Our Magical Merle

Much has been written about how our Merle Guttmann, who arrived in Israel in 1962 with architect husband Gert and two baby girls (a third Sabra daughter was born a few years later), changed the Aliyah experience for English-speaking immigrants, and gifted thousands upon thousands of people with hope and help. ESRA, which she founded about fifteen years after moving here, is a dynamic and pulsating organization; still active on both the tracks which Merle originally envisaged: "social integration and involvement in the community." ESRA arranges bridge lessons and baby groups, Scrabble tournaments and hikes, and its tireless volunteers fund and man learning centers, employ Ethiopian women in craft shops, run courses of all kinds, cater to countless individual needs through the ESRA Immigrant fund, help build communities through student aid, and much, much more.

The ESRA Magazine, also started by Merle, has been super-central to the whole ESRA experience. It began modestly: as a follow-up to the first community meeting, held in 1977 in Herzliya, Merle typed out a newsletter, and sent it to the 250 'Anglo-Saxon' immigrants who had turned up."One woman offered to help me, which she did for the first edition. Halfway through the second she pulled out – and so I edited ESRA by myself."

Merle has been editing the ESRA mag for close on half a century now, and in typical Merle-fashion, she has caused it to fly.

Merle IS the magazine: she is the impetus for the stories, the visionary behind each innovative change, the buzz that kept it coming out, like clockwork, for decades. She made volunteering for the mag such fun: for years our editorial meetings were held in the gracious Guttmann Kfar Shmaryahu home; plates of biscuits and heaps of dried fruit, nuts and cakes materialized with coffee; Merle's husband Gert would arrive home from work with a bemused smile, and pick his way over piles of ESRA paraphernalia into the bedroom. Even the bath was covered by boards to make an extra surface for piles of papers!

Under Merle's guidance the magazine grew, and became glossier; our meetings moved to bigger and bigger premises, and then onto Zoom, but Merle remained as constant as the Northern Star. Always calm, always gorgeous, always concerned about everybody's well-being, she would not be budged from her editorial vision – no politics, no confrontations, no nonsense.

There were times when some of us questioned her judgement; in the midst of the madness that often surrounds us I, for example, wanted to scream my frustration into ranting articles. Merle never flapped, never raised her lovely voice, never even frowned. "No, dear," she would say, sweetly. "That's not what this magazine is about."

And she was always right.

ESRA was read, cover to cover, by immigrants on every shade of the political spectrum; they laughed at the (always clean) jokes, learned household tips and helpful hints for dealing with all manner of bureaucracy, found volunteering options, met friends, learnt about places of beauty in the Galilee and the Negev, paid tribute to visionaries who'd had an impact, and read about ESRA trips and activities.

We had fun at the meetings, and we had fun writing the stories, but the greatest privilege was to spend time with our beloved Merle, whose friendliness, compassion and caring, as well as professionalism, was always just magnificent.

I don't know what will fill the space of the magazine now on our coffee tables – the end of the era feels like an awful shame.

But one thing is certain, our magical Merle will go on to shine her light upon us in many, many different ways, for many, many happy and healthy years to come. Amen.