Jewish Post, Indianapolis, Marion County, 8 January 2003 — Page 11

January 8. 2003 NAT 7 It’s Arlene Peck! Book Reviews

Men.. Jewish Men Israel up close and personal

By ARLENE PECK I'm tired of writing about political things. So, today I'm going to tell you what I've learned in the past few years about men.. Jewish men. Actu-

ally, I’ve always considered myself a connoisseur of men (until I married). Now that my children are grown and out of my daily vision, I've once again turned my thoughts to my vast discretionary of experience when it comes to the subject I know so well. Growing up in the South, it was a little, or a lot, different from what 1 discovered in the Yankee brand of Jewish men. Southern men, 1 recall, were more basic. They thought a hora was a high-priced call girl. Religion wasn't the thing it is today. At least, it wasn't in Atlanta during my early years. If they had Shabbos candles, they most likely lit them from their cigarettes while wearing belt buckles bigger than their yarmulke. It was a different time in those days. I remember some of my mother's friends who were married to their first cousins and thought nothing strange of it. Later, however, the women's revolution came in. While everyone was busy burning their bras, I was having babies. I didn't burn mine, thinking, "I'll probably need it." That was the time so many of my women friends were becoming the men they wanted to marry. Actually, I never got too much into that whole equality thing. I always felt so superior to a man; I knew when G-d created him, She looked around and said, "I can do better than this." I figured if men knew so much, then they wouldn't have been conned into 15-hour, stressed-out days. If women were running the world, as it should be, we sure as hell wouldn't be getting ourselves into these non-stop wars that these dysfunctional men seem to be so partial to. And don't doubt that for a minute. I discovered that fact years ago,

when I chaired a Jewish discussion group at the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary. For six years I went to the prison and, out of 2,800 inmates, never had more than 10

who were Jewish. 1 used to tell them they were products of mixed marriages. Over time I traveled to many of the institutions in the penal system in Georgia. For every 200 men who were in the prisons, there was maybe one woman. Why? We don't do the crazy things that men do. Since my divorce, which was eons ago, all I've had to compare (at least in the Jewish brand of maledom) are the varied ones from Israel and Southern California. And, there is even a difference between Israeli men who live there and the ones who moved away. The California brand of man is far more asexual. Truly, I think that living in an area where you're living on the edge, as they do in the Middle East, you grow up thinking more sexually. Israeli men have the attitude that they don't want to let the mood of the moment pass because who knows what might happen tomorrow. Unfortunately, the Arab culture has made contact with women such a forbidden thing, they let out their energy on little boys or strap on bombs while dreaming of the 72 virgins who are waiting in the wings. Which their women probably think is a good thing, as they treat them like farm animals anyway. Israeli men, if memory serves, grew up loving their mothers. (Italian men are no different, except they dress better. Actually, far better.) They love women, every part of them. The California brand

don't keep themselves in shape as well as their Israeli counterparts. By the time they're 50, they all seem to be walking around with what I call the watermelon belly.

Israeli men don't care about the age of a woman. They learned, probably from their fathers, that certain things get better with age, those being wine, women, and antiques, although not necessarily in that order. Whatever, I've never felt a lack of attention while traveling in other countries. Especially Israel and Italy. But I don't find too many Italian Jewish men in my circles in Marina del Rey, Ca. Unfortunately, the men of the past sometimes come back to haunt me. By that I mean, the Jewish men of my age (and you could pull my fingernails out and I wouldn't tell you) want the girls of my daughter's age. Or, even worse, out here in California, they all want the Asian women. For some reason they think that they will be subservient, unlike their first Jewish wife. Maybe they've got a point. Lately, I've been thinking of finding an Asian lesbian who will stir-fry my vegetables and rub my feet. What this obsession is with them entirely escapes me. Have any of you ever gone into one of their nail salons? Those women are brutal. Cash!! Cash!! No check!! The American Jewish men who meet me look at my energy level and back away, probably because they think I'll kill them, or at least put them in traction. And, for far too many of them, a strong woman intimidates. Maybe that's because Jewish men still put their women on pedestals Continued on page 14

If A Place Can Make You Cry. By Daniel Gordis. New York: Crown Publishers, 2002. 304 pages. $24. By MORTON I. TEICHER The title of this revealing and articulate book is drawn from a reaction to the visit to Israel by Anwar Sadat in November, 1977, an unprecedented event that raised hopes of peace between Israel and the Arabs. The prospect of an end to the killing brought tears to the eyes of the author's grandfather as they both watched this dramatic moment on television. Gordis's reaction was, "For after all, if there's a place in this world that can make you cry, isn't that where you ought to be?" His affirmative answer to that poignant and touching question is the subject of this impressive memoir. Gordis, his wife, and their three young children moved to Israel in 1998, initially for a one-year sabbatical. They decided to stay permanently, and the book forcefully describes the impact of that decision as well as its arduous consequences. In the United States, Gordis was a well-respected rabbi and academic administrator. For 15 years he lived in Los Angeles, where he was associated with the University of Judaism. He served as dean of its new theological seminary, educating students to serve as Conservative rabbis. As a break from his strenuous responsibilities, he accepted an offer to become a one-year Fellow at the Mandel Institute in Jerusalem. During that year and subsequently after the family decided to remain in Israel, Gordis sent emails to his friends and relatives in the United States. These well-written and illuminating messages have been brought together and edited to make this splendid book. Although the Gordis family has continued to thrive since their arrival in Israel in 1998, the first two years were particularly rewarding. There was relative peace in the country; they traveled throughout the land; the children made a fine adaptation, and they all became fluent Hebrew speakers. Gordis became a full-time staff member at the Mandel Institute with continuing responsibility for the Fellows who came from all over the world for a period

of independent study. He was constantly aware of the problems with the Palestinians, issues that became dominant with the start of the intifada in September, 2000. As the hope for peace fell to pieces, Gordis's messages became more anguished. With refreshing candor, he analyzes his own reactions and those of his family, reflecting the constant and heated arguments in Israel about what course should be taken by individuals and by the State. The tormented movement toward an increasingly hardline position is painstakingly documented. It is accompanied by a frank explanation of the sober determination to remain in Israel and by the fervent hope that the Gordis children will choose to stay on when they become adults. In straightforward language, Gordis has succeeded in vividly portraying the intricate and agonizing complexity of the dilemma faced by Israelis. How can they resolve the knotty conflict between their unshakable commitment to Israel's survival and their ethical concern for relieving the harsh conditions of the Palestinians? Gordis has satisfyingly personalized the dire Israeli predicament by relating it to his own family in a book that deserves the widest possible readership. Dr. Morton I. Teicher is the founding dean of the Wurzweiler School of Social Work, Yeshwa University and Dean Emeritus, School of Social Work, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

By SYBIL KAPLAN The subtitle of this book is "Dispatches from an Anxious State," and it is written as emails to Rabbi Gordis's brother and friends, telling the story of the past few years in his life and the life of his family in Israel. In 1998-99 the family went to Israel, ostensibly for a year sabbatical while he was involved as a Fellow at an institute with its professional enrichment program. During the year, his wife told him she didn't want to return to the States. Ultimately, they decided to return to California temporarily and pack up, and they returned on aliyah in 1999 with their children Talia, age Continued on page 14