Reconciliation

This past Sunday, the entire school went to see a musical called פרח נתתי לנורית (I gave a flower to Nurit). Although based on a children's book of the same title, the musical takes a dozen or so children's songs and compiles them into a story of what it means to be strong and believe in yourself. Truthfully, I was so excited to be back in a theater that anything would have been enjoyable to me, although this show touched my very heart. Many of the offhand comments the actors made to their fellow players were exactly the kinds of things we explicitly tell our students not to do. Yet, although I cringed inwardly, I watched to see how they would rectify the wrongs played out on the stage. And fix them they did. The last song of the play, entitled מתפייסה,  means something along the linesמתפייסה of to make right or to make nice/good. That as well as the word בורגוס were unfamiliar to me. Regardless, I understood immediately that the point of. Song is that we must make right the wrongs we do in order to demonstrate how we want others to treat us. As I've been told over and over, if something is worth doing, it's worth doing right. The main character Danny spends the play learning to believe in himself and in the end even shows how magnanimous he is by inviting all three other kids to play with him (even after they made fun of and harassed him for so long).

Oddly enough, this relates directly to the relationship between Jacob and Esau. A few weeks ago we read about the birthright which Jacob was promised by  Esau when Esau simply desired a bowl of soup.  Now, many years later, Jacob wants to make right with his brother. After sending the message that he wants to meet, Esau returns saying he is coming with 400 men (interesting-either his family is rather large, or he believes in strength in numbers). Jacob splits his family into two camps on either side of the river Jabbuk, (a tributary of the mighty Jordan) and prepared the gifts he would present to his brother.

If you will permit me, a small detour into the parsha offers an interesting glimpse into the dexterity with which these stories are crafted. Genesis 32:25 has Jacob wrestling with a creature. As the day is breaking, the creature realizes he is being bested so touches and strains Jacob's thigh (which is why we don't eat thigh meat now). The creature then requests release, but Jacob does not relent. Instead, he demands a blessing in exchange. The name Israel is bestowed upon Jacob, meaning he who will struggle with God (the verb in Biblical Hebrew, ש.ר.ה. only appears twice in the whole bible, but definitely seems to have an association with struggle and perseverance. An interesting thing to look into further). The future connotation of the word suggests that Jacob and then the people who share his name will be blessed/plagued with struggles with God, but will persevere. Because not only is the word about struggle, but about perseverance. Which is very apt to the initial play, as the whole play is about Danny struggling with himself, with his self-esteem and courage. Three tasks are placed before him Dan three times he succeeds. Each task provides an opportunity to learn, and each one Danny finds a want to excel.

Now, as we turn back to the reunion of the estranged brothers, we see the direct correlation to התפייסות, which, As it turns out, when input into a translation machine, means reconciliation. How fitting. Esau runs to meet Jacob and falls on his throat (another example of possible mistranslation due to convoluted pronoun use) and kisses him. The reunion is complete and the brothers are connected.

Regardless, the brothers do have their reconciliation, their התפייסות. Although obviously difficult for each party, they find the inner strength to appear before the other and beg forgiveness. This lesson of putting aside one's pride and simply apologizing, or extending the hand of welcome is imperative for us to teach our children. For, if our children learn this lesson, plain and simple, they will be able to carry it into their lives and therefore be able to bring greater humanity to all those they encounter. 

“And my House shall be a House of Prayer for All People”

            Yesterday morning offered me a very strange, but incredibly moving opportunity. Sam, Max and I were at our Truma project and had the chance to perform a Mitzvah by being part of a minyan for an adult-woman’s Bat Mitzvah ceremony. We were more than willing to comply, both for the experience and for want to help out!!

            The service was beautiful in its own right, but it served as a reality check for the three of us, a reminder of what we will face in the congregations we (they) will be facing next year (and I will face the year after that). Our congregants will be people who want to put their foot in the door and be met where they are, without the necessity of learning and knowledge. Not all of them are like that, but many American reform Jews carry baggage from their childhood, of being forced into shul and Hebrew school and therefore don’t have the desire to remain involved.

            However, that was not the point on which I wanted to dwell. Instead, I was interested in what I experienced in the synagogue yesterday morning. We used the old Gates of Prayer: Gray gender sensitive edition, which I haven’t used for at least 5 years. Looking through the service, I noticed that the Hebrew came first, than the italics, and then the English. It was as if the prayer book was saying that Hebrew was more important, that Reform Jews had a responsibility to learn Hebrew, that if they didn’t, they were somehow Jews of a lower caliber. Obviously the format of the prayer book was thought through in thoroughly, but this just struck me as an odd occurrence. In Mishkan T’fillah, the Hebrew and the transliteration are side by side, at least allowing the reader to choose a knowledge of Hebrew or the language of transliteration. This option simply feels more egalitarian, more inclusive.

            Another issue of interest is that I was able to see all the parts inexplicably missing from the siddur. Okay, not unexplainable, but without an explanation. The editors simply chose to leave out certain parts that didn’t follow the Reform movement’s ideology or that we just had stopped doing over time. The Reform movement is the only sect of Judaism I know of that actually GET’S RID of liturgy instead of adding more, like the Orthodox seem to have done over the years. The problem however, is that there are whole generations (mine included), that grew up not knowing that there were other options. At least Mishkan T’fillah allows me the opportunity to understand what we do not use, and to actively decide what I want to include in my prayer and what I don’t.

            Also, Gates of Prayer tells us where to stand and sit, separating the Shema from the V’ahavtah, separating Kedushat haYom from the prayers that conclude the Amidah. Truthfully, I just want to know where this idea came from and why.

            The contrast between the chapel, which fully embodies the Israeli community feel, and the service itself was surreal. The chapel was complete with micrography on the walls and ark which symbolizes the seven species of Israel, as well as a room that is incredibly comfortable and welcoming, but not necessarily what would ever be found as the main place of prayer for a congregation in the states. However, had I closed my eyes, I could easily have been in a learners service in the states. I appreciated the service and the way Miri wove together a T’fillah experience rich in narrative and story for this family. Yet I was struck by the place where I was sitting and the community by which I was surrounded.

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.

Christmas in the (C)holy land

Now, when someone says they are in Israel for a year, usually that means going to synagogue at least every Shabbat, exploring Jewish sites, and experimenting with Jewish traditions. And for the past six or so months, that is what I have done. However, Monday night was a very different story.

        Christmas Eve has never been that important in either my life or my family tradition. Although many of my friends celebrate Christmas, it always seemed that erev Christmas was a time specifically for family or tradition, or something of the sort. Seeing as how I wasn't Jewish, I didn't engage in those traditions. Not until I went to college did I truly experience a full Christmas, but both times were not at school. Once with Nicole, in Pensecola and once in Oregon, with Aaron and his family. However, this holiday takes the cake.

        First, I went to the Jerusalem International YMCA. As the organization is a Christian one, they were well attired for Christmas. Even better than that, they were having a Christmas concert, of carols. Although we arrived thirty minutes early, there were no tickets left. We stood right next to the ticket counter, to ensure that we would get a ticket if someone was giving it away. We were pushed and shoved, but we remained there, watching the typical Israeli balagan and waiting to see if we would get a ticket. The best part was how typically pushy these people were. They continually shoved each other, trying to get to the front and get their previously purchased tickets. It didn't even make sense, because these people had already BOUGHT the tickets, they were just picking them up.

        However, once everyone who had already obtained their purchased tickets went into the theater, there remained a large jumble of people still converging on the ticket counter. It would seem that these were the people, like us, who assumed that we would be able to attain tickets at the door. Therefore, we continued to be pushed and shoved. But this time, I was in the middle of it. I went to the ticket counter, and in Hebrew convinced the ticket guy that I needed three tickets. He said he only had two, and I accepted. As I was the last one of the five of us to arrive, I gave the tickets to two of my classmates, as the other two had already gone in with free tickets from random people.

        As I stepped back and resigned myself to the conclusion that I would not be seeing the concert, this guy looked at me, smiled, and said he would be glad to get me one as well. Although he got a ticket, he was only able to get one. About three minutes later, the ticket seller said there were no more tickets that he could give out. I fought him, but still couldn't get in. I asked to talk to the manager, meaning that everyone else in the cluster-jumble also did. As I was the most assertive, I was chosen as the korban to confront him.

        Walking to the doors of the theater, I knew this was the last chance for me to get in. I put on my young kid, innocent face, and got as small as possible. I told him my friends were all inside and I just wanted to join them, that there was even a seat next to them. The guy asked if I was alone, and after I nodded, he let me slip in and locked the door behind me. The best part of all of this was a. this was free, b. I did it in Hebrew and c. it wasn't even that great. But it was still Christmas music and still a good study break.

        

In the middle, I had to consider whether or not I was willing to stay out and go to Christmas mass. I decided that there was no other option to do this, so why not. Walking up Yafo, I stopped at Thailandia and picked up pad thai to go. Of course, Asian type food for Christmas! Even though it made my tummy hurt, it was a great choice!

        I found the church and walked in. It was cool, but nothing that spectacular after being at Emmaus monastary in Latrun. However, once the service started, I was blown away. The entire service was in Hebrew. The prayers often started with the first six lines of most Jewish prayers, ברוך אתה ה' אלוהינו מלך העולם and even continue with many aspects of Jewish prayers. There were parts of the service that were reminiscent of Jewish services, with vidui and other parts.

        However, my favorite part was the sermon. I felt like I was in the states. I mean, the entire thing was in Hebrew, but it was slow and steady, following a direct line of thought and easy to follow. But it was the cadence of this man's voice that struck me as so similar. It felt as though I was listening to dad give a sermon, minus the fact that it was Christian and in Hebrew.

        I enjoyed the service. There were psalms, although they weren't Carlebach themed. And I just enjoyed listening to Hebrew and understanding it.

       

However, now it is still finals time. I have one more final. Exhaustion has settled in. Functioning is no longer occurring. I am too tired to think. My head feels heavy. I can't even run to actually wake myself up because I am toooo tired. But alas, one more final, and then I am done. And then I get to lead services for Birthright! And then, New Years Eve and New Years in Tel Aviv. And then Aaron comes. Word expulsion. Complete. 1/10 of Rabbinical school, complete in one day (as this was written yesterday, that means TODAY I AM 1/10 OF THE WAY DONE WITH RABBINICAL SCHOOL)

Slaaaaaaaaaam Dunk!

This evening, I attended a basketball game, Hapoal Yerushalim versus Lithuania. After going to a hockey game in the Czech Republic, I though I knew what to expect. A big stadium and lots of noise and professionalism. However, that is not the scene that greeted me at the Malcha Stadium (and that was only after we almost got dropped off at Malcha mall, not Malcha Stadium, 5 minutes down the road).

            Waiting for everyone to show up, Chase, Scott, Max and I gathered around two of our teachers, Jeremy and Dave, discussing the culture around sports in Israel and life in general. As a side note, it is always fascinating when one sees or interacts with teachers or role models in a non-professional setting. The demeanor from the classroom ebbs away and the real persona of the person shows through. However, with our two teachers, they are real in and outside the classroom, making our engagement with them that much more enjoyable.

            Outside the stadium, which was housed in one of the most unassuming buildings I’ve ever seen used as a sports facility, the fans were slowly trickling in, not showing the rousing enthusiasm I expected. They milled about in groups, but it was incredibly calm.

            Walking into the arena, I was struck by the feeling of being at a high school hockey rink. Unfortunately, that is the only upper-level sports I have from which I can make a comparison. There were tables with homemade sandwiches for 10 NIS ($2.75), same with popcorn and soda for $.50 less. The whole idea of not having incredibly expensive food was mind-blowing! Not only that, but the seats were this ugly orange plastic thing, reminiscent of uncomfortable high school seats. Homemade signs were hung from the basket ends of the court, and I could easily see from one end to the other, and all members of the crowd. But the crowd wasn’t really a crowd. Almost everyone remained in his or her seat throughout the game, cheering, but not getting overly excited. The boys and I, on the other hand, were on our feet the whole game. However, that might have been a direct repercussion of our seats being in the corner and our view being blocked if we remained seated.

            There was one group of people who did show a large amount of excitement, and that was the cheering group on the other side of the court. These folks were dressed in the traditional red of the home team, Ha Poel (meaning the Worker). The red, previously of Communism, now of this all-over-the-place team, represented passion tonight. These young men (between the ages of 16-25 or so) showed their team spirit by waving flags, leading incomprehensible cheers, and taking off their shirts every now and then. At least they made the game interesting!

            Then there was the game itself. Although I make no claims to be any good, I started playing basketball with my classmates almost every Saturday afternoon in the park. Having that ‘insider knowledge’ made watching the game all that more exciting. I now knew what it took to make specific shots and appreciated the way each team played offense and defense. Sports still seem like a waste of money, with people running up and down a field/court etc., but they are much more enjoyable when I understand them! Not only that, but I came to realize how much TOUCHING IS NOT ALLOWED IN BASKETBALL. It turns out that I am often at fault and should basically be fouled all the time when I play. I’m not entirely sure why there are SO many fouls in basketball, but I definitely recognized when they happened and appreciated the game for what it was worth.

            All in all, a great experience. Would I go again? In a heartbeat. Something about Israelis at sporting events just make them all that much better. I didn’t really care who won, I was more watching the game and the people, but I enjoyed the atmosphere. The only thing that I wasn’t such a fan of was the amount of noise from the blow horns. Those things drive me mad. But other than that, it was wonderful! Yalla!!!