Marti Maurer

By Marti Maurer

I went to Israel five years ago with a group of women Jewish educators. We all were going for the first time, and each had different expectations. I tried to keep an open mind. I struggle to write down everything properly. The moment I disembarked the plane, I breathed in deeply, and was immediately overcome by foreign smells, signs in a language I could not read, people speaking a language I could not follow, the soft breeze in my hair. I turned to my seat mate and declared I did not have enough senses to absorb everything I needed to in Israel. For some unknown reason, despite being a foreigner in a land I was not a resident of, I was at peace, and I was  home.

The children - Our hope for the future and the reason we were visiting Israel as educators. The children of the 5th grade class my friend and I were co-teaching were so fascinated and animated about life in St. Louis. They spoke English beautifully, and were so proud of the delicious goods their parents had prepared especially for us. Balloon flower pot decorations, a special music video, and so many questions! I have never felt so wanted and loved in a classroom. They did not want us to leave, so the children rushed at us, arms outstretched in one gigantic hug. I was deeply moved and at that moment my dream of making Aliyah and tutoring children in English was born.

I could not understand why I felt safer in Israel than I do in St. Louis as everywhere I turned on the streets of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv there were IDF soldiers with automatic weapons dangling off their shoulders. The young IDF soldier cradling his newborn daughter in one arm and his weapon in the other while shopping in the shuk for Shabbat was shocking to me, but also quite comforting. I saw no conflict between any people. People of different races, nationalities and religions worked together side by side. As we walked through old Jerusalem to the Kotel, I could not understand their animated conversations, but the laughter, hugs, and camaraderie of the Jewish shopkeepers with their Muslim neighbors was genuine, and not something you hear about in the media.

Only in Israel - I was having dinner with new friends in our sister city of Yokneam and was sitting next to our host. He was American and asked where I was from. I told him St. Louis, but I was originally from a small city in New Hampshire. He asked me the name of my hometown. I told him Keene. He looked me in the eye and asked if I knew the Weisberg family. Did I know them?!! Pat and David Weisberg were in my class, and we share the same birthday. Keene, NH is a bit smaller than St. Louis, MO...we were both shocked.