Posted by Shira Cohen-Regev on October 20, 2008 under Israel history, Traveling in Israel | 
Mikve Israel was the first agricultural school and the first agricultural settlement in the land of Israel. Most of the Jewish people who lived in the land of Israel in the 19th century lived in one of four holy cities: Jerusalem, Hebron, Zephath, and Tiberias. Most of them were financially supported by the Jewish communities in the Diaspora. In 1868, a group of young Jewish people turned to “Alliance Israelite Universelle” (כי”ח: כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל חֲבֵרִים) and asked to be given the tools to learn how to cultivate the land so they can support themselves. The Alliance Society sent their secretary, Carl Netter, to check the feasibility of the request. Upon his positive recommendation and the Turkish government support, the Alliance Society was given 750 acres next the Jaffa – Jerusalem road for the purpose of an agricultural school. Netter, who became the founder of the school, envisioned making the place an educational center that would develop the country’s natural resources and renew the glory of Israeli agriculture.
The Mikve Israel (מִקְוֵה יִשְׂרָאֵל) school was established in 1870 and its name was derived from the Haftara (הַפְטָרָה) read at that week. The passage from the Book of Jeremiah (ירמיהו) refers to the Hope of Israel and couldn’t describe better the hopes that were laid upon the place.
מִקְוֵה, יִשְׂרָאֵל, מוֹשִׁיעוֹ, בְּעֵת צָרָה–לָמָּה תִהְיֶה כְּגֵר בָּאָרֶץ, וּכְאֹרֵחַ נָטָה לָלוּן. (ירמיהו י”ד, פסוק ח’)
O Thou hope of Israel, the Saviour thereof in time of trouble, why shouldest Thou be as a stranger in the land, and as a wayfaring man that turneth aside to tarry for a night? (Jeremiah 14:8)
The school became an example for teaching and instruction and laid the foundations to the agricultural and botanical research in Israel. Exotic plants were imported from various countries and grew in the school area, such as the 120-year-old Ficus Benghalensis that occupies today approximately 30 sq. meters. This tree produces prop roots which grow downwards as slender vines that become woody trunks once they reach the ground. As such, it became the symbol of the school that its students and graduates laid roots in Erets Israel and took place in building and developing the country.
In the early days of the school the language of instruction was French. After Word War I, the language changed to Hebrew. Over the years thousands of students studied there – some of them hold key positions in Israel’s diverse communities, and work in agricultural settlements, research institutions and agricultural factories.
One of the most interesting diplomatic and photographic events took place in the school exactly 110 years ago in the year 1898. Binyamin Ze’ev Herzl, the founder of the modern Zionism, met the German emperor Wilhelm II there. The emperor said: “Very hot! But this land has a future!” This diplomatic encounter was captured by Herzl consultant, Dr. Wolffsohn, but the important photograph had failed as it only picked up the emperor’s silhouette and Herzl’s left leg. Later on, Herzl was photographed in Jaffa and a photomontage was successfully created out of the blurred picture, showing Herzl, hat in hand, standing before the emperor on the black horse.
During the Sukot vacation, my family visited Mikve Israel. Although the visit should be arranged ahead of time to get appropriate guidance, it is highly recommended as a source of understanding the development of Israel.
In Israel, people find connections to almost every place and person. Few of the visitors in our guided tour were former graduates of the school and could add their own stories to the visit. That included my husband whose late grandfather was a student at Mikve Israel in the early 1900th. As an orphan from Jerusalem whose father died from Malaria while working in Kfar Saba, Arie Leon Cohen joined his older brothers in Mikve Israel. In order to enjoy hot meals and a warm bed, he concealed his real age and joined the school, learning agriculture, and especially mastering bee keeping. The family legend tells that he found a wild beehive and for a whole year he gathered honey and sold it. When he raised enough money, he bought a ticket to a ship that took him to South-Africa. Later on, his son, Benjamin Meir, returned to his original roots in Israel where he built his family, and his son Yuval is my husband.
Posted by Shira Cohen-Regev on October 2, 2008 under Jewish Holidays |
יוֹם כִּפּוּר – זִכְרוֹנוֹת יַלְדוּת
The Synagogue – בֵּית הַכְּנֶסֶת
When I grew up, my next-door neighbor was the Central Synagogue of Mount Carmel (בֵּית הַכְּנֶסֶת הַמֶּרְכָּזִי בְּהַר הַכַּרְמֶל). It gave a special atmosphere of holiness and respect, especially during Shabat and the Holidays. Although I grew up in a secular home, my mother used to bless the Shabat candles, and kiss each one of us after that with a Shabat Shalom (שַׁבַּת שָׁלוֹם) blessing. Afterwards, she would take the outdoor stairs down to bless her parents who lived on the floor below. On her way down, she would stop for a minute and look at the praying people at Shul. It was twilight time, the light was soft, and I would look at her from the window – always wondering what she was thinking about while glancing at the synagogue. I have never asked her.
Yom Kippur Eve עֶרֶב יוֹם כִּפּוּר
Yom Kippur eve was a very special time. After eating our before-the-fast meal (אֲרוּחָה מַפְסֶקֶת, ‘aruxa mafseket), my mother used to put the lid on the stove, cover it with an embroidered doily and proclaimed that this was the only time of the year that the kitchen was not in use. After the meal, there was a short interval in which we could hear the silence. The lack of cars (no cars are allowed next to synagogues during Yom Kippur in Israel, and actually almost no one drives on Yom Kippur in respect of this Holy Day), and the people walking silently to shul, wearing white clothing and rubber shoes contributed to this silence.
A few minutes later, the street became busy – busy with people walking to shul, blessing each other with “Shana Tova” (שָׁנָה טוֹבָה, Have a good year), “Tsom kal” (צוֹם קַל, Have an easy fast), and “gmar xatima tova” (גְּמַר חֲתִימָה טוֹבָה, May you be inscribed in the book of life); busy with people gathering inside the praying hall and outside, on the street; busy with children playing outside, enjoying the car-free streets to ride their bike safely and play around the synagogue.
And then, the sound of the Kol Nidrey prayer (כָּל נִדְרֵי) would come from the synagogue, officially opening the Yom Kippur prayers. “Kol nidrey” means in Aramaic “all vows” and in this prayer, we ask G-d to annul all personal vows between us and G-d.
As we lived just next to the Synagogue, friends used to come and visit. My mother, who was known for her outstanding hospitality manners, would serve nothing at that time and even the conversations seemed different at those Yom Kippur eves.
The sounds of the prayers would mix with the sounds of the playing children. Yom Kippur is known among the children of Israel as the bike holiday – all the kids make sure that their bicycles (אוֹפַנַּיִם, ofanayim) are fixed before that time, bike shops enjoy their best business of the year, as children meet together to ride all over town. Although bicycling has nothing to do with the meaning of Yom Kippur, every child associates the holiday with this two-wheel non-motorized vehicle.
Yom Kippur Day
On the day of Yom Kippur, I used to wake up from the sound of the people walking to the synagogue. The morning used to pass uneventful due to lack of official breakfast or other morning routines. My grandmother and later on my mother would go to the “Yizkor” prayer (יִזְכֹּר, remembrance). This prayer is recited by those that have lost either one or both of their parents. (There is a custom that those who do not recite the Yizkor prayers leave the synagogue until the completion of Yizkor; the symbolic reason for this is to respect the life of one’s living parents).
The rest of the day was devoted to grown-ups’ rest and children’s play. I also remember some walks I took with my mother to the Haifa Panorama talking about life, the year that had passed and the year to come. Towards the end of Yom Kippur, the men of the house went to Tfilat Ne’ila (תְּפִלַּת נְעִילָה, closing prayer) and the women of the house were beginning to prepare the breaking-the-fast meal. My grandmother used to bake (ahead of time) the best and highest yeast cake (עוּגַת שְׁמָרִים, ‘ugat shmarim) and my mother would prepare the best coffee and the best hot cocoa of the year.
When the sound of the “’avinu malkenu” (אָבִינוּ מַלְכֵּנוּ, Our Father – Our King) was heard from the synagogue, we used to sing it at home as well. There is something about this Piyut and especially its end, that always bring tears into my eyes, even now when I am writing these lines hearing “’Avinu Malkenu” on the background. It is beyond the music and beyond the words – it brings some kind of holy excitement to my soul and to many other souls in our world.
I remember hearing the Shofar blowing that concluded Yom Kippur from Shul, watching the sky and imagining how the sound of the Shofar reached the gates of heaven and how the books were being sealed there. A stream of people leaving the Synagogue and a strong smell of coffee broke my wonderings. Some friends who appreciated our proximity to the Synagogue (and hence, the short time left to break the fast) would join us to break the fast enjoying the best cake and best hot cocoa of the year.
I don’t live on the same place any longer, my grandmother is not here to bake the same cake, my mother is not here to prepare the best coffee of the year, but I try to create this atmosphere of holiness and new beginning to my children and to the generations to come.
גְּמַר חֲתִימָה טוֹבָה!
Gmar Xatima Tova!
שִׁירָה
