Sometimes the only way to reenact the events of the past is to relive the emotions of our predecessors. On July 25th, TJJ Ambassadors traveled to the city of Tel Aviv. Named, among other things, for Theodore Herzl’s book Altnoyland, meaning “old-new land,” it is in reference to the land of Israel. “Tel” means “ancient hill” representing the old land and “Aviv” means “spring” representing the new land which would be immersed in foliage. Not only does this indicate the archeological significance of the land and the new vegetation that immigrants embedded with it, but it is also an allusion to a prophecy of Isaiah: In our exile the land will be barren and empty but in our hands it will become green. This message and others lined the cool corridors of the Hall of Independence, the very location were Israel became legitimate on an international front in 1948. After watching an extensive briefing on the events that lead up to one of the greatest smachot, celebrations, in the history of our people, the group proceeded to a larger room that despite the Israeli flags and portrait of Herzl, looked like a deserted art gallery. It was not until our tour guide spoke to us that we became aware of the gravity of the very room we sat in. In the days before Israel became a state it became apparent that Britain would officially hand over control to Israel on a Friday night. Obviously this was on one of the holier days of the year, Shabbat, so Thursday would have to be the day that Israelis celebrated the inauguration. The entire reception of the nation of Israel was thrown together in an hour and all the political leaders as well as many civilians lined the very hallway we were seated in. The throngs of Israelis stretched far outside the premises, each person eager to glimpse just a taste of what seemed like redemption for the most persecuted people. From our chairs we heard a recording of the words that were spoken at this meeting and with every drawn out word we came closer to the true meaning, the true passion, of what ran through every man, woman, and child on that glorious day. We heard the cheers that were proclaimed at each spoken word. But then we heard an orchestra. The members of that room had been witnesses to the first playing of Hatikva, the national anthem of Israel. Emotional would be an understatement and so would the feeling of epiphany. Sometimes on the news we wonder why some fight so hard for that which we take for granted. Sometimes we do not understand why it matters to yearn for such a cause. But when we stood in the room where our home has proclaimed to the entire Earth as a reality, and we heard literally the sound of our hatikva, or hope, there was absolutely no question in our minds.