Every parent I know exhibits an involuntary shudder each time they load their underage children into a car. It's a knee-jerk reaction to the nagging, quintessential question uttered by our children, no matter the distance to be traveled: "Are we there yet?"
Exasperated parents have been known to concoct a plethora of witty responses, songs, games and the like, in a futile effort to avoid repetition ad nauseam of this question.
Each and every year, for close to two thousand years, we, the Jewish people, have been asking our Parent, "Are we there yet?" We have been waiting long, traveling hard. We have tried to be patient children, but we are tired, we want to go on the special ride that HaKadosh Baruch Hu has promised us.
I have spent much time this past year in the United States. Although it is always wonderful to see family and friends, my vision of aliyah did not really include frequent travel. I figured, once every few years, I would hop over the pond, ensconce myself and my family at our parents' homes for a week or two, grab a good deli sandwich, shop at Costco, see the family and return to the Promised Land. Unfortunately, business considerations have somewhat forced me to make the trip a bit more often than I would have preferred, often necessitating leaving the family for extended periods of time - and missing out on important events back home.
Nevertheless, looking on the bright side, my time in the U.S. has often imbued me with sense of self-righteousness. I wryly smile when I hear American Jews bemoaning the various pitfalls of life in the Diaspora - high yeshiva tuitions, camp fees, latent anti-Semitism, etc. I thank the Almighty for instilling in my wife and me the tenacity to make "the big step" and make aliyah with our children eight years ago. I thank my parents and my in-laws for supporting us emotionally, spiritually and many times physically (fiscally). And I admit to being a bit smug about living in Israel "awaiting the arrival".
I do indeed smirk when I hear people in the U.S. (and elsewhere) speak of Yerushalayim with a longing, while dismissing thoughts of aliyah out of hand.
And yet... I, too, am wrong. Each year my family and community make a pilgrimage from our little shtetl in Ramot to Har HaTzofim (Mount Scopus) to read Eichah, kinot and sing our hearts out. Each year, more and more neighbors, and now the occasional tourist, join us. And each year we invite people, we say, "You are invited to Har HaTzofim for a community celebration of the rebuilding of the Beit HaMikdash - but if by some chance Moshiach ben David (no, not the singer?s brother) does not show up, we will be reading Eichah - so bring flashlights."
Are we there yet? No, we are not. And maybe it is because my attitude toward my brethren in the Diaspora is a bit too smug, a bit too self-righteous. Maybe it is because we really are not ready. If we were going to really have a celebration, if we really believed that Moshiach's arrival is imminent, why bring flashlights and Eichah books instead of BBQ grills, pitas and charcoal? If we invited all these people, why didn't we tell them to BYOB - bring your own bottle? Who are we fooling?
Yes, I made the leap of faith, I transplanted my family to await the Guela Shelayma (the Ultimate Redemption) - but it is not enough. Faith without action, without serious intent, will not bring about the event for which we have all been longing. Just living in Eretz Yisrael is not enough. My group has determined that next year we will be bringing picnic baskets for all to share. We expect next year to celebrate, rather than commemorate.
What are you going to do?
Are we there yet? Almost, and it will be wonderful.
Exasperated parents have been known to concoct a plethora of witty responses, songs, games and the like, in a futile effort to avoid repetition ad nauseam of this question.
Each and every year, for close to two thousand years, we, the Jewish people, have been asking our Parent, "Are we there yet?" We have been waiting long, traveling hard. We have tried to be patient children, but we are tired, we want to go on the special ride that HaKadosh Baruch Hu has promised us.
I have spent much time this past year in the United States. Although it is always wonderful to see family and friends, my vision of aliyah did not really include frequent travel. I figured, once every few years, I would hop over the pond, ensconce myself and my family at our parents' homes for a week or two, grab a good deli sandwich, shop at Costco, see the family and return to the Promised Land. Unfortunately, business considerations have somewhat forced me to make the trip a bit more often than I would have preferred, often necessitating leaving the family for extended periods of time - and missing out on important events back home.
Nevertheless, looking on the bright side, my time in the U.S. has often imbued me with sense of self-righteousness. I wryly smile when I hear American Jews bemoaning the various pitfalls of life in the Diaspora - high yeshiva tuitions, camp fees, latent anti-Semitism, etc. I thank the Almighty for instilling in my wife and me the tenacity to make "the big step" and make aliyah with our children eight years ago. I thank my parents and my in-laws for supporting us emotionally, spiritually and many times physically (fiscally). And I admit to being a bit smug about living in Israel "awaiting the arrival".
I do indeed smirk when I hear people in the U.S. (and elsewhere) speak of Yerushalayim with a longing, while dismissing thoughts of aliyah out of hand.
And yet... I, too, am wrong. Each year my family and community make a pilgrimage from our little shtetl in Ramot to Har HaTzofim (Mount Scopus) to read Eichah, kinot and sing our hearts out. Each year, more and more neighbors, and now the occasional tourist, join us. And each year we invite people, we say, "You are invited to Har HaTzofim for a community celebration of the rebuilding of the Beit HaMikdash - but if by some chance Moshiach ben David (no, not the singer?s brother) does not show up, we will be reading Eichah - so bring flashlights."
Are we there yet? No, we are not. And maybe it is because my attitude toward my brethren in the Diaspora is a bit too smug, a bit too self-righteous. Maybe it is because we really are not ready. If we were going to really have a celebration, if we really believed that Moshiach's arrival is imminent, why bring flashlights and Eichah books instead of BBQ grills, pitas and charcoal? If we invited all these people, why didn't we tell them to BYOB - bring your own bottle? Who are we fooling?
Yes, I made the leap of faith, I transplanted my family to await the Guela Shelayma (the Ultimate Redemption) - but it is not enough. Faith without action, without serious intent, will not bring about the event for which we have all been longing. Just living in Eretz Yisrael is not enough. My group has determined that next year we will be bringing picnic baskets for all to share. We expect next year to celebrate, rather than commemorate.
What are you going to do?
Are we there yet? Almost, and it will be wonderful.