There is something about landing down for the first time in Israel that is breathtaking. Many would argue there is nothing particularly stunning or original about the Tel Aviv airport. But you can feel the weight of the history of the land engulfing you, feeding you, squeezing you when you touch down.
I’ve had people ask me to describe what this feeling is. It’s exasperating how inexplicable it is. You stand there hoping that the emotions you felt and the beauty in the sights you saw could be played back in your eyes in the magnificence that you experienced them as they stare at you. But, try as you might, the only words that come out are “It’s hard to exactly explain the feeling of being there.” How can one recount a feeling of magic to someone? It’s not really the magician, it’s the wonders that the magician performs, the feeling that she leaves you with that is what you remember.
With both of my parent being Jewish, I knew some of the basics of Judaism, but outside of our little brown house it always felt that it was shameful or had to be hidden in some way. Even growing up in the safe suburbs of Los Angeles there were plenty of jokes made at the expense of Jews. Jabs that I had to hear and didn’t feel like I could speak up against.
After high school when I came out as gay I was pretty focused on the fallout and emotional turmoil from that. At the time I didn’t think too much about what it would mean for me Jewishly, but when I finally took the time to think about it, I didn’t think there was any space for me in Judaism. It felt awkward, almost like I could only be one or the other. Like the last missing piece in a giant jigsaw puzzle and somehow you have ended up with two pieces in your hand. You know that only one of those pieces is going to fit. So I just ignored it.
Then in college came the amazing opportunity to travel to Israel for free. Who wouldn’t want to take advantage of that opportunity? As someone that was not religious at all, I didn’t expect to have any great revelations there. How cliche are all the things you hear about people having emotional experiences in holy places? So I didn’t have high expectations about having any feelings there that were different than anything I had ever felt before.
But as our bus arrived into Jerusalem and then deeper into the Old City, and as I approached the Kotel, the Western Wall, something sparked in me that I didn’t know existed. When I stepped up to the wall, I felt the coolness and jaggedness of the rock in the palm of my hand. With the brightness of the blue sky above my head I felt the presence of all of the women around me praying, crying and hoping and I felt something open within me, and with it, the overwhelming realization that I was finally home.
At the end of the trip I returned to the US and finished college, but when I was finally able to return 10 years later, the tumult and ups and downs of life hadn’t changed the way I felt when I arrived in Israel. I fell in love all over again, and then, fell in love with my fiancee who I had the serendipitous fortune of meeting in Jerusalem.
I remember a little while before landing in Israel for the first time, the flight attendant announcing, “We’re approaching our final destination, Tel Aviv”. Reflecting now, it’s funny how final destinations can really just be the beginning of things. There are a lot of stunning places, places so beautiful they make you want to cry. Israel happens to be one of them. But feeling safe, feeling embraced and being held by a community, that is special. Being celebrated for who you are- that is true freedom.F
About the Author: Emet Zyon is the author of Big Gay Breakup Book. She is recently engaged and now spends most of her time looking for wedding suits.
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