Shalom all,

How do we see? Let us count the ways...

Israel is as beautiful and troubled as ever. The malls are full, the
restaurants are crowded. I was busy buying a book at my favorite bookstore.
As I received the few coins of change, my eyes fell on a small Tzedaka box
placed on the counter, a box of a well-known Israeli organization that feeds
the hungry. It has been there for years. For some reason, yesterday was the
first time I noticed it, and my coins dropped happily in. They didn't have a
long way to fall: the box was almost full.

I am so used to the concept of "the Israeli Hutzpa and aggressiveness", that
I am almost surprised each time someone gives me the right of way on the
road, or when a stranger smiles and says "Shalom!", or when the waitress and
servers at the shops are just plain nice. And they are. Very. With all our
Hutzpa and rudeness, with all the tension and difficulties we have, we don't
always see the simple, outgoing warmth that surrounds us. I suddenly caught
myself actually thinking: "Hey, we're not that bad"...I am suddenly seeing
things I missed before.

I was driving home in the middle of the night, listening to a talk show on
the radio. It helped me stay awake. A young blind woman was describing how,
when she was a 7-year-old child, a medical student volunteered to be her
"big brother". She went on and on about this young student who found the
time to listen to her, to write down things she told him, to teach her and
be there for her even with his very busy schedule. He was her guardian angel
for a whole year. She is now a grown woman and has long lost contact with
him, but as she was speaking he called the radio. Of course the emotions
were very condensed, and I am certain that everyone was crying of joy with
them, as was I. But the most meaningful moments, the part that grabbed my
attention most, were all the moments she spoke about how he had taught her
to see. She knows what a flower looks like. He taught her the sight of
cotton at the end of summer, he showed her the fields, bugs and plants. He
showed her beauty.

This week, being here in Israel reminded me of a very important lesson, a
lesson we have learned long ago from Antoine de Saint-Exupery and sometimes
tend to forget. If I have learned anything this past week, I have re-learned
this one important lesson:

We do not see with our eyes.
Not even with our heads.
We see with our hearts.

It's the only way we can look at Israel and understand what she really
means.

I always try to use my heart to look at my Homeland. It doesn't mean I don't
use my eyes and my head to think of it, to argue, to criticize, to make
decisions. But at the end of the day, when the bottom line is needed - I use
my heart to see it, because only the heart brings the love and compassion
that is necessary to survive and thrive in this corner of the world against
all odds. And I hope that maybe, in my own "Helkat Elohim Ktana" - the small
piece of the world that the Lord has given me - it will enable me to help
make it a little better.

Shabbat Shalom,
Liat