It seems the days of the young, vibrant sabra in Israel, dedicated to working for retention of the rich Jewish heritage, are a thing of the past...
During the period between Israel’s fight for survival against Arab incursion in 1948 and the battling nation’s hour of glory in the Six Day War of 1967, the tough, tanned, hardworking youth of the Jewish nation became a source of legend. This was the generation that became known as the sabras, named after the cactus that thrives in the Judean hills...
Ron Fraser, Israel's Lost Generation
The same pioneer spirit is gone in the United States too, with the inspired drive of Manifest Destiny depleted by materialism and hedonism, idolatry and immorality.
Both Jews and Joes (British Israelites) are wandering in the wilderness, adrift, the living dead. Only national repentance can restore us to life, meaning and purpose (2 Chron. 7:14, Dan. 9:11) or the German-Jesuit Europe will be used to bring us to our knees and restore us to our senses. Why doesn't Ron Fraser (or another PCG writer) visit the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum in Oklahoma City and write an article about Manifest Destiny?
As mentioned within From Toledo to Jerusalem -
You could say I have a God-given love for the Jews and the nation of Israel (Isaiah 62:6-7). That sacred bond has been strengthened over the years by the fact that I've been blessed to have lived all over Israel, getting to know its land and people quite well.
Apart from 5 months at Ramat Yohanan (where I met my "kibbutz mother," Miriam Weiss) I've also stayed at Sdot Yam on the Mediterranean, next to Caesarea, the site of my first ulpan (intensive Hebrew course), and where Israel's heroine, Hannah Senesh, was from - as well as mentioned in Exodus by Leon Uris; Regavim, near Zichron Yaakov, where I continued my Hebrew lessons amid its rolling green hills; Reshafim, near Bet She'an, with Mt. Gilboa practically in our backyard, and Jordan's mountains in lovely view out front; Adamit, on Lebanon's border, high up on a mountain, from where on clear days you can see all the way to Haifa's Mt. Carmel; Shoval, a rose in the Negev desert, just north of Be'er Sheva; Dan, way up in the northernmost part of Israel, in between Syria and Lebanon, next to the majestic snow-covered Mt. Hermon, where I was living when "Operation Desert Storm" blew in; and Ha'On, with its campground and ostrich farm on the eastern shores of the Sea of Galilee, across from Tiberias; and last but not least, my beloved Jerusalem, next to my favorite spot on earth: the Temple Mount.