!אני פה
Well, I made it to Jerusalem ... but it wasn't easy! My itinerary was as follows: Fly from National airport in DC to JFK airport in New York at 3:05 pm on Monday, July 6; 10-hour layover during which my friend Israel would come to the airport to visit; fly from JFK to Tel Aviv at 2:20 am on Sunday, July 7; arrive in Israel at 7:35 pm and take a sheirut (shared taxi) to Jerusalem, arriving home no later than 10:00; Skype-call home at 11:00.
Here's what actually happened: My plane was canceled, so I had to switch to a 6:15 pm flight out of Baltimore. That plane was delayed, so I ended up talking to Israel on the phone for an hour rather than having him visit me at the airport. The strap of my backpack broke after I checked it planeside, and I ended up on a near-empty sheirut that charged us extra to take us to Jerusalem after an hour of waiting for more non-existent customers. I got to the house at 11:15 pm, hastily set up the computer to let everyone at home know I was okay, and then I got to survey my surroundings. Impressions below.
Despite the balagan (craziness) of the trip, I had a very interesting and pleasant flight. I sat with two women, Nachami and Iris (pronounced the Israeli way: Eeriss), and before we took off, we were asked to switch to the emergency exit row right behind us ... giving us plenty of extra room but confusion as to who was supposed to get which meals (leaving me with a somewhat hastily thrown-together salad + bread/hummus for dinner). So, I was in pretty good shape legroom-wise, and I came to find Nachami and Iris to be perfectly pleasant traveling companions.
Iris is Israeli and "religious" (which is a general term usually used to refer to traditional or "orthodox" Jews). Nachami is also fairly observant and lives in New York. When I told them right at the beginning of the flight that I was going to be a Reform rabbi, Iris felt that she had to tell me how many Israelis (including herself) view Reform Judaism as illegitimate (my word, not hers) and a source of pain to her traditional community. During the flight, I told her that, in some ways, some Reform Jews are just as she sees them (totally unobservant of the mitzvot (commandments), occasionally defiant in the face of tradition, and condemnatory of certain practices) and yet some Reform Jews keep many mitzvot and find deep beauty and meaning in a tradition that they feel a natural part of. Iris stressed that she knows I am and always will be a "100%" Jew, and she hopes that I'll have an opportunity to learn more about traditional Judaism while I'm in Israel.
I agree that being in Jerusalem is a wonderful way to learn more about traditional Judaism, and I will strive to expand my perspective while I'm here. I must admit, though, that many aspects of traditional Judaism make me uncomfortable, the most poignant being the separation of genders, condemnation of queerness, and absolute reliance on the answers of the past. My challenge will be to try to find the truth in those practices, to understand why I am repulsed by them, and to see how I can incorporate that perspective with my liberal ideas in order to improve intra-Jewish (and inter-personal) relations.
Nachami also shared her thoughts about mitzvot, largely echoing Iris. However, she said there was room for pluralism in her theology, and Iris flatly told me that there is not room for pluralism in hers. Nevertheless, I found Iris entirely charming and Nachami an interesting representative of "American orthodox Judaism" (though she would never want me to label her, and I refrain from committing to a label here).
To contrast the in-depth conversations I had with Iris and Nachami, I'll share the experience I had with a Lubavitcher/Chabad rabbi. He approached me on the plane and asked me if I had wrapped tefillin yet that morning. I told him no, and he told me I would wrap with him, and the two women next to me would say "amen." I felt uncomfortable at being approached so forcefully and doubly so at participating in the marginalization of women, so I declined. He persisted, telling me we could go in private so no one would see. I refused and at this point had no interest in wrapping tefillin with him at all. He continued to pressure me, and I continued politely to refuse. Finally, he leaned forward to put a large black kippah on my head, and I forcefully said, "Hey. I said no." He backed up and told me to have a good day.
Iris and Nachami were silent, and I soon found that they both shared my discomfort at his behavior. Iris assured me that the Chabad community she tangentially participates in is much more friendly, much less pressuring than that rabbi. Nachami suggested that his approach was quintessentially Israeli and that Israelis respond to it and don't take offense to it. We returned to normal conversation after he departed.
Perhaps an hour later, the rabbi was back. He decided to use the space in front of the emergency exit as a davening position and would ask men as they walked by if they had yet wrapped tefillin. The only person who didn't pray with the rabbi was an older gentleman who had already done so earlier in the flight.
The rabbi at this point started to engage me in his wrapping of tefillin on the other men, strangely conversing with me rather than them most of the time. He asked me to say the amen for the blessings, and I did. He told me I had a special soul, that God loved me, that God sent him to me to give me a blessing (that I have a Jewish wife, family, and life), and that I was his special friend. In building up a relationship with him, strange though it was, I agreed to wrap tefillin with him, and I enjoyed the experience (though he read the prayers rather slowly, assuming that I wouldn't be able to follow him in the Hebrew). The rabbi gave me his card (that's how I know he's a rabbi) and told me he always has time for me and that I am invited to every Shabbat dinner he has. He taught me some interesting traditions regarding tefillin, and I felt good about the strange experience.
When another man, perhaps an acquaintance of the rabbi, stopped by, it came out in conversation that I was going to Reform rabbinical school. This man found that interesting (he's family friends with the authors of the new Reform prayerbook) ... and the rabbi also found that interesting. Having gained a new ally (i.e., me), he told me with glee that I would go to HUC as his shaliach (representative) with the goal, and I quote, "to take all of them out of there." There was no disambiguation necessary: He wanted me to learn how to be observant with him, and he wanted me to teach others. Now, naturally, I felt very uncomfortable about that, and when he next offered the blessing that I should have a Jewish life, I failed to say amen (though the women beside me supplied the word). Shortly after that, he went to take care of business elsewhere.
Iris rightfully noted that this man was "very brave" and direct and again reiterated that this was not average behavior for a Chabadnik. Nachami and she continued to stress how good his intentions were, and though I recognize that, it's hard to respect somebody who disregards my entire philosophy and theology without even discussing it with me. (Incidentally, I never shared any of my beliefs with Nachami or Iris, though they were probably evident with some of my questions. I was happy to hear their perspective, and they were more than happy to share it without asking for reciprocation.)
Overall, I thought the flight was enormously interesting, beneficial, and enjoyable - and I even got to see most of the movie 21, about which the Kirzners and I had been discussing at our beach vacation in May (I very much enjoyed it!). I believe that I'll close the post here; while certain interesting things have happened during my first day in Israel, they're best saved for another time (especially as I'm about to head out to a dinner where I will meet some of my 41 future classmates for the first time!). My best to you - until next time!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Jessica's First Post.
Hi Everyone!
I am writing from Toronto, where I am visiting my parents for the month. After the whirlwind of emotions and activity that came with graduation - packing up, saying goodbye, seeing family, going on vacation, etc. everything has finally settled into some semblance of routine, if only temporary routine. This is comforting, but while I am absolutely loving this opportunity to spend time with my parents, I am also longing to unpack my bags for one last time and finally be in Jerusalem.
It's easy for me to forget how much of an adventure a year in Jerusalem might be. I've spent so much time thinking about which clothing I will bring, getting excited about cooking for myself again, and wondering about banal things like whether I'll be able to purchase my vitamins in Jerusalem or if I should bring a year's supply, that I seem to have missed the big point. Which is that I'm not just moving far away, I'm moving to Jerusalem.
Last time I was in Israel, it was on a Taglit/Birthright Israel trip. It was the summer after my first year at UVA, and I traveled with students I didn't know well. I was shy, I was nervous, and I anticipated of being awed and inspired. I kept a painfully detailed diary (in lieu of talking to people and making new friends) in which I catalogued a series of emotions that I either felt or wanted to feel about each site we visited. Before I left for Israel, I gathered all of my expectations for myself and my trip into a bundle and packed them in my backpack so that I could take them out and force them upon myself each place I went. "I'm at Masada, so I should be experiencing the enormity of the place, wondering about what it means for me to be a Jew with religious freedom, considering the bravery of the Zealots..." I mapped these hopes onto the experience and in some ways I wonder if I ever allowed myself to recognize the emotions or thoughts I really was having, or if I covered everything over in these enormous hopes for my own emotional capacity and feelings of connectedness.
This time, I don't want to go into all of this already predicting and proscribing how I will feel about each experience or the level of awe with which I will approach my life in Jerusalem. Perhaps it will be an awe-inspiring trip to a place that makes me feel connected to the infinite, or to the majesty of history, or any number of things, or perhaps it will mostly be an every day life in a city where real people live, work, learn, and love. Instead of building up expectations that I later feel pressured to live up to, to the extent that it is possible, I want to experience the year as it unfolds and record, here, for you and for myself, an honest account of all of it, not clouded by how I want it to be or think it should be. I want it to be exactly what it will be, and nothing else.
Which is why writing this first post, here, from Toronto, is so hard. I wanted to say hello and welcome you to this blog where Daniel and I will try not only to keep you updated and allow you to experience some of our adventures with us, but also to record and reckon with our own experiences in order to deepen them through the practice of writing. But I also wanted to give you a hint of what to expect from me, that is to say, what I expect from myself. And yet, I am resistant to such expectations.
(an aside: please note, my casual writing style is one of enormous contradiction and ridiculous run on sentences. sorry.)
Underneath all of the expectations that I obviously do have, whether I want them or not, and beyond all of the details of where I'll be living, who I'll be meeting, and what I'll be doing, let me just say that I am excited. I know that I have so much to learn - about Israel, about Jerusalem, about Judaism... and I can't wait to get started. I've been reading a lot this summer to try to get a handle on what Jerusalem itself means and how I should think about it. I've read Philip Roth's The Counterlife and Operation Shylock, I've read Saul Bellow's To Jerusalem and Back and Michal Govrin's Snapshots. I imagine that some of the ideas these works introduced to me will find themselves back in this blog later in the year, as I experience some of the questions, contradictions, and hopes each of these works expresses. Despite this enriching reading list that's given me an opportunity to think about Jerusalem in new ways, I know that nothing will be quite as educational in so many different ways as actually being there. Living in Jerusalem.
I look forward to sharing my experiences with you. I hope that you will enjoy reading my wordy, confusing, roundabout prose (for which I, again, apologise). I also hope that you will post responses as you think of them. It will not only encourage me to write more, as I will know that someone is reading, but it would be great to hear from you in general and to read your responses when (if) I write anything that makes you think. I arrive on August 4. Until then, you shouldn't expect many posts on here from me because I won't be in Jerusalem, so "Journaling in Jerusalem" won't really be an option for me yet. But I will, of course, be reading Daniel's posts and I hope you'll comment on them - I look forward to your comments!
I am writing from Toronto, where I am visiting my parents for the month. After the whirlwind of emotions and activity that came with graduation - packing up, saying goodbye, seeing family, going on vacation, etc. everything has finally settled into some semblance of routine, if only temporary routine. This is comforting, but while I am absolutely loving this opportunity to spend time with my parents, I am also longing to unpack my bags for one last time and finally be in Jerusalem.
It's easy for me to forget how much of an adventure a year in Jerusalem might be. I've spent so much time thinking about which clothing I will bring, getting excited about cooking for myself again, and wondering about banal things like whether I'll be able to purchase my vitamins in Jerusalem or if I should bring a year's supply, that I seem to have missed the big point. Which is that I'm not just moving far away, I'm moving to Jerusalem.
Last time I was in Israel, it was on a Taglit/Birthright Israel trip. It was the summer after my first year at UVA, and I traveled with students I didn't know well. I was shy, I was nervous, and I anticipated of being awed and inspired. I kept a painfully detailed diary (in lieu of talking to people and making new friends) in which I catalogued a series of emotions that I either felt or wanted to feel about each site we visited. Before I left for Israel, I gathered all of my expectations for myself and my trip into a bundle and packed them in my backpack so that I could take them out and force them upon myself each place I went. "I'm at Masada, so I should be experiencing the enormity of the place, wondering about what it means for me to be a Jew with religious freedom, considering the bravery of the Zealots..." I mapped these hopes onto the experience and in some ways I wonder if I ever allowed myself to recognize the emotions or thoughts I really was having, or if I covered everything over in these enormous hopes for my own emotional capacity and feelings of connectedness.
This time, I don't want to go into all of this already predicting and proscribing how I will feel about each experience or the level of awe with which I will approach my life in Jerusalem. Perhaps it will be an awe-inspiring trip to a place that makes me feel connected to the infinite, or to the majesty of history, or any number of things, or perhaps it will mostly be an every day life in a city where real people live, work, learn, and love. Instead of building up expectations that I later feel pressured to live up to, to the extent that it is possible, I want to experience the year as it unfolds and record, here, for you and for myself, an honest account of all of it, not clouded by how I want it to be or think it should be. I want it to be exactly what it will be, and nothing else.
Which is why writing this first post, here, from Toronto, is so hard. I wanted to say hello and welcome you to this blog where Daniel and I will try not only to keep you updated and allow you to experience some of our adventures with us, but also to record and reckon with our own experiences in order to deepen them through the practice of writing. But I also wanted to give you a hint of what to expect from me, that is to say, what I expect from myself. And yet, I am resistant to such expectations.
(an aside: please note, my casual writing style is one of enormous contradiction and ridiculous run on sentences. sorry.)
Underneath all of the expectations that I obviously do have, whether I want them or not, and beyond all of the details of where I'll be living, who I'll be meeting, and what I'll be doing, let me just say that I am excited. I know that I have so much to learn - about Israel, about Jerusalem, about Judaism... and I can't wait to get started. I've been reading a lot this summer to try to get a handle on what Jerusalem itself means and how I should think about it. I've read Philip Roth's The Counterlife and Operation Shylock, I've read Saul Bellow's To Jerusalem and Back and Michal Govrin's Snapshots. I imagine that some of the ideas these works introduced to me will find themselves back in this blog later in the year, as I experience some of the questions, contradictions, and hopes each of these works expresses. Despite this enriching reading list that's given me an opportunity to think about Jerusalem in new ways, I know that nothing will be quite as educational in so many different ways as actually being there. Living in Jerusalem.
I look forward to sharing my experiences with you. I hope that you will enjoy reading my wordy, confusing, roundabout prose (for which I, again, apologise). I also hope that you will post responses as you think of them. It will not only encourage me to write more, as I will know that someone is reading, but it would be great to hear from you in general and to read your responses when (if) I write anything that makes you think. I arrive on August 4. Until then, you shouldn't expect many posts on here from me because I won't be in Jerusalem, so "Journaling in Jerusalem" won't really be an option for me yet. But I will, of course, be reading Daniel's posts and I hope you'll comment on them - I look forward to your comments!
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Welcome!
!ברוכים הבאים
Welcome to Journaling in Jerusalem, the blog I share with my girlfriend, Jessica. As she and I have been informing friends and acquaintances that we'll be spending the 2008-2009 academic year in Israel, people have continued to implore us to "Please keep in touch! Let me know what it's like living over there!" So, in order to do just that, Jessica and I decided to keep this blog. We will alternate posts and hopefully each of us will write two or three times a week. It's hard to say now what we'll be describing, but I certainly hope that you, our friends and family, will find it interesting!
I want to start with some initial thoughts about moving to Jerusalem from 3 days and 1 hour before my plane leaves New York for Israel.
Since I was in high school, I've been thinking about becoming a rabbi, and nothing I learned about the rabbinate, Jewish studies, or religious education deterred me from pursuing this path. For over five years, I've known that I'd spend my first year of rabbinical school in Jerusalem, and I've been excited about it for all that time. And it's amazing that the dream is finally about to crystallize into experience.
In some ways, I'm very excited about some things I can expect. I can't wait to accelerate my Hebrew conversation skills, and I'm extraordinarily excited about Shabbat services with rabbis- and cantors-to-be, especially as I haven't regularly attended Shabbat services in over a year. Although I've loved my work at City Year, I'm looking forward to getting back into the classroom and engaging fellow students in a scholarly dialogue. And I'm so thrilled to experience all of this with Jessica!
And yet, I know that there is plenty ahead of me that I can't be prepared for. I read today about a mass murder in Jerusalem, and when I read that the attack hasn't been shown to be politically motivated (and therefore couldn't yet officially be considered "terrorism"), my feeling about the incident changed. Why did I feel more strongly about a man who snapped and bulldozed over thirty innocent people to death than about a hypothetical suicide bomber who may have killed just as many? My feelings about Palestinian terrorism and Israeli security are complex but also muddled by lack of information and experience. How will my perspective change over the coming months of hearing the news from next door?
On a lighter note, I also don't know precisely what to expect from my classes. Will they be, as I hope, mostly in Hebrew? How much will be review of topics covered in my Jewish Studies major at UVA and how much will be stimulating freshness? Will my teachers be Israeli or American ... and does it make a difference? And how will I relate to my classmates, two thirds of whom won't be spending eighty percent of my matriculation with me? Mostly, I'm going to approach each of these situations as they present themselves without worrying ahead of time ... but the lack of surety remains a presence at the back of my mind.
And then there are all the practical considerations I can't ignore. First of all, I'm in the midst of packing. Perhaps I'm not stressed enough about this since I have the mentality of, "I'll take what I bring and use that. If I need anything else, I'll get it there." I'm used to being able to drive home if I forget or need something, but that obviously won't be a possibility this time. I'll try not to forget anything essential, but I can only wonder how successful I'll be given that I'm only allotting a day or two for packing for the entire year. And once I arrive, I'll have to figure out registration, books, cell phones, internet, health insurance, groceries, etc. I'll be seriously on my own as Jessica won't be arriving until early August. While on the one hand, it's scary to be facing all these challenges alone, on the other, I know that I only have myself to live up to right now, and I'm pretty easy to get along with. If the internet isn't up and running the way I need it to be, I can take the time to get it set up, and I'll figure out the book situation once I know what classes I'm in (even if this approach does end up costing me more money). For these practical considerations, I'm taking care of as much as I can ahead of time and waiting until I arrive for the rest. Be here now, and handle what you can. The rest will come at its own time.
But of course, all these concerns aside, there is so much more to look forward to over the entire year. I have two Wexner institutes in the U.S. (more about these later, most definitely), several trips throughout Israel, and a stimulating academic experience awaiting me. Through Jessica, I'll be able to meet students at Hebrew University and volunteers and employees at Yung Yiddish - thus, I won't necessarily have to stick within the Anglo HUC bubble. I want this to be an absolutely incredible year, and I'm excited about working to make that happen!
And I'm glad that you are here to watch it unfold with me. Please, leave a comment so we know who's reading and drop by whenever you'd like some news from the Holy Land!
Peace.
Welcome to Journaling in Jerusalem, the blog I share with my girlfriend, Jessica. As she and I have been informing friends and acquaintances that we'll be spending the 2008-2009 academic year in Israel, people have continued to implore us to "Please keep in touch! Let me know what it's like living over there!" So, in order to do just that, Jessica and I decided to keep this blog. We will alternate posts and hopefully each of us will write two or three times a week. It's hard to say now what we'll be describing, but I certainly hope that you, our friends and family, will find it interesting!
I want to start with some initial thoughts about moving to Jerusalem from 3 days and 1 hour before my plane leaves New York for Israel.
Since I was in high school, I've been thinking about becoming a rabbi, and nothing I learned about the rabbinate, Jewish studies, or religious education deterred me from pursuing this path. For over five years, I've known that I'd spend my first year of rabbinical school in Jerusalem, and I've been excited about it for all that time. And it's amazing that the dream is finally about to crystallize into experience.
In some ways, I'm very excited about some things I can expect. I can't wait to accelerate my Hebrew conversation skills, and I'm extraordinarily excited about Shabbat services with rabbis- and cantors-to-be, especially as I haven't regularly attended Shabbat services in over a year. Although I've loved my work at City Year, I'm looking forward to getting back into the classroom and engaging fellow students in a scholarly dialogue. And I'm so thrilled to experience all of this with Jessica!
And yet, I know that there is plenty ahead of me that I can't be prepared for. I read today about a mass murder in Jerusalem, and when I read that the attack hasn't been shown to be politically motivated (and therefore couldn't yet officially be considered "terrorism"), my feeling about the incident changed. Why did I feel more strongly about a man who snapped and bulldozed over thirty innocent people to death than about a hypothetical suicide bomber who may have killed just as many? My feelings about Palestinian terrorism and Israeli security are complex but also muddled by lack of information and experience. How will my perspective change over the coming months of hearing the news from next door?
On a lighter note, I also don't know precisely what to expect from my classes. Will they be, as I hope, mostly in Hebrew? How much will be review of topics covered in my Jewish Studies major at UVA and how much will be stimulating freshness? Will my teachers be Israeli or American ... and does it make a difference? And how will I relate to my classmates, two thirds of whom won't be spending eighty percent of my matriculation with me? Mostly, I'm going to approach each of these situations as they present themselves without worrying ahead of time ... but the lack of surety remains a presence at the back of my mind.
And then there are all the practical considerations I can't ignore. First of all, I'm in the midst of packing. Perhaps I'm not stressed enough about this since I have the mentality of, "I'll take what I bring and use that. If I need anything else, I'll get it there." I'm used to being able to drive home if I forget or need something, but that obviously won't be a possibility this time. I'll try not to forget anything essential, but I can only wonder how successful I'll be given that I'm only allotting a day or two for packing for the entire year. And once I arrive, I'll have to figure out registration, books, cell phones, internet, health insurance, groceries, etc. I'll be seriously on my own as Jessica won't be arriving until early August. While on the one hand, it's scary to be facing all these challenges alone, on the other, I know that I only have myself to live up to right now, and I'm pretty easy to get along with. If the internet isn't up and running the way I need it to be, I can take the time to get it set up, and I'll figure out the book situation once I know what classes I'm in (even if this approach does end up costing me more money). For these practical considerations, I'm taking care of as much as I can ahead of time and waiting until I arrive for the rest. Be here now, and handle what you can. The rest will come at its own time.
But of course, all these concerns aside, there is so much more to look forward to over the entire year. I have two Wexner institutes in the U.S. (more about these later, most definitely), several trips throughout Israel, and a stimulating academic experience awaiting me. Through Jessica, I'll be able to meet students at Hebrew University and volunteers and employees at Yung Yiddish - thus, I won't necessarily have to stick within the Anglo HUC bubble. I want this to be an absolutely incredible year, and I'm excited about working to make that happen!
And I'm glad that you are here to watch it unfold with me. Please, leave a comment so we know who's reading and drop by whenever you'd like some news from the Holy Land!
Peace.
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