Just the Beginning

I left my country, my birthplace and my home. After a long journey, I arrived in Israel today. I wasn’t ready to leave.

I rushed to get to the airport, only to find that the airlines would delay my flight by 2 hours. The awkward feeling I got from the 2 hour wait in front of the gate was an interesting metaphor for where I’m at right now with my (Jewish) identity. I was wearing jeans and a polo shirt. As a rule I never wear a suit for a long flight unless I’m 99.9% sure that the ‘I look more important than I really am’-look will score me an upgrade to Business Class as it has in the past.

My shirt bore the logo ‘US Embassy Abu Dhabi,’ where I had worked through the State Department four years ago. This is only worth noting because UAE does not recognize Israel’s right to exist and as such does not, for example, allow any maps in the country that do not have Israel crossed off the map—something I noted upon seeing maps, even in the US Embassy in UAE, with Israel crossed-off in pen. A poor choice in shirts to bring to Israel one might say, though very reflective of the fact that I have had more exposure to Arab/Muslim communities than Jewish.

I was carrying a backpack in one hand, my black hat in the other. My attire likely marked me as secular, yet my black hat was undeniably Orthodox. I saw the puzzled looks from the other passengers waiting for the plane. The Orthodox Jews, dressed in black suits with white shirts (along with black hats), saw my hat and looked at me as if to ask where my black suit and white shirt were. The more secular Jews looked at me and eyed the hat, maybe under the assumption that I was holding it for some Orthodox Jew who left for the restroom.
Alas, I answered all these imaginary questions by putting the hat snug on my head. People stared at me for a good 1-2 seconds. Then the moment was over and people went back to being concerned with their own matters. Nobody said anything—until our descent into Israel. Sitting next to me was an older Israeli woman, who was trying to chat with me in Hebrew, to which I smiled, nodded, and said the only Hebrew I knew, “אני לא מבין עברית” (I don’t understand Hebrew). She returned the smile and spoke to me in perfect English, asking what I was doing in Israel.

I informed her that I would be attending a Yeshiva in Jerusalem, to which she replied, after nonchalantly looking me up and down, “You sure don’t look religious to me.” I laughed and told her that I was curious and interested in learning more. She looked at my black hat and said, “Well, at least you’ve got the right hat.” I immediately thought about my black hat story, and everything that has brought me to this point. I chuckled a bit and agreed with her. I watched out the window as we landed into Israel. This is just the beginning.