Tzfat

I spent this past weekend in Tzfat, one of the four holy cities (the others being Jerusalem, Hebron, and Tiberias). I was there once before, in high school, and I remembered it being beautiful. As someone who goes to Friday night services pretty regularly, I love thinking about the fact that this is where Lecha Dodi was written, and really Kabbalat Shabbat as a whole was formed. The city has a lot of spiritual meaning.

The trip started out on Thursday by discovering that the 982 bus to Tzfat doesn’t actually leave from the Central Bus Station, even though that’s where you buy your tickets. Also, the big “23” on the ticket dosen’t mean “gate 23” but rather a zone. So… Lynley and I missed our bus and had to wait two and a half hours for the next one. Yay. At least I finally got to check out the mall that’s in the Cental Bus Station, and obtained something that you’ll probably only find in Israel—haggadot in a dollar store.

We finally made it to Tzfat around 7pm after a three and a half hour bus ride up and down and around lots of mountains. (It’s Israel.) Guidebooks tend to only spend a page on Tzfat as part of the section on the Galilee, so we got off the bus and had to wander around until we found a sign for our hostel, Ascent. “Go up the stairs and follow the map,” it said—what map? There was no map! Thankfully I remembered that someone at the office had called my phone to confirm our reservation, so the number was in my phone and I was able to call them for directions.

The thing about Tzfat is… even with a map, you get lost. It’s one of those places that maps can’t really handle, like the Old City of Jerusalem. For example, this:

That’s a road. There’s no signs and no stores or houses on it to indicate that it’s a road, no street numbers, but it’s very definitely marked on the map as Ma’alot Olei HaCardom. Such is Tzfat.

The first place we tried to go for dinner, Café Bagdad, kicked us out saying that they were only serving coffee, even though they were open for another half hour. (This was 8:30pm.) So we went to the next place the people at Ascent recommended, Café Milano. There we discovered that even though Tzfat is mainly known for kabbalah and art, there’s actually another piece to it: cheese. According to the faulty map there was entirely a whole cheese museum! (In actuality, no such place exists.) Anyway, this meant that there were a lot of cheese dishes at Café Milano. Lynley ended up getting something called “halumi salad,” which was actually pasta in teriyaki sauce with cashews, bell peppers, and halumi cheese. I got a cheese platter with roasted vegetables. Lynley very much got the better deal; her halumi salad was amazing. (I know cause I got to try some.) Take a look:

My cheese platter was okay. I really liked the labane, but of the other two cheeses one was okay and the other I didn’t really like. The veggies were also okay, not wonderful. But Lynley’s halumi salad… wow! Amazing. Just amazing.

After dinner we headed back to Ascent and went to bed. Then on Friday we woke up early and went to explore Tzfat before everything closed for Shabbat. Our first stop was Safed Candle Factory, where they really make art out of candles. Like, for example, the Temple:

or a whole bunch of penguins:

There was also one of David and Goliath and one of Samson tearing down the Philistine temple, but I wasn’t so interested in those. While we were there we also eavesdropped on a tour guide teaching a family a bit about how regular havdallah candles are made, basically by dipping string into melted wax multiple times and then weaving the tapers together while they’re still hot. It’s pretty cool. I actually spent as much money at the candle factory as I did for two nights at Ascent, which either says something about how cheap Ascent is or how impressive the candle factory is. Maybe both. And no, I did not buy a penguin—their faces were too weird.

From the candle factory we poked our heads into the Ari Synagogue (looks like a normal Orthodox synagogue, minus the women’s section) and proceeded to a street lined entirely with galleries of more conventional art—paintings, jewelry, and Judaica. There were some really beautiful things there, all of it expensive. There was even one shop where we got to watch weavers at work, which was really cool although I don’t understand why anyone would spend more than $100 on a really plain-looking matzah cover.

And of course we had to go find the cheese. There are signs all over the place saying “Tzfat cheese à” or “holy Tzfat cheese à” all of which led to another and then yet another sign. Reaching the cheese factory is like going thorough a maze, literally. When we get there it was just a little place—a table covered with different cheeses, a few tables for sitting down, and a room with vats in it that are used to make the cheese. Unfortunately we didn’t get to find out how cheese is made (we’d have to come back on Sunday for that, except that we were leaving Tzfat on Saturday night), but we did get to try every single one of his cheeses. They weren’t expensive, either; I got small pieces of feta and the special Tzfat cheese for only $10. That plus the four rugalach I’d brought from Jerusalem were more than enough for lunch.

Cheese:

So Friday was good. Shabbat… not so much. It’s odd because when I said I wanted to spend a Shabbat in Tzfat, I was warned that Ascent was really, really Orthodox—which is true. However, I’ve spent Shabbat with the Orthodox before, and as long as I know I’m there for Shabbat and not for a long period of time, I even sorta enjoy parts of it. Organizations that reach out to non-Orthodox students tend to be really concerned about how you’re doing and completely willing to talk to you about Orthodoxy. They have this kind of excitement to them. The people at Ascent… didn’t really. There was a shiur before Shabbat, but it didn’t really go anywhere. After that was supposed to be “Candlelighting and orientation,” but in reality it was just lighting on our own and sitting around until time to go to services. Dinner wasn’t with families in Tzfat, as it usually is at Ascent, but all together in a room in the hostel with not so wonderful food. Saturday was more of the same, if not worse; downtime until lunch unless you got up in time to go to 8am services at a synagogue of your choosing, a meal in which there was no vegetarian option (brisket and potatoes that were cooked together with the brisket), more down time until 4:45, an hour-long tour of Tzfat, and then more down time until dinner and even more downtime until havdallah!

Honestly, if I wanted to stay in my room and read and eat crappy found, I could have stayed in Jerusalem. I wasn’t too pleased with Ascent Shabbat. Usually they pay attention to us. Usually there’s singing and words of Torah and decent food when Orthodox organizations try to draw people in (and presumably the rest of the year, too), and that’s what I was expecting. That’s what I paid for. I feel like it would have been different if we’d gone to families for meals, but the website made no mention of the fact that Shabbat HaGadol isn’t a Shabbat where we get hosted. If it had, we probably would have come another weekend.

It all just seems very odd to me. They asked us twice if we were vegetarian—once on the registration form, and once when they called to confirm our registration. There was at least one other girl in our boat, too. If you know more than 48 hours in advance that 3 out of your 10 English-speaking guests are vegetarians, how in the world do you justify ignoring it? Apparently they expected us to just eat the salads, with no warning that we wouldn’t be able to eat the main dish. Thank you very much for your consideration. I really appreciate it.

I think, in the end, I’m still glad I went to Tzfat for Shabbat. As much of a let-down as it was, as much as it was so not worth the 200NIS we paid for it, if I hadn’t done it I would have wished I had. I would have just continued to have this fantasy of Shabbat in Tzfat and regretted never experiencing it. And there were some good parts to it. I discovered that while no one drives on Yom Kippur, the Shabbat of Shabbats, in Jerusalem, no one drives on Shabbat in Tzfat, period. Not a car moving that I could see, at least not on HaAri Street or Jerusalem Street, the only two streets we walked on where cars can actually go. I also discovered that there are basically no cats it Tzfat. The entire time we were there, we only saw two—as opposed to the rest of Israel, where they’re everywhere. These things are interesting to me. They’re unique, the same way the history is unique. I just wish all of Shabbat was like that.

Reconstructionist Shabbat in Jerusalem

It's amazing how different this past Shabbat was from the previous Shabbat. Last Shabbat I was in the Kfar, sick, and didn't do anything Shabbatistic other than consume a challah. This Shabbat was Shabbat.

Friday night was disappointing at first because I didn't realize how early Shabbat started (3:58 candle-lighting time!), so I didn't have time to walk down to Shira Chadasha for services. Instead, I hung around Ahuva's until Alexis arrived, at which point the three of us experimented with porridgey couscous. The result: fried couscous with mushrooms, onions, poultry seasoning, zatar, and whatever other spices Alexis put in there. It was actually really good, and a testimony to what creative college graduates can do if they actually learn how to cook. (Read: a testimony to the awesomeness that is Alexis in the kitchen.)

After dinner we settled down to watch Swing Kids (or rather, let it load on MegaVideo) until Ahuva's roommate and one of her friends came in with Mr. Fuzzfuzz, at which point we proceeded to talk about kitties and tell funny stories from high school. But really, while Friday night was a lot of fun, it's not the main point of this entry. The real reason I was downtown, intruding on Ahuva's hospitality, was that this week was the monthly Reconstructionist minyan, which I am absolutely in love with.

They've said that Reconstructionist services are never the same twice in a row, but I've now attended twice in a row (this Shabbat and Parshat Noach last month) and it seemed pretty similar to me. A lot of the tunes used in Psukei D'zimra were Reform, but there actually was a Psukei D'zimra, as opposed to it just meshing into Shacharit. I was very happy to hear a tune of Elohai Neshama which I know and love from Temple Emanuel. We also did Ahava Rabbah entirely out loud, which I haven't heard since sophomore year at AHA, before Rabbi Stein started valuing time over singing.

The gem of the service, though, was the Torah service. The Reconstructionist minyan in Jerusalem reads only three aliyot, but all of the aliyot are communal. Each one has a theme relating to the portion to be read. I don't remember what the first one was, but the last two this week were for anyone struggling with jealousy or feeling under-appreciated (for Esau's pleading for his blessing) and for anyone who was searching for something (for Jacob's being sent out to search for a wife). After each reading, the gabbi rishon gives a mi sheberach blessing based on the theme - that we should overcome our jealousy and see that we are loved, that we find what we are searching for, etc. It's really moving to stand up there and have someone say a blessing over you, especially one that's produced on the spot and not one that's just being read off a sheet. Before the third aliyah they do the normal mi sheberach for the sick, but they do it in the form of a chant of "ana el na refa na la," the words Moses prayed for Miriam when she was sick, and while it's being repeated people say the names of the people for whom they are praying. This is also really moving because the entire congregation is chanting it at once, rather than just one person standing in the front reading off a piece of paper.

After services is a potluck with lots of good food--mostly carbs. People like to bring pasta to these kinds of things, it seems. That and dessert. This week there were also two different kinds of lentil soup (in honor of the parasha, where Esau sells Jacob his birthright in return for lentil soup), tofu, pumpkin cake, and bread pudding - all of which were very exciting. Lunch was nice; I sat with Noam, Devorah, Alexis, and a rotating couple of RRC students. It's hard to describe, but the potluck is both part of the Reconstructionist minyan and not a part at the same time. I mean, it's a potluck, and a potluck is a potluck is a potluck. Yet, the potluck begins with kiddish and motzi, and if you stay till the end they do birkat, too. But it's not the full birkat, not at first at least. First they do a really interesting alternative birkat:

בריך רחמנה מלכה די עלמה מריה דהי פיתא
(Brikh rakhamana malkah d’almah mareh d’hai pita)
You are the source of life for all that is, and your blessing flows through us.

Oh Lord prepare me
to be a sanctuary,
pure and holy,
tried and true.
And with thanksgiving,
I’ll be a living
sanctuary
for you.

ועשו לי מקדש ושכנתי בתוכם
V’asu li mikdash v’shakhanti b’tokham

The middle part and the melody are taken from a Christian prayer that's apparently very popular at multifaith gatherings, but it works and it's pretty, especially when combined with with the relevant Hebrew. Our table did the traditional Birkat Hamazon afterwards, but most people just started to clean up. I think that's pretty much indicative of the Reconstructionist minyan; do everything, but maybe in an abbreviated form which still retains the beauty and meaning of the prayer. I think that's what I like about it. It's a nice balance.

Shabbat in the Holy Land

I had this very idealistic idea of Shabbat is Israel before I came here--something that involved Shira Hadasha and lots of spiritual experiences. Now that I'm here, however, I'm realizing just how idealistic that was. Yes, there are a lot of Jews in Israel, which means a lot of synagogues and people celebrating Shabbat. However, you need more than a place to go for services to make Shabbat. Not any place works. It's not fulfilling to walk into an Orthodox synagogue where the ruach is in the front and you're stuck in the women's section in the back--at least, not if you're not used to that kind of thing, and these are the majority of the synagogues in Israel! You also can't walk into a synagogue that does most of the service silently, regardless of its movement affiliation, if the ruach is what makes Shabbat meaningful for you. And of course, even if you find a good minyan--Shira Hadasha, for instance, or the Reconstructionist movement's monthly minyan--this means nothing unless you have a community of friends with which to spend the holiday. Meals, conversations, board games--these are important parts of Shabbat! And I have seen glimpses of all these things in the past few months, the good bits and the bad. Honestly, after all this time, I'm not finding Israel particularly spiritually fulfilling. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough; I don't know. Maybe the spirituality of the Holy Land is confined to the Orthodox majority; I don't know. All I know is that I feel like I'm still searching for something, and I haven't found it yet.

Classes

You know how when things get busy, all you want to do when you have a spare moment is lie down and do nothing? That's been me lately. Classes started three weeks ago already, and I haven't written a thing. I've been so busy with schoolwork and dealing with idiot banks and phone companies... well, that's another story. Right now I just want to write about The Big Thing, my classes.

The first class I'm taking, of course, is Hebrew. I'm in Ramat Gimel intensive, which means we have an extra half an hour of class each day so that we can get through the entire level and enter Daled next semester. That is, of course, in theory; my teacher is adding in additional classes so we actually finish everything. Read: Instead of having class 8:15-10:15 Monday/Tuesday and 8:30-10:15 and 10:30-12:15 Wednesday, I will soon have an extra 10:30-12:15 class on (some) Mondays. Sound like Ulpan, anyone?

I'm learning how wise the Ulpan program was. We had class from 8:30 until 1:15 (I think--I can't even remember anymore!), which was a lot, but we always had a break after an hour and a half. Now we have two hours straight, and it's really hard to concentrate that long without a break. I also think that my Ulpan teachers are better than my current teachers, even though one of my current teachers is a PhD and the other one wrote our textbook. During Ulpan, our teachers couldn't rely on translating words into English to convey their meaning to us because not everyone spoke English; now it seems like it's all they do. I miss the pictures and the wild gestures and understanding the words for what they are rather than what they mean in English.

Long story short, I'm not enjoying Hebrew, nor do I really feel like I'm learning much. I don't know how we're going to get through the level, nor do I know how I'm going to learn enough to take a class in Hebrew next semester. In theory I'm working my way through Daled on my own; not in theory, I don't have time and will have to see how much cramming I can do during break / whether I can convince the teacher I can work really hard and puppy-dog my advisor into letting me take it even though technically Daled is required. Israel is supposed to be full of loopholes.

My other class on Mondays and Wednesdays is Talmud, which I don't really understand. I was supposed to be in the lower level Talmud class because I've only ever studied Talmud in high school (and that was my first trimester!), but the lower level class was full of Nativ kids who joked throughout the whole first class without the teacher saying anything. I left half-way through; I can't learn anything in an environment like that, let alone Talmud.

Now I'm in the more advanced Talmud class, Critical Readings in the Talmud: The Talmud as a Path to Tikkun. Technically I have the prerequisites--Hebrew level Gimel and a class in classical Jewish literature (Kimelman's Liturgy class), but I feel like everyone else in the class has studied some Talmud before, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be getting out of it. What's the point of Talmud study? What are we supposed to be learning? My tri-chevruta (the product of an odd number of students in the class) is working off of the original Talmud page, which means we're reading and translating the Aramaic and... not much else. We're not really questioning it. Should we be? And even if we do, of what value will our answers be, when there are no real answers to be found?

My internship class, In the Community I: Israel Case Studies - Academic Internship, is also a mixed bag. The main thing that I'm learning from the class itself is that I really don't like psychology; sociology is much more interesting to me. It's mostly a waste of time, a lot of people sharing what's going on with their internships mixed with a bit of organizational psychology from the teacher. The good thing about knowing that I have to write a paper connecting the readings to my internship is that I'm connecting things as I go along; I guess I'm learning something there, but it doesn't merit an hour and a half every week.

My internship itself, however, is wonderful. I'm doing a whole bunch of things for JOH: running the English Speakers Group, helping to write and edit articles for the newsletter, helping to put the donor database in some sort of order, and helping to catalog and order the library. All in eight hours a week. I really like it, though, because it means hanging out at JOH a lot, whether I'm there for my internship or not. It means spending time out of my American study-abroad bubble and with Israelis in an Israeli setting, not just Israelis that were brought in like, "Oh, look, kids--it's Israelis!" I really like being able to meet people and work with people by myself and not just spend time with people the university presents to us. It's not helping my Hebrew much because everyone speaks at least some English, but I get to overhear some stuff in Hebrew, and there's more to a culture than just the language. I'm also beginning to get used to things here, and I'm starting to see how I'm going to get some degree of culture shock when I go back to the States in January.

By far, my favorite class this semester is one that got added on a whim: Nafez Nazzal's The Palestinians: Modern History and Society. Professor Nazzal's a wonderful lecturer. Everything he says is imbued with passion because he's speaking about his people and things that he can see but can't fix. Class is filled with tangents, stories of his life, but every tangent is relevent because his story is the story of the Palestinians. He knows leaders on both sides, has been threatened by leaders on both sides, teaches Palestinian students and Jewish students, gains perspectives from those he teaches... and tries his best to open everyone's eyes. Another student and I are recording his lectures because his wisdom is too important not to be recorded. It's amazing, and I can't believe I almost didn't take it. I know that I'll listen to the recordings again later, and share them with friends if I can, legally. Can I? I feel like everything Professor Nazzal is teaching us is too important not to spread.

Outside of this, I have a bunch of Jewish learning classes. I'm still doing Jeff Seidel, though I'm not really enjoying it and would definitely drop it if it wasn't my only way to earn money in Israel. My old chevruta partner gave birth over Sukkot break, and I don't know yet what to think about my new partner. My roommate Estie has also convinced me to go to the Hillel-Hecht Beit Midrash on Monday nights, which is where my tri-chevruta is going to do our Talmud homework. Wednesdays are the Masorti learning community (read: beit midrash, just not called that for who knows what reason) where Woty and I are learning bits of queer Talmud--see my original questions about Talmud study above.

With all of this, I feel like I have very little time. I'm beginning to miss Sundays, as Shabbat begins earlier than ever right now and my pre-Shabbat Fridays consist of sleeping in, cleaning the apartment, and going downtown to Ahuva's, where I've spent four out of the past six Shabbatot. I really need to learn to walk the 3.3 miles from the Kfar to Emek Refaim, or the 2.67 to Ahuva's. Those are the main places where Cool Shabbat Stuff happens...

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.

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.

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!

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.

Shabbat in Jerusalem

When I describe BUCO to people, I say that it's like Shira Hadasha without the mechitza. I am proud to say that I attended services at Shira Hadasha last night, and it really is an accurate analogy. It was a wonderful service; I wish I lived downtown so Shira Hadasha could be my regular minyan.

I'm spending Shabbat with Ahuva. Last night we went to services and dinner at the house of one of her friends from HUC, and then we came back and collapsed. Well, Ahuva and I both collapsed--as soon as Mr. FuzzFuzz (Ahuva's cat) decided to give up his half of the couch, I was out. Actually, he never did give it up - Ahuva's friend Alexis had to move him.

The annoying thing about Jerusalem is that the busses stop running between 15:00 and 17:00 on Fridays and don't start running again until an hour after the end of Shabbat, thus why I'm on Ahuva's couch. In theory I could take a taxi back to campus, but I'm a cheapy who doesn't currently have the money for such things. We've had a really lazy day, lots of sleeping and reading and talking. The sun's going down; the first bus reaches here in an hour and a half.

I'm currently reading Ahuva's senior thesis, which is entitled "Concessions, or the Relationship between Sexuality and the Pursuit of Holiness: a Comparative Exploration of Virginity, Marriage, and Contraception in Roman Catholicism and Orthodox Judaism." I'm really enjoying it, and not just because it's an interesting topic. So far my only class here has been ulpan, and that's not academic in the sense of thinking and analyzing and the passage of knowledge from one person (or persons) to another. I'm realizing how much I miss such things now. I guess this is more proof that I'm going into the right field after college--what is sociology if not the making and passing of knowledge?

Shabbat

This weekend I had my first real Shabbat in Jerusalem. Last weekend was a bit of a let-down--on Friday night we students davened with a random group at the Regency Hotel who turned out to be some branch of Sephardim that mumble through everything, and then I slept through Saturday morning. This weekend was better. I moved into religious housing for the Shabbat aspect, but it turns out that my roommates either go home or visit family for Shabbat, so I had the apartment to myself. Friday night and Saturday morning I attended Ramat Gan, a Masorti (Conservative) synagogue just five minutes away from Kfar Studentim. I was really surprised to find a Masorti synagogue so close; Orthodox synagogues abound in Jerusalem, but Masorti synagogues are harder to find.

Ramat Gan definitely has an older population, but the congregants are friendly. I met multiple people who had ties to Brandeis, and others who were just curious about what I was studying. I find some comfort in the fact that I was able to understand when the gabbai called out page numbers in Hebrew, even though that's simple vocabulary--Level Alef (1)--and they weren't my page numbers anyway since I was davening out of my Sim Shalom. The d'var Torah was entirely in Hebrew, so I didn't catch much of it--he was talking about democracy and connecting it to the parsha somehow. Maybe I would have understood more had I read the parsha, but I don't know. I think the man who gave the d'var was American; he definitely didn't have an Israeli accent, and I could understand him better than I can understand Israelis. He spoke slower, too. But what good is my Hebrew if I can't understand it when Israelis speak?

I have to go back to class now. Break is over.