My first service!

Hi everyone!

This past week, I led my first HUC service.  It was such an incredible experience!!  I have been preparing for this for weeks, and my friend Lenette (another rabbinical student) and I have been working hard trying to create meaningful prayer experience for our classmates.  I was SO nervous before the service, I actually was shaking a little bit as we started the opening song.  But, as we continued through the service, I began to relax.  My classmates were unbelievably supportive, and looking out at their smiling faces as Lenette and I went through the prayers of Thursday morning services, I felt so warm and happy to be part of such an amazing community.  It was wonderful to feel supported in such a tangible way, and I really couldn't have done it without everyone.  My classmate Jeremy played the guitar for a few songs, which was also fantastic! People came up to me afterwards and told me how much they enjoyed it, and it meant so much to me.  It reminded me why I wanted to come to rabbinical school in the first place.  One of my classmates told me that he entered the synagogue feeling a little down, and by the end of the service he felt refreshed and so much better.  I was SO happy I could provide that for someone, and it made me feel great!  I am leading again in a few weeks and I can't wait! 

Things have been crazy busy here with midterms and lots of work, but I am still enjoying everything so much.  Israel is a crazy country and I love living here!  My parents and sister were just visiting, which was wonderful.  We went to Yad Vashem, the Israel Museum, spent time with my family in Ra'anana, and i was able to introduce them to many of my classmates.  I loved being able to show them my life here.  We also went to visit my cousin Ariel at his army base in Beer Sheva, which was incredible.  Seeing my little cousin wearing a uniform and holding a gun was a little overwhelming, but it was great to see him and he seems to be enjoying his army service.  He's in the air force and hopes to be a pilot one day! 

A new post will be up soon but I just wanted to give a short update now since its been so long since my last post.

xoxox
Rebecca

A Time To Turn...

As the High Holidays approach, I have been thinking a lot about the idea of repentance.  When we sit in services (for what seems like hours on end!) during the Days of Awe, who are repenting to?  Are we asking God for forgiveness, or are we seeking it from other people?  Perhaps we are truly looking for forgiveness and pardon from ourselves, in order to move on and embrace the New Year with a clean slate.  I have participated in High Holiday services for years, and every time I do, I don’t necessarily think about repenting.  I listen to the music, I appreciate the solemnity and importance of the day, but I never leave services feeling truly “refreshed,” like my sins are really gone and have been forgiven.  I have trouble with a lot of the liturgy that is said on the High Holidays, especially the part about God being the ultimate decider as to “who shall live and who shall die.”  To me, that’s not the kind of God I believe in, and I don’t think that’s the kind of God most Reform Jews believe in either.  And what does it mean to truly repent?  Does it mean that we sin all year long and then make sure we remember all the bad things we did during Yom Kippur, so we can ask forgiveness before the sunset and the “book is sealed”?   Does it mean saying “well, that thing I did last week wasn’t great, but rather than reflecting on it now and trying to make amends, I’ll just ask forgiveness on Yom Kippur”?  Maybe.  But I think repenting means more than that.  There is a reading that I love that my synagogue growing up does on Rosh Hashanah, and it was also done at an HUC service we had on Saturday night. It says:

To everything there is a season, and an appointed time for every purpose under heaven.  Now is the time for turning.

But for us turning does not come simply.  It takes an act of will for us to make a turn.

It means breaking with old habits.

It means admitting that we have been wrong, and this is never easy.

It means losing face.

It means starting all over again, and this is always painful.

It means saying “I am sorry.”

It means admitting that we have the ability to change, and this is always embarrassing.

These things are terribly hard to do, but unless we turn, we will be trapped forever in yesterday’s ways.

God help us turn…

From callousness to sensitivity

From hostility to love

From pettiness to purpose

From envy to contentment

From carelessness to discipline

From fear to faith.

Turn us around Adonai, and bring us back towards You.  Revive our lives, as at the beginning.  And turn us towards each other God, for in isolation there is no life.

I love this reading for a lot of reasons.  I love it because it says that turning and truly recognizing our sins and faults and discretions isn’t something that we can do in the hour and a half service on Yom Kippur afternoon.  It’s difficult and messy and confusing and frustrating.  I love it because it says not only do we need to renew our faith, whatever that means to us, (whether its faith in God or not doesn’t matter, at least in my opinion) but we need to renew our relationships with each other.  We need to remember those who have touched our lives and thank them for it, and remember to call friends on their birthday and send a note when a friend is sick, and make sure to schedule in a coffee date or a lunch with someone who we don’t see as often as we’d like.  I love it because even if you don’t agree with the idea that God needs to help us turn, the sheer recognition that making a serious change in our behavior and in our lives isn’t easy makes doing so even more powerful.  Whether God helps you or not, admitting you are wrong or apologizing is not something a lot of people like to do, but when we do it, the impact is astounding. 

Those are my thoughts on the High Holidays.  It’s a little heavy and not necessarily entirely coherent, but I’m still working out how I feel so I apologize for the messiness.  In other news, classes are in full swing and have been great so far.  I translated a really long verse in the Bible the other day in class, from Biblical Hebrew to modern Hebrew to English, and when I was done the whole class breathed a collective sigh of relief and said ! ישר כוח which is colloquially used to mean “good job!”  It was a great moment for me, because the verse was hard and I was so nervous translating it my palms were sweating and I was shaking a little, but I did it!  And, to have the support of my classmates was great too—it made me feel so good!  My assuredness when it comes to speaking Hebrew is relatively low, but it is definitely something I am working on.  Being able to translate that verse and do it well was a really important confidence booster!  I have really been enjoying my classes this semester, my teachers are interesting and passionate and clearly love teaching.  One of my favorite classes is Israel Seminar, where we learn about modern Israel and the issues facing it today, as well as historical information about the State and what that means in the context of its current form.  We go on trips all over Israel to experience what we learn in the classroom, and I have loved them all so far.  Last week we went to Tel Aviv, and ended with some relaxing time on the beach, which was so nice!  (And in my opinion, very well deserved by my classmates and I—we all work so hard!)  I also am really liking my Biblical Grammar class—even though its challenging that it’s in Hebrew.  I love the teacher and I find her to be incredibly dynamic and interesting, and she’s just hilarious to be around. 

I started my volunteer project last week.  I am working at KEEP, Kol HaNeshama’s English Enrichment Program.  The program is for kids who are struggling in English, usually failing it in school, and need extra help.  The woman who runs it, Helen, is unbelievable, and I have so much respect for her.  She’s hilarious and dynamic and engaging, and I definitely want to emulate her as much as possible.  The program is held at Kol HaNeshama, a Reform/Progressive synagogue in Jerusalem, but its not affiliated with the shul itself.  The kids are 5-6^th graders, and many come from difficult home lives.  There is a large group that comes from the domestic violence shelter in Jerusalem, and there are others who are living well below the poverty line.  I worked with a girl last week who was great in English, but needed some help with sentence structure.  She was so sweet and seemed to love hearing that I was impressed with her skills.  It struck me that she might not hear “I’m proud of you” very often, and I really want to be able to provide her with more confidence.  I have only had one session, but I really loved it so far.  I hope to continue building relationships with the kids and gaining their trust, and being able to have an impact on them (and vice versa!).  It’s a great program and it offers these kids not only English language help but also a safe place for them to go and be nurtured by caring and supportive adults, which isn’t necessarily something they get very often! 

I think that’s about it for now—but I wish you all a sweet new year and I will be sure to write more after the holidays. 

Xoxoxox

Rebecca

The New Jew, A Pluralistic Kibbutz, and New Perspectives on Jewish History and the State of Israel

This past week I went on a tiyul (that means trip in Hebrew) with my class to the north of Israel.  The tiyul was based around our Israel Seminar class, which is a year long seminar focused on the history of modern Israel and our connection to the land and the people as Reform Jews.  This week we have been learning about Zionism and the history of the movement.  Our tiyul involved visiting various historic sites, meeting individuals connected with the aliyah movements, and spending time on kibbutzim.  The whole trip was unbelievable, and Northern Israel is probably the most beautiful place on earth.  The mountains and the Kinneret are breathtaking, and I love every minute of being up there.  Rather than recap the entire trip for you (we did so much in so few days, I can barely even remember what happened!) I will pick out a few key moments and experiences that really resonated with me. 

One of the things we have been learning about in class is the idea of the New Jew.  This stems from the early Zionist movement, and is a result of the Jewish need to shed the Eastern European characteristics in favor of newer, stronger, better qualities.  The thought was that in order for Jews to truly progress as a people, certain changes had to be made.  Individuals who wanted to come to Israel were considered chalutzim, or pioneers. They were seen as strong, tough people who wanted to connect with the land.  Gone were the days of sitting in a beit midrash and studying Talmud all day, gone were the long beards and the modest clothing.  This was a new era: an era that sought to re-claim the Jew as a people and as a nation.  A lot of this stemmed from the stigma that Jews carried in Europe of being weak and fragile.  The New Jew was supposed to erase those stereotypes and usher in a new people that was physically and emotionally stronger.  Early propaganda posters that sought to advertise the appeal of Israel both in terms of getting people to move there and in terms of gaining financial support showed Jews standing with agricultural farming tools and looking off into the distance at a horizon that promised prosperity and a bright future.  It showed men and women working side by side and cultivating a land that not only had biblical ties to the Jewish people but also was a fresh start for Jews escaping anti-Semitism in Europe.

I had learned about the New Jew prior to coming to HUC.  We studied the movement in Hebrew school and I also learned about it on Alexander Muss in high school.  However, this time around I got a totally different perspective that shattered my preconceived notions about Zionism and the early pioneers of Israel. 

When the chalutzim came to Israel (or Palestine as it was called pre-1948), they came for a variety of reasons.  Some came because of a religious connection to the land, others wanted a fresh start and to escape the rampant anti-Semitism in Europe.  Regardless of their reasons for coming, they all hoped to find prosperity and happiness in this new land.  And based on the propaganda posters they saw, it seemed like a done deal.  However, once they got here they found that the work was hard, the desert was unforgiving, and life generally sucked.  They didn’t speak the language, they didn’t know anyone, and they were far away from anything or anyone familiar.  Many of them who came during the 1^st Aliyah left and went back home.  During the 2^nd Aliyah more stayed, but there were still those who couldn’t handle it, and right across the street from the first Kibbutz in Israel (Kibbutz Degania, one of the places we visited), there is a small plaque underneath a tree.  The plaque designates that tree as the “suicide tree” where many men and women hung themselves because the despair was so great.   The disappointment at not finding everything they were looking for in this land was so intense that they felt they had no choice but to end their lives.  Later on in the weekend we met with Muki Tzur, a historian and Jewish teacher that has studied Zionism and was colleagues and friends with many of the famous Zionist thinkers.  He said “one of the foundations for the creation of the society of Israel was despair and loneliness.  The New Jew was a symptom of something problematic and broken, and that Zionist society was mainly a community of orphans, people who left their families and friends behind in search of a better future.”  He talked about how orphans create utopias, but once it is formed then they aren’t orphans anymore, and the second and third generations don’t understand the roots of the movement to create the utopia in the first place.  Then, there becomes a new set of problems.  There is nostalgia for the old days and guilt that these people can’t explain to their children the passion they had for creating this society.  But, “you can’t create a country on nostalgia and guilt.” 

Obviously not every pioneer or person who came to Israel during any of the Aliyot was full of despair and pain.  Many found success here and obviously the state of Israel wouldn’t be what it is today without all of those people who dedicated themselves wholeheartedly to its creation.  We spent the last part of our tiyul visiting Kibbutz Hannaton, a pluralistic community in the northern Galilee that sought to re-vamp a struggling kibbutz.  The people there are pioneers of sorts, trying to create a community of people that is open to new ideas and experiences all within the context of communal living.  Everyone on the kibbutz has different religious backgrounds, some are very religious and others are secular.  But, even despite their differences, everyone lives in relative harmony with each other, and is willing and able to work through any challenges.  This is especially evident when it comes to prayer.  They have one synagogue, and it is there for all to use.  However, since everyone comes from different backgrounds, how prayer services should work and look varies from person to person.  As a way of dealing with this, they compromise.  When a person who is orthodox wants to lead a service, they put a mechitzah up.  When a person who is Reform wants to lead a service, they use musical instruments and have mixed seating.  Everyone is uncomfortable at least some of the time, but it allows for the whole community to function cooperatively.  Obviously its not easy, and they certainly have struggles, but they are working through it and are so dedicated to creating this pluralistic community that sometimes its worth feeling a bit out of place for a few hours to make that happen.  When I heard about this, a quote from the Chief Rabbi of the Commonwealth came to mind.  He said: “Whenever Jews pray, we end with a prayer for peace, and at that point we take three steps backwards. To make peace you have to make space for someone else. You have to give up a little of your dream for the sake of someone else's dream."  I truly believe that the people on Kibbutz Hannaton embody this idea.  They are willing to take steps backwards to allow someone else to achieve their dream or to feel comfortable, both in a prayer setting and in daily life.  They work together on committees and make decisions as a collective, all the while allowing for disagreement and compromise.  It’s an incredible effort, and one that I really connected to.  If I were to move to Israel, I would absolutely live there! 

We ended our tiyul on Kibbutz Hannaton, and I truly felt like it was one of the most magical places I had ever been.

On the way home, we listened to the radio and heard about the Egyptian attack on the Israeli Embassy in Cairo.  That, coupled with news earlier in the week of Israel’s strained relations with Turkey and the tension that is mounting because of the UN vote on the Palestinian state recognition coming up, brought me out of my fairytale world of Kibbutz Hannaton and back into the harsh reality of this country.  Is this what the early pioneers fought so hard for?  Is this what people sacrificed everything to create: a country with so much violence and strife?  It was hard not to think so catastrophically as I listened to the news report, and wonder if there really would ever be peace in the Middle East.  But then, just as I was sinking down into what I knew would be a really intense sadness about this country, I thought back to Kibbutz Hannaton and the incredible work that is being done there.  Perhaps there is hope that those who are different can work and live and create a world together.  Perhaps there will be a day when the dreams of the early pioneers will be realized, we might just have to take a few steps backwards to get there.

Ivrit, Ivrit Daber Ivrit

Hello everyone!  For those of you who don't speak Hebrew, or who don't understand my terrible transliteration, the title of this blog post is: Hebrew, Hebrew, Speak Hebrew!  I just finished my second day of fall semester classes, and it's been an exhilarating, slightly terrifying experience.  I have seven classes this semester: Biblical Grammar, Bible, Liturgy, Modern Hebrew, 2nd Temple History, History of the Zionist Movement and Israel Seminar.  I also have two mini courses that don't count for grades, but are part of exploring our Jewish identity.  We have one entitled "Why I am a Reform Jew" and one that is a discussion section based on our experiences and trips through Israel Seminar.  I also will be volunteering once a week at a local synagogue teaching underprivileged fifth and six graders English.  Basically, I am going to be busy all the time and this is probably the last you will hear of me until May.  Just kidding!  But seriously, I have a jam packed schedule!  I wanted to give you all a taste of what I have experienced so far, so I thought I'd break it up by each class that I have had so far and describe it to you.

Modern Hebrew: This is a continuation of our ulpan, but with a different teacher this time.  Her name is Rivki, and so far she's great. We are doing a lot of conversation and dialogues which is awesome, and definitely going to help my Hebrew skills!

Bible: This class, unbeknownst to me when I walked in the room, is taught entirely in Hebrew.  Oh boy.  Today we took a passage from Samuel, read it in the biblical Hebrew, translated it into Modern Hebrew, and then again into English.  It was really difficult!  The teacher was relatively patient with us, but I could tell that he was getting frustrated that we didn't know everything we apparently should know.  It will be a very challenging class, but hopefully really interesting too!

Biblical Grammar: This class, which thankfully I did know before hand, is taught in Hebrew as well.  Our teacher is hilarious, she's probably in her 70's.  She is incredibly feisty and definitely going to be entertaining.  Luckily, I took Biblical Grammar in college so I have a pretty strong background in it--which will make this a lot easier!

Second Temple: A class in English!  Finally.  We've only had one lecture so far but it's super interesting and will hopefully be a good class.  The professor is great and really passionate about the subject, which definitely helps.  He is funny and dynamic and a great lecturer!

Why I am a Reform Jew: Another class in English.  Hooray!  This class is taught by Dr. Michael Marmur, who is on staff at the college.  He's great, and has an excellent British accent.  The first day we talked about the difference between modernity, post modernity, and pre modernity and how Reform Judaism looked in each of those periods.  We also talked about how other streams of Judaism reacted to changes in society and whether they felt that modernity and Jewish tradition could interact in any way.  It's going to be an interesting class, and hopefully will give way for some good discussions.

Those are all the classes I have had so far, but I will keep you posted on the rest of them!  This week we have a trip to the northern part of Israel for our Israel Seminar class, so I'll  be gone Thursday-Saturday.  I am not entirely sure what we are doing on it, but my general practice thus far has been to get on the bus at the designated time and let someone else handle it from there!  I'll be sure to write more about the trip when I get back, but for now, I need to go study!

Love and miss you all,
Rebecca

She wasn't where she had been, she wasn't where she was going, but she was on her way...

Hello everyone!  Happy September!  My summer classes have come to an end, and we just had a week chofesh (break).  While some of my classmates took off for Budapest, Greece, and Turkey, I stayed around Israel and relaxed.  I spent Shabbat with my family in Ra’nanna, which was lovely, and then met three of my friends for a few days in Haifa.  It was so nice to see my family and get out of Jerusalem for a few days—sometimes this city is overwhelming!  Haifa is my favorite city in all of Israel, so it was great to be there too.  I love everything about it, the sea, the air, the way the city lights up at night and sparkles against the sky—its all so beautiful.  We were in Haifa for three days, and managed to do a lot!  Monday we arrived and picked up our rental car (which took forever!  When I was little I remember my parents renting cars for various vacations and standing at the counter for what seemed like forever, and I never understood what took so long.  On this vacation, I was the one who stood at the counter for what seemed like forever, and I still don’t understand what takes so long up there) and drove to our hotel.  That afternoon my friend Elle went off to meet some relatives that she has living in Haifa, and the rest of us went to the Haifa zoo and out for lunch.  Monday night we had dinner at the restaurant that Elle’s family owns—it’s right on the beach and absolutely delicious!  Tuesday we got up early and drove to Ceasarea (I drove both ways!!), a beautiful national park that has remains from the Roman period.  It’s right on the water, and completely breathtaking.  There is an old ampitheater there that has been renovated slightly and is now used for concerts, and several other ruins scattered all throughout the park. 

After Ceasarea we headed back to Haifa for a tour of the Bahai Gardens, which were also beautiful.  I don’t know much about the Bahai faith, but from what I gathered from our tour guide it sounds like an interesting religion.  It’s a monotheistic faith and was started by a prophet who was in Iraq.  The religion is relatively young-- it’s only been around since the 1800’s.  They believe very strongly in equality among all people, so the garden is completely symmetrical and has even amounts of all the decorations and plants.  The tour was only about 45 minutes, but the gardens were so peaceful and serene that I really wanted to stay and just take it all in.  Unfortunately they are very strict about only going into the gardens on an official tour, so we had to leave.  After our tour, we went to lunch and then headed to the beach.  The beach was beautiful, and it was so fun swimming and relaxing in the sun.  We had dinner at a Chinese restaurant in our hotel, which was delicious.  We had planned to explore the area a bit more but we were all so exhausted that we ended up just going to sleep!  Wednesday we had breakfast at the hotel, Elle saw her family again, and Jessie and I went to go get pedicures at a place near our hotel.  It was such a treat to get a pedicure, and definitely needed!

 The woman who was doing it started chatting with me, and before long we got into a pretty intense conversation.  She grew up in Haifa but had spent a lot of time in the States, and felt very connected to the US.  Her boyfriend is from New York, which I think helped.  She asked me what I was doing in Israel, and when she found out I was going to be here for a year, she asked me why I wanted to come here for so long and be away from my family.  Wasn’t I afraid?  I didn’t understand the question at first—afraid of what? And to be asked this by an Israeli was also strange—that had never happened before.  People in the US asked me if I was nervous about spending a year in a country with a lot of turmoil, but no Israeli has ever asked me if I was afraid, because it never would have occurred to them that I should be.  However, despite the fact that her question caught me off guard, I realized that perhaps I really should think about the answer.  I was surprised at how easy it was to explain to her that as part of becoming a rabbi, I was required to spend a year in Israel, and that if that was what I had to do in order to fulfill my dream, I was going to do it.  Also, I didn’t want to avoid coming to a country that has a lot of personal meaning for me and for my family, as well as for my faith, just because I was afraid.  She seemed to understand, but still thought that the US was much safer and a more pleasant place to live than Israel.  I completely recognize that this woman is very much in the minority, and that most Israelis really don’t feel that way, but it was an interesting perspective nonetheless. 

There have been times this year when I have felt anxiety—sometimes we get text messages from the head of Student Services telling us about a security alert or to stay away from crowded areas, but then I look at my teachers and my family who have lived here for decades, and I realize that if they aren’t panicking, I shouldn’t either.  Caution is obviously necessary anywhere that I go in Israel, but I think that’s true of anywhere in the world.  I don’t walk around alone at night, I don’t go to areas that aren’t governed by the State of Israel (Gaza, Bethlehem), and I look both ways before I cross the street.  (This is probably the most important one!  Israeli drivers can be a little crazy sometimes.)  I think about where I worked last year in Chicago, and how Uptown isn’t exactly the model of a nice neighborhood.  There were gang shootings all the time, in broad daylight, and the side street that led to one of the shelters near my office was affectionately referred to by my clients as “murder alley.”  I never felt unsafe there, so why should I feel differently here?  Yes, the threats may be different, but I couldn’t avoid going to work any more than I can avoid going to school or to the grocery store.  I just have to live my life, recognize when I feel unsafe or uncomfortable, and react accordingly. In the wise words of Eleanor Roosevelt: “we gain strength, and courage, and confidence by each experience in which we really stop to look fear in the face…we must do that which we think we cannot.”

Have a little faith...

It’s a quiet night in Jerusalem as I sit here writing this post.  I’m on my porch, letting the evening breeze wash over me and erase the stresses of ulpan and cantillation homework.  The sun is setting, and it’s absolutely beautiful. However, even amidst the seemingly peaceful evening, I know there is a lot of turmoil and pain that is happening right now.  There have been over 80 rocket attacks in the last day or so, and several people have been killed.  We just got a text message from our head of Student Services saying that there is a security alert out for Jerusalem, so to avoid crowded places or public transportation.  It’s amazing to me that I can be sitting quietly on my porch watching the sunset with so much chaos not so far away.  Israel is a strong country, and I have no doubt that I am safe here.  It is my first time being in Israel during such an attack, however, so it is still a bit scary.  I see how my professors and staff of HUC react, and I see their pain and frustration.  I see their anger with the terrorists, who kill innocent people at the expense of a much larger political goal, and I see the hope that this will blow over and relative calm will resume again.  I also see the incredible trust that many of my teachers have in God.  This morning, my ulpan teacher said that her daughter is entering the army on Monday, and that one of the busses that was bombed near Eilat is the one that she will need to take to her base every day.  We asked if she was scared for her daughter, and she said: “it’s in God’s hands.”  My teacher is a pretty religious woman, but it was still striking to hear her say that.  It got me thinking about faith, and faith in God.

 A few weeks ago, one of the faculty at HUC gave a dvar Torah at services that really resonated with me.  He spoke of Moses, and how in the parshah where God tells him that he is not able to go into the land of Israel, his response is “Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad.”  (Hear o’Israel, Adonai is our God Adonai is One.”)  Even in the midst of profound disappointment and suffering, Moses responded with words of faith.  There is something really beautiful about that, about truly believing that no matter how hard things get or how unjust life may seem sometimes, having faith in God can help.

 As a Reform rabbinical student, I recognize that the whole God thing may be hard for some people to swallow.  I personally believe in God, but in a different way than what is written in the Torah.  I don’t think God is a person or a being that is sitting up in the sky dictating what happens to people and as it is said on Yom Kippur “who shall live and who shall die.”  Rather, to me God is an energy that exists to help people get the strength to heal themselves, to get through life’s obstacles, and to feel a sense of community and connection to other people and to themselves. 

I think prayer is an excellent vessel for this.   Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote: “Prayer may not bring water to a parched field, nor mend a broken bridge, nor rebuild a ruined city. But prayer can water an arid soul, mend a broken heart, rebuild a weakened will.”  When I pray, I am not praying for God to fix something in my life or to give me something, rather I am asking for the strength and courage to get through whatever is difficult for me, and the ability to recognize and not take for granted my many blessings   Not everyone connects with prayer or has faith in God, and that’s okay.  Having faith in something, anything, can be enough to give people the strength to persevere when they need it most.  It could be faith in community, faith in family, or faith in themselves.  It’s been pretty clear these last few days that my teachers have an enormous amount of faith in their country, in their army, and in their community to get through the violence and truly bring meaning to the phrase “nation shall not lift up sword against nation, they shall never again study war.” (Isaiah 2:4)

Tisha B'av: A Day of Mourning For the Sake of Mourning

Hello everyone!   I apologize for the delay in posting, but it’s been a busy few weeks with exams and lots of homework, leaving little time for blogging.  However, I wanted to update you all on what has been happening this week!  Tuesday was Tisha B’av (the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av), a Jewish holiday commemorating the destruction of the beit hamikdash, or Temple.  The Temple was destroyed twice, once in 586 BCE and again in 70 CE.  The idea behind the Temple is complicated, but basically it was a place for Jews to offer sacrifices to God, and only certain people (priests and people from the tribes of Levi or Cohen) where allowed in the inner sanctums of the building.  As a modern Reform Jew, the Temple doesn’t stir up much emotion for me as a structure, mostly because the destruction really gave way to the idea that there didn’t need to be only one place to pray or connect to God.  It also ended the ritual sacrifices, which in my opinion, is a good thing.  I’m pretty sure I would drop out of rabbinical school if I had to sacrifice a lamb every week.  No thank you.  Also, once the temple was destroyed, the idea of a Rabbi really came to fruition.  It also allowed people to individually connect with God and not only have to do it via a priest or someone from a more important tribe.  However, I do recognize that the idea is not just that we are mourning the destruction of the physical structure of the Temple, but rather the destruction and violation of the Jewish people’s right and ability to practice their religion.  In that respect, I find the holiday meaningful.  Tisha B’av in Jerusalem is interesting, mostly because it is Jerusalem, and everything is interesting here.  On erev (the night before) Tisha B’av HUC took us to this monastery that was just outside of Tel Aviv.  There is a kibbutz nearby that does a lot of collaboration with this particular monastery, and they were having a joint Tisha B’av concert/service.  There were nuns from the monastery in attendance, as well as Jews from both the kibbutz and other progressive congregations around Israel.  (Progressive Judaism is basically the equivalent of the Reform movement in America, but in Israel it’s referred to as “progressive Judaism.”  More on that in another post.)  The concert was beautiful for the most part, the songs were mostly in Hebrew (some were in Ladino and Yiddish as well) and the cantor who sang them had a nice voice.  However, for some reason she just kept singing song after song after song, and it didn’t really appear to be any end in sight!  I found the evening relatively spiritual towards the beginning, and being in this ancient place with all these incredibly interesting and diverse people really touched me, but after the 10^th song, I was starting to check out a little.  Most of my classmates were getting a little glassy eyed towards the end as well, so I know I wasn’t the only one!  The next day we went to Pardes, which is an organization that runs summer and year long study programs for people from all over the world.  They had a special Tisha B’av program with lots of different study sessions all day.  I went to one that was very interesting and meaningful.  The session was called “Cosmic Crack—Personal Pain, Kabbalistic Insights.”  It was divided into two parts with two writing exercises.  The first was to write a list of all the events in our lives that were destructive that we had played a part in.  Then, we discussed in small groups what we had written down.  It was pretty powerful to hear what other people had thought of, and while I was hesitant to share at first, it felt really good to get it out.  The second exercise was to write down a list of events in our lives that were destructive, but that had become somehow hopeful or more positive over time.  We shared these as well, which was equally as powerful.  The main point of the program was that Tisha B’av is a different kind of mourning day.  We are not mourning in order to ask for forgiveness or repent like on Yom Kippur, rather we are just mourning to mourn.  It’s a day to be sad both for the things that we had played a part in destroying, and also things that were out of our control.  However, as the day goes on and we get closer to the end, we start to change our perspective a little and look towards the future and the positive aspects of our lives.  This is especially evident in the way we pray throughout the day.  In the morning service, people traditionally don’t wear tallitot or tefillin because wearing a tallit symbolizes being embraced by God and that’s not something that Jews are feeling during Tisha B’av.  Teffilin are made of leather, and are a sign of luxury and wealth, which is something that, like on Yom Kippur, many Jews chose to avoid during the day of mourning.  However, at the afternoon service, people do wear their tallit and their teffilin, showing a distinct shift from the earlier part of the day.  There is a sense that life continues, that even when there is horrible destruction, you can’t stop living your life in a productive way.  While I personally struggle with the more traditional reasoning behind the holiday of Tisha B’av, after the session at Pardes I feel much more connected to the holiday.  I learned a lot and will absolutely appreciate it much more next year.