Searching for home.

Our Seminar Sukkot began in Har Halutz, a yishuv founded by Reform Jews who made aliyah. The theme for the seminar was "חיפוש "or "Searching." Each day we explored a different form of searching and a different idea or object that we search for, whether it be abstract or concrete.


I identified most strongly with the day when we discussed the subject of "searching for home." Every member of the Mechina is currently undergoing this tough process of searching, finding, and building our home together. However, the leaders of the seminar felt that it would be powerful to hear from a member of the Mechina. So they picked me. I reluctantly said yes. Although it is something that I have whined through yet achieved time and time again, public speaking is not my favorite pastime. But I said yes. As someone who constantly seeks and requests the help of others and the patience of the whole Mechina, I felt that it was my time to help out in the smallest way possible. If there is anything that I can lend, anything that is certain, it is my personal experiences. I began my short talk by clarifying that I am not here to educate, I do not bear novel concepts. I am here to share. First I answered the question, "What is home for me?" Well, I was born and raised in Saint Louis, Missouri. Not the most interesting city in the world, but interesting enough. We contributed our fair share to society--such as the ice cream cone. I also added that my mother refers to Saint Louis as a "life sentence," yet I am the product of two non-native Saint Louisans, therefore this label does not apply to me. I have strong ties to my home and community, yet I in no way feel tied to them permanently. Also, when discussing "what is home for me?" I am forced to associate the word "warmth" with my lovely home. My parents very successfully built a warm home for me and for those around me. All of my friends felt comfortable to simply drop by, hang out with my mom, or steal food from our kitchen. The next question that seemed to concern everyone in the first few weeks of the program was, "how do you cope?" I answered honestly. It is very hard for me to find the time in our jam-packed schedule to breathe, process, and truly think about home. Yes, I have my moments. Especially as time passes, I begin to feel the absence of home, for the longer I am here and as the intensity increases, I grasp for any piece of home that I can find.

If I were given the opportunity to go home right now, I would not take it. My family, the thing that grounds me, still remains there. Yet, my friends, a gigantic piece of my "home" are absent. If I returned now, it would not feel like home. I am willing to accept that. After graduating high school, we all entered a period in our lives where we must learn to build transitory homes. Lastly I answered the question "How do I build a home here?" As someone in the middle of the process, it is hard for me to lend a concrete solution. A home is a complex vessel. When I first arrived in Israel, I felt like a complete outsider. Especially as a Jew who feels very connected to this place, it was difficult for me to reconcile feeling like someone on the fringes of society in my home for the year. That feeling has certainly diminished in the Mechina. So do I feel at home here? Well, (AT THE TIME OF THIS SEMINAR I ANSWERED) not yet. But I have time. It is difficult to define what makes a home. After returning to Jerusalem every free weekend, I have understood that family alone does not make a home. It took me time to feel at home in my family's house. So what does make a home? My two associations with the word "home" are effortless and comfort. However, in order to build the home it requires one to try and to put forth an absurdly large amount of effort. The ultimate goal is to feel that it requires no effort to inhabit ones position in the group, in our home. Until we create that comfort, I find comfort in what I can. Sometimes it is the language that I crave, sometimes it is smaller objects and moments that are significant to me. For example, at home I have a pool. In Yafo, I have the sea. At home I bake challah with my mother. In Yafo, I bake challah with Yudko. Home is a fluid and malleable concept. My parents showed me one form of a home, and every home that I build will retain some of its core characteristics. Yet, I find those replacements while I am simultaneously open, willing, and ready to embrace new customs and concepts of home.

MORE ON THE SEMINAR:
In Har Halutz I experienced the most spirited simchat torah hakafot. All of the mechinistim, the community in har halutz, and the alumni of the mechina were together. It was amazing to see the strength of the connection that the alumni still feel towards the Mechina. After the hakafot, we split up into groups of three to eat shabbas dinner with host families. Nadav Marmur, Matan Ben Or, and myself were placed with an American family who had made aliyah 6 weeks early. We had a really wonderful time, but the fun began after dinner. This family had a hot tub, and told us that we were absolutely welcome to use it whenever we wanted to, we just had to be quiet. After we returned from dinner and finished our "wrap up the day" discussion, we decided to return to the hot tub. Matan, Marmur, Yudko and myself sat in the jacuzzi and stargazed silently for a long while. We came without a watch or an agenda. It was exhilarating. We just sat there, with a phenomenal view of the lights of the surrounding yishuvim and arab villages, and I processed all that I had done during my first month in the mechina. At some point, the jets were turned on. As I said, we did not bring a watch. At some late hour we decided that it was time to leave, so Matan pressed the button to stop the jets. Nothing happened. He tried again. nothing. Him and Yudko filled with the buttons for a while, holding it down, tapping it lightly....nothing. After twenty minutes, although it was never said, we all panicked a bit. I said something to the affect of, "What happens if we cannot fix it?" And Matan answered with, "That is not a possibility." In the end, we could not fix it. So I bravely dressed, and walked up to the front door of the family at some ridiculous hour of the night. I knocked as someone was locking the door from the inside. I am positive that I scared one of the children entirely. After a few minutes the father came down and I explained the situation. I was expecting a mean reaction, but the first thing that came out of his mouth was, "Aw, I'm so happy that you all enjoyed yourselves!" That squelched my guilt slightly, to see that he was not angry. The boys waited for me as I finished getting dressed by the jacuzzi. The second I began to walk away, the jets mysteriously turned off. After a good half an hour of panic, they turned off. It turns out they were on a timer. Hm, it is the memories like these, the absolutely absurd ones that i hold onto the most.

Other quick notes: We also walked to a neighboring Arab village and talked to Druzim there about their religion, culture, and ties to the state of Israel. We then visited a various places, including a Mechina for the physically disabled. It was a powerful experience. We had some discussion time where we asked each other questions. Inbal asked how the Mechina was helping them with their lifestyles and what it gave to them. I expected some great sweeping answer, but one of the girls answered by saying, "Before i joined the Mechina I had never even thought about the possibility of taking a bus or traveling by myself." In the Telem Mechina, we travel by bus alone every two weeks. It was never something that I had even considered as a potential obstacle for someone. The entire experience truly offered us a difficult dose of perspective.


The other pictures from the seminar and from October, in general...