Moshe Levi says he's not sure about whom to worry more -- his son who's an officer in the Israeli army, or his 16-year-old daughter who enjoys going out dancing with friends.

Sharon Shafrir was stunned when walking into a Chicago restaurant two weeks ago. No purse check, ID request or suspicious eyes from guards. And Hannah Koval wonders why people do not recognize Israel's other great threat: The radical demographic imbalance of the central Galilee, which is 70 percent Israeli Arab. If Palestinian Arabs gain the "right of return" to former homes in the area, she asked, "Whose Galilee is it going to be?"

Such were the multitude of sentiments that these Israeli Partnership 2000 activists brought here last week to schools, synagogues and other venues. They also met with local activists of P2K, as the program is known, to shape the initiative's future as Israeli- Diaspora relations are yet again shifting.

P2K began in 1994 as the North American Jewish federation and the Jewish Agency for Israel joined to strengthen personal ties of Israelis and other Jews through a host of mutually beneficial cultural, social, educational and even business projects. It is a hybrid of the earlier Project Renewal, which linked North American communities with Israel's disadvantaged locales.

Baltimore -- through the Associated: Jewish Community Federation of Baltimore -- is twinned with the Misgav region in the Galilee whose central city is Karmiel. The former has about 35 Jewish villages dotting the hilltops of broad, sloping mountains. About 50,000 Jews reside in Karmiel, often called one of the country's most livable venues. Some, such as Misgav regional manager Roma Manor, came for the region's mantras of Jewish-Arab co-existence, religious pluralism and general tolerance.

But when a minority of Arab residents rioted for three days in October 2000, carefully cultivated trust between Jews and Arabs seemed crushed. "For a while, we thought our dream was shattered," Mrs. Manor said at a March 22 Baltimore Jewish Council meeting. "For many days, we didn't go back to the villages even though a minority did this. We were very angry that the majority [of Arabs] that didn't agree didn't say anything. Now after two years, we are trying to rebuild the trust. We're doing our best, but it's hard."

The sensitivities of dealing with non-Jewish residents can quickly become a national crisis.

"In our cities, we can't add a room to a private house without having a certificate for it. The Arabs can do what they want," said Ms. Koval, city manager of Karmiel. On her city's outskirts, 20 Bedouin families have set up home for years. "Our city is growing to them," she said. "And we don't dare kick them out of there, even though they are there illegally. "

But the basis for cooperation remains, said Mr. Levi, director of the region's inter-city emergency center. For example, a third of the 10,000 employees in Karmiel's industrial zone are Israeli Arabs, and many area Arab residents are white-collar professionals.

And Mrs. Shafrir, spokeswoman for Misgav, said that unlike in the West Bank with its separate infrastructure for Jews and Arabs, the central Galilee region's services are jointly shared. "If we put our energy into developing the region, it will help all people of the region," she said.

For now, though, the situation is different as she spends much of the day updating village security liaisons about threats.

"When our American friends come visit us, they say we recognize Israelis by the cell phone glued to their ears," Mrs. Shafrir said. "Today, I have to say thank God for that invention. We have to know always where the cell phones are to find out where our loved ones are."

Mrs. Manor described her daily routine. "Every morning, you wake up and hear the radio," she said. "You have to hear the news, and in half-an-hour you have to hear it again. You always have to make decisions. Do you go this way on the road? What do you tell your kids?" Recalling her shock upon learning about the Sept. 11 attacks in this country, Mrs. Manor offered both sympathy and empathy.

"When I saw the pictures, I really thought it was the end of the world," she said. "At that moment, I felt that if this can happen everything can happen, that the terror is not just in Israel, but connected to everything in the world. I'm not happy, but at least now I know people understand more than before."

Sivan 5762 - June 2002