Blessings and Bounty

Last weekend, I participated at a spiritual retreat at Camp Alonim in the Simi Valley, about an hour from my apartment. Due to the fact that I was participating and therefore not on my laptop, I did not write a d'var Torah. Everything in its time. However, here are my thoughts on this week's parsa!

This past week marked another new occasion. I began teaching religious school. As I waited for my students to arrive at Congregation Or Ami, I looked around the bare walls of the classroom and tried to imagine what this room would look like by the end of the year. What projects would be up on the walls? Who would be that creative kid who writes an awesome poem about God, or who would describe a connection to God in such a profound way that it had to be displayed? (To explain, I am teaching an entire curriculum on God to 4th graders - a challenging, sometimes daunting task with any age, but especially with 4th graders. But hey, I always like a good challenge).

At the end of my first two classes (both Monday and Wednesday providea different group of kids), my madricha (high school age teaching aide) and I hung up 4 posters, two of each kind. On two of them it was written: What do you think of when you think of God? and on the other two was written the words Kehilah Kedosha, holy community. We discussed both concepts/themes and the kids wrote what they thought. They had so many incredible ideas for how to create that kehilah kedosha within our classroom and the greater Or Ami community that I was blown away. One boy wrote that the best way to create this community was by giving back and doing good things for others. I was floored! A 4th grader came up with that of his own accord! When I asked them about God, they surprised me again. Their images of God were the typical man with a beard in the cloud, but their ideas of what God does and God’s power were astounding. My students shared words like creator, imaginer, dreamer, clouds, judgment, prayer. It was incredible.

Consulting this week’s Torah portion, I wasn’t surprised that our conversation fit into the parsha. God, along with the priests, tells all the people, הסכת ושמע ישראל היום הזה נהיית לעם ה׳ אלוהיך, Keep quiet and listen, Israel; on this day you became a people before/to Adonai, your God (Deut. 27:9). This command, but also this blessing, is very much how I felt about my students this week. They heard the words of the Shema and latched onto them, wanting to learn more. They became a part of a people, our people, the Jewish people, but they also became a part of something else. Together, we became a part of a class, a group of people who will learn and grow together in the coming year, changing and exploring as we do so. I am grateful to be a part of that, to help support and create the community. And I cannot wait to see what will come of it.

Of course, the parsha continues to discuss blessings and curses; that if you follow God’s commandments you will be blessed and that if you don’t you will be cursed. Although unrelated to my classroom necessarily, I find that this parallels my life as a Rabbinical student. Do your reading, your assignments, and you will be blessed with bountiful learning and experiences. However, should you choose not to do as you’re told and read all the readings or do the assignments, your lot will not be as pleasant and you will not get as much out of it. Granted, this circumstance is not black and white, nor does it cast a horrible life outcome on those who choose it, but it is my own personal version of those blessings and curses for this week. My choice is the blessings, to the best of my ability. I only hope that my choices lead me well and help me find more meaning in the messiness of everyday life.

Shabbat Shalom.

God's love

This week, I traveled from Sanibel, FL to Los Angeles, CA. Traversing the country by bike, plane, and car, and I discovered there are many ways to go on a journey. I didn’t necessarily appreciate the mind-numbing monotony of endless desert or field. Nor did I enjoy sitting in a car seat for upwards of 13 hours a day. Nor did I desire to sit still for hours on end. However, there were aspects of this trip that I found breathtakingly phenomenal. I came to understand that part of that adventure is the process itself, not the final destination. The wide open sky, with no buildings disturbing the expanse. The fresh-smell of a pine forest, not encroached upon by human spoil. The simple beauty of a field populated by yellow flowers, not marred by anything else.

Now, sitting in my new apartment, smelling the challah baking in the oven, sweaty from unpacking all of my clothes into my closet, I feel a sense of accomplishment only matched by other move-in adventures. This shabbat, I recognize that God chose us, the Jewish people; gave us the Torah; the journey through the desert for a reason. Not being omniscient, the particular reason is beyond me. However, I have a few thoughts.

This week’s parsha, V’etchanan, ends with an explanation of why God chose the Jewish people. in D'varim (Deuteronomy 7:7-11), God tells Moses, to tell the people, that God didn’t chose them because they are large (we were the smallest at the time), but because God loved us and promised to continue to love us. The logic doesn’t exactly follow, but the conclusion is that God loved, and still loves us, despite all the hardships we had to overcome to get to the Acacia trees in Moab, right outside of the land of Israel. The journey is a necessity, in order to enjoy the fruits of the labor. God’s love is what will get us there.

Not only that, but God tells us what to do with God’s commands. This parsha includes the Ten Commandments, reiterated, so we know exactly how to follow God’s commands, to respect God’s love for us. Right before those Commandments, we get the Shema and V’ahavtah, the watchword of our faith that tells us what it means to be Jewish (have one God) and then how to remind yourself of that daily, how to love God.

In short, the parsha is about God’s love for us and how we should love God in return. The journey through the desert, and the initial reaction to the land of Israel demonstrate that the people didn’t always feel God’s love, nor did they appreciate God attempting to lead them. But eventually, eventually, they accepted and began to understand the benefits of God’s love.

So too, was my journey across the country trying at times. So too is Los Angeles not what I was expecting or am necessarily accustomed. I have much to learn. I have much to get used to. But, I will remind myself of God’s love and how I can maintain my covenant with God, and hopefully discover that the journey gets a little easier along the way.

The love of my life!

I spend my days with kids who have accidents although they are potty trained, who lash out in frustration because they can't express themselves and don't know how to demonstrate what is happening, who simply can't respond and sit there rocking back and forth. If I think about the daily struggle of my job, I would be constantly depressed and upset. I would wonder at the unfairness of this world and question the very existence of God: how could God do this to a parents, to a child? Yet, I look into the eyes of the kid who accidentally wet himself and see a spark so deep it lifts me from my very soul. He spits out laughter and words along with drool, excited to spend a few minutes alone with me. Yet a hearty laugh and a deep squeeze of my middle, accompanied by a wet kiss remind me that this kid does know how to express himself and that his love is so deep. Yet when I appear in her line of site, this seemingly blank girl turns on her smile and we share a private laugh.

The daily grind is replaced by love and caring, but intimacy and understanding. Everyday is a challenge and forces me to reconsider how exactly I look at the world. I constantly revisit my expectations for the students always exceed them. They don't want to let me down and I can't stand the thought of disappointing them. They are way too important. So I walk slowly beside the excruciatingly slow steps of a kid walking with assistance, but walking nonetheless. So I allow myself to be bruised and pinched because it does no good to be afraid. So I hold my head high and try to understand the convoluted babble emitting from their mouths.

I love. Plain and simple, I get more than I give at this wonderful job. I am overjoyed that I found Beit Issie Shapira and that I get to watch the growth that comes each day. My frustration is replaced by smiles and laughter as a simple request for a hug or high five or a jump, phone, or iPad emit from a child. No exaggeration, I love my job and everything it entails, even with the exhaustion and pain and frustration and loneliness. Because no matter what, I have one of the best jobs in the world: I get to watch a smile form from the inside out and sometimes even be the source of it. I get to witness love expressed and pain consoled. I get to learn and teach and grow on a daily basis. I am me, everyday!

Surprise...ELECTIONS! Yesh Atid!

Elections don't go as Planned. Huge Upset for Bibi. Lapid may make coalition. Netanyahu will try to Make Widest Coalition Possible.
These are just some of the headlines from the past 24 hours...

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The elections are over and all the votes (minus the soldiers and those from prisons) have been counted. So there's a new prime minister, right? Well, not quite. When it comes to a parliamentary democracy, nothing is that simple. What with the sheet number of parties, not to mention the fact that the vote is currently tied between the right and the left, 60/60 (but more on that later), a much longer process has been set into motion. That is, each time an election occurs in Israel, it is for a party, and only afterwards can the real fun begin. Therefore, once all the votes have been tallied, the president, Shimon Peres will be tasked with selecting the first person to attempt a coalition. Why, you might ask?

In Israel, politics are not as cut and dry as they are in the states. For a much better explanation, click here (Israeli Embassy explanation). However, for the purposes of this note, just know that the President must take recommendations from all of the newly elected K’nesset members (the number of seats each party gets is directly correlated with the percentage of votes they receive in the election – hence voting for a party, not a candidate) as to who they want to be tasked with creating the next coalition. Then, the fun begins. That individual (along with everyone else in the K’nesset must work to make a coalition of a simple majority, or more than 61 seats. The more center the coalition, the stronger it seems to be.

            Herein lies the problem. The K’nesset currently sits with 60 seats in the center-left block (including Arab parties who will not necessarily or ever join a coalition) and 60 in the right block (with the religious parties who are much more center than right and would even potentially join a center-left coalition). (Click here to get a good representation of Haaretz's mocking image of the parties and here for an article with visual representations of what the different options are for coalitions and what they entail). So basically, there is a draw and only God know what the results will be (or Bibi if he has already finagled a pretty-little Yesh Atid/Habayit haYehudi coalition to go along with Likud Beiteinu). The fun thing is, we don’t know. There will be 21 days during which everyone talks and negotiates, trying to figure out if they are willing to compromise (will the left ditch the settlement issue they so desperately want settled in favor of joining a centerist government and attention paid to education/housing demands? Will the right loosen its super-strength hold on security and allocate some of the security money towards education and housing?). With all of these questions, I look forward to following twitter, ynetnew.com, haaretz.com, and jpost.com.

            The real question that I’m asking myself, since when did I develop an interest in politics? Honestly, I’m not sure if the interest comes from politics, or from Israel. The fact that I am living here, surrounded by people who really do love politics and understand them, means I am truly surrounded by the information. We were getting it in class, in the news, in the papers, and from friends and family. The long and short of it was, how could I not feel the excitement (a war, an election, possibly a failing coalition…) and therefore the desire to be involved was born.

            On election day, we were sent in groups of three or four to different cities around Israel. My group went to Rishon L’tzion, the fourth largest city in Israel and one of the first settlements in the 1880’s. Getting off the bus, we immediately noticed how warm it was (higher than 70 degrees in January!) and how empty the town seemed to be. Talking to people at this time of morning, around 8:30, was easy, because no one else was around and people were still in good moods due to the morning. The streets were basically empty and we got a great idea of what the city (and Jerusalem, before we left) would look like if the apocolypse came but everything remained in tact (or what would happen on Shabbat).

We walked down the streets, talking to people, trying to figure out the political climate of the area. After a few people, we finally got directions to a few schools and went down to check them out. Not only had we actually found schools, we were able to go in and see the polling booth (but we couldn’t take pictures). As we were already there, I asked questions about how the voting actually worked, who voted when, why certain people voted at certain schools, why there were four people sitting in one room, etc. They loved the questions, because it meant a break in the monotony of the day, and we enjoyed getting our questions answered and learning about the elections as they were happening.

            Speaking in Hebrew, and truly understanding what was going on was great! I had the opportunity to talk to people, ask them their opinions on the political spectrum, and get a variety of answers, all without the pressure of speaking correctly. The best part of it was that many or most of them didn’t speak English, so I had to communicate in Hebrew. Although obvious that I am not a great Hebrew speaker, everyone we talked to remained patient and understood me.

            My all time favorite person to whom we spoke was an old man, probably about 85. I approached him because we were looking for a school to find polling places, but he didn’t have any information and started to send us away. I wasn’t letting him off that easily and so started asking about who he had voted for and why. He voted for Shelly, well, for Likud, because he had “always voted for them.” But the story he then told me afterwards (the entire 4:30 minute saga) was about how he had served in every war since the founding of the country, having come here from Poland despite rabbis giving money to go everywhere else. Not only that, but he has a vendetta against the religious, who “study Talmud all day and get the same amount of money I do, maybe 100 nis less, and for what, studying Torah? They don’t deserve it. We need to make this country more reasonable.” As he spoke, he kept stepping closer and closer to me, and became increasingly more unsure that we were understanding. At some point, I was done listening and smelling his breath, so excused us and moved on.

            There were two other pretty interesting ones. One was a woman who said she wasn’t voting because none of the candidates had anything important that she needed. And besides, they weren’t going to do anything for her anyway (or so she thought). Another person told me he wanted Yair Lapid because he would work with Bibi from within, making the changes that actually need to be made. He would make sure Bibi focuses on the important issues and truly gets things like education and housing taken care of. Lastly, a young man said he had voted for Yair Lapid because Lapid was going to get this specific guy appointed as minister of sport, and that was what really mattered.

            We stopped for lunch, so we could transfer all our videos to one place and start making the movie we were required to make as part of our assignment for the day (in fact, that was the only reason we were allowed into the polling place, by telling them this was required homework) (To watch the video click here). At the table next to us was a young religious couple with their infant. I played with him, and of course started talking to the couple. After explaining what our purpose in Rishon was, I asked for whom they had cast their vote. The woman said her husband had voted for HaBayit HaYehudi (I don’t know why…he just did) and she had voted for Shas (“Because that’s who I always vote for…”). This country sometimes doesn’t make sense.

            All I can say is, I’m not necessarily sure I know who I would have voted for, I just know I wouldn’t have been a gung-ho party supporter.

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)

Why I am in Rabbinical school #5

You know you're in Rabbinical school when you get incredibly excited about finding books for your final paper in the library, because you end up with five instead of 2...

Books can come in all shapes and sizes

It turns out I am a nerd. Now, this is not a new fact by any stretch of the imagination, but I need to put it out there for the entire world to be privy to. In addition, this is not a bad fact or characteristic to demonstrate. Rather, it allows me to fully take advantage of the life I am currently living, because (surprise, surprise) I am in Rabbinical school where it is practically required to be truly enjoy school and relish learning. Fortunately for me, I am reminded of this fact often enough that the amount of class I am forced to slug through on a daily basis, and then the homework I stare at blankly for hours afterwards, become less daunting and more of a small hindrance.

But, back to the topic at hand: learning! I ventured into the library to procure a book or two in order to write my final paper for Israel Seminar. Having chosen a topic of Mt Herzl, collective space, and Yad Vashem (surprising, I know, to find that I chose to write about the Holocaust, or at least death, in any case), I looked to two different places in the library and came across a veritable plethora of treasures. Almost all of the books were on Israeli Judaism and/or civil religion in Israel. In and of itself, a fascinating topic; I could have remained among the old spines for hours, whispering with them and determining their not so ancient secrets of this secretive people (Israelis).

Not only was my adventure within the narrow alleyways of the library part of my mental stimulation, but my lunch partners previous to this were just as engaging. Andrew and Justin had spent the morning visiting Mea Shearim, Ben Yehudah, and Machene Yehudah; peeking into bookstores and chachky stores alike, looking to see what secrets these opposing universes held. While one was full of black and white, a disparate neighborhood just waiting for a welfare board to come in, the other is packed full of food and shops, the hustle and bustle here one of productivity and prosperity. Oddly enough, having been in Mea Shearim yesterday, the comparison seems rather hollow. Both places are alight with productivity, seemingly like bees abuzz. Both are crowded with bodies, moving every which way, noises ricocheting off the construction, store counter and cars alike. But the backbone of the places is inherently different. One is based on religion, on commandedness. The other, on culture and social society.

Regardless, Andrew and Justin were leaving a venture into both worlds, one after the other. We met up for lunch at Mandarin, to enjoy yet another culture experience, that of Chinese. Over egg drop soup (for me) and vegetable Lo Mein (for them), we discussed Hebrew as a language, philosophy of religion, the future of the Reform movement (as well as all the movements), and again touched on monogamous versus 'accepting' relationships, and where the biblical basis for this comes.

Piggy backing on the discussion we began last night, on whether or not it is permissible to be in a relationship with one person, but then have extra-marital sexual relations with another, if it is previously agreed up, we continued discussing. Although I am not one for multi-partner monogamous relationships, both gentlemen made a decent argument. I disagreed, but a fragment of my being can see their point and appreciate where they are coming from. However, I then remember that the entire conversation began talking about arranged marriages in the Orthodox world and the whole conversation changes. Therefore, I suggest, if you are not part of that Orthodox world, that it is worthwhile to find a partner with whom you agree and can be satisfied without the necessity of an outside, third party interloper.

Market day on the side of the road in Ethiopia

Regardless of where this conversation began, we ended up talking late into the night last night, almost like I was back in college, at least what it would have been like if I wasn't in bed by 11:30 most nights...Anyway, we discussed adventuring the world and communicating with people, showing them who you are and learning about how to read people, how to understand the pain and suffering seen in the world, or at least steps to take in order to alleviate that pain [read: Elana talked about her time in Ethiopia and the pain and suffering she saw and began to work to combat]. We discussed the horrors that I saw there, the open wounds and the pain and desolation. The scent at the Mission, where I went for almost two weeks straight and often spent time with the children, making up games and languages, has stuck with me to this day. However, I met a man who showed me that the impossible is never that. There is always a way to do more, to make changes. That man, Dr. Rick Hodes, was the first one who really demonstrated to me that I need to persevere in this world if I truly want to make changes. I have always kept that teaching and those lessons in mind, even as I struggle to do a daily task.

Dr Rick Hodes, with his son Mesfin, in Addas Ababa

In the midst of that conversation, we all three realized that the work each of us want to do will change the world for the better. We are working to become positive role models for the coming generations, each in our own way (Rabbi (Elana), clean energy engineer (Justin), educator (Andrew)), but we all knew from an early age that we wanted to make a change in the world. As I told the two guys last night. You can teach someone what they need to know. You cannot teach compassion. Nor can you teach passion. Passion is something that burns within. And that is the motivating factor that ultimately underlies the work each of us will do to change the world.

Majestic moments in the midbar mountains

Majestic mountains complete with calming breeze and warmth

We’ve just returned from a four-day trip to recharge our batteries from the stresses and frustrations of school. Midterms were over and it was time for a well-deserved break. And break it was: we hiked, snorkeled, sang, prayed and talked. What an adventure.

            Just getting out in nature, not on my bike, and feeling the majesty of nature around me reminded me of why I love life. Standing at the top of Har Shlomo, gazing out at Egypt, Israel, Jordan and even Saudi Arabia at almost the same time was an incomparable experience. I recognized my insignificance in the place while at the same time seeing that I gain incredible power from being in that place. I will not bring about world peace, nor will I solve the problem of world hunger. I will however be able to harness the beauty I found in this place and bring it back to Jerusalem to help those around me.

Extra vertical

Taish's adventure's with my camera, on the way up

            I felt so calm, being up there, in shorts and a t-shirt, sweaty and gross, stinking as if I hadn’t showered in days. And that was just the first hour. We all sat there and marveled as the sun beat down on us and our own abilities dawned. We truly experienced the power of a strong united force, helping each other to conquer a rather steep climb. (I even got to do a little side – well, vertical – climb!)

            The way down was much longer. We slowly made our way across the Eilat mountains, grasping the hand rails for dear life and carefully placing our feet below us. As the entire thing was downhill, my knee ached, but I ignored the pain for the most part. Besides, what good did it do me to dwell on it when I needed to concentrate on NOT FALLING OFF THE SIDE OF A MOUNTAIN!

The way seems tough, but with patience, is feasible

            Throughout the hike, I was right behind Taish, our guide. By the way, he was incredible, humorous and all in all pleasant to be with. He even told us bad jokes (What is brown and sticky? Etc). But he was wonderful for Hebrew practice and aid. And a great source of amusement when it came to his English (we taught him the difference between be cautious and use caution) and the fact that our Hebrew was way worse than his English!

            However, the most important thing I realized was a need to exercise patience. No matter where we were on the mountain, I was in the front. In order to not lag behind, I often stay in front on hikes and found that this was no exception. At one point, Taish inquired as to where my off switch was. He simply was wondering if I knew how to slow down, and I of course told him no. Although that is not quite true (I do need to sleep every once in a while), I recognized the importance of sometimes slowing down and watching the world around, or taking the time to actually take in the sights.

            Fortunately, the Mincha service that Ben and Benj planned was much along that same vein. They didn’t use prayer books. Instead, we sang the words that have been imprinted upon our minds and hearts in the past few months and years. We joined as one voice, hearing our voices echoing throughout the canyon. The best part by far was the Amidah, where we found our own personal spaces to communicate with God, personally deceiphering the message we wanted to transmit. I found a space on top of a rock, looking out into the valley, and simply thanked God for the ability to be there, to appreciate my body and my abilities.

            The next day dawned early, bringing with it sore bones and a nasty head cold. However, physical sickness has never truly hindered me. So, I went out again, this time to Kibbutz Lotan. That is a place where I definitely want to spend more time, learning about Eco-living and farming/gardening in a place that is both in and not in Israel, depending on the person being asked and the time (shmita year or not-the year when the fields of Israel need to be left bare).

            From there we drove down to Eilat, through the city and past many plants and piers. We ended up at a Coral reserve, where we had two hours to enjoy the beach, sand, warmth, water, coral, and fish. Enjoy, I did! I immediately changed into my bathing suit and took my snorkel over the bridge to get into the water past the reef. The pier was placed there to protect the reefs, so people enter the water past the reef and will not accidentally trod on the delicate animals. I was awe-struck by how beautiful the reef was. Although not St John (in terms of warmth, beauty of the water, and sand), it out-shown it by a long shot. This was a straight reef, following the shoreline and full to bursting of fish! I saw eel, clown fish, giant Rainbow fish and more. I’m pretty sure a puffer fish showed itself at one point!

            I was in heaven. I swam around in the water, away from the protected reef site, and hung out above a reef for a while, relishing the feeling of being in the water and experiencing another eco-system at work. What an incredible experience. When I eventually tired of swimming and feeling my joints locking up from cold, I swam in and simply enjoyed the sand and warmth for a while.

            Back at Kibbutz Yahel, we prepared for Shabbat and together walked over to the Beit K’nesset. Danny and Sam led me in one of the best Kabbalat Shabbat services I have EVER had, full of music, joy and warmth. The feeling of calm and peace that engulfed me was enough to last even to the moment, as I type these words back in Jerusalem. The two of them were enjoying themselves, and their excitement was strong in the air. Sara and Chase followed them with an equally lovely Ma’ariv, which led nicely into our walk back for dinner.

            Once the dishes from dinner were cleared (replete with Danny’s chastisement of another table “If you aren’t clearing, you’re doing the wrong thing” as a throwback to camp table-clearing), we pushed all the tables together and joined in a rousing rendition of Birkat Hamazon. Never in my life have I heard it sung with more gusto! Following that, we all continued to sing, doing all those songs we love most from camp and with passion! The sense of community I felt overwhelmed me and I was glad to be with such an amazing group of people.

            A few people weren’t completely satisfied with the amount of singing, so we took our sidduring outside the Moadon (“club”, but really hangout space) and continued to sing for another two hours or so. We were all smiling and laughing by the end. Shabbat with a group of people is such a joyful experience and I wouldn’t trade that opportunity for the world!

            The next morning continued the beauty, as we ventured into the desert for Shachrit. Shana and Max led an incredible service and truly amazed me with the pop-culture they used to tie the service together. At one point, when we weren’t sure if we were going to have a Haftorah reader, we took turns saying a bracha of something we were greatful for, to which we all replied with a shouted AMEN! The reverberation of our voices in the mountain was incredible.

            My d’var Torah was tweeked slightly by our location. Instead of starting in front of everyone as I initially intended, I went up on a rock behind them. Simon was lying down and I simply used him as a prop, having God (me) tell Jacob (Simon) that he and his ancestors would be as numerous as the dust on the earth. It was a beautiful way to start a d’var and allowed me to get into the moment and truly enjoy.

           This tiyul brought many surprise, including a new friend. Michael and I started talking on the road back in the machtesh, discussing the army and his service in it, and just kept talking through the weekend. I realized that I enjoyed talking to him. It was so odd, to realize I had spent almost five months with someone, yet knew very little about him or her. Although we interacted on a basically daily basis, we never got past the basics. Finally, we broke through that and got to know one another. Not only that, but I gained a friend. I'm most amazed by the small details of a change of scenery that can significantly change  perspective. I gained the older brother I’ve always wanted and just had a blast. He said he had to give in to me like a younger sister, but that I was pretty okay as they went. Seeing as I’ve always wanted an older brother (besides Noah, who is my OTHER honorary older brother), I’ll take it.

The Har Shlomo group, connected and happy after the hike!

            Lucy said it best. It was wonderful to truly reconnect with our classmates and realize how well we all get along. We are all incredible people and at this point in the year, we were finally willing and ready to open up to each other. We all met and interacted with new people on this trip and I will forever be grateful for the opportunity to make new friends and enhance my relationships with these people who will be my future colleagues.

            Although I sit at my kitchen table with a congested head and little energy, I am filled with joy, strength and passion, and cannot wait to see what that renewed sense of purpose will bring to the future. Thank you to everyone who made this experience happen. It was well worth it. And, we even got to return to Jerusalem with a cease-fire in place!!!

Life, Love and In between!

"That's not a good way to die - before you've told the end of your story."

From the Mount of Olives

             Everyone has a story to tell, a unique tale that weaves the intimate details of their lives into a single narrative, capturing who they are, from where they come and to where they will go. Each time we sit down to write such a narrative, it seems overwhelming, a task too daunting to allow completion. However, if we consider life as a series of vignettes, the story all of a sudden takes on a less terrifying component. Instead, it becomes a story, easy enough to write in the span of an afternoon.

If we are not careful, if for some reason we choose not to continue documenting our time and efforts, that story can be lost, or at least not transmitted by our pen. Instead it may become part of proto history, spread by someone else's voice instead of our own.

Always consider what you want your story to be. Never forget that your story will end. Live a life filled with love, compassion, choice, freedom, light. Find what makes you glow.

Yesterday I participated in the Jerusalem Pride Parade. I wasn't sure I wanted to at first, seeing that I was tired from our biblical history tiyul. However, I decided that going to the parade was way more important than my participation in a wine festival. (Both events were on Tu B'Av, the Jewish Day of Love). The experience of seeing so many people out, happy, and able to express themselves was utterly fantastic. These displays of affection were beautiful, acceptable, even wanted, and demonstrated how important it is for communities to be open, accepting and equal to all members. Although I did not buy a flag, I willingly waved one throughout the parade and am proud to have stood with so many people. Just as the religious of Jerusalem have a right to their voice and their space, so too does every other person deserve their voice to be not only heard, but actually listened to. Yesterday, I learned the importance of both a single voice and a crowd. Next year, in Jerusalem, may there be equality. This year, in Jerusalem, may there be equality and may everyone be heard.

Let everyone write their life story as truthfully as possible. How will you write yours? What will your story demonstrate?

A vessel of prayer

We had our first day of Ulpan today. It was challenging, no doubt about it. However, I am eager to learn and see where this path will lead me. Hebrew is a wonderful language to explore and each day provides me with new opportunities to not only use my skills but interact with incredible people!

Before Ulpan, we had Shachrit. Here is my reflection on that experience:

Breathe. Choose a partner. Just one person and turn towards them. Look into their eyes. Watch their face. Wait. Sit with the discomfort. See who they really are.

            Spirituality is filled with so many crevices and alternative ways of connecting that we often miss what is right in front of us. Instead of seeing the beauty of a prayer, we get caught up in the meaning of the words or the distraction of the person beside us. Instead of feeling connected to God, we feel distant, unworthy of connecting or completely closed off from the world of prayer. Experience in spirituality works to fight those more negative aspects.

            There are two words in Hebrew that go hand in hand, Kevah and Kavanah. Kevah has to do with routine. What we do each day, regardless of how we feel or what a prayer means to us (either that day or always). Prayer is a continual experience, not to be halted just because one day we “don’t feel like it”. Kavanah on the other hand is about intention, the why behind the prayer. This is where we take the time to really figure out how each prayer is meaningful to us as individuals. Spending time wrestling with the language and the meaning is imperative, as only then is one truly able to lead others and stay spiritually whole as an individual.

            Exceptions always exist. There may be that one person who connects to Judaism so strongly and has been praying with a certain Kevah for his or her whole life. That person may be an incredible service leader. No system or ideological framework works for one person all of the time. It should be kept in mind that the congregation can often tell if their service leader is not being honest throughout the worship experience. However, for the most part, finding those connections and maintaining a constant relationship of learning, struggling and growing will further the power of prayer and service leadership. And nerves will make it blossom and explode! Take hold of a siddur and see where it can take you!

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.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us." -Marianne Williamson

I've become interested in the Olympics recently. Actually, a specific sport has brought the olympics closer to the forefront of my thoughts. The road to the Olympics, as well as the immense power that comes with being an elite gymnast fascinates me. I've spent most of my free time here watching gymnastics (which coincidentally happens very late into the night).

However, today I was watching an introduction to the Olympic contenders video and this quote at the top of this post was spoken. It spoke to me. All of these gymnasts feel their power every time they go out on the mat, the bars, the beam, or any of the other apparati. The sport breeds strength of will and determination, passion and skill. It ingrains a person with such dedication and motivation, which inspires me every time I see it.

The quote gave me pause. I considered that we worry so much about how we present ourselves and what others think of us. We are constantly trying to measure up to others and be the best self we can. If we spent half as much time thinking about how great we actually are and how much we are truly capable of, instead of worrying about other people, we might actually be better off! Indeed, we may be happier, stronger, more secure people. And the more we can feel that power, beauty and strength, the more we are capable of and the more we will believe in our abilities.

As I am not solidified in my opinions and ideas, I relish feedback and opinions. Do other people have thoughts on this idea?

Rabbinic Lessons: 3 vs. 22

 

Perfection. That is what I usually require in most aspects of my life. Of course, I have never been, and will continue to not be perfect. However, I have not yet figured out how to do that. This is not about that, but rather my adventures with the Hebrew language.

            Hebrew is a language that I have engaged and struggled with for many years. Time after time I have tested into the lowest level Hebrew class, not even getting past the past tense. Each class gets me to an incredible point where I feel more comfortable with the language, like I can actually participate in the culture and be a part of the society. However, I have never felt capable of actually interacting fully and immersing myself in only Hebrew.

            At this point, all I want is to be fluent. I want to dream in Hebrew, be able to understand the conversations I hear on the street and know what the man is telling me at the shuk! I want to be immersed. Although a worthwhile goal for some point down the road, I don’t believe it is reasonable for the moment. HOWEVER, the expectation I have teaches me a very important lesson:

            As a three year old child, playing with, adapting, and engaging in language is a fun activity. It is inspiring and kids learn so much from their mistakes (that is something I have definitely started to do!). Even more than that, 3 year olds are not embarrassed in the least by whatever mistakes they make. They just move on and eventually learn to correct them. Twenty-two-year-old young women are not quiet as good. They also adapt, adopt and engage the language. They also make mistakes and can be inspired/inspiring for others. But those twenty-two year old young women also chastise themselves when a mistake occurs and often find it frustrating or even infuriating when they cannot think of a word or do not know how to say what is on their mind.

            This evening, I went to a session at one of the three reform congregations in Jerusalem, Kehilat Har El, to study Pirkei Avot. I was excited for the experience of only speaking Hebrew and sat down eager to engage. Quickly, I realized how far under I was, that I barely understood anything. I understood a few things here or there, and definitely knew some of the stories the Rabbi was referring to, but after a while I just zoned out. Attempting to listen constantly became overwhelming. Oddly enough, the entire time, my thoughts were mostly in Hebrew. Although I couldn’t understand the flow of the conversation, I was thinking about my own relations with the language, and my relations with other people.

Afterwards, talking with Lori about the experience, I realized I understood more than I thought, but it was more big picture stuff so I had a much more difficult time putting it all together. Learning Torah or commentary or Mishna or anything of the sort is not an easy task, made infinitely more difficult by the added handicap of a new language. If I am truly going to capture this language, I need to give myself a break, and not expect so much from each day, but also continue to push myself to explore new avenues of learning and listening.

            This language is wonderful. Not perfect, just wonderful. I love it, no matter how difficult it gets and I cannot wait to continue this amazing journey of self-discovery and passion!