Tel Aviv

Jerusalem is a wonderful city, but it is in no way indicative of Israel as a whole. There’s a phrase that “while Jerusalem prays, Tel Aviv plays.” Or, as Antonio put it after our day in the Tel Aviv area, “Tel Aviv is a modern metropolis. Jerusalem’s just weird.”

So after a lovely evening of feasting on cheeses, olives, wine and chalva [sweet candy made from sesame seeds] with Jonathan, Antonio, Jaimee, Helayne, and Helayne’s two sisters, we got up early to go to Tel Aviv. My father picked us up from the central bus station, and we all went to an arts fair held twice-weekly next to the Tel Aviv shuk. From there we drove to Chetsi Chinam in Rishon Letzion, a HUGE grocery store where you can get anything you want. Picture a Food for Less ten times the size, or a huge Costco where you can buy things individually, not just in bulk. The variety is incredible – there are separate delis for cheeses, salamis, fish, and the dairy aisle alone is about the size of a football field, no joke. While my dad went shopping, the three of us wandered and reveled in glory.

After that was lunch at Avazi, one of my favorite restaurants in old Jaffo. I may have shown people some pictures from last year when we went there – it’s the place that makes its own Iraqi pita in a clay oven, and they serve 13 little salads as an appetizer before they get to the main meal. After a salad variety of at least four eggplant dishes, two types of cole slaw, cabbage, egg salad, humus, techina, etc, we all feasted on skewered meat: I got kabab (ground beef), Jonathan got chicken and beef shishlik (barbequed meat), and Antonio got – wait for it – turkey testicles!! He said that it tasted odd. I can only imagine – I wasn’t brave enough to try it myself.

Lastly we went up to Herziliyah (sp?) to Cinema City. Reflecting its name, it’s a huge structure housing 20 movie theatres, one of them with a screen as big as an IMAX. There are restaurants and shops there too, all built around the theatres, plus a whole bunch of cool wax figures. We saw Happy Feet, which was cute. Pictures of Chetsi Chinam, Avazi, Cinema City, and the snow from two days ago are HERE.

The best part was the cab ride back to the Tel Aviv Central Bus Station, where we picked up our sheirut (10-person taxi) home. I’m making conversation with the driver, asking him his name, telling him that we’re on our way back to Jerusalem, etc. Then he asks what we do. Jonathan and Antonio are easy – Jonathan works in computers, I say, and Antonio travels around selling things (close enough, I figure). But I’m more difficult – the majority of the time I tell someone in Jerusalem that I’m a rabbinic student, I get a negative reaction. But I decide to risk possible backlash, and I tell him, “I’m studying to be a Reform rabbi.”

“Reformi???” he asks, incredulous. “Ken,” I say (yes), “it’s different in America than it is here.” That started off a 20-minute conversation that was well well worth the 85 shekels for the cab ride. We talked all about Judaism, how much rabbis get paid, what my parents think. He asks if I know the story of my name, Michal, and her relationship to King David. He says how David loved her, and arranged for her husband to divorce her so he could marry her. Yes, I say, it’s like the story of David and Batsheva. He isn’t familiar with it, so I launch into the story of him seeing her in the bath, sending her husband off to the front, and Solomon’s birth. What’s so funny is that this is all in Hebrew, and I can’t remember how to say everything, so I'm improvising (e.g. I don't know how to say “the front,” so I say, “not the back, not the middle, but where people die in a war.” He laughed and got it.) Antonio and Jonathan, in the meantime, are cracking up at our quick Hebrew and the fact that we constantly are interrupting each other – only in Israel would a customer and a cab driver be exchanging and interrupting each others' Biblical stories.

When we get close to the bus station, he starts to slow down, and he says that I’ll make a good rabbi. “From today on I’m Reform!” he proclaimed. “You drive on Shabbat, your husband doesn’t have a [black] hat or payes [hair side curls] – you’re so nice, and Jewish. If all Reform is like you, then I am Reform!” And he kept going on about it, until we left the cab. On the way home Jonathan told me mazel tov - because I'm barely a semester into the rabbinate, and I already have my first convert. :)

Photos from Old City ramparts

Click below to see pictures of our Old City rampart walk (walking along the edges of the walls). We also have a few pics of the Arab shuk. The pictures of the Dead Sea and Masada are on their way.

Click me.

Petra

Well, Antonio and I went to Petra. It was in fact supposed to be Michal, Antonio, and I, but Michal got sick and had to stay at Savta’s while Antonio and I ventured off. It was a harrowing story involving me almost not being able to get out of the country (visa status problems) our bus catching fire, and me almost not getting back into Israel (same stupid visa status problem). I really wanted to tell Michal that the trip was horrible so she didn’t feel bad for not being able to come with us, but alas, Petra was truly an awesome experience. It is impossible to capture in pictures just how overwhelmingly magnificent these structures are. I have tried to take pictures of people next to the buildings whenever possible, but even then these images pale compared to the magic and majesty of being in Petra.

I would have written more on this, but I think this is an experience best shared with pictures. Please click on the link below and read the comments to see what it is like to see Petra.

Petra Pictures

IT IS SNOWING.

Big, fat flakes.

I am cold.

The end.

Oy my feet hurt!

Sunday started out beautifully – I woke up at 10am to the smell of eggs and butter. Jonathan had fixed us eggs, pita, and sliced persimmons for breakfast, and even fried malawach (a Yemenite crepe-like pastry we're fond of) for dessert.

One thing I must recommend to anyone coming to Jerusalem is to walk the ramparts across the walls of the Old City. You get a birds-eye view of the whole city, including the Arab and Christian quarters. After we ate we walked to the Old City, and lo and behold, who did we meet but a professor from HUC who was giving a tour in Russian. We followed his tour for a bit, and from the walls we saw the Vatican headquarters in Jerusalem, the Arab market, tons of stray cats, and children playing in a playground right next to ruins of Crusader soldier barracks.

Random things: the level of the ground used to be over 10 meters lower than it is now, so now the wall is sometimes barely above the ground. We could see outside the city walls, and I now understand why Jerusalem was always attacked from the north – that's the only side where there's no valley around it, just more city (the Arab section I had never been and probably won't go to.) The Arab buildings have cots on the roofs, because in the summer people sleep outside since it's so hot. Here in winter they sell corn on the cob on the streets, it's this country's version of nuts.

After the ramparts we walked around the Armenian quarter. We went into an Armenian church, they were doing a Nativity play! Duh, I thought, I'd forgotten it was Christmas Eve, and a little boy was standing on stool, he was the angel Gabriel talking to Mary.

We started to go down the Via Dolorosa and saw the Church of Flagellation, and then the prison where Jesus was held. Antonio freaked when we opened a door and it led out to a backyard, and socks were hanging on part of an ancient wall. "They live in the prison of Christ!" he muttered. "I could never grow up in this city, it would be too weird!"

We never made it farther on the Via Dolorosa – we followed an interesting looking monk to see where he was going, and then got sidetracked. We ended up wandering through the Arab shuk, and bought fabulous baklava. Then we went back through the touristy part from yesterday. We also stopped by a place that sold antiquities to ogle the merchandise – you can buy real oil jugs and other artifacts that date from the Canaanite period to King Solomon to Roman. We couldn’t afford anything though, so vowed to come back when we had more money.

After leaving through Jaffa Gate, we schlepped to modern Jerusalem for dinner, and introduced Antonio to shwarma. Picture a hunk of meat roasting on a rotating vertical skewer – you slice some off, stick it in a pita with humus and vegetables… delicious.

After dinner we headed home to hang out and relax for a few hours. Jonathan was tired at 10pm, so Antonio and I went to the Scottish church to meet other HUC students for Midnight Mass. Mass at Christmas is a huge tourist event here – unlike the States, which is 2% Jewish and mostly Christian, Israel is mostly Jewish and only 2% Christian. All the churches know that it’s tourism day, so they pull out all the stops.

But it turned out that the Scottish Church was Presbyterian and very liberal, not traditional Catholic like we'd been hoping for. So we skipped out and wanted to go to the Church of the Dormition, where Mary supposedly went to sleep and up to Heaven. We were told it had "costumes, smells and bells" which was exactly what we wanted. But the directions we got were "follow the road down into the valley, and follow it back up again to the hill." But what do we do when at the bottom of the hill there's a freeway, a bridge, and a fork in the path? Needless to say, we got a bit lost and ended up by the Jaffa Gate, the entrance near our house. After hailing a cab and going to the New Gate, we finally got the driver to go where we wanted, to the *Zion* Gate and finally the church.

Inside we were greeted by a monk in robes. The church was amazing, a mosaic floor of the calendar with zodiac and Biblical figures. Every alcove was tiled, the ceiling was immense and above the altar was Mary and Jesus. Everywhere was writing in Latin that Antonio translated. The Mass started at midnight and lasted two hours – it was led by a bishop, was all in German and Latin (since it's a German church) except for the Gospel reading that was translated into Hebrew too. The most interesting thing was that it was packed. People (including us) were sitting two rows deep in the aisle. We had to move aside for the beginning procession, Communion, and the end. It was fascinating going there, especially because Antonio kept explaining things. Plus, it's nice to go with someone who actually knows Gregorian chant. It was really funny at the end, because everyone on the altar (Catholic bima?) processed out, and the music from the organ was still playing. Everyone was still sitting there – in Jewish services, you wait until the music ends, and that signifies the end of the service. But Antonio was getting impatient, because apparently at Mass once the bishop left, it was totally over. So he told me “Stay here” and he hopped out and started walking down the aisle. Everyone followed him - he was the Pied Piper leading everyone out of the church! At the end of the aisles he turned around and came back in to where I was, and we both cracked up.

I actually liked this Mass a lot more than the Mass I attended at the Vatican. Also, I'd never really thought of this before last night, but the pomp and circumstance of pre-Vatican II Catholic Mass is very similar how I always picture the High Priest ceremonies during the Second Temple period.

After getting to bed at 3, we were up at 8 to pack and get a rental car and leave for Masada. Basically, it's the place where the Romans besieged the last stronghold of Jews in 70 CE that were holed up in Herod's old palace. Instead of surrendering, they committed mass suicide. Here's a link to the story in more detail:

Massada

It was an amazing experience - we spent more than three hours looking at the ruins. I hadn't been there in about 10 years, and what improvements they've made! Large parts of it have been reconstructed, much more has been excavated, and the Snake Trail is no longer a trail, but an actual path that won't scare anyone. (But it's still 2 km!)

Following Masada we headed down to the Dead Sea, the lowest point of land on earth. It was already 4pm and it was too cold for me or Jonathan to go down, but Antonio swam (paddle-floated?) around for a while, collecting balls of salt lying in the water. He said he felt slimy afterwards, but I'll tell you, when I touched his arm it was so soft it felt like he'd been in a spa!

Then we drove to my grandmother's for a "nothing special" dinner of 4 courses. Now we're stuffed. I'm staying here for the night and Jonathan and Antonio are continuing on for another 4 hours to get to Eilat, the southern tip of Israel. They'll stay overnight and leave for Petra in Jordan in the morning (I'd go but I'm getting sick and another day of all-day touring would kill me). Maybe one of them will blog about it – but even if not, I'll post the pictures when I get them!

Antonio's here!

After visiting my Yiddish grandmother in the old folk's home this morning, Abba drove myself, Jonathan, and Doron to the airport to pick up Antonio. His flight was delayed two hours, he'd been traveling forever - and he still had a scary amount of energy! We greeted him with a sufganya (singular of sufganyot) at the airport, then we all came to Jerusalem.

Antonio came loaded for bear - gotta love my mother, she sent us Campbell's stews, Butterfingers and Hot Tamales, a ton of books, tea that we can't get here, and lots of other good stuff (like People's Sexiest Man Alive issue, hee). Here's all the loot:



Plus, the very best was a present from Jonathan - a beautiful new camera! It's absolutely teensy, and is simple enough that I can point and click, and complicated enough that Jonathan can still fiddle with it. It doesn't even a cord to connect to the computer to download the pictures, the memory card just slides out and can slide directly into my laptop! I'm jazzed, so expect lots more picture posts.

After unpacking, Doron and my dad went home, and we took Antonio out for a tour of the Old City. We went to the Arab shuk, the Western Wall, and wandered around the residential areas a bit. Then we meadered our way back to newer Jerusalem for dinner. Antonio and I are in the Arab shuk here. I think he's a bit overwhelmed!



Finally, over Hanukkah Jonathan got a beautiful Havdallah set to observe the end of Shabbat, and the separation between the sacred and the mundane. It's really beautiful, and matches our Kiddish cup set from Savta perfectly. We were all ready to observe Havdallah, had it all set up... and I could not, for the life of me, remember the melody! So we called my mom at 8am her time, she got us started, and we went on from there. I think it's the first time I've ever said the Havdallah prayers when I wasn't in a big Jewish group. Below is the spicebox (so that the beautiful spice smell will entice the extra Shabbat soul to return to heaven), the wine, the six-wick Havdallah candle, and the prayerbook that we use that we brought from home. Antonio's knees are included as an added bonus.



Tomorrow we're off to see the Dead Sea Scrolls. It's really fun to go touring - Becca, I can't wait til *you* get here!

Vacation!

SUCH a busy weekend. Jonathan and I went down to Holon to hang out with my dad, Shula, and Doron, and it turns out my cousins from Germany were there too. One of the best things about going to my father's house is a well-stocked fridge - why is that Jonathan and I never have food in our fridge, and he has cabinets and extra cabinets full of boxed things, and refrigerator shelves *and* drawers all full of perishables?? We were talking about it and we've come up with a theory: kids. Once you have a family and you have to make them good food, you get in the habit of going shopping regularly. Unlike Jonathan and my current almost-bachelor pad. Sigh.

Friday I met Deborah (a med student through Tel Aviv University) for lunch in the heart of Tel Aviv proper. We went to Dizengoff Square, which used to be a main street 20 years ago, and is now an artsy area. They had a full-on Hanukkah fair going, with a woman dressed up as a dreidel, men and women dressed like angels in white (complete with wings) singing, mimes, fire-blowers, and Hanukkah music blasting from loudspeakers. Two people dressed in blue jumpsuits were supervising this fabulous kid activity - they were harnessed, hooked up to a rope that hung over a tall tree, then they were lifted up in the air and swung from one tree to another. On either side of the fair was a secondhand market (think swap meet). Deborah got a few English books and I was tempted to get some funky costume jewelry, but I held off.

After the fair we walked along the street people-watching. Tel Aviv is the opposite of Jerusalem - there were people in skimpy clothes, teens with mohawks, trendy gay men in fishnets, Arabs with traditional wraps, old women carrying their groceries home, and fast scooters cutting people off in the intersections. It's truly variety, not just religious variety like back here. We went to a fabulous deli, and after we ate were overwhelmed by the many frosting colors on the sufganyot! We were going to get some but didn't want to bother waiting in line. I hopped on one of the last buses before Shabbat came in and the busses stopped running, and made it home at 4:30 just as everything was closing up. Yay for a peaceful Shabbat.

I'm (almost) done!

The end is in sight! I only have one more test, on Thursday morning, and then I'm finished. We'll spend this weekend in Tel Aviv with my dad's family, next week traveling with Antonio, and three days after that in Arad with my grandmother. I love vacations!

Especially Hanukkah... are you guys familiar with sufganiyot? They're the greasy food that's eaten in Israel instead of latkes. They're jelly donuts, like so:



Jonathan likes them better than I do (I like lots of jelly and they don't tend to have much) but either way, we've been eating a ton of them. Between that, the ice cream from Stephanie, and all the goodies I anticipate in the next week, I figure the diet will start *after* New Year's.

I went to a coffeeshop today with Miriam, Ethan, and Erin, Matt's wife. Erin told me that she just found out there's a baby pool going... and that she and I are at the top! I don't think I've *ever* been part of a pool before - how funny that my very first one is about having kids.

Also just finished The Matzo Ball Heiress for fun fluffy reading, borrowed from Nicole. The premise is that the current generation of the matzah-making Greenblotz' (think the Manischewitz family) have a completely dysfunctional family, and the Food Channel wants to highlight their business by airing their annual seder live. Extremely entertaining problems abound. The main character reminded me of a Jewish Bridget Jones.

Jonathan's working in the library tonight, so I'm here with the cats. I should probably go study a bit. But surfing the internet is so much fun instead...

Addition: Mara came over with more sufganiyot in hand! Boston creme this time - I had no choice, they kept calling my name!

Ho-hum

This weekend was very quiet. Seriously - I wrote a ten-page paper, a Liturgy take-home test, an Israel Seminar journal entry, a Hebrew composition, and studied for a final test. I went shopping at the grocery store. I borrowed Hebrew books from Stephanie, had a late night talking about religion with Jonathan and Rebecca, and watched Simcha gloat over chicken gizzards (leftover from Nicole and Joe's dinner). We watched "Ushpuzin," an Israeli movie about the Ultra-Orthodox, and the very last episode of Star Trek: TNG except for the series finale (which is so appropriate, we got it last Hanukkah).

Jonathan and I had a very low-key Hanukkah - he got me the most beautiful Star of David bejewelled necklace, and a mini-stapler to keep in my backpack, cuz I'm always saying I don't have one (don't laugh, I like office supplies!).

And that's about it. Biblical grammar, Zionist history, and Bible tests coming up this week - and then freedom! Happy Hanukkah to all, and to all a good night!

Please fund the library (name change thanks to Sheryl... you're right, it's nicer)

I never realized before what a joy it is to have access to a good library. The one at HUC in Jerusalem is nice, not huge, but not too shabby... or so I thought until this week. There are 60-odd students in the program, and we're all taking the same classes, and writing the same papers. Not a problem until now... when there's been a run on any and all books relating to liturgy, Israeli history and Zionism, and Reform Judaism.

So today, I go to the library figuring I can deal with the lack of resources... I just need something on "Israel in the 1930s"... no big deal, right? Wrong. The books I needed were D4 129 on up. I go to the stacks... and THERE IS NOTHING THERE. Literally. The spots were empty from around D4 127 to D4 130. There were two books laying on their sides looking forlorn. Apparently everyone else did their research earlier than I, and they wiped out the whole shelf of early Israel history!! I will never take a good library for granted again.

At least I can take solace in the fact that next year, Cincinnati's library is known for being one of the best Jewish libraries in the world, especially in old and rare books. And if they don't have what I need, they can *order* it in from somewhere else! Sheryl, I hate to complain, but seriously, the Jerusalem library needs some help!


While we're on the topic of books, I'm currently reading Wicked as my studying procrastination tool. It's absolutely brilliant - thank you Mom for sending it. :)

Feminist anthropologists unite!

We visited the Rape Crisis Center for Religious Women today in our Israel seminar class, and it was VERY interesting. The Center is run by Orthodox women for Orthodox women (technically for everyone, but mostly the Orthodox call), and deals with rape, sexual abuse, domestic violence, suicide, and other "crisis" issues. They do educational outreach, talking to schools - K through 6 for boys and girls, and 7 through post-HS only girls - and they also talk to teachers and other educators.

What's fascinating was the ultra-Orthodox part. The hotline is run by "religious" women so the callers have someone who understands their culture, and can relate to the world that they come from. It's different than a secular crisis center in a number of ways. One, how they talk - they talk around the issue in schools, because they can't culturally come out and say "if a man touches you here here and here.." They are invited to speak in the Beit Yaacov system, the ultra-Orthodox girls' schools, and they have to respect the boundaries and modesty codes.

Two, it's unique in who they talk to - e.g. not just regular outreach, but they address the Orthodox counselors who talk to women (teenagers really) before they get married, the police (how do you speak to a 5 year-old ultra-Orthodox boy about sexual abuse? What do the Orthodox call body parts? How do you convince the parents to talk to you?). The center even gives lectures to various Orthodox rabbis about addressing these issues in their community.

The third interesting part was the issues that came up. For example: according to Jewish law, a woman can't have sex for the five days of her period, and the seven days after. One call was from a woman who said that she came home during her time of niddah, purity, and her husband ordered her to the mikvah (ritual bath, purifying her for intimacy after the days are up). She objected, saying it wasn't time yet. he said that he had counted for her, and it was time. She called the Crisis hotline, saying that not only had he taken away her "olam ha-ze" (earthly world of the present), but he had also taken away her "olam ha-ba" (heavenly world to come - since she broke the commandments).

Another call was about domestic violence. Oftentimes violence escalates when a woman is pregnant; since divorce isn't an option in the ultra-Orthodox world, the Center was able to intervene with this woman's rabbi so that she would be able to take birth control, and keep from conceiving.

The Center also has hotlines in Russian and Amharit, for the Ethiopian population. This matters not only in language but in culture too. E.g. one teenage girl had been raped by an adult man, and her Israeli prosecuting attorney told her to appear in court alone; it would gain the judge's sympathy and the man would get the maximum sentence. The attorney was right, and the man was put away for years in jail. But back home, the girl was ignored and devalued - the Ethiopian community figured that she must be lying, since her family didn't even show up to court to defend her. The cultural difference between the Israeli and Ethiopian mentality is huge.

I very much enjoyed the visit, and praise the woman who gave the lecture - she was direct, forthright, and broke all my stereotypes. And while I praise the Center for daring to talk about what usually lies unspoken, I still have a few issues as a whole. Ultra-Orthodox women now have somewhere to call, but what happens after they hang up? They live in a fishbowl community to an extent that the secular world has trouble imagining. Sure, the Orthodox woman who takes birth control thwarts her husband (whose goal is to have as many children as possible), but she's still married to him. A Battered Women's Shelter isn't an option. Agunot, women whose husbands won't grant them a divorce, abound, even *if* the men are threatened with excommunication from the community (see my posting last month about the sign on this). The Center most definitely helps with prevention of abuse, and helps adults pinpoint problems, but I wonder what it does for those who are in the throes of need - besides giving them someone to talk to. But then again, maybe that in itself is helpful. It's more than they ever had before.

Tangential from that, we had a wonderful speaker in the morning, an anthropologist who writes on ultra-Orthodox women. After finals I want to read her book, Educated and Ignorant. It's about how ultra-Orthodox women are trained to be satisfied and happy with their lives as wives as mothers, and how they deal with modernization and the contrast to the secular world.

January bulletin article

It’s January, and I have reached a crossroads in time. Halfway through my year in Israel, I’m beginning to look toward coming back to the United States, and I find that I have mixed feelings. The United States is the land of my mother, my community, and my native tongue. Israel is the land of my father, my adopted community, and my second language. And after six months of living in Jerusalem, I’m realizing that Israel is no less a home to me than California.

Come June, I will be glad to leave the niggling threat of violence behind, the constant construction, and the awful telephone customer service. I won’t miss the religious sexism, the fact that Israelis can’t drive within the lanes, and the lack of decent vegetable stew.

On the other hand, there are quite a few things that I will miss, things that make Israel home, not merely a way station on the path to becoming a rabbi. Here is but a portion of my list:

- The quaintness of hanging clothes out to dry. I take the clothes in from the line and feel as though I’ve stepped back in time; I’m my own great-grandmother, pulling the white sheets in from outside and casting worried glances at the cloud-filled sky.

- Israeli breakfasts. Forget about pancakes, waffles, muffins, and all those other carbs – that’s purely American. When I order an Israeli breakfast, I feast on vegetable salads, eggs, whole wheat bread, three kinds of cheeses (mmm Bulgarit, kind of like feta) and orange juice. Even the hot chocolate after the meal is different - it’s hot milk with pieces of real chocolate at the bottom of the mug.

- The sound of different languages. Every day I hear passersby on the street speaking Hebrew, Arabic, Russian, English, and very often French. In the LA area, as diverse as it is, I usually only hear English and Spanish.

- The ability to stop by the Old City for lunch, or for some quick shopping at the shuk. The shrieks of the vendors reverberate in your ears: need an extra tapestry for your wall? A battered clay recreation of a second-century oil jug? Some ripe persimmons or freshly-squeezed pomegranate juice? Hop on into the Arab market, and pray at the Kotel on your way home.

- Movies with intermissions. In high school I once made the mistake of drinking a large Coca-Cola before seeing Titanic. It was the longest movie of my life - if only I’d been in Israel!

- Living in a small town in the midst of a huge city. We’re an entire nation, but with the feel of a tiny town. Last week, when I got lost walking to my community service, I asked directions from a driver stopped at a red light. Instead of simply telling me how to get there, she waved me over to the passenger side, yelled at her daughter to move over in the backseat, and then said “get in!” and drove me to the site four blocks away.

I love both America and Israel, and I realize that both are now my homeland. Israel, and Jerusalem in particular, are no longer strange, far-away lands. Their street names, landmarks, and varied nuances are just as familiar and close to my heart as are the taste of a Razmatazz from the Jamba Juice in the Marina Pacifica Mall, or the tang of strawberries from the stand that used to sit at the busy intersection of Clark, Los Coyotes, and Stearns. My wish for 2007 is that each of you will find your own physical, spiritual, and emotional “home,” and love it as much as I love mine. L’chaim!


I included the picture of Simcha and myself with the caption, "Michal and Simcha, her adopted Israeli cat - part of what makes Israel home."

Some pictures

Jonathan blowing his new shofar that we bought in Tzfat.



Simcha in my arms. Isn't he getting big?

THANK YOU Temple Israel!

We got the tapestry! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Here it is on our hallway wall, right between the living room and the kitchen:



Quick explanation for those who weren’t involved in its creation: at Rosh Hashanah in the Park this past September, Cathe set up a station where Temple Israel members wrote messages or signed their names onto cloth leaves. She then wove all the leaves into this stunning Tree of Life. It’s absolutely amazing! Cathe, I can’t thank you enough. We got it home from the post office and unrolled it on our bed, and I burst into tears. I can’t express to you all what it means to me, to have a little bit of home always, and all those good wishes. I’m ever so grateful to everyone who participated in writing something – I’m completely stunned at the effort that you and Cathe put in. It’s unbelievably heartwarming, and I will keep it always, here in Jerusalem, in Cincinnati next year, and wherever we go after that.

Thank you again – I feel so loved.

Finals

- And final papers are taking it out of me. Longer blog posts will commence shortly.

For such a teensy country, we've had a lot of rulers

This is a great animated map of the Middle East, detailing who had power when over 5000 years.

Imperial History Map

Israelis and their families

I had a wonderful Hebrew test today! Granted, it was on reading comprehension, where I had to read a text and answer a story. I do much better on those than on grammar ones - what a shock. One doesn't have to spell or conjugate to be able to read.

Yesterday some of the American HUC students, myself included, met with the Israeli rabbinical students. I showed one of them my schedule and she felt sorry for me - since they (obviously) already speak Hebrew, they don't have this same program. Judith is in a halacha (Hebrew law) class, Talmud, Hebrew poetry, counseling, etc. The good news is that I speak Hebrew well enough to sit in on the poetry class, so next Tuesday I'm going to join in with the Israelis!

Speaking of Israelis, I visited Sharon, the woman I read to, again today. But instead of just she and her husband, her daughter was home from work, and her son was in from the army. She made us all lunch, and I'll tell you, these people speak so fast in Hebrew *and* English that I could barely understand them! It was great though, being part of an Israeli family other than my own. I think I've been adopted. :)

My D'var Torah

Dvar Torah literally means "words of Torah." In other words, it means a sermon. I gave mine today to the HUC congregation, and it went really well! I'm including it below. (Nicole read Torah today too, and Joe and Jonathan made us dinner in celebration... I love supportive spouses)


The first CD I ever bought was Jagged Little Pill, by Alanis Morissette. Alanis was everything I wasn’t – impetuous and never silent. When she was angry, everyone knew it. She was a woman of action.
When I read the story of the rape of Dinah, I expect Dinah’s father, Jacob, to be like Alanis. His daughter has been raped! Surely he will scream at the rapist, and defend his daughter. Surely our patriarch has as much chutzpah as my favorite singer. Surely, he will not be silent.
But no.

[In Hebrew] V'Yaacov sh'ma ki tima et-Dina bito oovanav hayoo et-miknahoo bsa-de vhecherev yaacov ad bo-am.

“Jacob heard that he [Shchem] had defiled his daughter Dinah; but since his sons were in the field with his cattle, Jacob kept silent until they came home.” (Gen 34:5)
Jacob says nothing. Jacob’s sons answer Shchem and his father Chamor when they ask for Dinah’s hand in marriage. Jacob’s sons, Levi and Shimon, agree to marry Dinah to her rapist if all the men of Shchem agree to be circumcised. It is Jacob’s sons who exact revenge by murdering every man in the city. Jacob himself does not once intervene.
Can he be justified? This portion begs the question of voice: when is the time for quiet, and when is the time for action? How are we to know when we should stifle our cries, or when to scream out loudly? Jacob does both at different times in his life, and according to various rabbis, it was either his best decision, or his worst.
Sixteenth-century Italian commentator Sforno applauds Jacob’s choice to keep silent, writing: “He avoided any confrontation until their sons’ arrival. Thus, they would be alerted and able to guard themselves against their antagonists” (Sforno 183). To Sforno, Jacob’s silence was a valid action, and a wiser move than any verbal opposition, lest he and the women of his family be overrun by further violence. Twentieth-century commentator Nahum Sarna agrees with Sforno. He says that “the need to exercise restraint, pending the arrival of his sons, is understandable… [and] his passivity… remarkable” (Sarna 234). Both commentators believe that restraint is necessary so that no one else will be hurt.
Yet, what about after his sons return, and Shimon and Levi murder all the men of Shchem? Jacob still remains silent. He only shows anger years later in Vayechi when giving his sons his final blessing. He says, “Shimon and Levi are a pair;/ their weapons are tools of lawlessness./ Let not my soul come into their counsel,/ Let not my being be counted in their assembly.. I will divide them in Jacob,/ Scatter them in Israel” (Gen 49:5-7).
The medieval Rambam postulates that this late response is an excuse to alleviate his guilt: “the phrase let my soul not come into their counsel… disclaims responsibility for their conspiracy when they answered with guile and declares he, Jacob, was not party to their assembly when they came down on the city and slew them” (Rambam in Leibowitz). Following Dinah’s rape, Jacob knew what his sons were planning, but he also knew that his words would fall on deaf ears; so he said nothing.
Israeli commentator Nehama Leibowitz also has problems with Jacob’s original reticence. She questions why he speaks up in Vayechi, not Vayishlach: “Why then, in the first place, did Jacob acquiesce to [the brothers’] stratagem? Why did he not protest during the negotiations with Shchem?” (Leibowitz 381)
Contemporary rabbi Gunther Plaut offers a possible answer. He states that “Jacob is silent because he in fact has nothing to say. He has already become the object of events and has entered the twilight of his life” (Plaut 229). Jacob knows that his sons are immoral. Reuven has slept with Bilhah, Judah will cheat Tamar of her future, and all the brothers together will later send Joseph to what they believe to be his death. While Jacob is an active patriarch, unlike his father, Isaac, and will continue to make family decisions for years to come, in this instance he recognizes that his voice will not be heard.
If we apply Plaut’s commentary to other situations, perhaps we can learn from Jacob’s silence. He and the other biblical commentators teach us that

[in Hebrew] L'kol zman v'et l'chol cha-fetz tachat ha-shamayim"

(Ecclesiastes 3:1) “To everything there is a season, a time for every experience under the heavens,” including

[in Hebrew] et lachashot v'et l'daber

“a time for silence and a time for speaking.” (Eccl 3:7). Silence can be an action in and of itself, and when we know that our voices will not accomplish anything, or will do more harm than good, we can choose to be silent. At other times, in different seasons, it might be important to engage in conflict right from the beginning. Two weeks ago, the supporters of gays and lesbians in Israel felt the need to make their voices heard, for they thought that remaining silent in the face of discrimination would never achieve change. However, the paraders did not go through Mea Shearim; not only would the haredim not have listened, they would have become violent, and the parade would have caused injury. We must pick our battles, and decide when to speak.
This motif of silence is common throughout the Tanach. For instance, Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu offer God “alien” fire and are killed instantly. Aaron says nothing as he watches his sons die. Rashi posits that Aaron even “received a reward for his silence… [in that] the subsequent Divine address was made to him alone and not to Moses also” (Rashi 38). In this case, Aaron, and everyone else, knew that his sons were in the wrong. He had no grounds on which to object.
However, for other Biblical characters, silence is absolutely the wrong course of action. “My heart moans within me/ I cannot be silent” cries Jeremiah as he prophecies to Israel (Jer 4:19). Esther is warned by Mordechai, “If you keep silent in this crisis… you and your father’s house will perish!” (Esther 4:14). Esther makes her voice heard, in spite of the possible consequences.
The heroes and heroines of our tradition knew that at times, we must be like Aaron and protest only in our heart. Other times, we must be like Esther – be like my heroine, Alanis Morissette - and proclaim loudly for all to hear. But like Jacob in Vayishlach, who was silent when he knew his words would make no difference, and who then spoke with a vengeance when everyone was listening, we must decide when to jump into the fray.
Silence, by itself, is not wrong. Neither is voice. Our words will not always count, and we will not always be heard. The key is to realize when we are in an

[in Hebrew] et lachashot
or an [in Hebrew] et l'daber

And to act accordingly.

More language trivia

I may have mentioned before that there are a few letters that sound alike to us today in Hebrew, like Chet/Chaf, Tet/Tav, Ayin/Alef , Samech/Shin, and Kaf/Koof. Apparently in ancient Hebrew these letters sounded different. The Ayin, Chet, and Resh were throaty letters. The language used to have sounds similar to Chinese tones, where one set of root letters could mean two or three different things, depending on the way it was pronounced. Most Israelis today pronounce the throaty and the non-throaty letters interchangeably, but Yemenites still speak them correctly. Arabic speakers do too.

Hebrew became a dead language around the time of Jesus, when it was supplanted by Aramaic. But I just found out last week that Arabic flourished virtually untouched in the isolated area of Saudia Arabia. So if linguists want to know what ancient Hebrew sounds like, they don’t turn to Modern Hebrew at all – they turn to modern Arabic, which is the closest we can get to a proto-Semetic language.

Obviously we don’t have a record of what original Hebrew sounded like, but Phoenician Aramaic has survived in a tiny town in Syria. Our Bible teacher gave us a link to a site that had a recording of part of a Greek Orthodox service, conducted in later period Aramaic. To me, it sounds like a mix of Hebrew and Arabic both, and the chant is *almost* familiar, but not quite. It’s fascinating for those who are interested in such things.

Here are the links:

Part of a spoken service
All sung prayers

A rundown of our trip

First, I have bad news. We lost our camera! All the pictures from this trip are collected from other people’s links - thanks to all HUC students who I’ve copied from.

If the last trip was about modern Israel, this one was definitely about the ancient world. The 2nd temple was destroyed in 70 CE, and we started our journey fleeing Jerusalem with the ancient rabbis. Wednesday morning we took the bus to Caesaria, an ancient city that started out as 50% Greek and 50% Jewish. It was built by Herod, and later became a Byzantine town, and then a Crusader fort. We walked through the ancient amphitheatre, racetrack, multiple public buildings, and finally sat and read some Talmudic texts detailing when the rabbis had lived there. Apparently the rabbis at this time weren’t at all Orthodox as we picture them today – many had professions besides being rabbinic judges, and they were quite assimilated. One of the texts we read was about a rabbi discussing theology with a Roman matron, a gentile woman.

Around 135 CE the Jews revolted one last, final time. Rabbi Akiva, the head of the revolt, was massacred in Caesaria, and the remaining Jews packed up their bags to travel north. (As an aside, it’s interesting how to the Jews, the north was the boonies – but to Christians, it’s the main part of Israel tourism. Pontius Pilate sat in Caesaria, and there’s a pillar inscribed with his name in an area near a big public building.)

After Caesaria we went to Tzippori (Greek name Sepphoris), a northern town where Rabbi Judah HaNasi settled after the Bar Kochba Revolt. He resettled the Sanhedrin there (an assembly of 71 scholars which also served as the Jewish Supreme Court). They wrote the Mishnah there (book of Jewish law, half of what’s known as the Talmud). I’d never known, even though the Talmud is called the “Jerusalem Talmud,” none of it was ever written in Jerusalem proper, because the Jews had already been exiled from there! (the Babylonian Talmud, on the other hand, really was written in Babylonia, and because Babylonian Jews didn’t have to constantly be on the run, it’s much longer and more comprehensive).

Anyway, Tzippori is gorgeous. The floors of its buildings are covered with beautiful mosaics, including one that’s known as the “Mona Lisa of the Galilee.” The Jewish buildings are in close proximity to the Greek ones, and are filled with Greek imagery (the synagogue even has a mosaic of the zodiac symbols). This raises a lot of questions about the amount of secular acceptance in that time. Instead of thinking that the Tzippori synagogue is a fluke, the current theory is that mishnaic/Talmudic Judaism wasn’t necessarily followed by everyone, but only by a select few. The only surviving literature we have is from Talmudic rabbis, but that doesn’t mean that the masses were much more secular. It’s like if Conservative and Orthodox literature were the only texts to survive a thousand years from now, and they said that choirs in a synagogue are Christian-based and unacceptable. If archeologists found evidence of choirs in lots of American temples, they’d think that they came across a rogue Jewish cult – instead, they now think that secularity was much more widespread than the texts would lead us to believe. Just like today, there was a huge spread of Jewish practices in the old days, it wasn’t purely one stream.

After Tzippori, we checked into our hotel in Tiberius, and HUC treated us to a very fancy dinner. SO MUCH FOOD! For dessert they served crepes. My lovely husband went over to the crepes table afterwards, and he, along with a professor, started making their own crepes while the waitress was away! They didn’t even get into trouble, the waitress just glared at them, said “what are you doing?!” and took the table away. It was really fun… and they were good crepes!

Thursday we loaded ourselves up to go to Tzfat, the ancient city where Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism, was founded in the 1500s. We visited three beautiful synagogues, visited a local artist who explained his work, and had lots of free time to see the art galleries. Tzfat also happens to be the city where my father was raised, so we called him on the cell phone and he led us, with perfect directions, to his childhood house. We took so many pictures, I’m sad we don’t have them. But it was surreal to have him describe on the phone, “right past the bridge there is a small alleyway. Five meters down is a building with lots of ivy. There’s a metal gate below the biggest patch of ivy that leads into a porch.” And lo and behold, there it was! I guess you never forget the place where you grow up.

Right across the street from Abba’s old house was a Yemenite synagogue. The front was closed, so we went in the back, and ended up in the women’s section on the second floor. Then it turns out this guy had followed us upstairs because we weren’t supposed to be there! He led us down and locked the place behind us. Jonathan and I cracked up – he got in trouble for making crepes, me for sneaking into synagogues!

Then we went in search of food, and ended up at this tiny hole-in-the-wall pizza place. The man rolled out the dough in front of us, added herbs into the sauce, and even tasted it before he spread it onto our pizza! Talk about handmade. We also got into a great conversation with two haredi (ultra-orthodox) women in their 60s who were at the next table. They were from America originally, but now lived in Tsfat. One has eight children, and the other was never married. The owner of the restaurant left for an appointment halfway through our food, and just told us to close the door behind us. Talk about a small-town feel.

We also wandered around the old city and found ourselves in a cheese factory! Literally, they had huge vats of stinking liquid cheese-like substances boiling, and then massive rinds of cooling cheese. I’d never seen cheese being made before, it was quite intriguing.

Then shopping! Jonathan bought a shofar, pictures to come as soon as we borrow someone else’s camera. He’s getting better at blowing it, it’s really loud.

After we came down from the mountains of Tsfat (oh yes, it’s also the highest city in Israel, lots and lots of stairs, gorgeous views), we went over to Haifa. We checked into the hotel at around 5pm, and had free time for the rest of the day. Well, Jonathan and I meant to take a quick nap, but we woke up at 8pm! We were so full from lunch that we skipped dinner totally and decided to go out for dessert. We figured out the bus system and took ourselves to the center of town, where we ate at a glorious café, and then wandered around for the rest of the night. We stopped later to get some gelato, and we were making conversation with the woman behind the counter. She asked us what we were doing, and we told her that we’d visited Sfat earlier that day. “Sfat?” she said, “I have a brother in Sfat. He owns an art gallery, speaks very good English, sells shofars.” Jonathan and I looked at each other, and he asked, “Is his gallery right at the entrance, he’s in his 40s?” She said yes, and we realized that we’d just bought our shofar from her brother! In Israel, it really is a small world!

Jonathan and I also agreed that if were ever to make aliyah and move to Israel permanently, it would be in Haifa. The city feels like San Francisco a little – it’s hilly, but right on the coast, the people are very nice, and it’s clean, unlike Tel Aviv which is a bit dingy. It’s also very diverse, and completely unlike Jerusalem in its acceptance of all streams of Judaism. Another interesting thing, you couldn’t find any traces of the war this summer, almost everything has been rebuilt.

Friday morning we went to the Leo Baeck Education Center. It’s the main stronghold of Reform Judaism in Israel – it’s a junior high, high school, community center (JCC), and synagogue all at once. The facility is beautiful, and after morning services there, we were divided into groups to speak with 9th and 10th grade students about Judaism. Mainly, the topic was the difference between Diaspora and Israeli Judaism – how did one feel Jewish when Judaism was culture here, did Americans have to work harder to be Jewish, etc. Then they served us lunch, and we took the bus back to Jerusalem. The cats were *very* happy to see us, and meowed appropriately. Simcha even slept on my head for part of the night. I was flattered.

Here is the link to the pictures! Enjoy.