Kibbutz Flech: Not related to The Hobbit
Near Sakhnin and Karmiel is the Mashgav Regional Council.
If we describe it in a few words - an experimental laboratory for forms of settlement and life, an interesting option for some of us who wonder how we can continue from here.
Have you heard of Palach?
This is a Shizori group kibbutz.
Flech is not related to The Hobbit or Oz Li Gotz Li.
It is located in the Western Galilee, northwest of Karmiel.
In the early 1980s, they tried to settle him, without success, until he was left with five families of immigrants from the Commonwealth of Nations.
Just before the gates were closed, it was decided at the beginning of the 2000s to house the graduates of the Hashomer Hatzair movement who wanted a close community life, but wanted to turn to a different model.
to produce a community.
Kibbutz Falech, photo: Moshe Shay
"They wanted to create a community here where everyone would live according to the way they believe in a more intimate and close circle, where I make the daily, economic and lifestyle decisions. In short, groups where the degree of sharing is determined by the content," explains Adi Friedman-Mizrachi (41), kibbutz secretary spindle.
"We have groups that live in complete or partial economic sharing, and there are groups that don't at all. The group is primarily a social, cultural framework, and the idea is that in groups the circle of life is indeed significant, but they are also intertwined."
If so, it is a kibbutz that has been privatized, but divided into groups that each live according to the model they chose.
Today, 60 families live in the settlement, which are divided into nine groups.
The largest group includes 12 families and the smallest only three.
Four fully or partially cooperative groups, all with names to distinguish them: forest, heat, bays, honey.
Adi and her family live with five other families in the Nimrod group.
They have a joint bank account and a joint living space, which includes a kitchen and living room.
They do the shopping together, and on Sundays there is a group evening, mainly for adults, which includes conversations about the time, joint studies and decisions on how to move forward from here.
"If it doesn't suit someone, then they won't stay in a financial partnership," says Michal Meyers (38), who also serves as the kibbutz secretary and comes from the "Ruch" group.
"Sometimes frustrations arise within the group, but we look at the long term. There is no one who just contributes more. There are periods such as childbirth, unemployment, a period when it is more difficult for you. As with spouses, there are years when someone is less attractive. This model allows everyone to choose What suits him."
In the small cooperative groups the mutual guarantee is developed.
Not everyone must, for example, buy a car.
They say "Can we split the group fleet?"
And if someone can't, then one of the group members will volunteer to look after his children.
Adi says it's like a clan, and the kids look at the other friends like uncles.
"It's not a kibbutz that suits everyone," Michal admits.
"If it's suitable for someone to live in the heart of Tel Aviv, then great, I want too sometimes, but the demand with us exceeds the supply. There are groups that live in Israel and are in constant contact with us, so they know when they can come. The community here is a hotbed for groups, and also allows privacy with the family You don't have to meet all the members of the group every day."
There is no vacancy in the county, as of now, but if it becomes available, the criteria for joining are to connect with an existing group or come as a cohesive group that will be able to integrate into the fabric of life.
"When new arrivals arrive, we try to place them in houses that are close, even adjacent, because the physical encounter is very close," Adi explains.
In Palach, the settlement stands above all, which is run as a privatized kibbutz, but most of its committees are sent representatives from each group so that they have a say and have power in the important decisions.
"The idea is that the groups are intertwined, and if I, for example, have some kind of initiative that doesn't fit my group, I might find partners in other groups. A recently established environmental committee includes members from different groups who think that the kibbutz should be more ecologically involved. Or the Shechem project - 'Shirim Someone said, 'I want to release an album,' and people from the settlement sent songs they had written and they have already been composed."
do you get along with each other
"Sometimes there are tensions, and we deal with talking about them and responding to the needs of the different groups. We have institutions like the 'Community Team', which is very significant. It has representatives from all the groups and its purpose is to deal with tensions and create platforms for conversation."
And so, while in the center they were arguing about democracy or dictatorship, in Falch they were making preparations for the annual musical that was presented in the dining hall and was supposed to be sold out.
"What's fun here is that you can throw a stone, and ten people will gather around it," Michal smiles.
"Someone says, 'Tomorrow I'm watching the World Cup together,' and you can be sure that enough people will come."
Ma'ale Tzvia: No journalists please
Compared to Flech, which opened its gates with joy, the community settlement of Ma'ale Tzvia slammed them shut.
"Precisely us of all the settlements?"
Yael, from the management of the place, tried to find out what we wanted.
"Why do I stutter? We were burned by the media in the past. They didn't compliment our difference. And that's why our preference is to live our lives quietly. We conduct guided tours, and there are many visitors, but this is different from a letter."
"There is a great purpose."
Ma'ale Tzvia, photo: Moshe Shay
The residents of Ma'ale Tzvia belong to the Iman movement founded in London in the early 1970s by Raymond Armin and Kibbutz Sebih Bebeimin.
In Israel there are about 500 people, most of whom are concentrated in a settlement located in the Lower Galilee.
"We met from the beginning because each and every one of us believed that there is a destiny for all human beings, that there is a great purpose and lofty reasons for life, and that everything is part of one great story," reads the official website of Ma'ale Tzvia.
"Our paths crossed with the path of the teacher and since then we walk it - each on his own journey and together. It is an unpaved road, the steps of those who walk it create it every day, and yet, it comes from somewhere and goes somewhere. And along it we find wisdom, blessing and healing and also partners in the way".
According to the ideology, the principles that guide the people of the place are to provide service for the good that the people of Ma'ale Tzvia experience in their lives.
One can also find in the list decency, honesty, morality, constructive communication and trust in themselves, their abilities, their intentions and the intentions of others.
In light of the principle "trust in the intentions of others" I asked to talk to Rami, one of the local residents, and tried to convince him to tell about him and the movement.
"I suggest you pick up the phone to the secretary," he answered politely.
I told him he was a private person.
What does it have to do with leadership?
"Why are you sulking?"
Ask.
"We have a history of bad public relations, and when I hear journalists, I usually hear an agenda behind them."
I turned to Ron, the secretary of the settlement, with the aim of thawing the relationship.
Ron was charming, but he also turned me down elegantly.
"Don't you get 'no'?"
Ask.
"You started a communication channel with Yael, I'd rather you continue it with her. You're welcome to visit, the door is open, but as a journalist I'm not sure, because we're weak in public relations."
In the end, Yael answered.
In a clear and sharp WhatsApp message, she gave an official response: "We live in a free country, at least to a certain extent, at least for the time being, and every person is entitled, welcome, to represent himself and speak for himself in any forum or media he chooses. This also applies to the city of Tziva. If you address the residents with a proposal to be interviewed, please emphasize to them in advance that it is not with the approval, or recommendation, or referral of Ron or Yael or the Yishuv management, that the Yishuv management considered and decided not to participate in the article, and that they can represent themselves but not the Yishuv."
In order not to entangle anyone in treason, we infiltrated the settlement secretly.
The entrance gate was indeed closed, but we followed a truck that had just entered.
The settlement is spectacular, colorful and special houses immersed in Galilean greenery.
If you want, you can order tours and get explanations.
Just do yourself a favor, don't come with a press card.
Yodafat: With the flute man
Not all life forms survived in the Mashgav area.
Eitan Verdi, 83 years old, one of the last of the Shakhtrists and those who founded the settlement in 1960, hangs out in the Yodfat cooperative.
"If many people followed our path, the country would be much better off," he is convinced.
"But most of us are no longer alive and a generation is rising that didn't know Yosef. Talk to the young people here about Yosef Shechter and they won't know what it is about, but what does remain in Yodefet is the 'togetherness', we are very united. Every wedding and alliance are events that everyone celebrates. The Spirit The chess player".
"new world".
Verdi, photography: Moshe Shay
Yosef Schechter was a certified rabbi and a teacher of Judaism at the Reali School in Haifa in the 1940s and 1950s.
A charismatic man whose words penetrated deeply into the hearts of his students.
"He had a claim against the kibbutz movement, which threw away the Jewish religion and replaced it with a new religion - socialism. He said, 'Wrong, we should preserve the Jewish religion.' The practicalities. He argued, for example, that it is permissible to light a light on Shabbat, because it is not work. He explained how religion should be lived in a modern way. He argued that there are two levels in our lives: the simple, economic level, and the level where one should look for meaning in life. The commandments are to be reminded every day renews the high plane".
Verdi did not study at Reali in Haifa.
He comes from nearby Kiryat Haim, a member of a secular family.
When he was in the 11th grade, he heard Schechter's lecture for the first time. "Suddenly a new world was revealed to me," he says. "Instead of the blue shirt, I encountered rich content that he recommended.
It attracted me, because I was looking for meaning even then."
Schechter preached life together and called it "a community".
"I will read you the most important sentence," Verdi opens a book and reads: "'The community in its inner value surpasses the value of the personality, the individual. This thing belongs to the very essence and structure of the world. In order for this to be the way the world was built, for human beings to connect and be a community, a people.' ".
The Shakhtrists found their place in Yodafat in the Lower Galilee.
Schechter was indeed very happy that his students followed him, but he continued to live in Haifa, and would often come to the settlement to talk and instruct.
Verdi, who was a graduate of the Conservatory in Haifa, abandoned playing the piano and flute that he studied in his youth and switched to agriculture, specializing as a tractor mechanic.
He made a conversion because Schachter aimed to work the land, and Eitan did not see himself contributing to it through playing music.
"They talked about the sect of the Shakhtarists," Verdi admits, "My family was not enthusiastic about the idea, but they could not oppose my wish."
Verdi married Gila, even though she was a Christian, and they have four children, one of whom is adopted.
None of their descendants remained in her tribe.
"Shechterism gave me meaning in life", Verdi is convinced.
"I went to the adoption section of the kibbutz movement and said, 'I want to adopt.'
Shechter passed away in 1994 at the age of 92. Vardi takes us on a tour of their synagogue, and from there to the library, where the settlement's first Torah book, donated by Yosef and his wife Neta, is found.
"The book is made of leather that has started to fray," he says.
"We brought in an expert who checked and said that it is impossible to repair, it has to be put away, which means buried in the ground. I said that I am not ready. I asked that they bring the book to the library. You cannot pray with it on Shabbat, but on Simchat Torah you are allowed to dance with it."
Verdi was a soldier in the paratroopers.
In 1982, as a reservist in the Galilee Peace War, he was seriously injured in Beirut and spent two years in rehabilitation.
When he left and it became clear that he would not be able to handle tractors, his wife suggested that he return to music.
Indeed, since the mid-1980s, Eitan has been playing, lecturing, and known as the flute man from Yodafat.
Verdi is no longer young.
The day before we met he suffered a strong blow, yet he insisted on meeting and telling his story that is disappearing.
"I don't have an answer as to why they didn't stay as Christians," he admits.
"Probably topics like Judaism and identity are no longer that interesting. Schechter would not be happy if he saw what happened to the settlement. One of the most important things to him was keeping the Sabbath, and we have a commercial center that works on weekends. Schechter would be mad about it and I'm not happy either. I feel that Schechter And I asked to be buried next to him, in our cemetery."
Jubilees: music and handicrafts
Before we left Yodafat, Verdi performed a short demonstration of his spectacular flute playing, excellent preparation for the next stop - the organ workshop in the community settlement of Yuval.
Don't look too hard, in Israel there are only two who specialize in taking care of the ancient musical instrument - Gideon Shamir and his successor, Uri Shani.
Shamir, who will celebrate his 84th birthday this year, used to be a piano prodigy and even received a scholarship to study in England, but when he arrived abroad they suggested that he try the organ, and he was caught. When Shamir returned to Israel, he realized that it was an underdeveloped branch, and went to study organ building in Germany.
Today there are 55 organs in Israel, the oldest of which was built in 1847 and is located in the St. Peter's Church in Kadorim Square in Jaffa.
Most instruments are found in churches, but there are also private homes and music academies.
The masterpiece that Shamir built, at the request of Israel Prize laureate Dr. Reuven Hecht, stands today in the center of the "Hecht Auditorium" at the University of Haifa.
Gideon Shamir and Uri Shani,
"People don't like the idea," Shamir says.
"They say to themselves, 'Until now we've managed without it, so why do we need this headache?'
But there is an interest in the organ as a preservation of culture."
Shamir was getting older and feared that his life's work would be destroyed.
There are organs here that require annual maintenance, especially the delicate wood and leather parts, which mice like to gnaw.
For years the organ man was looking for a successor, many passed by him who did not hold up against his strict demands, until he met another, a theater director who decided to change his profession.
"I called him in the summer of 2020, we had a nice conversation and I didn't hear from him again," says Shani.
"Almost a year after that, he suddenly called and asked if it was still relevant."
Shani and Shamir speak German and are music lovers.
It turns out that Shani's grandmother's grandfather was a cantor in a synagogue in Germany, who also played and composed works for the organ.
"It's important to break the stigma," Shani says.
"An organ is not a Christian instrument. In Germany, before the Holocaust, there were almost 200 organists in synagogues that entered with the reform movement. The title was 'We want to be just like the Germans'."
It took a while before Shamir gave his 56-year-old student freedom of action in the workshop.
"It's not easy to work with him, because he's a perfectionist, but that didn't deter me," says Shani.
"For me, this is a winning combination of hard physical work and delicacy down to the tenth of a millimeter. A field that opened up an ocean of knowledge to me, and not only in carpentry, but also in physics and chemistry. After all, no two organs in the world are the same. Each organ is adapted to the space in which it stands."
Today Shani is the owner of the business and Shamir comes to help.
He is no longer young, there was also a period when he was disabled due to cancer.
He did not recover from it, but her pace slowed down.
"Financially I am the owner, but professionally I am still Gideon's apprentice," Shani admits.
"This kind of business is a risk, and from a financial point of view it has not yet proven itself. So there is the care of the organs, and once a year or two a new organ is ordered. We also have a visitor center, because it is important for me to expose the work to the general public ideologically, to show people in Israel what this thing is ".
Uri arrives every morning from his home in Kiryat Tivon.
He rides a bicycle to Zarzir junction, takes a bus, gets off at Yuval junction and from there continues to the workshop.
"It was not easy for me to make a change in my life mentally," he says.
"But people who have known me for years say, 'You look happy.'
Deaf: at the height of Safed
There are special people in the Mashgav region, who have a different lifestyle.
"They used to say that in times of crisis, sane Judaism fled to the Galilee," explained Eran Sa'ar, from the community settlement Harshim, which is located near the summit of Mount Shazor.
"You come here and time is slower, there is less pressure. But you know - even the most beautiful landscape, with the wrong people, can be hell. We love the place."
An amazing view can be seen from the roof of Saar's house - that's for sure.
But what were we looking for there on a freezing afternoon?
Well there, out there, it all happens.
Sa'ar is the person responsible for delivering the rain measurement data at the Harsham station to the meteorological service.
This is the rainiest inhabited point in Israel - 970 mm per year on average.
"In Israel there are three basic conditions for increased rainfall," he explained when we went down to warm up at his house.
"As far north as possible, as far west as possible and as close to the sea, and as high as possible. Haresh meets the conditions. We are 20 kilometers from the coast. Safed is on the same latitude and at the same height, but Mount Miron blocks the clouds so it is colder, but also less rainy by 30 percent. There is no point at our height (850 meters, AL) that is closer to the coast than us."
"Love the place."
Sa'ar, photo: Moshe Shay
The measurement of rain is carried out in a rather primitive way.
On the roof of Sa'ar's house there is a device that holds a bottle, and every 24 hours, usually in the morning and after rain, the bottle is emptied sparingly and the numbers are transferred to the meteorological service.
If Eran, a tour guide by profession, is not found, his wife Nava or one of the family members will do it.
There is already practice.
"The nature of the rain here is different," Sa'ar explained.
"In Tel Aviv it is more tropical, as if buckets are being poured on you. After all, in the fall the coastal area starts strong. All the measuring stations there in the first two or three months are ahead of me in numbers, but at some point it evens out, because we are running long distances. Understand that in May it can rain here. In a month In March, more than 100 millimeters can fall, while for you, in the center, it is the remains."
Do you feel the global warming?
"The climate is changing here too. Once in the summer, or in the spring, it was much cooler in the evening. In the winter there is now less snow. Once, for every five years, there was one year without snow, today it is almost the opposite and the rain falls in blows that are not good for agriculture. The nature, The scattering. If the farmers in the Lower Galilee have already turned the soil and sown once more, this is a sign of drought. There has been a leap forward in the last five years."
Haresh is a community that has paid attention to the environment since its inception.
Oaks, battens, cattails grow in it.
Maybe 15 species of trees.
Even in the center of the settlement there is a sign that warns of salamanders crossing the road.
"They are not rare," Saar explained.
"You see them freely, but in October, when they come out of hiding after the first rains, they walk around like drunks, and the problem is that they are very slow. We put up signs for drivers to be careful."
Sa'ar, 67 years old, originally from a housing complex for the elderly in Ramat Gan.
He came to Harsh from Sharm el-Sheikh after the evacuation of Sinai when he and his wife were looking for a quiet and peaceful place, and just then they came across the construction of the observatories that wanted to Judaize the Galilee.
"People came here who are aware of the environment and nature conservation," he said.
"Another ideology was privacy. They didn't want to create social obligations, but little by little it warmed up, because children were born and you have to build a society for them. After all, even if you come to be a monk on top of the mountain, you don't want to be like that for the rest of your life."
A light rain started to fall before we left.
I asked if after so many rainy years, drops of water falling from the sky still do that to him.
"Certainly", Sa'ar hastened to answer.
"Grey is the color I like the most. In May-June, when the sky starts to turn blue and it starts to get hot, I get a little depressed. Not bad, after a week it goes away."
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