Right now I'm sitting on an airplane, fighting a losing battle not to cry. Today we go back to America. I can't even say that today we're going home because right now I feel with all my heart that I'm leaving my home. America is the place where my family is. America is familiar and comfortable, but this moment, it is not my home. I feel as if I'm going into Golus. The future seems hazy and dreary and dull. Here is where all the colors and certainty are. I'm sure that soon enough America will seem like home again and my life there will resume and I'll be happy. But I will also be forever changed. And Israel will always be my true home.
We've been going pretty much non-stop since yesterday morning at 4:45 a.m. At 5:30 we left the hotel and headed for the Negev and the Dead Sea, which most people were really anxious to see. It was about a 2 and a half hour drive there and when we got there I wasn't particularly impressed. Maybe in other places it's more impressive but where we were there were just a lot of hotels and gift shops. We ate breakfast there while some people took a dip in the Dead Sea.
Then it was time to move on to Massada. It turns out I should have remembered to ask for the cable cars by the Kotel because when we got there, they told us we were hiking up. All I could do was stare up at this giant mountain and pray that I survived. Before we started out Ital and Shmulik made sure we had water and something on our heads. We absolutely were not allowed to climb Massada without something on our heads to prevent heat stroke, or something like that. This decree forced those of us without hates, like me, to get creative. One guy used a seat cover from the bus. Someone else had a first aid bandage on her head. I myself ended up with my sweatshirt tied turban style around my head. Marina also braided my hair and secured it with her neon green sleeping mask. All in all, I can quite safely say that I looked the most ridiculous of everyone. But I was ready to hike Massada.
What can I say about that hike? It certainly wasn't something I would have chosen to do. Left to my own choices I would have taken those cable cars. And as I hiked, I found myself staring at them longingly as they went back and forth above me. I took it at my own pace and I didn't try to hurry and for once I didn't care about holding the group up. And even though it was most definitely a very long, hard hike, it wasn't as bad as I had feared. I stopped every once in a while to drink water, rest and stare at an amazing view of the desert that only got more amazing the higher I climbed.
When I was about 8/10's of the way up I ran into a group coming down. And who should be in this group but Y. from College Park! There he was, looking fresh and energetic and there I was, sweating and gasping, with a sweatshirt on my head. But I was too tired to waste precious energy being embarrassed, although later, when I thought back on it, I was plenty humiliated. We chatted for a minute, we had both run into Josh B. We agreed to talk the whole experience over back in the States, at the Chabad house.
I made it to the top! I actually climbed a whole mountain! And though I hadn't been excited to do it, I was so proud of myself once I had done it. I felt that I'd accomplished something really great and I was actually glad I did it. But next time, I'm taking the cable cars. That sense of accomplishment only goes so far.
The view from the top of Massada is incredible, of course. But that's not really the amazing part. The history of Massada is awe inspiring. King Herod built palaces there, as vacation homes. When you think about how many people, how much time, how much money it took to build these palaces, just as a summer home, it boggles the mind. We walked through the original ruins of the mansions. We saw some of the original mosaic floors and we saw the bath house.
But the truly great story of Massada is that of the zealots. A group of Jews who moved there in order to be safe, alone and unpersecuted. They lived there for 10 years before the Romans came to conquer them. From Massada, the Jews could see Jerusalem in flames and the Beis Hamikdash destroyed. They were sure that they were the last Jews in the world.
The Romans came, 15,000 of them. The approximately 1,000 people on Massada held them off for 5 months. One morning they awoke to find the Romans building a ramp to reach Massada. They also saw to their shock, that the people building the ramp were Jewish slaves. They didn't know what to do. They didn't know what to do. They didn't want to kill Jews, brothers, family. But they were also aware of the horrors that awaited them if they allowed the Romans to defeat them. Enslavement of their children, the rapes of their wives, daughters, sisters and mothers. Torture, a life of being unable to live as a Jewish nation. Unable to practice their religion or worship their G-d.
The night before the Roman's ramp was completed, all of the men met in the synagogue. There, their leader made a speech declaring that it would be better to die and destroy all their belongings than to let the Romans desecrate them. The only thing they left unburned and in tact was their food supply so that people would know that they died by choice to make a statement of defiance and not out of desperation and fear.
That night, each man went home and killed their wives and children. Then they gathered in groups of 10. One man killed 9 others and then himself. In that way, they defeated the Romans and cheated them out of a victory.
Sitting in the place where it all happened, trying to imagine what they felt, looking down and seeing the remnants of the Roman camps that besieged them, once again, it was indescribable. Walking on two thousand years of history and thinking about how a different choice here or there would have changed the course of the future. Wondering if what they did was the right thing, and if you'd have the courage to make a decision placed in their shoes. We talked about all of that. But whether you think it was right or wrong, you can't judge them.
Personally, I believe they did the right thing. An unbelievably hard, awful thing, but I'm convinced that what waited for them if conquered was worse. I think they were right, better a quick death of the physical body than a long painful death physically AND spiritually at the hands of the Romans. I also think they were looking to the future. I believe that they didn't want to vanish into history. They wanted people to remember them, talk about them and most of all, I think they wanted to show the world how important being Jewish was to them. And the fact that 2 thousand years later, we're still talking about them, is proof they succeeded. They did the most dramatic, final thing they could. And they didn't win the war, they died. But in the struggle for Judaism, for identity, they did win. And as Shmulik said, that struggle is still going on today.
We had hiked up Massada by the Snake Path, but when we hiked back down, we took the Ramp Path. The ramp that the Romans built, using Jewish slaves, thousands of years ago. The walk down was a LOT easier than the hike up. And all in all, Massada was everything I had hoped it would be.
Next we all hopped back on the bus and went to the Bedouin place to eat lunch and ride camels. Lunch was good. We ate Bedouin style, on pillows on the floor. They served us rice and chicken in pitas. I was starving after having hiked up a mountain and we all stuffed ourselves. After lunch it was time to ride the camels.
There were two people to a camel but there weren't enough camels to go around. Then they brought out donkeys but there still weren't enough for everyone. So a couple people, including me, walked behind the caravan of animals.
We walked out into the Negev a little ways and then they let us switch. I got on a camel with Rabbi N. I was terrified because they had warned us not to get close to the camel's face or touch them around there because they didn't like it and they'll bite. But they led the camels so close to each other that there was usually a camel face right next to my leg. I was so scared of being bit. Those things have big teeth and they are not friendly animals. I spent most of my time on the camel pleading with them to move me away from the other camels. When I wasn't afraid of being a camel snack, I had a great time.
Camels are not a smooth ride and I wouldn't want to ride one for any great length of time, but it was fun! For the girls anyway. All of the guys were in some pretty severe discomfort in thewelldelicate region of their bodies. Several were declaring that they didn't think they'd be able to father children anymore. Even the rabbis were squirming around and asking to get off. I found it all extremely amusing, but then again, I'm not a guy. I felt no pain at all until after we got off and then there was just some thigh muscle soreness and it wore off quickly. Meanwhile, the guys were walking around bowlegged and wincing.
We went into one of the tents to listen to a Bedouin man tell us a little about his life and culture. He spoke about some of the different laws of hospitality that the Bedouins follow, for example: you have to approach the tent from a specific direction and a person can stay in a man's tent for 3 days with no questions asked. He showed us the really cool way they grind coffee. It's great, they use their wooden coffee grinders as instruments and while they're grinding it sounds like music. He spoke a little about the Moslem custom of having more than one wife.
It was all very interesting but the man was a little hard to understand and he seemed very stiff and wary of us. I got the feeling that he resents his lifestyle being turned into a tourist attraction. Maybe I'm wrong and he's just not comfortable in front of crowds, or Americans or something. Anyway, to cap it off he played us a traditional wedding song on an instrument made of wood and 3 strings. He sang too, and I tried to imagine getting married to such a song, but I couldn't. One thing I will say is that everyone was very well behaved the whole time he was talking which was a nice change of pace.
We ran out of time then and so it was back to the buses to go back to our hotel for our last night in Israel. Shmulik kept pointing out the window saying, "Look guys, this is the last sunset before you leave." That was hard because I didn't really want to think about leaving. I wanted to go minute by minute and stay in Israel and not think about anything else until absolutely necessary.
Back at the hotel we had about an hour to get dressed and ready for the banquet dinner. The dinner itself wasn't really that great. It was nice, there was a friendly bus rivalry going on, people yelling and cheering. Someone from each bus got up to share their Israel experience with everyone. Most people spoke too long and repeated themselves a lot so it got boring fast. But the sentiment of what they said was very nice.
There were presentations to all the people who helped put the trip together and an absolutely fabulous speaker who spoke about what a birthright means and how important it is to embrace being Jewish and to be proud of it and to take Israel back with us.
After that it got really fun. A band came and started playing. People were singing and dancing like I've never seen before. Young men were dancing with old men, religious with the non-religious but while they were dancing, everyone was the same. There were no labels or barriers between people.
And I guess that's when it kind of hit me that it was my last night in Israel and I just felt like I HAD to dance. I went over to where the women were dancing and just had so much fun. Rebbitzins were dancing, little girls were dancing, college students, Israelis, just everyone. It just went on and on. It was the most beautiful, uplifting, inspiring, moving thing I've ever seen. But even all those words can't begin to give a real picture of what last night was like. I'll never forget it. I've never been so carried away. Not by a wedding, Simchas Torah, Purim or any other simcha. Last night there was such an overwhelming joy in everyone.
We were so happy to be in Israel, in Jerusalem, with all the people that we'd come to know and those we'd come to love. There was so much emotion, so much love, for Israel, for Judaism, for friends, for family, old and new, that there was just nothing else to do but sing and dance. There were no words and everyone knew it, so we just sang and danced.
Around 11:30 p.m. our bus had one last meeting together. Ital and Shmulik set up a circle of candles around an Israeli flag and a map of Israel. They turned off the lights and Shmulik said a few words about remembering. He told a little story and then said that even if we didn't remember every little thing we did, or every place we went, or every person who was with us, we would always remember the past 10 days. Then they handed handed us back the papers we wrote in Tzfas that had all our expectations for this trip on it. They asked people to share something from the paper with the group and whether their expectations came true, didn't, or turned out to be entirely different than they'd thought.
A lot of people spoke. Some of the most jaded and cynical people from the group spoke up and talked about how they had been touched and changed by this experience. I looked around the room at these people who had been strangers on a plane with me just 10 days ago. Some of them I liked more than others, but looking around I felt bonded to all of them. We went through 10 of the most amazing, wonderful, incredible days together. And the question I asked myself at the beginning of the trip, about whether or not the magic of Israel could reach people in such a short time was answered.
Not one person walked away from this trip unscathed by Israel. Everyone was moved, everyone has been changed. Baruch Hashem, I feel like I have witnessed 10 days of miracles. I am so grateful and so humbled by this experience. Last night people spoke and we listened. People opened up and shared, it was mamesh the magic of Israel, the power of Hashem's holy land. Shmulik was moved to tears when he talked about how he felt traveling with us. The rabbis spoke and it was so wonderful to see that they had been affected every bit as much as us.
When we were all finished speaking, Ital and Shmulik gave us gifts. First they gave us a small, empty film case with the quote "Every place I go to, I am going to Israel" on it. Then we each went up and filled it with soil from Israel, so we can really take a piece of the land with us. Next they gave us these beautiful olive wood keychains in the shape of a dove, with the world "shalom" on one side and their names on the other. They gave us Mayanot bentchers and a Havdalah set with a candle and a bottle of lemon oil for b'samim. We got out bus t-shirts which turned out looking marvelous and very professional.
Then we gave Ital and Shmulik the gifts from the group. For Ital we bought a silver and turquoise necklace and bracelet set, which she loved. For Shmulik we got a t-shirt that said, "I can't take it anymore!" on it and a turquoise stone which has powers of protection which we felt was appropriate because he served as our guard on the trip. We gave the rabbis and Leon, our bus driver cards that everyone had signed.
We started to disperse after that. It was late and very hot in the room we were in. I stayed behind to give Ital and Shmulik the gifts I got for them. I thanked them both for everything. There was so much I wanted to tell them, explain to them, share with them. But I couldn't even find the words. What I said to them and what I wrote in the cards I gave them was only a small fraction of everything I was feeling. Ital said that she saw so much power in me. That she could see how much I loved being Jewish and how much I loved Israel in my eyes and she knew that it came straight from the heart and soul. She said she knew I'd be coming back. I told her she was right.
It was almost 2:00 a.m. by then and by the time I made it to my room and got packed and showered I didn't have the time or energy to write 12 pages about the day.
Today, the 17th, they woke us up at 6:30 a.m. I was already mostly packed so all I had to do was get dressed, pack the few things I had left and then I left our little hotel room, #305, for good. Downstairs, I put my luggage under the bus and went to our very last breakfast, our last meal in Israel. I wasn't feeling that great stomach wise so I just had some pudding. And it was weird but I wasn't feeling emotional. Here I had finally gotten over my anxiety about not feeling at special moments and my worst fear came true. I didn't feel anything. I know now that it just hadn't hit me yet that we were really, truly leaving. It just didn't feel over to me, even with my luggage on the bus and our room key turned in.
Late as usual, we didn't head out for the airport until about a quarter after 8:00 a.m. The whole way there I just stared out the window, trying to memorize the landscape. Trying to think of a way to convey this experience to people waiting for me back in America. All too soon we were at the airport getting our tickets and boarding passes.
Ital came over to say good-bye for the last time. But even then it didn't really hit me. It wasn't until I was waiting in line to check my bags and I saw Shmulik waiting by the gate to say good-bye to people as they passed. The line I was in was moving so slowly and then a rabbi cut in front to make it go even more slow. I kept glancing over, hoping Shmulik wouldn't leave before I said good-bye. One by one people from our group left for the boarding gate. I was one of the only ones left.
By the time I reached the counter I was in tears. I'm sure the woman who checked my bags thought I was crying because the only seats left were center center, but that wasn't it. Shmulik was gone when I looked and I couldn't believe I didn't get the chance to say good-bye. That's when it really hit me that I was leaving. I was crying when I got to the escalators that led to our boarding gate.
And Shmulik was there. He was crying too as he said good-bye to me and handed me a little paper Israeli flag and told me to remember the trip. I couldn't even talk. As I was going up the escalator I turned back to see Shmulik was still crying too. I waved a little and he caled out that I should remember what we learned together on the bus. It was all I could do to nod. I cried the rest of the way through the airport and onto the plane where it seems this journal will end. But a few final thoughts first.
I wrote a lot in this journal. But absolutely none of it can compare to living it. What can I really say about Israel? To leave it breaks my heart. Knowing it is my home leaves me comforted. I walked on holy ground for 10 days. I ate, slept, davened, laughed, cried, was angry, was happy, was changed, all in Hashem's land.
I met soldiers who defended that land and how as I leave, I remember, or even realize for the first time that I am a soldier too. As our speaker said last night, we who live outside of Eretz Yisroel, the land of Israel, are fighting on the front lines of a spiritual war. A war that has been going on for thousands of years. It is an awesome responsibility, but I remember what Leesha Rose told us, "You are all stronger than you know. Give yourselves credit for it."
I will remember that. I will remember that I am a soldier of Hashem. And I will take the past 10 days with me and use them to find a way to do my part in bringing the Jewish people home to where we all truly belong: Israel.
 Glossary
|
