Our Trip to Israel and Our Connection to the Larger Jewish World by Sammy Lerner

Back in April, my Dad signed up for an Ancestry DNA test. We all thought that he would be 99% Ashkenazi or maybe a little bit of something else. After many weeks of waiting for the results I realized that I would likely be in Israel when the results came out. This turned out to be a perfect coincidence because I realized that I will learn much more about my identity when I am in a place that is meant for me to connect with our Jewish identity.

The Chaim Abulafia Synagogue in the
North of Israel. Rabbi Chaim Abulafia
was one of the great Sephardic
Kabbalists of the last 400 years 

So finally, when our group was riding through the hills of Judea & Samaria/West Bank, and entered through the gates of Jerusalem I saw an email pop up from my Dad. As I was seeing the Dome of the Rock in the distance, a place where the Holy of Holies is said to have been located, I read the first few words of the email saying that my dad was only 87% Ashkenazi. However, my anticipation only grew for the remaining 13%, as I had to wait because of a lack of WIFi. However when I arrived to my room I was shocked. I learned that my Dad was 9% Iberian. It then came to me how much I have grown to love Ladino culture the past year. Our family has always incorporated cool Ladino traditions like singing Una Candelica on Hannuka. However it was not until I met my classmate Ito at religious school that we started talking about Solitreo (the ladino script) and the other inner workings of the Jewish-Iberian language. And here he was in my room with me when I learned about my Iberian heritage.

I was ecstatic to tell him. Not even waiting a second I called my mom and we made arrangements to speak with my Dad when I wake up at 6:00am so that he could be on the line at 11;00pm. He told me that he realized that we might get our Iberian heritage from a distant relative that my uncle met. That stuck with me all day when we were at the Kotel (a.k.a., the Western Wall) and the rest of the Old City of Jerusalem, so much so that I decided to buy a postcard and send it to my uncle. Then when we left Jerusalem, crossing beautiful green hills on our way North I started to write my message to him. When we arrived in our first Northern city, Akko I anxiously tried to find a place to send it. However, soon the next day I was quickly distracted by the city of Tzfat, and its great Sephardic history. As we were learning about the Kabbalists of the North, while seeing their beautiful synagogues, my bond to my Iberian roots grew. My bond grew closest when I was wandering the old narrow streets of Tzfat and stumbled upon a Mezuza shop with Ito and found out that the storekeeper was also of Spanish descent. He had soothing Ladino music playing in the background and Ito and I started to converse with him. However as I was listening to the ladino music I started to focus on the ticking of the watch my grandparents gave me which reminded me of my constant connection to my family. The next morning, as the sun rose over the horizon at our accommodations at Kibbutz Gonen in the Golan, I promptly went over to the front desk and asked them to send the postcard. When the person there said shalachti (I sent it) I knew it was the end of the beginning of my personal journey.