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Week 26: Making a Lasting Impression

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When I woke up to a snowstorm this morning, I was so happy I could dance. It wasn’t just snow, it was big-flaked, sticky snow, the kind you could make snowballs out of were there enough of it, and it looked for all the world like there would be before too long. I grabbed my camera, bundled up and headed outside to find a bizarro Jerusalem as much as a bizarro snowstorm. Unlike the procedure I’m used to, they are so unprepared here,

no one has shovels or salt or snow tires or parking chairs. In lieu of a plow, a construction vehicle drove down main streets with its shovel to the road, accomplishing absolutely nothing since there was no accumulation there.

And who uses an umbrella in the snow?

 

(Photo Stolen From: Shanee Michaelson)

 

On the ground, it almost instantly became piles of slush, the kind that splatter like a puddle when you stomp on them. By the time I finished running my Friday morning errands, it had almost all melted.

 

 

Far more lasting in the world is the effect left by people. We all fall to Earth in some time and place not of our choosing, and in the grand scheme of things, no one’s stay on this Earth lasts appreciably longer than a snowfall in Jerusalem. Really, the biggest difference between us is that, as people, we can make our worldly impact permanent, for good or for evil. This week at Pardes, we remembered two students who, though they were taken far before their time, didn’t just melt away but rather left legacies that continue to positively impact Pardes, the Jewish People, and the world. Marla Bennett and Ben Blutstein were alumni of the Year Program and current students in the Pardes Educators Program studying to be Jewish day school teachers when they were murdered in the terrorist bombing in the cafeteria of Hebrew University July 31, 2002 during the Second Intifada. Each year since then, Pardes has sponsored a Yom Iyun shel Chesed (a day focused on kindness) in their memory, a day when we take a break from our normal class schedules to go out in the world and do good.

This year’s Yom Iyun began with abridged morning classes themed around Chesed, חסד, translated by Rabbi Shai Held of Machon Hadar in New York, not as “lovingkindness,” a meaningless word often found in Bibles and prayer books, but rather more accurately as “acts of kindness done in love.” During the large brunch following morning classes, it became obvious just how much Marla and Ben exemplified this trait. While eating the big country breakfast: biscuits with butter, eggs and cheese with “sausage,” grits, home fries, “bacon” salad, and maybe the best peach cobbler I’ve ever had, I and most of the other Americans in the room were downright giddy. But once the presentation started, everything changed—the girl with the infectious smile who made a trip to the airport just so a friend could arrive in Israel to a friendly face, who regularly kept Rav Landes after school to ask questions; the tzitzit-wearing DJ and musician who never backed away from an intellectual challenge, both aspiring Jewish educators. The more I learned about them, the more I admired them, and the more I admired them, the more painful it became that they were stolen away. After only a few minutes, I felt like I’ve known them all year. They were are Pardes.

I have rarely been so motivated to go out in the world and do good as a Jew as I was following that presentation. Luckily for me, we all got that chance directly afterward. This year’s Yom Iyun featured three chesed projects: The first stayed in Jerusalem to prepare lunches for hospital visitors. The second and third went to Tel Aviv to either paint walls at a center for the children of Darfuri refugees, or to volunteer with the Jaffa Institute, an organization that runs various programs in the area to help impoverished children and their families. I chose to volunteer with the Jaffa Institute.

We began in their conference room with a presentation about the horrifying scale of poverty in Tel Aviv, then immediately got to go downstairs to the warehouse and do something about it. We split into two groups, one would pack boxes with food for the poor, the other envelopes with petitions for the rich. I opted for the boxes, but my group threw back 20 boxes so fast (thanks in no small part to my rugged brawniness) that we got to do both. Following this, we took a short bus ride to one of their after school centers to play with the kids. As much fun as stuffing stuff is, this was what we really came to do. All week we had been told to find a friend and plan getting-to-know you and English-learning games for groups of kids. When we finally got there, our plans for pedagogical versions of duck-duck-goose and rock-paper-scissors at the ready, the kids were so engrossed in their computer and video game screens that they hardly noticed us. Some people found some loose kids started trying to play with them, others found craft materials and began making things, hoping that some kid would see them out of his peripheral and decide he’d rather make stuff out of paper with white strangers than continue to shoot at bad guys, others just tried to look busy. A friend an I found a small group of boys playing FIFA soccer on a PlayStation 3 in the back and went to cheer them on.

Sometime while they were in the middle of their game, a woman came out of nowhere and started hugging and kissing the boy sitting next to me. When she got off him, she turned to me and said something like, “You see this kid here? He’s the best in the class at math! The best! He’s going to be a math professor someday, aren’t you?” The boy had just scored the first goal of the game maybe a minute before this and paid little attention. I assumed she was his mother, but then she turned to the boy on the couch opposite him who was definitely not his brother and began hugging and kissing him in the same way, then went on her way. I like to think she works there. But even if she doesn’t, her enthusiastic encouragement really drove home just how important this work is more than any formal presentation on poverty could have—it reminded me not only of how many of these kids probably don’t eat meals regularly outside of Jaffa Institute programs but also of how many of their parents probably work nearly all day every day and have little time or energy left to give them once the day’s through. As someone who’s never lived without every advantage in the world and then some, I can’t even imagine what this woman’s encouragement, the Jaffa Institute in general, and potentially even our being there, must mean for them.

After a few minutes of trying to play FIFA with them himself, my friend went to the shelf of games and got out Memory. No one seemed interested at first, but we eventually managed to cajole one boy into leaving the PlayStation to play with us instead. We soon had a group of four: Three Pardesians and him. We started a system where, after a card is flipped over, we say what the object it depicts is in English, and he tells us it in Hebrew. It was a ton of fun and we all learned a lot.

 

The belief that rain in Israel is determined by the Jews’ righteousness dates back at least as far as the Book of Deuteronomy. After seven years of drought, this winter has been one of the wettest in Israel’s recorded history. The water level of the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) is at a four-year high, but still at least 3.5 meters short of its optimal amount. I want to leave a lasting impact. I say we make it overflow.

 

Quote of the Week: “’Love your neighbor as yourself’ is not a Commandment, it’s a fact.” – James

Hebrew Word of the Week: שלג (“sheleg”) – snow

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[Student Profile] Shanee Michaelson

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Shanee recalls the family gatherings of her childhood with great fondness. Jewish holidays with her mother’s family were full of warmth and love, and they all still lived nearby in the Los Angeles area, having emigrated from Iran together. In the USA Shanee was given opportunities that her mother hadn’t received in Iran, and so she became the first woman in their family to attend a Jewish day school and read from the Torah for her bat mitzvah.

Hebrew was Shanee’s favorite subject, and language study came easily to her so she minored in Spanish literature at the University of California, San Diego (UCSD), while studying psychology and sociology. The young woman also joined the UCSD Israel Action Committee, and brought an increased awareness of Israeli culture to her university through campus-wide Israeli movie nights and dances. She also twice attended the AIPAC conference in Washington, DC, as a student delegate.

After college, Shanee’s Jewish involvement manifested in her work as a Hebrew school teacher, which she pursued even as she attended law school at the University of San Francisco. It was a challenge for her, having had no training, but she found that she enjoyed teaching and working with children – a theme that would unexpectedly recur after she completed her law degree.

Tragedy soon struck the young woman when her mother was diagnosed with cancer after her law school graduation, and Shanee became her mother’s primary caregiver while she worked for the State Bar of California and then at a small law firm. After her mother passed away, Shanee took a poetry class in the evening at the University of Southern California (USC), and was offered a teaching assistantship, which would cover her tuition. Shanee accepted, and began taking classes such as screenwriting, poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.

In 2008 Shanee completed her Master’s degree in creative writing, and decided to take a summer vacation to Israel. She’d only been here once before – on a Birthright trip – and Shanee wanted to visit some Israeli friends and explore the country on her own. After a week in Jerusalem and another week in Tel Aviv, Shanee began to feel that she never wanted to leave… but she ultimately returned home to be near her family.

Recalling her love of teaching, Shanee found work at an international school in San Diego where her grandmother, aunt and uncle were living, and moved back there. In San Diego, she started attending services and classes at Chabad, and started to get excited about Jewish learning. Eventually, another student mentioned Pardes to her, and the idea of an open, pluralistic beit midrash in Jerusalem grabbed her imagination.

Once again, tragedy struck unexpectedly when Shanee’s grandmother passed during her stay in San Diego, and she felt the loss acutely. After two years of teaching, Shanee applied to study at Pardes during the summer of 2010, but she ultimately delayed her trip when a legal project came through for her. Shanee soon moved to Washington, DC to work at a Jewish preschool, and then attended the 2011 Summer Program at Pardes – studying with others in the educators track. “Three years ago, I fell in love with Israel,” she says, “That summer, I fell in love with Jerusalem.”

After three weeks at Pardes, Shanee knew she would have to return to continue her studies in Jerusalem - there was so much to learn! She felt incredibly drawn to Israel, and returned to America only to save up enough money to study at Pardes in Spring 2012. Now having returned, Shanee continues to enjoy the challenging conversations and wide ranging perspectives of the Pardes community, and finds herself delving into the Tanakhic texts through Pardes’ Intensive Tanakh Track (ITT).

In the near future, Shanee looks forward to hosting other Pardesniks at her Purim seudah1,2 next week, and in the long run… well, Shanee’s now thinking of moving to Israel!

 
  1. Seudah: festive, celebratory meal(see: Seudat Purim)
  2. Shanee’s seudah will have a creative theme! Please bring a poem, story, song, or joke to share!
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[Student Profile] Joseph Shamash

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Joseph is a Persian Cowboy.  He was born in Dallas, Texas to immigrant parents from Iran.  He and his older brother David attended the Akiba Academy of Dallas, an Orthodox day school, through Joseph’s middle school years.  When he was eleven, Joseph’s parents decided to move to LA to be closer to family, where he finished his middle school education at a similarly religious school, Hillel Hebrew Academy.  Throughout his childhood, Judaism was central, but meticulous religious observance was not.  However, even though family life and Jewish identity was important, the focus on observance of minute details of halacha over the value of community turned Joseph off of Judaism during his teenage years.  He still remembers a conversation he had with his rabbi at the age of seven:

“I asked him whether it was better to drive to shul or stay home on Yom Kippur — and his answer that it would be better to stay home was deeply troubling to me.”

However, an otherwise tumultuous event near the end of grade school cemented the importance that Joseph’s parents placed in giving him a Jewish education.  About two months before graduating from 8th grade, Joseph was expelled for starting a small fire at school (no damage done), and then witnessed his parents campaign for his return to the school every day for a month until he was allowed back.  That perseverance to secure a Jewish education stayed with him.

Before that lesson came to play an important role in his life again, Joseph made it clear that he did not want to attend a Jewish high school and sabotaged the entrance exam to the local Yeshiva., instead attended public school, where basketball provided an ideal outlet.  After high school, Joseph went to UCLA where he found a way into working many a young man’s dream job — working on highlights for Fox Sports.  After six years, including a semester off and studying abroad in Siena, Italy, Joseph graduated with a BA in sociology.  During college, while still working for Fox, Joseph’s parents made a conscious push to have Friday night meals at their house once again since Joseph’s brother had moved back to LA.  Joseph found this to be a great way of bringing his family together but also struggled with going out on Friday nights.

The event that really brought Joseph back to Judaism was a serious relationship with a non-Jewish girl which ended primarily because she was not Jewish, and had no desire to raise her kids Jewish.  When she asked him “why you don’t love me more than your religion?” he didn’t have a good answer for her except for recounting the story of his parents insistence on providing him with a Jewish education and their persistence to get him reinstated after the fire incident.  In an effort to get to the bottom of that dilemma, Joseph started exploring what it really meant to him to be Jewish.  He attended a lecture by an Orthodox rabbi in town, Rabbi Seidenfeld, at the recommendation of a friend, which had a very positive impact on him.  Rabbi Seidenfeld, unlike those Joseph had been exposed to in the past, was not focused on the obligations as much as the beauty Judaism had to offer.  This religious awakening led to seeing daily practices such as davenning as being very important.  Joseph likes to see himself as seeking an answer to the question of ‘what is my purpose?’ and Judaism was, for the first time, able to provide answers.

Rabbi Seidenfeld introduced Joseph to Limmud LA, which Joseph became deeply involved in and inspired by.  It was his first experience as an adult where he felt extremely proud to be Jewish and finally found a community that he wanted to be a part of.   It was through Limmud that Joseph first heard about Pardes, when DLK came to speak in LA in 2009.

Joseph’s favourite part of Pardes so far is the people — students and teachers.

“Pardes is the Limmud of yeshivot, which makes me feel at home.”

His least favourite part of Pardes is that he has not stepped out of the bubble much yet, because there is not a lot of time.

Joseph is currently planning on making a documentary with friends he met while staffing a Birthright trip (to come to Israel).  To be called Finding Israel, it is meant to go beyond the headlines, describing their stories and what daily life is like in Israel.

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Week 15: Exoduses

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On Sunday the 11th, the Social Justice Track went on a tiyyul to South Tel-Aviv to explore the situation of refugees and migrant workers in Israel.

Refugees in Israel are mostly asylum seekers fleeing persecution in their native Sudan, Darfur, and Eritrea. While walking through South Tel-Aviv, it is easy to forget you are still in Israel, especially after you’ve spent so much time in Jerusalem; Eritrean and Sudanese flags are everywhere; the music, food, window signs and of course people are African. We saw a lot on our tour, but two experiences stand out: the Tel-Aviv Central Bus Station and the refugees’ stories. If the South Tel-Aviv street is more like Africa than Israel, the Central Bus Station is like everywhere else in the world that isn’t Israel than Israel. Since every day so many east Asian and central African migrant workers and refugees flock through it daily, it was teeming with flags and calling-card rates for Thailand, the Philippines, and China, bags of shrimp snacks and other foods, and an enormous lighted, musical Christmas gift display., the only reminder that this was indeed still Israel aside from the olive-skinned people staffing the Christmas display were the Hebrew signs over the glatt-trayf food stands. I really wish I had brought my camera, for this is the Zionist dream: other peoples being able come here to make a living while still being who they are in what remains a distinctly, uniquely Jewish country.

The other highlight, and by far the most powerful part of the day, was listening to Ismail and Ali’s stories. Both men are Africans who risked their and their families’ lives to come to a country they knew nothing about in the hopes of the possibility being able to live there in peace. The journey they and the 1,000′s of other refugees make is dangerous beyond belief: They travel almost entirely on foot from central Africa. Along the way, most fall into the hands of the Bedouin in the Sinai who often traffic and abuse them. Most women will get repeatedly raped along the way and sold as sex slaves; Bedouin killing and selling the organs of people who they don’t expect to receive much money for is not unheard of.

Those who survive the Bedouins and reach the Negev are usually soon greeted by the IDF. Ismail said once the IDF approached him, in their military gear and tank, and established that he was an asylum seeker, the first thing they did was offer his young son a glass of water. They then took them in and helped them get to Tel-Aviv. Ismail currently runs a small shop and, with his own money, started a free center to teach fellow-refugees Hebrew and computer skills (Ismail has an advanced degree in computer science but hasn’t been able to do much with it since the persecution started in Darfur). Ali had a similar story, although his family is still in a refugee camp in Chad. I don’t remember how long it has been exactly, but I think he said it had been something like 24 years since he last saw his wife and children.

Hardships aside, both men are “enjoying” life in Israel as much as they could be expected to, given their situations. Both men are making a decent living and have been here over 20 years. Both speak Hebrew fluently, and Ismail said it is his children’s first language. Both said they have experienced almost no racism since arriving here and will be eternally grateful for how good Israel has been to them. As Muslims being persecuted by other Muslims, they thank God for Israel at least as much (if not more) than many Jews do or, thankfully, could right now. As Israeli as he and his family are, they are not Jewish, and therefore, can never become citizens. But that does not mean they are in a bad situation: they have a legal status in this country and are entitled to certain rights. Israel has no official policy on refugees yet besides the rights specified in the UN Refugee Convention of 1951 to which it, in the shadow of the Holocaust, was an enthusiastic signatory. Israel of course does not have open borders nor was anyone advocating for them—our tour guide, a Pardes alumnus who currently works for the Jewish Joint-Distribution Committee, had many stories to tell of deporting people who, while in a desperately poor and all but hopeless situation in their home countries, are not in physical danger there and thus not in need of asylum. Most of these people end up staying in Israel anyway illegally, but the point remains.

Walking the South Tel-Aviv streets and hearing the refugees’ testimonies, seeing first-hand what a beacon Israel can be to non-Jews, was the most uplifting experience I’ve yet had on a Social Justice tiyyul. We are a people whose holiest book commands us, more than anything else, to have compassion on the stranger, for we were strangers in Egypt (and Europe, and Arabia, and Ethiopia, ad nauseum). It can sometimes be too easy to be jaded when our Jewish state is not everything we think it ought to be, which made it especially refreshing to see a positive story—these people had no idea what a Jew was until they got here, they only knew that this was a free country where they might be able to make a living. And after making unimaginable sacrifices to get here, they discovered not only financial opportunity, but a welcoming, largely sympathetic people. The sight of non-Jewish asylum seekers speaking Hebrew and blessing themselves by Israel was a source of great pride and nachas for myself and most of the class. Ismail said as a refugee he identifies with the Jewish story and he and Ali seemed genuinely touched that we cared not only to hear but then to ask thoughtful questions about their stories. As I mentioned earlier, this, too, I believe, is a proud fulfillment the Zionist dream.

After listening to Ismail and Ali, we met with a woman from the Hotline for Migrant Workers, for whom the situation is not so positive. Like in America, there are jobs Israelis don’t want to do. Since using Arab workers is no longer an option for many reasons, Israel turns to the Far East, mostly Thailand and the Philippines, to get its menial laborers. Like the African refugees, the journey to Israel for these people is difficult—they pay agencies upwards of $10,000, that they usually borrow, just to leave their families to come here. They then must spend their first several years here just working off their debt for the journey before they can begin sending money home. While they do have some standing under Israeli law, there has never been legislation passed concerning them. They frequently work long hours for less than Israeli minimum wage, but this is still oftentimes better than what they could make at home. It’s a complicated situation that I don’t pretend to know much about, but at least in this problem, Israel is far from unique.

It was a rough day with the many highs and lows I’ve come to expect from Social Justice tiyyulim. Also like other Social Justice tiyyulim, it left me too grateful for words for my situation in life, and committed to—as a Jew every bit as much as as a human being—never stop using my fortunate situation and education as leverage for stepping up for those less fortunate.

 

Tuesday night was the first of hopefully many soirees for my Modern Jewish Thought class. Most of my class plus a few guests met at two classmates’ apartment to tackle humanity’s biggest issues the way great minds have been doing it for centuries—while drinking wine; eating cheese, fruit, and junk food; and reclining on comfortable couches. Our topic for discussion was surrender to God vs. creativity: Does surrendering to God’s Will leave any room for creativity? What would/should a balance look like? Is surrendering to God’s Will totally desirable to begin with? Does surrender in Judaism mean anything besides obeying the Law? Can Judaism without Law even possible? Can surrender exist without God?, and much, much more. One of the things I love most about Pardes is even though our teacher was too busy to join us, it turns out, we really didn’t need him (much as we missed him)—we led and moderated the discussion and stayed on topic (at least in so far as possible in a room full of Jews). Another thing I love about Pardes is that time and again we prove that respectful dialogue with people you disagree with is not only possible, but beneficial to every side. Personally, when people said things I disagreed with (which was often), I found myself not only seeing a lot of myself in their religious struggles even though they have taken different turns than and reached different conclusions than I have, but also respecting them more for their honestly sharing their thoughts, and being open to critique. I like to think I would have been able to accept honest critique too had anyone who disagreed with me actually been able to form a coherent argument. All in all, it was a wonderful, energizing night that left me reflecting on my own beliefs and energized about spending the rest of the year learning wrestling with our Tradition alongside these people.

Friday morning, my level bet Chumash class along with level aleph held a siyum to celebrate our finishing studying Parashat Sh’mot, the first 5 chapters of the Book of Exodus. A siyum is a feast usually thrown to celebrate the completion of a tractate of Talmud or some other long, complex, intricate text. So why have one for celebrating finishing the first 5 chapters of Exodus? Because for us, Parashat Sh’mot is a long, difficult, intricate text—we’ve been learning it 3 mornings a week since coming back from Yom Kippur. If the better part of three months seem like a lot of time to get through 5 chapters of text, you should just know that we aren’t just learning what the text is about—how the Israelites multiply and become enslaved in Egypt, Moses is born, Moses grows up and gets into trouble for caring too much, Moses argues with God at the burning bush, Moses gets laughed at by Pharaoh—we’re learning what it says, literally doing a word-by-word, sometimes letter-by-letter reading of the original Hebrew text, getting inside its grammar, structure, parallelism, symbolism and allusions, and the varying interpretations and explanations different classical commentators and Midrashim have of all these things and more. It’s a lot of work, which is what made the siyum so sweet. Besides eating way too much sugar, we celebrated our accomplishment by singing nigguns, hearing classmates’ reflections on the parsha, hearing a d’var Torah from our teacher, Rav Meir, and playing review games. Another thing I love about Pardes is that grown adults actually get competitive playing Bible review games. But one thing I don’t love about Pardes is how it’s Bible review games are rigged: Our teachers actually expect us to believe both games ended in a 5-way tie, but I’m not stupid. When everyone gets a prize at the end of a competition and nobody is made to feel superior to his peers, nobody really wins. But this is what I get for going to a more liberal yeshiva.

Quote of the Week: “’I want to start a new tradition.’ Well, you can’t start a new tradition, to say that means you understand no part of that sentence!” -DLK

Hebrew Word of the Week: פליט (“paleet”) – refugee

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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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