The next couple of days passed by on the kibbutz gracefully. Emma and Eitan settled into a routine, each spending at least part of the day wondering what it would be like to live there permanently. Emma went for a run each morning, while Eitan remained in bed watching the Israeli news channel. After a quick breakfast together, Eitan would go for walks and spend some time studying Talmud in the kibbutz synagogue. Emma was invited to play tennis with a couple of the kibbutz women whom Yehoshua introduced her to. They weren’t great players, but Emma enjoyed getting to know them. Later, Emma and Eitan would join Yehoshua for lunch before he headed back to his apartment to return to his work. The afternoons passed by one after another. Each night after dinner in the main dining hall, Emma and Eitan would head with some of their new friends to the kibbutz pub. It was simple and wonderful and peaceful. The serenity of the kibbutz offered a source of comfort that neither of them could have expected.
It was only after their third night at Nof Kinneret when Eitan said to his wife, “I could live here forever no problem.”
“It’s wonderful here, Eitan. But don’t you think you would get bored after a while?”
“Well, I am not sure what I could do here to make a living. I don’t think they have any great desire for a full-time rabbi on the kibbutz,” Eitan admitted. “I sure love being here though.”
“I do too, even though these ladies are not so great at tennis.” Emma smiled.
“Maybe you are just getting too good,” Eitan said sarcastically.
After a moment of silence, Eitan spoke again. “You know what is ironic? All I want to do is help Israel. It’s what I think about all day when I am sitting in my office in Miami. But the truth is when I am in Israel there is really nothing they need from me. They sure as heck don’t need any more rabbis here. I can’t raise any money here. It turns out that I can do a lot more for Israel from Miami then I could if I actually lived here.”
“Well, if you lived here, you could pay taxes here,” Emma said jokingly.
“I think we raise more money at one FIDF gala or one AIPAC function in the States than we would pay in a decade of taxes here,” Eitan said.
“So does that mean we are not becoming kibbutzniks?” Emma asked. “I do think I could probably make a pretty good farmer or fisherman.”
“If that’s what Israel needs from us, they are in serious trouble,” Eitan said in jest. But a moment later he took a more serious tone.
“I always felt that living in Israel was the ultimate dream. I felt that the Jewish world was happening here, and I was missing it. But the truth is, we ended up in Miami for a reason. If we can do more to support Israel from there, then that is the role we have to play I guess.”
Emma wasn’t sure if her husband meant what he was saying, or if he had succumbed to reality. He dreamed everyday of making aliyah. She could see on their computer’s web browser history that he was always scouring the internet for job opportunities and Israel real estate websites. She knew how much he looked forward to every single trip to Israel, even the ones where he had to shepherd needy congregants from one luxury hotel to another, and from one falafel stand to the next. It didn’t matter why he was there. He preferred to be there. He loved speaking Hebrew as often as possible. He loved being in a completely Jewish world, and often felt constrained when he wasn’t there. Not infrequently he told people that his life in the US was a waiting game for his next opportunity to get to Israel.
When Emma heard Eitan say his role was now in the States, she felt both relief and sadness. Sadness that he was giving up on his dream of living in Israel. But relief in that maybe he would be more comfortable now living in his own skin back in Miami.
“Well, Eitan, I guess you will just have to negotiate in your next contract a little more time to spend in Israel. Maybe a month every summer, or something like that?”
Eitan smiled and moved towards Emma. He embraced her in a hug and gently kissed her forehead.
“Do you think if we come here every summer, they will give me a bench here someday like my grandfather?” Eitan said softly in his wife’s ear.
“I think if you ever sing karaoke as bad as you did last night, they may never let you come back here, period.”