Our NYE's Engagement Party

Our wonderful friends at Pardes threw us a New Year's Eve Engagement Party. We are so blessed to have friends and family who are supportive. I was telling our story to one of my classmates, and she explained how emotionally involved she is in our relationship. Many of our classmates feel very connected to us and our story, and more than one person has told me (and Emet) how they admire our relationship and want to establish a relationship as strong as ours. From the beginning, we have been very adamant about being ourselves and our happiness shows. People recognize it, for sure. We have explained our intentionality in our relationship to others, and it resonates with our friends and family.

Here are a few photos of our amazing NYE's engagement party:

Relating to Prayer

Prayer is a topic that I feel constantly comes up at school, and I'm amazed at how many people say they truly struggle with it. I never thought that prayer was something religious people struggled with. You either do it and love it or don't feel connected to it at all and not do it. Obviously, those perspectives are completely wrong. There are so many thoughts involved in prayer - what I believe in, "whom" I'm praying to, "whom" I'm praying for, what I'm hoping to get out of it, and how I relate to the prayer itself.

What I Believe In & "Whom" I'm Praying To
I think that prayer is very much associated with our beliefs in Gd, especially in Jewish theology. Some people think that we pray because of our belief in Gd. If Gd exists, then the prayer to petition things to happen here on earth makes sense -that is, if you believe in an interventionist Gd. But what if you don't believe Gd exists or you don't believe in an interventionist Gd? Does that lessen the prayer experience? The question is, why should I pray, if I don't believe in the One I'm supposed to be praying to?
That brings me to my next point. "Who" am I praying to? Does it matter if I don't know who I'm praying to? Should that lessen my prayer experience? What if I haven't "felt" Gd or been able to "understand" Gd? Does that matter? Who is it, really, that I'm praying to?
All the words on the paper in my prayer book make it seem that I am praying to a Being, one that intervenes in our lives. But if I don't believe that, then what does it matter?

"Whom" I'm Praying For
I think that the question of whom I'm praying for is the next logical question. Is it for Gd or is it for me? Does it bring Gd closer to me or does it bring me closer to Gd? Does it bring me closer to myself? Does it help me center myself and recognize how I can't control every single thing in my life? Or does it help me recognize, every day, how special and amazing life is and how thankful I am to be alive?
I think we all have different answers to these questions, and it doesn't matter if we are all saying the same words. We relate differently to prayer and we relate differently to Gd and to ourselves. 

What I'm Hoping to Get Out of Prayer
I seek to feel closer to Gd when I pray. I seek to feel more human when I pray. I seek to feel whole when I pray. I also seek to improve my ability to read and understand Hebrew, which is a part of my identity as a Jewish person. I hope to feel grounded. Earlier this year, when I listened to Rabbi Levi Lauer speak, I took on his idea that following halacha is about training ourselves not to exploit others. Through the repetition of prayer, I remind myself that I am human, that I have flaws, and that I need to work every day to be a better person. I may not be identifying every thing I need to work on every day, but I am recognizing that when I pray, I am striving to remember these things.

How I Relate to the Prayer Itself
Since I was young, I didn't want to say anything that I didn't agree with. I felt that prayers were written for a different people at a different time, and I didn't understand how they were relevant today. As I learn more and more about each prayer, I realize that there is so much more to them than just the words. Yes, the words are important, but the meaning behind the words is more important. I have been able to see prayers in a completely new way and discover that these prayers that are 1000 years old (give or take 1000 years) are relevant to my life. And yet, there are some that I don't connect to or don't like or I want to change. And I think that's okay, too. When I can feel like a prayer is truly mine, whether by thinking about a few words or a phrase or by rewriting it different language, I can feel connected to our shared history as Jews.
I also know that there are some prayers I completely don't relate to, and even those I will say because it is part of my heritage. I know lots of people who don't relate to prayer as a way to be Jewish, but I think it is the religious aspect of being Jewish that is one of the major factors of our survival. And it is in the religious aspect of being Jewish that I wholeheartedly believe will be the factor of our continuation now.

Hence, prayer to me is personal and political. It's a practice of my heritage and it's a way I can connect to myself and Gd. It's a way I can remember that I am human and also that I am not alone - either because Jews all over the world say the same words or because there might be a Gd out there. Or just simply because I feel like praying. I don't always have good prayer experiences, like I've written about before. I don't always feel connected or grounded or elevated by what I'm reading/saying. And I don't pray all the time. And it works for me.

I am not encouraging everyone to pray, because like I said, we all relate differently to prayer, but I am saying that prayer for me is meaningful, and that's why I do it.

December

Can't believe it, but December is almost over! We just survived a big snow storm here in Jerusalem last week. You might have heard about it - Jerusalem shut down for a week, and we were stuck inside for a while. It did give Emet and I lots of time to work on the wedding planning, but I have to admit that we got cabin fever.

View out my window during the snow storm!

Our power went out Friday morning which was very sad, but it was a blessing that it happened Friday morning because we were prepared for Shabbat by keeping a burner on the stove on and lit candles for the bathroom and the main room. Luckily, the power came back on around 5pm on Friday, and we had heat and light for the rest of Shabbat. On Shabbat, we attempted to walk to the Tayelet, but the streets were not in good condition and my socks got wet inside my shoes. It was not fun. So we came back and decided to stay indoors the rest of the time. Schools were canceled Sunday through Wednesday, and Pardes was on a weird schedule the whole week until Thursday, when the streets were finally clear.

Getting back into our regular schedule has been a blessing but also really difficult. I know that Emet and I are ready to come home to the US. We have three more weeks of classes until January vacation. Between now and March, when we will be flying to the US, we hope to take our engagement photos. We've decided to keep studying until the end of February, and we'll start to tie up some loose ends here.

Though it's December and Christmas is next week, the only indication of it here was when I went to the Tel Aviv bus station the other day and saw a Christmas market! It's so pleasant without all the Christmas songs that I don't enjoy, though I know Emet and I both miss being home for the holidays. Bezrat Hashem, next year, we will have a fabulous holiday season as a newly married couple with our families!

25th anniversary of WoW at the Kotel

This Monday, Rosh Chodesh Kislev, I went to the Kotel to pray with Women of the Wall (WoW). This is the second time I've gone to pray with the group but I wasn't successful in finding them last time. This time, I went with Andrea, who is a WoW veteran, and Emet. In addition, another group from Pardes met us there.

I was not sure what to expect this Rosh Chodesh. In May, it was crazy. People were shouting angrily, and the entire plaza was filled with seminary girls who had been bussed in. This Monday, we showed up and there was already a group of police surrounding members and allies of WoW. While there were many orthodox women and girls praying already, they didn't seem to be attempting to prevent us from praying. There were many photographers on the men's side looking over the mechitza, and there were even a good amount of men allies listening for the service to start. At the same time, the Rosh Chodesh service for the men's side was blasting through the loud speaker and as soon as we started, I felt it was difficult to hear what was going on. A few women on chairs would yell out the page numbers based upon what the leader was calling out on earpieces. A few orthodox girls were standing in front of us, seemingly mocking us as we began, and one tugged at the tallit Andrea wore. Soon, though, the loud speaker was quiet at the conclusion of the service for the men's side, and a modern orthodox woman began speaking to the girls near us in Hebrew to calm them.

I had come that morning not sure if I was going to be able to pray in a calm environment, but I ended up having a really nice experience. 

I think back to what it was like in May, both the situation in the plaza and what it was like for me personally to pray. Six months ago, I read a lot in the English and didn't understand much of what it was that I was reading in the siddur or why it was important to me. I also didn't understand the Halacha around prayer and how that affected how I prayed. This Rosh Chodesh, I realized how far I have come in 6 months. I am still very slow at reading in the Hebrew, but I have advanced so much. I wasn't able to pray in Hebrew before. I have so much more knowledge of what I'm praying, why I pray, and how I feel when I have a good prayer experience. In fact, it was interesting to me to notice the women who came to pray and were very excited about being a part of the service but had no idea where we were in the service or what was going on. They were very interested in being there but I realized they didn't have a relationship to the prayer service.

I'm glad I went this Rosh Chodesh and had a good prayer experience. I think it's really important for is as the Jewish community to continue to support alternative prayer services at the Kotel, which is a symbol of our community. I have written about my difficult relationship to the Kotel in recent months, but I felt for the first time in a while comfortable praying at the Kotel. I can only imagine where I will be in another 6 months in my prayer. Rosh Chodesh tov!

Sukkot 5774 Dvar Torah

You shall dwell in Sukkot seven days. All citizens of Israel will stay in Sukkot, so that your generations may know that I caused the children of Israel to dwell in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt. (Leviticus 23:42-43)

The Torah lets us know that Sukkot has great meaning. But it does not tell us exactly what meaning we are to glean from our ancestors’ experiences in the desert. We do not live in fragile booths today. We are lucky to have the stability of a land in which to live and permanent communities of which to be a part.

But I think that the idea of the Israelites together in the desert, living in sukkot that likely were whipped by the wind and rain, is important to us today. I can say that for the last few years, I have been seeking a community where I felt wholeheartedly comfortable in. From my theater and orchestra communities in high school, to my activist circles in college, to my community of social workers in grad school. In St. Louis, I was involved with the Jewish young adult community and felt at home for the first time in a long time. But of course, I left and came to Israel. Last year, while I lived in stable structure, my physical community in Gedera was not my own. I felt that it was temporary because it was, and while I tried to immerse myself in this new community, it didn't have everything I wanted, despite a host family and good friends. Again, I left Gedera and moved to Jerusalem. While I'm still trying to figure out what kind of community I want, and while in each community I live, I can find a support system and new friends, I know that they are all temporary until the time that I "settle" in a community for longer than a year.

In some way, I can completely understand how the Israelites in the desert felt - they just left a seemingly comfortable situation. Yes, they were slaves and had a difficult life, but how terrifying it must have been to be in the desert. Not knowing how to survive, except through the dependency on Moses and his connection to Gd! Don't you think some of the Israelites must have wanted to turn back around and say, I think I might prefer a permanent structure to the wind and rains and hunger in the desert?

Of course, the community moved together and they had each other. Many of us came to Israel with no support system in place. I knew absolutely no one before I decided to make a leap of faith and come to Israel last year. And I think it has been one of the best decisions I've ever made. While we dwell in this and every sukkah during this Sukkot, despite the rain or the wind, we should remember how difficult it was for the Israelites in the desert. Like the Israelites, we must recognize that we may be terrified, but it is up to us to make the best of our situations and constantly search for meaning. I think that the meaning we should glean from thinking about the Israelites in the desert is that we should constantly strive for the community we need, even if we have no idea how to find it. Only Gd knew the exact place that the Israelites should go, physically, spiritually, and ethically, but the Israelites followed Moses because of their faith. We have no idea where each of us will end up, but we must have faith in our own actions and in Gd to get to the physical and spiritual places we may not even know we need to go. Chag Sameach.

Forgiving Myself on this Yom Kippur

Here it is. Yom Kippur 2013/5774. This year's High Holidays sprung upon me somewhat quickly.

This is a tough Yom Kippur. It's been 10 years since my Aunt Rhona died on Yom Kippur in 2003. How has it been so long? This year, I think I have also been very hard on myself. I know I made a lot of mistakes this year. I struggled. I was challenged. I said and did the wrong things.

Yom Kippur is a time when we are supposed to ask forgiveness of others as a way to "wipe the slate clean." The idea is that should atone for any and all sins/transgressions/missteps/and times we missed the mark that are left on our conscious or subconscious before Yom Kippur, so that in the case (Gd forbid) that something happens before Yom Kippur, we will have been absolved of any wrongdoing. I don't abide by the superstitions so much, but I think this is a great time of year to reflect and ask forgiveness of others. It definitely is not an easy thing to do. In the Torah, we are told to "afflict" ourselves - hence, the no eating, drinking, sleeping, or washing. This year, I know I will be afflicting myself.

The most difficult thing I am dealing with for this Yom Kippur is forgiving myself. This isn't something we have spoken a lot about in class or among friends. But it is something on my mind as this Yom Kippur arrives.

How can I go about forgiving myself for my mistakes, my insensitivity, my ignorance, and my self-doubt? What about the self-hate, the gossip I've spilled, and the other bad things I've said? Also, what about the selfishness, the arrogance, and silencing of others and myself? Ignoring people I shouldn't have, not staying in communication with family and friends when I should have, not taking advice when I asked for it, and being false to myself and others? And then there's also the jealousy, indulgence, turning my back on things I should have paid attention to, (unintentionally) embarrassing others, being ungrateful (or not acknowledging when I was grateful of someone), and uncertainty. Among many more.

I think it is much harder to forgive myself this year than any other year. Maybe I'm being more introspective than before, or maybe since I've been learning how to recognize these things in myself, this is the first year I really can explain them. This Yom Kippur, as I daven in synagogue or at home, I will be thinking about Rhona and the 10 years that have passed since her death, and I will also be thinking about the ways I've wronged others and myself. I hope to learn to forgive myself this day and everyday.

לשנה טובה וגמר חתימה טובה

The New Year in Israel

Last year, I spent Rosh Hashanah in Ra'anana with a family I hadn't known more than a month before the holiday. I didn't prepare much, and I was getting used to being in Israel. This year, I am surrounded by a new set of friends, an amazing partner, and a lot more knowledge about myself, Judaism, and Israel. I cannot be more lucky.

Each year for the last few years, I have taken advantage of a website called 10Q, which provides 10 questions, one each day, between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, in order to push you to think more deeply about the year that just happened and the year coming up. Last year, my answers focused on leaving St. Louis, coming to Israel, and beginning an intense journey of self-growth. I am still on that journey, and though I have learned so much about Judaism and Israel in the last year, I have much more to learn. With each year, I become more and more myself, and I experience and learn many new things.

This week, we have been learning about Rosh Hashanah in many of our classes. During one of the Rosh Hashanah holiday learning sessions, we went through 13 questions to help us prepare for the holiday by reflecting on the last year and thinking about the next year. In another class, we talked about the laws concerning a holiday, whether we can cook or shower, etc., and also the laws concerning the blowing of the shofar. In my Social Justice class, we discussed whether humans are the epitome of creation. Rosh Hashanah is supposedly the anniversary of when humans came into being. Reading Genesis 1 & 2, the two creation stories are slightly different. Are humans the epitome of creation or is Shabbat? In other words, was the world made for us to conquer and rule, which aligns with how humans are discussed in the first chapter, or are we here to "till and tend" the world, to work it and guard it, to serve it and preserve it? The meanings of the words used in the text can be translated and interpreted in many different ways. My worldview goes along with the second chapter. We are here to use the earth, but not conquer it. This is what holidays and Shabbat are all about for me. Six days of the week, I use the world in the way I need it to work for me. On Shabbat, I am a slave to the way the world works.

During the next three days, two of which are a holiday and one Shabbat, I hope to reflect upon the last year. I want to do some spiritual learning and of course spend the time enjoying being here in Israel with friends and my partner. I wish you all a happy and healthy new year!