Galus

There are a lot of Jews in Teaneck.

Gorgeous houses, green grass, trees and leaves. Walking to shul for yizkor on Yom Kippur, the cold and rain crept into my bones.

Earlier that morning, I woke up, peering out the window and missing the spirituality of Israel. It's a realization I haven't had, until coming back here and understanding what a huge leap - - of faith - - our family made.

My sister tells me of a Facebook post someone wrote how they always wanted to make aliyah but can't because they are in debt. I do not know this person. But if you could imagine, for a moment, they likely own a house they put a 5-25% down payment on, a car, maybe 3-4 kids and paying tuition through their noses.

אם תירצו אין זו אגדה.

Or as they say, when there's a will, there's a way. 

Israel is definitely not meant for everyone. I've listed its pros and cons. 

But I never recognized its largest pro as that of the core of our very essence and spirituality.

Caring for my mother over Yom Kippur, while everyone else could go to services, I was blasted for not opening up my machzor. I actually did at one point, while watching her hunched. It opened to the prayer that always shook me חמול על מעשיך. I considered how the commandment of prayer is not one of the ten from Sinai, and how rather it is listed, honor your father and mother, for may you merit longer days (life). 

This limbo between life and death is excruciating. Despite being also annoyed at getting a $54 ticket for apparently parking too close to a stop sign, you feel that push and pull of saying Kapara, to wanting to fight with the police department to give you a break.

Living, for the first time I'm seeing is extremely convoluted. There's both beauty and pain. Yet even death, as my husband said is such a natural course of life, why is it really that we get so upset?

Wishing a gmar tov and limited yisurim in the year ahead.