July 20, 2026

But I also found myself here as a 17½-year-old when I took a year between high school and college. I was naive and impacted by a childhood of divorce and, well, all that happens to us in our respective childhoods. I could only afford to call home about once a month, so there were letters instead. Without my parents nearby, I had to fend for myself. I began to grow up. I also began to understand my layered Jewish identity and my Zionism. The kibbutz where I lived strived for peace while remaining steadfast in defending Israel’s right to exist. That is a long way of saying that now, as our own children become adults, Lauren (who had her own path impacted by her own significant time here) and I are deeply moved watching them discover their own connection to Israel. Each has been profoundly shaped by time here, especially over these past three years, and by the painful experience of being singled out back home because of their Zionism. I write in this space about Sadie, our youngest. She has been here through the Diller leadership program, thanks to MetroWest Federation, and asked to stay after it ended. Of course, we said yes. Frankly, she wasn’t here to spend time with me. She wanted to be with her new Israeli friends. But Shabbat is Shabbat, so she “had” to spend at least 30 hours with me. 😊

Watching her mature before my eyes brought me enormous pride. I took her to see Shlomo Artzi in an intimate Friday afternoon concert at the Port of Jaffa. I told her, “You only know a couple of songs. Just watch the people.” This would be a totally Israeli experience. It is often the case that performers will do pre-Shabbat concerts on Friday afternoons. And they have a whole different feel…. especially in this venue which is standing room for only several hundred people. What a gift. Artzi, now 76, still has an extraordinary voice. Two dear friends from Nir Oz joined us, and for 2½ hours we sang and danced. At one point, he sang a song about the challenges he had in raising his 17-year-old daughter (from years ago) and the associated fear of their safety, how often they maintain touch with their parents, etc…. I turned randomly to an Israeli dancing next to me and said to him in Hebrew…  “My goodness, this song just breaks me apart.” He responded that it did the same to him also… and I then told him that it was especially the case being there with my own 17-year-old… and then he showed me his phone… he was tracking HIS own 17-year-old who was up North with her friends. He said, “I won’t be okay until she is home.” We then, two strangers embraced.

I turned to Sadie, with tears in my eyes, and simply said, “Thank you for fulfilling one of my dreams.” She understood. I can’t get over her. She is full of love, wisdom, joy, compassion, and such deep love for Israel. She danced the entire concert—and even let me dance with her. Somehow the cameras found us, and friends captured us on the big screen. I will treasure that video forever. You can see a screenshot attached to this post.
 

A word about our friends from Nir Oz. Until now, most of our conversations have centered on October 7, healing, and rebuilding. But that afternoon I watched them simply be. They laughed. They sang. They danced. For the first time, I saw what joy looked like on their faces. “We will dance again” has become a phrase. This time, I saw it happen. Nothing can erase what they endured. But resilience was dancing right in front of me.
 
Shabbat continued with Joel and Gail, too much food, a lot of laughter, grandchildren climbing all over Sadie, and then a late-night Hebrew conversation with Joel’s best Israeli friend about Israel and the future.
 

I dropped Sadie with her Israelis friends…none of whom I know yet. I was nervous but she is 17 and wants to be with them like I wanted to at her age. A boy came out of the house… introduced himself to me…. and the tenor of it all changed when he heard my Hebrew… he was moved….  and I hugged him. I got in the car and cried again. Our youngest is growing up on her own path, but it did in some way remind me of my own.

I was also privileged to spend time with one of Israel’s great literary and moral voices. I intended to listen but instead found myself pouring out everything that has been weighing on me—Israel, America, my rabbinate, life. I apologized afterward for talking so much. He smiled and thanked me for trusting him, reminding me that even those who spend their lives teaching sometimes simply need to listen. It felt as though he had been a rabbi to a rabbi.

One of the most used Hebrew expressions here, always has been, is “Barur” …. It means, “clear”, “understood”. It is used all the time, overused even. If one is trying to make something clear, the answer is always, “Barur” …. yes, clear, of course. Like when I dropped Sadie off with a 17-year-old Israeli, and I asked that he and they take care of her, they answered, “barur”. If I want to make sure a server at a restaurant is sure about by order, the answer is “barur”. And I thought to myself, everyone says, “clear”, but nothing feels clear here, or at home, or in the world. The way the government closed the legislative session, shoving down law after law, impacting change to the judiciary system here is not clear. The way the ultra-Orthodox are trying to take over what it means to be a Jew here is certainly not clear. The continuing wars on so many fronts seem necessary on one hand, but there are no clear plans of what the day(s) after look like, and no one seems to be interested in offering a plan…. not clear. The sense that a two-state solution isn’t possible, but the equal understanding by most that a One State solution is not tenable…. not clear. The campaigns for the coming election here in the fall; and what direction will take place…. Not clear. The noise is becoming increasingly louder around Iran; and no one knows here if Israel reenters that arena, which will just continue more trauma, without a CLEAR understanding if the war will change the maniacal regime that seems to have more staying power than most anticipated. Not clear.

Perhaps that is the paradox running through everything above: growing up and letting go; devastation and resilience; certainty and humility; truth and competing truths.

As I now sit and learn at the Rabbi David Ellenson Memorial Lecture. One of his dear friends and colleagues, said he only had one critique of David. He said that David was discerning in all areas of life, except for people. David was not discerning when it came to people because just loved people. In fact, it a type of boundlessness. Perhaps we take a page out of David’s book of life, perhaps we bring boundlessness to it all and then things might move just a bit more from blurriness to being “barur”, to being just a bit more CLEAR.

Thank you for continuing to read. It means more to me than you know.

Love from Jerusalem,

M