How the lowest lows make the highest highs possible
It’s May 2017. Ben Bryer is driving and I am riding passenger. We are on our way to BWI. We make a pit stop at a Salvation Army donation center. Ben grins at me as I bring trash bag upon trash bag to the attendant. The donations are a combination of clothing, bedding, accessories and other junk a 20 year-old student can collect. Ben notices an old Dor-le-Dor backpack. “Cool if I keep this one?” he asks. I nod, as I hand the attendant the last of the donations. He informs me I just gave up eighty-six pounds of material and thanks me for the donation. I smile and get back in the car, which seemed nearly empty with only my 50 liter hiking backpack. We continue on to the airport.
I have known Ben my entire life, ever since we were eight years old. We went to the same sleep-away camp, high school and college. We had been through a lot together. As we drove we discussed the last time we were in Israel. It was in 2013. Together along with thirty other classmates from Gann Academy we studied as exchange students at Mussingson high school in Hod Hasharon, Israel. It was an incredible experience, full of great learning and lots of fun. Ben agreed, and talked about wanting to schedule a birthright trip soon. We get to the Airport and say our goodbyes.
Boarding that flight, I had no idea what was in store for me in Israel or what I could expect the next twelve months of my life to be like, there was no way could. That Junior year changed it all. I broke the mold of a traditional college education and in doing so expanded my horizons.
The internship that summer was a great experience. It was my first time working in the Human Rights field, a field that had interested me for a while. I got unique exposure to how “the other side,” lived and was interacting with passionate people. The rest of the summer was great as well. I was a Daled counselor; my campers were fifteen and were the oldest age group at YJ. I had been with this age group ever since I was a CA (counselor Aide) in 2014.
As the summer came to a close, they all spoke eagerly about going to Israel the following summer on the camp’s Gadna trip. For most of them, it would be their first time in Israel. “Do you think you will be our counselor, Knopf?” they asked, I just smiled and shook my head. Leading that trip would be a dream come true but I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. Their’s or mine.
Two days after finishing up work at YJ and I was off to the next adventure: my Fall semester taking classes at the International Studies Institute in Florence, Italy. I said it before, I have no regrets about my undergraduate career. Every bad experience has a silver lining and often in life it is equally important to learn what you don’t like than what you do like. Well I did not like Florence. Not one bit.
At the time, I did not understand this. Because whats not to like? Europe, Italy, delicious food, scenery and culture – you had to be nuts not to like this. But for me, it never clicked. I never had that kavana or deeper connection and for five months I felt like I was on a shitty never ending European vacation. This was at a milestone in my life, and I felt like I was falling behind. Instead of being in an environment where I could engage and develop myself, I found myself in a foreign country where I didn’t speak the language or have any opportunity to get involved. It did not feel good. The lows of that semester were a dark time for me, a time I felt very alone. But again, all lows have their highs and there was a beautiful silver lining.
It was October, and I began planning how I wanted the rest of my year to workout. At that point, I knew I wasn’t going to spend it in Italy. When I am at a cross roads, I tend to write it all out. And that is what I did. I wrote down what I wanted out of the spring semester and what is was about Florence that wasn’t resonating with me. In retrospect, I should have caught on sooner to the crux of the issue.
Living in Florence, Italy was the first time in my twenty years of life that I was without a Jewish community. No Jewish mother to pinch my cheeks, no Jewish friends to talk about nonsense, no Shabbat dinners or holidays. Not only was i deprived of a Jewish community. Being Jewish made me an anomaly in Italy, a predominantly Christian country. Walking the streets of Florence, where crosses protrude from most buildings and there is a church on every corner, I remembered the sense of home I had living in Jerusalem and being in Israel. I decided I had to return.
In those dark days living in Italy, it began to occur to me I had the greater parts of my Israel experience ahead of me. My plan began to take shape. I enrolled in Tel Aviv University in the spring of 2018. This was no small commitment. I was returning to Israel to work hard to make it my country, and with this I knew the IDF played a role. Israel has always been my country, but I was done with the surface level bullshit. I was ready to dive deep and I knew the only way to do that was through serving in the IDF. Which is why as i enrolled in TAU I began being public with my aspirations to join the IDF.
In two weeks I will do exactly that, and hold myself accountable on a goal I have had for over two years.
Recently, I had a friend from Florence slide into my DM’s on Instagram. It was the first time i spoke to him in two years, and his words nearly brought me to tears. This is what he had to say:
From my dark days in Florence, a beautiful dream was built. This dream is not unique to me, but rather a 2,000 year shared dream. To go home to the land of Israel. I am now home, and with everyday comes new challenges and new appreciations.
David's Blog 