One of my first recollections championing the cause of Jewish unity came my way as a fifteen year old in my Jewish High School in London. It was a Religious Studies class and the Rabbi was warning us about other students (not in the class) who were not as religious and therefore a negative influence.
After a while, I just couldn’t listen any more – I stood up and I found my calling. I challenged the Rabbi for speaking ill of his fellow brothers and for not seeing any of their good traits. This was not Judaism, I argued.
When I came on Aliyah six years later, in ’82, I was still on the Unity trail. I worked at the Jewish Agency as a part time tour guide and one of my groups was a “gar’in” (small collection of potential immigrants seeking to establish a community together) looking for a place to call their own. They visited 15 different communities with me as their guide, and we stayed for Shabbat in Tekoa. It was my first time here.
We had a Shabbat meal with the Rabbi at the time, Rabbi Fruman, of blessed memory. He was a very special man. He knew the subject of unity better than anyone I had ever met. Rabbi Fruman spoke about how we can and should and MUST live together for the sake of creating that special energy and spirituality that only comes about when there is a fabric of unity… when there is giving and taking, learning, and the excitement of being challenged. He spoke about not living in a grey humdrum way but rather stressing the value of always being on your toes and being able to interact with the other colors and differences there are in Am Yisrael. Have them in your home, he said. In your school, in your neighborhood, in your life.
Although the group I was guiding was not receptive to his message, I was.
I was hooked.
I decided then and there that when I found the love of my life, I’d move to Tekoa. That was in ’84. I met Yardena in ’85 and we moved here in ’86.
We didn’t have a phone. Lived in a makeshift, trailer-like home. There were nonstop power cuts and we often found ourselves in the dark and in the cold. We were family #50 in Tekoa.
The community was colorful and mixed like a rich salad, including the spectrum of outlooks and backgrounds. Ashkenazim, Sephardim and Chassidim. Academics, Rabbis and farmers. There was debate and arguments late into the night as the parents from these different families forged ahead to create educational frameworks for all their children.
The Unity trail was becoming exciting.
Thirty years later, the ‘unity experiment’ of Tekoa is blossoming.
In those early years, we could barely fill the minimum required quota for a class. Today, our community is fast approaching 1,000 families and the school is bursting at the seams. Our children grew up together, without judgment, without looking down on others.
The language of labels – putting people and communities in boxes is quite foreign to Tekoa.
Categories start with the mindset of division and continue with the language of labels. We didn’t want to import either into Tekoa. We reject the compartmentalization of Jews and live the dream of the collective community of Israel. Labels can be derogatory and hurtful – I can’t stand them. The minute these labels leave your lips – you’re culpable and part of the problem.
In Am Yisrael, we are fighting upstream to keep unity ideals alive. It’s not merely pluralism. Pluralism is about live and let live – you do your thing and I do mine. Instead, I’m into SYNERGY – working together and creating something new from it. I want to meet you, to connect with you, to learn from you. Tolerance is good, but synergy is great. We strive for that harmony here: making people feel at peace without having to judge others. There is no “more good” or “less good” or “more Jewish” or “less Jewish”.
Although there have been a lot of changes over the years, the underlying ideology – just like the roots of a tree, which you don’t see – they remain. The beginning of something – it sets a certain direction – the first people here were seeds of unity.
Tekoa offers a message to the nation. In Biblical times, the Shofar was sounded to warn nearby Jerusalem of the enemy approaching. Today, we again blow the “shofar” – broadcasting a message of unity to the nation and warning against internal hatred.
We have fertile soil to underwrite this movement. Our soil, the roots and fabric of our community, is that we believe in the potential of living, working, and struggling together in this vision. We believe that we, as a nation, can do better.
The lessons of Sefer Bereshit are about brothers living together as one – even with all the ups and downs, we have yet to learn how to do that in Israel! How can we get anywhere near our potential as a nation when we don’t know the basics of living together as brothers?
The Unity trail requires all our efforts.
The vision of a mixed and united community is to open your heart and mind to the other because he is an EQUAL. You cannot blot out someone from your nation. You cannot discount anybody – you must grapple with him, come to terms with him.
What Rabbi Fruman taught me was when as seed is planted in the ground, it BREAKS the ground. With separation comes a new plant. First, there must be a break, a conflict that separates in order to make room for something new. Otherwise, nothing new will come about. This is what we’re doing.
For example, every Shabbat, we host a mifgash Shabbat for children here at the Beit Yachad (our Unity Center). Over 120 children attend from all the various backgrounds. Parents – some who are regular shul goers and others who aren’t, come together with their children. We sing songs, we read the Torah and then act it out. The children LOVE it! For us, Torah is a UNITING factor, not a DIVIDING factor, and that’s significant.
I wouldn’t exactly call us a success. We haven’t arrived somewhere. We are not at a destination. There is great potential. We move forward. Together, we learn from each mistake, build alliances and make breakthroughs.