Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
A very busy couple of days…and a lot of catching up
In my last few days in Israel, I interviewed four more important people in Israeli Jewish renewal (intentional small "r"; again, I'm avoiding movement language): Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan, Itamar Lapid, Esteban Gottfried, and Rabbi Ela Merom. There were many other people whom I would also have liked to have interviewed this summer, but as readers of the blog know, I took classes for six weeks at the Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem, and I couldn't do both the classroom study and the independent study at the same time (except for reading articles at night on the subject).
(I wrote the following paragraph before I left Israel)
I leave in the middle of the night after Shabbat is over to return home - the Nesher sherut (pronounced shay-root - meaning taxi) is scheduled to pick me up at 2:45 am - so there is no point in going to sleep. This means that Shabbat will fold into the next day, and a very long one that will be. I'll go from Jerusalem to Ben Gurion Airport, near Tel Aviv, and fly from there to Vienna for an hour layover, then on to Dulles, where my friend Farlee [and, it turned out, her husband Glenn and son Uri, as well!] will be picking me up to return me to Silver Spring. Then I think I'll sleep a little before driving the next day to Rehoboth Beach to spend the rest of the week with Phyllis, Joel, and Ilan (sadly, Rachel can't be with us as well). At the beach, I don't expect to get much sun time in, considering the amount of work left on writing High Holiday sermons and services, practicing the cantillation and Torah readings for the High Holidays, planning weddings (two in September, helping with one in December), catching a two-day training session for my Transformative Text fellows project by Skype, and no doubt some things that I have momentarily forgotten! [Such as finishing up an incomplete in Hebrew!]
I'll discuss the remaining interviews in future posts. For now, here is the first.
Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan
My first interview to be explored was with Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan, whom I mentioned in my last post on my davenning experiences this summer in Israel. She was ordained nine years ago by Reb Zalman-Shachter-Shalomi through the Aleph Renewal Program. She was one of his closest students, having gone to Colorado for two years to study with him personally, cowrote a book with him in Hebrew in 2006 (published by Yediot, an important Israeli publishing house - she does not think that it needs to, or perhaps even should, be translated - to capture the thought of Reb Zalman in Hebrew is the key, she says), and now she teaches through the program as well.
Ruth grew up Orthodox and was active in B'nei Akiva. She always remembered being in interfaith relations from the age of nine onward. She became active in egalitarian prayer as a young woman and when she married, the family shifted into egalitarianism but remained traditional - her husband Michael now calls himself "a non-Orthodox Jew."
Ruth's modern-Orthodox parents are accepting of her becoming a rabbi. Ruth even related a story of her father reassuring the father of another female rabbinical student that a daughter becoming a rabbi is "not so bad." But her parents don't attend her service because of the musical instruments and mixed seating.
We met by a fish pond stocked with large goldfish in the shade of the garden of her comfortable home in Jerusalem. (This accounts for the loud background sound of moving water in my voice recording of the conversation!) The idyllic setting matched the often ethereal content of her answers. This was more a conversation, really, than a fact-seeking interview. (I marvel some times at how my journalistic background might have provided me with some skills and tools to do interviews but did little to enlighten me as to the range of beyond-journalism topics that I would encounter.) Ruth says that she has often been interviewed by rabbis and rabbinical students, and she has mentored many as well.
In my last post, I discussed the prayer experience at Nava Tehila (which means "beautiful praise") but did not tell you much about its rabbi. Ruth Gan Kagan began kehillat (congregation) Nava Tehila, which now meets once a month for kabbalat Shabbat (welcoming the Sabbath on Friday evening) services in the lower level of kehillat Kol Haneshama (again see my previous post to read about that synagogue). Nava Tehilla began as a group that met in her home once a month for three years, "as a lab," she says. "I still think it is a lab, but like one of those hothouses for high tech startup companies, you begin with all kinds of experiments, and then you land on one. We have been developing it since."
Then, as interest grew, and she began to collect musicians around her (the Nava Tehila Ensemble), and as the group expanded in numbers, services moved to the rented space in Kol Haneshama. Hundreds of people regularly attend the monthly kabbalat Shabbat service, word of which is mostly spread by word of mouth. That number often is boosted in the summer months by groups of students and others visiting from all over the world - some non-Jews also attend (I saw a monk praying there when I last attended). The two main prayer leaders, who both sing/pray beautifully and accompany themselves seamlessly with guitar, are supported by a non-static group of other musicians (the Levites, Ruth calls them, unashamedly referring to the musicians in the Temples of old), who play instruments and some of whom sing as well. Some compose the music that is used in the service. (Nava Tehila sells CDs of their music through their website.) They all meet before the service, not only for rehearsal but for spiritual work as well. "It is very intentional work," Ruth says, "The people who come and play with us play and pray; they just do so using their voices and instruments. They don't perform." They are Ruth's students, but she also thinks of them as "talmidim chaverim" (students-companions), because "I learn as much from them as they learn from me." They came to her to be trained, and they have become like "spiritual warriors," with their "weapons" being their instruments. The military analogy is not inappropriate - in both realms (after all, G-d is referred to as the Lord of Hosts (armies)), there is a knowledge of when one is serving and when one is not. Service does not happen when the set plan for some reason does not work, and there is no openness to alternative action. However, when there is openness to being accepting of what happens, to be "in surrender, that is the gateway to true spiritual practice."
In the service, which is musically beautiful, prayerful, and meditative, Ruth, in a flowing white dress is an embodiment of the Sabbath queen, moving gracefully about the inner space of the room, not simply sitting or standing in one place, while directing the congregation in a musical and contemplative journey through the weeks' themes and focuses, often bringing in passages or teachings from parshat hashavuah (the weekly Torah reading). She welcomes newcomers and old friends, celebrates the congregations simchot (happy events), facilitates meditation, and is a warm and wise presence.
Early in our conversation, Ruth mentioned Yair Sheleg's book From Ancient Hebrew to New Jew: the Renaissance in Israeli Culture. Sheleg is a journalist, writing for Ha'aretz, one of Israel's leading newspapers, and is part of the Israel Democracy Institute. His book discusses two major trends in this renaissance: that of batei midrash (literally, study houses) and prayer groups. The former provides intellectual content, and thereby attracts an elite, while the latter is for spiritual, emotional growth and attracts the masses. Ruth, however, does not agree with his dichotomy; for instance, she sees Ruth Calderon, who heads Almah in Tel Aviv (see one of my previous posts), as a very spiritual person. It is perhaps not accurate to see too much differentiation between the types of activities - many people draw great spiritual energy and emotional content from study of the classical Jewish texts. (I saw some of that energy in the end-of-the-year student presentations that I witnessed at Almah early in the summer - see my Tel Aviv Tell-all post).
Ruth is wary of the term "movement" to describe the varied activities that constitute the Israeli Jewish renaissance. "You call it a zerem (flowing water) and it stops flowing." Firstly, she says that she doesn't want to be part of a bigger movement; when asked what kind of a rabbi she is, she responds "a Jewish rabbi." Not aligning herself with Masorti or Reform seems natural - she doesn't see Orthodoxy as a movement, either. However, Nava Tehila is part of a network, Reshet Kehilot, of alternative prayer groups and communities, which is acceptable in that it has a structure but a flat one and no real head. (My next post will describe my interview with Itamar Lapid, who is very involved with the network and with the Shimshit community.) Ruth prefers to think of Nava Tehila not as part of a movement but as one of the emergent Israeli Judaism's communities. It should only be thought of as part of a movement, she says, if it "moves within people."
Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan is certainly one of the best conduits for making Judaism move within people, and if Israeli Jewish renewal will continue to be enriched by leaders such as she, it will surely expand and become a real force in more and more individual Israelis' lives.
(I wrote the following paragraph before I left Israel)
I leave in the middle of the night after Shabbat is over to return home - the Nesher sherut (pronounced shay-root - meaning taxi) is scheduled to pick me up at 2:45 am - so there is no point in going to sleep. This means that Shabbat will fold into the next day, and a very long one that will be. I'll go from Jerusalem to Ben Gurion Airport, near Tel Aviv, and fly from there to Vienna for an hour layover, then on to Dulles, where my friend Farlee [and, it turned out, her husband Glenn and son Uri, as well!] will be picking me up to return me to Silver Spring. Then I think I'll sleep a little before driving the next day to Rehoboth Beach to spend the rest of the week with Phyllis, Joel, and Ilan (sadly, Rachel can't be with us as well). At the beach, I don't expect to get much sun time in, considering the amount of work left on writing High Holiday sermons and services, practicing the cantillation and Torah readings for the High Holidays, planning weddings (two in September, helping with one in December), catching a two-day training session for my Transformative Text fellows project by Skype, and no doubt some things that I have momentarily forgotten! [Such as finishing up an incomplete in Hebrew!]
I'll discuss the remaining interviews in future posts. For now, here is the first.
Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan
My first interview to be explored was with Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan, whom I mentioned in my last post on my davenning experiences this summer in Israel. She was ordained nine years ago by Reb Zalman-Shachter-Shalomi through the Aleph Renewal Program. She was one of his closest students, having gone to Colorado for two years to study with him personally, cowrote a book with him in Hebrew in 2006 (published by Yediot, an important Israeli publishing house - she does not think that it needs to, or perhaps even should, be translated - to capture the thought of Reb Zalman in Hebrew is the key, she says), and now she teaches through the program as well.
Ruth grew up Orthodox and was active in B'nei Akiva. She always remembered being in interfaith relations from the age of nine onward. She became active in egalitarian prayer as a young woman and when she married, the family shifted into egalitarianism but remained traditional - her husband Michael now calls himself "a non-Orthodox Jew."
Ruth's modern-Orthodox parents are accepting of her becoming a rabbi. Ruth even related a story of her father reassuring the father of another female rabbinical student that a daughter becoming a rabbi is "not so bad." But her parents don't attend her service because of the musical instruments and mixed seating.
We met by a fish pond stocked with large goldfish in the shade of the garden of her comfortable home in Jerusalem. (This accounts for the loud background sound of moving water in my voice recording of the conversation!) The idyllic setting matched the often ethereal content of her answers. This was more a conversation, really, than a fact-seeking interview. (I marvel some times at how my journalistic background might have provided me with some skills and tools to do interviews but did little to enlighten me as to the range of beyond-journalism topics that I would encounter.) Ruth says that she has often been interviewed by rabbis and rabbinical students, and she has mentored many as well.
In my last post, I discussed the prayer experience at Nava Tehila (which means "beautiful praise") but did not tell you much about its rabbi. Ruth Gan Kagan began kehillat (congregation) Nava Tehila, which now meets once a month for kabbalat Shabbat (welcoming the Sabbath on Friday evening) services in the lower level of kehillat Kol Haneshama (again see my previous post to read about that synagogue). Nava Tehilla began as a group that met in her home once a month for three years, "as a lab," she says. "I still think it is a lab, but like one of those hothouses for high tech startup companies, you begin with all kinds of experiments, and then you land on one. We have been developing it since."
Then, as interest grew, and she began to collect musicians around her (the Nava Tehila Ensemble), and as the group expanded in numbers, services moved to the rented space in Kol Haneshama. Hundreds of people regularly attend the monthly kabbalat Shabbat service, word of which is mostly spread by word of mouth. That number often is boosted in the summer months by groups of students and others visiting from all over the world - some non-Jews also attend (I saw a monk praying there when I last attended). The two main prayer leaders, who both sing/pray beautifully and accompany themselves seamlessly with guitar, are supported by a non-static group of other musicians (the Levites, Ruth calls them, unashamedly referring to the musicians in the Temples of old), who play instruments and some of whom sing as well. Some compose the music that is used in the service. (Nava Tehila sells CDs of their music through their website.) They all meet before the service, not only for rehearsal but for spiritual work as well. "It is very intentional work," Ruth says, "The people who come and play with us play and pray; they just do so using their voices and instruments. They don't perform." They are Ruth's students, but she also thinks of them as "talmidim chaverim" (students-companions), because "I learn as much from them as they learn from me." They came to her to be trained, and they have become like "spiritual warriors," with their "weapons" being their instruments. The military analogy is not inappropriate - in both realms (after all, G-d is referred to as the Lord of Hosts (armies)), there is a knowledge of when one is serving and when one is not. Service does not happen when the set plan for some reason does not work, and there is no openness to alternative action. However, when there is openness to being accepting of what happens, to be "in surrender, that is the gateway to true spiritual practice."
In the service, which is musically beautiful, prayerful, and meditative, Ruth, in a flowing white dress is an embodiment of the Sabbath queen, moving gracefully about the inner space of the room, not simply sitting or standing in one place, while directing the congregation in a musical and contemplative journey through the weeks' themes and focuses, often bringing in passages or teachings from parshat hashavuah (the weekly Torah reading). She welcomes newcomers and old friends, celebrates the congregations simchot (happy events), facilitates meditation, and is a warm and wise presence.
Early in our conversation, Ruth mentioned Yair Sheleg's book From Ancient Hebrew to New Jew: the Renaissance in Israeli Culture. Sheleg is a journalist, writing for Ha'aretz, one of Israel's leading newspapers, and is part of the Israel Democracy Institute. His book discusses two major trends in this renaissance: that of batei midrash (literally, study houses) and prayer groups. The former provides intellectual content, and thereby attracts an elite, while the latter is for spiritual, emotional growth and attracts the masses. Ruth, however, does not agree with his dichotomy; for instance, she sees Ruth Calderon, who heads Almah in Tel Aviv (see one of my previous posts), as a very spiritual person. It is perhaps not accurate to see too much differentiation between the types of activities - many people draw great spiritual energy and emotional content from study of the classical Jewish texts. (I saw some of that energy in the end-of-the-year student presentations that I witnessed at Almah early in the summer - see my Tel Aviv Tell-all post).
Ruth is wary of the term "movement" to describe the varied activities that constitute the Israeli Jewish renaissance. "You call it a zerem (flowing water) and it stops flowing." Firstly, she says that she doesn't want to be part of a bigger movement; when asked what kind of a rabbi she is, she responds "a Jewish rabbi." Not aligning herself with Masorti or Reform seems natural - she doesn't see Orthodoxy as a movement, either. However, Nava Tehila is part of a network, Reshet Kehilot, of alternative prayer groups and communities, which is acceptable in that it has a structure but a flat one and no real head. (My next post will describe my interview with Itamar Lapid, who is very involved with the network and with the Shimshit community.) Ruth prefers to think of Nava Tehila not as part of a movement but as one of the emergent Israeli Judaism's communities. It should only be thought of as part of a movement, she says, if it "moves within people."
Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan is certainly one of the best conduits for making Judaism move within people, and if Israeli Jewish renewal will continue to be enriched by leaders such as she, it will surely expand and become a real force in more and more individual Israelis' lives.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
My Davenning Experiences in Jerusalem
I realize that I have been remiss in not discussing my davenning (prayer) experiences this summer in much depth on this blog.
I walked to the Kotel HaMaaravi (the Western Wall, before the Six-Day War in 1967 often referred to as the Wailing Wall) on one of my first days in Israel. And I tried to pray there. I only partially succeeded - I prayed a few psalms from one of the well-worn siddurim (prayerbooks) there, and generally tried to get into the experience of praying at what so many consider to be the holiest site for Judaism, since it is the last remaining wall of the Temple. (Well, it was until further excavation and archaeology revealed the entire length of the wall to where it meets the southern wall at the area now called Robinson's Arch, and in the other direction, underground, the entire length until it meets the corner with the unexcavated northern wall.) The history and the billions of tears shed on the site, and the notes crammed into the crevices containing the most personal of prayers - all of it should by rights lead me to an emotional prayer experience, but it doesn't. I acknowledge the Kotel's simple grandeur but the large metallic separation between the men's and the women's side, the separate entrances for men and women, and the enforcement of haredi-only interpretation of Jewish law (the Women of the Wall meet there and are regularly arrested for the crimes of wearing tallitot (prayer shawls) or carrying Torah scrolls) all make the Kotel not very prayer-conducive for me. Having said that, I also attended Tisha B'Av services at the Robinson's Arch section and found that meaningful (see a previous post for more on that).
Do I really need to say that there is no city in the world that compares with Jerusalem for a variety and sheer number of prayer services? Every neighborhood seems to have its spectrum of services and study places, from tiny little shteibelach (small synagogues) to grand, impressive, formal congregations (I avoided the latter). I davenned at Moreshet Yisrael on my first Shabbat in Jerusalem (http://www.moreshetyisrael.com), a Masorti (Conservative) congregation that meets at the Fuchsberg Center, in the same complex where I studied in the Conservative Yeshiva; it reminded me of a lot of Conservative congregations that I have prayed at in the United States. That is not to say that it wasn't a lovely congregation, meaningful services, or not satisfying in its own way, it is just that I wanted to experience in Jerusalem prayer services that are, for me at least, a bit out of the box. However, I do recommend the services there. High quality prayer leadership, good singing, egalitarian participation - all elements I find important.
The Reconstructionist students in Israel also conducted two Shabbat morning services while I was here this summer. They were held in a room at the Hebrew Union College building (I helped to organize the July service, with a lot of help from Rabbi Anita Steiner - thanks, Anita!) and were welcome doses of Reconstructionist prayer, Torah reading, discussion, and camaraderie over lunch. Reconstructionism is a very tiny piece of the religious life of Israel, although I believe that the spirit of Reconstructionism underlies much of the renewal work that is going on here.
On one Shabbat, I davenned at Shira Hadasha (http://www.shirahadasha.org.il/english/), held in the Jewish Cultural Center on Emek Refaim, before going to my teacher Esther Israel's home for Shabbat lunch. The entire day was a beautiful experience. There is a modified egalitarianism in play at this Orthodox congregation - while there is a mechitza (division between the men's and the women's sections), women were among the Torah readers and teachers, and the curtains of the mechitza, which cleverly bisect the reader's table, were drawn for the d'var Torah (message from the weekly Torah reading), a message from a member, and announcements. I found all parts of the service to be meaningful, although I didn't catch much of the d'var, and I particularly liked the experimentation with egalitarianism. There is experimentation going on in parts of the Orthodox world, which I take to be a very good sign. Lunch with Esther and Amos and family was delicious, as was the discussion, and it was sweet meeting her lovely family. She is one of my favorite teachers from the summer, excited about Tanach and inspiring. (Having said that, I had many excellent teachers this summer at the Conservative Yeshiva - I wouldn't want to slight any of them!)
Kehillat Kol Haneshama (http://www.kolhaneshama.org.il/Eng/kolhaneshama) on Rehov Asher at the end of Emek Refaim was one of the congregations that came highly recommended by other RRC students. The singing there is beautiful, and the kabbalat Shabbat (welcoming the Sabbath, Friday night) services in particular are quite spiritual. The senior rabbi, who began the congregation, Rabbi Levi Weiman-Kelman, is a welcoming, charismatic, yet warm presence, with an excellent voice for davenning, and his teaching as well as his prayer leading is excellent. I really appreciated being able to understand his divrei Torah delivered in Hebrew - it is not so much because my Hebrew has so much improved from my stay in Israel, sadly, but more because of his American accent and more accessible rate of speech. I by no means caught every word, but I was able to understand at least 75% of what he said, which for me was really a revelation. The associate rabbi, Ezra Ende, who led most of the service on the sabbaths when Rabbi Weiman-Kelman was not there, is also an excellent, spiritual presence, also an inspiring shaliach tzibbur ("representative of the congregation"; that is, prayer leader) and teacher - see my previous post for more about Rabbi Ende.
I also davenned at kabbalat Shabbat services in Talpiot when I visited with the Jakars (Philip, with his fine tenor, beautifully leads a large part of the service at Mishkenot Arnona, the little Orthodox congregation that meets in the next building over) and at Kehillat Yedidya (http://yedidya.org.il/new_site/index_eng.php ) when I visited with my friend Haim Watzman and his beautiful family. Yedidya in particular is a very interesting congregation - modern Orthodox, with a mechitza, but also a more progressive feel. It was founded by immigrants from English-speaking countries, and some Europeans, and some Israelis (I lifted that from the website) and has a particular interest in social justice and promoting democracy in Israeli society - that was clear not only from the website but from the congregation itself. The feeling was warm and the singing was beautiful. Were I ever to daven regularly in a modern Orthodox congregation (which I really don't see happening!), I would want it to be like Kehillat Yedidya. I also visited a local Conservative congregation, Mayanot, that meets in the Alliance Israelite building on Rehov Betar. Nice, small, homey congregation - the davenning was good and the people were friendly after the service at the kiddush.
When Phyllis came to Israel to visit me (and Israel, of course!) for two weeks, we spent the first few nights in Tel Aviv, so I had the opportunity to attend the Beit Tfilla Yisraeli (http://www.btfila.org/?site_lan=en) service, held on the boardwalk at the namal, the old Tel Aviv port. It meets every Friday night during the summer, with hundreds of people in pink plastic lawn chairs facing the Mediterranean as the sun sets into the sea. Between the setting, their own prayerbook (which contains pertinent "secular" music as well as the prayers), the inspiring, musical, beautiful services led by Esteban Gottfried, a wonderful singer, a six-piece band, and some warm sharing by the assembled congregation of what they were thankful for during the past week, this was a beautiful, prayerful, and aesthetically pleasing experience. I have an interview with Esteban Gottfried coming up - stay tuned!
However, the experience of prayer that I found the most enlightening, and probably the most beautiful, was that of the monthly Nava Tehila (http://www.navatehila.org/35897/About-Nava-Tehila1) kabbalat Shabbat services. In some ways, the service resembles the one at the Tel Aviv port, but Nava Tehila predates that one by quite a bit. Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan has led it since its inception, and between her spiritual direction, warm and welcoming presence, and her gentle guidance, and the ethereal singing and musical contribution of her Levites (as she calls them in a completely serious way) is almost indescribable. Services, which are to be found in the Kol Haneshamah building, are held one kabbalat Shabbat per month - each service is a little different from the next, each with its own theme and focus, and while the most traditional Jews might be uncomfortable with the non-shomer Shabbat aspects of the service (that is, Nava Tehila does not observe the ban on the playing of musical instruments - Orthodox people might also reject it due to the egalitarian participation, female rabbi, mixed seating, etc.), the service is the perfect opportunity for prayer, communal singing, meditation, and deep prayer. A future post will feature an interview with Rabbi Gan Kagan.
When I leave Israel on Sunday, surely one of the things that I will miss most is the many opportunities for davenning, and I hope that I can bring forward to my rabbinate some of the spiritual energy that I observed and experienced here this summer.
I walked to the Kotel HaMaaravi (the Western Wall, before the Six-Day War in 1967 often referred to as the Wailing Wall) on one of my first days in Israel. And I tried to pray there. I only partially succeeded - I prayed a few psalms from one of the well-worn siddurim (prayerbooks) there, and generally tried to get into the experience of praying at what so many consider to be the holiest site for Judaism, since it is the last remaining wall of the Temple. (Well, it was until further excavation and archaeology revealed the entire length of the wall to where it meets the southern wall at the area now called Robinson's Arch, and in the other direction, underground, the entire length until it meets the corner with the unexcavated northern wall.) The history and the billions of tears shed on the site, and the notes crammed into the crevices containing the most personal of prayers - all of it should by rights lead me to an emotional prayer experience, but it doesn't. I acknowledge the Kotel's simple grandeur but the large metallic separation between the men's and the women's side, the separate entrances for men and women, and the enforcement of haredi-only interpretation of Jewish law (the Women of the Wall meet there and are regularly arrested for the crimes of wearing tallitot (prayer shawls) or carrying Torah scrolls) all make the Kotel not very prayer-conducive for me. Having said that, I also attended Tisha B'Av services at the Robinson's Arch section and found that meaningful (see a previous post for more on that).
Do I really need to say that there is no city in the world that compares with Jerusalem for a variety and sheer number of prayer services? Every neighborhood seems to have its spectrum of services and study places, from tiny little shteibelach (small synagogues) to grand, impressive, formal congregations (I avoided the latter). I davenned at Moreshet Yisrael on my first Shabbat in Jerusalem (http://www.moreshetyisrael.com), a Masorti (Conservative) congregation that meets at the Fuchsberg Center, in the same complex where I studied in the Conservative Yeshiva; it reminded me of a lot of Conservative congregations that I have prayed at in the United States. That is not to say that it wasn't a lovely congregation, meaningful services, or not satisfying in its own way, it is just that I wanted to experience in Jerusalem prayer services that are, for me at least, a bit out of the box. However, I do recommend the services there. High quality prayer leadership, good singing, egalitarian participation - all elements I find important.
The Reconstructionist students in Israel also conducted two Shabbat morning services while I was here this summer. They were held in a room at the Hebrew Union College building (I helped to organize the July service, with a lot of help from Rabbi Anita Steiner - thanks, Anita!) and were welcome doses of Reconstructionist prayer, Torah reading, discussion, and camaraderie over lunch. Reconstructionism is a very tiny piece of the religious life of Israel, although I believe that the spirit of Reconstructionism underlies much of the renewal work that is going on here.
On one Shabbat, I davenned at Shira Hadasha (http://www.shirahadasha.org.il/english/), held in the Jewish Cultural Center on Emek Refaim, before going to my teacher Esther Israel's home for Shabbat lunch. The entire day was a beautiful experience. There is a modified egalitarianism in play at this Orthodox congregation - while there is a mechitza (division between the men's and the women's sections), women were among the Torah readers and teachers, and the curtains of the mechitza, which cleverly bisect the reader's table, were drawn for the d'var Torah (message from the weekly Torah reading), a message from a member, and announcements. I found all parts of the service to be meaningful, although I didn't catch much of the d'var, and I particularly liked the experimentation with egalitarianism. There is experimentation going on in parts of the Orthodox world, which I take to be a very good sign. Lunch with Esther and Amos and family was delicious, as was the discussion, and it was sweet meeting her lovely family. She is one of my favorite teachers from the summer, excited about Tanach and inspiring. (Having said that, I had many excellent teachers this summer at the Conservative Yeshiva - I wouldn't want to slight any of them!)
Kehillat Kol Haneshama (http://www.kolhaneshama.org.il/Eng/kolhaneshama) on Rehov Asher at the end of Emek Refaim was one of the congregations that came highly recommended by other RRC students. The singing there is beautiful, and the kabbalat Shabbat (welcoming the Sabbath, Friday night) services in particular are quite spiritual. The senior rabbi, who began the congregation, Rabbi Levi Weiman-Kelman, is a welcoming, charismatic, yet warm presence, with an excellent voice for davenning, and his teaching as well as his prayer leading is excellent. I really appreciated being able to understand his divrei Torah delivered in Hebrew - it is not so much because my Hebrew has so much improved from my stay in Israel, sadly, but more because of his American accent and more accessible rate of speech. I by no means caught every word, but I was able to understand at least 75% of what he said, which for me was really a revelation. The associate rabbi, Ezra Ende, who led most of the service on the sabbaths when Rabbi Weiman-Kelman was not there, is also an excellent, spiritual presence, also an inspiring shaliach tzibbur ("representative of the congregation"; that is, prayer leader) and teacher - see my previous post for more about Rabbi Ende.
I also davenned at kabbalat Shabbat services in Talpiot when I visited with the Jakars (Philip, with his fine tenor, beautifully leads a large part of the service at Mishkenot Arnona, the little Orthodox congregation that meets in the next building over) and at Kehillat Yedidya (http://yedidya.org.il/new_site/index_eng.php ) when I visited with my friend Haim Watzman and his beautiful family. Yedidya in particular is a very interesting congregation - modern Orthodox, with a mechitza, but also a more progressive feel. It was founded by immigrants from English-speaking countries, and some Europeans, and some Israelis (I lifted that from the website) and has a particular interest in social justice and promoting democracy in Israeli society - that was clear not only from the website but from the congregation itself. The feeling was warm and the singing was beautiful. Were I ever to daven regularly in a modern Orthodox congregation (which I really don't see happening!), I would want it to be like Kehillat Yedidya. I also visited a local Conservative congregation, Mayanot, that meets in the Alliance Israelite building on Rehov Betar. Nice, small, homey congregation - the davenning was good and the people were friendly after the service at the kiddush.
When Phyllis came to Israel to visit me (and Israel, of course!) for two weeks, we spent the first few nights in Tel Aviv, so I had the opportunity to attend the Beit Tfilla Yisraeli (http://www.btfila.org/?site_lan=en) service, held on the boardwalk at the namal, the old Tel Aviv port. It meets every Friday night during the summer, with hundreds of people in pink plastic lawn chairs facing the Mediterranean as the sun sets into the sea. Between the setting, their own prayerbook (which contains pertinent "secular" music as well as the prayers), the inspiring, musical, beautiful services led by Esteban Gottfried, a wonderful singer, a six-piece band, and some warm sharing by the assembled congregation of what they were thankful for during the past week, this was a beautiful, prayerful, and aesthetically pleasing experience. I have an interview with Esteban Gottfried coming up - stay tuned!
However, the experience of prayer that I found the most enlightening, and probably the most beautiful, was that of the monthly Nava Tehila (http://www.navatehila.org/35897/About-Nava-Tehila1) kabbalat Shabbat services. In some ways, the service resembles the one at the Tel Aviv port, but Nava Tehila predates that one by quite a bit. Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan has led it since its inception, and between her spiritual direction, warm and welcoming presence, and her gentle guidance, and the ethereal singing and musical contribution of her Levites (as she calls them in a completely serious way) is almost indescribable. Services, which are to be found in the Kol Haneshamah building, are held one kabbalat Shabbat per month - each service is a little different from the next, each with its own theme and focus, and while the most traditional Jews might be uncomfortable with the non-shomer Shabbat aspects of the service (that is, Nava Tehila does not observe the ban on the playing of musical instruments - Orthodox people might also reject it due to the egalitarian participation, female rabbi, mixed seating, etc.), the service is the perfect opportunity for prayer, communal singing, meditation, and deep prayer. A future post will feature an interview with Rabbi Gan Kagan.
When I leave Israel on Sunday, surely one of the things that I will miss most is the many opportunities for davenning, and I hope that I can bring forward to my rabbinate some of the spiritual energy that I observed and experienced here this summer.
Discussions with two more movers and shakers
I had the opportunity two days ago to speak with two more people who are doing the excellent and important work of helping Israelis find their Jewish identities. I know that it sounds odd to put it that way, seeing that Israel is called "the Jewish State," but people who are familiar with Israel know that religion is a very complicated subject here, even (and perhaps especially) within the context of Jewish religion. A strong Jewish identity is by no means a given for an Israeli. What is Jewish about Israel, many have asked. Around Jerusalem, the tremendous numbers of haredim (Hasidim and other ultra-Orthodox Jews) certainly reinforces the idea of Jerusalem being the most Jewish city in the world, but it is still true that the majority of Jewish Israelis are not Orthodox. The American-imported movements (Masorti-Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, and Renewal) have only made gradual inroads here since they have been active in Israel for the last 30 or so years. While there are impressive institutions here (the Fuchsberg Center, where I studied this summer at the Conservative Yeshiva, and the Hebrew Union College, to name just a couple), with thriving programs, most of the students seem to be non-Israeli Jews. What Israel requires, and has now gone quite a distance in starting, is a home-grown response to the need for a satisfying Judaism that is apart from the suffocating grasp of the rabbanut (the ultra-Orthodox religious authorities who have political power within the Knesset and have a virtual stranglehold on religious affairs). Non-haredi Israelis need a process for raising and educating new Israeli Jewish leaders, and the last 30 years has brought progress in addressing that need.
Rabbi Ezra Ende is a leader who has emerged because of that process. He is the associate rabbi at the remarkable Kehillat Kol Haneshamah congregation in the Baka neighborhood in Jerusalem and he teaches in two Tali schools in the city. His davening at Kol Haneshama is beautiful, as was his d'var Torah (a teaching from the Torah) the Shabbat that I had the opportunity to hear that. (I could, and hope to, do a post on my experiences davening (praying) in this beautiful congregation and in its senior rabbi, Levi Weiman-Kelman.) His father, a son of a Conservative rabbi, immigrated from the United States, and his mother came to Israel from Iraq. Rabbi Ende, therefore, grew up with both cultures, although it was only his father's side that was religious. When the family settled in Israel, they tried to fit into the Orthodox community, but for political reasons, it was not a good fit. Ende's father was one of the early activists in founding the Tali schools. Rabbi Ende attended one of those schools and also became active in Noam, a Conservative youth movement in Israel, with which he entered the IDF and where he also met his wife. But finding a community that was both satisfying and had a similar level of Shabbat and kashrut observance was not easy.
A very young-looking 40-year-old, Rabbi Ende (known to friends as Ezi) has smicha (rabbinical ordination) from HUC in Jerusalem, and a master's degree in Jewish education from the Jewish Theological Seminary's Machon Shechter. He says that he was drawn to HUC; it was process more than a conscious choice. After ordination, he served a congregation in Pittsburgh for four years. Having been educated in Hod HaSharon in the second Tali school to be founded, Rabbi Ende found this to be a formative experience for him and returned years later to teach in two Tali schools. One area that he disagrees with the schools, however, is that they teach Judaism is pluralism, but he sees halachah (Jewish law) as particular to Judaism and one of the elements that make it stand out in identity creation. His older son, who is now 13-1/2, attends a Keshet school, where both secular and religious students attend, having some separate classes to meet their own religious needs while being part of the same community. Being part of this system was instrumental in his older son choosing to follow a more dati (Orthodox) practice and be on the dati path in the school, and he identifies with the Sephardic community as well. This has led the entire family to become more halachically observant.
Tali is a system of public schools associated with the Ministry of Education that about 25 years ago, at the urging of American olim (immigrants) wanting to have a Solomon Schechter-type education for their children, began to provide a greater amount of Jewish education than is generally seen in Israeli public schools. Tali is an acronym for Tigbul Limudei Yahadut, that is, "additional Jewish studies." Each school is different from the others, each with its own character and practices. Many have morning prayer, most are egalitarian (equal religious participation of girls and boys, with girls wearing kippot (skullcaps) as well. All of them provide many more hours of religious experiential opportunity than does the average secular public school, where Tanach (the Jewish Bible) is taught as literature.
Perhaps more important than the growth of the Tali schools to the struggle to find an Israeli identity is the myriad, but still somewhat disjoint range of activities, secular yeshivot (study hall/schools), kehillot (congregations), and other cultural and religious institutions that have been sprouting for the last 20 or more years. Loosely called Hithadshut Yehudit (Jewish Renewal), it involves a very loose affiliation of many small congregations and grew out of the kibbutz movement. Many of its leaders grew up in kibbutzim, where they learned a lot about Socialism and Zionism, but not much about their essential culture, religion, and spiritual heritage, that is, about Judaism.
Another activist in this field is Yonina Fallenberg, whose sister Rachel I met at a dinner party at the home of friends in Talpiyot, the Jakars, with whom I have been staying for my last week and a half here. She has an incredible overall knowledge of this field, personally knowing many of its leaders, and was able to tell me about far more people and their activities than I'll ever be able to interview. This project could easily consume several years of work and never be complete, because of the great movement and growth this phenomenon exhibits.
Yonina described how this phenomenon had several roots, one of the main ones being in the kibbutz and moshav movement, largely among young people whose Socialist and Zionist education had not provided them with enough Jewish content in their cultural identity. The first step was to begin to study the classical "Jewish bookshelf": the Tanach (Hebrew Bible), certainly, but also Mishna and Gemara (Talmud), and Midrash. Seeing that knowledge and intellectual input did not meet all of their needs, these seekers began to add in prayer. For many years, Israelis had gone off to ashrams to study with gurus, seeking spiritual enlightenment. But these very gurus would often ask them why they had come to them to study when their own Judaism provided so much deep spiritual substance! This lesson had finally started to take root in many Israelis.
Another early spark was the interest in piyuttim (liturgical poetry composed in the Middle Ages), and how these beautiful works were studied and then reintroduced into modern Israeli music, often by Mizrachi (Eastern) Jewish musicians. It is not uncommon today to find in modern Israeli popular music various references drawn from the Jewish classics. They have become a greater part of the national idiom.
Like many other people who gravitated toward this work, Yonina was moved by the 1995 Yitzchak Rabin assassination to move towards involvement in building bridges between Israeli dati'im ("religious") and chiloni'im ("secular") - it has been said that the chasm between these groups was one of the underlying reasons behind the assassination.
Although personally modern Orthodox, Yonina has found tremendous personal satisfaction and insight in studying with learners from all walks of Israeli life who come to the new schools/kehillot (congregations), and other groups with which she is involved. A cofounder of Zayit ("somewhere between a yeshiva and an academic institution," she says) that was founded in Emek Chefer, which is between Netanya and Hadera, Yonina represents many Israelis who are dati (traditionally religious) or who grew up dati and who now, for various reasons, find themselves on a different path. Her current activities include teaching in a women's program called Nigun Nashim (the Melody of Women) as part of Oranim, which was one of the first programs in Israeli Jewish Renewal. The learners in her programs have all brought personal, pertinent, and important insights to the texts she has taught - and that is the true beauty of having so many different voices, because everyone's life experience has given them a bit of Torah to share.
Today I had a fascinating interview with Rabbi Ruth Gan-Kagen, rabbi of Nava Tehila, which I will describe in my next post.
Rabbi Ezra Ende is a leader who has emerged because of that process. He is the associate rabbi at the remarkable Kehillat Kol Haneshamah congregation in the Baka neighborhood in Jerusalem and he teaches in two Tali schools in the city. His davening at Kol Haneshama is beautiful, as was his d'var Torah (a teaching from the Torah) the Shabbat that I had the opportunity to hear that. (I could, and hope to, do a post on my experiences davening (praying) in this beautiful congregation and in its senior rabbi, Levi Weiman-Kelman.) His father, a son of a Conservative rabbi, immigrated from the United States, and his mother came to Israel from Iraq. Rabbi Ende, therefore, grew up with both cultures, although it was only his father's side that was religious. When the family settled in Israel, they tried to fit into the Orthodox community, but for political reasons, it was not a good fit. Ende's father was one of the early activists in founding the Tali schools. Rabbi Ende attended one of those schools and also became active in Noam, a Conservative youth movement in Israel, with which he entered the IDF and where he also met his wife. But finding a community that was both satisfying and had a similar level of Shabbat and kashrut observance was not easy.
A very young-looking 40-year-old, Rabbi Ende (known to friends as Ezi) has smicha (rabbinical ordination) from HUC in Jerusalem, and a master's degree in Jewish education from the Jewish Theological Seminary's Machon Shechter. He says that he was drawn to HUC; it was process more than a conscious choice. After ordination, he served a congregation in Pittsburgh for four years. Having been educated in Hod HaSharon in the second Tali school to be founded, Rabbi Ende found this to be a formative experience for him and returned years later to teach in two Tali schools. One area that he disagrees with the schools, however, is that they teach Judaism is pluralism, but he sees halachah (Jewish law) as particular to Judaism and one of the elements that make it stand out in identity creation. His older son, who is now 13-1/2, attends a Keshet school, where both secular and religious students attend, having some separate classes to meet their own religious needs while being part of the same community. Being part of this system was instrumental in his older son choosing to follow a more dati (Orthodox) practice and be on the dati path in the school, and he identifies with the Sephardic community as well. This has led the entire family to become more halachically observant.
Tali is a system of public schools associated with the Ministry of Education that about 25 years ago, at the urging of American olim (immigrants) wanting to have a Solomon Schechter-type education for their children, began to provide a greater amount of Jewish education than is generally seen in Israeli public schools. Tali is an acronym for Tigbul Limudei Yahadut, that is, "additional Jewish studies." Each school is different from the others, each with its own character and practices. Many have morning prayer, most are egalitarian (equal religious participation of girls and boys, with girls wearing kippot (skullcaps) as well. All of them provide many more hours of religious experiential opportunity than does the average secular public school, where Tanach (the Jewish Bible) is taught as literature.
Perhaps more important than the growth of the Tali schools to the struggle to find an Israeli identity is the myriad, but still somewhat disjoint range of activities, secular yeshivot (study hall/schools), kehillot (congregations), and other cultural and religious institutions that have been sprouting for the last 20 or more years. Loosely called Hithadshut Yehudit (Jewish Renewal), it involves a very loose affiliation of many small congregations and grew out of the kibbutz movement. Many of its leaders grew up in kibbutzim, where they learned a lot about Socialism and Zionism, but not much about their essential culture, religion, and spiritual heritage, that is, about Judaism.
Another activist in this field is Yonina Fallenberg, whose sister Rachel I met at a dinner party at the home of friends in Talpiyot, the Jakars, with whom I have been staying for my last week and a half here. She has an incredible overall knowledge of this field, personally knowing many of its leaders, and was able to tell me about far more people and their activities than I'll ever be able to interview. This project could easily consume several years of work and never be complete, because of the great movement and growth this phenomenon exhibits.
Yonina described how this phenomenon had several roots, one of the main ones being in the kibbutz and moshav movement, largely among young people whose Socialist and Zionist education had not provided them with enough Jewish content in their cultural identity. The first step was to begin to study the classical "Jewish bookshelf": the Tanach (Hebrew Bible), certainly, but also Mishna and Gemara (Talmud), and Midrash. Seeing that knowledge and intellectual input did not meet all of their needs, these seekers began to add in prayer. For many years, Israelis had gone off to ashrams to study with gurus, seeking spiritual enlightenment. But these very gurus would often ask them why they had come to them to study when their own Judaism provided so much deep spiritual substance! This lesson had finally started to take root in many Israelis.
Another early spark was the interest in piyuttim (liturgical poetry composed in the Middle Ages), and how these beautiful works were studied and then reintroduced into modern Israeli music, often by Mizrachi (Eastern) Jewish musicians. It is not uncommon today to find in modern Israeli popular music various references drawn from the Jewish classics. They have become a greater part of the national idiom.
Like many other people who gravitated toward this work, Yonina was moved by the 1995 Yitzchak Rabin assassination to move towards involvement in building bridges between Israeli dati'im ("religious") and chiloni'im ("secular") - it has been said that the chasm between these groups was one of the underlying reasons behind the assassination.
Although personally modern Orthodox, Yonina has found tremendous personal satisfaction and insight in studying with learners from all walks of Israeli life who come to the new schools/kehillot (congregations), and other groups with which she is involved. A cofounder of Zayit ("somewhere between a yeshiva and an academic institution," she says) that was founded in Emek Chefer, which is between Netanya and Hadera, Yonina represents many Israelis who are dati (traditionally religious) or who grew up dati and who now, for various reasons, find themselves on a different path. Her current activities include teaching in a women's program called Nigun Nashim (the Melody of Women) as part of Oranim, which was one of the first programs in Israeli Jewish Renewal. The learners in her programs have all brought personal, pertinent, and important insights to the texts she has taught - and that is the true beauty of having so many different voices, because everyone's life experience has given them a bit of Torah to share.
Today I had a fascinating interview with Rabbi Ruth Gan-Kagen, rabbi of Nava Tehila, which I will describe in my next post.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
So much to learn, so little time...
As I spend my last 10 days here, I have been thinking about how much I have to do once I get home. In September, I am conducting two weddings, leading High Holiday services at a congregation that I have never served and with a mahzor (High Holiday prayerbook) that I have never used, and, of course, returning to the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College (RRC) for my last year of study before I am (G-d-willing!) ordained in June, and also returning to my teaching at Shoresh Hebrew High School and to my part-time government job (as a technical writer at the Naval Research Laboratory in DC) as well.
What I have also pondered, perhaps even more than the above, is how much there is to learn here, not only directly in Jewish studies (and there really is no better place in the world for that) but also in how a people returns to a land, develops a culture and a language from an amalgamation of 2,000 years of experience, and meanwhile copes with living in what has been called the worst neighborhood in the world.
From the many faults that are apparent with even a casual observation of Israel, you might think that this is an experiment that is not working. The Holy Land is not treated as holy by its residents - there is far too much trash on the streets, too much rudeness among Israelis, too much blaring of horns (I would say that the sound of the car horn is more the national anthem than is Hatikvah), too much lack of concern for anyone seeking basic information; please, stop me any time! And this is to say nothing of the government and its myriad problems, the tensions between the haredim (ultra-Orthodox) and secular Jews, and the constant tensions (and worse) with the neighboring countries, all of which are hostile to or formally in a state of war with Israel. (In the last day, for instance, two rockets are reputed to have fallen on or near Eilat - the sites have not yet been discovered but the explosions were heard.) Israel is still beset with problems from the territories (which I will not call "occupied," since that term implies political conditions that do not truly describe the situation), with Muslims within Israel and with Palestinians in the territories, and with the huge influx of African refugees seeking asylum, and literal rescue, within Israel.
And yet…and yet, once most Israelis see that you are truly in need, they will bend over backwards to help you. Israelis are often extraordinarily hospitable and generous far beyond what would be expected. Most Jewish Israelis truly in their heart of hearts want all Jews to settle here and often cannot understand why any Jew would not want to do so. The property manager of the apartment in which I had lived was upset when I told him that I would not consider making aliyah. I didn't elaborate tremendously on what my "10,000 reasons" were, but I think that he considered it a personal rejection.
More than their desire that all Jews should love Israel, most Israelis seem to want all Jews to live in Israel.
Ultimately, this is far from a failed experiment. We should not forget that Israel is still very young and has accomplished great things in its short 64 years. That is no excuse for lagging on correcting the many problems that remain, but it does partially explain the sense of being incomplete that many things inspire here.
There is clearly far more here to learn, and in so many areas, than I could even dream about in the next 10 days, but I plan on using those days wisely. G-d only knows when I will return, but I feel that I must do so, again I hope for an extended period of time.
What I have also pondered, perhaps even more than the above, is how much there is to learn here, not only directly in Jewish studies (and there really is no better place in the world for that) but also in how a people returns to a land, develops a culture and a language from an amalgamation of 2,000 years of experience, and meanwhile copes with living in what has been called the worst neighborhood in the world.
From the many faults that are apparent with even a casual observation of Israel, you might think that this is an experiment that is not working. The Holy Land is not treated as holy by its residents - there is far too much trash on the streets, too much rudeness among Israelis, too much blaring of horns (I would say that the sound of the car horn is more the national anthem than is Hatikvah), too much lack of concern for anyone seeking basic information; please, stop me any time! And this is to say nothing of the government and its myriad problems, the tensions between the haredim (ultra-Orthodox) and secular Jews, and the constant tensions (and worse) with the neighboring countries, all of which are hostile to or formally in a state of war with Israel. (In the last day, for instance, two rockets are reputed to have fallen on or near Eilat - the sites have not yet been discovered but the explosions were heard.) Israel is still beset with problems from the territories (which I will not call "occupied," since that term implies political conditions that do not truly describe the situation), with Muslims within Israel and with Palestinians in the territories, and with the huge influx of African refugees seeking asylum, and literal rescue, within Israel.
And yet…and yet, once most Israelis see that you are truly in need, they will bend over backwards to help you. Israelis are often extraordinarily hospitable and generous far beyond what would be expected. Most Jewish Israelis truly in their heart of hearts want all Jews to settle here and often cannot understand why any Jew would not want to do so. The property manager of the apartment in which I had lived was upset when I told him that I would not consider making aliyah. I didn't elaborate tremendously on what my "10,000 reasons" were, but I think that he considered it a personal rejection.
More than their desire that all Jews should love Israel, most Israelis seem to want all Jews to live in Israel.
Ultimately, this is far from a failed experiment. We should not forget that Israel is still very young and has accomplished great things in its short 64 years. That is no excuse for lagging on correcting the many problems that remain, but it does partially explain the sense of being incomplete that many things inspire here.
There is clearly far more here to learn, and in so many areas, than I could even dream about in the next 10 days, but I plan on using those days wisely. G-d only knows when I will return, but I feel that I must do so, again I hope for an extended period of time.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
The home stretch...
Phyllis has been visiting for the last couple of weeks and will be heading back to the U.S. tonight and I, of course, will be sad to see her leave. We've been having a great time and it has been wonderful to finally spend some time with her here. We were in Tel Aviv for the first few days when she arrived, had the chance to visit with friends Udi and Ari and Phyllis's cousin Lisa and her sweet baby son Shallie, and then we spent the bulk of her stay here in Jerusalem. I also had the chance to attend kabbalat Shabbat (welcoming the Sabbath) services at the port in Tel Aviv with the progressive Beit Tefillah Yisraeli, which was beautiful and moving. Phyllis has somewhat limited mobility because of a tear in her right knee's radial meniscus but nevertheless did a lot of walking, often in the hot sun and always seemingly uphill, with hardly any complaint! We got to eat in a variety of good restaurants, visited the Israel Museum, including a very brief visit to the Shrine of the Book (where the Dead Sea scrolls can be seen) and went traipsing around the sculpture garden in the harsh midday sun, naive American tourists that we are. Phyllis visited Yad v'Shem (the Holocaust museum and memorial), the Biblical Zoo, and the 99 bus tour on her own while I was in class, and even had the chance to visit a dialysis center and was given a guided tour of Hadassah Hospital. Together, we with friend Renee, whom we know through our mutual friends the Rosens, attended one night of the Jerusalem Arts and Crafts festival, which included an excellent concert by Ehud Banai. We also reconnected with old friends and not such old friends, and saw the Kotel (the Western Wall), the Night Spectacular near the Jaffa Gate, shopped at the shuk in Mahane Yehuda, rode the new light rail on Jaffa Road, and shopped (and, of course, ate falafel) up and down Ben Yehuda Street. We spent some beautiful Shabbat times at services at Nava Tehila and Kol Haneshamah on Asher Street, and with our friends in Talpiyot, including a walk on the tayelet (the walkway from which incredible northward-looking views of Jerusalem can be seen). Not bad for a less than two week stay! We didn't get to do as much as we might have together since I was still in class for the first week, but are both happy with what we had the chance to do. We certainly hope that we can return together here some day, perhaps with some or all of our family. Well, we can dream!
I will be staying with friends in Talpiot until I leave on the 26th and need to accomplish a lot before I return home, such as finishing up planning two weddings at which I will officiate, planning for and writing sermons for the High Holidays, and even finishing up a Hebrew paper to be rid of my last incomplete! I also need to do some more interviews for my independent study project on the Jewish renewal that is taking root here. More to come!
I will be staying with friends in Talpiot until I leave on the 26th and need to accomplish a lot before I return home, such as finishing up planning two weddings at which I will officiate, planning for and writing sermons for the High Holidays, and even finishing up a Hebrew paper to be rid of my last incomplete! I also need to do some more interviews for my independent study project on the Jewish renewal that is taking root here. More to come!
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Tisha B'Av
Tonight ended the fast of the ninth of Av (Tisha B'Av), the saddest day on the Jewish calendar. The ninth of Av commemorates the destruction of both the first and second Temples, and many other sad events in Jewish history that occurred on that day, such as the expulsion from Spain in 1492. While it is commemorated by fasting (not such an easy thing to do in Israel during the summer), it is also an excellent time to study and think about Jewish history, especially that of Jerusalem.
Last night, I attended a service and reading of Aycha (Lamentations) at the part of the Western Wall known as Robinson's Arch. Separated from the rest of the Western Wall (also known in Hebrew as the Kotel), which has a large men's area and a considerably smaller women's area, the section near Robinson's Arch is where groups of men and women can pray together. While I didn't completely hear or understand much of the talk that was given in Hebrew, due to not only my still somewhat limited Hebrew and also to the poor sound system and acoustics, it was still a moving and unique experience. For right there in front of us was the last remaining wall of the Temple that was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE. And the Jews are back in Israel, able to celebrate the joyous festivals as well as commemorate the fast days as well. The Old City of Jerusalem had been out of Israeli hands from 1948 until it was recaptured in the Six Day War in 1967, and I still remember what an awesome feeling it was to be a Jew anywhere in the world at that time.
I strongly considered not fasting - I generally do not fast on Tisha B'Av at home, mostly because mourning the destruction of the Temples seems a not very fruitful (this time, really no pun intended) exercise. While the date marks unspeakable tragedy, so do so many dates in history that to fast on them all would cheapen the act of fasting. I fast on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, of course, because that is part of the soul-searching that one does on that day, but somehow Tisha B'Av, being a fast of mourning rather than introspection, just didn't strike me as all that important. Here, however, where the destruction took place, I felt that fasting seemed more natural. And it was. I attended excellent study sessions and the afternoon service at the Conservative Yeshiva, where I have been taking classes, and they were all excellent and enlightening.
After mourning and fasting comes a return to normal life, so I ate dinner after sundown (around 8:10 pm) and return to regular classes tomorrow. Wishing everyone a good week!
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| At the Western Wall (Kotel HaMaaravi), Saturday night, June 28, 2012 |
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