My Next Trip to Israel

I’ve begun packing for my next trip to Israel in a few weeks, my fifth visit since the war began. With an extra suitcase, there will be plenty of room to take things to do with the grandkids — a kidde microscope and a birdhouse kit, along with a couple of creative bath toys to add to the funnel and turkey baster I already gave them. Because of schedule needs, I’m going alone this time, Debbie will go in February, and we are planning summer time with the entire family.

I’ll also see friends — several retired rabbis living in Jerusalem, and a retired cantor in Tel Aviv. And while it is physically possible to stay with the family, adding me as a sixth person would overcrowd that tiny apartment, so I got a hotel room within a short walk from most everyone, in the German Colony in Jerusalem. That’s a great residential neighborhood now undergoing major construction of a light rail on Emek Refaim Street, with all the expected noise, detours, and congestion.

I know that it will likely come as a surprise that, with the war and the politics, I am talking about things like toys, construction, and hotel rooms, but that will be the substance of my time there, immersed in the way that my family and friends live. Peace and politics will come up in conversations, but only when the family raises the topics — I rarely bring this up. When the talk turns to Israel, I generally listen and ask a few questions. After all, they live there and vote there, and some have served or will serve in the IDF, and I don’t go to Israel to lecture them on what to think or do. But when the political talk turns to the US, I will be asked, “What’s with this new mayor?” or, “What are you doing about all the antisemitism?” and then I will have lots to say. And they don’t lecture me about what I should be doing here, either. Fair is fair.

So it will be just over a week of playing with the grandkids, eating out or ordering in, and a visit to a museum or park or two. Then I will return here with suitcases filled with Elite milk chocolate, rugelach from Marzipan bakery, Debbie’s favorite Wisotsky teas, and my heart filled with memories and stories about a miracle nation of amazing people, including family and friends that I love.

Rabbi Dennis Ross