Taglit - A Missed Opportunity

I admit to being a little arrogant when it comes to wearing the 'mother' archetype and I am entirely comfortable adding Jewish to the equation. Never more so than when I am out in public in Israel. Somehow I feel that every child is partly mine and while I'm not one to tell other mothers to cover their babies naked heads in the cold, I have been known to pat one or two as they pass by. 

I found motherhood relatively easy. Actually that's a lie. I found motherhood excruciatingly difficult, even to this day. But it does come naturally to me. As a very young mother I was very confident. I was determined enough to breastfeed while many gave up easily, confident enough to handle my newborn without help and gutsy enough to go up against the established norms of the day declining mandatory immunization. My blood pressure was low enough for me not to be a helicopter parent and my faith high enough to trust that my kids were fine, even if the road was often and literally quite bumpy. 

Though I can only lay claim to a quarter of the accusation, my girlfriend frequently refers to me as a Polish Jewish mother. "Have you eaten, are you hungry?" I ask as I turn on the porcelain kettle and plate the banana choc-chip cake I made the night before. "I can make us some avocado toast or a feta salad?" 

Watching two young Russian mothers on the beach yesterday, I was fascinated by their lack of 'mothering' as I watched a scene unfold. One mother was texting, the other busy with an older child. Two toddlers, one bag of Bumba. You can imagine the rest. The mother on duty ignored the whole thing and seconds short of blood being drawn, I jumped up to separate them. 

Walking through the streets of Tel Aviv on Friday afternoon, I bumped into a crowd of Taglit tourists milling about outside the Carmel Shuk. I am familiar with Taglit, I know the kids do not come from typically wealthy Jewish families. I know their trip to Israel is largely sponsored. An elderly homeless man lay close to the group on the floor, his arm stretched out begging for coins, his body covered with a sheet. I suggested that each of the kids give him a few shekels. The group leader quickly reproached me telling me I did not know the private financial situation of each of these kids. True, I admit but what I did know was that it was significantly better than his. 

I walked away feeling that this Taglit guide missed an opportunity to allow her students to be 'mothered' by a complete stranger in that way that only happens in Israel. It could have been a moment, a story to tell back home about Israeli hutzpah, an opportunity for those kids to drop five shekels into the palm of a homeless man ere shabbat, and most importantly a chance to provide a meal for a member of the tribe who had no challah and chamin waiting back at the hotel for him. It was a perfect opportunity to raise the issue of compassion and joint responsibility, and for them to face the gut wrenching truth that lies before us every day in this country; that someones father, someones brother, someones grandfather, is lying on the ground with an outstretched hand begging for coins from strangers. 

Israeli's pay a high price for keeping this country safe so that American Jews can live comfortably with the knowledge that if necessary and when the time comes, they will have somewhere to run. We can't let our kids get away with turning their hundred dollar sneakers in the opposite direction and walking away from poverty in Israel, even if their trip is sponsored. I as everybody's mother won't allow it, even if it makes our young leaders a little uncomfortable.
               
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Read more blogs on Aliyah in a hilarious, touching and inspirational new book Becoming Israel - The Hysterical, Inspiring and Challenging Sides of Making Aliyah