Hungry and Tired in the Holy Land

I wish I could say that my Yom Kippur was extra meaningful, because I was in Israel. But in reality, I faced YK as I faced every other fast day. Overburdened with dread, oozing worry and twitching from Nalgene withdrawl, I took to Kehillat Kedem for Kol Nidre (YK Eve), morning and Neilah (the closing service).

The services were pretty good. My new ArtScroll? Filled with fun facts and Rashi (really famous Jewish commentary). My attempts at mostly-white outfits? Pretty successful. Waking up with a headache? Not a good start to a fast day. The fast ending at 630? Pretty fabulous.

Friday night was pretty good. Hot in the room where we had services (a ballet / gym / multipurpose area for a school on Emek Refaim), but cool outside. Roommates and I took to the streets after Kol Nidre, where there was a Simchat-Torah- (Jewish Mardi Gras-esque celebration of the Torah) in-New-York quality. Everyone was out, everyone was taking to everyone else. But, unlike NYC, where you are contained to sanctuaries and sidewalks, on Yom Kippur, Israel stops. The one police car out patrolling struggled to avoid the people who were filling Emek Refaim. Kids rode rampant on their bicycles on the one day a year when they're not going to get in trouble for it. They may, however, get hurt: approximately 200 bike accidents are reported every year when kids take over the streets on YK. No cars, except for the errant police cruiser, are on the streets. Even the most secular of Israelis sit and relax, and wear white next to their religious friends.

Saturday morning, I looked around services. Things aren't so bad from the back row of Kedem, because there is a ballet barre to hold up your droopy head. I knew some of the songs, and while I was too tired to sing along, I hummed and mouthed the words. Services weren't as long as they had been in NYC (still too long for my tastes without a sermon, but I'm a very straightforward kind of girl when there is no food in my belly), and I got to napping at approximately 2PM. Allison and I returned to shul at 550PM for the closing of services, and immediately proceeded to a lovely breakfast at soon-to-be-Rafi's apartment. Robbie's dairy fest was delightful!

Every year, at the end of the fast on YK, and at the end of the Passover seders, we sing the words "Next Year in Jerusalem." Now, last YK, I wasn't thinking I'd be in Israel. I figure next year I'll be back in NY, where I belong. But it was interesting to utter those words in a service, not really believing them the way I did when we said it on Passover.

I've added some feeds to the beelog, as you can see on the sidebar. The first is a link to my roommate Rachel's blog. For some Israel observations, I choose not to repeat myself. Rachel, in this case, speaks for me.

I also added links to Haaretz.com and Jpost.com, because if you're not getting enough news from me, you can see what's going on in my new town.

I leave with you a few pictures (for more, see my roommate Rachel's blog.)

Here is what the cable box fed into our TV just an hour before Yom Kippur:













Here is the Israeli cable channel wishing us an easy fast and an inscription in the Book of Life:













And, my pre-YK purchase: my delightful new backpack that holds my laptop!

The Art(Scroll) of Complaining

Cellcom Shalom! Ladies and gentlemen, I have a cellphone! If you would like to talk, please ask politely via email for my number. This proves, by the way, my theory that complaining is an Art.

Other things I would like to complain about:

Firstly, my dad wrote that he hopes it is easier to maneuver academically in Israel than it has been to get a phone. Of course, when I go to Hebrew U they don't have my a TON of stuff that they need from me. Thanks, Dad, for jinxing me. Updates on my successes (no failures allowed!) at Hebrew U will come soon, I hope.

Secondly, my Hebrew rant of the decade: Thanks to a marvelous education in the ways of Sh'vaim Na'aim, Dagesh Chazak and the binyanim of the Hebrew verb (These are all nitpicky grammar terms that are not entirely necessary in life. Israelis hear what I know and say, "Why are you learning this, it's stupid." I see what I know and cry a little inside.), I am not really equipped to enter an ulpan (Hebrew language intensive) level higher than Aleph. Aleph, for those of us unfamiliar with the Hebrew alphabet/number system, is the lowest level possible. That's right, I am barely fit to study Hebrew with those who have NEVER SEEN IT IN THEIR LIVES.

So I visited ulpan today, and attempted to negotiate my options: do I sign up for a morning ulpan with the kindergarten-level people, or do I attempt to struggle my way into Hebrew lessons with the slightly more advanced Aleph-plus group? The jury's still out. Once I bust through the red tape and attend classes as a student at Hebrew U, will my classes be in the morning or in the afternoon?

Finally, I would just like to put it out there that I wished the Conservative movement (I am, after all, picked on as a Conservative expert.) would put out ArtScroll-esque commentary Machzorim. Siddurim, too. That's right. I caved. In an effort to apply spiritual salve to my I-just-wanna-learn-but-nobody-seems-to-be-able-to-teach-me wounds, I purchased a few books today. Two of them (please don't judge me, my cherished Rabbi and Erev-Ravs from Newton Center) were ArtScroll machzorim (prayer books for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur). I also bought a small, Would-You-Rather-sized book of Hebrew conversational terms and a Ramah Aleph (Level 1) Hebrew textbook.

Why, you may ask, did I go for ArtScroll, when I have a perfectly good Birnbaum and a passable purple-paged Conservative book? Well, I'll tell you.

1. ArtScroll is filling a market that has yet to be tackled completely by the Conservative movement. Gay ordination was approved, kids, so let's get to reaching your congregants. Go ahead, reach me. I dare you.

2. ArtScroll has interpretations. They may not mesh with my theology, but that's flexible AND I'm smart enough to make my own decisions. Besides, after studying theology, I am always looking for more answers to reject.

3. ArtScroll has translations. They aren't filled with thee/thou and they aren't poetic responsive readings when the Hebrew isn't poetic or responsivle. They're just s'tam (plain) translations. And, as we have seen from above, I don't know Hebrew. So I need translations. If I want poetry, I'll struggle to translate the Hebrew (On the bright side, this will take me all of Yom Kippur, and then I wouldn't know that I'm fasting.).

4. My disagreements with ArtScroll commentary keep me entertained and mentally stimulated during long piyyutim and hot minyanim. I love few things more than a good argument, even when that argument is in my head. (This may or may not be a continuation of #2.)

5. Gillman made me get an ArtScroll siddur for theology class. We never used it, but if Gillman made me get it, it can't be THAT bad.

To compensate for my purchase of the ArtScrolls, I will be found tomorrow roaming Tel Aviv, in a bikini, tank top, and shpants. I will also continue to daven on Shabbat and weekdays with my Sim Shalom siddur, which I love. This siddur, by the way, is covered with drawings and stickers up the wazoo. Take that, ArtScroll!