Hey guys! I just got back from Israel and discovered this wonderful forum you’ve created. I’m sorry I didn’t contribute earlier, but look out now -- here I am. It’s so great to hear about you all – I miss you!
So here’s my update: I was traveling around Israel with a Birthright trip for the last 12 days, and it was frickin’ awesome. The end.
Ok, no, I have a whole lot to say about it, obviously. But there is way too much to say, and I am still digesting everything I’ve seen and done, so forgive me if it comes out as a long confusing mess. Well, here goes… so, I could explain my trip in terms of the things I saw – the sun rising over Masada, old women praying at the Western Wall, the plaza where Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated, the room where David Ben Gurion declared the independent state of Israel, a bustling Tel Aviv marketplace, a traditional-style Bedouin enclave in the desert, the Holocaust museum, a display of army tanks, ancient ruins of a Jewish city from thousands of years ago, a bunker in the Golan Heights overlooking the Syrian border, idyllic Mediterranean beaches. Or I could explain my trip in terms of the activities we did – hiking Mt. Arbel, rafting down the Jordan River, floating in the salty Dead Sea, caking my whole body in thick brown mud, riding camels in the desert, discussing my Jewish “identity,” riding a bus for hours and hours, meeting tons of other young Jews, splashing around in an oasis-like waterfall, learning everything there is to know about Israeli history, picking weeds from a garden behind a local soup kitchen, listening to a Holocaust survivor tell her story, becoming close friends with 7 current Israeli soldiers (and becoming REAL close friends with 2 of them, eh eh if you know what I mean), having a second Bat Mitzvah in Jerusalem. But neither of these categories comes close to explaining my experience. So how can I describe it? Maybe with a few more specific anecdotes…
1: On the third day or so, we got word that 2 missiles had been fired into a northern Israeli city (about an hour from where we were). It was unclear why exactly they had been fired, or what would happen next. Our group leaders predicted that it was just a small Lebanese rebel group trying to embarrass their own government, and that no more missiles would be fired. But they didn’t know for sure, and we had to abandon our plans and go straight to the hotel until we got more information. For the first time, I truly understood the dread and fear caused by terrorist attacks. I realized that I had no guarantee that I would still be alive the next day, or even the next minute. For the next few hours of uncertainty, until we heard that the missiles were surely an isolated incident, my mind raced – what if this was it? What if I couldn’t get home? What if I could never see my family again? Clearly I was dramatizing the situation (surprising for me, I know), but these fears were real, and no one could protect me. Not the trip leaders, not the group’s armed guard, not the Israeli government. No one could protect anyone. We were helpless, just waiting. And to top it off, the next day we went to that very city for lunch and hiking. Talk about powering through your fears. Talk about a reality check.
2: The seven Israeli soldiers (4 guys, 3 girls) traveled around with us for the second half of the trip, blending in with our group, wearing normal clothes, joking around – kids just like the rest of us. On the second to last day, though, we went to Mt. Herzl – the country’s most prestigious cemetery, where important military and political leaders are buried. Dressed in their sharp beige air force uniforms and berets, the soldiers became serious and quiet. When the group was asked if we knew anybody who had been killed in war or terrorism, a few scattered American hands slowly rose, but all the Israelis silently shot up their hands. Suddenly, in my eyes, they all became adults. They had dealt with so much more than I could even imagine. As we walked through the cemetery, they shared their stories, unable to choke back their tears as they told about their best friends killed in battle. “People think we are not human,” one soldier said, “that we love war, and don’t understand the pain. But that is insulting. Israelis hate war, we hate it more than anybody. We fight because it’s the only way we will survive. We feel the pain more than anybody.” And for some reason, I really needed to hear that.
3: Less heavy, I promise. So the Birthright program obviously has ulterior motives, giving free trips to 24,000 kids every summer (costing about $3500 per kid). They did a pretty good job of keeping that inconspicuous… except for one night: the night of the “Mega Event” (!). They gathered the 3,000 kids on June Birthright trips together in one huge venue. But it wasn’t just to schmooze, oh no. There was a massive boy band-esque series of performances, complete with dance routines, strobe lights, and of course, images of psychedelic flying torahs on the screens in the back. They passed out Israeli flags, led sing-alongs of Jewish songs, and gave motivational speeches about being Jewish. It was one of the more absurd spectacles I’ve ever been a part of. It was like N’Sync and Jew camp had a baby, while tripping on acid.
Ok, this is long. And not very funny. Sorry bout that. From now on I promise short and sassy stories, filled with glamour and Hollywood scandal. (Well, I don’t promise. But I’ll try.) I miss you all so much, and keep those entries coming!
