I have much less time than I've had so far to write in my blog, but there is something about productivity, or just activity that makes me really want to keep working.
I'm in Chumash (bible) level 4. I was a bit terrified as I walked in because I've spent the past two months putting myself into situations where I'm over my head. Even though I haven't studied Chumash in a classroom setting since 8th grade, I began to feel more comfortable as I sat down and surveyed the classroom: Two other people with noserings, two other people wearing colorful scarves, two older women, one woman wearing bright green, one woman with granola, a guy wearing Hot Chilis....
Baruch, my teacher, began class. We were to study the end of the second chapter of Breishit (Genesis) and begin the second chapter. I was pretty happy that the parsha we happened to be studying just happened to by my bat mitzvah parsha. We studied in chevruta for and hour and a half. My chevruta, Kelly, and I worked through extensive Rashi and Rambam (without English translations!!!) to delve into the story of creation. Who did G-d consult with? Why does G-d say נעשה? Man was created in partnership: G-d combined with the Earth to create this being called Man. On the first days, the world was created in potential; in the following days, everything comes forth from this base. The Earth brought forth the grass and animals, etc.
We also discussed the world "צלם" and its meanings. It is written that we were written in the image of G-d or בצלם אלוקים. We have taken this and flipped it, using "corporealization" (the teacher actually said this word) and have tried to give G-d structure and outline. Our human intelligence is the צל, or shadow, of G-d's essence. People are like G-d in an essential way.
Modern Jewish Thought blew my mind. We read Rosenzweig's "Star of Redemption" and discussed the relationship between G-d, people, and the world. As is typical to philosophy, if I were to begin to explain one part of what we learned, I would have to describe the entire conversation and every idea. I'll do it at some point...but not on a school night.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Pardes
Pardes is a wonderful, wonderful place. The people are welcoming, intelligent, and open minded. There is an element of comfort I have found there that I have yet to find in a more "Israeli" environment. It may be the language barrier, but I think it is more closely tied to the culture. Within minutes or walking into the building, people were introducing themselves to me, striking conversation, and taking an interest in what I am doing with my life.
My first class was Social Justice. We discussed the Maimonidean ladder of Tzedaka and the concept of humility and dignity within the process of giving tzedaka. The governing principles of the Maimonidean ladder are anonymity, empowerment, and maintaining dignity. Feeling good about doing a mitzva is merely the "cherry on the mitzvah sundae," and is not the essence or even the goal of mitzvot. We talked about these ideas in terms of public policy (eg the "Wisconsin Plan," "hand up, not hand out," etc.)
After this discussion, the founder of an organization called "Yedid" came in to talk to us (http://www.yedid.org.il/default.en.asp). It is an amazing organization that advocates for the poor in Israel. They are lobbyists, indivual assistants, and community organizers. Their original goal was to help the massive numbers of new immigrants from the FSU, but they have vastly expanded. They sought to "teach values of democracy and pluralism to low income people but found that these people end up teaching much more." The organization "makes people beleive that they can change something in their lives." They have had really incredible successes. The woman who spoke to us made Aliya a while ago and started this organization. It was really very inspiring.
Today, I had chumash and modern Jewish thought. I will elaborate more later.
My first class was Social Justice. We discussed the Maimonidean ladder of Tzedaka and the concept of humility and dignity within the process of giving tzedaka. The governing principles of the Maimonidean ladder are anonymity, empowerment, and maintaining dignity. Feeling good about doing a mitzva is merely the "cherry on the mitzvah sundae," and is not the essence or even the goal of mitzvot. We talked about these ideas in terms of public policy (eg the "Wisconsin Plan," "hand up, not hand out," etc.)
After this discussion, the founder of an organization called "Yedid" came in to talk to us (http://www.yedid.org.il/default.en.asp). It is an amazing organization that advocates for the poor in Israel. They are lobbyists, indivual assistants, and community organizers. Their original goal was to help the massive numbers of new immigrants from the FSU, but they have vastly expanded. They sought to "teach values of democracy and pluralism to low income people but found that these people end up teaching much more." The organization "makes people beleive that they can change something in their lives." They have had really incredible successes. The woman who spoke to us made Aliya a while ago and started this organization. It was really very inspiring.
Today, I had chumash and modern Jewish thought. I will elaborate more later.
Craaaaaaaaaaazy Day
The holidays had mamash postponed the beginning of anything resembling regularity. It began this week. Sunday morning I worked my way down to Patt, a neighborhood in the South of Jerusalem. I walked into Yad Byad (handinhandk12.org) and waited for Shachar (the volunteer coordinater) to arrive. I watched children run around freely playing tag, interacting with each other, with teachers, with parents...I really tried to figure out who was Jewish and who was Arab and I found that unless I heard them speaking, it was hard to tell. I soon learned that even this cue could be misleading. I spent 4 hours in a first grade classroom. The kids learned basic math, Hebrew, and Arabic. I sat with two girls at the edge of the classroom. Both girls were Jewish. As they did their work, they occasionally switched into Arabic. When I heard them switch, I looked up to see if any of the Arab kids (the tables were mixed, this table only had two kids...both of them just happened to be Jewish) had walked over, but they hadn't. With a few exceptions, most kids in the class fully understood (if not spoke) both Hebrew and Arabic. FIRST graders. I was so impressed. I think this school is doing wonderful work. At the very least, they are producing progressive minded bilingual citizens. The teachers are dedicated and patient. Rinat, the teacher I am working with, discussed the school with me:
"This school is different from any other school. When we have bad behavior, we are patient. They punish. We have to have a lot of patience here and we have to be gentle and encouraging." The kids WANT to do well. There was not a single kid who did not try to participate in class. In fact, the teachers had to remind the kids not to call out in class...there was that much enthusiasm!
It is difficult not being able to speak Hebrew fluently. I can understand the kids when they talk to me, but my responses are limited. I'm hoping that my Hebrew will improve, and with it, my confidence.
"This school is different from any other school. When we have bad behavior, we are patient. They punish. We have to have a lot of patience here and we have to be gentle and encouraging." The kids WANT to do well. There was not a single kid who did not try to participate in class. In fact, the teachers had to remind the kids not to call out in class...there was that much enthusiasm!
It is difficult not being able to speak Hebrew fluently. I can understand the kids when they talk to me, but my responses are limited. I'm hoping that my Hebrew will improve, and with it, my confidence.
Simchas toira
There is something to be said for a holiday whose name begins with "happiness." I danced my calves sore and sang my vocal chords dry and absorbed and emitted ruach. I was surrounded by people of two communities: one that I have left, and one that I hope to join. I suppose it was an appropriate environment for a holiday when we close on chapter and open with another. I felt my whole body smiling as I experienced (and witnessed others experience) such simple yet layered joy. The chagim have forced me to think about my core values. I know that I am egalitarian through and through. While I can appreciate a community of women within the broader Jewish community, being entirely separated from the rest of the community is distracting, bothersome, and demeaning. I still daven in synagogues with mechitzas and I still feel connected to the Jews in those synagogues, but this is not the community where I am fully accepted. I can lead services, read Torah, and fully engage in a Jewish community. And I want to. I can still experience other shuls for the experience and for personal exploration, but I think it's ok if I find a community that is comfortable for me in a country where nothing is necessarily comfortable.
Philosophical musing
Inspired from many-a-question and many-an-awesome-shiur:
Infinity is complicated. We can describe it, but by doing so, we remove the unending indescribable essence of what we sought to understand. There are different kinds of infinity. A line is infinite in its own kind, but a plane is even more infinite. G-d is all kind of infinity. Unending and indescribable, G-d is infinite hope, love, power, existence, etc. G-d is everything כל. As Spinoza says, G-d is in everything, but G-d also transcends everything. As humans, we are limited in what we can understand. What Heschel calls “radical amazement” is our glimpse into G-d’s infinite nature. We are all Talmidei Chachamim: we are all searching for some kind of meaning or engaging in some element of epistemology. The desire and search for G-d is an infinite and impossible pursuit of peace. Truth and peace, two elements of G-d that we desire are beyond our understanding but are intrinsically part of us. Our partnership with G-d opens up the possibility of the infinite within us. Belief transcends the physical. This is the infinite human trait. G-d and humanity are united through belief and peace. Rav Kook says that the blessing of peace unites all opposites. There is peace in the unification and fusion of the infinite and the finite.
Infinity is complicated. We can describe it, but by doing so, we remove the unending indescribable essence of what we sought to understand. There are different kinds of infinity. A line is infinite in its own kind, but a plane is even more infinite. G-d is all kind of infinity. Unending and indescribable, G-d is infinite hope, love, power, existence, etc. G-d is everything כל. As Spinoza says, G-d is in everything, but G-d also transcends everything. As humans, we are limited in what we can understand. What Heschel calls “radical amazement” is our glimpse into G-d’s infinite nature. We are all Talmidei Chachamim: we are all searching for some kind of meaning or engaging in some element of epistemology. The desire and search for G-d is an infinite and impossible pursuit of peace. Truth and peace, two elements of G-d that we desire are beyond our understanding but are intrinsically part of us. Our partnership with G-d opens up the possibility of the infinite within us. Belief transcends the physical. This is the infinite human trait. G-d and humanity are united through belief and peace. Rav Kook says that the blessing of peace unites all opposites. There is peace in the unification and fusion of the infinite and the finite.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Chag Sameach
In the midst of a month of celebration! An exclamation, I believe, is appropriate to describe this month. Weeks of vacation are punctuated with random reality checks, thrown in to remind you that you don't, in fact, live in synagogue...or in a sukkah...or on the beach...or in a coffee shop.
I began this year well: with family. Elyssa and I went to Tel Mond to stay with friends of the family (due to my lack of blood relations in Israel, we have agreed to adopt each other as "real" family). It was a strange but wonderful mix of religious and secular.
I went to services in the morning. Though nice, it was hard to concentrate when I was freezing, being constantly nudged by dynamic plastic chairs (there were quite a few children), and searching frantically through a machzor that seemed to include every commentary and every text ever written on every part of the Rosh Hashana service. The shofar blowing was enjoyable. For lunch on the first day, all of Yakis' family came over. It was pot-luck-esque, and extremely delicious. I'm happy to say that I contributed with a sof-haderech lental soup, and an apple challah that was equally yummy. Being surrounded by a very large Israeli family, I felt slightly foreign, but also very much part of the mishpacha. Children ran around, the two pregnant women talked about what was essentially pregnant mommy yoga (I could have the details wrong on this...I was eavesdropping...), mothers encouraged children to eat, and there was wine applenty.
The second day, I went to services again. When I returned, we rushed off to Bnaya's base to have a cook out with his army buddies and their families. It was delicious, interesting, fun, and definitely good practice for my Hebrew. While we were eating (in a little park near the base) a Breslover walked by and gave us his new years blessing. Everyone gave a rousing "Amen" in the end, which was very funny. He walked by again later and used our already ignited flame to light his cigarette. After a fabulous picnic, we headed back to Tel Mond to nap and pack.
Jump forward 10 days.
Yom Kippur was a phenomenon. We had three guests at the apartment. We needed to feed ourselves before the fast started, but afternoon was descending, and the city was unusually quiet. At 1:30, I ran to Emek Refaim to find some food. Everything was closed. Everything. Oh crap. Everything....Everything but Pizza Sebaba!!! I grabbed the last pizza they made before they closed and power walked home. After eating a delicious last meal, we donned our white clothing and headed to shul.
Elyssa and I went to Kol Nidre at Kol Haneshama. Services were beautiful. It was really a nice thing to have the ENTIRE congregation participating in a service. Try to find THAT at an American Kol Nidre. After running into many people we knew (including a sibling of a friend, my ulpan teacher etc.) Elyssa and I headed back toward the apartment.
I must explain a little about Yom Kippur here. For this one day, Jerusalem completely shuts down. No one drives. No one shops. Nothing is open (except synagogues). We joined the masses as we walked down Emek Refaim. Hundreds of people wearing all white, walking home from services, just walking, riding bikes, meeting friends, talking, sitting. Kids (and adults) rode bikes in the streets, people WALKED in the streets. It was amazing. The only car that drove by was a patrolling police car. We again saw many of our friends. After walking up and down for about an hour, we became conscious of the fact that we were not eating for 26 hours, and headed home. Services the next morning began at 8. After a day full of repenting and singing, we broke our fast with some wonderful friends. We are very grateful to the Ben Ors for their hospitality and family-ness they have provided us.
From one holiday to the next. We built a sukkah! Unfortunately not our own, but it was the next best thing! Elyssa, Benj, Emma, and I ventured to create a hut out of trash and tree branches. Sukkot is awesome. We gathered tzchach: Three of us ventured down the street a little and discovered a humongous pile of branches. People trim their bushes around this time and put everything in the streets for people like us who are looking to create a roof. As we were gathering huge branches, TWO people offered us more branches and clippers if we came by their houses. Only in Jerusalem. It was a day of learning:
1. You can make anything out of anything. Discarded two-by-fours make awesome sukkah supports
2. lashing is super strong and awesome
3. broken ladders may be dangerous
4. peppercorn branches make beautiful natural decorations
5. sap is sticky
6. wear pants
7. It's a very small world (we called a friend of ours to make plans and discovered that she was in the same building)
8. Frying shnitzl is best when oil is hot
9. Sukkahs are beautiful
10. Jews are strange
A full day of Sukkah building ended in the ushering in of the shabbat queen. We went to KabShab at Yakar, a Carlebach shul. Services were rousing and fun despite the fact that there were about twice as many people in that room as there should have been. As is the custom at synagogues like this, the Shaliach Tzibur reminds you not to worry if you don't have a place for dinner. One will be found for you. Great. That was the hope. When services ended, we approached him and told him we would love to join a nice family for dinner. He shouted over the bustling crowd: "I need two more places for the shabbat meal!!" And then in Hebrew. We felt a bit self conscious. Eventually, a very small and very sweet young woman came up to us and invited us to dinner. Of course, she spoke extremely limited English. We walked back to her home and were greeted by a huge family. Complete with a grandmother, a mother, and six kids (the seventh was in India) between the ages of 15 and 25ish. I was fully prepared to do the entire meal in Hebrew. Then they switched to French.
"Parlez vous francais???" I almost shouted. I then tried very hard to switch to French and speak to them in the language that had previously come easier to me than Hebrew. I failed. It came out in Hebrew. I guess it's a sign. After that, we carried on conversation in a bizarre mix of Hebrew, French, and English. They were very nice people and I'm looking forward to running into them again.
I slept today.
After saying goodbye to the Shabbat Kalla, Elyssa and I made dinner and went to see Waltz with Bashir. What a phenomenal movie. It was moving and sad and poignant. It really evoked a lot of anger and fear for me. It was about a man whose experiences in the first Lebanon War begin to come back to him when a friend tells him about his own. Through flashbacks, the movie details the emotional (and physical) trauma inflicted on several soldiers (animated) during the massacre at Sabra and Shatila. The movie ends incredibly powerfully. I left the movie with great respect for the position soldiers are in everyday. Elyssa and I had the same feeling at the end of the movie. In addition to the horror of the massacres, we were disturbed by the casual regard many American kids have for the army and the position soliders are in. A friend of ours had the opportunity to participate in an army simulation "for the experience of it." What does this really mean? How can we, as outsiders, begin to understand this culture? the obligation? the responsibility? The movie was incredible.
Tomorrow is the last day of ulpan.
Laila tov.
I began this year well: with family. Elyssa and I went to Tel Mond to stay with friends of the family (due to my lack of blood relations in Israel, we have agreed to adopt each other as "real" family). It was a strange but wonderful mix of religious and secular.
I went to services in the morning. Though nice, it was hard to concentrate when I was freezing, being constantly nudged by dynamic plastic chairs (there were quite a few children), and searching frantically through a machzor that seemed to include every commentary and every text ever written on every part of the Rosh Hashana service. The shofar blowing was enjoyable. For lunch on the first day, all of Yakis' family came over. It was pot-luck-esque, and extremely delicious. I'm happy to say that I contributed with a sof-haderech lental soup, and an apple challah that was equally yummy. Being surrounded by a very large Israeli family, I felt slightly foreign, but also very much part of the mishpacha. Children ran around, the two pregnant women talked about what was essentially pregnant mommy yoga (I could have the details wrong on this...I was eavesdropping...), mothers encouraged children to eat, and there was wine applenty.
The second day, I went to services again. When I returned, we rushed off to Bnaya's base to have a cook out with his army buddies and their families. It was delicious, interesting, fun, and definitely good practice for my Hebrew. While we were eating (in a little park near the base) a Breslover walked by and gave us his new years blessing. Everyone gave a rousing "Amen" in the end, which was very funny. He walked by again later and used our already ignited flame to light his cigarette. After a fabulous picnic, we headed back to Tel Mond to nap and pack.
Jump forward 10 days.
Yom Kippur was a phenomenon. We had three guests at the apartment. We needed to feed ourselves before the fast started, but afternoon was descending, and the city was unusually quiet. At 1:30, I ran to Emek Refaim to find some food. Everything was closed. Everything. Oh crap. Everything....Everything but Pizza Sebaba!!! I grabbed the last pizza they made before they closed and power walked home. After eating a delicious last meal, we donned our white clothing and headed to shul.
Elyssa and I went to Kol Nidre at Kol Haneshama. Services were beautiful. It was really a nice thing to have the ENTIRE congregation participating in a service. Try to find THAT at an American Kol Nidre. After running into many people we knew (including a sibling of a friend, my ulpan teacher etc.) Elyssa and I headed back toward the apartment.
I must explain a little about Yom Kippur here. For this one day, Jerusalem completely shuts down. No one drives. No one shops. Nothing is open (except synagogues). We joined the masses as we walked down Emek Refaim. Hundreds of people wearing all white, walking home from services, just walking, riding bikes, meeting friends, talking, sitting. Kids (and adults) rode bikes in the streets, people WALKED in the streets. It was amazing. The only car that drove by was a patrolling police car. We again saw many of our friends. After walking up and down for about an hour, we became conscious of the fact that we were not eating for 26 hours, and headed home. Services the next morning began at 8. After a day full of repenting and singing, we broke our fast with some wonderful friends. We are very grateful to the Ben Ors for their hospitality and family-ness they have provided us.
From one holiday to the next. We built a sukkah! Unfortunately not our own, but it was the next best thing! Elyssa, Benj, Emma, and I ventured to create a hut out of trash and tree branches. Sukkot is awesome. We gathered tzchach: Three of us ventured down the street a little and discovered a humongous pile of branches. People trim their bushes around this time and put everything in the streets for people like us who are looking to create a roof. As we were gathering huge branches, TWO people offered us more branches and clippers if we came by their houses. Only in Jerusalem. It was a day of learning:
1. You can make anything out of anything. Discarded two-by-fours make awesome sukkah supports
2. lashing is super strong and awesome
3. broken ladders may be dangerous
4. peppercorn branches make beautiful natural decorations
5. sap is sticky
6. wear pants
7. It's a very small world (we called a friend of ours to make plans and discovered that she was in the same building)
8. Frying shnitzl is best when oil is hot
9. Sukkahs are beautiful
10. Jews are strange
A full day of Sukkah building ended in the ushering in of the shabbat queen. We went to KabShab at Yakar, a Carlebach shul. Services were rousing and fun despite the fact that there were about twice as many people in that room as there should have been. As is the custom at synagogues like this, the Shaliach Tzibur reminds you not to worry if you don't have a place for dinner. One will be found for you. Great. That was the hope. When services ended, we approached him and told him we would love to join a nice family for dinner. He shouted over the bustling crowd: "I need two more places for the shabbat meal!!" And then in Hebrew. We felt a bit self conscious. Eventually, a very small and very sweet young woman came up to us and invited us to dinner. Of course, she spoke extremely limited English. We walked back to her home and were greeted by a huge family. Complete with a grandmother, a mother, and six kids (the seventh was in India) between the ages of 15 and 25ish. I was fully prepared to do the entire meal in Hebrew. Then they switched to French.
"Parlez vous francais???" I almost shouted. I then tried very hard to switch to French and speak to them in the language that had previously come easier to me than Hebrew. I failed. It came out in Hebrew. I guess it's a sign. After that, we carried on conversation in a bizarre mix of Hebrew, French, and English. They were very nice people and I'm looking forward to running into them again.
I slept today.
After saying goodbye to the Shabbat Kalla, Elyssa and I made dinner and went to see Waltz with Bashir. What a phenomenal movie. It was moving and sad and poignant. It really evoked a lot of anger and fear for me. It was about a man whose experiences in the first Lebanon War begin to come back to him when a friend tells him about his own. Through flashbacks, the movie details the emotional (and physical) trauma inflicted on several soldiers (animated) during the massacre at Sabra and Shatila. The movie ends incredibly powerfully. I left the movie with great respect for the position soldiers are in everyday. Elyssa and I had the same feeling at the end of the movie. In addition to the horror of the massacres, we were disturbed by the casual regard many American kids have for the army and the position soliders are in. A friend of ours had the opportunity to participate in an army simulation "for the experience of it." What does this really mean? How can we, as outsiders, begin to understand this culture? the obligation? the responsibility? The movie was incredible.
Tomorrow is the last day of ulpan.
Laila tov.
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