Numbering the Tribe

Biking into Har Nof this morning, I vacillated between feeling like an Orthodox girl and a Reform one. I felt that parts of me deeply connected with the world of halacha and keeping the mitzvoth, while at the same time I had a part of me actively fighting against that stringent framework. Almost reaching my destination, I was pulled out of my thoughts to notice that everyone around me wore the customary outfit of the Yeshiva world - black pants, white dress shirt, and a black hat. I immediately felt out of place, yet knew I had a meeting with someone even further into the neighborhood, so I continued on. Reaching my destination, I was greeted at the door by my host, dressed in a bright green shirt and a green sheitel (cloth head covering). A sigh of relief escaped my lips.

Each day I walk or bike through the streets of Jerusalem, the clothing that people chose to wear stands out to me. Maybe because I am studying at a midrasha where I am asked to wear a skirt and at least short-sleeved shirt daily, or maybe because it is more apparent in Jerusalem, I constantly find myself looking at clothing. Just as there are different styles in the secular world, so too are there many ways of dressing in the Orthodox world. Coming from outside of that world, many people judge, saying that people are being silly, that they are making themselves hotter for no reason, that they are trying to stand out from others. However, being in that world, even for a little while, has demonstrated that within that greater umbrella term of Orthodox, there are many styles and ways of dressing, depending on where in the world/Israel you are from, which Rabbi you listen to, and your personal preference.

This week's Torah portion, parshat baMidbar, starts off the book of BaMidbar, literally translated as In the desert, but referred to in English as Numbers, because of the accounting of all the tribes at the start of this book. In Chapter 1:2-4, God gives the instructions for how to count each tribe: by the families, their father's houses, by the number of names, by the males over the age of 20 (the age at which men could apparently go to war). Then the Torah goes through each of the 12 tribes (the sons of Jacob, plus the sons of Joseph as his representatives) and counts how many men, then appoints a tribal leader.

As I biked through Jerusalem to my meeting in Har Nof, I realized that I was characterizing people I was seeing, just as they were likely judging me. In a skirt, I look like a Modern Orthodox girl, without the skirt and still on the bike, I might as well be secular. The truth is that no one has any way of knowing. Yet in this week's parsha, we must attach ourselves to our tribes and actively maintain our connection to it. In today's day and age, although we are mostly from the same few tribes, we cannot seem to come together to a solid conclusion. Were we to separate people out by belief systems, it wouldn't work. The Millennial generation does not want to be defined by labels and so offers friction every time a label is given. Even more, there are people like me who can feel comfortable in multiple worlds and simply hasn't finished exploring.

Therefore, the tribal classification would not be an effective way of separating people. Would we say: Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist, Modern Orthodox, Sephardic, Lubavitch, Chabad…the list can go on. Inside each list is a subcategory of people who would not even fit that initial list. I suggest that we not try to go back to the way the Torah has of classifying people. Rather, we recognize that our world can be filled with people from a variety of backgrounds, all of which are acceptable. Even more, the cross-tribal/categorical changes we encounter throughout our lives are there for growth and knowledge, not to isolate. Rather than isolating, we must learn to appreciate the other ways of living we come into contact with, and appreciate the myriad of colors that we pass on the street.

Shabbat Shalom!

Mea Shearim: A world within a world

I'm reminded of the song from fiddler on the roof: at three I started Hebrew school at five I...." Although I don't necessarily remember the words of the song, the idea is of importance. Starting at the age of three, orthodox, but especially Haredi children have their first hair cut, begin wearing Tzitzit katon and peyus, and most port antsy, start going to school. The learning process is not held off until the rest of the worlds kindergarten, but rather begins at three.

The father brings his son into the school, wrapped in his Tzitzit, eyes covered for fear he will learn bad ways. In the school, he does not even have a ball to tempt him into the other, secular world. Rather, he must learn the ways of his forefathers, first learning the aleph bet and slowly immersing himself in the words of Torah and the rest of tradition. By the time a child is six, he will have learned all of berashit and shemot (genesis and exodus) by heart. He learns the words as well as the commentary associated with it. And  the time he is bar mitzvah age, he know the tanach as well as Talmud and Mishna by heart. Then, it's off to yeshiva to do the real learning and debating. Although I'm really not sure what they learn there...maybe ,rabbinic commentary?

Regardless, this knowledge comes from today's visit to Mea Shearim, which it turns t is much smaller than I initially realized. The neighborhood itself is a cross section of the ultra-orthodox world, representing Haredim, Litvaks (ultra orthodox from Lithuania), mitnagdim, and chasidim. Each group has their own special way of dressing and interacting with the general public (as Michael Marmur said at the beginning of the year, there are many different shades of black). Some may avoid a female gaze while others simply want to inform.

The neighborhood itself is full of small alleyways and men coming in and out of the synagogue all throughout the day. At all times, for the most part, there is a minyan, ten people, prepared to daven together. The mikvah being located right next door is convenient, and offers the members of the community their daily necessity of cleansing (and gossip) before they are ready for the day. Directly across the street are two schools, one lLitvak and one Haredi. We entered the Litvak one and were immediately assaulted by loud screaming. Turns out the children were on a break and playing on their playground located in the dirt center of the three story building. The building , with rooms on each side, contains classrooms the size of a small dorm room, with as many as thirty children stuffed into benches, seated with the Chumash on the thin table in front of them. They chant along in unison with the rabbi, their teacher, as he translates the Hebrew or Aramaic into Yiddish. All the learning is in Yiddish, although outside of the classroom it would seem everyone speaks Hebrew.

The synagogue itself is a work of beauty, with the ceiling painted in the style brought over from Lithuania, with the names of the months on one half of the ceiling and the names of the twelve tribes of Israel on the other. Next to each is either the zodiac sign associated with the month or the symbol associated with the specific tribe. The room itself is set up for hevruta study, with benches facing each other and a table in between. A few pairs of old men and young boys sat opposite one another, engaging in reading and dialogue, but the room  a mostly empty. However, from the looks of the books strewn across the tables, Torah study or Talmud was a regular practice in this space.

Most surprising to me was our ability to walk into this building, no questions asked. Although we were with a former member of Mea Shearim, I still didn't expect to be able to walk in and peek around. Yet peek we did, as the children peeked back at us from behind their hands. The wide array of white, blue, gray, and black that stared back at us was unsurprising, but for its openness.

The principal came up to us on the stairs and started talking about the school, about the importance of teaching these children from a young age and what exactly is taught. It turns out that the children learn math and grammar, but only at a young age and only until a basic level of understanding. They learn how to add subtract, multiply and divide, using fractions and decimals, but after that there is no need. They will be learning for most of their lives and therefore don't need to engage in what the rabbi called לימודי חול, or secular learning.

Previous to this encounter, we passed a girls school, which is supposedly one of the last remaining schools of its kind. It is taught only in Yiddish and goes up until the ae of 16 or 17, when a girl is suitable to start finding a husband, or being attached to her chosen match. The school's main purpose is to teach a girl what she will need to know in married life: sewing, cooking, knitting, laundry, family expenses. She may learn a very selected version of history, and maybe math, but there will be no Talmud study. Not funded by the government, this is a very extreme version of ultra-orthodox education. The more popular kind of learning for females is at beit yaakov, which is partially government funded and therefore teaches more of the secular subjects.

Showing up in my jeans skirt past my knees and long sleeved purple shirt, I thought I was dressed modestly. It turns out that it wasn't what they consider modest, due to the colors in my clothing and the length of my skirt, not to mention a small part of my chest showing. Although I am aware that this is the lifestyle that has been chosen, as a way to remain connected to what they consider the true way of practicing Judaism, I became immediately sure that this was not the world I wanted to live in, nor was it the world in which I was prepared to raise a family. Jewish values are important to me and always will be important, but so is the modern world. Technology is an asset in the world (for the most part) and I believe that as Jews, but also as people, we have a responsibility to participate with the rest of the world in making this a better world in which to live. If they want the messiah or messianic age to come, how is studying Torah going to bring that about? What will the words on the page do to make this world better? Studying Torah and learning Judaics is a way of looking at the world, of developing a belief system, but there is more to life than that. It is our responsibility to take what we learned and then go out into the world and affect change from our own actions. We must, as Ghandi said, be the change we wish to see in the world. Only then can we start to see what a messianic age might look like and how we can be a part of it.

Being a reform rabbi may not be the path I need to take to get to affecting that change. However, people will always need counselors and therapists, people who are both spiritual and secular guides as they traverse the confusing world. That in and of itself is helping make the world a better place, both directly and indirectly. Indirectly, it is helping people find the greater wholeness inside of them to do good and directly it is helping them believe in a power that is greater than themselves. Prayer is a way to connect, to feel a community around you. And that allow one to know that he or she is not alone in the task of making the world better. Is it my destiny to be a rabbi...that is yet to be seen. But it is my destiny to help others and touch the lives of those around me. And that I am looking forward to doing.

Conglomeration: thoughts, messages, lessons

Orientation was a combination of mixers and introductions to the coming year. We had the necessary Hebrew placement test (sandwiched between a wonderful breakfast with Rabbi David Ellenson and I can't even remember what happened in the afternoon due to my brain being fried), as well as introductions about our phones and health care and the like.

Thoughts: Where do you fit in?

We can always find another way, if we just look

One of the most interesting programs was מי אני, literally "Who am I?" The purpose was to meet each other in a little more structured manner, especially for those more reticent in large group settings. One session had us share one of our most powerful/life shaping Jewish experiences. I talked about going to Poland and picking up the bone shards from Birkenau, while on EIE, and then bringing them back to the Jerusalem. Out of that grew my desire to continue being involved in prayer. Instead of praying when I didn't necessarily feel connected, I would pray for those who no longer could. By coming to that realization, I was able to continue exploring prayer and really my personal practices fit into Reform Judaism, spirituality, and my life. As a result, NO path is/was closed to me.

The next group discussed what three people, alive or dead, we would invited to our Shabbat table (depending on who we brought, we told an interesting back story about how we feel about celebrating Shabbat and what that meant in terms of our greater observational experience, if we looked into it). The question at first included anyone, fictional or real, but was soon curtailed to only include those who once actually walked this earth. Therefore, Albus Dumbledore was precluded from my table. However, I had a rather interesting mix.

• Adolf Hitler, to ask questions and honestly see what perspective he came from. Although he was behind the Holocaust, there has to be more to the man than that.
• Avraham Mapu: I am related to him, although I know very little about him. Learning from him, about his time in what was then Palestine and seeing what his experiences lead to/sprang from would weave a fascinating tapestry to life, lifestyle, and religious experience.
• Lastly, since Dumbledore wasn't allowed, I choose Leonardo daVinci. His work with science, art and philosophy come together in such a beautiful conglomeration that I would love to see what would come of a conversation with him and the other too. Plus, his brain worked in miraculous ways!

The next session asked random questions, starting with: "Your classes are cancelled one day. What is your perfect day?" I would take a bike ride in the early morning, eat some breakfast, pack a lunch, put on my hiking shoes, take a shairut up North, get out by the Galille and hike. Hopefully I would go with a friend or too, take time to photograph, take pictures, swim, and enjoy. In the evening, we would somehow have dinner on top of a large hill, watching the sun set near us. We would have an incredible song session and conclude with a night of singing and star gazing!
What talent do I wish I had: Singing/playing guitar incredibly well/being able to song lead
What profession would I be if I weren't a Rabbi: A therapist working with autism, eating disorders, abuse, medical issues. Or a social worker.
If I could have any super power, what would it be? I would be able to apparate. But specifically to help people close to me if they are hurting.

The Western Wall, Friday 6.7.2012

Messages: Some important quotes/questions from the week:
"Make space for each others differences"
"Seek out the unknown. You never know what it may hold"
"You need to have enough self-confidence to not be confident, or at least say you don't know something"
"Can I get over myself enough to learn all that I can?"
"Do you articulate Judaism in a way that makes others want to be Jewish?"
"What do I need to make the informed choices necessary to lead Jewish lives and Jewish choices, especially if I want to be a Jewish leader?"
"How do we integrate critical thinking and a personal search for meaning?"
"How can we be a part of an interpretive tradition that strives for community yet maintain our spiritual and personal autonomy?"
"We are being given the tools to create a מסרת, but we don't know what the word means. Therefore, we have to do all this deep, headier thinking and learning."
"Small selfless actions are just as important as large, visible ones. Shephard leadership is one of service, of leading from behind!


Lesson 145: Pay attention to your surroundings; interact with them
We also did an experiment with experiencing Israel as tourists/citizens. We went to different places throughout the city (my group walked up ha neviim) and were supposed to see what we could see, what was there, how people interacted and what the community was like. The street was fascinating. At first, I asked two different people the name of the street, getting two different answers, both in Arabic. We figured it was right, so headed down. The beginning of the street was very much like Machane Yehudah in that there were dry goods, produce, chicken/meat, and everything stores. The women were doing all the shopping, while the men sat around in stores smoking, playing cards, and just talking. Not what you typically see in the states, but also not a culture that exists as much in the states.

People engaged in a counter protest at Kikar Parez

One of us got falafel, which was a fascinating cross-section of Israel. Everyone pushing and shoving, trying to be the next one served. Arabic was the language of the day. The man serving us (after I finally pushed my way in) spoke Hebrew, but not so much. When I asked (in Hebrew) if he spoke Arabic at home, he didn't seem to know the word. Not something I was expecting.
We continued down the street, actually missing the turn to stay on it and ended up on an industrial road. Detouring down a side road, we arrived back in the more comfortable world of Hebrew. The houses were again made of nicely structured Jerusalem stone, evenly spread out and with space to live. At the end of the street, we happened upon Mea She'arim. The striking difference between the two neighborhoods/streets was vast. One was crowded, with apartments right on top of one another, dirty streets and people everywhere. The other was quiet, relatively clean, with space to move and live. Continuing back to ha neviim, we happened upon the office of education in a huge courtyard, which was followed by the old Ethiopian embassy. Now, it is just an Ethiopian apartment building, replete with signs in Amharic and smells of Ethiopian food! I ditched my group to keep exploring and found the Palmach museum, yad l'kashish, the municipality, and a great way to find all these places. Although we didn't talk to many people, we experienced much about the city and learned an incredible amount about the culture and how people live.
The point was to experience and understand the discomfort zone, something I felt at the beginning, but was unaware of by the end.