Yom Kippur

I spent Yom Kippur 5770 in downtown Jerusalem with my friend Jessica from JOH, and I can honestly say I enjoyed it. I don't know how much repenting I really did, but I love a lot of the Yom Kippur liturgy and it was a really easy fast. I drink for health reasons, but I wasn't hungry at all.

On Sunday afternoon Jessica and I went to Alanna and Rebecca's house for our pre-Shabbat meal, as did Woty (also from JOH) and a girl named Julia (I think) from the Conservative Yeshiva. The food was wonderful--lentil soup, sweet potato lasagna, baked potatoes, broccoli, and honey cake--and the company was even better.

After our meal, we all headed down to services at Kedem--where, to my great surprise, Leora Perkins (from Brandeis) led services! I didn't even know she was in Israel, and apparently she didn't know I was here either, despite the fact that she's living with Noam and Emily Jaeger. Anyway, she led services, and there was a lot of mingling afterwards. Yom Kippur in Jerusalem is amazing; everything shuts down and people walk in the streets because the only cars are police/army/emergency. Of course, I knew this from my time here in high school, but I don't remember people congregating in the streets. It was like one big party (without the music or dancing), or oneg Shabbat at the biggest outdoor synagogue in the world (without the food, of course). Emek Refaim, the street which houses Kedem and Shira Hadasha and probably about a million other services, was full of people standing around talking, and we couldn't walk more than five steps without bumping into someone Jessica knew. The intersection of Ein Gedi and Derek Chevron (another really big street) was the same way.

On Monday we (Jessica and I) went to two different minyans: Mayanot in the morning and Kedem in the evening. It's remarkable how different these two places felt, even though they're both lay-led traditional egalitarian minyanim that meet in school buildings. Kedem has the feel of a Hillel in that (as far as I saw) it's populated entirely by students in their twenties, whereas Mayanot is a congregation of people at all ages--from people who are definitely someone's grandparent to the little kids playing Twister outside. I definitely preferred Mayanot to Kedem. I think there's something special about davening with people from all generations. It gives it a feeling of connection with the whole Jewish people--many of whom are praying these same prayers at this same time in their own synagogues and time zones--and not just with Kids (Students) Like Me. It's a nice feeling, as is davening without a big, solid curtain separating me from the ruach.

Between services we went back to Jessica's and slept, and after Yom Kippur ended--around 18:00, since we changed our clocks on Saturday night--we went to the house of one of Jessica's friends from Pardes for a break fast breakfast. I like that idea; I may very well steal it. And btw, Miriam Farber (a Brandeis alum and a Pardes student) makes the best cinnamon rolls ever.

One thing that I forgot to mention is that Jessica's roommate has a really cute hamster named Rimon, and now I really wanna get a hamster. Only problem is that I don't know what I'd do with him when I go on vacation or when I leave at the end of the year... not to mention that I don't know whether they're even allowed!

A bit of politics

I'm not so sure that I want to get into politics here, but I feel like it's necessary now. I have now been to/through three "settlements" in the West Bank: Me'or Modi'im, Chevron, and the random settlement that our tour guide for the Chevron trip was from (the "through" it the above sentence, as we drove through it on our way back to Jerusalem). I didn't even realize that Me'or Modi'im was beyond the green line until we were coming back and passed through the checkpoint--which, by the way, was nothing. I really don't understand it. If all of this land is Israel, why can't Jews form communities on land that is otherwise uninhabited, no matter where in Israel it is? Why can't Arabs? If Chevron is a part of Israel, why can't Israeli citizens who just happen to be Jews move there if there are houses and/or land for sale? I'm not looking to start a discussion on either side right now; I am just expressing some confusion. I hope to form my own opinions based on my time here before anyone tries to convince me of anything.

That said, this article bothers me. Take a look:

Two policeman and two Muslim worshippers were lightly injured in riots which erupted Sunday morning at the Temple Mount holy site in Jerusalem.

The incident began when a group of tourists entered the Temple Mount compound accompanied by a police force. At a certain stage, some 150 worshippers started gathering around them and calling out towards them.

Some of the worshippers began throwing stones at the group. The police force fired stun grenades in an attempt to gain control of the riot. Two police officers were lightly injured by stones and received medical treatment on the site. They were later evacuated to the Shaare Zedek and Hadassah Ein Kerem hospitals in the capital.

Two worshippers were lightly hurt by the grenades and were evacuated to the al-Maqasid Hospital in east Jerusalem. According to Palestinian sources, 13 people were hurt after inhaling tear gas. Adult worshippers attempted to calm things down, while the group of tourists was removed from the site.

Were the tourists really allowed on the Temple Mount? If not, why were they there? Why were they accompanied by police? What happened before the violence broke out?

And then there's this:

The defense establishment has declared a heightened state of alert across the country ahead of the Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur. On Saturday evening, a closure was imposed on the West Bank until Monday at midnight. Residents will only be allowed to cross into Israel in humanitarian cases.....

Vehicles will not be allowed to pass from east Jerusalem to the western part of the city in order to minimize the friction between Jews and Arabs.

I do have to wonder what time this went into effect last night, since we passed through the checkpoint around 20:30 last night with no line, no hold-up. But what in the world? How is this okay? What's happened in the past that's necessitating this? Did anything happen, or is this another example of Israel not really being one land one country after all?

Me'or Modi'im

I spent this Shabbat at Moshav Me'or Modi'im with Devorah and Abigail from JOH. (Well, Devorah's also a Hebrew University student, but whatever--the common link between the three of us is JOH.) We were hosted by Rabbi and Rebbitzen Trugman, who have open home hospitality Shabbats twice a month. Estie, my roommate, was given a flyer about it a while ago, and I thought it would be cool.

Me'or Modi'im is also known as the Carlebach moshav, since it was founded by Rav Shlomo Carlebach and his followers. I think this is another situation like Kibbutz Hannaton, though - they call it a moshav, but it's really (according to Wikipedia and what I saw of it) a community settlement. And that's what it is: a community of people who believe in and live by the teachings of Rav Shlomo Carlebach--or "Rav Shlomo," as they call him, because he is The All-Important Rabbi and doesn't need a last name (or they just knew him--one or the other).

It was a very pleasant, quiet Shabbat. We started out with singing niggunim before Shabbat even started. Services were not as wonderful as I'd expected, but egalitarian me isn't a fan of synagogues where the women's section is in the back to begin with, and all the ruach was up front with the guys. That's okay, though. It just means I didn't rush to get up for Shacharit this morning, nor did I go to mincha or ma'ariv.

Friday night Devorah, Abigail, and I took our sleeping bags outside to the porch, and it was really wonderful. Okay, so maybe it was a little bit hot in the sleeping bag, but it would have been worse inside and the air was so good out there. Everyone else was inside, so it felt like we were little girls having a sleepover. It was nice. We spent this afternoon on the porch, too, reading and playing bananagrams and rummy cube.

Once again, the best part was seuda shlishit. The food was wonderful, and we spent a lot of time singing--songs and nigguns with really upbeat melodies. Everyone was really into it, too, which is a nice change from what I'm used to from AHA. I'm learning the traditional Shabbat zimrot, so maybe I'll actually be able to join in when I get back to Brandeis.

The whole Shabbat was just so relaxing and pleasant. The rebbitzen told me to come again sometime, and I think I will. I liked it.

The end - #1

Yesterday was the last day of summer ulpan at Hebrew University. It's hard to believe I have three whole weeks off already before the regular university semester starts. It went so fast! I expected it to be torture because I'm really bad at languages, but it really wasn't. It was boring at times because I knew the grammar already, but my teachers--especially אירה--did a really good job of keeping it interesting. I feel a lot more comfortable with Hebrew now, and as much as I wish I could have moved up to Gimmel, it's probably a good thing I didn't. HU ulpan is "learning Hebrew in Hebrew," and I think I was in the perfect level for adjusting to this. It was overwhelming at Brandeis, for all of the couple weeks that I was in 40 level Hebrew, and I think I would have had the same problem here if I was in a higher level.

It's amazing how much I've improved. It's still hard for me to speak, but if people are talking slowly enough I can definitely comprehend conversations with words I know. There was also a rather amusing incident in the Old City last week in which someone asked me in English if I was looking for a hostel and I answered "לא"--"no"--in Hebrew without even thinking. It's a small phrase--just one word--but the man's reaction ("Oh, you speak Hebrew!") was priceless. No, I'm not an American tourist who can be taken advantage of. Yes, I'm an American, but I'm here for the year and I'm learning. This is after two months; where will I be after a year?

Yesterday was also my last day of feeding cats before class. This week I realized that there's no predicting my audience. I'm pleased to say that they recognize me now and come running when they see me--even before I sit down if the law librarians haven't fed them already--but other than that, it varies. On Tuesday I had 14 at once, and there was enough turnover that I don't know how many I fed. On Wednesday there were only 8, but a grey cat curled up in my lap. I ended up being late to class, but I didn't care. The only thing that would have made me move would have been if someone had yelled "Fire!" and then I would have taken the kitty with me. Usually the cats get along, but there was a day this week when they started howling at each other. Not hissing, howling. What in the world does that mean? I've never seen it before.

I can't say goodbye to my cats now. I know we're on break, but I'm going to continue to go up and feed the cats on weekdays, at least until I see that the librarians are getting there first. They know me. They want my food. Who am I to withhold it? Estie pointed out that I won't always be here, but I don't want to think about that. January--and my winter break in the States--is a long time away.

Gaya

Today Alanna Sklover and I went on a spontaneous study session at Tmol Shilshom downtown. We had a good time, and our waiter was hilarious; Alanna gave him a good tip. (She also wouldn't let the poor college student pay for the bread she ate :( ) On our ways home, we stumbled upon another cool little place called Gaya: The Art of Thinking. Basically, it's a store that sells wooden games and puzzles, but they also have a lot of games out for people to play. We played a few things, but I think the best were definitely our game of Tumica and the wine bottle puzzle. Alanna and I both joined their customer's club, and I'm definitely going back there. This is another time when I can't even explain how much fun it was.

Rosh Hashanah (part 2)

There was a rather stark contrast between the first day of my Rosh Hashanah and the second. First, I had two very different meal experiences. Saturday night, Sarah and I were paired with six girls from Neve, a women's seminary, at the home of an older couple, the Bornsons. The meal was very long--lasting from 21:00 - 23:30--but it didn't seem long at all. It was really my mental image of an Orthodox holiday meal, with the man sitting at the head of the table giving little bits of Torah thoughout the meal, but interactively. The meal was calm, everyone was nice, and the food was wonderful. It was also dairy, which made it even better for me because I didn't have to feel guilty for not being able to eat the food that the family had prepared.

Lunch today was also dairy, but otherwise it was a very different experience. Our hosts were also older, but four of their nine childen were there (ages 15 and up) along with two of their grandchildren (12 and 15). Before the meal one of their daughters (19) was teasing her nephew (15) and mock-arguing about whether girls were smart enough to learn Gemara, which (as Sarah pointed out) was even more amusing once you remembered that she's his aunt. There was also a lot of Hebrew being spoken there, since our hosts' son-in-law doesn't speak English. I was rather proud of my ability to catch a lot of what he was saying, even though I missed a key word that changed the meaning of the whole thing. On the other end of the table, the (grand)mother was telling us family stories--how she made aliyah, why she had kids, etc. There was still Torah, but it wasn't so prevelent and the meal was much shorter. Once again, the food was amazing.

I did decide to go to the Kotel for davening this morning and there was a ruach-filled group of guys there, but at 8:00 they were already davening mussaf. However, I did get to hear U'netaneh Tokef, which I love depite--or even because of--it's powerfully morbid translation. I had my moments of connection at the wall, but I also discovered that it doesnt have the same power over an extended period of time as it does over a short visit. As shocking as it may seem, I think I had a more meaningful Rosh Hashanah at Brandeis than I did in the Old City.

And now, it is bedtime. Dev has a test at 8am and needs to sleep whether she is tired or not.

Rosh Hashanah (part 1)

Rabbi Marcus said that the goal of the Heritage House Rosh Hashanah in the Old City was to make it “the best Rosh Hashanah of your life.” It’s not doing it for me. It’s just not. Several points which are making this the case:

- The mechitza. I’m usually okay with mechitzas, but this one is a solid grey curtain going all the way to the front. It doesn’t bother me so much that I can’t see the guys—well, except for when the guys are singing and no one on the women’s side is. But what bothers me is the fact that I can’t see the Torah, or the ark for that matter. How can I stand in front of an open ark when I can’t see the ark in the first place? What goes does hearing the Torah reading do if I can’t see the actual Torah. Forget for a moment that it would never happen in an Orthodox synagogue, but how do I know they’re not just reading out of a chumash? I need to make a connection to the Torah and the ark in order for Rosh Hashanah to be meaningful. I need to see these things, and it’s not happening there.

- Last night we were set up in pairs with families for dinner, and the wife of the family I was with didn’t get side down for dinner! “NAME, we need two more plates.” “NAME, water.” All the time she was bringing things in and out, and it wasn’t just the husband who was acting like this, it was the other guests, the friends of the family! When I asked her if she ever got to sit down, she said “Maybe once the kids go to bed, but it’s fine. I like it this way.” She didn’t look happy, nor was the majority of her in-and-out due to kids. Her husband never offered to help, nor did the other guests. What is this? Why can’t she sit down to her own Rosh Hashanah dinner? It bothered me.

- I’ve also been hearing a lot of bigoted opinions this Shabbat. A couple times a Muslim family walked by and the guest who sat next to me muttered as soon as they walked by. “I’m fine with them, but I don’t want them as my neighbors! Why can’t they stay in their own quarter?” (Sound like 50s/60s era America, anyone?) A couple of times they mocked Conservative Judaism, but those comments were at the other end of the table so I didn’t quite catch what was being mocked, other than a rabbi taking a tourist group to see a church. Sarah, the other student, and I got asked if we wanted to make aliyah, and one person asked me why I didn’t want to, but I didn’t feel like I could reply. This was the first time I’ve ever felt that I had to be closeted about being Conservative--let alone everything else I have to be closeted about!

There are also smaller things. There are also classes upstairs during the repetitions of the amidah—“when the service seems like it goes on forever”—and the entire women’s section empties at that point. Until then, it’s too crowded. Pages are called whenever they change, and if we get reminded to say “Adonai” instead of “HaShem,” or to stay out of the aisle during the Amidah so women can get out (which doesn’t happen, btw), I’m going to scream. I don’t know what I’m going to do about tomorrow. I can’t concentrate in there. I’m thinking of going to the Kotel and davening by myself. Maybe I’ll be lucky and there will be a group of particularly loud, ruach-filled men there and I can follow along with them.

Shopping in Israel

Shopping in Israel is a cultural experience in itself. I never thought I'd say this, but the salespeople here make Jim--our most enthusiastic salesperson at FDB--look like a kitten. (Meow.) They're pushy! I keep saying that I'm not going to buy anything that I don't really love, but twice now I've felt pressured enough that I couldn't really say no. Both involved sellers bringing down their prices--a skirt from 60 to 45, and a pair of shoes from 100-something to 80. I'm left questioning both purchases.

I'm basing this post on two experiences, a trip to a Druze village on the way to Kibbutz Hannaton and my first visit to the Machane Yehuda shuk today. "Good quality, good quality." "Take two, I give you deal." "Here, here, take, take." "Come, come." "Follow me." They like to repeat things, and if you start pulling away, they just insist more. It's so hard! Devorah Kramer, another RIS student, said that it's what makes them good salespeople, but I've never seen anything like it in the US. I thought Jim was pushy!

The shuk needs an entry of its own, but I'll have to make due with someone else's youtube video. One street, thousands of people, more fruit than I've ever imagined in one place:

(I didn't spend that much time near the fish. I was having trouble with the smell alone!)

I couldn't have been there more than an hour, but I left exhausted anyway. For $47 I managed to buy: ten pitot (5 NIS), a pomegranate (2 NIS), a large container of grapes (13 NIS), two dragonfuit (one red, one Costa Rica) to bring to my Rosh Hashanah hosts so I can be selfish and save my challah for myself (10 NIS), a pair of off-white pants (20 NIS), a pair of Wal-mart quality white, non-leather shoes for Yom Kippur (40 NIS), and a pair of black sneakers (80 NIS). The sneakers are my second questionable purchase because they only had them in velcro. I'm not sure how I feel about having velcro shoes--sort of like I'm back in elementary school--but it is true that my shoelaces won't come untied this way, and it's got to be better than shoes with holes in them (read: my current pair). And if worst comes to worst, 80 NIS is only about $21 and there are about a million shoe stores on Yaffo street (which the salespeople made me forget in the moment, of course).

There's also a store across from the shuk that looks to have some pretty good skirts for 30 NIS, but by the time I got back there I was exhausted and my hands were full of packages. Next time.

Overall, I would call today's trip successful. I am very glad to have found a place where the rotten exchange rate doesn't make everything too expensive for Walmart-price-cheapy me. I do wonder, though, whether time will make me resistant to Israeli salespeople or whether I'll always be this much of a push-over.

Challah baking

This afternoon, Rebbetzin Tspora Dahan from the JSSC invited students to her house to bake challah. I am thoroughly exhausted, and there were seven of us working on it! I can't imagine how the rebbetzin--or anyone else, for that matter--does it alone. Granted, we did a double batch, but in order to do the challah blessing you need 2kgs of flour worth of dough. That's a lot of challah. That's a whole lot of challah.

We made challah at Brandeis once, but it was interesting to do it in an Orthodox setting. We learned about sifting the flour, checking the eggs for blood, putting the raisins in water so that any bugs float to the top, and of course the challah blessing. This is all stuff we didn't do at Brandeis. Oh, the complexities of religious life...

I made two round challot with cinnamon sugar on top for a sweet new year. One will probably be my breakfast over Rosh Hashanah, and the other will go to my Rosh Hashanah meal hosts.

Update on Naftali

When I got to Hebrew University today, I found that someone had already fed the cats—as it turns out, the librarian that my law librarian was filling in for that time. I asked her about Naftali; apparently he was his regular self today. He’s not healthy and they know that—he has his good days and his bad days. Yesterday happened to be one of his bad days. The librarians have know him for years; I’ll have to trust them.

There’s another cat here, a small black kitten, who’s also rather affectionate. She purred for me this morning, and the librarian told me that she is sick (though, I couldn’t tell) and has been taken to the vet and given some antibiotics. She’s going to be adopted by someone because she’s not suited to life as a stray. Lesson learned: the law librarians really take care of these cats. I don’t need to worry about them. Right?

Kibbutz Hannaton

I spent this weekend at Kibbutz Hannaton, the only Masorti kibbutz in Israel, on a Shabbaton sponsored by the Fuchsberg Center for Conservative Judaism. Overall, I enjoyed the Shabbat. I met a few new people--a girl named Beverley and Eitan Marks, the brother of an acquaintance from Brandeis--and had a pretty relaxing Shabbat. Services were a lot better than last week. I led weekday Mincha for the first time since high school, and the guy who led Kabbalat Shabbat used the Carlibach melodies, which I love. The food was pretty good, too, if a bit spicy. I discovered rice with raisins in it (not one of the spicy things) and had my first ever Shabbat where seuda shlishit had the best food.

I don't quite understand what is kibbutz-like about Kibbutz Hannaton. The kibbutz recently privitized, so everyone has their own income and owns their own home and people don't eat together in the Chedar Ochel anymore. A dairy farm provides the kibbutz's income, but only one member of the kibbutz works at the farm. As far as I could see, the only communal thing is the land, and the kibbutz just happens to own this dairy farm.

Speaking of the dairy farm, we were given a tour of it on Saturday afternoon. Overall, I was impressed. When I think of farm animals I imagine those stories of chickens who can't even move their wings, but these cows had lots of room to move around. Our guide said that the cows are kept happy, if only because those commercials are true--good dairy products come from happy cows. (And happy cows come from Kibbutz Hannaton?) The only thing that really bothers me is what they do with the calves. A calf was born about twenty minutes before we got to the farm, and the workers took him away from his mother before he could even stand. Since he's male, the kibbutz won't keep him--he'll be shipped off to become somebody's hamburger or veal dinner. The poor little cow! He didn't even stand a chance. Of course, after the tour of the dairy farm, we all throughly smelled like cows. I think the bugs also thought we were cows; I have five bites on one arm alone.

I also learned a bit about teaching styles this Shabbat. Rabbi Romm, the rabbi of the Fuchsberg center and a founder of the Masorti movement, invited a rabbinical student named Adam to join us for the Shabbat. Since it was a shabbaton, there were multiple learning sessions. Before Adam started his, he said something really interesting. I've been having trouble with Rabbi Romm's lectures, and Adam pointed out why: while Adam teaches about things he finds problematic, Rabbi Romm teaches about things he finds interesting. That's why Rabbi Romm's lectures are so light, and he can go off on so many tangents--it's not that he's really wandering off topic as he's providing more "interesting" tidbits about an "interesting" subject. This is the first time I've encountered this kind of teaching; I'm used to--and I think I much prefer--shiurim about the things that are problematic.

If this trip happens every semester, I think I'd like to go again next time. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Next Shabbat--Rosh Hashana in the Old City!

Naftali

I'm really worried about Naftali. He wasn't right when I saw him this afternoon. He'd sniff the water bowl and the food I put in front of him, but he wouldn't eat anything. These cats never refuse food. I had to shield Naftali's food from the other cats because they all wanted it.

He doesn't sound right, either. That's the first thing I noticed (though this video was the last I saw of him--of course as soon as I take out the camera and put in new batteries all he does is climb into my lap and shut up.):

shut up.): That is not Naftali's voice. I know his voice; I've known this cat since my first week here. I knew he wasn't healthy to begin with, but this is different. This is new.

What do I do? I wish I could take him to the vet, but I have neither the money nor the knowledge of the Israeli society to do so. Should I try to locate the law library and search for the librarian who told me Naftali's name? She was only substituting for her friend when I saw her.

I wish I could take Naftali home with me, but even if we were allowed to have cats in the apartment, my roommates aren't cat people. No way they'd let me sneak a cat into the apartment, even if maintenance wasn't doing monthly inspections.

What should I do? What can I do?

Kitty update

Last week was rocky when it came to my cats. On Saturday night I discovered that Mister Zol, the grocery store, doesn't open up after Shabbat, so I had no food for the kitties on Sunday. Sunday night, I discovered that they close at 21:00, and I went at 21:15. On Tuesday I finally had cat food, but my roommate and I got to campus too late for me to do my feeding. On Wednesday someone fed them before I got there, from the looks of it real white meat. I think I finally got to feed them on Thursday.

This week has been better; I haven't posted only because I was waiting to have video. I still haven't figured out how to feed and tape at the same time--the video's sorta awful. The cats were also really spread out this morning, but I think if you count you'll find all twelve.

The cats know me by now. Twice in a row now they've come running, and this morning I didn't even have to sit down first. The kitten's also becoming more trusting; it took a while for him to come out of his bush, and then he would run back into it whenever anyone walked down the path. Now he'll stay there and eat, as long as there's a bigger cat between him and the people. ("Mommy, hide me!")

I haven't named any of them yet, and I doubt that I will. There are some consistent kitties, but otherwise the cats in the humanitiies block change day by day. They also don't trust me enough to let them touch them--with the exception of Naftali, who has been affectionate since way before the feedings. I wonder if they'll ever trust me that much?

Speaking of Naftali, yesterday I found a girl pouring water into a rock for him. She said he was dehydrated; he'd drunk half her bottle already. I'm really glad I saw that; somehow, I've never stopped to think about how these cats get there water. It doesn't rain during the summer in Israel, ever. How do they find water to drink? Anyway, I've started giving them water, too. A container that had held creme cheese is now a kitty water bowl, assuming the people who clean the university don't find it in the bush and throw it away. I think I'll make the same thing out of my butter container when it expires, and the rocks have little grooves which can hold water. It's so simple; why hadn't I thought of it before?

When I got back to Kfar HaStudentim after class, I found Lynley with a couple of kittens, whose names seem to be either Yossi and Charlie or Hariette and Gila depending on who you ask. Yossi's scared of people, but Charlie's the friendliest kitty I've ever seen. As soon as I sat down on the bench she was in my lap, climbing around on top of me and on top of my backpack. I don't have any footage of that--it was so unexpected--but I can show you Charlie/Gila with Lynley, and being otherwise generally friendly!

After Lynley left, a couple of people who work in the office came out with a container of what I think was tuna. It makes me feel cheap to be feeding them dry cat food, but... the cats seem to like it just the same, and it's probably better for them.

Though, I could give Charlie one kind of fish to play with!

Queers, Beers, and Games

Tonight we had the first Jerusalem Open House English Speakers Group event planned by Jessica and me. (I don't understand why we put "beers" in an event title and then tell people that they need to bring their own. How is that part of the event? Oh well; apparently it attracts people.) It was a lot of fun, thank goodness--the only rough spot was that both of us bought snacks, so there was way too much food and I ended up coming home with all four bags of generic Bamba.

I had been worried about the event for the past couple of days. I flyered at Hebrew University, but I don't know the official procedure so my signs kept being torn down. Would people know about it? Would people want to come to a game night? But it all worked out. A bunch of us were there at 7:30, and we didn't end up leaving until around eleven. I had some very good conversation, too. It's so much easier to talk to people when we're not squeezed into a room and just told to mingle!

The night has left me with such a pleasant feeling that I felt a need to write about it, but now that I sit down to do so I'm finding that I really have nothing to say. Maybe I'm just tired. It is midnight over here, after all.

Beit Shemesh

I've been debating how much I want this to be a touristy blog. After my post about Chevron that's what it feels like, but I don't think I can really write about my year in Israel without the touristy bits. Thus, I will attempt to catch up after a busy weekend of tiyulim and midterms without sounding too much like an American tourist. (Yeah, right.)

This weekend I went on a mini-Shabbaton to Beit Shemesh, a city about forty minutes outside of Jerusalem. It was mini in the fact that there were only ten of us, including two students from Tel Aviv and a Hebrew University alumna who's friends with the rabbi. It was nice that way, though; the remaining seven included my roommate Estie and Naomi, a aquantence from our first Shabbat at school. Because there were so few of us, it wasn't cliquey, which was nice. I tend to wander on my own when I'm with a big group.

Our first stop on Friday was the caves outside Beit Shemesh where the Jews lived during the Bar Kochba Revolt in the 130s CE. I'd thought I'd explored the caves already, when I was in Israel on Muss, but what people refer to as the Bar Kochba Caves aren't actually the anything--there are a bunch of systems of caves. The cave systems are really amazing; there are false tunnels and holes in the ground (read: ancient bathrooms / Roman soldier traps) and massive rooms where people lived. and Rabbi Seigel, the organizer of the Shabbaton, thought he knew these caves inside out, but we discovered a room he didn't know about before. Whereas I think we could walk through much of the tunnels we visited with AHA, most of the time we had to crawl through these and I was quite literally covered in dirt by the end.

As fun as it was squeezing through tiny passage ways, I think the best part of the caves came at the very end, when we turned off all our flashlights and sat in one of the large rooms in silence. I could just imagine the Jews sitting there, scared, listening for the sounds of Roman soldiers. It was a very powerful moment, and I love how it's possible to connect with history like that in Israel.

Shabbat was spent in Beit Shemesh proper, in the south part of the city--which, for a city, was very spread out and had an amazing amount of grassy areas. We were split into twos and sent to families which agreed to let us sleep in their apartments and host us for Shabbat lunch. The food part was really good--you can't beat home-made challah and potato kugel, and they made tofu that I actually liked. (Dev, being a bad vegetarian, has never actually liked tofu before.) Other than that... I wasn't particularly impressed with my host family. I'm banking on them not finding this; lashon hara lamed hey, blah blah blah.

There are four kids in the family, the youngest being a six-year-old boy who looks a lot like Simcha in Lost Luggage. Only... not so cute in the behavior aspect. He must have ADHD or something like that, because he spent all of Saturday running around screaming his head off--ear-piercing, headache-inducing screams. And his parents didn't stop it! During Shabbat lunch he sat down to eat a few bites, and then off he went to run wild, shooting us all with a lego gun snd screaming, and his parents just paused when he was too loud and went on with the conversation whenever he stopped, as if nothing was happening. At one point I got up to take excedrin and by the end of the meal I was wincing when he screamed, and his parents didn't take the hint. Only when we went to bentch did his mother lock him in a room so we could do so. I don't understand. The rest of their kids--a fourteen-year-old boy, a seventeen-year-old girl and a nineteen-year-old girl--are all perfectly nice. What's with this kid, and why don't his parents do something? My parents would kill us if we behaved that way, especially if there were guests in the house.

The rest of Shabbat was also mixed. Kabbalat Shabbat was not particularly fulfilling, since the only thing that was sung was Lecha Dodi. Typical of Israeli synagogues, I've been told--the focus of Shabbat here is on the family, and people want to get home to their families and dinner ASAP. Dinner and Seuda Shlishit were at the Seigels', but I couldn't enjoy dinner because I was half asleep after the day in the caves. Both meals at the Seigels were very crowded--there were the ten of us, the Seigel family, and another family. For Seuda Shlishit I ended up on the couch with the Seigels' cat, Cleopatra, on my lap, which made me happy. I never did get a seat at the table--I wasn't about to move and disturb the cat, and things were crowded enough that I was within arm's reach of the table anyway. Poor kitty ended up with crumbs in her fur before I managed to get a plate, though.

The best part of Shabbat, like in the caves, came at the very end. We went around the tables and everyone was given a chance to give a small d'var Torah, or to pass if they wished. I passed, but there were a lot of interesting commentaries that came up. I wish there was more of that in my Shabbats. Good singing, good food, good conversation - that's all I want. I'm still working on finding it here.

$$$ for learning

So far, I'm pretty disappointed with the $$$ for Learning program. I was matched up with my chevrusa partner, Shoshana, three weeks ago, and we still haven't really gotten started. Each time she brings a different book, and each time it's not what I'm looking for. I want to learn about prayer and kavanah; so far, either the books don't talk about that or they don't bring up much for discussion and just reading words off a page isn't very fulfilling. This morning I checked out a copy of Heschel's Man's Quest for G-d from the library; I think we're going to be learning from that from now on. I've read it before, but it's very deep and I think we can get more out of it together than I was able to reading it by myself. Shoshana's never read Heschel before, so introducing her to him will also be fun.

Shoshana's nice, though. We've spent a fair amount of time talking--in fact, that's most of what we did the first meeting. (Opps.) She's pregnent, due in a month or so, and I don't know what's going to happen once she has the baby. The rebbitzen must have a way to work with such things, though. So many of the chevrusa partners have babies or are about to have babies...

Tour of the tombs

Today Jeff Seidel took sixty of us on a tour of biblical gravesites. Before anyone freaks out, I would like to mention that yes, they are in the West Bank. The areas we went to are also patrolled by the IDF, and we were riding in a bullet-proof bus. Well, the whole bus thing is actually not reassuring at all, but I am happy to say that we were not shot at during our trip. Not that I thought we would be; I don't think the rebbitzen of the center would bring her two-year-old and five-year-old daughters anywhere she thought was the slightest bit unsafe, let alone a busfull of students that they're liable for.

The trip included visits to Rachel's Tomb outside of Bethleham and the Cave of Machpelah (the burial site of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca, and Leah) in Chevron. I was surprised by the difference between the two places. Rachel's Tomb is a tiny place, but heavily protected. In the photo below--the view outside the building of the tomb--you can see a large white wall; this wall spirals around and around, so the tomb is entirely protected. The building itself is tiny, intimate. It's like the Kotel in that it's separated into a men's section and a women's section, and people are gathered there praying. It's beautiful, in a classical Judaism sort of way. The video below is one that I took today of the women's side of the tomb.

The Cave of Machpelah is supposed to be holier than Rachel's Tomb - it's second in holiness only to the Kotel - but if anything, it seemed to be more commercialized to me. In Rachel's Tomb I felt compelled to daven, even though I had no siddur with me; I started mincha--what I know of it by heart--and it led to my own prayers, free-form, which I very rarely do. But at Machpelah, even with a siddur, I couldn't concentrate of the prayers. I wasn't compelled to pray; it felt like any other Orthodox synagogue. I felt more connection when I touched the wall near where our ancesters are actually buried (see below) than when I was inside the structure.

There's also an amazing difference in the outsides of the tombs. Rachel's Tomb is heavily protected, but Machpelah is completely out in the open. Note that the sound at the very beginning of the video is the end of the Muslim afternoon prayer; the whole thing played on speakers above our heads.

I think the number of tourists at these sights is particularly telling of the situation in Israel right now. These are extremely holy places, but we didn't see a single other tourist on our trip. There were people there, but they were ordinary Israelis, davening and studying. These places are in the West Bank; tourist groups don't dare go there the way they go to the Kotel or Masadah. Yet, take a look at one last picture:

This is the view of Chevron from the top of the Chevron Yeshiva. If this was just a random picture that I posted, wouldn't you think it was just another shot of Jerusalem?