Birthright

I spent 16 nights in Israel in December 2016: 10 on Birthright and an additional 6 having a ball with my mom exploring Tel Aviv and visiting friends. This post is specifically about the ten days I spent on Birthright.

How was Birthright? Everyone keeps asking this, but how should I put my experience into words? How do you describe the feeling of arriving at the airport in Newark on a Monday afternoon, meeting 40 other participants and two trip leaders, and not being separated from these people until late Thursday night, a week and a half later? How should I summarize the thrill I felt walking off the plane into Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv, the awe I felt snorkeling in the Red Sea and seeing fish swimming just out of my reach, the camaraderie I felt spending virtually every moment with at least my two roommates if not 40+ other people, or the fear I felt when I was so carsick on the bus and thought I might feel that way the whole trip? How can I express the security I felt when talking with our trip leaders, the bitter cold I felt when my roommates and I couldn't get our heater to work, the exhaustion I felt each morning after a short night's sleep, or the silliness I felt when I was wrapped as a mummy in a game? I don't know, but this post is my best attempt to convey it all.

Birthright was intense; it's as if I experienced at least a month's worth of life in those 10 days. The program is for young adults aged 18-26, and I'm almost 25, so I've been debating about going for over six years. I knew Birthright trips tended to be jam-packed, with 15-hour days, not a lot of sleep, and constant social interaction. I wanted to go, but I honestly didn't know if I could handle it. I posted to Facebook as soon as I was approved for the trip I wanted, and it was both to share the exciting news and to keep myself from backing out. I couldn't cancel once I had shared with so many people that I was going. I was both excited and nervous. Would I sleep enough? Would the other participants like me? Would I like them?

Now it's over and I'm left with a few hundred photographs, several dozen new Facebook friends, and an endless stream of memories. I climbed Masada, stayed on a kibbutz, visited a winery and an olive oil factory, ate falafel and more falafel, rode a camel, went out for a taste of the night life in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, and listened to speakers explain their views on the region's complex political situation. I floated in the Dead Sea, snorkeled in the Red Sea, spent a night on the ground in a tent in Eilat and a night on a mattress in a Bedouin tent in the Negev, put notes (my own and others') in the Western Wall, walked by the Knesset, and enjoyed hike after hike taking in Israel's beauty. I laughed and cried, enjoyed and survived, watched and listened, asked and explained.

And yet, despite the immense physical, emotional, social, and spiritual journey I just completed, the world is eerily just the same as when I left a few short weeks ago. How weird that I will never again sit in a circle with this group, discussing Israeli politics, sharing our thoughts on the Yad Vashem Holocaust museum, or distributing "Mysterious Moses" gifts to each other. We began as strangers, spent every moment together for 10 days learning about Israel, each other, and ourselves, and then went our separate ways, almost as if something extraordinary had never even happened.

Yad Vashem World Holocaust Center, Jerusalem

Masada

Ramon Crater

Jaffa