Week 6 | October 4-October 10, 2014

Happy Friday everyone!

  

^^^Sunday/Tuesday night cuddle sessions with Kayla (and her roomate Yakira, who I'm going to college with!)

^^^At an excursion on Monday through Ir David, the City of David, the "original" Jerusalem, as constructed by King David in the pre-temple era.  

^^^with my friends Moshe, Jacob, and Kayla (from high school/New Rochelle) on Wednesday afternoon. We were in a mad dash to buy hostess gifts for our hosts for the first day of Sukkot, thus I am carrying flowers.

^^^Thursday night selfies with Hannah, Rachel, and Moshe 

Hiyoosh! (that's Israeli slag for "hi"). This week was a pretty stark contrast to last week. After last week's serious pre-Yom Kippur atmosphere, with its abundance of Slichot, midnight trips to the Kotel, hefty amounts of davening (prayer), the introspective, reflective, self-assessing mindset of the Aseret Yemei T'Shuva (the ten days of repentance, i.e. the ten days in between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur), the culmination of which was Yom Kippur, this week felt light, free, and fun.  

To backtrack for a second, Yom Kippur here was amazing. I have never had such an easy fast in my life. For me, and, I suspect, for most of us, fasts are like a box of chocolate, you never know what you're gonna get. Mosts fasts are good chocolates-they come with their own variations and permutations, some have nuts, some have fruit, others a caramel or mousse filling, but all in all, they're pretty much all okay. Sure, not the best time of your life (this is where I must deviate from the chocolate box analogy I am so proud of making, because chocolate is in fact the best thing on earth, unlike fasting), but you get through it. But then every once in a while you have such a horrendous fast that it actually takes you days to recover. I'm talking about those fasts where you feel sick, weak, dizzy and all you can think about is your next meal. It's like those gross chocolates always left last in the chocolate box and eaten by the most desperate people-the dark chocolate exteriors with artificial strawberry cream filling that tastes like something you would get as a fluoride flavor at the dentist's office. Those are the worst, and they make you dread fasting ever again. My last major fast (25 hrs. long) , the fast of the 9th of Av, was just like that. I had been sent home from my job as a day camp counselor the day before for a terrible cold that made me feverish and clogged all my airways. The next day was a scorcher, and we had camp until 2PM. My 3 and 4 year old campers were just as needy as ever, and I was fasting, dehydrated, and trying to get over my virus. I thought about water non-stop, and the tragic destruction of the Temple not at all. It was about as spiritual a fast as watching an episode of The Rich Kids of Beverly Hills (which, incidentally, I highly recommend). This Yom Kippur, however, was a totally different experience.  

First of all, having participated in the full month-long build-up to Yom Kippur-learning about the rules nearly every day and from many different sources, saying Slichot every night with as much energy as I could muster, being at the Kotel on Erev Rosh Hashana and Erev Yom Kippur, simply being in Jerusalem, and davening all day on Yom Kippur, I had a very different take on the whole thing. When you do it all, and not just parts and pieces, it comes together in such a way that by the end of Yom Kippur, you actually see the value behind the system. The prayers are very repetitive, so that by the end of the month they're not foreign words but familiar phrases, and the songs are beautiful and catchy.  I used to think of each holiday in September/October as a little island, and of the "off-time" as time spent skipping from island to island. The time in the middle wasn't important, and each holiday was a separate entity. I now think this couldn't be farther from the truth. There are no islands and no off-time. I can't wait to fully experience the holiday of Sukkot (that's the one we're in the middle of, with the little houses with the bamboo roofs) and finally have the last piece of the puzzle. There is so much wisdom in the system-the month leading up the Rosh Hashana is said to a time of extreme closeness to God, and we are constantly reminded to cleave to Him during this time, and to work to improve ourselves. Then, Rosh Hashana rolls around, a day that's both formidable and comforting-on the one hand, you're being judged, on the other, your closeness to God is almost unparalleled, and you are surrounded by family, friends, and loved ones. Then, on the shabbat right after Rosh Hashana, you're already saying Slichot, and redoubling your efforts to improve your relationships with others and with God. Then, on Yom Kippur, you spend the day putting in a good word for yourself with the Big Guy and thinking about the kind of person you want to be and how you can get there in the coming year. Several days later, Sukkot is upon you, a holiday which emphasizes community and the togetherness of the Jewish nation (it is said that every holiday has a soul, and that this is the soul of Sukkot-and if you've ever been in a Sukkah and could hear the discussion/singing/laughing/etc. in neighboring sukkahs, you have seen this firsthand). I think the process is kind of a funnel: you go from the month of Elul and your own private reflections on yourself, to the Aseret Yemei T'Shuva/Yom Kippur, a time where you partake in this thinking with many others. You also go from family time on Rosh Hashana to broader community time on Sukkot. I think that as you improve yourself independently and with others, you are able to see your place within your family and then community, and not think of yourself as a single, important and independent entity. Note that in this system Yom Kippur isn't the pinnacle or ultimate High Holiday, but rather, the vehicle that takes you to a place of self-betterment that allows you to appreciate Sukkot and your community/nation to its fullest degree. Am I making any sense here?

Anyways, Yom Kippur was beautiful, and having had a 3 hour class on what the prayers mean and how they correspond to what used to be done in the Temple on Yom Kippur, I actually understood what was going on, and never once needed to pull out on a book on the side out of boredom or take an extended "bathroom break". The atmosphere on Yom Kippur in America is very dreary and sad, which isn't supposed to be so. It is supposed to be a serious day, but also a happy day. During the Temple times, once the Jews were given proof of their forgiveness through the Cohen's rituals, Jewish women and men would dance and sing the rest of the day (while fasting!). It isn't supposed to be a sad day, and even now, when we don't know if we're forgiven or anything of the sort, it is still supposed to be a happy day in which we feel connected. In Israel, you really feel this. Everyone is smiling, davening is full of rich, loud singing that includes banging on any hard surfaces, and there really is no break to think about hunger. The fast flew by, so much so that I actually let someone cut me in line at break-fast for the cinnamon rugelach.  

The rest of the week was really just fun. Sunday we had a regular day of school, but that night, I went to visit Kayla with my friend Maya at her seminary. Monday was spent on a school-wide trip to Ir David, the City of David, which was the original Jerusalem where King David's palace was built in pre-Temple times. We crawled through the dank, cramped water tunnels used to protect the water supply during sieges in later years and climbed on the ruins of palaces, houses, and landmarks from David's era. Monday night I went out with friend's parents and 10 other girls, a night which culminated in us ordering everything on the dessert menu and sharing each dessert, which was great. Tuesday we had prep for our Poland trip all morning (more to come on that!), and then we were done with school for Sukkot vacation. Wednesday night and Thursday was the first day of Sukkot, which I spent with my friend Rachel and her parents at their apartment, along with 6 other girls. I would skip to the end of the week for the sake of not turning this post into a small novel, but the craziest thing happened. I MET BIBI NETANYAHU! As in Prime Minister of Israel and a major world leader.  

Basically, on a walk home on Wednesday night, we saw a bunch of cars piling up at the entrance of a small street. This happens to be the street Bibi lives on, a street guarded on both ends and not accessible by car, but easy to walk through (the gate to his house is usually open, and sometimes even his front door!). So when we saw all these cars, and heavily armed guards started piling out of the cars, we knew Bibi was near, but figured he would drive into the house. We were staring into the blacked-out windows of every car, waving frantically, when we saw a white-haired man clad in simple black jeans, white sneakers and a black t-shirt. He was surrounded by four guards and there were 3 cars behind him, but there was no one else on the street except me and my friends. Calmly, we waved and said "Hi Bibi! Chag Sameach!" (translation: Hi Bibi! Happy Holidays!) He waved backed warmly and said "chag sameach!", gave us a big smile, and walked onward. It was so casual and easy. We were close enough to touch him and although he was so protected, he seemed so accessible and close. It was awesome. I cannot get over it. Since then, I walked past his house twice, which is gorgeous, but as it is Israel, very modest and so open. Sometimes Israel is the greatest place. 

Have a great weekend everyone! Maybe will week's post will be shorter (but probably not). 
Miss you! Chag Sameach! 

Week 5 | September 28-October 3, 2014

Hi there readers! Although there are very few of you (14 on a good week), I know you are a dedicated, active audience. I thought I would mostly be doing this blog for myself, and be lucky if anyone besides from my Nana would read it, but as it so happens, I have been getting tons of positive feedback from everyone about this, which makes me so happy. It's nice to be able to write about the things that are important to me and know that people are listening. Here's what went down this week in Midreshet Lindenbaum/Brovenders:

^^^out on Monday night (night off) with my friends Dalia and Klez for dinner at Waffle Factory on Emek Refaim (yes, Israel is obsessed with waffles, in case you haven't noticed)

^^^Doing Chessed (charitable work) with an organization  that provides food for the needy. We organized food/non-preservatives into bags for hungry families.  

 

^^^out to dinner for my friend Rachel's birthday on Thursday night. 

^^^ before we made our way down into the Kotel area on Thursday, our friend Jared took us onto the roof of his Yeshiva to look out at the Kotel. It was unreal. 

Sunday was a minor fast day called the Fast of Gedalia, or in Hebrew, Tzom Gedalia. *** 

***In Orthodox Judaism, we have two types of fast days-major fast days that span 25 hours and generally come with a slew of restrictions-no showering, teeth brushing, wearing leather, etc.) These are Yom Kippur, the Day of Antonement (that's tomorrow!), and Tisha Ba'av (the 9th day in the Hebrew month of Av, in which we mourn the loss of both the first and second temple). There are also minor fast days, scattered throughout the yearly calendar, 3/4 of which commemorate various stages on the way to the destruction of the temple-the siege of Jerusalem, the collapse of Jerusalem's outer wall,  and Sunday's fast, which marks the end of Jewish autonomy in the state of Israel with the assassination of Gedalia, the last Jewish king to reign before puppet kings/non-Jewish kings took over for  nearly 2,000 years. Minor fast days are sun-up to sundown fasts, and you are allowed to do everything you cannot do on major fast days, excluding drinking and eating.  

To be honest, it wasn't the best day, because it was very disorienting to come home from a long three day holiday at 11:30pm, only to wake up the next morning to a fast day. The whole day had an aura of gloominess, that, while fitting to a mournful fast day, isn't exactly conducive to fun times. Still, Slichot on Sunday night brought me back up and I finished the day on a good note. Monday was a much better day-I spent the bulk of my day in class, then went running (something I try to do 3-5 times a week here), got dressed and went out to dinner with two girlfriends. After dinner, we walked 2 miles to Ben Yehuda street, and took the bus to a friend's family's house in Ramot (neighboorhood in Jerusalem) where a bunch of kids my age, boys and girls, were hanging out. It was very crowded but it was nice to be out, see friends from school, and get to see boys (I sometimes feel like I live in a nunnery). Tuesday we got to do our first chessed project (Chessed=charitable acts. Every Tuesday afternoon we have time to devote to a Chessed project of our choosing. I will be working with young children this year, as it is one of my favorite things to do), and then after dinner, went to a speech delivered by Rabbi Riskin, a great Rabbi in Israel, on the topic of the T'shuva (repentance and return to God, as is the theme of High Holidays). The speech was actually pretty boring, scattered, and difficult to follow, so didn't really love that, but it was good to get out. Last night (Thursday night), I went out to dinner for a friend's birthday in the early evening, came back for my last class, and then went out with my friend Yaela. Our plan was to make it to the Kotel for Slichot, but as we got closer and closer, our friends kept walking toward us telling us the Kotel was "closed". Turns out, it was not closed, but the Old City was extremely crowded. I wish you guys could've seen it because it's impossible to describe except to say that it was absolutely insane, I was barely walking toward the Kotel, I was really just being pushed along in a stream of people. The Old City has tiny, winding streets, so you can imagine that the walk down wasn't exactly pleasant, plus lots of the men were smoking and I kept bumping into soldier's guns (ah, Israel). But we made it!!!! We spent about ten minutes on the roof of the Yeshivat Orayta roof overlooking the Kotel, which is an amazing sight. There were thousands upon thousands of Jews there, Chassidim and secular Jews and everyone in between. The people looked like tiny ants. It would have taken us 45 minutes on line to get into the Kotel area, so we didn't actually go all the way in, but got as close as possible without getting trampled. It was a pretty awe-inspiring sight, in the most overwhelming way possible. The walk back was 10x worse because we walked out of the Old City at about 12:30AM, which is considered "prime time" for Slichot, so we were walking against a pretty powerful crowd. We ended up walking through the Armenian quarter to avoid a lot of the crowd, but it was still utter chaos and we had to sit down and get a cold drink when we finally exited because both me and Yaela were so overwhelmed. It was an amazing thing to see and I'm glad I got to experience the Kotel on Erev Yom Kippur, but I think it's the kind of thing most people only do once.  

As I'm writing this, it's Friday morning. We have cleaned up our spots in the Beit Midrash (the place where we learn and pray, I will try to enclose a picture at some point because it is stunning), eaten brunch, and now most people are hanging out and just relaxing after a long week *(we didn't sleep this week at all, as we had an amazing Chazzan come to lead Slichot, they were the most beautiful thing, but didn't finish till past midnight). I hope everyone who is fasting has an easy and meaningful fast, and for those of you who aren't, have a great weekend. Until next week---Rebecca

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