Returning Home

Pesach [Passover] begins tomorrow evening. I’m listening to The Prince of Egypt soundtrack. Later, I’ll be getting my last bagel before the upcoming 8 days of matzah (B”H).

And for whatever reason, I can’t stop thinking of home. I miss it.

Of course, I don’t mean Texas from where I hail. I mean Israel. I mean Jerusalem.

These past few weeks, the desire to go back has been aching again. Then again, it never really goes away. It just ebbs and flows with intensity. It’s been almost 3 years since I touched down on that blessed soil, smelling the intoxicating, aromatic scent of the air — no where smells like Israel does.

And Jerusalem? I’ll have to write you a whole book about how I feel about Jerusalem.

Oh, and the food! I can’t stop craving it, especially Yemenite malawach and breakfast: the olives, cheeses, fruits, breads, za’atar. *drool*

There is nothing quite like beholding the enchanting land where ancient history meets modernism, of relics from the cradle of civilisation nestling beside towering high-rises.

Example: there’s this apartment building in Hebron which was built over the road Abraham walked down when he entered the city over 3000 years ago. How incredible is that?

Why then do I miss it so much now? What makes this longing different than all other longings, than the other times I feel it?

Again, I think I’m writing a whole series about this, but in the meantime, I’ll share a more literal explanation.

Ever since Rosh Hashanah, or maybe even as far back Rosh Chodesh Elul, life has been uncommonly difficult, so much so I neglected this blog. It just felt like life kept incessantly pounding and pounding blow after blow. There was no relief.

That is, until a few weeks ago. After Purim, life started slowing down again, relaxing, breathing. In spite of lingering pain, I’ve never felt more connected to my community, my mispacha. This connectivity strengthens me, reminds me I’m not alone, and inspires me to continue striving towards that horizon I see dawning before me.

During this time is when I felt the ember of longing reawaken.

Of course, pragmatically, Pesach is coming, so it is another time for preparation. Like we cleanse ourselves before the calendar new year of Rosh Hashanah, we also prepare ourselves before the spiritual new year of Pesach when we are reminded of our story, of how it all began.

We were slaves, but now we are free. We were bound in chains, but now we dance by the sea. Our backs once carried the burdens of tyrants, but now they carry the baskets of our own land’s fruitfulness.

We were delivered and returned home.

Thus, I think I’m missing home — Israel, Jerusalem — because like the story of the Exodus it’s my constant reminder that no matter how dreadful or painful or stressful or dark times may become, this darkness will not last.

This is not the end.

The end is returning home and living in a city as eternal as it is beautiful.

Next year in Jerusalem! לשנה הבאה בירושלים!

Chag Pesach kasher v’sameach! חג פסח כשר ושמח!