Interfaith Encounter in the West Bank.

.מפגש בין-דתים בגדה המערבית

On Thursday-Friday, Jessica and I participated in a large retreat sponsored by the Interfaith Encounter Association and the Hope Flowers School. There were approximately thirty participants: in addition to Jessica and I there were two Arab Christians, two overseas Christians, five Jewish students in the Hebrew University Middle Eastern Studies program, five other Jewish Israelis, and about fifteen Palestinians (I don't think there were any Israeli Arabs at this event although IEA also facilitates encounters between Jewish and Arab Israelis). The theme was The Binding of the Son of Abraham.

Our experience started on Thursday afternoon. Jessica's bus was delayed in getting her home, so shortly after she made it back from school, we left the apartment and hailed a cab, which would take us to the meeting location for the organized transportation. A road was cut off, so we were stuck in traffic and ended up having to walk. During the weekend, we heard two explanations for the traffic: The first was that a חפץ חשוד (chafetz chashud, "suspicious package") was in the road so traffic was stopped and the other that the army's forceful removal of settlers from their houses in Hebron had backed traffic up all the way to Jerusalem. Regardless, we were late arriving at the meeting point, but we still got there before the van did, and we didn't end up leaving for another half hour as we waited for the arrival of one more participant who was also delayed because of the closed road.

We rode in the van with the five Hebrew University students, a local Israeli woman, and an Arab IEA coordinator. We drove through East Jerusalem and ended up just outside the boundaries of the city, not far from Bethlehem and on the way to Gush Etzion, between Gilo and Beit Jala. When we got the old, sparse Everest Hotel, we entered a large dining room that also served as lounge and that had a large green tarp serving as the "walls" of a small conference room. We stood awkwardly in this dining room, not knowing what to do. In addition to the nine of us from the van there were also a dozen or so Palestinians already there - smoking hookah, playing music, watching TV, and talking. No one seemed like they were in charge, and most of the people milling around were already formed into groups. But we were here for the weekend, so we tried to settle ourselves in.

We made our way over to Bob, an Orthodox Rabbi who volunteers with IEA and with whom Jessica has done some work in her internship. He was speaking to a Palestinian--let's call him Sahib--and we joined them. Sahib and Bob discovered that they both had a passing interest in geology, and Sahib invited Bob to look at a special stone that he had with him.

Shortly after being left alone, a hotel worker started assigning rooms to our group, and we were taken up to our room. It had two small beds, a desk, a closet, a window with a view of the roof, and a medium-sized bathroom. Not too shabby. We dropped off our things and made our way back downstairs.

Still there was nothing happening downstairs, so Jessica and I sat down at one of the tables. Shortly thereafter, Bob, Sahib, and a friend of Sahib's from engineering courses at university--let's call him Rabi--joined us at our table. Sahib and Rabi were both very friendly and were telling us about their hopes for peace between Israelis and Palestinians. There's no need for violence, they said; most people on both sides want peace. In their opinion, the problem is almost entirely with the politicians (on both sides though moreso on the Israeli side), who don't adequately represent the majority of their constituents. Of course, Hamas and the extremist terrorists are a problem as well. However, in their opinion, most Palestinians want peace. It should be simple: Give the Palestinians their own country with Jerusalem as its capital (and not Israel's), and let the peoples go on their ways. When I pressed Rabi about why Jerusalem couldn't be the capital of both countries, he said that one city can't belong to two countries. "Maybe with a name change..." suggested Sahib, and Rabi grudgingly agreed that it probably wasn't so important that West Jerusalem not be the capital of Israel if East Jerusalem were the capital of Palestine. At least, that's how I interpreted their position.

Additionally, Sahib told us the story of his and his brother's imprisonment for a year and a half. He recounted that he had left his hometown with papers to go into Israel and was stopped at a checkpoint and asked to produce identity. He didn't have any ID, and a Shin Bet soldier gave him an option: Work for him on the Sabbath or go to jail. "Would you betray your people? There are some things that I will never do." Rather than subject himself to the arbitrary demands of the soldier, Sahib and his brother agreed to go to jail.

There, Sahib put his life on hold but underwent a significant personal blossoming. He learned how to make stones into small pieces of art using just a screw. He wrote poetry, drew pictures, and crafted all sorts of items for personal use and for his friends. I asked him, "If you were put into prison for a year and a half just for not having ID, why aren't you angry at Israel?" Sahib said that such a position isn't healthy for the individual. His time in jail gave him ample time to think, to learn, and to be creative, and he's grateful for the time he had to explore himself. I'm sure that contributors to The Sun have had similar experiences, but I was certainly surprised to meet a Palestinian with that mentality here in the West Bank.

We were encouraged to move into the "conference room" for the first session, and Bob pulled us aside. "I don't deny that Sahib's story could be entirely true; there are absolutely soldiers, especially Shin Bet agents, who would act exactly like that. But the chances of him and his brother being jailed for a year and a half just for not having ID are extremely low." Bob volunteers as part of border security and has a lot of first-hand experience with illegal border crossings. "There just isn't enough room in the jails for guys like him. We don't have enough room for the real criminals, so every day we round up literally truckloads of guys just like him and ship them back to the West Bank. It seems to me very unlikely that he would be locked up for no good reason; that just doesn't make sense to me. Maybe he was totally innocent--I'm not saying it's not a possibility--but maybe not, or maybe they were after his brother. His story could be entirely true, and I have no reason to believe that he's lying, but it's hard to believe that those are all the facts."

Jessica and I appreciated Bob's sobering perspective on Sahib's story and were faced immediately with a real, complex issue in this society. What happens and what he thinks happened and what they think happened and what "we" think happened are all incredibly varied and variable. Bob's probably right - there probably is more to the story than just the fact that Sahib and his brother didn't have ID (though Sahib is the proud owner of a new ID card). On the other hand, what's important to focus on is that Sahib doesn't hate all Israelis, that he wants peace, and that even being in an Israeli prison didn't sour him to life. I'm sure his story is very complex, but ultimately he seems committed to wanting to just live his life in Palestine free of foreign oversight as well as domestic disturbances.

We sat down in a circle of chairs for the opening remarks. Yehuda Stolov, who founded and runs IEA, introduced the program, and the representative from the Hope Flowers School introduced herself and translated Yehuda's English into Arabic. Yehudah emphasized that all participants were to feel that they can share honestly with one another and that they should keep an open mind throughout the proceedings. Also, politics was completely off the table. This was going to be a cultural and religious exchange; politics was not up for discussion.

We had a round of names and then we were challenged to line ourselves up in order according to birthday - classic icebreaker! Having completed the simple task, we arranged ourselves into groups of four and then were told to introduce ourselves to the group. After everyone started talking, Yehuda added that it would be good to answer a question based on the weekend's theme: "When was there a time that someone else sacrificed for you?"

If the leaderless, aimless wandering before the opening session hadn't been clue enough, we were now to have the first real taste of the laissez-faire leadership style that Yehuda adopts. Many groups stood around, uninspired to move, including ours. One of our Palestinian group members was talking to someone else, and I and an Israeli student stood awkwardly waiting for him to finish. When he did, he followed another group out of the conference room, and the second Palestinian quietly followed him. The Israeli and I followed suit and we saw that he had joined with a second group, which we also joined, forming a group of seven. Jessica and I weren't in the same discussion group for the entire weekend, but that probably turned out for the best.

Although the official language of this encounter was supposed to be English, we learned quite quickly that most of the Palestinian participants were only comfortable speaking Arabic. Luckily for us, there was a member of our group fluent in both Arabic and Hebrew with a fair amount of English as well. He helped us facilitate introductions. We had an Israeli student (Tomer), an orthodox rabbi (Bob), a Palestinian musician, and three Palestinian coworkers in government jobs. Our group definitely wasn't interested in answering the sacrifice question, and about halfway through the allotted time, our organized discussion broke up.

Although I had been included in the conversation up to a certain point, once it became clear that the group was no longer on topic, most of the participants began conversing in Arabic together. I sat and listened for several minutes before Tomer asked me a question about living in Israel. I moved over to sit nearer to him, and two Palestinians joined in our conversation. We talked about Middle East studies at Hebrew University and in Israel in general - Tomer doesn't have a single Arab teacher (not even for Arabic language), and he thinks it's a big problem. I was later to learn that Tomer believes that Arabic language should be mandatory in all Israeli schools (officially it is, but it's not enforced at all) and that he might be interested in trying to institute such a change.

Our conversation was going well, but before long we were pulled into dinner. There was a natural separation of ethnicities at the dinner tables (not entire but sufficient), and we were served standard Middle Eastern fare (pita, hummus, babaganoush, peppers/tomatoes/cucumbers, onions in tomato-y sauce, cauliflower/pickles/carrots, etc.). The "vegetarian option" was a scoop of brown rice with a pea or two stuck inside, but the veggies on the table were good enough for a regular meal.

After dinner, we had our first "social activity." In addition to the religion-based discussion groups planned for the following day, general time to be and talk with one another was also deemed of high importance, and this first evening activity was intended to help people get to know one another. The musician from our group (as well as a couple other people) took turns playing the oud, a pear-shaped fret-less lute that reminds one of a guitar. According to Jessica, the instrumentalists were playing individual notes--rather than chords--on the strings (which were grouped in pairs), which would be significantly more difficult than playing the guitar. The music was interesting and soothing, and Jessica and I were fairly tired by this point, so we called it a night.

Although we hadn't specifically noticed that no one had taken their coats off during the entire retreat so far, it became extremely and painfully evident that there was no heat in this building and that our room was pitifully poor at retaining heat. Layers of clothes and multiple blankets couldn't keep the chill out, and the night passed slowly and uncomfortably. Sadly, the next day would also be plagued by the everpresent cold that had set in overnight.

Jessica and I went to breakfast the next morning at about 8:30. Believe it or not, I had a hard-boiled egg and pita, hummus, and falafel for breakfast (no veggies). Low budget but fairly tasty. There was nothing to drink, though luckily I had a water bottle in my backpack. During breakfast, Jessica and I sat with an Israeli Conservative Jew (and were later joined by Bob). This Jewish woman gave Jessica and me a primer of what different kippot/clothes signify in Israel and what you can learn from someone by looking at what they dress. From what I recall:

• black, velvet kippah = ultra-orthodox (with the clothes to boot)
• non-black knit kippah = (modern) orthodox
• big kippah that fits entirely over the head = modern religious (goes for men or women)
• small knit kippah = raised religious but might not fully participate in those circles anymore
• no kippah = secular OR "kippah in the back pocket" (the latter even more of an option if you have a beard)
• a mixture of any of these categories = "outsider" to a specific group

There are, of course, multiple variations but this was, as I said, a primer.

After breakfast, we went to the conference room for "The Jewish Perspective" on the Binding of Isaac. A rabbi from a nearby community (black beard, Sephardic accent, non-black knit kippah) made the following points about the story without running through the basic plot or characters of the story but more or less just jumped right in. (He was speaking in Hebrew, so while I believe that I got everything, I may have missed a few points.)

1. A believer is willing to sacrifice himself if there's a need. Similarly, he would rather die than go against his most basic principles (which would entail killing, engaging in illicit sexual acts, or committing idolatry). But, what if he's asked (by God) to sacrifice someone else to preserve these basic values, especially if that person is his son who represents the entire Jewish future? Of course, the sacrifice itself would both support and contradict the basic values: while remaining true to God, one would be mimicking the idolaters who practiced human sacrifice.

2. Abraham was promised that he would be the founder of a strong nation. Going through with the sacrifice of his future would be working against God's previous word. There seems to be a choice between valid options here, and any normal person would therefore choose what was easier and more comfortable for himself.

3. God doesn't want Isaac to be sacrificed; rather he just wants to see Abraham's willingness to sacrifice all that's dear to him. We see this because in the text, Abraham is told to "offer up" his son rather than to "sacrifice" him.

Upon completion of this third, somewhat unrelated or significantly supported claim, the rabbi ended his short presentation. Yehudah announced that we should combine our discussion groups from yesterday with a second discussion group and ... discuss. As I said: laissez-faire.

When we finally got our large group together, we sat and talked for a little while. We reiterated that there are several similarities to the Quranic version of the text and reaffirmed everyone's commitment to keep lines of communication open. However, the conversation didn't get very deep. Every once in a while, I'd try to get a more personal question in, but by the time it was translated into Arabic, no one wanted to answer. Once or twice, Bob answered my question, and that seemed to satisfy everyone. In-depth conversation was very difficult in this group setting.

Someone suggested we go outside into the sun (remember the deep-seated cold), and we did that. However, as soon as we got outside, our "translator" started taking various pictures of our group until one of the Israeli students insisted we sit down and continue the conversation. Once we were outside we had a bit more luck. Bob brought up some thoughts about sacrifice being a metaphor for getting in touch with our deeper selves, but no one wanted to reflect on this. There were several side conversations in Arabic or Hebrew, and while normally this would have frustrated me, I kept reminding myself that the point of this encounter is not to discover the hidden meanings of the Akeidah (which I think was a poorly-chosen topic) but rather to get Israelis and Palestinians talking to one another and getting to know one another as human beings. This was definitely happening despite the derailment of conversation, and when we broke for coffee, I was much less dissatisfied than I otherwise might have been.

Jessica and I checked out of our room during the coffee break, and when we came back, it was time for "the Muslim perspective" on the Binding. The speaker they had arranged for "the Muslim perspective" couldn't make it, so one of the Muslim participants had to pinch hit. This is what she reported (as translated into English by the Hope Flowers School representative):

1. Abraham's trials were harder than other prophets'.
2. Abraham didn't have children for 100 years and then Hagar gave him Ishmael.
3. Abraham had a vision to sacrifice his son.
4. Abraham told Ishmael and asked him what he thought. Ishmael told Abraham to do what he had to do.
5. Abraham was about to sacrifice Ishmael, but his knife stopped. God spoke through the angels and told Abraham that he had passed the test.
6. God sent a sheep for the sacrifice instead of Ishmael.
7. As a reward for God's faithfulness, God granted him the birth of Isaac.
8. To this day, a sheep is slaughtered on Eid al-Adha (which is this Tuesday!), the holiday remembering Abraham's faithfulness. (1/3 of the sheep is retained by the slaughterer, 1/3 goes to the family, and 1/3 goes to the needy.)

Upon coming home, I've done some extra research. Here are the relevant verses from the 37th surah of the Quran:

"37.100": My Lord! grant me of the doers of good deeds.

"37.101": So We gave him the good news of a boy, possessing forbearance.

"37.102": And when he attained to working with him, he said: O my son! surely I have seen in a dream that I should sacrifice you; consider then what you see. He said: O my father! do what you are commanded; if Allah please, you will find me of the patient ones.

"37.103": So when they both submitted and he threw him down upon his forehead,

"37.104": And We called out to him saying: O Ibrahim!

"37.105": You have indeed shown the truth of the vision; surely thus do We reward the doers of good:

"37.106": Most surely this is a manifest trial.

"37.107": And We ransomed him with a Feat sacrifice.

"37.108": And We perpetuated (praise) to him among the later generations.

"37.109": Peace be on Ibrahim.

"37.110": Thus do We reward the doers of good.

"37.111": Surely he was one of Our believing servants.

"37.112": And We gave him the good news of Ishaq, a prophet among the good ones.

"37.113": And We showered Our blessings on him and on Ishaq; and of their offspring are the doers of good, and (also) those who are clearly unjust to their own souls.

Although it's not explicitly stated in the Quran, Muslim tradition holds that the "boy" in verse 101 is Ishmael. I'm not sure where the "midrashic" additions of the vision, the angels, and the sheep come in (but the sheep obviously holds as a strong tradition as evidenced in the holiday).

I was very interested in this version of the story, especially the gift of Isaac as the reward for Abraham's faithfulness. Unfortunately, all the Muslims in my discussion group seemed satisfied with the story as told with no need to further elaborate. I tried even harder to spark some in-depth religious conversation but was thwarted at every turn. People were chatting, sitting outside, and taking pictures so again, I wasn't entirely frustrated, but from a personal perspective, I feel I definitely could have learned more.

After I sat and listened to Arabic conversations for about five or ten minutes, Tomer moved over next to me and engaged me (in English!) in a conversation about Reform Judaism. We talked a lot about Reform Judaism, Israel, and Israeli education. Our conversation was terrific and shows that I was able to learn not only from Palestinians during this retreat!

Before lunch, I made my way to the conference room where Jessica's group had broken into smaller discussions. Jessica was talking one-on-one with a Palestinian history professor, and I joined them. She told him that she was studying Yiddish, and he perked up. He knew about Yiddish! Yiddish, he said, began in 1881 as a response to pogroms in Russia; since the Jews needed a way to communicate among themselves without being understood by the Russians and since they had been forced to live together in remote locations, they had and were able to create a language for use only among the Jews. When Jessica told the professor that Yiddish dates back to 1200, he was confused. He said that he'd read in a history of Judaism (or Zionism) that the language was created to confound the Russians. We insisted that that wasn't the case and pondered aloud the perspective of the book he'd read - was it a pro-Hebrew account denigrating the history of Yiddish? A loss in translation? (My thought is that he simply misunderstood what he had read.) After this slightly disorienting conversation, Jessica and I went to lunch.

There, we sat with one of the Christians who had been in Jessica's group. Apparently, they had been discussing the question of why bad things happen to good people - some in their group had said that such events are punishments (including Hurricane Katrina), and that made Jessica and this American Mennonite very uncomfortable. We talked about the issue and about the conference throughout lunch, and we had the pleasure of talking with Amy, a student from the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College whom we had met while visiting Alanna and Rebecca in Philadelphia.

Following lunch was a drumming circle that was interesting and engaging. About a dozen drums had been rented, and the conference participants were encouraged to play them. As soon as I walked into the room, the drum-master pulled me into the center of the drums and got me to start dancing. I had no idea what do to, so I kind of clapped my hands and walked in a circle. A tall Palestinian joined me in the center, and I followed his lead for a minute (he was doing a kind of male form of belly dance without the belly) before exiting the circle. I wasn't nearly as embarrassed as I would have expected.

This tall thin Palestinian seemed to feel comfortable taking charge of the situation. He danced a lot in the middle of the drums (at one point joined by a female Israeli student who was able to dance as well as he), and when he was done dancing, he took over the lead drum. Certain Palestinians tried to lead songs with the drums, and while that worked for a little bit of time, it eventually died out. Jessica was loving the drum, and I got into it a little, too. While the music wasn't great and people didn't exactly feel like they were creating rhythm together, we were all in the same situation together, and no one stopped smiling for the hour that we were drumming. People were taking pictures and movies all over the place, and in general, everyone seemed excited to have this inter-cultural opportunity.

The drum circle came to a close, and several Palestinians left. The musician who had been in my discussion group shook my hand and gave me four kisses - a remarkable and touching gesture! A fair number of Israelis and other Palestinians had already left as well, so we were down to about half our original number by this point. There was still about an hour before the next part of the retreat, so Jess and I found a corner to work on some crossword puzzles. At one point, the Conservative woman who had given us the kippah lesson told us that there were Shabbat candles we could light if we were so inclined, and we did so on our own. After finishing our second crossword, we went back into the conference room for prayers.

We started with Kabbalat Shabbat, led by a Hebrew University student. Several Muslims watched us pray with hushed voices and minimal spirit; I was somewhat embarrassed, but then I recalled that this is the Judaism that most of their neighbors experience. The silent prayer, the songs that people half-heartedly join in on - that kind of prayer is far from foreign in Israeli synagogues. I wish we could have shown them terrific religious leadership and real, meaningful prayer, but it wasn't to be - and this perhaps was more educational.

Then, six Muslim men prayed and we were allowed to witness. It was explained to us that before any of the five daily prayers, a Muslim must wash his hands, arms, feet, face, hair, behind his ears, and his hands again unless there's been nothing to break his cleanliness (going to the bathroom, sleeping, etc.) since his last prayer. Women prayer as men do but standing behind the men. One of the men stood in front and led the prayers, which lasted about ten minutes. Afterwards, I spoke briefly with the prayer leader and learned that anyone can lead prayers, but he has to have the relevant passages of the Quran memorized. Generally, among a group of Muslims, the most knowledgeable leads the prayers.

Our conversation was interrupted by Yehudah inviting everyone to participate in or witness the Ma'ariv service, which again was fairly lackluster. All this aside, though, I think that sharing a prayer space was incredibly important on a theoretical level, especially as this was the first time many of the participants had seen prayer of the others. As prayer in itself can be very intimate, I was glad that we were able to open up to one another even if the prayer itself wasn't that meaningful for the individual participants. (And really, who am I to determine whether the prayer was meaningful for anyone else? I could be the only one who wasn't satisfied with the prayer experience!)

After prayers, we had closing remarks wherein everyone shared a few sentences about their experience. Everyone had very positive things to share, and my strongest sentiment was joy at seeing everyone's smiles, especially during the drum circle. A Jewish Israeli shared that the entire retreat could be summed up by the four-kiss farewell given to him by our Palestinian musician, and in many ways, I agree with him. We were asked to brainstorm about the next retreat (this is, apparently, the first in a series of four), and several of the Palestinians strongly advocated to meet in Jerusalem to further explore the prayer spaces of each of the religions. Yehudah said he'd look into it, and personally, I think it would be incredible.

During dinner, Jessica and I made sure to sit with some Palestinians. I'd been trying to have mixed seating for every meal, but self-segregation was a powerful force. I saw a few Palestinians eyeing our chairs at the "Palestinian table," but we held our ground - and it was a good thing we did! One of them spoke very good English and engaged us in a lot of conversation.

We learned that this woman--let's call her Manab--volunteers at a cultural center where handicapped women make hand-crafts to sell. She studies social work or something like that and works very hard in school, though she wishes she had more time to devote to the handicapped women. Sahib shared more artwork and poetry with us, and they were each interested to hear about our hobbies. I told them that I loved to act, and they asked for a sample. Put on the spot, I could only think to recite a few stanzas of The Raven, which I'm sure they didn't understand (though I know they could see that I was definitely playing a character of some sort). Jessica said that she likes to sing, and they asked her to demonstrate. She began singing Autumn Leaves and immediately the entire table got silent and applauded when she was finished. She was an instant hit! They asked her to sing again, and she obliged them - though this time she was recorded by two cell phones! Manab told her she could make a career out of her singing, and everyone, of course, agreed.

We told jokes (I told a joke that Rabi had heard in Hebron) and laughed a lot, shared pictures, and entirely enjoyed one another's company. The same Israeli who had shared his reaction to the kiss-farewell played the harmonica and led some bodily-healing exercises - everyone was bouncing around and massaging their faces. Sahib showed me some magic tricks, and I showed him one. It was a terrific time! This was by far the best part of the entire conference. Sadly, all of the Hebrew U. students and most of the other Israelis were still talking at the "Jewish table," totally missing out. But, I don't think the effect was lost on the Palestinians.

Jessica and I were asked if we knew how to play the cardgame Tricks, and sadly we didn't. We were, however, invited to watch four of the Palestinian men play, and we gladly accepted. Having watched the game for about twenty minutes, I can tell you the very basic gist, but I have no idea what the individual rules are. The game seemed extraordinarily complicated, but the men played with carefree ease and lots of laughs. Jessica and I watched until our ride arrived to take us home. We said good-bye to the Israelis and to the Palestinians, shook many hands, grabbed a cookie for the road, and headed out.

The ride home was fairly uneventful except for our being asked to pull over at the checkpoint into the Jerusalem area. Jessica and I had thought to bring our passports, and I was extremely relieved that we had them (it's illegal not to carry ID in Israel), though thankfully we didn't need them. The glove box and trunk of our car were inspected, though of course nothing was discovered. The driver was supposed to take us to the original meeting point from which we had departed, but since the other two people who were supposed to be in the car had arranged to leave earlier, we were able to work out paying him 20 shekels to drive us to our apartment (which worked out incredibly well for us). We got home at about 10:45 pm on Friday and immediately put on sweatshirts - we'd been cold for the previous 30 hours!

All in all, I think the retreat was an excellent opportunity. It could have been much more smoothly organized and operated without sacrificing any of the social opportunities, but for the most part, I think that the primary goal in my eyes (getting Israelis and Palestinians to enjoy one another's company so that they can extrapolate this feeling of acceptance to other members of the appropriate group) was met. I came in contact with some very interesting people, I learned some significant lessons about life in Palestine, and I became much more comfortable with Arab culture. Hopefully there will be follow-up opportunities that Jessica and I can attend. In the meantime, I'll file away all those Palestinian smiles in my memory and try to share them with those who need to hear about them in the months and years ahead.

A New Friend

Yesterday, I met with someone to IEA to discuss some secretarial work I'll be helping out with in my volunteering. We put the documents on my computer, and then began to talk a bit. I asked her how long she'd been working for IEA, she asked me what I'm doing here aside from the volunteering, and we proceeded have a short, lovely, friendly conversation where we learn much more about each other than I imagine either of us generally volunteer upon a first meeting. She is tall, and was dressed in western-looking clothing, but with a head scarf. She has a bright and friendly face, and was eager to talk to me - she is close to my age but our lives are very dissimilar. She told me that she has been engaged for three months and will marry in May. When I asked how long she has known her fiancee, she told me, "Three months." Then she described how he came to her family through the recommendation of a friend and for three months he would visit her home with his parents, and they would sit together and talk. Then, she went on a short vacation to Egypt and when she came back he asked her to marry him, and told her she had to decide right away. She wanted to wait a week to think about it, and he told her she could wait for one day. The next day her parents called his parents to make the arrangements. She told me that she was scared at first, but now that they are engaged and she has more opportunities to get to know him (they are allowed to call each other on the cell phone now, for instance), she feels more and more confident about it and she loves him. They are looking into a house in Jerusalem, in the Old City, where she has lived all her life.
She then told me that his grandmother passed away today, and she will go to the funeral. She described funeral rites which sound like sitting shiva, but for three days. She told me that it is a sad year for her family as well - a few months ago her cousin, who was 28, committed suicide. His brother found him hanging by a rope. He had recently been released from a Jewish prison where he had been since the age of 16. Her grandfather died a month later, and they think it was due to grief. She said that they go on living because they believe that G-d is good, and they believe that death is sad but is also good. She said she is looking forward to the joy of the wedding but hopes that no one else dies in the meantime because it will push the wedding date back, and because it is so sad.
She also asked a lot of questions about me. I told her about Daniel and she said that in Islam it is forbidden for men and women to live together, and it is shameful. But she didn't seem judgemental at all, which surprised me. I expected to feel somehow embarassed or ashamed at living with my boyfriend, but she seemed open and curious, recognizing that there are cultural differences between us and that my lifestyle is valid to me and to my frame of reference. She wanted to know why we lived together and if we liked it. She asked how long I'd known Daniel, and how we'd met. She asked if I knew his family. She asked if I loved Daniel, and if he was the first man I ever loved. She asked if I thought we would ever get married. And I answered all of her questions frankly and truthfully, because I appreciated her own willingness to share with me. We parted smilingly and with promises of getting together soon - I think we will become friends, which will perhaps be hard but will also be deeply good.
In a lot of ways I feel that I am missing out on a lot of opportunities to explore Israel because Daniel and I both mostly surround ourselves with other foreign students, and often in English-language social situations. However, even if we aren't exploring every opportunity that ever existed, I think we are still learning, and that more and more learning is to come in the upcoming year.

A week in the life...

...שבוע בחיים

So, it's been such a long time since I've posted, but in a way that's a really good thing because it means that I've been pleasantly busy.

Last Monday, Jessica and I went on a self-guided tour of a nearby part of Jerusalem. She owns a book called Jerusalem Walks, which details several walks one can take around the city and provides ample historical context for the areas. We walked around Rachov Rav Kook, saw the Ticho house, and almost got locked into the Ethiopian Church. Unfortunately, it became too dark to read our tour book, so to spend the time that remained to us before a birthday party we were to attend, we decided to wander around for a bit. We ended up in the shuk, where merchants were trying to close down by selling their goods at reduced prices -- especially breads. We got some ruggelach for our friend and picked up some cheap pita and a mango. The party was pleasant - it was at one of the very few Irish pubs in Jerusalem. Definite character!

The next morning I went with HUC on a three-day trip to the northern part of Israel, the Galilee and Golan regions. I listed most of the places we visited under the "Things We've Seen in Israel" list, so I won't go into them here. One thing I will expand upon is our exposure to the debate about whether the Golan Heights should be returned to Syria.

The history behind Israel's acquisition of the Golan from Syria is long and complex, and I won't go into it here. The issue we explored was a contemporary one: Given that the border along the Golan is the quietest in Israel, does it make sense to consider returning the plateau to Syria in exchange for peace accords?

We met with a political activist who campaigns for the retention of the Golan in Israel. Currently, she and her organization are working to try to get a law passed that mandates a referendum before relinquishing the Golan. She says that most Israelis are against giving up the Golan in exchange for peace and that the Golan doesn't just belong to the 21,000 Druze and 20,000 Israelis (including her) but rather to all Israelis. She argues that we're not really at war with Syria, so giving them land for "peace" doesn't make any sense.

On the other hand, Syria is known/suspected of conducting activities against Israel through third parties, and a potential cessation of that support would be beneficial to Israel. Although many Israelis say they don't to give up the Golan, there's also a large measure of uncertainty with regard to the question. That is, many Israelis, logically, want to know the terms of the deal before determining whether they support it or not. Before learning what, exactly, Syria wants in exchange for the Golan, they can't come down in support or against a hypothetical agreement.

For the most part, that's how I feel as well. I can't take a stand without a platform, especially considering how very basic my knowledge is. That having been said, however, in principle, peace is my highest priority, and if exchanging the Golan Heights would, in fact achieve some measures of peace, I believe I would be in favor.

On the bus ride back to Jerusalem on Thursday, I had the privilege of having a 1.5-hour conversation with one of our professors. I very much appreciated the opportunity to get to know him better and to learn from him in a more intimate setting. Overall, I've found the faculty here very approachable and knowledgeable.

This was reflected also the day after I returned from the trip. Jessica and I (and the rest of HUC) went to one of the Reform congregations in Jerusalem, Kol Haneshama, for Shabbat services. Afterward, those who wished were invited back to homes of congregants to enjoy a Shabbat dinner there. Jessica and I, along with three other students, were hosted by two delightful congregants who have been living in Israel for three years, one of whom teaches liturgy at HUC. The food was excellent, and so was the conversation. We were there for several hours, and we had a great time. I'm really pleased that HUC encourages such informal opportunities to learn from and get to know HUC faculty and community members.

Our Shabbat was delightful. We went to services at Har El, welcomed two of Jessica's friends from ulpan for lunch, and watched a movie. At the end of this Shabbat is the (Ashkenazic) traditional time when late-night S'lichot services are held. For a reason that eluded me and other students, HUC wanted us to travel as a class to the Great Synagogue, where Jessica and I attended Shabbat services a couple weeks ago. The Great Synagogue is an enormous Orthodox synagogue that inspires one to compare it to the Temple. It hosts a choir on major events, and S'lichot definitely qualifies.

We started the evening by meeting at HUC. There, two of our teachers prepared us for what we would see at the synagogue. We went through the liturgy and some music of classical Ashkenazic S'lichot services, and then we headed to the synagogue. We separated men from women and had a seat around 10:15.

S'lichot in the prayerbook we were using is 21 pages long.

We left at 12:30 am.

The service was interminable, the music (to me) was boring (I almost fell asleep a number of times), it was difficult to follow, and I didn't find anything meaningful about the service. On the one hand, I appreciate having had the opportunity to have this experience, but on the other, I'm really really not Orthodox, and that setting is definitely not for me. I'm sure I'll continue to explore different synagogues (most of them in some form of orthodoxy) in Jerusalem, but I know it will be hard for me to pray (rather than watch) there.

On the other hand, our hour-long preparatory session was very helpful. Without it, I would have been entirely lost, and I surely would have left early. What does this mean? It means that through effective training, I can learn to be more comfortable with Jewish prayer. Already, I've found prayer experiences and liturgy classes helpful in getting a handle of the rhythm of Jewish prayer, and I feel that it's important to be able to dance to that rhythm - if not all the time then at least when appropriate. Early in the year, Michael Marmur challenged us to consider whether we could be truly effective rabbis if we didn't appreciate and understand Jewish prayer. I took what he said seriously, and I've been trying to become more familiar and welcoming of structured prayer in my personal life. I'm making progress, and one of my goals for the year is to have significantly improved my comfort with prayer.

The last update I want to include is Jessica's and my experience at the Interfaith Encounter Association potluck last night. Jessica has written here about her contact with Yehuda Stolov, and I'd emailed with someone about possibly joining a group. Despite those contacts, though, neither of us had any idea what to expect.

We found the Swedish Theological Institute after a little searching and rang a bell. A few moments later, Yehuda let us in through the iron door and welcomed us into what looked like a large, well-kept house. We dropped our food off in the dining area, met someone who has recently started working at the institute and made our way to a living room area. Others were talking amongst themselves, and we didn't want to just sit in the corner and wait to see what happened, so we moved close to people and tried to engage in conversation.

What followed was a wonderful night of meeting Jews, Muslims, and a Christian who had come together on a poorly publicized official Day of Peace in Israel to celebrate IEA's task of building peaceful relations between people. Over the night we met Diane, a Sister of Zion living in the Old City of Jerusalem; Miri, a grad student at Bar Ilan University; Natan-el, an American who made aliyah 35 years ago and who makes practical Judaica in Jerusalem; an Israeli woman who works for an Arabic radio station; and several participants in different encounter groups.

We started the evening with a meal to break the Ramadan fast. Food included different kinds of bread, some delicious hummuses, rice, vegetables, cous cous, etc. It was delicious. There were some incredible dates, and several desserts, including a new food that I'm in love with: qatayef. During dinner, Natan-el gave a presentation about Rosh Hashannah as well as the history of the shofar (complete with demonstration!). A Muslim woman talked about Ramadan, and another translated her Arabic into Hebrew. (Because not everyone speaks Hebrew or Arabic, the lingua franca of the evening was English, though Jessica and I had plenty of opportunities to speak Hebrew.) Finally, a young Jewish man named Baruch talked about Yom Kippur.

In thinking about our wonderful evening, it's sadly ironic that only a few hours later, there was an attack near the Old City; a man drove a car into a group of Israeli soldiers. He didn't kill anyone, but within seconds of the attack, he had been shot dead. Ehud Barak, Israel's defense minister, is pushing for a release of the current legal restraints on bulldozing the houses of terrorists' families. In my opinion, such action only furthers to cycle of violence, and given that the Israeli Supreme Court ruled that such retribution doesn't deter terrorism, I sincerely hope that Barak does not get his wish.

The participants in the IEA, of which I hope to be one, are trying to build bridges that will make such violence only a piece of history. While I pray that more "influential" individuals will gain similar perspectives soon, I will continue to work to do what I can to build a more peaceful world. Hopefully by working together, we'll be able to make some progress.

A Few Updates

I just got back from a short, yet productive, meeting with Yehuda Stolov, the head of the Interfaith Encounter Association, an organization for which I plan on volunteering a few hours a week. We began by introducing ourselves to each other briefly, and then discussing what kinds of tasks I'd be willing to do. We came up with three possible tasks for the year: helping with fundraising, sorting and keeping track of e-mail addresses, and translating encounter groups' reports from Hebrew into English. The last of these is the most interesting to me but probably the least helpful to them as right now Yehuda does this task himself and is probably more qualified for the task. But hopefully I'll get to do some of it as it would certainly be good Hebrew practice for me! Really, I didn't expect this volunteering to be particularly interesting, but I believe in and am excited about the organization and wanted to help out in some small way that fit with what I imagine will be my busy schedule this year. In addition to volunteering, I will also be taking part in an interfaith encounter group. Yehuda told me that there are three groups that would be good for me in Jerusalem and that while each received identical training they are all quite different because of the people who are in the groups. One is located on Mt. Scopus, at Hebrew University, and is composed entirely of students. One meets around the corner from where we live and is for young professionals. The third (least convenient for me to meet with in terms of location but perhaps the most interesting?) is composed of five young Jews from Jerusalem and five young Palestinians from Hebron, a city in the West Bank. It meets in Jerusalem once a week. None of these groups is meeting during the summer, so I do have a little while to think about which group(s) I'll be a part of - any of them I think would be a great experience.

A bit about the Interfaith Encounter Association, because I think they are a truly inspiring group. Yehuda told me that the organization was founded seven years ago, when a few participants of other interfaith dialogue groups decided to form a new model because they felt that the old model wasn't working. According to Yehuda, the old model only encouraged participation by those few individuals who had already begun some work in interfaith studies. It mostly consisted of lectures or panels with passive listeners, which has its benefits as the group can control what kind of information is presented, but is ineffective if the goal is to have people get to know each other and lose their fears of one another. IEA was formed to encourage larger numbers of people from all walks of life to participate in an interactive and open form of dialogue. The group is only focused on religious issues and takes no political stances, nor does it have political conversations. They believe that religion can be a solution to conflicts and not only a cause, and that through coming together to talk about religion, members of diverse groups can lose their fear of one another and see themselves in the other. IEA's goal is to be a social movement involving thousands of groups accross the country, and to change the social fabric of Israel in a grassroots way by getting people to simply talk to one another. Seven years ago, IEA consisted of two interfaith dialogue groups, now it consists of something like 23 groups and thousands of active members. Some of its projects include weekend retreats, School Coexistance Projects that bring together Palestinian and Israeli school groups to talk about neutral issues (one group was recently educated on dental care, for instance), Womens Interfaith Encounter groups, three Youth Interfaith Encounter groups, and a Middle East Abrahamic Forum including groups from Egypt, the Palestinian Authority, Iran, Jordan, Turkey, and Israel. IEA has been recognized by UNESCO as an actor of the global movement for a culture of peace, a United Nations initiative. In 2006, IEA received the Immortal Chaplains Foundation's 2006 Prize for Humanity.

Flipping through the reports of various IEA events, I read about a Hannukah/Eid Al Adha party at a member's house, Palestinian and Israeli fifth graders doing a road clean-up together, a mother's day celebration where women from various groups came together to do programs on cooking, cosmetics, and sports, and art, a meeting of Christian, Muslim, and Druze women to discuss the issue of young marraige age, an evening of folklore and theater in a diverse community, meetings and presentations in churches, mosques, synagogues, and a Druze worship house, a meeting on the importance of dialogue led by a social worker and a psychologist, a bazaar at a community center where underprivileged people could come and get what they might need for an upcoming holiday, a conversation comparing and contrasting foods eaten by different groups, a discussion of holy day practices, a discussion of how different individuals relate to the idea of identity, what sounds like an intense discussion on predestination, conversion, sin, redemption, and asking forgiveness from G-d in Islam and Judaism, reading Hebrew and Arabic translations of Martin Luther King, Jr. together, an interfaith meeting of healthcare workers to discuss the influence of interpreters in healthcare settings, and the list goes on and on and on and on. In 2007, IEA held a total of 120 programs comprised of 96 inter-religious study sessions in the general program, 20 in the Women’s Program, and 4 in
the Young Adults program. The IEA website is quite informative, so if you want to learn more, you should definately check it out.

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Yesterday, Daniel and I had some friends over for creme brulee french toast (made out of the challah which I've come to enjoy baking on Fridays) after Shabbat services. We played games, chatted, and had a great time. In the evening, we went to an HUC Havdalah event, a magical way to invite the week to begin again after the slow and lazy sigh of Shabbat.

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On Friday evening, Daniel and I went to the Jerusalem Great Synagogue, an Orthodox synagogue right around the corner from our apartment. It is a huge and impressive building. The foyer is home to an exhibit of artistic mezzuzot, which Daniel and I browsed eagerly as we nervously watched other people out of the corner of our eyes to figure out where we should go for services. Eventually we made our way up a grand flight of stairs, and parted as I headed further up, to the women's balcony. On the way, I walked next to an old lady with pleasantly crinkled leathery skin and smiling eyes, whose head was covered with a brown kercheif as though she were plucked out of a film about East European Jewish life in the 1800's. She said to me in Hebrew "A lot of stairs", and I smiled at her and walked up them slowly with her, just to be sure she made it to the top safely.

At the top, I sat next to a row of women with small children who chattered and cooed throughout the service, which would have been beautiful music to listen to had not the woman on the other side of me insisted on shushing the children almost constantly and chastizing their mothers for bringing them to shul if they were going to make so much noise. Everyone was very nice to me and there was a sense of community up there in the women's balcony. Not very many people seemed to be praying, but everyone seemed to be having a good time.

I had trouble following the prayers in the prayerbook - the chazzan faced the ark and prayed ferverently in an Ashkenazi accented Hebrew - but the prayer was nevertheless beautiful. The chazzan's voice was operetic and soulful, powerful, warm, and pointed, and it carried throughout the high-ceilinged, grand sanctuary. One of the most noticable features of the synagogue was its stained glass windows, tall, large, detailed, and glimmeringly colorful in the setting sun of Shabbat evening.

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On Thursday night, we had our accross the hall neighbors over for dinner. I arrived home from ulpan a bit early and began cooking and cleaning as soon as I got home. Mom, you would have been impressed to find me on my hands and knees cleaning the floor. I even dusted! (for those of you who don't know, I am an incredibly messy person, so this was no small feat). We made vegetarian quiche stuffed with parsnips, red pepper, parsely, and squash, steamed broccolli, oven roasted potatoes, and red lentil soup. Everything smelled delicious and we were very proud of ourselves when at 6:30 we sat down on the couch and waited for our guests to arrive, any minute. Any minute turned into a half hour, and we didn't know what to do - should we knock on their door? Wait longer? Should we assume they had forgotten and eat dinner? A half hour is a long time... Finally Daniel knocked on their door... three separate times.... and we waited some more. At 7:10 our neighbors arrived, flowers in hand. We think maybe the timing was a cultural difference we weren't prepared for, and our only question is, if they invite us over would it be uncouth for us to show up on time?

Our neighbors are Hebrew speakers whose English is not as good as our Hebrew, so the conversation was entirely in Hebrew. Thank goodness that they like to talk, because we can both understand much more than we can say. It was a lovely evening full of stories and laughter. We heard about their experiences in the army, how they met, about their children and grandchildren, their family histories, and more. We talked about literature and language, about food, and quite a bit about religion. They are very interesting, intellectual, warm, and patient people and we are excited at the possibility of growing close to them - and improving our Hebrew through interacting with them!

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Otherwise, things here have been quiet. Jerusalem is cooling down a bit - today there were clouds in the sky and the air was cool and calm until the afternoon - so much so that I may need to rethink my wardrobe in the upcoming weeks. Today I walked home from IEA in the afternoon and arrived home flushed from the heat, but the sun is setting now and the cool breeze from the window is pleasant and soothing. We haven't used the window fans in a few days.

I've been working on a presentation that I have to give on Thursday to my literature class about Amos Oz, and I imagine that it will be the primary concern of my week - devising questions to ask the class about the section we will read, looking up pertinent words, and reiterating to myself that I won't compleltely embarass myself when I try to speak Hebrew in front of the class with at least some semblance of an air of authority.

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Daniel and I have noticed that while we love our blog, as it is a way for us to record, express, and process our experiences here in Isreal, it is in some ways a false way of keeping in touch because we don't have the opportunity to hear about all of your adventures. So, in your free time and when you get a chance, please send us e-mails, facebook messages, comments, phone calls, or whatever, and let us know how you are. We miss all of you so much.

Electives, classes, and other scheduling topics.

Today was the first day of electives in ulpan. Electives will meet for one hour, three times a week. They are with other students in our level, but not necessarily from our class (I think I'm one of only two people from my class in my elective). The elective I chose is about Hebrew literature, and we will be reading excerpts from novels, poetry, and plays. I am very excited about this - excited to be reading "real" writing, and to be learning from it, excited to be learning about creative expression in Hebrew, an aspect of language that is in some ways entirely different from day to day speech and from factual articles, and excited to have some variety added to the ulpan schedule, to work with a new teacher, and to meet new students. The German girl I made friends with on the first day is in my literature class - her name is Eva and she seems really nice, so I hope I'll get to know her better. She and her friend Tobias (also German, also studying theology) are here all year, and they both live near me, so I hope I'll take the initiative to ask them to do something outside of class.
I'm finding that I am very shy at ulpan. I've spoken to a few people, but it is hard for me to do. Most people live in Kfar HaStudentim (the student village) and have roommates and friends they spend time with outsideof class. I don;t hav this and because of that I feel a little left out. But I have been seeing the same people on the bus every day, so I suppose after a time I might get to know them. Also, once I am in graduate seminars it may get easier.
Yesterday I attended a graduate student orientation. I received the course offering directory and learned a bit about the graduate school - there are something like 270 graduate students at Rothberg International School, half of whom are MA students and half of whom are visiting students (like me!) Visiting students don't have any requirements and can basically take whatever they want. We can take classes from the course offerings, or we can take classes offered through Hebrew University itself - each department publishes a list of classes in that department that are taught in English, and I can take those if I wish, or any class in Hebrew if I am so brave. I plan on taking Hebrew, Intermediate Yiddish, a course about Israeli history or society (I have quite a few to choose from!) and, depending on whether or not it is taught this semester, probably I will also take Yiddish literature in English translation. In the spring there is a translation studies class that I think would be pretty awesome - but I have a long time to decide about the spring! (In fact, I have a whole month still to decide about the fall...)
At the orientation I met a girl in the MA program who is from China. She was a religious studies major in China and she is here to get an MA in communal leadership studies. Afterwards she wants to move to Toronto, where her boyfriend is working. She seems really nice, but her Hebrew is at the beginnners level and her English isn't that great, so it was hard to communicate with her. Maybe I'll see her again as well, during graduate student events. I hope so!
Soon enough I'll also be starting my out of school activities. I've been in contact with the heads of Yung YiDDiSH and the Interfaith Encounter Association, respectively, and have arranged to meet each of them in the relatively near future (YY next week and IEA in early September). I hope to volunteer for YY about twice a week and to go to many of their programs, and I hope to volunteer for IEA once a week, and to join the Hebrew University encounter group. I am very excited about all of these opportunities!
I am settling into a routine here and basic things like taking the bus to class, stopping at the store on the way home to pick up a few things, etc. don't seem as scary anymore. The less intimidating all of this is, the more I think I'm going to like it here.