From the autobiography, With All of Me, by Sara
Glaser, author of Lifesaver's Guide
"To be able to go to the Kotel to pour my heart out to Hashem
whenever I want, knowing that there is no other place in the
world where I can be closer to Him, that alone is enough of a
reason to live in Jerusalem, the holiest city in the Holy
Land."
Chapter Seven
Aliya
How did I feel when I moved to Eretz Yisroel permanently?
Happy is an understatement. As I walked the streets of
Jerusalem, in my mind (because I was too self-conscious to
actually do it), I would be jumping in the air, clicking my
heels together.
So often, as I turned a corner or walked up or down a street,
the view was so beautiful I would stop, look, and inside I
would cry for joy at everything I saw. All buildings are
erected with white Jerusalem stone, giving the entire city a
fresh, clean, and lovely look. Landscapes are never boring
since hills, even mountains, are interspersed with level
ground. The trees, grasses, and wide diversity of plant life
provide varying, beautiful shades of green. Flowers of all
kinds and shapes, in colors representing the rainbow and
more, appear everywhere, even between cracks in rocks, giving
an unexpected touch of color, and showing how life can exist
where you think it can't.
The blue of the sky is never the same. Sometimes it appears
in tints, light blues of all kinds, and other times we are
presented with intense, deep, velvety-like shades. I have
been around the world and I have never seen the sky as
beautiful as it is in Jerusalem. And the sun! I believe that
nowhere is the light of day as bright, clear and sharp. It
can take a while for one's eyes to adjust from the strong
sunlight outside, when entering a building
But what affected me the most was seeing Jews, Jews, and more
Jews wherever I went! I kept repeating, "I'm here, I'm really
here!" I was surprised that I wasn't black and blue from
pinching myself so much. Wherever I went, however I went, by
foot, by bus, by taxi, morning, noon, or night, Jerusalem was
lovely, and mine!
My interactions with the people were overwhelmingly positive
and warm. I once walked into a shop off Jaffa Road, near the
shuk, a large open-air collection of food stalls, to ask for
directions. I showed the address to the shopkeeper, who was
alone in the store. He smiled, took off his apron, and
motioned for me to follow him. He left the store, door wide
open, and proceeded to walk to the end of the street, turn
the corner, walk a little more, and point to the building I
was looking for.
I boarded a bus once and asked the driver a question in my
far from adequate Hebrew. I used the female gender by
mistake. The driver quietly and gently gave me an instant
lesson in Hebrew grammar.
Repeatedly, I saw passengers on crowded buses pass money or
bus tickets overhead until they reached the bus driver. If
there was change due the rider, the money, or the punched bus
ticket, or both, were returned the same way. Nothing got lost
or disappeared. Where else but in Israel could this
happen?
Over and over again, I would see young people get up to give
old people or pregnant women their seats. Passengers would
get off the bus to help others get on, with a baby and
carriage, or with heavy bundles, and then return to their
seats.
Where else can you find a fast-food restaurant where you
order your food, help yourself to as much of the substantial
toppings as you wish, sit down, eat, and only then, go to the
cashier to say what you had, and be told how much to pay.
My file was lost at one of the Ministry offices. Two months
after my last visit there, I received a call from the clerk
who had been looking for it. First she scolded me for not
being home more, asking me what I do to be out so much. She
said that for weeks she had been trying to reach me. Then, in
a cheerful voice, said, "We found your file! I knew you would
want to know."
To be able to go to the Kotel to pour my heart out to Hashem
whenever I want, knowing that there is no other place in the
world where I can be closer to Him, that alone is enough of a
reason to live in Jerusalem, the holiest city in the Holy
Land.
To be able to learn as much as I want, whenever I want, is a
dream come true. In Jerusalem, classes, lectures, and field
trips are available morning, noon, and night. There is formal
learning going on for men and women respectively in yeshivos,
seminaries, and other educational organizations.
Ongoing learning can always be had in people's homes,
community centers, or local synagogues. Private learning,
alone, and or with a chavrusah, or in small study
groups, is common practice.
I continued learning at EYAHT, Aish HaTorah's College of
Jewish Studies for Women. I was comparable in age to many of
the students' bubbies, but I never felt self-conscious about
my age. I was having too much fun learning and growing fond
of the young ladies. A warm relationship developed with a
number of them. They often came to my home for dinner, to
visit, for advice, or even to meet a date instead of doing so
in a hotel lobby.
People talk about adjustments that need to be made when
making Aliyah. Except for difficulty in learning the
language, I did not encounter any problems. I went to Ulpan
to learn Hebrew, but I was not successful. I hired a private
tutor who came to my home twice a week, but that, too, did
not seem to help. I later learned I have several hearing
problems, none of which, unfortunately, can be resolved with
the help of a hearing aid.
I believe that every living thing, person, bird, animal,
fish, insect, and plant, as well as inanimate objects, are
blessed to have the merit to be in Israel. Jews throughout
our history have yearned to live here.
Is everything perfect? Is everything the way I would like it?
Of course not. Such a place doesn't exist in this world. But
Eretz Yisroel is our home. G-d willing, when Moshiach comes,
I hope to be there to greet him. I have my tambourine
ready.
A year after living in Jerusalem, on January 15, 1991, the
Gulf War began. On January 16, my son Louis arrived on
aliyah. I was always praying that both my sons would
eventually follow me to Israel, and become religious. Now
part of my dream was coming true.
Louis was a journalist in the States, and served as a foreign
correspondent during the Gulf War for the paper he just left.
He then went on to learn at the Aish HaTorah Yeshiva in the
Old City. He now wanted to be called by his Hebrew name,
Eliezer, or Eli.
After five years, he was ordained as a rabbi, thus making
another part of my dream a reality. He returned to the States
with a wife and two children to do outreach work.
The war did not last long, Boruch Hashem, but it was
unnerving, and at times scary. Being an American, I was
unaccustomed to war in the land where I lived. Unfortunately,
Israelis, are. I found the screaming sirens particularly
difficult to bear.
My pride in being a Jew was heightened at this time, as I saw
how adults and children alike were responding to the
situation. Life went on as usual. Many, young and old,
decorated their plain, brown gas mask boxes, which we were
supposed to carry with us at all times, with colorful,
creative, and cheerful pictures.
The Scud missile attacks usually came during the middle of
the night. Sitting in the sealed room with the uncomfortable
gas mask on my face, I would pray that no one be harmed, and
that the Scuds would not be carrying poison gas or germs.
I heard amazing stories from people who saw G-d's miracles.
One man told me of the missile he saw when he went into a
building. It was jammed in the stairwell, nose down. If it
had reached the floor, it would have exploded, killing many
people.
I was glad that I was living in Israel. By being able to
share, first-hand, whatever might be, I felt more connected
to my fellow Jews and to our land.
It was around this time that I asked people to start calling
me by my Hebrew name, Soroh. It feels right, and comfortable.
It also gives me a wonderful role model, our first Matriarch,
to emulate!
