I heard the comedian Yohay Sponder joking that Israelis abroad were in need of rescue from our safe places outside the country to the war zone that is now going on inside our country.
In response, Israel’s main carriers – El Al, Arkia, and Israir – began offering repatriation flights for their native sons and daughters. These one-way flights from nearby Rome or Athens cost upwards of $500 ($700 from Paris), even though similar flights usually cost under $300 round-trip. In other words, you’ll be rescued if you can afford it.
Before the war began, I had planned a routine semester-break visit to the United States – first Baltimore to see my grandchildren, then Florida to visit my parents. My Air Canada flight from Miami to Tel Aviv via Montreal was first rescheduled and then canceled. I am now booked on a recovery flight on Arkia from Rome later this week. I’m still trying to figure out the difference between a “recovery flight” bringing Israelis home and the original flights that were supposed to do exactly that.
Because I wasn’t consulted on the attack, I have been “stranded” in sunny Florida ever since the beginning of the war ten days ago. Notwithstanding the palm trees and margaritas and the free room and board at my parents’ condo on the beach, I say without sarcasm that I am looking forward to being rescued in order to be woken up by sirens and locked in my apartment’s shelter waiting for the all-clear. There’s no place like home. I’m serious.
Since early January, before I booked any tickets at all, I was wary of traveling, believing that whatever plans I’d make would get changed anyhow due to a probable if not imminent war. But everyone kept telling me platitudes like “we have to live in the present,” “just go on with your life,” etc.
My plans did change – but for a happy reason. My son got engaged in Chicago between my visits to Baltimore and Florida. But because of that detour in plans, I’m now watching Jewish history unfold as a spectator flipping through Fox and CNN rather than live in real time from my balcony in Netanya.
Watching the war from afar
After the second day of the war, I changed the settings on my Home Front Command app in order not to be awoken by the siren alert at all hours of the night. I have the app set for missile alerts to Netanya, where I live, and to Jerusalem, where my kids reside. Now when I wake up, I see the warnings and target maps scrolling on my phone all at once instead of as they come in real time. It’s like skipping through the commercials.
I was particularly disappointed not to be in Israel this year during Purim, perhaps the most relevant and consequential Purim of my lifetime, with our generation’s Haman (Hamanee) being swiftly eliminated in the first strike of the war.
What a relief to know that this agent of evil – who for years has been calling for our death and destruction, ever since the Islamic Revolution took our American brethren hostage 47 years ago – came face to face with an Israeli bunker buster at the end of his days. You can run but you cannot hide, especially with the Israel Air Force commanding the skies over Tehran. Bye, ayatollah! May the brutal regime that sustained him soon follow.
So why do I want to return to Israel with the maniacal IRGC now threatening missiles with warheads weighing a ton or more? Admittedly, this borders on the insane, and years ago before we made aliyah, my husband would have done anything to bring our sons learning in Israel back to Houston with this type of threat looming. And yet, today, here I am, itching to get back to my new home – under and despite the fire.
I couldn’t help but think while reading the Book of Esther this year how the Purim story is so emblematic of life in exile. Under threat of genocide, the Jews of Persia had to delicately request permission from an unpredictable king for their own self-defense. Do the ends justify the means? Perhaps. But how thankful I am to be living in these days at this time, sovereign in our own land with an army of Jews prepared to defend us.
It would be an understatement to say that living in Israel is not always defined by safety or convenience. However, it is the place where the story of our people continues to unfold. I don’t want to watch that story from the sidelines – no matter how comfortable the surroundings. Ultimately, true comfort for me is being among my people in my homeland, where I belong. Nes Gadol Haya Po (a great miracle was here). Am Yisrael Chai – the nation of Israel lives!
The writer is a new immigrant from Houston, Texas. Formerly a professor of English as a second language to international students at Houston Community College and the University of Houston, she is currently a lecturer of English at Bar-Ilan University and Ruppin Academic College.