When I finally got to bed at one a.m., I was admittedly razor-focused on my welcoming pillow and comforter. The thought of spending a few hours working on my tan later that morning did not even cross my mind for a moment. However, that is precisely what I found myself doing just a few short hours later. And not at one of Israel’s beautiful beaches either; in an ironic twist, I ended up spending nearly five hours (in 96-degree weather!) sitting on a bench outside of the Ministry of the Interior, waiting my turn to enter the inner sanctum of the air-conditioned waiting room.
“Eretz Yisrael niknes b’yisurim” (“The Land of Israel is acquired through travails”) is a well-known adage that my family and I have experienced time and again. Whether it was our official aliyah as a young couple just after shana rishona, or as parents of ka’h ten children, staging our “second coming” with most of our kids in tow, we encountered numerous hurdles and miles of red tape before and during our move from the United States to the Holy Land.
However, the past few weeks have introduced additional layers of bureaucracy that I was heretofore unfamiliar with, even after living in the Promised Land for over twenty years. And I am now referring to the headstands, cartwheels, and jumping through hoops that are currently par-for-the-course for travelers hoping to visit Israel!
Once the vaccine campaign in Israel made international headlines and succeeded in Baruch Hashem turning the tide on the devastating pandemic, the skies finally reopened to flights to and from Ben Gurion Airport. Relatives lined up en masse to procure a coveted entry permit and the priceless opportunity to visit the Holy Land and spend time with family members they had not seen for far too long.
My sister and brother-in-law were among the would-be travelers, but their motivation was to visit our elderly mother, whose health had declined in virtually every respect over the prolonged period of isolation.
They dutifully compiled the required multiple pages of forms, duplicates of every conceivable type of ID (with the possible sole exception of their first grade report cards), insurance and medical records, etc. I then prepared a cover letter introducing myself as their “sponsor,” photocopied my own passport, ID card, birth and marriage certificates, etc., and forwarded the entire packet to the government office that reviews requests for entry permits. We received an auto-reply acknowledging receipt of my correspondence, but nearly a week later, as their departure date loomed, we had still heard nothing further.
My sister was losing sleep (and possibly her mind as well) obsessing over the matter, so when I read that it was possible to apply for the entry permit in person, I jumped at the opportunity.
The catch was that you had to appear at the Ministry of Interior before they officially opened at 8 a.m., a packet of 30-plus printed documents in hand, and hope to be included in that day’s list of walk-in appointments granted on a first-come-first-served basis. My husband printed up the required paperwork, I scrambled to find a cab, and b”H arrived at the office in time. I was number 16 of the 18 applicants that morning; by 8:10 the guard was no longer accepting walk-ins. That was the first of many manifestations of siyata d’Shmaya I experienced that day.
The people who had appointments scheduled arrived in a steady stream, every fifteen minutes or so, and after donning the requisite mask and passing through security, were allowed into the air-conditioned building to await their turn. Those of us who were there to request an entry permit for visiting relatives, however, were lucky if we had a seat in the shade! I had brought along my trusty siddur and a water bottle, and I made myself comfortable on a bench near the entrance and commenced to take my time davening and reciting Tehillim. Unlike the people who had appointments, our motley crew was allowed into the building in a mere trickle, approximately two per hour. “At this rate,” I quipped only half jokingly, “I can daven mincha and maariv out here as well!”
Once the clouds had dissipated and the sun grew stronger, a lovely young woman asked if she could join me on my bench, and I happily slid over to make room. For the next several hours, we chatted, exchanged divrei Torah, and played an impromptu game of Jewish Geography, finding that despite our 20-year age gap, we had lots of background and experience in common, not to mention many mutual acquaintances. Incredibly, her family lived practically next door to my husband’s younger brother, and they have been very close friends for years!
That activity helped immeasurably to pass the time. But far more impressive, we both marveled at the tremendous outpouring of chesed we witnessed while we waited. Everyone freely distributed extra masks to those denied entry because they had forgotten their own; in fact one man intentionally brought a supply of masks along for that express purpose.
The young woman sitting alongside me gladly volunteered the use of her car – twice – to a harried nursing mother whose baby was kvetchy and hungry during the seemingly interminable wait… And most unexpected of all, a bearded man with a robust sense of humor as well as an impressive depth of Torah knowledge, both of which he freely dispensed since his arrival at 6:45 a.m., disappeared for a few minutes and then returned… carrying bags bursting with all types of goodies he had purchased at a nearby makolet. He then proceeded to distribute cold bottled water, chocolates, wafers, Bamba, popcorn, nuts, (you name it!) gratis to all the weary and overheated people in line! Mi k’amcha Yisrael!
It was well after noon by the time the last of us were called in. My former companion was thankfully being serviced at one of the desks while I sat with dozens of others, patiently waiting my turn. I sent up a silent prayer that her paperwork should be in order and her request granted.
My turn came soon after, and b’chasdei Hashem, we both met with success! Her parents and my sister and brother-in-law awoke to the long-awaited good news, and were able to breathe a well-deserved sigh of relief!
In retrospect, I realized that the protracted wait for an online response had been divinely ordained. My sister and brother-in-law had both recovered from the coronavirus, and had tested positive for antibodies. But it was only after they sent in the first batch of paperwork that they decided to belatedly receive the Covid vaccine as well. They subsequently included proof of vaccination and updated antibody testing in the appended packet they sent me just prior to my vigil at the MOI. Had I heard of the in-person option sooner, or had they not panicked and opted to get the vaccine, their application would most likely have been rejected. Thankfully, however, the delay worked in our favor; they are now packing and preparing to board their flight tomorrow, and with Hashem’s help will soon be joyfully reunited with our grateful family in the Holy Land.