A Miami mission to Israel made us ‘wiser’ and transformed our souls
No one returns from Israel the way they arrived there. The Jewish nation transforms you.
It’s a tenet alluded to in the sacred texts of Jewish tradition. In the Gemara — the rabbinic discussions of the Talmud — Rabbi Zeira, after moving from his native Babylon to Israel, says: “The air of the Land of Israel makes one wise” (Bava Batra 158b).
It’s true.
For some mystical reason, Diaspora Jews feel this inner transformation when traveling to Israel. Like Rabbi Zeira, we feel a renewal of will and wisdom in our search for meaning.
Evoking this teaching is the best way I can describe my recent pilgrimage to Israel, accompanying a mission from the Greater Miami Jewish Federation to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the modern Jewish state’s independence.
The delegation of 800 Jews from Miami was the largest to visit Israel during this historic milestone. And their presence was notable, so much so that we were received by President Isaac Herzog, who, during the opening ceremony, highlighted the deep-rooted philanthropic and Zionist values of the Miami Jewish community.
The message was: Kol Yisrael Arevim Zeh Bazeh — all Israel is responsible for one another. With that sentence, also from the Talmud, Herzog defined the the Federation and its donors’ ethical pillar. As Jews, we share a common destiny and must know our responsibility to care for each other.
No one on the mission was “on vacation.” They made the pilgrimage out of principle and conviction to strengthen community ties, foster new leadership and manifest collective pride in being Jewish.
Miami’s Jewish community is unique because of its great diversity, largely comprising waves of immigrants. Jews from 21 countries participated in the Federation mission, including many Venezuelans like me.
From all corners
Some emigrated to Miami to escape antisemitism; others ended up here because of political, social or economic upheavals in their own countries. That understanding of the danger the world at large can pose to Jews translates into sympathetic support for Israel, which keeps its doors open to shelter Jews fleeing any hostile place.
I know how significant Israel’s shelter can be. My idealistic and visionary paternal grandparents immigrated from Eastern Europe to the Holy Land in 1933. Sadly, relatives who did not follow their path perished in the Holocaust.
The Israel they helped build restored their dignity and the national pride of the Jewish people. Because of my roots, I studied Tel Aviv for my first year of college and took rabbinical lessons in a yeshiva in the Old City of Jerusalem.
I have traveled to Israel on several missions, and each one has nourished my soul and identity. Even so, the unity, organization and heartfelt sentiment of the “Miami Mega Mission” — highlighted by the symbolism of each activity or talk — left me in awe.
A Shabbat preparation service just a few steps from the Western Wall was just one unforgettable moment. There, Miami clergy recited prayers and liturgical songs accompanied by Shai Abramson, Israel’s official chazan — cantor. After listening to the interpretation of Yerushalayim Shel Zahav (Jerusalem o Gold) by Israeli singer Shuli Natan, together with musicians who play stringed instruments rescued from the Holocaust, 100 doves of peace were released and flew over the walls of the Old City.
‘Miami loves Israel’
On another night, we gathered in the middle of the desert to say, simply, “Happy Birthday, Israel,” at a festive Bedouin-style dinner that, despite its abundance, reminded us of our humble beginnings as a people and nation in Sinai. An actor portraying Moses descended from a rocky hill while the sky lit up with a splendid show of drones that formed (and deformed) figures such as the menorah, the Israeli flag and the Star of David and ended up writing in the sky “Miami loves Israel.”
Indeed.
Not everything was joyful. There was mourning for the more than 24,000 military and thousands of terror victims killed since 1860 when the first Jewish neighborhood was built outside Jerusalem’s Old City. At Latrun, Israel’s memorial site for fallen soldiers, we participated in a heartfelt Remembrance Day English-language ceremony. More than 7,000 people attended.
On the final day of our visit, we stopped at the Amigour Joseph Wilf Senior Citizens’ House, an apartment building in Tel Aviv that belongs to the Jewish Agency for low-income Holocaust survivors and new immigrants in Tel Aviv.
Someone asked me what my favorite mission moment had been. I immediately answered it had been the return from Latrun to Jerusalem on the Federation’s Young Leadership Division bus.
It was special because during the drive, the young leaders shared their feelings about their Jewish identity with a sound judgment and warmth that I hadn’t seen in a long time. They spoke of pain, anguish, pride and a deep sense of belonging.
And then the residents of Amigour gave us a surprise.
Amigour has a choir called Levavot Mezamim (Singing Hearts) that performs in Yiddish. The residents had prepared a mini concert for the Miami visitors. As soon as I heard them sing “My Yiddishe Momme,” a nostalgic and emotional American song to honor Jewish mothers, tears began to flow down my cheeks. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t stop crying.
I recorded the performance and, that night, I showed it to my aunt, my father’s older sister, at the kibbutz where she lives. “My Yiddishe Momme, I need her more than ever now,” my aunt sang in Yiddish, repeating one of the song’s best-known verses. She added in Hebrew, “That was one of your grandmother’s favorite songs!”
Suddenly, the reason for my tears became clear.
Daniel Shoer Roth, an editor for el Nuevo Herald, participated in the Greater Miami Federation’s mission to Israel and reported on the delegation and events.
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