Ezrie

I "adopted" a kitten! My friends Evan and Jenny were housing a kitten that they'd rescued, and needed to find a home for her. After a bunch of people had met her and fallen in love with her, but been unable to take her, I took a clue from fate, worked out some logistics, and voila - I now am the proud imma of a three-month-old Israeli tabby. She is adorable, and, while we're still getting used to one another, are getting along swimmingly! I've not had a kitten in a while, so I'm constantly amazed by the kitten energy and how easily she can keep herself amused. She's a love, and has the motor of a racecar (or something else with a really loud motor).

Bottom line, I'm happy and she is adorable (and I think she's pretty happy too).

Her name is Ezrie, which means "my help" in Hebrew - I call her "Ez" and it seems to fit. Except when she's being a pain. :-)

Learning how to grieve with an open heart.

They say that the best place to get sick is in a hospital - surrounded by doctors. I think that, perhaps, the best place to learn of a loss is in Rabbinical school. Let me qualify that: perhaps the best place to mourn is in a place that brings you the support that you need.

In my "immediate" family there have always been, what are in my mind "The Big Three Aunts," - this past week, one of those "Big Three" left her physical existence on this earth. What I now understand is that the pillar that was her existence in my life will always be there. The gifts which she bestowed upon me, both physical and not, will always remain. She fostered in me a love of literature, as she was the self proclaimed Book Aunty, an appreciation of the spirituality of beauty and an understanding of our family history.

One of the hardest parts of this loss, for me, is being so far from home while grieving. If I were home, my grief would be no less profound nor difficult, but I would have the built in support of my family. Here, I have had to challenge myself to reach out for support - and have been rewarded greatly by the outpouring of help, love, and comfort. A large part of my choosing this path in life has been my desire, and in fact, my instinct to care for others. When I came to Jerusalem, I hoped that this year would give me the opportunity to really return unto myself - to examine who I am, and what I am about. I never expected challenges the likes of which Jerusalem has presented. I've come to understand that I have an incredibly difficult time asking for help when I need it - to a fault. Blessedly, while coming to terms with this aspect of my personality, I've also been able to take steps to change that behavior. As often comes when we truly take steps to make change, I've been rewarded, if not perhaps in the ways that I would have envisioned. Friends here, both within and without the HUC community, have been present to help as I stumble blindly through this period of mourning.

Another, and equally challenging part of this loss for me has been the understanding that, while my family continues to expand with births and marriages, it is going to, inevitably, begin to shrink as well. This current loss is the first I've experienced in the generation of women who, in my mind, have been ever-present. I keep saying that I do not know how to exist in a world where she does not - not because we were constantly in contact, but because knowing that she was there, as a part of my history, present, and future was simply a given. Now that she is not, I am forced to come to terms with the imminent reality of death and loss that every family must face.

What I am grateful for are those around me who have responded when I have reached out, either tentatively or overtly, and those who have stepped in with a caring hand when I've not asked for it, but obviously needed it. I stood on my balcony tonight after having passed the last few hours with an old friend and a bottle of wine, and had one of those moments of peace that I so rarely have with Jerusalem, and God. I'm pretty comfortable in my conception of the Divine, and God's presence in my life - but I rarely open the window that leads from theory to experience. I breathed in the crisp and cold Jerusalem air and suddenly felt the warmth of understanding that, while I am far from my family of origin, I am never far from my family of choice. I am so lucky that I have been rewarded for opening my heart by an immediate in-pouring of affection and support.

This journey of mourning will be difficult and long, it's not supposed to be easy. Mostly it will be difficult to come to terms with my own personal loss, and our loss as a family - the selfish griefs that come with mourning. Meanwhile, I'm grateful for the gift that I've been given of opening my heart to let others in, instead of the reverse - which is usually a much easier process for me. I'm quicker to give than I am to receive. Jerusalem has taught be how to receive, has forced me to learn how. A lesson of tough-love from a country full of both toughness and love - if only I'm willing to open and welcome the gifts of those around me.

Thanksgiving in Israel

I'd always envisioned that this year's Thanksgiving would be a pathetic attempt at capturing the "authentic" American Thanksgiving experience. I am an incredibly picky Thanks-giver, as for me, the holiday is really all about the food. I mean, in terms of the Jewish calendar, we've just given a lot of thanks during the harvest holiday of Sukkot, so, by November, I'm feeling like my thanks-giving of two months prior still holds. So, Thanksgiving is really just a big ol dose of American gluttony for me. Every year, my mother makes not one, not two, but three types of stuffing: one for Stan, because he likes sweet stuffing, and two for me - matzoh meal stuffing, and sage stuffing. The matzoh meal stuffing is really my Grammie Claire's passover recipe, but I mean, it's so good... and Thanksgiving and Passover are so spread apart that I tend to like to having one dose of artery-clogging matzoh meal stuffing in the spring, and one in the winter. Then, we have the Grammie Souther style stuffing - traditional sage stuffing. Lots of butter, lots of onions, celery, and... sage. It's just not thanksgiving w/out sage, in my opinion.

So, as you can guess, I was dubious at best about the ability of an ex-pat Thanksgiving dinner to live up to my exacting standards. And, friends, I must admit... I stand in awe of the Thanksgiving dinner that was had this past week. Now, I would never say that the food was better than my mother's cooking, because that would be blasphemous - however, it was pretty darn close! I was invited to two separate dinners, so, naturally, I divided up the evening into "dinner" and "dessert". The dinner was impecably done. The Turkey was amazing, and there were enough stuffing options to satisfy my stuffing-needs! Miracle of miracles! The party was lovely, and I certainly had to take it slow on the block-long walk to the "dessert" party. After slowly dragging myself up 6 flights of stairs, I arrived at the second dinner just as the majority of the guests were leaving. (I tend to have that effect on parties, given the mass exodus upon my arrival at a friends' party last week... hmmm). I had come over from the first party with my friends Adam and Suzy, and had been moaning about my painful state of full-ness during the schlep up the stairs. I planted myself on the couch, and was as close to lying down as one can be while still sitting up. One of our hostesses placed a plate of the most amazing looking desserts in front of me, and I, obedient guest that I am, slowly raised a fork of pumpkin cheesecake to my reluctant mouth. Just as I was doing so, Suzy walked into the living room and burst out laughing at the pathetic scene that I had created on the couch. The picture of reluctant gluttony. Ah, Thanksgiving.

We sat around playing the, now famous amongst the HUC community, "bowl game" - which always makes for a hilarious situation. The game itself is sort of a cross between Taboo and Charades. As expected, the game led to a lot of really very full bellied laughter and some good natured competition (my team won - so I can say "good natured competition").

One thing for which I was most certainly thankful was the fact that Fridays are a day off in Israel. It had been one thing to sit in class all day Thursday, instead of sitting at home in my pajamas watching the Macy's Day parade. It would have been another thing entirely if I were expected to be a functioning human being the next morning. I woke up with the biggest food-hangover I've had in a long time. My body was achy, and I could hardly walk into the kitchen to get water! I was a wreck... purely from sugar and fat. But oh, how good it had been going down! I eventually dragged myself to the gym - a thing which I usually do not do post-Thanksgiving, as I had no leftovers at my immediate disposal. So, instead of continuing the glut-fest, as I would normally do, I did cardio. That night we had Kabbalat Shabbat services at school, followed by faculty-hosted dinners. I and three other students (all of whom had significant others with them... so... I was the Bridget Jones of the dinner....) went to our Dean's home for dinner. Not only was the food divine, and I had another large helping of amazing food (two nights in a row! not shabby!) but the dinner conversation was hilarious.

I made it home around 11pm, too full to sleep. So I sat up watching a movie. Just as I was starting to drift off, I felt my entire building shake. During the day, I never would have given something like this much thought - as the construction across the street often shakes my building a bit. But this was midnight, on Shabbat. There aint no construction at midnight and certainly not on Shabbat. I had heard that there had been an earthquake on Tuesday, but had not felt it. So, once my inital suprise wore off, and then the shaking stopped, I figured that I'd either: a) been attacked by a giant Gorilla, or b) just experienced an earthquake. After double checking with some neighbors who do not live in my building, I recieved confirmation of the latter - the former being validated as a good second choice. Apparently, there was a 5.0 earthquake in central Israel, just past midnight. Well, sleep was certainly out of the question after that!

And, simply because I haven't posted pictures in a while, here are a few from LAST week's festivities - including the party to which I was the seeming catalyst for mass evacuation. Cheers!

Meggido Junction

This past weekend I went up north to spend Shabbat with some family that I didn't know I had until just recently - which is really a pretty common Israel-experience! After emailing for a few weeks w/ Shlomit, said new-found cousin (our actual relationship is quite distant, but family is family!) I finally found a weekend that I could get out of Jerusalem. I'd been feeling under the weather for the past few weeks and wasn't sure that I was up to a visit, but she assured me that it would be restful - and restful it was!

Another typical Israeli experience is that of being picked up at a, seemingly, random bus stop. Shlomit told me which bus number to take, researched the times it was leaving Jerusalem, and told me to get off at the Meggido Junction - a seemingly random intersection on the way to Tiberias. At the central bus station I bought my ticket, had some breakfast, and then fought my way onto the bus. Getting onto buses here (inter-city buses, mind you - like Greyhound) is a cultural experience in-and-of itself. Every rule of polite society goes straight out the window when trying to get on a bus in Israel. It's quite disgusting actually - and I was disgusted with myself. But I got a good seat at the front. So I wasn't too disgusted for long. The funny thing about going to Meggido, in my mind, is that Meggido is the supposed sight of the Armageddon! Good times! At any rate, I got off of the bus at the right place, at the right time, and, lo and behold! there was Shlomit, ready and waiting for me. Amazing!

The visit itself was really a treat in many ways, but also a little hard, as we conversed almost entirely in Hebrew - and let me tell you, my Hebrew is good for reading comprehension, verb conjugation in a test, and passing pleasantries, but 24 hours of Hebrew speaking made me realize the limitations of my vocabulary. It is so frustrating not being able to express myself the way that I would normally, in english. Ah, the joys of language acquisition.

The town in which Shlomit and her family live, Tivon, just happens to have a Reform congregation - a rarity in Israel. So, after waking up from my Friday "siesta" (during which time some of the first rains of the season fell - perfect napping conditions!) we went to Kabbalat Shabbat services. Their Rabbi was out of town, and leading services in her stead was one of the Israeli Rabbinical students from HUC. The sad part of this is that this was our first meeting- namely because the American program and the Israeli program never really mingle... at all. Which is sad because we are going to be colleagues one day, and the Israeli students are themselves examples of what it means to be a Reform Jew in Israel. Anyway, Gadi, the Israeli student leading services, welcomed me with open arms, and even invited me to light the Shabbat candles and do Kiddush at the end of services. It turns out that Gadi and Shlomit had studied together at a "secular beit midrash" (sounds like an oxymoron to American ears, but after living here for a few months, it makes sense...) - one of many small world connections which seem to be so abundant in this country.

After services I met the rest of Shlomit's family: her husband Meir, son Dotan, daughter-in-law Miri, and three crazy yet adorable grandsons - Nadav (8), Or (6), and Ya'ir (2.5 with CRAZY basketball/ball handling skills). It was so incredibly nice to sit around a Shabbat table, outside of Jerusalem, with this newfound family who welcomed me so wholeheartedly without a second thought. The warmth with which this family functioned was obvious to me after only a short while, and it had the strange effect of making me both homesick, and feeling so at home in that moment. Strange how Israel can do that. (I meant to take a photo to post here, but accidentally left my camera battery in the charger in Jerusalem. Smooth.)

At any rate, I wont go into all the minute details of the visit, but will leave it with this: getting on that bus to the intersection-of-the-end-of-the-world (as I lovingly call it), spending my Shabbat stumbling over my broken Hebrew, and shlepping back to Jerusalem on an overcrowded bus was the best thing I could have done for myself this past weekend. Not only did I make new connections with warm and lovely people, but I saw more of life outside the "walls" of this ancient, holy, busy, crazy, and sometimes infuriating city. Tivon is so green, and the rain made everything fresh and alive feeling. I forget sometimes how important it is to break with routine, and experience new things. Which is sad really, because that is what this year in Israel is all about - or what it should be all about, in my estimation.

Now if only I could shake this flu bug that seems to be knocking out my classmates three at a time...

היומ יומ הולדת

Translation "Today is [my] birthday!"

Which is not true... My birthday WAS October 29th (Monday). First off, I rarely ever do this, but I have to use this blog-space to put out a huge thanks to everyone, both here and around the world, who made this birthday so special. I've spent the majority of my birthdays in the recent past away from home, and as such, am pretty used to not being in Portland on the date of my birth. This birthday really reinforced my understanding of the term "home is where the heart is," as I celebrated with my "Jerusalem Family" while the well-wishes from friends and family abroad poured in. I feel so lucky and, well, blessed to have such wonderful friends, and such a close supportive and up-for-fun community here.

My actual birthday, Monday, was a crazy day. I volunteered to read Torah that morning (every Monday morning we have student-led services as one of our requirements - we each have to read Torah, give a sermon, and lead services at one point throughout the year). Not only was it special to read Torah on my birthday, BUT it was also the bat mitzvah of my bat mitzvah, AND it was the same Torah portion I read on my bat mitzvah (because the Torah readings are dictated by the lunar calendar, and we read a different portion every week, it's rare that Torah portions occur on the same date very often). AND, to make it even more exciting for the geekier among us (i.e. myself for sure), the portion contained this super special trope (cantillation mark) called the "shalshelet" which only appears three times in the book of Genesis! Big doins! And it sounds pretty neat too! Thanks to Ross for helping me out w/ this reading by making me recordings of the verses! I'm learning that I really enjoy Torah chanting. There's something really intimidating, and, well, awesome about reading from the Torah itself. Especially now that I have a better understanding of the language and have a better sense of what it is I'm actually saying.

Other than reading from the Torah on Monday, the day itself was pretty boring. I mean, hey, don't get me wrong, sitting in classes for 8 hours is always fun - especially on one's birthday. Also exciting is that a good friend of mine's brand new niece was born on my birthday. I realize that other people share my birthday, but it was sort of special to get a text at 8pm on the 28th saying "hey, my sister in law is in labor" and then to find out the next day that the kid held out and didn't come out on the 28th, but the 29th! She and I already have so much in common.

That evening Rabbi Rosen and Barry had a get together at their beautiful apartment across the street from school for a few of my friends. We had all been in school until 6:15, so we were a tad exhausted, but it was the perfect way to end the day - and the perfect way to celebrate my birthday!


Me and Brian
Reading the e-card that Mom sent to me on my birthday
Fancy Pug
Barry, me and Rabbi Rosen

Last night, Halloween, the celebration continued at Dublin Pub in downtown Jerusalem. I've always had Halloween-associated birthdays, so why stop this year!??! Quite a few friends showed up, and it was, as birthday parties go, a good time!

Jill, Jen, and Me at Dublin

Ran, Me and Brian - looking elsewhere... oh well

All told - while it's always hard to be away from family and friends, this birthday didn't feel quite as hard being surrounded by new friends and new family. And birthdays in Israel are great! A country full of Jewish-grandmothers wishing you a "Mazal Tov" and being, seemingly, genuinely excited about birthdays... it's pretty great.

That's all the news for now! Will write more at a later date when something more interesting than classes and homework appear in my life.

If a salon can make you cry...

Well... I couldn't hold out any longer - I got ma hair did. I went to a man named Itzik (not Isaac, not Yitzhak... Itzik) whom my Rabbi recommended to me. She is a woman of discerning taste, so i figured it would be safe. Some of my classmates have had interesting experiences with personal services here, so I was a little wary. The language barrier worried me, as I wasn't sure that he understood I wanted something "natural" to cover up the "gray" hairs. Yes, I found a colony of them a few weeks ago. So, after waiting for an hour, the concept of appointments in this country is very different from our concept of an appointment, Itzik's assistant starts slathering gray goop onto my head. It burned a little - which worried me a lot, he then asserted that L'oreal is the best product and they only use the best... good to know, but, um, it still felt somewhat, burn-y.

After processing for thirty minutes (!?!?!?!!?) he finally washed me out, and then said that Itzik would cut my hair (even though I'd only made an appointment for color)... so, now we're at 5:30pm. I arrived at 3pm for a 3pm appointment. Cheers. Eventually I wound up getting a pretty good color and a GREAT cut.

All of which would lead one to think: wow! Great! HOWEVER, that would not make a very interesting blog entry, now would it? I would be remiss if I failed to mention the gaggle of 19 year old girls who were in there while their friend, Yeshiva Barbie, got her long blonde hair done. First of all: I was forced to listen to their ridiculous, spoiled and concieted, drivel for close to three hours. Secondly, they thought they owned the place and while I was processing, one of them put her wallet in my bag, thinking it was her friends', and then when my phone rang, fished it OUT of my bag saying "Dossie! your phone... oh... wait... um... whose phone is this?" Lovely. Yeshiva Barbie's hair was perfect - Itzik did a good job. But I do understand Hebrew, and while Itzik was the ultimate professional, his assistant might not have been the most chivalrous in his verbal summation of the girls. Again, cheers!

Oh... AND, one of said girls referred to me as a "lady," while her friend, the only one who tried to make conversation w/ the scary fossil sitting in the corner (moi), very gingerly asked me "So, um, are you in your 20s?" I replied "Yes, I am. I am about to turn 26." To which she said "I thought so, I mean, you looked older, I just didn't know how to ask politely." Miss Manners would be so proud.

Going to the salon usually makes me feel good about myself - you know - the "whole new me" thing that we girls so enjoy doing from time to time. This experience, while I got what I wanted strictly speaking, made me feel like an old hag. Oh well. I guess the price for good hair in this country is a few points of self-esteem.

Mom and Stan in Israel

Mom and Stan came for a visit at the tail-end of my Sukkot break. It was so great to have them here, not only because, well, it's Israel and I was excited to share my love of the country with them - but it was nice to have them see my life. We spent the a day in Tel Aviv with my friend Ran who lives in Tel Aviv.

Each of the first year Rabbinic and Education students have to give a D'var Torah, sermon, during the year. I had chosen to give mine while Mom and Stan were in town. Not only am I glad to have it over, and the experience under my belt, but it was so wonderful to have such a great cheering section! The Rosens, Rabbi Kim and Barry, were also in attendance as my resident-family-in-Israel. The timing was difficult as we'd just gotten back from two weeks of vacation, and weeks of holidays beforehand. HOWEVER, I was pleased with the finished product, and got pretty good feedback overall... and did I mention I'M DONE! YAY!

Mom and Stan were here for just about a week. We didn't do a lot of the touristy things, because, well, they had already been here before (we all came together in 1994) and had seen the major tourist sights. Instead, they got much more of an inside-track look at Israel: my favorite restaurants, school, friends, and the all-important shopping excursions. I think they had fun... I certainly had fun having them here! Sadly, it was hard to see them go. BUT as I said, we all had a great time. As evidenced in the few choice pictures below!

Mom and Stan in Jaffo

Me and Ran overlooking Tel Aviv