I have been in Israel for almost three weeks now. Within this time, I have come to realize the transformative nature of our tiyulim.  A tiyul is a field trip where we visit historical sites to further our Jewish studies and to use Israel as a living classroom. What we do on these trips could vary from a day spent in Tel Gezer to an overnight spent in Jerusalem to waking up at four in the morning to hike Masada. They are also strategically placed to correlate with our core class curriculum. For example, we learned about the reign of King Saul in class, then the next day we went to Gilboa walking the same path he and his soldiers did thousands of years ago and learned about his untimely death. 

The amazing thing about land is that no matter how many times it changes its form, it doesn’t go anywhere—it remains stoic throughout time. This became apparent when we went to the tunnels in the Judean Hills which were created during the time of the brilliant military leader Bar Kobach and were used for soldiers of the revolution to defend against Roman attacks. In the tunnels, we saw history in its purest form because it was unadulterated by modern advancements. These were the same tunnels in which the Jewish revolutionists waited for battle—the same walls they stared at when everything was eerily quiet. Our going to the tunnels and looking at the walls just as Jews had done thousands of years before allowed me to see through the eyes of a soldier and allowed me to imagine what it meant to risk everything for one’s religion. Also, when we attempted the tunnel’s uneven path without our headlamps, it amplified my empathy for the soldiers in the time of Bar Kochba. Going to the physical location of crucial Jewish historical events gave them an added dimension which helped me conceptualize the things we learned in the classroom.

By knowing about my history and being connected to it through the land, it gives me the responsibility to continue its legacy. This is especially true of Masada—a place of a detailed history and it is home to tragedy as well. The Zealots, a radical group of Jews, used to inhabit Masada. Then, the Romans besieged Masada and began planning an attack. The Zealots decided that the only way to escape their inevitable enslavement was mass suicide. Almost all of the Zealots died on top of Masada. The story of Masada is intricate and it is gory, but it is also a symbol of perseverance and future strength. That’s why this place was so important to me. Now, Israel has the IDF so we never have to make a decision like the Zealots of Masada had to, and for that I am grateful. We, as Jews, have a responsibility to remember and to honor this terrible part of our history by going to Masada and walking the same ground as the Zealots did before us. We must carry forward the legacy of our history. We will not ignore this time period just because it is not the most pretty story to tell. Instead, we stood on top of Masada and shouted into the wind, “Masada will never fall again.” That power and that emotion that I felt at that moment is something that no textbook could teach me and no formula could compute.

Through our tiyulim, we broke past the superficial aspect of physically being in a place and contextualized a location so that we understood the depth and the complexities of its history. There was no longer that distant, disengaged feeling that often arises in schools. Instead there was a complete immersion into Israeli history which allowed me to internalize its value and taught me my place in the timeline of Jewish existence.