A conversation with Alison Buckholtz

The wife of a U.S. Navy flyer has written a memoir about raising two young children in a Jewish home in a remote corner of Washington state while her husband is off fighting a war


Alison Buckholtz never imagined growing up that she might marry into the military; in fact, raised as the daughter of two middle-class Jewish professionals in suburban Washington, D.C., in the decades after Vietnam, she didn't even know anyone who'd been in the service. But shortly before 9/11 she met Scott, an active-duty U.S. Navy pilot. The couple married at the end of 2001, and were determined to lead a Jewish life together despite the obstacles they expected to face in the military, a commitment that only became stronger when they had children. By late 2006, Scott had been posted to Whidbey Island Naval Air Station, in the northwest corner of Washington state, and they moved with Ethan and Esther, who are today 6 and 4, to nearby Anacortes, a town of 16,000.

Buckholtz, 39, suffered something of a culture shock, not just from being in a tiny town 75 miles from the nearest synagogue, but also from being left alone with her children when Scott, who flies an EA-6B Prowler electronic-warfare aircraft, deployed to an aircraft carrier based in the Persian Gulf for seven months. This experience led her to discover the mutual support network that military spouses create to get through what are often very difficult periods.

As a freelance journalist and someone who'd been writing since childhood, it seemed natural to her to write about her experiences. After an essay she wrote about the Flat Daddy program, in which children of deployed servicemen are given a meter-high cutout photo of dad in uniform to help them through his absence, appeared in The New York Times, several literary agents suggested she write a book about her experiences as a military spouse. The result is "Standing By: The Making of an American Military Family in a Time of War" (Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin, 289 pages, $23.95).

In researching her memoir, Buckholtz read a number of books written over the centuries by or about U.S. military wives, going back to Martha Washington. These included a very practical primer from 1942 called "The Navy Wife" and an 1885 memoir by Elizabeth Bacon Custer, written nine years after the Battle of the Little Bighorn. Alison Buckholtz spoke with Haaretz by phone from Anacortes, Washington.

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? At what point did you decide to write a book about your experiences?

? I grew up in a non-military family. I really had no concept of what the military was like, or of military family life. It was like a new culture with its own lingo, traditions, and accepted social mores. I felt like an outsider. But year by year, as I became more assimilated into this new world, I found that my civilian friends started asking me what it was like. Over and over again, they said, "How do you do it?" I knew they were also asking, "Why do you do it," because the sacrifices that military families make can seem incomprehensible to others.

I came to understand that somewhere along the way, I had become an insider. I started writing essays about life as a military family to introduce this world to others. I saw my role as a translator between two Americas. When the Flat Daddy essay ran in the Modern Love section of The New York Times, everything changed for me as a writer. Imagine that the day after you've published something, agents are leaving messages on your voice mail, urging you to write a book. For a writer, it was a dream come true. Over the next couple of months I chose an agent, wrote a proposal and sold the book.

? You write that Scott is a very private person. Did he have difficulty agreeing to the book idea?

? We talked about it all along, and he was encouraging and supportive from the beginning. We both realize that we are an unusual military family, though we suspect that our perspectives on the difficulties we encountered during deployment are shared by many, many others. Countless other parents and kids have experienced the same stress of separation after 9/11. Since then, especially among Army, Marine and National Guard families, deployment requirements increased significantly when compared to historical norms of the past few decades. So we know we are not the only ones to question the effect of this lifestyle on family relationships. I certainly know that I am not the only wife who mourns her husband's long absences. I hope that military wives reading this account of our experience feel a little less alone.

Even more than that, though, he and I both hope that we can help bridge a gap in understanding between civilians and military personnel in America. Since the abolition of the draft in the U.S., in 1973, the gulf between two groups - civilians and military - has deepened dramatically. It's hard for one side to reach out to the other. I'm now the "ultimate insider," and it made me want to speak directly to all of those people who don't know anyone in the military. I used to be one of those people, so I understand some faulty assumptions that are often made.

? And what about being a Jew in the military?

? When Scott worked at the Pentagon and we lived in suburban Maryland, having a Jewish life wasn't an issue; we were within walking distance of three shuls and took our children to Jewish activities frequently. Giving them a Jewish education was easy. Here, though, there are no synagogue preschools, no "Tot Shabbat" services. When I was a kid, my entire social and religious life centered around Jewish institutions: I went to Friday night services with my dad, I learned about the Holocaust in the JCC courtyard during Jewish book month, I attended Jewish camp. My kids have the opposite experience. They depend on me, and me alone, to teach them. That was terrifying initially.

After the panic subsided, I remembered that I did have the grounding I needed, both from growing up Jewish and from my time in Israel. [Buckholtz was a Dorot fellow in Jerusalem in 1997-'98, and spent part of that year studying at the Pardes Institute.] In addition, the leadership skills I gained on the Dorot fellowship gave me confidence to take on the role as base lay leader, with my husband. After all, when we first got to this base and I asked someone in the chaplain's office where the nearest synagogue was, they referred me to a center run by Messianic Jews. I knew I could do better than that for the other Jews stationed here.

? What does being a lay leader in a military community entail?

? It depends on what you want, and what the community wants. In our case, we have a core group of about 10-12 families, both military and retired military, as well as civilians who live in the community. We have no reason to be exclusive! This community didn't want services or a havurah model, which is what I had in mind early on. They wanted more of a social outlet, to get together for Jewish events and holidays, and to teach their children about Jewish traditions. So that's what we do. And it's worked really well.

Being a lay leader has facilitated some unexpected alliances. I work with a Mormon chaplain and with a Protestant chaplain on the base. They've been wonderful, and have opened up the chapel to us on numerous occasions. The other unexpected alliance has been with Chabad. They have continually reached out to us, which of course is their job. Our first Purim here, the Chabad rabbi from Everett, which is one and a half hours away, came up with his family to lead a megillah reading and bring hamantaschen. The Aleph Institute, a Lubavitch organization whose mission is to reach out to Jews in isolated communities, has also provided for our needs throughout our time here. They send holiday packages and a weekly dvar Torah to Jews in the military.

Though we have not become more religiously observant during our time here, and don't intend to change our level of practice, we have grown to think of Chabad as our extended community. After the Mumbai tragedy [the terror attack on the Chabad House in Mumbai, among other sites, in November], when as Jews we felt so devastated, we really wanted to be with people who understood. The Chabad rabbi in Bellingham knew the couple who'd been killed in Mumbai, and he and his wife put together a service and dinner to celebrate their lives. Bellingham is 60 miles away, the night was cold and rainy, and it went way past our kids' bedtimes, but we had to be there. At a moment we really needed a spiritual outlet, they provided that for us, no questions asked.

? You describe a culturally and intellectually rich upbringing, and a strongly identifying Jewish family. With all the respect and friendship you feel for your peers in Anacortes, don't you get lonely there?

? Everything you say is true. Being a military spouse is about rootlessness, and I value rootedness: geographical, cultural, social. I've been very lonely at times. But I say to myself: Our situation with Scott's job - the deployments, the relocations, and the other challenges - is temporary in the grand scheme of things. But he and I and our family are forever. Looking at it that way helps, when I find myself wishing for something different. Beyond that, though, learning about the military community and the way that military wives work together to overcome difficulties has taught me a lot about America. I say in the book that our military experience has been an ongoing civics lesson for me, an intense education in what it means to be an American citizen. That's been important to my intellectual growth, too. The questioning and challenging has strengthened my loyalty to this country. I've had to examine beliefs and assumptions I took for granted in the past. I've done it out loud, which may be different from my colleagues, but it's my way of staying engaged.

? So what comes next? Do you know what Scott's next assignment will be?

? Scott returned last June from his seven-month deployment on the carrier. His tour here is over in late May, as is his assignment as his squadron's commanding officer. Unfortunately, he has been tapped for a year-long assignment in Baghdad. So we'll move back to Potomac, Maryland, together, so the kids and I can be close to family, but he will leave us after a few weeks. He'll be gone for a total of 14 months. He has several months of training at bases in the U.S. and the Middle East before assuming his job in the Green Zone.

David B. Green

First Chabad House opening in South Korea

Published: 04/08/2008

A Lubavitch emissary couple arrived in Seoul recently to establish the first Chabad House in South Korea.

Rabbi Osher and Mussia Litzman spent their first Shabbat in the South Korean capital last weekend. Rabbi Litzman has completed his military service in the Israeli army, and both he and his wife have been learning Korean online.

With no synagogues in the country, local Jews gather at a U.S. Army base for Shabbat meals and holiday services. The base is facing imminent closure, according to the chabad.org news service.

The news service reports that Israel’s ambassador to South Korea asked three visiting Lubavitch yeshiva students last year to arrange for permanent Chabad emissaries.

Russian army gets 1st chief rabbi since 1917 revolution

For the first time since the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution, a chief rabbinical chaplain is servicing the spiritual and religious needs of Jewish soldiers in Russia's armed forces and various security services.
Rabbi Aharon Gurevich, 34, was appointed after being asked to fill the role by the chief rabbi of the Chabad-Lubavitch movement in Russia, Rabbi Berel Lazar, who had received official permission from the Russian government to establish a military rabbinate.
Upon accepting the post, Gurevich was granted the rank of colonel by Russian authorities and was given permission to visit military bases freely. While his status as a military rabbi has yet to be fixed by law, Gurevich has effectively been functioning as chief rabbi of the Russian Army since the beginning of the year.
In a recent interview with The Jerusalem Post, the soft-spoken and cordial 34-year-old Moscow native was full of praise for the cooperation he has received at all levels of Russia's military establishment.
"I work closely with the General Staff and its education department, and a number of army and police generals have shown great interest in my initiative to teach about the basics of Judaism in Russian military academies," Gurevich says.
Earlier this year, he was invited to deliver a lecture at a special seminar for top police commanders from across the country.
As a member of the Russian Defense Ministry's Public Council, Gurevich advises the military and the police forces on various matters relating to Jewish life.
"I visit military commands on a regular basis and determine the estimated number of Jews in the locale, speak with their commanders and explain the need for a spiritual component in the motivation to serve," he says.
Shortly after his appointment, Gurevich visited Israel to consult with the IDF's military rabbinate, as well as the chief rabbi of the Israel Police, to learn more about the role and functions his office should fulfill.
Thus far, Gurevich has succeeded in arranging for High Holiday services to be held on Russian military bases throughout the country, organized the distribution of ritual objects and newsletters among Jewish servicemen and provided pastoral counseling to soldiers, some of whom had previously been reluctant to openly admit their Jewish heritage.
"There are an estimated 40,000 Jews serving in the various Russian security forces, including some generals. But the Communist past left a permanent mark on their consciousness, and many do not speak about their Judaism among their colleagues out of concern for their careers," Gurevich notes, adding that "a lot depends on their position and the location of their service.
"But I am often approached unexpectedly by senior officers and regular soldiers who had hidden their Jewish origins until now, and I try as best I can to help them feel Jewish," he says.
While there is currently no option toarrange for the regular supply of kosher food throughout the Russian military, Gurevich makes sure to send care packages containing kosher food to Jewish soldiers prior to holidays and festivals.
"Before Passover," he says, "we distributed over 1,000 kilograms of matza and other kosher-for-Passover products."
Gurevich views education as a main component of his mission, and he has gone to great lengths to raise awareness about Judaism throughout the Russian military, among both Jews and non-Jews alike. To this end, he has worked closely with Russian officers to arrange for classes and periodic day-long seminars on Judaism and Jewish culture at Russian military academies.
On the first day of Hanukka, he notes proudly, a military newspaper published by the Russian Defense Ministry printed a lengthy article explaining the history and meaning of the holiday.
When necessary, Gurevich also intervenes with commanders on behalf of Jewish soldiers. "For example, there are soldiers who prefer not to shave during the counting of the Omer period between Passover and Shavuot, or those who run into issues of Shabbat observance, so I speak to their officers and explain the situation," he says.
Born into a secular home, Gurevich was initially drawn closer to Judaism through his reading of Jewish literature, as well as the knowledge that distant relatives had made aliya prior to World War II and settled on a kibbutz near Tiberias.
He says he was also influenced by the general atmosphere of the 1980s, when opposition to the Soviet regime simmered among many Jewish youth in the capital.
"Toward the end of the '80s, we started to receive more books and materials from abroad on Jewish national history and tradition on a regular basis," he recalls. "This would all come to play a role in influencing my growing interest and later embrace of Jewish observance."
At the age of 16, Gurevich was surprised when he was accepted into Moscow University's Faculty of History, particularly since he had told his interviewers that he was interested in studying the history of the Jewish people.
"In those years, it was still considered bold or even defiant to say such a thing," he recalls somewhat mischievously.
Alongside his university studies, Gurevich enrolled at Moscow's Yeshiva Tomchei Temimim. Upon completing his degree, he continued his religious studies at a hassidic yeshiva in Jerusalem and later received his rabbinical ordination. After a two-year stint as a rabbi in Frankfurt, Germany, he returned to Russia eight years ago to become involved in Jewish outreach work.
While issues such as anti-Semitism and the reluctance of many Russian Jews to identify Jewishly present Gurevich with some formidable challenges, he is nonetheless keenly optimistic about his work.
"The creation of a Russian military rabbinate has helped many Jewish soldiers to feel a greater sense of pride about their identity," he insists. "As much as possible, I travel around the country, going from base to base to awaken within them a stronger sense of connection. There is still a lot of work to be done."