NEW
Non-Profit Management Articles
Written by and about Members of The RDM Group Staff
Memory and Celebration
By Jonathan Feldstein
(May 12, 2005)
Reflections on Yom HaShoah
By Jonathan Feldstein
(May 5, 2005)
By Jonathan Feldstein
(March 1, 2005)
Bergen firm to advise Israeli non-profit groups
Bergen Record, July 30, 2004
By JENNIFER CABALLERO, STAFF WRITER
Jonathan Feldstein
Moving to Israel
By STEVE LIEBERMAN, THE JOURNAL NEWS
(Original publication: July 18, 2004)
Memory and Celebration
Jonathan Feldstein
May 11, 2005
Good morning
from Jerusalem.
It is a sad
day here, Yom Hazikaron, Memorial Day, for Israel's fallen soldiers. Since
1947, some 21,000 Israeli soldiers have been killed in defense of our country.
As on Yom Hashoah a week ago, regular TV and radio programming went silent or
was replaced by programs that are appropriate to the day. Restaurants and
entertainment closed. And a siren sounded last night marking the beginning of
Yom Hazikaron observance, which will be sound again at 11:00 AM for two minutes,
give pause during which the country will come to a stop as people reflect on
those lost.
Most Israelis
still have a personal connection to one or more fallen soldiers, and certainly
to the many thousands more terror victims since Israel's founding. Being a new
immigrant, I do not have that connection (yet), so wanted and needed to try to
put the number of dead into perspective that I could get. Israel has lost
21,000 soldiers out of a population, on the eve of Independence Day, of 6.9
million.
Proportionally, it is as if the Unites States had lost 840,000 soldiers, only in
the last 57 years. I am sure that there were not that many American soldiers
killed in the last 57 years, and possibly not in all the US history going back
to 1776 and including its Independence War, Civil War, WW I and WW II, Korea,
Vietnam, Gulf, Iraq, and other wars and conflicts. For that reason, it stands
that comparison is unfathomable.
This of
course does not diminish the loss of one soldier, but it does highlight the fact
that in less than 60 years, and even still today with 169 more soldiers killed
in the last year alone, that Israel is, and always has been, a country in a
state of war. Israel has never known a day of peace, (ironically that’s almost
21,000 days of consecutive state of war) and it is hard for Americans, or anyone
else in the world for that matter, to comprehend this.
And yet
Israel mourns its loss. We look inward. We turn to God for comfort and
understanding, and the hope that these will be the last to die, hoping that one
day there will really be peace. I am reminded of Golda Meir's famous words to
Egypt that, "we can forgive you for killing our sons but we cannot forgive you
for making our sons killers." This sums up the general tone of Israel as it
relates to war, peace and survival I think even today.
I look at my
six year old son and wonder what will be in 12 years when he puts on a green
Tzahal uniform. Feelings of pride, fear and awe fill me as we go about raising
this amazing little boy who is too innocent to know anything but peace, yet for
whom the realities and responsibilities of adulthood will likely come much
earlier than had he been raised in America. Today is a day especially on which
we hope that he and all Israeli children hereafter will have the blessing of
innocence and peace.
Making the
sorrow of Yom Hazikaron more vivid, Israel turns on a dime tonight and
celebrates Yom Haatzmaut, Independence Day, immediately the day following Yom
Hazikaron. The two days are intricately linked both on the calendar and in
meaning because without the sacrifice and sorrow of those who fell defending
this land, we would not have the joy and pride in our independence.
Yom Haatzmaut
is always celebrated on the 5th of Iyar, the day on the Jewish calendar that
corresponds to the day in May 1948 when Israel's independence was declared.
Because the 5th of Iyar falls on Shabbat this year, we observe it two days
earlier. Yet, this year, Israel's Independence Day falls out almost to the day
on the both secular and Jewish calendar.
And in a little reported news
item here, I am sure a non-news item in the US and the rest of the world,
I awoke to find the following report of how the Palestinian Authority will
observe what they call the Nakba - the catastrophe - of Israel's
establishment. As reported in the Jerusalem Post (you can read the whole
article at
How will the Palestinians mark Israel's birth. Not in reflection, not in prayer but by blaming Israel and "protesting" its establishment. It is important to note that this official protest is being run under the auspices of the Palestinian Authority, the governing and administrative body of the Palestinians. This is the same Authority with which Israel is asked - and in many cases pushed - to make sacrifices for peace.
It is true, one can only make peace with an enemy. But as long as the Palestinian leadership, and especially the official elected leadership, continues to spend more time blaming Israel for all their troubles and underscoring their status as an enemy rather than taking personal responsibility, how will it ever be possible for Israel to make peace with them, or anyone. Logic demands that on the eve of potential and unprecedented concessions from Israel that the Palestinians would get smart and work within the process rather than against it. But then again, it has always been said that the Palestinians have “never missed an opportunity to miss an opportunity.”
Even the most left of Israeli doves must pause to think that something is not right with this picture if we are making sacrifices and offering concessions, and yet the Palestinian leadership only looks to point a finger and blame rather than take responsibility and work toward a productive and peaceful future.
As we are about to pause in silent reflection on the 21,000 young Israelis sacrifices in defending this country, and on the eve of celebrating Israel's Independence as the Jewish homeland, I cannot help but feel that with neighbors like these we'll be in the same place a year from now. I am not a harsh right wing ideologue, but when it comes to Israel's safety, security and existence, news as vivid and stupid as this from the Palestinians is neither encouraging, hopeful, nor makes me think that we should continue to make sacrifices for a peace that may never come. 21,000 is enough.
For the sake of my son, all Israeli children, and even the Palestinians, let us hope that I am wrong and that Israel's 57th year will be one not of “catastrophe,” but of hope and even peace.
Jonathan Feldstein
Remembering in Jerusalem, Israel
Jonathan Feldstein
May 5, 2005
The siren just sounded for all of Israel to stop for two minutes in observation
of Yom Hashoah. I must admit that I am still choked up and with tears in my
eyes as I begin to write these thoughts. I had only been in Israel once before
on Yom Hashoah, but this is the first time living here as a citizen. The
difference is profound. It
is a solemn, shaking and powerful experience to see a whole country stop in its
place. Not only do people stop in their tracks, get out of their cars and
public busses to stand still in the middle of the road, but national television
and radio also stops. The time delay of hearing the siren live outdoors as
compared to it being broad cast on the radio also adds to the experience.
Beginning last night, the country’s media changed to Holocaust mode. Actually,
radio programs have been discussing the Holocaust, anti Semitism and
interviewing survivors for the past few days. But last night I don’t think that
a single TV station here broadcast anything other than Holocaust programming. I
never knew there were so many movies made about the Holocaust. Usually, we only
think of the famous ones; Schildler’s List and the like.
And so many documentaries with the familiar pictures of death camps, and corpses
both dead and alive.
The channels that just couldn’t provide Holocaust programming went silent.
There was no home shopping channel, no frivolous MTV music videos.
Radio programming seems to have changed entirely. The music is with themes that
are appropriate for the day.
Not only was it the first time I experienced Yom Hashoah as an Israeli citizen,
but all week I have been wondering about how my children would understand the
day. They have been learning in school at age appropriate levels about the
Holocaust all week, but there’s a big difference in their being new immigrants.
Children born in Israel grow up with the Holocaust and Yom Hashoah as part of
life from the beginning. While there is always something to learn, and I hope
that my children will always continue to do so, this first Yom Hashoah for them
must be a strange experience. As their parent, I was concerned that it should
be meaningful and not frightening. In
the US I had numerous ways to experience and participate in Yom Hashoah programs
and memorials. Some were through work, some in the community, but these were
always fit into a schedule of a hectic pace and, invariably, something would
come up that would conflict with one of these because, very simply, even in the
most dedicated Diaspora communities and organizations, Yom Hashoah is a day
on which to have a memorial and commemoration, but it is not a day like here
that is all about the Holocaust. I must admit that between work and the pace of
life there, it was always a challenge to take a moment and reflect on the
Holocaust at all in any substantial way. But the whole pace of life here makes
the subject not only pervasive, but part of life. It’s impossible to escape
this commemoration, and that’s how it should be. I
also thought that by in large the large Sephardi community here does not have a
personal connection to the Holocaust. As I stood in silence, I thought of the
people in my family who were murdered, that my father never knew any of his
grandparents, and of those lucky to leave Europe before the war, and the one
cousin who survived in hiding with his father. Most Sephardim do not have that
personal experience. Nevertheless, it is a day of national mourning and
reflection.
And for new immigrants other than those like me who came from the West where the
Holocaust was studied and commemorated, what do they think? Ethiopian Jews have
a hard enough time adjusting to life in Israel and the many challenges and
losses in their own struggle to live as Jews in Ethiopia and to make it to
Israel. How do they add to the culture of becoming an Israeli an historical
experience they had probably never known about in Ethiopia, much less one here
where it is a national experience with which they had no direct connection?
For Russian Jews who lived their lives in a society that until the 1990s overtly
denied any particular Jewish loss and surely where the Holocaust was not
unknown, is Yom Hashoah a liberating experience? Are the million Russian olim
in the last decade now able to put the pieces together from their own family
experiences with victims, survivors, and even as Soviet troops who fought the
Nazis and liberated the camps as part of their personal history? In the Soviet
Union, they were never able to be explored this as a Jewish experience, much
less was it even acknowledged by the society in which they lived. Survivors
survived, but lived by in large in silence. Now they have a voice. Living as
free Jews in Israel, all new immigrants have not just the right, but the
opportunity and obligation to observe this day as nor just Jews, but as
Israelis.
The Holocaust was a national disaster that is still incomprehensible. How could
six million Jews be systematically murdered, half of the Jewish population of
the world? We have caught up to, and maybe surpassed the total number of Jews
in the world in the last 60 years, but there are still more Jews lost through
death and intermarriage in the Diaspora than those born. It is an unsettling
statistic. What will be in 60 years from now?
Trying to grasp the number six million, for the first time I got it. It is as
if someone were to murder all the Jews of Israel. Six million of us. Nobody
would be left. Unfortunately, there are those who would do so today if given
the opportunity.
That makes today’s commemoration all the more important. And also next week
when we mourn Israel’s military deaths, something that touches all Israelis
equally and, the next day, shift our sadness to joy as we celebrate Israel’s
independence – the revival and vitality of Jewish life in the Jewish homeland.
None of these things are things to take for granted and, as you begin your day
in the Diaspora, I hope that these thoughts will add meaning, and perhaps a few
more minutes, to your observation of Yom Hashoah today.
While we all must continue to remember, let us hope that in the future, more of
our national commemorations will be those of joy than sadness.
Jonathan Feldstein
March 1, 2005
Groucho Marx’s memorable quote “I would
never join a club that would have me as a member,” resonated as I walked out of
the Jerusalem branch of Lishkat HaGe’us, the military recruitment center. After
all, the four floor climb up to the office where my military future would be
determined had left me somewhat out of breath. Somewhere between floor two and
floor three, many of the conflicted feelings I had began to be coupled with a
sense that basic training would either get me into great shape, or kill me. If
they wanted or needed someone of my age, how desperate an army this must be.
Thousands of miles away and 22 years earlier, I took a bus from New Jersey in to
New York City and made my way to the Israeli Consulate. I presented myself to a
young female clerk who processed papers for Israelis in New York, to renew
passports, issue visas and the like.
“My father was born in Israel,” I announced standing across from her at her
desk, “and I want to get Israeli citizenship.” The look on her face made it
clear that she had no idea what to do with me, or maybe she just didn’t want to
be bothered. She made some phone calls and called other colleagues over to
consult, each looking at me with a puzzled stare. There were simply no records
at the New York Consulate of my father being born in Israel.
After what seemed like an eternity sitting waiting for them to make me an
Israeli, she announced curtly, “We have no record of your father so we can't
help you.” I went home, my first attempt to become an Israeli ended in failure
and frustration.
Over the years, my desire to become Israeli never dimmed. And as my career and
family grew, so too did the distance between my dream and its realization. Then,
a year ago, I came to Israel for a week on my own. It was planned as a vacation,
just to hang out and enjoy getting away. My wife, who shared the aliyah dream,
charged me with finding a job. “OK,” I told her, “if I come back with a job we
can make aliyah,” knowing that this would never happen.
In the course of the week though, without even trying, I learned that there were
a myriad of professional opportunities for me. I did an about face and came
“home” to tell my wife that not only could we make aliyah, but that there were
so many jobs for me that we could wait and see what opportunities presented
themselves. Indeed, within weeks after telling our family, friends and
colleagues of our decision, I was getting an inquiry-a-week from a multitude of
non-profit organizations who needed a skilled fund raiser and non-profit
manager.
But what in 1982 the Israeli Consulate in New York could not -- or would not --
find, the Ministry of Interior found in short order in 2004. After my initiating
the official process of applying for Israeli citizenship, they discovered my
father’s teudat zehut (identity card) number, my grandparents’ respective teudat
zehut numbers, and their dates of aliyah in the 1930s. After waiting three more
months, I became an Israeli – passport and all – just weeks before making aliyah.
Albeit a little anticlimactic, I arrived with my family this past August.
With the status of Ezrach Oleh, (a returning citizen) even though I was not born
in Israel, I was told that my passport was valid for only one year. In the
course of that year, I needed to have the IDF to determine my draft status and,
only after doing so, would I be able to renew my passport. After seven months
from my arrival, and with no word from the IDF to recruit me, I decided to take
the initiative.
Just as when I was 18, I was ready to serve in the army. Now, although somewhat
older, my desire to serve had not diminished, in fact, I knew it would be an
important element in my klita (absorption), an essential part of becoming an
Israeli. Now, at 40, with five children and a sixth on the way, the army would
definitely be an inconvenience, but one I was prepared to deal with. I hoped
that they'd give me a job where my English and communication skills would be of
value.
Catching my breath on the 4th floor landing, I went to the room where I was told
they would help me. My own teudat zehut in hand, I entered a room with young men
and women behind a row of desks, not unlike in the Consulate 22 years earlier.
The difference was that these young men and women were all in uniform, and they
looked so young that any of them could have been my child, or so it felt.
I was directed into the private office of a man with an officer’s stripes on his
uniform. I explained why I was there, standing across his desk from him as I had
done at the Consulate. “I need to clarify my status, whether I'll be drafted or
not.” I handed him my teudat zehut. Before having the opportunity to sit for
what I was sure would be a drawn out process, he blurted out “B’gil k’zeh?” At
THIS age?!
In less than a minute he had a blank form on his desk, and was filling in my
details. Then, with a scribble of his signature and a rubber stamp or two, I was
officially released from serving in the IDF.
As I walked down the stairs and out of the building, watching other young men
and women in uniform processing other less elderly and less out of shape than I,
I realized how special these young men and women in the IDF are. Serving me,
before as an American Jew and now an Israeli, to keep the country safe and
strong. All I could think was kol hakavod to them. And then I was overcome with
sadness. Had the young woman at Consulate cared to, I could have been Israeli
long ago, would have served in the IDF and would have already been well
integrated into Israeli society. But now, I can't serve in the IDF. The IDF
won't have me, doesn't need me.
On the other hand, isn't it a good thing, a possible foreshadowing of things to
come, that maybe now, if there’s no need to draft 40-year old men, perhaps peace
is not too far off.
Maybe Groucho was right, I'd never want to join an army that would have me as a
soldier anyway. Twenty-two years later and about the same number of pounds
heavier, I'll have to learn my citizenship, and serve my country in another way.
Bergen firm to advise Israeli non-profit groups
Bergen Record, July 30, 2004
By JENNIFER CABALLERO, STAFF WRITER
Next week, Rabbi Aaron Tirschwell of Teaneck will move to Israel where he will
serve as a senior partner of the non-profit consulting firm Resource Development
& Management.
Working alongside Jonathan Feldstein of Teaneck and Bob Carroll of Bergenfield,
he will advise non-profit groups on how to rejuvenate their communal
organizations. Tirschwell offered some insight on his mission as a consultant
and what he finds to be a common problem in non-profit groups in Israel.
Q. What will your consulting firm do?
We will offer a model for these organizations in Israel that will provide
business solutions, fund-raising techniques, and board development.
Q. What made you decide to go to Israel to promote and consult non-profits?
Although it is a personal dream for me and my family to move there, we are
helping these non-profits. Many non-profits in Israel are behind five to ten
years in sophistication, and work with Jewish communities in various countries,
especially the U.S. since they have the largest Jewish community outside of
Israel. My co-workers and I will work with, or for, the non-profits to modernize
their organization and teach them the different rules and culture of the regions
[where donors live] to help them handle their work with these various nations in
a better way.
We also mediate them in long-term planning, not just short-term. They deal with
the tax laws, annuities, endowments for specific projects, etc. It may get
difficult to handle. So we work to give them the best advice and solutions.
Q. What non-profits in particular will you consult?
We work with non-profits who need the help anywhere in Israel. Currently we are
working with Nefesh B'Nefesh. They help people move to Israel and make the
transition for them as easy as possible ... finding housing, employment, and
schools for their children.
Q. What experiences do you have with non-profits?
I already have the experience of working in non-profits such as the One Family
Fund. I am executive director, and our goal is to assist Israel's victims of
terror.
My co-workers also have administrative experiences, and we know each other and
get along. It is a cherry on top of the icing taking what we know [to] work
together, and share it with the country we love.
Copyright © 2004 North Jersey Media Group Inc.
Jonathan Feldstein
"How are things at home, " David whispered.
"Things at home?" The same as always. Bombings, shootings. Exactly as it has
been every day since we were children. It never changes. Every year we come to a
crisis which is sure to wipe us out - then we go on to another crisis worse than
the last. Home is home," Ari said, “only this time there is going to be a war.”
Leon Uris wrote these words in his 1958 epic novel, “Exodus”. They capture the
essence of being a Jew in pre-state Israel. Unfortunately, they are as relevant
today as they were 60 years ago.
Hundreds of thousands of new immigrants arrived in the early years of statehood.
In the last decade, hundreds of thousands more arrived. Yet, over the years,
many Israelis couldn't make it and left. With all the difficulties today, it is
almost unimaginable that one would pick up and go to Israel, especially from the
comfort of the United States.
At about the time that Leon Uris was writing “Exodus,” my grandparents, who had
moved to Haifa from Poland in the 1930’s, were trying to figure out what to do
about making it there, and how to raise their son (my father) in safety and with
economic opportunities that they were having trouble achieving themselves. As an
adolescent, my father left Israel and came to New York. He became a proud and
successful American, but never lost his identity, or accent, as an Israeli.
Growing up, my identity had special significance as the son of an Israeli. I
always wondered what it was like for him to have been a boy growing up in Israel
before, during, and after the War of Independence. Before ever visiting Israel,
my connection to Israel was, like my DNA, a part of me. After my first trip to
Israel, a two-week family tour, I knew that I wanted to live there.
Now, five decades after my father left Israel for opportunity and prosperity in
the United States, my life comes full circle. This summer, along with my wife
and five children, I will "return" to Israel. As a soon-to-be Israeli, I feel
like I'll be picking up where my father left off. Though the Zionist dream of
building the land has a different meaning today, it is no less meaningful than
when my father left, or when his parents arrived from Poland in the early
1930's. I do not have to worry about the malaria that my grandmother once warned
me about but, as Ari Ben Canaan said so well, we can expect, “another crisis
worse than the last.” We rely on God and one another, and pray that the
blessings will be far more abundant than the challenges.
As a Jew, the ability to live in Israel and raise my children in a society in
which they can be proud Jews and to which they can contribute immeasurably as
Jews, is a privilege. Unlike my grandparents' generation and others before us,
today, the dream of Jews to return to the land is one which is as simple as
boarding a plane, and dealing with some bureaucracy along the way.
To realize this dream is in the reach of all American Jews today. Nefesh
B’Nefesh has done an extraordinary job at making the process easier, more
professional, and more inviting than it has ever been. This summer, they will
sponsor four full flights of people like us, moving to make a new life in
Israel. Their web site (www.nefeshbnefesh.org)
is a fantastic resource and is worth a visit by anyone even thinking about
aliyah, and anyone else just to know of this fantastic service to the American
Jewish community.
Nevertheless, as easy as it really is, just as my father picked up and left
family and friends behind 50 years ago, and his parents did the same in a much
more uncertain time two decades earlier, for us, leaving our family, our
friends, our home and our community is clearly the hardest part of this move.
There is a particularly unusual paradox in moving to Israel at this time in
addition to the parallels of my move with that of my father and his parents. The
United States gave my father so much. He was always a proud and grateful
American. He worked hard, started a business, paid his taxes and contributed to
this country in many ways. I find myself never more proud or grateful to be an
American than I am now. Unlike other diasporas, this is not one from which we
have to run. There are no pogroms; we can attend the finest universities, play
golf at almost any club, etc. The resources we have as a vibrant Jewish
community in Bergen county, the cooperation among Jewish organizations of all
stripes, the strength of a successful Federation and the vast number of
opportunities we have as Jews here, make it very easy and comfortable to live
here.
Nevertheless, in spite of all the prosperity and opportunities we have here, in
the true sense of the word, my aliyah will be an uplifting experience on so many
levels - not just a matter of boarding an El Al plane.
It is hard for American Jews to even consider such a move. Our families are
here, our lives are here, and our careers are here. Yet, when I went for a visit
this spring and I realized that I could find work - meaningful work that would
allow me to support my family - I knew the decision I had to make. And just as I
could find a meaningful job, anyone could. It just takes some work and
dedication. But my realization is as simple as this: There are abundant
opportunities in Israel - as a parent, as a professional, and as a Jew.
So as I prepare for this move, which is as easy as it is complex and difficult,
We will miss living in Bergen County. Life has been good to us here and we are
grateful to the many people and institutions that have made it as great as it
has been. However, since it is 2004, not 1954 or even 1934 when my father and
his parents moved from one country to the next, (leaving behind friends and
relatives they would never see again), we will be back to visit. We also hope,
expect, and look forward to a steady stream of visitors. As easy as aliyah is
today, coming to visit is that much easier. We are eager for our friends and
family to visit us, and for you to be strengthened – through our experience- by
this country that is our home, whether we choose to live there or not.
Whether it is Ari Ben Canaan saying “Home is home,” or Dorothy in the Wizard of
Oz, “There’s no place like home,” the sentiment is the same. I look forward to
my life in our new home, but will not forget my home here.
L'hitraot. Don’t be a stranger.
Moving to Israel
By STEVE LIEBERMAN, THE JOURNAL NEWS
(Original publication: July 18, 2004)
For Jonathan Feldstein and his wife, the decision to immigrate to Israel with
their five children was an easy one in the end.
Deciding to move their belongings and give up their comfortable life in the
United States for a country with a far different lifestyle and culture took time
and planning.
In their minds, their upcoming move was inevitable.
The ties binding many Jews to Israel overcome time and distance, Feldstein said.
In Feldstein's case, he is returning to his father's homeland. His father was
born in what was then Palestine in 1937 after the family escaped from Poland
during the 1930s.
"We both wanted to do this for a long time," Feldstein, 40, said of himself and
his wife, Lori, 41. "It was always a matter of when, not if, we live in Israel.
We are leaving behind friends and family and the United States, and starting all
over. That's the hard part.
"Israel was founded as a homeland for the Jewish people," Feldstein said. "I
have never been more proud to be an American than today. Israel is part of my
heritage and upbringing. I can have the best of both."
Feldstein, campaign director for the Rockland Jewish Federation for 5 1/2 years,
and his family will leave Aug. 3. He has visited Israel 20 times, as an
individual and as part of organizations promoting the Jewish state.
The Feldsteins are among the 1,553 North American Jews, including other people
with family and ties in Rockland and Westchester counties, immigrating this
summer to Israel through Nefesh B'Nefesh, which means "Jewish Souls United."
With immigration to Israel declining in recent years, the nonprofit Nefesh
B'Nefesh works with Israel's Jewish Agency to bring Jews worldwide to Israel.
Immigration has dropped to below 25,000 last year, the lowest total in nearly 20
years, the organization said.
Most of Israel's immigrants in recent years have come from Ethiopia, the former
Soviet Union, South America and Yemen. Jews have been immigrating to the land
that is now Israel since the mid-1870s, two decades before Theodore Herzl wrote
about creating a modern Jewish state and became the father of the modern Zionist
movement.
In 2002, its first year, the Long Island-based Nefesh B'Nefesh sent about 500
North Americans to Israel, with more than 1,000 going last year, said Charley
Levine, an organization spokesman. Levine immigrated to Israel from the United
States about 25 years ago from San Antonio.
The organization was started by Rabbi Joshua Fass on Long Island after one of
his cousins was murdered in Israel by what Levine called a terrorist attack.
"The organization was created to help people immigrate and live in Israel," he
said. "Immigration has been down. Usually, you have Jews coming from lands of
oppression. In this case, people are making a free choice from a free country."
Part of what Nefesh B'Nefesh does is cut through the Israeli bureaucracy to help
people become citizens and provide financial assistance for those who need it,
he said. People sign the paperwork on the flight to Israel and are citizens when
they step off the plane, Levine said.
The organization also helps many families and individuals find housing,
employment and schools for their children.
The emigres say Israel's troubled economy and continuing violence hasn't
discouraged them from becoming citizens.
Rabbi Aaron Tirschwell said he is less concerned about the violence than moving
his family into a different culture. He and his wife, Marci, 35, both raised in
Rockland County, are leaving Aug. 3 with their two children.
"We're moving to a country with a radically different language and culture,"
Tirschwell said. "The United States has been a great country to the Jewish
people. As Jews, the state of Israel is our homeland, and it's sacrifice that we
believe in. This is a place we can call home."
Tirschwell plans to run a consulting firm for nonprofit groups in Israel.
Feldstein will work for the company.
Before deciding to immigrate, Marci Tirschwell went on a fact-finding tour,
looking at several communities in Israel and schools for their children, ages 7
1/2 and 4.
The Tirschwells and Feldsteins will live in apartments in Efrat, a 20-year-old
city located between Jerusalem and Hebron. Both families now own homes in
Teaneck, N.J.
Tirschwell and Feldstein said they were not worried about the violence in
Israel, noting the Israelis know how to deal with attacks from militants.
"If Sept. 11 taught us anything it's that there's no place on Earth that is
relatively safe or unsafe," Tirschwell said.
Levine, the spokesman for Nefesh B'Nefesh, said most of the North Americans will
settle in established communities like Efrat and Beit Shemesh, which is 20 miles
outside of Jerusalem, the capital of Israel and Judaism's holiest city.
He said a handful chose to live in Jewish settlements on disputed land in the
West Bank. Many of those settlements are subject to being dismantled under any
negotiations with the Palestinians, he said.
Levine said the North American emigrants this year come from 33 American states
and four provinces in Canada.
This year's first plane filled with 400 immigrants landed in Israel on an El Al
flight on Wednesday, after leaving John F. Kennedy International Airport. They
were greeted at Ben-Gurion International Airport by Prime Minister Ariel Sharon.
Feige Moshel, 23, a Queens College graduate, said the scene at JFK was both
exhausting and exciting as she and others waited for their flight.
Moshel, who had spent a year in Israel after graduating high school, plans to
share an apartment in Jerusalem with two roommates. She has lived near some of
the areas in Jerusalem where suicide bombers have struck.
She said she was not concerned.
"I felt a love and a belonging in Israel," she said by telephone amid the
commotion at the Queens airport. "I felt safe, and I felt like I was home."
Reach Steve Lieberman at slieberm@thejournalnews.com or at 845-578-2443.
