/lit/ - Literature

>>19284742
I edited and deleted my previous post because I want to speak with greater clarity. Thank you for your kind words. I hope you find your home too.
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This winter I will finally make my journey to Israel for the first time. My fiancée and her whole family come from this land. I want to know who they are. I need to keep quiet and listen, to understand what their lives are like in a place of such conflict. I want to know her better. I am nothing special, a garden variety Ashkenazi New Englander of short stature with pasty skin, brown curly hair and bright blue eyes, an admixture of Slavic rape raised in the cold weather of a watered down reform Synagogue in rural Massachusetts where sounds and letters are learned but no words and meaning. Cargo-cult Judaism.

I want to feel the heat of the Eretz, for it to burn away the Galut I have always been trapped in. I am a byproduct of the Diaspora where an entire nation of Jews feels like nothing but a far off fairytale. In my mind’s eye I am the other, surely there cannot be a place on this Earth where there are many people like myself? I am Der Ewige Jude afterall, everyone in school and at home told me so.

Jerusalem has always felt to me like a shining unreachable city of gold, high up on a hill and not of this world. At its heart, and in my own, the apex of my journey is the Kotel, the Wailing Wall, the Western Wall, Bait Hamikdash, a place with many names and meanings. Sacked by the Babylonians, torn apart by the Romans, imprisoned by Jordan until it’s freedom won in 1967, and many other terrors in between.

Avinu Malkinu I am overwhelmed by the blood soaked into the earth of this place and the tears that stain its walls. Avinu Malkinu I am in awe that it still stands, that I too am able to exist at all. At the Kotel I will dawn my Tallit, my Kippah will cover my head, I will wrap my Tefillin, I will lean against that ancient stone wall with my left arm across my head and my right hand pressing stone to palm, and then I will finally be where I belong. Only then will I, at twenty six and three thousand years old finally be home. What my grandfather and his father would have given to do the same, I do this also for them. I want to know you, Kotel. I want to know who we are.

>>19283781
This winter I’ll make my journey to Israel for the first time. My fiancée and her whole family come from this fantastic land. I want to know who they are and what their lives are like in a place of such conflict. I want to know her better. I am nothing special, a garden variety Ashkenazi New Englander with pasty skin and blue eyes, an admixture of Slavic rape raised in the cold weather of a watered down Reform Synagogue in rural Massachusetts. I want to feel the heat of the Eretz, for it to burn away the Galut I have always been trapped in. I am a byproduct of the Diaspora where an entire nation of Jews feels like nothing but a far off fairytale. In my mind’s eye I am the other, surely there cannot be a place in earth where there are many of those like myself? I am Der Ewige Jude afterall, everyone in school and at home told me as so. To me Jerusalem has always felt like a shining unreachable city of gold, high up on a hill, not of this world. At its heart, and in my own, the apex of my journey is the Kotel, the Wailing Wall, the Western Wall, Bait Hamikdash, a place with many names and meanings. Sacked by the Babylonians, torn the Romans, imprisoned by Jordan until it’s freedom won in 1967, and many other terrors in between, I am overwhelmed by the blood soaked into the earth of this place and the tears that stain its walls. I am in awe that it still stands, that too I am able to stand or to exist at all. At the Kotel I will dawn my Tallit, I will wrap my Tefillin, I will lean against that ancient stone wall with my left arm against my forehead and my right hand pressing stone to palm, and then I will finally be calm. Only then will I, at twenty six and three thousand years old finally be home. What my grandfather and his father would have given to do the same. I do thus also for them. I want to know you, Kotel. I want to know who we are.