Disclaimer: I will probably ramble a lot in this post.
For background knowledge, please refer to Wikipedia's entry on the Reform Movement, because lets face it, where else does background knowledge come from?
As many of you know, I work at a synagogue preschool that is part of the "Reform Movement for Progressive Judaism in Israel". Yeah, that's a mouthful. Wikipedia seems to have various theories on why in Israel the Reform Movement and Progressive Judaism go together. I wonder about this a lot.
First of all, lets think about how the Reform Movement started for a moment. It was a movement to make Judaism not tied down by halakhah and religious practice. As Wikipedia tells us:
Rabbi W. Gunther Plaut writes "there is no such thing as a Jewish theological principle, policy, or doctrine." This is because Reform Judaism affirms "the fundamental principle of Liberalism: that the individual will approach this body of mitzvot and minhagim in the spirit of freedom and choice. Traditionally Israel started with harut, the commandment engraved upon the Tablets, which then became freedom. The Reform Jew starts with herut, the freedom to decide what will be harut - engraved upon the personal Tablets of his life." [3]
The way I always understood it, the Reform Movement made being Jewish more cultural. Not that it claimed Judaism was not a religion, just that anything Jewish was done more out of a sense of tradition and not religious obligation.
In Israel, if you are Jewish you are one of two things- dati (דתי) or chiloni (חילוני). And then there are charedis (חרדים), but lets keep things simple for now. They really like labels here. As much as I tried in my years of college to avoid using labels, they are all over the place here. And it's not just the labels that get to me- it's the boxes. During my first year at Hebrew U I would often wind up davenning shacharit at school between my first two classes. There I was, an American, with a history degree but in a social work program (Israelis don't really get liberal arts degrees for the sake of having a liberal arts degree), wearing pants, and praying regularly. Huh? No box for me. Since I never really spoke with my classmates, I never had any explaining to do. I have friends who know I wear pants but pray every day and some who probably don't. For all I know they try to put me into a box too, but it's just never an issue.
Now I work with native Israelis every day. It is not only that I work with native Israelis, it is that I do so at a preschool affiliated with a synagogue. So it's a religious preschool, but not, because it's part of the Reform movement. What does that mean? I ask myself that question a lot. Not too many people in the school seem to really have a grasp on what the movement is all about, what role the school has, and what is expected of the teachers as teachers in a Reform preschool. While the school is affiliated with the synagogue, most of the families with children in the preschool rarely if ever attend services and other programming. It used to be a requirement for admission to the preschool and is no longer, though the director and board members are working on ways to integrate the two bodies more and make the preschool more a part of the synagogue.
After an excruciating three month wait after my interview, I was called in for a final interview to meet with the director and the lead teacher I would be working with (pending her approval). The teacher, a woman in her 40's who immigrated from Belarus about twenty years ago, asked me how as a religious person I would handle working in a Reform preschool where most people did not practice Judaism the way I did. I responded that being from Boston, which I've noticed in retrospect is very unique. In Boston the different Jewish communities all get along. They all do stuff together. There's just no other way to put it. People tell me it's all those liberal academics. Who knows? I'm just grateful I was raised the way I was. The lead teacher seemed a bit skeptical, but thankfully the director is familiar with the community and assured her that I would be fine.
After a hectic year of six day work weeks, constantly being sick, and three graduate school courses, I am in my second year at the gan and much more conscious of the actions and opinions of those around me. I am also much more prone to being irritated by said actions and opinions. After years of avoiding labeling myself, I often find myself forced to do so. So okay, I am a דתיה, a religious person. But what about my coworker who worries about getting all her cooking in time for shabbat but would drive to her friends if invited out for a meal on shabbat? Or my other coworker who almost always travels on shabbat but always does הפרשת חלה? But what most astounds me at my workplace is that my coworkers seem to simply forget that I'm דתיה. Apparently, it is not tattooed on my forehead. When they first met my father and saw that he was wearing a kippah, they were surprised that he is religious (and I don't think it was because they had previously thought that my being religious was a divergence from how I was raised). I try not to eat at breakfast at gan because seriously, I just don't care to stuff my face with bread every morning, and every day they ask me why I'm not eating. Whenever I'm not eating because it's a fast day, they get this look of shock on their faces. "Oh, right, you do that sort of thing, okay then." On a side note, I was recently saying ברכת המזון (blessing after eating) to myself while standing on the curb waiting for a ride with two classmates (one Israeli and one Arab- see previous post) and realized how uncomfortable I would feel doing that in front of my coworkers. They are also seemingly surprised each and every time I mention shabbat meals I'm going to, hosting, and worrying about having time to cook for. Does me wearing pants really throw them off that much!?!?
Another example- once the day's staff consisted of me, the first coworker I mentioned, and a teacher who usually works in another gan who spent just over ten years working in a Reform synagogue preschool in New York. We were discussing how once during the year there is a special service in the adjoining shul for each of the older classes. The teachers are expected to attend. For me this will be no problem, as I live around the corner, and will probably hop back and forth from the shul next door that I usually go to. But what about the teachers who live farther away, don't necessarily have cars? My coworker said to the other teacher that she wonders what this other teacher did when her class had the service last year. Then she said that she didn't even understand how this teacher, a דתיה (for lack of a better word) teaches in the gan I work at at all since it is not a gan for דתיים (I keep using the Hebrew word because saying "gan for religious people" messes up the point I am trying to make, as I hope I eventually make clear). The teacher who spent time in the US explained that it really doesn't matter and where she worked that was often the case. The teachers can practice Judaism one way and work in a community where things are done differently. If you have an open mind, it's not a big deal at all. I just sat there listening, and again thinking that she was forgetting about me. The conversation started out between the three of us, but she only raised this issue with the other Israeli and not with me. I don't think she would ever think to ask me how I feel about it.
Now finally on to what I really and truly do not understand about the place I work at and the movement in general. How are members of the Reform Movement for Progressive in Israel different from חילונים ("non-religious Israelis"). Are they simply חילונים who go to shul every week? Who attend lectures at centers like the one I work at? Does one have to consciously be a member of the movement in order to be considered one? In the US, despite being anti-labels, I still consider myself a part of the Orthodox community. That doesn't mean I consider myself a cookie cutter copy of everyone else in the community, but it is still the community I identify with and that others would associate me with regardless of how I felt about it. I feel like my coworker who religious observant-wise is probably a lot like the members of the synagogue where I work would be astounded and possibly insulted if I made that comparison.
One of my conclusions is that what places like where I work provide is a community for Israelis who are less observant than the typical "דתי" Israeli (I hate terms like "less observant"... lets say "people who do less Jewish practices on a regular basis). In America there is a synagogue for almost everyone- especially Jews with similar lifestyles to חילונים. The Reform movement is much more clear in America. It is much more cultural and less religious. In cultures, there aren't obligations. There are demands the community may place on you, but they aren't really obligatory. The Reform synagogues match that mentality. In Israel, Judaism IS the culture- for everyone. The Coca Cola bottles and public buses had Happy Chanukah written on them for the past week. From Thursday you wish everyone a shabbat shalom when you say goodbye, even if shabbat for them will be watching movies all night and going to the beach the next day. This reality is what influences thousands of people to make aliyah every year (though not me- while the buses on Chanukah make me smile I have other reasons for being here, but that is for another post). It also has some unfortunate repercussions, one of which being that if someone is searching for a community, a synagogue in Israel is not the place to find one. While you might get to see friends in shul every week they are simply places to pray and rarely have any community building programs in place (and those that do are recent developments).
Once I thought about it that way, the existence of the Reform Movement in Israel begins to make more sense, even though I'm still not convinced it should be associated by name with the Reform Movement in America. The cultures in the two places are just too dramatically different from each other. Okay, on to the second part of the name. In Israel, it is the Reform Movement for Progressive Judaism. Maybe the "Reform Movement for Progressive Israeliness" would make more sense. It is a movement that brings Israelis together who don't want to be shoved into the חילוני or דתי boxes- who take family trips to the zoo on shabbat but want to be part of a community that makes Jewish traditions a part of their active lives. It provides a framework and communal atmosphere for developing a Jewish identity as part of an Israeli one.
A couple staff meetings ago one of the educational directors of the movement came to speak to us about a pamphlet they just completed of a curriculum for the movement. I was so glad to find see this sort of thing in print form as I never really understood what the educational goals of the gan were, though I am sure the end of the year party my class had about how everyone keeps shabbat in their own way that had absolutely no mention of attending prayer services would not necessarily be in line with those goals. The stuff in the pamphlet wasn't so surprising to me. They chose things like lighting candles, blessings on food, and mitzvot about behavior among people (בין אדם לחברו) and wrote out ways to teach these things to different age groups. In addition to preschools like mine, there is a growing network of elementary, middle, and high schools aimed at filling the gap between religious and non-religious public schools in Israel (ממלכתי and ממלכתי דתי). This is again what I think is more an example of Progressive Israeliness than it is of Progressive Judaism. The schools are very much like the Schechter Day Schools in the US. They teach religious practice but leave things more open ended. I'm a fan. I just hope it doesn't just turn into another box to squish Jewish Israelis into (though I guess if a society is going to be dominated by boxes, I suppose the more the better.
I finally got inspired to write this blog post (a somewhat organized mumble jumble of various rants from the past year) after a conference I was forced to sit through on Monday of Chanukah. The conference was at a place like the one I work at in Tel Aviv. It was teachers at preschools that are part of the movement. Pretty much everyone there felt very strongly that we should be on vacation like any other teacher and not forced to sit through lectures, but sadly we had no say in the matter. The theme of the conference was תפילה (prayer). I am still unclear on what the goals of the conference were. From what I gathered, it was to provide an opportunity for us teachers to learn more about ourselves as people and not just talk about our work all day. I found the lectures themselves kind of boring, the sing-a-long at the beginning annoying, and the ride from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv with my coworkers excruciating (I left a bit early and traveled back on my own- worth the money I had to spend). I hoped the conference would help me understand the movement better, but then realized that while I might have been the most different person there, it was not apparent at all which teachers actually identify with the movement.
Between being bored, not being the type to talk about my feelings with strangers, and the language barrier, I pretty much spent the entire time sitting quietly watching the scenes unfold before me. This was a few days after the devastating fires up north and the day it finally rained, so much of what was said had to do with that. The feeling in the air that rainy day was absolutely phenomenal. Everyone was happy. Everyone was expressing their thanks to God that the rain had finally arrived, that the fires could finally end, and that the country could be healed and be nourished. It was the opposite of what had been felt the previous few days when the nation was devastated, the sadness palpable. Rain is like Chanukah. All the Jews in Israel celebrate Chanukah, and all the Jews in Israel (well everyone really) celebrates rain. If it wasn't Chanukah, I wouldn't have been surprised if the buses had said "Happy Rainy Day" on them. Rain is a cause for celebration. When talking about תפילה, everyone agrees that rain is something to be prayed for.
Experiencing this expression of unity was awesome- this is what it means to be an Israeli. Sadly on the flipside, there was a lot of putting into boxes. There was a lot of "they do that but we do this". One woman said how the דתיים had a whole prayer event at the Kotel to pray for rain (part of a day of fasting) as an example of our prayers finally being answered and another responded "well the fire came first, and then the rain, so how do we know whose prayers are being answered?". It sounded a bit cynical. Also the first woman phrased her comment as talking about the other- a totally separate group of people. Why does it matter who prayed where? Why can't she just say "a large group of people prayed at the Kotel"? I constantly got the sense that the people around me felt a need to specify what type of Jew/Israeli they were talking about. Is being general so taboo?
The Reform Movement in America promotes social justice over halakhah, being a light onto the nations as a nation of good deed and not as a nation performing religious commandments (at least the way I see it). I think this is a beautiful thing. While I feel strongly about how I practice Judaism, an adherence to religious obligation, and continuing ancient traditions, I believe that what it really comes down to is being a good person, respecting oneself, and caring for others. I feel that my religious practices help me be that person, but that there are many ways to get to that point and that open mindedness is crucial for maintaining the greater Jewish community. The Reform Movement in America has done an excellent job making תיקון עולם, social justice, a priority for all the different denominations. In Boston it brought all the different congregations together, and they were mentioned as exactly that- congregations. The emphasis was that different synagogue communities were working together, not that Reform, Conservative, and Orthodox Jews were finding something to agree on.
As I was getting at before, being progressive means different things in different societies. I still do not quite understand why the movement in Israel refers to itself both as Reform and as Progressive. The Reform Movement when founded was something very unique to Europe and America. It does not quite work the same way in Israel. I do understand why they would call themselves progressive, though how they are and will be progressive is very different from how the Reform Movement is progressive in America. Everyone has the right to choose how they want to be, but I think it is great that these "in between" Jews in Israel can be part of a community that serves their lifestyle and interests. I just hope that having an "in between", having something that isn't just דתי or just חילוני, will create a spectrum from one to the other, a spirit of open-mindedness, and not just another box to put people into. That would be progressive indeed.
הגיד לך אדם מה טוב ומה ה' דורש ממך כי אם עשות משפט ואהבת חסד והצנע ללכת עם אלוקיך. –מיכה ו:ח
(While looking for a place I could copy and paste this verse from I came across this. Like buses wishing me a Happy Chanukah, it's things like this that get me excited about living in Israel.)
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
The Roadblock
In the introduction to her book History On Trial, Deborah Lipstadt describes an experience she had while studying abroad at the Hebrew University on Mount Scopus in the mid-sixties. One day she decided that she was determined to visit the Western Wall. Pre-1967, the Kotel (Western Wall), despite also being in Jerusalem and less than an hour's walk away, was in Jordan. Lipstadt came up with this crazy plan for her winter break to travel through Lebanon, England, Syria, and into Jordan (I forget the exact order) and make her way to the Kotel. Part of this plan involved "losing" her passport so that there would be no evidence when entering Jordan that she had been in Israel. Winter break was a good time to do this because there were certain times of the year (such as Christmas) that Mandelbaum Gate was open for Jordanian pilgrims to pass through into Israel, thereby providing Lipstadt with a way back to her dorm (Mandelbaum Gate is on what is now Route 1, about halfway between the Old City and Mount Scopus). From the Jordanian side of the gate she could easily see Mount Scopus and the nearby neighborhoods she would always take walks in. The Western Wall, such an important part of history and her Jewish heritage, was so close yet so far. She felt it was unfair to be kept from it (she then writes about coming back, just a few years later).
I think I wrote about this introduction in another blog post. I read it around the time I was beginning my degree at Hebrew University. Every time I travel there and back I pass by what was once Mandelbaum Gate. This critical checkpoint from just over forty years ago is now represented by a pillar surrounded by tracks for the future lightrail (I actually did see trains today but the seats were still covered in plastic wrap). I always think wow, this is incredible, I'm just gliding through on a bus- no passport or anything. Then from the rooftops of Hebrew University I get a stunning panoramic view of the city- a humbling experience indeed.
One doesn't have to read the news that often to figure out that the future of a united Jerusalem is a point of contention in the "peace process" (not putting it in quotes to be political... okay, maybe I am). Same goes for keeping the current borders of Israel (one vs. two state "solution"... oh there I go being political again- doesn't happen much, does it?). Checkpoints are still very much an everyday part of life in Israel. A few weeks ago I went to friends in the Gush for shabbat. It took just over a half hour to get there from my apartment in southern Jerusalem- I went up the street, got on a bus, rode it for less than ten minutes, crossed the street to the hitchhiking point/ bus stop, found someone driving to Neve Daniel, got in, and before I knew it I was there. The driver was originally from the US- not that I ever found out his name. I'm sure we know some of the same people. There is a checkpoint before the Gush but we barely had to stop. The driver glanced out the window, made eye contact with a soldier, and was waved through. No problem whatsoever. When you travel on a bus, a soldier will come on board and do a quick walk through but even that never takes so long. When my co-workers (native Israelis) found out where I went they were shocked- wasn't I scared? Isn't it dangerous? I thought they were being very silly. It's really amazing though. The Gush to them is an entirely foreign area. A few weeks later I went to the Gush again for Thanksgiving dinner. My friend invited his friends from the army. They were also in awe at being over the green line. To them this was a huge deal. It was like crawling into the wilderness. There is a lot I can say about my co-workers and their views on certain things, but that isn't the point of this post...
This year at Hebrew University I am in a class where the goal is to construct a project that will help other people. A couple weeks ago I missed a class at which a woman came to talk about a center she works at in East Jerusalem for children at risk. From my understanding these centers (which are all over Israel) are kind of like Israel's version of Head Start in the US. This was not my group's original plan, but my partners were impressed with the presentation and one of them (who is Arab) was asked directly by this woman to do her project there. The other two of us agreed, began researching what we could do to help based on what we knew about these centers in general, and today we were supposed to go visit and see for ourselves what we'd be dealing with.
The head of the center (the one who came to speak to the class) said she would come pick us up at school and drive us back. Because the center is in East Jerusalem, the Egged buses don't go there and it is not somewhere we would just walk over to, despite it being just a few minutes from the University. She picked us up as planned, we drove maybe two minutes, and then... road block. Our driver had started driving right through as she's used to when a soldier stopped us. Apparently this roadblock was only just set up because of recent events I am unclear about. She was perturbed. She said she was just driving to work. We said we were studies from the university out doing a project. Obviously this didn't matter to the soldiers.
You hear a lot about roadblocks in Israel on the news, so I must point out that these soldiers were perfectly cordial. They looked at all our IDs and told us that the driver and my Arab classmate were free to go in, but me and the other Israeli were not going to be let by so easily. It is not that we were forbidden to enter the area. The soldier informed us that if we did enter and something happened (I won't get into the examples he gives- they just aren't pleasant) the army would not be responsible for our safety. It would be a risk that we, as citizens of a democratic country and therefore allowed to make our own decisions, would choose to make. Discouraged, we turned around and drove back towards the school.
After discussing it amongst ourselves and our professor, we have decided not to continue with this project. While many Israeli professionals travel into the area every day, it is not something we can be sure we can do throughout the year. It is unfortunate that we can't, and the woman from the center will certainly be disappointed. I think she was the most put off by what happened. At the roadblock my Arab classmate nodded in quiet understanding while the other Israeli and I looked at each other, sitting together in the back seat, looked at each other wondering what to do. It is unfortunate that we are being kept from this experience and that the children at the center are being kept from the help and services we can provide. We were the perfect group for this project, each of us coming from a slightly different professional background that put together would have worked wonderfully.
When we got back to school, we just laughed about it. I'm glad we could. Here we were, two Arabs and two Israelis, laughing about the harsh realities of the country we live in. I joked that I would add it to the list of things not to tell my parents, though they will probably be relieved to find out I will not be doing a project in East Jerusalem. They are so supportive of me living in Israel that I try not to do anything to worry them, but this was an experience I really wanted to have. While there are so many parts of Israel I would never think of going (or am simply prohibited as an Israeli from going) because of safety concerns, I guess I never thought it could happen in a place next door to where thousands of Arabs and Jews study together every day. I want to believe that we could have gone through with this project and everything would have been fine- and maybe it would have. It just takes one person with a rock in his or her hand to turn everything upside down. It is my democratic right to choose to go where I please, but it is also my democratic right to choose to be safe. My co-workers' fears of the Gush are not unfounded, but I do wish they could speak about it more optimistically.
Our plan B (which was our original Plan A) is to work on programming for teenagers who are hard of hearing. My Israeli and Arab partners both have connections in their respective communities. We are hoping that we can provide both a service for deaf teenagers, and an opportunity for Arab and Israeli teens to communicate with each other. I am in this class because of my failed plan to write a thesis. I knew that doing a project instead wouldn't be a bad alternative, but I felt that I wanted to do something on my own and not have to deal with class and dealing with others. Each week I realize what a great experience this will be. My group is the only mixed Arab/Jewish group and the only one that is doing something with both communities. When I was first looking into schools I posted on a listserv asking about David Yellin, a teacher's college I considered going to. Someone wrote back telling me that I should be aware that there are Arabs there. I held back from responding, but I was thinking "Arabs wanted to study to be educators too? That sounds wonderful." It is such a positive experience being in a program of both Arabs and Jews. Great things can happen here.
I think I wrote about this introduction in another blog post. I read it around the time I was beginning my degree at Hebrew University. Every time I travel there and back I pass by what was once Mandelbaum Gate. This critical checkpoint from just over forty years ago is now represented by a pillar surrounded by tracks for the future lightrail (I actually did see trains today but the seats were still covered in plastic wrap). I always think wow, this is incredible, I'm just gliding through on a bus- no passport or anything. Then from the rooftops of Hebrew University I get a stunning panoramic view of the city- a humbling experience indeed.
One doesn't have to read the news that often to figure out that the future of a united Jerusalem is a point of contention in the "peace process" (not putting it in quotes to be political... okay, maybe I am). Same goes for keeping the current borders of Israel (one vs. two state "solution"... oh there I go being political again- doesn't happen much, does it?). Checkpoints are still very much an everyday part of life in Israel. A few weeks ago I went to friends in the Gush for shabbat. It took just over a half hour to get there from my apartment in southern Jerusalem- I went up the street, got on a bus, rode it for less than ten minutes, crossed the street to the hitchhiking point/ bus stop, found someone driving to Neve Daniel, got in, and before I knew it I was there. The driver was originally from the US- not that I ever found out his name. I'm sure we know some of the same people. There is a checkpoint before the Gush but we barely had to stop. The driver glanced out the window, made eye contact with a soldier, and was waved through. No problem whatsoever. When you travel on a bus, a soldier will come on board and do a quick walk through but even that never takes so long. When my co-workers (native Israelis) found out where I went they were shocked- wasn't I scared? Isn't it dangerous? I thought they were being very silly. It's really amazing though. The Gush to them is an entirely foreign area. A few weeks later I went to the Gush again for Thanksgiving dinner. My friend invited his friends from the army. They were also in awe at being over the green line. To them this was a huge deal. It was like crawling into the wilderness. There is a lot I can say about my co-workers and their views on certain things, but that isn't the point of this post...
This year at Hebrew University I am in a class where the goal is to construct a project that will help other people. A couple weeks ago I missed a class at which a woman came to talk about a center she works at in East Jerusalem for children at risk. From my understanding these centers (which are all over Israel) are kind of like Israel's version of Head Start in the US. This was not my group's original plan, but my partners were impressed with the presentation and one of them (who is Arab) was asked directly by this woman to do her project there. The other two of us agreed, began researching what we could do to help based on what we knew about these centers in general, and today we were supposed to go visit and see for ourselves what we'd be dealing with.
The head of the center (the one who came to speak to the class) said she would come pick us up at school and drive us back. Because the center is in East Jerusalem, the Egged buses don't go there and it is not somewhere we would just walk over to, despite it being just a few minutes from the University. She picked us up as planned, we drove maybe two minutes, and then... road block. Our driver had started driving right through as she's used to when a soldier stopped us. Apparently this roadblock was only just set up because of recent events I am unclear about. She was perturbed. She said she was just driving to work. We said we were studies from the university out doing a project. Obviously this didn't matter to the soldiers.
You hear a lot about roadblocks in Israel on the news, so I must point out that these soldiers were perfectly cordial. They looked at all our IDs and told us that the driver and my Arab classmate were free to go in, but me and the other Israeli were not going to be let by so easily. It is not that we were forbidden to enter the area. The soldier informed us that if we did enter and something happened (I won't get into the examples he gives- they just aren't pleasant) the army would not be responsible for our safety. It would be a risk that we, as citizens of a democratic country and therefore allowed to make our own decisions, would choose to make. Discouraged, we turned around and drove back towards the school.
After discussing it amongst ourselves and our professor, we have decided not to continue with this project. While many Israeli professionals travel into the area every day, it is not something we can be sure we can do throughout the year. It is unfortunate that we can't, and the woman from the center will certainly be disappointed. I think she was the most put off by what happened. At the roadblock my Arab classmate nodded in quiet understanding while the other Israeli and I looked at each other, sitting together in the back seat, looked at each other wondering what to do. It is unfortunate that we are being kept from this experience and that the children at the center are being kept from the help and services we can provide. We were the perfect group for this project, each of us coming from a slightly different professional background that put together would have worked wonderfully.
When we got back to school, we just laughed about it. I'm glad we could. Here we were, two Arabs and two Israelis, laughing about the harsh realities of the country we live in. I joked that I would add it to the list of things not to tell my parents, though they will probably be relieved to find out I will not be doing a project in East Jerusalem. They are so supportive of me living in Israel that I try not to do anything to worry them, but this was an experience I really wanted to have. While there are so many parts of Israel I would never think of going (or am simply prohibited as an Israeli from going) because of safety concerns, I guess I never thought it could happen in a place next door to where thousands of Arabs and Jews study together every day. I want to believe that we could have gone through with this project and everything would have been fine- and maybe it would have. It just takes one person with a rock in his or her hand to turn everything upside down. It is my democratic right to choose to go where I please, but it is also my democratic right to choose to be safe. My co-workers' fears of the Gush are not unfounded, but I do wish they could speak about it more optimistically.
Our plan B (which was our original Plan A) is to work on programming for teenagers who are hard of hearing. My Israeli and Arab partners both have connections in their respective communities. We are hoping that we can provide both a service for deaf teenagers, and an opportunity for Arab and Israeli teens to communicate with each other. I am in this class because of my failed plan to write a thesis. I knew that doing a project instead wouldn't be a bad alternative, but I felt that I wanted to do something on my own and not have to deal with class and dealing with others. Each week I realize what a great experience this will be. My group is the only mixed Arab/Jewish group and the only one that is doing something with both communities. When I was first looking into schools I posted on a listserv asking about David Yellin, a teacher's college I considered going to. Someone wrote back telling me that I should be aware that there are Arabs there. I held back from responding, but I was thinking "Arabs wanted to study to be educators too? That sounds wonderful." It is such a positive experience being in a program of both Arabs and Jews. Great things can happen here.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
לך לך Lech Lecha, etc.
The first verse in לך לך was the first one I ever learned by heart. I was in second grade and had just started learning חומש. I always enjoyed studying תנ’ך (Bible). I like the combination of its religious and historical significance. It definitely influenced my decision to major in History and to move to Israel. I guess I could say that studying History helped my develop an awareness of the world around me, and תנ'ך made me feel like I had a place in a specific part of history and gave me direction for where I wanted to go in the future. I have thought about the beginning of לך לך, the beginning of Abraham's journey, countless times throughout the years leading up to my move to Israel and the years since. How could I not? I have no doubt that these first few words we are told God said to Abraham speak to anyone who has made the decision to move to Israel. And I wonder... was Abraham nervous? Sad? Did he look back? When I was in second grade this was a simple Bible story. It was nice to read about- a good story to start off my Jewish education. I recently made a comment that maybe this is where the brainwashing started, but that blame remains on Bnei Akiva, etc (see previous blog posts- there are plenty about that). I'm trying to think when it went from being just a thing I learned in school to something I constantly thought about- something that drove me to make the biggest decision of my life until now.
So that's that. Just a thought. In other news, life picked up where it left off except this time around I seem to be sick less often, less stressed out, less overtired, and overall just better off. I'm at gan five days a week instead of six. I finished my huge assignment from last year lifting a huge weight off my shoulders and making me feel pretty darn proud of myself. It was a challenging year and I did it- woohoo. Long story short- I'm not writing a thesis in the end. While this was something I really want to do, it probably wasn't a good idea and it's another weight off my shoulders. Unfortunately the alternative is a class that used to be on Thursdays (my free day) but is on Wednesday. How does one take a class at 12:30pm on a day they're supposed to be at gan from 9-4? Excellent question. Thanks to my amazing and supportive boss, I am not too worried about it. The class is only going to meet a few times during the year and the co-teacher with Wednesday off is going to switch with me when she can. This gets me my morning hours back so I only lose the afternoon. This week she couldn't switch but I got to spend the morning in a different gan (their kids are so much better at clean-up) and got some hours back that way. Hopefully in the end it will all work out and I will still merit real vacation days for a cool trip somewhere (Greece, anybody?). The class is with a professor I've had before and many classmates I've been with before so I actually don't feel terrified every time I walk into the room. The professor asked me which class I had with her. I of course had no idea what it was called as I referred to it in my head as "the class with the teacher with bright white hair". I'm not sure that was the answer she was looking for. The best thing about not writing a thesis is that I will be 100% done with my degree by the beginning of next summer. That is pretty darn exciting.
In other news, Gila finally decided to get her butt back from America. This means that we can actually start planning our very own גן (daycare) to open for next Fall. If anyone knows about real estate, small businesses, contracts between business partners, licensing, insurance, and any of that technical stuff please let me know. We are also collecting information about places in the area- where they are, how much tuition is, how many kids, how many teachers, etc. Any and all advice and information is greatly appreciated as we embark on this crazy and challenging project. This is something we've been talking about doing for a really long time and I am so excited about turning this dream into a reality.
A blog post would not be complete without mentioning how adorable my niece is. We continue to have our Tuesday playdates after gan. Sometimes she even picks me up. My wonderful niece Rinat Hodaya will be turning 1 in just over a week and I am excited that my parents are coming in next week for the festivities. It also happens that Hodaya's English birthday and my Hebrew birthday overlap so we'll have double the parties. Joint fingerpaint party anybody? It has been amazing watching her grow over the past year. She just started walking and is so much fun to watch. This picture captures a rare moment- Hodaya actually sitting still.
So that's what's going on. I've been living in Israel for over three years now and time is flying. So much changes and so much changes the same (maybe the topic of another blog entry but I've been managing to stay away from rants). Lets just say my three year olds at gan aren't the only ones learning new things and having new experiences every day about the harsh (and okay, also not so harsh) realities of the big world around us.
Until next time...
So that's that. Just a thought. In other news, life picked up where it left off except this time around I seem to be sick less often, less stressed out, less overtired, and overall just better off. I'm at gan five days a week instead of six. I finished my huge assignment from last year lifting a huge weight off my shoulders and making me feel pretty darn proud of myself. It was a challenging year and I did it- woohoo. Long story short- I'm not writing a thesis in the end. While this was something I really want to do, it probably wasn't a good idea and it's another weight off my shoulders. Unfortunately the alternative is a class that used to be on Thursdays (my free day) but is on Wednesday. How does one take a class at 12:30pm on a day they're supposed to be at gan from 9-4? Excellent question. Thanks to my amazing and supportive boss, I am not too worried about it. The class is only going to meet a few times during the year and the co-teacher with Wednesday off is going to switch with me when she can. This gets me my morning hours back so I only lose the afternoon. This week she couldn't switch but I got to spend the morning in a different gan (their kids are so much better at clean-up) and got some hours back that way. Hopefully in the end it will all work out and I will still merit real vacation days for a cool trip somewhere (Greece, anybody?). The class is with a professor I've had before and many classmates I've been with before so I actually don't feel terrified every time I walk into the room. The professor asked me which class I had with her. I of course had no idea what it was called as I referred to it in my head as "the class with the teacher with bright white hair". I'm not sure that was the answer she was looking for. The best thing about not writing a thesis is that I will be 100% done with my degree by the beginning of next summer. That is pretty darn exciting.
In other news, Gila finally decided to get her butt back from America. This means that we can actually start planning our very own גן (daycare) to open for next Fall. If anyone knows about real estate, small businesses, contracts between business partners, licensing, insurance, and any of that technical stuff please let me know. We are also collecting information about places in the area- where they are, how much tuition is, how many kids, how many teachers, etc. Any and all advice and information is greatly appreciated as we embark on this crazy and challenging project. This is something we've been talking about doing for a really long time and I am so excited about turning this dream into a reality.
A blog post would not be complete without mentioning how adorable my niece is. We continue to have our Tuesday playdates after gan. Sometimes she even picks me up. My wonderful niece Rinat Hodaya will be turning 1 in just over a week and I am excited that my parents are coming in next week for the festivities. It also happens that Hodaya's English birthday and my Hebrew birthday overlap so we'll have double the parties. Joint fingerpaint party anybody? It has been amazing watching her grow over the past year. She just started walking and is so much fun to watch. This picture captures a rare moment- Hodaya actually sitting still.
So that's what's going on. I've been living in Israel for over three years now and time is flying. So much changes and so much changes the same (maybe the topic of another blog entry but I've been managing to stay away from rants). Lets just say my three year olds at gan aren't the only ones learning new things and having new experiences every day about the harsh (and okay, also not so harsh) realities of the big world around us.
Until next time...
Sunday, August 29, 2010
can't stay still
Today I went back to work. Kids aren't back yet but the staff was back learning CPR (may we never need it- my co-workers decided I'm the go to resuscitater) and getting the classrooms ready. I cleaned the fishtank and when I put the fish back they looked like they were starting to die. Better luck with the kids, I guess. My boss asked me if I had a chance to rest over vacation. Rest? What rest? How can I rest when...
I finished my last day of work at 4 on Thursday August 5th. That night I went to the Jerusalem Wine Festival. All I can say is members of this community need events like this more often. I think the tipsiness did a lot of us a lot of good. I got home after midnight, and felt so nice and lightheaded as I stayed up for my 3am sheirut ride to the airport. Thanks to a sobered up Jay and friend for helping me load my bags when the sheirut came (they just happened to be walking down the street... at 3am). After a McDonalds chicken sandwich breakfast (it was as gross as it sounds) my flight took off at 6am. I got to Boston around 4pm and waiting around until Chava's flight from DC arrived. We got home in time to get ready for shabbat, and then Sunday night I was packing again- this time for the long awaited sibling bonding trip to Maine.
On Sunday morning I was up bright and early to catch an 8:50am train to Portland, ME. Who said anything about relaxing on Sunday in America? When we got to Portland we watched the Portland Seadogs get their tails smacked around by the Richmond Flying Squirrels. It wasn't pretty. The little kid next to us was quite vocal about his frustration. It was kinda adorable. Chava and I wearing matching Portland Seadogs hats was also probably kinda adorable.
After the game we went down to Casco Bay and took a sunset ride on a schooner. It was really neat and we got to help hoist the sail!
The next day we were up bright and early to drive the three or so hours to Bar Harbor, ME. I survived my first real experience with highway driving. Go me. Chava and I spent two days hiking in Acadia National Park. The mountains were high and the views were stunning. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.
The best part is, Chava and I had a great time and didn't kill each other. Go sister bonding! On Wednesday morning we drove south along the coastal route which had even more stunning views. We drove down Main Street in at least five different small towns on the way and stopped (on Main Street) in Belfast for a late breakfast. We got back to Portland in time to eat lunch at the Green Elephant, a really yummy vegan place, and then I caught a train back to Boston.
On Thursday my mom took the day off so we could spend some quality time together. We had lunch at Milk Street Cafe and went on the swan boats together. What a perfect day in beautiful Boston.
On Friday I went to Target. Nuff said. Saturday night I had the very special treat of going to JP Licks with Mimmer and Isaac who was in from Brooklyn. While many members of our old gang were missing, this might have been the highlight of my trip. There is nothing like hanging out with childhood friends. It was just like old times.
On Sunday I was up bright and early again- this time even earlier than the Sunday before. I caught an 8am bus to NYC, met up with Janice in the bus station for a luggage hand-off, then hopped on a bus to Teaneck to see my wonderful and adorable and brilliant little cousins Aharon (11), Adina (9), Eitan (7), Tani (10), Shimmy (7 1/2), Lila (5) and Akiva (3) (those kids are from two families, FYI). Since they all adore me, it was a really fun twenty four hours with them. It's fun when Aharon comes up with ploys to keep me in the country. He's a smart kid.
On Monday morning I played with Lila and Akiva a bit more, had lunch with my friend Heather, and then took the train to Metuchen to see my aunt and uncle and one of my cousins and his new wife. I hadn't seen them since before I made aliyah. I haven't seen my other two first cousins in I don't even know how long. Maybe I can fit them into my next trip. Three hours later I took the train back in the direction I came from to NYC. Penn Station at rush hour was horribly frightening, but I somehow made it onto the subway going in the right direction to Queens for my friend Dan's wedding. And wow, what a wedding. Bucharians are CRAZY and certainly know how to party. I take back anything I said about chuppahs already being boring. Can you say chuppah-dance party extravaganza? It was so great seeing friends from Maryland and getting to celebrate Dan and Dina's special day. And thank you Dan for the meaningful brachah. I'm so glad I could work this momentous Jewbox simcha into my busy travel schedule.
(picture credits: Shira Stern)
I spent Monday night in Kew Garden Hills. Thank you Rebecca #3 for the wonderful hospitality. In the morning I road a bus full of Jews to the subway, then took a subway full of Jews into the city to hang out with the one and only Ezra Butler. We were soon joined by my friend Brian. I'm glad Ezra's blindness went away before our time together was through. Maybe I'm a healer? Who knows? Thank you Brian for carrying my bag around NYC. Ezra- you are a wimp, but I love you anyway, and will miss you terribly. Brian made me miss my bus to Philadelphia but made up for it by buying me ice cream. Fair enough. I wound up taking the NJ Transit for the third time in 36 hours to get to Philadelphia.
I overjoyed to see my Grandma Elka in Philadelphia. This was nothing short of a miracle. Just a couple months ago she dehydrated, became completely incoherent, and I was told she wouldn't make it until the end of the week. The weeks after that were extremely difficult. We held our breaths as she improved and hoped she would make it to meet her greatgranddaughter who arrived from Israel a few weeks later. ברוך ה' יום יום She met her great granddaughter and it was love at first site. Hodaya's pictures are all over my grandmother's room and she is constantly the topic of conversation. I am convinced that the picture of her hanging above Grandma Elka's bed is what gets her through the day. While my grandma is in poor health, she has finally accepted almost around the clock care and in my opinion is in better shape than ever. I am grateful to the nurses and health aides who put up with her and take care of her and was blessed with another visit full of scandalous family tales. I look forward to the next one. I also had a surprise run-in with my friend Tzippy who called me from down the street. I only got to see her for ten minutes but hey, that's about as much as anyone else got of my time.
I arrived back in Boston on Thursday evening. On Friday I had another highlight of my trip- the much anticipated JP Licks- Taam China doubleheader with Gila and Rafi. Lisa joined us for part of it (I mean, why shouldn't I hang out in Boston with friends who also live in Israel?). The ice cream and Chinese food was all delicious and my stomach amazingly didn't get terribly angry at me.
On Sunday I was stuck at home because of the rain. On Monday, despite the rain, I went to Brookline to play with more little cousins. Aharon, Adina, and Eitan were visiting their grandparents and were joined by Devorah and Yonatan. They are all so cute and so funny!
Monday afternoon meant the end of my trip. I got in a cab and we went through the cold and rain to the airport. I had a seven hour layover in Paris so Spotty and I did some exploring. We're going to cover Paris one layover at a time, or maybe one time I will actually go on a real trip there. This time we went to the Jardin de Luxembourg and then crossed the Seine to see the Notre Dame Cathedral. Fun stuff.
I got back to Israel Tuesday night. My bags got back Wednesday night. I survived my first shabbat back in Katamon and now my first day back at work. Real life resumes. Maybe I'll even start working on my thesis. I can't believe I have lived in Israel for three years and that this was my sixth trip back to the US since I made aliyah. Every trip back is a different kind of experience, as is every time I return home to Israel. There's a reason I can't stay still. I still have a life in the US to keep up- friends and family to see and new places to explore. I am happy to see any friend who will make time for me and grateful to the ones who do. I'm glad Chava and I finally got to take a trip together even if it wasn't to Iceland or a roadtrip through the Pacific Northwest (maybe next time). It was great riding the swan boats with my mom even though I've been on them a zillion times before. Now that I'm back I'm extremely anxious about getting schoolwork done in a reasonable amount of time but I"m also exciting about starting shana bet of gan with the little ones when they return on Wednesday.
Life in Israel Year 4: here we go. Who knows what adventures await me.
I finished my last day of work at 4 on Thursday August 5th. That night I went to the Jerusalem Wine Festival. All I can say is members of this community need events like this more often. I think the tipsiness did a lot of us a lot of good. I got home after midnight, and felt so nice and lightheaded as I stayed up for my 3am sheirut ride to the airport. Thanks to a sobered up Jay and friend for helping me load my bags when the sheirut came (they just happened to be walking down the street... at 3am). After a McDonalds chicken sandwich breakfast (it was as gross as it sounds) my flight took off at 6am. I got to Boston around 4pm and waiting around until Chava's flight from DC arrived. We got home in time to get ready for shabbat, and then Sunday night I was packing again- this time for the long awaited sibling bonding trip to Maine.
On Sunday morning I was up bright and early to catch an 8:50am train to Portland, ME. Who said anything about relaxing on Sunday in America? When we got to Portland we watched the Portland Seadogs get their tails smacked around by the Richmond Flying Squirrels. It wasn't pretty. The little kid next to us was quite vocal about his frustration. It was kinda adorable. Chava and I wearing matching Portland Seadogs hats was also probably kinda adorable.
After the game we went down to Casco Bay and took a sunset ride on a schooner. It was really neat and we got to help hoist the sail!
The next day we were up bright and early to drive the three or so hours to Bar Harbor, ME. I survived my first real experience with highway driving. Go me. Chava and I spent two days hiking in Acadia National Park. The mountains were high and the views were stunning. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.
The best part is, Chava and I had a great time and didn't kill each other. Go sister bonding! On Wednesday morning we drove south along the coastal route which had even more stunning views. We drove down Main Street in at least five different small towns on the way and stopped (on Main Street) in Belfast for a late breakfast. We got back to Portland in time to eat lunch at the Green Elephant, a really yummy vegan place, and then I caught a train back to Boston.
On Thursday my mom took the day off so we could spend some quality time together. We had lunch at Milk Street Cafe and went on the swan boats together. What a perfect day in beautiful Boston.
On Friday I went to Target. Nuff said. Saturday night I had the very special treat of going to JP Licks with Mimmer and Isaac who was in from Brooklyn. While many members of our old gang were missing, this might have been the highlight of my trip. There is nothing like hanging out with childhood friends. It was just like old times.
On Sunday I was up bright and early again- this time even earlier than the Sunday before. I caught an 8am bus to NYC, met up with Janice in the bus station for a luggage hand-off, then hopped on a bus to Teaneck to see my wonderful and adorable and brilliant little cousins Aharon (11), Adina (9), Eitan (7), Tani (10), Shimmy (7 1/2), Lila (5) and Akiva (3) (those kids are from two families, FYI). Since they all adore me, it was a really fun twenty four hours with them. It's fun when Aharon comes up with ploys to keep me in the country. He's a smart kid.
On Monday morning I played with Lila and Akiva a bit more, had lunch with my friend Heather, and then took the train to Metuchen to see my aunt and uncle and one of my cousins and his new wife. I hadn't seen them since before I made aliyah. I haven't seen my other two first cousins in I don't even know how long. Maybe I can fit them into my next trip. Three hours later I took the train back in the direction I came from to NYC. Penn Station at rush hour was horribly frightening, but I somehow made it onto the subway going in the right direction to Queens for my friend Dan's wedding. And wow, what a wedding. Bucharians are CRAZY and certainly know how to party. I take back anything I said about chuppahs already being boring. Can you say chuppah-dance party extravaganza? It was so great seeing friends from Maryland and getting to celebrate Dan and Dina's special day. And thank you Dan for the meaningful brachah. I'm so glad I could work this momentous Jewbox simcha into my busy travel schedule.
(picture credits: Shira Stern)
I spent Monday night in Kew Garden Hills. Thank you Rebecca #3 for the wonderful hospitality. In the morning I road a bus full of Jews to the subway, then took a subway full of Jews into the city to hang out with the one and only Ezra Butler. We were soon joined by my friend Brian. I'm glad Ezra's blindness went away before our time together was through. Maybe I'm a healer? Who knows? Thank you Brian for carrying my bag around NYC. Ezra- you are a wimp, but I love you anyway, and will miss you terribly. Brian made me miss my bus to Philadelphia but made up for it by buying me ice cream. Fair enough. I wound up taking the NJ Transit for the third time in 36 hours to get to Philadelphia.
I overjoyed to see my Grandma Elka in Philadelphia. This was nothing short of a miracle. Just a couple months ago she dehydrated, became completely incoherent, and I was told she wouldn't make it until the end of the week. The weeks after that were extremely difficult. We held our breaths as she improved and hoped she would make it to meet her greatgranddaughter who arrived from Israel a few weeks later. ברוך ה' יום יום She met her great granddaughter and it was love at first site. Hodaya's pictures are all over my grandmother's room and she is constantly the topic of conversation. I am convinced that the picture of her hanging above Grandma Elka's bed is what gets her through the day. While my grandma is in poor health, she has finally accepted almost around the clock care and in my opinion is in better shape than ever. I am grateful to the nurses and health aides who put up with her and take care of her and was blessed with another visit full of scandalous family tales. I look forward to the next one. I also had a surprise run-in with my friend Tzippy who called me from down the street. I only got to see her for ten minutes but hey, that's about as much as anyone else got of my time.
I arrived back in Boston on Thursday evening. On Friday I had another highlight of my trip- the much anticipated JP Licks- Taam China doubleheader with Gila and Rafi. Lisa joined us for part of it (I mean, why shouldn't I hang out in Boston with friends who also live in Israel?). The ice cream and Chinese food was all delicious and my stomach amazingly didn't get terribly angry at me.
On Sunday I was stuck at home because of the rain. On Monday, despite the rain, I went to Brookline to play with more little cousins. Aharon, Adina, and Eitan were visiting their grandparents and were joined by Devorah and Yonatan. They are all so cute and so funny!
Monday afternoon meant the end of my trip. I got in a cab and we went through the cold and rain to the airport. I had a seven hour layover in Paris so Spotty and I did some exploring. We're going to cover Paris one layover at a time, or maybe one time I will actually go on a real trip there. This time we went to the Jardin de Luxembourg and then crossed the Seine to see the Notre Dame Cathedral. Fun stuff.
I got back to Israel Tuesday night. My bags got back Wednesday night. I survived my first shabbat back in Katamon and now my first day back at work. Real life resumes. Maybe I'll even start working on my thesis. I can't believe I have lived in Israel for three years and that this was my sixth trip back to the US since I made aliyah. Every trip back is a different kind of experience, as is every time I return home to Israel. There's a reason I can't stay still. I still have a life in the US to keep up- friends and family to see and new places to explore. I am happy to see any friend who will make time for me and grateful to the ones who do. I'm glad Chava and I finally got to take a trip together even if it wasn't to Iceland or a roadtrip through the Pacific Northwest (maybe next time). It was great riding the swan boats with my mom even though I've been on them a zillion times before. Now that I'm back I'm extremely anxious about getting schoolwork done in a reasonable amount of time but I"m also exciting about starting shana bet of gan with the little ones when they return on Wednesday.
Life in Israel Year 4: here we go. Who knows what adventures await me.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
על אלה אני בוכיה
When I was younger I spent four summers at Camp Moshava. When people ask me why I made aliyah, I tell them it is all Bnei Akiva's fault. There is much to say about my experiences at Moshava. It's hard to say I had a blast. I learned what it meant to be a Jewish kid from Boston in a sea of New Yorkers. For whatever reason I kept going back, and the brainwashing continued. The staff at Moshava took a two-pronged attack. The word "aliyah" was said on average every ten minutes. There was lots of flag waving, and we were constantly told that moving to Israel was the best thing ever. We dressed up like pioneers arriving in Israel for the first time and nearly every shiur was about the holiness of the land. On the flip side, Tisha B'Av was an incredibly intense day. At camp they were really into setting things on fire. Thinking back, watching an outline of the walls of Jerusalem seems almost tacky, but it was a powerful image for an eleven year old to see. At camp we did everything from the egg dipped in ashes the evening before to sitting on the floor for most of Tisha B'Av day. There were depressing movies to watch, stories about the Holocaust told, and everything was done to make us feel the sadness of the day. I was at Moshava for Tisha B'Av for ages 10-13. When I was 14 I was on an NCSY program in Israel and we read Eicha on Mount Scopus overlooking the Temple Mount. The next year I was in Newton, and it was almost a culture shock. My family does not have the tradition of an egg dipped in ashes and while there was Tisha B'Av programming out there, it hardly compared to what I had experienced the five previous summers.
Tisha B'Av 2007 was very strange for me. It was just a few weeks before I made aliyah. While I attempted to feel sad about the lack of a Beit HaMikdash and what we no longer have as Jewish people, I couldn't help feeling the excitement of moving to Israel and of the miracle that Israel exists once again as a Jewish homeland. Once the nine days and Tisha B'Av were over, I could finally make the final arrangements and purchases for my aliyah. I still think about that summer and the brainwashing (debated putting that in quotes, but lets be honest) that took place those four summers at Moshava. After nearly three years living in Israel, I am no doubt still thrilled to be here. I am living the dream and being part of the miracle that is modern day Israel. At the same time, I miss the blissful Zionism instilled in me as a young teenager. When in takes me several tries to convince Bituach Leumi that I do not owe them hundreds of shekels, it's hard to get excited about being here. Tisha B'Av poses another challenge. While there is plenty to mourn in Jewish History and the current state of things for the Jewish people and Israel, at the same time I find much to celebrate every day when I look around and see how far we have come.
כל המתאבל על ירושלים זוכה ורואה בשמחתה
"Everyone who mourns for Jerusalem merits and sees her in her happiness"
This morning I read about this idea in Yitchak Mirsky's book הגיוני הלכה (a present from my brother upon graduating high school a heading off for a year at HaRova, where the brainwashing continued and aliyah became a true part of my life plan). The question is raised, why is it in the present tense? Shouldn't it be that one who mourns Jerusalem will in the future merit and see her in her happiness? A comparison is made to Yosef's brothers attempting to comfort Yaakov when Yaakov thought Yosef was dead. Yaakov could not be comforted, and over time he realized that the reason he could not be comforted was that he knew Yosef was still alive and that they would one day be reunited. There is a similar idea with the pasuk about Rachel Imeinu crying for her children until they come home to their land. She is crying in the present because she knows her children are still alive and that they can one day come back.
When we mourn for the Beit HaMikdash and what once was, it is not like mourning for a person. There is no set timeline for mourning after which we move on and enjoy the memories but no longer feel sad. By actively mourning for Jerusalem, we remain aware that it can be rebuilt, and we see the opportunities for bringing things back to how they once were. That is why one who mourns "merits and sees" in the present and not future tense. We are like Yaakov mourning for Yosef. We know we can be reunited with the שכינה in Jerusalem and in our lives in general.
On Sunday night before Tisha B'Av I went to two shiurim by Rav Alex Israel and Rav Binny Lau in preparation for Tisha B'Av and in memory of Marc Weinberg z"l, a close friend and former neighbor of my friends in Modiin. Rav Alex talked about the different portrayals of God in Eicha and how the authors relates to Him. It is different in each chapter. In one Yirmiyahu is yelling at God for the misery He has caused, and another is more about bemoaning the actions of the Jewish people that brought upon the destruction the punishment described. Rav Lau made an interesting point about the Tisha B'Av experience. On Tisha B'Av we force ourselves to miss. We do it because it's what we're supposed to do, and while the feelings may truly be within us, they are not felt naturally. He explained further that when it really comes down to it, we're not just missing what we once had. What we're missing and feeling bad about is our actions- how we behaved and the opportunities that were lost.
While I am not sure if this was Rav Lau's intention, it gave me a new perspective on Tisha B'Av. I think fasting, sitting on the floor, and the other restrictions we place upon ourselves on Tisha B'Av are important, but I think there is a more active role we can play in experiencing the essence of the day. We can mourn for what we lost and pray for it all to come back, but we need to take more active roles in realizing our own potentials in this process. As much as I celebrate the accomplishments of Israel, I am very much aware of the problems here. I know that last night in a few places there were panel discussions intended to create a dialogue between secular and religious Jews. This is definitely a good step. I have been thinking about what I wrote on the essay I submitted to Nefesh B'Nefesh when I applied for aliyah. I wrote that one reason I wanted to make aliyah was I felt I had much contribute and that it would be more meaningful for me to make this contributions to society in Israel.
On Yom Haatzmaut as my roommate and I partied in town into the wee hours of the night, I told her that I was grateful for Yom Haatzmaut because it brought me back to the excited-brainwashed-Zionistic teenager I was as a camper at Moshava. On our way to town we were stuck behind this huge group of teenagers that kept spontaneously bursting song, often getting random passersby to join in. It was exactly what a needed -- a reminder of how I turned the brainwashing into a personal dream and now a reality. This new take on Tisha B'Av is helping me put the other half of things into perspective. One one hand I am never about to downplay the tragedy that was the destruction of Jerusalem, pogroms, the Holocaust, and the countless random acts of cruelty done to Jews around the world on an almost daily basis. On the other hand I know that if I'm going to miss what once was, I have to force myself to do so. I can stare out my window towards the Old City walls (which I can barely see from my room) and wonder about what it was like, but missing it takes something extra.
The type of mourning we demand of ourselves on Tisha B'Av is very unique, but I definitely understand why the phrase above is in the present tense. If we can appropriately mourn for Jerusalem, it means we can become aware of what it will take to, at this moment, appreciate the merit of seeing it in her happiness-- the happiness of 1948, 1967, the continued flourishing of our homeland.
Tisha B'Av 2007 was very strange for me. It was just a few weeks before I made aliyah. While I attempted to feel sad about the lack of a Beit HaMikdash and what we no longer have as Jewish people, I couldn't help feeling the excitement of moving to Israel and of the miracle that Israel exists once again as a Jewish homeland. Once the nine days and Tisha B'Av were over, I could finally make the final arrangements and purchases for my aliyah. I still think about that summer and the brainwashing (debated putting that in quotes, but lets be honest) that took place those four summers at Moshava. After nearly three years living in Israel, I am no doubt still thrilled to be here. I am living the dream and being part of the miracle that is modern day Israel. At the same time, I miss the blissful Zionism instilled in me as a young teenager. When in takes me several tries to convince Bituach Leumi that I do not owe them hundreds of shekels, it's hard to get excited about being here. Tisha B'Av poses another challenge. While there is plenty to mourn in Jewish History and the current state of things for the Jewish people and Israel, at the same time I find much to celebrate every day when I look around and see how far we have come.
כל המתאבל על ירושלים זוכה ורואה בשמחתה
"Everyone who mourns for Jerusalem merits and sees her in her happiness"
This morning I read about this idea in Yitchak Mirsky's book הגיוני הלכה (a present from my brother upon graduating high school a heading off for a year at HaRova, where the brainwashing continued and aliyah became a true part of my life plan). The question is raised, why is it in the present tense? Shouldn't it be that one who mourns Jerusalem will in the future merit and see her in her happiness? A comparison is made to Yosef's brothers attempting to comfort Yaakov when Yaakov thought Yosef was dead. Yaakov could not be comforted, and over time he realized that the reason he could not be comforted was that he knew Yosef was still alive and that they would one day be reunited. There is a similar idea with the pasuk about Rachel Imeinu crying for her children until they come home to their land. She is crying in the present because she knows her children are still alive and that they can one day come back.
When we mourn for the Beit HaMikdash and what once was, it is not like mourning for a person. There is no set timeline for mourning after which we move on and enjoy the memories but no longer feel sad. By actively mourning for Jerusalem, we remain aware that it can be rebuilt, and we see the opportunities for bringing things back to how they once were. That is why one who mourns "merits and sees" in the present and not future tense. We are like Yaakov mourning for Yosef. We know we can be reunited with the שכינה in Jerusalem and in our lives in general.
On Sunday night before Tisha B'Av I went to two shiurim by Rav Alex Israel and Rav Binny Lau in preparation for Tisha B'Av and in memory of Marc Weinberg z"l, a close friend and former neighbor of my friends in Modiin. Rav Alex talked about the different portrayals of God in Eicha and how the authors relates to Him. It is different in each chapter. In one Yirmiyahu is yelling at God for the misery He has caused, and another is more about bemoaning the actions of the Jewish people that brought upon the destruction the punishment described. Rav Lau made an interesting point about the Tisha B'Av experience. On Tisha B'Av we force ourselves to miss. We do it because it's what we're supposed to do, and while the feelings may truly be within us, they are not felt naturally. He explained further that when it really comes down to it, we're not just missing what we once had. What we're missing and feeling bad about is our actions- how we behaved and the opportunities that were lost.
While I am not sure if this was Rav Lau's intention, it gave me a new perspective on Tisha B'Av. I think fasting, sitting on the floor, and the other restrictions we place upon ourselves on Tisha B'Av are important, but I think there is a more active role we can play in experiencing the essence of the day. We can mourn for what we lost and pray for it all to come back, but we need to take more active roles in realizing our own potentials in this process. As much as I celebrate the accomplishments of Israel, I am very much aware of the problems here. I know that last night in a few places there were panel discussions intended to create a dialogue between secular and religious Jews. This is definitely a good step. I have been thinking about what I wrote on the essay I submitted to Nefesh B'Nefesh when I applied for aliyah. I wrote that one reason I wanted to make aliyah was I felt I had much contribute and that it would be more meaningful for me to make this contributions to society in Israel.
On Yom Haatzmaut as my roommate and I partied in town into the wee hours of the night, I told her that I was grateful for Yom Haatzmaut because it brought me back to the excited-brainwashed-Zionistic teenager I was as a camper at Moshava. On our way to town we were stuck behind this huge group of teenagers that kept spontaneously bursting song, often getting random passersby to join in. It was exactly what a needed -- a reminder of how I turned the brainwashing into a personal dream and now a reality. This new take on Tisha B'Av is helping me put the other half of things into perspective. One one hand I am never about to downplay the tragedy that was the destruction of Jerusalem, pogroms, the Holocaust, and the countless random acts of cruelty done to Jews around the world on an almost daily basis. On the other hand I know that if I'm going to miss what once was, I have to force myself to do so. I can stare out my window towards the Old City walls (which I can barely see from my room) and wonder about what it was like, but missing it takes something extra.
The type of mourning we demand of ourselves on Tisha B'Av is very unique, but I definitely understand why the phrase above is in the present tense. If we can appropriately mourn for Jerusalem, it means we can become aware of what it will take to, at this moment, appreciate the merit of seeing it in her happiness-- the happiness of 1948, 1967, the continued flourishing of our homeland.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Being Brave
Today at gan we celebrated the birthday of Avigail. Back in January when the kids started having birthdays, I really wondered how Avigail would fare when her time came. She had six months to go, but at the time she almost always played on her own, barely said a word to anyone, and never approached the teachers for help if she was upset about something. The kids picked up on her vulnerability and made a game of sneaking up on her and roaring like lions. It was an important lesson for the kids to learn that it's not right to do something they know will make a friend upset. It was also ultimately good for Avigail. She had to learn to stick up for herself. The other thing that set Avigail apart from the other kids was that she couldn't jump. In general her fine and gross motor skills were well behind the other kids, but jumping is a big thing for little kids. It is also something each birthday boy and girl is called upon to do as part of their party in gan. Every Wednesday morning there is an exercise class with "Ariel HaGadol" (Big Ariel) as the kids call him (there is an Ariel in our class, as well as a Tamar, so Tamar the music teacher is "Tamar HaGedolah"). The class is wildly entertaining to watch. Ariel has the kids crawling like dogs, slithering like snacks, walking like monkeys and giraffes, and of course jumping like kangaroos. The kids go from one side of the room to the other. Avigail would be maybe one fifth there by the time the kids reached the other side, but Ariel was very patient and Avigail was extraordinarily determined. As for jumps, she did the movements but never quite got her feet off the ground.
The point of this story is... Avigail's determination always amazed me. She seemed totally oblivious to the comments and progress of the other kids. All she cared about was getting her feet off the ground. Then one day she did. For maybe a week she couldn't stop jumping. She was constantly hopping around the room and outside as if to keep reassuring herself that she could in fact do it. She's still really quiet. Her presence in gan is barely noticed. But when I do pay attention, I notice how much better she holds a paintbrush, how she quietly joins in the games of other kids, how she'll spend ten minutes getting two pieces of Lego together, and how she'll stand up for herself when another kid tries to grab a toy away from her.
I have mixed feelings about birthday parties at gan. Some kids just don't want to be in the center of attention. Even the most outgoing kids freak out and hide behind their parents when asked to get up and jump in the middle of the room. Then there was the kid who handled the pressure by climbing on tables. Today Avigail shined. We were all blown away. She sat confidently on the birthday chair in front of everyone, fully participated, and of course her jumps were spectacular. My mom likes to quote my grandfather, "be careful of those quiet ones." It's fun to think about what the kids are like now and what they will be like when they're older. Who will be the doctors and lawyers and who will work their way up in the Knesset. Whatever Avigail does I feel like she will do it slowly and quietly, but one day shock us all.
What's the moral of the story? Yes, Katamon is just like gan. Maybe I'll get to that part a little later. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me I was brave to move to Israel, I might be able to afford my rent. I guess they have a point. Moving so far away from everything and everyone was a big leap of faith and no small thing. But whatever, that part is done. When I think about being brave I think about how I finally called families and spoke to them in Hebrew about participating in my class' research project. I was reading off a script but it was absolutely terrifying. I was expected to get up to twenty families and I got five. Even that was exhausting. I'm lucky to have a professor who is an olah herself and was extremely encouraging even with my relatively minor success recruiting families. Another brave moment of the past few weeks was standing up to my coworkers. The fight is on for the most desirable hours for next year. I might be at the bottom of the pecking order, but that wasn't going to stop me from at least telling my boss what my requests were. My coworkers basically acted like babies but I stood up to them. Maybe I stood up to them in my far less than perfect Hebrew, but I did it. I let them ramble about so many things they think I should do differently but when it comes to how my time is going to be used, I wasn't going to let them get away with them anymore. I even told my boss on them :-)
I still have way too much to figure out and challenges to suck up and be brave about. Oh yeah, why Katamon is like gan (besides the obvious reasons)... well, lets just say I have now realized that when you finally manage to be comfortable in your own shoes and just be yourself being bold and brave comes naturally. No more faking it, no more games. Honesty is a pretty cool thing. Being honest with myself was a big one. Yeah, it's corny, I know. Deal with it.
I continue to learn so much from the kids at gan in the smallest ways. I look at them now and realize that woah, they have come such a long way, some of them in the least expected but most incredible ways, like Avigail. I have come a long way too, whether it was in baby steps, monkey steps, or giant kangaroo leaps.
The point of this story is... Avigail's determination always amazed me. She seemed totally oblivious to the comments and progress of the other kids. All she cared about was getting her feet off the ground. Then one day she did. For maybe a week she couldn't stop jumping. She was constantly hopping around the room and outside as if to keep reassuring herself that she could in fact do it. She's still really quiet. Her presence in gan is barely noticed. But when I do pay attention, I notice how much better she holds a paintbrush, how she quietly joins in the games of other kids, how she'll spend ten minutes getting two pieces of Lego together, and how she'll stand up for herself when another kid tries to grab a toy away from her.
I have mixed feelings about birthday parties at gan. Some kids just don't want to be in the center of attention. Even the most outgoing kids freak out and hide behind their parents when asked to get up and jump in the middle of the room. Then there was the kid who handled the pressure by climbing on tables. Today Avigail shined. We were all blown away. She sat confidently on the birthday chair in front of everyone, fully participated, and of course her jumps were spectacular. My mom likes to quote my grandfather, "be careful of those quiet ones." It's fun to think about what the kids are like now and what they will be like when they're older. Who will be the doctors and lawyers and who will work their way up in the Knesset. Whatever Avigail does I feel like she will do it slowly and quietly, but one day shock us all.
What's the moral of the story? Yes, Katamon is just like gan. Maybe I'll get to that part a little later. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me I was brave to move to Israel, I might be able to afford my rent. I guess they have a point. Moving so far away from everything and everyone was a big leap of faith and no small thing. But whatever, that part is done. When I think about being brave I think about how I finally called families and spoke to them in Hebrew about participating in my class' research project. I was reading off a script but it was absolutely terrifying. I was expected to get up to twenty families and I got five. Even that was exhausting. I'm lucky to have a professor who is an olah herself and was extremely encouraging even with my relatively minor success recruiting families. Another brave moment of the past few weeks was standing up to my coworkers. The fight is on for the most desirable hours for next year. I might be at the bottom of the pecking order, but that wasn't going to stop me from at least telling my boss what my requests were. My coworkers basically acted like babies but I stood up to them. Maybe I stood up to them in my far less than perfect Hebrew, but I did it. I let them ramble about so many things they think I should do differently but when it comes to how my time is going to be used, I wasn't going to let them get away with them anymore. I even told my boss on them :-)
I still have way too much to figure out and challenges to suck up and be brave about. Oh yeah, why Katamon is like gan (besides the obvious reasons)... well, lets just say I have now realized that when you finally manage to be comfortable in your own shoes and just be yourself being bold and brave comes naturally. No more faking it, no more games. Honesty is a pretty cool thing. Being honest with myself was a big one. Yeah, it's corny, I know. Deal with it.
I continue to learn so much from the kids at gan in the smallest ways. I look at them now and realize that woah, they have come such a long way, some of them in the least expected but most incredible ways, like Avigail. I have come a long way too, whether it was in baby steps, monkey steps, or giant kangaroo leaps.
Monday, April 26, 2010
What I've been learning in gan
I've decided that there's no better way to be absorbed into Israeli society than to spend a year in gan (preschool). In the past seven months my Hebrew vocabulary and fluency has improved like I never thought it could. I sit side by side with the kids learning new words and new songs. With most songs now I do not simply fake the hand motions. I also know the words. It's cute because the kids sense that I'm not as "on top of things" as the other teachers, but they seem to appreciate that about me. Gan also provides me with a fascinating sociological study of Israeli life. The kids are constantly hitting each other, grabbing toys, and in general are always worried about what they're playing with. It often takes two minutes to convince a child that they can safely go to the bathroom and that I will make sure no one swipes the blocks they were building with. A lot of it has to do with there being so many children in one room, but I'm sure some of it comes from a general tension in the air that they see in their parents and feel themselves.
At the same time they are happy, wonderful, growing, and learning every day. When they aren't hitting each other they are simply wonderful and I love spending my days with them. I learn to appreciate the little things in life like the tractor working on the road outside the gan and the way a half-pita looks like a boat. Most of all I have enjoyed learning about the holidays with them and hearing them sing songs, especially the children of olim like myself. Their parents, while struggling to keep up with their children's growing vocabulary, positively glow when they hear their children singing new songs in Hebrew. One boy came to Israel just two weeks before gan started and didn't speak a word of Hebrew. He loves singing, but usually sang whatever English song sounded like the Hebrew one being sung at the time (Itsy Bitsy Spider came up a lot). Now he sings along and easily converses with his friends. Of course he still bursts into long winded stories in English and wonders why everyone gives him weird looks.
I wrote about Purim before and how fun it was to celebrate in gan. Last week we celebrated Yom Haatzmaut, Israel Independence Day. What better way to celebrate than with the next generation of Israelis. They were so cute dressed in blue and white, waving flags, and singing songs about being at home in Israel. One day they will understand the significance of the day and how miraculous it is that they live here. Listening them sing "כחול ולבן, הצבע שלי" ("blue and white are my color") literally brought tears to my eyes. Just as miraculous was spending Yom Haatzmaut with my niece, the first sabra Zibman. One day we'll tell her how her great great grandfather once met with Chaim Weizmann and Rav Abraham Kook in Chicago to discuss the prospect of a sovereign Jewish state.
In other news, I had another great trip back to the US. It was tough fitting it all into two weeks but somehow I did it. First three days were spent in Philadelphia, next three days in Boston, four days in Maryland, and then another week in Boston. I was constantly on the go as always, visiting with friends and family. I am grateful for the friends who accommodated my often restrictive schedule to drive me places, feed me, and simply hang out. You guys tell me how great it is that I travel so much to see friends, but I can't imagine not doing so. Here's to many more wonderful times together.
Also while I was in the US my Grandma Rose got the most wonderful surprise. A former student of hers who lives in the area and had recently reconnected with my family surprised her with a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear from Winston's. He was her student in third grade which was at least forty years ago. It made her day- no, her month- and she is still talking about it. She's also still talking about how magical digital cameras are. I took her picture with the flowers and showed her how I transferred the picture to my computer. I explained this to her about six years ago when she bought me my first digital camera, but you know how forgetful 98 year olds can be.
For the three weeks before I went to the US I was battling pneumonia. I finally got it properly diagnosed a few days before I left (shoutout to my Terem buddy). Thankfully I started feeling significantly better a few days into my trip. When I got back it was wonderful feeling healthy again, and being healthy meant I get to actually play with my niece, who came over with her abba just a few minutes after I home from the airport. Doesn't she look great in her new Red Sox hat?
Because I was sick, I fell behind in my schoolwork right after I finally caught up. Besides that my motivation to get work done this year has been almost non-existent. Despite that, I just submitted my proposal for my thesis. Hopefully my desired adviser will like what I wrote, officially accept me, and that my topic will be approved by the head of my department. I am so excited to finally be making progress with this thing even though I know there's a long, long, long road ahead of me. I am starting to feel a little more in control of my time as there is much work to do but more flexible deadlines in place. Trying to work on feeling more confident and motivated! And trying to have more fun. This morning before work I sat at a cafe reading the newspaper and drinking an icecafe (think Frappaccino). It was absolutely wonderful. Gotta do that more often. I've also been to three parties in the past week and looking forward to throwing another one in my apartment in a couple weeks. Maybe I'm finally enjoying being social around here.
In short, I'm happy at my job, making progress in school, continuing to make friends here, and I absolutely adore my niece.
But can you really blame me?
At the same time they are happy, wonderful, growing, and learning every day. When they aren't hitting each other they are simply wonderful and I love spending my days with them. I learn to appreciate the little things in life like the tractor working on the road outside the gan and the way a half-pita looks like a boat. Most of all I have enjoyed learning about the holidays with them and hearing them sing songs, especially the children of olim like myself. Their parents, while struggling to keep up with their children's growing vocabulary, positively glow when they hear their children singing new songs in Hebrew. One boy came to Israel just two weeks before gan started and didn't speak a word of Hebrew. He loves singing, but usually sang whatever English song sounded like the Hebrew one being sung at the time (Itsy Bitsy Spider came up a lot). Now he sings along and easily converses with his friends. Of course he still bursts into long winded stories in English and wonders why everyone gives him weird looks.
I wrote about Purim before and how fun it was to celebrate in gan. Last week we celebrated Yom Haatzmaut, Israel Independence Day. What better way to celebrate than with the next generation of Israelis. They were so cute dressed in blue and white, waving flags, and singing songs about being at home in Israel. One day they will understand the significance of the day and how miraculous it is that they live here. Listening them sing "כחול ולבן, הצבע שלי" ("blue and white are my color") literally brought tears to my eyes. Just as miraculous was spending Yom Haatzmaut with my niece, the first sabra Zibman. One day we'll tell her how her great great grandfather once met with Chaim Weizmann and Rav Abraham Kook in Chicago to discuss the prospect of a sovereign Jewish state.
In other news, I had another great trip back to the US. It was tough fitting it all into two weeks but somehow I did it. First three days were spent in Philadelphia, next three days in Boston, four days in Maryland, and then another week in Boston. I was constantly on the go as always, visiting with friends and family. I am grateful for the friends who accommodated my often restrictive schedule to drive me places, feed me, and simply hang out. You guys tell me how great it is that I travel so much to see friends, but I can't imagine not doing so. Here's to many more wonderful times together.
Also while I was in the US my Grandma Rose got the most wonderful surprise. A former student of hers who lives in the area and had recently reconnected with my family surprised her with a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear from Winston's. He was her student in third grade which was at least forty years ago. It made her day- no, her month- and she is still talking about it. She's also still talking about how magical digital cameras are. I took her picture with the flowers and showed her how I transferred the picture to my computer. I explained this to her about six years ago when she bought me my first digital camera, but you know how forgetful 98 year olds can be.
For the three weeks before I went to the US I was battling pneumonia. I finally got it properly diagnosed a few days before I left (shoutout to my Terem buddy). Thankfully I started feeling significantly better a few days into my trip. When I got back it was wonderful feeling healthy again, and being healthy meant I get to actually play with my niece, who came over with her abba just a few minutes after I home from the airport. Doesn't she look great in her new Red Sox hat?
Because I was sick, I fell behind in my schoolwork right after I finally caught up. Besides that my motivation to get work done this year has been almost non-existent. Despite that, I just submitted my proposal for my thesis. Hopefully my desired adviser will like what I wrote, officially accept me, and that my topic will be approved by the head of my department. I am so excited to finally be making progress with this thing even though I know there's a long, long, long road ahead of me. I am starting to feel a little more in control of my time as there is much work to do but more flexible deadlines in place. Trying to work on feeling more confident and motivated! And trying to have more fun. This morning before work I sat at a cafe reading the newspaper and drinking an icecafe (think Frappaccino). It was absolutely wonderful. Gotta do that more often. I've also been to three parties in the past week and looking forward to throwing another one in my apartment in a couple weeks. Maybe I'm finally enjoying being social around here.
In short, I'm happy at my job, making progress in school, continuing to make friends here, and I absolutely adore my niece.
But can you really blame me?
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