שבת שלום! pt. 2

   Last night was yet another life-changing experience for me here on EIE. Our last Kabbalat Shabbat service was held on Tel Tzuba (this really cool mountain thing with ruins of old civilization), and guess who led the service. Yeah, you're right, it was me, along with two of my closest friends, Jenna and Amber. I have to say that this service was the most sentimental service of all, not just because it was the first service I had ever led, but also because it was the last Kabbalat Shabbat service I would ever participate in on EIE. I think the most heartwarming moment, other than when a few people started to cry when we sang "Sweet Mother," was when we were singing the Barchu. As we all turned around to face Jerusalem, I had the realization that I was not just facing in the direction of Jerusalem, but I was actually looking right at Jerusalem. And I just thought it was so utterly amazing that I was eye-to-eye with the place that is most holy to Judaism, that is most holy to my people. I never had that feeling before, and I guess it is bittersweet that the moment I did was the last moment I would be able to feel that (at least until a few years from now when I return to Israel).
   In just five days, I will be walking onto the plane that will forcibly take us all back to the JFK airport in New York. In just five days, I will be returning to my other home in America. In just five days, I will be leaving the most welcoming, uplifting, incredibly extraordinary community that I have ever been a part of. In just five days, I will be leaving my EIE family. But it will all be okay, right? That's what we've been telling each other over and over. It will be okay because we are never going to let our friendships die and we have made unforgettable memories. I know that I have changed for the better on this journey and I will let my memories and the lessons I've learned guide me for the rest of my life. Thank you NFTY-EIE for making this trip the experience of a lifetime, I will remember it forever.

What Does it Mean to be a Part of אם ישראל (the people of Israel)?

Throughout this entire semester, my Jewish history teacher has asked our class the same question over and over again: "What does it mean to be a part of am Yisrael (aka the people of Israel/the Jewish people)?" However, every time he asks us this question he phrases it in a different way. In other words, each discussion we have always relates back to the Jewish people and our role in the issue or how we should act in certain situations. For example, in the very beginning of the semester when we were learning about the people, the laws, and the land of Israel, Aaron (our teacher) asked us what aspects of Chalachah (Jewish Law) should be required for reform Jews to follow. Basically, he asked us which laws are important and which laws are not important, and why we don't need to strictly follow Chalachah like Orthodox Jews do, but can still consider ourselves Jewish. Until I was asked this question, I had never thought about it at all. Then I grew a little concerned because for my entire life I had always called myself a Jew, but in that moment I could not even give my Jewish History teacher a straight-forward answer about what exactly makes me Jewish. At first I began to argue that as long as you do something that relates to Chalachah then you are Jewish. But, of course, Aaron countered my statement by saying, "so if some random person, for example, doesn't drive on Shabbat does that make him/her Jewish?" And I replied with, "of course not!" But wasn't that what I just said? Ever since that very first week in class I have been questioning my Jewish identity and I have been trying to think of more things I can do around my Jewish community in order to confidently say that I am a practicing Jew.
However, I have come a long way since that very first week of Jewish History class. If someone were to ask me right now what it meant to be a part of אם ישראל I would answer with this:

To be Jewish is to love your community. To be Jewish is to give back to society. To be Jewish is to learn Hebrew. To be Jewish is to have a Bar/Bat Mitzvah and to read from the Torah at least once in your life. To be Jewish is to know the difference between the Temple and a synagogue. To be Jewish is to know that a menorah is actually called a Channukiah and that a menorah has nothing to do with Hanukkah. To be Jewish is to go to Israel and learn about the history of our people. To be Jewish is to witness with our own eyes the places in which six million of our ancestors were stripped of their identities and murdered. To be Jewish is to prevent the Torah that was smuggled into the Women's side of the Kotel from being ripped out of Women of the Wall's hands. To be Jewish is to educate those who are not educated on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and to long for peace between them. To be Jewish is to experience the utterly amazing culture of Israel.

Believe it or not, there are many more things that are meaningful to my Jewish identity, but I'm sure no one would want to read a list of four months worth of newly gained knowledge about how I identify with Judaism. So I'll just leave you all with that. That right there is what it means, to me at least, to be a part of אם ישראל.

Sunday School Nostalgia

   On Sunday, my beit sefer class of preschoolers, kindergarteners, first and second graders had their closing ceremony at our temple: Congregation Beth Jacob. I began teaching last year when the former teacher, Sheila Finer, grew ill with cancer and unfortunately passed away. Before she resigned as a teacher, she asked me to take her place and continue to teach the children that I had helped her and other teachers in the Congregation with. I was more than happy to accept her offer, but I knew that it was a bad sign that she could no longer teach the class herself. When Sheila passed away I made it a top priority to follow in her footsteps and teach her class every Sunday while making her students feel as comfortable as possible with their brand new teacher.

   Since my first day as a Sunday School teacher I have developed that greatest relationship with my students and I miss them a lot. I miss seeing the smiles on their faces when the littlest things excite them, and I miss seeing the light appear in their eyes when they've made a connection to the lesson they're learning. Thanks to my mom and Ashley (my little sister) each student made me an "I miss you" card. When they and Erica (my older sister) came to visit me, they brought the cards and I was completely surprised. Each student created their own unique drawing or wrote a letter and each card put a huge smile on my face. I was so glad to know that they were thinking about me and miss me, and I'm more excited than ever to return home and see each and every one of them.

   Part of me wishes I was home to see my students on their last day, but the other part of me loves it here on EIE. I know that when I get home I'll have a lot to offer for next year's curriculum and I'm eager to share my new knowledge with the Temple Board and pass it on to all my students.

Yam L'Yam (Sea to Sea)

WE'RE HOME!!!! Home as in Kibbutz Tzuba that is. We arrived home around 11:30 p.m. last night after a weekend in the north on Kibbutz Hannaton. The kibbutz was our place of relaxation after the longest and most physically difficult week of EIE: Yam L'Yam, aka Sea to Sea. Last week on Sunday morning we all packed up our things and got on the bus to drive to the Kineret (Sea of Galilee) where our five-day hike began. The first day was a breeze because all we did was hike through a super cool and mystical-looking stream that led to the Kineret before we headed to our first camp site. I have to say that my two favorite days of this hike were the first and the last, mainly because neither consisted of much walking at all...but that's okay because the other days weren't too terrible. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday were all similarly scheduled: we woke up at 6:30 a.m., we hiked for about an hour, we cooked our own breakfast, we hiked for a couple more hours, we stopped again to cook our own lunch, we hiked some more, and we finally made it to the campsite where dinner was cooked for us.

But on the last day of the hike there was no hiking involved at all, we all biked 20km to the Mediterranean Sea. The moment we all saw the ocean in front of us with its enormous waves and the welcoming beach was the moment we knew we had accomplished what made getting thousands of blisters and mini cacti stuck in all our belongings worth it. Although the hike was long and sometimes seemed unbearable, in the end it felt like I could achieve any goal I set my mind too. After all, I had just walked across the entire country hadn't I? Being able to say that I did such a thing brings me a tremendous sense of pride and triumph, however I don't think I can honestly say that I would want to do it again. Overall, I'm more than glad that I got to adventure on this rewarding hike with the people I love most in the land that I consider home.

Jerusalem Bus Explosion

   At around 6:30 p.m. yesterday evening, my U.S. History teacher came into our classroom and said, "I just got the worst text a person could receive, my wife goes 'you were almost just a widow.'" Of course the six of us in the class were all confused and slightly nervous to hear why his wife would say such a thing. Turns out, she had gotten off only three stops before the Egged bus number 12 in Jerusalem exploded, which set the bus next to it that she had been on in flames. Luckily, no deaths have been reported, but there are a few in critical condition and a total of 21 people were injured. As expressed by the Jerusalem Post, this event "was an unnerving reminder of the terrorists attacks on buses during the intifada more than a decade ago" (Eisenbud). Despite the fact that everyone here on EIE is safe, this explosion was definitely a major scare for everyone who knows anyone living in the Jerusalem area. It also reminded everyone here about why the security restrictions are so strongly enforced by our staff, especially the rule about no public transportation.
   Not only is it terrifying to hear about terrorist attacks occurring so close to our home, but it's also disappointing to be reminded that this conflict between Israelis and Palestinians doesn't seem to be getting any better, and is maybe even getting worse. Right now our Jewish History class is learning about Zionism and the modern State of Israel, so our discussions are always bringing us new insight on why these two peoples seem to never get along. More than once we have talked about the several solutions that have been proposed in order to create peace within Israel and a few of them seem like they could definitely work out, but as soon as we hear about an event like the one that occurred yesterday evening, my hope is lost. Multiple articles have explained what happened, and every one has different information because whether the event was an act of terrorism or not is still somewhat controversial.

The article I read was on The Jerusalem Post website at
http://www.jpost.com/Arab-Israeli-Conflict/Initial-report-Jerusalem-bus-explodes-on-way-to-Hebron-451611

The "Israel Problem" (Jewish History Blog Assignment)

Over the course of this semester, our Jewish History class has debated about what it means to be Jewish and how American Jews differ from Israeli Jews. At the end of every debate, we never seem to be able to find a concrete answer to either of these questions. However, this article talks about similar issues and states some of the same things that students in our class have pointed out. For example, the article discusses the problem with being a Jew from an intermarried family; the child has a less likely chance of continuing the Jewish traditions and following Jewish values when he or she grows up and raises a family of their own. Similarly, second generation (and those that follow) American Jews have inevitably assimilated into American society simply because it's difficult to strictly follow Halachah (Jewish law) in a society that doesn't base their economy on such rules. In class, we have discussed this issue before and I always argue the same point: I will never strictly keep Shabbat because I have a job that requires me to work on the weekends and I must drive my car in order to get to my job. Out of all reasons to not keep Shabbat, I feel as though this is the most practical and relatable. American Jews are surely assimilated, and that is why we differ from Israeli Jews. If America all of a sudden passed a law that said stores are not allowed to be open from Friday night until Saturday night, that would most likely anger more people than it would satisfy given that Jews are a minority in the United States. However, most of Israel follows this custom and that is part of their cultural society. Now, with these differences between American and Israeli Jews, it is important for American Jews to do something that is identifiable as Jewish. Of course what must and mustn't be followed is a controversial topic, but I think it's wrong for someone from an intermarried family to walk around saying, "I'm Jewish" when they don't even know the first thing about the history of the Jewish people or the blessing over the Shabbat candles. Therefore, American Jews must strive to educate those who don't already know about our people's history if we want American Jewry to survive.

Article link:
http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-israel-problem/

An Emotional Rollercoaster

   Other than the feelings I briefly described in my essay for Jewish History class, I experienced a large variety of emotions that were surprising to me. Similar to before I left to live in Israel for four months, I did not have any expectations of what to feel in Poland before we left. When we arrived in Warsaw, a gloomy atmosphere enveloped the group. Everyone could tell that we were feeling the same type of emotions: tired, run-down, and even bitter. Part of that is probably because we had just got off a four hour long flight that departed and 3 a.m., but the city itself seemed to reflect those feelings, as well. Warsaw still had a remaining communistic feel to it, and the atmosphere was cloudy and bleak. Overall, our starting day in Poland could have been much better.
   I was surprised with myself for only feeling extraordinarily sad twice out of all seven days, the rest of the time I felt bitter and melancholy. However, those two days were emotionally painful for most of us, it was not only me. The first time I cried was walking through the forest of Tykocin, where the Jews were forced to dig their own mass graves before being shot into them. I did not know what to expect, even though my Jewish History teacher had just read detailed accounts on what happened in the forest. Before we even reached the graves, I began to tear up picturing the innocent men, women, and children being forced to undress until no clothing remained on their bodies before the inhumane Nazis shot them to death. Even if one was fortunate enough to be missed by the thousands of flying bullets, they fell into the pit with the rest of their community and were buried alive. As we got closer to the site of the graves, what I saw was not at all what I had pictured in my mind. What I saw were three mass graves, all with metal fences built around them, and a large memorial made of stone in the middle. There were memorial candles and flowers and notes written in all different languages hanging from the trees and the fences and resting on the dirt that lied on top of the thousands of decomposed bodies. I felt a sadness in my heart toward what had happened here. I felt a sadness in my heart that was trying to become happy because of all the love and care that had surrounded the graves. But this sadness did not diminish, even after we walked out of the forest and onto the bus to continue our day. That sadness remained with me, it will always remain with me, because thousands of people were shot to death for no reason. Not a single member of the Tykocin community, or even the world's Jewish community, was rightfully given a proper funeral during the Holocaust.
   The second (and final) time I felt this deep sadness was at the death camp, Majdanek. I explained in my essay the one thing that shocked me most,

"I hesitantly walked up the steps of a monument that was built around the most horrifying sight my eyes have ever seen: 18,000 humans' pile of ashes. Never have I felt a more significant drop in my stomach. Never have I ever been more shocked to see such a thing with my own two eyes."

After walking up these steps and being forced to look at such a disgusting sight, a different feeling arose within me. This time it was not sadness: it was pure anger. I was angry that I was standing here, staring at a pile of 18,000 humans' ashes. I was angry that, when I turned around to keep myself from throwing up from looking at this pile of disrespect, I saw a cemetery. A cemetery that was filled with hundreds of individual graves for individual people that had individual funerals. A hundred yards away was a place where, when a person died, they were respectfully buried. And when I turned back around to look at this pile of ash, I was furious. I had stopped crying at that point, and all I felt was an empty pit in my stomach.

   These two moments impacted me in an unforgettable way. It is these two moments that will remain with me for the rest of my life, and I am more determined than ever to keep Judaism alive after seeing what I saw on this draining pilgrimage.

Jerusalem Mayor, Nir Barkat, Disrupted by Anti-Israel Protestors (J.Hist. Blog Assignment)

Much too often do we see or hear of anti-Israel protests on college campuses. Last Wednesday, April 6, Jerusalem's mayor, Nir Barkat, was invited by San Fransisco University's Hillel to speak at the school. Only ten minutes into his speech was he interrupted by a group of pro-Palestinian students chanting things like, "From the river to the see, Palestine will be free" and "Hey Netanyahu, what do you say? How many kids have you killed today?" After about 20 minutes of listening to these hateful chants, Nir Barkat tried his best to continue his speech in the corner of the room opposite the protestors using the microphone provided. However, the protestors had their own portable sound system and began chanting so loud that Barkat's speech became practically inaudible. Finally, he finished by stating that "Anyone who thinks that calls to violence and wild incitement will succeed in silencing us or deflecting us from our positions is seriously mistaken." Barkat left at 3 p.m. that afternoon, as scheduled. However, the protest leader proclaimed "We kicked Nir Barkat off our campus" which made them look even more ignorant.
It's sickening to see such disturbing protests take place at an event as small as a speech given by an Israeli mayor to only around 80 students. Several questions remained in my mind while reading this article such as, "what's the point in even protesting?" and "why do you think being annoying and rude is going to accomplish anything?" It just doesn't make sense to me. I realize that a lot of people on college campuses are anti-Israel and pro-Palestinian, and I get that they have the right to peacefully protest and the right to freely speak. However, I don't get why it's necessary to interrupt another pro-Israel group's opportunity to learn about the Jewish state and their people from someone as high-up as the mayor of Jerusalem. It's disrespectful, and in my opinion, they are veering farther and farther from reaching their goal by executing these irritating disturbances.

You can also see a couple of videos of the protest, along with the article, through this link:
http://www.jweekly.com/article/full/77319/sfsu-president-promises-full-investigation-after-protesters-disrupt-jerusal

Poland & The Holocaust (Jewish History Essay)

        It would be an understatement to say that our visit to Poland was one of the hardest and most emotional trips we have and fortunately will ever experience. However, besides the gloomy atmosphere and the freezing cold weather, I have to admit that I learned a lot more about the Holocaust than I expected given how much I have already been taught in school or in Hebrew class. We visited places like Warsaw, the Majdanek death camp, Lublin, Krakow, Auschwitz-Birkenau, and Lodz. Throughout the week, we not only focused on the tragic murder of more than 6 million Jews, but we also focused on the lives of the Jewish people in Poland before the Holocaust took place, as well as signs of resistance during life in the ghettos.

  In a small village, or shtetl, called Tykocin, Jews were accepted and their lifestyle flourished. The charter of rights that was established in Poland included several privileges that the Jews were granted under the protection of the Polish government. Within Tykocin, we observed several examples of Jewish life such as Jewish shops and restaurants decorated with Hebrew and Stars of David, especially in the Jewish Quarter. It was very common for Jews to be involved in business and trade, so that’s exactly the role they played in Tykocin, as well as other parts of Poland before the Holocaust. Tykocin, particularly, was around fifty percent Jewish before the Holocaust began and, therefore, was a very tight-knit community given that it was incredibly small. Thought to be a world within a world by some of its community members, the village of Tykocin was a colorful and prosperous society that gratefully accepted the Jewish people throughout the early twentieth century which brought me a rare joyous feeling on our bleak and depressing journey.

  Unfortunately, the vitality of Jews in Tykocin and the rest of Poland did not last as long as it should have. As we all know, when the Nazis invaded Poland in 1939, the Jews were no longer accepted anywhere in the eastern part of the world. At first, Jewish people were forced into poor, cramped areas known as ghettos. In the ghettos, people were forced to live under unimaginably harsh conditions; there could have been anywhere around fifteen to twenty plus people living in each one-room apartment. As a result of these overcrowded living spaces, disease broke out and spread rapidly, causing the deaths of hundreds of people in the ghettos. Illnesses were not the Jews' only concern,  many also died of starvation due to the tiny rations of moldy and rotten food that were only sometimes given out. However, with the unthinkable tragedies occurring around them, the Jews began to commit acts of Iberleben: the Yiddish word for survival. These efforts of resistance ranged anywhere from begging children to violent uprisings. One particular story that stuck out to me was about a woman doctor who attended to children that were sent to the hospital in the ghetto. When the doctor found out that the Nazis were going to deport the children to one of the death camps, she made the troublesome decision to poison these helpless children to keep them from being sent into the gas chamber, and eventually the crematorium. Another outstanding story was about a man named Janusz Korczak who set up an orphanage for children in the ghetto, and when they were ordered by the Nazis to march out to their deaths, Korczak stood with them and was shot and killed with all his children. It’s important to learn about such stories because it shows that even through the hardship and torture that the Jews went through while living in the ghetto, they still managed to stand up and defend themselves with all the strength they had. Although some acts of Iberleben did not end up being as effective as one may have wished, it was the effort that counted along with the fact that the people still had some hope to survive while others truly believed that this was the ultimate end.

  While we did not get to visit every place that the Jews were dreadfully murdered in Poland, we did visit a few of the death camps in which our people were stripped of humanity. One camp in particular stood out to me with its exceptional preservation and its bitter atmosphere: Majdanek. Despite all the other horrifying places we visited such as Auschwitz-Birkenau and the forest in Tykocin where thousands of Jews were shot to death into massive ditches, Majdanek had more than just an emotionally dreadful impact on me; this death camp in particular was the one place I was finally able to visualize at least a fraction of the number of people that were unreasonably murdered during the Holocaust. This realization came to me after I hesitantly walked up the steps of a monument that was built around the most horrifying sight my eyes have ever seen: 18,000 humans' pile of ashes. Never have I felt a more significant drop in my stomach. Never have I ever been more shocked to see such a thing with my own two eyes. I have always imagined death camps exactly how they are described- full of dirty barracks, gas chambers, and crematoria- but I have never been able to comprehend the number of people that entered those camps without ever exiting, until that moment. That was the moment that I physically felt the appalling murders of my people in my heart, in my stomach, in my head. There, at that moment in time I was mentally impacted by the death that had enveloped the world during the Holocaust. Majdanek is the most well-preserved camp in the entire world and is alarmingly capable of being up-and-running maybe within a day or two, and this fact along with the terrifying images still stuck in my mind will remain with me for the rest of my life.

  Rabbi Emil Fackenheim wrote, “Jews are forbidden to hand Hitler posthumous victories, they are commanded to survive as Jews, lest the Jewish People perish.” This statement, or rather a commandment, may be considered the 614th mitzvah that is required for all Jews to follow. As a Jew myself, I plan to follow this command until the day I die; I hope to marry a Jewish husband and raise Jewish children, and even if I do not end up marrying a Jewish husband, I will fight to the end for my children to be Jewish and continue on my religion. Being Jewish is more than just following Halacha (Jewish Law) and tradition, it is educating future generations to carry on the Jewish religion, the Jewish culture. Without informing the generations to come about what happened to our people during the Holocaust, it could lead the future population to forget about the time in history when our entire people was almost wiped off the face of the earth. In other words, I completely agree with Rabbi Fackenheim’s statement: we must survive as Jews, and we must not let Hitler achieve his goal even after his death.

  Poland was not just a trip to learn about the history of the Holocaust. Our journey taught me to feel a personal connection to what happened there less than a hundred years ago, deeper than just knowing that I am a Jew like all the people who were stripped of their humanity in concentration and death camps. I was finally able to grasp the reality of the event, something that I never had the ability to do even with years of education on the topic. More importantly, our visit to Poland made me one hundred and ten percent prouder to be a part of Am Yisrael (the Jewish People). The amount of strength and integrity that the people had at the most difficult point of their lives was unbelievable, and led to some of the most extraordinary survivals imaginable. Unsurprisingly, the Holocaust was not the first time that Jews were attacked for being who they are, but hopefully it will be the last. It is our job as the future of Am Yisrael to thrive and flourish throughout the world, and to not let anti-semitism overcome our strength as Jews. 

Oral Law vs. Written Law (Jewish History Essay)

Before the destruction of the first and second Beit Mikdash, which was the center of worship for Jews during the first and second temple period, the Jewish people only knew how to follow Halacha (Jewish Law) according to what was written in the Torah. However, since the destruction of the second Beit Mikdash and the adaptations that were made in order for Judaism to continue on, a new kind of Jewish Law was developed: the Torah shebaal peh, or oral law. Both the written law and the oral law contain positive as well as negative aspects, which means the people of the modern Reform movement should take into consideration both types of law when deciding how to follow Halacha because, although they are different, they are both equally important. 
In comparison to any kind of oral law, written law is more set in stone which diminishes the ability to change it. This aspect of the written law can be viewed in both a positive and a negative perspective; some may say that the law should never be changed anyways, but others may say that the law must be changed in order for it to apply to modern day society. A beneficial aspect of the written law includes that fact that questions such as, "who was there?" and, "what happened?" are easily answered by simply looking back in the Torah. Another positive facet of written law is that it was "Halacha l'Moshe m'Sinai" or "the law given to Moses at Sinai" which means that it is considered the law that God gave to the Jewish people to follow. On the other hand, because written law can't be changed or adapted, the rules that we are required to follow as Am Yisrael (the Jewish people) are harder to obey due to the dramatic societal changes that occur between time periods. The Reform movement should definitely consider what is required in written law because it supposedly contains what God commanded on the day Moses stood on top of Mount Sinai to receive the Torah. We, as the people of Reform Judaism, cannot just throw away what our religion is solely based on. However, following exactly what the written law tells us to do may be slightly more difficult than what the oral law tells us to do.
While written law is more set in stone, oral law has the ability to be changed, leaving room for interpretation as well as modernization. In other words, oral law is slightly more controversial under the circumstances that people were better able to bend and twist its interpretation whether it was by accident or on purpose. Late in the first century, Rabbi Akiva adopted the responsibility of organizing the newly formed oral law into six books; this strategy made it easier for the Jews to find a specific law that they were looking for when trying to determine how to follow it. Then around 200CE, Yehudah HaNasi finalized Rabbi Akiva's organization and wrote down the oral law into what we know as the Mishnah. About 300 years later, a man named Rav Ashi wrote the Babylonian Talmud, which is a combination of the Mishnah and the Gmarah (commentary on the Mishnah). The Talmud is used by Am Israel to discuss Halacha and interpret what it means and what we need to do in order to follow it. For example, in the Torah it says that God told Moses, "Do not boil a child in its mother's milk." One way to interpret this statement is to believe that keeping Kosher only involves not mixing red meat with dairy, but not necessarily to not mix all meat and dairy. However, the topic of keeping Kosher can be interpreted in many different ways. Of course there are other stories included in the Torah that talk about different rules of keeping Kosher, such as those that relate to eating pork and shellfish, but even those stories can be interpreted in several ways. From a positive, and especially a Reform perspective, its considered a good thing that halacha can be interpreted in multiple ways because all people are able to take what they personally think is important out of the oral law and follow it the way they see is best fit for themselves, while still keeping Jewish tradition. In contrast to this positive look on oral law, others, such as Orthodox or maybe even Conservative Jews, may find it a very negative aspect that it is able to be interpreted in several ways because if everyone is following one law in hundreds of different ways, how can we, the Jewish people, define ourselves as one religion, one nation? The flexibility itself contains both the positives as well as the negatives of oral law.
One day in Jewish History class, we were discussing whether or not interpreting and modernizing Halacha is okay to do. Personally, I believe that as long as we, the Reform Jews, don't drift too far from the law given to Moses at Sinai, or what is written in the Torah, then we should be adapting Halacha in order for us to keep tradition while also making it easy to live in modern-day society. Reform Judaism is all about allowing people to be Jewish in the way that they see is best fit for them, without forgetting where we came from. Besides the fact that there are several varying streams of Judaism, we are all still one people, one religion, one nation. Whether or not we agree or disagree about the modernization of Halacha is not nearly as important as recognizing the fact that we all believe that, as Jews, our goal is to better the world and help those in need. Therefore, if the Reform movement decides that we can better follow Halacha if we adapt it to the society in which we all live, then why shouldn't we do exactly that? After all, without reforming the Jewish Law, how can we consider ourselves "Reform" Jews?

History in America vs. History in Israel

Throughout the entire semester, our Jewish History teachers have been emphasizing how everything we learn in class can be seen through the remains of the events that occurred all over Israel. Yesterday, we visited the crusader fortress where the Ashkenazi Jews had been persecuted. While I was sitting inside of one of the many well-preserved, stone rooms I realized that what our Jewish History teachers had been emphasizing was 110% true. At home, when we learn about American History, we don't necessarily feel the connection to what took place simply because we rarely get the chance to see where it happened and what's left from it. For example, when we learned about the American Revolution, we never got to visit Yorktown where the final battle took place. Or when we were learning about the Civil War, we never had a chance to visit the Southern states to see where we fought the Confederates. But in Israel, every time we learn about a major event that took place and influenced Judaism and Am Yisrael (the people of Israel) we go to the place in which that specific event occurred. Of course I realize that Israel is probably a hundred times smaller than the United States, so that definitely has an effect on why we can't travel to every place where some part of the history of America happened. But here in Israel, it's actually the coolest thing ever that we get to go to every preserved site where something super important and influential happened. In the beginning of the semester, I didn't really understand why our Jewish History teachers tried so hard to emphasize that everything we learn about can be proven through the remnants of each event, but now I realize that we are so lucky to be able to see exactly that.

Men Who Bake Challah (Jewish History Blog Assignment)

Before reading this article, I never would have guessed that baking challah was a gendered act in Judaism. I can't say it doesn't make sense, because women used to be associated with domestic tasks such as cooking and cleaning (and, unfortunately, still are in some cultures/religions). But assuming that baking challah is a job that can only be done by women is just plain silly, at least in my opinion. And apparently I share that opinion with several other Jewish men. According to the article, "challah baking has become increasingly popular among Jewish men." They even consider it a way of honoring Shabbat- liking how it impresses Shabbat guests and enjoying the intimate feeling it brings when using a family recipe. While it's recognizable that challah baking is associated with femininity, its gendered heritage is unclear especially when compared to traditions such as lighting the candles and immersing in the mikveh (ritual bath)- both of which have stronger female identities. 
I have yet to decide whether this article makes me feel better or worse about gender equality within Judaism. While it's great news that a previously considered feminine act has now become so popular among men, its also kind of dumb (for lack of a better word) to even gender an act such as baking challah. But that's just how I'm looking at the situation...I guess I was just surprised at the fact that such a simple task was labeled as "feminine." However, it's mind-easing to know that it is increasing in popularity among men. This proves that labeling tasks as "masculine" or "feminine" is pointless because, in future societies, the gender that the task was previously associated with may change. I can't say that I care a lot about this for the sole reason that Reform Judaism does not associate any acts with the male or female gender, but men baking challah could reveal to Orthodox Jews that gendered tasks, in reality, are unisex.

http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-life-and-religion/198163/challah-and-the-men-who-bake-it

To Keep Kosher or to Not Keep Kosher

This question is one that I have considered before, but pre-EIE I have always ended up answering this question with a "no way I LOVE cheeseburgers, AND bacon, AND shellfish." Now, though, while I am forced to keep kosher here in Israel and am learning about the specific laws in Jewish History class, I have been exposed to a new perspective on keeping kosher. Today in class we learned about how, in the Torah, God speaks to Moses and says "do not boil a kid in its mother's milk" and Moses is left to interpret it in the way he thinks is right. But today, according to Oral Law, the rules of keeping kosher seem to be a lot more strict. When I hear the word "kosher" I immediately think about dairy and meat and how they are not meant to be eaten together at all, along with not eating shellfish and pork. However, in class we discussed how the rules of keeping kosher can be interpreted in many ways (surprise, surprise) which is similar to just about every other law that is written in the Torah. It was interesting to hear everyone's separate opinions on what it means to keep kosher, and it has truly opened my mind up to whether or not I would remain eating kosher even after I arrive home in America. 

With this thought in mind, I would have to consider many things. For instance, would I strictly separate dairy meals from meat meals like I do here? Or would I go by the literal meaning "do not boil a kid in its mother's milk" and simply not mix red meat with dairy? Also, would I be able to keep myself from eating bacon? Maybe so...there's always turkey bacon as an alternative (but we all know that it doesn't taste as great). Another decision I would have to make is whether or not I would eat shellfish ever again, which keep in mind, is one of my FAVORITE foods. Basically, I have a lot to think about: is my Jewish identity worth sacrificing delicious food for? Does keeping kosher really matter all that much to me? I personally believe that following a few certain Jewish laws as a Reform Jew is not so important. On the other hand, how can I define as Jewish if I don't do what is traditionally practiced? There are a lot of unclear answers to a lot of big questions involving Judaism, and the interpretation of keeping kosher is definitely among them. 

The Voice of an Arab-Israeli Doctor (Jewish History Blog Assignment)

Faiza, and Arab-Israeli doctor, lives in an Arab neighborhood in Jerusalem called Shuafat and is the head of the intensive care unit at a private hospital in Israel. She has an immense love for Israel and claims that it "gives you the opportunity to express your human potential." Throughout the article Faiza talks about how happy she is with her life here in Israel, specifically being able to witness the risks that Israeli soldiers take in order to care for Syrians and get them to a hospital safely. She also mentions that whenever she goes home to meet with her family, she has to remain quiet and resist from defending Israel in front of her brothers and their families to prevent putting her own children in a risky situation. However, Faiza's Arab brothers do not prevent her from feeling the joy she receives from her life in Israel.
It's incredible to read something so optimistic about a topic that isn't exactly filled with positivity. Faiza emphasizes the coexistence that is present in Israel throughout this article and how thankful she is for that. Her exact words being, "here Arab people are the happiest Arabs in the Middle East" and while many people may disagree with that statement, her opinion is one that brings optimism to people all over Israel. Living here for a little over a month now (although it feels like I've been here for years) allows me to relate to this feeling that Faiza has shared. I feel 100% at home here in Israel, and knowing that a vast diversity of people are happy living here as well is nice to think about due to the many tragedies that have taken place because of how isolated some parts of the country are from this feeling of acceptance and coexistence among us.
If you'd like to read the article itself, you can find it through this link and I hope it will put as big a smile on your face as mine.
http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/what-israel-is-giving-me-the-voice-of-an-arab-doctor/

A Week Jam-packed with Adventures

Yulie, me, Amber

Yulie, me, Amber

 me, Amber, Yulie

 Max and me

 me, Amber, Yulie, Tamar

 (Noam lol) me, Amber, Yulie

 Dani, Max, me, Tamar

 Tamar and me

 Sunrise at Masada

 Sam, me, Tamar, Nathan

 Ali, me, Dani, Yulie, Joely

Yulie, Tamar, me

Religious Coexistence in Iraq (Jewish History Blog Assignment)

With all the current ongoing wars in the Middle East, it's hard to believe that there can or will be any coexistence among the several different religious countries. However, a Jewish shrine of the Prophet Ezra still stands in Iraq today. The tomb is in a town called Uzair, Ezra is Arabic, and contains many Jewish symbols and Hebrew writing. Although this tomb was built by Jews, it became an "Islamic landmark following the mass exodus of the Jews of Iraq to Israel in the 1950s" (Zeed). Through the varying religious aspects that are found on this shrine, it is considered a symbol of harmony between Judaism and Islam. Iraqi journalist, Abdulhadi Mhoder, said that this symbol "reflects religious tolerance and confessional coexistence in Iraq." While a few of the Jewish symbols have been removed from the tomb and replaced with Islamic verses, it is also important to recognize the remaining Jewish symbols and Hebrew writing. A member of the Maysan provincial council also said that "The people of the city welcome Jewish visitors to this shrine, although it was transformed into an Islamic landmark." An optimistic thought for sure.
The fact that the country of Iraq has an Islamic-Judaic shrine as a tourist site that welcomes all people reveals that coexistence and peace across the Middle East is achievable. While it seems impossible now due to the intense and seemingly never-ending wars that are currently consuming all of the media's attention, this tomb gives hope that maybe one day everyone may live in harmony with each other. As unrealistic and cheesy as it sounds, the idea is tangible as long as little proofs of coexistence remain and increase. Who knows? Maybe 50 years from now I will go back to read this blog post and reminisce about the times where the world was so strange and wonder why this tragic violence ever existed in the first place. One can only hope.

A Once in a Lifetime Experience Within a Once in a Lifetime Experience

The past 10 days = a rollercoaster. A very long, exciting, and dreadful rollercoaster. Last Wednesday, we all packed up our things and officially, although temporarily, moved out of Kibbutz Tzuba. Our first stop on our rollercoaster of a week was the Masada Youth Hostile where we spent the first half of the night sleeping (until about 4am) and the second half of the night and most of the morning hiking 900ft to the top of Mt. Masada. Rather than explaining the experience, let me just say that it looked and felt like someone dumped a gallon of water on me, and my roommates and I spent the entire hike down arguing over who got to shower first. The next day, we journeyed through paths interrupted by springs that varied in depth from our ankles to our bellybuttons. Our destination was quite the surprise: a glorious waterfall that cascaded down into a large pool of fresh water. It only took about ten seconds for us to strip down to our bathing suits and run straight underneath the waterfall. I must admit that this experience was the first that was purely fun, meaning there was no Jewish History to learn while we were swimming in the refreshing natural pool. Let me tell you that these two days were absolute heaven compared to what lied ahead of us in the next five days.

Gadna was.....well, it was Gadna. Imagine the dirtiest bathroom you can and multiply that by eternity and that MIGHT come close to the disgustingness of the bathrooms we were forced to bear with. Now imagine the worst food you have ever eaten and multiply that one by eternity, too. I promise that the food at Gadna was worse. However, not every single aspect of those five days was completely terrible. The one part of Gadna that I will never forget was, unsurprisingly, shooting the gun. Before I even left for EIE, one of the things I was most excited for was to experience what it is like to be in the I.D.F. and to learn how to use the weapon that every Israeli uses to defend their country. After all, this event was a once in a lifetime experience within my once in a lifetime experience. When the five teams of EIE arrived at the shooting range, everyone began to either jitter with excitement or overflow with anxiety. Personally, I was a mixture of both. I was surprised at my own reaction because I was nothing but excited before the day came, but I guess the reality of it all finally hit me and resulted in my worry. I distinctly remember the feeling of butterflies in my stomach and the lump in my throat before we, the very first group to shoot, entered the small 3-wall building where the actual shooting took place. How vivid the memory in my mind is when the instructor told us to put on our headphones to protect our ears from becoming deaf and the sudden silence that I was consumed by. It was just me and the gun at that point, or so it felt. In reality, there were 11 other girls in the little shack-like building with me probably feeling the same way I was, but all I could focus on was getting the little tip of my scope directly on the center of my target. After all the other detailed instructions were told, and the commander shouted "ESH!" (fire in Hebrew) I suddenly froze, my finger steady on the trigger. I didn't want to be the first one to shoot. What felt like ten years, but was really only about 2 seconds later, I heard the first bullet shot and I reacted by pulling my own trigger. The first bullet escaped from my gun and in the literal blink of an eye, it was gone. I had no way of telling if it had hit the target or the giant mountain of sand behind it, but I didn't care so much. The burst of adrenaline that had shot through my entire body was my only focus at that point. Quickly, but not too quickly, I shot the other four bullets. The feeling was exciting and nerve-wracking all the same. It was most definitely the highlight of my week at Gadna. Experiencing this once in a lifetime opportunity really opened my eyes to how powerful a gun is. While others did not enjoy the experience as much, for some reasons that are different than others, I enjoyed it simply because it was pure excitement and gave me a feeling of honor and respect toward soldiers around the world. The way Israelis view a gun is so incredibly different from the way Americans view a gun. Defense vs. attack. Help vs. harm. Purity vs. destruction. It's tragic to see the many deaths that guns have caused in America, especially in more recent years, but it was rewarding to gain a new perspective on the weapon and learn to respect it rather than despise it. This lesson, and this great opportunity is one that I will never forget. 

NFTY vs. EIE: Shabbat Edition

Throughout these last few weeks, I have noticed several similarities and differences between my experiences at NFTY-NE events and my experiences here in Israel. For example, at NFTY events and here on EIE, upbeat melodies to prayers are included in our interactive services. Also, each and every service is led by the participants themselves, making it very enjoyable and relatable. However, there are also small differences between the two, such as dressing up only for Kabbalat Shabbat and evening services at NFTY events, while we dress nice for the entire weekend here on EIE. On Friday morning, everyone left the Kibbutz for Tzedekah: some people went to take care of homeless cats while two other groups (one in which I was a part of) went to nursing homes to cheer up the elderly by singing them some familiar and unfamiliar songs. This part of the day, although it was heartwarming to see the smiles we brought to some faces, was a bit of a challenge considering I know very little Hebrew which prevented me from having conversations with any of the members. After we returned, we all had a few hours of free time and then we prepared for evening services. The madrichim (counselors) divided those who stayed on the Kibbutz for the weekend into two groups, each group going to a different temple that night. For me, this was an experience that I will never forget; my group had gone to a different Kibbutz that also had a farm......let's just say my nose will never forget this service. In spite of the unusual scents that my friends and I experienced while walking to and from the bus, the service itself was small and cozy which made it more intimate than any other service I have participated in.

However, the most eye-opening part of my weekend was definitely Saturday morning services. When services first started, I wasn't sure how great they would be considering the small amount of time the T'fillah Committee had to prepare. But to my surprise, it may have been one of the most relatable and meaningful services that I have ever been a part of. Surrounded by my new, yet very very close friends, singing familiar NFTY tunes to the prayers, and watching those who mean so much to me succeed in chanting Torah was inspiring to say the least. I realized during this service how proud I was of all the people that had the confidence to lead us in prayer, to read from the Torah, and to deliver the D'var Torah. I realized during this service that even though I am more than 5,000 miles away from home, I have made my own home out of this community.

Anti-Israel Billboards in Orlando (Jewish History Blog Assignment)

A teen in Orlando has recently brought up an issue that strikes me as unsurprising, yet disappointing all the same. Apparently there have been several billboards displayed in the Orlando area promoting anti-Israel ideology over the last few months. The billboard campaign's goal is to convince people that Palestinian justice must be achieved. Local activists have displayed these billboards in order to provoke questions about the American-Israeli alliance, or so it seems. The reality of the purpose of these billboards is not to question whether America should be supporting Israel during these difficult times, rather it is to convince people that Israel should be eliminated as a state. Not only does the organization, "Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions" run this anti-semitic billboard campaign to emphasize their opinion on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but they aim "to violate the Jewish people's right to self-determination in their ancestral home" as well.
It's nearly heartbreaking to realize how determined some organizations are to break down a group of people, or an entire country for that matter. The fact that these anti-Israeli advertisements were permitted to be displayed along highways in a major well-known city makes me wonder if there is any hope in the world for peace. When a person who does not have any prior knowledge on the topic of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict see these biased billboards, the anti-Israel/pro-Palestinian ideas are then planted in their mind and may influence that person to believe what the advertisements are promoting when the truth is that they don't have all the facts and information in order to take a standpoint on the matter. On the other hand, a pro-Palestinian most definitely favors these billboards making a statement in a popular city, which makes the entire situation very controversial. Should these billboards be permitted in American cities when America is an ally of Israel? Should an organization like "Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions" be allowed to persuade people into developing a pro-Palestinian opinion on the issue? The answers to these questions seem like they would be straight forward, but they are actually anything but obvious. As a Jew, I of course disagree with the allowance of anti-Israel advertisements, but I am only one person among billions of other people. Nonetheless, it is still extremely disappointing to realize that some people feel so strongly toward such a controversial situation that they feel the need to hammer down on one side, without considering the effects that it has on the other. Maybe we will see a positive change in the near future, but one can only hope.

שבת שלום!

This past weekend I had my very first Shabbat lunch in Israel with my friends, Tamar and Dani. Shortly after arriving in Tel Aviv at Dani's aunt's apartment, I immediately felt consumed by the Israeli culture. Although we weren't having our Shabbat meal with Dani's family until the next day, her aunt, Nili, had already set the table and most of the food was cooked. The view from her high rise building was breathtaking, especially when the city lit up at night. Not only was our trip a cultural experience, but it was also an easy and fun way to practice my Hebrew. Because Dani's family is fluent in both Hebrew and English (with the exception of her adorable baby cousins who only speak Hebrew), practicing my skills with them was much more enjoyable than learning in a classroom. Her
Savta, which means grandma in Hebrew, made enough food to feed an army (keep in mind that this was the most delicious food I had ever eaten and of course I stuffed myself until I felt like I was going to explode). Leaving Nili's home Saturday evening was a bittersweet departure; I was happy that I had just experienced my first traditional Shabbat meal, but upset because I was leaving such a welcoming home.
Something about the Shabbat meal as a whole made me feel like I was in the presence of my own family, when in reality I was/am half way across the world. It's amazing how such an unfamiliar culture has become a part of my life so quickly and the friends I've made here in Israel already feel like family. I cannot express how grateful I am that there is still more than three months left for me to experience more aspects of the Israeli culture, while strengthening the friendships I have already made, as well as creating new friendships along the way. Hopefully I get to visit Tel Aviv again soon, and learn even more about the exciting traditions that are followed here in Israel.

Sataf Pictures

Terraces within Sataf

This is the impossible hole that we had to climb through in order to get to the top of the cave, and drop down into in order to get out!!

Amber v'Yulie v'ani (Amber and Yulie and I) :)

LGBTQ Boots Israeli Group from Conference (Jewish History Blog Assignment)

   Just a few weeks ago it had been reported that Israeli and American Jews who are a part of an LGBTQ group were uninvited to a conference that was scheduled to be in Chicago, January 20-22. Apparently, the group had been booted due to pressure created by anti-Israeli activists. The A Wider Bridge nonprofit, which creates connections between Israeli and American LGBTQ Jews, was supposed to hold a reception after Shabbat services that Friday evening during the event. However, Arthur Slepian, A Wider Bridge's founder and executive director, was told that their reception was "being cancelled for reasons of safety and security but there was no evidence presented or elaboration on any security issues." Although this reasoning seems plausible due to the tragic shootings and stabbings that have been occurring quite frequently in popular areas of Israel, it is still unreasonable to assume that a reception would be unsafe for the LGBTQ community to attend.
   In my opinion, it is ironic that an organization built upon support for minorities is excluding a group of another minority. Fortunately, a petition began on Change.org in order to reverse the LGBTQ Task Force's decision and apologize to the A Wider Bridge Foundation. And guess what....it got nearly 500 signatures within a few hours of being posted! This exclusion of the Israeli gay group was clearly an important issue to a great number of people, bringing a lot of attention to the situation. Even more disrespectful of the National LGBTQ executives was their lack of response to any emails, Facebook posts, and telephone requests. However, being the bigger person in the situation, A Wider Bridge moved their reception to a different hotel a block away from their former location. It is reasonable to say that this altered event will have more attendants than they would have expected before the boot due to people's desire to support equality among the two minorities.

Tel Tzuba Pictures!!!

My friend Tamar and I in one of the ancient homes on Tel Tzuba

Tamar, Dani, and I under a super cool arc thing

Myself sitting on top of the highest point of the Tel :)

The three of us nestled in the Judean Hills

Tel Tzuba in Hebrew

Tel Tzuba

"ARE THOSE CACTI?!" I shouted as my friends and I walked up the Tel. Sure enough, there were dozens and dozens of cacti surrounding the dirt path that lead to our destination. But, unsurprisingly, the cacti were nowhere close to the most beautiful part of our short hike.

At first, I was shocked at how magical the state of Israel looked from even a small hill. As we began our ascent to the top of  Tel Tzuba, each and every time I looked out over the peak, chills ran down my spine; each and every time I turned to find something that would make a better picture than the last, I found myself looking at an even more breathtaking view than the one I had seen five minutes before. From afar, the Tel looked somewhat like a turtle-shaped hill. However, once I stood at the highest point possible, on top of a rock wall that had once acted as a home to the indigenous people of Israel thousands of years ago, the Tel had become a place that I could never get tired of. The view that it provides is more glorious than anything I have ever laid my eyes upon in my entire life. A description of this particular view cannot be put in to words, for it would not do it any justice.

Sitting on top of the wall...sitting upon rocks higher up in the sky than I have ever been freely caused a burst of adrenaline to run throughout my body. In the moment that I looked out over the amazingly beautiful cities of Israel I had realized that nothing could compare to the sight that I had very fortunately laid my eyes upon. This moment, this very special moment, was the moment that I fell in love with the country of Israel. And although it is only my sixth day living here, I am already 110% sure that I want to return again soon. Sitting upon the highest point of the Tel had made me a million times more excited to adventure throughout this amazing country. I realized in this moment that I was the luckiest girl alive to be able to travel such a long way from home for such a long amount of time in order to learn and experience Israeli culture, the Jewish people's culture, my people's culture. And with this opportunity, I will make these next four months the best four months of my life.

להתראות

The Arrival

   After surviving the ten and a half hour flight across the Atlantic, we had made it to the Holy Land. Right before landing, each of the forty lucky students who had been able to avoid a delay due to the snowstorm had come upon a beautiful sight. Just around twenty thousand something feet below us was the land of Israel. As we began our descent, the red roofs of Israeli homes and the beautiful mountains and valleys had put me in awe. I had never seen a sight so breathtaking, and then I realized that it was my new home, for the next four months anyway. Once that thought settled in, the adrenaline burst throughout my body. It had FINALLY hit me that I had packed up nearly 100 pounds of clothing and school supplies and taken it half way across the world to start a new chapter of my life in Israel.

   As drowsy and disgusting as I felt, I couldn't contain my excitement to finally be in the Ben Gurion airport. Going through the foreign passport line may have been one of the most painful experiences of my life; carrying a backpack that felt like it weighed thousands of pounds and sweating through my shirt and jacket, surrounded by the most diverse group of people I had come to interact with, hearing different languages left and right. Finally, though, the group of forty EIE students made it to baggage claim and we lugged our suitcases on carts through customs and out of the terminal. After exchanging our dollars for shekalim and receiving our new Israeli SIM cards, we were finally on our way to Kibbutz Tzuba.

   Since the first day of our arrival to Israel, I feel like I have spent at least a week or two with every person here. The relationships we have developed with each other are already so strong and they will most likely last a lifetime. I can't wait for all the adventures and the memories that we are going to make that we will remember forever.