New Archive:

September 2000 Issue, Volume 2

From Boston to Israel and Back: New Beginnings, New Community

by Reni Gertner

The best packer I know--who also happens to really understand me--flew into town to give me moral support the weekend before my longest voyage since I began working full-time. My anticipation manifested itself in the obsessive purchase of at least one of every item sold in the drug store. I operated on the quite logical premise that my enjoyment of the trip depended upon how many shirts I brought, what colors they were, and how they were folded. In fact, had my packing gone unmonitored that weekend, it's debatable whether my roommate on the UJC Summer Singles Mission would have had space for her suitcase. Although I had been to Israel twice before, and remembered the sense of calm it brought me, I flew nervously into a world unknown, with no idea of what the impact would be, with this group, at this time.

From the moment I stepped off the plane in Tel Aviv, everything moved so quickly. The first morning, we planted trees. It was a beautiful, majestic sight to behold as our mass of 95 connected actively to the life of the land and furthered that life. Our connection to the land symbolized, and catalyzed, our growing connection to each other. Just a couple of days later, we went tubing down the Jordan River. I looked back at the mass of interlinked tubes flowing as one down the river, with each of us protecting the others from sailing off course. We barely knew each other, yet we already shared a common direction.

Tears fell from my eyes instantaneously as the bus drove into Jerusalem. The feeling that swelled and burst from deep within me is rivaled by nothing else. Everyone got off the bus to look out over the city. As we stood on the brink of our history, we made a huge circle and together sang the She'hecheyanu, the prayer for new beginnings and special occasions. I looked around me. It was five days into the trip and I felt a bond with much of the group, which only intensified the power of Israel itself. Yet I hid from the possibility of romance as I became more deeply linked to my past, present, and future; to this land; and to the people around me.

That Shabbat evening, by the time I arrived at the South Steps behind the Kotel, the Western Wall of the Temple, most of the Boston group, as well as the rest of the 500 travelers from the entire East Coast trip, were already seated where our forefathers had walked thousands of years before. After our service together, I walked up and touched the Wall, which filled me with a peaceful familiarity and intense newness all at once. As I looked to the future, I became part of my own history.

The 10-day experience culminated in a group forum, a caucus, which allowed each of us to share any feelings we had about Israel and the trip. I chuckled to myself as I grabbed some cookies, sat down in the circle, and looked around me. "Sure, I had a great time and a few emotional moments," I thought. "But do I really have anything meaningful or deep to say?" I can think of few times in my life when I felt as frozen and speechless. Yet anyone who eventually heard me speak that morning would never believe that was true.

As people started talking and my emotions whirled within me, I felt compelled to speak, though I had no conscious awareness of what I would actually say. I waited for a break in the conversation. Through tears and the remnants of my voice, I spoke about how hard I had worked to find my place in the Boston Jewish community--especially after moving to Boston from Baltimore--and how my success in that was clinched by this journey. I had lived in Boston for three years and been involved for most of that time, but it wasn't until that morning that I took this community as my own.

Early the morning after the Israel experience had come to a close, I left for a relaxing sojourn in the Greek Islands before traveling home. In that quiet space, with only one friend, I could see with utter clarity where I had begun and where I was going. What had started with an anxious packing frenzy ended with my clothing in disarray and my meticulously packed band-aids and Q-tips largely untouched. Though I arrived full of apprehension and uncertainty, I departed with renewed excitement about my Jewishness and a comfort with my place in the Boston Jewish community. And with that foundation, I opened my heart.

Reni Gertner is an Associate Editor of Lawyers Weekly USA, a national legal newspaper in Boston, where she can be found wandering the Freedom Trail.

.