KUMMUNIQUE

Shalom! We are proud to present another issue of Kummunique.
This issue is filled with Aliyah and Eretz Yisrael inspiration - so enjoy!

In this issue you will find:

1. "2,000-Year-Old Judean Date Seed Growing Successfully" by Ezra Halevi
2. "Aliyah: Conversations with Liel Liebovitz" from Jewlicious
3. "Hip-Hop Aliya" from Cafe Oleh

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1. "2,000-Year-Old Judean Date Seed Growing Successfully" by Ezra Halevi
From Israel National News

A 2,000 year old date seed planted last Tu B'Shvat has sprouted and is over a foot tall. Being grown at Kibbutz Ketura in the Negev, it is the oldest seed to ever produce a viable young sapling.

The Judean date seed was found, together with a large number of other seeds, during archaeological excavations carried out close to Massada near the southern end of the Dead Sea, the last Jewish stronghold following the Roman destruction of the Holy Temple. The age of the seeds was determined using carbon dating, but has a margin of error of 50 years – placing them either right before or right after the Massada revolt.

The seeds sat in storage for thirty years until Elain Solowey of the Arava Institute for Environmental Studies was asked to attempt to cultivate three of them. Solowey spoke with Israel National Radio's Yishai Fleisher and Alex Traiman about reviving the ancient date palm.

Solowey, who raised the plant, has grown over one hundred rare and almost extinct species of plants. Together with Hadassah Hospital's Natural Medicine Center, she seeks to use the plants listed in ancient remedies to seek effective uses for modern medical conditions. The Judean date has been credited with helping fight cancer, malaria and toothaches. Solowey was skeptical about the chances of success at first, but gave it a try. "I treated it in warm water and used growth hormones and an enzymatic fertilizer extracted from seaweed in order to supplement the food normally present in a seed," she said.

As this year's Tu B'Shvat (The 15th of the Jewish month of Shvat, the Jewish new year for trees) approaches, the young tree that sprouted from one of the three seeds now has five leaves (one was removed for scientific testing) and is 14 inches tall. Solowey has named it Metushelah (Methusaleh), after the 969-year-old grandfather of Noah, the oldest human being recorded in the Torah.

Solowey said that although the plant's leaves were pale at first, the young tree now looks "perfectly normal."

The Judean palms once grew throughout the Jordan Valley, from Lake Kinneret (the Sea of Galilee) to the Dead Sea. Those from Jericho, at the northern end of the Dead Sea, were of particularly notable quality. Though dates are still grown widely in the Jordan Valley, the trees come mostly from California.

The Judean date palm trees are referred to in Psalm 92 ("The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree…"). The tree was also depicted on the ancient Jewish shekel and now appears on the modern Israeli 10-shekel coin.

It is too early to tell the sex of the tree, but if it is female, it is supposed to bear fruit by 2010, after which it can be propagated to revive the Judean date palm species altogether. "It is a long road to our being able to eat the Judean date once again," Solowey said, "but there is the possibility of restoring the date to the modern world."

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2. "Aliyah: Conversations with Liel Liebovitz"
From Jewlicious

A 9th generation Israeli writing about American Immigration to Israel..from New York. Seemed a little hafuch, or upside-down to me. Nonetheless, Author and Culture Editor for the New York Jewish Week, Liel Lebovitz indulged me in several email rounds of modern talmudic debate about zionism and Judaism which all began with one simple, if lengthy interview, ostensibly about his book.

Titled Aliyah: Three Generations of American-Jewish immigration to Israel, the book asks why would american jews - not just materially successful in this country but perhaps for the first time in the two-thousand-year jewish diaspora truly socially accepted and at home - choose to leave the material comforts, safety and peace of the united states for the uncertainty and violence of israel?

I've pretty much lived this book, yet still find Liel's perspective to be an interesting one. The interview reprinted below transcends the genre, and goes to the heart of the American Jewish experience.

Laya: You're 9th generation Israel, writing a book about Aliya, yet living in New York. Do you find there to be a certain irony, or tension in that?
Do you intend to move back?

Liel: Despite being a ninth generation Israeli, it was my move to New York, I believe, that has given me the critical distance necessary to write the book. Immigration - like poverty, war or illness - is an emotionally charged experience, one that does not lend itself easily to the journalist's probing gaze. Having gone through that experience myself, albeit in the reverse direction to that taken by my subjects, I felt more at ease with, and more capable at, trying to understand them, or, as journalism professors often like putting it, getting inside their heads.
For the near future, at least, I see myself remaining in New York, in my heart there is always a lively and engaged dialogue with Israel. When I return there - and I believe it is a question of when rather than if - I would do so with the advantage of insight that only years in exile can award.

Laya: What, if anything, do you think that American immigrates specifically offer Israel or Israelis?

Liel: On the most basic level, the American olim bring with them a sense of propriety and a penchant for order that is sorely lacking in the Israeli public sphere. The idea, for example, that one must patiently wait in line when a line is formed, or show a modicum of respect for one's elders, these ideas are largely foreign to Israeli culture, where directness often slips into bluntness and from there to temerity. Second of all, the sort of methodical thinking that the American mind so excels at - analytical, strategic, computing - is an asset from which Israel stands to greatly benefit. Israel, ever since its rocky birth, has always been a nation that took pride in its capacity to improvise, a talent that had, many times in the past, saved it from utter demise. There comes a time, however, in a country's mental life, in which the sort of maturity that is associated with planning ahead, making decisions, being prepared is unavoidable. I believe that it was precisely this sort of thinking that American olim brought with them as a dowry, improving in the process everything from Israel's business landscape to its political traditions.

Laya: There is a certain amount of resentment from Israelis that is sometimes felt by American Immigrants, can you explain why or where that comes from?

Liel: Most of Israelis, I believe, are ardent Zionists, but their Zionism is not very different from the patriotism of Frenchmen, Italians or Brits, an inherent sense of pride that stems from the natural affection and dedication one feels toward one's birthplace. For American Jews who make Aliya, however, Zionism is more of a spiritual ideology, a stirring and dominant sensation. Israelis, never ones for naïve expressions of emotion, sometimes regard the unabashedly enthusiastic Zionism professed by the American olim and shudder. To them, such unmitigated ideology, expressed by a non-native - particularly a non-native who was gullible enough to leave the United States, which most Israelis still see as being not very different from Disney's Magic Kingdom - is not admirable but laughable.
The main exception, of course, is American olim who serve in the army, where all distinctions are largely erased and a uniform mentality, supremely Israeli, is instilled.

Laya: How do you define Zionism today, or what defines a Zionist?

Liel: Personally, I still define Zionism simply as the firm belief in the right of a Jewish homeland to exist in Eretz Israel (or parts of Eretz Israel), and the dedication to that homeland as a political entity. Herein, I believe, I differ from many in the religious camp, whose Zionism leads them to crave the land while taking umbrage with the state, particularly when the state does such things as withdraw from territories or negotiate with its former enemies. I believe this is a rupture that is only bound to get deeper.

Laya: While Zionism used to be seen as a movement of the working class, aligned with social justice, left wing politics and the like, it now seems to be aligned with the political right and the religious. When and why did that change take place, and why does it now seem like a contradiction to be a leftist and pro-Israel?

Liel: To paint a brief portrait, the movement can be said to have three major moments in its history. The first is its moment of birth, in the 19th Century, with numerous intertwined helixes - cultural Zionism, religious Zionism, territorial Zionism, political Zionism - coming together to form both a movement and an idea .

The second moment, of course, is the establishment of the state of Israel; with Zionism having achieved its main, if not only, goal, namely, the establishment of a Jewish homeland in Eretz Israel, the movement and the ideology alike began to flounder. What had once been a solid ideological structure was now open to questioning: How, for example, was the Israeli's patriotism, which he might define as Zionism, differs from the Frenchman's? Or how can an American Jew define him or herself as a Zionist, and still decline to fulfill Zionism age-old purpose, the immigration to Zion? And with the idea descending into doubt, the movement, too, became fractioned.

A third, equally important moment came after Israel's victory in the Six Day War, a victory that brought many Biblical sites under Jewish control, Jerusalem first and foremost. Inspired by Rav Kook Jr., a new wave of Zionism, this one religious, erupted, manifesting itself mainly by settling in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. This movement, in a sense, was the only one capable of giving a successful and coherent answer to the crisis of Zionism; spiritual yearnings and biblical undertones were always present in even the most secular streams of classic Zionist thought, and the religious Zionists could now claim a concrete goal akin to the one of the movement's original period

As a result of all of the above, the traditional, leftist adherents of Zionism became somewhat detached, while the right-wing, religious Zionists grew more adamant and more numerous. This, I believe, also explains the fact that the majority of olim in the past two decades have been religious, with many moving to settlements. This is also why some find it impossible to reconcile their leftist views with support for Israel; with Zionism no longer broad enough to contain its previous sub-ideologies, socialism first and foremost, many on the left are moved to judge Israel in the harsh, decontextualized prism of its actions, thereby judging its occupation of the West Bank, its continuing military measures against a civilian Palestinian population, and its construction and expansion of settlements in the heart of territories heavily populated by Palestinians in the harshest light.

Laya: How does the current trend of "hipster Judaism" play into this?

Liel: At the outset, I must admit to a certain bias regarding both the term and its adherents. I believe the term to be derogatory, or at least derogatorish, as it assumes that reading mishna and tosafot is Jewish whereas reading "Guilt and Pleasure" is not, or at least not as serious. I believe that just as religious Zionism provided a strong, simple, and coherent explanation at a time of doubt, questioning and paradigm shifts, so did religious Judaism give a strong, unequivocal definition of Jewish culture, a theory, I believe, that helps explain the exponential growth in both the numbers and influence of the fervently Orthodox community. In both cases, however, the religious definition is compelling but narrowly cast; it offers a world entire, but demands the adoption of a few key credos that not every Jew is comfortable with.

Therefore, I am thrilled with any serious effort to try and redefine what does Jewish culture maketh, and agree that listening to a recording by a Jewish artist could move some into conversation, contemplation, and hopefully action, much more effectively than a straightforwardly Jewish text.

In this light, I believe, Israel may very likely emerge as a major attraction for the new set of cultural seekers. I suspect that many in my generation might discover, if properly introduced, a country chockfull of cool people, terrific music, perfect weather, interesting foods and relaxed atmosphere, a country very different from either the ephemeral holy place of the right or the sinister Leviathan of the left. Under such circumstances, I can certainly imagine Aliya becoming bon ton with the so-called hipster set, with young people tuning in to Jewish culture on the Lower East Side and becoming transcontinental Kerouacs, going on the road that ends in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem.

Laya: Do you need faith, in the greater sense, to live in Israel?

Liel: I believe the answer is yes – faith is necessary. But that depends, of course, on what your definition of "faith" is. For me, the faith you need to immigrate to Israel is not the faith of the observant Jew, but the faith of the absorbing Jew, the Jew ready to absorb the country's illogical and magical and incomprehensible elements and distill them into a personal identity. Let me briefly quote from my book: "A man can give as many reasons as he wishes when asked why he emigrated from America to Israel, but the real answer simply isn't available to the cognitive faculties. It must be felt. It is sensed when one walks down the streets of Jerusalem, realizing that one's ancestors walked those same streets centuries ago. It is present when one experiences the depth of spirituality in Israel, the sort of spirituality that relies less on texts and ceremonies and prayers, and more on the air and the hills and the sea." Aliya, then, is an act of faith, but, at its core, it is faith of a different sort.

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3. "Hip-Hop Aliya" from Cafe Oleh
From Jerusalem Post

One of the first jobs that Shai Haddad landed when he came to Israel in 2001 was that of a shoe salesman at Aldo's. He left a well-paying, three-piece-suit job as a project manager for an insurance/investment company in Montreal to fulfill his dream of living in Israel. But he didn't care. He was willing to do whatever it took to live in Israel, even at the height of the intifada.

Now he's a well-known figure on the Israeli hip-hop scene, and his commercial hit "Kabel" is played regularly on Israeli airwaves and in dance clubs. He never thought that he'd make a living doing what he loves: hip-hop.

"I did whatever it took to pay the rent," says Haddad. "I started from scratch."

Well, not completely. He had already tried his hand at aliya in 1997. During that time he met the then-unknown rapper Kobi "Subliminal" Shimoni, today the prince of Israeli hip-hop. They met at a record shop, recognized their mutual love of hip-hop and became fast friends. In fact, it was Haddad who gave Shimoni his rapper name "Subliminal."

But Haddad knew that to really make it in Israel he'd have to save some money and put his undergraduate education behind him. He completed his degree in business in Montreal, worked and then decided - after a Taglit-birthright trip in 2001 - that it was time to give it all up to make aliya.

While struggling in a string of dead-end jobs in Israel, Haddad perfected his Hebrew rhyming skills and got gigs on local stations Radio Tel Aviv and Radio BU as a hip-hop DJ. He then started DJing in clubs, but a heart problem prevented him from performing on stage. About a year after Haddad arrived in Israel, Subliminal became a hip-hop phenomenon, and Shi360 became part of the elite local hip-hop clique.

Haddad's rapper name, Shi360, epitomizes the essential themes in Haddad's life and music "360" signifies the full circle he completed in leaving Israel with his family at age five and returning on his own to Israel at age 29. SHI is the acronym for Supreme Hebrew Intellect: "Hebrew" as an expression of Jewish pride and "Supreme Intellect" as a reference to smart lyrics.

"When you're battling lyrically, you have to be sharp, you have to battle your opponent," he says.

Subliminal's label, TACT, signed Haddad in 2004, and his album Chai has enjoyed relative success in hip-hop circles. The album is very revealing of Haddad's struggles and opinions.

"I'm very candid about my life, myself. I have a song where I'm very vulnerable and I talk about my experience and things I have to go through."

His lyrics are sprinkled with quotes from the Psalms, references to Judaism and unabashed mentions of God. Haddad considers himself more of a "conscious" rapper than a Zionist rapper.

The music industry in Israel, as most of the arts, is generally associated with the Left, post-Zionist camp, so it's rare to find an artist who is so proudly in tune with his Jewish identity.

"It's sad when people say Zionism is racism - especially coming from Israelis or Jews," he says. "When people asked me if I was Left or Right, I couldn't understand why it's so categorized. I don't consider myself left-wing or right-wing. I just really love Israel and don't think there's any shame in being proud of your country."

For example, when Subliminal's album came out at the height of the intifada with messages of love for his country, some reviewers called him a fascist. "It's cool to tell the army you're a psychopath [to get out of army service - a reference to rocker Aviv Geffen] and to go to India and do drugs, but it's not cool to go out against drugs and say you love Israel."

But even now that his dream is coming true, he has not forgotten his Jewish roots. His connection to his roots has contributed to the honesty of his music. He makes it a point to sing about real issues - the pitfalls and triumphs of the Jewish state such as child abuse, addiction to remote controls and government bureaucracy.

Since being signed, Haddad started his own label called EMeT - the Hebrew word for "truth" and an acronym for "art, music, and culture."

"Too many rappers in Israel try to be like Jay-Z or 50 cent. I'm trying to bring more real hip-hop to the Israel scene, to stay as truthful and honest as we can behind the mike."

And he's not about to let his marketing and business background go to waste, either. He intends to go for his MBA in a few years, once his career is more stable. Like his friend Subliminal, who recently opened a mega bar in Tel Aviv and is coming out with a new alcoholic beverage, Haddad is looking into more entrepreneurial ventures. He wants to create a local hip-hop clothing line called For Real, inspired by "truth, realness - IsReal."

For even with his moderate success on the hip-hop scene, record sales can never make ends meet, and he's still making less than he did at his executive job in Montreal.

While he's aware that making aliya is not easy, he remains committed to this country and thinks more people should be doing it.
"The more we'll be here, the stronger we'll get. I'm all for aliya - if you're ready for it; but it's not for everyone."