Privilege and Oppression

This morning, our learning session discussed privilege and oppression. We began by reading Peggy McIntosh's "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack." I read this article first in college in my Women's Studies classes. The premise of the article is that just as we talk about the oppressed as lacking access to resources that allow you to pursue certain goals, we must acknowledge our own privilege, which is having access to those same resources. When I first read it in college, I was blown away. Back then, I was learning about my identity and understanding the ways in which I had or didn't have agency in society. Today, understanding the premise of privilege and having acknowledged my own privilege in the US, I saw privilege somewhat differently here in Israel.

We created the Circle of Oppression, which looks similar to the picture below.

We drew one first for North America and then one for Israel. The normative individual in the US is a white, Protestant, upper-middle class, able-bodied, heterosexual man (we didn't include Language or Appearance in our circle). The normative individual in Israel by comparison is an Ashkenazi/white, Jewish, middle/upper-middle class, able-bodied, 100% heterosexual, alpha male. We each have our own identities that give us advantages and disadvantages. Let's take Mitt Romney for example. Even though he has many of those characteristics, because he is Mormon, he lacks as much agency as someone else. At the same time, Anderson Cooper also has many of those characteristics, but because of his sexuality, he also lacks some agency. People may say, well we have a black President, so your description is wrong, or that we have more women in the world than men, so that is where the power lies. Despite those facts, the idea of the normative individual is stronger. There may be more women in the world, but power is not based upon the majority. It is based upon who can wield the power. How many women are in leadership positions in the US compared to men? How many African-Americans are in Congress compared to whites?
We looked at how the US differed from Israel, and there differences were mainly in religion and race/ethnicity. We debated about whether it is skin color or ethnicity/point of origin that really determines privilege. For example, though Russians are considered Ashkenazim, they are considered in a different position perhaps because of when they arrived in Israel. Ethiopians for sure are far from the normative individual (there are differences within groups, as well, between men and women for example who are Ethiopian), they are in a better position than Arab Israelis/Israeli Arabs.
We concluded that while we can talk all we want about our own privilege or oppression, it is even more important to recognize what we can do about our privilege or oppression. White guilt isn't useful, if we feel that. Instead, we must acknowledge our privileges and also learn how to use that knowledge for social change.

On Our Adventure to Tel Aviv in the Biggest Storm Ever

Savyonne and I signed up to attend a conference on Migration Studies at Tel Aviv University this week. One of my interests is migration and I thought that this conference would be a great opportunity to hear new perspectives on the topic.

Tuesday morning, we woke up at 6:15am to catch the sherut to the train station and we were on time, even in the rain. If you didn't know, Israel has been experiencing a huge storm since the weekend. Torrential downpours, flooding, snow in Jerusalem, highway and road closures, buses not running. Well Tuesday turned out the be the worst day. We were lucky that we left so early because the train service was disrupted sometime while we were en route, but it didn't affect us. The streets were flooded, traffic was awful, and there seemed to be a river in the causeway built to direct the flow of water. There was so much that we saw the water almost spilling over those.

Despite the fact that we made it to the Tel Aviv University stop, we then had to navigate to the building for the conference in pouring rain. Our shoes soaked through while we had to dip under a fence to make it to the building we needed to. Finally, we arrived, but apparently lots of other people hadn't due to the weather, and we had tea and rugalach until they started nearly 1.5 hours late.

The conference itself was hit or miss. There were a few sessions we thought were interesting, but the conclusions weren't anything groundbreaking. Working on the ground in communities, these are things you would know without needing to do peer-reviewed studies. Savyonne and I agreed that there was a disconnect between the academic world and what was actually happening. And it seemed to me that the policy implications of the research was an after thought. My question kept being, who cares and why is this relevant at all? There were a few topics that were unique, but overall, we both had a hard time feeling engaged. The conference definitely made me realize I don't want to be a sociologist (don't worry, Mom and Dad, that was never an actual goal of mine).

I think the biggest influence the conference had on me was the realization that being present and working on the ground is much more impactful and satisfying, and that the work we do as part of the Yahel program or in my future as a nonprofit professional must center around the people and the reality of how life works. Knowledge is great, but you have to know how and where to use it effectively.

We eventually made it back to Gedera, after spending the night with a previous Yahel participant (and hearing about her experience). The great thing about this storm has been the rainbows. I saw one last weekend and another again yesterday and they are absolutely gorgeous. Below is one from behind our apartment yesterday.

שבת שלום

Five Month Mark in Israel/Three Month Mark in Yahel

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!

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:

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).





 

Reflection on the Past Week or So

I've received more than a few messages in the last week asking if I'm safe, how things are here, what is actually going on, and if I want to come home yet.
The short answer: I was/am completely safe, things are good, on-going rocket fire (which has now thankfully stopped), and no, I don't want to come home yet.
The long answer:
Since last weekend in Acco, we reconvened with our group in Zichron Ya'acov, where the ED of Yahel lives. We then took a bus to Kibbutz Hanaton, a kibbutz associated with the Conservative Judaism movement. The north is green and beautiful, and it didn't seem that we were in Israel anymore. We originally were supposed to have a seminar in the north next week on community, and luckily, we were able to just move it up one week. While we kept watch on the news, we used the time away from Gedera in the best way possible.
Our topic during the seminar was community, and we visited the Druze community along with exploring the kibbutz where we were staying and two more kibbutzim. The Druze follow a monotheistic religion, and they do not have claim to any land, per se. Our guide served in the Israeli army for more than a decade and was committed wholeheartedly to protecting Israel. There are Druze communities in Syria, Lebanon, and Jordan that would serve in those armies, too. Our guide for the day told us about the community and the work his organization does in the city of Mughar, which is similar to work that Friends by Nature does with the Ethiopian Israeli community, in an effort to combat at-risk behavior among youth and to instill a sense of pride in Druze youth. Our guide's family ran an olive farm, and we had the opportunity to not only eat a delicious meal at an olive farm, but we also got to harvest some olives ourselves! To do this, you use a stick to hit the branches while the olives fall to the ground onto a tarp. It was hard work!
On Wednesday (my birthday), we traveled with a tour guide throughout the north to look at the history of kibbutzim in Israel and see an urban kibbutz. We started the day at a cemetery where pioneers of the kibbutz movement were buried, many of whom died under tragic or sad circumstances. It overlooked the Kinneret, which was beautiful. We visited the first kibbutz in Israel and an urban kibbutz. The urban kibbutz differed from the traditional idea of a kibbutz that we know, and the individuals were passionate about social justice in Nazareth Illit. They were looking to move into one building, but currently live in rented apartments throughout the community. Smaller groups of about 10 people share money and work together to create a smaller intentional community. There is a total of about 80 people in the kibbutz. I found this discussion incredibly intriguing, and I liked the idea of an intentional community.
After harvesting beets for food donations and taking a bike ride through the country, we spent a peaceful and restful Shabbat also on Kibbutz Hanaton. Even so, I'm glad to be back in Gedera. The week away gave me a lot to think about - not only because of the rockets, the bus bombing, and my birthday, but also I was able to read books from the library and enjoy seeing a different part of the country. While learning about intentional communities, I was also prompted to think about our own intentional community. We have problems, but we also have strength, and I think our commitment to success this year in Gedera (regardless of how we define success) helps us work through our problems, even when it's rough. Being a part of an intentional community isn't easy. If it was easy, social change would probably come about much quicker.

Olive Farm

Kinneret

 

Sunset on our bike ride

Sunset on our bike ride

Things change so quickly

We first heard sirens on Saturday, November 10. They weren't directly in Gedera, but just south, where a rocket landed in I believe Gan Yavne or near the highway near us. We huddled into the safe room, even though we hesitated at first because we weren't sure what it was. Even though we had had the test the week before and talked about it, you still aren't sure if what you hear is the siren. Since then, there were more rockets fired at southern Israel, and we followed the news to see what was going on. We were shaken, but thought things were okay since we were on the periphery of the zone deemed to be targets for the rockets.

On Wednesday, we traveled to Jerusalem for the Sigd celebration. My blog about that will be up on the Yahel blog early next week (I will link to it). After getting back to Gedera, we heard about Operation Pillar of Defense. Southern cities of Sderot, Beer Sheva, and Ashkelon, along with cities closer to us like Gan Yavne, Kiryat Malachi, and Ashdod, have been hearing sirens and suffering from rockets. Numbers of rockets falling in Israel are cited at 120 just last week and over 800 since the beginning of the year.

Wednesday night, we didn't really think about what was going on south of us, but sometime after 11pm on Wednesday we heard another siren. We went back into the safe room. It stopped after less than 30 seconds but our program coordinator said to stay for at least 10 minutes after the sirens stopped. We were better prepared this time, but still unnerved. My adrenaline was rushing that night and I stayed up longer than I wanted to, though I was tired. That night, we could hear a lot of Air Force airplanes going over head. Gedera is next to an Air Force base. At 6am, I woke up to the sound of an airplane and checked the news, then finally went back to sleep around 7. We were woken to the sound of louder sirens at around 8:15 and went into the safe room. Those were the Gedera sirens, but nothing fell near us. We were scheduled to have learning sessions at the house (a lively discussion on Zionism went as planned but our second was cancelled). We heard more sirens again later that morning and booms that were probably the sound of the Iron Dome shooting down rockets, but they were definitely farther away. We were tense, mainly because every sound outside was perceived to be a siren, even when they weren't.

MASA and our program staff made the decision to have us leave the area as a precaution, since we didn't know what was going to happen and we were in the so-called grey zone. MASA programs south of us had been evacuated already. I'm now staying in Akko and we are waiting to hear what happens next.

Here are my thoughts on the situation:
1. The media in the US is so skewed. It keeps talking about Israeli aggression, but only down at the bottom of the article, if even, do they mention rockets coming from Gaza.
2. Things are more complicated than they seem. Yes there are issues from and on both sides, but please don't see one side as being completely correct or completely wrong. I have tons of questions and some skepticism around news reports, but I also know what has happened here in the last few weeks.
3. Now that rocket fire from Gaza has been reaching closer to Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, I think this will be a bigger thing than we had anticipated. Even so, I want my friends reading this from outside of Israel to know that rockets coming to Israel are not targeted in certain places. It isn't like they are pointing rockets at military bases, etc. The IDF is at least trying to take out ammunition stockpiles. The sad thing is that the rockets are appearing to be launched from areas with high population density.
4. I'm hoping that things calm down soon. I'm concerned for our friends in Gedera and I don't want to leave Israel yet.

Feel free to email me or message me with any questions about what is going on here. If you are interested in reading the news, check international news sources, such as ynet news, Times of Israel, and others. Always check multiple sources to see what the facts are and read critically.

עורית Hebrew, Zionism, and Identity

Hebrew is one of the two official languages in Israel. It is the language of the Jews, the holy language, and the ONLY "dead" language in the world to be resurrected as a spoken language. It is also inherently Zionist. When the first immigrants started coming to Israel, Eliezer Ben-Yehuda was one of the proponents of Hebrew instruction in school, and apparently it was to help make a distinction between Israel and the Diaspora.

I learned basic Hebrew in Hebrew School growing up, mainly the letters and enough to be able to read prayers during services, though the transliteration was the most helpful. For a long time, I could say I read Hebrew, but I didn't know what I was reading (still don't most of the time). Over the years, prayer books having English and transliteration became more important and I frequently only knew prayers well enough to follow along with the transliteration, singing the tune by memory and getting help with the words from transliteration.

As I've grown older and started to explore Judaism more, Hebrew has become more important for me to know and to understand. Modern Hebrew is different from Classical Hebrew, but I feel that it will be helpful regardless. Since coming to Israel, I started thinking about the political implications of speaking Hebrew, and I've started to learn more about Zionism. Zionism defined by the Oxford Dictionary as "a movement for (originally) the re-establishment and (now) the development and protection of a Jewish nation in what is now Israel." The definition on Wikipedia states, "Zionism is a form of nationalism of Jews and Jewish culture that supports a Jewish nation state in territory defined as the Land of Israel. Zionism supports Jews upholding their Jewish identity and opposes the assimilation of Jews into other societies and has advocated the return of Jews to Israel as a means for Jews to be liberated from anti-Semitic discrimination, exclusion, and persecution that has occurred in other societies." I'm slowly learning about Zionism and its controversies. I spoke recently with a friend about opposition to Zionism on the basis of how problematic nationalism is, but I also have spoken with people about the importance of maintaining Jewish identity and culture(s). For me personally, I know my Jewish identity is very important to who I am as a person, and I want Judaism to be a source of strength and community for myself and my future family. However, I don't think that it is a problem for Jews to live in the Diaspora, and in fact, I think it is beneficial for the both us Jews and the world. Israel has its place in the world, but so do Jews living in the United States, Argentina, Australia, and South Africa.

Throughout my time here in Israel, I think I will be learning more and more about Zionism and figuring out my own beliefs on the topic. It is controversial and it is not perfect. My knowledge of written and spoken Hebrew may be political, but it also contributes to my Jewish identity. Essentially, a question I hope to continue to explore is, what are the political implications of being Jewish and maintaining an outwardly Jewish identity in this world, both in Israel and in the Diaspora (another political term)?