The last Shabbat in Gaza?

The last Shabbat in Gaza?

By Rafael D. Frankel, Sheera Claire Frenkel and Tovah Lazaroff

NEVEH DEKALIM - Surrounded by a sea of men in white shirts and prayer shawls, Levanon Menachem Artzieli was introduced to the world Saturday morning in the central Syangogue amidst a crowd which overflowed into the central square and broke out into loud singing upon the announcement of his name.

Though the settlers remain defiant, vowing that the Jewish community will flourish here for years to come, Artzieli's will likely be the last circumsion in Gush Katif.

Throughout the largest settlement block in Gaza, community dinners, services and celebrations were held to commemorate Shabbat even as many residents insisted this would be far from the last time they would all gather together in the towns they built from sand dunes more than 20 years ago.

With the population of Neveh Dekalim now double what it was just one week ago, it does not look like a town which is about to be emptied and razed.
Thousands of youths who made it past the Kissufim roadblock during the week filled the streets throughout the Shabbat weekend.

"This is a Shabbat like any other, the only special thing is that it's a greater mitzvah, we have all these extra guests," said Eva Gadit, who was expecting more than a dozen people at her table. "We will talk and eat as we always have. I don't think we will need to talk about the disengagement, we don't like politics at the Shabbat table and there is enough talk about that already."

In the Gadit kitchen, pots crowded the countertop and ziplock bags filled with salads toppled out of the fridge every time it was opened. A plastic laundry bucket, overflowing with couscous sat at the foot of the table, too heavy to be lifted up.

Anti-Disengagement activists from around the country donated hundreds of pounds of food to feed the thousands of newly arrived Shabbat guests.
Like many other homes, conversation skirted the topic of the disengagement in favor of the "celebration dinner," an event the settlers here plan to hold when, "the miracle occurs and the soldiers leave and we keep our homes," Gadit said.

Some residents said they may have preferred to spend this Shabbat alone with their families. "But when [our friends] called and said they wanted to be here with us, we couldn't refuse," said Yafa Dahan, 45, an 18-year Neveh Dekalim resident.

"I hope this isn't the last time I'm cooking Shabbat dinner here," she said in tears at her dining room table before walking back to the kitchen, her cooking a distraction from the thoughts she tries to avoid.

In the home of one family of five, all seven of the guests went around the table telling tales of how they arrived in the last few days. A 22-year-old from Bnei Barak said she came in with a forged identity card pretending to be a married woman. Another young man, on leave from the army, said he donned his uniform and convinced the guards that he was serving in the area. An activist from the United States sneaked in on a food truck. He said he had recently been engaged and was hoping to hold the wedding in Neveh Dekalim in the fall.

In the adjacent settlement Gadid, the mood was markedly different as the town's 50 families ate dinner in the central square without the flocks of youths who have made Neveh Dekalim feel at times like a summer camp.
Unlike it's larger sister town, the majority of Gadid residents have begun packing and have generally accepted that in less than a week's time, they will be compelled to leave their 23-year-old community, never to return.
"It's impossible to know the plan God has for us," the Rabbi Yigal Adaya of Gadid said after the meal. "But in the end, we know whatever he does will be better for us."

In addition to praying for a change of heart from the government, Adaya told his community to "pray for every day that God has given us here."
It was a chord that struck with Ma'ayan, 25, (like many here she would not giver her last name), who came to Gadid as a two-year-old and more than anything is lamenting the break-up of the community she calls "one big family." In particular, she is angry at the government for what she says is shoddy treatment.

"These people here, these are the best people in the whole country and they're taking our dignity from us. We never did anything to them and they're treating us like dogs."

In Nisanit, the largest north Gaza town with 300 families, the picture was markedly different. Many of the homes are now empty and cartons and trash overflowed onto the street. In some cases residents have taken everything, including the tiles from the roofs and the glass panes from the windows, leaving only the empty shells of their homes. Still, more than 100 people returned Friday night to hold one last communal dinner.

Earlier Friday, crowds engulfed the main synagogue in Neveh Dekalim, spilling onto the streets. The men's section pressed close to the synagogue while the women formed a ring behind them.
The crowd lingered late into the night, their prayers broken regularly by bouts of dancing and singing.

"This is beautiful, so beautiful, that we can all be here. It is such a special Shabbat feeling," said Chana, a Jerusalem resident who made her way into Neveh Dekalim last week. "This is so important. And I have met some of the most beautiful people of my life here."

While most of the young activists went to sleep shortly after midnight in order to wake up for the morning prayers, some stayed awake for the sunrise, their dancing setting a festive mood.

After the Artzieli circumcision, the crowd in the synagogue broke out into a chorus of singing after his name, honoring the Beit-Ha Migdash and the comfort that God provides, was announced.

The baby was then carried out by his father and the throngs of residents and visitors congratulated them before heading down to a town-wide Kiddush where white and orange were on broad display.

Among the speakers who addressed the crowd at the end of the Kiddush was former chief Rabbi Lau **look up name on internet** . Settler leader Chanan Porat handed the Rabbi of Neve Dekalim a bottle of liquor as an investment towards the "celebration dinner." After he finished speaking the crowd chanted a prayer: "God have mercy on us."

Sitting in her half-packed home, still hoping for a miracle, one Neveh Dekalim resident said, "there were a lot of tears spilled this Shabbat."
"Throughout history, Jews who have been in worse situations than us have celebrated in happiness," Rabbi Adaya said.

And for one last Shabbat, at least, Gush Katif did the same.

©2005 Rafael D. Frankel and The Jerusalem Post