Israel Part 1: Departure

 

My relationship with Israel has always been a little tentative. 

(This has changed dramatically in the last few months, but I'll get there.) 

I grew up in Corvallis, Oregon with a teeny tiny Jewish community that was mixed in affiliation. My parents found mentors in the one Orthodox couple in town and, as our family's interest in observant Judaism grew, we began to spend our Shabbat mornings, davening and reading Torah in the living room. My parents followed their lead on issues of observance, including relying on Portland, Oregon, a two-hour drive away, as a pilgimage for the high holidays and a place to buy Kosher meat and access a mikveh. 

It was there at Kesser Israel congregation that I made my first observant Jewish friend whom I'll call here BF. We went to camp together and later I followed her lead in going together to College. She was active in everything Jewish -- the Kosher co-op, Hillel and Hebrew house. I was active too, but took more of a back seat. She seemed to know who she was and I was trying to figure it out.

One memory stands out as particularly distinct in my watching her relationship with Israel and trying to decide where I belonged. In 1996 a suicide bomber ruined Purim by detonating in an area filled with children in costume, celebrating the holiday. BF and I were leaving in the same dorm. I saw her glued to the news in the living room, and I held back from even entering the room. I wrote a poem about it, focusing on my love for the evergreens in Oregon -- how that was home, not Israel. I felt the fear and horror of the moment, and I resisted engaging in it. It was too much to think of and felt very far away. I think about that memory now with a tightness in my chest, a discomfort that I can't quite explain.

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I'm typing this at JFK, waiting to board an ElAl flight.  Our rabbi, along with so many others, is urging people to spend vacation time in Israel. This will be only my fourth time there. I went once with my parents, once with March of the Living and once with U and NDR about ten years ago. 

I started sending out feelers to different friends to see if a visit from me during yeshiva break would be helpful or a burden. OW, whom I'll introduce in another post, cried as soon as I asked. When I checked in with BF I learned that her son would be getting married that very week. So here I sit, less than a week after the simcha, and seeing BF will be one of my first stops.