Esh in Israel: Yerushalaim, Livnot U'Lehibanot campus

I slept in today, up late last night watching Germany lose a heartbreaker in the 119^th minute to Italy in the World Cup semifinals, eating pizza measured by the meter and helping my friend Ben finish off his Scotch collection before heading over to the States. So I woke up late, checked up on the home news, and found that 4^th of July fireworks were rained out in Atlanta. There were no fireworks here yesterday, but no rain, either.

A short recap:

I had two really great days in New York. I stayed at Sean’s swank one-bedroom in Brooklyn, only feet from just about anything you’d ever need. This place has “prime location” written all over it. We chilled out at home last Monday night (last Monday, already?), had some friends over, enjoyed the stagnant heat that only a second-story Brooklyn apartment at the end of June can bring. Tuesday, I met up with Scammell and tried to do some shopping, hitting up a couple great sales, but ending up realizing that the great myth of greatness built up around H&M is a complete farce. Cheap, yes, good, no. Again, more friends, this time in Manhattan. Luckily, Sean was great enough to do almost all of the organizing for the two days, which really left me to focus on where I was headed.

So, on Monday night, several people, as expected, questioned me about my choice of path. For some reason, though, I was stunned. I realized, suddenly, that I hadn’t had to explain myself for some time; I was so surrounded by people who understood, intrinsically, this kind of experience; explaining my choice amounted less to why I was going, and generally more when I was going. Now, though, faced with questions regarding my motives, my goals, I needed answers more lucid and concrete than the responses I was used to giving.

In the end, though, I came to the conclusion that this was not only about my path to meaning, but more specifically, my desire to identify as part of a whole. Throughout my young adulthood, I tried whole-heartedly tried identifying as part of groups – hippies, Burners, indie kids, computer nerds; each group certainly had aspects I found fascinating, but after awhile, the awe I found in discovering a new group, a new way of living, grew tired. Once I exhausted the discovery of a new way, I became weary with the day-to-day reality of that way of living, so I moved on, looking for more satisfaction, more learning of a way. Just when I’d start to really identify, I’d run out of discovery, and lose the will to identify with that group altogether. And from there, I’d look for something new, drop the identity I’d started to acquire and seek out a new group.

Hence, the final discovery of Jewish ways and Jewish living. So, the question remains – why won’t I tire of this path? Why won’t I start to identify, only hitting a roadblock in the end, feeding my frustration even more? I’m not sure, entirely, but something about Jewish learning feels more authentic, more long-lasting. Perhaps the difference lies in the emphasis in learning; where more idealistic paths may lead to “a way,” Judaism only uses “a way” as a starting point. One first masters the path dictated by the mitzvot, but only in learning those mitzvot can one start to deconstruct the implicit meaning behind them. Where with other paths, the discovery lies in finding the path itself, in Judaism, it’s only once you’ve found the path that the true learning begins.

Overall, I guess I’ve tired of over-arching, simplistic, idealistic sub-cultures; it’s a beautiful thing to think that one can escape the reality of the world and wrap yourself in the cloak of idealism, but tucked away, what real learning can you really accomplish? Having tried on that cloak myself, several times, I’ve definitely shed it; now, as attractive as hiding away may seem, it’s only through a wide-open, participatory lens that one can truly expose the hidden meanings behind culture. In that context, I certainly respect more isolated sects of Judaism; certainly, I’m sure the Hasids of Meia Sharim and Brooklyn have beautiful views on Torah and the workings of Hashem in this world. Perhaps it’s a bit of cynicism, a bit of self-loathing, but I’d feel fraudulent hiding away in a wholly isolated community; I need to work on the balance between a religious life and a secular life, a path of learning rooted in cultural interpretation and integration, rather than learning focused on isolation.

So, by the day, I’m even more happy I chose Pardes; in Atlanta, surrounded with Pardes alumni, it’s easy to see that as the obvious choice for learning, but here, there are so many different places and different ways to study, it’s easy to get overwhelmed with the choices. I’m sure I’ll do some studying at other places, but I’m still so excited that Pardes will be my home base, my community focused on the learning and cultural integration that I find so satisfying.

And so, an even quicker recap:

Arrived in Jerusalem last Thursday, then headed out to a moshav (basically, a small community, half settlement and half suburb) outside of Beit Shemesh, south of Jerusalem. Robert, one of my chevre from my first trip to Israel, is studying at Hebrew University for the summer, so he and I headed out together. We spent the weekend with Yonah David, an amazing guy and Livnot staffer, and his beautiful family, including two really beautiful children (one of whom, the one-year-old, who started crying the moment either Robert or I even looked in his direction). I came back to Jerusalem on Sunday, and spent the past week hanging out here; on Monday, I spent half a day studying at Pardes, and yesterday I spent some time downtown on Ben Yehuda before checking out the Israel Museum (which is simply gigantic). Tomorrow I leave for Haifa, to finally settle down.

Speaking of which, here’s a bit of an aside thought. I’ve been struggling with the get-up-and-go mentality that I’ve had so often when traveling, but which I seem to be lacking on this trip. It’s not the fact that I have an unsightly amount of stuff with me; from the mound of books to the kitchen knives, I tried to pack as much of my life with me as I could. In a sense, I came here with a mentality focused on settling rather than moving, a desire to dig my heels in rather than avoid even touching the ground. I’m sure there are those that know how to navigate quickly between the two, but I’m yet to figure it out. At least tomorrow afternoon I can fully unpack and do some laundry.

By the way, I apologize for my writing skills ending up a bit rusty; it’s been too long since I wrote, and my abilities are definitely the worse for wear. I feel I used to raise an idea like a child, starting it small and fragile, integrating it with outside influences through its adolescence, and finally leaving it a self-sufficient adult. Now the best I seem to manage is some amalgamated, lab-created beast, made up of strange parts that only sort of fit together. So, bear with me, hopefully it’ll come back together.

Here are some pictures from New York and Jerusalem, mostly time out with different friends. I’m going to head out later today to a spot famous for it’s vistas of Jerusalem, which might help explain how this city is put together (which I’m still trying to figure out, myself). I’ll also try to better document my day-to-day life and goings-on; I’m still so unused to having a digital camera with me all the time that I forget to take it out and just shoot everywhere. I’ll get the hang of it, for sure, though.