October 2007 Archives
After climbing into our host's car--the president of Efrat's Carlebach synagogue--my friend and I excitedly pointed out the beauty of Efrat. I never would have expected a city in the West Bank to appear as serene, tidy, and welcoming as Efrat. As soon as we arrived at our host's home, I was overwhelmed by the hospitality and kindness we were showed. Our host hurried to the shul in order to prepare for our group's arrival later on, and his wife served us cake and tea. Whereas, in the past, host families who are accustomed to accepting young adults into their homes have neglected to make conversation with their invitees, my friend and I chatted with our host family nonstop for a couple of hours.
As the days went on, we enjoyed several functions at the synagogue and we walked around Efrat and met different families. Before we left our family, we were invited to return whenever we chose and were sent off with hugs and smiles. Staying at a family's house with someone that I had not had the chance to connect with allowed me to get to know her better and to establish the foundations for a new friendship. The deepest impact this weekend had on me was the utter trust that the family bestowed upon us and our incredulity at receiving it. This goes to show the polarity between living in the galut where one is on guard constantly, and living in a small, close-knit community in Israel.
Nothing reminded me of that more than today's journey. I practically grew up in my best friend's home so when I hear that her father was going to be at the Hadassah Hospital in Ein Kerem today I had to jump at the opportunity to go. He assumed I would be there because my family is very involved with the Hadassah Medical Organization and he has heard about my various trips for dedications my family has made threw the years. My grandparents were pioneers in their own way, always the first to grab any philanthropic opportunity to make a better future for the Jewish people. Hadassah Hospital as always been the rock of my Israel experiences before Year Course so when I decided to go today, I was surprised by my own apprehension. I spent the entire school day counting down the minutes until I could go, but when it came time for my journey I became really nervous that I would get lost and emotionally overwhelmed. Thankfully, I had one of my closest friends on the program with me and she helped me to be brave as I stepped off that bus and onto the grounds of the Hadassah Hospital. We entered the hospital through the mall and went straight for the main building. I ran straight to some of the family plaques I could remember and I posed yet again next to my family name. Each time I would stand to pose, I could feel my family members posing around me as we had done time and time again. The second I could see the hospital I knew my mom was with me stronger than usual, but standing next to her name I could feel her smile. I could feel her tickling me right before the photographer would click into his moment. Most importantly, I could feel her pride in the fact that I walked these steps again and made the effort to keep these traditions a part of who I am.
In our search for plaques, we eventually got lost and ended up in the Tourist Center. I asked one of the secretaries to look up my family name in her system so I could find their plaques and we were both blown away by the amount that my family has given. It seems so amazing individually that it made it so overwhelming to grasp it as a functional and massive being. I got really lucky and BG strolled into the office. You may have had the pleasure of meeting BG, she is one of the most powerful and important woman I know. Most importantly, she is one of my adoptive "mommies" and is always here for me. She invited me and my friend to a short lecture at the Chagall windows. While we were waiting to go into this lecture, the real daughter of another one of my "mommies" walked by on her way from nursing school. It truly was a day of family for me. After the Chagall lecture, BG gave a speech. I often forget how eloquent she is because she is one of the realest people I know but she has the power to move people and connect them with tradition.
After her speech, we went back to the mall where I finally found a Taco, American magazines and stamps. At the end of this adventure, BG gave my friend and I a ride back to the Hostel. In this ride, we talked about how important it is to take time to decide what really matters to you. No matter how overwhelmed one gets with a situation, you must always step back and realize that there is still time. There is nothing more important than following your passions no matter how controversial they may seem. What separates you from everyone else is your ability to never loose sight of what makes you tick. Anything else will always seem unnatural and forced.
I think the most important lesson I have been learning lately is the value of family. My family both literal and extended have created such a dynamic support web that offers me the comfort of knowing no matter what I do I will always have family there to support me. They are my guardian angels here in person, in my actions and carrying my spirit when I am afraid to walk.
And then I remembered I missed my mother. I have seen her face once in the last six weeks as I skyped with my family for an hour one night. Although during that conversation she said to me
"I promise you'd much rather be there (Israel) than here (El Paso)", a part of me still misses home. It isn't "real" homesickness just a desire to see my family. Because Israel is my home as well.
I finally put up my glow-in-the-dark stars around my room in my apartment bringing another sense of nighttime comfort into my drab room.
I am used to a tri-fecta of purple on my many walls and not the odd green board that hangs up currently in my apartment room. This board is supposed to be displaying whatever I feel like but only in those several square inches so as to not damage the walls with tape or any other sticky substance. Let's just say I miss my royal, lavender, and light purple walls that has gotten my room at home dubbed "the cave". However, I have kept up that nickname with my room in Israel because today was one of two days so far where the blinds have been opened in my room.
Who needs sunlight while you are trying to sleep?
I do admit that todays sunlight and breeze was well needed especially since it was perfumed with rain. That's right rain. Something that happens as rarely in Israel as it does in west Texas.
Maybe I am not feeling "real" homesickness because Israel shares so many similarities with my hometown. The weather, my room, and other things share some comforts that make my home what it truly is.
Without the sense of living in a cave or the excitement over a tiny sprinkle of rain it would be a little less like home but no less like A home..
I have always loved the ocean.
Throughout my life it has been a special experience I have only had a few times.
Until now. I am spoiled.
My apartment for Year Course in Netanya is a maybe seven minute walk to the beach. Our beach is one of beauty, calm waters, and only slightly spoiled sand. It is here where a crash means peace as the waves fade in and out of tide. The ocean and its sparkle is also one that is full of life.
I have seen life on those rare occasions that is rains in El Paso. It is the hours after a chance rain when green is dabbed over the normally plain and brown giant rocks we call mountains indicating the existence of life.
However, in my current home for another six weeks, there is no need for a chance encounter with precipitation to feel that energy that comes from life. It is a short walk to a sea teeming with it and the water calls my name.
Yes, the waves seem to call my name name infinitely as each individual wave flows in to the beach and back out to its entire entity. No longer separate, the entire Mediterranean is now waiting for me.
Who knew Year Course would allow me to live so close to the water and be so spoiled? No chance meetings or waiting for the special occasion of visiting the ocean, instead, it is the beauty that is Netanya, the luck of the draw on Year Course, and a satisfaction of knowing you're somewhere you belong.
Quickly, Mordejai rushed me to his home, where his wife, Tova, was awaiting me with dozens of plates of food on th table. I sat in their small apartment and listened to the musical sounds of Russian coming from the cab drivers below their home. Disdainful of their noisy interruption of family time, Tova shut the windows and continued to putter about her small, albeit bustling, kitchen. She showed me to my room, the same room I had stayed in two years ago when I visited them during Alexander Muss High School in Israel. Everything was the same: the sheets, the magazines strewn about, the smell, the food.
My cousins, humble as they may be, carried themselves with pride and honor. They felt proud to be Jewish and living in the Land of Israel; they felt proud to have me, a cousin from afar, stay in their home. Excitedly, my relatives asked me about my father, my brothers, my great-aunt. They recounted the same stories I had heard before, about their trip in 1976 to Mexico City, when they met my family. Without meaning to, I found myself laughing from the stories they told. Then I realized that my mission to make their lives happier was ridiculous: they were enhancing my life with their wonderful humanity. I am ashamed to think that I, simply because I have fewer financial considerations than they, could contribute to their happiness. Instead, their wonderful simplicity helped me understand how lucky I am to have them in my family.
As I boarded the bus today, they hugged and kissed me like their own daughter. After waiting two hours, they called me on the phone to ensure that I arrived safely. It is amazing how large one's heart can be; they have met me three times, and yet they offer me the best of themselves. I should be so lucky as to do the same.
Aaron, Sami and I were sitting on a bedroom floor playing UNO in order to entertain ourselves and I realized I haven't laughed that much in a long time. At that moment, sitting in my pajamas with two amazing friends playing a child's card game was a moment of perfection.
I have had several surreal and unforgettable moments thus far but the UNO game (for some odd reason) was perfect.
Walking up and down the eerily empty streets of Jerusalem on Yom Kippur was a grounding experience.
Who spends the holiest day for the Jewish people in the holiest city for three religions?
ME!
I just stared at the Kotel as it stared back at me until finally the chilly night air was too much and my hunger was finally getting to me. I have never found a dry Chabad cupcake so delicious in my life.
Other unforgettable times include nights on the beach and seeing my familys' faces for the first time in a month on Skype. The most amazing thing about the hour on Skype was the fact that never once did I become slightly home sick. I knew that I was supposed to be here, in Israel, and I knew that although I missed my family I have a larger and very unique family here.
My family on Year Course shares some similarities with my biological family. Occasionally we will play board or card games with each other, hence the game of UNO, and most importantly I know my family on Year Course will love me indefinitely just as my family who lives in El Paso will.
And I know this because a night "in" with a simple game of UNO is perfection because it was with my Israel family.
That saying really is the truth
You Best Friends are the brothers and sisters that G-d forgot to give you
Well Thanks G-d!
For Year Course
For my family
and for my Israel family
In one of Shevet's learning sessions, our leader Simon Cohen excitedly told our group that we would be visiting Meah Shearim's shuk in search of the perfect four species. Naturally, women would travel separately from men, would wear tzniyut clothing--"no skin, please!" read our handout--and would have a completely different experience. Nervously, I clothed myself in the traditional black and white, only exposing my wrists, ankles, and a small bit of my neck. After being dropped off at the entrance of the Ultra-Orthodox neighborhood, my girlfriends and I stood aghast at the warnings for women on the walls: "Women: There will be punishments for those not wearing appropriate clothing." Of course, we thought we were dressed appropriately, and we carried on with our journey, ignoring the many signs declaiming groups' traveling through the area.
After entering the heart of the neighborhood, a man walked through the street, yelling that we should leave immediately. Spitting and waving glue at us, he insisted that we make our exit at once. Naturally, most girls were frightened and they left right away. However, some braved the criticism and stayed back--respectfully.
Although the experience was a strange one, this is the reason for which I have come to Israel. I am not here to rehash my life, revisit my customs, and reenact my Jewish experiences. Instead, I am here to be made uncomfortable, and to question and challenge my Judaism and that of others. While I consider Ultra-Orthodox life equivalent to that of the Middle Ages, I must respect and contain myself before someone who believes in it with his or her heart and soul. Thus, Sukkot evoked within me the feeling of pensive recitation and questioning.
Similar to this experience was that of my time during Simhat Torah. In the same vein of questioning and exploration, Shevet traveled to Tzfat for an overnight at Ascent, a Chabad guest house in the heart of the city. Although I have been to Tzfat and have been exposed to Chabad culture, there is not one without the other in this most electrifying of cities. The stay was physically comfortable, albeit psychologically unsettling. The happy cheer that all the Baalei Tshuva demonstrated during our stay was heavily contrasted by the overwhelming sense of recoiling on behalf of those who had not been exposed to Chabad affiliated Jews before. Again, the nature of our year in Israel is to be exposed to different cultures, and Chabad is most definitely that.
Indeed, my experiences during both chagim were memorable. In fact, I believe that they are adding to, and shaping, my current Jewish identity in ways that I cannot yet understand. The fascinating aspect about Shevet is that I learn things unconsciously as I incorporate them into my thought process and everyday interactions. Perhaps this experience will teach me something new and exciting.
After going to the Jerusalem Rocks! International Music Festival, I learned the answer to the question the Black Eyed Peas have been asking for years. I figured it out on my first real day of Young Judaea Year Course. The love is in Israel.
Last Sunday I had my first day of classes in the Young Judaea Youth Hostel. I spent the day learning about Jewish artists in the Renaissance, how to speak Hebrew and why Hashem (God) had to tell Abraham three times to take his son to the altar. I even took an intense Israeli dance class that will count as a credit when I go to college.
After a day full of education, I began my adventure on the streets of Jerusalem to Breichat HaSultan, the huge park by the Old City, to meet my friends at the Jerusalem Rocks! festival. I walked to the bus station at the top of the hill we live on and took the No. 20 to the last stop.
This is when I learned that when traveling in Jerusalem in a rush, it's definitely worth it to take a taxi. It took over an hour of uncomfortable seats, entertaining Israelis and endless stops to arrive at the station, but even then it took more time, more work and more Hebrew practice to get in. Every Israeli I talked to told me a different place to get tickets, and I ended up buying them from a scalper.
When I finally got in and pushed my way to the front to dance and scream with my friends, I immediately felt the power. Arrested Development, a funky, African-style reggae hip-hop group from Atlanta, was on the stage. They were so good I almost punched myself for not knowing about them before the show. Along with the 10,000-or-so-person crowd, I did not stop yelling the whole time they were playing.
When Arrested Development finished their set, there was a short break before the Black Eyed Peas' turn. We spent our time talking to all the people around us in the crowd. The people I became friends with that night ranged from 16-year-olds to adults, from Americans to Israelis to Texans to Brits, but we all had one thing in common: We were all Jews and we were all there to support peace and have an incredible time.
Americans might ask, "Why travel all the way to Israel and spend your time at a Black Eyed Peas concert? You can see the Black Eyed Peas at home, right?"
A concert in Israel, especially this one, is an experience. Different people can take from it what they want, but for me it was simultaneously a stress-releasing experience, a fresh, once-in-a-lifetime religious experience, and, as my new British friends would say -- mental!
The Black Eyed Peas could feel it too: the togetherness, the energy, the joy of their show's atmosphere. It's not rare for a band to say, "This is the best country to play a show in," but everyone knew that Will.I.Am meant it. In fact, this was not the band's first visit to the Holy Land. They were so moved by the experience the first time that they came back. Different members of the band said the same thing throughout the night, and at one point Will.I.Am just stepped back, looked at the people of Zion in front of him, and said, "Wow!"
Somewhere between speaking Hebrew with my new friends who surrounded me, shouting out the letters in Fergie's "Glamorous" at the top of my lungs while still feeling manly and singing "Where is the Love?" arm-in-arm with strangers, I realized something special was happening.
Between the encore, the Black Eyed Peas' saxophonist blowing the shofar to welcome the New Year and singing "Salaam" on the way out, I found The Love.
To read about the Peas' first visit to Israel, click here.
Young Judaea Year Course: Check out our Program in Israel
In the midst of the crazy preparations for Year Course, including buying hiking boots and laundry bags, getting an Israeli phone number and rounding up my friends for a last goodbye, I was sent a very important email. It asked me about roommate requests (clearly the top priority on everyone's minds), but also mentioned Rosh Hashanah plans. It said: "Highlight yes if you would like to be placed with a family for Rosh Hashanah."
For most of my Year Course section, this note could be disregarded. The vast majority of participants in my city of Holon have family to join for the holidays. I have always felt jealous of the people with family living in Israel because they have this extra connection to the Holy Land, something I crave. Therefore, this little question in a little email made me feel grateful. I had a place to go for the holidays!
Rosh Hashanah came faster than I expected. I found out that my friend Susan and I would be staying with one of the Israeli scouts on the program. Scouts are an integral part of the Year Course program. They are essentially the Israeli counterpart of American Young Judaea members. They are part of a youth movement in Israel and they volunteer alongside us during our time in Israel.
The scout we were assigned with was Gur, and he is the most un-Israeli looking Israeli in the entire world. He has flaming red hair and blue eyes and looks like a poster boy for Ireland or even Poland, but not Israel.
Susan and I arrived at his house on the afternoon of Erev Rosh Hashanah, and were greeted by the kindest human being ever: his mother. "I want you to feel comfortable in my home," she said. "Please, take food and drinks from the refrigerator whenever you feel like it." The famous Israeli hospitality was living up to its reputation in spades.
Gur's lovely home was such a nice change from our less-than-chic apartments in Holon. To put it simply, he had hot water and air conditioning. He also had a large German-Shepherd mix named Snoop, which was wonderful for a girl who misses her Schnoodle (Schnauzer-Poodle) almost as much as she misses her own mother.
Rosh Hashanah dinner was spent at another scout's house. Her name is Maayan, and she lives in Rimat Hasharon along with Gur. Her house was also charming and incredibly homey. During dinner, Susan and I participated in a bunch of different family traditions involving food. It was the first time in my life that I was openly encouraged to throw food at the dinner table. Maayan's uncle read the blessings in Hebrew, and her cousin, Omer, translated them into English. Maayan's father told funny stories and explained Hebrew phrases. It was amazing to feel a part of such a close-knit family when my family is so far away.
For the rest of the weekend, Susan and I ate all our meals with Gur's various family members, from his father to his grandmother. I felt the same connection with Gur's family as I did with Maayan's. It was easy to feel like extended family when everyone was so nice and friendly.
What I learned over this Rosh Hashanah is that the holidays are a time to spend with family, but it doesn't have to be your own. Everyone has family in Israel, even if you are not blood-related.
Young Judaea Year Course: Check out our Program in Israel
I have been in Israel for almost two weeks now, but it seems like so much longer. I remember the first time I came here--I was 9 years old, innocent and unaware of not only the unrest among nations and individuals, but also of the beauty and meaning entwined in this prism of a society. I have had, and will continue to have, the amazing opportunity to not only see, taste and touch Israel, but to live as my own guide.
Even after two weeks, I have had so many experiences and met so many people who have altered my perception of how the world is connected. Everywhere I go, it seems I meet someone who knows someone I know, or someone who I feel like I know or someone who I want to know. And of all these people I've met, there have been two people who stood out in my mind.
As I was examining a scarf in a small shop on Ben Yehudah Street in Jerusalem with some friends, I noticed an older woman looking at a particular bag. She asked my opinion on what her grandchildren in America would like, and we quickly launched into a conversation about who I am, where I am from and why I am here. I came to find out that she is good friends with a particular family from my hometown, and was actually planning a visit with them the following week.
Excited about the prospect of someone who had a connection to home, I began to ask her about her life. Chaya, as I will refer to her, indeed had an interesting past. My friends and I stood and listened to her talk about life in Beverly Hills and why she made aliyah, but the conversation quickly turned.
She launched into a radical rant for the next 20 minutes, kindly informing us that because of the halachic (Jewish law) forbiddance of homosexuality, God created national disasters and events such as Hurricane Katrina, last summer's war in Lebanon and multiple terrorist attacks to prevent the Gay Pride Parade from happening in Jerusalem.
At this point, my friends and I were very uncomfortable and nudging one another to find an excuse to walk away. Luckily, she wrapped up the conversation by inviting us to Shabbat dinner with her group of, as she called them, "Revolutionists, protesters, the kind that get put in jail!"
I wish I could say meeting someone like Chaya is a once-in-a-lifetime happening, but I honestly have no idea how many people like her are stirring up trouble within the borders of this great country. And though her radical (or conservative, depending how you look at it) antics did frighten me somewhat, I have come to realize that Israel is not, as I had sometimes imagined, a utopia. It is a real place with real people--good people, bad people, neutral people and extremely opinionated people.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, I met someone named Sarah on a bus to Tel Aviv. We discussed the wonder of the city, the beauty of the Jerusalem stone that makes up each and every building here and how lucky we are to be able to live in such an ancient land. She began to tell me her story about how and why she made aliyah.
At 19, she was on a summer program when a suicide bomber blew up the bus right in front of hers. She recalled how everyone in the community came to help, and the people on her bus, the closest to the attack, were asked to help search for body parts, pull people from the wreckage and assist the injured in calling their families.
After her horrific experience, Sarah returned to the United States not only with haunting dreams and flashbacks, but also a feeling that she no longer belonged. Astonishing her family and friends, she decided to make aliyah shortly after her return from Israel. A year later, five of her friends were killed in a series of suicide bombings and her life was barely spared. I asked her, after being in two terrorist attacks, how she could possibly live her life in Israel without fear.
"I feel needed here, like I am a part of a place and a people who I need and who need me back," Sarah said. "I am not afraid because I know that no matter what happens, the short time I have been here in Israel has been more meaningful than my entire life before."
Meeting Chaya and Sarah, two very different people, made me realize how a country filled with such different beliefs and convictions can manage to function as a society, however crazy it may be at times. Both of these women made aliyah, love the land of Israel and are passionate about the Jewish existence here. It is a humbling experience to learn things from people who you consider to be absolutely psychotic and people who you consider to be completely brave.
As I was flipping through my journal, I found a piece of paper I had torn out of a magazine that I had been using as a bookmark. It says, "He who returns from a journey is not the same as he who left." I know that, when it is time to leave, all of us will be changed.
Young Judaea Year Course: Check out our Program in Israel
This article was originally published on JVibe, and can be viewed here on Jvibe's website.
I have been in Israel for almost two weeks now, but it seems like so much longer. I remember the first time I came here--I was 9 years old, innocent and unaware of not only the unrest among nations and individuals, but also of the beauty and meaning entwined in this prism of a society. I have had, and will continue to have, the amazing opportunity to not only see, taste and touch Israel, but to live as my own guide.
Even after two weeks, I have had so many experiences and met so many people who have altered my perception of how the world is connected. Everywhere I go, it seems I meet someone who knows someone I know, or someone who I feel like I know or someone who I want to know. And of all these people I've met, there have been two people who stood out in my mind.
As I was examining a scarf in a small shop on Ben Yehudah Street in Jerusalem with some friends, I noticed an older woman looking at a particular bag. She asked my opinion on what her grandchildren in America would like, and we quickly launched into a conversation about who I am, where I am from and why I am here. I came to find out that she is good friends with a particular family from my hometown, and was actually planning a visit with them the following week.
Excited about the prospect of someone who had a connection to home, I began to ask her about her life. Chaya, as I will refer to her, indeed had an interesting past. My friends and I stood and listened to her talk about life in Beverly Hills and why she made aliyah, but the conversation quickly turned.
She launched into a radical rant for the next 20 minutes, kindly informing us that because of the halachic (Jewish law) forbiddance of homosexuality, God created national disasters and events such as Hurricane Katrina, last summer's war in Lebanon and multiple terrorist attacks to prevent the Gay Pride Parade from happening in Jerusalem.
At this point, my friends and I were very uncomfortable and nudging one another to find an excuse to walk away. Luckily, she wrapped up the conversation by inviting us to Shabbat dinner with her group of, as she called them, "Revolutionists, protesters, the kind that get put in jail!"
I wish I could say meeting someone like Chaya is a once-in-a-lifetime happening, but I honestly have no idea how many people like her are stirring up trouble within the borders of this great country. And though her radical (or conservative, depending how you look at it) antics did frighten me somewhat, I have come to realize that Israel is not, as I had sometimes imagined, a utopia. It is a real place with real people--good people, bad people, neutral people and extremely opinionated people.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, I met someone named Sarah on a bus to Tel Aviv. We discussed the wonder of the city, the beauty of the Jerusalem stone that makes up each and every building here and how lucky we are to be able to live in such an ancient land. She began to tell me her story about how and why she madealiyah.
At 19, she was on a summer program when a suicide bomber blew up the bus right in front of hers. She recalled how everyone in the community came to help, and the people on her bus, the closest to the attack, were asked to help search for body parts, pull people from the wreckage and assist the injured in calling their families.
After her horrific experience, Sarah returned to the United States not only with haunting dreams and flashbacks, but also a feeling that she no longer belonged. Astonishing her family and friends, she decided to make aliyahshortly after her return from Israel. A year later, five of her friends were killed in a series of suicide bombings and her life was barely spared. I asked her, after being in two terrorist attacks, how she could possibly live her life in Israel without fear.
"I feel needed here, like I am a part of a place and a people who I need and who need me back," Sarah said. "I am not afraid because I know that no matter what happens, the short time I have been here in Israel has been more meaningful than my entire life before."
Meeting Chaya and Sarah, two very different people, made me realize how a country filled with such different beliefs and convictions can manage to function as a society, however crazy it may be at times. Both of these women made aliyah, love the land of Israel and are passionate about the Jewish existence here. It is a humbling experience to learn things from people who you consider to be absolutely psychotic and people who you consider to be completely brave.
As I was flipping through my journal, I found a piece of paper I had torn out of a magazine that I had been using as a bookmark. It says, "He who returns from a journey is not the same as he who left." I know that, when it is time to leave, all of us will be changed.
This article was originally published on JVibe, and can be viewed here on Jvibe's website.
