"Just" getting back...
Fri January 27, 2012 Filed in: Israel 2010-2011
SCOTT’S BLOG
I have been wanting to write for five months now. Wow! Even as I write that it has been five months since we left Israel, I cannot wrap my head around it. I often wonder how long of a grace period one gets before no longer being able to blame their absentmindedness on being a recent yored (one who has descended from a holier place). How long can I say to people, “We just got back from thirteen months in Israel.”
Since leaving Israel I have been looking for a proper marker upon which to place our descent. We left shortly after Tisha b’Av, the holiday on which we mourn for the destruction of Jerusalem. How appropriate, I thought, that this day would mark our descent into exile and my descent into the depression I was prepared to enter as we exited the land. But on Tisha b’Av, we gathered on the Haas Promenade with a group of Jews from Israel’s Masorti movement. From the promenade, one can see the most gorgeous vista of the place where the Holy Temple in Jerusalem once stood. (The destruction of this Temple is what is being mourned on this holiday.) The community gathered for the traditional reading of the book of Lamentations, a time of quiet reflection where we refrain from pleasant greetings and idle chatter. While the description of a destroyed Jerusalem was read to its somber tune, a group of young Israeli children ran back and forth on the promenade, tagging each other with their flashlights. I thought, “How can I mourn the destruction of a place that is clearly not destroyed? The modern city of Jerusalem produced these playful children. I thought about how these children would grow to don uniforms and protect this city and country from further destruction.
So Aviva and I lived out our final week and a half in Israel without giving much thought to the fact that we were actually leaving. We delayed packing as long as possible, finished up our respective work and school and enjoyed as much as we could have a Jerusalem summer. We returned to the US, reunited with family, celebrated at several friends’ weddings and returned to Massachusetts to become reacquainted with our former lives.
I thought returning to the same space would aid my transition. Aviva and I were fortunate enough to reclaim the apartment in which we lived for three years prior to our time in Jerusalem. As much stress was alleviated by returning to familiar space, more was added by the feeling that we had never really left. The movers placed our furniture in its place, our belongings made their way to their designated spots, and the nails of our mezuzot went back into their previous holes. Aside from rearranging some artwork, it was as if we had never left. Above our mantle, we placed a print that we purchased in Israel from artist, Sharon Binder. The print is a Sharon’s interpretation of the verse, “אור חדש על ציון תאיר ונזכה כולנו מהרה לאורו,” from the daily morning prayers. In translation, “May you make a new light to shine upon Zion and may we all be worthy of sharing in that light.” It is a daily message of hope for the land we love. For some time I expected that getting settled back in the United States would serve to mark the end of our adventure in Israel. As pleasant as it has been to be back, I’m not ready to declare that the adventure is over.
After the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, it became custom for Jews to leave a corner of their homes unfinished. This symbolized their unwillingness to fully settle in exile and their longing for return. Just a couple of weeks ago, I ran out of shampoo. Why is this relevant? My bottle of Head & Shoulders is one of a few remnants of products around our house that we purchased in Israel. Every morning I would look at the bottle and smile. It stood as a reminder that it wasn’t long ago that I was living in Israel and shopping for products with Hebrew labels. When the bottle ran out it was as if, in a really silly and sorta-meaningless way, so did my right to say, “I just returned…” However, I still feel as if I am in transition. So I ran down the street to Shaw’s and bought a bottle of store brand shampoo. When I returned home, I proceeded to funnel my new shampoo into the not-so-old Hebrew bottle. I will remain in limbo as long as I can, grasping onto tiny symbols of my promised land.
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On a not totally unrelated note. Here is a great piece by Rabbi Joel Seltzer about an American Jew’s longing for Israel and the struggles that come along with it. I agree whole-heartedly.
I have been wanting to write for five months now. Wow! Even as I write that it has been five months since we left Israel, I cannot wrap my head around it. I often wonder how long of a grace period one gets before no longer being able to blame their absentmindedness on being a recent yored (one who has descended from a holier place). How long can I say to people, “We just got back from thirteen months in Israel.”
Since leaving Israel I have been looking for a proper marker upon which to place our descent. We left shortly after Tisha b’Av, the holiday on which we mourn for the destruction of Jerusalem. How appropriate, I thought, that this day would mark our descent into exile and my descent into the depression I was prepared to enter as we exited the land. But on Tisha b’Av, we gathered on the Haas Promenade with a group of Jews from Israel’s Masorti movement. From the promenade, one can see the most gorgeous vista of the place where the Holy Temple in Jerusalem once stood. (The destruction of this Temple is what is being mourned on this holiday.) The community gathered for the traditional reading of the book of Lamentations, a time of quiet reflection where we refrain from pleasant greetings and idle chatter. While the description of a destroyed Jerusalem was read to its somber tune, a group of young Israeli children ran back and forth on the promenade, tagging each other with their flashlights. I thought, “How can I mourn the destruction of a place that is clearly not destroyed? The modern city of Jerusalem produced these playful children. I thought about how these children would grow to don uniforms and protect this city and country from further destruction.
So Aviva and I lived out our final week and a half in Israel without giving much thought to the fact that we were actually leaving. We delayed packing as long as possible, finished up our respective work and school and enjoyed as much as we could have a Jerusalem summer. We returned to the US, reunited with family, celebrated at several friends’ weddings and returned to Massachusetts to become reacquainted with our former lives.
I thought returning to the same space would aid my transition. Aviva and I were fortunate enough to reclaim the apartment in which we lived for three years prior to our time in Jerusalem. As much stress was alleviated by returning to familiar space, more was added by the feeling that we had never really left. The movers placed our furniture in its place, our belongings made their way to their designated spots, and the nails of our mezuzot went back into their previous holes. Aside from rearranging some artwork, it was as if we had never left. Above our mantle, we placed a print that we purchased in Israel from artist, Sharon Binder. The print is a Sharon’s interpretation of the verse, “אור חדש על ציון תאיר ונזכה כולנו מהרה לאורו,” from the daily morning prayers. In translation, “May you make a new light to shine upon Zion and may we all be worthy of sharing in that light.” It is a daily message of hope for the land we love. For some time I expected that getting settled back in the United States would serve to mark the end of our adventure in Israel. As pleasant as it has been to be back, I’m not ready to declare that the adventure is over.
After the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, it became custom for Jews to leave a corner of their homes unfinished. This symbolized their unwillingness to fully settle in exile and their longing for return. Just a couple of weeks ago, I ran out of shampoo. Why is this relevant? My bottle of Head & Shoulders is one of a few remnants of products around our house that we purchased in Israel. Every morning I would look at the bottle and smile. It stood as a reminder that it wasn’t long ago that I was living in Israel and shopping for products with Hebrew labels. When the bottle ran out it was as if, in a really silly and sorta-meaningless way, so did my right to say, “I just returned…” However, I still feel as if I am in transition. So I ran down the street to Shaw’s and bought a bottle of store brand shampoo. When I returned home, I proceeded to funnel my new shampoo into the not-so-old Hebrew bottle. I will remain in limbo as long as I can, grasping onto tiny symbols of my promised land.
------------------------------------------
On a not totally unrelated note. Here is a great piece by Rabbi Joel Seltzer about an American Jew’s longing for Israel and the struggles that come along with it. I agree whole-heartedly.
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