Police make all the difference

Police make all the difference in the world. Remember my first trip to Women of the Wall? It was pretty miserable, both due to the rain and due to the haredim's hatred. There were police around, but we didn't feel guarded; this was just a month after Nofrat Frankel was arrested. The next month the police made a barrier between us and the haredi women and it went better, though one woman was hit by a haredi. This month--G-d. What a difference.

The assault from the men's side was totally unexpected. They did not wait for us to start davening, but instead threw a bunch of chairs over the mechitza while we were still gathering, even breaking a leg off one of them. It wasn't even 7am, and the police hadn't arrived yet. Lots of chairs (and a video starting in the middle of it):

Notice how the women attempt to make light of it. This is how you have to think at Women of the Wall--ironic comments are about all we can do.

Needless to say, I thought that the early chair throwing was an indication of a very bad morning ahead. It's not exactly a good sign. However, the men eventually stopped throwing chairs and the police came over to ask what happened and help clean up the chairs. Someone also said that they arrested the chair-thrower, which was the first good sign of the day. (According to YNet, they arrested two chair-throwers even!)

Once we started davening, the police formed a wall between us and the haredim. Surprisingly, the haredi women didn't bother us this time--one woman muttered about how the moshiach was never going to come this way when she walked past us, but that was it. The men were also surprisingly subdued. There was a little bit of shouting, but that didn't last. They mostly walked/danced around in a circle singing, supposedly drowning us out in their ears. For the first time ever I could hear every word the service leader said; the sounds from the men's side didn't overpower us at all us. Oh--and Mr. Recite Hallel at Us was back today, too. That was sorta weird--it almost seemed as if he was supporting us, except we knew better. (He was screaming "gevalt" last month.)

At the end of Hallel we were actually able to dance around in a circle ourselves, which one of the women said had never happened before. No videos of that because I was participating, but I think this is proof of what police--and overseas--support can do. When the chair-thrower was arrested I think it really changed the dynamics. The haredim no longer had the upper hand, and there were consequences to their hatred. They were in the position that we were in back in December, and even more so probably November. And why were the police guarding us? I think that has something to do with overseas--particularly North American--support for Women of the Wall. I mean, politics make my head spin, but when 29 Canadian rabbis send a letter to their Israeli ambassador supporting Women of the Wall and there is enough American support that the ambassador to the United States made a statement about the issue, that's gotta mean something, right? If nothing else, it'd probably make Israel look pretty bad if/when something bad happened to the Women of the Wall while they were davening, assuming they were following the law (not reading from the Torah and not wearing talitot). Why else would the police go from arresting Nofrat Frenkel to protecting us from the haredim, if not for international pressure?

I have to say, I will be perfectly happy if the Haredi men keep drowning us out by singing and dancing and reciting Hallel at us. These are all things that belong at the Kotel. Screaming insults and throwing chairs--those do not. What are the chances that they'll find this solution satisfactory, or that next month will be even slightly like this month? One thing I've learned over the past three months is that the reaction to our davening is unpredictable. Totally and completely unpredictable.

We went from our peaceful davening at the Kotel to an even more peaceful Torah reading with rotating Torah readers, including Devora, a fellow Rothberg student. Notice how you can hear the birds singing. Isn't that a nice end to it all?

A trip to the City of David

An update about the start of the new semester and my class schedule will come soon; we're three weeks into the semester and my schedule just got finalized today. However, this semester promises many more class-sponsored tourism than I got last semester due to one class: Jerusalem's Architectural History. We had our first field trip today, a visit to the City of David. Possible little known fact: the Old City of Jerusalem today is nowhere near on the same land as the Really Old City of Jerusalem, aka the city that King David built. The only overlap is really the Temple Mount--everything else is outside the current walls.

Another possibly little known fact: Jerusalem architecture is ugly. There's this way of building one house on top of another because that's how you build on the side of a mountain--okay, I get that. But why does everything have to be so blocky? It's just ugly, and it's all over Israel. Really, why? The below photo is of Sirwan, an Arab neighborhood across the valley from the City of David, but it's just one example.

These particular houses obviously weren't there in biblical times, but they were still built one on top of the other--thus how King David saw Batsheva bathing. However, what was there was Warren's Shaft, (probably) the passage through which David and Yoav originally invaded Jeursalem back when it was a Canaanite city. We got to go down there:

Of course, the metal stairs weren't there originally, but it was still pretty cool. We also went through Hezekiah's Tunnel, which involved lots of water and a soaking wet skirt. I couldn't take video in there because I needed my batteries for my flashlight, but I stole someone else's video off Youtube:

This class includes four field trips like this. Today was First Temple Period Jerusalem, next week is Second Temple Period, and in the future we have post-Christianity and Islam Jerusalem and Modern Jerusalem. Pretty cool. Hopefully by the end of the semester things will stop looking like one piece of Jerusalem stone after another... which is really all I can tell of Jerusalem right now.

Purim x2

Israel is one of only two places in the world where you can celebrate Purim, drive to another city, and then find that it's (Shushan) Purim all over again the next day. While this is an interesting phenomenon, it's one that I hadn't intended on taking part of. Purim is not my favorite holiday ever - there's too much partying and drinking and too little meaning. Still, when I mentioned to my friend Ri that it would technically be possible for me to get from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv for Saturday night's megillah reading at the Gay Center and she offered to let me stay over for the night, I figured I might as well. It's not like I'm going to get this chance ever again.

The evening at the gay center began with a havdallah that wasn't so impressive, though it did allow me time to scan the room with my camera. Havdallah's usually my favorite Shabbat service, but it wasn't like anyone was joining in with the singing, and the leaders botched the words enough to make me wonder whether they normally do this or not. It's also the first time I had ever seen havdallah done without dimming the lights.

The megillah reading was your typical megillah reading. Lots of people in costumes, lots of noise whenever Haman's name was said. I was actually really surprised at one point when a cowboy went up to read and I recognized "his" voice--it was Nofrat Frenkel from Women of the Wall. My camera failed me on that reading, though, so I have to leave you with the reading of a sailor and a cute mother/daughter pair instead.

After the megillah reading most people left for other parties around the city, but a few stayed for dancing at the gay center. I stood or sat against the wall the whole time, but it was still pretty entertaining to watch. I really like the fact that alcohol wasn't the center, which is usually the problem with Purim since it's supposedly a mitzvah to drink until you can't tell the difference between Mordechai and Haman. There was one girl walking around with a bottle of something, but that was about it. It was mostly dancing--again, a bad camera time. There were some really cute moments, like a Haradi woman dancing with a gay guy dressed up like a fairy and a woman in a lion suit dancing with a little girl dressed up like snow white. Unfortunately, all I caught on camera was the normal dancing stuff, none of the really good moments.

We got back to Ri's house around 1am on Saturday night, slept in until noon, and then headed off to the bus and train stations and back to Jerusalem for Purim Part II. We had planned to go to a megillah reading and possibly to another gay Purim party at HaKatze, but we didn't end up getting back to the Kfar until 8pm and we decided to just stay in and make some hamentashen dough. This morning, however, was a totally different story as we went to the Kotel for the Women of the Wall's megillah reading.

This was the first time I have ever heard a delayed reaction when it comes to drowning out Haman's name. People are usually jumping at it - I'm used to megillah readings where the reader says "ha" and someone starts making noise, whether or not that word is actually supposed to be Haman. This is the first time I've ever seen the reader pause without being forced into the pause by the overwhelming noise, and the noise lasted significantly less time than, say, at the gay center megillah reading.

What's even stranger than Haman, though, is the fact that the Women of the Wall megillah reading went without a hitch. There were about a million people at the Kotel, on both sides of the mechitza, and there was a bar mitzvah going on on the men's side. Yet, we were completely ignored by everyone. I don't understand; if the problem with women praying out loud is a problem of kol isha, why doesn't apply to megillah reading? If it isn't a problem with kol isha, what is the problem? Why can't they just leave us alone? I should be thankful that no one screamed at us this time (though I confess I was was sorta looking forward to chalking it down to an over-enthusiastic drowning out of Haman's name), but it's left me more confused than anything. Politics. Religious politics.

Aaaaaaand--Purim is not yet over. When Ri gets back from her seuda we're going to finish making hamentashen and then hopefully head off to the drag show at HaKatze. Perhaps I will test out my new camera there, since the old one completely failed at the drag show last time.

Women of the Wall - Rosh Chodesh Adar

As I walked down to the Kotel from the Jewish Quarter this morning, the first thing I noticed was the large amount of men davening on the men's side--so much larger than the group there last time (see my post). There were more women, too, but what I noticed was the men--I suppose I saw them as more of a threat, and there were so many more of them. I know it's probably because it wasn't raining cats and dogs this time, unlike in December, but as I walked down the steps I got a bit nervous. More people means more chance of trouble, and there were a large number of police cars in the parking lot, too.

I got there early, so I went up to the Kotel for a little alone time and spontaneous prayer, something I can only seem to do at the Kotel. When I got back--the Women of the Wall meet just outside the women's section--I found some familiar faces, and it wasn't long until davening started.

I was surprised by how quiet it was at first. For all the men in the men's section, most of them ignored us, and in the beginning there was only one guy yelling "gevalt" at us. It was easy to hear Nofrat Frenkel, who was leading the davening--unlike last time, when we had to strain to hear the leader. Eventually more people started yelling at us, but it was the women who made more of a fuss at us, pointing and yelling. There were plenty of soldiers and police officers guarding us, though; they stood between us and the women, though I think I saw a bit of shoving at one point. I was in the back, up against the wall that marks the end of the women's section. I figured it would give me a bit of emotional support if necessary, since getting two hours of sleep doesn't so much make for stability. Overall, though, I thought it was pretty much okay. It wasn't until Hallel that we had to strain to hear Nofrat, when other men joined in the "gevalt" and the women were screaming. By that point our original gevalter was reciting Hallel at us--though I don't understand what the point of that was. Yes, we know. We were just reciting that, thank you very much.

As we left the Kotel plaza for Robinson's Arch, a few men joined our group, including Noam and Mr. Dubin. This made me think a little bit; I've told people a few times that (in high school, at least) I felt that one of the worst parts of being a woman was not being able to help make a minyan in circumstances that required adherence to Orthodox law. How must these men feel, who want to support Women of the Wall but can't because of their gender? Is it similar to the way I feel when I can't help make a minyan? Perhaps I'll ask next time I see Mr. Dubin.

The rest of the service went without a hitch--we walked over to Robinson's Arch singing Mishe Nichnas Adar, but no one followed us over. We read the Torah with no screaming people and no rain to disrupt us. There was a little bit of dancing at the end of the Musaf amidah, but not so much. It was just calm, really, a big contrast to the davening at the Kotel itself. Out of sight, out of mind?

It's hard to come up with concluding thoughts right now, as I am writing this before going back to sleep--and if two hours isn't enough for emotional stability, it sure isn't enough for thinking. Thinking back to December, though, when most of the men on the men's side were screaming at us, it's amazing how many people ignored us. It's even more amazing to me that the women were the ones who gave us the hardest time; I understand, sorta, that there's a problem with kol isha for the men, but what's the problem with the women? Do they feel like we're reflecting badly on womenkind? If anything, I think they're the ones doing that. All we want to do is pray.

I'm grateful for the soldiers and police officers who came to protect us. I'm glad that no one got arrested. I'm glad that my initial fears were largely unfounded--though, perhaps I didn't get the full experience standing in the back. Those in the front may have a different story.

British Airways

I'm back in my dorm room in Jerusalem after a month in the States, and I would like to write about something I should have written about a month ago: my experiences with British Airways.

My flight to the States coincided with the big snowstorm in the UK, which means my original Friday flight was cancelled. After an hour on hold, I got my flight rescheduled for Monday and settled in for a Shabbat at Ahuva's--which was fine until Friday night, when my second flight got cancelled. Another hour on hold and I was booked for Tuesday.

When I got back to the Kfar on Saturday night, I learned that my roommate Estie, who was also flying British Airways, was still going out in the morning. At this point I just wanted to get home and pet the cats, so I listened to another hour of hold music before finally talking to a representative. I explained my situation, that my flight had been cancelled twice and that my roommate was flying out in the morning, asked if there was any way I could be put on her flight. After a few more minutes of hold music, she came back saying I was good to go. Why they didn't put me on that flight to begin with I'll never know, but it was that simple. She even stayed on the line a while longer so Estie and I could ask various questions about baggage allowances and special meals, juggling both of our questions and both of our accounts without ever sounding annoyed. And this after multiple days of call after call of frustrated, hour-on-hold passengers!

Since then I've had a few less pleasant experiences with British Airways, namely another call during the massive snowstorm in DC to try and reschedule my flight which was met with one very rude customer service representative. Also, whereas this entry a month ago would have mentioned the surprisingly edible food provided by British Airways--evidenced by both August flights and the January ones--maybe they're making budget cuts or something, since the food was nearly inedible for my flights back to Israel. However, I have to hand it to them; they did take off during a time when the DC metro was even shut down, and I even had a row to myself for my first flight--totally coincidental, but it made up for Mr. Customer Service Guy.

I've flown El Al before, during my first trip to Israel with AHA. They're much more expensive and, honestly, I don't think they have anything over British Airways to make it worth the cost. And with my travel luck, being able to say anything good about an airline is a miracle. I don't expect to travel much in the future, but if I do I know which airline I'll pick (assuming they stay on the cheap side of the price range, of course).

Besides--who could resist those accents and the pink and blue pillows they put on the seats?

The value of money

I owe this blog a long entry about the ending of the semester, but that entry is still to come. Right now, I would like to talk about the concept of money.

I have been spending money on food, transportation, and other daily necessities for five months now, all in shekels. As I travel around Boston now, I'm really not doing anything I haven't done before. Yet, somehow, it feels different. While I balked at a $2 bottle of water at the airport, once I converted it into shekels I realized that I'd bought a $2 (8NIS) bottle of water in Israel before, quite willingly, if not an experience I repeated again once I realized how much I'd spent. $1.80 in subway fare sounded high when I looked at how much I'd be traveling until I realized that it's not that different from Egged's $1.25 (5.9NIS) fare for those who can't pass as a youth. $4 on pizza and $8 on lo mein also seem extreme when I'm looking at buying all my meals, until I remember those $7 (26NIS) calzones I splurged on a few times. Similarly, the $3.25 (12NIS) falafels I got in Israel felt really cheap there, but really aren't when compared to that pizza.

I always knew that I don't really have any real concept of the shekel. I've been judging my purchases based on whether the number seems large, knowing that you really can't get anything for 1NIS. But it took me until this trip home to realize that I've been thinking about it in the same way I think of dining points at Brandeis: I have a fixed number of them, and as long as I don't go over I'm good. Shekels don't look like dollars, and it's not like I can earn any anyway. But in the States, where I'm used to money as something that's earned and spent and saved, it's a completely different matter. The money guilt that has evaded me in Israel comes flooding back.

I have not yet figured out the solution to this problem, or what it is I need to solve here. The lack of money guilt is very nice, though being left to spend whatever I please is probably not a good idea. Perhaps leaving my money in dollars in a US bank will solve this one.

How not to plan a trip

* Plan the entire trip between midnight and 2:30am the night before you leave.

* Stay up until 2:30am when you have to get up at 9:30am. Repeat the next night, substituting "2am" and "7:30am." Survive the trip with the help of caffeine pills. Be really crabby because of it. Travel with another person who's doing the exact same thing.

* Plan to meet someone and then have one digit wrong in her phone number.

* Plan your entire trip around websites about gay Tel Aviv, and then find out that there's nothing to see or do until night.

* Fail to realize that there are two shuks in Tel Aviv, and then go to the one that's mostly food and not random fun stuff.

* Fail to look up each and every relevant bus route.

Read: The one big important lesson I learned from my trip to Tel Aviv and Haifa with Ahuva is that I'm really not cut out to be a traveller. Going to places I'm unfamiliar with is too stressful.