I stand on the edge of a cliff, looking across a wide and deep chasm. On the other side is nothing I can recognize. As the fog settles, I see a faint outline of an almost invisible bridge, stretching out before me. I cannot see how it attaches to the other side and the bridge appears rickety and as fragile as glass. To step out would be certain doom, or so it seems. But stay where I am? Behind me an earthquake shakes up rocks that are falling on all that I remember of security. My past stands ready to be buried and the only way out is through, but who among us can find the courage to step out? I want to run back, I want to go to the remembered comfort of home and family, but it is not there…It is quickly fading from view. But I hear the whine of a siren calling me to go back. It will be good, she says, you can still find the old life in the old country, but the news tells another story—a story that none of us knows, a story of the end. All we knew before is going going, gone. True there is a semblance of normalcy as the riots increase and the unrest breaks out and antisemitism is everywhere. Could I find peace on a plot of land in a small house and garden back somewhere I once called “home”—a place I used to know? And for how long? Nothing is the same, nowhere!

I raise my eyes and stretch my foot precariously to test the solidity of the bridge before me. Where is this path leading? What will I find on the other side? I can see a path there. When I glance back, I know there is no return. I am afraid. What does the future hold? Bombs shake not too distant towns and I see the smoke billow at the end of the bridge. To stay where I am is to not cross over. Crossing over is what our first father Abraham did, going out to a country he did not know. And, yes, I did follow the path to here. I have made that first step, but the only way to move forward is to close the door on the siren voice that bids return to nothingness. As I swing around, I see a doorway to the past behind me and I reach to close it’s squeaky door, I turn the rusty key in the lock. I take that key now and hold it up to consider what I am doing for a second. Maybe I have lost my mind, but no! I toss the key into the canyon. One two three, 10…12…21, ping! it hits a rock. It really is a long way down and there is no retrieving it now. As for me, I realize that I feel better having made a choice, now there is no option for return and as I look at the bridge before me, it now appears solid with a strong railing on each side. And so I step out, never to return.

This is the way of life, there is always risk but each person must come to this decisive moment if there is to be growth. The way ahead seems uncertain, but the step forward brings confidence. To some, I say, “come to Israel while you still can!” Cross over! Make aliyah! I know it is hard to leave a life once known for comfort and predictability, no matter the risk of staying. Dreams can keep you there and the voice of the siren is assuring.

I can’t promise you will be wealthy or even comfortable at first if you come, you may have hardship, you will face great challenges, but you will be free. And you will find a way.