I remember being a young school child and it was thrilling whenever there would be a “multicultural” fair or “diversity day”, because this meant there would be an Israeli booth.
I remember excitedly raising my hand in school so I could sign up to write a paper about my people’s home – Israel. It was mine and I longed to share it with my friends.
I remember when my grandfather and uncle brought me back the wooden camel from their trip when I was 7. My grandfather quit smoking when they were in Israel. Israel changes people, they said.
I remember my mom telling me about her adventure in Israel after high school. Backpacking. Hostels. Running into neighbors from around the corner half a world away.
I remember hearing about how my aunt almost married the boy she met in Israel on her semester abroad.
I remember stepping off the plane at Ben Gurion airport and feeling as if all of the stories, longings, and desires to connect with my ancestors – even the ones who were then living, but had been so transformed by Israel experiences – had come together, as if in a single focal point of existence and authenticity.
I remember writing poems on a bus, looking into a valley.
I remember the cool desert air affirming the very core of who I thought I might be, the moon high in the night sky.
I remember feeling as if history and peoplehood and culture were so tangible, you could simply pluck the yen from the air and turn them over in your hands.
I remember cafe hafuch, schnitzel, shoko cham, salatim, bourekas, and shakshukah.
I remember them, and I remember who I am.
Come to Israel. Find your story.
Join Cantor Mary and Rabbi Judy on our Temple Beth El Congregational Trip to Israel, Summer 2016.
