I have officially been in Israel for 5 months and doing the Yahel program for 3 months. A lot has happened in these last 5 months. During our most recent check-in, we talked about narratives of our time here. I had some trouble writing my narrative at the moment, but after reflecting on it, I've been able to identify different parts of my story here.
Part I. Jewel
My first month in Israel, taking part in a Jewish studies program for women, I learned so much about Judaism that I didn't know before. I started learning about Jewish theology and connecting to Judaism in a different way. I simultaneously feel so close to and so far from Judaism, and I have realized that I want to continue learning and growing.
Part II. Travel
I had the opportunity to travel around Israel and see a lot of the Christian sites with a friend of mine. Then, we traveled to Greece, took a cruise around the Greek isles, and flew to Budapest. Getting back to Israel, I spent nearly a week in Eilat with a trip to Petra before spending Rosh Hashanah with a family near Tel Aviv. I took a lot of time to reflect on being away from the US and in a new country that I barely know.
Part III. Beginnings of Yahel
I was excited about the beginning of the program and getting to the know the community, but felt insecure about being able to connect with people along with a frustration with getting acclimated to living with 7 other people.
Part IV. The War
Experiencing what I had only previously heard about on the news, I gained a new perspective on the conflict here in the Middle East. To stay clear of the rockets, we fled to the north, which was so peaceful and beautiful and completely different from the south. After news of the bus bombing (on the day I turned 26), I had again a new perspective on what it is like to live in Israel.
Part V. Making Progress
After getting back from Chanukah Break in Germany, I have finally started to feel like my relationships here are strengthening, especially with my host family and my shabab (the girl I tutor one night a week), along with a few others I've met. I've also begun to feel at home in Israel. While my Hebrew is still incredibly limited, I feel like I know my way around and not frustrated as much as when things are slow or inconvenient, don't work the same as in the States, or are not what I prefer.
Though there are still lots of frustrations, I'm looking forward to the next six months of the program, where I feel like I will continue to learn, continue to strengthen relationships, and continue to make an impact. Cheers to the new year!
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Complexity. Hineini.
One of my favorite quotes is the following:
Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief.
Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now.
You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.
-Unknown (attributed to the Talmud)
Another translation I found for the last line that comes from the Talmud is, "It is not for thee to complete the work, but neither art thou free to abandon it." (Fathers of the Mishna - Tractate Aboth, II).
The quote in Hebrew for those who want it:
I think we are all thinking about the enormity of the world's grief right now, whether it is politics, gun laws, mental health, civil struggles, refugee crises, natural disasters, or accidents. Many people ask why. Why do these things happen? Why is there poverty and sadness? Why do bad things happen to good people? If you believe in G-d, you may ask why wasn't there an intervention? If you don't believe in G-d, you may ask what is the role of society and the individual to change things? Why haven't we done enough?
I really don't think it matters why things happen. It may help you feel more comforted in some way and that's great, but I think the more important thing to consider is that quote at the beginning of the post. While I love the version I stumbled upon, I think there is something to be said about the other translation.
We will never complete our work, according to the second translation. And it's really important that we acknowledge that. We will never complete our work. But neither are we free to abandon it. Even when we feel completely overwhelmed because there are too many problems. Even when we feel there is no possible way to change the world because problems are just too complex. Even when we feel absolutely depressed because we are burned out and frustrated. We still need to remember to keep going. Even the smallest, seemingly insignificant act of kindness does make a difference. Giving your time to a cause you believe in, saying thank you to someone who helps you, and being involved in your community all make a difference.
There will be events that we can't stop, can't predict, can't change. Showing compassion, supporting each other, and continuing to recognize the good in life and in people can help keep you going.
This morning, my cohort and I discussed different interpretations of Chanukah. One interpretation is that for Hasidic Jews, Chanukah is "about seeking one's inner life and rededicating oneself to that small burning candle" (Rabbi Steve Greenberg), or to remember your goal and the path you are taking to get there. I'm here in Israel this year to see social change playing out in front of me and being involved in it as much as I can. I am recognizing that my actions are minute on the scale of social change, but they count.
Happy Chanukah.
The quotes below are taken from: http://www.shma.com/2011/09/here-i-am-hineini/
Here I am, Hineini
ARYEH COHEN
Hineini is the moment of crossing the line, of making the decision, of claiming the path. Hineini is that moment of response to a situation in the world, to the cry of another person. There are many reasons to ignore the cry. There is only one reason not to: the clear knowledge that it is for this reason that you are here, that responding to that cry is part of what it means to be a person created in the image of God.
I recognize this moment in a black-and-white photograph of Diane Nash from 1961. The snapshot shows Nash as a young, courageous civil rights organizer in Nashville; she is looking straight ahead and her face is projecting both an understanding of what is ahead and an indomitable determination.
Diane Nash organized the second wave of Freedom Riders after the first wave was stopped by violence in Anniston and Birmingham, Alabama. Even though most of the first group ended up in the hospital as a result of racist violence abetted by the police, Nash defiantly organized the second ride to prove that massive violence was not going to stop the nonviolent campaign.
That black-and-white photograph of the beautiful 20-something organizer, looking determinedly into the coming maelstrom, screams in its silent dignity “hineini.”
Rabbi Aryeh Cohen, a Sh’ma Advisory Committee member, is a professor of Talmud at the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies at the American Jewish University in Los Angeles. He is author of the forthcoming book, Justice in the City: Toward a Community of Obligation. In July 2010, he was arrested for civil disobedience while demonstrating in support of Unite Here, the workers union fighting the Chicago-based Hyatt Hotels Corp.
Here I am, Hineini
Hadar Susskind
"Hineini” means “here I am” but the power of the phrase is far greater. It is the acceptance of a charge; taking on a task or responsibility. Hinieni. I was enveloped by it as I stood guard in Beaufort in Lebanon, buttressed by it as I rose to speak as a delegate at the World Zionist Congress, inspired by its ancient call as I walk the halls of Congress. Like my ancestors before me, I am here. Hinieni.
Hadar Susskind is vice president of policy and strategy at J Street.
Here I am, Hineini
Erica Brown
In a world full of distractions, the proper way to translate “Hineni” today is “I am fully present.” I am fully present in my life. I am fully present with my children. I am fully present in my job. I am fully present when I am in conversation with you. I am fully present as a servant of God. This means paying closer attention to the sacred duties I assume and trying to live on higher ground. I am fully present as a Jew. I am fully present as a citizen of the world, partnering in its perfection. Being fully present today — with the challenges of technology — cannot be assumed. It is hard work; an aspiration.
Erica Brown, scholar-in-residence at the Jewish Federation of Greater Washington, is the author, most recently, of In the Narrow Places: Daily Inspiration for the Three Weeks (OU/Koren).
Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief.
Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now.
You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.
-Unknown (attributed to the Talmud)
Another translation I found for the last line that comes from the Talmud is, "It is not for thee to complete the work, but neither art thou free to abandon it." (Fathers of the Mishna - Tractate Aboth, II).
The quote in Hebrew for those who want it:
ב,יט [טז] הוא היה אומר, לא עליך כל המלאכה לגמור, ולא אתה בן חורין ליבטל
I think we are all thinking about the enormity of the world's grief right now, whether it is politics, gun laws, mental health, civil struggles, refugee crises, natural disasters, or accidents. Many people ask why. Why do these things happen? Why is there poverty and sadness? Why do bad things happen to good people? If you believe in G-d, you may ask why wasn't there an intervention? If you don't believe in G-d, you may ask what is the role of society and the individual to change things? Why haven't we done enough?
I really don't think it matters why things happen. It may help you feel more comforted in some way and that's great, but I think the more important thing to consider is that quote at the beginning of the post. While I love the version I stumbled upon, I think there is something to be said about the other translation.
We will never complete our work, according to the second translation. And it's really important that we acknowledge that. We will never complete our work. But neither are we free to abandon it. Even when we feel completely overwhelmed because there are too many problems. Even when we feel there is no possible way to change the world because problems are just too complex. Even when we feel absolutely depressed because we are burned out and frustrated. We still need to remember to keep going. Even the smallest, seemingly insignificant act of kindness does make a difference. Giving your time to a cause you believe in, saying thank you to someone who helps you, and being involved in your community all make a difference.
There will be events that we can't stop, can't predict, can't change. Showing compassion, supporting each other, and continuing to recognize the good in life and in people can help keep you going.
This morning, my cohort and I discussed different interpretations of Chanukah. One interpretation is that for Hasidic Jews, Chanukah is "about seeking one's inner life and rededicating oneself to that small burning candle" (Rabbi Steve Greenberg), or to remember your goal and the path you are taking to get there. I'm here in Israel this year to see social change playing out in front of me and being involved in it as much as I can. I am recognizing that my actions are minute on the scale of social change, but they count.
Here I am, Hineini
I am present in this world. I am trying my best. I am putting forth the effort I can to do tikkun olam, to repair the world, in a way that I can, with the ability that I have. And that's all I can do. I'm going to end this post with some thoughts on Hineini, which translates to Here I am. I hope that you, too, will be present and remember that there is good in the world. All over the world. But it is much easier to focus on the bad. Focus on the good, aspire for and seek the good, and remember to be here.Happy Chanukah.
The quotes below are taken from: http://www.shma.com/2011/09/here-i-am-hineini/
Here I am, Hineini
ARYEH COHEN
Hineini is the moment of crossing the line, of making the decision, of claiming the path. Hineini is that moment of response to a situation in the world, to the cry of another person. There are many reasons to ignore the cry. There is only one reason not to: the clear knowledge that it is for this reason that you are here, that responding to that cry is part of what it means to be a person created in the image of God.
I recognize this moment in a black-and-white photograph of Diane Nash from 1961. The snapshot shows Nash as a young, courageous civil rights organizer in Nashville; she is looking straight ahead and her face is projecting both an understanding of what is ahead and an indomitable determination.
Diane Nash organized the second wave of Freedom Riders after the first wave was stopped by violence in Anniston and Birmingham, Alabama. Even though most of the first group ended up in the hospital as a result of racist violence abetted by the police, Nash defiantly organized the second ride to prove that massive violence was not going to stop the nonviolent campaign.
That black-and-white photograph of the beautiful 20-something organizer, looking determinedly into the coming maelstrom, screams in its silent dignity “hineini.”
Rabbi Aryeh Cohen, a Sh’ma Advisory Committee member, is a professor of Talmud at the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies at the American Jewish University in Los Angeles. He is author of the forthcoming book, Justice in the City: Toward a Community of Obligation. In July 2010, he was arrested for civil disobedience while demonstrating in support of Unite Here, the workers union fighting the Chicago-based Hyatt Hotels Corp.
Here I am, Hineini
Hadar Susskind
"Hineini” means “here I am” but the power of the phrase is far greater. It is the acceptance of a charge; taking on a task or responsibility. Hinieni. I was enveloped by it as I stood guard in Beaufort in Lebanon, buttressed by it as I rose to speak as a delegate at the World Zionist Congress, inspired by its ancient call as I walk the halls of Congress. Like my ancestors before me, I am here. Hinieni.
Hadar Susskind is vice president of policy and strategy at J Street.
Here I am, Hineini
Erica Brown
In a world full of distractions, the proper way to translate “Hineni” today is “I am fully present.” I am fully present in my life. I am fully present with my children. I am fully present in my job. I am fully present when I am in conversation with you. I am fully present as a servant of God. This means paying closer attention to the sacred duties I assume and trying to live on higher ground. I am fully present as a Jew. I am fully present as a citizen of the world, partnering in its perfection. Being fully present today — with the challenges of technology — cannot be assumed. It is hard work; an aspiration.
Erica Brown, scholar-in-residence at the Jewish Federation of Greater Washington, is the author, most recently, of In the Narrow Places: Daily Inspiration for the Three Weeks (OU/Koren).
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