Great Expectasia: A Quick Trip to Israel and Some Reflections

This is way too long, so perhaps break it in two! Or four! Or at least I will have it in the future, but there's no pressure to read...

I am on the plane on my way “home” from a six-day, intense trip to Israel. Originally, I was going for a long weekend, Thursday until Sunday. Then Matt realized they don’t really need me on Wednesday, so then Wed until Sunday. Then I realized Sunday night was Yom HaZikaron, Memorial Day, so I was going to stay until Monday. Then I realized Monday night was Yom HaAtzmaut, Independence Day, and I wanted to experience it all this year, as it’s jut such an intense year, and I couldn’t imagine what it would all be like. So it ended up being nearly a week (but still quick and hectic given the number of people I would love to see here!). And thank you to the in-laws who helped Matt hold down the fort, as I am definitely the main caregiver in our home.

I ended up flying ElAl, because the two Easy Jet flights I got at first – much cheaper – were cancelled. Not many airlines are flying to Israel these days. I was nearly the only non-Haredi person on my flight. The ratio of babies to adults seemed to be 5-1. Not a pleasant flight. The airport was VERY quiet. On the way to the exit, you pass photos of all of the hostages. It was quiet, long, sad.

Landing felt especially dramatic. Everyone always claps when you land on ElAl.

The way to leave the airport. Paved with hostages.

I was picked up at the airport by my most amazing cousin, Roni. Since I was a kid Roni and Shoshi have been the most warm and welcoming and a home away from home when I lived in Israel for three years. When I was 14 I came to Israel on my own, and they kept me and took me around for nearly two weeks. They live in Ramat Gan, a suburb of Tel Aviv, nearish the airport. I saw their “new” apartment. They moved in 2019, and the last time I was in Israel was 2018 with my family. It has a mirpeset/balcony that they have always wanted, with a view of Tel Aviv. We spent the night catching up. They wanted to hear about everyone in Michigan, and I wanted to hear about all of them, though we keep in touch somewhat regularly.

Shoshi was my grandpa’s sister, Manya’s GRANDdaughter. Though they are 70, they are my generation in the family. Manya moved from Czestochowa, Poland, before the war, to Palestine. She was something like 20 years older than my Grandpa (!!!! Thinking about their mom…). The only reason we have pictures of my Grandpa’s family is that she brought them with her. Two other brothers came to Israel after the war. One. My grandma’s sister also lived in Israel for many years (though she passed away), so we had/have quite a lot of family in Israel. The ones I was always closest with were two of the three children of Manya – Ezra and Amos. Ezra was Shoshi’s dad. Amos was a sofer (text writer) who wrote the claf in mezuzot (the prayer that goes on the cowhide that is rolled up inside the thing hung on Jewish people’s doors), and he wrote a whole torah once. He and his wife, Chava, lived in B’nei Brak, a SUPER religious area near Tel Aviv, and I loved going to visit them and seeing their life. They were always so so welcoming to me (and my friends!). They moved to a settlement in the West Bank after the last time I lived in Israel, and I didn’t visit them there, so I haven’t seen them since 2005 (or possibly 2007 – I can’t remember). Amos passed away a few years ago. I’m not in touch with their children, but I should be.

Roni is not a blood relative, but he has always felt like it. His father was from Muncach, where my grandma was from. (He told me his dad’s story that night – HOLY cow, I will share that another time. It’s truly unbelievable). He has always come to get me, hosted me, made sure I didn’t need anything in Israel, etc. When we came to Israel with the kids in 2018, I don’t even think I gave them our flight details, and when we got to the Avis at the airport to get our car, he was there! He jumped right in to help negotiate everything for us. Just so so so there.

After visiting all night, I was able to do some work, then woke up to do more work. Since I had been traveling so much lately, I could only do this trip if I worked, and I ended up doing that every morning, night and in between visiting people, with a few zooms thrown in the mix.

Thursday, my good friend, Gal, from our time in Singapore came to see me, and we had coffee. She and her awesome husband have three children, the first of which was born during our time together in Singapore. They live in Rana’ana, about 30/40 minutes away. Then I got picked up by Shira, one of Roni and Shoshi’s three kids. Shira lives near them in Givatayim and has a husband and two kids. We went for a “drink” (I had chocolate milk. I’m so fun. I know. No caffeine. No alcohol. Oy).

Shira and Gal told me all about their experiences on and around October 7th and since then. I noticed that every time someone started speaking loudly or if there was a loud noise, they were VERY aware, looking around. They told me about getting their kids into safe rooms/shelters when the sirens went off – for days. Weeks. Kids back to learning on Zoom. They told me about how scared they were in their homes. Would people come, dressed as Israeli soldiers, into their homes and take their children? They were not relaxed about anything. No planning their next trip abroad – can they travel safely as Israelis abroad? My thoughts? No, in most places, for the first time since I remember, they cannot. They all sort of half want to leave so their children have normal childhoods and life can be more relaxed, but they also don’t want to abandon Israel. How do you leave during a time like this? And nearly all their family is in Israel. And anyway, is it even safer abroad? With the last few months, I am not sure which is best. Can’t stay. Can’t go.

Shira dropped me off at a school where our good friend Ofir is the principal. We met Hagit and Ofir when they lived below us in a brownstone in New York. Same age as us. Also had just gotten married. We spent a lot of time together at 30 W 96th Street together. Ofir gave me a tour of his school. It’s a beautiful school with a maker-space, an animal corner (goats, chickens, etc!), an amazing playground and other great facilities. He showed me where they got their shelter organized, as they could only come back to school in October if there was a place for everyone to go. And yes, there were a couple of sirens when Hamas sent missiles when school was in session, so they used it. He showed me the classrooms where they have up to 34 students and ONE teacher. (My kids have 18/19 and two teachers). How do they get anything done? Holy cow. Ofir drove me to Rechovot to their beautiful new house where they live with their amazing three kids, nearly exactly the same age as my kids.

When we got there, I saw Ofir was putting something into a hidden closet. I had spent more than an hour with him, and I hadn’t realized he had a gun the whole time. After October 7th he got it, because he wanted to be able to protect his family if people came into his house. He carries it with him always. I asked if parents at the school or anyone cared that he takes it to school every day. He said they do care in that they’re appreciative. He said many people got a gun after that day and take it everywhere. Everyone has been in the army, so they all know how to use, store, clean a gun, and they all understand the dangers. What a different culture of gun than Newton, MA.

I spent the night catching up with Hagit and hearing all about their life. The vibe in their house is so amazingly calm. They’re the sweetest kids who just did what they did and then put themselves to sleep. (Let’s say my house is not exactly like that). Their middle boy is just like Elie and built an entire lego set I gave him of the London skyline, in about an hour. The girls both do this acrobatic dancing thing with big balls and ribbons and had practice. The kids don’t really get homework. Ofir went swimming – what a long day for him – then cooked us all a beautiful dinner. Hagit and I talked and talked and talked on their mirpeset.

In the morning I hopped on a bus, right outside their house, to the central bus station in Jerusalem. From there I got on a local bus to Dena’s house. Dena and I met in 1990 at Camp Ramah in Canada. She was from Cleveland and made Aliyah (moved to Israel) in 1993. We have always been in unbelievable touch, her family was my family here, and she is one of my best friends. She visited me (twice!) in Singapore, at least twice in Boston and last year in London. We have become adults, moms (our first kids were born two weeks apart) and experience life together.

Dena was waiting for me at the bus stop. We went for a long walk, tried to shop on Emek Refaim and at Tachana Rishona (I’m terrible at shopping if I don’t know EXACTLY what I want to buy, so I got nothing). Then I did more work and we got ready for shabbat. We went to her shul, Tzion, with her two awesome kids. The singing was so so beautiful. Everyone there is so heavy with pain from the war. It was all so sad and beautiful, and when they/we started singing Lu Yehi, I couldn’t hold it together anymore. I excused myself, because I want to be strong for friends and family in Israel. They can’t comfort me – poor me to come here for a week and experience it, when they experience it all day, everyday. They all just want peace so much. The Rabbi, Tamar, was so inspiring with her approach to the shabbat between Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) and Yom HaZikaron/Yom HaAtzmaut, especially this year. Her brother was killed for Israel 23 years ago, and it’s a very hard time of year anyways, and she is someone who is working for peace and coexistence more than anyone. She just truly just seemed sad with a bit of hope somewhere in there. She said it's not a time to be famous. Don’t care about advancing your own agenda. Just do what has to be done and be holy. Just do the right thing. The service was incredibly moving. We went back to Dena’s for shabbat dinner with her parents, whom I’m also close with – I even stayed with them for six weeks during a summer in 2003! It seemed SO SO generous then, but now it seems absolutely outrageous that they welcomed me for that long. It was wonderful to catch up with them, though they’re going through a hard time as they age.

At the entrance to the community center that houses the Shul that I went to on Shabbat morning. But this was on our Friday walk.

Walking towards the Old City. Aggressive cactus-like plant.

This is just all over every bus stop. Wall. Everywhere.

Shabbat morning, I wanted to go to shul and had the choice of SO many minyanim right near me. Their neighborhood is packed with shuls. Probably one per block, at least. I went to the shul that I used to go to the most, Shira Chadasha, the last time I lived in Jerusalem, when I studied at Pardes in 2004-2005. Many of the faces looked familiar, but the only person I really knew was Esther who was the director of Hillel at Hebrew U when I was there in 1998-1999. She was very welcoming, and the service was beautiful, and I got to hear the Torah, which is why I go to shul. Of course there is security at shul, including at least one M16. On the way home I noticed a religious family with four kids, and the dad had a gun on his belt. We had lunch with Dena and kids and did work then went for a long Shabbat walk with Dena, to see how much has changed in the German Colony and Katamon since I left so long ago. (A LOT!)

Saturday night we ate, talked and talked and slept. Sunday Dena and I went downtown, and I did my part to support the economy of Israel, since there are barely any tourists. I made a proper list of what I wanted to buy. (Kippot with Aresenal and Manchester City for the boys, kiddush cup for Sam and one for Sam’s friend, who is having her BM soon, a mug from the same potter that I buy a mug every time I come to Israel, etc.), and boy did I buy. I bought a lot, and I love it all. We went to Ben Yehuda area and then walked up to the shuk (market), which was my favorite place in Jerusalem (the world?) for years. I LOVE the shuk. It was very empty, as it’s usually filled with tourists, but it still had lots of local traffic. We went through, bought some favorites (burekas, clementinas, exploding chocolate, dried fruit) plus some groceries for Dena, and had a great lunch. Dena left her phone at lunch, and rather than it being stolen off the table, like it would have been in London, it was waiting for her in a cupboard when we remembered and returned.

Yoel Solomon got fancy. I bought earrings there. A mug. A sign to in my house to remind us to be thankful.

The shuk was nearly empty. And decorated for Yom HaAtzmaut.

Buying some veggies.

That sky scraper situation was not there last time I was. The shuk is just at the bottom of that and you can barely see it now!

People who were killed on October 7th. This is the sign a little boy was looking at for a long time at the intersection.

On a shop. Overwhelming.

Dena's mirpeset. AMAZING Bougainvillea everywhere and beautfully singing birds.

Dena's family's friends were evacuated from the North. They have lived in a hotel for 6 months, and Dena's family is keeping their bunny until they can go home. The bunny was nibbling on my leg. Not my thing. Rodent. But it was soft.

I went for a walk to see more of my old life in Jerusalem, we did work/rested some more, ate a quick dinner and then we went to a community tekes (ceremony) at the community center where Shira Chadasha, the shul I went to, meets. There were probably 500 or 600 people (we had no seats – it was packed) in this courtyard. Religious. Secular. Young. Old. Soldiers. It was really a mismash of a community. They started the ceremony with the national siren, at 8pm which starts Yom HaZikaron, an air raid siren for one minute. Dena said she had a bit of a physical reaction this year because of the sirens on 7th of October and when Iran attacked them a few weeks ago, though she said the real siren went up and down a bit, and this one was more steady. After the siren, there were speakers and songs for an hour or so. The first speaker lost his brother on the Yom Kippur War – October 7th 1973, exactly 50 years before the terrible day this year. He talked about the importance of achdut – unity. A leader of the community spoke about how we have to put aside differences this year – even if you don’t agree with the government or each other – and be together to support each other. He said it has to last – everyone can’t go back to their own thing. Ever. The speeches were inspiring. A haredi (super religious) rabbi did one prayer. A young woman in a tank top did another. While usually Yom HaZikaron focuses on those who died fighting for the State of Israel in 1948 and then 1967 and 1973, the main focus this year was October 7th and also the hostages. They named the people from the neighborhood who have been killed this year. Do you include hostages in a Memorial Day? You want to be hopeful that they’re alive, but how do you not include them? It was really beautiful and moving, and it ended with everyone singing HaTikvah (The Hope, the national anthem).

It felt like going home after Kol Nidre, on Yom Kippur. Heavy. Intesnse. But this time we could have a cup of tea.

Monday I woke up and went for a run to the Tayelet (promenade overlooking the Old City). I got there, and it was mostly empty, and I had the beautiful view and then thought, shit is this safe? I have no idea. There are Arabs there. I don’t want to be scared of Arabs. I have friends who are Arab. But gosh the hatred is so scary – could someone there hate me because I’m Jewish? I turned around and returned to the busy neighborhoods. I bought my kids (and me!) marzipan, the best rugalach in the world, and while they used to be only in the shuk, they happened to open a branch a block from Dena. I did more work, and then Dena and I went to a tekes at her son’s school.

View of the old city and mount of olives from the tayelet

Right down the street from Dena's house! Detroit Garden. And me and my Michigan hat.

So many cars with Israeli flags on their windows

Ceremony at Dena's son's school.

Flags at the school as they switched to Yom HaAtzmaut

It started with a national siren. During this two-minute air raid siren the entire country stops. Cars on the highway pull over and people get out of them. EVERYONE stops what they’re doing and remembers those who have died for Israel. They talked about four boys who went to the school who have died for Israel. After the siren was a flyover. They usually do it on Yom HaAtzmaut but it was cancelled this year for a few reasons. They did a small one in a “missing soldier formation.” The kids did a play that enacted the life of a soldier from Jerusalem who died in January of this year in Gaza. The sister of Aner Shapiro spoke. She goes to the school. Aner was best friends with Hersh Goldberg-Polin, and he died a hero when Hersh was taken hostage, throwing multiple grenades out of a bomb shelter, saving the life of something like 12 people on 7th October. It was truly heartbreaking. They shifted a bit into Yom HaAtzmaut, but it was hard to feel excitement for that.

We had lunch and did lots of work, and then I went to visit two really good friends from my time at Pardes. I heard all about their lives – one of them moved to Israel only last year with his three kids under four. Their experiences right now are just so so intense. What is safe. How to protect your kids. How to sleep at night. But they’re all doing ok, overall.

I ran back for a call, and then we went to a Tekes Mea’avar that passes from Yom HaZikaron to Yom HaAtzmaut, at Dena’s shul. I ran into another guy from Pardes, a guy I was at Hebrew U with (but I don’t remember him), and a girl (woman now!) who was in high school when I did an internship at the Jewish Academy of Metropolitan Detroit. I loved all those kids so much.

They did a BEAUTIFUL ceremony with instruments and amazing singing. Tamar spoke. They planted seven trees for people who have fallen for Israel, including this year– the family members of the fallen planted them and spoke. They sang and sang. The children sang. It was so beautiful. They blew the shofar and talked about kibbutz galuyot – the gathering of the nations, from the four corners of the world, and usually when they talk about that stuff, they mean when the messiah comes. But this time I was thinking, “yes. We might all be coming here soon, because it is becoming clear that we might not be welcome anywhere else.” They did ma’ariv and hallel with lots of singing and even a little dancing and then had a community meal. Again, so so heavy and so so moving. And SO SO peace-loving. I hope there are people singing for peace this beautifully all over the middle east.

Happy dancing for Yom HaAtzmaut

This morning we woke (EARLY!) and drove to the beach in Tel Aviv. We relaxed and talked. The kids built sand stuff and swam and surfed in the waves. Dena and I talked and talked. And when I checked my phone I saw that there were rockets fired at Ashkelon, a bit down the coast, and where I lived for three months in 2000. Dena said, yes, we should know where the nearest shelter is just in case (we didn’t need it). Then I took the bus to the train to the airport.

The beach. Yay.

A small flyover organized by the families of the hostages. Usually there is a big military flyover on Yom HaAtzmaut.

Who are we if they're still there? The triangles that make up the Deltas of the start of DaviD separated into an hourglass.

The entrance to the train station. Not like other countries where you walk right in. You have to go through security first.

Last time I lived in Israel there was no train, and I would have been stuck in THAT traffic trying to go to the airport. Thank goodness for the train! What a blessing.

On my flight, the captain said “chag sameach,” happy holiday, for Yom HaAtzmaut. They said a prayer of thanks and for the safety of the soldiers and for the return of the hostages. They had an Israel flag hanging on the plane. The flight attendant is wearing hostage tags.

And off I go.

The Bibas babies that are still there (we hope). Their first cousins have been evacuated and now go to school with my friend Gal's kids.

Hersh, a friend's cousin and someone from Dena's neighborhood. I have followed him and his family closely during these seven months.

Flag hanging in first class. Tags on the flight attendant for a hostage.

My Hebrew came back to me – I could understand nearly everything that I heard, though finding the right words was a bit harder. Cousins and friends outside of Jerusalem, other than Gal, spoke to me only in Hebrew. I learned new words in Hebrew like chatufim and chatufot (hostages) and otef (envelope, as in the Gaza Envelope, the communities that were all attacked on October 7th) and luchim (fighters).

It was the most intense trip I have taken. It was a vacation from my kids and my life in London, but it was not relaxing. It is heartbreaking to walk around Jerusalem and see pictures EVERYWHERE of hostages and those killed on 7th Oct. The posters often have a huge image of one person and say, “NAME. We are waiting for you to come home.” I saw a kid on his way home from school on Friday stopped on the street and looking at each and every face on a wall of hostages. I saw a kid look at a big poster hanging of the faces of everyone killed on 7th October hanging at an intersection, and he asked his dad, “were all these people killed on October 7th?” Yes. My friend’s six year old asked, “why is there a baby there? They didn’t take a baby, did they? Why?” The kids can’t be sheltered. Their friends’ dads are being killed. Their teachers are in the reserves. They are going into shelters to protect themselves. They are hearing stories all the time. A number of people in shul had masking tape on their shirt with the number of days the hostages have been in captivity, started by Hersh’s mom. Most people wear tags of a hostage. Dena had a card with a prayer for the safe return of the hostages along with the name of one to say when lighting shabbat candles. They gave out these cards at a bat mitzvah. It’s all integrated into their life. The prayer for Israel in shul is so intense. The prayer for the hostages in shul is so intense. We also do it in London, and it’s intense there, but man, when you’re in the room with their families, it’s a lot.

Life is mostly on hold in Israel. They’re all doing the bare minimum. Dena’s gardener, a good family friend, was in Gaza for four months. He did return, but he hasn’t reached out yet, and she most definitely won’t bother him. So her garden isn’t’ tended. Shira’s husband’s team at work went down to less than 50% because of people being called to Miluim (reserves). Their international employer expects the team to deliver, but they can’t at the same pace. Dena’s clients are mostly Israeli and they all understand extending timelines as key actors are in reserves on and off for months. And many of those fighting who are around my age (I am just older than the age where people stop going for reserves) and of course younger have children at home. I saw a daughter hugging her dad in uniform, so tight, for so long, at the tekes last night during a prayer for soldiers.

When I think about life in Gaza, I can’t even begin. I can’t compare. That is truly unbelievable loss and awfulness. No one wants this war. No one. What a hopeless feeling on all sides as we try to find our way out of this awful awful situation of death, loss and fear on all sides.