July 5 Jerusalem

I’ve felt hesitant to write during these last few days in Israel. I’m anticipating a big culture shock as I return to the US after seven weeks in this unique culture. I’m chilled by the thought of returning to a world that neither appreciates nor understands Israel—a world where my experience during a coach training practice exchange on Zoom last Thursday feels more like the norm than the exception.

As the session began, I mentioned that I was in Israel. My partner, who struck me as deeply compassionate, immediately expressed fierce objections to Israel’s legitimacy and repeated what I believe are profound distortions of its history. She then shed tears of genuine anguish when I told her that the most meaningful part of my time here had been volunteering in support of IDF soldiers.

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It has taken several days and a private therapy session to settle back into myself. I don’t have the stamina for many more encounters like this. I’d like to pretend that I’m getting stronger and more resilient, but if anything, the more I get to know and love Israel, the more these conversations hurt.

Though it feels almost as painful to hide as to face these kinds of mischaracterizations, I will be more careful about what I reveal, to whom, and in what context.

I don’t have that worry here in Israel.

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And I also know this: the more I dwell on that one painful exchange, the more power I give it. I do not want to let one difficult conversation eclipse the extraordinary goodness I have experienced here.

Israel has given me far more than fear. It has given me belonging, courage, beauty, friendship, purpose, and a deeper love for the Jewish people.

My people are not here to collapse after one painful encounter. We are here to remember who we are, to keep our hearts open, and to keep walking forward.

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On Friday I visited my dear friend Elana at her sunlit apartment in the older part of Arnona, a quiet residential neighborhood in south Jerusalem. She and I met in New York about 15 years ago, and she later made aliyah. Her parents, children, and grandchildren all live nearby.

Elana is Russian, with an exquisite, poetic soul. We have the kind of connection where we instantly pick up right where we left off, even after years of not seeing each other—or in this case, one year, as I did see her last summer. She took such good care of me during our visit, even making sure I got on the correct bus heading in the right direction as we parted ways. I miss her already.

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Today I had a lovely visit with Gayle Kamen-Weinstein, a truly delightful trauma therapist from Houston. Gayle and I have been corresponding since last summer, when she came across our Israel Trauma Mission website and saw that Danny Brom had been one of our presenters. Gayle trained with Danny at Metiv, the Israel Psychotrauma Center he founded.

Blessed with a heroic heart, Gayle began her remarkable career as a pediatric social worker supporting children and families facing devastating circumstances. Today, she devotes enormous skill and love to volunteer work on behalf of Israel, particularly in support of lone soldiers.

She generously invited me to two special events this week, both of which I’m very glad I can attend. Tomorrow, she’s presenting on grief and loss to Danny Brom’s class at Hebrew University, and on Wednesday, she’ll speak at the Jerusalem Museum of Tolerance.

On top of all that, Gayle offered to store my suitcases at her hotel on Wednesday so I don’t have to schlep them to the museum before leaving for the airport. I’m very touched by her warmth and kindness.

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Along those lines, Sarah Rose offered her storage room as a place to keep my little hand carts and a large cooler that Ron and I used during our travels with Yoav. We will use all of these items next year when we return. This gesture is incredibly helpful, and will definitely lighten my packing burden and ease my mind. Thank you, dear Sarah!