When I was in second grade, I won an essay contest. The Jewish Agency asked young people across the country to respond to one question – what does Israel mean to you? In retrospect, my family should have understood this as a sign that I was destined to be a rabbi. But back in 1986, all I remember was my elation at winning the $200 prize.
Last year, while cleaning out the basement I stumbled across my essay. The handwriting was something that only an eight-year-old girl could replicate, with hearts drawn in place of dots over the “I’s,” I wrote, “what Israel means to me is hope. Hope that... Read More