Are You Deeply Israeli?

We recently attended the Sylvan Adams Nefesh B’Nefesh Bonei Zion Prize reception. It was a truly spectacular evening honoring eight olim who have made remarkable contributions to Israeli society and the world. Their contributions are awe-inspiring, and it’s well worth the time to look at the website and to read about each of these trailblazing immigrants.

It was humbling and meaningful to see these recipients, from so many different walks of life, religious affiliations and countries, who had one thing in common: they all moved to Israel to create a better life for all of us and to contribute to building a better society; and they have all made inroads and had enormous impacts in their fields.

As the final speaker of the evening, Ambassador Ron Dermer told a story about an incident that happened to him in 2024. A prominent analyst for Israel’s Channel 12 News mocked Ambassador Dermer’s background. He questioned Dermer’s ability to be “deeply Israeli” since he didn’t serve in the army, didn’t know the difference between Israeli pop cultural figures and wouldn’t know how to get home if you put him “in southern Israeli communities like Nir Oz.”

Ambassador Dermer explained that he wasn’t actually insulted by the analyst’s obnoxious words; rather, he realized the truths in certain aspects of the accusation and acknowledged that he would probably always feel more culturally American than Israeli; he explained, however, that his American ties and abilities have allowed him to make lasting changes to benefit Israel and that there are many ways to be deeply Israeli.

The ambassador’s words kept ringing in my ears.

What does it mean to be deeply Israeli?

To me, being deeply Israeli began when I gave birth in an Israeli hospital four months after making Aliyah, surrounded by Israeli doctors, nurses and fellow patients; when I welcomed my first sabra into the world.

It continued each time that I sent my children off to school in Israel, each day that I added another brick to their Zionist learning, to their Israeli lives.

When I started receiving an Israeli paycheck, paying taxes and purchasing a home I added to the sense of being Israeli.

When my children started Bnei Akiva, I felt deeply Israeli watching them learn the songs, hike in the desert and form deep bonds in Hebrew with fellow Israelis.

I became deeply Israeli the day that we set out on the Israel National Trail as a family, hiking through beautiful forests, past ancient mosaics, and across the mountains and plateaus of our people.

Unfortunately, I have felt deeply part of the nation with each funeral for our fallen, standing with thousands of fellow Israelis to support the family while watching them navigate their new permanent reality.

I became even more deeply Israeli at the first wedding that I attended, and at each subsequent one, blending into the robust, passionate, powerfully energetic and less formal atmosphere of Israeli weddings.

With each son I sent off to boarding high school, I added to my Israeli-ness, putting my faith in the process, in the way that things are done so differently here, in the way that would afford them “deeply Israeli” experiences.

I became even more deeply Israeli with each tzav rishon (draft notice), with each call to the army, with each tryout for those combat units and with each time I cheered on the sidelines for the boys to achieve their dreams (while quietly hiding my fear).

I reached new depths as the bombs started to fall on that most horrific day, and the realization came to us that the South was on fire and that one of our children was there and couldn’t be reached.

This continued as I quickly fed another son that terrible morning, helped him gear up, and hugged him as he left the threshold of our home for battle.

I became even more deeply Israeli each time a son called from Gaza, trying to speak a few words through the bad connection, trying to show us his face if only for a fleeting second.

I joined the country in the lovely trend of posting those welcome-home videos, of shaking with relief and joy as he burst through the door after months away (all set to the same tear-jerking song).

In the middle of the war, I felt deeply Israeli sitting among hundreds of other Israeli families at the officers training school graduation, with the Prime Minister and the Chief of Staff in attendance; all of our collective hearts were bursting with pride, even with the full knowledge that these newly-trained officers were now returning to the battle field to lead young Israeli heroes.

My sleepless nights and years prove that I am deeply Israeli. As do my wrinkles, my skittishness about being alone in the house for too long, my jumpiness when a motorcycle backfires.

I added to my Israeli heart the day that I married off my oldest son in the hills of Jerusalem, celebrating the incredible joy of watching the melding of cultures, the ingathering of exiles, the satisfaction of another couple in our ancient land.

My children will readily tell you that I don’t know who the latest pop stars are (but I don’t think I would know many pop stars in America either); I’m not up on the latest Israeli fiction writers; I can’t always follow a news broadcast that is entirely in Hebrew.

But I am deeply Israeli in ways that contribute profoundly to the country, through my own discomfort and sacrifice. I am deeply Israeli in ways that matter.

Our country has been built on the backs of such “deeply Israeli” immigrants. We are so fortunate to have Israeli citizens from so many walks of life who bring their own expertise, passion and strengths to their mission of bettering our country. I am humbled and grateful to call myself one of these deeply Israeli immigrants with all of the flaws, shortcomings and struggles that the title entails.

And you?