Only in Israel

1. I'm always pleasantly surprised when I find toilet paper and soap in public bathrooms because many usually lack these things.

2. The buses are NEVER on time in this country. You can guarantee that if you come late for the bus, you've missed it, but if you arrive early, you have to wait an extra 10 minutes for the bus to come.

3. It's incredibly easy to point out the Americans here. It's even easier to spot the Taglit/Birthright groups.

4. You will receive someone's advice and opinions when you don't ask for any.

5. Everyone I meet tells me I should make aliyah. There's not an understanding of why Jews would want to live outside of Israel.

6. Offers to make a shidduch (match for marriage). When I first got here, every third person I met would offer to make a shidduch for me.

7. Reading English transliterated into Hebrew. It is incredibly difficult to read these words. Street signs in English are never standardized. On one corner, the street name is Eedelson and on the other corner, it is spelled Idelson. Also, misspelled English words in public places and on products are a frequent sight. I can point to a dozen examples. This is crazy, since there are so many English speakers. Here are a few examples:


8. Blunt racism. I think this happens because Israelis are more forward than Americans. I've heard some comments that make me incredibly uncomfortable, but there's only so much I can say as an American living here. If my kids at school say things, I address it (both racist and homophobic speech).

9. Lack of customer service. In restaurants. On the phone. In stores. Related is the rudeness. Israelis are sabras - a fruit that is soft on the inside but very prickly on the outside. You have to make an effort to try to get to know someone.

10. LGBT invisibility. It took me about 5 months to meet LGBT folks, and after that, I didn't meet or see any other LGBT folks until March.

Jerusalem

I've spent about a week in Jerusalem since last Wednesday. We had our Jerusalem seminar and then I returned to Shavuot. This city is amazing, and I can't wait to live here!

Thursday morning, we got on a bus and drove to Katamon, where we met Inbal, our program coordinator, and Rabbi Levi Lauer, with whom we had learned a few months ago. He spoke about his organization, ATZUM, and the work they do on human trafficking in Israel. It was a powerful discussion. One thing at really stood out of the discussion was this question: not only how do I lead a meaningful life, but rather how do I lead others to do meaningful work? How can I work with others to make life meaningful? We talked about the intersection between Judaism and social justice and how we cannot separate the two. I felt that at the end of the discussion, if we are to identify as Jewish (religiously or not), we must be working on social justice.

We then took a tour of the Supreme Court and learned about how the judicial system works with halakhah (or not) and the contrast between the religious courts and the state courts. Afterwards, we met with two women who are active in social justice in different ways. The first worked for the Jewish Agency on their service learning programs and had been active for a while in two causes: socially responsible restaurants in Jerusalem and disability rights in Israel. We spoke about the differences between working for a small organization and for the "establishment," or a big organization like the Jewish Agency. The next woman we spoke to was in her early 20s, Modern Orthodox, and working for a political think tank. She spent time in Egypt and Morocco and is fluent in Arabic. She writes for Open Zion and travels often to the West Bank. She literally was amazing. I had read an article she wrote for Open Zion on the Daily Beast the day before about Orthodox women rabbis, not knowing that we were going to meet her.

On Friday, I went to the Kotel with Savyonne for Rosh Chodesh. Women of the Wall were there and we wanted to see what was happening. Last week, the Supreme Court gave a ruling that the women had the right to pray at the Kotel as they wish, to the dismay of many ultra-Orthodox. When we got there around 7am, we could not see anything. There were so many seminary girls and other ultra-Orthodox crowding. We saw someone get arrested, we think. We attempted to get to the front where the group usually meets, but it was just too chaotic. We left after about 30 minutes. Later in the morning, we met with an ultra-Orthodox guy who gave us a tour of a girls' school in Geula, a Haredi neighborhood near Mea Shearim, and he spoke briefly about Women of the Wall. He felt the Orthodox were going about it in the wrong way. If the Women of the Wall were doing this all for provocation, then the Orthodox should have just ignored them and let them attempt to pray. Without all the hubbub, they would have stopped. He asked if they pray everyday, and I said I don't know, but I'm sure many do. I asked what he thought would have happened if they continued to pray because this is the way they pray. I don't remember the answer, but I think that if the Orthodox had ignored it, then the women praying in the way they want would not be a big deal at all. They would be able to pray as they want without issue.

After this, we went to the shuk and had time to hang out there before we returned to get ready for Shabbat. Our Israeli friends joined us for Shabbat. We had a discussion about what Jerusalem means to us and where we hope it will be in the future. Then, we lit candles and some of us went to services at Shira Chadasha, a feminist, egalitarian Orthodox synagogue on Emek Refaim. I've been here before, and I love it. Some of the service is led by a woman and some by a man, and women sing loudly and beautifully. While there is a still a mechitza, the room is divided down the middle and there is plenty of space for everyone.

In the morning, we walked to the Tayelet, where we went for Sigd back in November. We had a mock panel, where each of us took on a different role regarding the Arab-Israeli conflict, and we had a great time acting it out. We ate lunch and promptly returned to our apartment to take afternoon Shabbat naps! We then walked to the Old City and completed part of the Rampart's Walk, where you walk along the outer wall. At the end, we split and many went to the Kotel, while a few of us returned to the apartments to prepare for dinner and Havdalah. After Shabbat was over, we said goodbye to our Israeli friends who had to return home.

On Sunday, we had a discussion about Shavuot and read the Book of Ruth, a story I hadn't read in a long time. Then, we went to Nachlaot, where we met with two people who work for an organization that encourages Mizrachi Jews to learn about and embrace their heritage. In a way, this is similar to the work we do with the Ethiopian Jews, and it was cool to hear about other identity work happening in Israel. Finally, we had our check in and went home.

I came back yesterday for Shavuot, and what an experience it was! I stayed with a friend and we went to dinner in Nachlaot, then to hear rabbis speak at 1am and 2am at Mayanot. My favorite part was the singing around 3am. Then we walked to the Kotel and stayed there until after sunrise. There were so many people there, even more so maybe than when I went last week. It was so packed. After the sun rose, the morning services began, and while it wasn't how I imagined it would be, it was cool. On the way back home around 7am, I was thinking about what the man had said last week about Women of the Wall being there at times other than Rosh Chodesh, and I wondered how it would have been different if there were pluralistic services on Shavuot or everyday, for that matter. There were very few non-Orthodox women at the Kotel - I saw a few in pants, a few in more Modern Orthodox clothes, but not many. What if we had had a pluralistic service every morning or at least on other days than Rosh Chodesh? Would not that make an event stronger argument for the need to have space to do so? I would have loved to have a service to go to. As someone who isn't Orthodox and doesn't know all the prayers, I would have loved to be able to follow along with a service, but instead, all the women prayed silently to themselves while the men were loud and praying together.

I figured I would not have this opportunity again - to spend Shavuot in Jerusalem, staying up late, going to the Kotel for sunrise and walking the streets of Jerusalem along with everyone else in the middle of the night. Maybe only some of that is false. In fact, I have at least 6 months when I move to Jerusalem to be able to do some of this. Will I? We will see. Regardless, it was an amazing new experience!

Our Trip to the West Bank

Before coming to Israel, I did not like to engage on Israel issues. I never felt connected to the land, nor did I feel a connection to the people. Sure, I knew most Israelis were Jewish, but they were not necessarily a part of my own Jewish identity and Jewish community in the US. The mainstream media and Jewish community seemed to make me choose to be "with" Israel or "against" Israel, and truthfully, I didn't know anything about the Conflict (or Israel for that matter) other than the stories of suicide bus bombings and the Kotel.

Since coming to Israel, I've learned an incredible amount about Ethiopian Israelis, Druze Israelis, migrants and refugees, the climate, the food, the culture, the government, and the Jewish religion. Only now, after gaining some background on Israel, it is necessary to also discuss the Arab-Israeli Conflict. Last week, we spent the day traveling in the West Bank and spoke with four Palestinian activists, who talked about their experiences in grassroots social change. Throughout the last few weeks, we have been looking in depth at the Conflict here, which has proven to be an increasingly complicated situation.

During our day trip, we spoke with a man who works on water issues, helping to partner Israeli, Palestinian, and Jordanian communities with the shared goal of working on resource management. He showed us where the separation barrier would have been built in Battir and its effect on the water system. We also met with a man who works for the UN on Palestinian/Israeli issues. He guided us through a discussion of a map illustrating land usage of the West Bank, of which 60% is controlled by Israel.

We looked at a map more complete than this one. The West Bank is fragmented into Areas A, B, & C.

What I was most surprised about was the breakdown of the land and stubbornness on both sides in relation to the land. We visited the south Hebron Hills to look at a Bedouin village with one legal building and a number of tents. Literally next to the village was an Israeli settlement with all the amenities of modern living. The two groups do not communicate. We saw a kindergarten that serves this village and another village nearby consisting of members of the same Bedouin family who live in buildings rather than tents because they submitted a master plan for the community to the Israeli government.

Many Bedouin villages are on Area C land (Israeli-controlled), which means that they must receive approval before building. The process is long and the Israeli government often rejects requests. The Israelis regularly demolish illegally built homes. For example, the Israeli government demolished an attachment to the one legal building in the village we saw because the village had not received approval to build it. We saw another Bedouin village in Area C, located on land that the army has designated to be a fire zone. When the military uses the land, the residents are not allowed on the area, mostly affecting grazing animals. The military does not use the land frequently, and this strip of land was utilized maybe 3-5 times since 2003, yet it is still controlled by Israel.

After this, we drove back north to meet with two Palestinian women who also work on grassroots change. One woman is a student at Birzeit University, near Ramallah, studying Political Science. Though she received a full scholarship to a university in Germany, during her first year there, she experienced discrimination and decided to return to the West Bank to finish her studies. She is involved with Seeds of Peace, an international summer camp that brings together American, Israeli, and Palestinian children to open dialogue between the groups. Most, if not all, of the children who attend the camp have never spoken with members of the other groups. The group's philosophy supports creating dialogue and breaking down stereotypes of the Other in order to create social change. Many Palestinians feel that this form of normalization is wrong, so the organization is somewhat controversial.

The other woman we met runs the Bethlehem Fair Trade Artisans cooperative. She spoke about her experience as a Christian Palestinian and how she felt that outsiders try to create a division between Palestinian groups - Muslim, Christian, and Bedouin. Her organization helps to create opportunities for local artists, and as a free-trade organization, the profit from sales go back to the artists who can make a livelihood from their work.

The day brought up a lot of thoughts for me. It seemed to me that most of the speakers were pessimistic about macro change, but very positive about micro change. One did not see a solution at the macro level, whereas the others tended to support a two-state solution. It was encouraging to see how a few people were engaged in work at the grassroots level. At the same time, I recognize that we spoke with only four people and that there are many more people, both Israeli and Palestinian, who hold completely different views on what the solution should be. Even amongst the four speakers, they had varying views on how they want the Conflict solved.

At the end of the day, upon our return to Jerusalem and then Gedera, I thought about how easy it is to forget about the Conflict. We live in an almost completely Jewish community. We have our own lives and problems and social issues to deal with in Gedera. The only time most people I've spoken to in Gedera really think about the Conflict is when there are rockets coming from Gaza. Even so, I've spoken with a few social justice activists, my shabab, my host family, and friends, and I am hopeful that there will eventually be a solution and that great minds are working on the issue both at macro and micro levels.

Refugees in the Land of Milk and Honey

This week in our learning discussions, we focused on the status of refugees in Israel and visited South Tel Aviv, where we had the opportunity to speak with a man who worked for UNHCR in Israel for a number of years along with a leader of an organization that works with refugees, and we heard stories directly from two refugees living in Israel. I have been interested in refugee issues since college, when I interned at the International Rescue Committee. In fact, one of the reasons I came to Israel was because of my interest in migration. Ethiopian Israelis (and Jews in general) have a very different story from the African refugees coming here, but there are also a number of similarities.

About 60,000 African refugees have come to Israel since 2005, particularly from Sudan and Eritrea by way of Egypt. Even though Israel was one of the signers of the 1951 UN Convention on the Status of Refugees along with the 1967 Protocol, there are no clear policies determining the status of refugees in Israel. In 2012, Israel passed the Anti-Infiltration Act, which allows the detainment of asylum seekers for three years without trial, or indefinitely if they come from “enemy” countries like Sudan. There was been a significant rise in racism, not only among citizens, but also government representatives, against African refugees.

Most of the refugees have arrived by foot - crossing the southern border from Egypt. Once in Israel, they are sent to a detainment center (read: jail) until their identity can be determined. When they are given the opportunity to leave the center, they are given a bus ticket to the Central Bus Station in Tel Aviv, with no other instructions or assistance.

What has struck me the most about Israel's attitude toward refugees have been the contradictions. I understand the real feeling people have towards Israel being a Jewish state for the Jews to be free from persecution. I also understand that maintaining a Jewish majority is an important tenet of people's lives. However, if we are going to say Israel is a Jewish democratic state (although what this means is unclear), and if the state is going to follow some Jewish law and not others, then it has to be clear on this point.

Exodus 22:20
וְגֵר לֹא-תוֹנֶה, וְלֹא תִלְחָצֶנּוּ:  כִּי-גֵרִים הֱיִיתֶם, בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם
"And do not wrong a stranger or oppress them, for you were once a stranger in the land of Egypt."

Regardless of what you think of Torah, the commandment to not wrong or oppress a stranger is repeated multiple times. Our task as a Jewish state is defining the fine line between the need for a Jewish state and running the state with Jewish values. A state with Jewish values would treat refugees with dignity and work to protect them and provide a place in Israel to allow them to make a life. There are a number of organizations advocating for refugee rights, and hopefully, there will be some improvements in the coming years. At the very heart of the issue though it how Israel treats the non-Jewish minority. We are going to be exploring this issues in the next few weeks. Shavua tov!

Yom HaShoah

Yom HaShoah commemorates the 6 million Jews who died in the Shoah (or Holocaust) during World War II in Europe. In Israel, the day is called Yom HaZikaron laShoah ve-laGvura (the Holocaust and Heroism Remembrance Day). "Shoah" literally means destruction, which is a better description than Holocaust, which refers to the animal sacrifice offered to a god in which the whole animal is completely burnt, in other words, the "burnt offering" (think about the political implications of that for a moment). Being in Israel on Yom HaShoah has been a powerful and intense experience.

Yom HaShoah began at sundown last night, like all Jewish observances. Stores closed early and events were held throughout the country. My housemates and I went to ceremony at the local high school, where Shoah survivors told their stories and lit candles. A rabbi spoke, the Kaddish prayer was said, and there were a few other short speeches. Then, a few students spoke and sang. The mayor got up and said a few words, and then the ceremony closed with Hatikvah, the Israeli national anthem. I thought about how few Ethiopian students were present (none participated in the performances) and the Yemenite and other groups of Jews who may not have had direct experience with the Shoah, but have grown up in a culture that highlights the Shoah as a major component of the narrative. I see it as different than our experience in the US, because, while we learn about the Shoah in school and in Hebrew school, I'm not sure how many of us are descendants of survivors or had family that died in the Shoah. I'm meeting more people here who know survivors or family members who died. Of my Jewish friends in the US, it seems, though, that many of our families came to the US before the Shoah.

Today, I was at the elementary school, and they held a ceremony in the morning, with more songs, some dances, skits, and poems. A grandfather of one of the students was a Shoah survivor, and his story was told before more candles were lit. Again, at the end of the ceremony, we sang Hatikvah. Then, at 10am, a siren sounded across Israel for 2 minutes. The siren was different from the usual siren - when rockets are nearby. This siren was one long monotone. Everyone stands and is still for that time. Apparently, if you are in a car, you pull over and get out to stand in respect.

I had many thoughts during the day about the Shoah and Israel. I wondered how many of my students had family members who survived or were killed (rather, I was interested in how they felt connected with the Shoah). As an American Jew, I feel distantly related to the Shoah - I don't know of any family for certain that died then. I don't feel numb to the stories, though. I empathize as part of the human race and understanding what people went through, how they were resilient, and how the trauma may have affected not only the individuals who survived, but also their children and now their great-grandchildren. I wondered today if the kids here become numb to the discussion of the Shoah because it is all around them. I felt that the siren was just as jarring as the rocket sirens for me. I thought about the meaning of the siren while it was happening. I thought about the reality of the Shoah - about the same number of Jews in Israel today died in the Shoah.

I also thought about current anti-Semitism and attacks on Jews throughout the world. It makes me sad to think that there are people who deny that the Shoah ever happened, but it makes me hopeful when I hear stories about people who are critical of Israel and dismiss Jews as a people go to a Holocaust Museum and realize the truth. There have been some great articles about Palestinians living in the West Bank who visited Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum in Jerusalem. I don't think that we should continue to use the Shoah as a way for us to prove our victimhood, though. I think Jews have gained enough power in the world to realize how we can use that to our advantage and help make the world a better place.

May we never forget.
May we be resilient.
May we use our power gained for good.

Community and Peasch

As I go through my year in Yahel, one thing constantly on my mind is community. In the US, I felt connected to a number of communities at different times since leaving high school - the queer community, the feminist community, and the "young Jews" community. There were times when I didn't feel part of a community, when I couldn't find the community, or when the community wasn't giving me what I needed, and there were other times when there was no real community for me to tap into. Then there were times when I found a great community, and it was just a matter of me showing up to find people to connect with.

This year, I have recognized the real importance of community, especially when I'm 6000 miles away from my own families/communities. Passover is the time when you join with family and tell the story of our community, the Jewish people. However you define the Jewish community, I truly feel as part of a community at Passover. I was graciously invited to spend the חג (holiday) with my program director's family in Zichron Yaakov in the north. We attended the Seder at the house of their friends, and we used the ArtScroll Haggadah. I don't recall ever doing the Seder with the ArtScroll Haggadah, although I once did a Seder in Baltimore with my uncle's family and we did all the parts of the Seder.

At first, I was a little intimidated by the Haggadah, but it actually turned out to be a great Seder. I realized I don't know (almost) any of traditional Seder songs and I learned about halakhic portions of matzah that we are supposed to eat. Who knew that the rabbis discussed the exact amount of matzah you are supposed to eat at the Seder? It's great to think that Jews all over the world, from Los Angeles to NYC to Berlin to Jerusalem to Moscow to Shanghai all spend the evening doing the same thing - telling the story of our shared memory (and also the modern day struggles Jews and non-Jews alike have gone through). I feel part of the Jewish community, even when I feel I don't know much.

I feel like it's easy to feel a part of the Jewish community here in Israel, though I know it was not as easy in the States. Even so, I feel like there is a lot of knowledge that I don't have. I'm looking forward to learning at Pardes, the co-ed yeshiva in Jerusalem I will be studying at in the fall!

At the same time, I feel like I've lost the knowledge I had when I was deeply involved in the queer and feminist communities, communities I still feel a part of because of my identities, but which I don't have much connection to at the moment. Is it possible to feel connected to a community in isolation? Is that what the Jewish narrative is all about?

While I don't necessarily feel as part of the Gedera community, I do feel very close with people in the community, and I'm looking forward to moving to Jerusalem and finding a new community that I can immerse myself in. I'm hoping that there will be more communities in Jerusalem that I can tap into and that I will feel a part of.

I think being part of a community is more than just your identity and knowledge. It's also about shared memory, real connections, and a feeling of belonging. I may not always have all of those at every time, but I know I will still feel my identities and know that there will always be a community for me to find. I just need to know where to look.

חג פסח כשר ושמח!

MASA Leadership Summit

I had the amazing opportunity to attend the MASA Leadership Summit a few weeks ago. This 5 day conference was open to all MASA participants interested in strengthening their leadership skills for use in the Jewish community. Nearly 400 participants currently on a MASA program came together in Jerusalem to learn about leadership and discuss opportunities and challenges in the Jewish community today. While we were able to mingle with participants from other places throguhout the world, we primarily learned with a regional group. My group of 25 came from the Southeast and Mid-Atlantic regions in the US. This gave us an opportunity to network with people in our region, as the assumption is that we are all going to return to work in our Jewish communities where we grew up. While I don't know if I'm returning to Atlanta when I settle back in the States, it was helpful to hear about the DC area, as well.
 

One of the first things we did was talk about our own experiences and relationship to Judaism and Israel. Some people mentioned free food or camel rides on college campuses as a way to get them involved in Jewish life on campus. Most of us said that Birthright had a big effect. While I was not involved in Jewish life on my college campus, it was studying abroad in New Zealand, where there were no Jews that really made a difference in me. It was the first time that I didn't take my Jewish identity for granted. Returning to campus in the fall of 2008, I took a Jewish studies course and then went on Birthright in January of 2009. While going on Birthright made me want to get more involved Jewishly and religiously, I actually thought I was finished with Israel and didn't plan on returning. It wasn't until I had finished graduate school and spent a year in St. Louis immersed in the Jewish world, both professionally and religiously, that I became interested in working in the Jewish nonprofit world. I am passionate about social justice, and it was because of that passion (and a MASA scholarship) that helped me return to Israel as a Yahel Social Change Participant. My story is obviously different from many others on this program and others who are on a MASA program. However, because this program blended my interests of Judaism and social change, I knew that I was going to get a lot out of it. My engagement with Judaism and Israel has only grown as an effect of participating in this program.

Some of the main themes we discussed during the week were the opportunities and challenges in American Jewry today, specifically in terms of engagement and change. We focused on engagement of young Jews and their connection to Judaism and Israel. These are things I have talked about with my peers over the last two years, as I was involved with Next Dor STL and here in Israel. Why is it important to encourage young Jews to affiliate with Judaism? How can we change the current state of Jewish funding models in the US to be more innovative and more centered around the goals of the next generation? How do we see the Jewish community in the United States in 20 years? How do we see ourselves as a part of that change/process? I don’t think any of these have specific answers, or if they do, the answers will vary by person, but I don’t think that means that we should sky away from the issues. This is exactly the reason why there are so many Jewish start-ups founded by young Jews, and I think it’s great. We have plenty of people who care and have great ideas for the future. Social entrepreneurship was definitely highlighted and encouraged throughout the seminar. While I don't think I have any great ideas, it was nice to see that others did, and we all have our parts to play. I am skilled at planning and organizing, implementation and follow through. If someone else has an idea, I know how to make it work. AND THAT IS OKAY. It's important to me to figure out how my skills will work for me when I do eventually continue my career back in the States.

This week I was also reminded of what the American Jewish community is like and "the feel" of it. I think it was good to remind me of who I am, where I'm coming from, where I'm going, and how I relate to American Jewish life. I loved meeting new people from all over, and it was great to see a little diversity in Jewish practice and affiliation with Judaism among American Jews and among Jews from all over the world.