Israel Part 3: Leaning in

My second trip to Israel was on March of the Living in 1994. In this trip we spent the first week in Poland visiting Holocaust sites and concentration camps. The second half was in Israel. We were meant to see the juxtaposition of the two, the rising from a place of oppression to one of strength.

One night we visited an army base. They threw a giant, raucous party. I was not a person who goes to giant, raucous parties and I was not the kind of teen that wanted to influenced by someone who was trying to convince me of something by throwing a giant, raucous party. What I remember saying to my counselor at this time was that I was deeply inspired by the stories strength I had heard during the Poland portion of the trip, but that now that strength looked different. It didn't seem as beautiful to me and I didn't know what to make of it. 

I'm still uncomfortable with the kind of strength that it takes to defend a country, especially one under as much attack as this one is. However, now I'm feeling the absolute necessity of it and my heart is breaking in new ways. A handful of these soldiers are former students of mine or the children of friends. They are fighting for the survival of our people and they wouldn't do it if they didn't have to.

I'm reflecting on the very well-read People Love Dead Jews by Dara Horn and realizing that my initial feelings about the IDF reflected the sentiment of the book -- that it's easy to be inspired by people who have been martyred or who suffered terribly. It's in these kinds of stories that non-Jews think Jews are terrific. As soon as we decide we want to take our own fate into our hands and defend ourselves, some strange bar is raised so that anything we as Jews do is vilified. 

It's still appropriate that I was uncomfortable with that party. I want a military that defends me or my people to be honest about both its strengths and its flaws and not to try to sell me on what it's doing. But that was just a PR move that landed poorly with me and doesn't speak to the IDF's morality. I see now why they wanted to make us teens comfortable with their role because it's so incredibly essential. 

But this is not my area of expertise. Let me step back into reflecting on my experience.

My last international experience was in Germany I wrote in the section "Shul Number 1" of Traveling Jewish in Germany about when we went to shul and how struck I was by reading the Chumash in German. It was like seeing it with new eyes. I so enjoyed that trip. I enjoyed finding the pockets of Judaism within Germany. I enjoyed practicing with the language that really feels some times like just an adjustment from English. But I was exploring a country that not-too-long ago tried to destroy us. There's something oddly safe about going back to visit now when that is mostly history and where my family was alone exploring and oddly enjoying the world of today while also knowing how many of our people had been murdered. 

This trip doesn't feel like that. Israel is overwhelming for me. When I was walking in Modi'in yesterday I didn't have the courage to even try, "I don't speak Hebrew" in Hebrew. I just found English speakers who could help me. When I walked into shul today -- a shul we already visited on our trip nine years ago -- I felt out of my comfort zone. Here, where the streets were completely quiet today and where everyone said Shabbat Shalom, I am still working very hard to adjust. 

We had a lot of fun in Germany, but then again, except when we went to shul, we mostly didn't mention to anyone that we were Jewish.

Let me be clear. This isn't a discomfort to avoid. It's the kind to push myself into. I've been comfortable with my Jewish identity looking backwards into where my family came from. I'm comfortable in my own story of developing my own Jewish identity. I'm even kind of comfortable with talking about what Judaism looks like for me in Bergen County, New Jersey. But thinking about this as our homeland and what it takes to keep it strong -- thinking about it in a world where we intend to survive as a people feels very different.

I'm proud of myself for coming and continue to be open to what I learn.