I Am Back in Jerusalem, and Everything is Fine.

I’ve been saying for years: once I make Israel my home, I never want to step foot outside of this Land. I turned down many adventures and opportunities to travel with Jewish singles to South America or South Africa, to meet family in Europe, to participate in improv festivals across Europe, Asia, or North America, or to teach the Jews of Papua New Guinea. (That last destination has been a life goal of mine.) I have traveled across Israel and loved it, and there’s still more for me to see here. I have been perfectly content with not leaving this country.

My reasons are many. There is a Jewish law (lightly followed) that all Jews are to live in Israel, and not to leave this Land (except for extenuating circumstances.) All the more so, not to abandon our country when we are at war. Also, the psychological warfare is intense in the rest of the world. But another big piece is that I do not want to get stuck outside of the Land and unable to return. I’ve seen it happen to friends — they go for a temporary visit, and never make it back. I do not want that to happen to me.

Despite all my reasons — my mom wanted me to visit. And it is among the Top-Ten rules to obey in Judaism: Honour your Mother and Father. Not only that, but as it is written in Shemot 20:12, “Honour your father and your mother, so that your days be lengthened in the land that GOD, your God, is giving you.” So apparently… by visiting my parents in Canada, I will be able to live longer here in Israel.

This has been a year-long debate. Finally, I relented. I didn’t want to tell anyone, especially since I half-expected the war to explode and my expected plane to never take off. But just in case, I assembled a Bet Din, and followed an ancient Jewish ritual, with witnesses, in order to annul my vow of never leaving the Land. I didn’t pack until the day of my flight, just in case G-d wanted to intervene to stop the journey from happening. And I didn’t make plans for Canada or seeing friends, because I didn’t fully believe this would happen.

Much of it was that I didn’t want to leave Israel. But another piece is that I was scared to be in Canada. The National Security Council of Israel warned Israelis and Jews not to be in Canada. Several media, including The Free Press, had been putting out scary news stories about Canada, including one with the headline, “A Progrom is Brewing in Canada.” And to top it all off, the RCMP announced it will “investigate” dual Israeli-Canadian citizens. Canada is no longer seen as a safe, polite nation. It has gained a new reputation worldwide for being violent and antisemitic.

Thank Gd, I did not encounter anything violent while I was there. I felt Divinely protected. Instead, I saw trees. Lots of trees. My goodness — do you Canadians know how much access to trees you have? I hope that when everything else crumbles, the trees will still be there. (Unfortunately, there were wildfires ravaging across Canada, to the point that when I landed, my eyes felt the smoke.)

I’m not someone who wears jewellery, but after the warnings not to show visible signs of being Jewish, I put on necklaces with a menorah. Not everything is in my conscious control, though. It took a long time to get out of my default of speaking Hebrew — every time I bumped a stranger I said “Slicha;” I approached salespeople by saying “Shalom!”; thanked service people and flight attendants with “Todah!”; etc. I kept forgetting, they speak English here.

And I realized how much harder it is for Israelis to “hide signs of Jewishness.” They can’t erase their Israeli accents as easily. And they speak with travel companions in Hebrew. It’s not just a matter of, '“Don’t wear your IDF hat.”

Despite all the international warnings, my Canadian friends and family believe that “Everything is fine.” Problems are small. Friends who have kids in public schools — both Jewish and non-Jewish parents — have told me about taking their kids out of the public system, because schools have become violent. But even that is fine. Perhaps the reason this is considered a small problem, is because children are small. And most Canadians aren’t having kids, anyway. This is not seen as a harbinger of things to come, or of the next generation being trained by teachers and principles who are scared of bullying children and allow bad behaviours to get out of hand.

Everything in Canada felt easy. Spacious. Things are in English. Areas seemed clean. It felt like I had everything I needed on a silver platter.

And yet, I wanted to come home. After a few days, I was ready to leave.

And then, on Friday, 6/13, it happened: the next stage of the war, Israel going straight to the “final boss,” Iran, taking out their nuclear weapons once and for all — and I missed it. I wanted to be there, with my people, for all the ducking into bomb shelters. I wanted to be able to comfort and bring strength to others. I didn’t want to be locked out of the drama.

This may mean nothing, but is worth saying. Twice Iran rained down hundreds of missiles on Israel, and we had barely a scratch. And suddenly, Iran sent ballistic missiles, and Israel unfortunately suffered fatalities and building damage. (Including millions of dollars of life-saving and cancer research at the Weizmann Institute. Sorry to every life worldwide that could have been saved thanks to Israeli research.) What’s the common denominator? When I was in the country, everyone was safe. When I wasn’t, casualties and damage. Maybe it has nothing to do with me. But we can’t say for certain.

And then came the day of my flight home, when my worst fear was realized. I was stuck. I couldn’t get home. With no end in sight. No guarantee of when the skies would open, or if I wouldn’t be detained for some other reason by then.

So I put together everything I learned from years of training in therapy, mindfulness, meditation, CBT, Expressive Arts, Radical Aliveness, spirituality, manifestations, prayer, and an infinite number of modalities, tips and techniques for calming myself, making rational choices, and trusting in Gd. I put together a plan. It looked like this:

• flair arms wildly in the air

• scream incoherently at the top of my lungs

• lie in bed and refuse to come out

• take out my anger, rage, and confusion on everyone I see

Once I had effectively communicated with everyone around me about how unhappy I was, I concocted Plans A, B, and C about how to get home.

1. Fly to Cyprus and swim across the Mediterranean Sea

2. Fly to Malta and take a boat. This had just worked for Greta — I might even get a sandwich!

3. Fly to Egypt or Jordan and rent a camel, taxi, or walk across a land border

Whatever it takes, I was going to get home.

Options opened and closed to me as friends in Israel shared with me news articles, government updates, and everything we could find out. I called Chabad of Cyprus to inquire about boats from there. I joined a WhatsApp group of Israelis in Cyprus exchanging tips about hangars outfitted with mattresses to sleep on, kosher restaurants, updates from El Al, etc. I received several thousand Hebrew messages in over a week.

I was told not to fly to Europe, because many cities were flooded with more Israelis than they had accommodations. The Government of Israel asked Israelis not to come through land crossings via Jordan or Egypt, because they are enemy countries during a war, and citizens will not be let in. There was also one point where the skies of Jordan were closed. A week or so later, statistics came out that over 50,000 Israelis had come in from those land crossings. Mano Shipping company sent cruise boats from Cyprus to Israel allowing 1500 Israeli citizens in by sea, with each 12-24-hour sail.

Israel’s Ministry of Transportation opened a phone line, in Hebrew only, to help Israelis figure out how to get back in. Someone in Canada offered to call them for me, only to find out they were only available by text. She spoke with them — to no avail.

Despite the advice of my family, friends in both countries, and even the Ministry of Transportation to “just enjoy yourself,” it was hard to focus on anything other than the news about Israel, Iran, and the USA (Canada was irrelevant other than hosting the G7, which Trump left in the middle of because Israel is more important,) and constantly checking to see whether El Al had put me on a rescue flight yet.

Did I mention this part? The repatriation flights, while Israel’s skies were closed, to allow Israelis to come home, were called “rescue flights.” Because we would rather be in a war zone, where ballistic missiles destroy city blocks, and citizens are woken to run to the shelter three times a night, than anywhere else in the world. We needed to be rescued from galut and into the fire.

Thankfully I had booked my initial return flight from El Al, so as an Israeli citizen, I was entitled to a rescue flight. I registered as soon as the form became available. When I didn’t get a confirmation email, I registered again. When I eventually got an email from El Al saying that I was eligible to apply for a flight, I clicked the link immediately and registered, only to see that it was the same form. In total, I registered at least 6 times. I was willing to fly from any of the 5 cities in Europe - including Rome, Athens, Milan, or in Cyprus - or from New York. Being familiar with Israeli customer service and how it works (it doesn’t,) I knew that any minute I could get an email saying, basically, be at a New York airport within 24 hours, or miss the only rescue flight you’ll get. So I couldn’t relax. I had to be packed and ready to book a flight to New York within a few hours.

One friend got me the phone number to call El Al, and a friend in Israel called them and was put on hold for an hour. (Thank you, Netta Shira!) Another friend gave me their text number, where a bot spit out blocks of texts and refused to answer any of my questions. (“Sorry, I didn’t get that. Please choose one of the following options…”) After several reiterations, them closing the conversation, me typing and them opening it again, the bot casually dropped the update that I was scheduled for a flight on Thursday (the next day) at 17:40. I asked several times for it to email a confirmation, to no avail. I logged onto the website, which confirmed as much, but the button to email me confirmation just didn’t work. I checked on “My Booking” and “Check-In,” but neither would let me check in or see any details. I got zero emails from El Al, except eventually one that said I could now get the Voucher I had requested for my cancelled flight.

So I booked a flight to New York, and flew there with little confidence that this would work. Indeed, when I got to the El Al check-in counter, and they told me I didn’t have a seat number and so I couldn’t get on the plane, I was ready to throw a fit.

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As much as I thought I was exiled to the sidelines in an important moment for my people (and for the world,) perhaps I was part of something big and important after all. The Torah parsha of the second Shabbat, and only full week, of this war was “Shlach,” which tells the tale of twelve top leaders of the Tribes of Israel, who were sent to scout out the Land while the Israelites were in the desert. They brought back massive fruit and told tales of giants and grasshoppers, of a land that eats people, and of insurmountable odds, despite Gd’s reassurance of victory. The people became despondent, falling into tears, and wished to go back to the land of slavery rather than risk entering new territory.

But in 2025/5785, things were different. In what has been referred to as “the rectification of the spies,” between 100-200,000 Israelis had complete faith that Israel would prevail in this war (as we have before) and chose to enter the Land, rather than stay where they are.

In contrast, between 20-50,000 non-Israelis, including tourists and diplomats, sought ways to leave the country during the rounds of ballistic missiles. This means that at least 4 times as many people wanted into Israel during direct attacks from Iran than wanted out.

To this day, it’s easy to leave Israel, harder to get in, because there’s a much larger backlog of people wanting to return.

And far from losing faith that Gd could conquer our enemies, I feel very strongly that if we trust in HaShem, seeking connection, reciting prayers and Tehilim, studying Torah, and keeping mitzvot (such as… ahem… honouring my parents,) Gd can overcome anything, including threats of nuclear annihilation against Israel, Europe, and the United States, from Iran.

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I landed in Israel and made it to my home in Jerusalem by 2:30 pm on Friday, with time for a nap before Shabbat. Thank you, HaShem!

I am so grateful for the return to my Israeli life. My roommate organized a Shabbat dinner and invited a few of our friends. I had already had an invite for Shabbat lunch. At night, I went to a melave malka celebrating Gimmel Tammuz, the Yahrzeit of the Lubavitcher Rebbe (don’t worry if you don’t understand a word of that sentence.) Sunday I attended a Torah class, visited a shiva on its last day, and went to see my roommate’s year-end singing recital, followed by hanging out with friends and a guitar on the grass. Life is sweet here.

I heard some stories of what I missed in Israel, as well as other people’s struggles to get back home. My cousin who got married a few months ago, his windows were broken by the blasts of a ballistic missile. One kilometre from his house, a building was destroyed. My friend Alana Ruben Free, whose Queen Esther project I was a part of (and is the image for this substack,) had her Tel Aviv apartment destroyed by a missile. Some people went to the roof and took videos of the missiles (not recommended.) Most of my friends were sleep-deprived but resilient. Another theme was the quick turnaround of being sent “back to normal,” without a proper end to this war, nor a return to feeling safe that this won’t start up again any day now.

Others, like me, were stranded outside and desperate to get back. One friend who didn’t live in New York, spent a week staying in a stranger’s empty apartment (thank Gd people volunteered to house stranded Israelis,) waiting for the day she got her confirmation email from El Al. Another flew to Athens, and cried at the El Al check-in counter until someone let her buy a plane ticket. Another friend is still stranded in Sydney, Australia, while his wife is alone without him for the first time since they got married, and very much wants him to come home.

On the other hand, there were thousands of birthright teens who got caught during the war. Unable to sight-see around the country, they were locked up in hotels. (I would have been happy to entertain them! Finally - a group that speaks English!) Their trip ended with a party cruise to Cyprus, so it sounds like they still had a good time. Many of them, however, chose to stay in Israel, leaving the group and staying with relatives. Good on them, I hope they have an excellent time.

My parents (and I) were supposed to be on a psychology mission, learning about trauma and Israeli resilience and innovation. Half of the group was already in the country, and had a revised itinerary - less traveling around the country, more speakers coming to them, or online. They got to learn firsthand about war and trauma in Israel. Overall, they had a great time, and my parents and I wished we could be with them. Participants from a Canadian psychology mission said they now want to buy an apartment in Israel!

To most of my Canadian readers: I’m sorry that I didn’t see you while I was there. I didn’t announce my visit, and I didn’t arrange to see most people. I didn’t want to admit I was there, and didn’t know how long I’d be stuck.

All in all, I am very grateful to be back in Israel. The world is safer from Iran, thanks to Israel, but not safe enough that we can relax. All in due timing.

Every part of this — the war, the end to the war, the starts and stops on the way to a better world, the miracle that Iran’s proxies didn’t get involved, and the fact that I was in Canada when I was — is all orchestrated by HaShem. What we can do is praise, thank, glorify, and sing and dance!

Thank You, G-d, that Israel is safe, that thousands of lives were saved, and that I am back in Israel. Thank You, HaShem!

And Happy Canada Day today!