Shanah Tovah U'Metukah!

It's a small world getting even smaller...

The last month of Israel went by quickly. I returned from a long Pesach break to find that senioritis had set in. I still attended class, but I was much more focused on what was happening after Pardes. School ended on a Wednesday and I had a flight Sunday afternoon. Just a few short days to pack and say my goodbyes shortened even further by the holidays of Shavuot and Shabbat. I wasn't too hung up on saying goodbye since I have lots of experience with using the many technologies of keeping in touch- Skype, G-chat, Facebook not to mention regular old emails and phone calls- notice the lack of slow paper mail options.

After Israel I met my parents and sister in Italy where we went on a fabulous cruise vacation in the Mediterranean (Thanks mom!) We stopped at several Greek islands, Turkey, Egypt and back to Italy. It was really a great reunion. As we traveled to the different ports we checked out the local shopping (family tradition) I was a bit disappointed by what I saw. Each locale had the same trinkets and souvenirs, most of which were not even made in the places we visited. I felt a little nostalgic for a time when the world must have been just a tad bigger. I imagine that traveling to an exotic place would be marked by having some unique trinket displayed in your home as proof of your worldliness. Instead I found myself checking the prices on items made in Thailand.

I suppose I'm not ready to weigh in on the issue of our shrinking world, but clearly its a complicated matter.

Wheels on the Bus

I had a couple of truly Israeli bus experiences today.

It started with a simple observation in the central bus station of Jerusalem. At 8 o'clock on Monday morning there were a surprising number of soldiers waiting around for transportation. They use the buses to get to their bases, but it seems strange to me that they don't all sleep where they work. Also, the sight of teen soldiers everywhere just makes it feel more like Israel.

Once I had boarded the bus I had an Israeli bus driver experience. A car in the middle lane was too close to the median, blocking our bus drivers ability to enter the left hand turn lane. After repeated honking (which of course couldn't fix a thing) the light turned green and everyone moved forward. Lucky for our bus driver that we didn't make the light, because this allowed him to pull up next to the little car, open up the door and starting yelling across to the incompetent driver. Just for good measure, he edged up a few feet and started to yell at the incompetent driver in front of our offending automobile operator.

On my way home from Ramat Gan (a suburb of Tel Aviv) I hopped up the stairs of an empty bus, chose a seat a few rows back, and settled down with my book. We soon entered the religious neighborhood of B'nai Barak and as we progressed in our route, we picked up more and more Haredim. These are the Jews with the black hats and curly peot, fyi. Eventually someone asked me to move to the back of the crowded bus because the front was for men, and it wasn't modest for me to be sitting among them. Having read an article about a woman who was assaulted for trying to keep her place at the front of a Jerusalem bus, I made only a feeble attempt to keep my place. Someone assured me there were still seats at the back of the bus, so I headed back while mumbling something about motion sickness. It turned out that there were no seats at the back of the bus and several people, including myself had to sit on the floor of the bus for the remainder of the trip back to Jerusalem. Needless to say, I wasn't too happy. Two parts of this situation confounded me. 1. A Haredi couple was sitting in front of me on the bus, and when I was asked to move, the wife was also asked to move and she complied. 2. There is a bus from B'nai Barak to Jerusalem every 20 minutes, why in the world does the bus driver allow more passengers than seats?

Does peacing out mean we don't support Israel?

Today we had a lunch discussion spurned from a student remark about "peacing out" if things got too bad as well as an article about students coming to Israel during their break to show their support for Israel.

This semester I've spent a lot of time struggling with my feelings about Israel. Here are some of the issues influencing me:

1) Sunday School Zionism. I'm convinced that values education at a young age is the most effective form of indoctrination. What do I mean by this? As much as I would like to use my critical thinking skills to make a totally rational connection to the state of Israel, I find it impossible. My connection is based on an emotional response that I recognize every time I hear something on the news about Israel. Whether its an internal flinch or a pulling on my heart strings, I know I'm wrapped up with this place. Sunday School and summers at camp laid the groundwork for all future interactions with Israel.

2) The Holocaust. I've had the good fortune to visit Yad V'Shem a few times this year and each time I'm blown away. This museum is truly amazing. When I was there last January we got to the end and our tour guide made a statement about the last exhibit showing our generations intermingled with the generations of victims. This past summer I was touched by the exit onto a view of Jerusalem Hills. A few months ago it was a video of a woman describing her feeling of utter desperation at finding herself pregnant a few months after the war and her marriage and then being so happy and grateful for her child once he was born. Having grandparents who were apart of this narrative always highlighted the need of a Jewish state for me.

3) Democratic Jewish State. My Social Justice class has brought up a lot of issues that seem particularly difficult for this special country. A few of the organizations I've heard from recently have cited Israel's desire for a Jewish majority as a stumbling block for its democratic ideals. In particular, victims of human trafficking and refugees have issues because as non-Jews they can't become citizens of Israel. At best they can become permanent residents which has all of its own problems. Is it possible to be Democratic and Jewish or does Jewish have to trump Democratic in serious issues, just to ensure the continuance of the state?

4) America and specifically, California. Growing up in as fine a country as America has me spoiled. I never felt antisemitism, I have always had plenty of opportunities for expressing my Jewish identity and I can separate my religion from my secular existence if I want to. Every time someone asks me if I want to make aliyah (usually cab drivers) I want to scoff at them. How could I possibly move here when I have it sooo great back home?


The teacher who ran the lunch session started out by saying that all of our decisions in life reflect our values, whether we make them consciously or subconsciously. He encouraged us to think about the implications of this in terms of the current war (which is scary, and bad for lots of people, but thankfully has not affected the day to day life in Jerusalem for us students) and our decisions to remain in Israel or go home (which no one is considering doing at this point, but might consider doing if we felt our safety was in danger) I'd like to think that if the time came to make this decision I would know what to do, but I imagine that in reality it would be quite a difficult decision to make.


*Thank you for all of you who have expressed concern to my mother at home, I know she appreciates all of the support.

Like a Fiddler on the Roof

Pardes decided to have a three day Israel seminar. This decision was based on feedback from former students who thought it was silly to be in Israel for a year and come away knowing little more about the country itself than when they arrived.

Our opening speaker talked about early Zionism and Israel as the Jewish homeland. Some of his points were quite interesting.

The first thing I noted was when he made a statement about why different peoples make aliyah. He referred to their decisions in terms of a push to make aliyah and a pull. The images of Zionist youth and hippy kibbutznikim are conjured up for me in the pull category. The push category are immigrants from Former Soviet Union, Ethiopia, South Africa and many of the residents I encountered this summer at the absorption center. Here is a paragraph from an article that I wrote for the Jewish Community News, I ended up revising the article and leaving this paragraph out (I was afraid the cynicism wouldn't be well received for my first article):

During my two month stay I met young adults from all over the world who had just made Aliyah. These new Israelis have a totally different story than their tourist friends. They often attend a 5 month intensive Hebrew Ulpan and then attempt to support themselves by finding jobs. Their support networks consist of other new and usually English speaking olim (immigrants) and beginning their new lives is often a less than glamorous process. They find that with their minimal Hebrew skills their degrees from home are almost useless and they take jobs anywhere they can get. What surprised me the most about my interactions with new olim was that they didn’t fulfill my stereotype of the typical Zionist immigrant. These people were my 20 something friends from home, confused about the next step in life and looking for some answers. Why not come to to find yourself? After all, Aliyah is only a semi-permanent commitment these days.

The last sentence was about how many of these people told me they were in Israel until they could move to the next place, or even back home. The feeling was definitely that Israel was a semi-long term commitment, but not a forever.

The speaker used Fiddler on the Roof as his hook for discussing Judaism as both a religion and a nationality. He argued that before the French Revolution, Judaism could only be a religion, and if a member of the community did something to get themselves cut off, they could be effectively excluded from the rest of the Jewish world. This conformity to tradition was revolutionized with the rise of Nationalism in the late 18th century. Jews could pledge allegiance to their countries and effectively assimilate into the culture.

So once we have a paradigm for nationalism, a natural progression of Zionism can occur. A longing for a homeland where Jews can be safe and secure as well as religious or secular and also be the same as everyone else.
At this point I raised my hand to comment on American Judaism and how growing up I always enjoyed being unique. In fact, only once I was surrounded by Judaism in New Jersey and Israel did I feel less compelled to be observant.
He noted my point, but brought up the many other countries where this is not the case.

He ended his talk by saying that Zionism is one of a multitude of answers for how can modern Jews connect to their Jewish identity.

This I can whole-heartedly agree with, while still considering that it might not be a defining factor of my personal Jewish identity.

*As a side note, we watched a documentary today about an Israeli mother who contacts the mother of the girl who executed a suicide bombing that her daughter was killed in. The Palestinian mother kept saying that Jews aren't Israeli, they are Russian, Ethiopian, Romanian etc. Judaism as both a religion and a nationality is something that is unique to us, and therefore makes it difficult to explain to others.

Shabbat Protocols

Shabbat is kind of a big deal in Jerusalem, and specifically in the Pardes community. Every week in the halls between classes you can hear people organizing meals and making plans for which service to attend. The options for services in Jerusalem are quite diverse so I take turns checking them out. One week I went to a shul where everyone was standing, using different prayer books and singing Carlebach tunes at the top of their lungs. Another week I attended services at the Reform synagogue near my house where I was grateful to be back in mixed seating. I've seen an orthodox shul with women leading Kabbalat Shabbat and a renewel service with guitars, drums and spontaneous dancing.

Each week after services you can see people walking to their Shabbat meal. Within the Pardes circle there are some protocols that I'm still trying to decipher:

1. Invitations. There are several issues in this category. Is it rude to invite two out of three roommates from a particular house? Must you invite significant others when creating your guest list? Can you extend an invite while at Pardes (and therfore likely within earshot of someone who isn't on your guest list and doesn't have a place to go)? When should you start inviting people- if you plan too far ahead your meal might gain enough steam via word of mouth that you'll be hosting half the community, and if you plan too late your intended guests might already have a place to go.

2. Kashrut. As most of these meals read: all of these meals are potluck style, Kashrut is always an issue. Anyone who clearly doesn't have a kosher kitchen gets assigned Challah, wine, store bought salads etc. Anyone who can cook is assigned side dishes or dessert. The host of course makes the main dish which also depends on whether the meal is meat or dairy. Since levels of Kashrut observance differ, it seems to me that there is a pretty strict don't ask, don't tell policy and only the strictest observers take precautions.

3. Start time. Timing is tricky. Many people set a start time of "a half hour after shul" thus providing time to arrive at the hosts house, and allowing the host some last minute prep time. As I mentioned before however, the service options are many in Jerusalem creating a staggered entrance. (This could all be resolved easily if people used their cell phones, but Shabbat observance is another point of protocol)

Once I get all of this stuff down pat, I might have to venture outside of Jerusalem for a Shabbat!

Music to My Ears

Last night 20 Pardesians attended the Jerusalem Symphony.

It was utter insanity.

Typically, the concert hall is a very formal place where decorum is extremely important. As expected, in Israel, it is not.

Things we found to be awry:

People in jeans
People shouting out to the conductor that they could not hear in the middle of his speech
People singing along to the music
People clapping between movements of the same piece
People's cell phones ringing during the mandolin solo

Israelis wear jeans to weddings, so its not surprising that the concert hall was not as formal as in America.
The entire evening was very interactive. The concert began with HaTikvah, the Israeli national anthem which was immediately followed by a clarinet solo of Yerushalim Shel Zahav. As the soloist moved from the back of the hall up onto the stage, the audience decided to quietly sing the words. Up in the balcony we were totally clueless as to why this would be appropriate when we have all come to listen to an instrumental concert but Ma la'asot?
During the first half of the concert there were obviously some novice audience members who kept clapping between the movements- they learned of their mistake during the intermission and did not repeat it during the second half.
But really the mother of all faux pas was when the cell phones were all making noise at the beginning of the concert and the conductor clearly stated "Turn of your cell phones" in English and then a nokia cell phone ring went off during the first mandolin solo. There was a collective tsk while that person, I'm sure, wished they were melting into their seat.

Despite the distractions it was a beautiful concert and we all enjoyed ourselves. Yay for free student connections!