Yesterday marked 18 years since Yitzhak Rabin and Yasser Arafat met on the White House lawn and signed the Oslo Peace Agreement. 18 years. I remember this day and my own excitement of what this might mean for the Middle East. And 18 years later, I am sad. Sad that there is still no peace, that the vision espoused this day seems completely forgotten by everyone. I admit, I didn’t even realize it was 18 years until I heard a story on NPR.
I don’t believe in using hindsight in regards to history. I don’t want to think about or pontificate about what might be. Rather I want to remember that feelings of hope, the anticipation of peace, and the desire to work towards that aim with true partners.
Next week there is likely to be a great deal of news about the Middle East. I pray that there will be a true and lasting peace between these neighbors. That the words of the prophet Isaiah come to be, “nation shall not lift up sword against nation nor will their people’s know war anymore,” (Isa. 2:4)
I wasn’t going to post this yesterday. It didn’t seem right with all of the emotions people were felling about the events of September 11, 2001. I’ve written my own reactions and reflections before. I thought I’d posted them on this blog. Looks like I am remembering things incorrectly. Oh well.
As I was saying, I was driving to my internship on Sunday morning and, as is my custom, I was listening to National Public Radio. They were broadcasting pieces of the memorial services for 9/11. Several things struck me. There was a difference between the locations that mark tragedy. From the broadcast, the Pentagon’s memorial was done with military precision and a strong military presence. Shankesville was something entirely different. And at Ground Zero, from what I understood, no members of the clergy, NYPD or NYFD spoke. I changed the channel when I couldn’t listen anymore and turned to the oldies station.
There they played American Rock … from Paul McCartney. Last I checked, Sir Paul was not an American. This was also being done in memory of 9/11.
So many people have posted on facebook, twitter, and blogged about their own reactions and yet, I think this country is missing something. We are having a crisis of state religion.
What, you ask? How can a republic have a state religion? Think about 4th of July and the rituals that take place. Think about the inauguration of the president. Each of those moments are replete with state religion. The tenth anniversary of 9/11 was a day for such ritual and it just wasn’t there. The United States does not know how to mark time as anymore. I believe we once did. The days of Memorial Day and Veterans’ Day once were times to remember the fallen and honor the heroes. In 2011 they’re cause for sales at shopping malls and long weekends.
In my opinion, 9/11 needs to be a day about remembering the victims of the attacks on American soil, acknowledging the terror that many people experience now that they never did before 9/11/01, and honoring those who died fighting the ongoing wars in Afghanistan and Iraq as well as the veterans in our midst. Not a lot needed to be said, silence at the appropriate moments might have been best. This is not a moment for one religious voice to prevail. Instead it is a time for a global message of peace among humankind.
Did you attend a memorial service for 9/11 that was meaningful to you?
Sunday School started and I spent the morning with eager young people running into a synagogue looking forward to seeing friends and learning new things. Parents joined the community, too and stayed for almost three hours engaging in their own learning and meeting their children’s teachers. I cannot think of a more fitting way to spend September 11 this year or any other. In education there is hope and in hope will be peace.
This whole blogging while being in school thing is not going very well. I apologize, loyal reader. I would like to pretend that the situation might improve but I want to remain realistic and focused upon my studies so I will write here when I can.
This weekend I saw a phenomenal film. I use the word film, of course because this was truly a piece of art and not something I went to be entertained by. You must first read The Help and then go see the film.
There are many Oscar worthy performances. Perhaps most important though, is the potent reminder of prejudice in our midst. Though this is the story of another time there are far too many class and race issues in our world today.
If I were writing a high holy day sermon it might be about some of these issues. Since I’m not, I will just have to allude to something quite fascinating to save for another time.
Why are you still reading this? Go to the movies and read this book already!
This morning I headed out for my first day of graduate school. I realized while I was doing some back to school shopping that graduate school and kindergarten have an awful lot in common.
1. The thermos: sure in kindergarten there was milk or juice or water in it. Now I carry in my flagon of coffee happily.
2. The lunch box: while I wish I had a Jem and the Holograms lunch box as I believe I did in kindergarten, the reusable containers in a reusable sac will have to do. (I should note the strange reality of the reemergence of the Smurfs, a childhood favorite).
3. Crayons. There was nothing quite like opening that fresh box of crayons all neatly in their colorful array. Now there’s an app for that.
Well I am sitting on the final leg of my journey home from Israel and I have to confess, I did a really bad job of blogging! There was so much to do and I was enjoying not being so technologically connected to the universe that I didn’t blog too much. I hope you will forgive me.
This fine photo is one of the reasons I was technologically disconnected. This beauty of a phone was my phone during my year-in-Israel, 2003-2004 and it works like a charm. Many friends and family members have borrowed said phone on their own trips. The end result is I don’t know who most of the people in the address book are and I have a perfectly functional phone. So essentially I was walking around the Holy Land with this beauty and didn’t have a blackberry or an ipod. I could text people in Israel and the phone worked fine though I am too cheap to make calls to the USA on it. Thereby, not so responsive to emails yet walking around with an awesome cow phone.
While I was in Israel I went to see a movie. Here is the ticket stub from said movie. Can you read it? (Ok, it is hard to read. It says “Harry Potter”). Going to a movie in Israel is an excellent reminder of why going to a movie in North America is better. One, projection is important as is sound quality. Two, most theaters have stadium seating. Three, the seats are not assigned which is ideal when you prefer not sitting so close to the screen it seems as though you can see up the actors’ noses. Four, there is no random break in the film so that the concession stand can make more money and when the movie starts up again, every person in your row has to move past you to get back to your seat. That being said, it was truly a wonderful experience going to this movie and I look forward to seeing it again at home.
While in Israel, I also got older. Yesterday was my birthday. I had a chill and relaxing day which was just what the rabbi ordered because it was really hot in Jerusalem. I also go to pack and go to the airport to head home. That was less fun although I am looking forward to settling down in LA LA LAND. For your viewing pleasure, here I am eating my birthday lunch of the most delicious humus, chicken and Israeli salad. I promise I’m working on those other posts, too.
I have been in Israel for two weeks. I am almost exclusively spending my time in Jerusalem, and the reason for that is because it is the place that I know best, it feels like home (and I am not making aliyah). It was eight years ago that I studied here for 10 months as a first-year HUC rabbinic student.
It was 2003-2004 and Jerusalem was a different place. For those of you that I used to write emails to, you might remember my reflections on the heightened state of terror. At that time I went to see the separation fence as it was being constructed. There was a sense in Jerusalem that this was the only hope of stopping the terror attacks and believe me, they needed to stop. I know that I still live with a measure of post-traumatic stress. Even now, eight years later, I can remember where the bombs went off and people died and were injured.
As much as it raises a profound ethical dilemma for me, the separation fence seems to have work (there will be another post about this at another time). Jerusalem is a city transformed. People are out eating in cafes, riding on buses without fear, and going about their daily lives. Jerusalemites did this in 2003-2004 also. They are more resilient than I am.
A crowded Machane Yehuda market on a Friday morning
In restaurants I am not consistently asked by a guard to look inside my bag, some restaurants don’t employ them anymore. Almost every night in the German Colony or the Midrachov or the new Mamilla Mall complex there are tons of people walking around. There are the requisite tourists who were certainly absent in 2003-2004, though more significantly there are Israelis walking, shopping, and doing their thing.
At Machane Yehuda there was still security though it was on a different scale then 2003-2004 and when I went there last Friday it was jammed. Speaking of Machane Yehuda, it looks completely different! Perhaps it is gentrification though I would describe it more as a general sprucing up of the place. It was a joy to shop and get the Shabbat essentials. (Yes it included Marzipan chocolate ruggelah though I would also recommend the cinnamon and there is a new store of the same fantastic bakery on Rachel Imeinu).
There is so much more to say. For now, I’m so happy to be here.
I promise I have been thinking a lot about blog posts and just haven’t had the time to write any! I am now done with the Hartman Institute program and yesterday I spent the day on a tour with the New Israel Fund. I have lots of things swimming around in my head and my hope is that they will find their way into a blog post at some point soon. Just know that I am doing great. I am having lots of fun, learned a lot, and am even managing to relax a little bit. Shocking, I know. Stay tuned!
Posting from Jerusalem seems to be harder than I thought. On Sunday morning, Rosh Chodesh Tammuz, I joined Women of the Wall for morning services. In addition to being a prayer service, it was also an action in support of civil rights. This was my first time at Women of the Wall so I want to describe the whole experience as best I can.
I arrived very early, remember morning is probably the coolest time of the day, via taxi. I was wearing a baseball hat to stay out of the sun (and maybe to cover up a bad hair day). There was the usual walk through a metal detector and opening my bag for the police which was no problem.
Since my last time at the Western Wall, the women’s section has gotten smaller. Much smaller. It is clear that the attempt to make this space into a synagogue is much more deliberate. Being there early, it wasn’t too crowded. It was evident when the police and army officers arrived in order to protect this group. Several stood behind the divider on chairs.
One of the guards behind the women's section.
Guards were on the men’s side also on chairs to keep people away and prevent flying objects. Two guards assembled on the women’s side. One, a woman, video taped the entire experience. At 7:30am the women gathered, seemingly led by Nofrat Frankel (the woman arrested for wearing a tallit) at the very back of the women’s section in a large sort of clump. Everyone stood save one older woman who grabbed a plastic chair. You can see from the video that I posted below that women are not allowed to wear their tallit (prayer shawl) the traditional way, they must be worn like a scarf wrapped around the neck. It is a completely disgusting that there are now laws legislating the “way” people can pray. Don’t worry, there will be more gross things that I have to report.
In terms of prayer-book, I brought my travelers’ version of Mishkan Tefilah. It was almost entirely inadequate because this service followed a traditional order of prayer more in line with what many who probably read this blog would call orthodox. I sort of knew this would be the case and I mostly didn’t care. I hate the Western Wall. It might be one of my least favorite places in the world. While I know that it is holy and extremely important for some people, the prayer experience wasn’t the principle reason for my visit.
This was what the group looked and sounded like.
During the service there were a few disturbances. First, a man on the ‘other’ side started screaming that what we were doing was forbidden according to Jewish law. He was ranting and raving and it was basically after nothing had happened beyond the recitation of several verses aloud from the prayer service. The police seemed to know this was going to happen and they quickly ushered him away from the group, though he continued to raise his voice in an awkward song of protest as though he was trying to block out our voices by making more noise then we were. At another point a woman approached the police and said something to the effect of, “what are these women doing? This is a place for all people and they are disturbing everything.” She ranted for a few moments but that was basically the end of it.
At the end of Hallel, I linked arms with my friend SAR. Somehow we ended up slowly leading the group of women singing “Ozi v’zimrat Yah, v’yhi li yeshua” from the Song of the Sea and Psalms. (Remember the Torah scroll wasn’t allowed into the women’s section though there were several on the men’s side because of what happened last summer. We reached the exit of the Kotel plaza.
Anat Hoffman of the IRAC facilitates the woman holding the Torah scroll joining the group of women.
Several members of the group were standing just outside the security check point with the Torah scroll. When the group joined up with the Torah, I had a greater sense of the magnitude of this event. This wasn’t just a prayer service. For some of the passersby it was perhaps the first time seeing a woman carry a Torah scroll. All in all this was a tremendous act of defiance against the orthodox stronghold over who makes the rules for Judaism.
The Torah reading at Robinson’s arch was really lovely. There was the musaf service also which isn’t my cup of tea (you can ask me about that offline) so I was chatting with a few of my colleagues a few steps away from the group. There was a brief Kiddush. Members of the Women’s Rabbinic Network took a photo.
On the left is Anat Hoffman, executive director of the Israel Religious Action Center, is holding up her tallit made exclusively for Women of the Wall. You too can purchase one of these tallitot which is a fantastic way of reminding yourself the privilege of wearing a tallit isn’t something to be taken for granted. Women of the Wall and IRAC are always looking for more support for their important work whether monetary or joining them in action whenever the opportunity arrises.
One of the highlights of the experience was getting to take a picture with Anat who is unquestionably one of my heroes.
I arrived at rabbi camp (also known as the Rabbinic Torah Seminar at the Shalom Hartman Institute) in Jerusalem. So far, my bunkmates, also known as the people sitting in the beit Midrash with me, are nice. The counselors, also known as the faculty, are pretty awesome. They seem to know a lot about their specialty areas and I am already learning a lot. The food so far was good (no really, there was lunch). The day is very packed with activities. My elective is with Avivah Zornberg on women in the Bible. That starts tomorrow since day 1 was filled with introductions. I am really glad there was no swim test so far. I remembered my water bottle and am drinking to say hydrated. I will try to write again soon.
Yesterday marked 18 years since Yitzhak Rabin and Yasser Arafat met on the White House lawn and signed the Oslo Peace Agreement. 18 years. I remember this day and my own excitement of what this might mean for the Middle East. And 18 years later, I am sad. Sad that there is still no peace, that the vision espoused this day seems completely forgotten by everyone. I admit, I didn’t even realize it was 18 years until I heard a story on NPR.
I wasn’t going to post this yesterday. It didn’t seem right with all of the emotions people were felling about the events of September 11, 2001. I’ve written my own reactions and reflections before. I thought I’d posted them on this blog. Looks like I am remembering things incorrectly. Oh well.
This weekend I saw a phenomenal film. I use the word film, of course because this was truly a piece of art and not something I went to be entertained by. You must first read The Help and then go see the film.
