Final Shabbat

Well, I've completed all of my coursework for the semester, taken my last exam, and I only have a few days left to explore Jerusalem, gather my belongings, and fly to the other Promised Land - the "goldine medina."
In the meantime, it was with bittersweet feelings that I approached this Shabbat, wanting it to be perfect and memorable, but knowing that some of the most beautiful Shabbats of the year were already behind me. Sometimes I find self-reflexivity to be an emotionally painful task - being so aware of the last-ness of the Shabbat, I tried so hard to impress upon myself every detail of it, but knowing that the details fade quickly and that by the end of the day the sharpness of the image of its beginning will already have begun to wane in my mind's eye. It is with this in mind that I write of my final Jerusalem Shabbat, trying to preserve the important bits for just a while longer.
A friend of mine, Rebecca, had made plans with me for Friday to cook together and invite friends to my apartment. What started as a small gathering grew into the largest assembly of assorted individuals I've hosted in our apartment - the 15 bodies took up every seat that could possibly have been squished into the living room.
Knowing that we were expecting the large crowd, I began preparing for their visit as soon as I arrived home from my Hebrew exam. I started with a frenzy of cleaning - sweeping, scrubbing, putting-away, and interspersed these activities with putting sliced, spiced beets in the oven and braiding the challah. My friends Corrinna and Andrew arrived early to drop off a watermelon at the apartment and I enlisted their help in cleaning off plastic chairs, chopping vegetables, and even washing dishes. You know you have good friends when they'll do your dishes for you!
While we were cooking I received a phone call from my friend and neighbor Amy, telling me that at the corner between our apartment buildings, where an organization often leaves used books for passers-by to browse and take, there were stacks and stacks of Yiddish books. Corrinna and I left Andrew to watch after the challah in the oven and we ran down to the book drop-off area. Corinna picked up a copy of Ethan Frome in Hebrew, among other gems, and I found an astonishing wealth of Yiddish texts to choose from. I may not be able to carry all of the books that I took back to the US, but for now I have several Yiddish journals dating from 1943 to 1961, most of them issues of Yiddishe Kultur or Di Tzukunft (the Future) as well as a 1938 copy of David Pinsky's travelogue of a trip to Israel from the summer of 1932 to the sumer of 1936, published in Warsaw, a 1966 copy of Nachum Sutzkever's Personalities and Folk, published in Jerusalem, a 1996 copy of "Human Salad" by Joseph Hayblum, which was published in Israel with the assistance of the Mutlicultural Program of the Department of the Secretary of State of Canada, and a 1986 printing of "Tear and Smile" a collection of poetry and songs by David Shav-Artza, published in Israel. I'm very excited about all of this, though it would take me forever to read even one of these books.
By the time Rebecca arrived at 3:30 pm, two veggie dishes were complete, the challah was in the oven, and the apartment was on the verge of cleanliness. Then the real work began. On a 98 degree afternoon, we kept the oven and stovetop going for hours, our hands never free from work and our feet aching from it. We made guacamole with sliced vegetables, mujedra, oven-roasted potatoes, lentil soup, chocolate cake, apple appricot tart, cole slaw, and more. We rearranged the furniture into a 15-person circle, put out the Shabbat candles and wine, and waited for the guests to arrive.
The dinner was definitely a success - there was plenty of food and a lot of conversation. The guests were an interesting mix between those traveling to Jerusalem for the summer, or just for a quick vacation, and those who are here for a year or more, some older and some younger, some Jewish and some not, and I was surprised how willing people were to get to know new people. I was very sorry, though, to say goodbye to Paola at the end of the night, as I don't think we'll see each other again before we leave. I am so grateful to have had her friendship this year, and I do hope that one day I'll go to Italy to visit her!
The last remaining guests helped me clean a bit, though there's still some cleaning work to do, and pretty late at night. I woke up and dressed for services at Har El. It was a small congregation - a bar mitzvah with a tremendous voice read from the Torah, and I was given an aliyah during which Rabbi Ada blessed me and wished me a safe journey and that I should consider Har El my home in Israel.
In the afternoon, Atar Katz (my neighbor) took me on a tiyyul around Jerusalem, to catch some sights I had not yet seen. He was born in Jerusalem and has lived here is whole life, and his mind is filled with stories of Jerusalem's history. As we drived around the city he told me story after story (this was my real Hebrew final exam!) of ancient history, the building of the state, of the people and events that happened in this city with its layers and layers of pasts and cultures. We drove up to Mt. Scopus, driving on the road where the 1948 Mt. Scopus bus attack occurred, and stopped at an overlook to see East Jerusalem and the desert beyond, reaching toward the Dead Sea. Mr. Katz gave me a geography lesson, using the knuckles of his hand to represent the grooves of the valleys and mountains of Jerusalem. According to Mr. Katz, Mt. Scopus gets its name because it was the mountain from which the priests used to watch the sky to determine if the stars were out and the holiday had begun, lighting a bonfire that would signal to other watchmen to light their bonfires on other mountains so the word could travel that it was time for the holdiay to begin. We then drove to the Mt. of Olives, where 150,000 Jewish bodies lie in graves, awaiting the coming of the Messiah and the resurrection of the Jews. Ancient and modern tombstones alike form the necropolis. Mr. Katz told me a story that when the Messiah comes, there will be two bridges from the Mt. of Olives to the Temple Mount - one made out of iron and the other out of paper. Those who lack faith will take the safer-looking iron bridge, and it will break and they will fall, returning to death. The faithful will take the paper bridge, which will lead them to the Temple Mount. Mr. Katz pointed out to me the Seven Arches Hotel (formerly the Intercontinental Hotel) which, he says, we can see from our balcony. The hotel was constructed during Jordanian rule over East Jerusalem along a road that he built in violation of the 1949 Armistice agreement accross the cemetary, destroying thousands of graves, some dating back to the First Temple period.
We drove down to the bottom of the Mt. of Olives (the Kidron Valley) to see Absolom's Pillar, traditionally believed to be the tomb of Absalom, son of King David. It's archetectural style shows Greek influence, and it is now believed that it may have been the tomb of Temple priest Zachariah, the father of John the Baptist.
We drove past the Dung Gate and through the city to Talpiyot, a neighborhood in southeast Jerusalem. Mr. Katz pointed out Machane Allenby, the former British army camp, and told me stories of the British conquest of Jerusalem. He also showed me the former home of the British High Commissioner to Jerusalem, now the headquarters of the UN in Jerusalem.
Mr. Katz and I walked through a park to see the remains of a Herodian aqueduct, where a hole showing the ancient ducts is situated on a mosaic map showing its ancient route.
It was a whirlwind tour of about two and a half hours, after which I took a long nap, and woke in time to write this post before going to play some board games with friends who leave Jerusalem tomorrow, heading home to the US.

Shavuot, and Goodbye to Daniel

I played hookey from school today so that I could spend the day with Daniel before he flew out this evening, homebound.
We spent a lazy morning reading and doing crossword puzzles before we headed out to the preschool's Rosh Chodesh ceremony. The preschool celebrates Rosh Chodesh with parents/congregation members every month, but this is the first time I've made it to the celebration. In honor of Shavuot, which is later this week, the cantor dressed as the high priest of the Temple, and the kids, all dressed in white, brought fruits to be sacrificed. The Rabbi opened the ark and showed the kids all of the Torah scrolls, and gave them an opportunity to touch the Torah crown. Then, there was a skit about grinding wheat to make flour and bread, followed by some singing, dancing, and shofar blowing. It was adorable, and we were also struck by the kind of knowledge it gave the kids - in a Reform setting, they had access, at a preschool age, to the Hebrew calendar, to Jewish history and holidays, in a pretty detailed fashion. It seemed particularly meaningful to be doing this in Jerusalem, especially as it was Daniel's last day here.
We went next to the L.A. Mayer Museum for Islamic Art, which we've been planning to visit all year. The museum covers Islamic art from the 7th century through the Ottoman Empire, and we enjoyed peeking around at the ceramics, tiles, and jewlery. We particularly enjoyed the exhibition on contemporary Arabic art in Israel - it was a small installation, but for us it was the highlite.
We strolled through the German colony and stopped in the Rose garden to sit on a park bench and chat before having ice cream on Emek Rafaim Street. We took a brief trip to the Malcha mall for a last-minute purchase before coming home for a game of scrabble.
We ended the day with a fancy dinner at Al Dente, an Italian place that many HUC students have been raving about all year. While there, we struck up a conversation witha family who is on a two week trip to Israel from New Mexico. Daniel used his Jerusalem expertise to recommend places they should visit while here - a final act as a Jerusalem resident welcoming others to his city. We arrived home with just enough time for Daniel to pack the last few items and make his final trip down our tiny old fashioned elevator to wait for the sherut that would carry him away.
It seems lonely in the apartment now, but I already have plenty of plans for the week, and plenty of work to do for school, so I don't think I'll even have time to feel sorry for myself. I am very much looking forward to Shavuot (which you are bound to hear about soon!) and to the next month-or-so that I have left to explore Jerusalem!

(see pictures here)

Jerusalem Day/Student Day

Today is Yom Yerushalayim, a national holiday commemorating the reunification of Jerusalem and the establishment of Israeli control over the Old City in 1967. It officially became a national holiday in 1998, though it had been celebrated since 1968. Mostly it's commemorated by state ceremonies, assemblies and activities in school, etc.

As it turns out, today is also Yom HaStudentim (Day of the Student), the Israeli version of spring break. Apparently, Yom HaStudentim is not the same day in every city, but in Jerusalem it is always on Yom Yerushalayim. I don't have school today, which is a plus, but on the other hand there was an all-night concert (about 8pm until 6am) in a park near our apartment and we couldn't get to sleep all night, so I guess that's the minus...

We commemorated Yom Yerushalayim in the preschol this morning during our daily circle time. Mazal, one of the teachers, talked about her memories from before Jerusalem was unified, when Israelis couldn't access the Old City or Mt. Scopus. Then, she said, there was a big war and the wall between East and West Jerusalem came down and everyone was happy. She asked the students to name some big Jerusalem institutions that they are proud of -the Knesset, the Western Wall, the Biblical Zoo (that one was a big hit - lots of kids stood up and screamed "I've been to the zoo!") But most of the kids she called on wanted to answer the question "What is in Jerusalem" with "my house." or "grandma and grandpa's house." At some point during the conversation, Mazal started listing museums in Jerusalem and asking me if I'd been to them. "Jessica is visiting us from America," she told the kids, "so she hasn't been to a lot of places here before. She really should go see the museums. What else should she see?" "My house! You should come to my house, Jessica!" "My granparents' house!" (I don't think they really understood what she was going for). Anyway, we learned a bit about Jerusalem, and then we did some Jerusalem dances.

(I should mention that while the Jerusalem education was going on, I was sitting next to a little boy who just moved here from the US. He didn't understand any of the Hebrew, and he kept leaning over to whisper to me about dinosaurs. So as my attention drifted between him and the rest of the class, what I heard was something like, "And then the giant T-rex stands on its legs like a person and...we have hospitals in Jerusalem - how many of you were born in Haddassah on Mt Scopus? When I was a little girl we couldn't go to Mt. Scopus...he runs really fast because he's a dinosaur, but I can run faster." The kid from America has a little sister in the other class, and the other day I gave myself a headache by playing with an English-speaking 3 year old, two Hebrew-speaking 2 year olds, and a Hebrew-speaking 4 year old who is much more able to have a mature conversation - I kept speaking the wrong language to the wrong kid...it was a mess!)

As we were going down to the playground, Mazal said to me, "I can't believe I forgot to talk about how there are churches and mosques in Jerusalem. I was going to talk about how in Jerusalem the three religions live together, but I forgot all about that."

Christmas Shopping and other Jerusalem Tales

It was a brisk Shabbes mid-morning when I traipsed down to the Jaffa gate to meet Corinna, Debbie, Gavin, and Paola, my friends from Hebrew University, to do some Christmas shopping in the Arab quarter of the Old City. We first found a restaurant on a side street that was blaring American oldies music, and sat down to a not-very-good meal, joked with the waitor, and swapped stories. We then proceeded through the narrow stone streets to look at icons, Christmas cards, plants, and candles. We wandered into a store selling festive table runners and were greeted by a giant saxaphone playing plastic Santa Claus, with which we of course posed for photos. The very nice lady at the store suggested that we go to the bazaar being held in a nearby clinic, the proceeds of which are going to a charity to give healthcare and food to poor Arab families. The women at the bazaar were very pleased to see us (especially Paola, who speaks Arabic), and we were excited to be there as they were selling familiar Christmas ornaments; wreaths, ribbons, snowmen printed on paper napkins, etc. They were also selling non-Christmas items, so I picked up some zaatar and a plastic plant. We each sampled some excellent quince jam, and made quite a few purchases. We continued on our way through stall after stall of brightly colored clothing, religious souvenirs of all sorts, fruit, vegetable, and bread vendors, etc. Eventually, Debbie and Paola parted from us, and we went on to visit Matteo, our friend from ulpan who is, as you may recall from previous posts, a Francescan friar. (Have I written about him before?)
At the front gate to the Church of the Flagellation, we asked the gatekeeper to call in and tell Matteo that his friends were here to visit. We were shown in to a room marked "private," where we sat on old couches in a somewhat stark, stone parlor, to wait for Matteo to meet us. He was very pleased to see us, and we visited for a very long time. He took us inside to what I suppose is the friars' living room - a large room full of sofas and chairs, with today's newspapers sprawled accross the coffee tables, and religious parephenalia behind glass cases on the walls. While Matteo went to fetch us some soda, Gavin peeked through a glass case to gawk at an illuminated manuscript, and I stood in front of a case containing a Torah and a scroll in Phoenician characters. When Matteo returned we sat and chatted for a while, mostly about our lives, our families, etc. After quite a while in that room, we went up to the roof to enjoy the terrific view of the old city and really all of Jerusalem. We could see Hebrew University, the Brigham Young campus, countless churches, mosques, and synagogues, and in the foreground we could see the Dome of the Rock quite closeby. On the roof we discussed religion, and when Matteo saw one of his instructors below, he called down and introduced us by saying that we were having a meeting of the religions: Jewish, Baptist, and Catholic. It was a bit chilly on the roof, so we went downstairs where Matteo showed us the classroom where he studies (he is writing his dissertation on the meaning of the word "fulfilled" in the Gospel According to Matthew when Jesus says that he has not come to negate the commandments of the Torah, but to fulfill them. Before we left, Matteo showed us the chapels at the Church (the parts that are open to the public), saying that he didn't want us to have come to the Church of the Flagellation without seeing what there is to see there. He explained to us that the place where the church is built is now known not to have been the historical site of the flagellation, as the stones have Roman games carved in to them that date to after 135 CE. The chapels were nevertheless quite interesting, and the stained glass windows fabulous. Matteo says that the preists celebrate mass twice a day, morning and evening, and he pointed to the window of a smaller chapel where the priests can go to celebrate mass if for some reason they missed the early morning mass (6:30 AM). We left with warm regards and promises of another visit soon.
It was a lovely Shabbat - how was yours?

Rolling around Jerusalem.

.גילגול מסביב לירשלים

First, an authorial note. Jessica and Daniel will be co-authoring this post for maximum recollection and enjoyment.

Although a number of things have happened to us in the past few days including a dinner with friends, a lovely walk to the shuk to see all of the lulav vendors, and classes (Daniel) and studying/working on grad school applications (Jessica), what we really wanted to write about was this amazing adventure we had thanks to our friendly and generous across the hall neighbors. You may recall that we invited Mr. and Mrs. Katz over for dinner several weeks ago, and we were delighted that they accepted our invitation. A couple weeks ago, they invited us on a tiyul (trip) and asked us where we wanted to go. We put the ball back in their court, telling them that we'd be excited to see anything they wanted us to see. So, this past Friday afternoon, Mr. Katz invited us over to discuss the plan he had created for us.

We traversed the long distance between our apartments and were warmly welcomed into their beautiful living room, decorated in deep reds, with dark wooden furniture and many paintings on the wall that we later learned were created by Mrs. Katz's late brother. To explain where we would be traveling, Mr. Katz picked up his Tanach (Bible) and asked us, "Do you know the Book of Samuel?" He then proceeded to recount some stories from Samuel's life, Tanach in hand, in order to set the stage for our upcoming trip. Daniel couldn't believe it: This entirely secular man was detailing "history" from the bible and preparing us to explore the sites he described! He told us about the Philistines' capture of the ark, the birth and passing of Samuel, and a few tales about Samson. He concluded by saying that we'd be exploring some of the locations mentioned in these stories along with, hopefully, some of their children and grandchildren. "We'll be ready by 10:00," we assured them and went back to our apartment, excited about the next day's adventures.

Although Jessica suspected that the actual time of departure was to be 9:30, Daniel assured her that she was absolutely mistaken, and at 9:30, when Mr. Katz rang the doorbell, Jessica ran to the door in her pajamas and embarassedly asked for ten minutes to get ready. Daniel and Jessica hurriedly threw on some clothes, grabbed a camera, and knocked on the Katzes' door. When Mr. Katz opened the door, he gave what can only be described as a grandfatherly chuckle before ushering us into the elevator to descend to our journey.

Apparently, Mr. Katz had already parked the car out front and loaded it with our lunch supplies (stay tuned...). The four of us started driving, and shortly we were outside of the city. We chatted, hesitantly at first, in Hebrew about a variety of topics, and this banter became freer as the trip progressed and became one of the highlights of the entire day. Before long, Mr. Katz pointed to an old spire on top of a high hill and identified it as Nebi Samuel. And less than ten minutes after that, we had arrived at that very spot which had seemed to distant only a few minutes earlier.

From the parking lot, Nebi Samuel didn't seem like such an exciting place. There were no touristy things like gift shops or signs in English, and the whole area seemed a little run down - a tiny Yeshiva building to one side, and no guests aside from ourselves. Daniel approached a sign that described the history of the building, and Mr. Katz read it to us, though frankly it was hard for me to understand all of the Hebrew.

Just after Mr. Katz finished reading the sign to us, we were joined by Noam, their youngest son, and Noam's daughter Talia, along with Noam's friend and former boss. The seven of us walked up to the building on the hill and that's when we realized why the Katzes had brought us here. From 900 meters above sea level, we could see everything in the Judean hills and beyond. From the West Bank to the Mediterranean Sea, Israel lay before us like a picture book waiting to be pored over. Borrowing Noam's professional binoculars, we were able to make out villages, towns, and cities miles away. We climbed to the top of the crusader-era building and found ourselves higher than anything else in the area. Noam's intimate knowledge of the countryside gave a deeper understanding to what we were seeing as he was able to point out Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Tel Aviv, Ramallah, and the locations of certain historical events (like a key battle in the Maccabean revolt). It was truly an incredible vantage point!

We walked around the building slowly, as Mr. Katz pointed out features of the building itself - below us a stone house with a roof that had fallen in, and above us a tower (which we would later climb). We made our way into the belly of the building, which is today a synagogue, and which contains what is believed to be the grave of Samuel. Jessica descended by herself into the women's section, which was about the size of a closet, while Daniel explored the much more interesting men's section. Jessica later joined him in the men's section, as there was no one present to tell her otherwise. In the men's section, we saw not only the alleged tomb of Samuel but also several books and tables that would normally be found in a synagogue and beit midrash. Perhaps a bit more startling was the sign that read (roughly), "Anyone who talks during the Shmoneh Esrei or the Kaddish will never get out of hell." This, in addition to the bumper sticker we had seen on the ground level warning against boys and girls touching each other, gave a distinct impression as to what group of people considered this their place.

From the top of the tower we gazed out at Israel, admiring its hills that jutted up like waves on a stormy sea. The Katzes' other son, Yair, and his son, whose name we can't recall, had joined us by this point, and we really felt like we were part of a family outing. It wasn't too long before we climbed down from the tower and returned to the car to continue to our next location.

Mr. Katz was following his children, and as we drove, he pointed out to us notable locations while describing the history of the roads, the trees, even the very countryside. For example, the Katzes explained to us that in first few months of their military service as young adults (they met in the army), their role was to plant trees - the very trees we drove past. It was fascinating to hear his long view of the history of the place - unfortunately, his story-telling distracted from his driving, and we got slightly off course. After calling one of his sons, Mr. Katz believed himself to be on track, but when we pulled in front of the fish store, it seemed at least plausible that we had gotten ourselves a little lost. Regardless, we walked around the fish store, which was itself an adventure - tropical fish of all sizes swam in a multitude of tanks, and we poked around, smiling broadly at the brightly striped and oddly marked varieties. Once Mr. Katz had reconnected via cell phone with his kids, we continued on our way.

Our next stop was a French monastery, which was surrounded by gorgeous trees and beautiful flowers. We learned that the sisters spend much of their time studying, baking, and making ceramic pottery and figures (though it wasn't clear what the brothers' schedules include). We looked through the wine and cheese shops (it was, after all, a French monastery!) and continued to the chapel. The walls were covered with beautiful scenes from Christian history, and the books included the New Testament in several languages as well as other volumes about Israel and Christianity. All the wile, we chatted with Yair, who is a computer programmer, and admired what Jessica's dad would call the foil-age.

We continued down the road a bit to a spot that Noam recommended for our picnic - the British Park. Mr. Katz drove his car practically into the picnic area itself, to the chagrin of his sons, and began unpacking shopping bag after shopping bag full of food. It was a laughable amount of food - he offered us whole peppers, carrots, and cucumbers, pitas, different vegetable-filled pastries, cookies, honey cake, hummus, tehina, crackers, dried fruit... Each time he opened something new his sons protested that they'd had enough and he responded "What do you care if I open it? You don't have to eat it." Whole cans and bags of food remained uneaten and our bellies were satisfyingly round as we sat around the table enjoying the beautiful day. Noam, who apparently goes for a walk and a picnic every Shabbat, was equipped with a portable gas stove, on which he prepared a sweet tea-like drink that he called "Louisa," which he apparently grows fresh in his garden. Later, he also prepared and served strong, sweet coffee. The kids used the fire from the stove to light a small campfire nearby and all of the adults watched as they kindled dry leaves and sticks.

We very much enjoyed conversing with the Katzes and their sons, and before we called it a day, Noam wanted to hike up the hill a bit with his daughter. We accompanied them and talked to Noam (in English!) about his life as the former ambassador to Nigeria. Turns out he's lived for many years in Nigera, Ghana, Rwanda, and a few other African countries - his three children, he says, are "more African than Israeli." He's moved back to Israel to give his youngest daughter an opportunity to get to know and appreciate Israel and Israeli culture, but he doesn't expect to remain here long. His wife wants to go to Europe, so he may serve there next, but soon he wants to head to central Asia (Uzbekistan) to start a new chapter of diplomacy. It was so interesting hearing this diplomat describe life in northern Africa and to hear ever so briefly his perspective on international relations there.

By the time we returned with Noam and Talia, Yair and his son had already left. We bid farewell to Noam and piled back into the Katzes' car, which Mr. Katz extracted from the park and drove away. On our way back, our conversations continued. We drove through Beit Shemesh, which had been built from nothing over the past fifty years. Mr. Katz pointed to a newer area that had once been home to new immigrants from Middle Eastern countries - Mr. Katz was involved in teaching them and helping them to adjust to life in Israel. We stopped at an overlook, where Mr. Katz showed us that we were at the site where the story of Samson had occurred. We took pictures of him and Daniel, Jessica and Mrs. Katz, and we continued on our way, down the beautiful narrow hilly roads. Every few minutes Mr. Katz would sigh "how beautiful!"

The drive back to Jerusalem was gorgeous and took us through parts of the city that we had never visited before. For the first time, we were able to see "regular" parts of Israel (even Jerusalem), where people go out on Shabbat and lead lives that aren't regulated by religion. We drove through the suburbs, where people have actual houses, and were able to imagine living in Jerusalem without the congestion of King George Street. Not only was the drive beautiful, but it was also educational and eye-opening.

Once we were heading back into town, it took us a surprisingly short amount of time to get back to our neck of the woods. The Katzes continued to point out items of interest even though we may have passed them a hunded times since moving in. We parked the car behind our apartment building, helped unload the several bags of leftover food, and walked back to the apartment with the Katzes.

When we were back on our comfortable fifth floor, we wished the Katzes good-bye from inside their apartment. They told us they had had a wonderful time and were glad that we had come with them - they even hinted at a next time! Mr. Katz had bought each of us a small jar of honey (for a sweet new year!) from the French monastery, and he also showed us the small ceramic sheep he had bought himself - apparently, he collects them. We finally bid our last good-bye and returned to our apartment.

Overall, the entire trip was absolutely lovely. It was wonderful to join this family, to spend Shabbat in a meaningful secular manner with kind and generous people who were interested in sharing their life stories with us. We ate delicious food, shared good jokes, and saw some breath-taking sights. We learned, taught, and explored together, making this definitely one of the richest, most unique Shabbats we've had since we've arrived. We both very much look forward to the "next time" that Mr. Katz alluded to, and we hope that we've made some good friends in these elderly neighbors whom we just thought it would be fun to invite to dinner. See what a good quiche can accomplish?

PS If you'd like to see pictures from this trip, as well as other experiences we've had here in Israel, check out our new online album here!

Walking around Jerusalem.

.הליכה מסביב ירושלים

Today, our Israeli seminar included a walk around Jerusalem. My instructor, Paul Liptz, recommended that we record our sessions for ourselves (and to help write our journal entries that we will periodically turn in). Lucky for me, I have a perfect outlet!

We started off this morning with a brief conversation about the attack I wrote about briefly yesterday. Basically, Michael Marmur wanted to discuss the HUC notification practices with us since, fortunately, the events of two nights ago weren't so serious as to require significant processing.

Then, we went into our three Israel seminar groups. In Paul's we spent a few minutes introducing ourselves and sharing our previous Israel experiences. It was interesting to hear the different experiences that people had had with Israel - some very negative and some extremely positive. There were even some Canadian/American differences that might be based on a difference of perspective that was addressed later in the class.

Professor Liptz' class started with a brief discussion of the transition from "pre-modern" to "post-modern" in Christian Europe and transitioned into a conversation on the more European/Middle Eastern social structure of many cultural sub-groups forming the whole (as compared to the American model where sub-groups are generally de-emphasized in face of the universal whole). We discussed the multiple sub-groups in Israel within Jewish and Israeli Arab spheres. Distinctions can be drawn based on religion, time spent living in the country, politics, location, economics, class, etc. This obviously served only as an introduction to a much (MUCH) larger conversation that will be taking place over the course of the year.

Then, we hit the road. Professor Liptz gave us maps that detailed the expansion of Jerusalem and showed that, prior to 1917, Israel was mostly controlled by Christians - although Jews were the majority, they mostly kept to the relatively small area of the Jewish Quarter of the Old City. After the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution, however, many Jews began immigrating to Israel, and their emerging contact with the British began immediately. (The Balfour Declaration was signed in 1917, but the British didn't have a strong bureaucracy in place until 1920/1921.)

We walked to the King David Hotel, where we discussed the centrality of the British to the region as it progressed from Ottoman rule. Key to our conversation was the hostility between Jews who wanted to cooperate with the British (the Haganah and other groups, championed by David Ben Gurion) and those who felt that palpable declarations of strength were required to win sovereignty from the British (the Irgun and other groups, championed by Menachem Begin). A major break between the groups occurred when Begin insisted on carrying out the 1946 bombing of the King David Hotel while Ben Gurion opposed the action. Ninety-one people were killed, and this marked a low point in the outlook for Jewish independence and the closest Jews had come to civil war since the destruction of the Second Temple.

We didn't proceed along the timeline from that point (we're saving it for class) and instead moved to a different part of the city, near an old, unattended cemetery. There, Professor Liptz talked to us about the extraordinary complications involved in Jerusalem construction which include the requirement to maintain the outer walls of certain buildings (even if everything inside is torn down and rebuilt) and the inability to build over bones (so every contractor's nightmare is discovering human bones in her foundation). We also learned about the politics of land. As more Jews were moving to Jerusalem, some wealthy Muslims started buying land around the Old City to keep them geographically at bay. This policy resulted in Jewish settlements in various places outside the Old City that often tried to get as close as possible to the Old City.

However, a group of immigrants that distinctly did not want to be close to the Old City were the German Jews who no longer felt ... comfortable ... in Germany. They planted trees, built expensive houses, socialized with wealthy Arab Christians, and avoided the Old City at all times. They were "modern" and "civilized" and did all they could to bring the things they loved most about Berlin with them to Jerusalem. Today, the area where they lived is the neighborhood of Rechavia and is still fairly well-to-do.

Near Rechavia is Talbiyeh, which was prime real estate for wealthy Jews who were moving to Jerusalem. At the top of a hill, there's always a breeze in Talbiyeh. The houses are beautiful, and Golda Meir lived there while she was Prime Minister. Additionally, the Israeli President's house is located in Talbiyeh, as is a center affiliated with the philanthropic Bronfman family, adding to the splendor of the neighborhood.

We finished our tour in the German Colony, which was founded by Templars in the second half of the 19th century. These Christians built very solid houses, expecting to establish permanent residence to be passed through the generations. However, in 1939 or so, it was discovered that many of the residents supported the Nazi government in Germany. The British weren't too happy with Nazis living in their territory, so they were forcibly relocated to internment camps in Australia during World War II. As far as I know, they didn't return, and if they did, it generally wasn't to these houses, which are inhabited by "ordinary Israelis" today.

It was great to walk through familiar parts of Jerusalem and hear about the convoluted history that is entirely unapparent just by looking at the surface. I look forward to seeing how these interwoven narratives contribute to the genesis of the new Israeli society that I've landed in for the year. Should be fun.

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.

Our right to defend the Land of Israel?

?זכותנו להגן את ארץ ישראל

As I mentioned in my last post, we had our second biblical archeology "field trip" on Thursday, and this time we really started getting into the history (and non-history) of the bible. We focused on Jerusalem and talked a lot about the state of Jerusalem before the Hebrews inhabited the land of Israel and whether and how King David made Jerusalem the capital of the Israelite kingdom.

One of Professor Joel Duman's main points is that it's extremely difficult if not impossible to verify the existence of David and Solomon's "United Kingdom" and even the biblical account of David's siege of Jerusalem is nonsensical language (to such an extent that the author of Chronicles has to reword it). [One version of] our national myth holds that Jerusalem was a powerful Canaanite stronghold (neither the tribe of Judah nor the tribe of Benjamin could take it) that fell to the warrior King David, who selected the site as an independent capital of a newly-united Israel and Judah. There's no archaeological evidence to dispute that account, but neither is there any evidence to support it - and the prevailing notion (from various angles) is that the biblical account is biased and Jerusalem-centric.

On our tours around Jerusalem, then, we had a chance to view firsthand some of the archaeological sites that were the sources for some corroborating and complicated historical evidence. It was fascinating to see the remains of a millennia-old home and to walk through the water tunnels that were so important in Jerusalem's history. At the end of the day, though, we were asked: Does being here make it any more important to you? Does standing along the ramparts of the area that used to be the outer wall of Jerusalem make its previous existence more meaningful? And how much does it affect your theology that historical evidence is hard-pressed to verify everything in the bible (though some accounts are supported with startling accuracy).

To me, I think it's very interesting to learn about ancient Israel and stand in the same place where those lessons originally took place ... but I don't think it affects my theology too much. However, that's not because I'm discounting history but rather because I never really counted history in to begin with. I'm much more concerned with Now than with a mythical Then ... and the Now is just as real whether you base it on a historical, spiritual, or mythical understanding of origins. That is, I feel a connection with other Jews because ... well, because I feel a connection with other Jews. That connection isn't based on a shared history but rather on a mutually-participated-in relationship. Of course, I believe that a place like the Western Wall (or a synagogue or a library, etc.) can facilitate that relationship and draw me closer to other Jews, but the significance of the Kotel to me isn't that it was the outer wall of the Temple but rather that Jews have hallowed it over the centuries and my participation in that hallowing is a performance of my relationship with those Jews.

All that having been said, history is very important to many people here, and I do feel it's important to address and attempt to understand. Do I believe that, based on a historical series of events, the existence of a Jewish state of Israel is justified? I do, and I point to anti-Semitism culminating in the Holocaust as the primary historical justification for a legal Jewish sanctuary. Do I also believe that, based on a historical series of events, some Jews in Israel have abused their political independence to perpetuate violence on the previous inhabitants of the land (as well as non-physical violence and oppression of all kinds, some of which I've already written about in this blog)? I do, and I point to the miserable condition of many Palestinians (and the strongarming of the religious right in this country) as the primary justification for a necessity of reform.

Now, I like to try to have all my ducks lined up in a row before getting into a conversation about the state and State of the Jewish people today. Are we having a theological/ethical conversation, or are we having a historical/political conversation? It frustrates me when people hastily conflate the two. And here's a perfect case in point.

This morning, I attended Moreshet Yisrael, a Conservative congregation in Jerusalem that mostly serves American Conservative Jews. At first, I didn't like the service because it was what I have come to associate with "standard Conservative." The hazzan would mumble through prayers that most people mumbled to themselves with a page number being announced every once in a while. Not my way to pray. However, after the first part of the service, a woman led us through prayers, and she sang loudly, clearly, and with the rest of the congregation. I loved it. The Torah service was great (the leader had an incredible voice), and the Haftarah was meaningful. And then we got to the sermon.

Rabbi Adam Frank highlighted a very forceful part of this week's Torah portion (Masei). In particular, he focused on these verses:

In the plains of Moab by the Jordan at Jericho, the Lord^515253545556 spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the Israelites, and say to them: When you cross over the Jordan into the land of Canaan, you shall drive out all the inhabitants of the land from before you, destroy all their figured stones, destroy all their cast images, and demolish all their high places. You shall take possession of the land and settle in it, for I have given you the land to possess. You shall apportion the land by lot according to your clans; to a large one you shall give a large inheritance, and to a small one you shall give a small inheritance; the inheritance shall belong to the person on whom the lot falls; according to your ancestral tribes you shall inherit. But if you do not drive out the inhabitants of the land from before you, then those whom you let remain shall be as barbs in your eyes and thorns in your sides; they shall trouble you in the land where you are settling. And I will do to you as I thought to do to them (Numbers 33:50-56).

Now, nestled snugly and minimally in Rabbi Frank's sermon was the message that Israel has failed in its responsibility to provide for its Arab citizens (never did he use the word "inhabitants" or "residents" when talking about due rights). He did say that certain inequalities need to be addressed by the Israeli government ... but the rest of the sermon focused on the bolded selections above.

More or less, Rabbi Frank affirmed that since God told Moses and the Children of Israel to take the land and destroy anything and anyone who was in the way, then Israel has a right to exist today and to defend itself from its "Enemy." Anything that Israel does to protect its children, its women, its seniors (I'm using the rabbi's language here) is justified because God gave us this land, and if we don't protect it, our Enemy will continue to "trouble" us with attacks. Therefore, we have to remain vigilant in destroying those who would destroy us so that we may remain safe. He quotes Rashi, and claims that he is both prophetic and brilliant in his treatment of Num 33:53: "You shall vacate it of its inhabitants, and then you shall ' settle in it.' Only then will you be able to survive there, but if you do not do this, you will be unable to survive there." According to Rabbi Frank, Rashi knew 1000 years ago that if we don't fight to protect ourselves, we won't be able to live in this land.

Now, naturally, I disagree. Violence begets violence. That's a short and simple sentence, but there's not much that you can add on to it. Is someone being violent to you? If you're violent back, it will beget violence. If you want peace, you need to be peaceful. Eradicating your enemies is not only wrong, but it's ineffective. Not to be crass, but if the Nazis couldn't eliminate the Jews of Europe, what makes anyone believe that we can win the "War on Terror" by killing all the terrorists?

Aside from this point (which is my strongest and yet hardest for most people to understand), there's also the fact that Rabbi Frank is mixing history and theology in a way I believe to be unjustified. He's claiming the Numbers text as historical justification for our being in the land of Israel (which, by the way, is defined geographically ambiguously in this very portion), but simply reading Numbers as history doesn't cut it - not for me, and not for a majority of Jewish tradition.

For example, look at this part of the same parsha:

But anyone who strikes another with an iron object, and death ensues, is a murderer; the murderer shall be put to death. Or anyone who strikes another with a stone in hand that could cause death, and death ensues, is a murderer; the murderer shall be put to death. Or anyone who strikes another with a weapon of wood in hand that could cause death, and death ensues, is a murderer; the murderer shall be put to death. The avenger of blood is the one who shall put the murderer to death; when they meet, the avenger of blood shall execute the sentence. Likewise, if someone pushes another from hatred, or hurls something at another, lying in wait, and death ensues, or in enmity strikes another with the hand, and death ensues, then the one who struck the blow shall be put to death; that person is a murderer; the avenger of blood shall put the murderer to death when they meet. ... These things shall be a statute and ordinance for you throughout your generations wherever you live (Numbers 35:16-21, 29).

Just as the earlier verses appear clearly to enumerate God's wish that the People of Israel annihilate their enemies in the land of Israel, so too do these verses seem to advocate for capital punishment for murderers. However, in the Talmud, so many restrictions are added on to the topic that capital punishment is virtually impossible. This article explains clearly and succinctly the thought processes behind the rabbis' treatment of the death penalty; I'll quote only a few particularly apt points here:

"It is ruled that two witnesses are required to testify not only that they witnessed the act for which the criminal has been charged but that they had warned him beforehand that if he carried out the act he would be executed, and he had to accept the warning, stating his willingness to commit the act despite his awareness of its consequences. The criminal's own confession is not accepted as evidence. Moreover, circumstantial evidence is not admitted."

"Who would commit a murder in the presence of two witnesses when these had solemnly warned him that if he persisted they would testify against him to have him executed for his crime?"

"A Sanhedrin that puts a man to death once in seven years is called destructive. Rabbi Eliezer ben Azariah says: even once in seventy years. Rabbi Akiba and Rabbi Tarfon say: had we been in the Sanhedrin none would ever have been put to death. Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel says: they would have multiplied shedders of blood in Israel" (Misnah Makkot 1:10).

This clearly shows that traditionally, these verses of Masei, which are "a statute and ordinance for you throughout your generations wherever you live," are considered inappropriate for decent human relations and are therefore curtailed from ever being practiced.

Therefore, Rabbi Frank's quoting Rashi about dispossessing the original inhabitants of the Land of Israel just doesn't justify imposing the death penalty on Israel's enemies. I believe that the Torah is a guide in every sense and can shed light on mysteries of history ... but it is not a history book as we have come to be accustomed to them. It cannot be relied upon as a proof-text for our self-governance in this land, and it certainly shouldn't be cited in defense of life-taking violence.

So, I suppose all I have to say in conclusion is that I'm looking forward to the opportunity when I'll have a chance to write a sermon about Masei.

Weekend on the Shore and at the Mountain of God.

.סוף שבוע בחוף ובהר אל

Yesterday, most of our class went to Tel Aviv for a fun day in the sun (and clouds, which are entirely absent from the Jerusalem sky). Although we only spent a half dozen hours there, our trip was enough to instill an appreciation for some of the differences between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. The area where we were in Tel Aviv (downtown/beach area) was much busier with a lot more shopping. There were significantly fewer "black hatters" around, and most of those that I saw were set up at "Tefillin Tables" helping people say their daily prayers. In describing the difference to a classmate, I phrased my feelings the following way:

In Jerusalem, one can feel the weight of an enormous pillow of orthodoxy resting over the city. Some people can easily stick a pole in the ground to lift the pillow off of them and live a secular life without a second thought. Many others, including us who want to live religiously but not observantly, find ourselves struggling against suffocation under the pillow. Now, the pillow in and of itself is very beautiful, but pillows should be restful, not oppressive. In Jerusalem, this pillow is more like a yoga mat - some people have it permanently set up in their lives, but most people don't encounter it in their day to day activity. And I'll tell you what - it's nice to escape from the anxiety rooted in the life of a Reform Jew in Jerusalem.

That's not to say that I like Tel Aviv more. Given the choice to live in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, I'd definitely pick Jerusalem. Please let's not forget that I love Judaism, and I love the Jewish traditions that the Israeli right-wing represent. What I don't love is how they occasionally choose to represent and share those traditions in an exclusive manner. And I certainly don't love unbridled capitalism, congested streets, and sweltering heat. So, at least for now, I'm still a Jerusalemite at heart.

However, we did have an opportunity to experience one flavor of Progressive Judaism in Tel Aviv. Although they don't affiliate with the Reform movement, Kehillat Beit T'filah Yisraeli is a progressive congregation that offers spiritual expression and community to more or less secular residents of Tel Aviv. During the summer, the congregation holds its services along the shore, so our Friday night service took place amid crashing waves and setting sun.

At first, I was disappointed by the service. Since it was outside, it was impossible to hear the congregation singing anything together. Additionally, there were all sorts of distractions, from people walking to fishing to jet skiing. And, of course, the service was entirely in Hebrew. But, I did know some of the music (the rabbi is a student in the Israeli program at HUC, and the head of our cantorial program was helping with some of the singing), and as soon as we were singing "What a Wonderful World" in Hebrew translation, I was hooked. The instruments, the great voices of the leaders, and the sunset all started to win me over.

Then, when we rose for the Barchu, we faced the sea (which is quite obviously in the opposite direction of Jerusalem). The rabbi mentioned the custom to face the ים instead of ירושלים because it's beautiful and hey - at least they share some letters. I definitely appreciated saying the Barchu, Amidah, and Aleinu facing the setting sun (and did I mention that there are clouds in Tel Aviv??), and I really had an opportunity to feel some of the power of creation much more than I usually do when the walls of the synagogue stand between me and, theoretically, the Western Wall.

So, I definitely liked services last night, and I also appreciated the conversation some of us had back in Jerusalem about the "True Meaning of Prayer" (a conversation that I won't detail here; I'm sure the topics will arise again in the future of this blog).

In order to keep up with my resolve to sample many different Shabbat services, I (and eight classmates) attended services this morning at Kehillat Har-El (Trans: Mountain of God). Har-El was the first Israeli Progressive congregation, founded in 1958 and still strong today. Services were actually quite similar (albeit entirely in Hebrew) to what I'm used to in the States, and the Bar Mitzvah, too, reminded me of American celebrations. (There were many speeches by family, the Bar Mitzvah read from the Torah and gave a short d'var, we threw flowers after the conclusion of his haftarah reading, and there was a delicious kiddush lunch afterward.) One of the best parts about Har-El is that it's literally around the corner from my apartment building, so I definitely expect to return. Apparently, the Friday night service is the main service (again, just like in the States), so I'll have to go back and see how those are. (I actually wasn't too much of a fan of the Saturday morning service, though that could have been because of the Bar Mitzvah speeches that did drag on a bit.)

Altogether, my weekend/Shabbat has been pleasant, and I'm glad to have had today to rest up and get myself prepared for the week ahead. Tune in to see how it plays out!