Moments of "light"

Since about March of 2009, every time that I realize the date I have a mini-"freak out," or brief moment where I am paralyzed shock. Why? I am not sure that I can explain. It is just the small realization everyday that time is uncontrollably flying by, and the hope that I am using my time to its maximum potential. I am beginning this post on December 18th. Wow. This means that I have been in Israel for nearly 5 months, and in the Mechina for 4 months. That is a substantial amount of time. I always viewed December as some sort of milestone in my process this year. Perhaps it is the way that I understand time, which is sort of an ellipse, or running track, with August at one end and December at the other. In my mind, to finish December is to take a huge sharp turn on this track and to see the next length span out into the distance. A turn usually means that one has already accomplished/overcome half the distance. However, it is hard for me to idly accept this turn when I am still unsure of what I have achieved up until this point. So rather than attempting to truly fill you in on every detail of how I have been spending my year, I will instead continue with the theme of the Hanukkah Seminar that we just finished this past week, and focus on the "moments of light."

We will rewind some time back to what I still believe was the most demanding week in the Mechina, in terms of the schedule. It was the week before we participated in a joint shabbat with Netzer (the strand of the Reform youth group that exists in England, Australia, and South Africa) gap year program. An incredible aspect of the Mechina is how it lends the opportunity to every single participant, even those who one might not label as a leader, to take responsibility, lead, and give to the group. This was my first opportunity to truly plan and lead a program in the Mechina. I was petrified, but it was about time. Most of that non-stop week was made even more crazy because of the fact that we threw this weekend together only the week before the actual event. [[SIDE NOTE: For all who do not know- the Mechina's schedule is ridiculously intense. We finish everyday around 10 pm, and if one has cleanup duties then the day ends even later. And before the day ends, if one's schedule allows for it, there may be one hour of free time.]] The craziness of this particular week began on wednesday- we had a program with Josh Laufer, a lecturer from PEACE NOW, and a program with the Mechina that we hosted for the night- Mechina Meitzar. The program ended at 12. We woke up at 3 am to embark on our full day tiyul up north in Zevitan. Although I would in NO WAY define myself as a hiker, the hikes that we go on every other week are one of my favorite things about the Mechina. As the week goes on, the combination of the classes, volunteering, and separation between the groups builds; the hikes always seem to arrive at the perfect time, exactly when the group needs it. For a full day, we venture out beyond the confines of our building, and Yafo, and walk and talk. This particular hike was just the perfect amount of difficulty for me. It was in the North, so clearly some of the greenery and sights were stunning. On this hike, our first stop was a body of water. Rather than get into the freezing water the normal way, Nof, Gabriella, and myself decided to jump from the cliff. Not the smartest idea we have ever had, but we decided to do the most exhilarating thing that we c0uld have possibly done at that moment. Nof jumped first. Then Gabriella attempted...chickened out. Okay, I stood on the ledge next. As I stood there i realized that it looked a lot higher and scarier in that spot than it had looked when I had made the silly decision to jump. Perhaps I'll turn back now? Still time. No chance. Stop thinking, and jump. So I did. It was thrilling to fly through the air for a good long second and then plunge into the freezing water. True, the cliff was not so high, it was essentially a "safe" risk, yet the task was still daunting. I feel that this moment perfectly explains the type of leap that I took when deciding to participate in the Mechina. It was a leap, yes, but the safest leap that I could have taken. As Naami, my aunt, told me the night before I began my year journey she told me: "Imagine that you are jumping from an airplane. You have a parachute on your back, a net below you, and angels flying around you." Yes, I leaped into a new program, environment, language, and culture, but came with one of the strongest support systems that I have. My family in Jerusalem and the supportive environment of the Mechina offer me the strength or type-of-"bravery" to take these leaps.

The friday after this hike, we all woke up early and piled into the bus. We were on our way to our first tour of South Chevron. Chevron is one of the largest cities in the West bank, and also one of the most complex and troubled places in this country. Many religious Jews feel strongly tied to the land, as do many Palestinians. If I am not mistaken (I may be however), parts of Chevron were given back to the Palestinians, who have lived on the land for years, yet the settlements persist. The clash between these two groups of people unfortunately yield violent outcomes. If the Mechina is about anything, it is about "process." These tours of Chevron were a process. On the first tour we spoke to a soldier that served in Southern Chevron, learned the history of the land, the rules that apply there and were exposed to the beliefs of the Palestinians living in the area. Our speaker, the former soldier, was a man who went to a school that many Mechinistim went to, and also chose to do a year in Mechina. He spoke of his experiences in Chevron where he was told to destroy homes (which ended up being the incorrect homes), evict people from their homes in the middle of the night, and do a plethora of immoral actions. His account shook every member of the Mechina. Every person in the Mechina [besides myself] will inevitably begin their army service after we conclude this year in the Mechina. One of the sole purposes of Mechinot is to teach its participants how to think for themselves, to lead, and to be aware. The speaker told us that it does not matter how much one is taught to think for himself, or the morality that he learns from school or his family, when placed in that situation all that one knows goes out the window. To a group who feel that they are moral beings and independent thinkers, it was a difficult statement to hear. The last stop of the day was the Palestinian village of Susia. There we sat in the tent of a Palestinian family and heard a personal account of what it means to live in that area, the difficulties and dangers that come with it, the neglect they receive from the soldiers in the area, and the essential commodities that they lack. The man explained that he is second generation in Chevron, that they have no running water or electricity, and that in order to educate their children they have to send them away to boarding schools. He told accounts of extreme settlers that came into their village (which is essentially composed of falling-apart tents that are spread out across the desert floor) and used an axe to kill the Palestinian residents, while a nearby army watchtower viewed and did nothing. In short, everyone loaded the bus for the final time with a suffocating feeling of helplessness. Many were unaware of the happenings in Chevron, and simply left in shock. I, on the other hand, was aware, yet it did not make it any easier to witness and hear. The moment that touched me most was when I saw the Palestinian's children. It is upsetting to know that they are unavoidably bound to a future filled with the same perpetual struggle that they all face when living in that area. Listening to this family also added weight to the small question that always sits hidden away in the back of my mind, yet sometimes arises in moments of difficulty and questioning- it is the question of if I feel/agree with the importance and legitimacy of the land, and the state of Israel in general. The second time we visited the area we heard from the settlers. This time we learned to second side to the story. Personally, I found this perspective to be more intriguing. Never in my life have I spoken to people this extreme. They live on the land for they feel that it is their moral and religious duty. It is based purely on faith and on nothing else. One on hand, I respect their strong beliefs- for I am a moderate person who is still in the process of forming beliefs, but will still never have beliefs that rigid- and on the other hand I find little reason in what they are doing, and simply cannot comprehend where they are coming from.

MOVING ALONG:
After the hike, tour, and shabbat with Netzer the whole Mechina attended the Atzeret Rabin- the memorial rally for Yitchak Rabin. The atmosphere of the rally was incredibly positive and placed the emphasis more on the possibility of peace then on the death of Yitzchak Rabin. After that short stop we loaded the bus and drove all the way south to Kibbutz Yahel, (one of the Reform Kibbutzim in Israel), for a week of work! For five days we awoke at 4:45 am, lathered ourselves in sunscreen, and loaded the truck to go to work. Our first task: stack mesh bags that were used to pick dates. We worked for about 9 hours a day. In spite of the fact that it was probably the MOST boring job we could have been given, we passed the time splendidly with songs and ridiculous games that involved acting like animals. When we finished that job, our next task was to pick up all of the leftover scraps from the date trees. During these moments we very much missed the easy sack-stacking job. Now we spent hours being pricked by the sharpest branches and ending the day with our bodies covered in tiny red spots. In short: not enjoyable.

The week of work in the kibbutz was such a refreshing experience. Do not get me wrong, I love Yafo. It is the first time that I have ever lived in a city in my life, and the amount to explore is limitless. Yet, spending the week on the kibbutz reminded me of how much I crave for space, how much I miss the color green, and the act of simply sitting outside. For the first time since the beginning of the Mechina, I found the space to sit and have very intense discussions with just one other person- which is entirely impossible in the Mechina building. The week also gave everyone the chance to leave all of the questions, difficulties, and issues involving the Mechina, back in Yafo. For one week, I had the gift of not worrying about the happenings of the Mechina, and the opportunity to think about real, more concrete, things which I had pushed to the side for months. While in the Kibbutz I thought very much about the way of life of a kibbutznik, and all their unique gains by growing up in this type of environment.

NEXT BIG EVENT: A week in the army!
We came back from the week of work exhausted, yet satisfied and ready to (FINALLY!) begin this so-called routine. Hm. Yep. That routine lasted for a good two weeks, and then we embarked on what is called the "Shavua Tzavah," or week of army service. What scared us the most about this week was that we had NO idea what to expect. The Yahalom base, a base that trains soldiers in combat and explosives, led a one week army simulation for us. It mostly simulated "basic training." This week included a sufficient amount of: being yelled at, combat portions (which = the same meal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner), performing the same task about 14 million times until we did it correctly, running around to find fallen hats, attempting to remain in "matzav shtayim" (the push up stance) for long periods of time, wearing a uniform which was approximately 14 sizes too large, and learning how to shoot the M16 guns that we constantly carried around with us. For three of these days we were in the "shetach" or the field. We slept in gigantic tents, and during the night each person had a "shmirah" (guard) duty. Not one night in the shetach was without a surprise "hakpatzah." We were woken up in the middle of the night by explosives, given about 30 seconds to put on our vests, shoes, and guns and be in specific places. On the first night we ran around for about an hour with all of this equipment. On the second night we walked and ran in two straight lines and rotated carrying around Chezi on a stretcher.
When asked to define my experience in during the shavua tzavah, the word that I overuse is interesting. But that really describes it all. For one week I was exposed to a world that I had never truly understood or thought about in-depth. My mind and feelings towards the army were stretched in so many different directions. The week was quite hard for me. But in my life, it was just a week. In the lives of many of my fellow Mechinistim, this is the reality that they have to face for the next three years. We all know the term combat, but for the first time I understood what being a soldier in combat entailed, and it absolutely petrified me. Over the week, I considered all of the implications that growing up in a country where the army is mandatory has on its citizens. The hardest part for me then, and what still is difficult, is that I cannot decide if I agree with it. Not only the idea that it is mandatory, but the idea of armies in general. As an outsider spending the year in Israel, and being given the choice to enlist in the army, opens up another internal conflict. I cannot say that I agree with something being mandatory, however, choice is a scary thing. At one moment in the week I would be against the army, and at the next moment my mind would be in a completely different place. We ended our experience at a "kennes" (ceremony) for a unit that had just finished their very intense year and a half track. The ceremony was one of the most exciting events I have ever attended. As the soldiers were climbing up the mountain after a 5 day hike, I suddenly felt very strongly attached to this situation (in which i had no connection to whatsoever) and had the very strong urge to join in with everyone else and cry. I cannot imagine what it would be like to attend this type of ceremony for someone that I do know. I would bawl. In short, the week of army service opened up quite a lot of questions for me, but did not afford many answers. Luckily, it is a subject that we are constantly dealing with during this year.

And for the last big event of this post...
Although ridiculous, I very much expected myself to miss the states during December, and to yearn for the atmosphere that comes along with the American holiday season. However, I quickly learned that there was nothing to worry about. In Israel, every Christmas carol and light is replaced by the non-stop singing of Hanukkah songs for about two weeks and decorations all over the streets. In the Mechina, we had a large number of events surrounding hanukkah. The first being a program called Meirim at Yafo, or lighting up Jaffa. For an entire day every Mechina member and 60 other volunteers visited every one of the Mechina's volunteer places--we led programs, sang every hanukkah song in existence, danced, ate jelly donuts, and schmoozed. One of my stop during the day was a personal visit to an elderly woman's home with Ory Hess. She hesitated to open the door for us, for Yafo is not the safest area at dusk. In the end we entered the apartment that she lives in alone, lit the candles, recited the blessings, drank A LOT of water (she kept insisting), and heard a bit of her life story. At that point in the day, I had already been to three other places filled with smiling people. Yet this intimate encounter gave be the ability to see the amount of joy a project like this brings to people. On our way back, Ory Hess and I stopped in the middle of the neighborhood Yafo Dalet sat down and watched the sunset together.

The next day, we awoke VERY early, loaded the bus, and began our three day Hanukkah Seminar. The greatness of the Mechina is that it is mostly run by its participants; this includes the five seminars that we experience during the year. Nof, Yotam Eshed, Shai, Gabriella, Sarig, and myself took on the daunting task of planning this seminar for the entire group. Here is the way it works...The counselors say: Your region is the south. You have three empty days. Do something with them. Essentially we built a deep and meaningful process by starting at zero. Our theme (as I mentioned at the beginning of this ridiculously long post) was "Signs of Light." Our goals: Expose the Mechina to people and places that create/bring light, brighten the group's collective light, and create light in the places that we visited. Each day of the seminar is worthy of its own never-ending post, so instead of making you suffer, I'll be concise. The first stop was Sderot, where we learned about the daily dangers that the residents face. At one of our stops, we hiked up a small hill, and at the stop were exposed to an incredibly clear and near view of Gaza. About a year ago, I remember being glued to the television and newspaper following the situation there. To suddenly stand before it and have the powerful realization that it is no longer some imaginary, distant place that exists in the newspapers (that I read in the comfort of my room at home), but a real and deeply complex area, is a difficult fact to grasp. After our tour we had our opening activity, which began with everyone sitting in solitude for 30 minutes. During that time each person reflected and wrote about moments of light and darkness in his/her life--in terms of home, family, childhood, and the Mechina. The Mechina is a terribly hard program to experience, and I have had many "challenging" moments in my life, yet as I sat facing the very real Gaza and attempted to recount every moment in my life, I had a hard time finding darkness. Perhaps it was because I looked Gaza in the eye, put my own life into perspective and understood how fortunate I am, or perhaps in retrospect the moments of light are more outstanding than those of darkness. After those 30 minutes, we gathered the group, blindfolded everyone, and slowly led them into circles. One way of brightening the group's light was through communication, so we chose an interesting way to communicate. Everyone remained blindfolded throughout the discussion. They recognized the others voices, yet the beginning was scary as they spoke to an anonymous group. That night we participated in a workshop led by the dance group Hunger Adama in Mitzpe Ramon. The workshop consisted of a lot of walking around in circles, leading others in dance with their hands or heads, and no verbal communication. For one activity we were paired up with our eyes closed and told to sit back to back with our partner. We were then given a series of instructions about putting pressure on our partners back or stretching. This entire activity took about 10 minutes, where partners found themselves depending 100% on each other for support from an anonymous figure.
Other highlights: Star gazing in Sede Boker, learning about the history of Yerucham, the entire Mechina going crazy in a second hand clothing store where everything cost one shekel, learning about the Bedouin situation, visiting a school for blind children, and meeting Darfurian refugees.

Overall, the Seminar was filled with moments of light, interesting speakers, open chairs, dark places where we strained our eyes to find light, group development, reminiscing about the 4 months that had passed, and feeling of fulfillment.