I stand alone at the king’s party. The food is kosher and the security has been paid. But I’m looking for someone who also remembers that the vessels are those of our destroyed Temple.
I turn to someone and ask: “When are you planning on leaving this party? I’m thinking of going home soon. Maybe we could go together?”
The response: “Go on ahead without me, now is not the time. I’m still enjoying the food and drink. Besides, the motivational speaker is speaking again, and this hall is much more spacious than my apartment. I’ll start to head out when I see my family and friends are doing the same.”
I always wondered: why this reaction? Does no one else feel, as HaRav Kook did, the gravitational pull of our homeland? That powerful force of love and longing that anchors us to our core identity? (See Orot Yisrael uT‘ḥiyato 30)
I can’t help wondering whether so many of us have given up the promise of Avraham, Yitzḥak, and Yaakov for the dream of George, Thomas, and Alexander?
But perhaps there is something else. Perhaps that gravitational pull is so strong, it evokes in us an equal and opposite reaction. Maybe, on some level, we fear that giving up the constant motion of our lives in exile would cause us to plummet from orbit and burn up in heat.
Maybe if we were to follow our souls’ deepest longing to the exclusion of all else, we would all book the next ticket out of JFK, and show up on Israel’s doorstep, aflame with passion, but utterly unprepared to contribute to the rebuilding of our nation—never mind revolutionize human consciousness.
So we grab hold of the American Dream to keep ourselves in motion. But looking around the party, I can see that what began as an equal and opposite reaction is no longer equal — I watch as we drift further and further out of orbit. Unable to exist under the tension of two opposing forces, we distract ourselves from the pull of Eretz Yisrael with what we’ve convinced ourselves is a full Jewish life.
Desperately, I look around the room for someone who can help inspire us to go home, for leaders and teachers like the Vilna Gaon of generations past. But it seems most have already left.
I make my way to the royal library, trying to find something to connect me back to our history and Torah, anything to keep me going while I’m still here… Maharal, Manitou, or any of our secret national wisdom. Maybe some of the party goers will at least join me in here, as I strengthen my resolve to leave that much sooner.
Back at the party, I watch the beauty contest, and I too take a bite of the shmorg. Does it taste funny to you too?
