer and Linda) arrived from Boston, their first visit to Israel.  The trip was only to be a week, and I had made plans to pack in as much as possible.  So the itinerary incuded a day of touring Haifa, including a private tour of the Bahai Gardens.  Then off we went for three days in Jerusalem with a side-trip to the Dead Sea.  We stayed at a great little hotel in the Moshava Germanit, walked through Mea Shearim and downtowm West Jerusalem.  Then the next day we got up early and headed for the Old City.  With the exception of not timing the Temple Mount correctly, they got to see and experience the intensity of what goes on (and went on 2000+ years ago) within those walls.  Rob was able to recite Kaddish at the Wall for his mother who had recently passed away.  Linda was able to walk the 12 stations of the cross along Via Delorosa.  Our trip to the Dead Sea included visiting the Ahava factory outlet (too many Russian and Polish tourists!), a short hike to the waterfalls of Ein Gedi, a “float” in the Dead Sea, and a ride in the new cable car up to Masada.  We also spent an afternoon and evening in Tel Aviv, including getting stuck in an elevator!  I think my four guests had a great, intense experience and I could easily find a new career as a tour guide.

I have been able to reconnect with an old family friend, Hanna Levav.  Hanna lives at Alonei Abba, is a cermanics artist, and was my children’s first nursery school teacher.  I was invited to Shabbat dinner at her brother, Ron, and sister-in-law, Abbie’s, home there.  I am now looking forward to a sumptuous Thanksgiving dinner with them in a couple of days!  It has been great to reconnect with Hanna.  She reminded me that at the outbreak of the October, 1973, War, she was visiting my parents in New Hampshire.  While she worried about the fate of her country and everyone she loved, my parents were worrying about me, who, unkown to them, was headed for the front lines in the Sinai. 

Last week I finally started teaching at the University of Haifa.  It was not much different than teaching an MBA class at Suffolk, similar classroom, course material, and even students.  I have 36 Israeli students (a couple of whom are Arab), whining about the amount of work expected and not sure why what I have to teach them has any relevance to the real world.  Give me a couple of weeks to hammer that point into them!

When I was visiting my daughter and family at Squam Lake in New Hampshire last August, at my son-in -law’s family annual retreat, I casually invited anyone to come and visit me in Haifa.  Well, Saturday night (with advanced notice) my son-in-law’s brother Ben arrived for a two-week visit.  He lives in Brussels, has travelled extensively globally, and is a very easy guest to host.  It is interesting to observe the impressions of someone with no connection to Israel as he learns about Israeli history, politics, culture, and Judaism and Zionism.  Hopefully I can scientifically measure shifts after two weeks.  He is actually leaving tomorrow for a side trip to Amman, Jordan, then returning via Petra, Jerusalem, and Ramallah (where an old friend from Washington has been living for many years).  He has no idea what is in store for him!

And as a final note, I had a meeting with the dean of the business school at the Technion last week.  Tentatively I have been invited to teach an MBA course there during their summer session (mid-May through early July) which will turn into an annual visiting position.  My roots are spreading, or are they just being rejuvenated.

This evening I’ve been watching on television the ceremony in Kikar Rabin in Tel Aviv commemorating the assasination of Yitzhak Rabin by a Jewish fanatic.  The square is packed with people, mostly young and all hopeful for peace.  There are the usual, but very moving, speeches by all the politicos – Ehud Barak, Tzipi Livni, etc.  There is also some beautiful Israeli music, songs of hope for peace.  One song, sung beautifully by a chorus of young people, is entitled “We are the Children of the Winter of ‘73″.  It’s the story of the hopeful generation born right after the Yom Kippur war when the soldiers returned from battle.  It’s a generation who has seen signs of hope – peace with Jordan and Egypt, the Oslo accords and other initiatives – but also has seen suicide terrorists, more fighting, illegal settlements in the West Bank.  And it hit me for the first time that my daughter Jenny (named Ginat Egoz) is one of those children, born in the fall of 1974.