day 1/2

Day 1:
Long and hungry. The day began nicely with a pleasant davening at Robinson's arch. I'd never been before and it was nice to pray near the wall, the site of the Temple, with both men and women in Tefillin. From there, our first surprise was the lack of breakfast, and from there we had many long meetings in Hebrew. I think we were thoroughly oriented and discovered the plans for the year.

Day 2:
We began the day at a Tali School in Maalei Adumim. We went through a checkpoint and apparently crossed the green line. It seemed just like the rest of the borders of Jerusalem, which is how the Israelis seem to consider it. I understand that some see it as an expanding settlement, but it seems like the natural expansion of a crowded city (Jerusalem).

The morning was awesome! We sat in lines outside while the flag was raised and songs were sung. After that we had a musical tefillah, where the children saw young people with tefillin--both men and women, which is a great example and a great way to start dialogue and change in this country. After that, I went to music class with second graders who knew ALL the lyrics to ALL the songs. They could sight sing. They recognized notes. It was amazing. After that they had recess/lunch/Israeli dancing. Once I get my connection cable from New York, I'll post lots of fun pictures related to that.

A note on the Tefillah--it was interesting to learn a little baout the connections and disconnections of Tali and the Masorit movement. There were definitely some progressive elements in the religious education atthe school, yet the tefillah in the morning included the boys saying shelo asani isha, praying thanks that they were not made as women. For the silly statement of the day: it is interesting how Judaism is so similar and different around the world.

Shabbat and day 0

As tomorrow is day 1 of orientation, and it begins far too early in the morning, I'm going to write in bullets.

Bereshit

• not in THE beginning
• in A beginning
• or as NJPS says "When God began to create heaven and earth"
• as such, Gd could have created many iterations of Earth--see Anathem by Neal Stephenson for an interesting book on such a subject (http://www.amazon.com/Anathem-Neal-Stephenson/dp/0061474096 or http://www.nealstephenson.com/anathem/)
• seems appropriate that we begin orientation for a new program the day after we read about beginnings
• Question regarding Original Sin--which is not a remotely mainstream Jewish concept--if Gd created Adam and Eve without the capacity to know right or wrong, how could Gd punish them for making the "wrong" choice, for eating from the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. It would only be after eating the tree that they would have the capacity to make a rational choice. Seems like Gd set them up to eat from the tree. It would be pretty boring for Gd if they didn't eat. It would be like little Adam/Eve robots doing whatever they were programmed to do, interesting for 10 minutes, then kind of boring.
  
• tree of knowledge of good and evil--predestination before, free will afterwards?

Shabbat

• ok service at Shira Hadasha (http://shirahadasha.org.il/)
• it's currently meeting at hartman, in the beit midrash
• as i was soaked from the rain on the way over (suppose geshem worked), i stood through services, standing right next to a shelf with various sefarim, including talmud yerushalmi
• using british authorised siddur to daven, saw reference to talmud yerushalmi regarding the 29th psalm about the 7 kols (voices) of Gd in the psalm (http://www.amazon.co.uk/Hebrew-Daily-Prayer-Jonathan-Sacks/dp/0007200919)
• attempted to look up reference, stymied since the yerushalmi was a different edition and paginated totally differently
• was told by gabbi that it was time for prayer, not gemara--looked blankly at him for a moment before understanding what he was reprimanding me for in hebrew
• amused, since i was trying to create a meaningful prayer experience for myself, thinking about a psalm which if i remember correctly from bible at Brandeis, is the oldest psalm and most likely originally a paen to Ba'al, so trying to discover how the rabbis imbued it with meaning would be a pretty good thing to be doing in a time of prayer :-P

Shabbat morning

• davened on my own in playground/park at end of 29th of Nov. street.
  
• also did a bit of yoga
• was excited to hear a gentleman calling his children up for "aliyot" while he leyned (read) the parsha (weekly Torah portion) from a tikkun (bible written in torah's columns with vowels and without to assist with preparing the Torah portion)
• what a great way to teach children!
• enjoyed my time alone, peace, quiet, Shabbat
  

Shabbat afternoon

• many guests and great conversation

Shavua Tov!

Chag and Chol Sameach

I am on the sermon list of my fiancee's rabbi from Long Island. I want to share a couple thoughts of his (along with my own take on his words) from this week's Yizkor. Italics are his.

While questioning the number of holidays in the month of Tishrei, he noticed that there is beauty in having the holidays so close together. That each holiday represents a season of our lives and that together, they force us to examine the course of our lives in just a few short weeks.

We read the Book of Ecclesiastes at this time of year. It was Kohelet who said that there is a time and purpose for every season. We know these words so well; they’re the basis of a popular song by Pete Seeger and one of the most frequently quoted passages in the Bible. In a few minutes, we’ll begin Yizkor with the words of Kohelet.

For everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;

A time to plant, and a time to pluck up;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

A time to break down and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

A time to mourn and a time to dance;

A time to cast stones away and a time to gather stones;

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to seek and a time to lose;

A time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend and a time to sew;

A time to keep silent and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate;

A time of war and a time of peace.

If there is a time and season for all things, then Yamim Noraim is a season for experiencing life in all of its fullness.

The Season of our life begins with Rosh Hashanah. We say: Hayom harat olam, “today is the birthday of the world.” The Yamim Noraim begin with birth, creation and hope. The New Year brings great promise and many possibilities. We speak of renewal and change during this season because this holiday reminds us of the constant possibility of return and repentance.

Rosh Hashanah is a day when we prepare to begin again. We think about our past and plan for the future. We consider the present.

Rosh Hashanah is followed by Yom Kippur. For most children this is the holiday that epitomizes the beginning of adulthood. They know that they will be expected to fast on Yom Kippur when they reach the age of maturity. But on a deeper level they also understand that with adulthood there are consequences as well as new responsibilities.

As we grow older, Yom Kippur remind us of our mortality. This is the day on which we encounter death. We stop eating and drinking for 24 hours and engaging in the normal activities of life. We wonder whether or not we will be worthy of another year of life. Will we be given a chance to try again? Will God wipe our slate clean?

On Yom Kippur, we think about our past and we consider the goals of our life. We are reminded that having an end of life gives life an imperative. If we were to live forever, we could drift aimlessly, knowing that there is always tomorrow. On Yom Kippur, we are reminded that tomorow is not guaranteed. We recognize the fragility of our lives and question if we are doing right for ourselves and the world. As such, we plan for the future, knowing we have not been perfect, but knowing that we have the opportunity to make ourselves who we wish to be.

Yom Kippur gives way to the exuberance of Sukkot. Having entered adulthood and encountered our mortality, what do we do? We build a Sukkah. Even though this dwelling is temporary and fragile (like our lives) we rejoice in the presence of God. We give thanks for life’s everyday blessings. Sukkot is all about the journey. Like our ancestors who journeyed through the wilderness for forty years on their way to the Promised Land, we now are ready to embark on our own life journey. We do so fully aware that life is fragile, uncertain, and unpredictable. Still there are small pleasures to be found in the common place and the everyday. Unlike Passover and Shavuot, Sukkot is not about ‘great miracles’ and ‘wondrous events’ but the everyday pleasures and the joy of simply making the journey. Forty years represent the years between maturity and old age.

We consider the present

And then Shemini Atzeret arrives. This holiday reminds us that winter is coming and that the rain is about to begin. This holiday is a reminder of old age. Maybe that’s why some people read Ecclesiastes on this particular day. We have made the journey from birth and childhood, to maturity and adulthood, and now into old age. Like Kohelet we find ourselves asking: Is that all there is? What is life all about? What does a person gain through all the toil in which he engages? Life passes in the blink of an eye and we find ourselves spending more time visiting the doctors than engaging in life’s pleasures. Is it any wonder that we recite Yizkor on this particular day?

But Shemini Atzeret is not meant to be a somber or a hopeless day. Even in old age there is reason to rejoice! We celebrate it with intimacy: the sages compared this day to the final celebration in which the king asks his best friend to stay on after all the other guests have left. It’s the day on which we make peace with ourselves and stop striving to conquer the world.

Shemini Atzeret gives way to Simchat Torah, the day on which we mark the completion of the Torah and its beginning. We read about the death and burial of Moses but we also chant, “In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth...” Life is more than just a beginning and an end; there is a constant cycle of renewal and rebirth. With each loss comes a new life. There is something comforting in knowing that others will pick up where we have left off; that the cycle of life will continue even if we’re not here to participate in it.

Sometimes it’s hard to see this cycle. We are so caught up in the present that we do not see ourselves as part of something larger and more enduring. The death of a loved one leaves us lonely and hurt. Every loss seems like an injustice. Who said that life came with guarantees? That is really Kohelet’s message: there are seasons for all things in life, whether we like it or not. Some are pleasant and some are not so pleasant. Old age and illness are as much a part of life as birth and love. To have faith is to recognize that God is as present in one set of experiences as He is in the other. By celebrating the entire cycle of life in just three weeks we remind ourselves that there is more to life than the present moment; that we never journey alone.

In other news, delivered my sister to Har Nof yesterday. That was following a driving trip to idigital outside Tel Aviv, in Ramat Alon. I rented a car from Jerusalem, drove across the country and managed to drive safely among many people who do not choose to drive in such a way. It seems that speed limits, traffic lights, traffic regulations, and signs are all optional in this country. In short, made it across the country safely, navigated a traffic jam on the 1 and the craziness of Jerusalem AND returned the car before the close of business.

Har Nof is an attractive suburb of Jerusalem. According to wikipedia:
"The overwhelming majority of the residents of Har Nof are Orthodox Jewish or Haredi. Many are recent olim. The neighborhood has a large community of English-speaking olim, including a small group of Bostoner Hasidim, as well as notable French-speaking and Spanish-speaking communities. There are also communities of both Ger and Vizhnitz Hasidim, as well many Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews. The former Sefardic chief rabbi and leader of the Shas party, Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, lives in Har Nof. Spiritual leaders of the Ashkenazi Haredi community who reside in Har Nof are the Bostoner Rebbe, Grand Rabbi Levi Yitzchak Horowitz, Rabbi Moishe Sternbuch of the Edah HaChareidis, and Rabbi Yitzchak Mordechai Rubin of Kehillas Bnei Torah" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Har_Nof

I am amused to find out the Bostoner Hasidim are there, since they were the ones that did the kashrut at Brandeis (in my understanding). I also love that there is a group of Hasidim called the Bostoner Hasidim. I know they are in Boston and I know that the other group is in Har Nof.
It was fascinating to drive around the neighborhood and see Meah Sharim has expanded.

Speaking of Meah Sharim, I went there today and got some books for school.

I think I will probably edit this again later. I've been trying to get photos on facebook and shutterfly but neither have been really cooperating. Israeli internet is not like TimeWarner--which really isn't saying much.

did i mention?

I think I got distracted discussing the church and forgot to mention davening at the Kotel. I heard the Torah reading in the afternoon, reminding me that we are about to finish the Torah.

It is exciting to know that we are about to being the Torah cycle again. How amazing is it that every year we get the opportunity to begin anew? We just had Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur where we hoped for and felt that we received atonement for our sins. After that we are now amidst the holiday of Sukkot, where we are commanded to rejoice. We are forced into highs and lows of emotions in a very short period of time, forcing ourselves to consider our lives and look forward to the future. We think about what we could have been and plan for a better future.

In that vein, today I picked up my phone at Schechter. It was a nice walk up the hill to Schechter. It is a pretty decent sized hill. I've heard it was a mountain, which it seems like, depending on one's perspective. Overall, not a bad walk.

I also visited Meah Shearim, except it and Geulah were closed--or at least all the book stores in those neighborhoods were closed. Only in Israel would people take a vacation at a semi-logical vacation time, neglecting the fact that there are tons of tourists would love to buy stuff and sefarim from them!

Also today: managed to fill out paperwork for health insurance, picked up kosher Burger King, bought a couple books for school, took a nap, watched West Wing, tried Schnitzi's (also yummy) and now more West Wing. Oh happy day.

The most important happiness of today is the 25th birthday of my love! Happy Birthday!!! I love you.

Shabbat and WEST WING!!!

This is going to be a good year. One of the roommates got the entire series of West Wing as an anniversary present. We will be watching it over the course of the year-or the next month.

Shabbat was lovely. Haven't yet made it to Israeli shuls or minyanim, but had lovely dinner in a classmates sukkah--and then a nice lunch at the CY sukkah. Haven't seen the Fuchsberg Center since it was under construction and it is beautiful.

After re-meeting some of my classmates, walked to the Old City and the Kotel. If I do it tomorrow, I might have to go every day, good thing that isn't the real defintion of hazakah! While I'm not sure that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre has more kedushah than anywhere else in Jerusalem, it is clearly a moving and powerful place. As we were about to walk in, we were instructed to step aside, as there was a procession of priests, including what seemed to be the Patriarch, which one, I'm not sure, but he looked very impressive.

According to the Jewish Virtual library:
http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Archaeology/church.html
"Since the Crusades, the precincts and fabric of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher have come into the possession of three major denominations: the Greek Orthodox, the Armenian Orthodox and the (Latin) Roman Catholic. Other communities - the Egyptian Coptic Orthodox, the Ethiopian Orthodox and the Syrian Orthodox - also possess certain rights and small properties in or about the building. The rights and privileges of all of these communities are protected by the Status Quo of the Holy Places (1852), as guaranteed in Article LXII of the Treaty of Berlin (1878)."

A kind AJU classmate pointed out a later that has remained in place under a window since 1852, because of this treaty. While it seems farfetched, it is pretty cool, nonetheless. Did they have metal ladders in 1852?

What kind of world do we live in where a ladder has to remain in place for 156 years?

I greatly admire the fact that a truce has been called and prevents people from fighting, but would the truce be dissolved if the ladder would be removed? Would it be a slippery slope?

Funny, it seems that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is heading towards a similar solution. The governments seems to be trying to do the same. I suppose we'll find out if that's a good plan, although it seems to have somewhat worked for the church.

Of course, the church also has a leaking roof and backed-up sewage issues, since they cannot agree on who must pay for the repairs.

Who would pay for repairs of Israeli infrastructure if they do a status quo treaty?

Betzelem Elokim. If we all believe in Gd? Why can't we all believe in that?

day 0

Flying El-Al was an adventure. I enjoyed a pleasantly smooth flight with a very upset 18-month-old behind me. I think he was crying for approximately 85-90% of the flight. He also was simultaneously kicking my seat. The parents either didn't care or made just as much noise "attempting" to calm him down--mainly--"you take him," "no, you take him." There was no walking him around the plane, no attempt to see if his ears were hurting or if had other pain, just complaints back and forth between the parents about whose responsibility it wasn't to take care of the poor child.

All in all, I discovered new reserves of patience (as well as abilities to complain and discuss poor parenting with the lovely Baltimorian woman next to me). I somehow managed to sleep for a good portion of the flight, but it was still not enough. I know this is true, since my sister came by to visit twice and I was only awake for one visit, or so she tells me.

After some more adventures with luggage, I succeeded in getting some Israeli money and finding my sister's rabbi, who kindly drove us to Jerusalem.

After a burger at the burger bar, time to retire for the night.

Tomorrow will require shopping for electrical adaptors, pillows, food, and Israeli soap.


Since this blog is called itorah, perhaps a little Torah is called for.

As Rabbi Mark Greenspan of Oceanside Jewish Center spoke the first days of Sukkot, a sukkah is a fragile structure,, much like our faith. It is something that must continually be rebuilt as our assumptions our challenged. Sometimes we have to step outside of it altogether when the weather gets too rough. In the end though, we must return and rebuild anew, strengthening the walls, and adding a new roof each year.

The sukkah is truly a beautiful metaphor for faith. As someone who regularly struggles with faith and doubt, continually striving to make the leap, I see the beauty in Sukkot. Throughout the regional community in biblical times, people built huts during the harvest to keep an eye on their crops and to allow them to work from sunrise to sundown. Jews are commanded to remain in their Sukkot, to build their Sukkot, immediately after the logical time, after the harvest, when every one else was taking down their dwelling places. In this way, they demonstrated their faith in Gd, who truly provides all. The act of building a Sukkah is a supreme act of faith--especially in places outside of Israel, where the weather is even more unpredictable--Sukkot at Brandeis was almost always a chilly (and often wet) experience--yet year after year, we keep building Sukkot, even if we are sometimes cold and wet. This persistance is also beautiful.

For me, faith is not something that has occured over night. It is a process. One I strive to continue daily. It waivers, it falls, it fails, but hopefully I continue to build it up again.

For me, this is one of the beautiful aspects of chaplaincy work. Working with people in times of crisis, we get to help rebuild their sukkot, or help them feel the rain and decided whether to go inside. What a wonderful opportunity.

ps I saw Grey's Anatomy last week and was quite impressed by Meredith's psychologist in the elevator, telling her that she still had work to do and it was not about being happy in such a difficult world, but recognizing and appreciating the difficulties of the world, and still living in it.

The journey begins. . .

Today I left my summer digs and went to my fiance's parents for the start of Sukkot. In honor of the year (7 months) I will spend in Israel, I am creating the blog to share Torah-thoughts and other thoughts I find interesting over the year.

Will this be a daily writing practice? A written meditation? A weekly parshanut discussion? Will I join Rashi or Rambam or Rashbam in the annals of history and Jewish texts? Do I have any such ambitions?

Will I reflect on theology or my theology? Gillman? Tucker? Kaplan? Heschel?

I honestly do not know.

For know, I am trying not to begin missing my friends and loved ones before I even leave.

The last few weeks have been like slowly pulling a bandaid off. This Wednesday night, the last remnants will be removed. Will it be a sudden sting or a slower tearing of my heart?

We shall find out.

For now, a holiday when I am commanded to be happy, in a Sukkah I helped build, with my sister and my fiance and her parents. It should be lovely.

I am excited and terrified, terrified and excited. My enthusiasm is currently in hiding, but I hope to bring it out soon. I think that is exactly how I should be.