Torontonian Shawn Taub, 22, allowed that he wasn’t that keen on military service – Canadians and guns don’t mix, he said. But on an earlier visit to Israel he had taken a first aid responder course offered by Magen David Adom (MDA), Israel’s equivalent of the Red Cross, to English-speaking students or youth visiting Israel. Now he looked forward to continuing his studies and becoming a paramedic. (By pleasant coincidence, we discovered during the interview that my son Moshe was his MDA instructor).
Twenty-five year old Joshua Winograd, a Boston University graduate, had a different take on military service as he reflected on the Israel Defense Forces and pointed out with some awe that Jews hadn’t had an army for over 2,000 years. As a new oleh, he felt it would be a privilege to be part of it.
Special needs teacher Ayelet Wartelsky, 24, knew from her first visit that she would one day live in Israel, even though her entire family lives in the U.S. For many of the young singles on the flight, going to Israel meant being physically removed from their families, but they thought of what they were doing not as escaping a past life but as embracing a new one.
For Talie Goldring, 20, who had previously gone to Israel with Birthright, it was love at first sight.
For some, coming to Israel inexplicably had the feel of a reunion. This was especially true for Canadian Tara Bredin, on her way to be reunited with the young man from Texas, Azriel Friedman, to whom she was getting engaged. The granddaughter of Polish Holocaust survivors and a baalat teshuva, she was returning home to the place where she could live fully as a Jew and participate in the unfolding of Jewish destiny.
And then there was the Oziel family, Isaac and Nina and their six children, also from Toronto, just a generation removed from Tangiers in Africa. Isaac, the youngest of thirteen children, was born shortly after his father died. An ardent Zionist, his father had planned on moving his large family to Israel. His widowed mother instead went to Canada. Isaac was now fulfilling his father’s dream as well as his own.
He told me of an incident in Toronto. He was walking home from shul with a couple of his children. A skinhead, tattooed all over with a cross hanging from his pierced ear, leaped out of nowhere and threatened them. Fortunately they were able to get away. Years later, while in Israel taking a stroll after the Friday night Shabbat meal, the family again noticed a tattooed skinhead coming their way. Except this time, there was no cross hanging from the ear and as he got closer, the youth wished them a Shabbat Shalom and continued walking. Only In Israel, Isaac said in wonder.
While they were somewhat apprehensive about leaving the familiar, and sad about leaving behind their friends, the Oziels were excited about moving to Israel. Isaac’s wife, Nina, admitted that she’d been torn between her love for Israel and the logistics of uprooting her large family – getting them settled in their new home, finding the right schools, etc. Her 17-year-old son, Yehuda, expressed his concern about the delay in his university education that his upcoming three-year army service would cause. But here they were, facing the challenge of aliyah with open eyes and optimistic hearts.
Among the passengers was a select group of college students on a mission to learn all they could about aliyah and in turn share their knowledge with their peers on campuses across North America. These young people, under the auspices of Yavneh Olami, were handpicked to be ambassadors of aliyah. They were coming to Israel to immerse themselves in an intense five-day training course so that they would be able to competently answer any questions about aliyah or ignite an active interest.
