Tag Archives: debate

[Alumni Guest Post] Who is Allowed to Study Torah?

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Ben Barer (Fall '11, Fellows '12) shares his thoughts
on MK Ruth Calderon's inaugural Knesset speech:

rc

I had never watched an inaugural Knesset (Israeli Parliament) speech before Dr. Calderon’s (Hebrew; English). However, I, and many in the Jewish world, watched new MK Ruth Calderon’s speech with interest. A member of the rising Yesh Atid (There Is a Future) party, Calderon had already made a name for herself as a secular Israeli who was deeply interested in — and, after receiving a PhD in Talmud from Hebrew University, qualified to teach — Jewish texts. While much of the reaction to her speech has been positive, not all segments of the Jewish world are happy about the symbol of a secular women teaching Talmud (as Calderon did during her speech) at the Kneesset. This article is quite critical, citing various halakhic sources to show that only the traditionally observant ought to have access to canonical Jewish texts.

I understand the sentiment behind this backlash, though I am harshly critical of it. In a world where halacha reigns supreme, many modern sensibilities are seen as threatening. Canonical Jewish texts, on this view, are not literature to be studied by just anyone, but sacred texts that cannot be approached merely for intellectual study, but must be approached with Continue reading →

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The Soul of Jerusalem: A View of Multiple Truths

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Crossposted from my blog:

Wherever you stand,
be the soul of that place.
~ Rumi

But what does it mean to be the soul of a place like Jerusalem? A place where so many people feel most closely connected to their own inner strength and beliefs, and yet stand in direct conflict with one another?

One of the very first lessons I learned in my program of text study at the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies was as follows:

When learning Gemara**, there are always at least two truths, and they directly contradict each other.

 
** Gemara = a body of text of rabbinic debate that accompanies the oral torah/bible and serves as an important source for Jewish law
Instead of the western learning ideal of gaining knowledge in search of a single right answer, Jewish learning involves argument; it involves debate. There are various differing opinions and stances and interpretations, and yet simultaneously there exists an intense oneness of belief and faith. It is perhaps one of the most beautiful aspects of Jewish religion and spirituality, and in my opinion a part that is so often overlooked and underrepresented.
Robert Safian proposes that understanding the duality of opposing truths is necessary for entrepreneurs and business leaders to be successful in today’s economic climate. In his article “Secrets of the Flux Leader,” Safian brings to the table Margaret Wheatley’s argument: that we can no longer rely on singularly directed pathways of reasoning rooted in the 17th century ideas of Sir Isaac Newton,

“We now know that cause and effect is not a given in the natural world. Creation comes not from stasis but from Continue reading →

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Why I’m Not Making Aliyah

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“Oh, so you’ve been here [almost a year/two years]! So are you planning on making aliyah?,” they say, bearing their teeth and gently lifting their eyebrows in anticipation of the upcoming hearty “Mazel tov!” they’re sure to owe me.

“No.”

“Oh,” this is less an expression than the sound a face makes as it falls. “Why?”

Since coming to Israel, I’ve had this conversation with more people than I can keep track of. I’m here to articulate my answer to this disappointed “Why?” in the best way I can. I know my answer probably won’t be good enough for you olim out there reading this, but hopefully I can at least get you to understand and maybe, maybe even to respect my decision not to make aliyah as much as I respect your decision to make aliyah.

Let me begin by saying this: I love, love, LOVE Israel and consider myself a Zionist. Over the past thirteen months, I have come love this country, and to love Jerusalem especially, more than I thought I could ever possibly love a place that doesn’t begin with “Pittsburgh.” I shouldn’t even have to say this, but I want to anyway because it’s so true .But there’s different ways of loving something:

You came here on Birthright and you just felt it. Good for you, I didn’t. Or maybe it’s that ever since you first heard there was a place for Jews, you knew you just had to live here/this is the only place in the world where the Jews have a future/you want to share in the historic fate of your People and your Land/you couldn’t find a job in your home city/you come from Europe/you came for a visit and just couldn’t bring yourself to leave…and you can’t understand how I, as a fellow passionate, committed Jew did not want to move to this country as soon as I stepped off the plane. I get it.

What’s more, I know how much you’ve sacrificed in order to live here. You’ve left your beloved families, friends, communities, jobs, to come live in a tiny, upstart nation in what still is—in spite of its and your Jewishness—a foreign culture where things are overpriced, jobs are hard to come by, people are rude, you don’t speak the language, you live under constant threat of annihilation, and you know that possibly you, but certainly your children, will have to sacrifice, at minimum, only the best years of their lives in its defense.

I can’t tell you how much I respect all that, olim. I also can’t tell you how hard it is for me to look you in the eye and tell you I have no plans of making aliyah when I know that for you, it must seem like I’m telling you that I think it’s right for you to have to struggle to begin your life over again half-way across the world and for your children to fight terrorists for the sake of the Jewish people, while I visit my parents on weekends and my children go to ice cream socials at their universities’ Hillels. I totally understand.

But here’s what you don’t understand: Messianic dreams notwithstanding, I can think of almost nothing worse for the State of Israel or for the Jewish People than what would happen if every Jew (or even every Jew who cared) picked up and moved to Israel. Jobs would be harder to come by, our border issues would increase at least hundredfold, and no one would ever have enough water. The Kinneret would cease to be.

But these are minor, solvable problems. The bigger, much more lasting problem would be what would happen in a world where all the Jews lived in one tiny rift in the Middle-East? Who would support Israel? Who would fight anti-Semitism, or just be around to live around non-Jews and show them that they shouldn’t believe the lies, most of us are actually pretty cool people? I know that in my life, growing up around almost entirely non-Jews, many people thought they didn’t like Jews or that Jews were this way or that, until they discovered I was, not only a Jew, but an actual human being just like them, too! If I go to Israel, who will be left to prove them wrong? Why should the world respect a people or a religion that can only work in one place far away from them?

If every Zionist Jew like myself makes aliyah, there will be no Jews, Jewish influence, or Jewish ethics left in the sciences and the arts anywhere else in the world, and medicine, technology, economics, science, government, and culture all over the world will suffer enormously.

Further, it’s not easy being a Jew in America. No, we don’t have to worry about terrorism or overt anti-Semitism, thank God, but we have our own set of challenges. Yes, no Jewish community in history has ever been more accepted or more affluent, but no Jewish community in history has ever been as Jewishly illiterate, indifferent, or intermarried. We face the unprecedented challenge of trying to make Judaism matter in a free market place of ideas, and I believe as much as I believe anything that Judaism is more than up to that challenge, that its wisdom, beauty, depth, and divinity are more relevant and more needed now than ever. To this end, helping to capitalize on the equally unprecedented opportunity modern diaspora Jews have to create open, robust, committed, learned, diverse communities that will be a blessing for their residents, for the wider communities surrounding them, for the Jewish people (including those in the State of Israel), and maybe—in some small way—even for the entire world, genuinely excites me far more than the prospect of making aliyah. Yes, this is somewhat of a dream, but no less so than the idea that my moving to Israel will have some huge impact on making it the kind of Jewish State it needs to be.

One last point, and this comes from a friend who recently made aliyah: Israel doesn’t need me. It could use me, sure, but it doesn’t need me. Thank God, unlike in the early days of the State, it now has enough native population and new immigrants to support a viable, diverse economy and culture. If this weren’t so, if lots of talented, educated Jews weren’t making aliyah, and if America’s Jewish community was thriving, then I would strongly consider making aliyah. But since I don’t believe Israel is sorely lacking for a thoroughly unathletic Jew whose most valuable skill is his ability to write in English, I think I’ll stay in America and do my best to serve the Jewish community there.

So in the end, disappointed olim, I believe the world needs both your kind of Jew and mine, I only ask that you respect my choice as much as I respect yours. What matters most is that we’re in this together.

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[Alumni Guest Post] Intrafaith Engagement

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by Ben Barer (Fall 2010, Fellows 2011-12)

Cross-posted from his blog.

“All Jews are friends”

I came across this article recently, and the tenor of the article greatly disturbed me.  My friend and fellow Pardes alum did a wonderful job setting the record straight, but I see the underlying problem as requiring more thought as well.  Why are we so quick to demonize fellow Jews?  This is not a case of unaffiliated Jews who see no particular connection between themselves and other Jews, nor is it a case of questioning whether criticism of the State of Israel is legitimate coming (loudly) from a Jewish voice.  This is the question of whether committed Jews from various denominations in the global Jewish community can see that there is much to be lost from sniping at each other, and much to be gained by trying to understand one another, despite our differences.

In the Crimson article, the following were among the inflammatory words that appeared: “endangered,” “anathema,” “medieval,” and “parochial zeal.”  I struggle to understand what the goal of inciting such antagonism is.  The author himself states that the Orthodox community is the dominant demography in Judaism today.  While he claims that Reform and Conservative Judaism stand for tikkun olam — repairing the world — the concept of כל ישראל ערבים זה לזה (Sanhedrin 27b), that all Jews are inextricably bound up in each others’ lives, has been sidelined.

I am not arguing that, if only Jews would all unite, there would be peace in the Middle East — or anything similarly grandiose.  I actually think that the people who stand to benefit most from Jews making a concerted effort to decrease a rhetoric of hate and increase understanding are Jews.  The Jewish tradition stands to be enriched by having Jews of all backgrounds come together and grapple with the issues that animate our lives.  This is in large part because there are so many different, institutionally sanctioned ways of Continue reading →

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‘Encounter’ing and Machloket

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I made aliyah in August 2009, after completing my MPA at Columbia University, knowing that I wanted to come to Israel and use my degree to make a positive difference in the future of the Jewish people. Today I do that through my studies at the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies in Jerusalem and work at Encounter, a non-profit organization aiming to transform the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through face-to-face understanding.

The Encounter November 2010 Trip for people with Israeli citizenship was a poignant experience for me. I came out of the trip truly believing in the Encounter model and its Communication Agreement to help people’s listening skills and communication techniques develop when confronted with difficult issues. The Encounter model makes a space for listening and processing over time – while allowing people to keep and/or adjust their own beliefs and perspectives – I would call my personal beliefs “responsibly Zionistic”.  Meaning that Continue reading →

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God in Judaism

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[Cross posted from my blog]

Last week at Pardes marked the end of a four-part lecture series given by professor James Kugel, one of the preeminent scholars of the Bible alive today.  He painted an extremely interesting picture in answering the question that titled the lectures: Has Modern Biblical Scholarship Killed the Bible?  The lectures will be available on YouTube, so I will not try to summarize, but rather will focus on a couple of points that were specifically highlighted in his last lecture.

Professor Kugel  made it clear that as long as the Torah has been considered a sacred text, people have been interpreting it in whatever ways were appropriate to the time.  In the earliest days, that seems to have included changing the text itself, adding and subtracting as was seen fit (his main example was that two extant versions of the Book of Jeremiah are thought to have existed for a long time side-by-side).  Later, interpretation would not alter the text itself, but rather the meaning of words in the text — classic rabbinic midrash highlights this approach.  After the rabbinic period, commentators engaged in all sorts of methods, and the ways in which classic Jewish texts are printed highlights how the conversation continues to this day.  As such, Kugel sees the Torah as simply being the first volume in a work of exegesis that has stretched from Biblical times till now, and will continue as long as people are interested in interpreting the central texts of our tradition.  What is this history-stretching work focused on?  Kugel implied that the ‘title’ of this work could be How to Serve Hashem.  Judaism, as a religion, is about serving Hashem, and Scripture — defined in this fashion, as one never-ending work — is meant to help us get there.  Put another way, when engaging with Scripture and the attendant commentaries, Jews have always seen sacred text as the first word, but not the last word.

While this is indeed a beautiful and novel take on the history of Judaism’s relationship to its most cherished texts, I was left wondering why God needs to figure into this picture.  Professor Kugel is a self-defined Orthodox Jew, and as such not surprisingly holds onto certain traditional tenets of Judaism as practiced by Orthodox Jews.  For instance, within the picture described above, Kugel believes that Scripture was divinely inspired, and, as already noted, Kugel frames the goal of all of these texts as a collective as being the service of Hashem.  I left struggling with why God needs to be part of such a history.

In order to understand the source of the tension I felt, I had two big questions to answer: (a) Is it wrong in some sense to be a theist, and if so, why? (b) Is it wrong for a scholar like Kugel to make God prominent in his thought for the express purpose of ‘widening the tent’ of those willing to listen to his arguments?

Naturally, a proper treatment of the first question would be book-length, but let me briefly consider what such an answer would have to cover to be satisfying.  First, I want to make clear that the theist I have in mind is someone who truly believes in the God depicted in the Torah — and while I have done absolutely no research on the subject, I would be willing to bet that many, many Jews do not believe in this God in the sense I have in mind.  For those who do, I have two main areas of concern.  The first is Ockham’s Razor, and the problem on this line of argument is that positing the existence of a traditionally understood God adds to the believers ‘metaphysical baggage’ — in other words, such an understanding of our universe requires more entities to exist, and in this case a specifically ‘burdensome’ one, which contradicts the economy and simplicity that the theory favours.  While Ockham’s Razor is a basic tenet of much of Western thought, I realize that such an argument will hardly convince those who think God ought to be listened to before some 14th century Englishman.  The second reason why I think belief in a God like the one described in the Torah is problematic derives from the actions that such a belief might engender.  One only need glance very briefly at any newspaper in this country to see countless examples of how deep belief in the ultimate authority of a text can lead to consequences involving much human suffering.  This is ultimately my greatest concern about the continuation of a dogmatic theism (by which I mean a theism attaching to a centuries-old religion).

On the topic of ensuring that one’s message reach the widest possible audience, Kugel may well be able to reach a much broader swath of the traditionally observant Jewish population by placing Hashem front-and-center in his scholarship.  Upon reflection, I have no problem with this idea.  The caveat is that Kugel did not say — at least at Pardes, though I have not read his books — explicitly that that is why he gives pride of place to Hashem.

At the end of the day, belief in God is quite possibly the prototypical case of an argument where both sides see their own belief as so obviously the starting point of the argument as to be incredulous that anyone would suggest otherwise.  I learned that I have to work on that close-mindedness myself, and I hope that we can all appreciate the brilliance of scholarship such as Kugel’s while leaving the debate about the existence of God for another discussion.

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A Window Into An Other’s Life

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I recently overheard, and then jumped into, a conversation in the halls of Pardes (a truly wonderful place) about whether the experience of suffering placed an extra burden on the sufferers to better act to prevent further suffering.  In practical parlance, the common argument goes: ‘Jews suffered immeasurably during the Holocaust (and throughout their history) and so should be particularly sensitive both to not inflicting anything resembling such suffering on others and to crying out against the infliction of such suffering anywhere it crops up.’  Leaving aside that particular argument, I really identify with a sentiment that I see as leading towards the common view I just articulated.

I see this argument as being based on the idea that the suffering that Jews have experienced in the past creates (or ought to create) an empathetic bond to those currently suffering.  This has played out in my own life.  When asked, for the first time in my life (that I can remember) what my worst experience in my life was, I hesitated and then answered being bullied was the worst (set of) experience(s) in my life.  This post isn’t about the particulars, and I don’t really think they need to be rehashed.  The important point is that, in light of the above conversation/debate, I can see a clear connection between my own experiences being bullied and an affinity I have had over the years towards those who have either experienced similar bullying or are otherwise feeling marginalized in a social group I find myself a part of.  I am not a big believer in phenomena not backed up by scientific fact, but the reality is that a vast majority of our communication is non-verbal, and it would not shock me if I was silently communicating my own empathy for victims of bullying to all those looking for such a signal.

My real response, then, to the argument that got me thinking about the connection between shared suffering and empathy or a heightened responsibility to act, is that such an imperative to act is the least we who have suffered, in any way, can do.  Acting to end present and potential future suffering out of a desire to eradicate the pain that oneself has experienced is the type of selfishness I can get behind.

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the Shalit Debate

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On Monday, October 24, Pardes students and staff were treated to a brilliant intellectual exercise as Pardes Dean Dr. David Bernstein and Pardes teacher Rabbi David Levin-Kruss debated the recent events which brought hostage Gilad Shalit home to Israel in exchange for over 1,000 incarcerated Palestinian prisoners.

The twist?  Neither man knew which side of the debate he was to defend until lots were drawn in front of the audience of nearly three dozen students, faculty and staff members.  Dr. Bernstein introduced the topic and the rules of engagement.  He sketched the situation, saying the exchange included a number of people with blood on their hands, responsible for numerous civilian deaths.  He also commented that some of those released were sent to Turkey, Egypt and Qatar rather than to their “home” countries.

Rabbi Levin-Kruss (DLK) speaking first, argued against the deal, while Dr. Bernstein (DDB) responded, defending it.

Their most salient points included:

  • DLK: The Entebbe air raid was one of the most powerful events in my life.  In 1976, hostages were captured and the Israeli Air Force went in and saved most of them.  Last week was entirely different.  At Entebbe Israel used strength to save people.
    And the price on victim families is tremendous.  It will cause trouble between Israeli soldiers too.  Sometimes it’s sad in life, an individual has to suffer for the whole; the collective, the society comes first.  I’d have felt differently if the price had been more equivalent.  But now, terrorists know they’ll be traded when the next trade comes.
  • DDB: (holding up a faded green ribbon that used to be yellow):  This was on my car for years.  Shalit’s family tried to create support to bring him home.  He was taken from the pre-67 side of the border, from inside Israel.  We quickly started saying psalms for him daily.  Today it’s eerie in its absence, happily.
    There’s no question that this was a difficult decision.  The cost was very high.  But close to 80% of Israelis supported the exchange.  Almost 80% said they expect it to lead to more terrorist activity, but they still support it.    People in the tent cities, at mass rallies, mentioned his name to express approval that he should be freed.
    Bibi agreed to do what seemed a crazy exchange, but he was doing the people’s will.  We have exchanged hundreds of prisoners for dead bodies. We wanted Gilad back alive.  He represents every man, every child, every soldier.  There’s a feeling that this could be my child.  He was just a few miles away, but you can’t always pull off an Entebbe.  The public wanted him back alive.  The only way was to pay a high price.
    All the freed prisoners had to sign a document agreeing not to revert back to terrorism (laughter in the audience at this statement).  Either 40% or 60%, according to two sources I saw, do not revert.
    Why ever, maybe the deal isn’t as bad as it looks at first.  He created a tremendous amount of solidarity in the country.  I can only compare it to Yom Ha Atzmaut, because the statement was made—when we can do an Entebbe, we will.  When we can’t, we’ll still bring them home alive.
  • DLK in rebuttal:  We rule by democracy—Churchill said that democracy is the worst form of government but it’s still better than the others.  It’s not good to rule by the public, who will say, “It won’t happen to me, but to somebody else.”  People should vote, but that said, these deep decisions shouldn’t be made by popular sentiment, but by the knowledge and wisdom of elected, informed leaders.
  • DDB: Terrorists are always trying kidnapping.  It’s one of their tactics.
    They will continue to have high motivation. Families felt bad seeing murderers go free.  Two Pardes students were killed in the attack at Hebrew University.  Their killer was let go.  Still, many families supported the deal.  The price of 1,000 is close to the number Israel has had to pay to release our people since 1948-that’s been the going price.  There has been a cartoon, published in the International Herald Tribune, circulating, showing two prisoners walking out of jail.  One is saying to the other I did the math—I’m worth 70 grams of an Israeli soldier.

A lively discussion followed the mock debate, with students asking pointed questions aimed at the debaters’ real thoughts as well as their assumed positions. Each gave a sense of his actual feelings on the topic.

  • DDB: Before the announcement, I’d have said no exchange, but once it happened I was happy.  I’m ambivalent—an unhappy mind, but a happy heart.
  • DLK:  Once I had to make a very difficult personal decision.  Someone sent me an email saying there are some decisions that are just too hard to make.  Our leaders have to make those decisions, for better or for worse.  My heart and mind are unhappy but I waver.  My argument works in a theoretical way, but it’s an important discussion.
  • DDB: (Asked about the possibility of instituting the death penalty for terrorists)…The death penalty exists, but it’s only been used once, for Adolf Eichmann.  There’s popular support for it when terror is high.  I don’t think it will happen.  Judges and lawmakers are against it.
    To Israelis, wanton killing is wrong—even of our enemies.
    (Asked why the trade happened now)  Hamas and Bibi were at a low point; they both needed a deal.  Also, there was a fear that Egypt is moving in an uncertain direction and can’t be trusted to be a partner in the future.  The social protest movement was a factor too.  This is an attempt to resurrect Bibi politically.
  • DLK:  Why now and not two years ago?  We knew he was alive now.  We can’t be sure Hamas would keep him alive.
  • DDB: There were feelings of guilt over Ron Arad—we presumed he was dead.  Israel believes that Ron Arad died in captivity; he was certainly alive when captured, and for a period afterwards as well.  We didn’t want to reenact what happened with him.
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A Week of Fullness, Friends and Fun

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Cross-posted from the Peaceable Pilgrim:

Shalom friends! It is the beginning of a new week here in Jerusalem, and the past one was filled with SO MUCH AWESOMENESS that I just have to share with you.

Classes started up again full-swing on Sunday, and even though I was somewhat dreading getting back to a normal routine after vacation, it was actually quite nice to be learning again. It’s what I came here to Jerusalem to do, after all! On Sunday I had Chumash class, where we learn Hebrew and study the book of Exodus, in the morning. Then I had Prophets with Master Tanakh Teacher Michael Hattin from 12-1 where we study the books of Joshua, Judges, Samuel and Kings.

After Prophets I ran back to my apartment to get my things together for a trip we were taking that day in my Social Justice class to the area around the Shuk, an open-air market in Jerusalem. It was a tour to learn more about poverty in Jerusalem and our guide first took us to a restaurant called Carmei Ha’ir whose goal is to feed the hungry and leave them with dignity, so those who can pay do, but those who can’t they don’t require payment from. After listening to and asking questions of the restaurant’s owner, we continued on to different neighborhoods around the Shuk, seeing the extent of the Russian and Ethiopian communities and what life is like for people of many different backgrounds.

Some poverty statistics:

  • In 2009, 36% of households in Jerusalem were below the poverty line: 23% of Jewish households were below the poverty line as compared with 68% of non-Jewish families.
  • In 2009, 60.5% of children were below the poverty line: 44.5% of Jewish children and 82% of non-Jewish children. [As opposed to 59% overall, 48% Jewish and 74% non-Jewish in 2007]

The next day, Monday, I had my Foundations of Judaism class which I really like. After that was Prophets again, and then during lunch was a special mock debate between David Bernstein, the Dean of Pardes, and David Levin Kruss, my Foundations of Judaism teacher. It was a debate over the deal to free Gilad Shalit, which was a major occurrence in Israel over the break, and each teacher took either a for or against stance that neither knew ahead of time. The debate was interesting for me to see, not only to hear both sides of the coin, but also because there was time for questions after the speakers finished which were amazing. Many people shared their own stories and feelings about what Gilad being free meant to them, and hearing their own personal histories with the issue meant a lot to me and made it more real.

The debate also allowed me to see it from a more human perspective and not just a moral one, which was where I originally fell on the line since we learned in Social Justice class that the Talmud says not to pay exorbitant amounts for hostages for the sake of the general good. 1,000+ people to me was an exorbitant amount, and not having much emotional stake in the issue I didn’t see the good in it, but after seeing some videos of the welcome the Palestinian prisoners received when they came home (which were very warm and human, and even heartbreaking as some prisoners had developed something akin to PTSD in prison and were different people when arriving home, not acknowledging children they had never met or just not knowing how to deal with the unfamiliarity of it all) and hearing that all the prisoners signed a statement that they would not resume hostile activities I felt a lot more understanding of the deal to bring Gilad back alive.

Now on Tuesdays, what is noteworthy is that instead of our regular 12-1 class we have something called “Critical Issues,” where Pardes teachers or outside experts in their field come to the Beit Midrash and talk about a topic that is relevant to Israel society today. On this past Tuesday, we had the honor of listening in on a discussion between Pardes teachers Michael Hattin and Daniel Roth, who talked about what Kedushat Eretz Yisrael (the sanctity/holiness of the Land of Israel) meant to them. This discussion was absolutely AMAZING! Everyone was raptly glued to their chairs as these two questioned each other and ultimately got down to what it meant to say that the Jews belong in Israel, and not just some territory in Canada, or anywhere else. Why Israel? What does it mean for the Jews, and everyone else? Can there be peaceful borders? Can non-Jews live in the land too? (The answer is yes.) I felt honored and privileged to witness such a frank and open discussion, and I am so thankful to Pardes and these two teachers for facilitating such a conversation.

On Wednesday I made my name change official at Community Lunch, and it was a truly moving experience for me. First, we had a Social Justice speaker named Joseph Gitler come and speak to us about his organization called Leket, which provides work for Arab-Israeli citizens and food for the needy in Israel. Then, we had faculty and student announcements. When it was my turn to speak, I stood up and announced to all my friends and teachers that I would like to be known from now on by my Hebrew name, and the Hebrew name of my grandfather, Eliyahu. When I was finished everyone applauded, and it really touched me to receive such a warm recognition of who I am. It is something I will never forget as long as I live, and I am so thankful to be part of such an open and amazing community of people.

On Thursdays, we have a half day at Pardes to allow time for our Social Action projects, so this Thursday I got home from school early, took care of some errands and tasks I needed to do, and then went to Kol Haneshama at 4:30 to prepare for teaching English to disadvantaged kids in the community at 5. I have to say, these kids are absolutely amazing and most have the greatest attitudes ever. It makes teaching them fun, and getting to know them even more fun. I was the “point person” that day and our normal coordinator is out of town for the next 2 weeks, so a lot of the responsibility of organization fell to me. I was happy to contribute, and all in all we had a successful day! At the end one of the girls needed a walk to the bus stop, so I volunteered and on our walk she taught me some Hebrew! I knew a little, so we could converse very simply, and she taught me how to say “left” and “right” and “forward” and “backward”. It was really nice and I felt we connected in a meaningful way. I’m so happy to be able to teach kids again, as it’s something that I was very passionate about leading up to my time in Korea and that didn’t quite materialize fully during my time there, but there were definitely high moments in Korea, and it seems like there are much more high moments in this new environment than low ones.

On Friday, I slept in until my landlord (who I was expecting) rang our buzzer around 10:30 so he could fix a few things around the apartment. After he left I did some chores, went online, read a little, and then got ready for Shabbat. I showered, got dressed, and made my way to Kol Haneshama where Nava Tehila, the renewal minyan I mentioned in my previous entry, was meeting for their monthly Kabbalat Shabbat service. I have never been to one of these services by them before, and it was one of the most beautiful experiences I’ve had during my time in Jerusalem so far.

Why was it so beautiful? To be surrounded, with chairs all in a circle, by people who I have been sharing experiences with since my time in Jerusalem and sing songs of peace and praise with them… I don’t think words can do justice to how much it meant to me. I saw people from my ulpan, some who I would never expect to see and some I would (including the Reform family I mentioned in a previous entry that I shared Shabbat with during my first month here). I saw friends from Pardes, some of whom I sat with. I saw Sam (a Pardes friend) beating on the drums in tune to the beat and felt like I was a part of him as I drummed my hands on my legs. But most of the time, to really experience the fullness of the experience, I closed my eyes and just tried to connect to myself knowing I was surrounded by all these people who are meaning more and more to me every day.

At first I was nervous, trying to be precise and read the Hebrew of the songs, but when I let go and just followed the words sung by everyone else intuitively I was really able to connect to the magic of Shabbat in moments, and I gained a sense of peace. It is an experience I am excited to share again, and I can’t wait for more meaningful moments with all of these people over the next 8 months. I’m sure they will keep on coming.

After services I walked with some Pardesnicks to our friend Naomi’s house (who was actually in Seoul the same time I was, and we met at a Chanukah party at her apartment) and we had a great Shabbat meal there. There was excellent conversation, of which turned to Harry Potter (what is one aspect of the Harry Potter world that you would like to be real? I chose flying) and “shtetl milfs”, and there were lots of laughs. I had a great time.

On Saturday, I joyfully slept in until 11:30 (slept for more than 10 hours, yea!) and then got ready to go to my Social Justice teacher’s house for Shabbat lunch where her and her family were hosting our class. It was another awesome meal, just adding to the wonderful Shabbat atmosphere, as there was GREAT food and even greater company. We even sung some great songs, one led by Sam, which I will include here because it was so awesome:

“Deep inside my heart I’ve got this everlasting light,
It’s shining like the sun, it radiates on everyone
And the more that I give
The more I’ve got to give
’cause it’s the way that I give
That’s what I’m livin’ for”

After lunch it was already 4:00 and I was planning on going home to rest, but the friends I was walking back with and I ran into our new classmate Amber who was going to the Tayelet and I decided to join. I am so glad that I did, because not only did I begin Shabbat surrounded by friends and meaning, but I got to end it the same way. The Tayelet was absolutely BREATH-TAKING with its panoramic view of Jerusalem and the Old City. I’ve never seen such a view and never knew it was so close to where I lived! More and more people kept coming, and soon there was a group of more than 20 of us Pardes students where we shared food, prayers, and even sat in a circle and shared something that was meaningful to us about the week’s Torah portion or something we had learned or felt recently. It was beautiful. There was even the most awesome cat who decided to join us on a nearby ledge, who’s eyes were fixed on us as if he were listening intently and appreciating all of us at that moment. I went over to him afterwards and petted him, of which he was happy to receive as he nuzzled my hand. I was surprised to find such an affectionate cat out in the middle of a park! It just added to the experience of an amazing Shabbat not to be forgotten, and it was the perfect end and perfect beginning of both an old week and a new one.

Shavua tov (Have a good week) all!

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