A Year After My Final Mega Event

This is my first year following the Nefesh B’Nefesh Mega event from the other side. Yup, after attending the annual conference for three consecutive years, here I am, observing as an Israeli citizen.

Last year’s Mega in Midtown Manhattan was what sealed the deal for me, and my guess is that at least a  few of the 1,500 aliyah-minded folks who attended Sunday’s gathering this year also left feeling encouraged.  For me, there were a two things that the event  did really well:

  1. It got a lot of us aliyah-minded people under one roof, and gave the decision-making process a unifying, celebratory vibe. There’s no greater reassurance than knowing that you’re not on this journey alone.
  2. The NBN staff doesn’t sugar-coat the process. As someone who made aliyah as a single young professional, I can only speak from that perspective: the primary challenges I’ve faced as an olah chadasha (finding a job, finding community, language-related realities) were addressed at various panels and sessions.

Of course, there’s only so much that can be crammed into a one-day event. I didn’t get all the answers I was looking for, and there were certainly things that that were only going to make sense after the fact. Every individual experience is unique. When you make a big change like aliyah, there are certain things you’ll only learn along the way. Though I’m still pretty new myself, looking back to a year ago when I finally decided that it was time to book my flight, there was a particular aspect of the process that understood, but not in full: with growing pains come growing gains.

Aliyah comes a little identity loss. At times, you’re so focused on setting down the basics, you might wonder hey, who am I?! I think olim from North American countries are more prone to this because we left environments that allowed and encouraged us to thrive professionally, socially, personally, and religiously. We leave all that we’re familiar with – our community centers, synagogues, neighbors, Target – and then have to find new community centers, new synagogues, new neighbors, no Target. Suddenly, the language that wasn’t important enough for (many of) us to be fluent in during all those years of day school and summer camp becomes really important. Oh, and if you’re coming single from New York City like I did, just know that socializing isn’t the same as it was in the Alter Heim. Community is much less focused on synagogue events and ice-breakers. It’s not non-existent, just less prominent, so if you’re a person who loves close-knit community like I do, expect to adapt to the way things are here…or to create what you wish to see.

That’s the wonderful thing about Israel. It’s open to your ideas. Open to growth. So if there is a change you want to see, go for it.

Growth isn’t comfortable. Sometimes it’s clumsy and awkward, but I wouldn’t trade in the growth I’ve experienced so far for the familiarity and comfort of the life I left behind. Because when I’m in growth mode, I’m happy. Truly happy. The term Menuchat HaNefesh, tranquility of soul, is what comes to mind…because growing pains are part of the the mental and emotional shift that occurs when a Diaspora Jew also becomes an Israeli Jew. With every challenge, I’ve gained so much more in the ways of confidence, ingenuity, and self-awareness. I had it all in New York, but I can’t say I had those qualities to the same degree. And I wouldn’t trade those in, not even for Target.

If you’re considering Aliyah as a young professional and want to chat, be in touch. 

 

About the Author
Eliana is a Bostonian-New Yorker (okay, and a Jersey Girl) who made aliyah from Manhattan's Washington Heights community in July 2016. Ever since then, she's been writing about the wonderfully unpredictable journey of 'living the dream' as a Millennial from the West (note: sense of humor strongly encouraged). She serves as the Alumni Affairs and Special Programs coordinator at Yeshiva University in Israel.
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