A Real Place with Real People
By Margy Stoner

I have been in Israel for almost two weeks now, but it seems like so much longer. I remember the first time I came here—I was 9 years old, innocent and unaware of not only the unrest among nations and individuals, but also of the beauty and meaning entwined in this prism of a society. I have had, and will continue to have, the amazing opportunity to not only see, taste and touch Israel, but to live as my own guide.

Even after two weeks, I have had so many experiences and met so many people who have altered my perception of how the world is connected. Everywhere I go, it seems I meet someone who knows someone I know, or someone who I feel like I know or someone who I want to know. And of all these people I've met, there have been two people who stood out in my mind.

As I was examining a scarf in a small shop on Ben Yehudah Street in Jerusalem with some friends, I noticed an older woman looking at a particular bag. She asked my opinion on what her grandchildren in America would like, and we quickly launched into a conversation about who I am, where I am from and why I am here. I came to find out that she is good friends with a particular family from my hometown, and was actually planning a visit with them the following week.

Excited about the prospect of someone who had a connection to home, I began to ask her about her life. Chaya, as I will refer to her, indeed had an interesting past. My friends and I stood and listened to her talk about life in Beverly Hills and why she made aliyah, but the conversation quickly turned.

She launched into a radical rant for the next 20 minutes, kindly informing us that because of the halachic (Jewish law) forbiddance of homosexuality, God created national disasters and events such as Hurricane Katrina, last summer's war in Lebanon and multiple terrorist attacks to prevent the Gay Pride Parade from happening in Jerusalem.

At this point, my friends and I were very uncomfortable and nudging one another to find an excuse to walk away. Luckily, she wrapped up the conversation by inviting us to Shabbat dinner with her group of, as she called them, “Revolutionists, protesters, the kind that get put in jail!”

I wish I could say meeting someone like Chaya is a once-in-a-lifetime happening, but I honestly have no idea how many people like her are stirring up trouble within the borders of this great country. And though her radical (or conservative, depending how you look at it) antics did frighten me somewhat, I have come to realize that Israel is not, as I had sometimes imagined, a utopia. It is a real place with real people—good people, bad people, neutral people and extremely opinionated people.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, I met someone named Sarah on a bus to Tel Aviv. We discussed the wonder of the city, the beauty of the Jerusalem stone that makes up each and every building here and how lucky we are to be able to live in such an ancient land. She began to tell me her story about how and why she made aliyah.

At 19, she was on a summer program when a suicide bomber blew up the bus right in front of hers. She recalled how everyone in the community came to help, and the people on her bus, the closest to the attack, were asked to help search for body parts, pull people from the wreckage and assist the injured in calling their families.

After her horrific experience, Sarah returned to the United States not only with haunting dreams and flashbacks, but also a feeling that she no longer belonged. Astonishing her family and friends, she decided to make aliyah shortly after her return from Israel. A year later, five of her friends were killed in a series of suicide bombings and her life was barely spared. I asked her, after being in two terrorist attacks, how she could possibly live her life in Israel without fear.

“I feel needed here, like I am a part of a place and a people who I need and who need me back,” Sarah said. “I am not afraid because I know that no matter what happens, the short time I have been here in Israel has been more meaningful than my entire life before.”

Meeting Chaya and Sarah, two very different people, made me realize how a country filled with such different beliefs and convictions can manage to function as a society, however crazy it may be at times. Both of these women made aliyah, love the land of Israel and are passionate about the Jewish existence here. It is a humbling experience to learn things from people who you consider to be absolutely psychotic and people who you consider to be completely brave.

As I was flipping through my journal, I found a piece of paper I had torn out of a magazine that I had been using as a bookmark. It says, “He who returns from a journey is not the same as he who left.” I know that, when it is time to leave, all of us will be changed.

Margy is an 18-year-old from Indianapolis, Ind. She enjoys writing, hiking, traveling, Israel, reptiles, spicy food and the guitar-campfire combination. She plans on attending Indiana University in 2008.