Vayeitzei (And you will go)

--> I gave the drash in the desert, during our tiyul this past weekend. I began standing on a rock, as God, proclaiming Jacob's future as the father of the Jewish people. The following are the words which I penned:

Jacob lay down his head to sleep. Now, most of the time when we go to sleep, we don't expect to have a memorable dream, we simply go through the motions of falling asleep, to then awaken the next morning. Here too, we assume that Jacob was no exception. Yet, as we know, Jacob will become the father of the Jewish people. As active readers, we see that this particular dream, found at the beginning of this week’s Parsha, vayeitzei, begets that legacy that created who we are today.

God is in...

God appears before Jacob in Gen 28:13-14, at the top of the ladder, telling him [hebrew]; "...the land on which you are lying I will give to you and to your descendants. And your descendants shall be like the dust of the earth." God continues speaking, telling Jacob that his descendants will spread out through all directions of the earth, that God will help Jacob and his descendants find blessings. Oddly enough, the Torah does not speak of Jacob's descendants as simply being blessings, but that they will FIND blessing. God continues to say that God will watch over Jacob, in fact, ושמרתיך, God will protect him and guard him. When Jacob awakens, he says in Genesis 28:16, אכן יש ה׳ במקום הזה ואנוכי לא ידעתי.  "God was in this place and I did not know."

We see in Jacob a promise of the future, of both what the future will bring and what it entails. This promise comes before Jacob falls in love with Rachel, working for Laban for fourteen years and first marrying Leah. This promise comes before Jacob has his 13 children, from four women. This comes before Jacob takes more than half of Laban's sheep and does magic in order to increase his own stock. This comes before Jacob has yet another dream where it is requested that he return to his native land.

In spite of all this, Jacob is called to be a blessing for all of us. He is the past, the present and the future. He is the great one whose descendants eventually became the Jewish people. However, he is also the individual who did not notice God's presence. Rashi commentates that Jacob would not have slept in the place he chose, because God was present in that place. Jacob is unaware that the place where he is about to sleep is holy, that indeed every place is holy. If he knew this tidbit, at least before he lay down to sleep, he likely would have refrained from sleeping there. Regardless, he slept on holy ground. However, the p’shat, or simple, way of discovering the parsha is seeing that God is in everyplace, as Julie Silver’s popular camp song refrains, I am all around, in every day dream. I am all you are, and all you know. It then flows into the Hebrew that we heard above: achein yeish adonai, b’makom ha zeh, vanochi lo yadati. The I in the song is God, and God is referred to as being constantly around us, surrounding us. Jacob feels God’s presence, just as strongly the next morning as he did in the midst of his dream.

The blessing in all of this is that we CAN find God and the presence of God everywhere we go and within everything we do. God is truly all around us, supporting us, helping us. Even here, in the middle of this desert, God surrounds us. Some of our people’s most profound experiences took place in the desert. Every time we are in search of God, sanctity, connection we as Jews end up in the desert. We may not feel God, but we know God exists, that God is here. God told Jacob he would spread out, yama, tzafona, vkedma, vnegba; West, North, East, and South. We are in negba, the Negev, named after that Biblical direction, the Southern part of the land of Israel.

The sun, bursting through the seams of cloud

Here, in the middle of the desert, we find serenity from the attacks and hatred that usually greet us on the news or in the streets. We are surrounded by majesty instead of hatred, by magnificence instead of despair. This place, hanegev, is the escape of our people, from Biblical time to now. A few weeks from now we will read the 40 year wandering saga, most of which took place in and around this desert, away from other peoples. Only there did we unanimously answer na’aseh and join in a covenant with God, and did the people begin to converse with God. Our ancestors often ventured into the desert to converse with God, for connection or sanctity.

So the question then becomes, why are we here now? The connection we create to this place through the story is stronger than time. By being here, we see ourselves relative to the larger world. We are re-connecting and re-committing to both who we are and what we want to become. We are like Jacob, laying down wherever we find a place and then commenting on it in the next moment. However, we must rise above Jacob’s example and ask what we want to take out of this experience. We go through our lives, doing the necessary work to receive what we desire. Again, instead of simply doing the work, we must ask who we will represent in this world, what we will stand for. We are even more like Jacob when sit today as the continuation and part of the fulfillment of the legacy he was promised.

Here, in the desert, we are part of the reality of the covenant, but it is still just us, together, now. We must decide to accept the yoke of the covenant that God made with Jacob, to recognize that if God is all around, the way we act in business or relationships or daily life matters. We cannot simply dismiss negative behavior or actions. Rather, we must continue to engage in a conversation. We must actively decide to be better, to pursue honest and just work practices and relationships. Today, I take Jacob’s promise to heart and, here in the majesty of the desert, recognizing my insignificance, I pledge to continue to work for the realization of that covenant. To work for the compassion and honesty and Godliness that should be in the world. Do you?

We remember

A reading before Kaddish Yatom (Mourners Kaddish)

They are gone, but their memories live on.
We remember, we cannot blink them away.
Today we see your souls, your light a blaze.
Encouraged, we move forward.
Whether 8 months or 80 years, we remember.
We acknowledge your life and bless your presence.

Monday, 19 November 2012; 14:06

Why I am a Reform Jew

It's been a while since I've written. A regular update to come soon, as so much has occured (I just attended the Israeli rabbinical ordination, last week I spent 2 hours talking with people in the West Bank....). But for now, just a simple essay we had to write for one of our classes entitled, Why I am a Reform Jew

            Choice. Freedom. Growth. Passion. Adventure. Discovery. Reform Judaism, in its many facets, has afforded me the opportunity to explore both who I am as a professional and as an individual.

            As a Reform Jew, I have the ability to choose what practices work best for me. I can daven with an Independent, Egalitarian Minyan or with an ultra-Orthodox congregation. The doors of any synagogue, especially in Jerusalem, are open to me and offer a unique prayer service. However, my knowledge base was not strong enough to allow me the opportunity to attend my choice of service. Yet, as I explored the customs and traditions that grew from generations past, I became aware of an immense beauty in the amorphous liturgy. Reform Judaism gives me the opportunity to learn from this plethora of institutions, and then truly decide which place works for me. Although I appreciate the traditional Ashkenazi shul, with a high mechitza separating the men from the women of the congregation, that is not the place for me. I like an Egalitarian service, but one that goes through the entire service, reads the entire Torah Portion. I like knowing what the full service looks like, with all the different pieces and parts. The experience of knowledge enables me. Without it, I cannot choose what I want because I am not in possession of all the individual pieces. Reform Judaism allows me to then piece together the aspects of tefillah that most resonate with me and find the passion within myself. I get a feeling of kesher, connection, to the generations.

            Reform Judaism has a huge base in aggadic tradition, looking more to moral and ethical guidelines than to the ones prescribed in the Torah, as supposedly given by Moses on Sinai. The options are endless for how a Jew may choose his or her practice, and my life is no exception. I can dress modestly (which I explored for a short time), I can choose to keep strict Biblical Kosher and wait a certain amount of time before I eat. I can decide that I do not want to touch men until I am married, and then only my husband. And those are just a few examples of outward signs of what Judaism might look like. However, I do not personally choose all of those things. I want to explore them, to potentially understand how those practices might enhance my life, but as a Reform Jew in the twenty-first century, I am able to make a choice. I choose to keep Kosher, but only to the point where I do not mix milk and meat. Keeping two sets of dishes does not necessarily resonate with me. I will wait until the table is cleared to eat dairy after meat, but not an hour or 6. I choose to touch men now, for two reasons. One, that I want to know what I’m getting into before I marry and because it can enhance a relationship or be a significant part in discovering if a connection between me and another person is sound.

The symbolism of how a person interacts with their environment is often a telling way of ascertaining what their beliefs are (especially here in Israel, where a kippah or skirt deems someone as religious). However, as a Reform Jew, my Judaism is fed from within. I am proud to be a Reform Jew when I lead a worship service that utilizes guitar, piano, and pure voices. I am proud to be a Reform Jew when I see the power the Union has to assert help for the victims of Hurricane Sandy on the East Coast. I am proud to be a Reform Jew when I go to Ethiopia, to Haiti, and see the immense continuing relief work that the JDC engages in on behalf of the Jewish people.

            Education and synagogue attendance may not be the highest they have ever been, but those who are engaged in Jewish education and who attend t’fillot regularly are ones I am proud to be associated with. They are passionate about what they are learning and even choose to pass on the knowledge to others, ensuring that Judaism will live on! I get to be a part of that. Not only that, but the passion and spiritual depth of the youth of this Movement will carry Reform Judaism (and every strand of Judaism) into the next generation. I look forward to the fact that I will one day teach these young people, bestowing upon them the same sense of adventure and love of learning that NFTY and Jewish camping instilled within me. I am a Reform Jew because NFTY and the URJ Camps, specifically GUCI, inspired me and continue to offer so many the opportunity to see Judaism in action, to live Jewishly, even for one month and a few weekends out of the year. The discovery that occurs at camp, helping children understand how special Reform Judaism is, demonstrating to them that Judaism is a living breathing entity that they are indeed apart of; that is my inspiration. Just walk into a chadar ohel after any meal at most URJ camps and the amount of ruach, spirit, is overwhelming. That inspires me and keeps me going, pursuing Reform Judaism and the Rabbinate in particular.

            Not only that, but Reform Judaism doesn’t go away. It isn’t pushy about what people should and shouldn’t believe and allows people to create their own personal path. My congregation at home instituted a program called IJP: Individualized Jewish Path. This project helps individuals or families figure out what their most profound Jewish journey is and what steps they individually need to take in order to see it to fruition. Although the number of individuals who took advantage of this opportunity was not public knowledge, the direct impact was that many more lay leaders emerged within the congregation. People started planning their own personal Mitzvah projects, creating a Mitzvah garden on the synagogue grounds or developing a Mitzvah tree, with different Mitzvah opportunities available for congregants to do. Passion evolved and demonstrated the power of individual choice on a congregational basis. Each time I came home from school, I saw more people at services, more people eager to take control of their own Jewish journey. I am proud to be a Reform Jew because I am both part of that movement and that people. I have seen the inspiration of many a person and been personally instilled with a sense of responsibility for not only my fellow Jew, but my fellow man. I am a Reform Jew because we, as Jews, care about all people and take pride in being both willing and able to help anyone in need. We help those individuals explore their personal connections and aspire to assist them in as sincere and singular a way as possible, in order to allow them to pursue their dreams and desires.

            The path of conversion used to be something that was kept a secret. Not only that, but if you were homosexual, there wasn’t an option to be a part of many congregations. Now, due to the hard work of the then UAHC and the CCAR, both converts and people of any sexual persuasion are accepted into the Reform Jewish world. I welcome everyone to daven, to learn, to engage in Tikkun Olam with me, and cannot be more appreciative and respectful of the stand Reform Judaism takes.

While dating someone who was not Jewish, I began feeling a stronger desire to go to services. I wanted to learn more and be able to engage in deeper discussions about the meanings behind traditions. Even more than that, he constantly asked me questions about a particular practice and what it meant. I would get frustrated, feeling that he should know the answers. Yet, now that he has developed a deeper understanding of the ritual and the tradition, he pushes back and engages in a dialogue all his own.  He encourages me to understand my practice and why I do it, not because he doesn’t understand, but because his practice is so different from my own. Reform Judaism allows us to engage in a dialogue about the future, about him becoming Jewish and what that looks like, of him having a woman help him through the process of conversion. Reform Judaism is the reason he is choosing to be Jewish and therefore I am incredibly proud be find my home here! Although we are no longer dating, he has continued to explore Judaism on his own and hopes one day to convert. I saw first hand the power that Judaism can have in someone’s life as well as how much I personally enjoy teaching it. As a Reform Jew, I have the opportunity to do that!

Thoughts #2/3

Thought #2: Choice Through Knowledge

Judaism is everywhere, even in secular Tel Aviv

            In choosing where I was going to attend Shachrit services yesterday morning, I had a plethora of options. There was Shira Chadasha, where I know I am both comfortable and get a traditional worship experience. There was Moreshit Yisrael, close to me and therefore easy to get in and out of in time for lunch. There was Kedem, where I am slowly finding my voice and confidence in the more traditional liturgy, all the while having the opportunity to ask questions and learn when I don’t understand. Or, I could venture out of my self-imposed comfort zone and experience a new worship space.

            Sara and I both decided we were up for exploring, so headed down to the Ashkenaz synagogue in Yemin Moshe. If I had thought about it, I would have realized that the synagogue was likely a remnant of the beginnings of the settlement and therefore much more traditional with mehitza and a significant amount of silent, quick davening. As soon as we walked in, we knew it wasn’t the kind of place either of us enjoyed. Although the mehitza did not reach the ceiling and we could see over it, we were facing the mehitza instead of East. Also, although we walked in at 8:45, the congregation had already arrived at the repetition of the Amidah. By the time I personally went through from Barchu until the end of the Amidah, I realized this wasn’t where I wanted to pray. Sara concurred and we slipped out the back to go to a much more communal service at Kedem.

            Kedem is an independent, egalitarian minyan where Sara was given the honor of an aliyah and I, hagbah [lifting the Torah for all to see, in respect of what was given by Moses at Sinai]. We both let out a deep breath when we walked in, as they were just getting to Barchu and we would be able to pray an almost full service with them. Not only that, but men and women were seated next to each other and the atmosphere was more welcoming.

            As we walked around the city, going from service to service to lunch, we discussed what we wanted to find in a service. In the past, my answer was traditional, right off the bat. Give me somewhere that does the whole service. But as we talked, I realized that my answer has morphed, even in the past five months. Not only do I want traditional, I want a service where I can feel like I am part of that community, that my voice is not only desired, but necessary to make up the minyan required for certain prayers. I want a place where voices are raised together, not in something that seems like a garbled chant, but in song and beauty. Moreover, I desire a community where I walk in and immediately feel like the community welcomes me, as both a visitor and a member of the congregation.

            By this point, I know the liturgy well enough to lead a Reform service (which, were it not for needing to add iyunnim and other odds and ends, I could likely do in my sleep). However, that isn’t the point. The point is that davening is a prayerful thing, allowing you to lead the congregation, but not necessarily separate you from it. That is what I have found. The place where I want to pray, both in this year and in my future life is a place where I am both welcome as a Jew, made to feel comfortable in the environment, and given the opportunity to wear my tallit.

            Reform Judaism has allowed me to explore all these avenues. I am not required to wear a tallit or wrap t’fillin, nor are any of my classmates. We, at the end of our learning, are expected to KNOW about the ritual and the meaning behind them, but we are expected to make our own decision as to whether or not it resonates with us. That is the beauty of where I sit. I can daven in a traditional setting while at the same time spending Shabbat afternoon cooking dinner for the homeless. And that is okay, because that is what makes Shabbat special in my life. I choose my own adventure. Choice through knowledge: it works! [Thank you Rebecca Vogel for helping me understand the importance of this idea]

Thought #3: Passion, talk, avenues of life

            I went to dinner with someone I met at shul the other week. While I truly enjoyed talking to him, by the time we hit the hour (of two hours) mark, I found myself getting tongue tied and losing words. Not only that, but a feeling of pure exhaustion settled over me. Normally, I am an eager dinner companion, ready and able to volley the conversation back and forth, keeping up a good stream of information and talk. However, for some reason, I found myself allowing the ball to drop more and more as I settled into my chair and gazed at my surroundings.

            Later that night, I realized something: we had spent two hours talking about Judaism. Usually, I am all for that. But for some reason, I couldn’t play out the game. I needed a break. After leading services, going to class, doing a 2-hour bike ride, and going to the shuk, I had spent almost all of my day either practicing, working on, or talking about Judaism. My dinner was supposed to be about getting to know the person. And it was. But it was all about Judaism.

You never know what is around the corner.

 

            Then something clicked. I love Judaism. I love it passionately and speak about it an inordinate amount. Hey, I’m in Israel studying to be a Rabbi, so it’s allowed, right? Of course! But, as such, I also need a break every once in a while. I need to keep my gambit of ‘other activities’ fresh so that I always have another activity or topic to turn to when Judaism simply cannot keep me talking. My life is Judaism, but that isn’t all it is. I am a friend, a daughter, a teacher, a cyclist, a photographer, a writer and so much more.

            A few days later, I found myself at an intimate lunch with a few classmates. We were waiting to start lunch and talking about the future of Reform Judaism (go big or go home, right?). Somehow the topic of incorporating other parts of life into Judaism came up and I jumped on it. Having realized my opinions on the thoughts a few days previously, I stepped in with my half-formed opinion, intoning that life was about more than just davening. My friend then took every one of my interests and related it back to Judaism.

            Somewhere in that conversation, I realized that where we are and how we look at the world often depends on the person into whose eyes we are looking at the time. In their eyes is reflected our own thoughts and goals, wishes and ideals. Through them, we gain insight into ourselves, and truly learn who we are and want to be by engaging in dialogue with them.

            I have to shape my life to be what I want it. If I want to be outdoors and connect with nature, I have to find time for that. If I want to pray three times a day, I also need to make that a part of my life. That is the beauty of Reform Judaism. I have the power and ability to actively do that, to decide how I want Judaism to be reflected in my life and how I want to teach and bring it to others.

The labors of my harvest

Last Friday I participated in olive picking with a group called Rabbi's for Human Rights. The following is my reflection on the work we did and what it means, especially with regard to the past week's Torah portion, parshat Noach.

While my parents were here, we went on a 20 km hike. At the very end, the Israel trail traverses many groves of fruit trees. We passed some trees which smelled absolutely incredible and I wanted to figure out what they were. I wanted to know what kind of citrus was bring grown here and if it was ripe. One particular piece had a pinkish-orangish tint and I picked that one. Opening that fruit, someone working in the grove next to me shouted out at me. Although I wasn't sure what he said, I knew he wasn't happy. Walking away, I continued eating and enjoyed the wonderful grapefruit.

About a week later, I was in an olive field, picking olives with Palestinian farmers in the west bank. Instead of being uncomfortable, I felt at home. The people we were working with were picking right next to us, with people from very different places peacefully standing next to each other. There was no negativity towards us, no hostility, only strength from them and passion of the work they themselves were engaged in.

However, I realized, in the de-briefing from our trip, that to take fruit from another persons tree is something discussed in the mishna. One masechet says that you can take the figs that fall from the ground, but to take from another's tree is forbidden. The fruit of those trees is their hard work and their profit, what will bring them profit and support them. Yet, there I was, standing in an olive field, picking dozens upon dozens of olives of another persons tree. This time, it was for good, on behalf of someone else. I was not doing something wrong. I was helping but balance back in the world.
The wrong was there, it seems to follow closely in many places of the world. There are the soldiers who won't let people into their own fields, or only allow them in for a very short time. There are the people in the town or settlement or village a few miles away who come in the middle of the night and steal olives or burn trees past the point of salvage. There are natural causes that don't allow the trees to prosper for that year. Whatever the reason, the olive harvest does not always look so positive, laid-back, and community building.

The olive, the representation of land that the dove brought back to Noah after the flood. The ideal of peace that now girds our minds and our hearts, hoping to see peace and connection between divergent peoples. The light and source of light for many centuries. The food source and cooking staple that still resonates in our kitchens. That piece of fruit, one of the seven species that make up Israel and demonstrates the growth that can be found here, represented connection to a people not that different from those on the other side of the border. The Palestinian harvesters were our friends for a few hours, wanting to show us their lives and how they lived, that they weren't much different than us. The olive formed that connection and the oil that flows from them will hopefully one day flow freely between the borders and allow a shared community to be fostered.

Thought #1

Why I am a Reform Jew, Thought #1

I re-remembered why I love Reform Judaism. I get to choose what I want in my service. Music, especially guitar, can be a large part of that experience. Not only that, but the music and singing that we do doesn't necessarily need to be in Hebrew. Although some might say that detracts from the overall prayer experience, it enriches my practice and brings passion and serenity to my worship.

Besides, in this fashion, I get to not only experience prayer each day, but I get to re-imagine or examine that prayer practice and see what it adds to my overall prayer. If something doesn't resonate with me, I don't need to include it next time. If it does, it stays! In this way, I can grow my experience into something that truly becomes me and describes both who I am and how I connect to the world. Prayer is an impressive and powerful entity and tool!

Today during T'fillah we used this song. Check out the power of the music!

Clarification: someone pointed out to me that song and prayer are not always the same thing. With that, I agree. They also suggested that song can often take away from the prayerful experience, to which I also agree. In considering their opinion, I realized that my own is not far from that. However, I also recognize that each person is unique and what one might find meaningful, another may find dull or impeding. Song has certainly taken from as opposed to adding more to my worship. In this instance, I found song to be a powerful addition to my prayer and linked me in a special way to the reforms of traditional Judaism begun in Germany by the likes of Zacharias Frankel and Abraham Geiger.

Don’t talk about it…we’re in Jordan.

Part I of my Jordanian adventure: -->

            For the last few years, whenever I travel to a new place and proceed to write about it, people have suggested I become a travel blog writer (which is basically what I was doing anyway), or that I write tour books. What’s funny is that almost all of the tour books sound the same, with a slightly different format, color scheme, and organization. Each time the comment was sounded, I replied with a steadfast NO! My writing isn’t good enough, I couldn’t support myself, blah, blah, blah. However, I realized that the way I narrate my adventures (yes, I narrate my own travels, to myself) sounds very much like the guidebooks that I frequently come across. Therefore, apologies/qualifications in advance for some of my rhetoric and free reign to anyone who might feel inclined to use my information in the future:

Israeli/Jordanian border

Getting there: Petra is a city only reachable by taxi, private car, or camel (but only if you have MANY hours to spare and are prepared for the really sore body that will come later. Once you pay the 103 NIS to cross the border from Eilat (there is an airport in Jordan, but it does not seem like the most commercial place, nor the best place to fly into) and get your passport stamped approximately 5 times, you will enter the no man’s land between the two countries. Before entering however, you may be engaged in a discussion that goes something like this:

Clerk: Excuse me!

Elana: Yes? What did I do wrong?

Clerk: Nothing yet. But you will if you don’t take off your necklace. And don’t put it under your shirt. You don’t want to advertise that you are Jewish.

Elana: Thank you (and then I proceeded to share this information with the group, to which we grumblingly un-Jewified ourself)

Another exchange had on the Israeli side:

Elana: Who wants a crembo? I bought one for each of us, just to chill us out!

Danny: Wow…such a Jewish mother!

Elana: eye roll

Worker: walks by, eyeing the crembo…

Sam: (to the worker) Can we bring bottled water that we just bought into Jordan?

Worker: Officially, no. But for the most part, yes.

Elana: (opening bag full of food) What about this? Can I bring this in?

Worker: Again, just close your bag and don’t worry about it. Crembo was definitely a good idea. Enjoy it.

Elana: Would you like one?

Worker: Really? (Elana nods) Only if we do it sneakily…

Ben: Way to bribe him, Elana….that does NOT seem legitimate!

Elana: At least we’ll get in! And whats the big deal. It wasn’t a bribe. I was just being nice.

Sean: Uh huh…whatever you say.

And for the rest of the trip, if you HAPPEN to do something like this, you will be accused of bribing the Israeli policeman. It will be worth it!

Once you reach the Jordanian side, after potentially saying shechechiyanu or some other appropriate prayer and potentially singing lech lecha, members of your party may suggest that the Hebrew, Jewish, and Israel talk cease. It is a good idea. Although Jordan and Israel currently have the most friendly border, there still exists animosity about Israel’s right to existence.

In addition, make sure you know for sure who your leader is. When you get eight people together, 5 or 6 of whom are strong leader personalities, it often becomes a mess of trying to direct the activity and happenings. Even if you are also a leader, sit back and let things happen. You will get there eventually. You might just have to settle for it being a little slower than your liking.

The guy at the border will ask for your guide (read: driver), who has all your passport numbers (or is supposed to and therefore supposed to be waiting inside the Jordanian half of the border) and then make you wait approximately half an hour for him to come through. Once that happens, it will be easy for you to get your visa and split into cars for the 1.5 hour ride to the city of Wadi Musa.

Mini-mart near our Hostel

Wadi Musa is the city that sprung up around the ancient city of Petra. You know, the place with all the electricity, running water, dirt, restaurants, cats, hostels, hotels, homes, taxis, taxis, and taxis. But honestly, it’s not that bad. It is all located on a giant mountain/hill (what do you call a giant mountainous rock formation that seems like a mountain from the bottom but doesn’t even begin to compare with the natural border between Jordan and Israel?) and will be incredibly hospitable to all who choose to venture there! The people love Americans, and love ripping them off. But mostly just love meeting new tourists, even if their English is rather non-existent. Some facts: 1. Wadi musa is Arabic for “stream bed of Moses”. Interesting that the town is named after Moses and you can see Aaron’s tomb from the High Place of Sacrifice. Coincidence, I think not! 2. Foreign girls are well liked. If alone, Jordanians will offer them food, hot tea, free food, and many other things, if not marriage itself. While they are completely genuine, I suggest going with at least one or two guys to make sure the females don’t get hassled…