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| Of course suitcases belong on top of taxis |
Hi Friends! Wanted to pop in and write about Rosh Hashanah which
was a few weeks ago. I moved into my new
apartment on Wednesday afternoon just a few hours before Rosh Hashanah. The whole day was the kind of exhilarating
that you just know will end with a crash- and it did. Moving suitcases from Michal’s place to my
beautiful new room, beginning to put clothing into shelves, and not quite
knowing my neighborhood at all was a mix of ups and downs. (Thanks to Micah who helped me move them and
of course that involved strapping a suitcase to the top of a taxi!) When I went
to take out money for rent, Bank of America locked me out for fear that I was
committing fraud on myself. While I
suppose I’m happy that the security was that good, it all just added to a crazy
day of running around and things not going quite right.
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| Simanim for Rosh Hashanah at the Ozerys |
I had worked pretty hard to get myself invited to different
meals throughout the three-day yom tov which was especially difficult because I
had only been in the country for 6 days and because I didn’t know my kitchen
yet so cooking wasn’t an option. The
first night almost the entire extended Liben/Shilor/Ozery clan in Israel
gathered at the Moshav (where Aunt Shirah and Uncle Menachem are founding
members) for a festive Rosh Hashanah meal.
Upon return, as I was ready to pass out for the night, I realized that
for the first time that I had arrived in Jerusalem I was sleeping in a bed
alone. Staying with Michal in her studio
apartment meant sharing a bed with her and the physicality of the week of
searching for an apartment, moving suitcases, and walking around a new
environment had come to a culmination of beginning this literal new year physically alone.
Not the greatest feeling to fall asleep with, and when I
woke up with an infection I wasn’t too pleased.
Unsure of where to go to shul, I looked at a map trying to navigate
shortcuts through my new neighborhood.
And then the scariest thought came to me: if I didn’t go to shul today,
not a single person would know and not a single person would care. For someone who talks about building
community as much as I do, it was a crazy realization that I had none. And in all places in the world, Israel is
where I felt most alone on Rosh Hashana because I had no immediate family who
wanted to go to shul, no friends who did not have a program to fall back on,
and no grounding in the neighborhood that will become my home. Of course, it did not help that in my
father’s beautiful Rosh Hashana sermon he confessed to the entire community
that he wanted to tell me to stay in America and not go to Israel just yet, but
knew it was best to encourage me in times of transitional uncertainty. Yes, I was surrounded by people walking to
shul, eating festive meals, and davening at a plethora of synagogues. I was by no means alone like I was that first
night in the apartment. But I was
profoundly lonely. In a way that I can
only think of feeling a few other times in my life.
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| Right after arriving in the new digs |
Of course after three full days of meals, new friends,
blisters, and getting lost and lost and lost, life has a funny way of just
going on. At the time of this writing, three
weeks later, this seems trivial because the majority of my experience has been
overwhelmingly positive. But to fully
comprehend what it means to make a significant transition in one’s life, or for
you as my friends and family to understand what this experience has been like
for me, it would be dishonest to not write about those three incredibly difficult
days in Jerusalem. They are the
foundation on which I have begun to build my new life here; integral to
understanding the experiences I have since had.
