The first time I traveled to Israel in the winter of 2008 came at a pivotal time in my life.
I had been living in New York City for a little over a year and, at that time, had set aside working in TV and took on a full-time job in ad sales in what I can only describe as a low point, both personally and professionally. I was 23 and determined to make a life for myself in New York, shitty job be damned. I was also dating a shitty guy who, in addition to being shitty, also worked for Lehman Brothers, and I don’t know if it was just feminine intuition, but something inside of me was screaming, ‘run away as fast, and as far as possible.’
I needed a fresh start, and the promise of a free trip to Israel via Birthright’s Israel Outdoors program was just the ticket. Three years shy of Birthright’s 26-year-old age limit, I knew if I didn’t go then, I never would.
The trip itself was glorious. We toured around in a big bus and saw all the sites and ate all the shawarma and shakshuka we could get our hands on. Every day was filled with stimulating conversation and laughter. At night, we danced or swapped stories in each other’s hotel rooms. There was the famous Bedouin desert sleepover followed by a sunrise hike up Mount Masada and frequent pitstops for what our Taglit tour guide called ‘Israeli holy water’ (wine) along the way. High drama unfolded about midway through our 10-day tour when we were told a group of young Israelis and IDF soldiers would be infiltrating our tightly-knit group, which we had already likened to our own Americanized version of a Kibbutz. By the end, we were a family.
When Birthright was over, I decided to extend my time in Israel. I was amazed that these people, just strangers a few days before, opened up their homes so effortlessly. We celebrated Shabbat and watched the Israeli version of British Idol called Kokhav Nolad in the living room of a friend’s home along with her parents and siblings.
In the journal that I kept at the time, I wrote how I was struck by just how similar my Israeli friends’ daily lives and habits were to my own back home. I don’t know why I’d expected it to be so different, I guess I didn’t know any better.
As a few close friends and family know, my time in Israel did not end on a positive note. Instead, it ended in tragedy when, in the blink of an eye, a fellow Birthright participant slipped and fell when we were hiking one afternoon.
After it happened, our Israeli friends all came together in Tel Aviv to comfort me as best they could. The memories from the immediate days and time after it happened are blurry, but I remember my friend JD, who was with me at the time that it had happened, made me promise before we left that we would honor this tragedy by living our lives as best and as fully as we possibly could. That was almost 15 years ago now, and after reuniting with JD for the first since it happened last year, I can confidently say we’ve both held up our respective ends of that bargain.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this time and the friends, connections, and kindness I experienced on that trip. I’ve been back to Israel in the years since and plan on returning when it’s safe to do so. But the days since October 7th have been some of the darkest for everyone in the Jewish community. Social media has been at its worst, and it’s hard to know what to do or where to turn for comfort right now. It has been a heavy matzo ball soup and Bravo streaming couple of weeks for me personally. And not for nothing, but the new Blink182 album drop today really couldn’t have come at a better time.
It’s hard to know what to say or how to navigate this dark road that we find ourselves on, and I hesitate to even share any of this for so many reasons. But this morning, when I was checking in with my good friend in Tel Aviv, I asked her if there was anything I could do to help. She said that the simple act of me reaching out and knowing that someone is thinking of her makes her feel less alone and that it meant the world to her to know that.
Even if you don’t have the right words or know exactly what to say, it doesn't hurt to reach out to someone who might need it. You never know how much it might mean to them. As Blink always said, it’s ‘all the small things.’
I’ll be back on the first Tuesday in November with new travel stories. In the meantime, sending peace, love, and light.
Shabbat Shalom.
Mich/The Beau Yorker
Michelle,
Your story was extremely touching. I hate the travesty of what is going on in Israel right now. I know there are no words, but I am praying for the Israeli people. May God bless you and give you peace.
Your story touched my heart in more ways than one. i m crying living israel through your eyes. also very loving of you to reach out to friends in israel 👍❤️