Ani Zocher:
Pilgrims' Stories
Eastern Europe/IP 2004,
by Gail Schnitzer, CHUSY
I cried milk and honey.
“Welcome home,” a voice rang, loud, proud, defiantly over the PA system of the rickety
Malev Airline. Though only moments before weighted down by massive anvils of exhaustion, my eyes popped
open instantaneously as if jolted by another one of the frequent turbulence we had experienced during the
night.
The plane stopped moving. The seats started rustling. The teens started cheering.
I just couldn’t stop smiling.
USY Group 7, Eastern Europe Israel Pilgrimage had made a journey two weeks and seventeen-years in the
making. Finally, I put my foot down on Israeli soil. Finally, I felt the warm nights air my ancestors had
once breathed. Finally, I was home.
“Kissing the ground, that’s so cliché,” I’m sure I had once said; yet, I
found myself instinctually, hereditarily, bending down to the airport ground, planting my lips and
emotions directly upon the state.
We just could not close our mouths. However, in hindsight that may be attributed to our collective
character and group dynamic rather than excitement; yet, the later can not be denied. Songs flowed from
our hearts and filled the shuttle to the terminal. I refused to think someone could be tired at 12:00 AM.
No, I thought, they know they too are home.
In Eastern Europe we walked the fine line between the spiritual and the social. Here, the line was
blurred beneath the sand. No hug was taboo here. No laugh was misplaced here. No cry was devoid of some
joy here.
I cried milk and honey.
Here I was. I could feel the history enveloping me within its warm arms, picking me up, directing me.
At the same time, my peers too held me up, woke me up, gave me strength.
As the sun began to rise that first morning, I rose for my first amidah in the state of Israel. My eyes
rest upon the cityscape of Jerusalem before me as I recited the words of the service. Never before had the
“same old words” seemed so new. I wasn’t tired, or cranky, or insolent, I was enthralled
in the day, a day I can never repeat with people will never forget.
“Kadosh Kadosh Kadosh”
I cried milk and honey. I was home.
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