Bar Mitzvah Celebration

My “Bar Mitzvah” Celebration

By Paula R. Stern
August 17, 2006

A boy celebrates the completion of his 13^th year of life with the knowledge that he has passed a major milestone. No longer a boy, he stands on the first day of his tomorrows with all the responsibilities and realities before him. Today, though neither boy nor man, I celebrate a milestone of my own. Thirteen years ago on this day, I boarded a plane to start my life as a citizen in Israel. My young sons slept on the plane, unaware of all that would come before them and to some extent, oblivious to what they were leaving behind.

I awoke at dawn today to take part in the final leg of Operation Northern Points, an ambitious plan to help supply much needed personal items to soldiers on the battlefields of Lebanon. Made possible by a generous donation of the Moskowitz family from the US, my synagogue (www.nachalatyehuda.com) has been organizing these trips for some time now.

Others drove north despite katyusha attacks, because the need was there. Today, was a more sedate trip, though the helmet on the floor reminded me that there had once been danger involved. My friend and I drove early in the morning, hurrying to meet a fresh group of soldiers that were heading off to Lebanon. We took with us a huge supply of soaps, shampoos, underwear, socks, and snacks.

We left behind the question of why the government had failed to provide these necessities. These are questions for tomorrow. Today, we simply decided to enjoy the quiet we believe precedes the next storm, the fact that we could drive up there without terrifying our spouses and friends, and with the renewed joy of seeing the beauty of northern Israel up close.

We stopped briefly at a store in the north to buy candies and more snacks. The manager of the store came over and helped us select merchandise. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll give you a discount.” For a man who had lost a season’s worth of tourism, his 20% discount was an amazing gesture of generosity, faith in the future, and love for our soldiers.

A woman stopped to ask what we were doing. How often do people buy 300+ chocolate bars and cases of snacks? We told her it was for the soldiers and she quickly pushed 50 shekels into my hands. No, she insisted a few minutes later. “Give me back the 50 shekels,” she said to me, and turned to the cashier and insisted that he bill her credit card directly for 200 shekels. “I don’t have more cash,” she explained to me, “or I’d give you all the money.” What amazing people we have in this country, I thought to myself.

We greeted the soldiers, who thanked us for the supplies, for the candy, for the thoughts. They posed for pictures next to the van and smiled when they were handed some coke and some chocolates. “How long have you been up here?” we asked them. “Since two days before the kidnappings,” they answered. All things in the north are still connected to the war, and all things in the war still connected to the kidnappings. They are not forgotten; they will not be forgotten.

Having delivered our supplies, I drove over the winding roads to the northern most border, hovering on the mountain above Kiryat Shemona and thought of the missiles that had fallen only days ago. I saw the blackened forests, where katyushas destroyed trees planted generations ago. And I sat in a still sparsely crowded restaurant and felt the need to tip outrageously.

Further south, through the Jordan Valley, with my mind still on the soldiers, the packages, the operation, and the long road back to normal, my friend made a note of the date, August 17. My bar mitzvah…the completion of my thirteenth year in Israel and I spent the day delivering supplies to Israeli soldiers and driving many hours on Israeli roads, appreciating the incredible, unique beauty of the land. From the northern points to the golden beauty of Jerusalem, I am amazed by the land and the people. I stand in awe of the generosity of the grocer, the charity of the woman in the store. I am inspired by the brave and selfless acts of my friends who drove into a war zone when others were fleeing, in order to deliver supplies to our soldiers, and I am astounded at how quickly I have reached this moment.

Today, I have passed a milestone, ready to face the realities and responsibilities of the home I have chosen, knowing that in the next few months, one of those little boys I brought to Israel will join the army.