September 2007 Archives
The first night, we had dinner at Michael Freeman's house. The director of FZY, Michael invited us to share our only meal for 25 hours with him, and we had a fantastic time doing so. Interestingly, the television in his apartment was turned to the sports channel, where Israel played a 5-hour doubles tennis match with Chile, finally beating them 20 minutes before Yom Kippur began. Once again, I was reminded of Israel's magic when, after being interviewed on the television, the tennis players said "Gmar Chatima Tova" before leaving the pitch.
After eating many courses of delicious food, my friends and I walked to a large shul named "Shir Hadash" near Emek Refaim in Jerusalem. The synagogue was filled with English speakers: couples, children, young adults our age, as well as some grandparents here and there. The service was beautiful, and I shivered as I heard the prayers, connecting me to every person in the room. Once the service was over, my friends and I walked in the middle of the street among Israelis and tourists of every age and background, all celebrating the most sacred moment in the Jewish calendar together.
Once we returned to the apartment, exhaustion took over and we fell into a profound sleep. The next afternoon, after going to shul and resting for a while, we walked 45 minutes to the Kotel in order to participate in Neila. The electricity of being at the Kotel is undeniable. There is no other place on earth where one can see so many segments of the population reunited and connected in the same way. In one corner, soldiers strap on their tefillin with their M16s on their backs. In another, ultra-Orthodox Yeshiva boys sing and dance. In yet another, secular Israeli boys and girls mingle before they go to pray individually. The energy is palpable, as all Jews usher in a new year.
The following days flew by. As the days go by, my friends and I are emboldened by our difficultly acquired Israeli knowledge. One of my closest new friends and I went to the mall a few days ago, and decided to take the bus back. In an adventurous mood, we settled on riding the bus until we recognized our surroundings. Of course, we ended up lost, but we had a wonderful time in the interim.
This weekend is Sukkot. After a Zionism siyyur in the middle of Tel Aviv on Tuesday, my boyfriend, another friend, and I decided to go to Holon. During orientation, my boyfriend and I met a few girls who are currently in section 2 and thus have an apartment in Holon. Nervous, we traveled down Allenby street to find the bus stop that would take us to their apartment. Almost instantly, a few girls approached us and asked us whether we were on Year Course. Excitedly, we made a few new friends as we traveled through the busy streets of Tel Aviv. Once at the apartment, we met many more Year Coursers and we went on a walk to a park near their apartment.
My favorite day in Israel so far was yesterday: after waking up, I went to the Bat Yam beach. The most beautiful beach I have seen so far in Israel, Bat Yam is the epitome of relaxation. After enjoying the sun and the sea, we had lunch by the shore and relaxed on some chairs.
Today, I am back in Jerusalem. Next week, I will embark on my last adventure during this wonderful month: Simchat Torah.
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For the rest of the chag, we returned to the Kotel to pray. Originally we were planning on finding a congregation to join but what better one can you find when the last wall of Hashem's temple is directly in front of you? So we stayed there and prayed and relaxed until sunset. Maybe it was the environment of the Kotel or the humidity that made it the easiest fast of my life. By the time of break fast, there were about forty other Judaeans with us at the Kotel. We broke fast together, at the Kotel then headed downtown to return to our normal lives. This change of pace is just what I needed to start this year out on the right foot. After my experience, I feel reenergized and excited to experience religion head on this year. I am so glad of my decision to spend the Yom Kippur in the
There is no other country in the world that celebrates Yom Kippur like Israel does. Already starting at noon, buses start running less frequently and people and their cars start disappearing off the streets. Even Tel Aviv, which remains as lively as ever during Rosh Hashana, shuts down. I had the fortunate possibility of being able to experience such holiday with my great aunt and uncle in Herzliya. From their apartment I was able to witness the first of many signs of the approaching holiday, all beginning around 4 o'clock in the afternoon. The radio was tuned to Galgalatz and playing some holiday music, and all of the sudden there was static. I turned on the TV; programming was canceled until 19:00 on Saturday. I began to hear the sound of bike horns and bells in the streets below. Men donning tall black hats and wrapped ceremoniously in their tallitot were making their way in all directions in the now car-empty streets, women in long dresses as well. A remarkable time of year had begun.
After consuming a gargantuan amount of food, consisting of roast chicken, potatoes, soup, zucchini pie, challah, and broccoli, with cake and tea for desert, (I swear someone could have popped me with a needle and I would have exploded,) my friend Jared (a fellow Shevet chanich who bravely decided to spend the holiday with my family) and I walked to the synagogue in the center of town. Following traditional standards, the women on the upper balcony were separated from the men on the ground level and the bimah was in the center. (For the High Holy Days, however, the hazan stands directly facing the Aron Kodesh.) Conforming to more modern standards, the ner tamid was a neon orange light above a replica of the Ten Commandments, outlined in neon blue. The synagogue was air conditioned, however it did little as the constant opening and closing of the door and the nonstop breathing of hundreds stifled the cooling effect. The Kol Nidre service was spectacular. That the enchanting voice of the shaliach tzibur could reach us in the way back of the sanctuary was an incredible feat. Though sweating profusely I was able to concentrate on a few of the prayers; others I could not even keep up with. Finally people started piling out and Jared and I began the 15 minute walk home. Several times along the way we had to jump out of the paths of little kids on their bikes pelting down the hill straight towards us. It seemed like every baby carriage and stroller in Herzliya was being pushed along the streets. Though no shop or restaurant was open, people were out filling the empty streets simply with their presence on this most holy day of the year.
We woke up after 14 hours of sleep. It was 1:00. I guess Year Course had been bearing down hard on us, and we were thankful for the escape from the noise and work to a comfortable bed, good food, and a loving family. After playing a few games of shesh besh, we cleaned up and went back to shul for mincha, n'eila, and ma'ariv. I snuck an Elite Cookies and Cream chocolate bar into my tallit bag for Jared and I to break fast with as soon as the shofar was sounded, singnaling both the end of Yom Kippur and of Shabbat. After reciting numerous times G-d's Thirteen Attributes and Al-Het, it was time for Avinu Malkenu, then finally L'Shana Habah B'Yerushalayim.
This year that one phrase came true. Twice last year I said it: the previous Yom Kippur and the Passover Seder, and only now did I fully grasp what exactly it meant. Today I joined 6 million other Jews and at the same time we sounded the shofar. Today I joined 6 million other Jews and at the same time we commemorated the war which struck the country 34 years ago, and the lives that were lost. On this day almost everything in the country stopped, except of course for the moving lips of millions praying to Hashem and the thousands of innocent children riding their bicycles through the streets.
The walk to work is perfumed with oleanders and the smell of the sea lingers in the air. This is my walk to work. I have the volunteer spot during Israel experience that everyone wanted, and when they ask you "What is your Israel experience?" and you reply "I am doing Sea Turtles" their reaction is the same, "I am so jealous of you!"
Everyday I get to wake up and help save sea turtles which have been injured or harmed by the careless and reckless human activity that has engulfed our planet.
When my mom asked me why I wanted to do this volunteering I responded with a "Why not?"
Who wouldn't want to be a part of a small project helping the entire earth! Sea turtles all over the world are endangered and their numbers are shrinking. However, I can help a few more turtles get back into the sea, making the world that much of a better and different place.
Don't get me wrong it is hard work. Everyday I get back to my apartment and smell like I bathed in fish juice. If you throw in a little sweat and sunscreen you have a brand new and soon to be popular Eau De Sea Turtle Volunteer. Yet every day I leave from my volunteer placement with a smile and think how lucky I am that I am one of six people all year that get to embark on this experience.
Aaron, the boy who volunteers with me feels the same. Together we feed the turtles chasa (lettuce) and an assortment of fish. We clean takes and gather data for research. The facility runs on volunteer support and people willing to invest in the amazing project that is run there. I am proud and oh so willing to give my time to the amazing place that is changing the world one sea turtle at a time.
Everyday when I leave Michmoret for Netanya I realize why everyone responds with "I am so jealous" because the truth is I would be jealous too!
Rachel Miller-Crews
As I was trying to figure out how to pack for a year, while keeping in mind that I was also going to spend a week in Portugal, I was not aware of the connection I was about to make with a country that I hadn't given much thought to. When I signed up for Olami 2, I was more excited about traveling to India, Uganda, and South Africa, than to Portugal. But once the educational part of our journey into the history of the Portuguese Jews began, I realized that what I learned in a few days would have a huge impact on how I view Jewry worldwide.
Our journey began when we met a Marano jew in her early twenties who had recently made the "return" or conversion back to Judaism. The reason she was called a Marano Jew was because during the Spanish inquisition many Jews that were forced to convert to Christianity secretly kept some Jewish traditions alive, and have only recently come out of hiding. This young woman's grandparents were siblings and her parents were first cousins in order to keep Judaism within the family. This was shocking to hear because I had no idea things like this that are illegal and looked down upon in my society were still being practiced around the world in order to keep a religion alive. I have always had an easy time being Jewish, I have a community in Austin, Texas that supports me and that loves me, and I have never had to be afraid or fight for being Jewish. Although my family was directly affected by the holocaust, I was amazed that this girl and her family were still dealing with the repercussions from something that happened centuries ago.
The day before I left the country my grandmother called to wish me luck and send me her love. Then she surprised me by telling me that during WWII when she was seven her family fled to Portugal and lived in Porto for six months waiting for a visa. According to my grandmother, the ship that my family boarded was the last one to leave Lisbon before the United States joined the war. This information was astonishing for two reasons, the first was that I had no idea that my family had spent any time in the country that I was about to explore, and the second, which I thought about after hearing the stories from the inquisition, was that for my family Portugal was a safe-haven, but for Jews centuries before, Portugal was a land of widespread misery and hidden miracles.
After a few days of learning about the Marano Jews, we were given a taste of what Jewish life is like for Portuguese Jews whose families were not in hiding. We listened to a panel of kids our age talk about how it is hard to be Jewish in Portugal because the country lacks a strong community. There was an obvious separation between the Marano Jews in the community and the other Jews from countries around the world who ended up in Portugal. They explained that there were no Jewish organizations in the country until recently, and that the one that has finally formed is not very strong because the parents of the kids who are now Jewish are not used to sending their kids to Jewish clubs because they didn't go to them when they were younger. They also explained that once the club begins to attract members it eventually goes back to how it was because the kids that made it active go off to university outside of the country. I am so grateful that I have had the opportunity to be as active as I want in a strong Jewish community. I am glad that I never had to struggle with my identity and that Jewish life has always been so easy for me.
After an exciting week in Portugal I was excited and nervous for my new adventure to the land that Jews from all over the world, whether Marano, hidden, struggling, or lucky like I was, are all connected to through Judaism. As I begin self-exploration in the Holy land, I will always keep in mind the struggle that many Jews from around the globe have had to stay connected to an important religion that I too often take for granted.
I was raised in a mixed Ashekenase background with a strong Sephardic influence. Everyone in my family besides my Grandmother is Ashkenase. Now that she is my only grandparent left, we have an intense connection that I deeply cherish. In the past few years, I have embraced the Sephardim of my past trying to pick up on their tunes and I use a Sephardic siddur every time that I pray. In addition to being Sephardic, my grandmother is a Morano Jew. Before I left for Portugal she looked me straight in the eyes and reminded me to always be proud of being part of the Marianov's, her family. I hugged her and assured her that I would never forget.
Morano used to be a term that I associated with the Crusades. I assumed it was not really around any more since modern times beg us to take pride in who we are. This type of pride helps one to survive. Growing up in a highly Jewish community, I have learnt that having other Jews around you makes it easier and more rewarding to practice Judaism. That is why I assumed all Morano's would be proud to be Jewish. There is also that classic image of Morano Jews lighting Shabbas candles in the closet back in the day and the modern image of that tradition continuing but being a blind practice. This didn't tip me off to the magnitude of what it is to be a Morano.
After my trip to Portugal, my new definition of a Morano has changed my mind. A Morano is a Jew bound at the soul always destined to find a return to faith. Although a Morano may not always be proud of who they are they come from a strong history of survivors. Morano can mean many different things. Literally, it means pig. When trying to pick out the non-Jews, Crusaders would often test with pig, trying to see if there were times they wouldn't eat meat or what meats they could not eat. Politically, the correct term for a Morano is a Crypto- Jew but the word Morano has such a strong history behind it that some Jews identify with it.
Dating back to the 1800s, the government of Lisbon wished to reduce the Jews to ashes. They would accuse people of being Jews, witches, homosexuals or conspirators against the government and burn them publicly in the presence of the King and Queen. However this did not end the Jewish communities. To make sure they could always find each other they changed their last names to be names of different trees. Marinov probably comes from the word mar which means ocean. The ocean of strength of my family overcame the flames of society.
Although I have been taught to never associate myself with hate or derogatory terms, Morano is a title I accept with great pride. Morano means that my family made it. I know one day I will be able to teach my children the stories of the Morano's and teach them to associate their Judaism with strength and pride. History forces the Jewish people to overcome great force many times over. I am proud to be part of a line that has beaten a hidden oppression which became a silent killer for some. When I close my eyes and pray, I think of those who sacrificed everything so I could rejoice in this moment. Their serenity helps me to define what it means to be the chosen people.
I will also teach my children of the Moranos of today, the people I met in Portugal. There was Luiza who grew up in an atheist home. They always called themselves Morano but never Jewish. After learning about the faith of her forefathers, she decided to return to Judaism. As a practicing Jew, she hopes one day to make aliyah.
At the temple in Lisbon, I met a few Moranos. One was from a Muslim German family. Her parents converted back to Judaism and she was raised in a Jewish household. The rest of her family refuses to recognize her existence because of this. Unfortunately, both of her parents recently passed away and now she has taken time of teaching Persian literature to find a sect of Judaism she can relate to.
The other girl that I met at temple is not a Jew yet. She was raised in the Catholic faith but never felt as if that was her religion. One day she read about Judaism in a textbook and knew that was the religion she was meant to be part of. It's as if her soul was part of something she couldn't relate to and she found what she needed to put it in place. The way she described her connection to Judaism was truly moving. She has been taking lessons at the orthodox temple of Lisbon for three years now and hopes to be able to convert one day. Her rabbi has arranged for her to take Ulpan classes in Israel sometime soon.
I also met some of the youth of Portugal. They grew up with Judaism playing an inactive role in their life but as they came of age they wanted to remain with their fellow Jews. Their Rabbi saw a need to keep the youth connected because of this and invited a man over from Brazil to organize activities for the children. These activities caught on very quickly and eventually they outgrew the space the temple could provide. It was clear that they needed a community center of their own so the youth director donated his home to the community. They raised the funds for a swimming pool, tennis courts and soccer field. This country club is beautiful and a safe place for the Jews of the area to retreat to and hang out with other Jews. The pride they had in their community was so active, it was truly moving. As an American Jew, I often take it for granted how easy it is to get involved with the Jewish community. These children put their lives on hold to make sure they could stay together. When organizing funds, classmates would make fun of them for being Jewish because it was so abstract to them. However they stood strong.
The entire trip to Portugal was moving. Not only did I have the freedom to rediscover myself but I had the guidance to look into my past. My family never converted away from Judaism and now I know how much endurance and mazal it took for them to stay alive. They triumphed over so many tyrants but never lost site of family. This is why I must try my hardest to live everyday in their honor. I must make sure that my life is a tribute to the constant risks they took just so I could practice my faith freely one day. I also must never loose sight of the fact that the day they lived for is today and grab onto every opportunity I am presented with in Israel. Going to Portugal was a life changing experience that I will take with me wherever I go.
Before the chag, I contemplated the events that had transpired since I arrived in Israel. After a week of balancing schoolwork with socializing, my imminent respite excited me beyond belief. Nevertheless, I am nervous. Although my host is wonderful and I feel completely comfortable with her, I am still unsure as to my relationship with the others in the house. Still, I brush my insecurities aside as I prepare for an exciting and unique experience.
Whereas I have finally come to realize that I am going to be residing in Israel semi-permanently, I had yet to go through many of the day-to-day things that Israelis rely on and which represent Israeli society as a whole. As silly as it may seem, the simple idea of traveling by bus solidifies within me the understanding that I am truly attempting to live as an Israeli would. Excitement bubbles within me as I walk through the bus station, attempting to remain my composure as I am pushed and shoved by all the rugged Israelis. Nevertheless, the ride is smooth and uneventful. As I listen to my iPod, I muse about the beauty of my surroundings, how lucky I am to find myself in Israel, and the precarious nature of Israel as a whole.
My stay in Yafo is comfortable. My new friends and I cook, clean, sleep, swim, and go to shul. I am happy to report that I grow to like and enjoy their company quickly. The idea of sharing such an intimate moment, when we are all homesick and weary from missing our families, is a bonding experience. After four days of relaxation and motherly conduct, my friends and I are ready to return home. The havoc that awaits us jolts us back into the reality of our existence at Year Course: tumultuous surroundings with moments of tranquility edged in between.
I cannot wait for this week's chag: Yom Kippur.
There is a reason why that one famous says "Reunited and it feels so good". Being reunited with my friends was amazing however being reunited with Israel brings a happiness and feeling of content sweeping over my body. It still "wierds me out" to think that the next nine months of my life will be spent in such an amazing place. Nacsholim, the resort kibbutz we stayed at for our first days of orientation brought together my entire section for the first time and it felt good.
Our hike in the Carmel mountains brought a new appretiation for the beauty within Israel. Hearing about the Masada of the north and bonding with my roommates was a special experience.
Settling into my apartment in Netanya was another realization of independence. Knowing that the kitchen I was staring at was going to be kitchen for the next nine months matured me at least one year. Already my roommates and I have worked together to cook and clean in an almost Brady Bunch sort of fashion. Together, we have meandered around Netanya searching for cool places to hang out and napped together on the beautiful sandy beaches.
Being thrown into a completely different society can be a difficult thing, however, being thrown in with some amazing friends makes getting settled easier then saying " Ani Lo Medaberet Ivrit" ( I cannot speak hebrew)
After just a few short days in Netanya, Section three headed up to Tsfat for a Shabbat B'yachad ( a Sabbath Together). Just minlging with new and old friends about their living situations and bustling cities made me miss my new found family of friends that call Netanya home. However the vibes from the city of mysticism allowed new friendships to bud and old friendships to flower. It was after the beautiful orthodox service on a rooftop that we all walked back for a crowded Shabbat dinner and saw the beauty of this peaceful city. Who could have imagined that a little over a year ago, the day after I toured the city for the first time, Tzfat was hit with its first round of Quetusha rockets in the Lebanon war. Too positive of a place to be placed in the middle of a negative time.
After a peaceful and restful Shabbat we headed back to our respective ciies to begin the real journey. And so it smacked me in the face this morning when I went to visit my volunteer placement. I am one of six people throughout an entire year that has the opportunity to help rehabilitate and save sea turtles and other aquatic animals. Seeing the beauty of the beach was soon down played by the terrible condition some of these turtles were in. You see, the beach is quite a deceiving place. Despite its attraction and serenity it holds inside of it an endangered world. Sea turtles throughout the Mediterranean are being killed by fisherman every day and I have the ability to save even just a few and benefit the population of several species of endangered sea turtles. This job varies in so many ways from cleaning to measuring to sleeping next to unhatched eggs, this volunteer placement is sure to be an experience beyond my wildest dreams. I will be mentioning it a lot over the next two and a half months and the smile I walked in with today will probably never fade despite the hard work and sometimes long days. Who wouldn't want to be blessed with such an opportunity?
For now as I let the whirlwind of this first week sink in, I am trying to process the amazingness of the next nine months and I can't wait to share it with anyone who has even the slightest interest in a small town girl's adventure in the most amazing country in the world.
From the very first minute I spent in Israel, my time has been divided and molded into a YJ activity. From the classic ice breakers to a night camping in the woods, today has been the first day I have been permitted to absorb the magnitude of my decision to embark on this program. Whereas I understand the importance of knowing my new peers, I recognize my madrichim's ulterior motive in the overpowering of my instincts. Homesickness plagues us all, regardless of age, background, or geographical residence.
Disregarding my present situation, the prospect of releasing myself from the overwhelming restraint of "the first week" is the most enticing prospect in my horizon. After finishing my first day of classes, I am excitedly contemplating--and welcoming--a renewed presence of order and stability. Nevertheless, I cannot shy away from the spontaneous and delightful opportunities available in this magnificent country.
Hopefully, and most likely, the next few weeks will fly by in a flurry of activity, entertainment, and learning. I am looking forward to reaping the benefits of an extended stay in my Jewish home.
Reprinted from JVibe: www.jvibe.com
I smile each time I have the opportunity to try to put it into words. Nestled between four Arab nations, the tiny state of Israel is like a flower blossoming from a crack in a concrete driveway. It is a modern nation that, as tour guides explain to bar mitzvah students, packs of teenagers, families, retirees and everyone in between, "It's where the old meets the new."
I try to explain that each year on Passover, we say the words, "Next year in Jerusalem!"as Jews across the globe have been saying for the past 2,000 years.
But after trying to articulate these initial sentiments of the Jewish connection to the Holy Land, I discuss the scientific, technological and medical contributions Israel has made to the world. I relate how in 1948, Jews from every kind of background and profession cultivated the land, and as David Ben-Gurion dreamed, came together to "make the desert bloom."
By this time, I'm pretty worked up and many people are, consequently, sick of listening. They quickly change the subject: "So what exactly will you be doing there?"
I don't really know when my decision to participate in Young Judaea's Year Course came about; I remember sitting in the office chair at my receptionist job the summer before my senior year and making the decision to take a year off before college and go to Israel.
I had no idea what I would be doing, where I would be or how my parents would react, and at the time, none of that mattered--I would be going home. And as much as I had always dreamed of toting off to the other side of the world alone and "living dollar to dollar with nothing but a backpack and good pair of shoes," as I had always preached, I've since been urged to make more steadfast plans.
I'll begin my year abroad in Jerusalem, studying Hebrew and taking classes on Israel and Judaism. After three months, I'll be moving to an apartment in a low-income neighborhood outside Tel Aviv and volunteering in the community. I have yet to determine my last three months of the program.
And then the next, probably most daunting question asked: "Are you scared?"
My first response is always "No." But when I really ponder this question for what it is, I don't feel quite as forthcoming. No, I'm not afraid to walk the streets of Tel Aviv, hop on a bus or grab a slice of pizza. It's not the thought of dying a tragic death that scares me. I suppose it's the broad, haunting realization that being a Jew in this world can often be lonely, especially when growing up in Indiana.
My generation is so blessed to have the state of Israel, the tiny sliver of land that didn't come to us without a price. The fact that there's so much hate and violence in the world and that my homeland is too often the focus of this hatred is what really scares me.
But I refuse to wrap my future in fear. I know that even though my year won't be the typical college life of dorm rooms, late classes and all-nighters, I have a different experience to look forward to.
I'm 18 years old, venturing to my favorite place in the world to experience life on my own for the first time, and I plan on relishing every moment of it.
Young Judaea Year Course: Check out our Program in Israel
But the hardest last-time-for-almost-a-year moments are the ones that involve my friends and family.
As the leaving-for-college season starts, it's really difficult to say goodbye to my friends. To be completely honest, I'm a little envious of them. They're packing up their two suitcases, moving into a 10-by-4 foot dorm room and are safe in the knowledge that in less than two months (maybe even less than three weeks if they go home for the Jewish holidays), they will return happily to their families and reunite with the familiar.
As I've said goodbye to many friends, they all say cheerfully, if somewhat apprehensively, "I'll miss you! But I'll see you in September/over Thanksgiving/for winter break!" I look at them for a minute, and then it dawns on them. They shake their heads slightly, give me a bigger, tighter hug, and say: "Oh, right. Have fun in Israel! Write/email/Facebook me!"
My name is Genna Morton, and I'm spending nine months in Israel participating in Young Judaea Year Course. I'll be doing community service, taking college classes and living the life of a real Israeli. I think of my college-bound friends who have never been to Israel or even out of the country, and embrace the fact that I'm so lucky. Of course I will miss the people and places and things I know, but I'm even more excited to meet the people and places and things to come.
On the way back to New York from my grandparents' house in Maryland a few days ago (the last time for almost a year I'll drive down to Maryland!), I looked at my mom and said to her, "I'm going away for nine months." I let the words settle and tried them again. "I'm going away for nine months." "I know," my mother replied happily, "and you're going to have the best nine months of your life." I relaxed into my seat and smiled. Bring it on.
Young Judaea Year Course: Check out our Program in Israel
