There is no greater freedom than in Zion
In my life as a journalist, I’ve been moved to tears three times. The first was in 1991 during Operation Solomon, when I saw my brethren, the Jews of Ethiopia, kissing the ground as they stepped off a Hercules plane that might have been the last to return from the mission.
A few months later, in the city Raydah in Yemen, I saw my brothers, Yemenite Jews with their long sidelocks, in the market. A few years later they arrived in Israel secretly, via Jordan, and once again, they kissed the ground, and I was moved to tears a second time.
And the third time was yesterday, when a Jewish brother made aliyah after 35 nerve-wracking years. He kissed the ground, too.