December until now...

I believe that I deserve the title of “Worst Blogger Ever.” I have started many-a-post and not even come close to finishing it…

So yet again, I will write a post about the highlights of the last few months—to give you an image of the types of ridiculous things that I have done during my glorious gap year.

Let us rewind to the last week in December. After a cancelled flight, my mother and sister Emma finally made it to Israel to visit me. Despite the fact that “missing out” is a terribly hard thing for me to do, I took the week off to be with them. I was in constant connection with the Mechina and asked to be told if something important was going on. My counselor Eldan told me not to worry; nothing was going on, HOWEVER I must be in the Mechina for an important conversation at 11 pm on Sunday night. The topic of this discussion happened to be about the lack of money in the Reform movement. The head of the Mechina, Aharale Fox, sat and told us for 45 minutes that the Mechina, which falls under the authority of the Reform movement, was unavoidably affected by this money shortage and would either need to reduce the number of apartments of end a month early. This was an unbelievably emotional conversation where everyone tried to piece this surprising news together and solve it. After a good 45 minutes, suddenly the lights were shut off and all six counselors entered the room with sparklers. They shouted, “Remain quiet. Right now we are splitting you all up into groups of four people. We are sending you on a trip- for how long, we will not tell.” Each group received a box of equipment, in it resided some food, some money, and a clue. We were told, “Every group must solve the clue to learn their first destination. By 4:30 am, you must be packed, the clue must be solved, and everyone must be out of the building.” The rules included not talking to any other groups if we ran into them on the way, only spending money on necessary transportation, and having only one cell phone on at all time. We all sat in shock for a good minute (especially me, for I had to figure out what to do about the whole “mother coming all the way to Israel to visit me” situation.) In the end, as unfortunate as it was to give up on a few days of being with my mom and sister, I understood that this was not an experience that I could miss.

My group solved the clue: Binyamina was our destination. At 4:30 am, with our giant bags on our backs we went out as a group singing all the way to the train station. Once in Binyamina we solved task after task: do a madas boker (morning exercise), write a song, play games with kids at recess, go to Ehud Manor’s house (a famous Israel singer, who wrote bashanah haba’ah), EARN a bottle of wine, interview people in the street. Our madas boker was led by Eden, and consisted of the four of us running around through a playground. I laughed the entire time. Our song was a mix of “Circle of Life” and “Summer Loving.” Our next task was to go to the grave of another famous singer, Meir Ariel, next to Pardes Channah. Once in Pardes Channah, we met a friendly little man who took us to the cemetery on his daily power walk. While there, our task was to sing a song written by Meir Ariel. Yudko and Uri sang very beautifully into the phone to our counselors (for this was our “task”) but all we heard on the other end was “LO SHOM’IM!” (Translation: We cannot hear you.) Turns out, that the song task was in order for our counselors to find us and surprise us, but in the end, they were in the wrong cemetery. Our last and most challenging task of the day was to find a nice Israeli Jewish family to stay with for the night. When one finds oneself in that situation, the only thing that one can do is to start knocking on doors…so that is exactly what we did. We entered the nearby kibbutz, Kibbutz Mishkenot, (where Meir Ariel grew up) and began to knock. In the first house, a girl about age 17 answered. She told us that we could not stay, but that we could come in and have some coffee for a while. We attempted to explain to her what exactly we were doing, but it all sounded a little too farfetched. After searching for a warm and welcoming family in the strangely dark kibbutz, we found our savior: a wonderful young lady, around 23 years old. She promised to find us a home to stay in. The four of us sat in her one room apartment, while she called just about every member of the kibbutz. Amidst the phone calls, all of her friends seem to congregate in her one room apartment. It became a group effort to find us a place to stay. In the end we stayed in the youth lounge of the Kibbutz. True, it was not a family’s home, yet we met some of the most generous and hospitable people. Our night ended at about 1:30 am, when after a failed attempt to solve the next clue with only a tanach and a cellphone, Omri gave us very specific directions. We were told: Be on the 6:40 am train from Binyamina to Akko, take a taxi to a specific bus stop in Carmiel, and when you get there call Fatmah.

We followed our directions perfectly. We called Fatmah, crossed the street, got into her car (still with absolutely NO idea what was going on), and entered the Arab village of Ba’neh. We sat silently in her car for a few minutes until she pulled into a driveway and said, “This is not my house, this is Muhammad’s house.” What? We have no clue what is happening. Muhammad who? Turns out that we found ourselves at the home of Muhammad Bakri—the well-known Arab actor/director. We entered his house, with no directions given (to him or us) we simply began to talk. He began by saying, “This is my cousin, Fatmah. She understands me. There is a lack of understanding in the world…” And from there we launched into a 2 ½ hour incredibly intense discussion about Arab-Israeli relations. Other highlights of the day: ending up on the wrong side of Carmiel and finding a shopping cart (AKA: 10 minutes of pure bliss) on the way back, getting free food from the Carmiel Municipality, repelling in the rain into a giant hole at Har Gamal, a folk dance class, giving blood, and meeting an Argentinean Reform family that fed us well. True, the day was jam-packed with interesting tasks, but the last few tasks of the day were by far the most bizarre. That second night, our task was to find a restaurant that would allow us to work in order to earn a meal. After semi-successfully completing that task, we began the task of asking strangers on the street to share their secrets with us. During this time, a fellow group mate, Eden, fainted. That is usually the product of lack of sleep, dehydration, and giving blood all in one day. After some time spent at the Magen David Adom (red cross), where we attempted to explain ourselves to medics who barely believed us, we completed the last task of the night: to be homeless. Overcome by exhaustion, our sense of reason was severely diminished. We slept in the first covered place that we found…barely paying attention to the sign that hung above our heads. It read: Smile for the camera. Next to it there was a picture of a smiley face and a gun. In retrospect, we probably could have found a safer place.

The next day, our amazing adventure came to a close. We woke up at 5 am (again), and got on a bus to Haifa. We were the only passengers on the bus and within moments collapsed into a deep sleep. An hour and a half later I woke up in a crowded bus. There we met other groups from the Mechina, and did our best to follow the rules and ignore each other. By 10 am, the whole Mechina was reunited again and we spent the entire day sharing our experiences with each other. I gave up on three days with my mother for this. Yet in 20 years I will not remember that I did not see her; I will, however, remember this outrageous and monumental survival experience. My experience and memories exist only between Uri, Eden, Yudko, and myself. During those three days I got to know my group mates much better—not because we had deep discussions (for there was no time for that), but more I was given the opportunity to learn about their characters by watching their response to real and challenging situations. The four of us share an extraordinarily special mutual experience; it exists between us, and will remain that way. Every member of the Mechina left this grand adventure humbled. Help is something that I have learned to request from people a lot, yet for the first time most of the participants were put in the position where they had to ask for food, shelter, and other basic needs. Along with the humbling, the amazingly powerful goodness of humanity flooded our experience. People, strangers, helped every step of this journey. Moral: Good people exist in this world. A refreshing concept.

The next BIG EVENTS: Shabbat in Me’ah She’arim and Purim in Kibbutz Yahel.

For those who do not know, Me’ah She’arim is the most religious neighborhood in Jerusalem. Only a 5 minute walk from the hustle and bustle of the center of town, one feels like they have entered an entirely different and foreign world. In this world, the slightest difference in clothing, length of payis, and size of hat defines one’s family history and beliefs. Before our exposure to this world, we were taught to notice these small details, taught to differentiate between the Belz Hasidim and the Gur Hasidim. The boy and girls were separated the entire Shabbat, and both groups underwent very different, yet equally powerful experiences. The girl experience began with Kabbalat Shabbat, at the great Belz synagogue. It is supposedly the biggest and grandest synagogue in existence. During services, the women sat tucked away on the second floor. We strained our eyes to look through our only windows (which came in the form of tiny white diamonds) on a completely white wall, to grasp whatever shred of the experience that we could. After shul, we split up into groups to be hosted for dinner. The family that hosted us forgot that we were coming entirely, but had no problem adding on 9 more seats for the surprise guests. The hospitality was unbelievable. At this home we discussed with the religious women the ideas of shidduch (arranged marriage), shomer negiyah (not touching the opposite sex), and the idea of truth. One of their justifications for shidduch was: why go through the difficult and painful experiences, filled with yeses, no’s, indecision, and trials when you can simply wait until you are ready to marry. If you marry when you are ready, then you can simply bypass the difficulties. After this explanation, my good friend Tamar exclaimed, “Wow, that does make sense!”

We spoke to a girl our age (who plans to wed within the next few months) about how she views those who are not religious. In the kindest way possible, she told us that we are living in a lie and that she has been born into the truth. We refuted by saying that you cannot judge a person’s faith by merely passing them on the street; so many people hold similar beliefs to your own, or believe their own truths in their own way. And to my surprise, she did not disagree with us, she agreed 100%. She reminded us that even within Hasidism peoples faiths reach different depths.

Towards the end of the conversation, I found myself arguing with a woman about the idea of love. Judaism is a loving religion. And because of that, I simply could not understand why the religion does not include the “falling in love” process. Love is an important part of the human experience, as is touch. Why is the goal of marriage and procreation so defined here? The woman I spoke to believed very strongly that one cannot “build” love before marriage. Only within marriage can one build this connection. I still disagree, and view it as slightly backwards, but it was still refreshing to see a different opinion. As I said, I view this as such a large part of being human. Yet, after the weekend, I also understood that the Orthodox idea of “being human” is something entirely different. The goals are different.

The most difficult moment for me of the entire Shabbat occurred on Saturday afternoon, just after lunch. Before the birkat was recited, the men sang shabbas songs. Music is my strongest link to the religion. Yet in an Orthodox home, if men are present, a woman may not sing. I sat there, listened to songs that I loved, yet remained silent. It was an extremely stifling and frustrating experience. Why should the woman’s voice be silenced? Supposedly it may distract the man; however, I view it as more negative and symbolic than that. The silencing of women in Judaism is not something that I understand or can accept. For much of the weekend, I felt that we were “missing out” on the experience by not being allowed to participate in anything…until I understood that this IS the quintessential woman’s place in the Ultra-Orthodox world. This experience made me proud to come from a liberal Jewish background, where I have a place to give.

Transition to Purim…

In Saint Louis, my Purim memories were filled with small children, ridiculous skits, costumes, raffles, and a megillah reading. This year, it was slightly different. For the first time this year, we closed two Shabbats together. They were an intense two weeks for me, with the weekend in Me’ah Shearim in the middle, so I feared that I would not be able to muster up the energy for this weekend in Kibbutz Yahel. Yet the moment I walked down the steps of the bus and smelled the wonderful stench of cows, I was happy to return. Seriously, it was so nice to be back in a place where space, air to breathe, and the color green existed. Sometimes it is difficult for me to truly understand time in the Mechina. My best method of understanding all that we have undergone is by returning to places where we once were, for it forces me to close the circle. When I return, I tend to reminisce, view the group as it was then, ponder what place I inhabited—in the group, mentally, emotionally—and then compels me to fast forward and evaluate myself in my present state. Collectively, as a group, and individually, we had come a long way since our week of work in the Kibbutz in November. This weekend was stress free and filled with dance parties, alcohol (for it is a mitzvah afterall!), costumes, and ridiculous memories. It is by far a highlight of my year in the program, and was the best way to end a stressful two weeks.

NEXT EXPERIENCE: Lech Lecha.

Lech Lecha m'artzecha, mi'moladitcha, mi'beyt avicha— go forth from your land, your birthplace and your family

The premise: Choose something you know nothing about. Then what? Experience it.

Ah, one of my perpetual challenges of life: the process of choosing. Now was especially difficult, for I had to choose the thing that I knew the least about and which interested me the most. What interests me? No, really. What REALLY interests me? People. Religion. Culture. I thought, perhaps Bahai, or Sufi Islam. I ended up in a territory very foreign to me: Bedouins. Daphne Resnick, Nof Gur, and I ventured to Khashem Zena, an unregistered Bedouin village. Our sheirut left from Beer Sheva and within 10 minutes we were dropped off at the side of the road. Our host, Atia, graciously picked us up, we drove on the highway for about 40 seconds and then he sharply turned the car onto a dirt undefined road. Suddenly we left civilization that we knew and entered the Bedouin culture. The entire family—8 of the 9 children and some of their own children—greeted us as the house, and from the very first moments offered us food. Food was a pretty strong theme for those three days. In fact, Nof and Daphne decided that to change the name of the activity to “Shev Lecha,” which means “sit” rather than the intended name of the experience “go.” We sat and ate. For three straight days. This may sound dull, but this is what it means to be a Bedouin woman. Their lives are confined to the village and home, it is all that they know. We participated in every other activity that they did during the day, including herding the sheep and donkey everyday, working in the Gan, and sitting in on a Hebrew lessons. While herding the sheep on our first there I made an observation: These people are really happy. They are satisfied with simplicity. They are satisfied because they do not know anything else. They do not yearn for gadgets or the current popular items. They value deeper, more permanent, connections; such as connection with family, land, and history. Perhaps opportunities get in the way and inhibit one from happiness. When one knows that he always has the option of something better, then he always strives towards that goal. Yet that “better” is a perpetual goal that will not be reached during this age of advancement. I feel lucky to live in the modern world, yet there is a good chance that my view of happiness is skewed because of it. As I read once, “Things don’t matter. People matter.”

These three days were filled new forms of communication and a whole lot of patience. A language barrier is no foreign concept to me; I have been bursting it the whole year. Yet I felt the barrier most strongly in Khashem Zena. Only the father truly spoke Hebrew, for he was the only one who worked outside the village. The woman slightly understood and spoke even less. A nice example was the first day when we were herding the sheep, Mohat began to throw rocks over our heads, nearly hitting Daphne. We tried to communicate to him to stop by throwing out whatever appropriate Arabic words we knew, yet nothing seemed to work. Daphne, a nervous laugher, could not stop laughing. And because she was laughing, the kids figured that it was okay and continued to pelt us with rocks. Huge attempts were made from all participating parties to understand one another. We experienced moments when neither side understood the other, and all we could do was laugh awkwardly and attempt again. At some point, we began to appreciate each other despite the lack of direct communication. It is one of those moments when external barriers collapse and people can simply connect on a human level.