Crying on the plane back to New York from Israel. Again.

Not since the summer of 1992, when I was a teenager on ZOA’s Masada Leadership Training Program (yes, I was on the nerd trip), have I spent five weeks in the homeland.

I recognize how lucky I am to have had this experience. It is not lost on me.

But despite the privilege of being able to spend five weeks in the homeland, there is something uniquely painful about leaving Israel.

At Ben Gurion Airport, it is hard to breathe while dragging yourself down the ramp towards the departure gates instead of down the ramp towards immigration.

Because both paths take you home. But not in the same way.

As I walked, groups of Birthright participants straggled alongside me. They were taking photos, hugging, exchanging numbers, promising each other they would come back soon. They were having their first goodbye.

I was trying not to cry in public. Again.

For years, I have spoken to Diaspora Jews about Israel.

About peoplehood and responsibility. About why this tiny country matters, even if you live thousands of miles........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)