The value of being Jewish.

.ערך קיום יהודי

Jessica briefly mentioned in her previous post that she was instructed to get a letter from an American rabbi attesting to her Jewishness in order to receive a student visa. The whole notion is absurd because one doesn't need to be Jewish to be a student in Israel, and the fact that it would even come up is troubling and frustrating to Jessica and me. That the officer at the Ministry of the Interior would even think to ask for such confirmation (even in error) belies the gross neglect of religious freedom in this country. Sure, if Reform Judaism is treated as a separate faith (as suggested by Rabbi Yisrael Rozen), we could have equal rights, but so long as we claim Judaism as our own, progressive Jews in Israel will continue to face religious and legal barriers that fly in the face of Deuteronomy 16:20's invective, "צדק צדק תרדף" (Justice, justice shall you pursue).

This is because, if the Ministry really wanted to push the matter (which I don't expect), the authority of the American rabbi that Jessica finds would have to be examined. Perhaps Jessica's pedigree would be up for discussion. Of course, Jessica is unquestionably Jewish even by the most orthodox standards, but someone who (A) didn't have a rabbi, (B) didn't have a Jewish mother, or (C) wasn't Jewish would certainly have a hard time receiving this visa! I can't believe that even here this letter is required, but that it's asked for is indicative of a pro-Jewish bias that exists in Israel to such a large degree that it can't even be seen.

And what's it based on? Israel was founded as a Jewish country and has been struggling with that title for the past sixty years. People have been asking, "What does it mean to be Jewish?" for a very long time, but I doubt the question is often raised of, "What's the value of us being Jewish?" If a magic genie gave me the option of making Israel a true model of civil liberty, a bastion of peace in the region, an anti-war advocate, and a democracy that values the voices of the few and seeks to bring peace and security to the whole but lose its Jewish identity, I don't know what I would do. Is being Jewish so important that I would choose it over an automatic guarantee of ethics?

On the one hand, I believe that Judaism is a gateway to ethical living and that the Torah is a medium through which we can gain wisdom and Truth. On the other hand, I don't believe that Judaism and the Torah are unique in these roles but rather are specifically efficacious and beneficial to those who identify with them. Why are there Jews? I don't know. But I believe that it's good for the Jewish people for us to be Jewish, and insofar as the Jewish people has a strong track record of "getting it right" in terms of ethics and spirituality, I'm proud to espouse the values of my religion. Yet being Jewish is neither necessary nor sufficient to being ethical, and if ethics are my ultimate priority (and my support of Judaism is a support of unification and ethical living among and outside of our people), should not ethics (or, religiously speaking, perhaps even "pure" spirituality?) outweigh Jewish identity?

I don't know.

Take the example I laid out during Wexner Post 3 about giving money to the questionably Jewish organization that I believed in. Why does Judaism have to enter into the equation at all? We might cede that Jews have a tendency to be more likely to be involved in social action/progress than a non-Jew (though I'm far from claiming that as an existential truth), but nevertheless, I would never feel comfortable making such a decision based on religion alone.

And yet, I also struggle with the notion that not only Israel's orthodox Judaism has an obvious, occasionally unjust bias towards Jewish identity. Also our very own movement has struggled and continues to struggle with this concept, as do I. Take marriage between Jews and non-Jews as an example of assumptive priority of Jewish identity. As of right now, the "official" position of the Reform Movement is as follows:

"The Central Conference of American Rabbis, recalling its stand adopted in 1909 that mixed marriage is contrary to the Jewish tradition and should be discouraged, now declares its opposition to participation by its members in any ceremony which solemnizes a mixed marriage. The Central Conference of American Rabbis recognized that historically its members have held and continue to hold divergent interpretations of Jewish tradition.

In order to keep open every channel in Judaism and Kelal Yisra-el [the Jewish People] for those who have already entered into mixed marriage, the CCAR calls upon its members:

1. To assist fully in educating children of such mixed marriage as Jews;

2. To provide the opportunity for conversion of the non-Jewish spouse; and

3. To encourage a creative and consistent cultivation of involvement in the Jewish community and the synagogue."

However, a statement given by CCAR president Harry Danziger in 2006 at the CCAR convention complicates the Reform movement's stance:

"I look back thirty-three years to the Atlanta convention of 1973, called by some the Battle of Peachtree. There after years of debate and too often acrimony, a ten line resolution was passed opposing officiation at intermarriages. Pamphlets and articles attacking one side or the other abounded. There were even threats of a split in the Conference as there had been before over Zionism.

Five years later, in 1978, Alex Schindler, zichrono livracha, proposed a comprehensive outreach program through which we turned our attention, not only to weddings – the beginning of a new household – but to outcomes – the nature of the family thus created.

In 1983, there were passionate divisions in this Conference over the proposed resolution on children of intermarriage, what has been termed “the patrilineal” resolution. The debate was intense. At the end, we broke new ground in response to new realities, and we proclaimed that, for us, the gender of the Jewish parents would not be the determinant of who is a Jew. Most of us came to live by it. Some still question it. That is part of who we are.

Move forward yet another eleven years. In 1994, in Philadelphia, I was invited to be part of a major program at the convention. Two rabbis and two lay leaders spoke. I was invited to speak on why and how I do in fact officiate at intermarriages. And the president of the Conference at that time, Shim Maslin, who deserves great credit for that program, was a leading proponent of the 1973 resolution. Beit Hillel – They studied and listened to the views of the other side.

This week we have workshops and programs that deal with how we respond to intermarriage, how we engage and involve, yes, and honor, the non-Jewish partner who lives as a Jew albeit without conversion – what some of us call a ger toshav – what I sometimes call a “common law Jew”. The official position may continue to be a ten line resolution in Atlanta, but the practice has become a consensus that there is more than one respectable way to deal with those issues."

So, in combining these two sources, we find that the Reform movement "officially" discourages interfaith marriages and, in the case of an interfaith marriage, encourages the raising of Jewish children, participation in the Jewish community, and the conversion of the non-Jewish spouse. Individual rabbis (including the president of the CCAR) may (and many do) disagree with any of these points and act according to their conscience. So there's an internal struggle in the movement about whether it's of existential value to marry a Jew.

What seems to be agreed upon is that a rabbi should encourage participation in a Jewish community and, ideally, the raising of Jewish children. A point of contention is whether a non-Jewish spouse should be encouraged to convert. Rabbi Richard Address, who was at the Wexner institute last month, told me that sometimes he's had non-Jewish members of his community angry because--in their perception--Rabbi Address was pushing them to convert; and he's also had members of his community angry because--in their perception--Rabbi Address wasn't pushing them enough to convert. Even on a personal level, this is a tricky situation.

But my question is: If a couple is raising their children Jewish and participating in the Jewish community, what value is there to the community for the non-Jewish partner to convert to Judaism? Obviously, if a person discovers a personal meaning in converting to Judaism, she should follow her convictions on whether to convert. But communally, what statement are we making by saying that, all other factors being equal, Jew A is more valuable to us than non-Jew B?

I can't ignore the fact that a Jewish identity is neither sufficient nor necessary for active participation in Jewish family or communal life. Nor can I ignore the fact that Jewish identity makes that participation significantly more accessible (or that an active non-Jewish identity can disrupt a family's Jewish participation). So, is emphasis on conversion a numbers game? "Sure, we agree that a non-Jew can raise Jewish children, but since a Jew is more likely to do so, we want as many Jews raising children as we can."

But that brings us right back to the original question (and please forgive me for traveling in circles; if it's not clear, this forum is largely an opportunity for me to work through complex issues) - Why be Jewish in the first place? Israel, the Jewish state, has done some terrible things. Jews all over the world act immorally and non-Jews act morally. What's the big deal?

Let's cut to the chase: I think that there is a big deal, but I can't back that up. I don't know where the feeling comes from, but I recognize that Jewish history is full of innovation and ethical progress that is worthy of praise. I also recognize that the Jewish community is like a family, and there's no necessary reason to be born into a family; one is simply a part of a family and inherently loves it. So, I suppose I have a blind love for the Jewish people and want to see us live morally and progressively in as many ways as possible.

Does that justify the following caveat in the HUC rabbinical school application?

"In addition to the above requirements, please note that applicants and their spouses, partners, fiancés or fiancées must be Jewish by birth or conversion."

In other words, if I admit to having a non-Jewish girlfriend, I won't be admitted into HUC.

Now, this statement doesn't define Judaism, nor was it ever mentioned during my entire application process. I have heard of students omitting the fact that they have non-Jewish partners and getting into HUC regardless (though as I understand, it generally doesn't happen that someone graduates from HUC with a non-Jewish partner). Nevertheless, the statement is there: Rabbis should have Jewish partners.

This is a topic I discussed with some Wexner Fellows in Stowe. Does a rabbi need to have a non-Jewish partner?

On the one hand, a congregational rabbi is meant to be a leader and example in the Jewish community. There are many Jews, one of my Wexner colleagues included, who would expect a rabbi's partner to participate fully in all congregational activities and have a strong Jewish identity that can be shared with the community. The rabbi's should be a model of a strong Jewish family, and the rabbi should be able to have an uncompromisingly Jewish household to raise children and welcome guests.

On the other hand, if I were talking about anyone else, I would continue to repeat that all those things can happen in an interfaith marriage. A non-Jewish partner can contribute to the Jewish community, participate in a Jewish household, and raise Jewish children. We often stress that rabbis are just like everyone else ... only with more specific knowledge about Jewish topics ... so why should the household of a rabbi be any different? If anything, a rabbi would be virtually guaranteed to have a Jewish household regardless of the religion (or non-religion) of the rabbi's partner, so a rabbi, in a way, could be given even more leniency to cohabitate with whomever she desires.

Furthermore, not all rabbis are communal leaders. Some rabbis become professors, work in Hillel, serve with non-profit organizations, teach at day schools, etc. Are we saying that a Jewish professor has to be married to a Jew if the word "rabbi" comes before (or after) the word "doctor" in his title?

Moreover, as I've mentioned, being Jewish doesn't necessitate that someone is going to be involved in a Jewish community. A rabbi could have a Jewish partner who is entirely disengaged from the Jewish community. If we are looking for Jewish engagement, perhaps there should be a "participation test" for the rabbinical school applicant's partner rather than a "religion test."

Ultimately, the question is: Are we comfortable with playing a numbers game with people's family lives? Are we comfortable saying that, because it is more likely that a Jew will raise a Jewish family, we should encourage Jew-Jew partnerships? I might be able to make that statement if I believed that being Jewish was an existentially superior state than being a non-Jew. I believe that being Jewish is special and unique and wonderful and should be promoted and supported. I believe that being Christian/Muslim/Buddhist/Sikh/Agnostic/Humanist/Unitarian/Alternative/Druid/Tribal/Hindu/Etc. is special and unique and wonderful and should be promoted and supported. I believe, ultimately, that being moral and promoting peace is the greatest value to be promoted and supported and that our focus should be on creating welcoming communities that foster positive interpersonal relations on all levels - familial, communal, and inter-communal.

It's a tough call, whether Jews should have a mission to promote Judaism. As a future rabbi (and according to my own beliefs), I say that Judaism should be supported and that it's generally a good thing for people (especially Jews) to involve themselves in a Jewish community. But, if someone is fulfilled by participating in another community and is going to work to bring peace to the world, I can only offer my blessings and wish them peace.

Student Visa: The Saga Continues

At the Ministry of the Interior today I waited for an hour in a hot room for my name to be called. One of the staff had not shown up to work and no one seemed to be clear on whose responsibilty it was to take over her appointments, so those of us who were supposed to meet with her didn't know how long we would have to wait before meeting with grouchy and begrudging staff members.
In the meantime, I saw all kinds of people go to their appointmens with all kinds of disappointments as a result - people who didn't speak Hebrew or English who couldn't fill out the forms, one very pregnant woman with a stroller who was four shekels short of the right amount of money to pay for her visa (someone on line gave her some money, which was nice) and people who were told they didn't have the right forms. I didn't see that many people coming away with visas successfully, so I knew I was in for something unpleasant.
I was right. The woman was impatient and impolite. She took my letter of admission and said, "What is this? This is not what I need." After much prodding, she explained that she needs a letter addressed to the Ministry of the Interior stating that I am a student at Hebrew University, not an acceptance letter addressed to me (which was good enough in the US and Canada to obtain a visa). She also requested a letter from a Rabbi stating that I am Jewish. This makes me quite angry as my program has no requirements that you have to be Jewish to study, so not only is it rediculous, it is completley irrelevant. In any case, she signed my forms and said I could come back without an appointment and give her those letters and pay the fee and she would give me a visa. I have trouble believing that it will be that easy, especially that it will be that easy to get in to see her without an appointment, but I guess I'll give it a shot. I e-mailed some folks at Hebrew University to inquire about getting the letter, and hopefully I'll hear from them soon. If not, I need to leave the country in early October so that I can get a new three month tourist visa.

Tel Aviv photos

You can see our photos by clicking here.

As Promised, Our Trip to Tel Aviv

Our trip to Tel Aviv began on Thursday afternoon when we packed up and made our way, via Egged bus, to the Jerusalem Central Bus Station - which is a madhouse on Thursday afternoons. After waiting on what seemed like an endless line, we finally got into the bus station, which is sort of part shopping mall and part bus station, bought tickets, and waited on line for our bus. We were pushed and shoved onto the bus in polite Israeli fashion, and sat down to enjoy the 45 minute ride, which went much faster than expected because of crazy Israeli driving.

We disembarked at the Tel Aviv Central Bus Station. Which is CRAZY. The Tel Aviv Central Bus Station is supposedly one of the biggest in the world. It contains floors and floors of shops, office, buildings, etc. and an entire Shuk. There were more shoe stores in the Tel Aviv Central Bus Station than I think I've ever seen in my whole life. Wikipedia tells me that it has more than 1000 shops and restaurants. We had a lot of trouble finding our way out - the building is seven stories tall and our exit was on the fourth floor, but we couldn't find any signs to indicate that it was there. We had to ask a few times, and eventually we found ourselves on the Tel Aviv streets.

We walked, backpacks on our backs like regular hostel-hoppers, to our hostel, Sub kuk Malega, where we dropped off our belongings before going out into the city for the evening. The hostel is located in a sort of less-nice area of Tel Aviv, but not far from the nicer areas and quite close to Jaffa. On the bottom floor it is an Indian restaurant. The front room has a few tables, and a buffet, and in the back patrons recline on sheet-covered couches while they eat their lentils and rice. The second floor is a guest-house lounge - one computer with comlementary internet, live music every night, couches, a pool table. The third floor is the guest house, featuring two bathrooms, a refrigerator/sink area, two private rooms, and a dorm room (where we stayed) full of bunk beds. The shower, we were surprised to find, was no more than a shower head with a drain underneath, in the bathroom - no stall or tub - and there was a squeegee-like mop to use to push the water toward the drain when you have finished your shower. Not exactly the Ritz, but it was a place to sleep. On the fourth floor, the roof, rows of couches were set up facing a large screen where they projected movies, and you could order food and drinks from the bar on the roof as well. It was a pretty hip alternative kind of place, and we were quite excited about it, despite the showering conditions.

We dropped off our bags and headed for the city, not going anywhere in particular, but hoping to buy a map and then decide. It took us a while to find the map but in the meantime we browsed through a series of stores with colorful skirts, a few bookstores, etc. We walked through Nachalat Binyamin Market, and had dinner at a fabulous hummus restaurant there - we shared hummos and salad, and it was definately excellent. After walking around a bit more, we made our way back to the hostel, where we watched James and the Giant Peach and The Nightmare Before Christmas on the roof, and then went to bed.

The next morning we were up bright and early - too early for the free breakfast offered by the hostel. We bought breakfast from a bakery on Allenby and then caught a cab to the Museum of the Jewish Diaspora. The museum presents the history of Jews from the Destruction of the Second Temple until today, in a thematic (non-chronological) fashion). It begins with sort of the basics of Jewish life - family and community, and describes community organizations as they existed in various communities, as well as the celebration of holidays and the life cycle. Next, it moves on to the idea of faith, and contains 18 models of synagogues around the world - we spent a lot of time there, gazing at synagoges of all shapes, sizes and colors. We learned about Jewish art, architecture, and literature around the world, and we went to the 'return to Zion' area which included a model set of two family trees - one sephardic and one ashkenazic - that demonstrated how some of these extended family members might have ended up in Israel. There was a memorial area to all of the destructive events of Judaism's past, and we spent a lot of time reading the "Scroll of Fire" which had 365 pages in memorium to tragedies of Jewish history. We also walked through a bit of ancient history, where Daniel tried to decipher some ancient Greek (it was all Greek to me). We didn't get to see all of the museum because we had to get going to our next adventure, but we did get to see nearly all of it, and what we did see we of course saw in great detail.

Our next stop was to Habima, the national theater of Israel, to see Joseph and the Amazing Technicolored Dreamcoat in Hebrew. We asked the taxi driver to take us to Habima, and he dropped us off by the Habima Quarter, where Habima used to be located, but, as we learned, is no longer found. We asked a number of different people including those inside the office of the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, but they couldn't help us. We were getting pretty nervous about the whole thing when Daniel called Habima (he'd conveniently written down the phone number before we left, just in case) and the person who picked up directed us on somewhat of a long walk - off of the small maps given to us by the hostel - to a new building where Habima now performs. We arrived just in time to pick up the tickets and sit down before the show began.

Habima was one of the first Hebrew language theater groups, founded in 1918 under the Moscow Art Theater. It left the USSR in 1926 and came to Tel Aviv for good in 1928. Since 1958 Habima has officially been considered the national theater of Israel.

The show we saw was excellent. It was so much fun because we knew all of the words in English already so it wasn't a problem that we didn't understand all of the Hebrew. In the Elvis scene the actors made fun of Americans quite a bit, mispronouncing Hebrew in American accents, etc. The production was colorful and energetic, the dancing and singing were fabulous, and we had terrific seats right near the front. We were very pleased with the whole event, and were only disappointed that they weren't selling CD's.

After the show, we walked to Beit Daniel - the center for progressive Judaism in Tel Aviv. We got there quite early, so we went to a restaurant and had some dinner beforehand. Beit Daniel is very large and the congregation was quite full with people of all ages in attendance. The cantor was for sure American and had a lovely voice, and sang familiar (American) tunes. A guitarist accompanied her, and the rabbi had a melodic, sympathetic, deep alto voice. The service on a whole was really quite lovely.

We walked back from Beit Daniel to the hostel by way of the beach - meaning that we basically walked the entire length of the city. The beach at night was a bustling place full of big fancy hotels and folks out and about enjoying the cool(er) weather (Tel Aviv is very humid and felt much hotter than Jerusalem). We arrived at our hostel quite late, and went to bed.

In the morning we decided to wait for the hostel's breakfast, which was to be served at 9:00. We sat at the tables in the front, I did a little homework, and we read together from my book of Israeli short stories. 9:30, and still no breakfast. Apparently the cook hadn't arrived yet - it seems that most people who stay in the hostel don't wake up as early as we do. At 10:00 we were served a delicious breakfast of fresh Israeli salad, cream cheese, laffa, cheese, apples, honey, and granola. Full and happy, we went on a walk to Jaffa.

We passed many many many closed stores, it being Shabbat, and were a bit discouraged. When we finally arrived at Jaffa, we realized it was definately worth it, as the view of the Tel Aviv beach was absolutely astounding. Jaffa is an ancient port city, inhabited by 7500 BCE, and is mentioned a number of times in the Bible, for instance it is the site where Jonah took a ship to Tarshish because he was fleeing G-d's command to go to Nineveh and tell the wicked people there to change their ways. King David and King Solomon conquered Jaffa and used it to import cedars for the construction of the First Temple. The Maccabees captured Jaffa from the Selucids, and the Romans burned it during the Jewish Revolt, killing thousands of inhabitants. It was in Christian hands until it was conquered by Arabs in 636 CE and served as the port of Ramla. Jaffa was captured by the Christians during the Crusades, and there was a lot of fighting there during that time. In 1268 it was captured by the Egyptian Mamluks, and in the 14th century the city was completely destroyed for fear of new Crusades. In 1799 Napolean captured and ransacked Jaffa. In the 19th century Jaffa was an industrial area known for its soap factories, and was also the center of book printing in Palestine. Jaffa also became a center for citrus growing. In the late-1800's and early 1900's the population swelled considerably and suburbs were built that in 1909 were reorganized into the city of Tel Aviv. In the early 1900's there were many Jewish residents in Jaffa, but in 1920 and 1921 Arab anti-Jewish violence caused many to resettle in Tel Aviv. In 1936 the Arab leadership of Palestine declared a general strike which paralyzed the economy of Jaffa, and as the uprising continued many Arabs hid in the narrow hiding places of Jaffa. As a consequence the British Royal Engineers blew up homes and buildings in Jaffa. During the Israeli War of Independance, Israeli forces took over the largely Arab city. Today, Jaffa is home to a heterogeneous population and the old city area of Jaffa has become a tourist attraction full of souvenir shops and art galleries.

Daniel and I gazed at the terrific view of Tel Aviv from Jaffa, and then, like the tourists that we are, we walked through art galleries, and gardens, and took lots of pictures. We particularly liked the Art Nova Gallery, which is full of soft art paintings - pictures made out of colored fabrics and fibres.

It was hot, and we were tired, so we made our way back to the hotel around noon, grabbed our belongings, and took a shared taxi home. We arrived in time for me to take my take-home mid-term before bed.

I had trouble putting pictures in this post, so they are in the next one. Enjoy!

Field Trip to Mt. Herzl

When we learned that we were to have a field trip today and that we were leaving from a coffee shop near to the campus, Paola and I arranged to meet before class to have breakfast at the coffee shop. It was lovely - I had tea with fresh mint and a piece of carrot cake, and Paola had a pastry with custard inside and a cup of coffee. We chatted for a bit and Francios, another student in our class, joined us as he finished his breakfast. We mostly talked about coffee shops - how they are different in America than Italy and France. In Italy, apparently, most people either sit and chat in coffee shops, or because most people drink espresso, they don't take their coffee to go but instead down it in one gulp before they continue on their way. So, there is nothing like in America where people walk around with their Starbucks cups to go. Apparently that does exist in France, but not with the same frequency as in America. Apparently in France still most people who get coffee do it in a social way to sit and linger, but in France it costs money to sit at an ice cream shop or a coffee shop, and the prices vary depending on where you want to sit. Francios says his favorite coffee shop in the whole world is in Venice. Incidentally the most interesting thing about the conversation, I think, was that it was all in Hebrew. I never cease to be proud that I can understand and participate in conversations in Hebrew.

The class piled onto a bus that took us to Mt. Herzl, a national cemetary on top of a hill where Theodore Herzl is buried, as well as several prime ministers, Zionist leaders and hundreds of soldiers who fell in the line of duty. Our first stop was to the Herzl museum (http://www.herzl.org/), which is a relatively new museum (I think built in 2007??). It is an interactive multimedia production that explains Theodore Herzl's life and Zionist vision. The exhibit is almost entirely in videos, and the videos were in Hebrew for us, so I'm not sure that I caught everything. The exhibit began in a room that is meant to look like Paris in the late 19th century. On one screen is a reenactment of the Dreyfus trial. When it concludes, another scene plays on the screen on the opposite side of the room. Here, a student acts out the role of Herzl, but his director (or stage manager?) doesn't think he is doing a good job and decides to tell him about Herzl's life and work in order that he can better act out the role. This conceit continues throughout the museum as it shifts between an actor trying to connect to Herzl and information about Herzl himself. In one room, we sat in between large plastic people in an audience in front of a grandiose stage at what was supposed to be the Basil Conference. In another room, we were in the auditorium for this actor's final performance. Also housed at the museum are Herzl's writing desk and a recreated version of his parlor room, as well as many of his personal affects. Although I didn't understand everything that was said, it seemed that the museum went through a sort of basic outline of Herzl's life in an aggrandizing way, using the words "dream" and "vision" quite often. It ended with a bit about Israel today and how Herzl's vision has come to pass, that despite all of the hardships that Israel has faced its existance is a triumph. So it wasn't exactly a neutral and non-ideological museum, but I thought for what it was it was quite well done.

A bit about Herzl in case you don't know - but as usual I am no expert and am not sure I understood everything that was told to me in Hebrew, so it's best to check with a book or some other more reliable resource if you really want to know something about him. The following is a summary of what I remember with some aid of the website of the Herzl museum: Herzl was born in 1860 in Budapest, Hungary to well-to-do parents who took part in the Enlightenment that was sweeping Europe at the time. His parents did not maintain traditional Jewish practice in the home, but Herzl and his father attended synagogue on Shabbat and the festivals, and Herzl had a bar mitzvah. In 1878 Herzl and his family moved to Vienna where Herzl attended the University of Vienna and became a doctor of law. There he experienced anti-Semitism in his fraternity and noted an atmosphere of increasing adherence to German nationalism and an increasing exclision of Jewish students from opportunities and student life. He practiced law for a short while before deciding instead to pursue a career in writing. He became a newspaper correspondant in Paris for a Vienna-based newspaper and in 1894 Herzl attended the trial of Alfred Dreyfus, a Jewish officer in the French army who was unjustly accused of treason. The anti-Semitic atmosphere that Herzl experienced in France, in which the Jew was increasingly becoming a symbol of corruption, immorality, and greed, strongly influenced him in the writing of his first book, Der Judenstaat (the Jewish State), which was published in 1896. In the book, which was in it's time quite controversial, Herzl wrote that the only way to solve the problem of anti-Semitism toward the Jews was for the Jew to have their own state. He had come to believe that Jews could not simply dispel anti-Semitism by becoming like their non-Jewish neighbors and that Emancipation had not succeeded in ending hatred of the Jews. Herzl also asserted that despite their scatterdness throughout the world, the Jews constituted one nation (language that mirrored the nationalistic sentiments of other 'nations' at the time). In contrast with other Zionists, Herzl believed it was important to gain legal recognition of the rights of the Jewish people in Israel before settling there. He contacted world leaders and philanthropists and worked to gain diplomatic ties and to receive a charter, which was granted by the Turkish Sultan. In 1897 Herzl convened the first Zionist Congress in Basel and in the same year he began the first Zionist newspaper, Die Welt, in Vienna. At the sixth Zionist Congress in 1903, Herzl proposed that the Jews settle and build a Jewish state in Uganda, but as this proposal threatened to split the Zionist community in two, he declared that this would merely be a temporary solution. Herzl passed away in 1904. In 1949 his body was reinterred on Mt. Herzl in Jerusalem, as he had requested that when a Jewish state existed in Israel, he wished to be buried there.

When we left the museum, our tour guide led us to Herzl's grave, which is a black square tombstone at the highest point on Mt. Herzl where the four letter's of Herzl's name in Hebrew are engraved starkly in gold against the black gravestone. We talked about the simplicity of the grave and how it is more important to remember the person, in Jewish tradition, than to memorialize with an elaborate grave.

From there, we visited the graves of a number of important people, including Jabotinsky, a right wing revisionist Zionist leader, Golda Meir, the fourth prime minister of Israel, and Levi Eshkol, the third prime minister of Israel. Each of these tombstones is simple, a black tombstone much smaller than that of Herzl that has the name of the dignitary, and other important information, but nothing ostentatious.

The grave of Yitzhak Rabin is somewhat different. Because Yitzhak Rabin was the only prime minister ever assasinated, and his assasination was such a powerful moment in Israeli history, his grave is marked by a larger and more dramatic monument. It is a semicircle of two parts - a black and a white. The semicircle symbolizes that Rabin did not live the length of his natural life, and the black and white in opposition to one another, with a space in between them, show the controversy and the atmosphere of disagreement in Israeli society that led to and followed his death.

We also visited the grave of Hannah Senesh, a Hungarian born Jew living in Palestine during the Second World War who was trained by the British military to parachute into Yugoslavia to help save the Jews of Hungary. She was arrested at the Hungarian border, imprisoned and tortured, and was executed by a firing squad. At her grave we sang a poem of hers, Halika l'Caesaria (Eli Eli), which his a very well know and oft-sung song.

We visited the graves of many soldiers, including those who perished in the Second Lebanon war. There was a group of soldiers also visiting the graves, and this struck me as very powerful - what must it be like as a soldier to visit the graves of soldiers, knowing that you might be buried in one yourself? We asked our teacher about it - what the soldiers were told and why they went, and she told us that soldiers in the Israeli army, especially in the past and less so now, consider it an honor to die fighting for their country, and that really these visits to grave sights were at least once considered motivational - that soldiers would want to fight and to be a part of the community of heroes, both living and dead, who fought for their country. Nevertheless, it felt deeply tragic to look from the photos that were placed on the graves of falen soldiers to the faces of living soliders with bowed heads mourning for the fallen and perhaps thinking of what might befall them as well.

We visited a memorial to the soldiers who faught in the War for Independance who were Holocaust survivors, many of them without surviving families. The tour guide told us that many of the bodies went unrecognized and are in graves without names because there was no one left who knew the names of these soliders. The monument looks like a deep hole, but the inside is shaped so that it also looks like an upside down house, because these soldiers' homes had been destroyed. It also looks like it could be a tunnel to Yad VaShem, the Holocaust Memorial that is closely connected to Mt. Herzl, and it demonstrates that these soldiers (and the establishment of Israel) are deeply connected to the events of the Holocaust.

We also visited a memorial to victims of terror, which included the names of all of the victims of terror since the establishment of the State of Israel.

Incidentally, as we walked from site to site, I overheard a Jewish student speaking to a Palestinian student about all of this - the Palestinian student had never heard of most of the figures whose graves we were visiting and did not know the history of Zionism at all, or really why Jews had come to Israel in the first place. I appreciated the mutually respectful conversation I overheard and was very proud that our class had created a safe space for such a conversation to occur, but I also think that this lack of knowledge (which I'm sure is absolutely reciprocated by Israeli lack of knowledge of Palestinian history/perspectives) illustrates the deep and tragic divides in Israeli society.

In sum it was definately an educational trip and it was nice to get out of the classroom and go somewhere. And, wonder of wonders, we returned in time to practice prepositions for an hour before ulpan let out!

Lecture in Ulpan

It's been a while since you've heard from me, for which I apologize. Largely, I've been busy with ulpan, especially since I had to get a lot of work done in advance of the weekend to accomodate our travel plans. I am very much looking forward to exploring Tel Aviv with Daniel, and we have sworn to take pictures to share with you - we can't believe we haven't taken any yet!

Today in ulpan we had an amazing opportunity to hear Israeli author Eli Amir speak (In Hebrew!!). Eli Amir has published four novels, three of which have been translated to English, and the fourth of which should appear in English translation in the upcoming year. The titles, in case you want to add them to your own reading lists (as I certainly do!) are: Scapegoat, Farewell Baghdad, Saul's Love, and Jasmine.

We read several sections, some in Hebrew-made-easy formats for children and new immigrants, and some from the book itself which were, needless to say, somewhat challenging, from Scapegoat (in Hebrew Tarnegol Kaparot, which refers to the tradition of slaughtering a chicken and swinging it over one's head to symbolically transfer one's sins to the chicken). Tarnegol Kaparot is the story of a boy from an Iraqi family who is sent to a kibbutz, and tells of his adjustment and absorbtion into Israeli society. The sections that we read involved the conflicts between his traditionally observant upbringing and the adamently secular nature of the kibbutz. In one section his parents come to visit and the main character, Nuri, brings them a chicken, a delicacy on the kibbutz, so that they can perform the tradition of tarnegol kaparot. The mother inspects the chicken and realizes that it was not slaughtered in a kosher way. The father throws the chicken away - not only does he not want to eat it or use it for his traditional practice, he does not want to give it to the members of the kibbutz as he does not want to aid in other Jews' non-kosher eating practices. In another scene that we read, all of the boys from Iraq are given new, Israeli names. Nuri, who is assigned the name Nimrod, refuses to rebell against his roots (Mered, the root of Nimrod, means rebellion) and insists upon keeping his own name. The boys have to adjust to the communal situations of living together, sleeping in the same room, showering together, etc., and also have to adjust to the secular nature of the kibbutz, where women wear clothing that is not traditionally modest, where men and women sleep in the same dorms, and where there is no synagogue to be found.

Eli Amir was born in Baghdad in 1937. He told us that when he was a child, he did not want to be a writer - in fact, he aspired to be a king. At the time, the king of Baghdad was in fact a child, and Amir described that every now and again the king would have a procession, where crowds would clap and cheer as he rode by with his beautiful crown and waved his hand slowly from side to side. One day, Amir decided that he was very good looking and would make a good king. To try it out he put on his father's hat, sat in a regal pose and waved his hand back and forth slowly. When his father came home he said, "Dad, I've decided what I want to be when I grow up!" and told his father of his decision to become the king of Iraq (which was at the time under the British mandate). His father agreed that this would be a very good idea, but not a likely one because in order to be king one had to be a Muslim. Amir replied that he would become a Muslim. His father said that this would not be good enough, as one had to be a member of the Hashemite Dynasty of Iraq (1921-1959). As this was not a possibility for Amir, he abdicated his potential throne.

Eli Amir told us a bit about the Iraqi Jewish community. I'll relate what I can to you, but you should know that this is not an area of history that I am very familliar with, so please don't take my word for it, and please correct me if I make any mistakes here. The Jewish community of Iraq was one of the oldest documented Jewish communities outside of Israel, dating back to the time of the Babylonian captivity. In the 1940's, the Jewish community of Iraq was one of the most prosporous Jewish communities of the Middle East, and was heavily intertwined with the non-Jewish population both through economic ties and through cultural and social interactions. Baghdad was the home of highly regarded yeshivot and was a center of Jewish learning, and Jews were also members of a secular intellectual class in growing numbers. Jewish writers composed in Arabic for the general public, and were involved in music, theater, and the arts.

After the establishment of the state of Israel, life became harder for the Jews of Iraq. As restrictions against Jewish and Zionist activity in Iraq increased, Israel organized Operations Ezra and Nehemiah, which were responsible for clandestinely bringing over about 120,000 people from Iraq.

Amir related that once they were in Israel, Iraqi Jews had a hard time fitting in. The once prosperous community arrived in Israel with only the clothes on their backs. They were settled into small temporary homes made of aluminum and asbestos and given jobs involving manual labor. Amir was separated from his family to live on a kibbutz with other Iraqi young people, where he would be educated to become a paradigmatic Israeli according to the ideology of the day. His novels are semi-autobiographical and reflect this history.

Amir told us that when he decided to write the story, he didn't really know what it meant to write a whole novel, and it took him fifteen years and seventeen drafts (hand written with a fountain pen) to complete his first work. He told us that one of the central themes of Tarnegol Kaparot as he sees it is that while in various points in time various groups of Jews have been seen or have seen themselves as the group that made the most sacrifices in order to be a part of Israel, but in the end everyone gave something up and made sacrifices to live in the land - Jews from the Middle East, Russians, even Americans, and so in a sense everyone is a Tarnegol Kaparot. He told us that he does not write in Arabic as he came to Israel when he was 13 and is more at home with the Hebrew language. However he maintains close connections to Arab culture, listens to Arab musicians, and reads in Arabic.

Amir was a very pleasant-seeming man and a fabulous speaker. He spoke in stories and anecdotes, slowly, evenly, and patiently, so that if we didn't understand all of the words we would still be able to follow what he was saying. It was a very interesting lecture and I'm so excited to have been able to understand it!

Give me liberty!

!תנו לי חופש

Well, I'm currently on break between ulpan and regular classes - that's why I've had so much time to write in the blog recently! Unfortunately, after updating about the Wexner Institute, I don't have too much to say!

I will include the update that Jessica and I are planning a trip to Tel Aviv for the weekend. We've already bought tickets for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat (in Hebrew!). We're thinking about going to a Reform synagogue called Beit Daniel for Friday night services, but aside from that, we don't really have any plans yet! Should be a good exercise in spontaneity.

I've been thinking a lot about various topics recently, but nothing major has come to mind to share on the blog. Maybe tomorrow (during my free hours that coincide with Jessica's ulpan) I'll put some considerable thought to the blog. For now, I think I'm going to go back to attending to a small fiction side project I've been kicking around for a few days. I'll post if anything significant happens with that.