Nativ in the Negev
About half an hour south of Be’er Sheva and a half-hour north of Ben Gurion’s beloved Sde Boker lies a small desert oasis called Yerucham.
Blink and you might miss it, but believe it or not, this tiny Negev community is not an elaborate desert mirage. The town, which has a population of approximately 9,000, most of them Russian and Moroccan immigrants, is one of the most intriguing spots in the Negev. According to Bedouin legend, it is also home to the “well of pity” where God showed pity on Hagar and her son Ishmael, as described in the book of Genesis. (“Yerucham” is based on the Hebrew word for pity.)
Located on the edge of the Machtesh HaGadol, the giant crater, Yerucham was established by the Jewish Agency in 1951 as little more than a transition camp for new immigrants. It was officially recognized by the Israeli government in 1953 and became a fullfledged municipality in 1959. When immigrants from Europe and refugees from the DP camps first arrived on Israeli shores in the early 1950s and requested to be taken to Tel Aviv, many were brought instead to this desolate village. Consequently, many of them decided to settle here.
Yerucham is the physical manifestation of the popular expression “ingathering of the exiles.” Its population comes from all corners of the Jewish world, including not only Morocco and Russia but also India and even the United States. Despite experiencing an abundance of social, political and economic struggles since its founding – and as a result garnering a reputation as an undesirable place to live – the town has endured for 56 years, defying the odds.
This year, for the first year in its own 26-year history, Nativ, United Synagogue’s post-high school year-long program in Israel, decided to send a group of its participants to volunteer in Yerucham.
From September to January, as they have done every year, all the Nativ participants – a record-breaking 84 – lived together in Jerusalem at the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism’s Fuchsberg Jerusalem Center. This segment focused primarily on study and personal growth. Nativers were given the option of studying at either Hebrew University or the Conservative Yeshiva. They also took on volunteer jobs in Jerusalem. (For example, I interned and wrote for The Jerusalem Post.) But Nativ’s true, unique nature emerges during the program’s second half.
After January, the group was split into smaller groups. This was the first time Nativ has had so many participants that it had to divide them into three groups. One went to live on Kibbutz Ein Tzurim, the second was sent to volunteer in Be’er Sheva, and the third was drafted to volunteer in Yerucham.
This segment of the program is about giving back to the community and having a distinct, rewarding Israel experience. From January until the end of May, Nativ participants are immersed in an aspect of Israeli culture to which they normally would not be exposed. Nativ truly does differentiate itself from other Israel programs. Many can claim that they are based in Jerusalem, but how many can say the same about Yerucham?
In living illustration of the Conservative movement’s ongoing balance between tradition and change, if Jerusalem represented the tradition aspect of the program, then Yerucham most certainly has been the change. The first time I visited Yerucham, my taxi had to stop for about five minutes to allow a herd of camels to cross the road. As a young idealistic Zionist hailing from suburban New Jersey, this was a shock to my system, to say the least. While walking in Yerucham, it is not uncommon to yield to a donkey or give a camel the right of Nativ students in Yerucham way. On occasion, you have to dodge the chickens and goats who are former residents of a failed petting zoo. Hundreds of cats and dogs roam the streets and lurk in the corners. After living in Anglo-Jerusalem for five months, 28 Americans suddenly were thrust into real Israel, where the only English we ever saw was is inside our books and siddurim. Needless to say, it took the group a few weeks to adjust to this drastic cultural shift.
Yet as time progressed, the Nativers became more and more enamored with this quaint Negev community. In Yerucham I volunteered at a soup kitchen and a kindergarten in neighboring Dimona, and I worked as an English teacher at a high school. I also volunteered at a Russian community center. The experience was one that I certainly will never have the opportunity to partake in again. It gave me an unparalleled sense of insight into contemporary Israeli culture and society.
While Jerusalem instilled in me an incredible sense of Jewish history, spirituality and classic Zionism, it wasn’t so different from the New York area where I grew up. Every night in Jerusalem, I would be able to go to Ben Yehuda Street and see three or four kids from New Jersey whom I have known for most of my life. Yerucham is real Israel.
In his quintessential work of Jewish spirituality, The Sabbath, Abraham Joshua Heschel writes, “Time and space are interrelated…. We must not forget that it is not a thing that lends significance to a moment; it is the moment that lends significance to things.” For the people on Nativ, the “thing” is the town of Yerucham and the “moment” is our incredible life-altering year in Israel. Just as time and space are cohesively connected, our year in Israel and our Yerucham experience are inextricably linked. Though Yerucham undoubtedly is a special place, for the 28 American teenagers living there for four months it is really the unique moment of being on Nativ that lends Yerucham such a vast amount of significance.
Simeon Cohen is an active Conservative Jew and former USYer from northern New Jersey. He will enter List College, the joint program between Columbia University and JTS, in the fall.
