He Saw the Potential Me

At 17 I landed in Israel, alone, with my guitar, trombone, bicycle, and two suitcases. I had left behind family and friends, ready for whatever life had in mind. My first year was filled with mind-blowing Torah classes at a Jerusalem seminary for baalos teshuvah that engaged my soul and challenged my mind. I spent late nights waiting tables in a local dairy restaurant, and early mornings riding my bike to ulpan, where I learned Hebrew with interesting characters from around the world. I experienced spiritual highs and had plenty of fun with my friends, an eclectic and musical group of fresh baalei teshuvah. I had left my black leather jacket and purple combat boots back in the US, but I found a life that was no less exciting in Jerusalem.

As the year ended, I knew it was time to move forward in life, and that meant going to college. I took the bus out to Hebrew University. The road wound upward with stunning views on either side as I approached Mount Scopus, but once I was on campus, there was nothing that seemed Hebrew or even Jewish about it. The thought of spending my days in Israel on a college campus like any of the ones I had rejected in America made my heart sink. I should have been happy when I got my acceptance letter; instead I felt dread. But what were my other options?

A few days before the start of the fall semester I was sitting with my aunt, Tanta D’vora, in her cozy green-tiled kitchen in Bayit Vegan, with its endless supply of hot cocoa and chocolate cake, telling her I was supposed to start classes soon. She saw I was unhappy, and knew the right questions to ask. Soon I was crying so hard I was trying to keep tears out of my cocoa.

“I don’t know what to do. This isn’t what I came here for. I could have gone to Yale if I had wanted sterile academics. I came to Israel to grow, to be Jewish! I know I want to get a degree, and I don’t want to put it off anymore, but…”