Medinas Yisroel

I’ve never been to Israel.

Last night, I was offered a place through the shul I attend to be in Israel for a week this summer. It’s a women- and babies-only tour, so leaving a baby who is less than a year old at home wouldn’t be an issue.
I’m not an anti-Zionist. I was certainly raised in a way that’s not supportive of the State, but I know that both of my parents have been. I would love to visit the kosel, to feel the stone underneath my hand and see if it awakened some inner feeling or connection to God.

We go to shul mainly because I want my children to grow up with a sense of community and belonging, and the ability to fudge their way through a siddur. I don’t want them aished or lubavitched or otherwise kiruved into a life I know is rigid and painful.
I said I’d sleep on it, but after a night of restless sleep and thinking about Qassams and the number 18 bus I’m still no closer to a decision. It shouldn’t be a hard decision, and yet I’m stuck in place. What do I do?


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