Sorry I've kept you in the dark for some time. I have been quite busy with work, dealing with bureaucracy and celebrating holidays...
Last week my father came to Israel to visit me for the Passover holiday. He comes every year at this time because it is the holiday where you feel the Jewish spirit. It is one of the most significant events in Jewish history. In short, this holiday is when the ancient Israelites were freed from slavery in Egypt.
When we opened the door to our friends home in Jerusalem, we were greeted by Sheila (a Wales native, and olah for about 35 years) and her husband Zvi who was born in what was then called Palestine. Greeting the rest of the guests I noticed how diverse they were; an Israeli mother-son duo, a Russian couple with two Israeli teenagers, our guests' Israeli adult kids, and my father, the American. This is one of the many reasons why I love Israel; the diversity, the melting pot.
As my father read his part of the Haggadah, I scanned mine, noticing that I was only familiar with a few words. I was an Israeli now, so I decided to read my part like one. "Liba, go on darling," Sheila said from the other side of the table. Before I started reading I said "Savlanut vakasha" - patience please. My heart started beating fast as I struggled with the first few lines of the Shakespearian-level Hebrew. I noticed my father from the corner of my eye wiping his tears, in shock that his daughter was reading the language of the Jewish people! He is a Zionist at heart and has passed that on to me. After reading the paragraph like my four year old gan kids speak English, everyone at the table clapped for me, for they knew what that felt like. I have never smiled so big. I did it! I was so proud of myself. I could have chosen the easy route -- to read in English but I chose the struggle and I'm happy I did.
