It is September 28. Months of planning, training, talking, fund raising and building excitement are now down to days. In just a couple of weeks I will pack up my bike (they had better not lose it) and head off to Jerusalem! Aside from the births of our kids, I can’t think of an event that I have anticipated more or been so excited about. As those who have been to Israel more than once know, every time is both different and very much the same. Each time brings new insights, new connections and new memories. Each time is like coming home to a place that is strange and wonderful, yet familiar and embracing.
My first memory of Israel is from a boat. It was 1966. My family was on a summer-long trek that included Europe, the former Yugoslavia, and of course Israel (being the kid of a college professor had many advantages – including long summer trips). We sailed to Israel across the Mediterranean Sea on the Theodore Herzl – the queen ship of the Israeli fleet. It was a 2 or 3 day trip (I don’t remember exactly). On the morning of the last day we woke up and could see Haifa on the horizon. All day long the white city on the hill got larger and larger. As we got a mile or so off shore we started to see smaller boats heading toward us. How nice, a greeting party, we thought. But it was so much more. In those days there were still refugees from the war coming to Israel, some alone, others meeting family, others still searching. And as these boats got closer and began circling our ship, we could see that they were filled with Israelis cheering, calling out names, welcoming us home. All of a sudden we heard a booming voice, “Phyllis!!!! Phyllis!!! (actually it was Pheeleese!! Pheeleese!!), and there was my mother’s cousin Zvi, waving a white handkerchief. We too were being welcomed home.
That visit was too short, but it impressed me deeply. Eating falafel on King George St., climbing Massada, swimming in the Dead Sea. But the formative memory was climbing the tower of the YMCA in Jerusalem because that was the only vantage point from which you could see clearly into the Old City, which had been held by Jordan since 1947 and was off limits to Israelis. More than the sight of the City I remember being warned by the guides not to point at the City, since the Jordanian soldiers might mistake the gesture for a weapon and fire on us.
Fast forward to 1973. I was a young college student (with longer hair than I care to remember), caught up in college life in those tumultuous times (not quite the 60’s, but still…). And then suddenly the Yom Kippur War. I became an activist on campus, but more importantly I was committed to getting myself to Israel. Not brave enough to drop everything and go, I found a program that would take me to Kibbutz Usha outside of Haifa for a semester of kibbutz work and study at Haifa University; then to continue for my junior year in Jerusalem. This is not the place to chronicle my 18 months of immersion into Israel. Suffice to say that the time cemented my identity as a Jew, deeply and forever rooted in the Land. I am an American. The United States is my home and I love my life here in Lexington, Massachusetts, but there is no place on earth to which I feel more attached, no land that has such a hold on me, no soil that is more my own than is the Land of Israel.
We have been back to visit a couple of times in the ensuing years. Not often enough to be sure. Robin and I tramped around for awhile; slept on the beach at Sharem el Sheikh. Got to bring the kids years later to experience Jerusalem with my folks. But this trip is different. First of all, I’ll be riding a bike. In the last few years I stumbled on the first form of exercise I don’t hate; in fact I like it! For the first time in my life, I’ve really been training, and I feel great! I am an enthusiast, not a fanatic. I don’t intentionally ride in the rain, and I don’t ride when it’s icy (there’s a guy in my office who has studded snow tires on his bike – he’s a fanatic!). More than riding, though, I am looking forward to experiencing the Land up close, on all sides, sights, sound, smell. touch and even taste (with the occasional crunch of ... protein). As I said before, each time is different. Each time is like coming home to a place that is strange and wonderful, yet familiar and embracing.
Join me on this adventure. See you in Jerusalem.
L’hitraot,
Lester
Lester
