Friday, August 30, 2013

Falling Slowly

I am in love.

Over the last two months or so, I have fallen head over heels in love with the State of Israel. Our relationship is tumultuous, vulnerable, emotional, volatile, and absolutely beautiful.

I remember sitting in the chilled sanctuary of Temple Israel Center of White Plains, clutching my Siddur Sim Shalom to my chest as I recited the Amidah. "Oseh shalom bimromav, hu ya'aseh shalom aleinu v'al kol Yisrael, v'imru- Amen". My eyes fell upon the word Yisrael -- Israel -- and my mind wandered across the Atlantic. The Israel scattered throughout the pages of my Siddur was a land of desert heat and weathered cobblestone, pious old men with long beards and large families, droves of young women in long, thick pleated skirts and wrist-length sleeves scurrying across the Kotel plaza. Milk and honey, figs and olives, dates and pomegranates, za'atar and sesame.

But what about me? Where do I fit in? Is there any room for a young, American, socially progressive, Queer, halachically-conscious, music-loving, activist, meditative, pluralistic, sort of yeshivish, guitar-toting, Kosher-style, Reformaconservadox cantorial student with a penchant for Hazzanut and a love of Torah learning?

Each morning I wake up feeling like I've finally come home, but each night I go to sleep feeling like an imposter in a land of complete strangers. But I think it's that tug of war -- knowing exactly where you are but feeling totally lost at the same time -- that makes living in Israel so startlingly life-changing.

Late last night, I arrived home from a two-day study field trip to Northern Israel where we learned about the early Pioneers who built the Jewish homeland from the bottom up, and the visionaries who continue to shape Israeli society through commitment, activism, and awareness. Across the generations, these people are linked by a fierce love of Israel and a passionate devotion to her safety and continued growth.

There may not have been room for these fearless individuals when they first set foot on Israeli soil, but they made room for themselves. They worked and nurtured the land, ensuring that others would have that same opportunity.

They dove in despite the risks, despite the challenges, and despite the ambiguities, grasping only a vision of a reality that they lived and died to achieve.

As the sun was beginning to set over the banks of the Kinneret yesterday, I dove in too.

I waded into the water fully dressed. I didn't have a towel, a change of clothes, or a care in the world. The water was alive; the waves thrashed warm around me, and my toes could barely grasp the swelling, shrinking ground beneath me. The guilty, self-conscious, uncomfortable, scared, not-Jewish-enough, too-Jewish, awkward, uneducated, out of place, inadequate voices in my head were muffled by the water rushing into my ears as I immersed myself in Israel's turbulent embrace.

Israel and I are in a relationship... and it's complicated. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Thursday, August 8, 2013

August already?!

Overworked, overstressed, overheated. Too much sun, too much walking, and too much information (that my tired, fried little brain can't possibly retain). And a fine layer of dust over absolutely everything.

This has been my state of being at the end of each week for the past three weeks or so that we have gone on field trips with our Biblical Archaeology class. This was the last one, and I can honestly say for the first time so far at HUC that I have never been happier to see something end. 

Don't get me wrong: I adore this beautiful country, its landscape, and its history. I have seen exhibits, archaeological dig sites, tunnels, tombs, caves, ruins, inscriptions, columns, city walls, gates, homes, palaces... but after a while, my vision gets blurry. Doors look like gates which look like walls which look like drainage systems because at the end of the day, I just see ancient stacks of stones.

We walk for hours, baking in the sun, listening to our professors tell us sixteen different archaeologists' opinions that all lead to the same conclusion: we can't actually say for certain what it is you're staring at, but we can tell you that it's old. VERY old. 7th, 8th, 9th Century -- that kind of old. We can tell you whether it's Egyptian, Philistine, or Israelite; Calcolithic or Neolithic; Iron or Bronze Age. But beyond that, unless there is an ancient engraving that explicitly states "Here Stood David's Palace", it's really anybody's guess. 

Maybe I'm oversimplifying things; it has been an extremely long week. But I simply don't connect with this course. It raises many interesting questions about the land itself, how we as Jews choose to relate to it, and how to interpret the Bible as an anthropologist might approach a population census. But I struggle with the dates, the facts, the numbers, and the stones that all look alike. I connect more to languages, narratives, anecdotes, interviews, interaction, participation. Maybe this just isn't my thing.

On the bright side, I've spent the last few weeks so immersed in being exactly in my element that I haven't had a free millisecond to blog about it. Hello, again. :-)

When I have the energy and brain power, I will write about some of the incredible things I've had the opportunity to do over the last few weeks, but here's a preliminary top ten list:

1. Beautiful, musical Shabbat services at Naha Tehila
2. HUC Beit Cafe (open mic night)
3. High Holy Day choir rehearsals 
4. Shabbat dinner with old friends from Yeshivat Hadar
5. Shiur and discussion with the editor of the Women's Commentary on the Torah
6. Reunited with an AJU friend who's currently serving in the IDF
7. New York themed get together with the HUC NY campus students
8. Taught a mini shiur (entirely in Hebrew!) about the history of Jewish music 
9. Prayed with Women of the Wall at the Kotel for Rosh Hodesh Elul
10. Went to the shuk on Friday afternoon and lived to talk about it!

Shabbat this week is just what the doctor ordered... I can't wait to welcome her in tomorrow night. Shabbat Shalom to any and all who read this!