"There are people with hearts of stone. There are stones with human hearts"

Western Wall Excavations at Robinson's Arch (Just Below the Kotel)

For the past few years every time I've come to Israel I've had a difficult time dealing with the significance of the Kotel, the Western Wall. On the surface level, I have a problem with the fact that the women's prayer area is a fraction the size of the men's. That, in and of itself, makes me uncomfortable. Going a little bit deeper, I wonder at Judaism's focus on The Wall. What makes it such a focal point, to an almost psychophantic degree?

I vaguely remember my first time at the Kotel. I was twelve, and here on a UJC (now UJA) family "mission" the summer before my Bat Mitzvah. We went to the Kotel on Friday night for Shabbat. We first had Shabbat services down at the Southern Wall in the Archaeological garden - because that was where men and women could pray together. At the time, I didn't realize that was why we were there, I just assumed it was less crowded and easier to get a group as large as our's there. After the Shabbat service we went to the Kotel itself, men on one side and women on the other. I remember the impressiveness of the "Wailing Wall," and the security check that we had to go through to get in. I also remember the soldiers warning us not to take pictures, because it was Shabbat... but other than that, I don't recall much of the experience.

In January of 2005 I returned to Israel on a Birthright trip. Our first night in Jerusalem they took us directly to the Old City and the Kotel. There is nothing like the Kotel at night. I remember being led through the Jewish quarter, jet lagged, disoriented and in amazement by the fact that I was, finally, in Israel again. I remember turning a corner and all of a sudden, the golden Dome of the Rock loomed in front of us, the Kotel below. For a moment I was completely overwhelmed by the sight. This was THE place. The place that we face when we pray, and the place that generations of my ancestors faced when, and if, they prayed. We descended the steps that led from the Jewish quarter into the Kotel, went through the security check, and were face-to-face with the Holiest of Jewish sights: the Western Wall. I was instantly drawn towards the wall. I remember standing in the Ezrat Nashim, the women's section, not quite knowing what to do: how to act, what to say, where to stand, etc... After a hesitant moment with the Wall (not with God, mind you... but with the Wall) I walked back up to the top of the plaza where our group was to reconvene. As I sat there, I noticed the enormous difference in size between the men's and women's sections. I felt the tears well-up at the injustice, the sense that my prayers are less meaningful, less relevant, and it made the visceral and powerful experience I'd just had seem less so. That summer when I returned to Israel to study at the Hebrew University, I did not even return to the Western Wall, as I'd promised myself I would in that one moment the previous Winter. I went to the Kotel once, but didn't venture back into the Ezrat Nashim, nor did I even give my attention to this, our holiest site. The initial tug that I'd felt that moment in January was snuffed out by the anger I felt whenever I thought about the tiny Ezrat Nashim.

These past few weeks I've had many an encounter with the Kotel, all with school groups. On Erev Tisha B'Av I went with a few friends to try to make our way through the throngs of women in the tiny Ezrat Nashim. About halfway through the crowd I had to turn around, I'm not sure if it was my virulent dislike of crowded places, or the mixed emotions I feel being forced to cram into such a small space in order to pray and connect with The Wall... but all of a sudden I just had to get out of there.

This past week our third and final "Jerusalem Days" field trip took us to the Kotel, and the archaeological gardens surrounding it. As the morning wore on, I was flooded with questions and emotions: Why is this, our holiest site, so prohibited to non-Orthodox Jews? (Conservative Jews have been granted access to the Robinson's arch area to have "mixed" services, Reform Jews are still in the process of trying to get access, but in the meanwhile the Conservative Jews are letting us...) In revering the Western Wall are we inherently revering The Temple? The judaism that I know and adhere to isn't about one place, it's about a way of life - so I sometimes feel a little awkward about the importance of this one physical place.

I thought back to that second encounter with the Kotel. The gratitude I felt for being able to represent generations of my family by standing there, at the place they had turned towards and , perhaps, longed for for millenia. Is it the place itself that is inherently holy, or the fact that people long for it. Is it just a symbol, and if so, of what exactly?

I think that my frustration and confusion hearkens back to the issues of gender inequality within Judaism which are truly apparent in this city - particularly at the Kotel. The greatest irony, or injustice, is that prior to 1967 when Israel reunified Jerusalem, and Jews were allowed back to the Western Wall, it was a place where men and women prayed together. It was only a few years after Israel took over control of the Old City, and the Jewish quarter in particular, that the Western Wall Plaza was constructed, and the Ezrat Nashim put into place. Also, one of Israel's most famous and recognizable images is of the soldiers liberating the wall in '67. If you look at said photo, the soldiers don't have long beards, nor peyot, nor are they even wearing kippot. They are secular Israelis, and they are obviously moved by the significance of reclaiming this piece of Judaism. And they are the soldiers who survived fighting for the Kotel. How many Israeli soldiers have died in the past 60 years in fighting for this land, this Jewish land, at the heart of which is the Western Wall?

The quote that I chose to title this entry with "There are people with hearts of stone. There are stones with human hearts," is a line from an Israeli song "HaKotel," that I'll end this posting with.

I guess I have some work to do in discovering what it is that the Western Wall means to me. Luckily, I've got a year here to being the process.

Thanks for listening to my ramblings. I'll post some "funner" updates soon.

Love and Blessings,
Callie

HaKotel

A young girl stood facing the kotel, her lips and chin drawing near.
She told me, "The blasts of the Shofar are powerful but the silence even more."
She told me, "Zion, the Temple Mount" then said nothing more to me, about reward or right.
Yet what shone on her forehead at twilight was the purple of royalty.

The kotel, hyssop and sadness.
The kotel, lead and blood.
There are people with a heart of stone.
There are stones with a human heart.

The paratrooper stood at the kotel.
From his entire division - the only one left.
He told me "Death has no face but it has a diameter - of just nine millimeters."
He told me, "I'm not shedding tears" and again lowered his glance.
"But my grandfather, God knows, is buried here, on the Mount of Olives."

The kotel, hyssop and sadness
The kotel, lead and blood.
There are people with a heart of stone.
There are stones with a human heart.

She stood dressed in black, at the kotel, the mother of one of the infantry.
She told me, "It's the eyes of my boy that are burning and not the candles lit in the wall."
She told me, "I'm not writing any note to hide between the cracks. Because what I gave to the kotel just last night is greater than words or note."

~ Yosi Gamzool and Dovi Zeltzer

The remains of Robinson's Arch

A Time to Dance, A Time to Pray

This week has been insanely hot. Last summer there was a crazy heatwave in Seattle in July - it was so hot that all I could do was to sit in my living room, the only room that didn't get any direct sunlight, and read. The mere effort of turning the page was enough to make you sweat in that sweltering heat. This week has been almost that hot. In heat like this, school is the best reprieve. The classrooms are air conditioned, and anything air conditioned is welcome.

This little kvetch about the heat is really just a disclaimer. I'm a Pacific Northwesterner, and a fair-skinned Souther who feels most at home in mild climates. So if my blog post this week winds up leaving something to be desired, blame the heat. I sure do.

So, this past week was a little strange schedule-wise due to Tisha B'Av. We only really had 3 full days of class, and our first quiz. Exciting. I know. Our second trip in the Jerusalem Days series was nowhere near as long of an excursion as the first had been, and thankfully so as it was 33C that day! (about 99F). Ironically, on this hottest of Jerusalem days, our tiyyul took us to Gehenom. If it sounds familiar, that's because Gehenom is another name for Hell. I'll not go into the exact description of all of the text references here, but in short, Gehenom is a name for part of the valley that runs between the Old City and what is now the neighborhood of Yemin Moshe. In the time of the 1st Temple, Gehenom is where those who participated in the practice of child sacrifice did so. Now there's a great amphitheater for outdoor concerts at the Sultan's Pool in Gehenom, and also a rather neat artists' colony. Just goes to show that time changes things!

The pathway to Gehenom is lined with beautiful doorways. Who knew?

The Gates of HELL!
(i.e. The really pretty entrance way to Gehenom Valley from Yemin Moshe)

After Gehenom we schlepped up the switchback trail from the valley up to the outer walls of the Old City. I will say that these Jerusalem Days trips are serving to help me get a little bit more familiar with the Old City. I tend to not spend much time there, as I'm not entirely comfortable within its walls. Not for any fear of personal safety, but more because of the fact that I am a woman, and a liberal one at that. I always feel as though I'm trespassing on someone else's territory, and that my mere presence is compromising the lifestyle that is the norm within the walls. The Old City was not always such a stronghold of Orthodox Judaism. Apparently it is a change that has happened just within the last few years. There are only a handful of non-Orthodox families living within the Old City, and they are having a rough time of it, especially in the schools. It's another example of how the Orthodox, who are not in the majority in this country, have a monopoly on this country. That being said, I have my own peace to make with the Old City and the Ultra-Religious strangle hold that it is in. So, in short, these field trips within her walls are a good stepping point in defining my relationship with Jerusalem.

There is also some amazing Felafel to be had in the Old City - reason enough to work through my personal issues.

The bullet-pocked Zion Gate of the Old City (bullet marks from 1948 war)

After the hot day in the Old City, I had every intention of spending a night-in. I've been having a hard time saying "no" to social opportunities since I've been here - there is just so much to do! Well, you can probably guess that I did not wind up spending the night in, and I am so thankful that I didn't, because I would not have wanted to miss the cultural experience I had! My dear friend, Eli (a former student, fellow Scrippsie, and buddy from my brief time as a JCSC Fellow in Claremont, also the founder of Challah for Hunger) told me about this dance party called "Boogie" that happens every Thursday night at the ICCY (a Community Center not far from my house). I did a rapid transformation from "night-in" Callie to Dance-Party-Callie and headed out. The ICCY is a fantastic space, and incredibly versatile. I've now been to Erev Shabbat services there with Shirah Chadasha, Israeli Folk Dancing, and finally, Boogie, all within its walls.

The only way to describe Boogie is to imagine every Middle and High-School dance you've ever attended. Combine that experience with a few of the more hippy-college parties you've experienced. Throw in a good dose of world music-vibe, and finally, a good helping of Bar-Mitzvah party. All in all, a crazy experience! I met Eli there and she immediately pointed out three of my fellow HUC students dancing. So I went over to say hi, and who should be there with them, but Rabbi Na'ama Kellman, the director of our HUC Year in Israel program. Talk about the place to be! Everyone was dancing and having an all-out good time. Needless to say, it was another late night. And one that I would not have traded for the world! A bunch of Jews, just gettin' down and having fun. In Israel. Only a few minutes walk from that Old City I'd experienced earlier in the day.

The very next night, I wound up going back to the ICCY for Shirah Chadasha Shabbat services, also with Eli. We were sitting in the women's section over-flow seating, which happens to be up on stage - and both chuckled at the complete change of environment that the room, and we ourselves, had gone through in the past 12 hours. (Shirah Chadasha is an egalitarian "Conservative" congregation - but they do have a mechitza, a curtain that divides the men's section from the women's section. It's a joke of a mechitza though: it is nearly see-through, and when you stand up, or are seated up on the stage in the women's overflow section, you can see everyone on the other side. Also impressive was that the women's side was larger than the men's, and by the end of services was standing-room only. Another sight that gives me hope and strength in this city where I'm not quite sure of where I fit in as a Reform-Jewish-Woman).

And finally, I had a wonderful close to a long hot week with a fun and relaxing Shabbat dinner with friends. This Shabbat marked the end of my first month in Israel. As I looked around the room I saw only familiar faces. Certainly, some I knew better than others, but overall, it felt like community, and in some ways, family. Lots of good food, good wine, great company, and a raucous session of Shabbat Zmirot to finish off the night. A great Shabbat, and another intense and interesting week in this most intense and interesting of cities.

Reflections upon Tisha B'Av in Jerusalem

View of the Dome of the Rock (just above the Kotel) from the Dung Gate Entrance

Today is the Jewish holiday of Tisha B'Av, which commemorates the destruction of not only the First, but also the Second Temple in Jerusalem.

Last night, Erev Tisha B'Av, we had an amazing student-led service at HUC, which included the chanting from the book of Lamentations, Megillat Eicha. The garden where we held the service has an amazing view of the walls of the Old City, and it was truly moving to be look out over the walls of the old city, while listening to the account of the destruction of the Temple. The language in Eicha is vivid and disturbing, and saddening all at once. I've only ever really experienced Tisha B'Av at Jewish summer camps in the U.S. Last years' Tisha B'Av had a very different meaning, as it was the week after the Jewish Federation Shooting in Seattle, where I happened to be living at the time. In years past, Tisha B'Av had always been a time at camp to be solemn, to be manipulated into tears by the programming staff usually making you think about the things in your life that you'd lost in order to bring us around to understanding the loss of The Temple. Needless to say, all that these conflicting takes on Tisha B'Av ever left me with was more confusion and less of an ability to relate to this day.


At about 9:30pm, we left for the Old City of Jerusalem, led by Gingy (a.k.a Rabbi David Wilfond) who took us first along the walls of the city, then into the courtyard at David's Tomb, then up to the Ramparts near this children's playground over looking the Mt. of Olives (also w/in the old city). From there we descended the ramparts to the Dung Cate, and into the Kotel (the Western Wall Plaza). The entire Jewish Quarter was packed: tourists, Haredim, teenagers, etc. I was not expecting to see such a mixed crowd. I've always considered Tisha B'Av to be a holiday for the black-hatter types who mourn the loss of the Beit HaMikdash (the Temple itself) and pray for it's rebuilding. (It should be noted here that the original Biet HaMikdash used to stand where the Dome of the Rock stands today... making its rebuilding a bit problematic).

The Kotel plaza was filled with teenagers, just hangin' out. Many Israeli youth groups come to the Kotel on Erev Tisha B'Av to come together and remember the occurance of the destruction of the Temple, but I got the distinct feeling that it was less a mournful commemoration, than a triumph at the fact that "we're still here". The first temple was destroyed, and yet we returned. The second temple was destroyed, and yet we returned. The Romans put down the Bar Kochba revolt, and yet we returned. And most recently, the Nazis tried to kill us while the world watched, and yet, we've returned and keep returning. It was impossible to get to the Wall itself, as that was where those who came to pray were camped out. We left the Kotel around 11:30, and as we were walking out of the Old City, people were still filing in by the hundreds. I was a bit confused by this bustling energy in Jerusalem, as I'd been taught in the past that Tisha B'Av was a day to be depressed and destitute. The city certainly did not seem to be in either of those categories as I walked home at midnight and my, usually quiet, street was packed with cars and people.

So, today, after an hour and a half of Ulpan, we came together in small groups to engage in some text study, pertaining to Tisha B'Av. I'll repeat the highlighted text here, and then just summarize and reference the other texts later. This text comes from Talmud Bavli, or the Babylonian Talmud, written in exile. It says "Why was the First Temple destroyed? Because of 3 things which were rampant in those days - idolatry, sexual immorality and the spilling of innocent blood... But during the Second Temple period when people were engaged in the study of Torah, the performance of mitzvot and acts of loving kindness - why was the Second Temple destroyed? - Because it was a time of causeless hatred." - Yoma 9b

It is interesting to note that the Hebrew words for "causeless hatred" can also mean hatred freely felt, and baseless hatred.

So this is a very universal statement, that bad things happen to good people, sort of. It begs the question: if the Jews of the Second Temple were being so good, and doing all the things that God commanded of them, why would they warrant such a destruction. Were they perhaps only studying Torah, performing mitzvot and acts of loving kindness within their own small circles? Within their own families? Political parties? Prayer communities?

The story of Kamtza and Bar-Kamtza sheds some more light on this question. I wont write the entire story here, but rather, give my summary.

It's amazing. Essentially, this man throws a party and wants to invite his friend, Kamtza. But there also lives a man in the village named Bar-Kamtza, and he is the hosts' sworn enemy. The host (not named in the Talmud, which is significant) sends his servant to invite Kamtza, but he instead brought Bar-Kamtza. The host gets angry that B.K., his enemy, is there, and tells him to leave. But B.K. asks to stay and offers to pay for his food and wine, then half the party, then the party in it's entirety if only his host will allow him to stay. But the host "takes him by the hand and he threw him out". B.K. much chagrined concludes that since the Rabbis at the party sat by and didn't stop the host from being so inhospitable, that they therefore agreed with the host. And that this was cause for B.K. to go to Ceasar and to tell him that the Jews were planning a revolt. (Interesting revenge...) So, B.K. goes to Ceasar - Ceasar doesn't take his word for it and tells B.K. to take a calf to the Jews as a gift from Ceasar to sacrifice at the Temple. B.K. throws in a little sabotage on the way home, and creates a blemish on the calf's upper lip (which is considered a blemish to the Jews, but not to the Romans). Then a rabbinic debate ensues: should they keep the calf even though it's blemished so as not to offend Ceasar? Then Rabbi Ben Avkulas says that they shouldn't b/c if they do people will say that blemished calves are offered on the altar. Then the Rabbis suggested offing B.K. so that he wouldn't go and inform on them back to Ceasar that they weren't using his calf. But Rabbi Ben Avkulas says "no" that blemishing an animal is not a big enough offense to be put to death. Then Rabbi Yochanan, a later Rabbi, essentially blames Avkulas for the destruction of the Temple and exile from the land, for had he been less pious, and just offered up the blemished calf, it never would have been an issue.

Woa. So, here we see a little bit of what this "freely felt hatred" is. You've got so many characters in this story who are doing things upside down and inside out. We spent a while trying to pin point the actual "culprit" in this text and had a really hard time doing it, b/c everyone seems to be a little off, and wrong. And that is, seemingly, the point.

After text study we then had Mincha, afternoon, services. Moshe, my Jerusalem day leader (oh, at this point I must pause and point out that the three men on the bimah today were Moshe, David, and Eliyahu - i.e. Elijah. Talk about some significance there!) explained that, like Yom Kippur, Tisha B'Av is a day of atonement; however, on Yom Kippur we atone individually for our transgressions, whereas on Tisha B'Av, we do t'shuva (which literally means "turning" but is used in Judaism to refer to acts of repentance) as a community for our communal transgressions - namely of this baseless and causeless hatred which caused our destruction in the time of the Second Temple. So then, if we look at ourselves honestly, as Torah-learning, mitzvah-doing, and loving and kind people who still sometimes harbor bad intentions towards those with whom we disagree... we begin to see a little bit more of what this holiday can mean.
What came to mind to me today is the tensions between and among Jews from different religious movements and how we can jibe and jab at each other in a way that, when looked at, is pretty senseless. Food for thought. (Oh, speaking of food, it is also traditional to fast on Tisha B'Av... just thought I'd throw that in for good measure).

So if we look at Tisha B'Av not as a day when the physical building of Beit HaMikdash was destroyed, but a day when our peoplehood and lifestyle was cut down by outside forces, due to infighting, then its easier, at least for me, to see the solemnity of the day. And also easier to comprehend the somewhat celebratory mood I witnessed in the Old City last night - because we've not been wiped out, and we're here, in our State, constantly living in our history while making our future.

Now that I've got a better glimpse into a more holistic view of this day, some of the discordances I'd felt before are settling down and I am beginning to understand more of its significance - to me, today, as a Reform Jew who doesn't particularly want the ACTUAL Beit HaMikdash to be rebuilt.

So my "take away" of this whole long spiel is that, while I cannot particularly relate to the mourning for the Temple itself, I can understand the need to do some communal t'shuva, to turn away from our causeless hatred of those who are the "other" and begin to understand this concept that we can be, and have been, punished for not being able to see the big picture - which is so much of what Judaism is about, at it's core. It's not a Xenophobic theology on the whole, but it has become a Xenophobic praxis in many ways. So here's my prayer for Tisha B'Av:

That we may individually recognize the similarities between ourselves and those for whom we have little tolerance.
That we, as communities of Jews, find the commonalities between our denominations within Judaism.
And that we, as a nation find the overlapping ground between ourselves and people of all other nations, and faiths - and that they may do the same.

"Shabbat Shalom" And Other Things Heard in Jerusalem

View of Jerusalem from The Tayyelet (Promenade)

No matter how many times I visit Israel, I never quite get over the fact that people wish each other a "Shabbat Shalom," - from the waitress at brunch, to the flower-seller on Ben Yehuda. Another noticeable difference in this city on Shabbat is the change in noise level. Jerusalem is not a quiet city. The construction alone, especially in my part of town, is noise enough, but add to that the sounds of traffic and every day life, and you've got yourself a good helping of ra'ash - noise. I noticed yesterday afternoon, while taking a break from Shabbat cleaning out on my mirpeset (porch), how quiet my usually noisy neighborhood was. I could hear birds chirping, and children playing - noises that are constantly drowned out by the drilling and construction at the Y.M.C.A. across the street from my apartment. It is this "peace and quiet" that I have come to associate with the coming of Shabbat in Jerusalem - a day of rest and rejuvination. (The street-cats however don't really care about Shabbat, they are noisy every day of the week). There is also a unique bustle of activity that happens on Friday afternoons - the Shabbat preparations. The throngs of people in the open air market, Shuk Mahane Yehuda, and on the pedestrian street of Ben Yehuda increase exponentially on Friday mornings. Everybody is hustling to buy their food, flowers, reading materials, etc... for the next day (b/c not much is open in Jerusalem on Shabbat) and also to prepare for the day of rest itself. Walking to services Friday evening, you can smell aroma of cooking-smells wafting from apartment windows, and feel the shift in energy as the city begins to quiet down for its weekly 25 hours of rest.

I spent a wonderful Erev Shabbat with my friends at Shirah Chadasha, an egalitarian minyan (prayer group), followed by dinner with a few of my classmates at their apartment in Abu Tor (a neighborhood close to the Green Line,). After dinner we heard fireworks - a not un-common sound in Jerusalem, coming from across the Green Line. Red, White and Green Fireworks to be exact (the colors of the Palestinian flag). We all assumed that these Palestinians, just one town over from my friends' luxury apartment in Abu Tor, were celebrating the return of 255 Palestinian Prisoners released by Israel just the day before. The sound of the fireworks was amplified by the lack of noise anywhere else - and was a reminder that, while we enjoy the quiet of Jerusalem on Shabbat, we are far from being at peace.

The Separation Fence/Wall running along the Green Line

Being a student here, constantly running from one thing to the next, it is easy to forget the "situation" here in Jerusalem (and by "situation" I mean the entire Arab-Israeli conflict). Just like anywhere else in the world, one can become so embroiled in the every day things (studies, errands, time with friends) that it is easy to ignore what is happening in the world outside of one's bubble of existence. Don't get me wrong, tensions do run high in this city, but the tensions are many an varied, especially from my vantage point as an American-Reform-Jewish-Woman. There is tension between Jew and Muslim, Israeli and Arab, Men and Women, "Religious" and "Secular" - and then trying to figure out where exactly Progressive Judaism fits within that spectrum... there's never really a dull moment on the streets of Jerusalem, but it is easy to become accustomed to these tensions, and weave them into my every-day existence in a way that I never needed to at home. And yet, despite these tensions, I love Jerusalem, and the home-away-from-home that it is becoming.

A quick note on what I've been doing when I'm not contemplating the sounds of Shabbat and Palestinian Revelry:
I have just finished my first week of Ulpan! I made it through week one... which is promising. Studying Hebrew, and ONLY Hebrew for 5 hours-a-day, 4 days a week is challenging, and somewhat infantilizing. It's easy to forget, after hours 4 of basic language skill development, that I am a) an adult with, b) a B.A. It is good to have the immersion in the language, but I'm not going to lie, it get's a little frustrating when you're trying to tell the teacher what you did yesterday, and cannot remember the word for "shopping". Luckily, the powers-that-be of the HUC Year in Israel program have anticipated just this sort of malaise, and have created a class called "Jerusalem Days" - where one day out of the week we take field trips around the city and study Jewish texts related to the places we visit.

This week was our first Jerusalem Day - and boy was it a doozie! We began the morning at 7:30 am (lifnot haboker - an Israeli expression meaning literally "before the morning" used to describe the early early hours of the morning), and were on the go until 4pm. We started off with morning t'fillah - prayer - up on the Tayyelet, overlooking the city of Jerusalem, both new and old, and then continued onto the City of David and Hezekiah's Tunnel, "where it all began". Walking through Hezekiah's Tunnel was an insane and amazing experience. It was dug out of the stony hillside of Jerusalem in the 8th Century B.C.E. to bring water from outside of the city into a reservoir within the walls to save the city from falling in a siege. There is still water running through the tunnel, which made for a wet and slippery adventure into the earth beneath Jerusalem. The tunnel went from being small and very claustrophobic at points, to tall and awe-inspiring at other times. And the water-adventure aspect made it feel a little bit like Splash Mountain, only on foot... and without the happy singing Disney characters. But other than that, it was really just like Splash Mountain.

City of David 3-D Introductory Film = Photo-op (Classmates Marc, Tami and Brian)

The City of David is, itself, an interesting place as it is both a National Park and a Jewish settlement. I'm not quite sure how that works, but it does, apparently. My Jerusalem Days group is also, quite a good time. I've already began to form my social network here, and for better or for worse, the majority of my friends here are in my Jerusalem Days group, and our teacher is hilarious. His name is Moshe, and he is an uber energetic man, who just exudes a passion for Israel, Jerusalem, and the history of this place. I find his enthusiasm to be contagious, and even at 3:00pm when he shlepped us through the Old City, I was still interested in what he had to say (although I may not have retained it all...)

Until next time!

Enjoying the new sushi joint in town, Sushi Rechavia, with Nicole, Jen and Tami

A few more pictures

"Summer Break!"
Poster at the HaDag NaChash Concert at the Old Train Station












Enjoying some "nightlife" w/ fellow Rabbinic student, Brian.





Perhaps a little more "nightlife" with classmates Tami and Greg.

Setting up shop in Jerusalem

First Shabbat: Goat Farm Goodness

Well, I am just beginning my third week in Israel, and I think that I can finally say that I feel settled. Oh sure, there are a few little things here and there that I need to do, but on the whole, I'm feeling at home here, and comfortable - which is amazing!

I will backtrack a little, just for the sake of bringing this blog to life, and, up-to-speed.

I arrived in Israel on Friday, June 29th, and was immediately welcomed by the amazingly gracious and wonderful Rosen family (some of you may know Rabbi Rosen, her husband Barry, and of course, their pug, Fancy). It was so nice to go from a long day of travel directly to the loving home of such amazing people - especially people who speak English! (Helped to delay the culture shock for a few days).

I am so glad that my first day in Israel was Shabbat - what better way to reintroduce myself to Jerusalem than on her most beautiful, and quiet, day of the week. Kim and Barry took us (Barry's nephew was visiting after his Birthright trip as well), to the most amazing place for Saturday lunch - a goat farm. Now wait... this was not your ordinary goat farm (not that I know what an "ordinary" goat farm is, but I have my ideas). It is located just outside Tel Aviv in the fields where, archaeologists believe that David slew Goliath. I mean, talk about history! At any rate, the scenery was beautiful (historically accurate or not), and the restaurant which is the highlight of the farm was simply amazing. When we sat down the waiter immediately brought us a beautiful plate of cheese (made there, of course), fresh-baked bread and house wine. Just when I was ready to gorge myself on the tantalizing spread, dayenu, they brought out more! Amazing salads, and small dishes that comprised a very generous meal - and quite tasty at that. We spent the afternoon enjoying the beautiful scenery, and relaxed feel of Israelis (secular of course) enjoying their day of rest. (see baby goats above!)

The next day I moved into my, beautiful, apartment - located just steps away from school, and just about everything else in Jerusalem. The week was spent getting settled during the day, while getting to know some of my classmates in the evenings. The school, HUC (Hebrew Union College) has summer interns, usually current HUC students in their fourth year of the program, who set up all kinds of informal orientation activities for incoming students. All in all, it was a nice way to slowly get to know my classmates while taking in some Yerushalmy culture.

Finally, we began to get down to brass tacks this past week with our official HUC orientation. And boy did they orient us!

This week we began our intensive Hebrew program, Ulpan, which will last until the end of the summer. The goal of which is to, obviously, improve our Hebrew! I'm having an interesting time finding exactly which class-level fits me best, but I have faith that I'll land where I am supposed to.

So... there's the bare story of my first three weeks here, in a nutshell! I am having a wonderful time reacquainting myself with this city, and getting to know my classmates. It is amazing how, no matter how long one has been gone from this place, it can feel like home.

More to come later...