Jewish Camping in January!!!

This past weekend I was a facilitator at an AviChai shabbaton for returning, second-year shilchim (Israeli staff) at North American Jewish summer camps. I was brought into the project because of previous work at the FJC, and I was very interested in the idea of the shabbaton from my first meeting, so I set to my job of collecting Americans to interact with the Israeli counselors.

What was the idea? Well, the second-year shlichim commit to a months-long training program that helps them learn how to educate kids/staff in the Diaspora (outside of Israel) in a way that works. Our (American) role at this weekend, one of the first few installments of the program, was to show Israelis committed Diaspora Jews. In my group's case, this meant committed Diaspora Jews who were pursuing advanced degrees in Jewish studies for upwards of 5 years. Many Israelis are secular, and they are Jewish because they are Jewish. Interestingly, one of the Israelis, who said she was completely secular, also said that she knows Torah, knows traditions and celebrates holidays with family at home. I couldn't believe she identified as secular! Also, many of the religious Israelis do not pursue advanced Jewish studies degrees, since they live the religious life and don't seek out the confirmation that comes with, say, a MA in Jewish Education. They don't have to go to JTS or A-Jew, or to Jewish summer camp, to help cement their Jewish identity. It makes for interesting conversations, as we (the grad/rab students) astonish the Israelis with how our Jewish commitment manifests itself in our worlds at home.

The weekend started, of course, bright and early, which meant that I missed the introductions, due to my ulpan exam (it went well, I think). After the exam, I made my way to the Kiryat Moriyah campus in East Talpiot for a closed Shabbaton. Yes, I was maybe a half hour walk from my apartment, but I stayed at KM, as was required. It was great, though -- the radiator was inches from my bed, there was also a heater that blew hot air on the other side of the room, and the comforter on the bed was a-mazing!

When I arrived, I went straight to lunch for some real, authentic army food (hot dogs and couscous), as KM is also a small army base. Afterwards, we jumped into some heavy Jewish identity related conversations. Because my delegation of (male*) incredibly intelligent, attractive (some of them are SINGLE, ladies!) and fluent rab students, much of our conversations were in Hebrew. AND, as I've been bragging more consistently lately, I UNDERSTOOD so much of what was said! I know! I know! YAY!!!

*There are also women at Machon Schechter, but they didn't come to the Shabbaton.

The weekend was incredible. The boys from Machon Schechter (where the JTS/AJU students go when they're in Israel for third year) were wonderful. They were thoughtful, critical, hilarious (Noam), and forceful when they needed to be. We pushed the Israelis, and the Israelis pushed us right back. The conversations ranged from hilarious to heavy, and it was fabulous.

The Israeli staff was great, and it felt good to work on a Shabbaton, largely in Hebrew. It felt good to work.

Thank you to Rafi, Noam, Jeremy, Gideon, Dan and Dan for being so incredibly fabulous.

"Celebrity" as Defined by SBB

Today's the second day of Chanukah! See? The Kooky Family glows a little brighter today!

School was OK today. In class, I said that I was "moderately religious" and one of my classmates said, "Aww, that's so cute" and I didn't smack her for being rude, so I considered that a success.

I was kind of bummed that I wasn't going to see Chancellor Arnie Eisen from JTS, as he was speaking at Hebrew U during my Hebrew class. I came to Hebrew and said hi to Yanik, the French guy who is a rockstar at learning Hebrew. He asked me what was up (all in Hebrew), and I told him I was sad that the "President" (Nasi / נשי - not sure how to spell that) of my school in NY was speaking during Hebrew class. I later learned that the word for Chancellor is Nagid / נגיד. I keep a-larnin'. Anyway, Yanik told me I was being silly, and I should go to the speech. So I talked to my teacher, and she told me it was ok, took my homework, and sent me to the speech. I really do have wonderful Hebrew teachers.

Eisen spoke about social activism, Abraham Joshua Heschel, and Martin Luther King. It was fascinating, and I think he's such an articulate, engaging speaker. I learned new things about Heschel, like that he marched with MLK (see the picture on wikipedia!).

Normal people get excited over star sightings (and even I'll regale you with my story of my John Linnell, of They Might Be Giants fame, sighting in a Manhattan Starbucks), but for me to hear a Jewish Educator speak...well, that's the real excitement for me! Furthering my excitement, Eisen was introduced and MC'ed by none other than Michael Rosenak, whose articles on Israel trips for teens and whose term "flooding out" describes how I operate. It was incredible.

I went to the last 15 mintues of Hebrew and picked up my assignments. My last class of the day started with homemade sufganiyot (jelly donuts, remember?) and we talked about Jewish identity and I said things that some of my classmates found appalling, so all in all, that class was good, too! The professor let us out a little early so we could light candles closer to sundown, and I lit with Rafi a little while later.

Rafi, Rafi's brother's girlfriend and I had dinner with some of Rafi's family friends, which was really special and tasty. It was nice to meet some of the celebrities of his family's collective life. Special foods for Chanukah were served, and since I'm a sucker for a good latke, I was very happy with the meal! Homemade applesauce like Bubbie and I make, and special Chanukah cookies closed out the day.

I hope everyone is having a lovely Chanukah wherever you're celebrating it, or if you're not celebrating it, then you're enjoying a jelly donut! They are, after all, really famous.

Picking up the Politika

I wandered into a political rally. For the religious right.

Prima Kings Hotel in the background, Conservative center to my left (outside of the picture)

The day after my unsettling bus experience, it seems that my fate was not to ride a bus all the way to Emek Refaim. At first, I stood waiting patiently for an acceptable bus after I got to King George Street. After about 15 minutes, though, I looked at a (handwritten) sign that I'd originally taken as a roommate ad or something, and picked out of the 20 or so words 2 that I knew -- "Not Travel" and "Autobus". The sign also listed all of the buses that went to (or near) Emek Refaim.

I sighed, and figured with an Iced Aroma (I've given in to the smoothie coffee movement in Israel), I could make the trek. I started walking, and noticing things. The police blockade of the road. The lack of any cars or buses at all on the street worried me for a few minutes, until I noticed the hordes of dati (Orthodox) teens dashing down the street all around me. Easily identifiable in their strata of religiousity, they sport hooded sweatshirts with Hebrew writing, and either baggy pants or jeans with tzitzit hanging out or knee-length denim skirts, and big Jansport-ish backpacks bouncing on their backs. They carry cell phones and key chains, hang in large groups, and many have orange ribbons hanging from their backpacks, an artifact from the disengagement from two years ago.

I heard a dull roar as I walked with these kids, that eventually turned into a loud array of sound. I thought I was walking to a parade, or a street fair at the Great Synagogue, and only as I approached the main stage did I realize I had stumbled on a political rally. Thankfully, I ran into a classmate from Hebrew U named Itay, who took me under his wing and explained to me the ideas behind this rally. I welcomed his (Austrailian) English interpretation, as my Hebrew is still spotty at best.

This rally was by and for the religious right parties in the government. They are opposed to Annapolis and refuse the idea of a two-state solution. Their slogans include (paraphrased and some translated from Hebrew):

* We don't discuss Jerusalem. We don't divide Jerusalem. We don't give up Jerusalem.
* Ehud Olmert ran from the police to Annapolis (it rhymes in Hebrew, too).
* Condaleeza Rice, we don't want to be the next Iraq.
* Leave Israel Alone, God Takes Care of Us.

Itay explained to me what was going on, and translated a few of the speeches from different settlement (Israelis live in areas the West Bank and other highly Palestinian places in Israel) leaders and politicians. We talked to a few girls who explained what they don't believe in (giving up land), but had a hard time telling us what they do believe in (your guess is as good as theirs).

I think that it was good I attended the rally. I wasn't so much a participant as a sociologist, but there's really nothing like this. I can take pictures and "blob" about my experiences, show pictures and teach constructively, but when push comes to shove, my learners are never going to truly understand the circumstances of the rally, and what it felt like to see it and be a part of it. Thanks to Itay, though, I'm starting to think I can begin to discuss the complexities of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. As I bid him a "g'day mate," in traditional Austrailian fashion (Just kidding. I'm not that cheesy. But I did thank him profusely, and think to myself, "I want him to be MY teacher!"), by the gas station where our streets diverge, I walked home and really thought about the people at the rally.

The makeup of the rally (about 30,000 people, and right in front of the Conservative Center in Jerusalem) was mostly 15-20 year-old Orthodox youth who have already started, or will soon start, their Army or National service. There were few "children" and few "adults". The adolescents ruled the scene, and reveled in their freedom at the one youth event where they can mingle openly with boys. There was an area of males-only and females-only, but that was optional -- and these kids enjoyed their freedom.

Maybe one day everybody in this region will observe the freedom they deserve - freedom from injustice and freedom from terror.


A settlement leader or Knesset (former?) member speaks on a beautifully Israeli stage. (Sorry, I don't know names.)


Picture of one of the main slogans. Sorry my camera didn't adapt to the nighttime hullaballoo.

Turn Your Head And Cough...

I have a post here that’s been a few weeks in the making. I promised the main character of this post that s/he would not be identified, so I will preface this by saying that this post, about my friend “Jamie,” is totally OK. By much better, I mean s/he is doing well, is back to school, etc. Please don’t ask who Jamie is. And don’t post some comment if you know who Jamie is. I will delete it.

So, as I mentioned in my Shprockets post, I wanted to try to get out of the first session so that I could be with a friend in trouble. Jamie was pretty sick, and ended up going to Hadassah Ein Karem. Jamie was accompanied by an Israeli friend who speaks fluent English, and Jamie was admitted for a couple of days. This is the chronicle of lessons from a stay by proxy at HAK in Jerusalem, in October 2007.

I can divide my lessons learned into categories:

The People – There is a great cross-section of Israelis at the hospital. Jamie’s roommate was a Russian, and on the floor were religious, secular, and Conservative Jews. Some Arabs and a guy that I think was a Druze priest all wandered the floor. Russian Roommate’s wife was a caricature of herself – complete with too-tiny miniskirts, a terribly dyed mane of crunchy hair, an aversion to ceiling fans and a cell phone that rang incessantly with “Listen to your heart, when he’s calling for you…”

The Doctors – There is a pecking order like in any hospital in the states, from med student up to Professor. What is so amazing about the doctors is their ability to answer questions and give advice in a wide variety of languages. It’s impressive, it’s spectacular. Doctors come from South Africa, from England, from Haifa, from the States.

The Nurses – Ah, the nurses. Arabs nurses, Russian nurses, Jewish nurses. The Russian ones are brisk and quick, and they can get an IV working in 2 seconds. The Jewish nurses are nice and friendly. And the Arab nurses…some are cute, some are hot. Every Arab nurse was great…and we all developed a group-wide crush on the main Arab nurse. We adore her.

The Care – The care at HAK is different than in the states. I came prepared with ammunition / excuses to stay the whole night, to be there for Jamie, but nobody questioned me. In Israel, in the hospitals, they consider it sad and wrong if you don’t have somebody staying with you. The reclining chair wasn’t so fabulous, but it was fine. The reason they expect people to stay there is because the guests do work. Nurses don’t help patients to the bathroom, guests do. Guests are meant to find nurses to change IVs, to clean up after meals, to change sheets (sometimes), and to generally make sure that the patient is safe and secure.

The Meals – The meals are very Israeli. Each meal came with a plate of sliced cucumber and a tomato, some bread and then the main course. Only lunch is meat, as it is Israeli style to have a big lunch and a light breakfast and dinner. On Shabbat, though, even in the hospital, there are the three big meals, which means that Friday night dinner is meat.

The Jews – Unlike Coral Springs Medical Center, HAK is rife with Jews. Jews that are patients, Jews that are visitors and guests, Jews that are doctors (so far, this really does sound like CSMC), and Jews that are visiting for the sole purpose of visiting the sick.

Visiting the sick at HAK takes on all forms. People give out sandwiches and snacks to patients and guests, dedicated to the wedding of this and that person, as it’s important to do mitzvahs before / in honor of your wedding. There is the haredi (ulta-Orthodox) man who pokes his head into every room, saying simply “refuah shleima” (get well soon). Jamie thinks that this man was doing a good deed so that he could get in good with God, maybe so he can have a son. There is the Orthodox man from the states, circulating the floor, asking patients if they would like to put on tefillin (these are hard to explain to the non-Jews…they’re leather boxes that strap onto a person’s head and arm, and they’re worn during morning prayers). This guy was really special, helping patients place the tefillin correctly on the arm, and wrap it AROUND the IV port. His mitzvah is to help patients put on tefillin once a week, and he expressed his hopes to “never see you again.” On Friday afternoon, two men from Chabad stopped by, talked about the weekend’s Torah portion with the patients and gave challah for the blessing over the bread for Friday night dinner. They even offered patients special dinner of “real, haymishe food” (meaning super-Kosher) for that evening.

Friday night, I went in search of the real, haymishe food. I rolled down my leggings, put on a longer skirt, and threw on a really fabulous green Ramah Darom sweatshirt. With my hair in a messy orb on top of my head, I wandered to the first floor in search of services and dinner. After a little accident in following a haredi guy down the stairs (Reefs without traction + marble staircases + moving too fast = sore tushy + sore heel), I found another haredi guy to follow all the way to the shul in the -1 floor. The shul, as it turns out, has Chagall windows! I did not really blend in, but I still went into services and then waited for dinner with the whole haymishe crowd. I walked into the meal, looking for take-out, but they were gung-ho about shuffling me into the womens’ side of the meal (Really, separate seating at meals! I had no idea!), and I went back to the ladies responsible for take-out. (Jamie was tethered to an IV and it was too much effort to leave the room.) They gave me a great meal, including a little take-out container (like for soup) with grape juice for the blessing over the wine. The food was traditional Ashkenazic (Poland), complete with a terribly grey and gross-looking kugel (I’ll tell you a secret, those gross-looking kugels are always the tastiest…I love Ashkenazic food.)! It was a great dinner, and thankfully, it was a great end to a too-long stay in a hospital.

The Lessons - I learned a lot while visiting Jamie. Something that you learn very quickly in the hospital in Jerusalem is that everybody can work together. Arabs, Israelis, Palestinians, it doesn't matter. What matters is your health. Israeli hospitals can demonstrate to people (if they will just look) that everybody can work toward a common goal of health and peace. HAK is a lab for tolerance and change for the better. Maybe everybody who's going to Annapolis can spend a day or so in the hospital here first? They'd get a whole new perspective?

HAK has their own scrubs and sheets (see pictures). There are many wonderful people who mean well, visiting sick people they don’t even know. The hospital is connected to a mall, which is brilliant, if you have to bring food or a present to the person you are visiting. I learned pretty high-level Hebrew words like “irui” (IV). And, best of all, Jamie is better. Much better.

The Pictures -
The insignia on the sheets

And, just in case you could forget that you were stuck in the hospital, here is "Hadassah Ein Karem" spelled out, nice and big, so you can see it right next to you on the bed at all times.

Chiloni in Dati Clothing

From the second I checked through security at JFK with a cadre of ultra-Orthodox Jews, easily identified by their white shirts, black suits and coats, and black hats, I realized how different this year in Israel was going to be for me. After years of being the most religious girl around…

Elementary school = The girl who misses school for Jewish holidays.
Middle school = The girl with 3 bar/bat mitzvahs per weekend.
High school = The “Orthodox girl” / USY nerd.
College = The girl who leads services / “This one time, at USY on Wheels camp.”
Penguin = The girl who worked part-time during the Jewish holidays (all of October) / The girl that nearly died from something non-Kosher.
JTS = Less religious than the rabbinical students, but dating one anyway.

…I was going to be seen as secular. Me? Secular? Who are we kidding?? Yes, I wear tank tops. Yes, I read Torah. But I READ TORAH, keep kosher (hot dairy, as per the Conservative movement) and I study to be a Jewish educator. I work very hard to bring Jewish experiences to learners of all ages. I identify almost exclusively in my Judaism. I study the Bible and Skills for Teaching. I am working on Israel education in the Diaspora. I am a Jew, and a supporter of the state of Israel.

This weekend, my roommate Allison (hello, loyal, Allison-related readers) and I spent Shabbat with my cousins (Dad’s first cousin and his wife, to be exact) in the Jerusalem neighborhood of Har Nof (literally, mountain view). While most of my (Masorti / Conservative) friends looked concerned, or outright expressed their concern that I had to take a trip to this exclusively religious neighborhood, I was excited. Not only are my cousins really nice, welcoming and fun, they always give me insight to my complicated family history, of which I only get a chunk from my dad, grandparents and uncles.

Yes, I will admit that putting on a long skirt and long sleeves, when it is easily 80 degrees Farenheit, desert-style, is very difficult for a girl from Florida. I will admit that I agonized over the shoes I wanted to wear (closed-toed are better for shul in Har Nof). I will admit that I worried about my elbows showing (no matter how much I joke, I care to be modest, whatever that means in the place I am staying). But as Allison and I made my way to Har Nof, I was happy, if not a little shvitzy (sweaty).

We went to shul with cousin David at a Breslov (branch of ultra-Orthodox Judaism) synagogue across the street. Being in the Women’s Section, divided from the men by a mechitza (a separating barrier, in this case, made out of wood and with lace curtains at the top), we davened with the men. The women don’t lead the services, but at this shul, I was happy to hear that we were allowed to sing along. The service was lovely and not too crowded, and watching the men dance after services, peering through the lace curtain, I learned that Breslavers always dance in a circle after services. It was really cool…and so were the furry, round hats some of the men wore.

Dinner was with my cousins and their neighbors, and took place in the sukkah on the balcony of the apartment. It was really cool. The husband of the guests, a ba’al teshuvah (a term for somebody who “comes back” to religion, becoming more religious), quizzed Allison and me on our views as Conservative Jews in a slightly uncomfortable way. I explained my goals as a student, and was careful in my wording, as I respect his found happiness and meaning in Orthodoxy. Even with the slightly uncomfortable feeling of different views at the same table, there was plenty of singing and discussion of Torah and other important bodies of Jewish writings flowing around the table like the RC Cola with Cherry Heering (I FOUND IT, ZAYDE! Dad, tell Zayde!)…and the food was awesome!

After dinner, my cousins apologized for their guests making us uncomfortable. As I brushed this off, saying that I wasn’t really offended, I secretly added this to my arsenal of cool things about my cousins – they have such kavod (respect) for others, and didn’t want us to feel uncomfortable as guests. They are also from the Midwest, and with that comes not only a calm and collected way of interacting with poeple, but a background in the less-religious reality of growing up in a (more) secular town (than Jerusalem).

The rest of Shabbat was nice. I slept through services because of an early-morning stomach ache, only to enjoy a beautiful lunch in the sukkah. I read over a hundred pages in my book (currently, Kavalier and Clay), and concluded the Sabbath, and visit, with a special havdallah (separation ceremony between Shabbat and the week) in the Sukkah. Gloria and I talked about my whole family, from my grandparents all the way to my brothers and the minutiae of their daily lives in DC and FL. I learned a lot about my cousins, their children and their lives, and basked in the glow of the proud grandparents, checking out pictures of the grandkids, and enjoying the newest album of their latest Kohen (descended from the priestly tribe of Jews from the time of the Bible), who is just 1 month old.

While enjoying this weekend, it hit me again. Because of the way I dress (jeans and tank tops), the way that I choose to daven (egalitarian), and other lifestyle choices (like not getting married early), I am the secular other in the state of Israel. I may not feel secular, but in comparison to the religious right, I guess I am. I, Sara Beth B, little miss super-Jew of Coral Springs, Gainesville, even the Upper West Side, am a chiloni (secular Jew) in dati (religious) clothing.