Aliyah – from Black and White to Dazzling Color

I finally made it! After going through months of bureaucratic brick walls and maze-like government requirements that left me ending up back to square one, I was finally approved to return home. I had received the green light to make aliyah! (Although when being processed at Ben Gurion airport at the absorption office at what was 1:30 a.m. for me after a 10-hour flight, there was a brief misunderstanding that could have potentially torpedoed my final acceptance as an olah, which thankfully was quickly resolved. I hope to provide more details in my next column. My goal is to point out ways the aliyah process can be made more “user-friendly” and efficient and less stressful and needlessly expensive.

When I’m asked what it feels like living in Israel, our true home, promised by Hashem to the descendants of Avraham through Yaakov, I have one answer. It’s like having lived your life seeing black and white, and now suddenly, everything is in brilliant color! Crimson and scarlet reds, aquamarine and peacock blues, lime and emerald greens, sunflower and banana yellows, grape and eggplant purples. Your senses are enhanced and you feel more alive.

Years ago, I saw a video of a color-blind man who was given newly developed glasses that enabled one to see color, and his look of awe as he looked around was incredible. His face was wet with immediate tears of joy, mixed in with what I believe were tears of sadness on his realization of what he had been deprived of for so many decades.

I’m awakened by the loud chirping of birds, and my first thought is how lucky these birds are to have been hatched in this land of miracles, and their whistles and cooing and cawing is their hakarat haTov to Hashem their creator – songs of gratitude. (My second thought, after all I’m a sleep-deprived senior still getting over jet lag is “couldn’t these bird choirs hold off for a couple of hours so I could have uninterrupted sleep!!?)

But it’s still music to my ears – a symphony of joy.

In my area of Ramat Bet Shemesh, (RBS) there are neighborhoods that I would describe as Little North America. Just like there are areas in each city that have a high concentration of immigrants from elsewhere – hence the terms Chinatown and Little Italy, so too is this part of RBS in terms of Anglos. I get a kick going into a grocery store and hearing a man on his phone, asking, “Honey, did you want the 3 percent milk, or oat milk? “Kids are at the bus stops discussing in English, the latest baseball or hockey statistics of their former home states or provinces. A phrase I heard recently was “school is in Hebrew but recess is in English!”

Although I speak a very functional Hebrew, having gone to a school in Toronto where we learned Ivrit b’Ivrit, – even having to ask in Hebrew for permission to go to the bathroom or to sharpen our pencils (guess I’m dating myself) – it has made my adjustment easier when asking directions from an English speaker. Or asking a shopper if she knows what aisle the protein bars are in.

Which leads to me to point out a wonderful aspect of being in a community with North Americans. Jewish geography! Last week asked a random stranger if I was going in the right direction – someone had pointed out a shortcut – and it turned out that many years ago she had written in The Jewish Press. Typically, after saying “Hello,” one asks, “Where are you from originally? And that leads to, “Do you know… And often you do, or at least you’ve heard of them, as it’s your daughter-in-law’s cousin’s sister-in-law.

Which leads to another amazing reality of being in Israel. There is a very strong sense of kinship; that we are one huge extended family. And family care about each other. And strangers who are, for all intent and purposes, “family members” whom you never met, and who view YOU as such, will go out of their way to help and provide assistance, and especially giving you unsolicited advice because they know what’s best for you!

And insisting you join them for a Shabbat meal. The lady who helped me find my way, took me to the store I was looking for, even though she had been going in the opposite direction. And she explained with regret that she couldn’t have me over for Shabbat because her daughter in another city was having a baby any moment.

Upon landing I was able later in the day to join in a delayed by-the-war bat mitzvah celebration of a granddaughter! I also came in time for Shavuot and at a ladies tea I was told about, I asked if I could give a very short dvar Torah related to King David’s yahrzeit and Yizkor. Speaking is out of my comfort zone – I prefer writing – but I felt I could start making connections. And they welcomed me even though I wasn’t a scheduled speaker!

All this in my first week in Israel. My second week looks like it’s going to be just as fulfilling.