Baka el Gharbiyya

Every wednesday, for a change of pace, HUC students meet to discuss the inner-workings of Israel, to go on field trips, or to meet interesting speakers and leaders. Some seminar days are uneccessarily tedius. Some are enlightening, informative or enriching. This week's Israel seminar was a gem.

At 8am, tired HUC students hopped on busses, preparing themselves for a 2 hour bus ride to Baka el Gharbiyya, an arab city of Israel. Our destination: a College of Arab Israelis. Neil Harris gave us a truly informative lecture about the problems Arabs face, and how they are in many ways second class citizens within the state of Israel. For example, because the right to return aims to take in specifically all Jews, not only are their family members innable to immigrate, but Arabs need to pay tax dollars to support the immigration of Jews from around the world. Anyone wearing a muslim religious or with any indication that they are arab (name, for example) can be questioned at an airport for upwards of an hour, and is always in danger of missing his/her flight. They are taught Tanakh, Jewish commentaries and prayers in school, but study of the Quran is optional. They need to learn Hebrew and English --not arabic. Arab communities are given far less finantial support than the communities of Jewish communities. Most of the land in Israel is governmentally owned. If trying to open a synagogue, community or a large organization, you appreal to the government for a piece of land. The government is far more apt to give any land to a Jewish organization than to an Arab or Muslim one, regardless of what the organization promises to be.

Although I always new some of this, and always felt sympathy for Arabs and Jews who live within the land of Israel, Harris' lecture really highlighted the unfortunate aspects of their situation.

After this eye-opening lecture 4 Rabbinical students and I met with one very sweet Muslim Arab Israeli-- an 18 year old girl named Sewar, who was surprisingly open-minded, modern and western. Her english is absolutely amazing-- especially considering it is her third language- after Arabic and Hebrew. Her parents owned a business, and had many Jewish customers, so from an early age she felt comfortable around Jews, dispite the politics of Israel, because as she remarked, "if someone treats me well, I treat them well".


From left to right: David Vaisberg, Rachel Isaacs, Halayne Hashmal, Sewar, Hayley Feldman, and me.

Sewar spoke about how she wanted to study in a University, but wasn't allowed to until 2 years after graduating from high school --so that she would be the same age as Jewish Israelis who went to the army. In the meantime, she was studying english and some computers. She spoke about the importance of having her family live very close to her, and how she trusts her family with her thoughts, ideas and secrets much more than she feels she could trust anyone else. She talked about her desire to get married in her mid-twenties and to have no more than 3 children. She also spoke about her identity. Increasingly these days Israeli Arabs are calling themselves "Arabs with Israeli citizenship" or "Palestinian Arabs who live in Israel". Sewar called herself an "Arab Israeli" because she is part of the community of Israel.

There is no doubt about the fact that Sewar is a progressive thinker. She is an absolute sweetheart, who, like any other Palestinian in Israel, struggles with her dual identity. In sewar's case, she also stuggles between her old-fashioned values of her primary value to live near the entire family, despite everything going on in her life, and her more western ideas of higher education, and smaller families.

When I got home from this long day, I already had a message from her waiting on my computer about how happy she was to have met all of us. I absolutely feel the same. She promises to come to Jerusalem so that we can take eachother to some of our favorite places within. I really hope this works out. Dialogue has been breached. A friendship, I hope, is in the making.

Reactions

The funny thing about being an Reform Rabbinical school in Israel, with a love of following traditional practices and minhagim is that a lot of my blog is filled with struggles of finding my own spiritual path, when that path is often against the grain. More specifically: wearing a kipa.

The other day I was sitting in cup o' joe, a cute coffee shop/restaurant just a few minutes away from school. I sat with a few friends, enjoying a very wonderful hot chocolate, when outside the window a man began to make strange gestures "Does anyone know him," Jessica asked. "No..." And then the light blub. The man was trying to get my attention. When I looked he pointed excitedly to his head, and gave me a thumbs up. Whether he was approving of my wearing a kipa, or because it was a gay pride kipa, I will never know. Whether he was American, Israeli, or from another place in the world I will never know. But it was amazing.

And just a few tables away, in a table near where Mary and many of my classmates were studying, a very different conversation was going on. An english-speaking women turned to her friend and said "Look at her. I hate this feminist nonesense. I like that I as a female don't need to do certain things like wear a kipa. Why would she do that?".

Although the reactions to my attempt to find ways to religiously express myself are diverse, they all seem to have one thing in common -- they are passionate. I feel pride in exposing people to this different model of observance. At the same time, I do not nor would I want to wear a kipa for this reason alone. To wear a kipa as a female in Jerusalem you need to be willing to make a statement. To wear a kipa as a Jew, you need to be willing to make a commitment. And to react you need to care.

Who's afraid of the big bad Cassi?

Yesterday, I walked home from classes, happily. The weekend was finally here. I survived my first week of classes. In fact, I really enjoyed them in a way I hadn't before.
As I approached my apartment building, a haredi man with a full grown beard, a black hat and the normative black suit was walking toward the building as well. I opened the door, and held it open for him. We made eye contact, and he quickly looked away, backed up, and darting his head from side to side, waited for me to close the door so that he could buzz upstairs to get himself in the building.
My initial reaction was sheer amusement. Here I was a female Rabbinical student, dressed in blue jeans, a winter coat, and wearing a very pretty kipa on my head. And this haredi man was petrified of me.
When he came into the building I smiled and said "shalom". "Shalom he replied. I walked in the elevator. When he was convinced that I was far enough in and he wouldn't need to make any contact with me whatsoever, he entered as well.
He walked out of the elevator, the words "Shabbat Shalom" on his lips. Despite the tension, fear, and confusion between two very different types of Jews, one thing is certain. We both have Shabbat.
Shabbat Shalom!

New semester, new beginning

So yes, I admit it. I have in fact been the world's worst journal updater these past few months. But alas, the drought has come to an end. I have returned, after a truly wonderful break back home.

In two weeks, with an unending supply of support and hard work from my parents, Josh's parents, Josh my sister and all of my wonderful bridesmaids, the wedding has transformed from a potential date on a piece of paper to an exciting reality. I have a beautiful dress, a gorgeous venue with an on site kosher caterer, a fabulous photographer, a great florist, and pretty bridesmaid dresses. Val, my Rabbi, role model and mentor will be officiating a ceremony Josh and I have already done a lot of thinking about, and will continue to with her help. Seeing her was, as always, wonderful, and even more so given the circumstances. I spent time with Josh's family, and a few close friends. All in all the break was just what I needed.

And when I returned, I found myself immerced in a workshop about North American Jewry, the history and stances of the reform movement, and leadership. We listened to inspiring speaches by Rabbi Kenneret, the first female Rabbi to work in the state of Israel, and Tzipora, an educator who has transformed several schools by making herself always accessabile and by being completely invested in her students, regardless of what anyone said to her. Through their strength and solid leadership one characteristic of theirs fascinated me -- their ability to openly, honestly and with complete confidence admit their mistakes, downfalls and weaknesses. And to own them. It is all to easy to want to be a leader who is everything to everybody, but that is not possible and Rabbi Kenneret and Tzippora never for a second pretended to be anything other than human. To me that seems the greatest sign of strength.

As I took my long, lovely walk to school this morning I was excited for a new semester-- not just because starting this semester brings me one step closer to being home with Josh, although that was part of it -- but I really looked foward to taking advantage of these 4 short months that lie ahead of me. And I was pleasantly suprised. This whole year I have felt that something academically was missing. Today, as I sat in Rabbinics lecture and then in a class with Moshe on the shulchan oruch I was delighted to find that I will have the opportunity to delve into theology and philosophy--even if just peripherally-- this semester. I feel really good about all of my classes. I came home tonight and did almost all of my homework, though parts of it aren't due for a full week. I feel more like a Rabbinical student. That makes me profoundly happy.

My first dvar

Today I led my first Dvar. I had a lot of fun doing it, and I like how it came out. I am also happy that it is over (now I can think about my wedding :)). I got a lot of positive feedback, and just a few suggestions about things I can do better in the future. All in all I think it went really well. You can judge for yourself:

Like any other nice American Jewish boy, Scott had a warm smile, a love of food and a strong sense of guilt. From an early age Scott struggled between two emotions: shame for his homosexual feelings, and eagerness to understand them. One day a man with a scarred face and soft voice told Scott that he knew his secret, and invited him home. Scott followed this stranger, overcome with excitement. Allowing himself to be caught up in sexual exploration, Scott ignored the risks involved. Unbeknownst to him, Scott had made a life-changing mistake: he did not make an effort to protect himself. The consequence: HIV.
In this week's parasha, Bereishit, Adam and Eve make their own life-changing decision: they eat from the tree of knowledge. In Genesis 2 G-d warns "you must not eat of it; for as soon as you eat of it, you shall die". But something in the tree calls out to them, something so powerful that they put aside any possible consequences and eat the forbidden fruit. The result: banishment from Eden.
But what was this fruit that Adam and Eve risked everything for, whose consumption triggered such a life-altering outcome? Perhaps you will be surprised to discover that no specific fruit is mentioned in the Torah. To Christians it was an apple; to Muslims, a banana. As usual, in Midrash Rabbah, the Rabbis present us with a variety of possibilities.
One idea is that the fruit was the desire to know. Rabbi Meir believed the "fruit" was wheat, a symbol of growing intellect and a thirst for knowledge. Talmud Bavli Sanhedrin 72 teaches that a when a child is able to eat solid foods, like wheat, his intellect and thirst for knowledge are quickly evolving. The child is excited to become more aware of himself and his surroundings. But the wheat has an additional quality. Wheat, in its raw form is not edible. In order to eat it, to separate what it edible from what is not, Adam and Eve had to have made a conscious decision. Drawn by their desire for knowledge, they went out of their way to eat the fruit of this tree.
Another possibility: Adam and Eve understood the consequences involved, but allowed their temptation to take over, despite the cost. Rabbi Judah ben Ilai maintained that Eve made wine from the real forbidden fruit: grapes. Adam and Eve were attracted by the grapes' intoxicating properties. Though they understood the severity of the consequences, in the heat of the moment they decided to eat the fruit anyway; it was worth the risk.
So which was it that marked the turning point for Adam and Eve—their desire to understand the world around them, or their giving in to temptation despite the known consequences? What led Scott to be so careless about his safety—his desire to understand his feelings, or his momentary temptation to explore them, despite the understood risk? Which forbidden fruit was it—the fruit of forethought, or the fruit of spontaneity?
Rabbis Meir and Rabbi Judah ben Ilai would like us to understand that there was a single forbidden fruit, but I would like to offer up another interpretation. Perhaps no specific forbidden fruit was mentioned in the Torah because it was not one fruit at all. As human beings, we face difficult challenges with unclear answers. It is not always possible to pinpoint a single cause for our errors. Sometimes our mistakes are the result of wheat, our curiosity to learn and our conscious effort to do so. Sometimes we allow grapes, our desires to cloud our better judgment. Sometimes, we make mistakes because we are tempted by a variety of forbidden fruits. Adam and Eve were tempted by wheat when they had a desire to learn, and by grapes when they were caught up in the moment of this desire. The fruit of the tree kept changing, once they began changing.
In the end, eating the fruit of the forbidden tree would prove to have grave consequences. But soon they would learn that the forbidden tree could take on additional forms. Rabbi Yossi suggests that it was a fig tree. This tree offered not only the fruit of knowledge, but large beautiful leaves with potential beyond which Adam and Eve understood before eating its fruit.
Bereishit 3 tells us that after eating from the tree of knowledge "Their eyes were opened and they perceived that they were naked and they sewed together fig leaves and made themselves loincloths" They ate the forbidden fruit in hopes of gaining knowledge, but in the end all they saw was that they were naked. They saw the nakedness of their actions. They realized they could not take back their mistakes, or hide them from G-d, but they needed to do something to overcome these mistakes. They took the leaves of the fig tree and created themselves loincloths. As Rabbi Nehemia taught, "by the very thing by which they were disgraced, they were restored". They used the forbidden tree to make the most of their outcome, and to turn away from making these mistakes again. They used this very tree as they worked towards tshuva.
Similarly, Scott realized that he could not go back in time and undo his mistakes. Because he did not protect himself, his HIV was here to stay. But that didn’t mean he would give up. On the contrary, Scott decided that he, too, would build something positive upon his transgression. He would become a speaker. Scott travels the world telling teenagers his story, encouraging them to always value and protect themselves, to not make his mistake.
Although the High Holiday season has come to a close, our work is far from over. We may understand the many reasons we made mistakes. We may have apologized. But the fruit of knowledge has something more to offer us. Adam and Eve teach us that even the source of our mistakes offers the materials of tshuva. Scott exemplifies how to transform our mistakes into blessings for others. This year, may we learn from their examples.

BIG NEWS!!!

I had been counting down to this day since a month and a half ago. It seemed surreal to me. The day had finally come. I went to the airport at 11:00 on an Israeli Sheirut (a public van that picks up people from their door to take them to the airport). I arrived, eagerly waiting Josh's arrival. I hadn't seen him in 3.5 months. Today, October 6, was our anniversarry. I couldn't wait to celebrate it with him.

At about 1:30 he came through the airport doors. I ran over and gave him a huge hug. We couldn't stop smiling. We were on cloud 9. We finally got back to my place, catching up. We made a nice dinner, with salad, chicken, rice, challah, red wine, and evenually marzipan.

After our little feast, we decided to take a walk. We waled up Bezelel, and down Ben Yehuda, down Yafo and past HUC. On our way we saw people have dinner in their succahs, singing, eating, drinking, and celebrating. Succot is a 7 day holiday filled with joy. We eat, and spend time in termorary buildings called succahs. They are usually made with wooden or metal frames, and covered with more wood, curtains, branches, and huge leaves. They are then decorated with Christmas lights, tinsel, posters, fruit, and hanging crafts. Through the top of a succah one can always see the stars. It is a symbol of impermanence, a connection to those in our community who are pour and a connection to nature. We end succot with Simchat Torah: a day when we finish the Torah reading, and start the reading over again. We dance in the streets with the Torah, sing songs, and drink. It is also the day that marks the changing of season. It does not rain in Israel for most of the year. Just after Simchat Torah the rains begin. We celebrate their coming.

Josh and I walked along, happily, enjoying the signs of joy and simcha. We finally sat down on a little resting spot just outside of the old city. We started talking about the beauty of the old city, how far we had come over the past 5 years, and how much we love each other and can get through anything. We began to talk about our future, when in an instant he took out the most gorgeous ring and asked me to marry him. After catching my breath I screamed "Of course". I was completely suprised, and utterly speachless. The ring was his grandmothers, and she gave it to Josh in hopes that it will bring the two of us the kind of happiness that it brought her. I am, beyond a doubt, the happiest person alive. I am engaged to the love of my life, and my best friend. I am blessed with the most fabulous in-laws-to-be ever, who get along with and socialize with my parents. What could be better?

The boing! of Israeli Culture

I'm not sure I will ever get used to certain aspects of Israeli culture: the lack of accessability for handicapped people, motorcycles and cars on the sidewalks, the infestation of cats, and the way Israelis boing. Its like the entire country has way too much estrogen. Emotions flair up and die down. One second an Israeli could be explaining to you that you are a goy, and the next second he could be inviting you in for a shabbat meal. One second an Israeli could be crying, and the next second coupled over with laughter. Emotions are worn on their sleaves. Its like the entire country is pregnant.

Although I cannot quite understand this phenomenon, I have certainly been privy to it in the past 24 hours. Last night I had more fun singing than I have since college when I was in the most wonderful Jewish a capella group, L'Shir. We learned really easy songs, which was quite the relief after the high holidays. We sang Kol Neidre for the rest of the choir, and Jay made a point to congratulate us for a beautiful job during services. The weather is finally cooling down and was absolutely stunning. After choir, some of us stayed singing songs from my favorite Broadway musical: Phantom of The Opera. It was amazing getting to sing songs using my soprano range. Melanie, a student Cantor with an unbelievable voice told me that I sounded like Sara Brightman, who I absolutely love. That made me feel really good.

I'm amidst a count down to see my boyfriend, who I haven't seen since I left for Israel, nearly 3.5 months ago. He will arrive Friday, which just so happens to be our 5 year anniversarry. In less than 2 days he will be here. I can't wait. We will spend most of the time in Jerusalem, with a couple day excursion to Tel Aviv. To tell you the truth, I don't care it matters too much to either of us what we do-- the important thing is that we will be together. Last night Josh and I stayed up very late getting excited about his visit.

I woke up this morning to a very strong up of coffee. I would need it. We departed for Yad V'shem (the holocaust memorial sight) at 8:30am. We entered the museum-- a space with a very intentional construction: a triangular hallway. In the distance was a stunning view of Israel. Behind was darkness. But we could not journey staight through this narrow hallway. The pathway was blocked off by exhibits, forcing us to go through a labyrinth of stories, faces, quotes, speaches, films and other mind blowing exhibits. In the For 3 hours we took our time internalizing the faces and stories of the many Jews persecuted at this time -- from cultral segregation to ghettos to consentration camps to mass executions. Antisemestic words, paraphanalia and speaches surrounded us from every side. We learned about the rise of Nazism in Germany. We learned about the rise of antisemitism, about the Nazi takeover of many European nations, about the struggle, conflict and suffering of the Jews and other Nazi victims. But all along we heard the stories of survivors. We passed many times through the crowded hallway, looking foward towards our symbol of hope: the land of Israel. The exhibit ended with Jewish children singing Hatikva-- "THE HOPE"-- the Israeli national anthem, followed by a room of martyrs, and heros, quotations and an outdoor lookout over Jerusalem.

It was not cold in the museum, but I had chills this entire time. I cannot fathom the life that these people went through-- the poor German, Polish, and Eurpoean children whose heads were filled with hatred and propoganda, the Jews and others who were victimed simply because they were not "the perfect race". The Jewish leaders who had to decide who would be sent to die, and who would be permitted to stay in the ghetto. The people who sacrificed their lives in to order to resist the Nazi regime. The people who had to say goodbye to family members, and their friends, knowing they would never meet again in this life. I can't fathom it. Not one bit. I have no tears to cry. I have no words of anger to scream. I can't even grasp the enormaty of one life living through this kind of torture let alone millions. I can't understand one young mind being corrupted let alone millions. I can't understand the hatred of one person for another, let alone the hatred of millions of Nazis for the Jews, and other non-aryan groups.

I wouldn't call myself a Zionist. As much as I love living in Israel, I have mixed feelings towards its existance. But as I left Yad V'Shem I picked up a pebble from the path to place on Herzl's grave. No matter which way you slice it, Israel has brought a sense of hope to the people of Israel that had been lacking during the dark years of the 30s and 40s. For that I owe Herzl and others an enormous amout of gratitude.

After visiting Herzl's grave, we went through the graveyard of fallen soldiers, including 22 year old Michael Levin, a young man from Pennsylvania who fell during Israel's war with Lebanon. He went to camp Ramah with my boyfriend, and was in USY with my friend Jeff.

After this very solumn experience, we washed our hands and headed out to succah decorating at HUC. The israeli culture: one big boing!