Answering the question: what role, if any do you want Israel to play in your life when you go home?

My idea of involvement with Israel after EIE is most likely completely different from most people on this trip's. A lot of people I'm sure are envisioning being the equivalent of Israelis who moved to the states, in that they will always be talking it up and connecting their entire lives to it. I know that a huge portion of EIE Spring 2014 is considering Aliyah in some way or another, whether they have concrete plans already in place or just a sketchy idea of what life might be like here. Even more of us are planning on coming back for some sort of gap year, or another school semester or year. Either way, most of us have plans to be back here for an extended amount of time as soon as they see it to be possible in their lives.
While I completely see and respect their plans and ideas, that is not where I would like my life to go. I am not planning on making Aliyah, in fact I don't think I would be able to live here for more than six months at a time. It's just too intense. I also know for a fact that (if there is a) next time I study abroad, I would like it to be in the UK, not Israel. I know I'll be back here, hopefully soon, but I don't think it'll be for any extended amount of time.
On the other hand, I have encountered lots of organisations and causes while being here that I would really like to help out and/or be involved in. Women of the Wall is definitely one of them, and I would at the very least like to come back a few times and pray with them on my own, and if I have the financial resources, perhaps donate some money to them. There is also the organisation (also headed by Anat Hoffman of Women of the Wall) called IRAC, which is an organisation that takes on the law and works to bring equality to Israel. Just the other day, they won a two year long case for a lesbian dance instructor named Nurit Melamed, who was outed and blacklisted by a Jerusalem Rabbi. Another cause that they work for that Anat told us about when she visited to speak is prejudices and discrimination against Arabs. There are many other causes that they work for, all connected to social justice and equality, but I can't remember them right now, and the IRAC website isn't working. At any rate, I could definitely see myself working with them at some point.
With regards to the role of Israel in my every day life back home (as in, let me finally answer the actual assigned question), I'm not really sure. Israel is very  important to me, and I know that I will always defend it. I don't really know what all I can do, aside from assure that people who reveal themselves to be ignorant on the subject have that rectified, and make sure to read the news every so often, both of which I will definitely do. I don't attend a summer camp, which for some would be another connection, but I do go to synagogue quite often, and through there I feel confident that I will not be left in the dark. Essentially, I would like for the role of Israel in my life to be pretty much the same - if on a bit of a larger scale - as it was before I came on EIE.

Predicting the Future and Relationships

This week, in honour of Israeli Independence Day, the Israeli news site called Haaretz posted a list of 66 Israeli women of note. For our assigned blog this week, we are supposed to write about one of them. I picked a lady named Dr. Kira Radinsky, who is a researcher at Technion Institute of Technology. What's special about her that caught my eye is that she has developed a (surprisingly plausible) algorithm to predict future global catastrophes. This caught my eye, because I love anything that has to do with the future and/or past... Basically anything that's not now. Not only that, but upon reading about her, I immediately thought of a certain algorithm in a certain book by a certain author (John Green), which is seen below.

This is the algorithm that the character Colin in the book An Abundance of Katherines developed to accurately predict how a relationship (theoretically any relationship at all) would go.

Of course, the only thing the two algorithms have in common, is that they are meant to predict the future. The one by Dr. Radinsky is of course much more important that the one by Colin. In fact, her discovery could be invaluable, assuming that it works 100% of the time. So far, apparently it has been successful a few times. I'm all in favour of her continuing her work in this, as it could very well save lives.

Kashrut

I was having a bit of trouble coming up with a blog topic for this week, so I'm sorry it seems sort of random. I decided to this time write about my experience growing up keeping kosher, because most of the people here didn't, so maybe I can spark some debate.
It has always been natural for me to keep kosher. Until a little before my Bat Mitzvah, I never even contemplated not keeping kosher. A few months before my Bat Mitzvah, right around my twelfth birthday, I had a discussion with my uncle, who doesn't keep kosher. He reminded me that once I became Bat Mitzvah, I could make my own decisions regarding my Jewish life. That was the first time it occurred to me that I could decide to not keep kosher, if I really wanted to. Of course, it became a moot point soon after, when I became vegetarian.
Even though it didn't matter what I did in practice, because I wasn't going to be eating meat anyway, it did spark an interesting line of thought for me. Ever since that conversation, I've often thought about kashrut, why people keep kosher, and the significance. I have formed some very distinct opinions on the subject at this point, although they aren't really ideological. My opinion is that the idea of keeping kosher is more for practicality and morality's sake, rather than God's. After all, the laws of kashrut require that the animals be killed humanely, as well as be kept healthy in life. The advantage of being humane is definitely attractive to me, as well as the fact that healthy animals are more healthy to the person consuming them, too.
Therefore, I'd have to say that, merely for my health's sake, if I were to ever stop being vegetarian, I think I would still keep kosher.
Thoughts?

Apologies

Okay, so I've been going back through my posts and responding to all the comments, but I've reached the beginning of February and realised that it's just been too long for me to really be able to respond adequately. I apologise for not responding to the older comments.. If someone has something specific they want to chat about, feel free to comment here.

Opinions and Anti-Semitism

 A few days ago in Jewish History, we talked about what it means to be Anti-Semitic in relation to your opinions on the state of Israel. Aaron (my Jewish History teacher) reminded us all that disliking things that the Israeli government is doing is vastly different from thinking the entire Jewish state should be pushed into the sea. That is a viewpoint that I wish more people would share.

Yes, I'm aware that a good number do, but it's the loud minority of fanatically pro-Israel people who convince the ignorant that you have to support everything about the state of Israel or risk being thought an Anti-Semite.

I definitely see Aaron's point, and I'm glad that I'm not the only one who thinks so. After all, there have been several things that the Israeli government has done over the course of my time as a person aware of world issues. For instance, I really wish that Netanyahu hadn't recently released so many prisoners for the sake of peace talks – especially since letting go of some settlements (and putting much fewer people in danger) would have worked just as well. The prisoners were locked up for a reason, after all. At the very least, someone should have made sure they weren't dangerous before releasing them out into the world. I don't really see how that opinion could be labelled as “anti-semitic”, do you?

There is lots of debate over whether various American politicians' expressed opinions on Israel could be considered anti-semitic or not. The opinions that I speak of are mostly along the lines of Israel not deserving to exist, and that sort of thing. It's the claims that Israel needs to be obliterated, wiped off the map, shoved into the sea, etc. that are anti-semitic. Disagreeing with something the Israeli leadership has done – and saying so – is not. The mistake that I believe people (especially politicians) too often make is blaming a country for it's leader's actions.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that disliking a government is different from disliking a country. It's okay to disagree with the decisions of some high up politician, even when it's in the Holy Land. After all, we do it all the time in the States. What it's not okay to do is wish the entire country dead because of it.

This was supposed to be posted last night, sorry!

Okay, I've been assigned to write about another piece of Israeli culture. Last week, I wrote about a book I read. This week, I'm going to talk about the musician we just went to see. His name is Kobi Oz, and he used to be a part of a well known band by the name of Teapacks. Tonight he played us a huge variety of music - all of it with his own unique flavour to it, of course. His music is quite obviously Israeli, in every way, from the lyrics to the style.
A little bit about Teapacks quickly: they were formed from Oz and a few of his friends from Sderot along with a few people from some of the surrounding kibbutzim. This was something entirely unheard of, because the Sderot people and kibbutzniks didn't exactly like each other.
Okay, back to the music.
At first, I wasn't sure if I would like it. I looked up a song of his on YouTube, and I really didn't think it was my style. Boy, was I wrong. Now, I'm not saying that Teapacks is my new favourite band, but it definitely caught my interest. They combined eastern music with modern rock in a way that I have never heard before, and it was definitely fun to listen to. The music used instruments of all kinds, ranging from bass guitars to accordions to pianos to violins. At one point they even used one of those whistles that sounds like a train whistle.
He told us this story about the time that Teapacks went to play at Eurovision; let's just say they were unforgettable, and 210% Israeli. Oz decided to go for impact, rather than first prize, and so he wrote a song that he felt accurately described his life in Sderot. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your perspective, the song absolutely oozed Israeliness. It was full of their dark humour, and he performed it with an air that can only be described as chutzpah. (I'm hoping you all know what chutzpah is.. If not, comment, and I'll write another blog on it.) He told us the story of how they went there, not to win, but to shock. Of course, they succeeded.
It was actually that song that made me like them so much. It was just so gutsy, and so entirely Israeli, that it reminded me just how different - and awesome - Israeli culture is.

Pesach Seder

Last week was Passover, and with it came a Seder. This year, however, was different from all other years. Why is this year different from all other years, you might ask? Well I'll tell you. This year, aside from the obvious of being in Israel and therefore not in Chesterland celebrating with my family, the Seder was vastly different from any that I've ever been to before. At home, we go through the Seder and do every part, but it's in a special way: we play a game, and we do it sitting on couches in the family room. We do all sorts of things to cover each step, from skits to play-doh, but we cover each step in some way. Here, the Seder was nothing like that. We sat around a table as is traditional, but that's about where the similarities end. We sang kiddush, skimmed through the Hagaddah picking and choosing pieces to do, and chatted a lot. After the meal, we didn't continue the Seder. It was nothing like I'm used to, but I enjoyed trying a new and different tradition.

Someone to Run With

I read THE BEST book last week! It was absolutely beautiful in every way (well... except physical condition). It was called Someone to Run With, by an Israeli author named David Grossman. It was originally in Hebrew, but the translation was fabulous. I really hope the writing is as good in Hebrew. I know that other people liked it too, because it's been made into a film (which I really want to see).

Okay, time for a short summary with no spoilers, and then I'll get back to extolling its virtues. The book takes place in Jerusalem, and it was about a boy (named Assaf), a girl (named Tamar), and a dog (named Dinka). I know, sounds pretty ordinary and cliché, but I swear it isn't. They're both on very specific missions, that turn out to be (in some cases) more dangerous than you would expect. Actually, Tamar's mission was exactly as dangerous as you would expect, but Assaf's wasn't. Tamar's mission, which was self imposed, is to extract someone from a dangerous environment (read: criminal underground), and then once she got him out she had to get him off of his heroin addiction, all on her own. Assaf's mission, which is on the surface much simpler, was to return a lost dog, Dinka, to her owner. Dinka, however, turns out to be Tamar's, and since Tamar was busy going under cover into a dangerous criminal underground, he couldn't exactly find her. The book basically follows Assaf as he follows clues, meets people involved in Tamar's life, and gets closer to finding her, and Tamar as she undertakes her mission. Sorry, that wasn't the shortest summary ever, but the book is really complicated.

The style of writing was absolutely unique. Actually, that's probably why I loved it so much. It switched perspectives a lot, so it was really easy to see what was going on, and understand how different scenes and characters related to each other. It was also slightly random, and totally unpredictable, from little things like sometimes using quotation marks around full sentences and sometimes not, to how long a point of view would last, and similarly how much time was between each scene. It was amazing. I think that the writing style really helped me to engage in the story.

The characters were so well crafted, it was incredible. I could tell just from reading how much extra thought was put into each and every one of them. Even the minor characters that only appeared once or twice had intricate and very telling personalities. I would bet anything that there were thousands of interactions written out that didn't make it into the book, if only to help establish the characters. They had a sort of depth that is hard to get unless you work really hard for it. Another thing that I liked about the characters was how I don't think there was a single one that was not immensely complicated, and had many sides to them. None of them were all good, or all bad. Everyone was ambiguous, even the ultimate villain, just like in real life.

Okay, I think I'm done extolling the book's virtues now. Moving on, it's time to talk about the connection to Jewish culture and Israel. Well, aside from the obvious bit that it took place in Jerusalem, it gives a great perspective on the uniqueness and complexity of Israeli culture, specifically on the streets. For Tamar's mission, she had to spend a while pretending to be homeless. Since she's a singer (I don't know if I mentioned that before), she spent her time performing in the streets of Jerusalem. She encountered all sorts of people, and the descriptions of the encounters were such that the reader would get an intimate view of the kinds of people who live here. The narration allowed the reader to see Jerusalem through the eyes of someone who lived their entire lives there, and I found it fascinating. This book was a great peek into the culture of Israel, and I loved every page of it.

First Poland Blog

Sorry it's a little (try two weeks) late, but here's my first blog from the week after Poland!

Last week, we went to Poland. As I'm sure you can imagine, it was horrifying and intensely emotional. We started off with a tour of Warsaw, beginning in their Jewish cemetery. It was a surprisingly uplifting experience, seeing two centuries of our ancestors laid out proudly with Jewish language (mostly Yiddish, although some was definitely Hebrew seeing as I understood it) displayed for all to see. After the cemetery, we took a tour of Warsaw which included the pieces of Warsaw that are relevant to the Holocaust, basically the ghetto and the .

The next day we went to Tykocin, which was very emotional for me. At first I wasn't sure why, but then I realised that it was because Tykocin was a shtetl very much like the fictional town of Anatevka (from Fiddler on the Roof), which was one of the first plays in which I found a real family in the cast. So going to trace the footsteps of a tragic community like that one made me think of them, and how I would feel if it were them in the shoes of the Tykocin Jews. During the Holocaust on the day of their death, they were all rounded up and made to either crowd into a truck or run behind said truck all the way to a nearby forest, where every single one of them was shot immediately, and nearly every single one died. We walked through that very woods, and I noticed that the upper halves of the trees were all slightly tinted red. It was definitely disturbing, and slightly freaky. We went up to the mass graves, and our madrichim did a ceremony in front of the main one with all the memorials. In the end, I lit a candle for them, and then walked out of that forest with my dignity intact, in a way that none of them were able to.

This week was a week of accomplishing feats like that. We also went to two concentration/death camps, and walked out of each of them with our heads held high.

The first camp we went to was Majdanek. It was horrible. Everything was left almost entirely intact. When we walked through the bath house/gas chamber in the front, I found myself stuck behind a line of people in this small dark room that was incredibly terrifying. I felt this rush of fear, as though I had to get out of there immediately. I knew at that moment that I was standing in a place where someone had died or was about to die, and it was horrifying. We walked through at least one example of every type of building in the camp, including the main gas chambers and crematorium. It was also awful. The worst part though, was at the end. We went up to this huge monument, and our teacher wouldn't tell us what we would see when we walked up the steps. Well, being the trusting fool that I am, I went up the steps.. Only to find myself face to face with a mound of human ashes the size of a small house. HUMAN ASHES. And those were only the ones that they didn’t have room to bury. After we had all recovered from that, we held another ceremony at the base of the monument. I participated in that one, along with around ten other students. Everyone read a poem, diary entry, or other writing from a survivor, except a few of my friends and me. We sang a song called Arim Roshi. It was impossibly emotional, and I don't think any of us made it through without crying.

In between Majdanek and the next camp, Auschwitz I and Auschwitz-Birkenau, we visited Krakow. It was amazing. It was so beautiful. We visited this gigantic castle, which looked like a thing out of a fairy tale. (Unfortunately, I think I sprained my ankle on the way down. At any rate, I twisted it, and it's still very painful a week later. I still had fun roaming the city for two hours though. I just did it slowly.) After we had that free time, we toured the ancient synagogues in the area (and had an interesting debate about the use of the word "temple" in description of a Jewish place of worship), and then visited the Jewish Community Centre of Krakow. It was comforting to see such a familiar organisation in such a wildly different place. Our last stop of the day was a visit to the "umschlagplatz" of the Krakow Ghetto. An umschlagplatz is the place where they gathered and waited for the trains, which in their case took nearly all of them to their deaths at camps.

Rather fittingly, we started the next day with a visit to Auschwitz-Birkenau, the Auschwitz camp dedicated solely to killing people. It was terrible, although for some reason I was much less affected there. I have no clue why, because that's where all the Jews died, but I just didn't feel anything there. Maybe my emotions were all worn out, but even though my brain was comprehending all the horrors that occurred around me, my heart just wasn’t breaking the way it shattered at Majdanek. There was one thing that still affected me though. The story that we followed through the camp was the one of the Hungarian Jews, from whom I am descended. If my ancestors hadn’t made the decision to move to the US fifty (ish?) years before, I would not be alive today. My grandparents, who were just three at the time that the Hungarian Jews were brought to Auschwitz, would have died there. Even knowing this though, I still couldn’t bring myself to feel any strong emotions after we had been walking around for about fifteen minutes.

Please don’t judge me for any of this. Everyone reacts in different ways, and I can’t help how I did.

PSA

Hi all! I'm really very sorry I haven't posted in a very long time. I have several blogs written, but the connection was bad, so I wasn't able to post them. I'll be uploading them ASAP.
Also, it's come to my attention that my blog is hard to read, visually. I'm not quite sure how the setup works, but I'm trying to fix it. Please comment on how it looks now!
Finally, and on the same note, I'm going to take some time as soon as I find some to go through and respond to every comment. I think I've finally figured out how to do that. Sorry for the delay!
Thanks!
Signing off,
Ilana

Women of the Wall

(PSA: I apologise for not posting for so long. I've been having computer issues. I'm leaving for two weeks for a little trip with the group, but when I get back I will upload all the blogs that I have missed.)

This past Rosh Chodesh, my group went to the Kotel to pray with Women of the Wall. It was an extraordinary, and at least for me, incredibly fulfilling, experience. For those of you who don’t know, Women of the Wall is a women’s (although there are men who believe in the cause too) activist group that fights for the religious rights of women, especially surrounding the Kotel. Every month, they go to the Kotel and hold Rosh Chodesh services on the women’s side. They wear tallitot and tefillin, chant from the Torah, and pray out loud with kavana. All those things were, until recently, not allowed at the Kotel… for women. Men are always allowed to dress and do whatever they want there, as long as it’s within the bounds of halakha and respect.

May of last year was the first time that they were legally allowed to go about their business. Before that, members were regularly arrested and assaulted, and the law wasn’t on their side. In fact, last time I was in Israel, I wasn’t allowed to go pray with them because the danger was too great. I had spent most of that year studying them, and I was really disappointed. I think, if I had known how different things are now, I would be both disappointed (that I missed it), and happy for them. After all, this was a big step.

My time with them this past week was brief, because of some traffic issues, but everything I had ever dreamed of. We stood together and prayed loudly and with kavana. It was amazing. I’ve been dreaming of having an experience like this since I first discovered them. I didn’t know all of the tunes, but the ones that I did know, I sang along to with all my heart. There were men who were standing up on the platform behind the railing separating the women’s section who were participating as spiritedly as we were, and that warmed my heart.

Halfway through, some older ladies walked by and told us that our mothers and grandmothers would be ashamed and theirs were rolling in their graves. One of the Jewish History teachers, Ariella, who I happened to be standing near, responded by saying that her grandmother would be proud of her. I know that my grandmothers and mother are proud of me. At the end, I (and a few others) got to talk to Anat Hoffman! She was very nice. While we were chatting, there was a group of Orthodox girls nearby, staring at us and giggling, or sometimes glaring. Anat explained to us that they were curious about us, and how we could do things that the rabbi told them were forbidden. I think they were a little jealous, because they seemed to be curious about what it would be like to do what we were doing. Anat said they were probably confused about why we could, but they couldn’t. She said that this is why the rabbis are so opposed to Women of the Wall; they don’t want their  own women to even think about straying from tradition. It makes sense, I suppose, although one of the biggest points of Judaism (from what I understand) is the importance of curiosity and asking questions. By that logic, the rabbis should be happy that the girls are exploring things like that, but this wouldn’t be the only area in which religion and religious leaders have been corrupted from the original values of the religion.

Religion and corruption are a topic for another day, though. I promise I'll write a blog all about my views on it all at some point, but now I have to go to bed. Lila tov all!

Hijab Wearing Teens Have Restored My Faith In Humanity

This week I got special permission to write about an article that isn't about Judaism, because I found one specific one (still about a religion, just not ours) that truly restored at least a small portion of my faith in humanity. It was about the issue of whether Muslim girls should be allowed to wear a hijab while playing sports. What I read astounded me. First off, it was only this year that FIFA lifted its ban on headscarves. It took until March of 2014 for them to stop discriminating against an entire religion's worth of soccer players. Second, even after this decision was handed down, a school team still refused to allow one of their girls to play with a headscarf. Now, I might understand them not following the big league's rules if it wasn't for religious purposes, but for some Muslim girls, telling them that they may not play with a hijab is as good as telling them that they may not play at all. This girl, Samah Aidah, is one of those girls, apparently. Her teammates, instead of standing by and having someone fill in for her like you would expect, decided to do their part in coming to defence of their wronged teammate.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. The entire team wore headscarves for their next game. Amazing, isn't it?
I absolutely love how these girls, who are mine and my friends' age, managed to not only let go of any and all prejudice and form their own adult opinions, but also work together and actively support their friend. Not many people would willingly don an article of clothing that is such a classifier, in this climate. And the very fact that they felt bothered enough by the injustice to stand up for their friend's right to religious freedom shows a special kind of integrity not often found in American teenagers. On the flip side, I think it's just sad that these girls had to resort to this. Why were they put in this situation? Because their coach couldn't let go of that same prejudice and be a decent human being. So over all, huge win for the girls, but major disappointment in the Responsible Adult department.

The article that I read can be found here.

Poland

Before you read this entry, I must give you fair warning that its contents could very well be seen as controversial, and perhaps insulting to some. In no way do I mean for it to be, and I am only speaking my mind.
Last week began our preparation for the Poland trip, with a very moving and informative display put together for us by the madrichim. But it was only today, as we were given our roommates and told to start preparing, that it really sunk in for me that next week we will be going to Poland, a veritable showcase of our worst memories. It was there that so many of our brothers and sisters died, and many more suffered unimaginable torture. Yet it is also a place, a country, just like any other. Yes, we have many bad memories there. But it is also the home to many people. As terrified as we all are to travel there, we must remember that it isn't all death, gloom, and concentration camps. It's also schools, houses, libraries, politics, and so much more. So even as I steel myself in preparation to send my emotions through the wormhole at warp 10, I remind myself and others that the side of Poland that we are about to see, that of darkness, is only one side, and we mustn't forget that there are many other parts to this country, as with any other. Yes, it holds a dark past for the Jewish people, there is no denying it. But it also holds a bright future for the human race.

Hillel

NOTE: I just discovered that my posts for this week were sitting in my drafts folder, and that they didn't actually get published. I apologise for the wait, and here they are now.
The other day on Facebook, I saw a link my dad posted about Hillel. The movement, not the person. It was by a rabbi who used to be heavily involved in Hillel. Now though, he said through this article that he can no longer support them. After reading the article, I have to say neither can I. Apparently, they have the nasty habit of suppressing anyone who doesn't agree with their extremely pro-Israel beliefs. If you are even involved in anything that is in any way associated with Palestine, Arabs, Islam, or anything even remotely anti-Israel (or has the potential to be), or you disagree with some of the current Israeli policies (and act on your belief), then you are not welcome. As the rabbi put it (because I couldn't put it any better), they have "essentially banned all liberal Jews who love Israel but disagree with the current Netanyahu government from Hillel involvement."
This infuriates me. I've never been involved in Hillel, but it doesn't matter. They are Americans, and they are suppressing people's right to an opinion. They are going against the very essence of our country, the very reason we exist. The right to be your own person. I almost can't conceive how an institution in the United States could be so blind and one sided. Perhaps I'm madder than is rational, but it really bothers me.
They insult respectable people who have their own sophisticated opinions, and in doing so they are proving themselves to be rather low on maturity.
If you have a different opinion, or know another side of this issue, please let me know because I feel woefully under-informed.
Here's a link to the article: http://touch.sun-sentinel.com/#section/-1/article/p2p-79515797/

Orthodox and the Army

This might be a little late, but I'd like to react to the ultra orthodox protest that happened in Jerusalem last week. For those of you who aren't aware, a law was passed very recently requiring the ultra orthodox to go to the army. Leading up to that Knesset meeting, the ultra orthodox staged a protest in Jerusalem, which wound up being peaceful, as opposed to violent like some of my more creative classmates began to imagine.
As a liberal Jew, I disagree with what they were protesting for. However, as a person with morals, I believe that every person is entitled to the right to protest. So, while I may think that they are wrong to avoid the draft like that, I do think that they had every right to protest as they did.
On the flip side, regarding why they were protesting, I think that in this culture, it is important for everyone to contribute. And as much as they think they are contributing by studying in yeshivot, they're really not. At least, not in a productive enough manner to justify thousands of them, practically a tenth of the population, not serving in the army or doing a sanctioned alternative. The law was designed a few hundred people, in a time when the crucial preservation of the Jewish religion needed some help. Now though, the Jewish religion isn't in any danger. There are hundreds of thousands of religious Jews all over the world. Not only that, but the ultra orthodox population has grown so much in relation to the rest of the Jewish Israeli population, that they are a huge chunk of the Israeli people. Them not going to the army will hurt Israel badly. Therefore, while I agree with their right to protest, I definitely do not agree with what they are aiming for.

This Week's Article

The article that I read this week was about a demographics problem that Israeli Foreign Minister Avigdor Liberman insists that the Jewish people are having. It discussed several things, but the one that stood out to me was his belief that sending children to Jewish schools will fix the problem. It is true that Jewish schools undeniably give Jewish children sorely needed information about their religion, and many come out of the schools much more knowledgeable than most. However, I can also say from personal experience that many people get turned away from Judaism through their experiences at Jewish day schools. I won't go into detail, seeing as people's religious feelings can be a very personal thing and not my secret to tell, but I can say this. In my experience, the huge onslaught of Jewishness that is forced upon a child all at once, all the time, for years, that comes with going to a Jewish day school, is part of what disillusions people. It makes being Jewish seem like a chore. In my opinion, as opposed to funding Jewish schools, people should be funding fun and informational yet not forceful programmes for children, in order to incorporate them into the Jewish community without pushing it.

Am Yisrael - The Saviours of the World?

Today in class, we talked about a non-Jewish historian (whose name I can't remember) who truly believed that the Jewish people was clearly put on this Earth for a divine purpose. Apparently, the Jews always have a solution before the rest of the world even discovers the problem requiring said solution.
 For example, Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zichai, who figured out how Judaism could continue without a Beit Hamikdash (the Holy Temple). You might say that it can't have been that hard, because the Jewish people operated for many years before the Beit Hamikdash, but there are several things to consider. 
For one thing, the culture and traditions of our people have been rapidly changing ever since the religion was founded. Since they had the Beit Hamikdash for so many years, the traditions of the Jewish people had long since evolved to be heavily dependent on it, and the priests.
For another, we are now in an era that is post Tanakh, and therefore with much more distance between us and many of the influences present during the Tanakh. 
Finally, there have been generations of religious leaders since our last time without the temple who did their own part to connect the Jewish people to the temple, writing their own commentaries and opinions and presenting them to the culture as law. 
Therefore, in my mind, it isn't such a stretch that finding a way to survive without the Beit Hamikdash in that setting is such a huge feat. 
As to whether or not that means Jews are a people divinely chosen to be ahead of the game... Well, as much as Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zichai had the foresight to be prepared, I don't think that the same can be said for the entire Jewish people. Every religion has their share of wise ones, cautious ones, and strategizing ones, not just the Jews. On the flip side, every religion has their fair share of idiots, and the Jews are no exception. My point is that it is the individuals within the people of Israel who are gifted, and not  people as a whole. The Jewish people are not perfect. My conclusion, therefore, is that while those are pretty words and nice compliments, they do not hold any basis in fact.

Intermarriage

The article that I read this week was on intermarriage (between Jews and non-Jews). This one is a very controversial issue. Many Jews believe that intermarriage will be the downfall of the Jewish people. Others, though, claim that it is just the breath of fresh air that we need. There are facts and statistics to back up both of them: there is a higher percentage of Jews who turn away from religion that only had one Jewish parent than two, but the percentage of Jews with one Jewish parent who stay Jewish is rising rapidly.
I have personal experience with this issue. After all, one of my best friends (you know who you are if you're reading this, and you'd better be!) has a Christian mother, and the same with my first cousins. Thus, I have a strong stance. My best friend went to a Jewish day school with me for nine years, and there is no way that you could say that she isn't Jewish! That alone probably tells you, I'm all for allowing intermarriage. Just as with same-sex marriage, I don't see why anyone else should be able to tell someone who they can and can't love. I do, however, think there should be some stipulations. If an intermarried couple decides to have children, they need to have a clear path for how they want to raise their children, religiously and spiritually speaking. It is important to give your child a sense of identity. I personally am not going to say that you need to raise your children Jewish, because it is completely up to you whether you pick your religion or your spouse's religion. You could even give them limited exposure to both, so long as you make it clear to them which one they are. And, of course, they can make their own decisions as to which parent's religion they follow once they are of an age when they can consider those things intelligently.
What do you think?

Is the Tanakh of Divine Creation?

On the test that we had recently in Jewish History, we were given five essay questions and told to pick two to write about. However, there was a third that caught my eye, and so I decided to save it for a blog post (if you're interested, I'd be happy to type up my other essays at some point and post them). The topic is the question stated in the title: Is the Tanakh of Divine Creation?
Here is my response.
In my opinion, the Tanakh is of human origin, not divine. Not only that, but I think that there were multiple writers. In class, we discussed four, but also the possibility of as man as hundreds more. This is evidenced by the many different voices found within its pages. As a writer, I'm very familiar with the idea of each person having their own unique style of writing, a different "voice" if you will, and the same can be said for the writers of the Tanakh. It's clear when the writing changes hands. Also, each writer focuses on different things, and uses different phrases/titles.
All together, that shows me that, unless God wove together an intricate plot to make us think that the Tanakh was written by humans in order to hide the fact that it was written by God (which is highly unlikely; why on earth would anyone go to such trouble for something so trivial?), the Tanakh was clearly written by humans.
What do you think?

What Drives Success: My Commentary

I'm going to preface this post by stating that there will be many blunt statements put forth in the following paragraphs, probably many of them less than politically correct. However, that's how I found my assigned article to be, so that's how I will be writing.

The article that I read this week discussed stereotypes that are present in American culture, how they make themselves known to society, and the amount of truth that there is to each of them. I found the article both interesting and informative, and also somewhat surprising. I've always known that there are stereotypes out there, most of them shallow and none too pleasant. However, what I didn't know was the grain of truth that lies within most of them.

The article presented these ideas as facts, so that's how I'll speak of them. The facts expressed are mostly along the lines of a correlation between status and ethnicity/religion/race. Immigrants in general are always notoriously either very well off, or some of the poorest in the nation, depending on where in the world they are from. For instance, Africans tend to be placed in the “poor and uneducated” category, while Asians are often put in the “rich and intelligent” one. Nobody that I know of has ever claimed to back those stereotypes with facts, but that's exactly what this article is doing.

I don't really know how I feel about that. After all, it has been my life long goal to not judge people at all, let alone by any physical characteristic. Then again, the facts sometimes line up to disprove prejudices, like in the case of the Nigerians at Harvard. In that case, I have to side with the facts. And, as I don't like to be blind or one-sided, I must therefore also accept that the facts often line up in favour of stereotypes.

Despite the fact that I accept the grain of truth in many stereotypes as proven to me in the article, I'm still sure that I won't let this revelation colour my judgement in the future.

The article in question can be found here.

THE DOOR FELL OFF IN JEWISH HISTORY TODAY 
THEN THEY CAME AND FIXED IT
AND NOW IT ACTUALLY CLOSES WHICH IS A FIRST

The Kotel

So I'm sitting on my bed while my roommate Jenna is chatting with her friends. Occasionally, I will throw in a comment. Right now though, they're discussing the Kotel. They all have different views on the holy place, and I find it very interesting. For instance, one boy called the Kotel a shrine. After taking a moment to think it through, I discovered that I agree with him. After all, as he pointed out, a shrine is a place where people can have physical contact with an important part of their religion. The Kotel is all that remains of the Beit Hamikdash, our holiest of holy temples, and it was believed to be a physical house for God. However, one girl had a rather vehement reaction in the negative to that suggestion. She was shocked that he could even consider calling something so ancient and unique like the Kotel something so common as a "shrine". When pressed, she explained that her connection, as well as most other Jews' connections, were much too deep to be defined in such a way. I find it interesting the way that people's views and feelings in regard to the same religion and culture can differ so easily and widely.

Services and Shabbat

This Shabbat has been an interesting experience for me. The customs and traditions of Reform Judaism are much more different from my own than I would have expected. Many of the prayers that we, at the Reconstructionist congregation of Kol Halev, do in whole, are shortened or simply omitted. Other prayers that we do here, we don't do at all back home. Still more have radically different tunes, or a few changed words here and there. 

For instance, in the blessing before reading from the Torah, at my temple we say "asher kervanu la'avodato," while here (and I think in most other places) they say "asher bachar banu mikol ha'amim." The difference is that, in Reconstructionist Judaism, all references to the Jewish people being above the other people, or the chosen people, are removed. We also say "with the other nations" as opposed to "from the other nations" whenever that comes up.

It has been difficult for me for other reasons too. Most everyone here has attended some form of Reform camp, and they all seem to know the same tunes, games, songs, and traditions.  It's hard, not knowing half of the prayers. I am trying to learn all of the tunes that I don't know, but it isn't quite the same as having known them all along and being very familiar with all of them, like so many of my peers are. It reminds me that I am different, and though I don't usually mind that, it will make things harder during the religious aspect of this trip.

I appreciate the strong connection that most of this community has, but I hope that soon I can find my own place in it as well. It's a beautiful thing, friendship, and not one that I would ever want to miss.

Today's update

Hello All!
Today is another interesting day on Kibbutz Tzuba. This morning (actually, it might have been last night, but that's beside the point) I was discussing kibbutzim with a few other people on the trip. Or rather, someone brought up something they didn't like and my mind went into overdrive doing comparisons. In this case, the person said they thought that the dining hall served way too many carbs and not enough protein or other types of foods. I personally think that's BS - whoops, sorry, I mean that I don't think that's right. There's plenty there, if you know where to look and are willing to keep an open mind about foreign foods. When I walked in to the cafeteria this morning for breakfast, I found a table full of fresh vegetables, hummus, and tachina, several cereal options, several drink options, and several main course options. Comparatively, at the kibbutz (that shall go unnamed) that I visited last time, they served us literally only white bread and rice. And hot chocolate. So I think we're doing pretty well, don't you?

I think I figured out how this works now...

Well it's still rather confusing, but I think I have at least some idea of how this is supposed to work now. For example, I found a title! I added a view counter! I still don't know how to add a list of blogs though... If someone could tell me that would be lovely.

First post

Today in Jewish History we discussed the truth behind the Tanakh. Most of us agreed that it should not be taken literally, but everyone had differing opinions on how much of it was true. I personally think that none of it can be taken literally, and that probably none of it actually happened exactly as it says in the Tanakh. After all, so many of the stories appear to be so carefully constructed, and their structures follow the structure of a good fictional story, one that's purpose is to deliver a moral. How many of real world stories come with a convenient beginning, middle, end, plot arc, and moral? Certainly not enough to fill the entire Tanakh. Therefore, I believe that the Tanakh was written by leaders of the Jewish people who hoped to be able to send a message to their people and teach them through intelligently crafted stories based upon their own history.