reflections on a trip to Israel

I came back from Israel from Women's Reconnection trip. It was a trip designed for all of us (nebachs) who did not qualify or otherwise were not able to go on JWRP. In a nutshell, it was an amazing trip and I do recommend it to open-minded seekers. Here are some more of my jumbled jet-lagged thoughts before they escape and become not important.

I was the youngest of the group, by a decade at least. However, I had no problem connecting and participating and interacting with other women. I know that we were a self-selecting bunch of those open to new experiences and new connections. I also know that being in the presence of so much wisdom acquired through age and trial and error was humbling. Also, I noticed how many women were divorced or on their second marriages. I wondered how many of them needed this trip at a different, earlier point in their lives. I was grateful to take it now instead of waiting another twenty years to "focus on myself".

The trip and the participants made me feel normal, like I belong, that there is no problem with being myself, feeling what I am feeling, observing what I am observing, learning Torah and practicing the way that I do. There was no sense that there is a need to investigate anyone's kashrut or check anyone's tzitzit. I marveled at that because the trip included a few rebbitzins and I even noted it to them explicitly. We were all just Jewish women, enjoying the hospitality of other Jews.

I got a confirmation that my connection to Hashem is intact. I davened at the Kotel and kever Rachel and at Shiloh, and had no problem pouring my heart out in heartfelt prayer. G-d's presence (shechina) was there, and I could feel approaching it, focusing my thoughts, letting whatever burdened me to flow from my lips. I was not ashamed to cry. I was not limiting my thoughts, wondering if I am asking for too much, or whether it is my place to ask. I am not mad at G-d, or questioning his existence or ability to influence the events. I am mad at the people on the ground, who are committing evil in his name, denying me access to the Divine by their hypocrisy.

I was truly happy and content in Israel. Maybe it had to do with the lack of responsibilities. Maybe it had to do with a distance from my children and being able to be defined by something other than an overwhelmed mother of five. Maybe it's because the caregiving for my extra-needy child was not in my hands. Maybe it was because everything was simpler. Maybe it had to do with being able to move, walk a lot, not have to spend hours sitting in the car driving carpool, driving to activities. Perhaps it had to with having a loosely set schedule, where at any given time there was only one place I was supposed to be and only one thing I was supposed to focus on instead of the constant barrage of preparations and anticipations and things that I forgot to do that I experience in the States. Maybe it was being physically removed from the trauma that is my current shul and rabbi and alleged child molester and no ability to bring this all to light. Maybe it was being surrounded by so many women who simply bearing no ill will towards me.

I am a self-defining introvert, normally hanging back, reserved, not social, not seeking to reach out, needing my own space and craving peace and quiet. In Israel, due to the nature of the trip and the comfortable supportive atmosphere, I found myself seeking the company of others, reaching out, disclosing personal details, volunteering answers, and being "out there". Yet that felt like a very authentic part of me. There were a few times that I did feel overwhelmed and overstimulated, but nowhere near as much as I feel in the States on any given day. I wonder whether I am not just an introvert, but I simply try to minimize draining and cursory interactions so that I do not end up with extra pain.

Finally, as far as the learning aspect of the trip, I felt that the bigger messages of gratitude, recognizing and acknowledging the Divine, being G-d like in my actions, and being vulnerable with our pain and with the pain of others made me feel like I am on the right track. It took me many years and many uncomfortable twists and turns to arrive at the place where I stand but to find the classes that reinforced and deepened those themes was affirming.

From the very first time I went to Israel to this trip (my third), I felt that in Israel there is a continuum of observances and beliefs rather than discrete groupings that are taking place in America. Some of them are way out there, and some of them appear to be most like familiar American divisions, but the unity of the Jewish people somehow trumps over everything. We had a kabbalat Shabbat at the Kotel (my first Shabbat in Jerusalem) and, as we were signing with our small group, we formed a circle. All of a sudden, other women joined in: frum, not frum, in skirts, in pants, with hair covered and not, and even quite a few tourists who I am pretty sure were not Jewish. Somebody was recording the whole spontaneous scene with a cellphone and nobody was waiving for her to stop. A few days before we explored the theme of feeling a touch of the Divine. Joint experiences in the multitude of others came up. At this moment, singing and dancing together, like one person with one voice and one heart, I felt G-d's fingerprint in the world. I am not a mystical person, I am very rational and logical by nature. However, the way that this trip spoke to me was mystical and mysterious. For some reason, this is what I needed to take away.

Continuation of Nach Yomi

I am almost done with Melachim, for which I was using Artscroll Rubin edition. I have been reading a perek a day, in English, and then reading through the commentary to that perek.

There were a few things I liked about that edition:

• The translations and the commentary are fairy well-written.
• Side bars contain helpful information, introducing each new king or event, so it is easy to follow the narrative. 
• The haftorahs are marked on the side.
• The text is clearly set.

Unfortunately, the Artscroll did not continue with the rest of Nach. There is a translation of pshat (literal text), but no commentary. The only options I encountered were Judaica Press edition and fully translated Rashi on chabad.org . Having such slim pickings, I decided to get Judaica Press Isaiah and see how it goes.

One of the nice things about Artscroll is their clearly-set text. Judaica Press edition was copyrighted in 1983, and it shows, ad once is forced to squint at the text, especially the Hebrew commentaries. It looks like xeroxes of some older edition of Mikraot gedolot. I am not sure how the translation will be, whether it is literal or poetic, and whether modern or archaic English is used.

Which makes me wonder: is there no market for Nach to be translated and elucidated for detailed study in English? Or is it supposed to remain a closed book unless you are fluent in Biblical Hebrew and are at ease navigating through mounds of commentaries? Or is the baal teshuva market saturated with self-help and insirational books, so there is no place left for in-depth learning?

Much of Melachim is not a fun, inspirational read. This is a nation, split in two, declining, at times at the brink of civil war, in upheaval, and not living up to its potential. There are miracles and horrors, but, at the end, there will be exile. None of the miracles have the lasting effect, and neither do the horrors. People do whatever they see fit, from the kings, to the priests, to the commoners. The end result is exile. A sobering message indeed. Is this not an important lesson?

For now I will stick with Judaica Press and I hope that other publishers wake up and make the rest of the Nach accessible to the less educated. Rambam wrote in Arabic, to make his works available to the masses, so are we holier and more perceptive than Rambam?

baseless hatred

We are currently in the period of time known as "three weeks" or "between the straits". This is the time of mourning between two fasts, the 17th of Tamuz and the 9th of Av. On the 9th of Av, both of the Batei Mikdash were destroyed and countless multitudes of Jews were murdered, enslaved and exiled. Traditionally, G-d's punishments follow the pattern of mida keneged mida, or measure for measure. As long as the sin for which we are exiled is not rectified, it is still necessary to remove us from the land of our forefathers and the Third Beit haMikdash is withheld from us.

The reason for this second prolonged exile is sinat chinam, baseless hatred. As a nation, as a whole, we must still be exhibiting this to the degree that prevents us from going back.

Over the years, I wondered about this: do we really hate each other so much? Do we hate people for no reason? I understand that one can hear slander about others and form false opinions. But would you despise your fellow Jew without knowing anything about him?

I had a painful reality call yesterday. I shared the following picture on FB (it's been making rounds):

The sign says: secular, religious, ultra-religious (Jews) are one nation. I thought it was beautiful, especially held by a guy who obviously can belong only to one of those groups. I have been promptly informed that this sign is part of a rally to get orthodox people to serve in the Israel Defense Force (army), who do not serve otherwise. I was a bit confused by that: I have plenty of friends who either did serve, whose husbands serve, or who volunteered to serve. And all these friends are orthodox, practicing Jews. As my friends were waking up in Israel, person by person, they stated as much. The whole conversation was weird, as, on one hand, they were called not orthodox, and, on the other hand, they could not be serving.

I said that if we move to Israel, my two orthodox boys would most definitely serve in the army and work, not even a question. I was told that my kids are not orthodox....

I thought about all of this for a while. I realized that what I brushed against was not a call for unity--let all nation share the joint burden of army service, but against baseless hatred based on false assumptions. The assumption went something like this: if you are calling yourself orthodox, then you must sit in kollel, mooch off the government, avoid serving in the army, have many kids so you can mooch off the government some more, pay no taxes... I am sure that there are people like this. I am sure there are plenty of people like this. I am sure there are many loud-mouthed people like this who like it and want everyone else to like it, too.

But I also know that there are many people who are NOT like this. I know that I bristle every time I have to define myself: I am Jewish, I am Russian, but not really, I am from Moldova, but that is not my defining characteristic, I am a baalat teshuva, but I do not need beginner's minyan, I am orthodox, but not yeshivish, or modern or machmir or whatever else. ( I am so glad that I do not have to fill lout those inane shidduch website forms!)

I wonder how people in Israel would call themselves Charedi ( ultra-orthodox), but do not think like Charedi. How many are secular but deeply traditional. How many are religious, with mystical streaks? One of the things I saw and liked about Israel is that there seemed to be a continuum of observance instead of discrete groups like in America. Is that just an illusion?

I have a feeling when we start hating each other less than others hate us, we will be redeemed.

If you would like to hear what some Charedim have to say about status quo, click here.

since we've been gone

Today ended up being first "regular" school day since our NY trip. The boys resisted, especially the oldest. As far as academics go, we went over hagaddah, reading parts out loud ( easy when you have been listening to Pesach songs AND looking over hagaddahs laying around, especially the comic one from NY). Both boys did Rosetta Stone.

5 yo did math, more place value through hundreds. 7 yo did telling time to a minute.

5 yo did handwriting both in English and Hebrew. He also asked for reading which was not on the list, so he read to me and I read to him. He was a bit worried about Llama, but I said that I would write half and he wrote the other half.

7 yo got stuck on spelling, he got "witch" wrong again, followed by "neighbor" and "eight". By that point, he was in tears, spelling is not his subject, he should be doing level A ( he's on D). Moreover, when I was telling how to spell words correctly, he wrote them wrong and then was frustrated to rewrite them. As a review, I asked him to type them on the computer and illustrate with clip art--that he really likes.

Then we got to math, which was about telling time to the minute. I got another earful how math is not his subject either, science is. I told him that if he puts in effort, that's what counts, not just what he naturally has talent in. I don't think he believed me.

Then he balked at Lashon HaTorah. I asked to do one page, he sat there, then asked to do half a page. Finally he did that.

At some point, he said that he wants to be uneducated, like Anglo-Saxons. I told him that those did not do so well. He said, that's because the Vikings got them, and they are not around any more, so he's safe. I tried hard not to smile, thinking how much knowledge is required to make all of those uneducated statements.

I have been toying with unschooling idea. I think my unschooling is more like very relaxed schooling, where kids can read a lot of whatever they choose, beg others to play educational games with them, listen to books on tape and ask the meaning of unfamiliar words, retell stories that they heard, make maps of empires, spontaneously sew afikomen bags, go to museums... in case you are wondering what we did for the past week's hiatus, this is what our learning has been like.

On the drive back from NY, 7 yo asked me why people in Israel say "Goal Yisrael" in Shemone Esre, aren't they not in galut any more? That led to a discussion of what is galut, why we are in galut, how do we get out of galut. These little spontaneous discussions cannot be coming from above, they have to come because the children want to know.