Israel Today

Israel Today Getting Used to Not Knowing

By Rafi Sackville

Iconsider myself a law-abiding citizen. I follow the rules; I never look to break them. I was brought up in Melbourne, Australia, a law-abiding society where today its citizens have submitted, albeit begrudgingly, to the longest government Covid lockdown in the world, stringencies the likes unseen in the U.S. or Israel.

That said, the era of Covid has blurred the lines between what is and is not legal and has left most of us in a state of constant bewilderment. Covid has turned the passage of many countries’ legislative processes into a comedy of never-ending errors: democracies that once took generations to develop their legislative powers now roll out new laws ad-hoc, many of which are driven by politics and misinformation.

We had spent the summer in Far Rockaway, New York, with our children returning eight days before the start of the school year. Informed during our vacation that we’d need to go into isolation, we mentally prepared ourselves for a week of solitude, otherwise known as “climbing the walls.”

Coming back into the country gave us a taste of things to come. The arrival hall at Ben Gurion Airport was dark and unwelcoming. Today, this usually vibrant space serves as a portal to the left, where, through the doors at the hallway’s end, a hangar-like area has been tented and primed for Covid testing.

Once tested I turned to an official-looking chap standing at the taxi stand.

“What now?” I asked him.

“I’m in security,” he replied sternly in the apparent belief that he was absolved of further engagement with me.

I leaned in towards him and quipped, “Even if you don’t want to answer, it doesn’t hurt to smile.”

He tried hard but couldn’t resist a smile.

A citizen behind him said, “It’s like the game of Monopoly; by arriving from overseas you just picked up a “Go to Jail” card which sends you home for a week, or something like that.” I asked him what he meant by “something like that.”

“Just wait. You’ll see.”

His use of metaphor was rather quirky, for he then asked me if I’d ever had an eye test which makes the world look blurry. I told him I had. “Well, it’s something like that.”

Being an abiding citizen…yada, yada, we went home. While in New York, I called the rav of our shul in Ma’alot to ask him whether I should risk turning up for minyanim during the seven days of isolation. I’d turn off my phone so I couldn’t be tracked. His answer was exquisite; he told me he didn’t recommend the encouragement of moral delinquency. So I found someone to say Kaddish for me and together with my wife entered the small confines of our apartment, where we were to wait seven days before our next Covid test.

My friend Noam organized a couple of evening street minyanim for me so I could say Kaddish. The gathered men below my balcony replied amen to my Kaddish. I now know how Juliet felt while Romeo was swooned below her window.

Two days later, we got the first of two texts and emails from the Covid testing service and the Ministry of Health. The former informed us we had tested negative at the airport. The latter related that we were mandated to remain at home for fourteen days, not seven. Whaaat?! I’d been told seven days. What on earth did

this mean?

I contacted a friend who returned home a day before us. Before repeating the phrase “I don’t know,” he rattled off a list of tests one could do: “There’s an AID genomics where you get results in one day, a three-hour test, a rapid antigen test, but it isn’t recognized for the purpose of letting you out of isolation.” Then he said, “But…I dunno!” I told him that was a lot of information for “I dunno,” to which he replied that it has gotten to a point where having more information is not in and of itself meaningful because no one knows the rules anymore.

“But for sure you’re allowed out after seven days,” he assured me.

He’s right. The government has two separate websites for Covid that are regularly inconsistent with each other. Oftentimes, they’re lagging behind with updates. What that means is one has to rely either on being brazenly Israeli or on one’s own circle of acquaintances.

Did I forget to tell you that Covid inspectors are all over the place? Another friend’s son came back from overseas and was sleeping soundly the following morning. He was awoken by an inspector wielding a photo of him for identification and a warning that

he shouldn’t wander away from his home.

We waited for a knock on the door that never came. But that isn’t surprising because our family doctor informed us that they don’t do inspections on the isolated anymore.

“So I could’ve gone to shul, then?” I asked him.

“Not at all,” he said.

I listened his slightly confusing explanation and then thought to myself, “Well…now…I dunno!”

On the seventh day of our isolation, we went to be tested again. While

driving home, I told my wife that I was taking a detour to our health clinic for a booster shot. No, we were not supposed to be getting it until we’d tested negative, but I really didn’t care. Eli, the nurse at our health clinic, gave us our booster shot without any questions. He then printed out a page of answers to questions he never asked us. One question asked if I worked in education. Eli wrote, “No.” So much for 37 years a teacher.

The following morning at 10:00 I got two more text messages. The first informed me that my Covid test after isolation was negative. Anyone will tell you that means I’m allowed back out into the community. Yay for that. The second message read, “Despite testing negative, you must self-isolate for another seven days.”

I was sick and tired of asking friends or perusing websites on the matter. I left the house and went straight back to school. I wonder where Eli thinks I’m employed.

Now that I’m back to normal, you may want to ask me if in hindsight the measures I took after testing negative were correct. All I can say is…I dunno!

What that means is one has to rely either on being brazenly Israeli or on one’s own circle of acquaintances.

Rafi Sackville, formerly of Cedarhurst, teaches in Ort Maalot in Western Galil.

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The Ananei Ha-kavod – Feeling G-d’s Eternal Protection on Sukkos

By Alanna Apfel

My grandmother is often asked by her grandchildren, even as adults, “Am I your favorite? I must be your favorite”, to which she always responds, “You are my favorite! My favorite is the grandchild who I am spending time with right now!”. I cant help but feel the same way about the chagim, each yom tov that comes, I think to myself, I cant wait, this is my favorite, I am looking forward to enjoying this specific aspect of the chag. With Sukkos only a few days away, and with the blessing of celebrating Sukkos in Los Angeles each year, I really am looking forward to sitting in the sukkah next week.

Each year my father poses the question to young and old at his table, why do we sit in the Sukkah on Sukkos? And each year he begins by sharing a humorous anecdote from the Babat Shteibel where a congregant responded to this question, “Rebbem when should we sit in the Sukka if not on Sukkos?!, on Pesach?”.

This question is raised by many Meforshim, who debate if we are commemorating the succah mamash, the actual, physical tents we lived in the desert, or the Ananei ha-kavod, the Clouds of Glory, the metaphorical Sukka, through which G-d protected us during our 40 year sojourn in the desert.

The Netivot Shalom takes the question a step further, and asks why is it that we have an entire holiday commemorating the Clouds of Glory, which is one of three miracles we were blessed with in the desert, but none for the Be’er Miryam, the well, or the man, the manna that fell 6 days a week and sustained us in the desert. An explanation that resonated with me in the past, is that water and food are basic, fundamental needs. G-d took us out of Egypt and into the desert, and therefore it was a must for Him to provide a means for food and water. The Clouds of Glory, though was a true gift, demonstrating His love for us. It wasn’t something He needed to give to us. He showed us his love with the ananei hakavod, it carried the young and week, and protected us from inclement weather and our enemies.

The Netivot Shalom provides another explanation. Our holidays commemorate “inyanim nitzchiyim”, or things that are eternal, and are thus established l’dorot, for generations. The distinguishing quality between the miracle of ananei hakavod, versus the well and the manna, is that the miracle of G-d’s protection via the ananei hakavod, is eternal, while the well (water supply) and the manna (food), were miracles that were exclusively for the generation of the midbar.

This is the essence of Sukkos, “Lema’an yed’u doroteichem ki vasukkot hoshavti et Bnei Yisrael be’hotzi’i otam me’eretz Mitzrayim; ani Hashem Elokeichem”– So that your future generations will know that I made the Children of Israel dwell in booths when I took them out of the land of Egypt; I am the L-rd your G-d” (Vayikra 23:43). This is the fundamental core of our belief in G-d –that the Protector the Israel, never rests or sleeps. G-d’s Hashgacha over us is constant and perpetual.

When it asked this year, why do we sit in the Sukka on Sukkos? By sitting in the Sukka on Sukkos we are remembering and demonstrating that we know, deep within us, that G-d is our enteral Protector, not just in the Midbar when we left Egypt thousands of years ago, but also in the metaphorical Midbar, which kabbalistically represents any cochot of the sitra acha. Lema’an yed’u doroteichem - we understand that the protection of the ananei hakavod, is still with us today –in every situation, in all times, G-d watches over His people with a special Hashgacha.

Wishing you a chag kasher v’sameach.

Alanna Apfel is the founder and patient advocate at AA Insurance Advocacy, which helps therapy patients, individuals, couples, and children, save thousands of dollars annually on their out of network mental health therapy bills. In the months that AA Insurance Advocacy has been advocating on behalf of patients, clients have collected anywhere from $5,000 to $45,000 a year in reimbursements, depending on the cost and frequency of therapy. If your preferred therapist doesn’t take your health insurance, we can help negotiate with your plan to cover your out-of-pocket therapy costs. For further information, please contact aainsuranceadvocate@gmail.com.