Esh in Israel

A blog about making beer that got ridiculously out of hand

2008-08-21T00:42:00.010+03:00

A quick side note - this post got REALLY long as I wrote it, so don't feel obligated to read it!

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Okay, so I haven't posted in awhile. A long while. Recently, though, my friend and fellow Pardes Educator Marc Silberstein and I decided to start brewing our own beer.

I've been interested in homebrewing for a few years, but since living in Israel, the prospect of starting up has been quite daunting - on a student's budget, it's pretty expensive in the States, but with everything beer-related being imported, costs here go up even further. After deciding to stay in Israel for a couple more years, though, I couldn't let any more time pass before I started brewing.

At the Jerusalem Wine Festival, I met Denny Neilson, proprietor of The Winemaker, a wine- and beer-making shop in Mevasseret, a town just outside of Jerusalem. I took a two-part, six-hour beer making course, and after that, Marc and I purchased all the start-up equipment needed for our first homebrew.

Before getting into the specifics of our venture, I thought I'd go over the basics of beer making.

To make beer, you basically need three ingredients - water, yeast, and malted grain. Nowadays, beer is rarely brewed without the addition of hops, but until several hundred years ago, hops were rarely added. First, you need to created a 'wort', which is basically water mixed with the sugars extracted from a few kilograms of malted grain. There are several ways to reach a full wort, which I will go over in a bit. After establishing your wort, one usually boils the wort with hops, the flowers from the hop plant which contain bitter oils, in order to add bitterness, flavor, and aroma. Finally, after straining and cooling the wort, yeast is added, before the entire mix is sealed for fermentation. The yeast will then consume the majority of the sugars extracted into the wort, changing all those sugars into alcohol. After several weeks of fermentation and several more weeks conditioning in bottles, the beer is ready to pour.

I mentioned that there are several methods for establishing the wort.

ALL-GRAIN: The most common amongst serious homebrewers is called "all-grain" brewing. In this method, you have to "mash" a mixture of base malts (usually 7-14 pounds) and specialty or flavoring malts (in much smaller quantities, up to 1 pound each, usually), keeping this grain mixture at 65-70 C for 30-60 minutes, depending on the recipe. This method requires the most equipment and the most time, but it is also the cheapest to produce.

PARTIAL MASH: This method requires far less equipment than all-grain, but it is more costly. Essentially, you start by making a "mini-mash", mashing all of the specialty grains and only a portion of the base malt. This mash also occurs in a much smaller quantity of water. After that, you add "malt extract," which comes either dry or liquid, which is essentially as it sounds - concentrated malt extract. Essentially, to save time and space, you are paying someone else to provide you with a whole bunch of the mashing ground work, and you save yourself having to have a much more complicated rig. After adding the malt extract, you continue very similarly to the AG method.

EXTRACT PLUS GRAIN: Very similar to the partial mash, except you don't do a mash at all. Instead, you steep ONLY your specialty grains, replacing all of your base malt with extract. From there, the method is identical to partial mash.

FULL EXTRACT: This method eliminates all grain extraction. Usually, full extract kits come in cans, and in the extract is both the base malt extract and the specialty malt extract. This method is the most expensive but also the easiest. Alas, because you are essentially adding extract to water and boiling, there is little to no variation that can be done with the recipe.

On to our project!

(I'm sorry ahead of time, I tried to take pictures along the way, but at the more labor-intensive parts of the process, I simply forgot. Next brew, I'll try to get more of the process captured)

Because of space limitations and the high start-up cost, we decided to pursue the partial-mash/extract plus grain route. For this method, we only need one large pot (holding roughly 12-16 liters) and a kitchen stove, plus all the fermentation equipment.

Here are our ingredients (plus a couple of beers to drink along the way):

First, we heated 6 liters of water to 70 C. This recipe is for 19 liters of beer, but the remainder of the water will be added later.

Once the water hit 70 C, we turned off the heat, added the specialty grains tied up in a muslin sack, and covered the pot. At the same time, we placed the liquid malt extract container (in the upper right hand of the picture) in a pot of warm water to soften. Much like molasses or honey, it's very high in sugar, so when cool, is very firm.

While this is steeping, it's a great time to enjoy a beer.

After 30 minutes of steeping, we removed the specialty grains from the water. We threw these grains out, but they could be used in breads, bird feed, or compost. Just don't feed them to your dog - evidently, spent grains are highly toxic. Weird.

Now, we brought the wort up to a boil. So as to prevent burning on the bottom of the pot (from all the sugars in the liquid extract), we turned off the heat. Then, we poured the malt extract into the wort.

Finally, we brought the wort back up to a boil. Once we got a good boil going, we added the "bittering hops". The oils in hops provide different attributes when added at different times - if boiled for awhile, the hops provide bitterness. If boiled only a couple minutes, the hops add flavor. If not boiled at all, but instead added after the boil finishes, the hops add aroma. The recipe we used called for a good amount of hops, which you can see floating on the top of the wort. For a beerhead like myself, things are starting to smell pretty great at this point.

Here's Marc doing his stir thing:

After 60 minutes of boiling, we cut the heat. At this point, it is very important to chill the water as quickly as possible. From this point forward, everything must be sanitized - introducing bacteria at any point here would be very bad. Since bacteria like luke-warm substances, it's essential to get this 90+ C liquid down to a temperature at which the yeast can be added, so that you can seal the mixture and allow fermentation to safely begin. There are several ways to chill this liquid quickly - putting the cook pot in a large sink filled with ice water, immersing a coil cooler into the wort, or our method. We added a large, pre-frozen ice cube (think ice cream tub sized) into the wort in the pot, bringing the temperature down to about 50 C. After that, we added pre-chilled water into the primary fermenter (a large, 25 L bucket), then strained the wort to remove most of the spent hops. At this point, we the topped up the wort to 19 liters with more chilled water, bringing the final beer mix to about 24 C.

I missed taking pictures through most of this, since we were both pretty active, but here are the spent hops:

Finally, we "pitched" the yeast, which basically means adding the yeast to the beer. There are several ways to do this. First, you can start with liquid yeast, which is already active before it's added, but needs to stay refrigerated right up to use. Next, you can rehydrate and activate dry yeast, then add that mix to the beer. Finally, you can do what we did, which is sprinkle the dry yeast directly onto the beer, letting it reactivate in the beer itself. While some brewers don't like this method, it seems to be working for me (and many others who do it this way).

Now, on to fermentation, where I'm at now. Because of the heat in Jerusalem, I had to devise a way to keep the beer cool (ideally, between 16-20 C) without blasting the all-too-expensive air conditioning all day, despite it being 32 C outside. So, I created a "swamp cooler," placing the fermentation bucket in a bin filled with water, adding water bottles filled with water and frozen, wrapping a towel around the bucket (to pull cold water up and around the whole bucket and to keep light out), and aiming a fan at the bucket. (The fermenter is on the left)

So, that's where I'm at. Fermentation started last night, and primary fermentation will continue for the next few days. After that, I'll be transferring the beer to a secondary fermenter for another week or two, then bottling. If there is interest, I can update my progress as I go.

Oh, and here's an early mock-up of the label:

I hope I haven't just bored the tears out of you.

For those that are interested (which is probably none of you), here is the recipe for the first batch:

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Big Papa Pale Ale

6.6 lb Munton's Super Light Liquid Malt Extract
1 lb Munton's Extra Light Dry ME
1 lb Cara Munich II (50L)
5 oz Cara Aroma
2 oz Cara Amber
4 oz Centennial Hops (9.5% AAU)
3 oz Perle Hops (7.5% AAU)
11.5 g Safale S-05 American Pale Ale yeast
1 tsp Irish Moss
1/4 lb Corn Sugar

Steep specialty malts at 70 C for 30 minutes. Bring wort to boil, add LME and DME. Boil 60 minutes, add hops at following schedule:

60 min - 1 oz. Centennial
30 min - 1 oz. Perle
15 min - 1 oz. Centennial
5 min - 1 oz. Centennial, .5 oz Perle
Dry hop - 1 oz. Centennial, 1.5 oz Perle

Add Irish moss at 15 minutes. Pitch yeast dry, or reactivate in boiled and cooled water. Reserve corn sugar for bottling.

MySpace reminds me of 1997

2007-04-30T21:18:00.000+03:00

Yes, I've become a lightweight addict of Facebook. I'm certainly no complete Facebook automaton, endlessly writing wall posts and notes and making friends with people I carpooled once with in fourth grade, but yes, I like the connectivity, and I certainly have gotten in touch with old friends I never would have found or heard from otherwise.

Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself.

Facebook, for the uninitiated, is a website based around social connectivity. You sign-up into a network, which can be your high school, university or city or country of residence, and then, through that network and other searches, you begin adding friends. Now, once you've added a friend, you can then search through all of THEIR friends, and then you can add anyone with whom you and this new friend might mutually be friends, and so on, and so forth. Additionally, you can post an endless number of pictures and tag them (which means tracking who appears in what pictures, so you can create a catalog of images starring yourself from a variety of photographers with a few clicks), write wall posts (every user has an online public blackboard), send messages, write notes (their version of blogging), and search, search, search. I know people who lose hours, literally, hours a day on Facebook. Facebook is fairly technologically advanced, though; it uses a lot of inline Java elements, as well as an internally refreshing browser element (so you don't have to refresh the entire page for new content, a la GMail), and the tagging feature is just plain awesome.

Online, though, Facebook is not alone. Before Facebook came along, another site called Friendster became relatively popular. Using a relatively, if not far more simplified and technologically-outdated, model, you once again find friends through friends, ostensibly creating the same spider-web of a network through a myriad of friends signed up. A rather clunky predecessor to Facebook, but it certainly helped to open the door to the kind of unabashed internet exhibitionism and narcissism (perhaps most famously available on YouTube) that years ago would have seemed like identity-theft suicide.

I did the Facebook thing, though, and before that, the Friendster thing. I had a lot of friends on both, you see, and even though I resisted a Facebook account for the longest time (in some kind of kind-of-the-schoolyard I-was-here-first I'm-sticking-with-Friendster kind of illogical mentality), I finally signed up, because I knew too many users and it had simply become too socially commonplace to avoid (rarely a Shabbos meal goes by without it's mention). So, now I belong to Facebook and Friendster. You'd think I'd have the bases covered, wouldn't you?

Ah, yes, MySpace. Frankly, I don't really know how to explain MySpace. It's kind of like Facebook and Friendster, except instead of arranging your friends and pictures and notes in an easy-to-follow, organized fashion, it seems to take everything, throw it in the blender, chug it too quickly, get queasy, then vomit everything up on the page with some annoying background image and terrible music playing in the background. I avoid myspace like the plague. The few times I have been to a MySpace page, though, I've realized something - I think they took a look at the internet circa 1997, said, "hey, this is great! Let's make our site exactly like this!" and then did so.

Seriously, let's test this out. You tell me... which of these sites was made in 1997, and which in 2007?

ONE

TWO

Uncanny. It's like the late nineties got in a time machine and came forward ten years and had massive design diarrhea all over myspace and then ran away. Sounds disgusting? It is.

Anyhow, this post really has nothing to do with anything except for the fact that I spend far too much time on the internet and felt the least I could do was color it with some commentary, albeit sophomoric potty humor, at best. Hope you enjoyed this little diatribe.

My Life Now, My Life Next Year

2007-04-25T19:06:00.000+03:00

After months of telling myself that THIS was the night I'd sit down and write my blog, I decided that tonight was the night. I'm going to start off free-form and see where it goes, since I've given up all hope of this blog having any semblance of continuity.

Maybe that's for the best, though. I don't spend a lot of time reading blogs, but the best of what I have read, though, develop a character not through overly thoughtful meditations (to which I clearly aspire and to which I generally fall short), but rather through small, regularly updated moments, simply reflected upon so as to slowly paint all corners of a character, not just a few brazen brush strokes.

Starting with the second night of Pesach (Passover), Jews go into a period called the Omer - a period counting the 49 days between the Pesach sacrifice and the holiday of Shavuot, but a period which, due to rabbinic interpretation, has been tied to a sense of loss and mourning (often attached to stories related to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai and Rabbi Akiva and his 24,000 students). In the midst of this period, a number of days are marked. We've recently recounted three of them - Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Memorial Day), Yom HaZikaron (Memorial Day) and Yom Ha'Atsma'ut (Israeli Independence Day).

Of those three, Yom HaZikaron and Yom Ha'atsma'ut fall directly next to each other on the calendar. In the Jewish calendar, the day starts the night before - this means that you start the day mourning the loss of Israel's fallen soldiers and end the day celebrating it's independence. Memorial Day was felt here in a way I never felt in the US - where Americans take the day off work, visit relatives, and enjoy extremely good sales at the mall, this country mourns deeply, communally. The military graveyards are packed, from the most secular to the most religious in the state, hardly a person doesn't have some connection to a soldier that has died, and those that are lucky enough help to mourn others' losses. In a sense, to see a graveyard more full of the living than the dead gives a sense of hope - that Jews have reached a place where we are still growing rather than shrinking, coming together rather than drifting apart, even for a day.

Within hours of such sadness, downtown city centers throughout the state became a celebratory zoo. Downtown Jerusalem, in particular, was a crowded mess - cars are blocked out and the streets run packed with families, teenagers, and couples alike.

A favorite moment revolved around a group of otherwise secular Israeli teenagers huddling down the street, chanting Israeli Zionist songs, and raising an oversized Israeli flag. Too often and too recently, the flag here is constantly tied to a sense of inevitability and militaristic misstep, that every right the country might think it's making turns into a somehow unplanned greater wrong. The flag has become so rife with corruption that it's lost it's innocence - after 59 years, the flag has gone from a badge of honor to a sign of something more sinister. When these kids ran through the street lifting the flag, though, it was born anew - the blue star on the white shield buckled magnificently in the streetlight sheen, and the breezy night caused the flag to even give itself applause. Israel was everything we want Israel to be, a pure state of peace, and community, and shared vision and shared purpose, a flag over a union of brotherhood locked in purpose of well-meaning and selflessness. It was beautiful.

I haven't made this knowledge widely-known, for some reason, but I'm staying in Israel next year. I'll be a Pardes Fellow, which essentially means I'll once again be a full-time student in the Pardes Beit Midrash (our study hall, where I spend 3/4 of my day), with the added responsibility of creating and implementing a leadership project, as well as being a general role model in the Pardes community, both in and out of the Beit Midrash. How I came to this thinking went kind of like this:

1. Come to Pardes for year, apply to Pardes Educator's Program
2. Get into Pardes Educator's Program
3. Realize that you really should study more before going into Educator's Program, or else your knowledge of Torah will totally suck
4. Apply for Pardes Fellows Program
5. Get into Pardes Fellows Program
6. Decide between Fellows Program and Mechina (preperatory) year for Educator's Program
7. Agree to Fellows Program
8. Realize that the Pardes Educators Program was never for you in the first place
9. Be really happy with your decision but equally confused about the future

And after all that, I'm still ecstatic with my decision to stay. I'm not so totally clueless about the year after next - I forsee myself either in graduate school (in either a Jewish Ed. MA program or a Jewish Studies program) or working (most likely in a community-based programming position). Either way, I went through a lot of stress about my future this year - a lot of right-or-wrong-decision worry, a lot of totally useless and unnecessary stress. When all was said and done, though, I'm left where I was when I first came back to Judaism, when I first realized that I needed to make Judaism a central part of my life. I know that this life will still have many paths yet to travel, that a "career decision" is barely that, that a professional choice is but a step on the overall bigger goal - ensuring a life focused on bringing goodness and peace into the world, on making the global world better through my local steps.

Back to Yom Ha'atsma'ut. An Israeli tradition on Independence Day is the barbecue - they freakin' love it. You can even get little $2.50, pre-packaged, disposable grills at the corner stores (makolets), charcoals and all. Back at Willard Residential Hall, in the I-live-in-dorms college days, I became grillmaster for our dorm cookouts. It was really great fun; there are only rare joys greater than cooking ten feet of meat at a time for waiting, hungry freshmen. Tuesday, I stepped back into my role, and it was terrific. Granted, it was 20-something Jews instead of freshmen, but the joy was the same. They all laughed at me for being the meat-cooking vegetarian, but I loved it. I really can't explain the sheer visceral joy in running a grill - the heat off the grill, the smell of the marinated meat dripping fat onto the coals, the occasional flame-up - these all leave a real sense of meaningful quietude, a purposefulness that few other tasks ever allow.

Yeah, I know. That's weird.

I'll finish with a thought. As I become more entrenched in this country, whether I like it or not, I constantly reflect on my relationship not only with Israel, but with the surrounding countries, the US, and the world. At the alumni panel hosted at Pardes for Yom HaZikaron, a former-student-turned-reporter remarked on the fact that she lives here permanently, but that she has never, in fact, ever made aliyah to gain Israeli citizenship, because doing so would prohibit her from entering the territories of Gaza and the West Bank. As such, she's essentially stateless - she has US citizenship, but doesn't live there, vote there, or pay but the slightest of taxes, and she doesn't have Israeli citizenship, yet she does everything but vote here, including raising her children in the school system. Even still, to be, at the root, stateless - does this appreciate our ability to report on a place, to reflect on a culture? If we're not invested anywhere, do we then become appropriate voices of the objective? I'm not sure, but it left me puzzled, nonetheless.

In lieu of the Omer, I hope we can all take pause in the next few weeks, at least once, to admire the awe that constantly surrounds us.

Oh, and let's not forget picture time. (Click for bigger)

Some stunning flowers in the Golan.

Ditza, me, and Tel Aviv.

Just a glimpse at the party that was downtown Jerusalem on Yom Ha'atsma'ut.

Who likes a barbecue picnic? I like a barbecue picnic.

The Secret Life of the Bachelor

2007-03-29T15:19:00.001+02:00

This has gone from being a good blog to a mediocre blog to a non-existent blog, so the least I can do is entertain you for two minutes and change.

A really great day

2007-02-27T01:03:00.000+02:00

I'd give today a solid, solid A.

My Gemara shiur was fabulous, as my chevruta Matt and I stormed through parallel sugiyot in both the Bavli and the Yerushalmi on Massechet Megillah while even having some time for a fascinating midrash on Mordecai and King Ahaseureus.

In Nevi'im Rishonim, my new bikiut Nach class, we're two p'rakim into Melachim and Shlomo just ascended to kingship. The Beit HaMikdash is surely on it's way soon.

My Zohar class was esoteric as ever, but I'm really letting go of the sheer rationalist in me and opening up to the totally radical concepts that were recently reserved for the Kabbalists.

Another Matt, my Mishnah Yomi chevruta, and I conquered Massechet Sota, nearly catching up to the calendar after falling twelve mishnayot behind. 10 mishnayot in an hour and change. Unstoppable.

My night seder chevruta, Ariel, and I had one of our best sessions tonight, unlocking some groundbreaking ideas that even the Rishonim don't comment upon.

And finally, my homegirl Ilana is back in town, and I had my first meaningful conversation outside of Torah in a long while.

Yes, I know I spent this whole post talking in Jewish code, but it's too late and I'm too happily exhausted to care. Lilah tov.

Am I Dead?

2007-02-09T15:52:00.000+02:00

The answer is: NO!

I know, I haven't posted in awhile, and this isn't going to exactly satisfy your appetite.

I'm planning on writing up something interesting after Shabbos, but for now, a quick Shabbat Shalom and a status update.

I'm currently working on my application for the Pardes Fellows Program, which is a well-funded one-year program with a stipend. The program is aimed at returning students. I was also accepted into the Educator's Program, but I'm going to push the master's degree back a year in favor of learning more Torah. The Master's in Jewish Education is definitely in the plan, though.

I'll write more soon.

PS This is one of my favorite pictures that I've ever taken (click for bigger):

Snow in Jerusalem demands a blog update...

2006-12-28T17:06:00.000+02:00

...Since Mom's pestering last week didn't seem motivation enough.

I think I got burned out on writing for awhile; early this month, I had a D'var Torah, a "Take 5" (a lunchtime talk by one of the students), and my Educator's Program essay all to write, and with the grind of school taking it's toll, at times, I had very little motivation for blogging. I'll do my best to be better.

First off...

SNOW IN JERUSALEM.

The threat of snow was first heard Tuesday at lunch. David Bernstein, Dean of Pardes, made an announcement during lunchtime, saying, "Be aware, there is a forecast for snow tomorrow night. Don't get too excited, these are usually false alarms."

Now, growing up in Atlanta, which seems to have a relatively similar weather pattern to Jerusalem, I didn't put too much stock in a pending snowstorm; too many times had I had visions of a warm-bed-sleep-in in my mind throughout elementary and middle schools, only to wake up to dry ground and a screaming parent. These threats rarely even materialized into any precipitation at all, and they certainly often failed to develop into a snowfall that would amount to anything.

Tuesday afternoon, though, the rain started. It started out pretty light, but by Tuesday night, it was going at a good clip. I can attest that it was coming down pretty hard - we played a game of flag football out in the chilly rain (and narrowly lost, 14-7, in an epic defensive battle). It was a winter rain... cold and wet, but it was nowhere near cold enough to warrant snow, and the thought of pending flaky fun never crossed my mind.

Somewhere in the snow family, though, is a distant cousin - hail. About two minutes into my already-rainy walk to school on Wednesday morning, snow's friend decided to pay a visit. A pea-sized, hail-everywhere visit. Hail in my face, on my body, on my feet. And the wind didn't help; the little hailettes went wherever they damned well pleased, and there wasn't much I could do but get a faceful of pain, hard and wet. Now, hail looks pretty harmless when it bounces off the pavement, looks like it's made of water, but at least looks pretty frozen. I'm not sure how, then, I ended up more wet (where my parka didn't cover) from the hail than I ever have been from rain; my jeans were so soaked that they ended up soaking my socks underneath, which ended up soaking down inside my shoes, making my otherwise waterproof boots entirely useless.

After making it to Pardes, it just continued to rain. The threat of snow was still pending, as they had seen some up north, but it was just too warm and wet for any falling snow to do much but melt into the already-gigantic puddles. Thus, when the first snow flakes were reported during my afternoon Midrash class with Baruch, I didn't even make it to the window. I had seen this happen too many times growing up, too many times. Hopes raised, only to be shattered by too-warm ground or too-short a snowfall. But the snow continued to fall, and got thicker, too.

Only after dinner, though, did the hope really shine. A night seder student came in, shouting, "It's sticking!" No, it couldn't be. Yes, it was! How could this happen? So much water everywhere, still above-freezing temperatures, but sure enough, the streets were turning white and the trees were getting weighed down with this sticky-wet frozen wonderstuff. I left Pardes, though, and the snow had stopped; ah, an eighth of an inch on the ground, and that was it, then. Time for it to melt, to get back to puddly Jerusalem. Alas, no! Halfway home, the snow started again, and how! And how!

It snowed and snowed and snowed. This wasn't the light, fluffy snow that the colder cities see most of the winter... this was stick-to-your-ribs, soak-up-a-soup, thicker-n-gravy snow, a wet and heavy snowball-makin' snow, dripping wet before it hit the tree branches and street corners. A snow that didn't crunch under your feet, but rather, bit back. And it was glorious.

After a day of much-needed rain, I was over the wet stuff; I knew that Israel needs all the precipitation it could get, but half my clothes were already soaking wet, and I was losing outfits by the day. But now, precipitation we could all enjoy - water for the land, and a white wonder for the senses. It even smelled of snow... this usually-smelly city had been cleansed, covered in a peaceful blanket of sticky snow.

I went to bed with the talk of school closings. "If the public schools close, the we close. If the public schools are open, then we're open," David Bernstein also added on Tuesday. I didn't want to miss school, even though Thursdays are only half-days anyhow, but there was something about the magic of snow being so great that school closes. It creates a one-day holiday, of sorts: kids in the snow, parents home watching them, everything closed and the masses at ease.

Alas, I woke up, half the snow already melted, and the schools open for business. It got pretty close to freezing, but as I should have guessed, the puddles and running water did their trick, and the constant city traffic kept the streets from ever becoming too dangerous. I was fooled again - against my better judgement, I fell into the lull of snow-thinking, the foggy mist of snowy dreams not only fogging up my glasses, but also clouding my reasoning and understanding of the likelihoods of these weather patterns. I was built up, only to be let down.

In reality, though, I went to bed knowing that school was going to be open today, that a lot of the snow would be gone, and that, just like in my childhood, these warmer areas just don't cling to snowfalls the way colder climates do. I really chose to give in to the childish dreams of snow-filled days and empty classrooms, because I remembered the joy that always came with that excitement and anticipation, even if it ended up with me drudging to school, cursing the school board and local government. I made the choice, the attitude adjustment to believe, to hope for this little, meaningless thing.

I've thought a lot about faith, belief in G-d or a higher power, adherence to an organized religious system in the faith of questionable supporting evidence. I question those who even say "we need something to believe in;" I think there are plenty who get by just fine without believing in very much at all. Sometimes I worry that I'm investing my faith in a system that is factually problematic and religiously a little crazy. In the end, though, I'm making a choice to believe, a choice in something that may prove meaningless in a scientific sense, but in a personal sense, creates the framework for how I encounter the world. It's through this choice, this belief, that I fall asleep hoping every night, despite the potential for disappointment.

Oh and here's some snow:

PART TWO SOME RANDOM STUFF

My roommate's Chanukiyah:

The Kotel, on a Wednesday night:

Downtown Jerusalem, as seen from the Tower of David:

And here is my "Take Five" talk, if you're interested. I was asked to talk about "My Jewish Hero."

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The word “hero” comes from the Greek “heros,” meaning “warrior,” but I find an interesting idea of the hero stemming from Carl Jung’s system of archetypes. While this system has been used to identify stereotypes or epitomes, in a strict linguistic sense, an archetype is merely a defining example of a personality type. The hero archetype is entirely the hero – untainted by misgivings, shortcomings, and bad decisions.

I don’t know how to identify with this archetype. An archetypal hero is nothing more than a work of fantasy, an all too pure version of a human being whose existence is contradictory to the human experience. Even our culture’s archetypal “heros” fail to meet the criteria of perfection – Avraham neglects his parental obligation with Ishmael, Ya’akov tricks his brother to earn his birthright, and Moshe’s first act in Torah is that of murder. To live in this world is to betray the archetype, and to sin is unlike the archetypal hero.

In fiction, though, archetypal characters are used so that a reader might subconsciously recognize the archetype, and thus the motivations, behind the character’s behavior. Archetypes serve not as complete wholes, but rather, a set of attributes connected with otherwise flawed characters. Homer’s Odysseus is certainly not without his flaws, but his driving motivations are simple and clear – nobility, honor, and love. We learn these characteristics not out of the great duration of The Odyssey when Odysseus engages in less-than-noble behavior, but rather in the brief moments when the true motivations of his character shine through.

In this sense, heroes can only exist in fleeting moments. Our heroes stand as such for us not because of the life they are going to live, as in some fated Greek tragedy, but rather for the life that they have lived. Just as we remember our favorite musicians for the hits that we sing to ourselves every day, we also forgive them for the slew of mediocre melodies that served as little more than filler on what might have otherwise been a killer album. So too do we remember our heroes; they need only fit the archetype in a moment to stand in long-lasting relevance and meaning.

So here we come to the question I started with – who is my Jewish hero? In short, I don’t know. I see the classic Jewish heroes of both the distant and more recent past as inspirational, but I fail to connect to their memories and tales viscerally. Personally, I find so many people in my life an inspiration, but I hesitate to hold any of them up to such a high stature. I truly want my heroes to be without fault, to be so steadfast so as to hold up to perfect criticism. In a huge scope, this is an impossibility. Only when I shrink my scope, then, does the image of the hero come into focus.

I find heroes every day, especially here. In Scott Kaplan’s moving speech about his conversion, I found overwhelming and inspirational courage. In Jess Kendler’s D’var Torah, I was amazed at her outstanding ability to examine text. And in hearing so many peoples’ stories in coming to Pardes, in making a choice to spend so much time doing something so uniquely distinctive, I’m filled with awe.

If heroism lives in these moments, then we should strive for this momentary heroism. When we aim to live our life as a whole in a heroic manner, we’re bound to face disappointment. Only when we realize that steeping our deeds right now in heroism, that refocusing every moment on the acts and deeds of a hero, only then can we live on as heroes to someone.

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Thanks for reading, sorry for the delay. Much love, as always.

David

Video Update!

2006-11-19T21:52:00.000+02:00

Yeah, if you want to watch me ramble on for four minutes, here ya go.

EDIT: Evidently, the video format I was using was all messed up. This should work.

EDIT2: Great, now the sound and video seem off-sync. I have no idea why. I give up on this one. I promise my next video adventure will at least be synced up.

It's taking me longer to post than it's taking my foot to heal

2006-10-29T20:37:00.000+02:00

That's right. I sprained my ankle. This is what happens when you play basketball in running shoes.

I'm really only bummed out, besides the constant dull pain, because I won't be able to play on the Pardes flag football team for a couple of weeks. Sure, it isn't like I can run, catch, or throw with or without a bum ankle, but at least I can stand on the defensive line with my hands up.

So, first off, I want to apologize, to those that care, for not posting for so long. Maybe it comes down to a reflection on my writing; so often, I use my writing to sum up the intellectual gains I've had, the little steps on the road to betterdom. Here, though, every day I feel growth, every day I really feel I'm a better person than the last, and in a blog-esque way, it's hard to sum anything up without getting into the whole shebang. And as a month and a half of Torah study has shown, it's a big, big shebang.

I'll try to give a glimpse, at least.

On Tuesday evenings, I'm taking a extracurricular class on Hasidut with Levy Cooper. Levy is actually on sabbatical this year, but due to the demand for the class, he comes in once a week to teach. The Hasidut, for those who don't know, are members of several religious dynasties, many dating back to the mid-18th century. The Hassids are known as one of the more spiritually-minded sects of religious Judaism, and included in their midst are the Lubavitchers, who run the biggest Jewish outreach program in the world, Chabad.

In the course of this class, our mission is threefold. First, we're learning a bare-bones history of the Hassidic movement. Second, we're reading a classic Hassidic text, Ohev Yisroel. Lastly, through our "spiritual homework," we are trying to "try out" different Hassidic perspectives on living, trying to embody the more beautiful aspects of the Hassidic design. I'm still not sure if I'm going to find the fulfillment with the spiritual homework, but I'll try to expound on a basic Hassidic idea that I really found simple but beautiful.

Levy told us a story. Two men, best friends, were so close that their other friends all told them that they were nearly the same person. They were inseperable. On a trip to Israel, they decided they wanted to hike up Masada, the mountain fortress near the Dead Sea, and catch the sunrise at the top of the climb. So, they headed out to the desert early one morning, a couple hours pre-dawn. Since the lift wasn't running that early, they climbed up the snake path, the killer hour-long stair climb up the front of the mount. They were sweating bullets, rushing towards the peak in order to catch the sunrise. Just as they reached the top of the path, they turned around to see the sun's tip peak over the Jordanian mountainscape. At that moment, the two did two very different things. The first closed his eyes, reached out his arms, and tried to take in the moment, the experience; he wanted to embody the sunrise, to share in the glory of the dawn of the day. The other friend, equally in awe, was quick to pull out his camera, and he started snapping away. Both wanted the sunrise, but for different reasons; the first wanted to BE the sunrise, while the second wanted to HAVE the sunrise.

Several nights ago, I ran into a very interesting character on the street, walking home from wherever I had been. As I walked up to him, he announced to me, "quick, I need a story!" I paused, not out of surprise, but out of thought; usually, so quick to have a story come to my lips, I was parched for a fable. He said, "I need something with characters, with colors and shapes." I realized, suddenly, that I didn't have the story he was after; I'm full of tales, but short on stories. No sooner did I start to explain this to him, though, than he was off, "I'm sure you're a great guy, but I need a story!" I had my camera with me, and I thought to take a picture of him. Then I remember Levy's story.

(Now, as an aside, don't take this as a slight against picture-taking. Not only can picture-taking itself be an experience, but creating a lasting, meaningful image can engage so many "be" moments in the future that the venture itself is more than worthwhile. For the sake, though.)

The incident created a two-fold reaction - first, to the idea of the picture, and second, to the idea of the story. Frankly, I wanted both. I wanted to have the picture, to better illustrate my encounter, and I wanted the story, to be able to fulfill his need. I wanted to have both, but I wasn't sure I wanted to BE either. Frankly, though, I don't take that many pictures; the need to take doesn't that often engage my mind. That said, the need to BE doesn't rise to the fore of my consciousness either. I had a sudden moment of self-reflection, though.

I didn't have any stories. Sure, I have some jokes, and I certainly can remember a fable or two, but I never seem to remember events as series of haphazard goings-on; instead, my memory shapes my experience like this, like my posts and my e-mails, like my writings and my reflections. I create an interconnected arc, no event seperate from another, a meaningful Shabbaton no more powerful than an hour lulled to inactivity at my computer. I don't mean to say that some events don't stand out, because, of course, they do. Instead, I mean to say that that hour alone before my computer speaks as high a volume as to how I perceive myself as any particularly "meaningful" experience I've had. Certainly, I'm a collection. Perhaps, too, I'm a collection of having. But I'm not a collection of taking, I don't think, and that gives me a sense of joy.

How does this bridge the gap to a "be" perspective, though? Can it? The answer, in short, is yes.

I heard tell of an episode of This American Life on NPR, the subject of which related to testosterone. One of the acts dealt with a man who, for some time, had lost all of his testosterone production. Evidently, he became incredibly apathetic, but not in the depressed way with which we normally associate apathy. He was apathetic in that he didn't really care where he was or what he was seeing, because he felt everything and everywhere the same way. His reaction to everything, though, was unstressed beauty - it was a statement of beauty without comparison and without judgement. In a sense, it sounds ideal. A pure "be" state - to be able to be anywhere and find the pure, unadulterated beauty in anything.

What is pure beauty, though, without context? To devolve into a "be" state begins to elucidate a non-functional existence; without differentiation from thing to thing, event to event, our lives become not collections, but blurred smudges on the canvas of time. We need possession, we need a "have" state to create meaningful parameters for being, or else we get lost in the mists of time.

I'm studying Torah full-time. Sunday is my short day, which means I only spend about 10 hours at school. What do I do all day? From an outsider's perspective, it's simple - I collect, I learn, I have. I spend 60 hours a week cramming as much information into my brain as I think it can take, and then I squeeze in some more. I take, I take, I take.

At the same time, though, I'm not memorizing scripture by rote, alone, and I'm not fastidiously sitting in lecture, gorging on the teachings of some well-established academic. Instead, I spend most of my time in the Beit Midrash, literally the "House of Interpretation." I study with a partner. I don't memorize the texts, but instead, I learn the texts and engage the texts. Yes, I take and I take, but at the same time, I purely am. I spend my time walking the line between being and having, between taking and becoming.

Is this a realistic venture? In the long-run, no. I certainly can't (and frankly, don't want to) spend the rest of my life studying in the Beit Midrash. Learning Torah, though, isn't solely about learning laws and stories handed down from our ancestors. Learning Torah doesn't only boil down to your development as a religious or academic personality. Learning Torah becomes a paradigm for living life; through the rigor and practice of daily Torah study, a window into practical life-study opens up. To be. To have.

To have and to be.

The story of the two friends is a clever one, it's true, but alas, a bit short sighted. I'd rather if the story didn't have any friends in it, but rather two adventuresome cameras. After a long struggle uphill, they both turn around to snap a photo, but one hesitates; one happily snaps away, while the other takes a moment to pause, a brief stutter to frame up, adjust focus, and perhaps close down the f/stop a bit. One camera may be trying to "be" or it may be trying to "have," snapping away, it's either entirely trying to be as much of a camera as it can, or it's trying to collect as many keepsakes as it can store. The other, though, is suddenly torn, so in awe with being a camera that it can't help but be lost in the grey line between itself and the sunrise.

I feel lost all the time. To have and to be.

(I'm sorry if this post feels a bit unfocused... I need to be writing more often. More on that plan later.)

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On a side note, here is my first youtube upload, a short clip I took of Boogie, a biweekly dance party in Jerusalem (plenty of religious hippies to go around, I assure you!).

Erev Sukkot, 5767

2006-10-06T15:39:00.000+02:00

"Chag Sameach!"

You'd think I'd hear this in the streets here, passing other religious Jews, maybe from a teacher at school, a friend on the phone. Certainly, all of these people have wished me a happy holiday, with Sukkot right around the corner, beginning tomorrow night. But were I in Atlanta, I might find the same - friends leaving Pardes Atlanta classes certainly would wish such for each other, as would Jews walking to or from shul on Friday night, or the teachers at the Weber School.

But in Atlanta, when you've spent 45 minutes going back and forth in broken Hebrew and English over an overcharge for your internet, your technical support agent won't wish you a Chag Sameach. Your tech support person, most likely, wouldn't have any idea there was a holiday, in any religion, by the name of Sukkot. Heck, you'd be lucky to get a "Merry Christmas."

Israel during the holidays. Wow.

So, with Shabbat/Sukkot right around the corner, and me fresh out of the insight I pride myself on (oh, the ego can be such a wondrous thing), I thought I'd rehash some of the studies I've been working on.

Either before Rosh Hashanah or before Yom Kippur, it is customary to do what is called "Seder Hatarat Nederim," or "Annulment of Vows." In this system, one gathers together a Beit Din (a panel of three learned men, often rabbis), states aloud one's desire to renounce their vows, and the beit din, in turn, acknowledges that request and grants it. Similarly, on Erev Yom Kippur, we listen to, and say correspondingly in an undertone, a prayer called "Kol Nidre," or "All the Vows." In this prayer, we collectively renounce any vows we've made in the past year, and renounce all future vows we'll make in the coming year.

So, seriously, why are these vows so important? Who really cares?

Here is the real crux of the issue. When you commit yourself to a vow, for instance, telling a friend that you'll meet them for lunch tomorrow, you are, in a sense, creating mitzvot. As such, when you do meet that person, you're fulfilling a mitzvah. Pretty terrific, right? Well, as such, it is terrific. That said, if you fail to show up, if you fail to complete your vow, you're in a sense breaking a mitzvah. What's that mean?

Well, it isn't good.

So, in reality, one should really avoid making "Nederim," or vows. So, when someone really frum (read: religious-acting) says something that might be perceived as a vow, they usually add on "Bli Neder," or "without a vow." That said, we all happen to let vows slip in, or we pick up vows in ways that we don't even realize. Which ushers in the concept of minhag.

So, essentially, minhag is the set of customs which we practice - cultural laws, cultural mitzvot. While our Jewish culture has an obligation to fulfill these practices, they aren't taken directly from Torah. In essence, minhag are cultural vows that have been made and passed down to us.

Personally, though, we can make our own minhag. How do we do this? Essentially, if you do anything three times in a row, without a break, you've created minhag. Let's look at an example.

There is an obligation, on Shabbat, to have candles lit in the home in which you're going to sleep. Therefore, before one leaves for shul, one has an obligation to make sure that there are candles lit. This is based on Torah law. Now, let's say you walk to shul, then to a friends place, where you're planning on spending the night. Before you leave, though, for three weeks in a row, you light Shabbat candles in your home anyway. What has happened? You've created a minhag for yourself; you now have an obligation to light candles in your home, even if you're not going to sleep there.

So, essentially, there are lots and lots of ways to not fulfill your vows, in whatever form they take, and it's to your spiritual benefit to make sure you have as few vows in your life as possible. That said, if you're going to take on a vow, you better make sure it's one you intend to keep, to the point where those vows have to become defining points in your life.

Now, this all sounds ultra-religious, and ultra-frum, and for the most part, that's right; I know very few people outside of the ultra-orthodox who really obsess, every day, ensuring they aren't making vows. On the flip side, if you're worried about accidentally creating vows and minhag with everything you do, aren't you, in a sense, living a frozen life, unable to move forward for fear of accidental mitzvah-breaking? No.

At its basis, all this halakha is really bringing to light the concept of mindfulness. In our day-to-day life, it's all too easy to fall into apathy, and let our days slip by without a real awareness of what we're doing. It all revolves around tying yourself to vows that aren't really important, in a sense, cheapening the vows that really mean something. We should try to lead our everyday life with a constant awareness of our now, of what we're doing, what we're saying, so that our time doesn't become a conversation we've already had a dozen times. More clearly - don't be afraid to make vows; just be afraid to make the wrong vows. Focusing that level of clarity on the choices we're making now regarding the future, as ambiguous and attractive that future can seem, retroactively ensures that our present is as beautiful, clear, and perfect as possible.

Now is the Festival of Booths, when we leave our homes and spend as much time as possible in temporary housing, hearkening back to our time in the desert and reminding us of how little is actually ours. When we pare down our lives to it's essentials: food, shelter, and the people around us, we're reminded of that which is so important to us. If love is a vow, then don't be afraid to give it out; at the same time, don't cheapen your love to something easily committed and forgotten. Love completely, but make sure your love is special.

As Shachar the HOT man (cable company) would say:

Chag Sameach, and Shabbat Shalom.

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Here are some pictures of the sukkah I spent a couple days helping to build on the Pardes rooftop, with a bonus shot of my beautiful etrog (one of the four species for Sukkot). Unfortunately, I only took pictures on day 2 of the build, so I don't have it's bare bones going together.

A view of our building, in the beginning stages of the sukkah (see the roof).

The frame coming together, with the Schach (covering) in the forground.

Gittin' 'R Dun.

Sarah Barefoot tying down the Schach.

Builder/Drillmaster Raif, via Urbana, Illinois, T.C.B. (That's Takin' Care of Business)

As the sun goes down, the sukkah couldn't look better.

Boris, from Berlin via the Ukraine, pondering 40 years in booths.

Nothing like a beer or two after a job well done. (Shoshana, Raif, Sarah, David, in order)

My etrog.

L'Shana Tova

2006-09-22T15:33:00.000+03:00

Before this Shabbat/Chag rolls in, I wanted to take the time to wish everyone a wonderful, happy, fruitful, blessed New Year. I hope we can all take this time to strive to not only think back on the mistakes we've made, but look forward to a year full of love, hope, and wonder. May meaning fill our lives.

L'Shana Tova.

A Sixteen Hour Day (and a 72-hour weekend).

2006-09-18T22:56:00.000+03:00

The time is 10:50. I just got home.

This morning, I left the house at 6:30. Normally, I've been going to morning minyan for davening, which either starts at 7:25 (non-Torah days) or 7:10 (Torah days). This week, though, is special. This week, we say a special prayer service called Slichot, which, in it's essence, is aimed at getting us prepared, emotionally and spiritually, for the upcoming Chagim (holidays). The service is about 25 minutes long, so this morning (a Torah day), we gathered at 6:45.

After minyan, I had a full day of classes. The day started with Mishnah, which is both revelatory and frustrating, but has really helped me develop a picture of both how Mishnaic thinkers (pre-200 CE) lived, as well as how the general mentality of post-Temple Judaism was perceived. I then took another class on Siddur (an addendum to my previous schedule) with Yaffa, which, this month, is actually focusing on the Machzorim (the prayer books used for the high holidays). Finally, after lunch, I had my Midrash class. So far, Midrash has been really frustrating; I haven't been able to engage our texts in a meaningful way, and I've been getting frustrated with my class' general acceptance of relatively topical understandings. Today, though, I had a great chevruta session, and I really connected both with our text (also dealing with Rosh Hashanah) and man's relationship both to G-d and repentence. Pretty great.

Following dinner break, we then had Seder Erev (or night study). Chevruta time in classes can be pretty frustrating; usually, you're pretty sure that the teacher is trying to steer you in a particular direction, so you and your chevruta make an attempt to disseminate (through the questions provided by the teacher) what ends you're meant to reach. In Seder Erev, though, study is much more freeform; you can approach a text openly and without an agenda, and reach whatever ends you reach on your own. Generally, you're also paired with someone at a much higher level than you (or lower, depending), which, beyond my comprehension, the more experienced students really seem to enjoy. I've been studying the book of Sh'mot (Exodus) with my awesome chevruta, Ariel. So far, we've parsed the first two perekim (chapters) into Pshat (literal meaning). Occasionally, something funny or interesting will show up in the text, and we usually take notice and do some research. Primarily, I'm trying to work on my translation skills of biblical Hebrew, but in the long run, I'm definitely realizing how important translating from the original becomes (especially with the grammar-rich Torah).

Finally, after Seder Erev (9:30) we davened Ma'ariv, followed by Slichot (since it was Jewishly a new day). I left the building at 10:30, and got home at about 10:45. What a day.

Quickly, this weekend, we had an amazing community tiyul (trip) to Adar. There wasn't much hiking to be had, but we did do a 5 am walk to an amazing lookout of the Judean Desert for a beautiful, quiet, and aweing sunrise, followed by a dawn Shacharit service in the desert. The weekend was amazing... I had the opportunity to get to know some teachers I've been meaning to talk to, and I certainly made new friends in the program and strengthened friendships already formed. I think I know almost everyone's name by now, and those that I don't know, I'm actively pursuing.

As far as community goes, I am so, so satisfied. My class is amazing... even return students have mentioned what a great dynamic we have (a faculty member noted to me that this was the best Shabbaton they've had with Pardes in a number of years). It's barely been two weeks, but we've gotten so close already - I feel such a cohesion, openness, and warmth amongst my classmates. I can't believe that I spent 16 hours at school today, but if it weren't for the constant drive of all the students around me, I know I'd never have the motivation for it. Being around such a dedicated bunch of people, a group who so thoroughly love studying Torah, makes my day fly by and every chevruta (nearly) meaningful. I have absolutely no regrets about coming here, and I'm having an even greater experience already than I ever expected.

I'll try to get some real thoughts together and lay that out soon, since I haven't written anything very meaningful in awhile. There's so much going on, I'm so busy, that it's hard to find time, but I'll do my best to really wrack my brain for y'all.

Thanks for reading, and as always, all your love and support are more than I could ever ask for.

PS I have internet now, so if you want to skype me, please do.

First day impressions, potential schedule

2006-09-04T18:30:00.000+03:00

I won't have internet until the 10th, so here's a very quick update.

First day of Pardes was great. In the Haifa program, I felt like we got patronized left and right; from two-three day orientations, to pushing announcements regarding the program's plans to useless meetings, I never really felt like we were treated with the expectation that we could figure things out on our own. Pardes' orientation didn't even last half a day; I've never seen 150 people introduce themselves with such efficiency.

After a great but quick lunch, we had our first class. I'm taking "Introduction to Midrash and Aggada," which was really great. I pretty much signed up for any class with "Introduction" in the title, since I figure that's essentially what I need. To get into the Beit Midrash and break down text was so exciting... I'm so pumped to be here.

Anyway, here is my proposed schedule, for those interested:

Sun/Tue:

8:30-12 Chumash Bet, Michael
12 -1 Parshat Hashavua, David Levin-Kruss (DLK)

2:30-5 Introduction to Halacha, Zvi Wolff

Sun night - Creative Writing Workshop
Tues night - Torah Trop and Megillah Esther

Mon/Weds:

8:30 - 12 Mishna/Talmud Bet, Yaffa Epstein
12 -1 Biblical Hebrew Grammar, David R. (not me)

2:30 - 5 Introduction to Midrash and Aggada, Baruch

Monday night
5:15-7 Hasidut, Levi
7:30-9:30 Seder Erev

Weds. night
6 - 8 Seder Erev

Anyway, I need to grab some dinner before a basketball session. Email or call!

PS RIP Steve "Croc Hunter" Irwin.

Done with Ulpan, or, How I Learned to Pack Everything and Move to Jerusalem

2006-09-01T08:34:00.000+03:00

I'm hopping on my ride to Jerusalem in about 20 minutes, so this will be a brief update.

I finished up ulpan yesterday, sped through the test, as I'm wont to do. I figure, if I don't know Hebrew well enough to get things right the first time through, especially since I don't need the grade, then I probably don't know them well enough yet any way. I think the testing system here is fair, but I don't feel I need the test to accurately assess my skills with Hebrew. That said, Tanya, one of the greatest teachers I've ever had, called me last night to tell me I scored a 99. Well, there you go.

So, heading down to my place in J'town, after a fiasco getting the key to my place. That said, I'm looking forward to getting moved in and building some community. I already have Shabbat dinner plans, and I'm probably going to head to Shira Hadasha for davening tonight. I'm ready to settle in and make a home.

I won't have internet until Sept. 10 in my apartment, so I'll be pretty hit-or-miss for awhile.

Much love in the heezie for sheezie.

Back in Haifa

2006-08-27T15:42:00.000+03:00

I write, or don't, in a few different ways. The first is the most dramatic, I think; I sit down to record a small observation, and that little tidbit blossoms into a gigantic life metaphor, and I post or save my writings with a sensation that I've achieved something. Other times, I'll write and write, reread what I've written (rarely a good sign, for me, since if I'm rereading, it means I've already lost faith in whatever I thought I was expressing), and end up ditching the whole thing for lack of substance. Occasionally, I'll feel the motivation to write, but no subject matter in my mind, so I'll ignore the feeling altogether.

Today is one of those occasions, except I'm not ignoring it. So, I guarantee no great feat of literary greatness, just some thoughts that may or may not come together, in the end.

You've been warned.

Being in Jerusalem, it was easy to forget what's so nice about being in Haifa. I had spent so little time here actually taking in the breathtaking views, amazing weather, and fresh, clean air, that I failed to see the upside to our return. Being back here, though, only makes me lament our having to leave in the first place; spending time here is such a joy, letting hours fall off the clock in sun-drenched conversation, having old friends not spread out across an open campus, but new friends waiting in the expected places. The campus here is isolated and small, it's true, and perhaps one could end up with a severe sense of cabin fever (akin to what we felt during the war).

With the city open, bustling, and just a bus ride away, though, we feel not locked in to a hilltop prison, but rather selectively spending time in a mountain getaway. On one hand, it helps me identify with the closed-community mentality of the ultra-orthodox in Mea Shear'im or the neighborhoods in Brooklyn; to have an isolated community amidst the choice of an outside world, it creates a context to that community, opens up the avenue of choice, and allows for the community to become a vivid thing of beauty. Visitors here, though, become not a nuisance, but an addition; accent pieces to a single-minded whole. By the time we left Jerusalem, the act of learning had become an emotional burden; I tired of going to class, and every minute began dragging on, endlessly. Here, I feel a renewed sense of purpose; I'm speaking more Hebrew than ever outside of class, and I feel that I can actually start to express thoughts with a sense of clarity, albeit sparsely.

So, in a sense, we've come full circle. But what about Shabbat?

Our first Shabbat here was a thrown-together mess; Josh and I hurried to get food on an unset table, serving people who frankly had no interest in a Shabbat experience or participation in the meal. All fine, if that's their choice, but certainly not the kind of table I like to dine at. This weekend, the wonderful Adina and I teamed up for Shabbat, and like the first Shabbat here, it was once again a thrown-together affair. That said, it opened up into a thing of beauty, a table appearing from nothing, dining outside in the cooler evening breeze, pulling chairs from random apartments and food from random refrigerators, and creating a Shabbat table that drew people from different backgrounds and countries. It was a Shabbat table that didn't fall apart before it even got started; in a sense, it started from nothing, and ended up becoming a wee-hours affair. It was an impromptu Shabbat experience that could easily fall apart, but after so much moving, removing, seperation, and anxiety, I think it provided a much-needed calm for everyone at the table.

For the first time in a month and a half, I think, everyone felt settled, normal. There was a sense that we had returned home. This campus was ours, this community, however makeshift, was our own. To be a guest can be a wonderful experience, but sometimes, we unwittingly overstay our welcome; it's only when we leave, when we return to the familiar, that we rediscover what we never knew we lost.

So, yes, despite all my bitching and moaning, I'm really glad to be back here. I feel a sense of calm that I've missed for a long time, and my only regret now is only being back here for such a short time. I'm gearing up for Pardes, though, and an amazing year back in Jerusalem. It will be a good one.

A cheer-me-up look at how much I love to take close-up portraits

2006-08-22T21:44:00.000+03:00

So, I'm at the cafe at the gym at school, and I finally have a decent upload stream, so I uploaded some pictures from the first session of ulpan. Hooray, to only be a month behind!

Anyway, here's a selection of my love for taking portraits.

(All are clickable for bigger)

Ben, 17, from Washington. Loves MMA fighting. Great kid.

Steve, recently engaged (Mazel tov!) and all-around one of the greatest guys I've ever met.

Geoff, a paramedic who's making aliyah and spent 3 years in the Caymans.

Elissa, who'll be spending a year in Haifa.

Carl (with future roommate Josh, in the background), sporting the chops we all miss.

Twice-roommate Andrew, who's made the trek to and from and back to Haifa with me.

And perhaps the greatest picture ever taken of me (with a blurry Josh hanging around):

Stress relief, August 22

2006-08-22T15:31:00.000+03:00

As I'm writing this, Iran is roughly two minutes away from delivering their response to the United Nations. I'm sitting in the computer lab on Hebrew U's main campus. I've felt glued to the computer for the last twenty-two minutes, refusing to go get the food I probably need to eat, reloading news sources for any hint of an accord. I've realized, in the past couple days, thanks to reflective words by both my dad and journalist Gabe Ross, that I have little to worry about.

One minute, by the computer clock.

I've felt a heaviness for the last three days, a weight on my shoulders, my heart, my body, carrying over into everything I've done, every conversation I've shared.

3:30. I'd have worn the rubber off, if "refresh" were a real button.

3:31. 3:31. 3:31.

Josh, my future roommate, is sitting next to me, trying to put together words regarding his position on Iran and the nuclear situation as a whole. I can see him checking the time on his cell phone out of the corner of my eye. We're pretending not to notice.

3:33. 3:34 now. Still nothing on the news wire.

We're moving back to Haifa on Thursday evening. I'm hopefully going to have the keys to my apartment by tomorrow, so tomorrow night Josh and I can work on moving most of our stuff into the apartment, only taking a temporary, week-long supply to Haifa. Before our meeting this morning with the head of the program, I knew that we would be going back - why else hold a meeting with the head of the program? I feel better about the situation, since I've already let my thoughts be known via e-mail communication, and I'm going to let it drop off my shoulders until the program is over. Despite the lengths the program went to in order to provide for us during wartime, I cannot say that I see the logic in this decision. Alas, it is what it is, and another week in Haifa I'll have.

3:38. Nothing. Nothing here, nothing on the news channels. Nothing.

I'm in a nervous calm. My fingers are tingling. This is weird.

3:40.

3:41.

3:43.

Now I'm just waiting. Waiting for any word. I've been a personal bomb shelter for three days in a way the shelter in Haifa never felt. I've been dreading a looming nothing, a fantastical threat created by hype and speculation. The deadline for the delivery of the "multidimensional" response has come and gone, but I still sit in wait, with no word yet. I still wait.

3:46.

This is getting ridiculous. At this point, I'm just working myself up for the sake of working myself up, like going to see a horror movie even though you know it will ruin your sleep for the night. I'm waiting and waiting, just for word. It's silly, but come on... "Iran delivers response." "Package received by UN." Anything.

3:52.

The computer lab is closing in 8 minutes. I'm giving up.

I'm sure my world is fine. I'm sure things will be ok for awhile. For today.

So I'm good. I'm good. And the lab is closing. I'll wrap things up later.

Yeesh, Israel.

Mystery Edit...

4:12

I snuck down to another lab, to find this:

Reuters: Iran has handed its reply to a six-nation nuclear package to foreign envoys in Tehran, Iranian TV reports.

I'm going for a bite to eat. I'll find out what the report included later, but for now, I'm out.

I promise, my next post will (hopefully) have nothing to do with war.

The stresses of August 20, 2006

2006-08-20T17:16:00.000+03:00

It all started last night.

I had a great Shabbat. It's warm as hell in Israel, and yes, I think I was sweating for the entirety of Shabbat, but I went into town, davened Friday night at Shira Hadasha, and spent Shabbat with Josh, an amazing guy who'll be studying at Pardes with me. Then I got home, back to Har Hatzofim, and talked to my roommate, Andrew.

"Did you hear about August 22?"

"No, why? What's August 22?"

"Oh, just that Iran might nuke Jerusalem. On Tuesday."

I laughed it off as absurd, for a moment, then, in my typical obsessive manner, started googling like crazy. "August+22+Iran." "Nuclear+Iran+August." "Muhammed+Old+City." "Ahmadinejad."

So what did I find?

Mostly, I found information related to two sources; first, an article written by Princeton professor emeritus Bernard Lewis for the Wall Street Journal, and second, statements by leader of the Syrian Reform Party, Farid Ghadry. To sum up the following articles:

http://www.opinionjournal.com/extra/?id=110008768
http://www.frontpagemag.com/Articles/ReadArticle.asp?ID=23533

It is entirely possible that Ahmadinejad's crazed, Jihadist mentality, his fear of militaristic retribution, and his forthright opinion that creating a global end-game scenario could very well lead to his doing something terrible in two days. In Jerusalem. Does Iran have nuclear capability already? What does a "multifaceted response" to the nuclear proposal mean? What is Ahmadinejad's "surprise"?

Yeah, so, I was up until 3 am googling like crazy. Sure, I kept rereading the same two sources, quoted numerous times by numerous bloggers and web journalists, but knowing that this speculation was based on limited sources did nothing to ease my mind. My roommate and I spent an hour discussing how a nuclear attack would affect the city, how great Iranian capability probably is, how widespread destruction would be, and what kind of longer lasting effects would come with such an attack. How good is their military? How accurate is their missile capability?

THIS WILL DRIVE YOU TOTALLY CRAZY.

So, finally, I got to sleep. For a moment, when I awoke, I sensed calm; then, my senses came to me, and the calm was erased. What was this dread that was sitting on my heart?

You'd think this was enough. I walked to class, sweating at 10 am, already driving myself crazy. I couldn't eat breakfast... I just wasn't hungry. When I get to class, though, rumor mills started. Not about Tuesday. Not about Iran. No, about us moving back to Haifa, on Thursday.

FOR ONE WEEK OF CLASS.

This is ludicrous. The rough plan, as long as it's approved, is to once again uproot the program, force students to once again repack all their belongings, trudge through a three or four-hour ordeal up to Haifa, arrange for all new rooms, and unpack, just to repack and move again one week later. Now, were I on vacation, hoping to really 'see and experience' Israel as my primary goal, maybe I'd prefer to spend a week in Haifa. As it is, I want to learn as much Hebrew as possible, in an enviroment and a program with the same goal in mind. I can't even begin to comprehend how so totally disrupting this program, with 5 school days left (including the final exam), will do anything but upset the learning process. Certainly, no final decision yet, but I've only been able to get the information I've gotten from endless e-mail requests of the faculty and staff. I'll be even more insulted if this decision is made unilaterally, especially after numerous July/August students, who have more than proved their dedication to the program, go unheard.

I'm livid.

On top of all this, I had a presentation today, that I was totally unprepared for. Nothing like giving an unmemorized presentation in an 86-degree classroom while you're running on 4 hours of sleep, no food, and the stress of nuclear attack. Somehow, talking about my experiences travelling in the UK lost their meaning. I trudged through it.

So, here I sit, with a stomach half-full of dried fruits and nuts, holding back fifteen-hour old tears and a weight in my stomach so heavy I can barely pick myself up. I'm having the worst day I've had in Israel, and probably the worst day I've had in the months before that. I never really had a terrible day in the Haifa process... in fact, I felt totally, emotionally removed from the situation. This immenent nothingness, this plague of unknowing... this is the worst. The worst.

Just so you know, there is a good chance that Andrew and I might make for Tel Aviv, or elsewhere, for Tuesday. Part of me would rather skip a day of class than, you know, face this whatever. I still haven't decided what I'm doing.

So, hopefully, G-d willing, it's nothing. Hopefully, this "multifaceted decision" that took two months to put together, an announcement that comes on the same day as Muhammed's ascent from the Temple Mount, will just be an announcement regarding Iran's nuclear future, and nothing more. G-d willing.

As always, as much love as I can give, I'm giving.

snippets.

2006-08-08T22:29:00.000+03:00

I restarted class today. I got put into Kitah (class) Bet (2nd level), but at the end of last month, hadn't even made it through the first half of our Kitah Aleph book. It was a challenging day. I may move down a level (into Aleph Plus) and do additional work on the side.
I checked out a 2BR apartment today with Chaim (potential roommate) in the Talpiot/Arnona neighborhood. We both loved it. Unforunately, there are a couple other people checking the place out, and it sounds like the owner is leaning towards giving the lease to a married couple. Hoping for the best, though.
On the way back to campus, on the 4-Aleph bus, I saw a duffel bag that didn't belong to anyone. I thought that a Haredi family might have left it behind (as they were sitting there previous), but regardless of who, I told the bus driver, and he stopped and cleared the bus. My dad asked if there was anything in it. I told him that I didn't stay to find out.

Oh, Jerusalem life.

This is dedicated to keeping my mother sane

2006-08-07T09:52:00.000+03:00

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:

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

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."

Ani lomed bivrit bYerushalaim chodesh od.

2006-07-25T07:19:00.000+03:00

(Translation, in my bad present tense verbs: I study Hebrew in Jerusalem another month.)

I'm back in the zone.

For the entirety of last week, including our first day of class, I felt listless, aimless; even once I recovered from the insanity of the move from Haifa to Jerusalem, I still had a hard time getting back into the zone of learning. I was less than present at our first day of class, and despite my declaring my intent to do homework all night, I opted to join a group going out instead. Friday, as it does, came and went in a flash, and suddenly, it was Shabbat.

As some of you know, part of observing Shabbat, halachackly (according to Jewish law), includes not writing; so, once Shabbat came in, all the homework I planned on getting done in preparation for Shabbat (including notecards I could flash through throughout the day) quickly got postponed. Then, I was so exhausted after Shabbat let out, I barely got an hour's homework completed before I was out until Sunday morning, until class started up again.

By the time class let out on Sunday, though, I was feeling the rhythm starting to creep in again; all the goals I set for myself were coming back to the surface, all the drive I had for the first week in Haifa was becoming a regular part of my life here. Despite having a new teacher that I felt is certainly a step down from my amazing teacher in Haifa, I've learned to accept the change, and to motivate myself to make up for any lack of learning during class by doing excess homework. I'm so ready to learn as much as I can, and I love it.

This all really raises the question - what motivates me? How can I internally feel the switch flip back, turning from an actual, internal interest in listlessness, I mean, really wanting to do very little, most of the day, to feeling so driven so as to do more homework than I've ever done in my life, spending five hours pounding Hebrew, mixing in an hour and a half at the gym, even studying during eating, so as to maximize my time. When I don't have active goals in my life, when I'm not focusing on those goals primarily, I think I really do fall back into a pattern of sloth; when I bring those goals to the forefront, though, not only do I avoid sloth, but I just don't have time for it. I'm so excited to have a packed day, to feel driven and motivated and ready ready ready.

On a side note, we had a meeting about the August session of ulpan, and because of the situation in Haifa, it looks like we'll be spending at least half, if not all, of August in Jerusalem. Yes, the living conditions aren't as nice, but I'm settling in a bit again, and frankly, I'd rather just not move again at all. A move disrupts my learning pattern so much, having to shift my focus so radically, I'd rather just stay here and keep cranking.

And in regards to safety, Jerusalem remains, surprisingly, one of the safest places to be in Israel. Figure that one out.

Some Headlines, Erev Shabbat

2006-07-21T15:56:00.001+03:00

Normally I'd add my David-esque commentary, but I'm going to let you draw your own conclusions regarding bias, perspective, and intention based on the following headlines. These are all current front-page, above-the-fold main headlines from selected leading publications.

Haaretz (http://www.haaretz.com)

"Army preparing to call up thousands of reservists 10 hurt, one seriously, in Katyusha strike on Haifa"

Jerusalem Post (http://www.jpost.com)

"IDF calls up reserve division"
"At least 19 people wounded in Haifa rocket bombardment"

Al-Jazeera (http://english.aljazeera.net)

"Hezbollah stands fast"

CNN (http://www.cnn.com)

"Rockets rain down on Israel"

Fox News (http://www.foxnews.com)

"New Rocket Attack on Haifa"

BBC (http://www.bbc.com)

"Israel tightens grip on Lebanon"

New York Times (http://www.nytimes.com)

"Israel Calls Up Reserves as Air Raids Continue in Lebanon"

LA Times (http://www.latimes.com)

"Frightened Residents Flee Chaos of South Lebanon"

Finally...

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution (http://www.ajc.com)

"Crash kills UGA basketball player"

I'm off to Shira Hadasha for Friday night services, then to Livnot U'Lehibanot for dinner and a night's stay.

Shabbat Shalom, everyone.

Skype information, part II, and the Shabbat I never had

2006-07-20T18:26:00.000+03:00

Ok, right off the bat, I ordered a phone from Skype, so y'all can call me for free, if I'm around. Plus, it's local in Atlanta, so even if you've got one of those old-fashioned land lines, you can still call for free. CRAZY!

Tha digits:

(678) 389-9374

Would be great to hear from y'all, just remember that I'm 7 hours ahead.

Other news:

Looks like I'm going to move dorms tomorrow. I'm sorry I don't have the luxurious bathrooms at Haifa to compare it to, but here is the current situation at my dorms:

Mmm, who can guess what's growing here?

Oh yeah, that's sanitation for you.

On the plus side, I'm going to be moving in with Robert, my super awesome chevre from Livnot 158, who's currently studying spoken Arabic at Hebrew U. We'll be in an apartment-style setting, with two Israeli roommates (good for practicing the Ivrit). I'm very excited to get out of this dump and into a setting where I'm further away from all the distractions that Jerusalem has to offer. I've certainly noticed that getting back into the study mentality is harder here; at Haifa, we were so isolated, studying was a prime activity. Here, there are always 80 things to do, and buckling down to study becomes a tougher decision. That said, I'm working on it.

So, here's what I almost did for Shabbat.

Two days ago, I was on a tour at the amazing Israel museum when I received a phone call from Yonah David, all-around superstar at Livnot. He had a question for me: would I head up to Tzfat for the weekend to help with refugees, feeding and sheltering them? Wow, I was floored. Just as I was finding my emotional center again, I was faced with a really tough decision. I felt so motivated to go, on one hand; I knew I'd be helping some amazing families, would meet some special people, and would definitely have a Shabbat to remember. That said, going to Tzfat right now is, well, kind of crazy. It is still getting shelled. It is still in a war zone. And while the IDF walks around Tzfat in body armor, I'd have nothing of the sort. Plus, mom would kill me.

Hence, I decided not to go. I feel strangely selfish staying here this Shabbat; I feel like I backed out on an obligation I should have taken. That said, I need to realize that staying and going were both right decisions, for different reasons, and that either path had it's own wisdom. I'm sure that this Shabbat will be amazing for it's own reasons, and I'll definitely be thinking about those in Tzfat.

Finally, I got enrolled at the gym here, which definitely makes the Haifa gym looks like the weights that grampa showed you how to use in the garage when you were 12 and wanted to be buff. It's certainly built for a king; the facilities are spotless, the machinery all brand new, the staff really friendly, and the pool refreshing (or so it looks).

If only they'd spend some of that dough on the dorms they already have.

If I don't write before then, Shabbat Shalom everyone.

A Situational Update

2006-07-19T08:15:00.000+03:00

Heading off for the Israel Museum soon, but here's a quick update of my situation and THE situation:

My program was moved from Haifa to Jerusalem on Sunday afternoon, and since then we have been staying in dorms at the Hebrew University campus. We found out Monday night that the ulpan program would continue on the Hebrew U campus, and that we will have classes starting again Thursday morning. Additionally, we will be having slightly longer days and Friday class in order to make up the time lost because of all these shenanigans.

In the meantime, I've been enjoying Jerusalem. Yes, there was an attempted bombing near the Old City gates on Monday, but that attempt was thwarted, and there have been no more attempts since. Additionally, there have been armed guards again on city buses, with drivers more fervently checking for tickets. Besides that, the city is its normal mix of relaxed and uptight; certainly, we're all checking for news updates as often as possible (especially in regards to Haifa), but we're also trying to get out, get a sense of normalcy back in our lives. Certainly, sitting at a coffeeshop near Ben Yehuda and enjoying a Turkish Coffee while watching tourists skim by has been a helpful sense of emotional solace.

On the flipside, people seem confident about the situation here. While attacks still continue on both sides of the border, there is the feeling that Hezbollah is becoming desperate, especially since their internal infrastructure has been greatly disrupted. Additionally, the IDF seems especially confident that an end to the situation is in sight, which means we should hopefully be on the downside of this situation, rather than the front end of an escalation. It also seems like Syria and Iran are not interested in being any more involved than they already are, and the US doesn't seem to want to get involved either, which they'd almost have to do if Iran became a front-line player. With all that, we definitely all look forward to things calming down, and more importantly, ensuring the safety of the Jewish state.

Of course, now that people have calmed down, there most certainly will be the inevitable political backlash against Israel, as there always seems to be when we get involved in international conflict. Hopefully, though, Israelis can stay the united people they've been for the past week, and while disagreements may occur on the tactics taken by the IDF, everyone here can hopefully agree that maintaining the national safety must always be a primary objective.

Hope y'all are well, should have my skypeness set up soon.

-David

Skype information, part I

2006-07-18T19:54:00.000+03:00

I signed up for skype, so if you want to call and not pay the rates for my cell phone (and have a computer), you can connect computer-computer with skype, for free.

My login: david.riemenschneider

I'm probably going to register for a phone number, so you can call me when I'm in my room, around my computer. I'll also be able to make calls out for dirt cheap, so that's that.

Things are hopefully on the downward slope... still some missiles firing, but things seem to be quieting down. Just the fact that Olmert is using the term "ceasefire" in public is a good sign.

A short time to reflect

2006-07-17T09:20:00.000+03:00

Strange as it may sound, but being in Jerusalem has already made me feel so, well, removed.

Honestly, I have no idea what Haifa, outside of the university, has been like since last Thursday night. I've been locked away in a little hyper-community, moving between buildings, shelter rooms, picnic tables, and the synagogue. Even on the drive down, we were herded onto buses, driven two and a half ours, and then herded back off, waiting over an hour to get our rooms settled, then another hour just to find out when to meet this morning.

But then, we were released.

I went into the city last night with Steve, Rachel, Joshua, Chaim, Robert (Livnot 158!), and Melanie (pics will come at some undisclosed point later, I assure). We ended up at Rimon Cafe, sitting down at a quarter to midnight (a perfectly reasonable time to eat in Jerusalem, as far as I can tell), and having a meal. I still felt so unsettled, though; my emotions were still locked up in our apartment's shelter room up in Haifa, but my body was free to roam Jerusalem as I pleased. And yes, we certainly heard people talking about what was going on, but their tone was so very removed from the situation; I felt so charged up about whatever was happening, and here were folks happening upon news when they could, but otherwise living their lives normally. I was so used to the thread of terror dictating the way I experienced my time, it was hard to return to "free time," to have time that no one, not rockets or Hezbollah or the University, could tell me what I had to do with it.

Looking back, I totally felt imprisoned; for a short while, our freedoms were mostly erased, and normalcy became a relative term. We spent hours locked into a metal room, making tasteless jokes about Katsyusha rockets attacking our backgammon game, if only to try to keep a humorous sense of perspective. We moved to and fro as if our regiment was programmed, not by rocket attacks, but by some all-seeing authority. I can only begin to imagine what cultural reintegration must feel like for soldiers, prisoners; to have your time dicated by something so foreign to most of the people around you, it draws you closer to those who shared the experience with you, pulls you away from the carelessness of day-to-day living, and in a sense, makes you miss the experience.

We all crave a sense of normalcy, and for a little while, I readjusted what my sense of normal was. I mentally prepared to live in-and-out of shelters for a month or two, not at all emotionally prepared to actually abandon the university campus. With a home, I could emotionally make due; now, feeling relatively homeless, I need to figure out where my place is, yet again.

Anyway, here's what you do with a camera when you're going crazy in a shelter room.

What's behind door #1?

Oh, it's an even bigger 4" thick iron door!

My roommate Lenny using the famous "duck and cover" technique using an air raid.

Hahahaha, false alarm!

Safe in Jerusalem

2006-07-16T21:08:00.000+03:00

Well, in my room at Hebrew U, which is definitely a big step down from my deluxe single-with-bathroom in Haifa, but I guess is better than nowhere. I don't have bedding, so I guess I'll have to go look for that stuff after dinner. It's really hard to think of this as anything more than a huge inconvenience, but at the moment, it's the only perspective I can take and still stay sane.

Hopefully Jerusalem will remain a safe place, and hopefully a safe return to Haifa is in the imminent future. I can only hope, because I don't have an alternate gameplan right now.

Anyway, I'll be on my phone all night, or drop me an e-mail. There is wireless in the room, which is really great.

Much love,

David

Evacuation.

2006-07-16T15:53:00.000+03:00

Quick update...

In about an hour, we're loading buses bound for Jerusalem, as the Haifa U. campus has been closed for three days. We have lodging set up at Hebrew U's campus in J'town, and we'll be getting in there tonight.

If you haven't paid attention, Haifa was hit with about 25 rockets this morning, and 8 people were killed at a train depot. Hizbollah is threatening more attacks, with missiles possibly going as far as Tel Aviv. Hopefully Jerusalem will be a safe place, and hopefully Haifa will be returned to a safe city as well in the near future.

The ulpan program is on hold for the next three days, and then we will see what happens - we may continue the program in Jerusalem, or we might come back to Haifa, if the situation improves. Everything is day-to-day now, and unfortunately, it's hard to predict what a terrorist organization is going to do.

I'll try to post tonight that I've arrived safely, but please, feel free to call.

David

Post-Shabbat, FYI

2006-07-15T21:21:00.000+03:00

A quick update, before I buckle down for some studying.

The mood here is mixed - there is definitely a huge range of people, from those determined to stay, to those already gone. A lot of parental pressure has sent a handful of students packing their bags, but generally, there's definitely an "in-it-together" attitude, and most of us are sticking it out. There hasn't been an attack on Haifa since the initial attacks Thursday night, and despite threats, as the IDF and IAF take control of more of southern Lebanon, attacks on Haifa, being as far from the border as it is, seems less likely. This isn't to say that we're ruling out the possibility, of course, but we're all trying to deal with the situation.

Since I haven't addressed ulpan yet, I'll do so quickly. It's going "tov m'od," very good. I'm studying 2-4 hours a day, and in addition to the five hours of class, I'm totally squeezing a ton of information into a very small space: namely, my brain. I'm trying to stay ahead of the class, so that I can use class time to work on fluency and learning newer concepts, instead of struggling through vocab. I've definitely increased my vocab to around 300 words, which is awesome. I'm already noticing that I understand simple conversations, which is so huge... every new moment I understand something, I know that my time here is totally worth it, situation or no.

Anyway, life is going on... we hear warplanes flying up and down the coast, and we're all checking the news regularly. That said, people are going out, partying, doing the general 18-29 live young thing. I'll keep y'all posted, for sure.

Oh, and thanks for reading. I really appreciate all of your concern.

A Haifa update, for those concerned.

2006-07-14T12:26:00.000+03:00

Well, as most of you may be aware, things in the north of Israel have started to get crazy, especially right along the Lebanese border. Here's an update:

Hezbollah kidnapped two IDF soldiers, which sparked retaliation from the Israeli side of things. Similar situations happened before, in 2000 and 2002, both ending with negotiation and exchange of prisoners. In this situation, though, Israel quickly struck back, and Olmert has already announced that he will be ruling out negotiation.

As far as a meeting held last night with a professor focusing on Israeli politics and military had to say, Israel will most likely attempt to completely wipe out Hezbollah. What does that mean? It means that things will most likely get worse before they get better. There will most likely be an aggressive ground attack into southern Lebanon and into Beirut, as well as air attacks on both military and "civilian" buildings, as rockets are held both in military locations as well as people's houses. Don't be surprised if the media starts talking about the IDF attacking "civilians," th0ugh, but we have to trust that Israel has no interest in killing innocent people, only people harboring weapons or officials using civilians as bodyguards and protection.

In addition, Hezbollah has warned that if Israel attacks Beirut, Hezbollah will retaliate against Haifa. Now, what does that mean for me? Well, it could be a lot of things. First, it could be an "empty" threat; Hezbollah may not have the ability to actually accurately attack Haifa. As far as the IDF knows, the Hezbollah only has a few hundred long-range missiles, none of which have highly accurate locating technology. Additionally, long-range missiles require advanced machinery, which means they are easier to locate and destroy, as opposed to short-range weaponry, which can be stored in people's homes, garages, cars, etc, and may only need to be launched from the shoulder.

So, we've been recommended to stay close to home. There are announcements over loudspeakers if situations changes (spent two hours in our apartment's bomb shelter yesterday, woo hoo!), so even in Shabbat we will be able to get information, if need be. Rocket attacks have slowed down this morning, so hopefully the IDF has already crippled Hezbollah's ability to attack. Looking forward, though, Haifa plans on opening business as usual Sunday morning after Shabbat, and the University will be completely open. My program has no plans of ending early or cancelling sessions, so we expect to continue as planned.

Just so you know, the university is doing more than necessary to protect us. Last night, we were warned to stay in our shelters last night, while outside the university, buses were running, bars were crowded, and businesses were open. If things get too risky, trust me, we will be the first ones out of here... the last thing the university, the IDF, and the Israeli government want are 250 tourists under attack.

I'm planning on staying here for the remainder of my program; yes, it's tense, but in a way, it's also exciting, interesting, and unbelievably alive. Being in such a crazy place raises one's awareness, one's interest, and creates an environment of sharing and communication. We are definitely interested in each others' safety, and the university is doing everything they can to insure our safety.

Feel free to call, if you like; I'll have my phone off for Shabbat, but I'll be available as of tomorrow night (tomorrow midday, US time), and into Sunday, as normal. I'll try to check e-mail more often than usual, just so I can get back to people in a timely manner. I appreciate all of your thoughts and prayers already, but please trust that we are all interested in making sure that Haifa remains a safe place to live and study.

University of Haifa, Talia Dorms, Room 633

2006-07-10T17:44:00.000+03:00

I didn’t get Lucky Charms cereal growing up – too many marshmallows. This made me a day-to-day Cheerios man, with a side of Rice Krispies and Kix, and the occasional and much sought-after Honey Nut Cheerios, my personal favorite. No Count Chocula, BooBerries, Cap’n Crunch, Frosted Flakes, and most certainly, no Lucky Charms. How was I supposed to learn about diversity growing up, if not from my breakfast cereal? While I stared into bowls of ubiquitous uniformity every day, kids across the US (and wherever else General Mills has spread) were learning that yellow stars could live in harmony with green shamrocks, and just because there were more frosted cereal bits than all of the different kinds of marshmallows put together, there was an understanding that every piece was special in its own right, for its own reason. Sure, some Krispies were saying “Snap” while others “Pop,” but differences in dialect is hardly a basis for an upbringing focused on diversity. Cheerios, indeed.

So, I’ve arrived and settled in Haifa after doing a sherut (shared-taxi) double-switch (at the airport), managing to get picked up and dropped off door-to-door for less than it would have taken to go taxi-bus-taxi from Jerusalem direct to Haifa. I’ll best these Israeli systems yet.

Speaking of the sherut, it’s a fascinating thing. In Jerusalem, the only sherutim are available to take you to and from the airport. In Haifa, sherutim drive along the bus routes, picking up passengers who would rather ride in a smaller, more comfortable vehicle than the crowded, hot bus. FOR LESS MONEY. Now, yes, if you have a monthly or multi-ride pass, the bus does work out cheaper, but for base, ride-to-ride pricing, the sherut can’t be beat. So if you come to Haifa, look out for the yellow, red, and white mini-buses.

The dorms here are simply beautiful. From what all of my visitors have said, we certainly seem to have the best of it; I’ve posted some pictures from our living room and upstairs windows. There are six of us here, each with our own rooms and bedrooms, set up like a small, double-story apartment. Four of my roommates are 19, having just finished their freshmen years of college, and the other only showed up yesterday, and I’ve shared five words with him, so I really couldn’t tell you how old he is. Regardless, I feel old. I’m definitely the old man of the apartment. Luckily, Andrew, a Dartmouther (or a Dartdentist?), and I both have an interest in making the gym a regular part of our weekly regimen, so we’ve worked out a daily schedule that we’ll stick with each others’ help. The hardest part about going to the gym is motivation, so hopefully he’ll be a major kick in the pants in helping me get in shape, finally.

Also, I’ve met two other future Pardesniks, both named Joshua, oddly. We all spent a good bit of this last Shabbos together, trying to make something out of nothing (having only arrived Thursday, Shabbat plans were a bit hectic, as you might imagine), finding a small Shomer Shabbos community here with which to have lunch, prayer, and definitely great conversation. We’re also trying to set up a thrice-weekly minyan here, which will definitely be new to me, praying three mornings a week (especially at 7 am!). Joshua (since I don’t know their last names, and don’t have pictures for you, I’ll let you just assume which one I’m talking about) helped me lay tefillin yesterday for the first time, which was pretty special. He’s also going to be a big help in my getting to shul three times a week, getting myself out of bed instead of sleeping in, which I tend to prefer, historically.

So, I’m starting proper ulpan classes tomorrow morning, Andrew and I will be going to the gym, and I’ll be starting to daven more frequently. In coming to Israel, these were definitely three of my end-goals: speak passable Hebrew, establish an exercise regiment, and pray more regularly. And now, within two weeks of being in Israel, I’m starting on all three. Alas, I’m now faced with an intellectual impasse: if one lives by the motto, “No day like today to get started,” does one also have to concern oneself with burning out too quickly, overdoing it at first and ending up back where one started, or worse? I’m certainly worried about failure – I’m afraid that my Hebrew won’t improve enough, that I’ll somehow fall way behind my class, that my brain won’t ever switch over, and that I’ll be living out of a dictionary all year. I’m afraid that I’ll work out for a week, then take a couple days off, then a few, and then, like so many times before, end up wasting lazy time away, talking about how I just “don’t agree with exercise.” Mostly, though, I’m afraid davening won’t get any easier, that I’ll fail to find meaning in everyday prayer, that I’ll start to tie my frustration with davening to some overall frustration with Judaism, and I’ll end up resenting my own faith.

Now, do I think these things will happen? Overall, no. I think my Hebrew will improve, for sure, and I’m so ready to start learning, so eager to establish proficiency, that I know I’ll learn a ton, and I’m already thinking about doing weeknight ulpan during the school year, so I’ll have even more room for improvement as time goes on. Working out worries me a bit more, but Andrew is pretty dedicated, and with the routine schedule of our daily life here, I think we’ll be able to maintain a solid routine. Prayer, though, probably worries me more than anything.

So far, my “Jewish discovery” has been one of culture, law, and custom; I’ve always had a difficult time with prayer, so I’ve focused more on learning about how religious Judaism functions socially and customarily, using daily Jewish law and custom to integrate myself into a stronger Jewish identity and to work towards becoming a more giving, more caring person than I once felt I was. Prayer vexes me, though. I appreciate the obligation of prayer; I mean, I identify with fulfilling the mitzvot of prayer, maintaining a crucial part of the covenant made with Hashem at Sinai, stepping into a daily ritual of practice maintained over 2000 years, since the destruction of the second Temple. But where does it get me, really, besides out of bed at 7 am? Do I really feel a connection to Hashem when I lay tefillin and daven Shachrit, do I feel tied to my Jewish people, or do I, more appropriately, feel like a self-ostracized Jew in a basement synagogue, praying about things I can’t really identify with at an hour when all of my peers are asleep? If the latter is true, the question remains, why do it at all? Where is the meaning?

Until now, my Jewish path has been laid with a golden sheen of newness, discovery, gratification, and allure; I’ve really wanted to take on all of the practices that I’ve adopted, mostly because they had such a real, visceral effect on my demeanor and attitude, and, for different reasons each, gave new light and meaning to my life and drew me closer to my identity as part of the Jewish community as a whole. Prayer, though, is a difficult thing; in the Amidah, the standing prayer, you separate yourself from the community and try to establish communication with the divine, praying loudly enough that you (and supposedly Hashem) can hear, but not so loudly so as anyone else can understand your prayer. You’re alone with your thoughts and prayer, no longer even joining in the community of the rest of the prayer service, but creating a relationship with the divine, asking for peace and prosperity not with the community, but instead, for the community. Alone.

So, this really raises a question of, yes, faith. Part of why praying is challenging lies in the fact that my Hebrew is terrible, so while men so familiar with the service that they’ve written to memory nearly the entirety of the prayer, I struggle to even follow when others read aloud, not to mention reading passages aloud myself so as not to bring the service to a screeching halt. Also, and maybe more pertinent, I just don’t know how to communicate with the divine in this way; I relish seeing Hashem work so beautifully in day-to-day life, in the way people interact, in the curious structure of life humanity has created, but when faced with the whole responsibility of divine contact, I’m not even sure where to begin. Until now, Judaism has been a blessed path of wonder; now, I’m faced with a part of practice that, frankly, I just don’t want to do. But, I’m going to do it. I’ve taken on this much, and in everything I’ve found meaning; now comes the point where I need to find the faith to do a little more, to accept, with good faith, that several millennia of practice have yielded a custom rich with meaning on every front.

So, for now, prayer wakes me up at 7 am, when I’d otherwise be sleeping. Prayer is getting me to bed a little bit earlier. Prayer is putting me a on a regular schedule, when I might otherwise be staying up late and waking up groggy. So, for now, this is what prayer is. While I hope that prayer will become more spiritual, more meaningful as my skills and knowledge development, for now, prayer gets me out of bed in the morning, and for now, that’s enough.

Here are some pictures of Jerusalem, taken from an amazing overlook, followed by some shots from my apartment/dorm in Haifa.

As always, your comments are more than welcome, both on here or via e-mail. I’d love to hear from all of you, and I miss you dearly.

Looking down on the Old City in Yerushalaim.

More Old City.

View from my dorm's window, downstairs.

View from my dorm's window, upstairs.

Yerushalaim, Livnot U'Lehibanot campus

2006-07-05T14:24:00.000+03:00

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.

Scammell and Becky.

Becky and Sean.

Me and Becky.

Yevgeny and Me

Sean.

Becky.

Scammell.

Another red-bearded David from Livnot.

Yummy dessert, part I.

Chocolate ravioli, yummy dessert II.

Dawn (Livnoter) and Ben (Pardesnik).

Jeremy, currently studying at Pardes, and formerly one of my chevre from my Livnot group of last summer.

Ben, again.

Me and Rachel (currently at Pardes, Atlantan in the house).

A way to contact me in Eretz Israel

2006-06-27T16:30:00.000+03:00

I just got the information for my already-ordered cell phone in Israel, so feel free to call, if you have the notion. Unlike American phones, you can receive calls without any cost.

Your expected number/s are:
0526538032	This number can be reached from the USA/Canada by dialing 011-972-526538032
To reach the phone/s from other countries dial: <972> Dialing the USA/Canada : 00-1-

Of course, e-mail will, as always, be good too. Just write!

Hartsfield Int'l Airport, Atlanta, 7 am.

2006-06-26T22:24:00.000+03:00

Despite the mug full of fancy, members-only coffee I just downed, it is still 7 in the morning, I have been awake for three hours already, and I did have one of the most mentally exhausting weekends in recent memory. Needless to say, the words are not flowing. I’ll do my best, anyhow.

On Shabbat afternoon, I ended up in a conversation of Burning Man, the event I only barely tasted in the summer of 2001 that so greatly altered my perception of my happiness-related needs. Not only did Burning Man expose me to a population of open-minded, growth-interested people, but more importantly, it showed me the essential need for community in which that growth can flourish. While I surely admire the concept of a Native American “Visionquest,” where you isolate yourself for days in the wilderness without food, in order to connect with the universe and have a meaningful vision, I think I’ve grown to disagree with the expectations of such a quest.

In the wilderness, alone, we may achieve a oneness with nature, a reconnection to a world we’ve grown so disconnected from through the rise of domestic culture and tradition. We may sense a closeness to Hashem only possible through the quieting of one’s mind long enough to create a space for the voice of G-d to sneak through. We may even find a sense of meaning and purpose never realized in such an contrasting environment. That said, human beings differ strongly from animals in one particular sense; while the essence of our survival mimics that of the animal kingdom (need for shelter, food, mates), and while the nature of the soul is questionable outside of mankind (can we assume a dog has a soul?), we create a great uniqueness – culture. And while one may discover an interesting counterpoint to our cultural experience while alone, starving in nature, one must struggle to learn from within that culture in order to truly reflect on the character of that culture itself. A philosopher may create amazing insight into scientific discovery, but only a scientist can perceive the connected meaning, the overarching connectivity of that discovery to the pathway of science itself. Likewise, only a reflection on culture made from within a community and as a part of that community carries a clearer understanding than any finding made through the eyes of one removed.

Now, looking back on the path I’ve taken as a seeker, an open-minded and exploratory adult, I’ve been interested in trying out different cultures, seeking to engage a culture on its own terms, in order to create meaningful reflection on that culture and it’s intrinsic workings. When I rediscovered the culture of the Jews, the culture I grew up in but never understood, I knew I had found a cultural pathway I could stick with, a culture I could delve deeper and deeper into, yielding a clearer understanding of humankind as a whole. Now, on the dawn of my trip to Israel, I’m forced to think clearly about how my path, once again, is changing.

Finally, I found a path and culture that I could learn from and as a part of, a community focused on learning and self-discovery through the lens of the human experience. Still, though, the next piece of the pathway stood amiss – I could learn from my community, but I was having a hard time learning with my community. I realize that I needed to learn the next essential skill – the transition from study to creation, or rather, the transition to study as creation. Study, in a Jewish sense, is an ever-changing beast, and while we have a natural tendency towards learning, that tendency must be nurtured and trained. Jewish study is a skill that takes years of learning to achieve competency, and decades to master. At Pardes, though, I will be starting that path anew, with a new community, an extension of the the Jewish people and culture of our own design, with a singular purpose.

What does this mean for my journey? I know several things. First, this trip is about exploring culture, inside-out; looking for the heart of the human experience through the lens of it’s own fashion, Torah. Second, this trip is about creation; I will experience the dawn of a community, and will be an integral part in fashioning it’s function and shape. And finally, and most importantly, this trip is about continuing down the path I’ve been on all along – the search for meaning, purpose, and more than anything, more questions.

Oh, and I hope the cab to Sean’s doesn’t cost too much.