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)?

Jerusalem and Rockets & Sirens

It's been a busy last week, since we started most of our placements. Last Thursday, we went to Jerusalem, starting at Mount Herzl to see the memorial for Ethiopian Jews who died on the way to Israel. The memorial is in a weird place and you have to walk through a gate to get there, but you can't get back through the gate, so we walked through the woods to get back on the path. We don't know if that was an intentional part of the visit or not. I'm not convinced it is. The memorial had stone dojos (traditional Ethiopian houses) and written testimonies of some individuals' experiences. I read a prayer and a short poem I found online and then we had a short discussion about what we thought. I liked that we saw a part of Mount Herzl that we hadn't seen on Birthright. Apparently, many Israelis don't even know that it is there (and it was only completed a few years ago to commemorate those who died on the trek in 1984). So, it was pretty cool to see it.

We then met up with a tour guide to hear more about Ethiopian Christians in Israel. It was an educational day! We toured the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and learned about the struggle over the claim to the roof between the Coptic Christians and the Ethiopian Christians. After eating the best hummus in the old city (I'm not even kidding - it's across from one of the stops of the Via Dolorosa trail), we walked through the Arab market to the Ethiopian Church. Unfortunately, it was closed, but we still got to see the outside. The tour guide left us then and we went to meet Kasa, an Ethiopian Jewish activist who lives and works in Jerusalem. She told her amazing story and we were able to ask questions.

I stayed in Jerusalem for Shabbat and had a lovely time with my Hebrew teacher from Jewel and her family. I also met another girl who is living in Jerusalem. So good to meet new, cool people! Then, it was back to the grind Saturday night - back on the bus, that is. The transition from Shabbat to the rest of the week I think is much harder when you keep Shabbat. All of sudden, you are thrown back into life of technology and transportation and it absolutely breaks away from that calm and quiet you have during Shabbat. I don't keep every Shabbat, but when I do, it's always new and I always learn something about other people, myself, and the world in which we live.

Monday night, we went back to Jerusalem for the MASA opening event, which included one hour of MASA promotion and then the Idan Raichel Project came on. The beginning was ridiculous and over the top. But the Idan Raichel Project was so amazing. I wish we could have stayed longer, but alas, we had to get back to Gedera. I'm hoping to get some of his music because it was really great!

On Tuesday, we had ulpan as usual. In the middle of the class, after break, the siren starts going off. We all stop and wonder what we need to do. Thankfully it was just a drill, and apparently the other ulpan teacher knew about it. Our program coordinator came in and confirmed that it is just a drill, no need to worry, and we will have a discussion about it later. Our ulpan teacher didn't seem too fazed by it, and we briefly had a discussion about better to have rockets than natural disasters which you can't get away from, really. I thought about the tornado sirens at home and how scared I always am when I hear those sirens. The sirens sound the same here, and everyone knows what to do when they go off. In the States, I always had a plan for what to do in case of a tornado. While you can't really escape either, the point the ulpan teacher made about better have rockets than natural disasters really made me think. Is it better? I don't know. It's just a different threat. I'm sure an Israeli in St. Louis during tornado season would be terrified (although probably not because Israelis seem to know what to do in case of an emergency). Regardless, while the chance of rockets coming to Gedera are very, very slim, it is good to know exactly what to do when sirens go off, and we had a discussion after ulpan to remind us. (Don't worry, Mom and Dad! Everything is good here!) Just another part of life in Israel.

By the way, I'm working on uploading photos from my trip thus far. Please be patient and I'll post the link when I have them all online! Have a good rest of your week and Happy Halloween for those celebrating it!

בית ספר ומשרד

Last week, we started our major placements in the community. One of the places I will be volunteering at is the Pines school (pronounced like penis or pea-nes). I feel that there are so many differences between the schools here and the ones in the US. The biggest difference which I feel I'm going to have a problem with is classroom management and discipline The classroom is chaotic. Pure chaos. And it doesn't seem to me that the students really listen to authority. When the teacher asks them to be quiet or sit down or do a certain exercise, there is a constant struggle. It seems like there is a lot of threatening of repercussions but there is no punishment that will make a difference. The teacher tries to give positive reinforcement but it doesn't seem to be enough. Stickers or small candies are not enough to make students want to behave. I think it is just part of the culture. All the classrooms seem to be the same. At the least the few that I have seen. I will need to start bringing games that will hopefully catch the kids' attention more. It was so hard. I'm comparing this experience to when I worked in the first grade class in Atlanta for a few months. In the US, there is respect for authority. The students call the teachers by their last name and when you are misbehaving, there are consequences that matter. Also, the students want to please the teacher. There is order. Kids are not all over the place. They don't all crowd around the teacher and yell to get their way repeatedly. I feel it is going to be a challenging year but I hope I can help with English (and as my Hebrew gets better, it will be easier).

I also started working in the חברים בתבה (Friends by Nature) office. This is the nonprofit that facilitates the projects in seven Ethiopian communities throughout Israel. I will be working on a project to help Ethiopian Israelis prepare for the application for the shluchim program. This is a Jewish Agency program that brings Israelis to work at Jewish summer camps. Ethiopian Israelis are disadvantaged in the application process and we are trying to prepare those individuals who are interested in participating in the program in preparing for the intensive interview process. The application deadline is in the next few months so we don't have much time to pull everything together.

I haven't begun my shabab, where I will be tutoring English in the home, and I haven't started another English teaching group where I will get the opportunity to teach older men and women (25-50 years) whose Hebrew is more advanced but the learning will all be oral. While it will be challenging, I think it will be really rewarding for all involved.

This weekend I am going to Jerusalem. We are having a one day seminar on Thursday about Ethiopians in Jerusalem and then a few of us are staying Thursday night at a hostel (that's the plan anyway) and I will be spending Shabbat with my Hebrew teacher from Jewel and her husband.

שבוע טוב!

Neighborhoods and community

I have lived in a few different types of communities. I grew up in a suburb, went to college in a semi-rural area with fewer than 18000 people, lived in the mountains for a few summers on a camp, studied abroad in a city on a harbor with about 394,000 people, spent a year in St. Louis in the city, and I'm now living in Israel in a town with fewer than 20,000 people. While it is not rural like Carlisle, it is not a city like St. Louis. All these places have had different vibes and perhaps different definitions of community.

In the neighborhood where I grew up, it was quiet. People knew each other, maybe not everyone on the street or in the neighborhood, but we were close with people who may have lived a few doors down and we checked in on own neighbors who were older adults. Kids could play in the street, well some of the streets and I remember riding bikes in the neighborhood with friends without parental supervision a few times. Our suburb was definitely a community and worked to become an independent city by 2005.

College was different from this, obviously, and it could be louder into the night because of parties or people up and about late into the night. There were pockets of friends and you sometimes lived with your friends and sometimes not. In the dorms, we may have regarded each other at times and not at others. We didn't get to choose where we lived or who we lived with until we were upperclass, but it still worked. We were Dickinsonians and if we run into others who went to school there, even if they were in a different year, we are all members of the community of Dickinson alumni.

Last year, living in a city for the first time, I got used to noises from the street, and I remember being woken up by a domestic dispute one morning in winter when it appeared someone was kicking another person out of their house. My apartment building for the first 6 months there was filled with half young people in their 20s and half over 40. I didn't know my neighbors. For the next 6 months I lived in a building filled with mainly young professionals and graduate students, and again I didn't know my neighbors. While the neighborhood was quiet sometime, it was clear that I was in a city and there were times of day I wouldn't go out by myself and places nearby that I wouldn't go alone. I was involved with a nonprofit and a community of Jewish young adults who lived in different areas throughout the city and worked or studied different things. Being Jewish, we had a connection that brought us together.

The neighborhood I am living in now is different yet again from all my previous experiences. It is often loud, mostly with the sound of children. Sometimes it is playful, but I hear a fair share of crying children and yelling between adults. Most mornings I am woken to the sound of a particular child who is always crying. Children hang out in the streets in large numbers with one or two adults and stay out even when it is dark. The Shapira neighbors where I live in Gedera seems to be small, but welcoming.

At a barbecue the other night, we had a discussion about what makes a community a place where we want to live, and many of the answers had to do with knowing your neighbors, feeling safe, good facilities and schools, and a general sense of belonging in the community. Every place I've lived has been different but I have been able to fit in somehow. While many the above observations are concerned with the physical surroundings, and Gedera definitely is different than anywhere else I have lived, I think that the feeling of belonging is important and as we get more involved in the community, I hope that I can feel like more of a member of the community rather than an outsider Just before sukkot, we talked about temporary living, like the Jews wandering the desert for 40 years. This is my home for the next 9 months and while I am only here for a short time, it is important to me to feel like a member of the community, both within our house of Yahelnikim (the Yahel participants) and in the Gedera community. The group of Yahelnikim go together because we all have an interest in social change and what we are doing here, but we also are a group a strangers getting to know each other and live harmoniously in a house for the next 9 months - like the Real World but actually unscripted and hopefully without the drama.