There is another striking aspect to the rain here: how fiercely it blows in and out, heavy and light, interspersed with calm and even sunshine, starting up again just when you think it’s done. Does that not mirror the cadence of life in Israel, the ebb and flow of Arab attacks, where a day of relative quiet marks a lull but never a surcease of violence?
Not only does the rain start and stop abruptly, the weather in general is prone to extremes, especially during this rainy season. A couple of weeks ago, I went without a jacket; then it was back to winter coats for a couple of days, and now we’ve stuffed those into the deep end of the closet. During the fall, we experienced our first sandstorms, an otherworldly phenomenon that, ratcheted up a few notches, could have been the eleventh plague of Egypt. The variations in weather here mean that a short drive from home can call for a whole different outfit. As rain poured down in our area recently, a blizzard hit the Hermon region – but no worries for vacationers in sunny Eilat. How can such a tiny country have so many different climates?
* * * * *
The quick-changing weather and tendency to extremes mirror a more fundamental duality I’ve come to observe here.
In many ways, Israel is a modern country that has gifted the world with some of the most seminal and cutting-edge technologies in medicine, the military, and personal electronics, to name a few. I was able to print my temporary driver’s license in a nearby SuperPharm drugstore – it doesn’t get more convenient than that.
In other ways, this feels like a third-world country, where faxes are still widely used, dealings with public agencies require in-person visits (it’s enough running around to keep new olim busy for weeks), and you might have your utilities turned off for failure to pay a bill that you never received.
The country’s socialized medicine system showcases this new-old phenomenon very well. When I went for blood work in the early morning, the results were posted online for me to see that same evening (before I had even spoken to a doctor). Yet when a relative had an acute condition requiring an MRI, he had to check into the hospital and wait more than two weeks to receive the necessary test.
I suppose it is fitting that the cradle of civilization, where a thin layer of dirt separates ancient ruins from gleaming new apartment projects, has given rise to this hybrid, often contradictory culture of past-meets-future. A seven-year-old boy on a tiyul recently stumbled upon a 3,400-year-old clay artifact. I bet he had a cellphone in his pocket. Where else but Israel?
The quick-changing weather causes more than wardrobe confusion. I find that it heightens my awareness of Hashem – of how much we depend on Him, how little we control, and how fast things can turn, for better and worse. That’s the part that scares me. But while the feeling of vulnerability looms larger in Israel, the same reality governs the entire universe. I need to remind myself of this truth continually – although sometimes, when terror and mayhem happen in other parts of the globe, it hits me in the face.
The perennial water shortage in Israel also serves as a spiritual reminder. Since we moved here, we are much more careful about not wasting water. And if we can’t take water for granted, what else should we think twice about? Indeed, this winter has managed to teach us the hard way to appreciate everyday comforts that usually merit little reflection. We did not get any snow in our area (though hail made a few brief appearances), but in late January the weather got very cold. Right on cue, our heating system failed us. Apparently, the air pump units here do not handle sub-freezing temps very well, making them basically useless when they are needed the most. We spent several nights layered and shivering.
