To Make Aliyah

Why do Jews make Aliyah?

Why do Jews not make Aliyah?

Today we had a class with a man who did the Shnat program we are all on, and he made Aliyah.  We were expecting a class on the merits of Israel, why we should make Aliyah, and the basic how-to of becoming a citizen.

We couldn't have been more wrong.

He started off by asking us a few questions about ourselves, and then played out an activity/experiment.  The useful leadership technique 'stand on this side if you believe X, stand on the other side if you believe Y' creates a spectrum and gives you an overview on what your participants are thinking.  For our first question, 'sure to make Aliyah' was on the left side of the room and 'sure not to make Aliyah' was on the right side of the room (disclaimer: these have nothing to do with political affiliations).

Three of us ended up far left, two in the middle, and the rest far right.

The next question, "Do you feel as an American/Brit/South African/German/Australian that other Americans/Brits/South Africans/Germans/Australians are your brothers and sisters?"  Left meant no and right meant yes.  To our surprise, all we did was shift to the right.  The three ultra-left ended up in the middle, and the rest were squashed in the far or middle right area.  No exceptions.  When asked "do you feel a Jew that all other Jews are your brothers and sisters," left meaning yes and right meaning no, we shifted to the right and squashed ourselves against that wall, with a few exceptions.

After, we went into a discussion that left some of us in a whirlwind.  He took of through a thought process that had us ending up questioning each and every reason we thought we wanted to or to not make Aliyah.  The Zionist lies, the Diaspora lies.  The lies your community and movements tell.  The myths we all believe in.  The falsities we base our lives on.  Although this is just a bit of an exaggeration, we really forced to rethink all we thought.

The only fact he told us that I don't know if I believe is that Israel would be completely fine without the help of Diaspora organizations like AIPAC.  Everything I have seen proves that although maybe Israel could survive without them, it would be less certain.   All the aid and help the American government has given Israel because of AIPAC more or less proves that Israel would not be as well off (understatement? overstatement?) as she is now without it.

In the end, the overall point was to choose whether or not to make Aliyah based on our own personal wants and needs.  Not whether the diaspora needs you or the Reform movement in Israel needs you or what your community or movement wants, but what you want.  For a lot of people, this was a game-changer.  For me, it didn't change my mind so much but inspired me to think critically of all the accepted truths I thought.  An interesting thought-provoker.

How Far Do You Go?

You wouldn't wear a bikini to a retirement home.  You wouldn't walk into a church with the same outfit and attitude that you would walk into a club with.  You wouldn't wear show up to a job interview in your pajamas.

You wouldn't stroll into an ultra-religious neighborhood, ignoring all requests, in bright colors, chests showing, and crowd the streets.

Oh wait, that's exactly what we did.

Today we toured around Me'a Sha'arim (meaning One Hundred Gates), which is one of the ultra-religious neighborhoods in Jerusalem.  The girls put on modest clothing, the boys wore whatever they woke up in, like usual.  I dug out my floor length dark green skirt, black shirt, and black scarf to wrap around my arms and chest.  Although I thought I was being quite brazen, other girls were wearing white, bright blue, red flowery patterns, and even neon pink.  We set off and walked up that hill, across the green line, and into Me'a Sha'arim.  We paused just outside the neighborhood to talk about what we were about to see, and I noticed a sign on one of the buildings, "GROUPS, passing through our neighborhoods severely offend the residents.  Please stop this."

"Are we about to walk down the street that very large and angry sign is telling us not to walk down?"  I asked.

"Yes," came the reply.

And off we went.

Girls on one side of the street, boys on the other.  We walked down the streets, less polished and cleanly than those of our own neighborhood.  Paper announcements littered the sidewalk and garbage lined the streets from the holiday parties the nights before.  Men in black suits and coats, some bald, some with peyot, some wearing large funny hats.  Woman carrying multiple babies, dark skirts down to their knees.  Girls skipping hand in hand with sisters.  Boys rushing off to school, each with a stack of books.  And us, a group of Reform Jews in bright colors and shorter skirts.  Needless to say, we got looks.
We gathered awkwardly in the middle of an intersection, taking up a large section of a sidewalk we were asked not to be on.  The group of us stood there and were asked to question and ponder.  We weren't asked to judge, but how could we not?  These people had a different lifestyle than us, looked different, had different and even controversial ideologies from us.  We stood there and stared, they walked by and stared.  We all watched and analyzed and assumed and judged.
When we walked on, we walked both boys and girls together.  I learned that the area was founded as one of the original settlements outside of the Old City by religious Jews, and then taken over and re-done as a get-a-way for wealthier people, but when the financially well off didn't inhabit like was expected, the poorer religious Jews moved in, created a very intimate and strictly religious neighborhood that grew more crowded and less wealthy.
Now it is an ultra-religious neighborhood, where they can live out their lives the way they choose to.  If men and women want to walk on separate sides of the street, they are free to.  If they want to wear clothing that would get them stares, judgement, and maybe even harassment in the greater public sphere, they can without hesitating.  If they want to take a special kind of bus that better suits their needs, they can.  In this Jewish state, living in a neighborhood like this allows these Jews to freely live out the Judaism they wish to.
Why should we impede on their rights?  Why should we intrude, after them asking us not to in so many medias, and interrupt their life and their customs?  I wish we had not disrespected their lifestyle like we did.
Especially as Reform Jews, we who want everyone to have equal rights and the opportunity to practice our Judaism without discrimination and with full equal rights, who are to disgrace their customs?  It's one thing to arrange a meeting with willing participants who could teach us, but to put on disgraceful outfits and trampede through their streets to observe and judge is a different case entirely.  If the goal is education, there are different methods.  But if as Reform Jews our goal is for equality for all Jews, we need to respect them and their customs just like we'd like them to respect us and our customs.
Eventually we were heading down a street with a familiar view, but from an angle we'd never seen.
"Do you recognize this area?"  Mark Lazar asked me.  I took a few seconds to think, and then answered hesitantly, "Davidka?"  I was right.
We stopped and found a place to talk in the shade.  A brief summary of what we just saw, and then we got an introduction to our next adventure.  We were going to be split into pairs (an excited high five between Kitty and me) and sent off into the shuk with twenty shekels.  Our task was to purchase a dessert item(s) for the group to share after lunch.  Our second task was to find people from all backgrounds, ethnicities, races, and ideologies in the shuk and question them about their lives.  We asked them about when they or their family came to Israel, why, how did they like it, what did they think about politics and economy here, and what are the best and worst parts of Israel.
After we got the courage to ask people instead of awkwardly watch them walk away, secretly wishing each other would go approach them but never taking a step, we met a lot of interesting people.  I was surprised to learn just how many people we met whose entire families were from Jerusalem.  The majority of the shuk-workers we talked to were Jerusalemites back and back.  Another majority didn't want to answer any questions, and all but one of the rest spoke little to no English.  Of those we talked to, we met a foreign worker from the Philippines, an Ethiopian, a few Moroccans, and our one English speaker, the American.  A typical conversation went like this:
"Hi, do you speak English!?!" This was said in my worst Taglit-esque accent, with a peppy tone associated with over-excited American tourist groups.  At this point, anyone who was not eager to talk would immediately be turned off and give us a gruff 'no' and we would smile our prettiest smiles and walk away.
Those who were interested in talking would answer either 'yes' or 'half' and I would press on: "Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"  Again, the peppy American accent.  Other than the one American, no one understood this, so I would repeat it in Hebrew: "Yesh lanu sha'alot l'sha'al lcha, ze b'seder?"  And once more, a gruff no would send us away while a yes would send me into the next qualifier: "M'effo atah?"  Where were they from?  We weren't looking for an Israelis, so any answer of 'Jerusalem' or 'Israel' would prompt me to ask about their families, but if the answer still hadn't changed, we would move on.
Those lucky few who made it past our selection process were asked the questions about life in Israel.  Our findings revealed that most people came for the economy but tried to stay out of the political side of things.  Some came for the religious aspect, and the foreign worker came because in addition to the work she could get here, she could also receive quality health insurance.  They came anywhere from three years ago (our American, a youth movement girl from Texas) to decades ago.  And they'd all like to offer us a deal on whatever it is that they were selling.
Having gotten all our information, we bought our dessert (massive, fluffy, sugar-coated donuts) and treated ourselves to Aroma drinks.  Healthy, I know.
We gathered in our familiar Strawberry Garden to eat and discuss.  After sharing our information, we moved on.  We sat in front of the building of the Jewish Agency for Israel and talked about what kinds of things an agency like that should do, and then handed out assignments for next week.  Dan R, Josh, and I are planning on having a Torah service on the rooftop of Beit Shmuel incorporating a very unique aspect of that location.  I don't want to give too much away, but I'm very excited for this service.

A Milestone

Here it is. The first pasta I've ever made.
I cooked the pasta and made the sauce completely from scratch.
It's sitting right here.
But I'm afraid to eat it.
In a few minutes, if I haven't managed to poison myself, I'll let you know how it went.

A few terrifying moments later

Well, I'm alive.
At first, I thought I had done a pretty decent job.
The more I ate, however, the more wrong I was.
By the end of the bowl, I was basically eating soggy pasta and crushed tomato.
Let's just say that if anyone needs a cook, I should be the last on your list.

Recipe:

• 1. Put water on to boil.

• 2. Forget you did that and come back after most of it has evaporated.

• 3. Boil more water.

• 4. Look for tomato paste.  When you don't find any, give up and decide to melt cheese.

• 5. Pour a whole bag of pasta into the water.

• 6. Put a sauce pan on a burner, pour oil into it.

• 7. Hope that you're supposed to put oil in sauce.

• 8. Cut onions and put them in oil pan.

• 9. Find tomato paste, realize it's moldy.

• 10. Find a closed can of tomato paste but no can opener

• 11. Briefly debate just scooping out the moldy bits of the other tomato paste.

• 12. Remember that you don't like food poisoning and go back to the closed can.

• 13. Go at it like a mad-man with a sharp knife from the Sharp Knife drawer.

• 14. Realize that the onions are burning and hectically scoop tomato paste out of the can with a spoon onto the pan, splattering yourself and the pasta with oil.

• 15. Stir.

• 16. Check on the pasta and find there's no water left, turn the heat all the way down.

• 17. Stir the sauce a bit more.

• 18. Add some more onions.

• 19. Remember that Alyson usually puts spices in her sauce; look through spice drawer to see what is handy

• 20. Find and add oregano, that's usually in a tomato sauce, right?

• 21. Add a bit of black pepper to taste.

• 22. Use an unnecessarily excessive amount of pans to drain the pasta.

• 23. Become disheartened when the pasta holds it shape, but hopeful again when it goes back to normal pasta texture after a bit of wiggling.

• 24. Take the sauce off the stove.

• 25. Scoop some pasta, using yet another utensil, into a bowl.

• 26. Mix up the proportions and add too much sauce for the amount of pasta.

• 27. Take a picture.

• 28. Blog about it.

• 29. Eat.

• 30. Try not to think about all the dishes you have to go wash.

?בטאבון

Growing Up

There are certain moments when a person can know that their lives have changed.  A birthday, a graduation, or a new job.  Very concrete moments when one moment you are defined as X, and the next you are defined as Y.  Everybody goes through at least a few of those, and they can be marked as turning points in a person's life.  However, it can be assumed that these are not the only times when a person can change.  Yes, a Bar/Bat Mitzvah is a significant moment in the life of a Jew, symbolizing a transformation from child to adult, but at what singular moment is that switch?  It doesn't exist.  The time spent changing from child to adult is not that one Saturday morning, it is in the months and years studying beforehand.  It is the sore neck from bending over the Haftorah, the sleepless nights worrying about ever being able to understand trope well enough, the countless meetings with the rabbi discussing the parsha or service, the time spent thinking about what this means to him or her, their parents, their community, and the Jewish community as a whole.  The Bar/Bat Mitzvah day is just a culmination of that, a proof to the world.
Most transforming events follow along the same pattern.  A man and woman do not fall in love on their wedding day and pledge their lives to each other then, it happened over years of being together and loving each other and was made legal and public on the wedding day.  A student is not ready to take on the 'real world' on graduation, years of schooling beforehand created that and the graduation ceremony made it official.
But what about all those other times that do not culminate in one special event?  Surely someone can change without having a party to commemorate it, right?  Of course, and this is where the troubling aspect of changing as a person is involved.
Take, for example, a gap year student.  A Jewish teenage girl who lived out seventeen years of her life in California.  She graduates high school and decided to spend the next year on a gap year program in Israel.  One is bound to change during that kind of experience, it is inevitable.  But how and when are you supposed to know?  How can you tell when you've changed fundamentally or even just partially?  How can that gap year student look at her life after being in Israel for eight months and be able to discern what is different?
The pure and simple fact is that she can't.  There is no moment that she can look at and tell that she is different than what she was before.  So how is it possible to tell that anything happened at all?  It's in the little moments, the small defining moments of her life.
It's the maturity of knowing she can put herself in a better mood in the morning by waking up a few minutes earlier to make coffee.  It's another lonely night spent on Facebook and feeling ostracized by her peers for standing up for what she believes in.  It's following the URJ blog for years as a teenager, and now seeing her articles featured there over and over again.  It's receiving e-mails from total strangers offering congratulations on something she did.  It's being tested over and over again on her values and morals so that she knows exactly what is more important to her.  It's realizing that wasting 30 shekels on a lunch she could eat for free at home is worth the time she'll spend with friends.  Conversely, not spending 30 shekels on something she doesn't believe in is worth the peer pressure.  It's going to bed later and later to stay up working on projects and networking and applications and communications and being completely okay with that.  It's getting over her own self-righteousness to save something that means a lot more for somebody else than her own sense of righteousness does to her.
All in all, has that now-eighteen year old gap year student changed?  Of course.  Does she know how she's changed?  No, but she's starting to get a clue.  However, it won't be in a final, teary good-bye ceremony that she realizes it.  It'll be in the small and simple yet significant moments.  All she has to do is look for them.

Yet Another Weekly Report

Sitting on Kathryn’s bed, in our pajamas, feet cold due to the air conditioner, a funny smell wafting in from the kitchen where Naomi is attempting to replicate Hollywok sauce, we are:

Discussing the events of the week.

Kitty: “Wow, I learned so much Hebrew today!  I can now talk about where I’m going, what I’m going to do, and what I had to eat for lunch, but only in the present tense.”

Rebekkah: “How interesting!  What did you think about the class with Neil Lazarus?  Hearing about all those different types of anti-Semitism was eye-opening.”
Kitty: “It really made me think about the political situation and how it relates to Jews worldwide and Israel.”

Rebekkah: “It’s much more complicated than that.”
Kitty: “What do you mean?  It’s just The Conflict.”

Rebekkah: “Let’s step away from rhetoric and look at the facts on the ground.  We know that there are many types of anti-Semitism.  We know how it relates to us and to Israel.”

Kitty: “We know it affects the Jews as well as the Palestinians.  And the best part, we now know how to combat anti-Semitism!”

Rebekkah: “And what about that Tanak class?  Talking about King David and that one guy…”

Kitty: “Yea, he cursed the king, but he was conniving and almost evil.”
Rebekkah: “Yea, what was that weird part about him begging for forgiveness with an entire army standing behind him?  That’s just not cool.”

Kitty: “What an interesting session that was.  What did you do that night?”

Rebekkah: “I went to a student concert with Dan R and Josh.  There were thousands and thousands of people there to see some of the biggest bands in Israel.  We even saw Hadag Nahash!”

Kitty: “I went to the Old City with some friends from Machon where we met an interesting rabbi and had a chance to visit the Kotel and see the festivities of all the people celebrating Yom Yerushalyim.”

Rebekkah: “I heard Jeffrey tried to find the folk-dancing, but it wasn’t actually happening so he had intellectual conversations with HUC students about the controversy of Yom Yerushalayim.”

Kitty: “How did you like your first visit to Yad v’Shem, the Holocaust museum and memorial, on Monday?”
Rebekkah: “The tour was a bit dry, but I loved the memorials.  They were all so interesting and emotional.”
Kitty: “Yea, I wish we had time to walk around the museum by ourselves.  I liked Jeff’s program after because it had been a long day of being bombarded with information and it was nice to be able to process thoughts.  How was your Hebrew class Tuesday morning?”

Rebekkah: “I love it, we’re all able to speak in past, present, and future tense, and we can demand things in Hebrew now.”

Kitty: “We learned how to say things belong to people.  HaMachshev HaNayedet sheli po.  That means, “My laptop computer is here.”

Rebekkah:  “What did you think of the movie we watched afterwards?”

Kitty:  “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is one of my absolute favorite movies.  I can say almost every line.”

Rebekkah: “And the Masa event we went to Tuesday night?  I found all those motivational speakers interesting, but I thought Prime Minister Benjamin Nentanyahu’s speech was thought-provoking.  He spoke about a lot of things like making Aliyah and the recent tragedy in Yemen.”

Kitty: “That was cool, but the dance performance afterwards was sensational!  I really liked the way it was all about how everyone is an individual and they all find their individuality through music and beats.”

Rebekkah: “The bagels we got that day were delicious. You even ordered yours entirely in Hebrew!”

Kitty: “Well after the class on How to Teach Hebrew on Wednesday, I’m practically fluent.”

Rebekkah: “I’m so proud of you!  What about Jemma’s program on secrets and sharing after that?  I thought it was a nice thing for all us to do.”

Kitty: “It really gave us a time to think about ourselves and how we would respond to things.  But Wednesday was so British!  Remember the High Tea theme night?  I loved your dress!”
Rebekkah: “Thank you!  The scones Alyson made were delicious, and hearing even the Brits put on posh accents and talk about weird British things was such a culture shock.”

Kitty: “I’m a bit disappointed about how that night ended up.  The protest we were going to was sure to help end racism against Ethiopian Jews.  I wish we could have found that.”

Rebekkah: “Me too, but the park we went to was pretty cool anyway.  We got really nice drinks at that café bookstore with our friends, remember?”

Kitty: “I’m so glad we walked so much around Jerusalem that night to work off all that sugar!  What did you get for breakfast?”

Rebekkah: “Tara and Alyson made me french toast and tea, but I couldn’t even wait for them to bring me a fork before I just ate it with my hands.”

Kitty: “Live Shnat!  I had scrambled eggs but they forgot to bring me my tea.  What else have you done today?”

Rebekkah: “I had a feedback session about Northern Tiyul-“

Kitty: “Oh my word, me too!”

Rebekkah: “And then I met with Michael about Closing Seminar Week and I made those massive signs organizing the Etgar Project.  Thanks for helping me with that.  We really make a great team!”

Kitty: “Sounds like everyone’s really enjoying their lunch.  You know, after this week I really hope that someday we can bring peace to the children of the future."

A Life Philosophy

One of the things I will miss the most about the Etgar flat is this chair.  Simple, comfy, and worn-in, it's the best place to sit.

I am going to miss Jerusalem.  From the Jerusalem stone to the Old City to Ben Yehuda to Taglit tourists to the ultra-religious to knowing all the bus lines and where to stand on the tram.

How can you tell me to clean the living room when you haven't cleaned up your activity that is still all over the floor of the living room?

Why are some people such good people?  Why can't there more of those people in my life?  The most selfless, caring people, and they all seem to skirt around the edges of my life.

I recognize your new shorts, you notice my new sweater, I mention your new shirt.  I know the lsat day you shaved your face.  I know the latest injury and how it's healing.  We've spoken about life and ideology and the future and the past and the present.  So why do I feel like I don't know you?

The last time you showered I was there, you showed me your last text, I know how you take your tea and your coffee.  I know the pattern of how you walk and exactly the way it clashes with mine, so much and so often that we don't even bother apologizing anymore.  So why are we going to say good-bye in just a few days?

The people here are so close and yet so unconnected in the most singular way.  We know such intimate details about our lives, and yet sometimes we feel like strangers.

If I can make the mental step to actively apply everything we learn to a different situation and context than the one we're being taught in to something relevant to me, then why can't you?

And why do you have to interrupt class time and insult the teacher to do it?

Last night every piece of clothing I own here was on my bed and it was too late and my roommates were already sleeping so I couldn't put them away, so I just slept on top of them and chose a few soft items to be my blanket.

The more I spend money on food, the more I do the two things I want to stop doing: spending unnecessary money and eating unnecessary food.

There are aspects of me that changed that I wish hadn't.

When I get up and go to bed, who will say good night to me?  Does it matter?  Why?

How is my hair possibly this soft?  And, on that note, did I really leave my hairbrush in the Golan Heights?

Somethings I wish I worked harder to change but didn't.

Why am I so uncomfortable in the comfy chair?

How can you be so nice to me one day but so mean the next?

How do you justify the extreme level of hypocrisy you are?

Why won't they share the Kraft Macaroni and Cheese?

Will I ever achieve the things I want to achieve?  Will I ever figure out exactly what it is that I want to achieve?  How?  When?  What if it's too late?

Some of the best conversations I've had leave me feeling unsatisfied after.  Some of the least satisfying conversations I've had were the best.

Sometimes you need to put on a movement top and go to a protest.  Sometimes you need to play on a playground.  Sometime you need to cry in your room because you have nothing to wear.  Sometimes you need to readjust your life based on one night.  Sometimes you need to order chocolate.  Sometimes you need to justify that chocolate by walking too fast.  Sometimes you need to put on somebody else's pajama pants and an old stained top and rub the make-up out from under your eyes.

All the time, you need to not care what people are judging about you during any of that.

Sometimes the money for the activity is not for the activity, but for the time you spend with the people you go with.

Every once in a while, your home is not your home and your room is not you room and your kitchen is not your kitchen.

When everything is going wrong, it's okay to let a friend fix it for you.

If you are unhappy in a situation, get yourself out of the situation or change it.

I had pizza, ice cream, scones (a lot), cucumber sandwiches, and a hot chocolate drink today.

When you're waiting for something to happen and it doesn't, it's okay to be disappointed, but it doesn't actually help anything.

When they say goodnight and you're absolutely right when you guessed who would say it and who wouldn't.  Is it a victory or is it just sad?

Going to sleep knowing you have to wake up tomorrow and deal with all of these aspects of life, and so many more new ones.  How is there enough time, energy, or support in the world to figure any of this out?  Are we meant to?  Can we just try and hope for the best?

That's the biggest struggle.  The biggest challenge.  Waking up with a smile on your face and jumping into these questions.  But somedays they don't matter, and somedays there are no questions.  It's all about how you choose to perceive life.

In the simplest context, glass half empty: lots and lots of questions; glass half full: no questions and a simple, happy life.  Walk into life with a glass half full perspective, and everything should be better.  The questions are still there, they never go away.  But they might matter less or be overshadowed by something better.

That, however, requires a good amount of sleep.  And in order to get that, I need to go to bed earlier than 2 am every so often.

In other news...

27 days left of Shnat.

My Recent Life in Israel

Yom Yerushalayim.
As controversial as it is, we never talked about it.  Every time it was brought up, someone declared it 'too controversial' and we left it.  Luckily for me, I have a space to write what I think and know about things.
I know that Jerusalem was captured and separated.
I know that Jews were denied access to some of our holiest places.
I know that the IDf recaptured Jerusalem and the entirety of the city was once again under Israeli authority.
I know that the line that determines where I am allowed to safely go, where the municipality lines lie, and where the wall was built are all different.
I know that there are parts of Jerusalem that I am not allowed to go.
I know that all areas in Jerusalem municipality pay taxes and are part of the city, even if they are outside the wall.
I know that one of my roommates had a rather strong view leaning towards the right side.
I know that one of my teachers had a rather strong view leaning towards the left side.
I think that, technically, Jerusalem is united and is one.
I think that the wall was necessary when it was built.
I don't know if it is necessary now, but I think that it is.
I think that, practically, Jerusalem is divided within itself.
I know that I wish I had more information and discussions about this, but I guess it's 'too controversial to be taught about.'

I know that right after asefah, Dan R, Josh, and I left and walked to the park with the concert.  We paid our hundred shek, and walked around avoiding tampon hand-outs.  We waved our drinks over our heads and sang as loudly as we could to Halleluyah.  As the three worst singers on Shnat, it was a beautiful moment.
The concert was deafening, hot, close-contact, energetic, and youthful, I guess.  A student party, technically, it was full of college kids and gap year students.  Jumping and cigarettes and empty Carslburg containers and Hebrew and English and (ugh) Australian accents.  Israelis either disliking or loving Hadag Nahash.  Tourists loving them.  Making friends in the crowd.  Everybody going crazy.

Josh on one side, Dan R on my other side, arms around each other.  Singing Shir l'maalot as loud as we can, our voices joining in with thousands and thousands of Jews.  Dan translating things that I don't really need translated for me.

We walk home and fall into our beds at 5:30am, just to wake up at 7:30am.  I took a handbag for once, packed a sleeve of Thin Mints for lunch, and then left for Yad v'Shem.  It was an experience, to be sure.  The main museum part, well, I don't really feel like I've been there.  If I can, I want to go back and visit more thoroughly soon.  The other memorials were really touching.
The one thing that struck me the most was the connection I felt.  Before, I knew that I had no family in the Holocaust.  It was hard for me to connect emotionally to the things I saw and heard.  But through all the time I've spent in Israel, I've discovered another link to the Jewish people, that of culture and heritage and community.  I think that has helped me and I could definitely tell when I was in Yad v'Shem how much of a connection I saw and felt.

Today at the Masa event, we heard from speakers who overcame some kind of adversity and rose to accomplish great things anyway.  Three sports stars, a woman whose son and husband died, and Natan Shironsky.  All very inspiring talks, if it weren't for the people on either side of me falling asleep on my shoulders.  Later we heard from Benjamin Netanyahu.  As exciting as it was, he didn't really say much.  He spoke about how we should all make Aliyah.  He spoke about the tragedy in Yemen.  He spoke about being a cutting-edge nation.  The only thing that really surprised me was when he mentioned 'Liberal Jews.'  It was nice to hear the leader of the nation recognize Reform Judaism and legitimize it in his speech.  We just wish he would legally legitimize it in action.

The performance afterwards was mind-blowingly amazing; technology and dance and music and media and just pure talent.  I was so impressed; it makes the Etgar boys rendition of Kids by MGMT sound amateur.

A short trip home, loud friend time, quite friend time, silent laptop time.  And now for some sleep.  I hear we have a class sometime tomorrow.

It is Ending

And I keep thinking about it.
What has happened?  A lot.  A lot has happened.  A lot of good and a lot of bad.
What could happen?  Again, a lot of good and a lot of bad.
Basically, there is what was.  That's done and can not be changed on an existential level.
However, there also is what will be.  And what will be has possibilities. And these possibilities are dependent on so many variants.  And of these variants, enough of them can be controlled or influences by us, that we can affectively control or influence the future.

So while what is done is done, there is also what is to come.  And of what is to come, we can change at least some.

Northern Tiyul: Everybody can be a Rosh of something

I wrote this up as the Weekly Report from Etgar, the italicized bits are new parts I added for this post.

Friday: Inidividual Peace and Spirituality
We started off a lovely tiyul with a stop at a cemetery, where we were all attacked by thousands upon thousands of bugs. We heard about writers and revolutionaries who changed and risked their lives to follow their dreams. We were then challenged to seek out our own passions and ideologies and act on them. Our next stop featured a strategic military spot, complete with graves and a Palmach memorial. We had an Opening Tekkes, led by the Tiyul Tzevet: Rebekkah, Naomi, Kitty, oh and Dan Aron. Then we were led into a cave on the mountain. We heard more stories about spiritual fulfillment and ways to achieve them, and were personally challenged to come up one word to describe ourselves. I know that for at least a few members of the group, this was very difficult. One by one we said our words and heard them echoing back to us again and again in the dark cave, and then sang Eli, Eli resoundingly.
From the Palmach hilltop, we left for the city of Tzfat. We walked around, viewed the beautiful color blue all over the city next to the bullet holes and walls missing chunks from missile attacks. We talked about history, and then informed EVERYONE in the city of Tzfat that were were NOT Taglit. We stepped inside an old shul were we saw such different things than we were used to, like a chair that supposedly gives anyone who sits in it good strong babies. After, we had some time off for pizzur, which involved some very stressful pizza decisions for a few of us. I'd like to formally apologize to Emily for being so wishy-washy about that. <3
We finally made it to the hostel we were staying at, and got to enjoy the view from outside the gate for quite a while before we were let in. Showers all around, and then Naomi led a Shabbat Preparatory Time, where we spilt up into groups to make place-mats for Shabbat dinner, the drash for Saturday's service, and Shabbat candle holders. Naomi and Tara led a Shabbat service that has us all pondering our own connection to each prayer and song, while we enjoyed the light of the candles held in our own specially-made candle holders. From there, we rushed over to dinner to partake in a hearty rendition of Shalom Aleichem, HaMotzi, and the Kiddush prayer, and then an even heartier dinner. We ended that night huddled around the bunsen burner for a cup a tea.There's something about Israelis that is just so hospitable. We were sitting around talking about how much we'd like a cup of tea, we even had the tea bags and sugar and cups, we just didn't have a burner. And the two Israelis sitting there next to us offered us theirs. They couldn't use it because they didn't want to light fire on Shabbat, but we could use it if we wanted.

Saturday: Group Spirituality
To start off our second theme, group spirituality, Kitty led a wonderful service, and then we all worked together to provide a Torah Service with improv Torah readings, Aliyot, Hagbah, and Glilah. I felt like anyone who looked in and watched would have been so confused as to what we were doing with the Torah.
Then Naomi had us all thinking about what Etgar is as a group, what our purpose is, and how we should interact with the outside world. We had a great discussion, and then it was time for lunch. After eating way too much food than we ever thought we could, we ventured outside the hostel walls to get our hearts pumping in an exciting game of Capture the Flag, supplemented by real Israelis and ogled at by a large family. A few injuries were had, but we're more or less all okay. It's not like I had a larger, more relevant, exciting game with more rules and tricks and fun. No, when I started explaining it, they didn't like the very first bit so without even being able to explain the rest I had to ditch the entire plan I made and do a regular game instead.
As it always is with us, there was more food, this time for Sueda Shlishit. We told stories about men from Tzfat and then gorged ourselves with all the best Israeli treats. Kitty then led a peula on how far would we take our own beliefs and what we would give for them. We ended by creating a piece of art representing both the sun and Netzer with our bodies (I keep reminding the people who took pictures to post them so I can send them out with this, but it's not looking too hopeful). After, we all got ourselves dolled up for an exciting night out; most of the girls asked make-up extraordinaire Dana to make us look beautiful, and we were not disappointed (Again, I hope the pictures will be up by the time I finish writing this). Later, we had a Havdallah service celebrating group support and love, and as an added plus we were joined by some Israelis and an army unit. In our time to kill, we took way too many pictures of ourselves, and then all got on the bus to Rosh Pina. Our lovely madrichim gave us pizzur money, and we were off. Some of us went to a nice restaurant were we ate to our heart's content, and others sought out chinese food. In the end, we were all exhausted from the sheer excitement of looking nice and being classy for a change.

Sunday: Communities within Israel
Sunday was an early morning, and we all almost froze to death (not really, we're an exaggerative bunch) on the top of the Palmach hilltop. We spoke for a long time about this different group and communities within Israel, specifically Tzfat. Most of us were surprised to hear the kinds of facts that we heard, but I'm sure each and every one of us took away something different. We went to the hospital, kind of, and learned about the kind of socio-economic issues that can be found in Tzfat and how it affects citizens there and all around, for example in the medical system. When I volunteered in MDA (Magen David Adom, the emergency medical service in Israel), the patients we had almost always requested the Tzfat hospital, so I was surprised to hear that the whole hospital is not looked upon so highly by most of society. From there we left for Rosh Pina, where we had lunch. I'm proud to say that Kitty and I found the best lunch for the cheapest price: Massive, delicious egg sandwiches, chips, salads, and a free drink, all for nineteen shekels! We for to enjoy our food, but were soon off to tour Rosh Pina itself, not just the mall area. We watched a 3-d film about the history and hiked up to the hilltop (there were SO many up-hills that day) to see the breath-taking view. After, we travelled to Kibbutz Machanayim for lunch and talked to a man who had lived there during war times and had some interesting stories to tell. After that program, we would all tell a story about a dog and a cat and the circle of life, but I'll leave you to ask your Shnattie about that one. Another drive, and then my roommates, Noa, and I ended up watching preteen kids cook for a few hours, and then bed.

Monday: Communities within Israel
We started off Monday with a nice service led by Emily, and then Tara's last-minute Druze program. She used all my tziod without even asking. All of it, and then left it all over the room and I was the only one who would clean it up.
We then proceeded to eat allllll the food before the movie started, but we enjoyed watching the Syrian Bride anyway, despite Noa having had given it away just beforehand. We left for yet another bus-ride-that-was-long-enough-to-sleep-but-not-long-enough-to-get-any-legit-rest and arrived at a lookout where we would see Syria right there. We had lunch, and then embarked on our first nature-y bit if the tiyul: the Ein Tina hike.
Dressed in swim suits and hats, we hiked up a waterfall. Plants and bugs tearing at our clothes, shoes slipping on the wet rocks, the hot sun beating down throughout the wet plantation surrounding us, we pushed ourselves to reach the top, and the pay off was amazing. At first, a beautiful waterfall. Little pools to play in and water to douse ourselves in, an amazing sight. Realizing the water was coming from a pipe was a bit of a kill joy, but with all of us laughing and splashing each other and having the time of our lives, it didn't matter so much. We took the path less travelled on the way down, at the bottom played around some more. Well, Dan A and Jeff probably had fun, but as the one they teamed up against to dunk in the water, I had colder, wetter fun. We had coffee, dried off, and changed, and then we back on the bus to head to our destination for that night. This was probably one of my top moments of Shnat. Standing on the top of that waterfall, the cool water falling all around us cooling us off, the sun beating down, the green leaves of the figs trees shading us. Looking out over the Hulu Valley, looking around at the wet faces of my friends, watching them laugh and splash each other and me, I couldn't stop smiling. Even when we got back down and the boys dunked me in the water, I was still laughing. It was all absolutely amazing.
Another great dinner, this time at the Han we were staying at, and then Kitty held a theme night that involved so much sugary foods, I though I was going to be sick.

Tuesday: Nature
As our nature day, we spent the majority of Tuesday wondering at Alyson's eye, which had swelled shut, and hiking. Swim suits, water bottles, lunches, and hats in tow, we set off. It was an amazing hike, with beautiful exotic flowers, bugs bigger than our heads, and an exciting Discovery Channel Live episode, where we got to watch frogs, crabs, and fish fight and eat in their natural environment while we had our lunch. We managed to get across to several groups that we weren't Taglit and collectively decided that the average walking pace of Israeli schoolchildren is much, much too slow. After a stop for a swim break in a spring, a stop for lunch, and stop for another swim and coffee break, we had to head back. The walk back was less exciting, but the excitement from the journey there lingered all the way back until dinner time at the Han. Naomi them held her theme night, which had us competing to take over the Netzer world, but I think the outcome was that one team kidnapped and overthrew the UN, and the Netzer Olami Bank was too happy with the gifts it was given.That night was so cold. My warm clothes disappeared and I had two phone calls to take care of outside. I walked all the way to the end of the campsite, past the screaming Israeli kids, and sat on a rock for a over a half an hour. When I got back, the tea had been made and drank (no one had cleaned up, of course), the food had been eaten, wrappers strewn everywhere, and my sleeping bad had been thrown somewhere, my pillow taken, and my mattress moved. I retrieved it all, had a hasty stealth conversation, tried to block out the sounds of the Brits talking, and went to sleep.

Wednesday: Peace over borders
Breakfast at the Han included the flimsiest and smallest bowls of cereal, but the hottest cups of coffee (I've got the burn marks on my hand to prove it). More frustratingly-short/long bus rides took us to three look out spots where we could see Syria and Lebanon. Guy and Dana led us in thinking about the wars that had occurred there and the outcomes of them, and we talked about how we felt about it all. A brief visit with Machon, whom we met up with at one look out, was exciting and we got to hear all about their tiyul. We shouldn't have worried, we won More Epic Tiyul once again. We had pizzur lunch at the Kiryat Shmona mall, where we found amazing frozen yogurt. Luckily, we were able to work it off with yet another hike, but this turned out to be a short walk cut even shorter by a mysterious closing down of the park that maybe had something to do with eucalyptus trees, we heard. Popsicles, cookies, and a bit of sikkum were had at one of those awkward that's-the-West-Bank-right-there-next-to-us places, and then back home. The arduous journey up to the flat, a delicious dinner by Alyson, and now the epic battle for laundry and showers.
By the end of Tiyul, I learned that my preferred seat on the bus is the very back, where not only is there more leg room, but you can see more outside of the bus. Except when we play The Zohan on the tv screen. Then, I'm in the very front row, Bisli in hand.

Reform Judaism FTW

Here I am, sitting in the offices that serve as a headquarters for the worldwide movement of Reform Judaism.  On a bean bag chair, drinking coffee, eating cookies.
And the Miri Gold case just won in Supreme Court.
What does this mean?
From what I've come to understand through various articles and information from other people, Miri Gold is a Reform rabbi, a woman.  She petitioned the Supreme Court of Israel to become the official spiritual leader of a congregation on Kibbutz Gezer, and won.
In my eyes, this is a huge step for Reform legitimization in Israel.  The Orthodox monopoly is no longer valid, if it ever was, and this provides a state-supported way for Jews to practice outside of Orthodoxy.  The way I see it, this is paving the way to equal rights within Judaism.
In my over-blown dramatic mind, I see this being in the hypothetical Reform textbooks of milestones in Reform Judaism.
But as I sit here, in the center of the Reform Judaism movement worldwide, no one else is as excited as me.  I'm not sure why, so maybe it's not as important as I think I is, but I guess we'll see.
So maybe in the future (a very long time in the future, mom and dad, don't worry), I'll have a state-recognized Reform wedding, kids who grow up with equal rights as Reform Jews, and the same benefits and support as any Orthodox Jew.
But in the meantime, I'll enjoy my bean bag, coffee, and cookies, and continue to be a Reform Jew in Jerusalem.

Lag B'Omer

Walking through the streets of Jerusalem, fingers blackened from handling the charred coals of the bonfire we just extinguished.  Dressed in our shnattiest sweats, we convince ourselves to leave the flat and head to Gan HaAtzmaut, with one small detour.  A cold night, but we are armed with blankets and goodies.  Girl talk ensues, and we regale each other with stories of our past and present lives.  When more people arrive, the talks turn more trivial and fun.  A game here, a song there.  Fireworks, chocolate, spills, giggles, promises, leggings, and secrets.  An emotional walk home, hindered by the amount of smoke in the air covering all of Jerusalem.  And now for bed time.

Expectations vs. Reality

Some questions to ponder:
When is it okay to expect something?
When is it better to enter a situation with a completely open mind?
Why do people have expectations?
Do expectations always have to come from an outside source?
If not, where do they come from?
Whose responsibility are expectations?
Should we curb our own expectations?
If our expectations came to us from a reliable source and we are disappointed, whose fault is it?
Is it better to be let down and be forced into an open yet critical mind?

All these situations keep occurring or not occurring, and I've been wondering how my expectations of how they would happen have affected my perspective of them.

If I know how something will turn out, will it be better?
If I'm let down, then is being critical better?
If I go in with an open mind and not expect anything, will I achieve anything?

The balance between expecting the right things, expecting the wrong things, and not expecting anything is a very delicate triangle.  I think that for every situation or person, the right answer lies on a different point in that plane, but that it's impossible to know exactly where it lies until after the situation occurs.

Did you begin to read this expecting a boring account of the goings-on of the flat?  Did you expect a barely comprehendible philosophical pondering?  How has that affected the way you read this?
If you're disappointed, then has that given you a more negative view of this than you would have had without that expectation?  If you're pleasantly surprised, then is it better?

Practically, how can we prepare ourselves for these situations?
We can't, really.
Logically, we have to look at every situation and try to find the right balance, and then hope we're right (or wrong, depending on where you placed it on that scale).

There's expectations and there's life.  And to be perfectly honest, neither of them are that reliable anyway.

Reform Zionist Community?

Basically, we live in a co-ed frat.

- We never attend Shabbat services.  Only twice in 4 months have we taken the effort to do something as a group.

- We very blatantly do not keep Kosher, going so far as to put ham and cheese together in the meat fridge

- We only say a blessing over meals every once in a while, and even then we almost always say the wrong one

- Only a very small minority of us actually consider ourselves Reform Jews

- We refuse to agree, or even discuss, Zionism, on the basis that everyone is allowed to have their own definition

- Netzer has a definition that excludes over half of the Shnatties on the basis that not every single one of us will make Aliyah

- We defend the fact that we waste paper in extreme excess by saying that we'll recycle it, which defeats the purpose of 'reduce, reuse, recycle' 

- We waste food every single day

- We blatantly ignore the rules of the place we live, coming up with clever ways to get around certain rules and sneak people and things in

- As 'inclusive' as we say we are, all beliefs end up excluding someone of the group

- There was just a suggestion to buy and bring in a forbidden item to the flat with the communal budget.  A few people aren't going to participate, so the decision to buy with the communal budget was shot down, but it's still being brought in

We take classes on the history of Judaism and Reform Judaism and Hebrew and one small aspect of Hadracha.  And I'm thankful for those opportunities.

But when it comes to a 'Reform Zionist community,' we're more of a co-ed frat.

DISCLAIMER: Not every single person takes part in every single act.  Not everybody can be blamed for everything, and maybe there are people who abstain from everything.  But this is what the community allows as a whole.

Countdown

I had a countdown before Shnat,
Countless countdowns during Shnat,
And now I'm starting my countdown until the end of Shnat.
A bittersweet event.

As of right now, there are
46
days left on Shnat.

(Depending on the time of day, I'll add or subtract a day.  It's early right now, so I included today)

I don't know how I feel about this.
On one hand, I am really going to miss everybody.  Waking up in the morning and falling down the ladder, tripping on something on our floor.  Stumbling half blind through the hallway, passing Dan A working something out on the guitar.  Transforming myself from the messy-haired, eyeliner smeared balagon that I was when I woke up to something presentable to the world in the bathroom.  Feet getting dirtier and even more gross from stepping in the muddy puddles left from last night's showers.  Cold air from the broken window blowing in on my face and shoulders.  The house is still quiet when I move into the kitchen and get upset at the lack of mugs.  I go find myself one somewhere in the house and wash it.  I flick the switch that starts the water boiling.  A spoonful of coffee, a spoon or two or three of sugar.  By now my contacts have settled, but my mind is still a little groggy, so I make my way back to my room, slipping on something or bumping into a wall.  In my room, I put on outfit after outfit.  To my roommates disgust, I usually go through four or five shirts before deciding.  On my way back to the kitchen where the water should be done boiling, I can detect more stirrings of people.  Jake on his laptop, searching for a shirt.  Josh looking confused and headachey.  Dan Aron has traded in the guitar for a bowl of cereal.  I retrieve my coffee, and by the time I've gotten make to my room, the roommates are up.  Crabby and loud, they are either raving about clothes or angrily persuading each other to get out of bed.  I grab the things I'll need for the day, maybe change my shirt again, and head out into the living room.  By now I usually have enough time to check facebook, e-mail, and the like.  After celebrating the Giants' recent win or, very rarely, lamenting their loss, it's usually time for class.
The part of the day when I get to class on time and awkwardly sit there alone with the teacher for a half an hour before anyone else actually arrives to class is something I won't miss.

It will be things like not seeing Emily and the hallway and giving her a big kiss on the cheek. Not tapping Jake's glasses or playing the 'made you look game' with him.  When I want a cup of tea, I won't get to ask Kitty to make me some in Afrikaans.  Dan Aron won't fight me to see who's stronger (I usually win) and I won't hear a constant tapping noise followed by someone yelling 'Daniel Aron!'

When I wake up here, I know I am in a place of extreme significance.  I know that I will sit in a class and be able to see the walls of the Old City through the window.  I know I'll learn something that will challenge or change the way I think.  I'll make memories in a place I'll never forget with people I'll never forget.

One the other hand, I think I might be looking forward to going home.  There are people I miss and things I want to do.   Foods I want to eat and several good night's of sleep to be had.  As much as I want to be here, taking advantage of opportunities and adventures here, there is a few years of experiences at home that I am about to embark on.  My own bed, my big closet, all the clothes I left behind, my sister's sleep talking, my mom's cooking, some Bones episodes.  Not having to live out of a suitcase or turn down my music because of a fragile relationship with the place I live in.  Being able to clean my feet.  An actual day off with things to do.  My cat, and yes, even that dog.  My car, my own car that I can drive anywhere I want to go and bring things along without having to stuff them into someone else's bag.  Being able to make reliable plans with reliable people.

I'll get to see New York and a Giants' game.  I'll start college and take classes and meet new people and be exposed to more than the same twenty personalities.  I'll learn things from a wider perspective with people who show up to class on time.  I'll live in a different setting and learn in different types of classes.  I'll buy different snack food and takes buses from a different company.


I don't know how I feel about leaving.  I want to go home and see everything and have those experiences for a while.  But I want to stay here.  I want Shnat to come to graceful end and although I know I'll miss the program, I know it's coming to a close.  But I don't want to get on that plane.  I don't want to leave.  I want to stay.  I don't want to see English everywhere.  I want to order a falafel in Hebrew.  Instead of teenagers in high heels and bleached blonde hair, I'd rather see teenagers in IDF uniforms and sixty year old women in high heels and bleached blonde hair.  'Am Yisrael Chai' spray painted on every other wall and the Nachman chant on every wall twice.  Taglit and movement chultzot around every corner, giving those of us with American accents better discounts.  Taxi drivers who overcharge for American accents.  The Shabbat siren, after which cars start to drive a bit faster in their race to arrive at their destination before Shabbat does.  The bagel men, who never fail to give compliments.  The Old City, with all her secrets and wonders.

Forty-six more days.  Twenty-four days of classes.  Seven days of tiyul.  Ten days of weekends.  Five days of Sikkum Seminar.
And that's it.
A few plane rides home, and then I'm gone.

We went to the beach yesterday.  We went to this museum and learned about the Palmach; it was amazing.  But after, we went to the beach in Tel Aviv.  I stood in the waves, the water level at my waist.  The tide was coming in, but we didn't notice it.  We swam and joked and laughed at played without realizing.  Whether or not we knew wouldn't have made such a difference, but we were completely oblivious.  At one point, I turned around and there was a monster wave coming.  Larger than all others that had proceeded it, it grew and grew as it crept up towards us.  I had time to panic but not enough to try to reach shallower ground.  A feeling of dread increased until the wave was looming over my head.  I watched as it crashed down on me, helpless to do anything.  Cold enveloped me, and I was paralyzed for a moment.  And as the wave moved on, I was left standing there, wet and shivering from the wave's lasting effects.

When I started thinking about Shnat ending, I thought it was a lot like that wave.  We have fun playing and laughing, and then suddenly the end comes, and we're left there wondering what to do with the after effects.  But maybe the wave is Shnat in it's entirety.  There we are, living our lives, and then suddenly we pack up and have this great adventure, and then it's over.  And we go home wondering what to do with it.

What to do with life.  What to do with school.  With our communities.  With Israel.  With Judaism.

And maybe we're the wave, encountering obstacles but growing with each moment, building and building, reaching the peak of ourselves and our lives, and then we break.  And we fade out and are lost to the mass.

So how do we leave that lasting affect?  What can we do to make sure someone, something remembers us?  The obstacles, how far we reach on the shore, the things we move and take with us can all tell the story, but who's to say any of us are more than a passing wave, significant enough to move the sand under your feet but subtle enough to blend in with the breeze?  Subject to the forces of time, gravity, physics, and the relations of every other wave, we are only what we can change.  The sand, rocks, the mood of a person we encounter, the beach.  And it's all just a countdown until we crash and fade into the sea.



See?  This is what happens when I have to get up early for no reason.
On that depressing note, I am off to have my own lonely Shabbat adventure.