When I travel out of Israel, I see local people traveling, going to work, meet for coffee – the routines of life. In my heart I feel hope that one day I can walk in my home without fear, that within my home I will be safe, that no one would claim that my home is not mine.
Is my hope strange to you? We have no other country to live in.
Wherever you go in Israel, you can find a piece of Jewish history: coins, scrolls, houses, synagogues…
A small region that has always been inhabited by the Jewish nation.
Although many argue otherwise, it is a proven fact.
Everywhere else in the world we will always be strangers, not belong.
It’s sad to hear people discuss the situation in my country, and always choose one side..I’ll tell you a story, a true story:
Many years ago, in a faraway land, there was a Jewish man, a father of seven sons. He had a croft – a small farm, but he was not a farmer.
He was a Dayan – a Jewish Judge, who travelled from village to village.
He was very important to the Jewish community. He would rule according to Jewish law in all sorts of topics: money, inheritance, and he also gave certificates for weddings, divorce.
Most of the time he was on the road, and his family saw him only five times a year.
He told his sons about a land far away, of a great king who lived in a holy great city.
He told them how his family was sent for a mission many, many years ago… and when they wanted to return their country was occupied and looted by other nations and all their people scattered around the world.
He promised his children that one day… and gave them hope…
One day our hero went away again, but he never returned.
Like the story of Joseph from the Torah scroll, found was only his clothes, stained with blood.
His wife and their sons decided to leave.
They knew it was a matter of time until the neighbors would deport them and confiscate their property.
According to the law in that country, a widow was not entitled to own property and the children could be taken into slavery and convert.
They reached the port city where they asked permission to board the ship to the holy land.
Everyone received approval, except the youngest.
I can continue my story, but then you will need to read a whole book…
The ending is a happy ending.
The youngest son was my my great-grandfather .
His ”little” family currently includes almost 450 people, all born and raised in Israel.