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.

Tisha B'Av

I am here to report another transformation.  This should not be a surprise to you or me by now.  I am surprised, however, by the setting and subject of some of the transformations.  This time, it was the least likely of observances, Tishah B'Av.  Up until this point, I had never in my life observed Tisha B'Av.  I can say honestly, I still haven't fully observed it.  It is a full fast day and I didn't do that.  Maybe next year.  What I can say is that the past 24 hours have been a learning experience that opened my eyes to the possibility of what Tishah B'Av can or should mean in my life.

Tisha B'Av is a day of remembrance of the destruction of the First and Second Temples.  It also happens to be a day that coincides with many other disasters in Jewish History.  See http://urj.org/holidays/tishabav/?syspage=article&item_id=21945 for a little more about it.

Last night, my class went as a group to Emmaus Nicopolis www.emmaus-nicopolis.org for an egalitarian Erev Tishah B'Av observance with several other Reform organizations from across Israel.  Rabbi's Naaman Kelman and Israeli HUC Rabbinic Student Gila Caine gave some introductory remarks about the importance of this sight for Christians and how we can work together to further understanding and peace in our world.  This was followed by a mostly musical setting of modern and traditional Tishah B'Av liturgy.

The music was wonderful but I had been struggling with the concept of Tisha B'Av for a while.  My overarching questions was, why should I be mourning the loss of the Temples?  They are things.  Even if I believe that Israel, and more specifically, Jerusalem, are special and holy places for Jews, why should I lament the loss of a thing.  The place I had brought myself was that I needed to think of the destruction in human terms.  I didn't need to think about stones and alters.  But instead, what happened to the people in the city after the walls were breached in the 17th of Tamuz?  The descriptions by Biblical and extra Biblical sources are frightening and horrifying.  The scene must have been awful and unbelievable to the people of the time.  It is with a sense of their pain that I at least brought myself to openness of what observance could mean.  Probably the most meaningful discussion of the night was with my classmate Ester who told me that in Germany, the liturgy is centered in humanity, not locality.  The emphasis is the human loss not just in ancient times, but through many generations since then.

This morning I went to Ulpan and then to Pardes for two afternoon learning sessions.  The first was led by Marc Rosenberg and presented close study of the kina (dirge) “Going Out of Egypt, Going Out of  Jerusalem”.  Marc presented text that I otherwise might have found difficult and unconnected to my life, in such a way that I was able to draw some real connections.  This text juxtaposes in acrostic verse alternating descriptions of "leavings" with the alternating verses ending with בצאתי ממצרים and בצאתי מירושלים; "when I went forth from Egypt", and "when I went forth from Jerusalem".  It struck me that the same word, בצאתי bi'tze'ti, is used to reference two very different situations.  The leaving from Egypt was an instance of hopefulness, divine awe, deliverance, salvation, redemption, nothing less than a miracle.  The leaving from Jerusalem was an occasion of  bitterness, destruction, slaughter, and mourning.  The last verse substitutes בצאתי with בשובי bi'shu'vi, "in my return", expressing the hopefulness of an eventual return to Jerusalem.  The juxtaposition of the hopefulness of the Exodus and the bitterness of the destruction of Jerusalem is something of a commentary on choice.  God created us and delivered us . . . the rest is up to us.  It is by our choices as collective humanity to determine whether we reap the rewards of the deliverance or we doom ourselves to affliction.  The lesson for Tisha B'Av is not one of the destruction of The Temple but of the possibilities of building an messianic age.  None of us can do this by ourselves of course.  We all depend upon one another to get there but the vision can start to evolve with an understanding of Tisha B'av.

The second speaker was Rabbi Daniel Gordis.  I must say that I didn't know who he was prior to this lecture.  If I have read any of his articles, I certainly didn't draw and recognition with the author.  Rabbi Gordis is a very dynamic speaker.  His purpose this morning was to put Tisha B'Av into a modern context.  I can't do justice trying to repeat his words.  In short, his approach seems to be much like Ester's and mine, that this is a day about humanity, not Temples; looking for ways to rebuild a people, not a Temple; finding ways to recover from the ways we have been persecuted and are targeted for destruction; finding ways to come to terms with our own Jewish identity.  I did a horrible job paraphrasing him.  His eloquence inspired me to come home and google him and read some of his work.  I encourage you to do the same.  I think you will find his literary voice provocative, and perhaps inspiring http://danielgordis.org/.

All in all, I left the day enriched.  There is new meaning for me in Tisha B'Av.  It is not an ancient relic but a window for envisioning and designing our future.

L'shalom,
Marc

Forests, Protest, and Other Things

Shabbat is over, my homework is done, so time to blog.  First, I must tell you about the Jerusalem hills.  Our wonderful summer intern, Amy, arranged a shabbat hike for us last weekend in the Jerusalem hills.  "Hills" is the wrong word.  Mountains is more like it.  A little google told me that the area is really the Judean Mountains.

On Shabbat morning, our prayer leader, Rabbi Kelman moved our usual Shabbat morning Kiddush inside because it was so hot.  A few bailed on the hiking because of the weather forecast but most of us were not deterred from our trip however, we all went home, packed donned our sun screen, hats, collected our water, and made our way back to the college to catch a bus out to the west of Jerusalem.
Amy prepared us well, telling us to bring plenty of water . . . we would need it.

Amy loves to hike and she chose a gorgeous route for us.  We started out on a trail into Wadi Qetalav.  A wadi, for those not into the desert lingo, is a usually dry creek bed.  Most of the year, this is a rather dry place.  But, for several months starting in November, we will get quite a bit of rain.  During these months, many of these wadi's will carry some water.  Jerusalem actually gets almost the same amount of annual precipitation as London, England.  But, it all comes in a few months, November through March.

It was dry and hot but there was not complaining from anyone.  It was too beautiful.  We all knew what to expect from the heat.  I didn't know what to expect from the forest.  In this particular area, most of the vegetation is native species, not the non-native or near native conifers the JNF is famous for planting.  The native species are hearty and flower and fruit despite the conditions.

I think Amy did not know all that the hike would be.  We helped her out in her effort to challenge us by taking a wrong turn.  This wasn't her fault, we were off up the trail before she could say much to stop us.  Besides, getting lost is half the fun of getting anywhere.  Instead of making a loop back to our starting point we ended up hiking through the Soreq Stream Nature Preserve and up to Ramat Raziel.  This is a moshav established in 1948 and named after a commander, David Raziel, in the Irgun.  Funny anything would be named after anybody in the Irgun, it generally isn't viewed very well here.  (Elle?  I think this should remind you of our conversation tonight).  They were a very militant and militaristic Zionist group.  Some of it was absorbed into the IDF after Independence.  I suppose some parts of the Irgun must have been well intentioned.  Ramat Raziel is a nice small town, very quiet on Shabbat . . . just the way I like it.

After our exhausting hike up the mountain, climbing about 2000 feet in only about a mile, we needed a place to rest.  The park in Ramat Raziel was just the ticket.  The Ramat Raziel welcoming committee was closed for Shabbat so we were greeted and entertained by a local cat and dog.  For his efforts we fed the cat a little leftover cake.  The poor dog got nothing . . . he looked a little crazy.

Protests . . .

Tonight I can hear protests outside of the Prime Minister's residence . . . or as close as the protesters can get to it.  The issue at hand is the cost of living.  The protesters have set up tent cities in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem to protest housing prices.  There is something of a free market here.  I can't say that I know enough about the Israeli economy.  However, I can tell you enough to know a few facts I have observed.  What the protesters say is true.  Rents have risen dramatically in the past few years, and have priced many young Israelis out of the market in the cities where they have to work.  There are a lot of building projects going on but mostly they are for very high priced apartments.  There are many apartment buildings in Jerusalem that are vacant and in disrepair, I assume, waiting for the right time to renovate or sell.  In essence, I think the housing market is broken.  It appears there is plenty of space for everyone but little motivation to build affordable housing.  There are plenty of foreigners who are investing here and buying high priced property.  I think the vacant buildings are probably owned by people waiting for the next foreigner with money to arrive to sell for a good price.  I hate to disturb a free market situation but when foreigners are driving a local situation, I think it is well within the right and purpose of the government to step in somehow.  I hope a solution can be achieved that respects the essence of a free market AND can help the Israelis who need it, because they do.

Other Things . . .

Enough already!  I apologize for the grammatical or spelling mistakes.  I don't have the patience right now to read everything I've just written.

Shavua Tov

Favorite Recent Quote

Not too much time to post anything lengthy but just had to share something from a recent op-ed in an Israeli newspaper.  There are protests going on around the country, mostly in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.  The issue is the cost of living, particularly for housing.  The protests have taken the form of tent cities.  The author of the op-ed took to the tent city to see what was going on and asked a few questions . . . in one of the responses he gleaned this gem of Jewish thought . . . 


"Being a Jew isn’t just being a settler, you know; being a Jew also means having compassion. I swear. You don’t believe me? Go home and Google it.”


Here's the op-ed for those of you who might want a little Israeli enrichment . . .


http://www.tabletmag.com/life-and-religion/73800/in-the-middle/

Tel Aviv and Jaffa

We went on tiyul (a road trip) to Tel Aviv this Friday.  We left HUC around 9:45 on a very comfortable bus.  It was nice, for a change, to be on one of those rolling oases of comfort and air conditioning that I see tooling around Jerusalem, carrying tour groups, as I am hiking my way around the city in the heat of the day.

The trip from Jerusalem out to Tel Aviv travels a cross section of geography, going from the heights of the central highlands down to the agricultural plain and then out to metropolitan Tel Aviv and the Mediterranean coast; from rocky highlands, to fertile farmlands, industrial and commercial areas, into the city, and then to the Sea.

Our class split into groups; some going directly to the beach, some going to the shuk (market), and the rest of us heading for a tour of Neve Tzedek.  Neve Tzedek is now a suburb of Tel Aviv but was the first neighborhood built outside of the ancient city walls of the Port of Jaffa.  Tel Aviv didn't even exist then.  Upon getting out of the bus, I immediately began to appreciate the climatic difference between the coast and Jerusalem.  Hotter and stickier!

We were received warmly by our tour guide in her beautiful home in Neve Tzedek, and got to know one another.  Michael Danziger even gave us a few jazzy notes on the piano before we departed for our tour.

Neve Tzedek is a community full of history and character.  There has been much restoration and upgrading over the past few years.  Some of this is to truly beautify and enhance while some efforts, like the completely disfunctional narrow sidewalks, are like putting a beauty queen in an ill fitting jump suit.  Like anywhere in Israel, Neve Tzedek is an agglomeration of its many past and present lives.  Unfortunately for us all, I think the heat of the mid-day detracted from the significance of its beauty and the importance of its historic sites.  But, it is not lost, there will be many opportunities to return to explore this gem of Tel Aviv.

Next stop, the old train station.  On Friday mornings there is a farmers market with absolutely gorgeous fresh produce - onions, potatoes, grapes, beets, gourds, olive oil - all wonderful looking.  I wasn't feeling too hungry until I saw all of the wonderful food.

A smaller group of us - Leah, Sarah, Abram, Kenny and myself were headed to Jaffa.  We stopped for lunch before departing from the train station area and were blessed with a table situated in the shade and next to a fan.  Even better, at a table near us was a family celebrating a birthday.  The adults looked to be brothers and sisters with their spouses and children.  With them were three gorgeous little Israeli girls of about 3 or 4 and three little babies.

As anyone with children knows, sometimes these outings are a mixed bag.  Fun interspersed with conflict management, beautifully sweet smiles pointed with tears; a tip left in appreciation for understanding the incredible mess left behind.  As I miss my own children and family, it was wonderful to see mothers and fathers loving on their sweet ones.

After that sweet desert, it was on to the Port of Jaffa.  This was only a short walk from Neve Tzedek.  However, the heat was definitely getting to all of us.  After a short tour around the port, a quick stop in a pottery shop, and a few pictures,

it was time to move on.  It was simply just too hot.  We didn't do Jaffa any justice at all.  Like Neve Tzedek, it is on the list of places which deserve a return trip for more exploration.  The water of the Mediterranean looked as if it was our only relief from the heat of the day.  Despite the heat, we decided to forego a taxi and hoof it up Tel Aviv and meet up with our other beach going classmates around the area of the Sheraton Hotel.

What can I say about the beach . . . this isn't Jerusalem any more.  I saw way too much of way too many people.  A lot of people crammed into a very small area.  I'm not much of a sun bather so it was directly into the water for me.  The water was warm like a bath.  Unfortunately, it also was littered with trash . . . disgusting but still the only respite from the sun and heat.  I put thoughts of bacterial counts out of my mind and swam as far out as I could with Manda and Leah to get away from the trash.  We climbed out of the now clear sea onto the breakwater boulders, enjoying the views of sailboats, swimmers, the sea, and beach.  The trash will be the subject of a different blog.  I'll leave it alone for now.  Rose colored glasses in place for the time being.

Following the dip in the sea, it was on to the port promenade for erev Shabbat services with Beit Tiffilah, a non denominational group, self described as a liberal, independent, inclusive and participatory community in Tel Aviv.  There was a shabbat sweetness in the air.  Seeing the setting sun as shabbat began, singing Eli, Eli  by the sea, joining my voice with hundreds of other Israelis singing Lu Y'he was a moving experience.  However, after all of that, I longed for the quiet of Jerusalem.  The most powerful voice was that of the waves during just a brief moment of human silence.  With Shabbat upon us, the quiet peace is what I wanted most . . . that, a cool shower, and a bar of soap.
That would come, but only after an hour wait for the bus to show up.  Thanks to our interns for thegreat thinking of arranging the bus stops on the way back into Jerusalem to help us get just a few steps closer to our beds.
I must say thanks to our wonderful summer interns, Leslie Niren, Amy Goodman, and papa bear, Daniel Bar-Nahum.  They are truly doing a wonderful job setting the scene for the meaningful experiences of a lifetime during our YII quest.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

HUC Bowling Team!

A great Wednesday night with my classmates; dinner and bowling.  Now when you go bowling in the United States you come to expect a few things.  We know that in the US, there are some very serious bowlers.  It really doesn't matter where you come from, bowling is everywhere.  It has been called a working man's sport but it's appeal definitely extends beyond the prototypical "working man".  And regardless of ones background, the sport can become quite serious within bowling leagues and tournaments.

Although we were just out to have some fun, observation at the Jerusalem's bowling center clearly indicates that bowling is anything but serious here.  I must tell you that I am far from a serious bowler. I must also admit that I actually did, at one point, own my own bowling ball.  I also did, at one point, participate on a bowling team.  Further, that team did win the league championship.  Leave it to a bunch of young engineers to figure out how to take advantage of a handicap scoring system!

So, the Jerusalem bowling center is much like any American Bowling alley these days.  Just a bunch of people trying to have fun.  The outer areas lined with lockers and house balls, tables, arcade games, billiards, and, of course, a bar.  What is bowling anyway without beer!  Nothing, I say.

And, behind the counter of this seemingly Americanesque establishment is a nice wall of cubbies housing a full size range of bowling shoes.  Hmmmmm,  that's strange.  They all look like their just out of the box.  A quick turn to look at some bowlers explains the pristine shoes.  In Jerusalem, apparently, they are not so picky about bowling foot ware.  An inventory of bowlers feet revealed sandles, tennis shoes, flip flops, even bare feet, or feet in socks.  Clearly, the shoes behind the desk were only for show. Not one person actually bowling was wearing bowling shoes.  

I imagine this was a West meets Israel moment for the proprietors of the bowling center.  I'm sure some American who made aliyah had a wonderful epiphany one night.  He should open a bowling alley.  Israeli's would love it.  What Israeli wouldn't like to hurl a ball at some pins and knock them down.  Based on the number of broken bottles on the street of Jerusalem, I gather that Jerushelami are just dying for an opportunity to throw something.  What could be better!

So, I'm sure they called some friends back in New Jersey or Detroit and arranged to have some used equipment sent over to Jerusalem.  They had a vision that the Yerushalami would just fit right in the bowling scene.  I think however, that regardless of what is brought to Jerusalem, the Yerushalami are going to give it their own flavor and make sure that the rules are theirs and no one else's.

So, no shoes.  I couldn't help but think, "am I going to get hurt?  What happens when my shoes stick to the floor?  Am I going to take a header down the lane with my ball?  Wow, this could be ugly.

I fact, I'm here to tell you that you can have quite a good time with your regular shoes, and no, you won't get hurt - not unless you are an idiot anyway, in which case the shoes really aren't going to make it for you.  I'm also here to tell you that there will be no bowling scholarships at Hebrew Union College.  I may however, to try to make ends meet over here, offer bowling lessons.  Apparently, the same gene that makes for good rabbis and jews,  interferes with or overrides the bowling gene.   Back in the old bowling league days, a 170+ score really wouldn't command any respect at all.  But I was a rock start.  The bowling rabbi!

What a great finish to a day of Ulpan . . . I could finally feel accomplished.  I had beaten the pants off of my classmates!  There is nothing quite like a useless skill for uplifting ones spirits.

I bowled a 171.  Meaningless in the US, but quite an accomplishment here.    The next closest score . . . 83.  Hmmmm - sounds like I may have to do some recruiting when get back to the US.  Sorry, Michael, I did try to hold back a little. I don't know what happened in that 10th frame.

Meaningless, fun games bring people together.  To laugh, share stories, have a beer, and knock down some pins - without bowling shoes.  No reason to take oneself too seriously.

Ulpan

Oh my gosh . . . rabbinical school has begun.  The days I have been waiting for.  Now they are here . . .

Okay, can I just tell you . . . just between you and me . . . I have never felt so lost in my life as in Hebrew ulpan.  I have been in plenty of situations where people were speaking a foreign language but, by and large, I have not really been expected to know anything or do anything based upon the information I couldn't understand.  The first day of ulpan, I spent several hours listening to Hebrew, not having any idea what was being said; knowing for certain that I was missing critical information.  There was quite a bit of asking my neighbor, "what did she say?"  Quite a bit of response back, delivered with a reflection of my paniced look, "I have no idea."  Quite a bit of, "should I just quit now?  This is impossible!"  "Hang in there", I told myself.

Now day three has passed and I can say that it has gotten better.  I have improved from understanding 1% of what the instructor says to maybe 15%.  I think this is tremendous.  What a great improvement.

Hang in there, I keep telling myself . . .  I was able to order my falafel today using only Hebrew and the very patient man never bailed on me.  Usually they not so subtly let you know that they know Hebrew is only your hobby.  So now, I can eat in Hebrew.  Score one.

As I used to tell Aaron when ice skating . . . keep your head up to stay up . . . same here . . .

A New Week with Many Questions

This evening my fellow year in Israel students and I gathered at the HUC Jerusalem campus for a learning shabbat session and Havdalah.  We were there among many friends of HUC and a wonderful group of HUC alumni.  It was wonderful to have so many well wishes from HUC Alumni.  I truly feel part of a very special community.

The discussion session this afternoon was far ranging but centered upon how to teach about Israel.  Let me start by saying that I do not have any answers to any issues at this point.  I can only listen to facts, opinions, and interpretations and try to process all of that through my own lens.

Well, exactly what is my lens and why is it important.  My lens, I think, may be a little unique amongst my peers.  I didn't come to HUC by what I think are familiar routes.  Like almost everyone, I went to religious school and Hebrew school as a child, I had a Bar Mitzvah, but then, I checked out.  Essentially, for many years, I was what one might call a secular American Jew, or a dormant Jew.  I was among the unaffiliated.  If anyone asked me, I was Jewish.  But, I wasn't participating in the community.  I wasn't going out of my way to be Jewish.  I wasn't seeking any connection with the Jewish community.  The Jewish community was pretty easy to avoid.  In the US, Jews are only about 2.2% of the population.  I was too busy trying to catch up with the American dream to be bothered by my Jewishness.  Then I had a child and the whole game changed for me.  By that time, I was almost 30 years old.  I had missed the confirmation, the youth groups, the NFTY trips to Israel, the Birthright trip, the Jewish young adult groups.  Now I was reentering Jewish life as a parent.  I think I have made the most of it so far.  I'm not complaining.  It's just that my experience is different.

I come here knowing what it is like to be one of those unaffiliated.  I know what it is like to feel like I don't need anything from my Jewishness.  I know what it is like to choose to make a life with someone who is not Jewish, to intermarry.  I know what it is like to try to raise children in a home where grandparents come from two different faiths.  I know what it is like to be one of those people that are talked about as if they have made terrible mistakes in their lives, that they abandoned their Jewishness for something less meaningful, like they something lost.  On the other hand, I also know what it is like to walk through an open door.  I know what it feels like to be embraced by open arms, to be respected and loved unconditionally by my rabbi, by my congregation, by my Jewish friends, to be reunited.  I know how I got here.

And now, I'm here in Jerusalem to tell you that all is not lost.  Of all the flaws I could point to in my Jewish upbringing, all the things that could have been done better to ensure my lifelong, continuous active participation in the Jewish community, aside from all the non-Jewish life choices I made, I think I did okay.  I did marry a nice Catholic girl and we had a child together.  We both recognized that my Jewishness was central to who I am although I was not religious in any way at the time.  We chose to raise our child in a Jewish home.  We had another child.  My then wife even converted to Judaism.  Even though my ex-wife has now chosen a partner who is not Jewish, she and our children maintain a Jewish home.  I have an American/Israeli Jewish girlfriend, "significant other" as they would call her here, with two wonderful children as well.  So, I think, at the least, my +/- is at +3.  I think that's pretty good.  As a defenseman, I'd be pretty okay with that (a little hockey lingo there . . .  pick up a copy of The Hockey News and you'll get it).

So where do I go from here.  One of the things I think I heard today was a challenge.  The challenge is this . . . how do we reach outside our synagogue walls, outside of the group of people likely to walk through the synagogue doors on their own, in order to bring in those who may find meaning in an observant Jewish life?  How do we reach me when I was 18, 22, 27 years old and show me that Judaism has something meaningful to offer me; that I can bring meaning to my life and the lives of others through my Judaism?  How do we as a Jewish people keep someone like me from walking or drifting away, becoming that dormant Jew?  How do we bring them back if they end up there?  How does Israel enter into that process?

I don't know the answers at this point.  All I have, like most everyone else, is questions and my own experience.  I do feel that a large part of the answer lies in the centrality of Israel in Jewish thinking.  I think some of the answers lie in how I came to be here in Jerusalem.  I will spend some of my time here trying to answer some of these questions about myself, and I'm sure the rest of my rabbinate trying to answer them for the sake of everyone else.

Shavua Tov.

Photos from the Old City

I'm not feeling exceptionally chatty today so just some pictures from around the Old City.

 This is the Robinson's Arch area that I blogged about previously.

Independence Day in Israel

As with everything, I was not sure what to expect from the 4th of July, Independence Day, in Jerusalem, Israel.  Even though we were having an HUC 4th of July picnic, my expectations were low.  Boy was I wrong.  In fact, there could not have been a more authentic Independence experience than that which was had in Liberty Bell Garden park, just a few blocks from my apartment.

In addition to our HUC group Independence celebration, several Islamic families were enjoying an evening in the park, also grilling and enjoying picnic dinners.  After our traditional American grilling was well underway with hot dogs, burgers (meat and veggie!), and some really excellent marinated chicken, something truly special happened that was the perfect expression and use of hard fought freedom.  As the picnic plates were put down and the frisbee and football taken up any difference between a group of mostly American reform Jews and our Islamic picnic neighbors melted away.  The Islamic children became interested in our American football.  After a while, most of the children were passing our football around with us and we kicking their soccer ball around with them.  And the adults joined us as well.  We were all laughing and calling each other out by name before passing the ball.

Although this by itself is a wonderful experience of reaching out from both sides with open and unassuming arms, what makes this so fitting for Independence Day?  Because in order to have independence, we are dependent upon others to respect that as human beings we seek the same things: to be safe and secure among those around us, to be free to live our lives as we see fit, to be happy and free to try to ensure our children's happiness.

Today in Liberty Bell Garden, it was obvious that we were seeking the same things as our fellow picnicers.  We probably go about it in different ways in our everyday lives and might think about it differently as we read, listen or watch the news, but at the heart of it, we are all made the same, b'tzelem Elohim, in God's Image.

When Emil left with his family, he handed me the football I had brought and shook my hand.  I did not feel anything in that hand shake other than a hand extended in friendship on common ground.

" . . . all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness . . . "

Other funny things today

Just to make sure that I'm not so far removed into my spiritual self, God arranged for me to be doing some fun things today . . .

• laundry and hanging it outside my window to dry.  I have never done this before (the hanging laundry part) - there is something nice about that - a little help to the environment.  It helps when all your neighbors are doing it too.  
• Talking to internet people on the phone who barely speak English . . . between my Hebrew and his english we managed to have a really confusing conversation which ended okay I think . . . we were both laughing at ourselves.  Israelis are wonderful people.

Rosh Chodesh at The Wall

This morning our wonderful interns Daniel and Leslie gave a small group of us the opportunity and privilege to accompany them to the Kotel (the Western Wall). Our purpose was to join in solidarity with the Women of the Wall for their Rosh Chodesh observance. The Women of the Wall are "an international confluence of Jewish women from around the world who strive to achieve the right, as women, to wear tallitot (prayer shawls), and to pray and read from the Torah collectively and out loud at HaKotel HaMaaravi (the Western Wall) in Jerusalem." Women of the Wall

Our small group of eight began our trek from Beit Shmuel at 6:30AM. As Daniel and Sarah guided us speedily and efficiently through the streets of the Old City, I honestly did not know how I would react to being at the Wall for the first time in my life. Would it be just another holy place to pray or for me would it really be for me, A Holy Place.

Those who know me Jewishly know that I am not one to wear a kippah or tallit except on rare occasions. I have always said that this is not because I have any particular stance against wearing them, I just hadn't found the right time or the right reason that made it meaningful and personal to me. I did make the choice to bring my tallit with me to the wall. Before we entered the prayer area the women separated off from the men in our group. We stood outside the men's prayer area and put on our tallitot. We contemplated whether to enter the men's prayer area or stand outside the women's area. I suggested we go into the men's are and Daniel led us to the back corner closest to the women's section.

The police knew why we were there and rather conspicuously surrounded us. The orthodox men seemed to obviously increase the volume of their activities. I purposely, simply, call their actions "activities" rather than davening or praying because in order to be truly davening or praying, it should be necessary for one to focus on God or ones relationship with God. Instead, these men were purely focused on disrupting our prayer as we listened intently for the voices of the women and their chazzan through the fence. Although I tried to focus on the morning prayers, my prayers turned toward the young men and women of the police forces who were protecting us and our right to stand and pray in our small corner in front of The Wall.

While we prayed one of the orthodox men grabbed a chair in an attempt to throw it over the fence at the women. The police grabbed his arm before he got very far. I commend the police for their restraint. In Cincinnati, this fellow would have been tased, thrown to the ground and cuffed before being dragged away. Instead, this man was allowed to scream his peace, shove a police officer, and make a fool of himself before being escorted politely from the prayer area. Another man took his place yelling at us as we prayed in solidarity with the women. My Hebrew is not good enough to know what he was yelling but his look and tone said enough. None of that is what it means to be Jewish, regardless of your affiliation.

After Hallel, the head of the police forces signaled to us that it was time for us to leave. He and several other police escorted us, under their protection, out of the men's prayer area toward where the women were exiting for the long walk down toward Robinson's Arch. This is the area adjacent to the main section of the wall where the women are allowed by law to read Torah.

At the end of the Torah service, I slipped away from the group and stood at the foot of the Wall. I pulled my tallit tightly around my shoulders and placed my hands and forehead against the wall and offered a prayer of my heart. I had never felt comfortable in a tallit up until that moment. It had always felt awkward, something that always needed adjustment, checking, repositioning. This morning, at that moment at the Wall, my tallit enwrapped me, sheltered me, warmed me, comforted me, and uplifted me. This morning was transformative. I did not leave the Jaffa Gate as the same man who entered. I will not leave Yisrael as the same man who arrived. With the grace of God, I will return home and to Israel again and again. Let this be the first of many trips to Hakotel Hama'aravi.

My thanks to Daniel, Leslie, Jessie, Sarah, Jeremy, Michael and Kenny for the shehecheyanu for my first trip to the Wall - all of you made this very special for me.

In Israel

I am exhausted!  I arrived in Tel Aviv yesterday afternoon.  We landed at about 3PM.  It was an incredible experience.  The plane comes in over the Mediterranean Sea and you can see the coastline of Israel.  At that point, I couldn't help it, I started to cry with joy.  I have waited and worked so long to be here and I finally am.  Usually when I get off an airplane, I can't wait to get out of the airport.  I took my time at Ben Gurion.  I wanted so see and hear everything.  So many languages, so many people from so many countries, all coming together in this one special place, Yisrael.

Israel is an incredibly beautiful country.  As the taxi drove from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, I thought that I just want to know everything about this country: geography, geology, archeology, culture, history, language . . . everything.  And how wonderful it is that that is exactly what I am here for.  I am so lucky to be here.

I have met a few of my classmates and everyone is wonderful.  I'm sure we are going to have a great time learning together.  Our summer interns Daniel and Leslie gave us tours today of the college and Jerusalem. A great deal of walking.  I'm sure to have lost a few pounds today . . . all good.

Sooner or later I will actually take some pictures and post them.

A few more for the list...

Won't miss mowing the lawn...
Will miss Dewey's Pizza...

Fishing and other things

I am spending the last couple of days in Southwestern Ohio enjoying time with my boys and Keren.  So far this week . . .

• I saw Aaron swim in his first swim meet - he did an awesome job finishing first in his heat in the 25 meter Freestyle.  Very good swimming in his leg of the medley relay and freestyle relay.
• Canoeing down the Little Miami River with Michael and Aaron . . . Michael says the evidence is thin but we all know he, at the least, helped the canoe turn over.  It was funny after the initial shock and making sure everyones head was above water.  Thanks for making it memorable, Michael!

• Fishing . . . luckily we don't have to survive on what we caught which was only one scrawny little fish - only slightly better than nothing.
• Quiet dinner, ice cream, and a stroll at The Green.
• Watching Jack catch birds in the back yard.  I feel so bad for the poor robins who took up residence in my pear tree only to find they nested in a bad neighborhood.  They are now protecting their nest by dive bombing Jack every time he goes outside.  He just thinks they want to play.

Time is going so quickly . . .

Shabbat Shalom