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.