This is dedicated to keeping my mother sane

Yes, yes, I know it's been too long since I posted to this blog, and I'm doing so now. Frankly, the network I'm on at school makes it near impossible to access the blogger site (long story), but I seem to have a clear channel now, so I'll take advantage of it.

So, I'm in between sessions of the Haifa ulpan (now located at Hebrew U), and I took my final (piece of cake) last Wednesday. I'm still a little frustrated with the pace of the class, so I asked my teacher to see if there is an accelerated class I could place into. I want to at least finish Kita Aleph (a full "year" of university ulpan) by the time I wrap up the summer, so I can get rolling into Pardes and the evening ulpan I'll be taking there.

Now, on to some more cerebral matters, of which I was thinking about last night.

A few weeks ago, on the weekend of the big rocket insanity in Haifa, we had a very peaceful Shabbat on Mt. Carmel. Before Shabbat came in, though, Steve, a brilliant and loving rabbinical student from Denver (who just got engaged, Mazel Tov!) asked me to prepare a D'var Torah (literally, words of Torah). Steve, myself, and his fiancee Rachel had been studying the Sh'ma (the blessing said twice a day), so I shaped some of what we studied into some D'varim.

So, roughly, in the first full paragraph of the sh'ma, one is told to love G-d "B'kol L'vavecha" (with all your heart), "U'v'chol Nafshecha" (and with all your soul), and "U'v'chol M'odecha" (and with all your... very very). M'odecha comes from the root "M'od," meaning "very" or "extremely," as in, "Tov M'od." Now, how do you love G-d with your "very very" or your "extremely"? I don't even know how to find my soul, frankly, but to willfully start loving with this unidentifiable "very very" is pretty hard. So, briefly, we found parallels to a Freudian way of thinking. The levavecha, the heart, referenced an ego sense; we act and love G-d with our heart, meaning our body, our mind, our day-to-day actions. How do we do this? By performing mitzvot, but willfully expressing our love for the divine through our keeping of the mitzvot. The nafshecha (soul) refers to a Freudian id level of being; not only does the id drive our subconscience, but through our ego actions, we can also shape our base, soul-level being into a loving structure as well. But our very very? Our extremelyness? Here we have the super-ego... the level of consciousness we can't really ever attain, a level of being somewhere between us and the divine.

So, how do we love with our M'odecha? This love becomes of a mutual love; it's not a willful infatuation, as when we love something unrequitedly, but it is where our love with the divine becomes a meeting place, a wedding, a funeral, a kiss, a lingering hug, or a gaze. We love not with a knowing, but with an unknowing; we tap into a sense of pure loving goodness (pardon my hippie terminology). But how do we tap into this? By performing mitzvot, by "doing Jewish." It's funny, and I think most Jews can identify, but doing Jewish things, with Jewish people, gives me a feeling different than doing anything else. Sharing a Shabbat table, seeing tired faces at Shacrit services on Shabbat morning, sharing Kiddush - these are experiences where I feel a sense I can't identify, a lingering something that I just want to tap into more and more often. Frankly, I think this is why I love doing more "Jewish stuff;" I love reconnecting with that sense of being, of identity, of love, of M'odecha.

Anyhow, all that said, last night I was smoking nargilla (hookah) with my roommate Andrew, and I overheard his conversation with his Hillel president back home, as they made plans for the upcoming school year. I was so excited, by proximity, to hear them talk so excitedly about energizing the Jewish community at Dartmouth, about getting Jews active and showing them how great being in community really is. Then I thought back to about a year ago, when I was last in Israel. I had met up with Callie, an awesome girl from my first Livnot trip, and we met up with about ten folks studying at HUC, Hebrew Union College. For whatever reason, I was subtly judgemental; these folks weren't spiritual enough, or didn't keep halacha enough, or whatever. I created a "better than thou" mentality. This might have been shaped by many things, including my struggle with my Reform upbringing and the Reform belief structure, but for whatever reason, I found myself annoyed with these ten students, living in Israel, studying "Jewish stuff."

Looking back, I realize this is exactly the kind of thinking I hate - exclusionist, isolationist closed-mindedness. Here I was, most likely far less educated than most of the people at the table, probably less spiritual, and certainly doing less "Jewish" at the time, yet I chose to see their choices as "bad" and "wrong," making myself "good" and "right." Looking back, I'm ashamed; to so judge these people who, knowing or unknowing, are in search of the same M'odecha as I am, the same connection and unidentifiable love with the divine, in whatever form that takes, is really the biggest mistake I could make. Instead, I should treasure those students, that group, these Jews, trying to "do Jewish," not because we have to, but because our heart, soul, and m'odecha constantly tell us how good a thing it is.

On a whole other topic, I got quoted in an AP article that went out on the wire but didn't get picked up, but the author sent me a copy anyway, so if you'd like to read it, here ya go:

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JERUSALEM (AP) _ Alexandra Kenig's summer began with high hopes of learning Hebrew by the beach in northern Israel. It ended with a hail of rockets, hours spent in a bomb shelter and an early trip home to Texas.

Kenig was one of thousands of American students who came to Israel this summer to study, tour the country or connect with their religious heritage and found their plans scuttled by fighting between Israel and Hezbollah guerrillas in Lebanon.

Some went home. Those who stayed found their programs hurriedly changed to keep them out of the northern communities that were bombarded by thousands of Hezbollah rockets.

Kenig, 23, a recent college graduate, had heard positive things about the University of Haifa and decided to take courses in the seaside city over the summer. But after Hezbollah rockets forced her into a bomb shelter, she decided to head south with her Israeli roommate.

But that did not mollify her frightened parents back home in Austin, Texas. "I tell them on the phone I'm fine, but then they turn on CNN and it's not fine," she said.

Kenig gave in, packed her bags and went home along with some 50 other people on her program.

The program itself had to act quickly after the University of Haifa was forced to close its campus under the rocket barrage. The 150 students who decided to remain found themselves relocated to Hebrew University in Jerusalem.

Groups that organized tours of the country were also forced to rearrange their itineraries, canceling visits to the north, said Neil Weidberg, director of Israel programs for the Young Judaea youth movement, which organizes summer tours for Jewish teenagers. Of 450 teens on the program, only 10 went home, a figure consistent with similar programs, he said.

"We feel like we're in a very safe atmosphere, it's not constantly on our minds," said Jessica Levis, 17, of Miami, who was participating in a color war on a beach south of Tel Aviv that had been moved from its original site by the Sea of Galilee in the north.

Some of the Jewish students said being in Israel in a time of crisis had helped them identify with the country.

"In a kind of sick way it is a privilege to experience this type of phenomenon," said David Riemenschneider, 27, of Atlanta, who relocated to Jerusalem along with the University of Haifa overseas program. He said he had begun to refer to Israeli actions as "our decision rather than their decision."

Two American immigrants to Israel were killed this week. David M. Lelchook, 52, was killed by a rocket Wednesday as he fled on his bicycle toward shelter. Lelchook was originally from the Boston area and had lived in Israel for 20 years.

Michael Levin, 22, was among three Israeli soldiers killed in fighting in Lebanon on Tuesday. He emigrated to Israel about four years ago from his home in the Philadelphia suburb of Holland. Levin had cut short a visit to his family in order to return to his unit.

Riemenschneider said that though he did not personally feel unsafe, he has taken steps to reassure concerned family and friends at home, including setting up a blog.

Program organizers were also taking extra steps to calm worried parents.

Weidberg said his staff was sending parents daily e-mail updates.

Tamar Vital, the administrative director of Haifa University's overseas program, said there was only so much reassuring to be done.

"I spoke during the last two weeks with more parents than I have ever spoken to before," she said.

"If a mother tells me that she's terrified and she can't sleep at night ... (I tell her) you are a mother and you have to make your decision and we'll understand it. Israel will still be here next year."