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Wednesday, February 11, 2004

Wed, 11 Feb 2004 16:12:11 GMT

R'IDAT ADAMAH (EARTHQUAKE)

While I was at the elderly center this morning, we felt an earthquake. It was pretty small, but noticable. It felt kind of like a big truck must have been driving down the street. A really big truck.

Here's some articles about it online:

http://www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?pagename=JPost/JPArticle/ShowFull&cid=1076506709378

http://web.israelinsider.com/bin/en.jsp?enPage=ArticlePage&enDisplay=view&enDispWhat=object&enDispWho=Article%5El3296&enZone=Politics&enVersion=0&

Monday, February 09, 2004

Mon, 09 Feb 2004 19:00:33 GMT

BLOG ENTRIES PUBLISHED

Here is a link to some of my blog entries about my work that got published to the Boston-Haifa website:

<http://www.haifa-boston.org/news-0402-otzma.asp>

NEXT TRACKS

My last day in Haifa is Feb 26. Then, I will go to Jerusalem for the rest of the program.

First, I will be participating in a three-week long program relating to Judaism with most of the other OTZMAnikim. It should be fun and progressive-ish.

Then, I will be doing an internship (Sorry, folks, it's also unpaid!) at the Jerusalem Open House where I will help out with resource development and the website.

Monday, February 02, 2004

Mon, 02 Feb 2004 21:16:19 GMT

MORE ABOUT MY VOLUNTEER WORK
(For previously written information about my work at the Elderly Day Center, see the blog entry dated December 17, 2003.)

JAPAN MUSEUM
I work at the Tikotin Museum of Japanese Art <http://www.haifamuseums.org.il/japeng.htm> two mornings a week where my main role is to transcribe (perhaps transtype) all the information from the museum's index-card-based catalogue into the standard electronic catalogue that has been developed for all of the Haifa Museums. It's pretty basic work, but it gives me a chance to have exposure to the works the museum has. I also get a sense of how a museum works by being around the director, Ilana Singer, and the staff. Sometimes I proofread English translations of explanatory texts and captions to accompany the art in the museum hall. I've even once helped rearrange the kimono exhibit and proofread a letter of thanks to a Japanese donor.

Actually, last night, with my friend Amit Cohen, I attended a special event held at the museum consisting of exhibits of Japanese swords and drawings followed by performance in Indian Music. It was a part of some conference on Asian culture taking place at Haifa University or something.
In any case, it was cool to see that descriptions that I had proofread accomanied the displays.

MOADONIT YODFAT (Yodfat Youth Center)
Two afternoons a week, I go to an after-school center for youth in a "difficult" neighbourhood of the Hadar section of Haifa. It's a diverse group of Arabs and Jews from mostly immigrant families, and as poorly as the kids behave, its good to see that their quarrels with one another aren't based on religious or racial differences. It gives me some hope.

The kids play basketball, get help with homework, eat a hot meal, and generally make the counselors lives a living hell as they try to run activities for them! My role is to hang out with the kids and be friendly, and I teach a karate class for the kids aged 10-13. Besides that, one day a week, the kids have a drumming chug (activity) and on Tuesdays, we recently started taking the kids to the science museum <http://www.mustsee.co.il/#> in the old Technion building. But going to the museum left no time for me to run the karate chug, so I switched days so I could keep teaching it twice a week.

I remember when I taught the Ethiopian kids karate alongside Jeremy at the absorption center in Ashqelon, and it didn't turn out as orderly as we expected. I figured if I tried it with another group of kids in Haifa it would be much more smooth. I was wrong! The kids at the moadonit here are the most unruly, undisciplined kids I've ever met in my entire life. But the other counselors said they appreciate the work that I do and that even though only about 6 kids last more than 15 minutes in the class each time, they think the discipline of the class is important for them and worthwhile.

One of the counselors and I have talked a little more about the kids themselves, and it seems every one of them "has a story."

MERKAZ ILAN (Ilan Center) FOR THE HANDICAPPED
Merkaz Ilan is a sports center for handicapped people including a swimming pool, basketball court, ping-pong tables, and a lounge. I work in the swimming pool once a week, assisting patients who want to spend an extra half-hour after their physical therapy session just doing independent stuff in the pool. Most of the patients have cerebral palsy, though one of the people I've become friendly with was in a car accident when she was about twenty. She communicates in English pretty well, and we spoke a lot in the beginning and she eventually invited me to see her place in the assisted-living facility right by the center. When I visited, I saw that there was a logistically decent place to be for someone with a severe disability, but a social atmosphere is non-existent for someone used to a normal life like Alona. As we talked, Alona told me about her accident from 10 years ago. She originally was in a coma for 3 and a half months and couldn't speak or eat or move much at all when she woke up. It seems she has had to put in effort into relearning everything she does. Her speech is strained and she is mostly wheelchair-bound. On the walls in her room which she shares with a roommate, she has pictures of herself riding horses near Eilat and jigsaw puzzles which she has put together in more recent times. Alona's experience is so interesting to me, though it is saddening. I suppose there were worse possible alternatives to her situation now, but only she knows what it's like to deal with it. I told her that she should consider connecting to the internet to meet other people throughout the world with similar experiences.

I suppose I was a good guest. Next week, I've been invited back to eat dinner with her in the facility after working at the pool.

LEV CHASH <http://www.levchash.co.il/>
Both "lev" and "chash" have two consonants when written in Hebrew (which usually excludes vowels in written form). Lev means heart. Chash, means caring and is actually the abbreviation of the last names of the two founders of the organization, which supplies household items, furniture, clothing, and other things to the needy at heavily discounted prices. Leah, Kim, Rachel, and I work there at the warehouse-like store in Hadar (the same area as the youth center I work in) every Wednesday afternoon to clean up and reorganize the goods before patrons come and ask me if I speak Russian. Then we tell them I don't speak Russian and communicate in broken Hebrew and sign language till they have found what they want at the right price. The clientele is actually very diverse and resembles the mix that I know at the youth center. In fact, I seen three of the kids from Yodfat in the toys section of the store in the past few weeks.

Honestly, I think the work there is soooo boring, but I have the company of my other OTZMAnikim and I know that the place needs help and serves a purpose in the community. So I go.

Saturday, January 10, 2004

Sat, 10 Jan 2004 19:55:39 GMT

INTERESTING LINK TO THE WAR ON TERROR

I just saw an article in a that remided me of an important conversation I had with someone a year and a half ago:

I remember going to the AEPi Northeast Regional Conclave in the Spring of 2002 in Toronto, and I had a conversation with one of the alumni who was involved in the fraternity leadership with whom I was friendly and somehow I think I ended up mentioning that I had been in the Air Force ROTC program when I started at MIT, and I said one of the reasons I left the program was because I was against the military and didn't believe in war and such. The alum probably asked me if I didn't think it was necessary for the military to be in Afghanistan, and I said I thought there must be a better way to deal with the problems there, and so he asked me a simple question for which I had no answer: "Well, what's the alternative then?"

I'm grateful the alum was unfraid to put me on the spot when I probably didn't have a good answer, because it forced me to think seriously about such an important thing. As time passed, I sought possible answers and realized that there probably are none, and that there's a time for laying down your arms and a time for picking them up, and that the US didn't deserve what it got on September 11th and that the nation had to respond with force, albeit a painful decision to make for a lot of people.

Today, that alumnus, Elon Carr, is serving in the US military in Baghdad and he has published an interesting article about his experiences there.

<http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/news/opinion/7634637.htm>

Wednesday, December 17, 2003

Wed, 17 Dec 2003 08:30:37 GMT

VOLUNTEER WORK AT THE ELDERLY CENTER

I'm taking a break from work at the Carmel Elderly Day Center (Merkaz Yom L-K'shish Carmel) and decided to jump on the computer for a second. (They have a computer room where the people come and sit and play solitaire games or check their email and look at pictures sent from their kids and such.) Anyway, I found a link that has a description of the center and Hebrew and a couple of pictures, so I figured I'd add it to my blog.

Here is is: <http://www.shilo.co.il/asg/Item_24.html>

I work here three days a week. When I arrive at 8:45, breakfast is already being served in the dining room. (God knows when everyone actually gets here! I'm probably still in bed then.) I jump right in and help clear up and push the tables around so the people can come back in and use the room for a seated exercise session. Then I eat. (That's the best part.) Then I set up the tables for lunch and have an hour or so to do whatever I feel like. (That's what I'm doing right now.) Sometimes I just sit down in the lounge/lobby area with a Hebrew text book and someone undoubtedly comes over and talks with me, be it one of the elderly folks (telling me I should meet their granddaughter and stay in Israel), the social worker who's 24 years old (who loves to practice English), or one of the Filipino m'taplim (caretakers) who live with some of the people who come here and speak English as a second language (the first being Tagalog). After my free time, I return to the kitchen, grab some lunch and then help serve lunch and clean it up. I usually make it out of the center by 1:45. Then I usually have other work elsewhere in Haifa.

That's about all I have time for now. Look forward to future blog entries about my other volunteer options.

Monday, November 24, 2003

Mon, 24 Nov 2003 16:08:19 GMT

ARRIVAL TO HAIFA

Well, I'm finally in Haifa for real. We just arrived in the Abba Chushi absorption center/dormitory where we will be living for the next three months. I decided to take the option to live move in with one of the immigrants here instead of living with other people from OTZMA. I think I will be more likely to use Hebrew and know what's going on around here that way. I have definitely realized that if I'm going to get better at Hebrew, then I'm going to have to leave my comfort zone a little bit.

I haven't met my roommate yet because he hasn't come home, but he is originally from Russia and made Aliyah (immigrated to Israel) in 2000. He's studying Politics and social services at the University of Haifa. Almost all the other residents of the center are studying at U Haifa or the Technion.

Tomorrow, we meet with our volunteer coordinator here to work out our volunteer options and work schedules. I'm hoping to be able to work in some time at the Haifa Forum and the Japan Museum in addition to a couple options that are already prescribed for us.

All this says nothing of the past three months, which I've barely written about at all... including joining the Boston solidarity mission to Haifa and the General Assembly of the United Jewish Communities in Jerusalem.

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

Wed, 05 Nov 2003 20:23:35 GMT

MORE ARTICLES WRITTEN BY NOT ME

Here are another two articles by my favorite OTZMAnik author Joshua Gross.

Title: Extra! Extra! Zionistic Transsexual Saves American Jewish Youth!

Any Jewish educator in America today will tell you that the major challenge in the classroom is trying to make Judaism fresh and vibrant for each new generation of students. These are students who feed their increasingly demanding appetite for stimulation by submerging themselves in television and the Internet, students who drift through their Hebrew School classes and Bar Mitzvah lessons in a fog of boredom. I was of those students and, through no fault of my teachers, drifted through that same fog. I tasted Judaism in those classrooms and found it a bit, well, stale. Unfortunately, I was not the only one afflicted by a disinterest in all things Jewish. One might go so far as to say that this distancing was—and continues to be—an epidemic sweeping the nation.

In America, Jews do not have to work very hard to shut themselves off from their religion and culture. In Israel, there is no escape. Even though Israel boasts some of the proudest and most vociferously secular Jews the world has ever seen, the spirit of Judaism is ubiquitous. Even the constant wail of traffic on Tel Aviv and Haifa’s bustling streets sounds Jewish; the staccato honk and holler of car horns, wielded like artillery weapons in the hands of stressed Israelis, is somehow reminiscent of a distinctly Jewish way of arguing. Perhaps it is redundant to state that Israeli Judaism is a very different game than American Judaism. But being told that Israel is a “Jewish State” and actually experiencing what that means, in all its variety, on a day-to-day basis, are two completely different things. Here, Judaism is not crammed into the claustrophobic confines of a synagogue or a Hebrew School; those cramped spaces that have sent legions of American Jews running for the exits for a breath of fresh air are but a small—some would say infinitesimal— piece of the Israeli pie.

While the leaves in New England begin their yearly chameleon act, the spirit of the High Holidays blankets Israel much in the same way that the Christmas spirit permeates America. To my surprise, my most meaningful encounters with Judaism in these last few weeks between Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot occurred not in Israel’s places of worship, but in its streets and clubs and shops. I was given a complimentary jar of honey with my purchases at Tel Aviv’s fashionable Castro boutique. I was wished a happy and kosher Sukkot by the electronic screen that kept my score at a bowling alley in Holon. Like virtually every other person in Israel, I found myself humming Galgalaz’s—Jerusalem’s premium radio station—infectious “Shana Tova! Shana Tova!” jingle long after Rosh Hashanah had passed. I spent many hours of my Yom Kippur fast in front of the television watching Israel’s 24-hour music channel to catch the Hebrew hip-hop collective Hadog Nachash’s new video, a cartoon depicting Theodore Herzel, Ariel Sharon and other historic Israeli personages partying at the Western Wall.

But the most moving Jewish experience I have had thus far has also been the most unexpected. The Dome, a packed trance and house club in the heart of metropolitan Tel Aviv, is probably one of the least-likely places for any epiphany other than, “I’m too drunk, this music is too loud, I need to go home.” But nowhere have I experienced the vibrancy of the Jewish people as I did there. Throughout the night that I spent at The Dome, the host of the party was the transsexual singer/performer Dana International. Ms. International (Born Yaron Cohen) is something of a sensation within the state of Israel. She is as well known and well liked here as Cristina Aguilera or Britney Spears. Over the last few years, Dana International has become a symbol for freedom, power, and individual _expression and now boasts a laundry list of hit songs. In May 1998, Dana truly went international when her song “Diva” made her a winner at the European Song Contest at the Eurovision Awards (you can imagine the controversy, especially amongst the religious authorities, surrounding the decision to choose such a “unique” performer to represent Israel). On the aforementioned night, Dana was dancing on a platform ten feet above the crowd, teetering on not-to-be-believed platform shoes, tempting and taunting soldiers to jump onstage with her as she sang along with the pulsing music in melodious Hebrew. Suddenly, two words that I recognized jumped out from the jumble of nonsensical syllables (my Hebrew is coming along very slowly. Very, very slowly), a phrase that stirred the crowd into a frenzy: Shana Tova! Shana Tova chaverim! Shana Tova! I have always associated those words with the long hours spent trapped inside an interminable Musaf service. To hear them booming along with the bassline at a club was an amazing experience indeed, one that caught me completely off guard.

Judaism can be as effervescent in America as it is in Israel, if only it is allowed to wander off the beaten path of tradition. Don’t let the cynics fool you: Music, television and the Internet have not replaced Judaism. Judaism, demonstrating its historic flexibility that is a testament to its survival, has absorbed those very mediums that many feared would challenge its relevancy. In the last few weeks we have come to terms with the tragedies and mistakes of the past year and turned our thoughts toward our hopes for the future. Israel is also occupied in this process of renewal, both in the hearts of its people and in the natural flow of its trends and fads. Israeli society is a progressive society, a society populated by Zionistic transsexuals and rappers whose knuckles are tattooed with Mogen Davids. This is not the Israel that Rabbis romantically recreate each week as they wax poetic before their congregation. This is not a country frozen in stasis, memorialized by sermons and prayers.

---------------

TITLE: Diagnosis: Political Schizophrenia

There should be a medical warning on El Al ticket stubs, written in the same manner that they are printed on packs of cigarettes. Warning: Seeing the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in shades of gray is harmful to your mental health; possible side effects include, but are not limited to, political schizophrenia and feelings of hopelessness.

What do I mean by this? I have observed in the last three months a number of people—myself excluded—who stepped into Israel with their mind made up and a mentality that sees things in terms of black and white. These people can emerge from the experience of being in this country in such times relatively unscathed. But being in Israel without a political outlook that is set in stone is mentally exhausting. It is painful. It is like getting into a fender-bender each time you try to drive your car. At the end of the day, your brain feels bruised and battered. Being that I stand with Israel while simultaneously sympathizing with the plight of the Palestinian people (two opinions that I do not believe are mutually exclusive), I suffer from bouts of this disease, this political schizophrenia. My image of the Palestinians flickers and transforms; it is continuously in flux. Villains. Victims. Terrorists. Innocents.

Turning a blind eye to the death and pain on the other side certainly is an easier way to get through the day, but remaining entrenched along tribal lines is not a viable solution to the problem at hand. One of the many reasons I am here is to explore such solutions, to follow Theseus’ string out of this apparently endless labyrinth. In not hardening my heart I have exposed myself to a barrage of stories and narratives that have tested the limits of my emotional endurance and made me questions many of the beliefs I brought with me when I arrived. Within the span of an article—even a paragraph—I have found my sympathies flip-flopping from one side of the conflict to the other and back again, the primary symptom of political schizophrenia.

An article in yesterday’s (October 24^th) International Herald Tribune was especially disconcerting, but not especially unique. The first section of the article described the brutal execution of two suspected Palestinian informants by their own people. I have quoted a segment of the article here:

Masked Palestinian gunmen carried out execution-style killings at

dawn Thursday of two fellow Palestinians suspected of being

informants for Israel. The bodies were then placed in the central

square of the Tulkarm refugee camp in the West Bank…While being

held captive the two men said on videotape that they had assisted the

Israeli security forces…Shortly after 6 a.m. Thursday, residents said

they heard a series of gunshots, and moments later the bodies of the

two men were placed in the central square. The men had been shot in

the head, then dragged into the square.

77 suspected collaborators have been killed by Palestinian vigilantes since September 2000, according to the head of the Palestinian Human Rights Monitoring Group, which also claims that hundreds of suspects were killed in similar circumstances during the last Intifada, adding that the Palestinian security forces did little or nothing to investigate these killings, both in the past and today. A Palestinian security official, speaking on the matter, blamed his organizations inability to stop the vigilante killing on Israel’s invasive military occupation.

The moment I read this article I erupted, spouting sentiments usually reserved for Likud hard-liners: Actions like this justify the current Israeli administration’s reluctance to move toward a Palestinian state. How could a state, menaced by such forces, terrorized by competing factions within itself, ever hope to achieve a sustainable democracy? How could a society that supports the execution of its own citizens through such purges, without trials, without the right to defend themselves, ever be expected to establish a true system of justice? What possible advantage, security or otherwise, would Israel, the Middle East, or the world at large gain by the addition of another Syria?

However, like a marionette that is fought over by two quarreling siblings, I am violently jerked back to the left only a few paragraphs later, once I read that the Housing Ministry has put out newspaper advertisements in order to seek construction bids to build 333 new homes in two west bank settlements. This flies in the face of the road map, which very bluntly states that Israel must cease its expansion of the settlements. Again, I begin to rant: With actions like this, how can Sharon’s words—words that profess a strong commitment to peace—be trusted? Such actions betray an acceptance of the status quo, and children being blown up, whether in Gaza or in Haifa, cannot be accepted.

And then, as soon as my anger has subsided, I turn the page and read that, according to the Palestinian Center For Policy and Survey Research, 75% of those Palestinians polled approved of the October 4^th suicide bombing that killed 21 people in Haifa. How can we take their promises seriously when they support the targeting of a restaurant jointly owned by Jews and Arabs, when they destroy the very model of coexistence that their propagandists claim they desire?

Another raid on Gaza. Twelve more killed.

Another attack on IDF soldiers. Three more murdered.

It is hard for those with compassion and sensitivity to human life not to feel as if they are ripping apart at the seams.

Although I am not a doctor, I would like to make a further diagnosis. It seems to me that Israelis are not immune to the political schizophrenia that affects so many Americans within its borders. Although many of the men and women I speak to in cabs, cafes, bars, and on the street talk of hopelessness, barely being able to utter the word “peace” as if it were the name of a dead lover, I believe that many of them are still holding out. These people are being split in half, pulled apart, just like I am. An epidemic has swept across the land.

For instance: I have noticed that the word Shalom is strikingly absent from the walls of Tel Aviv. In fact, paeans to Tupac Shakur outnumber that basic word Jews have always felt embodies the dream of Israel, its tri-fold meaning alluding to our dream of peace with every arrival and departure that we make. When I last visited Israel, 6 months after the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin, I remember the omnipresent graffiti, the towering peace signs that adorned the walls surrounding his memorial. Today, those chunks of the wall are preserved behind glass shields, as if they are in danger of being erased, as if they are precious remnants of a dead era. I found myself wondering if these fragments will eventually be shipped off to a museum to be preserved as proof that such a sense of possibility once existed. However, Justin Timberlake caused me to reconsider.

Justin Timberlake? The pop singer? Yes, Justin Timberlake.

Aptly, the most popular song in Israel at the moment is, “Where Is The Love,” a song Mr. Timberlake sings with another American music group, the Black Eyed Peas. Unless you barricade yourself in the catacombs of a Yeshiva, this song simply cannot be avoided; one hears it in bars, in clubs, in taxis, blasting out of apartments, hummed by pedestrians passing on the street. Although many Israelis have told me that there is no hope, that peace is impossible, that Arabs and Jews will never be able to live alongside one another, this is the song that they are singing, the proof that a schizophrenic outlook is much healthier on these shores than on our own and the testimony that Israeli’s, behind their gruff, warrior-like exterior, still long for the promises of Oslo:

People killin', people dyin'

Children hurt and you hear them cryin'

Can you practice what you preach

And would you turn the other cheek…

Yo', whatever happened to the values of humanity

Whatever happened to the fairness in equality

Instead in spreading love we spreading animosity

Lack of understanding, leading lives away from unity

That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' under

That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' down

There's no wonder why sometimes I'm feelin' under

Gotta keep my faith alive till love is found

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

Wed, 05 Nov 2003 20:19:48 GMT

ANOTHER NON-STANDARD BLOG ENTRY

Here is an article written by fellow OTZMAnik Joshua Gross. I love his writing and I jive with his message and experiences. Consider that if I were skilled, knowledgable, and less lazy, I'd write something like this:

The Bitterness In the Milk and Honey

The decision to pledge a year of my life to volunteer in Israel with Project Otzma was accompanied by delusions of grandeur typical to the young Jewish idealist en route to the Promised Land. Rather ego-maniacally, I expected beaming Israelis to whisk me off the plane and flamboyantly parade me around their country, showering me with thanksgiving for coming amidst the current wave of terror expressly to save their country. In the days before I boarded my El Al flight, I could almost hear their enthusiastic voices joining together in an overwhelming chorus of praise. Hallelujah! Halleluiah! The prodigal son has returned to us!

No such Israelis waved to me as I disembarked, and no such Israelis have since sought me out. I seamlessly blended into the endless throng of American tourists, arriving daily to sop up some ruach and departing daily to return to their comfortable lives and safe homes that waited for them, thousands of miles away, removed from the chaos.

When I meet Israelis, in bars, in cafes, on the street, everywhere, anywhere, nine times out of ten they will assume that I am a tourist. When I inform them that I am a mitnadev, a volunteer, their response is often a mixture of shock and confusion. The American in Israel is a happy-go-lucky sort; he or she can do the Zionist dream tour, soak in some Jewish culture, pray for peace at ha Kotel, plant a tree, and conclude the “Israeli experience” by davening at an Israeli shul or taking a quick, painful dip in the Dead Sea. This program, however, is problematic, being that the true Israeli experience is not being able to leave. No vacation or tour or program can possibly impart the sense of loss that haunts each and every Israeli citizen.

Once I have made it known that I am a volunteer (not without an overly-emphasized sigh of satisfaction to make my complete and total selflessness obvious to whomever I happen to be conversing with), the next question is, invariably, “Why?” Why leave your rich country protected by two immeasurable oceans? Your great big green lawn? Your laundry list of opportunities?” Why leave your family that has been untouched by religious and political zealotry? And each time I am asked this, when I have been given my spotlight, my perfect opportunity to be the greatest Jewish martyr since Jesus himself should I only concoct some few words of stirring patriotism and wisdom, I find that I am without an answer. Or that I have an answer, but I can articulate it. Maybe I am, as my grandmother tells me (hands waving dramatically through the air in front of my face), completely insane. The fixed stare that greets my speechless response seems to corroborate her theory.

The dual attacks on September 9^th reinforced this sense of distance between American and Israeli Jews that I had sensed since arriving in Israel.Even though I had crossed the ocean and penetrated the borders of Israel, I discovered psychic barriers that I had not expected to come across. That insistent plea, “Why? Why?” sometimes barked, often yelped, was a reflex conditioned by heartache and helplessness.

Although I had walked down Emek Refa'im only hours before one of the bombers detonated himself, I was safe at a wedding in Natanya when the pigua actually occurred. The festivities were interrupted by the news, but after the initial clamor that followed the announcement, my friend Miriam and I, two of three Americans at the wedding, were the only guests who remained visibly upset. I personally was shocked by the way the other guests seemed to shrug off this tragedy. Amidst the rising death toll, they celebrated. Miriam broke down crying and barraged me with questions that I could not attempt to answer. “I don’t understand; why do they do this to us? What does this accomplish?” A number of Israeli men at our table tried to console us.

“Is this what it means to be in Israel?” Miriam asked, tears running down her cheeks.

“No,” said one of the men, gesturing to the crowd of seemingly careless dancers. “This is.”

In my previous vacation to Israel I had seen the land of milk in honey as advertised in the bible, a true Jewish Disneyland, a continual reminder of triumph. Unfortunately, the tour was such a whirlwind that I was unable to catch my breath and speak to the people, to get a sense of their resilience and strength. I did not understand then, as I do now, that triumph is not a fixed point; rather, it is a constant and worthy struggle. My inexperience in this country had caused me to confuse a hardened heart with a determined heart. Israelis can detect the bitterness in the milk and honey. The American Jew often lacks this particular sensitivity in his or her palette. I am only beginning to recognize what has been intrinsic to the people of Israel for generations, that when the bitterness subsides, the milk and honey can be the sweetest one has ever tasted.

Project OTZMA is a ten-month volunteer program in Israel. Started 15 years ago, this program is designed for recent college graduates and gives participants an opportunity to live and work in a variety of settings throughout Israel. OTZMA is a joint program of the Israel Forum and the North American Jewish Federations, represented by the United Jewish Communities, in cooperation with the Department for Jewish/Zionist Education of the Jewish Agency. Since its inception in 1986, over 1000 young adults (ages 20-25) representing Jewish communities across North America have participated in this unique opportunity to serve Israel and the Jewish people.

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

Wed, 05 Nov 2003 20:14:55 GMT

SUBSTITUTE FOR A STANDARD BLOG ENTRY

Since I spend a lot of time emailing and reading things, and not so much time writing in my blog per se, I will introduce my first email to blog entry conversion now.

A friend of mine asked me a question about religious observance, and so I will copy some of my response to the question here, since it was lengthy, relevant to my life, and written by myself.

Please feel free to correct me if I've written something incorrect, and be nice since I'm really trying to understand things.

Here goes:

QUESTION

> I know that race/heritage-wise your Jewish,
> and somewhere in one of your entries you talked
> about being more liberal (I think) than your host
> family, so being that I know little about Jewish
> customs, ceremonies, beliefs, etc. etc. I wanted to
> ask you to clarify/specify the differences.

ANSWER

About your question, I'm not exactly sure what thing
that I wrote that you're asking me about. Cut and copy
for me! I'll try to give you a makeshift answer in the
meantime: there is a wide spectrum of Jewish practice
and strictness.... a lot of it has to do with law, and
a lot of it with lifestyle. Ultra-orthodox Jews tend
to have a whole "uniform"... men wear black coats and
black hats or yarmulkes, white button down shirts with
loose threads called "tzitzit" hanging (613 of them,
as a reminder of the 613 commandments), big beards and
long locks of hair hanging down from their sideburns
(according to a commandment or tradition of not
shaving the four corners of the face), and what not.
Ultra-orthodox women wear long dresses with long
sleeves and wear wigs in place of their natural hair
(because only their husbands should see what they
really look like). Really religious Jews will pray
three times a day (the men, at least), keep a kosher
diet and a kosher kitchen in their home, only eat in
kosher establishments, study Judaism a lot, rest
completely on the sabbath (no work, no use of
energy-consuming devices, no writing, and a whole
bunch of other things), observe a whole slew of really
old religious laws regarding daily life, believe in
God, and what not.

Less "religious" Jews (say, modern orthodox) tend to
wear modern clothes but men still always wear a
yarmulke. Many of the old laws are still observed.

Still more "liberal" Jews (say, conservative or
traditional) actually demand equality of the sexes,
and some men (and even some women) will wear a head
covering of some sort. Consistent study is less
frequent and daily prayer is less common. A lot of the
old religious laws are ignored, though keeping kosher
and observing the sabbath usually occur to some degree
or another.

Still more "liberal" Jews (say, reform or progressive)
are very loose and don't follow laws much at all.
Reform Jews often don't observe the sabbath, keep
kosher, study Jewish texts, or pray more than a couple
times a year. Many don't observe holidays. Many don't
believe in God.

People who don't even have a bar mitzvah ceremony or
have a Jewish wedding might not even identify as
reform Jews. Many American Jews aren't involved with a
synagogue at all and don't really care too much about
their religion and simply call themselves Jewish
because they come from Jewish families. The rate of
intermarriage among American Jews is somewhere around
50%, and most Jews who intermarry and up forgetting
about Judaism altogether, no less raise their children
as Jews. (Because of that and the low birthrate among
Jewish families in the States, it seems like the
number of Jews is remaining about constant while the
rest of the population actually increases.)

You can find all of the kinds of Jews I have written
about in America, though the really ultra-religious
Jews tend to be very concentrated in places like New
York. I would say most American Jews live near cities
and near the coasts.

In Israel, most people strictly identify as
ultra-orthodox, modern orthodox, or secular. (Secular
Jews are basically less observant than reform, if at
all.) Being in a Jewish country it's very easy to
maintain your Jewish identity with little effort. In
America and abroad, you find many more people with
middle-of-the-road observance levels, because most see
ultra-orthodox Judaism as outdated, but know they or
their children will lose their Jewish identity if they
don't do _something_.

I consider myself "just Jewish", meaning that I don't
fully identify with any major movement. (That's a
phrase, by the way, that lots of people are using
today in response to a need for less-defined spheres
of Jewishness!) My synagogue growing up was
conservative (though I didn't do religious things that
often), but at MIT I hung out with people all across
the board, and being in Israel, interestingly enough,
I can't identify at all, in terms of Jewishness, with
the ultra-orthodox (obviously) or the strictly secular
Jews (who would appear to have no religion at
all) though I mostly interact with secular Jewish
Israelis, and identify with them in a social and
cultural way.

Phew. So, I wonder if that explains what you wanted to
know. Let me know if you have more questions... :)

Oh I have one that I want to answer pre-emptively:
After explaining what every kind of Jewish-level
observance _doesn't_ involve, what unites Jews or
defines Judaism?

I have been trying to figure that out, but I would say
that it is: The Torah as the central book, Hebrew as
the holy language, monotheism (though many Jews are
agnostic or even atheistic, none could ever really be
polytheistic (and that's just my opinion)), awaiting
the messiah (though some people called "Jews for
Jesus" (also, not Jews in my opinion) believe it has
and plenty of others don't believe it ever will),
belief of the sabbath day as (roughly) Friday at
sundown to Saturday at sundown. Most Jews are
connected by a number of other things as well:
anti-semitism and a belief in a common history
starting as a nation of people in the holy land.

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

Wed, 05 Nov 2003 20:01:33 GMT

UPDATE

Yeesh it's been a while... I'm almost afraid to write anything significant because then I might be tempted to catch up completely, and then I'll be up for another week, and that would be bad, so I'll just be brief.

I'm in Ashqelon at the moment. We have another week here, and then we leave for a week and a half of travel and meetings with people from the American federations, and then I land in Haifa for 10 weeks with my fellow Boston-based OTZMAniks: Dani, Scott, Kim, Rachel, and Leah. There, we will be doing a lot of volunteer work in a number of agencies and projects five days a week, mostly with children from disadvantaged backgrounds, but also possibly with the elderly and immigrants.

I will also spend a week back in the States during that time. My cousin is getting married in New York on New Year's Eve, and I will be attending the wedding. I'll be in Florida December 27-29 and in New York from December 29 to January 2.

I've spent a lot of time meeting people but also relaxing and studying Hebrew lately. I'll give more details soon, hopefully.