In general, Israel is the place to be for Passover, and for Seder Night, in particular. Passover is a time of redemption that symbolizes the Jewish journey back to the homeland.
But like last year, as the Festival of Freedom arrives, the redemption process is fraught with pain.
The freedom is not complete: The war in Gaza continues, and hostages are still being held captive by Hamas terrorists – so close, yet so far from home.
On a personal note, I recently returned to Israel from a tour of several North American cities, predominantly on the West Coast, where I spoke to audiences about our situation here, as well as their challenges in the Diaspora.
The audiences were diverse: Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, and non-Jewish, though representing only a small sample of the many different communities in the US and Canada. They have endured their own challenges, even as we in Israel grapple with the ongoing day-to-day stress and trauma of war, the tortuously slow return of hostages – dead and alive – and the continuing missile attacks, while so many still remain displaced from their homes.
I grew up in New York City before moving to Israel after college and have been back to the US many times, so I am no stranger to the terrain. But times have certainly changed.
This time, amid the war, it was especially stressful. I spoke to audiences who wanted to hear, and I wanted to share, what it’s like in the Jewish state for me as an Israeli, as a journalist, as a human being.
Even as I started my speaking appearances, the Houthi missile attacks from Yemen aimed at Israel were continuing. My family members, along with so many other Israelis, were forced to seek shelter in safe rooms, or anywhere else they could find.
My family in Israel kept updating me. One of my sons told me that a siren sounded as he was commuting to work on a train. As a result of a missile attack and an interception, fragments landed a couple of blocks from my home.
When I appeared before audiences in places like British Columbia and California and told them of these experiences, they shook their heads in disbelief. I had their undivided attention, even when I spoke at a synagogue on a Friday night, when it’s common to see people nodding off.
In turn, I heard of their experiences: A synagogue that was firebombed. Posters of hostages that were torn down. Security guards positioned at Jewish places of worship. At one synagogue, I was told that if no guard was present, I needed to know a code to enter.
When I spoke, the feelings of mutual empathy were strong, regardless of my audience’s religious affiliation. They wanted to know the stories behind the headlines. I explained the meaning of the catchphrases that they hear in the international media and what they really mean for those of us who live in Israel. We spoke of history and context.
A REFORM rabbi told me that despite the tumultuous times in the US, he is preoccupied with the situation in Israel. A Conservative rabbi wanted to hear more about what it takes to put together the daily dose of op-ed articles during a war and said he could understand how sensitive and intense the process must be.
An Orthodox rabbi was swept away by the story I told of my mother, who had burst into tears many years ago on our family’s first visit to Israel, when we still lived in New York. We had been standing on the Mount of Olives. She looked out at the Temple Mount and, with her voice cracking with emotion, declared that we would make aliyah.A university student told me that she was at a loss to counter repeated charges on her campus of supposed Israeli apartheid and genocide. We discussed how to respond.
Elsewhere, a Holocaust survivor told me that it was “incredible” to hear my presentation of the current situation in Israel. The comment made me buckle with emotion. At another talk, someone told me that she would not be able to sleep after hearing my words; the situation seemed so dire, she said.
I also faced some challenging questions and statements from audiences. A woman asked, “Why can’t we put the negative experiences of past peace efforts behind us and try again?” A man stated, “No matter how dangerous the Gaza situation is for Israel, you can’t expect two million Palestinians to go away.”
Israel's many controversies
At the various events, we also discussed the divisions and controversies in Israel: whether Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has been in office too long, allegations that his aides were helping Qatar, and the story behind judicial reform. My audiences, who wanted to conduct open and honest discussions with me, believed that Israel was on the right side of history in the conflict, but that it didn’t mean we are a country without internal problems.
As an antidote to the controversies, I spoke about my social media posts that depict daily life in Israel: caring for other people, dealing with the ongoing crises on a personal level, the challenge of mental health, and the volunteer efforts that have formed during the war.
The non-Jewish people I encountered on my visit included Patricia Heaton and Elizabeth Dorros. I traveled from the West Coast to Nashville to meet with them and address the Jewish Federation of Greater Nashville.
Heaton – an acclaimed actress known for her role as Debra Barone in the sitcom Everybody Loves Raymond – co-founded the October 7 Coalition with Dorros to fight antisemitism and speak out for Israel.
I was taken to a Nashville studio where IDF reservists were recording music as part of a therapeutic project that Heaton and Dorros organized. It’s aimed at helping Israeli soldiers unpack their emotions from their experiences of military service and the post-October 7 atmosphere.
THIS ENTIRE North American tour was therapeutic for me, allowing me respite from the war’s daily grind of newspaper coverage. While my audiences expressed their appreciation for the information I shared, I was grateful for the solidarity that they, in turn, showed me.
Just before the end of the trip, I experienced an unfortunate incident, though even in this case there was a silver lining. While waiting for a flight at a Seattle airport, I went to one of the shops near my boarding gate to buy a chocolate bar.
As I was paying, a man who had come in and saw my kippah said, “Free Palestine,” to which I replied: “From Hamas.”
The cashier told the guy to leave the store.
Guy: “But I’m buying something.”
Cashier: “I don’t want your business. Everyone must feel safe here. If you don’t leave, I’ll report you.” He left.
That last act of the trip was so symbolic. It included the rhetoric that confronts Jews and other Israel supporters in these challenging times. However, it also showed that there are those willing to stand up to it.
As we mark Passover, such solace offers hope that this can indeed be a holiday of redemption and freedom.
The writer is the op-ed editor of The Jerusalem Post.
