It's been a busy two weeks since I last updated, full of planning, contemplation, and exploration. After much deliberation, I've decided to defer from rabbinical school for a year in order to stay at Pardes for their year program. The learning I've been doing for the past four weeks has been incredible, and I'm being exposed to so many new aspects of Jewish life that I never got a chance to see in Spartanburg or in Houston. Shabbat in Jerusalem is such a beautiful, communal experience, and the rhythm of life here is unlike anywhere else. I decided that I wanted to give myself a firmer foundation not only in Jewish text study, but also in living an observant Jewish life and figuring out many personally perplexing spiritual issues before starting rabbinical school at Ziegler next year.
Plus, Pardes is tuition-free for 2009-2010! There's an organization called MASA which provides loads of funding for long term programs in Israel, and with their grant and help from Pardes, I'll hopefully be studying here at little cost to myself or my family. What could be better?
It was a tough decision though, having already begun to made connections in LA and planning my year around that original plan. Currently it looks like I'll be flying back to SC on July 28, home for 3 weeks, then flying to Houston to pick up my car and most of my stuff on August 17, driving back to SC (hopefully with Drew), and returning to Israel sometime at the very end of August.
In other news, we've been on break for the last week, so I've gotten to explore the city a little bit. Last week we went to the City of David where we got to explore the ruins of King David's Jerusalem, hear about the history of the monarchy, and trek through Hezekiah's Tunnel - a tunnel created to divert water inside the city. We waded through the fresh running water in this tunnel for about 20 minutes in the dark, and at points the water was probably 2.5 feet deep. The diggers of the tunnel started at opposite ends, and as they approached each other in the middle, they began digging back and forth in rapid diagonal lines so that they wouldn't pass each other. When you're halfway through, you can see where they did almost miss a couple of times.
I also visited the Museum at the Seam, which showcases contemporary art with strong political and environmental commentary. It's called the Museum at the Seam because it is right on the border between East and West Jerusalem, formerly Israel and Jordan before 1967. The outside of the building looks like a war zone, covered in bullet holes, but the inside looks like any other modern art gallery, except for the bunker-style windows on the top floor. Most of the art we saw spoke to the problem of man vs. nature, highlighting images of industrialization and the toll it takes on the natural environment. Of course, the museum did have its share of art on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, with one striking photograph of the Dome of the Rock in the back ground and a heap of trash and discarded appliances in the foreground, presumably taken from East Jerusalem.
Tonight I'm changing apartments, so I'll be living with Renee and her family for all of July. I've heard that the place is beautiful, so I'll post pictures when I get there! Pardes July session starts tomorrow, so I'm trying to get back in my regular routine before then.
Finally, if you read this and I haven't heard from you recently, drop me a line to let me know how your summer is going!
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
More pictures!
The view from the Mount of Olives - East and West Jerusalem
Dome of the Rock
Hiking down to the tent...
The sifting project: dump bucket of rocks into sifter, rinse, examine. Most common finds: pottery shards, glass, metals, mosaic tiles, and bones.
Some of the class we found (could be from beer bottles too)
The common finds. Unfortunately, we didn't get to find any coins or special stuff.
Images of the Shuk - the spices....
Salatim - salads....
Fruits and nuts... peirot
And of course, challah and pitot (pita breads).
Shabbat shalom!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Jews love their books.
I just got back from the book fair - it's National Book Week in Israel, and all of the major cities have ENORMOUS book fairs all week. Book Week started yesterday, and Haaretz (one of the newspapers) had famous Israeli authors submit their articles for the headline news. So why did I go to this book fair?
1. I love books. Not just reading them, but smelling them, feeling them.... Dad, I definitely got this from you. Even though 99.9% of the books there were Hebrew fiction and nonfiction that I wasn't intending to buy, it was such a pleasure just to walk through the kiosks in the park and revel in the thousands of books surrounding me.
2. I wanted to see if I could find the chapter of Talmud that we're studying in my class - our teacher said that in some stores, it would be available in its own binding and it'd be pretty inexpensive. I was expecting to see more sifrei kodesh at this fair (holy books, like siddurim - prayer books, volumes of Talmud, and the Tanakh - Bible) but most of the books were secular - I guess there's already enough religious bookstores in Jerusalem. Alas, Perek (chapter) "Eilu Metziot" was not to be found, but it did give me a chance to practice my Hebrew in asking for it.
3. I'd like to explore as many different events and happenings as I have the time and energy for while I'm here, especially things that don't attract quite as many tourists. Tomorrow morning, however, I'm going to Mt. Scopus with a couple of Pardes students to sift through dirt and rubble from the Temple Mount to look for artifacts! My roommate Josh did it last summer and said it was a really neat experience, and most everyone finds something. Apparently there's a mosque being build under the Temple Mount, and all of the dirt that gets displaced finds its way here so that volunteers can help with the project.
So in the end, it was probably good that there weren't many English books, because I don't think I have the room in my suitcase for many more. I already bought a new siddur, a Hebrew-only Tanakh, and a Jastrow Talmud dictionary - a must-have for the upcoming rabbinical school student. The siddur, by the way, is the Koren-Sacks siddur. For those of you that are nerds and have heard of this wonderful creation, you know how awesome it is. For those that haven't, let me enumerate its values:
1. First of all, the siddur is called "Koren-Sacks" because it's published by the Koren publishing company in Jerusalem, well known for quality siddurim and Bibles. The Sacks part comes from Rabbi Sir Jonathan Sacks, the chief rabbi of England, who translated the prayers and wrote all of the commentary and guides in English at the beginning and end. His commentary is succinct and beautiful, offering insights on the origins of the prayers, their general thems, or specific verses that are particularly challenging or encouraging. His commentary, while modern, is timeless, addressing the concerns that we have always had with prayer - how do I pray when I'm not sure if I understand G-d and G-d's will? How do I connect my own unique thoughts and emotions to a fixed and seemingly rigid liturgy? How do I find new meaning in prayers that have become rote? And of course, how do I pray in a language that I barely understand? Rabbi Sacks is there with you, holding your hand throughout the siddur and offering nudges in the right direction.
2. The siddur itself is beautiful. The cover is gray and dark red, and it has two ribbon page markers - very helpful when it's over 1000 pages long, and you have to find the same beginnings over and over. The fonts, however, are what I love most - most of the Hebrew text is in a block, angular font that seems both ancient and new simultaneously, and the words seem to float off the pages. I read that in a review and scoffed, but once I got the siddur, I definitely see what the person meant - see for yourself!
3. Probably the most striking feature of the Koren-Sacks siddur is that the Hebrew is on the left hand page while the English is on the right. This may not seem like a huge deal, but it's in contrast to the majority of English-Hebrew siddurim available. In the others, the Hebrew and English text converge in the middle, but in this siddur, both lines flow out to the edges of the page. Also, this means that the beginnings of the Hebrew and English lines generally line up or are near each other, so it's a lot easier to go back and forth between the languages if you like to know what you're saying and learn the Hebrew words as you daven (pray).
4. Another notable fact is that it's considered a Zionist siddur. I'm not going to get into politics, but the siddur is designed for English speakers in Israel, although it can certainly be used in the Diaspora. It contains prayers for Israel's soldiers, insertions for blessings to say in the land of Israel (like "morid hatal" in the Amidah), and other unique features - I'm still trying to figure out what all of them are, and which apply to me while I'm here.
I've been using this siddur for davening Shacharit (the morning service) for the past week, and every time I open it, I still get excited - its physical beauty and spiritual insights definitely enhance my prayers. There are, however, a couple of things that jarred me at first. It's endorsed by the Orthodox Union, so I'm recognizing the places where the Conservative movement's Siddur Sim Shalom adapted some of the prayers. While the majority of the text is the same, the Birchot HaShachar (15 morning blessings thanking G-d for giving me strength, clothing the naked, giving sight to the blind, etc) are a bit different. The traditional siddur says things like "Blessed are you....for not making me a non-Jew/slave/woman (or for women, 'making me according to your will'), while Sim Shalom made all of these statements positive rather than negative: "Blessed are you... for making me a Jew/free/in your image." It's very difficult to stomach saying these negative statements, especially as my first words of prayer, so I'm inserting the positive language, and it feels much more natural. It also flows much more easily with the structure of the rest of the blessings. While Rabbi Sacks writes that these were not meant to introduce hierarchies, they sure sound like it, so I'm sticking with what I know and what I feel comfortable with. There's also another line in the Aleinu that I'm not used to, which makes very strong statements about the chosenness of the Jewish people, and it's theologically challenging, so I'm leaving it out for now. Eventually, I'll try to struggle with this line and see where it brings me.
Anyway, thanks for reading this insanely long bookish post. I don't know if any of you are actually interested in my siddur commentary one bit, but let me know if you'd like to know more. Shabbat shalom, and have a wonderful weekend!
1. I love books. Not just reading them, but smelling them, feeling them.... Dad, I definitely got this from you. Even though 99.9% of the books there were Hebrew fiction and nonfiction that I wasn't intending to buy, it was such a pleasure just to walk through the kiosks in the park and revel in the thousands of books surrounding me.
2. I wanted to see if I could find the chapter of Talmud that we're studying in my class - our teacher said that in some stores, it would be available in its own binding and it'd be pretty inexpensive. I was expecting to see more sifrei kodesh at this fair (holy books, like siddurim - prayer books, volumes of Talmud, and the Tanakh - Bible) but most of the books were secular - I guess there's already enough religious bookstores in Jerusalem. Alas, Perek (chapter) "Eilu Metziot" was not to be found, but it did give me a chance to practice my Hebrew in asking for it.
3. I'd like to explore as many different events and happenings as I have the time and energy for while I'm here, especially things that don't attract quite as many tourists. Tomorrow morning, however, I'm going to Mt. Scopus with a couple of Pardes students to sift through dirt and rubble from the Temple Mount to look for artifacts! My roommate Josh did it last summer and said it was a really neat experience, and most everyone finds something. Apparently there's a mosque being build under the Temple Mount, and all of the dirt that gets displaced finds its way here so that volunteers can help with the project.
So in the end, it was probably good that there weren't many English books, because I don't think I have the room in my suitcase for many more. I already bought a new siddur, a Hebrew-only Tanakh, and a Jastrow Talmud dictionary - a must-have for the upcoming rabbinical school student. The siddur, by the way, is the Koren-Sacks siddur. For those of you that are nerds and have heard of this wonderful creation, you know how awesome it is. For those that haven't, let me enumerate its values:
1. First of all, the siddur is called "Koren-Sacks" because it's published by the Koren publishing company in Jerusalem, well known for quality siddurim and Bibles. The Sacks part comes from Rabbi Sir Jonathan Sacks, the chief rabbi of England, who translated the prayers and wrote all of the commentary and guides in English at the beginning and end. His commentary is succinct and beautiful, offering insights on the origins of the prayers, their general thems, or specific verses that are particularly challenging or encouraging. His commentary, while modern, is timeless, addressing the concerns that we have always had with prayer - how do I pray when I'm not sure if I understand G-d and G-d's will? How do I connect my own unique thoughts and emotions to a fixed and seemingly rigid liturgy? How do I find new meaning in prayers that have become rote? And of course, how do I pray in a language that I barely understand? Rabbi Sacks is there with you, holding your hand throughout the siddur and offering nudges in the right direction.
2. The siddur itself is beautiful. The cover is gray and dark red, and it has two ribbon page markers - very helpful when it's over 1000 pages long, and you have to find the same beginnings over and over. The fonts, however, are what I love most - most of the Hebrew text is in a block, angular font that seems both ancient and new simultaneously, and the words seem to float off the pages. I read that in a review and scoffed, but once I got the siddur, I definitely see what the person meant - see for yourself!
3. Probably the most striking feature of the Koren-Sacks siddur is that the Hebrew is on the left hand page while the English is on the right. This may not seem like a huge deal, but it's in contrast to the majority of English-Hebrew siddurim available. In the others, the Hebrew and English text converge in the middle, but in this siddur, both lines flow out to the edges of the page. Also, this means that the beginnings of the Hebrew and English lines generally line up or are near each other, so it's a lot easier to go back and forth between the languages if you like to know what you're saying and learn the Hebrew words as you daven (pray).
4. Another notable fact is that it's considered a Zionist siddur. I'm not going to get into politics, but the siddur is designed for English speakers in Israel, although it can certainly be used in the Diaspora. It contains prayers for Israel's soldiers, insertions for blessings to say in the land of Israel (like "morid hatal" in the Amidah), and other unique features - I'm still trying to figure out what all of them are, and which apply to me while I'm here.
I've been using this siddur for davening Shacharit (the morning service) for the past week, and every time I open it, I still get excited - its physical beauty and spiritual insights definitely enhance my prayers. There are, however, a couple of things that jarred me at first. It's endorsed by the Orthodox Union, so I'm recognizing the places where the Conservative movement's Siddur Sim Shalom adapted some of the prayers. While the majority of the text is the same, the Birchot HaShachar (15 morning blessings thanking G-d for giving me strength, clothing the naked, giving sight to the blind, etc) are a bit different. The traditional siddur says things like "Blessed are you....for not making me a non-Jew/slave/woman (or for women, 'making me according to your will'), while Sim Shalom made all of these statements positive rather than negative: "Blessed are you... for making me a Jew/free/in your image." It's very difficult to stomach saying these negative statements, especially as my first words of prayer, so I'm inserting the positive language, and it feels much more natural. It also flows much more easily with the structure of the rest of the blessings. While Rabbi Sacks writes that these were not meant to introduce hierarchies, they sure sound like it, so I'm sticking with what I know and what I feel comfortable with. There's also another line in the Aleinu that I'm not used to, which makes very strong statements about the chosenness of the Jewish people, and it's theologically challenging, so I'm leaving it out for now. Eventually, I'll try to struggle with this line and see where it brings me.
Anyway, thanks for reading this insanely long bookish post. I don't know if any of you are actually interested in my siddur commentary one bit, but let me know if you'd like to know more. Shabbat shalom, and have a wonderful weekend!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
As the week flies by...
Thanks for standing by, loyal readers! Our internet was out, but we finally got it back this afternoon thanks to the nice oleh (immigrant) from California who lives above us. The days have been passing by much faster this week than they did last week, now that I've gotten settled. I've learned how to do my laundry with the incomprehensible washer, turn on the AC in the bedrooms, clean my disgustingly black feet with the pumice stone that Natalie recommended I bring (thanks!!), and continually reapply hydrocortizone to the growing number of GIANT bug bites on my arms and legs - it's like camp! I don't know what kind of bugs these are, but they're a menace.
I've also been having amazing food.... burekas at "Burekas Ima" (Momma's Burekas, or at least that's what they'd call it in the south....), pizza w/ pitriot (mushrooms - and a pizza pie is called mishpachtot, i think - from the word for family!), falafel, of course, and Tim Tams - these chocolate covered cookies. There's a park right near my apartment, so I'm gonna see if I can go running at some point to negate the effects.
So by the end of June, I'll be the kashrut pro.... we started learning about the prohibitions of meat with milk today, and that's what we're going to be doing for the next two weeks. If you ever have milk vapors get into your meat, or a drop of milk fall into your cholent (stew) pot, or any issue of dairy and meat products that may inadvertently mix.... I'm your girl. In two weeks.
Also, I'm becoming an expert on Talmudic arguments about lost and abandoned property - very very serious issue. If you leave behind your grain at the threshing floor, please be advised that if it's a density of "kav b'arba amot" (24 eggs worth in 4 cubits) or more, it's not worth going back to get, so someone else is just gonna take it - sorry! However, if it's sesame seeds, they're a pain to collect but super valuable, and if they're pomegranates or dates, they're not so hard to collect but not really worth going back to get. In the end, after a page of rambling, the Talmud calls it "teiko" - a draw, with no definitive answer. The best part, however, is Rabbi Yirmiya. He was known in the Gemara for asking very nitpicky questions, many of which are thought to subvert the authority of the rabbis who liked to offer nice formulaic responses (i.e., "kav b'arba amot" - a specfic density formula for figuring out if the property's worth going back for). He would ask questions that would break down the formulas and point out situations where they could no longer be applicable. In a passage from another tractate, Bava Batra, Rabbi Yirmiya is prominently featured for this very tendency. The Gemara discusses the situation of a baby bird that has fallen from its birdhouse and cannot fly, and therefore has to hobble around. If you come across it, you return it to the closest property within 50 cubits, because that's as far as the bird could hobble. Rabbi Yirmiya asks, "What if the bird is found with one foot inside one person's property and one foot inside another?" and the rabbis say, "And for that, Rabbi Yirmiya was kicked out of the beit midrash (house of study)!"
Well, it's 11, so I'm headed to bed. Last day of classes for the week tomorrow - it's hard to believe! - and then I'm going to try to make it to the Book Week Fair (how I'm going to fit these books into my suitcase, I don't know...) and the light festival in the old city. Then time for Shabbat once more!
-Lauren
I've also been having amazing food.... burekas at "Burekas Ima" (Momma's Burekas, or at least that's what they'd call it in the south....), pizza w/ pitriot (mushrooms - and a pizza pie is called mishpachtot, i think - from the word for family!), falafel, of course, and Tim Tams - these chocolate covered cookies. There's a park right near my apartment, so I'm gonna see if I can go running at some point to negate the effects.
So by the end of June, I'll be the kashrut pro.... we started learning about the prohibitions of meat with milk today, and that's what we're going to be doing for the next two weeks. If you ever have milk vapors get into your meat, or a drop of milk fall into your cholent (stew) pot, or any issue of dairy and meat products that may inadvertently mix.... I'm your girl. In two weeks.
Also, I'm becoming an expert on Talmudic arguments about lost and abandoned property - very very serious issue. If you leave behind your grain at the threshing floor, please be advised that if it's a density of "kav b'arba amot" (24 eggs worth in 4 cubits) or more, it's not worth going back to get, so someone else is just gonna take it - sorry! However, if it's sesame seeds, they're a pain to collect but super valuable, and if they're pomegranates or dates, they're not so hard to collect but not really worth going back to get. In the end, after a page of rambling, the Talmud calls it "teiko" - a draw, with no definitive answer. The best part, however, is Rabbi Yirmiya. He was known in the Gemara for asking very nitpicky questions, many of which are thought to subvert the authority of the rabbis who liked to offer nice formulaic responses (i.e., "kav b'arba amot" - a specfic density formula for figuring out if the property's worth going back for). He would ask questions that would break down the formulas and point out situations where they could no longer be applicable. In a passage from another tractate, Bava Batra, Rabbi Yirmiya is prominently featured for this very tendency. The Gemara discusses the situation of a baby bird that has fallen from its birdhouse and cannot fly, and therefore has to hobble around. If you come across it, you return it to the closest property within 50 cubits, because that's as far as the bird could hobble. Rabbi Yirmiya asks, "What if the bird is found with one foot inside one person's property and one foot inside another?" and the rabbis say, "And for that, Rabbi Yirmiya was kicked out of the beit midrash (house of study)!"
Well, it's 11, so I'm headed to bed. Last day of classes for the week tomorrow - it's hard to believe! - and then I'm going to try to make it to the Book Week Fair (how I'm going to fit these books into my suitcase, I don't know...) and the light festival in the old city. Then time for Shabbat once more!
-Lauren
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Shabbat in Jerusalem!
The first Shabbat in Jerusalem was amazing. The company, the food, the prayer, the rest, and the general ambiance of the city combined to create an incredibly powerful experience – it’ll be a lot to live up to for the rest of my weeks here!
Shabbat prep really started on Friday morning, when Madison and I ventured out to Machne Yehuda, aka “the shuk.” This is Jerusalem’s huge open-air market. It’s open six days a week, but Friday is certainly busiest with everyone coming to get their Shabbat groceries – fruits, cheeses, wines, challot (challah loaves), meats, and yummy pastries. It’s also cheapest on Friday, because all of the vendors are trying to get rid of their merchandise before Shabbat. We took the bus there, which was pretty easy – lots of people were around to show us where to get off, but it was hard to miss, with swarms of people flooding in and out of the street. Vendors are hawking their wares – “Eser shekalim! Perot! Ugot!” (Ten shekels! Fruits! Cakes!). We picked up some delicious but HEAVY melons for fruit salad, rugalach from Marzipan (the ONLY bakery to go to!), and Asian sauces for Madison’s famous sesame noodles. By that point the shuk had become VERY crowded, so we made our way out and back to the buses. Young girls were passing out Shabbat candles with little sheets telling you the different candle lighting times in the major Israeli cities, and men and women were lugging full carts of food back onto the bus. There was a hurried air to the city – so much to do, and so little time before Shabbat!
A couple of us went to the early Shabbat service at a nearby Orthodox shul (synagogue), which was an interesting experience. I’m not really used to being in a shul with a mechitza (curtain divider between the men’s and women’s section, and this place had an even more drastic setup – the women’s section was entirely closed-in, making us feel like we were in quarantine. There were only 12 seats in the tiny box, so it was hard to maneuver and made for a very unspiritual Shabbat service for the others and me. Oh well – you can’t win them all. The director of the June program, Michael Hattin, was there as well with his three sons, and we were having dinner with him afterwards, so we all walked back together to the house he was staying at. The dinner was amazing – fresh vegetables, creamy scalloped potatoes, fish with a pesto sauce, coffee cake and ice cream…. it was just what I needed – a real home-cooked meal. I met some great people and had very interesting conversations, learning a lot about different people’s Jewish journeys. As always, everyone’s coming from a slightly different place, but there are always common elements that tie us all together.
The next morning, I woke up with the sun and quickly got ready for shul – I was really excited about the community that I was going to this morning, Shira Hadasha. They’re well known for being progressive in the Orthodox world, pushing the envelope to create opportunities for women to become fully engaged in leading prayer. When I arrived, they were at the Amidah (standing central prayer of the service), almost ready to begin the Torah service. The first thing I noticed was the beauty of the singing – both men and women were singing with full voices, in stark contrast to the timid raucous davening (praying) of the night before. It was an intensely spiritual atmosphere, augmented by the fact that their was a bat mitzvah that morning. The bat mitzvah girl chanted the first three aliyot (sections of the Torah reading) beautifully, and the table for the Torah was placed in the center of the room, directly between the men’s and women’s sections. Women would come up to the left side of the table to receive their aliyah or chant Torah, and men would come to the left. When the Torah was lifted and carried, the women would carry it around their side and then pass it to the men, who would carry it to theirs. It was a beautifully planned choreography, almost like a dance, that made the service that much more beautiful. I watched the mother of the bat mitzvah squeeze her daughter’s shoulders as she came up to receive her bat mitzvah aliyah, and the glee in the eyes of her friends and family as they gathered candy to throw at its conclusion. It was a simple moment, yet very profound.
Afterwards, I met up with my friends who had arrived. I had also run into a couple that I knew from Houston at the beginning of the service! They had been living here for the year, and were getting to shul at the exact same time I arrived. The woman said that she had been going to services here all year, and I have a feeling it’ll be the same for me all summer.
Later, a bunch of us from Pardes met up and had a huge Shabbat afternoon picnic in a nearby park. There was so much amazing food, good company, and great conversation. We stayed there from 1 to almost 7, each of us taking turns napping and swinging in my camping hammock. The weather was BEAUTIFUL, and it even drizzled a bit, which is so unheard of in Israel in the summer. At one point, Arab bareback horse riders rode right by us! Later, we ate the rest of our leftovers and made havdalah at Matt’s house, bringing an end to a lovely, peaceful, and restful Shabbat. I felt absolutely in the moment for those 25 hours, which is often something that I struggle with. Let’s hope all the rest of my Israel Shabbatot are just as wonderful!
Shabbat prep really started on Friday morning, when Madison and I ventured out to Machne Yehuda, aka “the shuk.” This is Jerusalem’s huge open-air market. It’s open six days a week, but Friday is certainly busiest with everyone coming to get their Shabbat groceries – fruits, cheeses, wines, challot (challah loaves), meats, and yummy pastries. It’s also cheapest on Friday, because all of the vendors are trying to get rid of their merchandise before Shabbat. We took the bus there, which was pretty easy – lots of people were around to show us where to get off, but it was hard to miss, with swarms of people flooding in and out of the street. Vendors are hawking their wares – “Eser shekalim! Perot! Ugot!” (Ten shekels! Fruits! Cakes!). We picked up some delicious but HEAVY melons for fruit salad, rugalach from Marzipan (the ONLY bakery to go to!), and Asian sauces for Madison’s famous sesame noodles. By that point the shuk had become VERY crowded, so we made our way out and back to the buses. Young girls were passing out Shabbat candles with little sheets telling you the different candle lighting times in the major Israeli cities, and men and women were lugging full carts of food back onto the bus. There was a hurried air to the city – so much to do, and so little time before Shabbat!
A couple of us went to the early Shabbat service at a nearby Orthodox shul (synagogue), which was an interesting experience. I’m not really used to being in a shul with a mechitza (curtain divider between the men’s and women’s section, and this place had an even more drastic setup – the women’s section was entirely closed-in, making us feel like we were in quarantine. There were only 12 seats in the tiny box, so it was hard to maneuver and made for a very unspiritual Shabbat service for the others and me. Oh well – you can’t win them all. The director of the June program, Michael Hattin, was there as well with his three sons, and we were having dinner with him afterwards, so we all walked back together to the house he was staying at. The dinner was amazing – fresh vegetables, creamy scalloped potatoes, fish with a pesto sauce, coffee cake and ice cream…. it was just what I needed – a real home-cooked meal. I met some great people and had very interesting conversations, learning a lot about different people’s Jewish journeys. As always, everyone’s coming from a slightly different place, but there are always common elements that tie us all together.
The next morning, I woke up with the sun and quickly got ready for shul – I was really excited about the community that I was going to this morning, Shira Hadasha. They’re well known for being progressive in the Orthodox world, pushing the envelope to create opportunities for women to become fully engaged in leading prayer. When I arrived, they were at the Amidah (standing central prayer of the service), almost ready to begin the Torah service. The first thing I noticed was the beauty of the singing – both men and women were singing with full voices, in stark contrast to the timid raucous davening (praying) of the night before. It was an intensely spiritual atmosphere, augmented by the fact that their was a bat mitzvah that morning. The bat mitzvah girl chanted the first three aliyot (sections of the Torah reading) beautifully, and the table for the Torah was placed in the center of the room, directly between the men’s and women’s sections. Women would come up to the left side of the table to receive their aliyah or chant Torah, and men would come to the left. When the Torah was lifted and carried, the women would carry it around their side and then pass it to the men, who would carry it to theirs. It was a beautifully planned choreography, almost like a dance, that made the service that much more beautiful. I watched the mother of the bat mitzvah squeeze her daughter’s shoulders as she came up to receive her bat mitzvah aliyah, and the glee in the eyes of her friends and family as they gathered candy to throw at its conclusion. It was a simple moment, yet very profound.
Afterwards, I met up with my friends who had arrived. I had also run into a couple that I knew from Houston at the beginning of the service! They had been living here for the year, and were getting to shul at the exact same time I arrived. The woman said that she had been going to services here all year, and I have a feeling it’ll be the same for me all summer.
Later, a bunch of us from Pardes met up and had a huge Shabbat afternoon picnic in a nearby park. There was so much amazing food, good company, and great conversation. We stayed there from 1 to almost 7, each of us taking turns napping and swinging in my camping hammock. The weather was BEAUTIFUL, and it even drizzled a bit, which is so unheard of in Israel in the summer. At one point, Arab bareback horse riders rode right by us! Later, we ate the rest of our leftovers and made havdalah at Matt’s house, bringing an end to a lovely, peaceful, and restful Shabbat. I felt absolutely in the moment for those 25 hours, which is often something that I struggle with. Let’s hope all the rest of my Israel Shabbatot are just as wonderful!
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Yom Revi'i (Wednesday)
Today was jam-packed with learning, and it was pretty stellar. I slept through the night this time which was LOVELY, then woke up at 6:30 to daven. I had to rush a little to get ready and get out the door, but it was worth it. Madison and I found a shortcut that cuts off one of the corners, so it made things a little easier when walking to Pardes this morning.
The first class I had was Avraham and Sarah. We spent most of the time going through the end of Noach and the beginning of Lech Lecha in chevruta pairs, looking at Avram's ancestors (this was before he became Avraham) and examining how his genaology parallels the genealogy from Adam to Noach. There are 10 generations in each genealogical set, and 10 is one of those numbers that seems to show up frequently in the Torah... plagues, commandments, righteous people necessary to save Sodom, etc.... so we looked into the significance of that, and then discussed Avram's immediate family (his dad, Terach, and his two brothers) and their journey to Charan and then to Canaan. We'll be going all the way through the Akedah (binding of Isaac) over the next few weeks, so the saga of the first Jewish family is only beginning....
Next was kashrut class, where we began by looking at the biblical basis for kashrut - mostly the animals that are considered clean vs. unclean, and looking at various rationales for why this system might have been established in the first place. While the Torah does present some sort of system for some of the categories of animals that are clean (sea creatures w/ fins and scales, land animals that chew their cud and have a cloven hoof, etc), this doesn't really explain WHY this system is necessary. The only sort of justification that it gives is that G-d says "You shall be holy, for I am holy," and kashrut makes us holy. That's not enough for some of the rabbis, especially Maimonides, who tries to attach a rational explanation to all of the mitzvot. He writes in the Guide to the Perplexed that all of the laws of kashrut are there for health reasons, and we don't eat pork because pigs are dirty. Anyway, this sparks a huge debate in the Jewish tradition - do we need rationales for the mitzvot, or do we do them purely because G-d says so?
More stories to come, but for now we're heading out to dinner. L'hitraot!
The first class I had was Avraham and Sarah. We spent most of the time going through the end of Noach and the beginning of Lech Lecha in chevruta pairs, looking at Avram's ancestors (this was before he became Avraham) and examining how his genaology parallels the genealogy from Adam to Noach. There are 10 generations in each genealogical set, and 10 is one of those numbers that seems to show up frequently in the Torah... plagues, commandments, righteous people necessary to save Sodom, etc.... so we looked into the significance of that, and then discussed Avram's immediate family (his dad, Terach, and his two brothers) and their journey to Charan and then to Canaan. We'll be going all the way through the Akedah (binding of Isaac) over the next few weeks, so the saga of the first Jewish family is only beginning....
Next was kashrut class, where we began by looking at the biblical basis for kashrut - mostly the animals that are considered clean vs. unclean, and looking at various rationales for why this system might have been established in the first place. While the Torah does present some sort of system for some of the categories of animals that are clean (sea creatures w/ fins and scales, land animals that chew their cud and have a cloven hoof, etc), this doesn't really explain WHY this system is necessary. The only sort of justification that it gives is that G-d says "You shall be holy, for I am holy," and kashrut makes us holy. That's not enough for some of the rabbis, especially Maimonides, who tries to attach a rational explanation to all of the mitzvot. He writes in the Guide to the Perplexed that all of the laws of kashrut are there for health reasons, and we don't eat pork because pigs are dirty. Anyway, this sparks a huge debate in the Jewish tradition - do we need rationales for the mitzvot, or do we do them purely because G-d says so?
More stories to come, but for now we're heading out to dinner. L'hitraot!
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