Hello everyone! Happy Hannukah to those who are celebrating! (and Merry almost Christmas to those celebrating that!) It's pretty incredible being in Israel for Hannukah--Jerusalem is so beautiful and festive! There are gorgeous hannukiot (menorahs) everywhere, and lots of pretty lights strung from the old city walls. Sufganiyot (filled donuts) are sold basically at every place imaginable, and they are so delicious. I have eaten way more than I will ever need to eat again, and they have all been so worth it! On the dreidel in the Diaspora, it has the Hebrew letters Nun, Gimmel, Hay, and Shin on it. The letters stand for "Nes Gadol Ha'yah Sham" or "A Great Miracle Happened There." Whether you believe the miracle is referring to the traditional oil lamp lasting for eight days instead of one, or the more historically accurate version of the victory of the Macabees, the idea that a "great miracle" happened "there" is something Diaspora Jews commemorate on this holiday. However, in Israel, the dreidels say "Nes Gadol Ha'yah Poh" meaning, "A Great Miracle Happened HERE." To think that thousands of years ago, a "great miracle" happened in the place where I am right now is amazing. There are so many moments when I look around and think about how incredible this place is, and how much history and rich tradition is embedded in the ground I walk on and the walls of the city. When I'm sitting in class and am feeling a bit overwhelmed, I look outside the window and see the Old City, and instantly I remember what I am doing here. The fact that even the driedels, these cheap wooden or plastic toys that are only useful once a year reflect a tradition and history that goes back centuries is unbelievable! This country, with all its flaws and problems, remains one of the most special places on Earth.
I am in the home stretch now with finals, and will be coming home in a few weeks! I am so excited to be finished with this semester and to feel a sense of accomplishment at how much I have done this year!
Yesterday my Israel Seminar class went to Me'a She'arim, an ultra Orthodox neighborhood in Jerusalem. Signs posted before you enter into the area say "Please don't walk down our streets dressed immodestly" and "Large groups are disrespectful to the residents." It's hard to describe the place itself, except to say that I felt as though I was being transported back to a shtetl in Eastern Europe. All of the men were dressed in black coats and pants and a white shirt, with big black hats, and the women were all wearing long skirts and long shirts, some with their hair covered if they were married. School children ran around with tzitzit (ritual fringes) flying, and peyos (side curls) bouncing. I was dressed carefully, wearing a long (to my ankles) skirt and a long sleeved shirt with a jacket over it. I still got stares from people on the street, but that could easily have been due to the fact that I was with a large group. Our guide who took us around the neighborhood had moved to Israel from Western Europe and became Haredi, but then left the community after he realized that he identified more with the religious Zionist movement than with the Ultra Orthodox community. He still considers himself very religious, but not Haredi. Haredi Judaism is a fascinating community, and the movement itself was really born with modernity in Judaism. They chose to deal with Enlightenment and modernity by rejecting it. Haredi means "trembling" and the idea is that the Haredi Jew is trembling before God, because he knows that God has ultimate power. When Zionism comes on the scene, Haredim don't accept it, they feel that there is no need to start seeing the land of Israel in any way that is different from how they already do. When the Messiah comes, that is when ultimate redemption will occur. Working the land and creating a new state for Jews is not what needs to be done in order to bring about salvation--rather studying Torah and adhering to Mitzvot is what matters. When our guide chose to leave the community, he didn't give up his commitment to Torah and Judaism, but rather chose to live a more modern lifestyle that supported Zionism.
We went on a walking tour of the community, which was fascinating. Most of the people live in relative poverty, because working isn't as much a priority as study and commitment to Torah is. Things are changing and more people are entering the workforce, but keeping the Mitzvot and practicing Judaism to the level that many Haredim do is difficult when also working in a more secular setting, so there options are limited. Also, having many children is common, so money is tight with so many people to support. Houses were relatively run down, but some were in better shape than others. As we were walking through one of the streets, a young man came out of his house and asked our guide why we were walking down the street "mixed," meaning men and women together. Our guide kept walking, and the man got increasingly angry as he said that it was unacceptable for men and women to be walking down the street together and that we had to leave. Our guide spoke to him softly, saying we were on our way out and that we weren't doing anything wrong, but that didn't seem to placate him. He started screaming "Shiksas! Shiksas! Shiksas!" at us, which was extremely troubling. (Shiksa is a derogatory term for a non-Jew.) I realized at that moment that while I considered myself a Jew and not particularly different on a fundamental level from these people, that they didn't see it that way at all. That became even more clear during our meeting with a Haredi rabbi in the community, who said that Reform Judaism was destroying Judaism as a whole and that dilution of Jewish tradition is extremely dangerous. It was troubling to hear him say that, but at the same time, important. I understand that they have their beliefs and I have mine, but something I am grappling with is where the line of pluralistic tolerance is drawn. If I am willing to be tolerant and accepting of them, why can't they be of me? And if they aren't going to be of me, then do I need to be of them? These are questions I am still trying to work out, but I definitely felt that it was important and interesting to be in that community, and it enhanced my understanding of the variety of Jewish practice in Israel.
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