by Teddy Weinberger

Special to DJW

Now that I am no longer a new immigrant (that period lasts for about three years), I have emerged to become a plain old immigrant. My accented Hebrew will always give me away as a person who was born in America and whose experience of Israeli culture is therefore limited (since it began in adulthood). I feel perfectly at home here, though. I even have several good Israeli friends, people who have gotten 'way past my accent.

As opposed to me, four of my five children could now be mistaken for native-born Israelis, and I imagine that in a few years, even my oldest child Nathan (aged 14) will sound native-born. I have not yet sorted out the full implication of my children's transformation, but it is quite clear to me that they now have the following identity: Israeli children of American immigrants.

After five years here, I think I can pinpoint the trade-off that an American Jew makes with aliyah: giving up a sane system of government in exchange for Jewish social self-respect. Before aliyah, I knew that the Israeli system of government was different from America's, but I wasn't aware of the negative implications of this difference.

After five years here, I think I can pinpoint the trade-off that an American Jew makes with aliyah: giving up a sane system of government in exchange for Jewish social self-respect. Before aliyah, I knew that the Israeli system of government was different from America's, but I wasn't aware of the negative implications of this difference.

The average Israeli citizen feels a complete disconnect with Knesset members - even with the Knesset members of the party for whom he or she voted. This is because you vote here for a party and not technically for Knesset members. Only a minority of citizens are actual members of any political party, and only a minority of this minority is sufficiently active in party politics to feel like they have a personal say in legislation and governmental policy (in the States, by contrast, every citizen is led to believe that they can personally influence government through their three members of Congress).

A few months ago, I had occasion to write to Avraham Burg, Speaker of the Knesset. I sent letters both to the Knesset and to Nataf, the small town where Speaker Burg lives. I received no response whatsoever. Can you imagine writing your Congressman and not getting at least a form letter back in return? Perhaps it's understandable, then, why Israeli citizens often resort to public, semi-hysterical protests: only by such clamoring, it seems, can groups of average citizens be heard. As a result of all of this, I am unhappy here with much of governmental legislation and policy, such as in the environmental area, in transportation, and in religion/state issues.

Despite the limitations of Israeli government, it's very clear to Sarah and me that aliyah was an excellent move for us. This is because we both have strong Jewish identities, and Israel is the only place in the world where the Jew is not the Other. Though Jews are completely accepted in the States, even in the States to be Jewish is to be Other, different. Not to celebrate Christmas is to be Other. To have your New Year in September is to be Other. To keep kosher is to be Other (it's true that many Israelis don't keep kosher, but keeping kosher doesn't remove you from society at large the way it does in the States).

The puzzle for us is why, from among those Jews in the US for whom keeping kosher and observing Rosh Hashanah is of primary importance in their lives, the aliyah rate is so low. I would think that much more of these people would sense a disconnect between being a traditional Jew and living in America - especially now that the move to Israel by well-educated young people requires hardly any creature-comfort sacrifice (and as a bonus, just this summer a program was instituted in which American families who make aliyah receive grants of up to $25,000). Our aliyah has been so successful, our acculturation so unproblematic (let alone untraumatic) that for us, whenever we are asked why we made aliyah, part of our response is to say: the question is not why we immigrated, but why so many of our religious peers elect to stay behind.