Here I am, back in New Jersey, though still getting oriented to being home. My last day in Tel Aviv was really nice, with a swim in the Mediterranean (warm as a bath!), lots of walking around, and a nice time with a colleague from school shopping and visiting a museum. My flight back was long but relatively comfortable, as I scored an exit row seat. It was great (really better than great--amazing and wonderful) to see Miri, Elie, and Matthew, and I have also been very happy to be returned to my comfortable home and the everyday luxuries I take for granted--good, hot coffee, a clothes dryer, etc.
I have really enjoyed keeping this online journal and have been happy to hear from many of you. The act of recording, even if only a small fraction of my experiences, has given me a perspective I think I would have otherwise missed. I'm kind of sad to be leaving the blog behind--it's been a rare treat to have time to reflect on my life in something almost like "real time." But I am also relieved to be off the hook for the responsibility (self-imposed but still quite compelling) of keeping up with the posting. I hope that I will be able to keep writing regularly this year and that the gift of keeping a regular journal will be only one of the many things I take forward from my experiences in Israel as I return to "real life."
I return to work on Monday and anticipate a busy rest of the summer, but I hope you will be in touch--wishing you peace and happiness . . .
Friday, July 25, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Shabbat, the end of Pardes, and now Tel Aviv
Though only three days have passed since my last post, it feels like much longer. I had a very nice Shabbat, which began with a lovely Friday evening service and then a really nice Shabbat dinner at the home of friends. Shabbat morning another friend and I went to a Reform synagogue in San Simon, about a half hour walk from my neighborhood. Even at 9 am, it was very, very hot. The reason we went there was that Cantor Beth Weiner, who was an important teacher to me quite a few years back, is the cantor and director of the congregation.
It was an amazing feeling to cross the park near the shul and come upon the building and hear, through its open windows, Beth chanting the shacharit service. She sounded just as she did all those years ago in Baltimore, yet here I was in Jerusalem. The service was beautiful, and I was called up for an aliyah, at which point Beth introduced me and explained who I was--in Hebrew. And I understood! It was a great feeling. Beth was my teacher fifteen years ago, when I was just beginning to learn about Judaism in a serious way as an adult. She taught me to read Torah and Haftarah and officiated at Eliana's naming.
There's a lot to share about being at her shul--too much to try to write here, but the most striking moment for me was hearing the sh'ma during the amidah. The sh'ma is one of the centra--if not the centra--Jewish prayers. When I first started attending Shabbat services as an adult, it was pretty much the only part of the liturgy I really knew. It is recited out loud at three points in the Shabbat service, and I used to wait for those times, because I knew that at least then I would be able to pray with the rest of the congregation, because I knew the words.
It's traditional to close your eyes during the sh'ma, which I usually do. Because it is the part of the liturgy that almost every Jew knows by heart, it tends to be a moment in public prayer when the voice of the congregation swells, and listening to an entire congregation chant it with my eyes closed, I am often quite moved. My good friend Johann once told me that the way to see G-d is in the faces of other people, and though I'm not at all sure what I think about G-d, I often feel that the closest access I have to the divine is in the voices of a congregation chanting together, particularly as I stand with my eyes closed and hear us all sing the sh'ma. It was a wonderful moment to hear it in Jerusalem, in a service led by Beth, having come so very far, both literally and figuratively.
I can now follow just about any Jewish prayer service, and in Israel, I've often prayed with a siddur (prayer book) entirely in Hebrew with no translation. I have come such a long way in the years since I had to wait for the sh'ma since it was all I knew. But chanting the sh'ma at Beth's shul, I felt not only amazement and a sense of satisfaction, even awe, at where I've ended up, I also felt keenly aware of how little I really know. Hebrew language and Talmud study are just beginning to open up to me. These three weeks of study have been intensely rewarding, but they also remind me that I could study all day, every day, for the rest of my life, and there would still be so very much left to learn. Still, I could not have imagined, sitting at Beth Am in my mid-twenties, that I would be praying with Beth in Jerusalem one day. That I cannot imagine today what awaits me twenty years from now, what surprises and opportunities will (G-d willing) present themselves, is a mystery and a blessing.
I was able to speak to Beth for a while, and then I headed back with my friend for lunch at her house, which was very, very nice. Then I had a nap and after Shabbat a bite to eat and start on packing. Sunday was my last full day of classes, and then I had a farewell dinner with friends. I got home right around 10:30, just as the person who rented me the apartment arrived home. We had talked on the phone a lot and emailed quite a bit, but this was our first actual meeting. She had been away on a professional development course, and we overlapped in the apartment for 12 hours. It was odd to be all packed up and have her arrive and begin unpacking, but it was fascinating to talk with her, if only for an hour or two, and hear about her experiences living in Israel for the past eight years. I went to Pardes for my last Talmud class this morning, and then we had a farewell lunch. It was really nice, though a bit too much like the last day of camp or school for me, with just a little too much hugging and picture taking.
Still, I was genuinely sad to say goodbye to my friends and my teachers, particularly my Talmud teacher, who was just phenomenal. My chevruta and I are going to continue to learn together, though (she lives in NYC), and our teacher has offered to help us with study sheets and email support, so it wasn't as sad a goodbye as it would have otherwise been. I left Pardes, picked up my bags, and shared a car service with another friend to Tel Aviv. I arrived a little after five, and I am staying at a hotel that is a converted movie theater. It's pretty cool. Once I settled in I went out to grab dinner and take a walk, and already I can see how different Tel Aviv is from Jerusalem. It feels much, much more modern and hip and much, much less religious. The energy is completely different, and so far I've heard much less English than I did in my area of Jerusalem. I had great sushi at a very trendy restaurant, and if you hadn't heard the Hebrew, you would have thought you were in New York, with the hostess taking names and sharply dressed young people waiting for tables at the bar. I didn't see any men with beards and only a few with kippot, and there are tattoos, trendy haircuts, and modern shops everywhere. You might think it was a different country from Jerusalem, though a brief foray into traffic reminded me that Israel--at least when it comes to the level of aggression and noise of its drivers--is Israel, whether Jerusalem or Tel Aviv.
I am going to the beach tomorrow morning--I am excited to see the Mediterranean for the first time--and then I am meeting a colleague from school for shopping and a museum trip. It is, as I was promised, at least as hot here as it was in Jerusalem, and far more humid, so I'm guessing an hour at the beach will be quite enough. I'm looking forward to seeing more of the city tomorrow, particularly the architecture, for which it is famous. I will try to get some photos. Tomorrow is my last day here, and I fly home Wednesday, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to even post here before I leave. I hope to have the chance to share some final ideas about the trip at some point, though. In the meantime, I hope all of you at home are well and having a great summer!
It was an amazing feeling to cross the park near the shul and come upon the building and hear, through its open windows, Beth chanting the shacharit service. She sounded just as she did all those years ago in Baltimore, yet here I was in Jerusalem. The service was beautiful, and I was called up for an aliyah, at which point Beth introduced me and explained who I was--in Hebrew. And I understood! It was a great feeling. Beth was my teacher fifteen years ago, when I was just beginning to learn about Judaism in a serious way as an adult. She taught me to read Torah and Haftarah and officiated at Eliana's naming.
There's a lot to share about being at her shul--too much to try to write here, but the most striking moment for me was hearing the sh'ma during the amidah. The sh'ma is one of the centra--if not the centra--Jewish prayers. When I first started attending Shabbat services as an adult, it was pretty much the only part of the liturgy I really knew. It is recited out loud at three points in the Shabbat service, and I used to wait for those times, because I knew that at least then I would be able to pray with the rest of the congregation, because I knew the words.
It's traditional to close your eyes during the sh'ma, which I usually do. Because it is the part of the liturgy that almost every Jew knows by heart, it tends to be a moment in public prayer when the voice of the congregation swells, and listening to an entire congregation chant it with my eyes closed, I am often quite moved. My good friend Johann once told me that the way to see G-d is in the faces of other people, and though I'm not at all sure what I think about G-d, I often feel that the closest access I have to the divine is in the voices of a congregation chanting together, particularly as I stand with my eyes closed and hear us all sing the sh'ma. It was a wonderful moment to hear it in Jerusalem, in a service led by Beth, having come so very far, both literally and figuratively.
I can now follow just about any Jewish prayer service, and in Israel, I've often prayed with a siddur (prayer book) entirely in Hebrew with no translation. I have come such a long way in the years since I had to wait for the sh'ma since it was all I knew. But chanting the sh'ma at Beth's shul, I felt not only amazement and a sense of satisfaction, even awe, at where I've ended up, I also felt keenly aware of how little I really know. Hebrew language and Talmud study are just beginning to open up to me. These three weeks of study have been intensely rewarding, but they also remind me that I could study all day, every day, for the rest of my life, and there would still be so very much left to learn. Still, I could not have imagined, sitting at Beth Am in my mid-twenties, that I would be praying with Beth in Jerusalem one day. That I cannot imagine today what awaits me twenty years from now, what surprises and opportunities will (G-d willing) present themselves, is a mystery and a blessing.
I was able to speak to Beth for a while, and then I headed back with my friend for lunch at her house, which was very, very nice. Then I had a nap and after Shabbat a bite to eat and start on packing. Sunday was my last full day of classes, and then I had a farewell dinner with friends. I got home right around 10:30, just as the person who rented me the apartment arrived home. We had talked on the phone a lot and emailed quite a bit, but this was our first actual meeting. She had been away on a professional development course, and we overlapped in the apartment for 12 hours. It was odd to be all packed up and have her arrive and begin unpacking, but it was fascinating to talk with her, if only for an hour or two, and hear about her experiences living in Israel for the past eight years. I went to Pardes for my last Talmud class this morning, and then we had a farewell lunch. It was really nice, though a bit too much like the last day of camp or school for me, with just a little too much hugging and picture taking.
Still, I was genuinely sad to say goodbye to my friends and my teachers, particularly my Talmud teacher, who was just phenomenal. My chevruta and I are going to continue to learn together, though (she lives in NYC), and our teacher has offered to help us with study sheets and email support, so it wasn't as sad a goodbye as it would have otherwise been. I left Pardes, picked up my bags, and shared a car service with another friend to Tel Aviv. I arrived a little after five, and I am staying at a hotel that is a converted movie theater. It's pretty cool. Once I settled in I went out to grab dinner and take a walk, and already I can see how different Tel Aviv is from Jerusalem. It feels much, much more modern and hip and much, much less religious. The energy is completely different, and so far I've heard much less English than I did in my area of Jerusalem. I had great sushi at a very trendy restaurant, and if you hadn't heard the Hebrew, you would have thought you were in New York, with the hostess taking names and sharply dressed young people waiting for tables at the bar. I didn't see any men with beards and only a few with kippot, and there are tattoos, trendy haircuts, and modern shops everywhere. You might think it was a different country from Jerusalem, though a brief foray into traffic reminded me that Israel--at least when it comes to the level of aggression and noise of its drivers--is Israel, whether Jerusalem or Tel Aviv.
I am going to the beach tomorrow morning--I am excited to see the Mediterranean for the first time--and then I am meeting a colleague from school for shopping and a museum trip. It is, as I was promised, at least as hot here as it was in Jerusalem, and far more humid, so I'm guessing an hour at the beach will be quite enough. I'm looking forward to seeing more of the city tomorrow, particularly the architecture, for which it is famous. I will try to get some photos. Tomorrow is my last day here, and I fly home Wednesday, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to even post here before I leave. I hope to have the chance to share some final ideas about the trip at some point, though. In the meantime, I hope all of you at home are well and having a great summer!
Friday, July 18, 2008
The End is Getting Near
As the end of my time here approaches, things are speeding up--it feels like this last week is flying by. I've been busy with classes and friends and feel like I don't have a minute to spare. This morning I went back to the old city to pick up my jewelery at Hadaya--it turned out beautifully! While I was there, I snapped a few pictures. Below are photos of the jewelry store, other shots of the Old City, and finally a view of the city walls from right outside the Jaffa Gate:
Once we had picked up the jewelry, I walked through the Old City and up Jaffa to the main shopping area near Ben Yehuda. I had brunch in a cafe/bookstore and read for a while, then I windowshopped and eventually made my way to Machane Yehuda and the shuk. I felt like quite the Israeli wannabe doing all my shopping on Friday; the shuk, of course, was packed. I bought enough rugelach for an army, as I am invited out for every meal this Shabbat--nice for me! Each of my hosts will get desert, and I also got some rugelach for the neighbors who have been so kind to me. I ran into several of my classmates on my travels, ending with some aquaintences with whom I shared a cab back home. Jerusalem does feel like a small world now--it seems everywhere I go I see people I know or who know people I know. If the rest of the world has 6 degrees of separation, I think Jews have 2.
I dropped the rugelach at my neighbors'--they were happily surprised--and then returned home to clean up and get ready for Shabbat. I'm now going to have a nap and a shower and then off to kabbalat Shabbat services, dinner at friends', and then another round of shul and meals tomorrow. Not a bad life! Though I am missing home more and more each day and can't wait to speak to Elie, who returns from camp today.
I dropped the rugelach at my neighbors'--they were happily surprised--and then returned home to clean up and get ready for Shabbat. I'm now going to have a nap and a shower and then off to kabbalat Shabbat services, dinner at friends', and then another round of shul and meals tomorrow. Not a bad life! Though I am missing home more and more each day and can't wait to speak to Elie, who returns from camp today.
At some point I hope to have time to share my impressions of the synagogues where I've prayed here--though I am worried that this blog may suffer in the next few days as I get packed up, head to Tel Aviv on Monday and then fly home Wednesday. In any case, I'll look forward to sharing more when I see you all soon. Love and Shabbat shalom from Jerusalem.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
A Great Night
Is it Wednesday already? I'm not sure where the first half of the week went! Things seem to be moving quickly now that I'm only a week from the end of my stay. Last night was a really great night. Tuesday is my "early" day--I'm done with school at 4. I went home to do email and relax for a bit, and then two of my friends from school came over and we took a taxi to the Israel Museum, which is holding its annual wine fest this week. For 55 shekels (about $18), we got tickets that included admission to the museum and the wine fest.
The museum houses the Shrine of the Book--which includes the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Isaiah Scroll, and the Aleppo Codex. I'm guessing some of you know what these are and some don't, but I won't elaborate on the specifics here--see the link to the side for more info. In a nutshell, these are a variety of textual artifacts that are between 2,500 and 1,000 years old that either remain canonical Jewish texts (the Bible) or are parallel traditions that didn't make it into the canon but reflect what life looked like for Jews of the past. As you know, I love the books, so this was truly a shrine to me--it was absolutely amazing to see these manuscripts. They look so very much like the Torah scrolls we read today, and if you ever had any doubt that Judaism is a living tradition, seeing texts that have remained central and are preserved in exactly the same way for 2,000 years will surely make the point clearly. One of the teachers in my school is a Soferet, or scribe. She writes sacred texts today, in New Jersey, using the exact same words, lettering, and procedures that people used two millenia ago.
One of the women I was with made an amazing point. She said that for her, seeing the scrolls and the codex was more meaningful than visiting the Kotel, and as soon as she said it, I realized I felt the same way. I get why the remains of the Temple have meaning for us as Jews, and it certainly doesn't have to be an either/or situation, but if you are going to compare the Temple building versus our sacred texts in terms of importance, I'll take text any day.
The museum also includes a scale model of the 2nd Temple and Jerusalem, which was fascinating, though I couldn't help being reminded of Christmas-time train displays (which gave me an irreverent giggle)--I think that's just what scale models tend to be associated with for me. By the time we finished looking at the museum, it was after 8 pm, and it was absolutely beautiful. I felt terrible that I hadn't brought my camera--the evening, the view, all of it was spectacular. We went into the sculpture garden and were given wine glasses and then started walking around to the many wineries' stands. At each we were offered a small sample of whatever we wanted to try. I usually only like white wine, so I stuck with Sauvignon Blancs and the like, though I did try a few roses. Israeli wine seems to run to the sweet, and I had a few muscats that actually tasted like kool-aid, but for the most part, the wines were good. I thought of my father, who is very much a "wine guy"--I think he would have really enjoyed it. Though each sample was only an ounce or so, it does add up after a while, so by 10 we were ready to move along. We ended up back on Emek Refaim at a great restaurant called La Boca, where I had an amazing red snapper dish. I got home after 11 and fell into bed. It really was a perfect evening--great company, food, wine, and the wonderful museum exhibits. I was pretty tired this morning but it felt completely worth it.
We've been talking a lot here lately about observance, movements in Judaism, women's issues and the place of women in our tradition, and what brings us together and separates us as Jews. It gets pretty intense at times. My Talmud teacher argues that in the end, it is text that brings us together, and that learning text is a bridge to the tradition and to one another. She believes that whatever our commitments and observance, if we take the text seriously together, we're able to have a conversation. I'm not sure that this view is completely true--I think I could be the most learned scholar in the world and there would still be Orthodox men who would deny my right to discuss text with them. But I do think that this endeavor--both the microcosm of my three weeks engaged in study here as well as the macrocosm of Jewish education and commitment to text in general--are the key to our continuity and evolution as a people. It was an amazing experience to see scrolls and books made by people who lived so long ago and so differently from me but who are in every sense still my closest family. The fact that I can sit in the Beit Midrash (study hall), open up a Talmud, and actually converse with some of these old family members is an even more precious gift.
The museum houses the Shrine of the Book--which includes the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Isaiah Scroll, and the Aleppo Codex. I'm guessing some of you know what these are and some don't, but I won't elaborate on the specifics here--see the link to the side for more info. In a nutshell, these are a variety of textual artifacts that are between 2,500 and 1,000 years old that either remain canonical Jewish texts (the Bible) or are parallel traditions that didn't make it into the canon but reflect what life looked like for Jews of the past. As you know, I love the books, so this was truly a shrine to me--it was absolutely amazing to see these manuscripts. They look so very much like the Torah scrolls we read today, and if you ever had any doubt that Judaism is a living tradition, seeing texts that have remained central and are preserved in exactly the same way for 2,000 years will surely make the point clearly. One of the teachers in my school is a Soferet, or scribe. She writes sacred texts today, in New Jersey, using the exact same words, lettering, and procedures that people used two millenia ago.
One of the women I was with made an amazing point. She said that for her, seeing the scrolls and the codex was more meaningful than visiting the Kotel, and as soon as she said it, I realized I felt the same way. I get why the remains of the Temple have meaning for us as Jews, and it certainly doesn't have to be an either/or situation, but if you are going to compare the Temple building versus our sacred texts in terms of importance, I'll take text any day.
The museum also includes a scale model of the 2nd Temple and Jerusalem, which was fascinating, though I couldn't help being reminded of Christmas-time train displays (which gave me an irreverent giggle)--I think that's just what scale models tend to be associated with for me. By the time we finished looking at the museum, it was after 8 pm, and it was absolutely beautiful. I felt terrible that I hadn't brought my camera--the evening, the view, all of it was spectacular. We went into the sculpture garden and were given wine glasses and then started walking around to the many wineries' stands. At each we were offered a small sample of whatever we wanted to try. I usually only like white wine, so I stuck with Sauvignon Blancs and the like, though I did try a few roses. Israeli wine seems to run to the sweet, and I had a few muscats that actually tasted like kool-aid, but for the most part, the wines were good. I thought of my father, who is very much a "wine guy"--I think he would have really enjoyed it. Though each sample was only an ounce or so, it does add up after a while, so by 10 we were ready to move along. We ended up back on Emek Refaim at a great restaurant called La Boca, where I had an amazing red snapper dish. I got home after 11 and fell into bed. It really was a perfect evening--great company, food, wine, and the wonderful museum exhibits. I was pretty tired this morning but it felt completely worth it.
We've been talking a lot here lately about observance, movements in Judaism, women's issues and the place of women in our tradition, and what brings us together and separates us as Jews. It gets pretty intense at times. My Talmud teacher argues that in the end, it is text that brings us together, and that learning text is a bridge to the tradition and to one another. She believes that whatever our commitments and observance, if we take the text seriously together, we're able to have a conversation. I'm not sure that this view is completely true--I think I could be the most learned scholar in the world and there would still be Orthodox men who would deny my right to discuss text with them. But I do think that this endeavor--both the microcosm of my three weeks engaged in study here as well as the macrocosm of Jewish education and commitment to text in general--are the key to our continuity and evolution as a people. It was an amazing experience to see scrolls and books made by people who lived so long ago and so differently from me but who are in every sense still my closest family. The fact that I can sit in the Beit Midrash (study hall), open up a Talmud, and actually converse with some of these old family members is an even more precious gift.
Monday, July 14, 2008
interesting link on my previous post
For an interesting take on dati vs. lo dati from the first native Israeli Conservative rabbi:
http://www.ajn.com.au/news/news.asp?pgID=598
http://www.ajn.com.au/news/news.asp?pgID=598
Dati or lo dati?
Not much is new with me today, so rather than narrate, I'll use this post to share some of my impressions of Israel--or more precisely, Jerusalem, and attitudes towards Judaism and Jewish practice. I had always been told about how the Orthodox right controls religious life in Israel--it's sort of an accepted fact, and though it seems like a bad idea in principle (particularyto one raised with the American religious/state separation--though the reality vs. ideal in our own country is another whole story), I honestly didn't ever think that much about it.
It doesn't take long here, though, for it to sink in that the implications are vast. On a practical level, you can't take a bus in Jerusalem on Shabbat. You can't buy milk, at least not easily--there are a few quickmart type places, but they're few and far between. The streets are virtually deserted except for people heading to or from shul. Really. Everything is closed. There are lots of other practical implications, but one of the most interesting to me is that no one here really seems to know what to make of non-Orthodox Judaism. In Israel, when people try to locate a person on their religious map, they ask one question--dati or lo dati? Religious or not religious? It's as if the map has two hemispheres, divided by an equator that is a solid black line, and you are either in one hemisphere or the other--that's it.
In one hemisphere is kashrut (keeping kosher), Shabbat observance, the mechitza (the wall that separates men and women when they pray) and gender segregation, Torah values, etc. In the other hemisphere is driving on Shabbat, bacon, and married women who don't cover their hair.
And so the Jews who take tradition and mitzvot seriously--keep kosher, go to synagogue, observe Shabbat (though perhaps not in the most traditional forms) but also have egalitarian religious services and women who wear pants and more integration of contemporary culture and women rabbis, if you can even imagine--well, there's no place on the map for them. Literally, no man's (or woman's?) land. The question dati or lo dati doesn't even admit the possibility that such Jews exist. Even though we do, of course.
Do I sound a little angry? I am. But I'm not really alone. A lot of Israelis are angry, too. At a chief rabbinate that seems at best out of touch with people's lives and at worst down-right sadistic and at a culture that denies people the right to express their religious commitments with any kind of public sanction. The (Orthodox) chief rabbinate here controls who can marry, divorce, convert, and get public funding for schools and synagogues. That's no small amount of power. What's heartening to me is that there are real rumblings against the system, and not just from secular Israelis. Orthodox people are starting to complain. And there are now a good strong handful of non-Orthodox congregations here. Though most were founded by expatriates, there are now many with large native Israeli contingents. On both Shabbat mornings that I have spent at my neighborhood Reform congregation there were b'nai mitzvah ceremonies. At one, the parents were clearly not Israeli-born, though they spoke excellent Hebrew and their son, the bar mitzvah, was born here. At the other, the bat mitzvah and her whole familiy were Israelis. At both, the kids read Torah and haftarah, gave d'vrei Torah (in Hebrew), and accepted the mantle of adult Jewish responsibility. In a congregation of men and women, praying together, committed to a liberal, egalitarian, committed Judaism.
I understand, too, that there are now several native-born Israelis at the Conservative and Reform rabbinical schools here. To me, this is the most hopeful sign, as it will take Israeli rabbis and Israelis themselves--not just expatriates--to figure out how liberal Judaism can really become a part of society here--I don't think an imported Reform, Reconstructionist, or Conservative movement will ever really take hold. But I do think something has to change, and I am hopeful that--in the tradition of our history--we will continue to evolve and adapt our commitments and expressions and that Judaism, which has alwasy looked different in each country and generation, will also look different here in the years to come.
It doesn't take long here, though, for it to sink in that the implications are vast. On a practical level, you can't take a bus in Jerusalem on Shabbat. You can't buy milk, at least not easily--there are a few quickmart type places, but they're few and far between. The streets are virtually deserted except for people heading to or from shul. Really. Everything is closed. There are lots of other practical implications, but one of the most interesting to me is that no one here really seems to know what to make of non-Orthodox Judaism. In Israel, when people try to locate a person on their religious map, they ask one question--dati or lo dati? Religious or not religious? It's as if the map has two hemispheres, divided by an equator that is a solid black line, and you are either in one hemisphere or the other--that's it.
In one hemisphere is kashrut (keeping kosher), Shabbat observance, the mechitza (the wall that separates men and women when they pray) and gender segregation, Torah values, etc. In the other hemisphere is driving on Shabbat, bacon, and married women who don't cover their hair.
And so the Jews who take tradition and mitzvot seriously--keep kosher, go to synagogue, observe Shabbat (though perhaps not in the most traditional forms) but also have egalitarian religious services and women who wear pants and more integration of contemporary culture and women rabbis, if you can even imagine--well, there's no place on the map for them. Literally, no man's (or woman's?) land. The question dati or lo dati doesn't even admit the possibility that such Jews exist. Even though we do, of course.
Do I sound a little angry? I am. But I'm not really alone. A lot of Israelis are angry, too. At a chief rabbinate that seems at best out of touch with people's lives and at worst down-right sadistic and at a culture that denies people the right to express their religious commitments with any kind of public sanction. The (Orthodox) chief rabbinate here controls who can marry, divorce, convert, and get public funding for schools and synagogues. That's no small amount of power. What's heartening to me is that there are real rumblings against the system, and not just from secular Israelis. Orthodox people are starting to complain. And there are now a good strong handful of non-Orthodox congregations here. Though most were founded by expatriates, there are now many with large native Israeli contingents. On both Shabbat mornings that I have spent at my neighborhood Reform congregation there were b'nai mitzvah ceremonies. At one, the parents were clearly not Israeli-born, though they spoke excellent Hebrew and their son, the bar mitzvah, was born here. At the other, the bat mitzvah and her whole familiy were Israelis. At both, the kids read Torah and haftarah, gave d'vrei Torah (in Hebrew), and accepted the mantle of adult Jewish responsibility. In a congregation of men and women, praying together, committed to a liberal, egalitarian, committed Judaism.
I understand, too, that there are now several native-born Israelis at the Conservative and Reform rabbinical schools here. To me, this is the most hopeful sign, as it will take Israeli rabbis and Israelis themselves--not just expatriates--to figure out how liberal Judaism can really become a part of society here--I don't think an imported Reform, Reconstructionist, or Conservative movement will ever really take hold. But I do think something has to change, and I am hopeful that--in the tradition of our history--we will continue to evolve and adapt our commitments and expressions and that Judaism, which has alwasy looked different in each country and generation, will also look different here in the years to come.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
More pictures, Shabbat, and food adventures
So on Friday morning I made plans to meet with Michal, who is the Israeli coordinator for our school's Israel programs. She lives near my apartment and so picked me up at about 9:30 and took me to her office, which is at the Fuchsburg Center, which is the center of Conservative Judaism in Israel. It houses a yeshiva, synagogue, and various offices, as well as housing for visiting groups. Our students stay here when they visit.
I got a grand tour, including the gardens and balconies; the two photos below are the view from one of the balconies. The center is lovely and is in a great location in the center of the city. My meetings with Michal and some of the other staff went well, and when we finished at about 11, Michal suggested that we walk to the shuk, which is Jerusalem's open air market. Michal loves it there and couldn't believe I hadn't been yet. I had not been so enthusiastic to visit, as everyone says it is very crowded and claustrophobic, particularly on Fridays. Michal's enthusiasm was contagious, though, so off we trekked for the 15 minute walk. It was, as always during mid-day, very hot and sunny.
Once we arrived at the shuk, we started at a juice stand. There are many of these in the area, and the one we stopped at was amazing--carrot, beet, celery, and all kinds of fruit, fresh-squeezed in any combination. I had a strawberry banana smoothie, and it was the best I've ever tasted. The smoothie stand was on the road that runs outside the shuk, and once fortified with our wonderful drinks, we went in.
Here are the picture of the inside of the shuk. As you can see, food is out in the open, and I got to see several people handle challot (breads) and other merchandise as they shopped. People also help themselves to all manner of snacks; Michal assured me that although this isn't legal, no one is punished for this behavior, and in true Israeli fashion, explained that the mark-up on all the food takes into account the grazing.
It was very, very crowded and somewhat odoriforous--all the raw meat and fish, no doubt. I had some snacks--these fried cigar-shaped things stuffed with potato, and I bought cheese, smoked fish, a challah, and some pastries for my Shabbat lunch. The pastries and challah came from Marzipan, a very well-known bakery, and were incredibly delicious. However, full body armor would have been helpful in my acquisition of these treats--there was literally trampling in the bakery stall as I waited for my purchase to be rung up. After only a short while, I was ready to leave the shuk, and I walked out and down Jaffa Road. It looked a little bit familiar to me, and so I decided to wander. In fact, a short walk brought me down past King George Street to the area I had wandered with my friends last week. I couldn't resist a quick walk past one of my favorite sites so far in Jerusalem, the Red Heifer Bistro. For those of you not up on your Bible, the joke may not seem very funny, but it just tickles me that people would name a restaurant after the special temple sacrifice. Here's the photo:
It was very, very crowded and somewhat odoriforous--all the raw meat and fish, no doubt. I had some snacks--these fried cigar-shaped things stuffed with potato, and I bought cheese, smoked fish, a challah, and some pastries for my Shabbat lunch. The pastries and challah came from Marzipan, a very well-known bakery, and were incredibly delicious. However, full body armor would have been helpful in my acquisition of these treats--there was literally trampling in the bakery stall as I waited for my purchase to be rung up. After only a short while, I was ready to leave the shuk, and I walked out and down Jaffa Road. It looked a little bit familiar to me, and so I decided to wander. In fact, a short walk brought me down past King George Street to the area I had wandered with my friends last week. I couldn't resist a quick walk past one of my favorite sites so far in Jerusalem, the Red Heifer Bistro. For those of you not up on your Bible, the joke may not seem very funny, but it just tickles me that people would name a restaurant after the special temple sacrifice. Here's the photo:
After snapping this, I walked a bit more, had a quick lunch, and then took a cab back to my apartment.
I had a very nice Shabbat--Friday night services at one synagogue, Shabbat morning at another, Shabbat lunch at Pardes, and seudat shlishi/havdalah (the last meal and end of Shabbat) at the home of one of my teachers. I could write a lot more about all of that, but I will save my synagogue impressions and other details for another time. Instead, I'll finish bringing you up to date--today is a school day, and I've been here at Pardes pretty much all day, except for a trip across the street for lunch and then around the corner after to take a look at a nearby Judaica store. But it's lunch I want to talk about now.
A few classes ago, our Ulpan was discussing various Israeli foods, and a food I had never heard of came up--shakshooka. What the heck is shakshooka, you may ask? Well, my teacher and a classmate explained, it's a sort of soup/stew of tomatoes with poached eggs in it. Sounds great, right? Well, today we went across the street to the felafel place, and there was a sort of vat of something, and I asked what it was, and what do you know--shakshooka!
Someone else from Pardes was in front of me, and she said it was great and ordered it, so I went for it. Here's the deal--the felafel guy takes a big lafa (kind of a burrito shell type thing--you can get it on pita, too, I think) and puts in all kinds of fixings you like--I had onions, hummus, hot sauce, the shakshooka itself, and french fries. That's right--french fries! They call them "chips" here, like in England, and they go right into this wrap with everything else. I didn't go for the pickles, Israeli salad, eggplant, or other stuff, but believe me, you could put about 20 things into this wrap. Then the guy wraps it all up, wraps paper around it, and then wraps it in a plastic bag, too. Because it's messy. Really messy. Really, really messy. But it was delicious. So, I am now officially a shakshooka fan. I have Ulpan in a few minutes, so I have to finish up now--love to all of you!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Kvetchy
Well, I think I hit a wall today. It's the first time I've felt really out of sorts since I arrived in Israel, and though it's already starting to pass, I've been feeling cranky and kvetchy. First of all, I've been wearing my flip flops around my neighborhood (probably not a good idea at all), and though I realized they were starting to lose their tread and I was starting to slip sometimes on the very smooth stones that pave the sidewalks, it wasn't until I went--as the British so quaintly put it--ass over teakettle in the middle of the street that I had the clear realization that I need to reevaluate my footwear choice.
I am none the worse for wear (physically at least--my pride is certainly dented!) and guess I'll see a bruise or two tomorrow but not anything worse. My cell phone, which I've had for almost two weeks now, has never worked properly, but fear of dealing with the cellular company has kept me from doing anything about it. I bit the bullet this afternoon and skyped them for assistance. A full hour later they decided I needed a new handset (my amateur opinion from the start)--they are due here to drop off the replacement at my apartment this evening. The main problem, other than the wasted hour on the phone, is that they will only commit to arriving between 7 and 10, so I have a three hour window in which to wait--on the one "non-school," non-Shabbat night of my week. Bummer. Still, it will be good to have an operational phone, and I am hoping it arrives early enough for me to still take a walk before it's too late.
I'm not sure what else is making me cranky, though I did also try to figure out how to take a bus from Jerusalem to the Dead Sea, as I'm hoping to go sometime before I leave. The bus website was impossible to navigate, though my Uplan teacher later assured me that it's impossible for Israelis, too. I guess that's some consolation. I suppose the main issue is that bureaucracy is no fun anytime, but it's particularly unpleasant in a foreign language and far from home. Israel definitely has a "rep" for being an impossible place for services and ease of living, and I guess I'm seeing just a tiny bit of that.
Okay, enough complaints. My Talmud class continues to be great, and I am still loving Ulpan and feeling very motivated to continue studying Hebrew when I get home. Looking forward to a peaceful Shabbat--I'll post on Sunday or Monday. Shabbat shalom!
I am none the worse for wear (physically at least--my pride is certainly dented!) and guess I'll see a bruise or two tomorrow but not anything worse. My cell phone, which I've had for almost two weeks now, has never worked properly, but fear of dealing with the cellular company has kept me from doing anything about it. I bit the bullet this afternoon and skyped them for assistance. A full hour later they decided I needed a new handset (my amateur opinion from the start)--they are due here to drop off the replacement at my apartment this evening. The main problem, other than the wasted hour on the phone, is that they will only commit to arriving between 7 and 10, so I have a three hour window in which to wait--on the one "non-school," non-Shabbat night of my week. Bummer. Still, it will be good to have an operational phone, and I am hoping it arrives early enough for me to still take a walk before it's too late.
I'm not sure what else is making me cranky, though I did also try to figure out how to take a bus from Jerusalem to the Dead Sea, as I'm hoping to go sometime before I leave. The bus website was impossible to navigate, though my Uplan teacher later assured me that it's impossible for Israelis, too. I guess that's some consolation. I suppose the main issue is that bureaucracy is no fun anytime, but it's particularly unpleasant in a foreign language and far from home. Israel definitely has a "rep" for being an impossible place for services and ease of living, and I guess I'm seeing just a tiny bit of that.
Okay, enough complaints. My Talmud class continues to be great, and I am still loving Ulpan and feeling very motivated to continue studying Hebrew when I get home. Looking forward to a peaceful Shabbat--I'll post on Sunday or Monday. Shabbat shalom!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Busy, busy;
So it's been a very busy couple of days, and I'm not that sure where to begin. First, my Talmud studies have been going a bit more smoothly. My chevruta and I have started to figure out how to work through the text together, and we seem to be at least understanding the basic text we're studying. I don't want to get overly technical and bore anyone, but to put it very simply, there are sort of three layers to the Talmud--the mishnah, which is the first written record of the early Rabbis' interpretation of the Torah (gathered and redacted around 200 CE); the gemara, which is the interpretation, discussion, and argument based on the mishnah conducted by the Rabbis in the few hundred years following the redaction of the mishnah; and then, finally, lots and lots of other commentary, including that of Rashi, the pre-eminent commentator on the mishnah and gemara. So far, I can understand a fair amount of mishnah, some gemara, and the rest of the commentators we haven't even begun to tackle! None of it is for the faint of heart, as the text is associative, elliptical, and sometimes downright infuriating. Still, it's fun to wade through, especially as my teacher is very, very skilled.
Aside from my daily Talmud class, I've also been doing my Hebrew, yoga (though not today--I was just too tired--more on that in a minute), and papercutting. There are also various elective classes that happen occaisionally. Yesterday I went to a very interesting one on the role of Moses in the revelation at Sinai. For those of you biblically oriented, if you take a look at Exodus, it's pretty fascinating to read the passage before the original revelation--Moses goes running up and down Mt. Sinai like he's on a stairmaster. I had never realized it before, but it raises some pretty interesting questions and fueled a good discussion in the class. Aside from Moses's exercise habits, I've also been to a class on the relationship between King David and his first wife, Michal, and a bunch of other interesting ones that I won't describe here.
In addition to all the learning, I've also been making friends and running around Jerusalem. Yesterday was my "early" day, meaning I was done with classes at 4 pm. I went with 5 of my classmates back to my apartment to drop my stuff and then we shared cabs to the Old City. We went to the jewelry store, Hedaya, that I've been wanting to visit, and I bought necklaces for me and Miri and Elie, and then wandered around the shops. The merchants are super-aggressive and I actually didn't love the experience. I was there when I first arrived and felt the same way--I'd rather look without being constantly accosted and assured that I can't live without the amazing bargain on offer. We made our way through the Old City to the Kotel, and once again, I found myself standing in front of the Wall feeling pretty ambivalent. I'm still working on figuring out my feelings about the Wall, and I did some writing while I was there. I'm not going to say more here at this point, as I think I need some more time and space to figure out how I really feel. One thing is for sure--being in Jerusalem puts me in a very different relationship with my own spirituality and with Jewish tradition than I have when I'm at "home" in New Jersey--recognizing, of course, that in some ways Jerusalem is more "home" for me than anywhere else.
After the Wall we cabbed to Ben Yehuda Street, which is in the new part of the city and is kind of the retail/tourist center. We had dinner and walked around for a long time, and I tried on about 20 tallitot (prayer shawls). I liked a bunch of them, but I didn't find one I totally loved, so I'm going to keep looking. They're pretty expensive, so if I don't fall in love with one, I'll just hold off altogether. I didn't get home until 11 pm last night, and then I puttered around and spoke to Matthew for a while. I woke up this morning feeling the worse for my late night, and I've been dragging today--so much so that I skipped yoga. I'm going to get to bed earlier tonight.
Now that I have a somewhat solid group of friends, it feels like things are so busy that I'm almost in a blur. I'm halfway through my stay here, and it is going quickly now. I'm looking forward to some time to relax over Shabbat, but I still have a full day tomorrow and then a meeting for school with our Israel educator Friday morning. I'm trying to figure out how and when to get to the Dead Sea and Tel Aviv, but right now I don't have a plan. If all else fails, I can go to Tel Aviv at the end of my program; I have two days from the time I finish until I have to leave. But I would really like to get to the Dead Sea, and I'm not sure it'll happen. It's been great to hear from all of you--thanks for staying in touch. Lots of love to everyone from Jerusalem.
Aside from my daily Talmud class, I've also been doing my Hebrew, yoga (though not today--I was just too tired--more on that in a minute), and papercutting. There are also various elective classes that happen occaisionally. Yesterday I went to a very interesting one on the role of Moses in the revelation at Sinai. For those of you biblically oriented, if you take a look at Exodus, it's pretty fascinating to read the passage before the original revelation--Moses goes running up and down Mt. Sinai like he's on a stairmaster. I had never realized it before, but it raises some pretty interesting questions and fueled a good discussion in the class. Aside from Moses's exercise habits, I've also been to a class on the relationship between King David and his first wife, Michal, and a bunch of other interesting ones that I won't describe here.
In addition to all the learning, I've also been making friends and running around Jerusalem. Yesterday was my "early" day, meaning I was done with classes at 4 pm. I went with 5 of my classmates back to my apartment to drop my stuff and then we shared cabs to the Old City. We went to the jewelry store, Hedaya, that I've been wanting to visit, and I bought necklaces for me and Miri and Elie, and then wandered around the shops. The merchants are super-aggressive and I actually didn't love the experience. I was there when I first arrived and felt the same way--I'd rather look without being constantly accosted and assured that I can't live without the amazing bargain on offer. We made our way through the Old City to the Kotel, and once again, I found myself standing in front of the Wall feeling pretty ambivalent. I'm still working on figuring out my feelings about the Wall, and I did some writing while I was there. I'm not going to say more here at this point, as I think I need some more time and space to figure out how I really feel. One thing is for sure--being in Jerusalem puts me in a very different relationship with my own spirituality and with Jewish tradition than I have when I'm at "home" in New Jersey--recognizing, of course, that in some ways Jerusalem is more "home" for me than anywhere else.
After the Wall we cabbed to Ben Yehuda Street, which is in the new part of the city and is kind of the retail/tourist center. We had dinner and walked around for a long time, and I tried on about 20 tallitot (prayer shawls). I liked a bunch of them, but I didn't find one I totally loved, so I'm going to keep looking. They're pretty expensive, so if I don't fall in love with one, I'll just hold off altogether. I didn't get home until 11 pm last night, and then I puttered around and spoke to Matthew for a while. I woke up this morning feeling the worse for my late night, and I've been dragging today--so much so that I skipped yoga. I'm going to get to bed earlier tonight.
Now that I have a somewhat solid group of friends, it feels like things are so busy that I'm almost in a blur. I'm halfway through my stay here, and it is going quickly now. I'm looking forward to some time to relax over Shabbat, but I still have a full day tomorrow and then a meeting for school with our Israel educator Friday morning. I'm trying to figure out how and when to get to the Dead Sea and Tel Aviv, but right now I don't have a plan. If all else fails, I can go to Tel Aviv at the end of my program; I have two days from the time I finish until I have to leave. But I would really like to get to the Dead Sea, and I'm not sure it'll happen. It's been great to hear from all of you--thanks for staying in touch. Lots of love to everyone from Jerusalem.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Yesterday was a really good day. My Talmud class was somewhat frustrating, and even after a lot of energy expended, my chevruta (learning partner) and I still had real difficulty teasing out the argument in the passage we were studying. Yoga was good, though, and Ulpan (Hebrew language class) was great. I am enjoying it a lot and finding that more and more returns to me as I hear, speak, and read. Some of the strongest students in the class moved up a level which puts me on the more experienced end of the spectrum of the students left, so I'm sure some of my comfort is based on that--however, I'll take what I can get!
I think, too, though, that it's a real relief to study something so much more concrete after swimming around in the murky waters of the Talmud and the Rabbis. Hebrew language has a lot of irregularities, but it's an earthy, corporeal tongue, with a "root" system that evolves whole families of words out of a single shoresh, or three letter root. It isn't easy to learn, at least not in my experience, but it does hang together, and there are clear clues. If you know one root--the one in learn, for example, it can help you recognize the words for teach, teacher, to study, to teach, etc. My experience of Talmud is almost the opposite--what you know can just as easily confuse as clarify matters. The same word that means 'yes' in Aramaic means 'there isn't' in Hebrew, and the text in the Talmud switches between the two languages without clear markers. Pretty confusing.
So, after my happy Hebrew class, I got to Skype with Matthew, Miri, and . . . Elie! It was visiting day at camp, so Matthew brought his laptop and took the girls to Starbucks so that I could talk to Elie. It was so good to see and hear her! I've been missing everyone a lot, but I hadn't seen or spoken to her since several days before I left for Israel, so this was a real treat. She seems happy at camp, though the video chatting seemed to freak her out a bit. The rest of us are used to it, as I talk with Matthew and Miri almost every day. I think Elie is kind of a Luddite, though, except when it comes to her iPod. This is, after all, the teenager who likes 35 mm photography better than digital. Anyway, I was just thrilled to see the three of them together and know that Elie is having a good summer. After our talk, I met three of my favorite of my classmates for dinner at a great dairy restaurant in the German Colony, which is the neighborhood next to mine. It was a good meal, with wine and conversation, and afterwards I arrived back in the apartment to my newly fixed and operational air conditioner. All in all, a red letter day!
One of the things I've struggled with in writing this blog is how much background to give on the people I'm meeting. I think I've decided for now that since this isn't really private (though I can't imagine too much interest from readers who don't know me), I won't talk in detail about people here. I can share that the friends I've grown most fond and close with are a group of women, most of whom are in their late twenties/early thirties. They are mostly single, though not all, and none have children. It's odd, as there are some women (and men) closer to my own age here, but I seem to have either less in common with them or be drawn to (or draw to me?) this somewhat younger cohort. One of the women is my chevruta, or learning partner. What this means on a practical level is that when we study Talmud, she and I pair off to discuss, translate, and struggle with the text. Our classes each day have some large group lecture/discussion and some pairs work, so she and I are learning together each day.
The first few days each of us in the class rotated through working with several others, but then through a somewhat murky process, we sorted ourselves into pairs. It was a bit uncomfortable for me, as I thought this woman would be a good fit for me, but I was approached by someone else to be partners. I didn't really think he'd be the best partner for me, so it was a little sticky, but I did tell him I thought I had another partner lined up. Luckily, that turned out to be true when I talked with my chevruta. The guy seems to have found another partner who is working out just fine, but the process did feel stressful to me. In traditional Jewish learning, there's a lot of significance given to the chevruta relationship, and many people end up learning together for years. I have to admit that I do like the routine of it, and I already have a sense of the kinds of perspectives and strengths my chevruta and I each bring to the learning. I also just like her as a person, which is nice. Several other of my friends are also in the class with us, so that's nice, too.
As long as I'm giving some background, I guess this is a good time to fill you in on where I'm living. I am in Jerusalem, but south of both the more modern city center and the Old City, which is where the Kotel is. My neighborhood is Talpiyot, which seems pretty diverse and is bordered by some industrial type stuff. The neighborhood next to mine (sort of north of me, towards the city center) is the German Colony. I think it may have been settled by Germans, but it is now quite Anglo, with large American, Canadian, Australian, South African, etc. populations. There are also a lot of French, many of whom have made aliyah to Israel in the last few years. It's fancier than Talpiyot (which also has a big ex-pat population), and there are lots of restaurants and shops. Most of the restaraunts have menus in English (a very helpful aid!) and staff who speak at least some English. I end up walking there most days for dinner or to get coffee.
If you walk up the main drag in the German Colony (Emek Refaim), you eventually hit the walls to the Old City. I did that walk the Saturday I first arrived, and the hike there isn't so bad, but the hike up the snake path to the entrance to the Old City was quite a workout (think Rocky and those museum steps), so I am planning to go to the Old City tomorrow, but I'll be sharing a cab with friends. It will actually be the first time I've been in a car since the day I arrived in Israel. That's one of the interesting things about living here--I don't go anywhere or do anything that my feet can't take me to. It circumscribes things a bit, but it also means that my life is far simpler than at home. Good exercise, too! Still, I'm looking forward to the Old City tomorrow; I'll be visiting a jewelry store I've been excited to go to for a long time, and I'm hoping to buy some beautiful things for me, Elie, and Miri.
I'm also trying to figure out a quick trip to Tel Aviv for later this week--maybe Thursday evening to Friday afternoon, so I will sign off now to investigate transportation and lodging.
I think, too, though, that it's a real relief to study something so much more concrete after swimming around in the murky waters of the Talmud and the Rabbis. Hebrew language has a lot of irregularities, but it's an earthy, corporeal tongue, with a "root" system that evolves whole families of words out of a single shoresh, or three letter root. It isn't easy to learn, at least not in my experience, but it does hang together, and there are clear clues. If you know one root--the one in learn, for example, it can help you recognize the words for teach, teacher, to study, to teach, etc. My experience of Talmud is almost the opposite--what you know can just as easily confuse as clarify matters. The same word that means 'yes' in Aramaic means 'there isn't' in Hebrew, and the text in the Talmud switches between the two languages without clear markers. Pretty confusing.
So, after my happy Hebrew class, I got to Skype with Matthew, Miri, and . . . Elie! It was visiting day at camp, so Matthew brought his laptop and took the girls to Starbucks so that I could talk to Elie. It was so good to see and hear her! I've been missing everyone a lot, but I hadn't seen or spoken to her since several days before I left for Israel, so this was a real treat. She seems happy at camp, though the video chatting seemed to freak her out a bit. The rest of us are used to it, as I talk with Matthew and Miri almost every day. I think Elie is kind of a Luddite, though, except when it comes to her iPod. This is, after all, the teenager who likes 35 mm photography better than digital. Anyway, I was just thrilled to see the three of them together and know that Elie is having a good summer. After our talk, I met three of my favorite of my classmates for dinner at a great dairy restaurant in the German Colony, which is the neighborhood next to mine. It was a good meal, with wine and conversation, and afterwards I arrived back in the apartment to my newly fixed and operational air conditioner. All in all, a red letter day!
One of the things I've struggled with in writing this blog is how much background to give on the people I'm meeting. I think I've decided for now that since this isn't really private (though I can't imagine too much interest from readers who don't know me), I won't talk in detail about people here. I can share that the friends I've grown most fond and close with are a group of women, most of whom are in their late twenties/early thirties. They are mostly single, though not all, and none have children. It's odd, as there are some women (and men) closer to my own age here, but I seem to have either less in common with them or be drawn to (or draw to me?) this somewhat younger cohort. One of the women is my chevruta, or learning partner. What this means on a practical level is that when we study Talmud, she and I pair off to discuss, translate, and struggle with the text. Our classes each day have some large group lecture/discussion and some pairs work, so she and I are learning together each day.
The first few days each of us in the class rotated through working with several others, but then through a somewhat murky process, we sorted ourselves into pairs. It was a bit uncomfortable for me, as I thought this woman would be a good fit for me, but I was approached by someone else to be partners. I didn't really think he'd be the best partner for me, so it was a little sticky, but I did tell him I thought I had another partner lined up. Luckily, that turned out to be true when I talked with my chevruta. The guy seems to have found another partner who is working out just fine, but the process did feel stressful to me. In traditional Jewish learning, there's a lot of significance given to the chevruta relationship, and many people end up learning together for years. I have to admit that I do like the routine of it, and I already have a sense of the kinds of perspectives and strengths my chevruta and I each bring to the learning. I also just like her as a person, which is nice. Several other of my friends are also in the class with us, so that's nice, too.
As long as I'm giving some background, I guess this is a good time to fill you in on where I'm living. I am in Jerusalem, but south of both the more modern city center and the Old City, which is where the Kotel is. My neighborhood is Talpiyot, which seems pretty diverse and is bordered by some industrial type stuff. The neighborhood next to mine (sort of north of me, towards the city center) is the German Colony. I think it may have been settled by Germans, but it is now quite Anglo, with large American, Canadian, Australian, South African, etc. populations. There are also a lot of French, many of whom have made aliyah to Israel in the last few years. It's fancier than Talpiyot (which also has a big ex-pat population), and there are lots of restaurants and shops. Most of the restaraunts have menus in English (a very helpful aid!) and staff who speak at least some English. I end up walking there most days for dinner or to get coffee.
If you walk up the main drag in the German Colony (Emek Refaim), you eventually hit the walls to the Old City. I did that walk the Saturday I first arrived, and the hike there isn't so bad, but the hike up the snake path to the entrance to the Old City was quite a workout (think Rocky and those museum steps), so I am planning to go to the Old City tomorrow, but I'll be sharing a cab with friends. It will actually be the first time I've been in a car since the day I arrived in Israel. That's one of the interesting things about living here--I don't go anywhere or do anything that my feet can't take me to. It circumscribes things a bit, but it also means that my life is far simpler than at home. Good exercise, too! Still, I'm looking forward to the Old City tomorrow; I'll be visiting a jewelry store I've been excited to go to for a long time, and I'm hoping to buy some beautiful things for me, Elie, and Miri.
I'm also trying to figure out a quick trip to Tel Aviv for later this week--maybe Thursday evening to Friday afternoon, so I will sign off now to investigate transportation and lodging.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Sunday is a School Day!
So here's a funny thing about Israel--Sunday is a regular work day--and school day. It's kind of odd to get used to, but up I got this morning to come to class. The only problem was that I was up late reading (Michael Chabon's The Yiddish Policemen's Union--which I'm really enjoying). It felt like it would still be the weekend this morning, but alas . . .
I had a really nice Shabbat, with dinner here at Pardes with many of my classmates and then a lovely Shabbat morning at the local Reform synagogue. It happens to be just across the street from my apartment. It is really nice--very informal but with lots of singing. There was a bar mitzvah, and the kid was really sweet, and his family and the whole congregation just seemed so happy. For those of you up on synagogue stuff, one interesting thing is that this Reform congregation does a full kriah (Torah reading) but not musaf. I find if very interesting to see the differences between US and Israeli denominational distinctions.
After lunch I had a long, hot, uphill walk to my lunch invitation. It was about 95 degrees out, and after the 25 minute walk, I arrived at my destination with quite a womanly glow. Luckily, they had air conditioning! Lunch was really nice, with excellent food and good company. A few other students were also invited, as was another Pardes faculty member, and there was lots of Jewish education talk and connections made to all our mutual friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. Around 4 pm I headed back home for a nice, long nap.
As I've been meeting more and more people and getting to know my fellow students better, one of the things I keep thinking about is the permanence/impermanence of relationships formed during times like these. For me, this is sort of an interlude away from my "real life." I think when I was younger, I met new people all the time, and I was usually open to the possibility that they might be people who would play a part in my life as it developed. During college and graduate school, I was friendly with lots of people, and I didn't know then which ones of them would be permanent fixtures as opposed to those who, while important, wouldn't necessarily become long-term actors in the drama of my life.
As I've aged, I think the cast (to extend the metaphor) of my life has gotten a lot more stable. If I spent my teens and early twenties "auditioning" people, the last 15 years have solidified who my "people" are. Some things still are evolving, of course, but not in the way they once were. I'm not really auditioning for as many roles any more--I already have a husband, children, close friends, extended family, colleagues, etc. So as I meet new people here, I wonder about if/how to fit them into my already pretty full cast. It isn't that I don't want new friends--in fact, I'm pretty friendly and like meeting new people. But I don't necessarily know if a great conversation or couple of friendly dinners mean that this is someone that I'll be talking to five years from now or someone whose name I won't remember in a year or two.
I'm not sure it's a bad thing, and it may just be inevitable, but it definitely gives me a sense of my own rootedness in my life. One of the many gifts of this experience is being able to see my life from different perspectives, and I am very aware that this consciousness is due to the challenge and opportunity of being here.
On that note, I'll sign off. Still working on getting pictures posted!
I had a really nice Shabbat, with dinner here at Pardes with many of my classmates and then a lovely Shabbat morning at the local Reform synagogue. It happens to be just across the street from my apartment. It is really nice--very informal but with lots of singing. There was a bar mitzvah, and the kid was really sweet, and his family and the whole congregation just seemed so happy. For those of you up on synagogue stuff, one interesting thing is that this Reform congregation does a full kriah (Torah reading) but not musaf. I find if very interesting to see the differences between US and Israeli denominational distinctions.
After lunch I had a long, hot, uphill walk to my lunch invitation. It was about 95 degrees out, and after the 25 minute walk, I arrived at my destination with quite a womanly glow. Luckily, they had air conditioning! Lunch was really nice, with excellent food and good company. A few other students were also invited, as was another Pardes faculty member, and there was lots of Jewish education talk and connections made to all our mutual friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. Around 4 pm I headed back home for a nice, long nap.
As I've been meeting more and more people and getting to know my fellow students better, one of the things I keep thinking about is the permanence/impermanence of relationships formed during times like these. For me, this is sort of an interlude away from my "real life." I think when I was younger, I met new people all the time, and I was usually open to the possibility that they might be people who would play a part in my life as it developed. During college and graduate school, I was friendly with lots of people, and I didn't know then which ones of them would be permanent fixtures as opposed to those who, while important, wouldn't necessarily become long-term actors in the drama of my life.
As I've aged, I think the cast (to extend the metaphor) of my life has gotten a lot more stable. If I spent my teens and early twenties "auditioning" people, the last 15 years have solidified who my "people" are. Some things still are evolving, of course, but not in the way they once were. I'm not really auditioning for as many roles any more--I already have a husband, children, close friends, extended family, colleagues, etc. So as I meet new people here, I wonder about if/how to fit them into my already pretty full cast. It isn't that I don't want new friends--in fact, I'm pretty friendly and like meeting new people. But I don't necessarily know if a great conversation or couple of friendly dinners mean that this is someone that I'll be talking to five years from now or someone whose name I won't remember in a year or two.
I'm not sure it's a bad thing, and it may just be inevitable, but it definitely gives me a sense of my own rootedness in my life. One of the many gifts of this experience is being able to see my life from different perspectives, and I am very aware that this consciousness is due to the challenge and opportunity of being here.
On that note, I'll sign off. Still working on getting pictures posted!
Friday, July 4, 2008
How it looks after week one
It's erev Shabbat (Friday afternoon) in Jerusalem. Though it's now officially the beginning of my second week in Israel, I am still not used to the fact that life pretty much stops around 2 o'clock on Friday afternoons in preparation for Shabbat. Everything closes, and the traffic is much quieter--I live right near a main road, and it's busy all the time, even in the evenings, but right now it's finally almost calm.
I had a small triumph today--I went to the grocery store, and unlike my experience last week, I actually managed pretty well. I knew how to use the carts (more complicated than it sounds, as you have to have either a special little card-gadget or provide a 5 shekel returnable deposit to unlock one for use), found all the food I wanted, and was even able to manage enough Hebrew to order cheese and make rudimentary conversation with the check-out clerk and some people in line. Of course, making rudimentary conversation with my fellow-line standers consisted mostly of listening to the woman behind me complain that the store was a "balagan"--a fabulous Hebrew word that means something like chaos. And it was a balagan--shopping on Friday is hazardous here from what I can gather, plus Israeli markets are not like big American grocery stores. Unlike the US, there are not a zillion different brands of everything, and the stores (at least here in my neighborhood) are relatively small. The two exceptions to this rule seem to be yoghurt and hummus, which--between the two of them--seem to take up half the store.
Another feature of Israeli grocery shopping is the snacking. Everyone seems to be eating the food as they wander--and not just like a grape or something--whole pieces of fruit, bread, open bags of snack food, you name it. There appears to be no rule against this as far as I can tell, though I haven't joined in the trend (yet?). Finally, there seems to be no rhyme or reason to the traffic pattern of carts and it is very, very crowded. All in all, it is, as my new friend kept repeating, a balagan. Still, I came home hot, sweaty, and proud that I have come so far in a week. My Hebrew is slowly returning to me, and things seem clearer day by day.
I am looking forward to a pretty social Shabbat, with services and dinner tonight at Pardes, shul tomorrow, and lunch out. Matthew and Miri will visit Elie at camp on Sunday and we have a "skype date" for me to talk with her. I am really excited to have the chance to see and talk to her--I miss her a lot.
Several of you have posted here or emailed--thank you! It's really nice to hear from folks at home. My goal for the next few days is to try to get some pictures up here to give you a sense of what things look like--we'll see how I do. Shabbat shalom!
I had a small triumph today--I went to the grocery store, and unlike my experience last week, I actually managed pretty well. I knew how to use the carts (more complicated than it sounds, as you have to have either a special little card-gadget or provide a 5 shekel returnable deposit to unlock one for use), found all the food I wanted, and was even able to manage enough Hebrew to order cheese and make rudimentary conversation with the check-out clerk and some people in line. Of course, making rudimentary conversation with my fellow-line standers consisted mostly of listening to the woman behind me complain that the store was a "balagan"--a fabulous Hebrew word that means something like chaos. And it was a balagan--shopping on Friday is hazardous here from what I can gather, plus Israeli markets are not like big American grocery stores. Unlike the US, there are not a zillion different brands of everything, and the stores (at least here in my neighborhood) are relatively small. The two exceptions to this rule seem to be yoghurt and hummus, which--between the two of them--seem to take up half the store.
Another feature of Israeli grocery shopping is the snacking. Everyone seems to be eating the food as they wander--and not just like a grape or something--whole pieces of fruit, bread, open bags of snack food, you name it. There appears to be no rule against this as far as I can tell, though I haven't joined in the trend (yet?). Finally, there seems to be no rhyme or reason to the traffic pattern of carts and it is very, very crowded. All in all, it is, as my new friend kept repeating, a balagan. Still, I came home hot, sweaty, and proud that I have come so far in a week. My Hebrew is slowly returning to me, and things seem clearer day by day.
I am looking forward to a pretty social Shabbat, with services and dinner tonight at Pardes, shul tomorrow, and lunch out. Matthew and Miri will visit Elie at camp on Sunday and we have a "skype date" for me to talk with her. I am really excited to have the chance to see and talk to her--I miss her a lot.
Several of you have posted here or emailed--thank you! It's really nice to hear from folks at home. My goal for the next few days is to try to get some pictures up here to give you a sense of what things look like--we'll see how I do. Shabbat shalom!
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Now it's real
So I've been here in Israel for five days, and it's finally starting to seem real. One reason, unfortunately, is that there was a terrorist attack in Jerusalem today. Doesn't get much more real than that. It's odd--I've always been worried and upset hearing about attacks in Israel. Particularly last spring, when there was an incident at a Jerusalem yeshiva and students from our School were at a yeshiva in Jersusalem, I was really worried. But being here is different. To know that people were killed only a few miles away--the immediacy just makes it much more real. I suppose that like everyone, it's easier for me to be touched by those close to me, and now "close to me" means something new.
I'm not particularly worried for my own safety. I haven't taken busses in Jerusalem, and I'm not planning to, though I do want to try to travel to the Dead Sea at some point, and I'll probably have to take a bus there. Everywhere you go here there's security--metal detectors to enter the mall and bag searches to go into restaurants. Paradoxically, it heightens my awareness of the danger but also makes me feel safer. There's also a big police presence in Jerusalem. In any event, it still seems more dangerous to drive (0r be a pedestrian, for that matter!) here than anything else. Still, it is very different to be living some place where people just randomly attack civilians in the streets--aside from 9/11, if you don't live in an unsafe/urban area in the States, I think you have the attitude that this stuff happens elsewhere. It's pretty clear here that there is no "elsewhere."
On a happier note, I am loving Pardes. I am studying Talmud in the mornings and Torah yoga, Hebrew language, and papercutting in the afternoons. The Talmud class is great--my teacher is young, very smart, and very engaging. We are looking at a part of the Talmud that discusses the various tensions between competing mitzvot, or commandments. It's really interesting, and I really love the give and take of this kind of learning.
Lest I spend too much time in my head, I also have yoga almost every afternoon. The class is mostly about the postures but also connects up classical Jewish learning with yoga. I like it a lot, and it's great to be more grounded in my body after all the "brain" stuff. Three days a week I have Ulpan, or Hebrew language instruction. I'm in an advanced beginners class (Aleph plus), and at least some of my previous Hebrew study is returning slowly. Unfortunately, I do now feel like I've forgotten more than I ever learned--I suppose this is a disadvantage of the aging process!
I'm also taking a two day a week papercutting class--it's fun to do something somewhat mindless and "crafty," and I hope to have some nice projects to bring home. I've been getting to know people, and I will celebrate Shabbat evening here at Pardes Friday evening and then go to one of the local shuls on Shabbat morning and then out for lunch after at the home of one of the teachers here. He has family at SSDSEU, and they told him I'd be here, so he sought me out and invited me. It's nice to have a place to go.
There's not much else to share right now, although I will say that the Skype has saved my life; I feel so lucky to be able to see and talk with Matthew and Miri every day (a little less so to also see and hear my colleagues at work!). I miss Elie a lot, though, even though I am emailing her every day. I am so grateful to them, and Matthew most of all, for making this wonderful adventure possible for me. I'd love to hear from any of you if you feel like posting a reply. You are all in my thoughts. We said psalms today after we heard about the attack, and afterwards I davenned mincha with a minyan here. Prayer doesn't always do that much for me--I suppose that like most people, it's hard for me to access the kind of spiritual experience that prayer aims for. Still, it was a comfort today, particularly to say psalms with 70 or 80 other people. So, if you have the inclination, I hope you'll pray, too, for peace in Jerusalem and everywhere else.
I'm not particularly worried for my own safety. I haven't taken busses in Jerusalem, and I'm not planning to, though I do want to try to travel to the Dead Sea at some point, and I'll probably have to take a bus there. Everywhere you go here there's security--metal detectors to enter the mall and bag searches to go into restaurants. Paradoxically, it heightens my awareness of the danger but also makes me feel safer. There's also a big police presence in Jerusalem. In any event, it still seems more dangerous to drive (0r be a pedestrian, for that matter!) here than anything else. Still, it is very different to be living some place where people just randomly attack civilians in the streets--aside from 9/11, if you don't live in an unsafe/urban area in the States, I think you have the attitude that this stuff happens elsewhere. It's pretty clear here that there is no "elsewhere."
On a happier note, I am loving Pardes. I am studying Talmud in the mornings and Torah yoga, Hebrew language, and papercutting in the afternoons. The Talmud class is great--my teacher is young, very smart, and very engaging. We are looking at a part of the Talmud that discusses the various tensions between competing mitzvot, or commandments. It's really interesting, and I really love the give and take of this kind of learning.
Lest I spend too much time in my head, I also have yoga almost every afternoon. The class is mostly about the postures but also connects up classical Jewish learning with yoga. I like it a lot, and it's great to be more grounded in my body after all the "brain" stuff. Three days a week I have Ulpan, or Hebrew language instruction. I'm in an advanced beginners class (Aleph plus), and at least some of my previous Hebrew study is returning slowly. Unfortunately, I do now feel like I've forgotten more than I ever learned--I suppose this is a disadvantage of the aging process!
I'm also taking a two day a week papercutting class--it's fun to do something somewhat mindless and "crafty," and I hope to have some nice projects to bring home. I've been getting to know people, and I will celebrate Shabbat evening here at Pardes Friday evening and then go to one of the local shuls on Shabbat morning and then out for lunch after at the home of one of the teachers here. He has family at SSDSEU, and they told him I'd be here, so he sought me out and invited me. It's nice to have a place to go.
There's not much else to share right now, although I will say that the Skype has saved my life; I feel so lucky to be able to see and talk with Matthew and Miri every day (a little less so to also see and hear my colleagues at work!). I miss Elie a lot, though, even though I am emailing her every day. I am so grateful to them, and Matthew most of all, for making this wonderful adventure possible for me. I'd love to hear from any of you if you feel like posting a reply. You are all in my thoughts. We said psalms today after we heard about the attack, and afterwards I davenned mincha with a minyan here. Prayer doesn't always do that much for me--I suppose that like most people, it's hard for me to access the kind of spiritual experience that prayer aims for. Still, it was a comfort today, particularly to say psalms with 70 or 80 other people. So, if you have the inclination, I hope you'll pray, too, for peace in Jerusalem and everywhere else.
I'm okay
This won't be a real post, but I did want to let anyone who is worried know that I am just fine. There was a terrorist attack today in Jerusalem. While not too far from where I am, I am just fine, though it is very different to be here and not in the U.S. and hear about it. Perhaps more on that later. Also, I have not been travelling by bus, nor do I plan to, so if you are inclined to worry (Sara)--try not to. I'm pretty sure you're still more likely to be injured in a traffic accident than a terrorist one here in Jersusalem and Israe. More later.
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