My Journey to Embrace life from the UK to Israel

A human’s lifespan may be fleeting, but one’s potential outreach is encouraged by those who embrace the majesty of human ambition. This is the story of my deeply unconventional life. A tale of triumphs and strives that took me from my native Britain, to Israel, to the IDF, to the empowering sacrifices I have made for the sake of a substantial future. – ‘Aleph’, current soldier in the IDF

At present, I have not lived a particularly long life. At 21 years of age, it could be said that “I have my whole life ahead of me.” However, there are several crucial lessons that I believe are essential for any human being to comprehend his place in his own life. That journey inherently starts with those who have already made their stands, whose lives before might have been defined by their reputation, power or influence, or even the consequences of their being there. This sort of experience – this evaluation of the past is something I’ve learnt to value greatly over the past few years – dare I say there were times when my life depended on their significance. Throughout the past two and a half years, I have achieved so much that many believed impossible or impractical in my native Britain.

 I decided that, on the 14th of August 2022 (Av 17th 5782) my own stride would muster a new intent. Moving to Israel was something I’d wanted to do for many years, for all sorts of reasons. I wanted to realise any yet unfound capabilities by giving myself the opportunity for sheer bravery and grit to lead the way. Living in Israel seemed like the most challenging and therefore most worthwhile way of life. Not least because the State of Israel is gifted with a seemingly endless supply of pleasant and peaceful neighbours…

I find that one of the effective sources of inspiration that man can exemplify, is his past. Retrospection became a very powerful tool for self-improvement. Looking back, now it gave me a very broad range of unprocessed thoughts, unspoiled by either the glory or glamour of the moment. Making that decision whilst being so young, taking that responsibility upon myself, that personal duty of care by choosing to distance myself from all those providing familiar care, in pursuit of an unfamiliar but deeply invigorating, unmatched sense of self determination was something that I could not help but be inspired by.

There are other factors that can influence humans in similar ways. The conduct of prior life experience is something I feel is important to aspire to, to honour even. I therefore put myself in a position where I had the guidance and inspiration of role models that were completely open to me. Something from which I could not hide. I came across it in a rather unexpected place. Yeshivah – in the southern Galilee.

I achieved much during my studies in that simply wonderful institution something that I had believed to be unrealistic. Perhaps I was unfair on myself. Not because I had unfair expectations of myself, but I had been warned about this massive change that I had just brought upon myself. Whilst it was, without any doubt, a noble attempt to make a life for myself on my own merit, there was a chance that I had taken on too much, that I was not up to the task.

I sat in that auditorium, and I realised the magnitude of what lay before me. I barely spoke the language, did not understand the culture, knew nobody, and was alone. I did not realise that parents accompany their children to Yeshivah for the first time. I believed that to be something for foreign students. Something I was determined not to be. Looking around that room, I saw so many different types of people, all sorts of expressive attitudes. 

Not one was in any way similar or comparable to the other. I just fell in love with that dynamic. I sat there -in a room full of teenagers that grew up in completely different environments to me. We had only lived in the same country for a matter of days. With all that said, I was not afraid. My own upbringing helped me with that, we – the British – do not give up easily. Yes, it would take time. I knew I needed to be patient, be unafraid to embarrass myself by making grammatical mistakes in Hebrew in front of the whole Yeshivah. Yes, I was shy, but I sat through all those lessons, and group chats, and very much lived through the very visible cultural differences between us.

I recall one lesson my Rabbi taught me. He spoke about a Russian Jew who once tried to move to a foreign land. After doing just that, he finds himself quite unfulfilled by his new lifestyle. Any pursuit he chooses to undergo seems to be just as ungratifying as the last. This chap does not know what to do with himself, until he realises that he cannot be like everyone else. He is who he is, and he should not try to change that. This traveller makes something of himself in the place he chose to call home, by accepting that things do not have to be perfect in order to make them worth attempting. 

The key to understanding such things is to embrace the past by the means of the present, in honour of a beneficial future. In doing so the chap ceases his effort to integrate entirely for the sake of happiness. He understands that he was overlooking the joyful element of making a life worth living.

After telling me that story. The Rabbi looked at me and concluded that moving anywhere can be difficult for anyone. The key to making it worthwhile, is remembering who you are, the person you were before you chose to leave. That’s how Jews all around the world can maintain their nationhood, despite being such a scattered nation. It took me many months to completely understand what he meant. 

As the months went by, the learning progressed. I began to flourish in all I put my mind to. My ability to speak Hebrew took on a distinct level of fluency. I discovered that I was capable of understanding very complicated works with relative ease. I’d moved from reading Tony Blair’s autobiography in my free time to all sorts of complex Talmudic texts. It’s rather an obvious fact that we British Jews are somewhat less educated in Judaic matters then Israeli youth. Yet who knew that learning texts from an unknown language (Aramaic) translated into an adopted language (Hebrew) would make Talmudic study that somewhat easier? I had not even viewed it as a goal.

Yet I did not find myself pursuing what was expected from all other Israelis. I became Israeli, with a clause if you like. Any integration had to be on my own terms. Each decision would be taken as the day went by. I judged Israel to be quite the ideal place to excel in unique and productive schools of thought. That’s exactly what my Yeshivah was to me. The Rabbis, my fellow students, and the phenomenal community itself. I had rediscovered my sense of belonging. 

I also noticed that it was becoming more and more difficult for the world to separate between Diaspora Jews and Israelis. I foresaw that that vision was becoming exacerbated and leading to a conflicted society in all corners of British life. 

It seemed to be to be inevitable that the status quo would break at some point. At one point, I remember thinking in late 2019 that the 50th anniversary of the Yom Kippur War was coming up soon. I allowed myself to consider how one could commemorate such a tragedy, whilst honouring those who paid the price for Israel’s survival.

Little did I know that I would be joining them in being asked/required to fight a war for Israel’s sake.

End of Part 1. ‘Aleph’ will follow with a Part 2 – his time in the IDF – in the coming weeks.