Bulgarian Blessings B'yachad

The chairs are set up in a square, a table laid with green tablecloth and Torah stand in the middle of the room. People flow in, quickly filling up the seats, despite the fact that services do not start for another ten minutes. By six thirty, the room is full, yet the service handout has not arrived in the hall. As soon as it appears, we begin singing, a building round of Shalom Alechim.

Oddly, the beautiful synagogue with elaborate Sephardic artwork and woodwork, stood cold and dark, empty but for the side chapel where three men and just as many women, many not even Jewish, sat rushing through the Kabbalat Shabbat service. I left quickly, eager to join in the magic of what would soon follow. The Bulgarian synagogue remained a museum, frozen in the chasm that segregates the community and closes their hearts.

Between translations, I lead the congregation in worship. We follow the outline of the service, only bare bones for these people who have not stepped foot in a synagogue for maybe sixty years. We are the Judaism they haven't experienced or don't know how to identity with.

 

When V'shamru comes up in the service, dad and I belt out an off-key version of the traditional. Yet, the congregation sits silent. An older gentleman speaks up, saying now they will do the Bulgarian traditional prayer. A singer in the congregation begins and immediately everyone chimes in. Dad and I sit there awestruck. This congregation not only knows the liturgy, they can sing it! Were we to give them an opportunity to open their hearts and sing, who knows what would come from their beautiful voices!

 

As the service comes to a close, dad suggests that individuals mention the name of a family member of friend who they are remembering. Every person minus the children in the room said a name. Each name was a family member, a friend. As my father's hand and eyes passed around the room, each person first met his eyes, then mine, demonstrating their desire to connect. Yet each name had not been said, had not been remembered with Kaddish for many years, if not ever. It brought tears to my eyes, making me recognize the importance of community, of helping people open their hearts and their minds. And, coming to the words of Kaddish, the rest of he congregation stood with us and recited what they knew from memory. The words washed over us and seemed to lift up the congregation, buoying us into the conclusion of the  service. This was truly beauty at its finest.

Visual Representation of Peoplehood

After last week's colloquium on peoplehood, here is my visual representation of it.

Riding 4 Reform

Although I would not normally do this, and my blog is for commentary on my adventures here in Israel, this opportunity is part of my growth while I am here in Israel. Below you will find a letter explaining my project with a group called Riding 4 Reform and within it, my request for support. Please consider helping me raise the money to participate in this 5 day cycling trip in order to raise money and awareness for the Jewish Progressive Movement in Israel.

Thank you for your support, in advance.

Dear family and friends,

What do you do when you flip over your handlebars on your bike, on the middle of a dirt path, with no one but your riding partners within miles? You brush the dust off, have a good laugh/cry, and then get right back on the bike and finish off the ride. Well, at least that was what I did on December 19.

Throughout my time cycling, I have learned the hard way the importance of bike safety; of wearing a helmet, having a buddy, telling people where you are going, keeping water on me. Having been hit by a car and now flown over my handlebars for a second time, I sometimes surprise myself that i keep getting on a bike. Regardless, I love it! Although that has helped me navigate the roads of Israel and the United States, I have only considered it my information. However, on March 10, I will set off for a five day journey across the North of Israel with about 11 of my classmates, doing something called Ride for Reform (R4R). In short, this five day bike ride is a way to raise awareness and money for the Reform movement in Israel. Seeing how the Orthodox movement is the dominant group here in Israel, the Reform movement (called the Progressive movement in Hebrew) is slowly gaining attention and acknowledgement. This year, the proceeds raised by the riders will go to the IMPJ (Israel Movement for Progressive Judaism), in order to help Progressive congregations throughout Israel, the immigrant community (due to the Reform movement's commitment to social action and social justice), and scholarships to Camp Havaya (IMPJ's summer camp). This is a unique opportunity for me to help my community here in Israel and truly give back (Check outwww.riding4reform.com for more details). 

Now, you're probably asking yourself, what's the catch? And, you'd be right to do so, because here is where you come in. I am super excited about this ride, and cannot wait to spend five days, going about 50 km/~31miles each day on a bike! However, the price of participation is $2,000, plus $100 because I need to rent a bike for the week. The ability to participate in this adventure is one in a lifetime, especially while I am here in Israel, in my first year in school, and I would love your support! Being able to give back to a place that has shown me an immense amount of love and taught me so much about myself and Judaism is incredible, but I need your assistance.

The next question you should likely be asking is, how? Again, way to be on the ball with these questions! Well, if you go to the R4R website Click here!, it will give you full instructions, including what to do with checks and credit cards.

Honestly, I really appreciate your support and remember that any contribution counts (even love!). I will be sure to keep you informed with both my classmates and my progress on our weekly rides. One place to check is my blog.

In conclusion, I am excited for this ride, and hope that you can support me along the journey. Please be in touch, just to check in.

Thanks and much love,

Elana

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.

Adventures Accompanied by Aaron

            Shabbat is about an hour away, and I am fully wiped. This week has seen me completing my work for the semester, visiting Tel Aviv and Haifa, riding over 50 miles, taking over 150 pictures, cooking three different dinners, and so much more. Oh yeah, and the arrival of Mr. Aaron Alexander Mosher.

            Aaron and I have traversed this country in just a few days, taking just about every kind of transportation imaginable (bus, sheirut, taxi, train, bike, foot) and covering many miles. Yesterday we were in Haifa to see the Baha’i gardens, and we got a surprise by running into Carly and her boyfriend, Jonathan. The four of us went to lunch after the tour, where Aaron and Jonathan got into a discussion about engineering and Carly and I discussed Rabbinics. However, the most fascinating conversation regarded a Jew marrying a convert. Our discussion revolved around the idea that a convert did not grow up Jewish and therefore doesn’t necessarily know about all the traditions, songs, or childhood activities. No matter, we were all engaged and all made to think about what was discussed.

a little bit of the symmetry of the gardens

            However, let me return to the gardens for a brief moment. The symmetry and cleanliness that abounded in the gardens was absolutely magnificent. Everything had its equal match, demonstrated by looking from one side to the other. Aaron also noticed that on almost all the tiers, there was only one rose left on each side. Our guide said it was accidental, but neither of us were so sure. The 18 levels, nine on top and nine on bottom, represent the 18 initial followers of Baha’u’llah starting in the mid-eigtheen hundreds in Persia (present day Iraq). The religion was founded under the auspices of eliminating warfare. There seemed to be so much destruction and war in the world, and these men and women simply wanted peace and humanity to exist as one. Baha’i followers believe in the institution of marriage, as the foundation for how we learn and grow, and stand for equality between men and women, as well as among all people of the earth.

            These beliefs resonated with me, as ways in which I want to live my life, how I want to go about changing the world. Yet, I feel so strongly about Judaism that I am not sure that this other faith would be possible. Especially because the Baha’i prayer practice is individual, can take place anywhere, and only necessitates two or three prayers, said 2-3 times a day, depending on the person and the practice. In addition, there is no specific time necessitated for it.

            After considering my options (I am in Rabbinical school after all…), I recognize that I agree with the message, that all men are equal and deserve opportunity regardless of their age, race, religion, nationality or any other identifying factor. However, I can enact change right here in Judaism as well, as a Rabbi and as a person. I may not be an extremely charismatic leader, but I do have passion. I love Judaism, I love life, I love people, and I love helping. Those four things, mixed with another of smaller adventures and additions, can help me build a world that will be better than how I found it. That is the most important thing. I spiritually and religiously connect with the Jewish tradition, and will continue on my current path. But I recognize the importance of taking the time to consider other options, other messages, and truly hear what they have to say and how they are said.

            Leaving Haifa, Aaron and I returned home to race through the shuk in time to pay my landlord. Once he left, we made an incredible white wine lemon chicken and garlic bread. The icing on top of the cake was the fact that we were able to just sit and talk for hours (about 3) and just be. We weren’t at dinner or anything and there were no distractions. Plus, we also had chocolate lava cake with whipped cream (so truly, almost icing and cake!!)

Aaron and I at the gardens

            Today dawned early, with me thinking this head cold had taken an even stronger grip. After a shower and some time, I felt good enough to accompany Aaron and Oren on the bike ride to Yad Kennedy. Although Aaron was full of energy and gleeful like a child, I was more subdued, just enjoying being alive.

            We came back, both of us tired. Except it was now time to start preparing for the 13 guests coming for dinner. We made challah (after ruining the yeast two times), apple-strawberry crisp, lentils, and will have salmon. Re-arranging the apartment took some time, as did cleaning up so there would be room for everyone.

The door is open. I'm coming in!

            As I said, it is now 15:48 and the Shabbat siren will go off in about 20 minutes. 

 

The future holds many things, none of them certain. I just look forward to opening the window, and then the door, feeling my way in the dark until I find the light. The light will come, maybe even has come. Regardless, I know I have many people rooting for me, ready to lend me a hand when I fall, or laugh with me along the way. Aaron is one of those people. Ken Yehi Ratzon!

Who I am

I am 1/10 of the way to being a Rabbi. Just think about it. It's pretty fantastic.

#seminary #toomuchwork #stillwritingeventhoughschoolisover

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)