Seat 23A

“Where y’all going to?”

The man sitting next to us on our flight from Houston to Newark had a syrupy smile covering the majority of his face.

“Israel,” my equally friendly mother replied.

I kept on reading my book, intent on finishing another chapter.

“Nawww way. So are we.” he said.

I put my book down.

After a five minute exchange, my mother and I learned that our neighbor in 23A was a former Oklahoma City meteorologist who did not believe in global warming, a practicing Christian who attended a non-denominational congregation, and on his third trip to the land of plenty.

“What’s taking you back?” I asked.

He explained that a group of twelve Oklahoma City pastors including Baptists, Presbyterians, Non-denominational, Pentecostal, and more were being hosted by the Israeli Ministry of Tourism in an effort to encourage the development of church-organized trips to visit Holy Land sites.

The three of us (including the delegation) were even on the same flight to Tel Aviv.

After establishing the basics, my mother went back to simple conversation and things grew more personal. Mom explained that she had been to Israel about five-six times and this was already her second trip in 2005. She normally did not travel so often to Israel, but things were different this year. She also explained her accent and told Mr. 23A about her former life in El Salvador.

“So do you ever think of moving back to your homeland?” he asked.

I paid attention since even I did not know what her answer would be.

She took a few minutes to consider her response.

“Oh, I am not sure. I love El Salvador but my children and husband are decidedly American. I don’t think it would be possible.”

(I smiled knowing that El Salvador was not the homeland he was referring to).

He clarified, “Oh no, I mean Israel. Do you ever think of returning to your homeland of Israel?”

Laughing, she said "I love Israel but don’t think I could move there permanently. My children would be so far away, not to mention the rest of my family. And thankfully, I have many homelands.”

He seemed confused.

“You see, I love El Salvador, the United States, and Israel equally. El Salvador will always be my home but I truly feel like a citizen of the United States. Israel will always be a place I like to visit.”

This conversation was getting better and better. I started thinking about my mother’s answer. I mean, what makes a homeland your homeland? As an American Jew, I have been told my whole life that making aliyah (moving back to Israel) is one of the best things you can do for your future and the future of the Jewish people. As a young girl, I used to always think; “But I don’t know the language and have so few contacts there. What if I just moved to New York or Boston and lived near my cousins? Wouldn’t that be a better mitzvah?”

The Jewish people are inextricably linked to Israel and I was excited to finally speak with some Jews who formally lived in El Salvador and made aliyah for one reason or another whether it was the Civil War, a university education, curiosity, family ties, even a sense of homeland?

Naively, I used to always assume that one’s homeland was literally where one had his/her home? The United State’s fresh New Orleans refugees would definitely have an opinion on the latter. I’ve lived in NYC and Washington, DC but never had a permanent home in either city. Returning this summer to Houston, to the physical home in which I was raised felt very good, almost grounding. Even so, it was my family and friends who made me feel like I was home. When I was younger, I don’t think I would have felt this way. The scents and sounds of my bedroom, my place at the kitchen table, my favorite desk where I finished my homework each night….these things were the things that helped me lay claim to what I defined as “home.” But life certainly changes and this project has opened up some large ideas about home and homeland.

Mr. 23A unknowingly provided the impetus for an interesting and complex conversation.

Some of the Floridians I spoke with explained that Salvador would always be their home even if she could not provide the security necessary for them to move back permanently. My mother laid claim to three homelands: El Salvador, the homeland of memories and comfort, The U.S., a homeland of family, security, and all things contemporary and Israel: a place where she was no longer “the token Jew,” a country which she loved even before visiting for the first time.

My sweet Oma, a woman who was exiled three times during her 91 years used to tell me;

“I guess I am a citizen of the world. It is not something that I carry on my back or that defines me. Even so, I cannot deny it created who I am.
.... It’s not a bad thing, you know.”