The Home and Heart

“Sir, can you please follow me?”

“Of course” I replied, as if I had a choice in the matter. With two felonies on my record I know that I will always be detained flying into the United States. So when the woman at passport control spoke these words and motioned for me to follow, I followed. I already knew what the next question would be.

“Do you have any checked bags?” I quickly responded “no” and then she led me to the detention center. Where I would sit and wait, until it was my turn to be questioned, searched or both. An experience that never gets any less degrading, regardless of how many times you experience it.

It felt like a microcosm of my life. I wanted to start my next journey, but I was stuck waiting. Waiting to be checked again. No knowledge of how long it will take and anxiously praying not to miss my flight. I know that the world doesn’t stop for me, and sometimes it feels like the world is constantly stopping me.

I wanted to be angry, but I wasn’t. Burying my emotions, shutting my mouth and waiting my turn were skills I had spent years polishing. Inside the room the first thing I saw was an Israeli man arguing with an officer behind the counter. Next I noticed the large sign warning us that “cell phone use is prohibited”. I knew from experience that this rule was taken very seriously. For the first time on this trip I regretted relying on my new kindle for reading material.

Besides the Israeli and the officer, the room was empty. COVID had stopped a lot of travel, and therefore a lot of travelers. It was the first time I had so much space in a detention room. So I sat in the back watching all the space. I wanted a little control over my situation, and being able to see more made me feel as if I had increased influence on what was happening in the room.

Time passed and a woman was brought in with her two kids. A new officer appeared behind the desk and called her up. I wasn’t upset, I have traveled with children before. As I watched I began to wonder about my own children. I was alone on this trip because of COVID. But if we made this trip every year as a family how long until they realize that abba is the reason we got special treatment upon our arrival.

I listened in as the woman justified overstaying her previous trip to America. There was no clock on the wall, and after about 15 minutes I started checking and rechecking my watch. I tried to remember what time my connecting flight was leaving. I didn’t memorize it because it was physically written on my boarding pass and digitally in my phone. But my boarding pass was confiscated with my passport and my phone temporarily “off limits”.

Another person was brought into the room. Then an officer came in from the back and called my name. I stood up and walked over. He handed me my passport and said “welcome home”. I asked if that was all and he told me “yes, you are free to go”. I smiled and said thank you. What I really wanted say was “fuck off”. I refuse to feel at home staring at cement walls while under the watch of armed guards. I sped off to catch my connecting flight. On the way I had to take a bus to a different terminal.

On the bus I sat across from an older woman wearing a head covering. She asked me where I was coming from and I told her Israel. It seemed clear that she was expecting this answer, maybe the kippah on my head and tzitzit swaying under my belt tipped her off.

She asked if I enjoyed my trip to Israel. I told her that I live in Israel, and I was on my trip now. It turned out she also lived in Israel. She told me about how she still feels as if she is coming home every time she returns to America. Everyone is speaking her language, she can easily read all the street signs and she feels more comfortable with the way people act.

I told her that I don’t feel the same. Israel feels like home. She gave me a smile and said “I bet you only made Aliyah a few years ago”. I replied that I moved to Israel 4 years ago. She informed me that it will take another 15 or 20 years, but I will eventually understand what she means.

A few days later I was sitting in the MVA to renew my drivers license. When my turn came up the clerk started by asking me to verify my home address, I recited my parents address. Then she asked me for “proof of residency”. I pulled out the stack of mail that my father saved for me and we found two documents that met the criteria. A credit card statement and letter about my stimulus check. After my address was confirmed she took a picture for my new license. Then she informed me that they will mail it to my home address in a few days.

Shabbat morning I surprised my old congregation. Only the Rabbi, who was hosting me, knew that I would be there. I walked up to the upper sanctuary and saw the president of the shul. She ran up with a big smile and gave me a huge hug. Another old friend walked up behind her and said “Welcome home” before dashing into the sanctuary where they had just started the first Amidah of the service. I couldn’t stop smiling as I caught up with the president.

At the end of the service the Rabbi made an announcement that this Shabbat was dedicated to Norm, Carine and their newborn daughter, a family leaving the community. They were moving to NY. We all went downstairs for the Kiddush. Before digging into the cholent we all poured a L’chaim. Before drinking we gave the young family blessings. The president gave them a similar blessing to the one I received from her on my last Shabbat before moving.

That no matter where they go this will always be their home.

Despite the fact that your heart can be found inside of your chest, it lives somewhere else. Your heart lives with the people and places that matter most. Since physical location does not limit it, there is no reason your heart cannot live in multiple places. The sad corollary is that a heart can also find itself homeless.

A home for the heart is acquired in one of two ways. Inheritance and investment.

You may inherit a home in a person who also gave you genes. Wherever they are, you have a home. A person might invest in you. They are giving you a home. These homes transform into estates by the simple act of returning the favor, giving them a home inside of you as well.

You can invest in a place that you find on your travels. The connections you make to that place will transform it into a home. Places can be inherited as well. A people can invest in a land and make it a home for this generation and the next.

Where are you laying bricks for your future home?

Are you taking the time to lay new bricks?

If you take the time to write down some thoughts you can email them to me at David@magenfitness.com

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