Week 4 | September 20-September 27, 2014

Shavua Tov! This week I am posting on Sunday morning because Wednesday night through Saturday night was Rosh Hashannah and it seemed ridiculous to post on Wednesday afternoon. So here's what I was up to this week (sorry for getting so wordy at the end!)

 

^^^Saturday night, after an amazing and relaxing Shabbat, I went to my friend's (the Isaacs) house, which is right off Emek Refaim, a main commercial street in Jerusalem. We all hung out together for a while, and then my friend Kayla went to get dinner with her boyfriend and I went out to dinner with my friend Jake. 

 

^^^Monday night with my high school friends at Waffle Bar (we got pasta for dinner and big waffles for dessert, it was a real health fest) 

 

^^^Slichot/Pre-Slichot tour of the Old City on Tuesday night (Erev Rosh Hashana/Rosh Hashana Eve)  

^^^here are some pictures of what the Kotel was like on Tuesday night. I can't even give you a good glimpse, as there were many tons of people behind me, but this was the best I could do. Isn't it crazy???

 

^^^me and Kayla on our way to her cousins for Rosh Hashanah.

Hi everyone! Hope shabbat/your weekend thus far has been lovely. This week was a bizarre mixture of busy/exhausting and relaxing/lazy. The beginning of the week began on Saturday night, which I spent with one of my closest friends, Jake, before rushing back to get home for Slichot. 

***What are Slichot? Slichot are a difficult thing to explain. They are not a mitzvah (commandment), but rather, a minhag (custom), much like dipping the apple in the honey on Rosh Hashanah or giving presents to children on Hanukkah. They are prayers said at night in anticipation of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Because we are being judged on Rosh Hashanah, and having our fate for the next year sealed on Yom Kippur, we ask in these prayers for forgiveness for our sins. The word "slichot" literally means apologies. They are typically said at night, and since they are a custom, different sects and groups of Jews have different ways of saying them, different times, different tunes, even different words. In typical Ashkenaz (Jews from Germany) communities, the first night, Slichot are recited at 12:30AM, and on subsequent nights, at 10:30 later. They take about an hour, depending on how much singing you do and how quickly you say everything. In Brovenders, we had beautiful singing every night during these prayers. Slichot are a much bigger deal in Israel than in America, in America, most men say them the first night, and then often stop saying them or say them in the morning (which is considered less ideal than saying them late at night). I think the general feeling about Slichot, or at least the way I always felt, is comprable to going to the dentist-not fun, an annoying burden that makes prayer even longer and is dry and full of unfamiliar words I only say once a year, but gotta do what you gotta do. In Israel, it's a whole different ball game. Slichot are widespread-most people say them every night, and their rise to the status of a widely-practiced custom has been attributed largely to women. They are truly beautiful prayers. In America, we always said an abridged version of them with morning prayers and I never got to see how amazing and inspiring they could be. It was mostly everyone mumbling them quickly in an effort to get on with their day. In Israel, coupled with beautiful tunes, the voices of 150 women and tambourines, guitar, and drums, they are magical. You can completely forget how late it is and how tired you are. Afterwards, many of the Israelis dance and sing the songs even later into the night. Their voices can be heard down the street. 

Apologies for that lengthy explanation, but I want to make sure everyone is on the same page. Tuesday night, Erev Rosh Hashana, Brovenders took us on an optional Siyur Slichot, a Slichot tour that began at the Jaffa Gate in the Old City and left us off at the Kotel, where we said Slichot, as is customary for the Jews of Jerusalem. The tour was very an interesting take on streets and places I have walked through many times before. We talked about the connection many of the places have to the Torah and the stories of the Prophets, and sang many of the songs from Slichot as we walked through the Old City. We were dropped off at the Kotel, the Western Wall, where, I kid you not, thousands upon thousands of Jews of all sects and denominations were gathered to say Slichot. I can't say it was the best Slichot of my life, it was crowded and confusing and I was so focused on not losing my friends and trying to hear some of what was going on that I lost a lot of the meaning behind the prayers. There wasn't an discernible page we were all on, everyone was saying their own thing at their own pace. Lost in a sea of thousands of Jews, I realized Slichot at the Kotel would not be the same as Slichot at home. There would be no beautiful unanimous singing or single pace dictated by a Chazan (leader of the prayers), rather, the scattered and varying mutterings of many thousands of robe-clad Chassidic men, Yeshiva boys, pious women in head scarves, and hundreds of other types. But just because it wasn't the Slichot I had come to love didn't mean I had to give up the hope that it could hold meaning, instead, me and my roomates, Hannah and Kayla S., pushed to the front (to the displeasure of many fiery Israeli women) and were able to kiss the Kotel and say a quick, personal prayer in front of the wall that has seen and heard the prayers of so many. It was an amazing thing to be surrounded by so many Jews all at once, all  doing the same thing, despite our varied backgrounds, dialects, customs, dress, and attitudes. I spent a lot of time staring into the sea of people and watching everyone, feeling so wholly encompassed by this huge tradition that I am but one small part of. It fit so perfectly with a term I learned recently in school-the oceanic feeling-a term coined by Romain Rolland and popularized by Sigmund Freud, which is, as defined by Wikipedia, "a sensation of an indissoluble bond, as of being connected with the external world in its integral form". I'm honestly not sure what that means, but if you have ever stood before an ocean, you'll understand the feeling of being a part of something so much bigger than you, of being almost swallowed up by the history of something that preexists you and will continue on long after you are gone. It's a very nice way to feel-like you belong to something that unifies you with all different kinds of people. It allows you to take a step back and marvel at the beauty of the system, and realize that even when you take that step back, the system keeps on ticking. I know I am speaking to a very mixed crowd here, Jews and non-Jews, Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform, but I'm sure that you've all felt this way in one way or another. It was how I felt at Slichot in school, how I felt even more so at the Kotel, and how I think I've been feeling this whole week. Anyways, after the Slichot, as we walked away from the wall, several girls from my school began to sing songs from the Slichot. Five minutes later, there were tens of people, most we didn't even know, singing with us. A circle of soldiers began singing alongside us, and together, we sang and danced in two circles (in traditional Orthodoxy, men and women do not dance together), singing the same words, although we were mostly strangers who would soon part ways. It was a very beautiful experience.  

Wednesday morning, I woke up early and met my good friend Kayla (not my roommate, different Kayla) for lunch. We then took the bus together to her cousins who live in a small yeshuv (village) called Oranit (oh-rah-neet). It is the most quaint, close-knit, adorable community. It looks and smells a lot like Southern California, and being around Kayla's super-close family obviously made me miss my own a lot. Nonetheless, it was an amazing (albeit, very long, because it rolled into Shabbat, so it was 3 days, 3 nights) holiday, and I was so happy to spend it with Kayla, one of my closest friends and favorite people. It's good to be around good friends for a long holiday because we were able to read silently beside each other, or talk non-stop, and even in the final hours together, we were still making each other laugh. It was a lovely holiday full of good friends, too much food, lots of time spent in synagogue and nice family time.  

Have an amazing week everyone, I'll be back on Friday. 

XXOO, RTS