Where is home?

What a difficult question this can be for those of us in the Year in Israel program.  Probably even difficult for anyone who has moved anywhere in the past few years.  For that matter, anyone who just doesn't feel at home wherever they are at.
I think the question is a matter of the heart, how you feel when you are going to some place, or leaving another.  How do I feel as I left Jerusalem yesterday and am now sitting in the Philly airport waiting for my connection to Dayton?  Jerusalem is my home for now.  I didn't want to leave and I want to return soon.
A big part of this is that I have no other home.  Many people can point to some place they grew up as their home.  Others, wherever they lived last year.  It's been a long time and a lot of water under the bridge since Pittsburgh was my home. About the most I can say for that is I'm a big Penguins fan.
Cincinnati is where I will return when I come back for good in May but I have no place there now.  I mean place in both the physical and emotional sense.  It doesn't feel like home.  I am so excited to see my children but for me, it is a visit, not a coming home.  I'm looking forward to the coming home on January 11th.
This may be upsetting for some to read, interesting for others.  All I can say is that life is about change.  Roll with it and maybe a little peace and happiness can follow.  I'm happy in Jerusalem.

Catch up!

I haven't posted in a while but today I thought I better since time is getting very tight near the end of the semester . . . So this is a compilation post working backwards in time . . .

Today was my first service leading in front of my classmates.  I am so lucky to have paired with my cantorial partner Kenny Feibush.  He definitely made things easy for me: great sounding board for my own ideas, brought his own to the table, respected my overall theme . . . and most importantly was a wonderfully calming person to lead with . . . Thanks Kenny!

I received quite a few compliments on the service.  I hope it was a prayerful experience for everyone.  I did present a Hasidic style tale that I wrote myself.  My faculty advisor thought it was very good and I believe he was pleasantly surprised to learn I had written it myself.  Something I have neglected for a long time is my creative self.  So this was very important to me and I am thrilled for the positive feedback.  Here is the text . . . A Tale of Letters

Just a few other things . . .
This past weekend we went to Qumran.  It was a great trip led by our 2nd Temple History instructor, David Levine.  The best part was hiking up the Qumran wadi.

A few weeks ago we went south to the Arava for tiyyul.  We stayed at Kibbutz Yahel, and visited Kibbutz'm Lotan and Ketura.  They had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner for us at Ketura.  One of the best Thanksgiving's I can remember.  Again, the best part of the trip was a hike.  This time up Mt. Shlomo in the Eilat Mountains.  This was a challenging hike and a little bit of a fear of heights I didn't even know I realy had made it even more challenging.  My friend Polly talked me through many of the harder parts.  I returned the favor by helping her out when she got just a little sick on the way down the mountain.  Definitely made the hike memorable . . . Thanks Polly!

A few weeks before that was the Parallel Lives weekend.  Parallel Lives is a program that pairs IDF soldiers from the elite Maglan unit with YII students so we can learn about each other.  I am paired with Danny Sorkin, a really great young man with wonderful friends.  I stayed with him and his family in Lod . . . which I am happy to tell you is a nice place.  It definitely does not deserve its reputation which I wont even bother talking about because its not true.  I met some of his friends who are all interesting people.  Young Israeli's definitely know nothing about Reform Judaism and definitely think it is strange for someone to say they are studying to be a rabbi when they are not wearing a black suit and hat.  They did have a lot of questions and I think and hope they found it refreshing that I am just like them, a real person.  They do stay out a little late . . . I was definitely exhausted when the weekend was over.
A very warm thanks to Danny and his family.  His parents were great.  They put up with my lack of understanding Russian, Yiddish, and almost no Hebrew.  No one can beat Mrs. Sorkin in the Jewish mother category.  She stuffed me silly with Russian food.

The weekend before that was a Tel Aviv weekend with Natan and Lenette and their friends for erev shabbat . . . then Yael and her friends Netta and Iyella for wine and dancing - definitely great to hang out with three gorgeous ladies in Tel Aviv . . . although again, a little late for me . . . I only say that because I really wondered if I would make it through a day on the Mediterranean with Natan and Lenette.  A yummy Aroma ice coffee helped me recover and I was ready to go.  A great windy day on the boat.  I am truly lucky to have such good friends . . . Yael, Natan and Lenette.

If there was something before this I hope I think of it later . . . enough for now.

Thanksgiving Thanks

Thanks to Lindsey Rothschild for inspiring all of us on our southern Tiyyul to write a little something about what we are thankful for this Thanksgiving.  Here is a poem I wrote for the occassion:

Wind on the mountain
Air in my breath
Rush of the sea
Blood in my veins
Trees standing in the forest
The strength of my bones
The silence of the desert
The peace in my heart
The elegance of the entire world
The light of the Lord's consciousness
A small spark in me
Allowing me to see it all.

Panic?

My first rule in any situation . . . remain calm, don't panic . . .

I'm trying to remember that as I count the things I have to do this week and measure them against the hours available to do them . . . The time I spent with the boys last week rather than study was well worth it!!!!

Digesting the News . . . there's nothing else to do . . .

So with 24 hours in Philadelphia thanks to US Airways and the weather I have a little time on my hands to do more than just read the news.  I had a few minutes to think about it . . .

Here were the headlines I read today in the Wall Street Journal . . .

Struggling French Banks Fought to Avoid Oversight . . .
Germany, France Delay Euro Rescue Plan . . .
Greece Approves Cuts Amid Violent Protests . . .
For Bank in Spain, Links Aren't Plain . . .
Retailers Brace for 'Flash Robs' This Shoplifting Season . . .

and from the New York Times on-line . . .

Volcker Rule Grows From Simple to Complex . . .

In a nutshell . . . you can't trust the banks because they're in it to make money and they're BIG.  So big that when they do something, it means BIG money and BIG bonuses and payoff for the bank executives.  They'll do anything to avoid regulation and oversight.  They have a nasty habit of lying to their own investors and regulators.

The media reports the disagreement between France and Germany like they are bickering kids.  I think there should be arguments.  There are fundamental differences of opinion in how the world financial crisis should be handled.  This isn't the time to rush into a bad solution just for the sake of doing something.  The something, if the wrong thing, could cause the economies of the world irreparable damage.  I say, keep arguing and come to a well thought out solution.  Don't rush . . . get it right.

While the French and Germans are arguing, the US Congress continues to allow itself to be wagged by just about anyone.  The banking/investment lobbies had bargained for looser regulations and look where that got us.  Now it's time to reign them back in and Congress doesn't have the guts to do it, allowing it's own legislation to be corrupted by lobbyists once again, swelling a four page ideal to swell to a 300 page regulation so complicated that no one likes it and it is unlikely to go anywhere.  Listening to the radio last week, various interviews with Ohio politicians revealed that their biggest disappointment with public service is the fact that every day they have to spend appreciable time raising money from the minute they get into office, not necessarily for themselves, but for the RNC or DNC.

Meanwhile, prosecution of bank and financial institution executives seems like it will never happen.  They manage to skirt responsibility for the actions of their organizations.  The only people going to jail are the obvious ponzie schemers like Madoff and people who defraud the banks like Kweku Adoboli . . . he was the guy who got arrested in London for blowing $2 Billion of UBS's money in bad unauthorized trades.

Meanwhile, as the Greek debt crisis continues, the Greek Government is taking a lot of heat and their is violence in the streets because they are doing what has to be done.  At a time when the economy has failed, the Greek Government can't possibly support the social welfare state it created and austerity measures are critical to contain the crisis.  How can the rest of Europe be expected to bail them out if they don't tighten their belts?  Yet the youth in Greece don't quite see it that way.  They are throwing rocks and rioting in the streets protesting the measures.  Why is it so difficult to realize that when there is no money, you actually have to consume less and work more?  By the way, who is behind the youth?  Oh surprise, surprise . . . the communist political organizations.

The same attitude displayed in the US where the phenomena of 'Flash Robs' is on the increase.  In case you missed it, this is where youth communicate via twitter or facebook or some other medium and organize a mass shoplifting.  The shear volume of the people involved at one store just taking what they want with no warning makes in almost impossible to stop or catch them.  They happen lightning fast and very few of the perpetrators are prosecuted.

And while Ben Bernanke searches for a solution to our financial crisis, he notes what is missing from our economic picture in this recovery struggle . . . a healthy housing market.  So what is the Fed poised to possibly do . . . pump more money into mortgage backed securities.  So let me get this straight . . . propping up an industry to unsustainable levels and encouraging unsustainable borrowing helped cause, if not fully cause, our financial crisis . . . so let's go down that path again.  By the way, I've read some of Bernanke's academic work on the causes of the Great Depression.  It's very intelligent and well reasoned.  I have a lot of trouble believing he doesn't have some good ideas how to get us out of this mess.  Who is chirping in his ear and influencing him?

I can't wait to get back to Ulpan . . . I'd rather be obliviously focusing on verb tenses, vocabulary, and idioms I don't know when I read the news in Hebrew than loose total confidence in where this world is headed reading it in English.

Holy Days in Eretz Yisrael

The High Holy days in Israel were fascinating and meaningful but perhaps not for the reasons one might think.  I have to say that the month of Elul was not what it could have been from a reflection standpoint.  It's a little hard to reflect when you are trying to keep up with readings, learn binyanim, stand in line to pay utility bills at the post office, and generally keep up with the disorganization called rabbinical school.  I wish I could say that my prayer and reflection was intense . . . but not so much . . .
What was fascinating was the scenery of Jerusalem:
Around Rosh Hashanah it was incredible to be walking home after shul and hearing shofars blowing in the distance, most people you pass wishing you well.  Unexpected to get a pleasant Shana Tova from the fish monger and David Dagim in the shuk (the best place to get fish by the way . . . great recommendation by Hanna).  Usually I just get my wet fishy smelling change.  A rabbi who shall remain nameless telling me an absolutely hilarious dirty joke that makes no sense outside of Israel (I shall only repeat in person so I can reserve the right to deny having any knowledge of it . . . ).
Best of all was Yom Kippur.  Prior to this experience, I had always looked on Yom Kippur as a solemn occasion with overwhelming weight.  In Jerusalem it was different.  Certainly there was prayer, reflection, repentance, and all of that but there was also a lightness to it.  Throughout the world Yom Kippur is referred to as the Shabbat of Shabbats (Shabbatot doesn't sound quite right) but in Israel it is really true.  The world did stop.  There was no traffic . . . none.  Even the traffic lights were turned off, all flashing yellow.  People walking down the middle otherwise busy streets.  And the kids riding their bikes in the streets.  I will remember for quite some time on Erev Yom Kippur walking home from the Old City, turning up David HaMelech from Mamilla and seeing a young man peddling up the hill, turning his bike around and beginning his coasting descent.  Then, displaying for all a feat normally only expected at the circus, he put his feet underneath him on the seat of the bike and slowly stood straight up, hands and arms out parallel to the ground, and rode his bike this way the hundred or so yards down to the bottom of the hill.  No doubt he had praticed for months and tuned his bike diligently for this once a year Yom Kippur feat.  He got an applause, whop and holler from me, well deserved.
Usually by late in the afternoon on Yom Kippur day, I am beyond consumed by a headache and nausea. Two years ago, it was so bad that I thought my fasting days were over.  I just wasn't physically made for maintaining the fast.  But, after morning services, a friend and I went on a leisurely walk and talk over to the Wall.  We stopped at a roof top overlook he knew, took in the sights, and listened to a pathetic and comical Jerusalem commentary by a tour guide to a group of American Christian tourists.  The conversation and the walk made all the difference in giving me that strength to make it through the fast.
I must also say that one of the best decisions that I made at the beginning of the summer was to join the High Holy Day Choir.  We started out as 6 Cantorial students and 4 Rabbinical students.  But by the time the High Holy Days rolled around the only rabbis left were Polly and I.  I had this great vision of learning a lot about High Holy Day music.  I can't say I did that.  But, I can say I learned a lot about people and how important for me music is in relating to God.  My thanks to all of the Cantors for allowing us to join the Choir, especially Vlad, my baritone counterpart who consistently helped me find the right notes and was consistently encouraging despite the many frustrations.  And also to Cantor Michal Schiff-Mater whose kindness, gentleness, and love for the music of prayer comes through in almost everything she does.

Yad Vashem and Har HaZikaron

Today I visited the Yad Vashem Holocaust memorial. I'm not sure any words that I may try to put in this blog about this experience are worthy to describe the memorial. If you have been there, you know what I mean. If you haven't been there, I encourage you to come to Israel and visit. The Holocaust is a complex point in time involving the extremes of cruelty, hatred, cowardice, true crimes against humanity; but also woven into the fabric of that moment is also bravery, courage, loving-kindness, and heroism. All day I watched different video clips throughout the memorial of people telling the reality of their experience, the things they saw with their own eyes, first hand accounts.  In addition, I saw true weapons of mass destruction employed against our Jewish people.

At the end of the museum hall is The Hall of Names. In thousands of volumes reside the names and personal details of victims of the Holocaust. The enormity of the collection is staggering. I don't know much about my family, the Bargemans, that were lost in the Holocaust but I do wonder if their names are recorded in one of those volumes. I am still conflicted as to whether it is important to try to find out exactly what happened to them. I think it is important to remember, to know. Their lives do have meaning.
Outside, on the edge of the memorial campus is the Valley of the Communities. It is carved deep into the bedrock of Jerusalem. The walls of the man-made canyon are lined with stone blocks. Upon the face of the stones are carved the names of the all of the known communities lost in the Holocaust. I was the only person in the Valley of the Communities this afternoon. The only sound was that of the wind blowing in through the Jerusalem Forest and the sound of my footsteps on the crushed stone paths. All of the community names sit silently on the wall, representing their millions of souls. In that valley, I felt the enormity of their presence. I emerged from it with their weight upon my shoulders. My existence is so that theirs was not in vain. The people in those communities were murdered because they were Jews. I must continue on my path because I am also a Jew. It is for their sake, mine, and all those who will come after us that we continue. 

I left the Yad Vashem campus walking along a path that connects it with the IDF Military Cemetery.  It would have been easy to leave through the main entrance but I thought it was necessary not only to remember those lost in the Holocaust but also to pay respect to those who have fought and died for the State of Israel.  There were a few people here and there in the cemetery, remembering their loved ones. Mostly, it was quiet and empty. Unlike Yad Vashem, most of the memorial markers were not in multiple languages except for memorials to the big names, like Golda Meir and other heads of state. But I stopped in the section of the cemetary reserved for more recent conflicts. With my emerging Hebrew skills I read the names on many of the grave markers. I don't know these people but I felt it was important to read their names.
As I walked along, I thought about a family I know that survived and escaped the Holocaust. The State of Israel was built with their hands. I will probably never make Aliyah. I will never have the privilege of calling myself an Israeli. But, I am tremendously uplifted that there is a State of Israel and that Jews had the courage to create it and protect it. It is hear for our sake, it is here for a homeland for Jews, it is here to be a beacon of hope to the world.
In Yad Vashem, one of the things you may notice is that there is always more space allowed for more names, more exhibits.  Why?  Because, although it is now a race against time, there are still facts being uncovered about the Holocaust, still names being added to the lists of victims, still names being added the the list of the Righteous Among the Nations.
There will always be some unknowns, some that have lost specific memory.  A long time ago when leading a Kabbalat Shabbat service I made a statement before reading the mourner's kaddish.  I said that we also read it for those from our Jewish community for whom there is no one to remember their name.  Each time I stand for kaddish, I stand for their sake.