Shalom All,

Eshbal and Ravid are two small - very small and very young - Kibbutzim in the Galilee. The members are all young adults, around the ages of 26-32, who have decided to express HAGSHAMA - self-fulfillment - by combining 3 major paths: living in Israel's periphery - namely, the Galilee; living a life of SHITUF - partnership with others in the Kibbutz; and dedicating their professional lives to Zionist education: the members are professional educators who work with schools, give seminars, summer camps, have established a boarding house for high school Ethiopian Olim at risk, and more. On the hilltops of the Galilee, I went to see and learn what they created.

Walking into Eshbal, I was greeted by a roaring group of teens, happy campers that took a break from their summer studies to have some fun in the blazing sun. Bar, who came with me, was immediately "vacuumed" into the activities.
Life isn't easy in these places. The rock-filled hills, where water is scarce and large towns are situated at a distance, are also surrounded by Arab villages. The center of the Galilee is only 20% Jewish, and this coming school year, for the first time since the establishment of the State of Israel, we have lost the Jewish majority in the educational system in the Galilee: 10 Jewish schools have closed while 7 new Arab schools have been established. The members of Eshbal have created a dual relationship with their Arab neighbors: they work with them, talking about living together, partnership, leading meaningful encounters between Jews and Arabs on one hand, while defending themselves and their Kibbutz from hostilities, such as arson, robberies and more, inflicted upon them from the very same neighbors. "We talk about the fact that we are all here to stay, and that we have as much a right to live here in the Galilee as anyone else." they told me "This is our home, it's part of Israel - and it's not up for negotiation."
The houses they live in (houses? Caravans is more like it) are very modest, with only the very basic necessities of life. I noticed a few small buildings on the other side of the hill. "These buildings?" They said when I asked what they are used for, "We used to live in them, but we moved to the caravans so we could establish the boarding house in the buildings." The first group of Ethiopians has graduated this year, and Eshbal members were very proud to tell us that they are all being drafted into the army. The spark in their eyes and the pride they felt was earned with hard work: these kids, dropouts that no one else in our society has agreed to work with, came to Eshbal and with the personal care of the Kibbutz members received the two major aspects that every Israeli youth needs to integrate into our society: a high school diploma and army service. In their own modest, hard-working dedicated way, the members of Eshbal are literally changing lives.

Bar came back sweating, his mouth filled with candy and happy as a lark. We continued to Ravid, where the same story of dedicated giving as a way of life repeated itself. "Mom, did you see the view? I can see the kinneret!" Bar exclaimed and ran off with another group of campers. Small poetry books and educational materials filled the shelves of the small community center. I noticed one of the MADRICHIM sitting on the grass with Bar and talking to him about the stories of land. They looked so at home, so much part of the scenery that I was surprised when one of the members told me that most of them had come from Israel's center. "We felt that we would find our destiny in building our own land, fulfilling the lesson of giving in our own home, instead of running around the globe and looking for it elsewhere" he explained "This is where we have decided to build our lives - and, while we're at it, build part of Israel as well." I admit I was speechless. I remembered my grandmother's stories of the old days, almost 120 years ago, when the first Zionists came to Israel (and my family with them) and met all the hardships - same kind of hardships - and met them headfast and stubbornly. Their stubbornness is the reason I am here. I couldn't stop the humming in my mind: one of Naomi Shemer's songs clang to me and refused to leave - "In the settlement", a song she wrote many years ago about building the State of Israel. I kept going back to one of the verses:

"Many beautiful things my eyes met there,
many beautiful things that made me
want to hug everyone
to whisper to the embarrassed faces:
oh, please offer the warmth of hospitality in the desert"

I have news for all the skeptics: Zionism is alive and well and it's living in Israel. I met it. I smelled it. I tasted its difficult, promising future. I am proud to be part of it. And I was grateful that Bar was there to meet it with me: its continuity is up to him and his generation. I hope we teach them well - I know that, with people like those I met in Eshbal and Ravid, we have a better chance of doing so.

Shabbat Shalom,
Liat