One of the great things about returning to Israel again and again, specifically to Jerusalem, is how so many different places hold meaning from various periods in my life. This past week during our synagogue trip to Israel, we drove past the neighborhood of Abu Tor, where my family resided for a year when I was 8; we took a Shabbat walking tour through Katamon where Rebecca and I lived in 2006-7; we ate at restaurants along Emek Refaim Street, where my brother and I studied in the summer of 1999; and we prayed at the Kotel, the Western Wall, where I have many emotional memories from several different trips. And these are just a few of the wonderful nostalgic moments that came flooding back as I wandered through the streets of Jerusalem.
But as with most things in life - and certainly in Israel - it's much more complicated and nuanced than that. I also passed restaurants where piguim, terrorist attacks, had taken place; I remembered all the cab drivers, grocers, government employees, store owners, and landlords (to name but a few...) that I had to fight with over the years; and I was sadly reminded of too many unpleasant encounters with ultra-Orthodox Jews, where I felt judged, condescended, or otherwise discriminated against.
Even just over the course of the past seven, fleeting days of our trip, we've had so many "Israeli" experiences. Some of them filled with holiness, spirituality, breathtaking beauty, and rich, ancient history; while others, equally typical, were marred by intrusive religious extremists, rude and obnoxious locals, or other challenges of Israeli society and culture. Israel seems all at once to be impressively modern, yet surprisingly antiquated. It's unimaginably gorgeous, both the nature and the man-made structures, yet simultaneously dirty, poorly maintained, and covered in dust. It's sacred, mystical, and ancient, yet noisy, frustrating, and pushy. How do we reconcile these statements that all somehow manage to be true of Israel and Jerusalem at the same time?
On a personal note, I surprised myself with how excited I was to be back in Jerusalem. I felt a thrill as the bus climbed the mountains and entered the city, I clapped unintentionally when we first walked the streets, and my excitement was almost tangible as we prayed together as a group in the Old City. I can't figure it out. But I also know I can't deny any of these conflicting aspects of Israeli life. Israel can't be explained or passed along to anyone else; you have to experience it for yourself. And when you do, you have to weigh the pros and cons and decide for yourself whether you come out loving it or hating it.
For some, the pros so outweigh the cons that the person cannot help but make aliyah. I promise you now, that will never be the case for me. Yet somehow, even when I think I've had all I can take of Yerushalayim Shel Zahav, the pros keep winning narrowly enough to keep me coming back. For now, I will admit to you that I'm glad our trip has moved on to other parts of the country... and I eagerly look forward to the next time I'll be back.
Follow us on our Ohev Shalom Israel Trip on our synagogue website: www.ohev.net/israeltrip
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