Holocaust Remembrance Day

The sirens went off. Every Israeli stopped dead in their tracks. In the middle of the streets, on bicycles, getting out of cars, grocery lines. Everything stopped. An entire country. For two minutes. Sirens blaring in every town, everyone took two minutes out of their day to remember those lost in the Holocaust. It was a sight to behold.
Living in Israel on days like these, I am so grateful. Getting to understand a perspective completely different than my own, I love living each day with new things to learn. Holocaust Remembrance day was tough. Already decently bummed about other things, the somber atmosphere kept me at a steady blah all day. In the evening there was a special ceremony in our Kibbutz dining room. There were so many Kibbutzniks, all somber, and more quiet than I think I have ever seen a group of Israeli’s. The names of some of those murdered were read over the microphone before the ceremony began. In Hebrew, the ceremony opened with a beautiful flute solo on a black stage lit by a single spotlight. Rows upon rows of people sat, handkerchief in hand, staring beyond the performance, no doubt remembering the horror. Here the Holocaust is not just a history lesson, it is a recurrent fear. Many Jewish people believe the Holocaust can happen again. It is a very real concern. Throughout the night, there were readings from Anne Frank’s diary and poems. The service could’ve been in Ukrainian and it would’ve been universally understood. The depth of emotion that night breached anything I have seen in a while. Sadness, nostalgia and pain were tangible that night. Let us always remember. Let us always stand up.

Take a glance http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/8615319.stm

The New Melting Pot

Assuming that Israel is a homogenous place because of its existence as a Jewish state is an incorrect assumption. Made up of immigrants from all over the world, Israel becomes more and more diverse every year. The first time I lived here, I didn’t understand how special the absorption process here is. For those of you who don’t know, any person of Jewish heritage can make aliyah (ascent to Israel) and decide to become an Israeli citizen. The government puts you in absorption centers, pays for you to attend Ulpan to learn Hebrew, and ships all of your things over to Israel for free. This in addition to countless other benefits. Coming to Ulpan on Kibbutz Na’an about 60% of the participants here are 20-somethings who have made aliyah.
We are now more than two months into the program and at least 6 more people here have chosen to make aliyah. Ulpans are funded partially by the Jewish Agency. Interestingly enough, speaking with friends who have decided to make the move, I generally receive one of two answers as to why they have chosen to uproot their lives and move to Israel. 1) I have always felt an inclination to Israel. I am Jewish and it just made sense. I want to protect and defend my country. Or 2) I needed a new beginning. Israel offers me that and they pay me to do it.
The second reason is what intrigues me. Israel is in essence, the new America. In the twenty first century, what other country has allowed mass immigration and financed people to do it? Similar to the property grabbing back in those colonial times, Jewish people come here, expectant of certain rights, property and opportunities available to them in this new land. Now don’t get me wrong, they give back as well. Israel has in effect become a true melting pot. Because of the Diaspora, Jews have been able to emigrate here from South America (Argentina, Brazil) from all over Europe (though that mostly occurred before, during and directly proceeding the Holocaust), African nations (Ethiopia, South Africa), the Middle East (Yemen, Afghanistan, Iraq, Kuwait, Morocco) and basically all of Eastern Europe.
Depending on what city you enter, signs will be proudly displayed in several languages. Rehovot, the country nearest to my Kibbutz is primarily Russian. Street signs, flyers, advertisements and bumper stickers are proudly displayed in Russian. There are pockets of concentrated nationalities scattered around the country. This lends itself to a rapidly diversifying culture; cuisines from all parts of the world, languages, dances, music and customs. I wonder, can the new generation, one that in a few years will probably consist of as many immigrants as original Zionists, be able to look beyond the quarrels of their Jewish brothers of past? Currently, much of the political climate is dictated by the ultra-orthodox politics, and pacifying the tension between those Israeli citizens who are religious and those who are secular. I pray that this trend of immigration also brings in a broader worldview with diverse perspectives that can be incorporated into the state.

Are you Jewish?

When I was working in the kitchen, getting introduced to everyone, one of my old people friends said to me, “you know there are Arabs right. In the kitchen I mean Only Samea is Jewish. Just to know, you know to be politically correct when you say things.” He knows I speak Arabic so introduced me to them prefacing with my language ability. So while I work in the kitchen, I am yelled at in three languages. I find this interesting because many people here forget I am not Jewish, or assume that I am and make political and social comments thinking as such.
At the Western Wall in Jerusalem, on Pesach, I asked a woman if I could borrow the prayer book sitting next to her on the little plastic chairs they provide for praying. Speaking in Hebrew for a while, she readily handed me the book and engaged me in a conversation about what brought me to Jerusalem. The inevitable question came up, are you Jewish? I responded yes, not in the mood to answer questions- merely attempting to say a prayer for peace in my favorite city; Jerusalem; the city that brings the three worlds religions to their knees.
“She said, oh well when are you moving here?”
“I need to finish my studies before I do anything else.”
“Isn’t it great that you are Israeli?”
Not understanding, I explained, “no I’m not Israeli, I’m American.”
She looked at me quizzically and said, “Dear, of course you are Israeli. Israel is for you. This is what we fought for. For you to have this.”

A Chef Hat?

That’s right lovely ladies and gentlemen, yours truly is now a chef. Not just any chef, a top chef. Okay, maybe not a top chef, but I am a kitchen assistant now at my Kibbutz and enjoy it much more than my other job. The days are much longer, harder and messier, but I get to work with my hands. (which are now red and sore) Today, for two hours, I rocked out around 200 peppers. Wash, slice and dice! Boo-yah! We do a little of everything- from cooking, to cleaning, to preparing food, to get yelled at; all very real elements of any kitchen setting. Salads are my specialty- I handle a lot of vegetables. Then there are the meats which get butchered, cleaned, and then either breaded, fried or baked. Oh and we get free breakfast and lunch. Not a bad gig if you ask me. I hope I get to start doing more and more actual cooking as the Kibbutz progresses. And when I come home, I’m sure you all will want to taste some of my Israeli cooking. (Family, I am talking to you!)

Monotony

Most days here I am happy. But then there are days like these. We all have them. But being away from home, from my family has taken a wee bit of a toll on me. I haven’t had a stable life in almost 2 years and miss easy living. That sounds silly, but living abroad requires more effort carrying out day to day interactions- like going to the bank, asking for directions, reading labels --all in another language. Some days you just want your own kitchen with ingredients you don’t have to think about (like spices and flour and a cutting board) or you just want to have your car to drive and go grab a bite to eat all by yourself. But 9 times out of 10 it’s impossible. I know I’m blessed with all my adventures, don’t get me wrong. But today, It’s just an icky day. Meh.

(Please Don't) Come Again, Thank you.

Waking up before the alarm, I crept out of our cave-like, windowless, Zionist/hippy decorated room to the lounge to wake up with a cup o’ Joe. Dave wanted to see the Dome of the Rock so we made our way through the Jewish Quarter to get to the entrance of the Kotel (Western Wall). Unfortunately it was closed because of Pesach so we meandered back through the busy streets of the old city. Bustling with the Haredim making their way to the Kotel with their kids, stollers and wives trailing behind them. They dress in all black and white, with women usually covering their hair, but always covering their elbows and knees.
We wanted to see a German church with an amazing view of the city but that too was closed even though yesterday the guards assured us it’d be open. No worries, we did a pop-in of the Holy Sepulchre again. Well Dave did, and I people watched. Then we decided we wanted to do a walking tour of the city. We began at the old City, walked through countless neighborhoods and districts with distinctive ethnic and religious identities. We ended up in the religious neighborhoods completely by accident. All the Haredim were in the synagogues praying or playing with their children in the streets. The feel was different the moment we entered the neighborhood. Housing units were smaller, smooshed together with houses stacked on top of each other like legos. There were posters plastered on top of more posters, slowly disintegrating off the walls. Flakes of paper, brick, toys and signs littered the sidewalks where the children were playing tag. The only English we saw in a good hour and a half of was on two signs in the city which read: “Groups walking through our neighborhood severely offends us. Please do not disturb the sanctity of our lives.” & “Please dress modestly in our neighborhoods,” with lists of prohibited and acceptable clothing.
We felt awkward. And noticed. Even dressed modestly in jeans, a shirt and a fully covering sweater, one man turned his head away from me and covered his eyes as I passed. You could smell dishes warming on the heaters kept on during Seder and the families doing their normal family activities. We found ourselves way beyond where we thought we were and emerged farther up the hill from the Garden tomb. The general feeling I felt from wandering the streets was more or less please do not come again, but thanks for stopping in.
We ate lunch on the lawn by Damascus Gate next to the towering walls of the old city, in Hebrew known as the Ancient City. We napped on the lawn, journaled and napped some more. Finally gaining enough energy to move, we headed back into the heart of the Arab Quarter hoping to find hot nuts. Instead, we found a beautiful Austrian Catholic church. Well kind of a church. It was also a coffee house, a hostel, a garden and a museum. Turns out at the top, there is a flat roof which offers a stunning view of the city; especially the Dome of the Rock, the famous churches and the neighborhoods of the Old City. Reveling in the beauty of everything ancient, we lingered for a while; a long while. We relaxed in the shade of the garden, read, thought and reflected on our tri-religious Easter experience. It was time to go so we gathered our bags from the hostel and walked about an hour to the bus station. Jerusalem was still silent with all the stores still closed for Pesach. It was a bit creepy, like a ghost town. At 8pm exactly, everything shifted- cars were seen on the roads, stores opened, people emerged like ants coming out of an ant hill. We hopped on the bus to make our way back to our little slice of the world- Kibbutz Na’an.

A Different Side of Jerusalem

Tonight, Easter night, was a complete juxtaposition from earlier today. We took a nap after the festivities of the day and proceeded to the Arab surrounded Damascus Gate because it’s the only section that was open today. Today, in conjunction with Easter is also the second Seder for Pesach so all of Jewish Jerusalem was closed. Farid, my Palestinian friend who likes me a little too much, came and picked Dave and I up. We drove up to his neighborhood next to the Mt. of Olives where we ate in a couch lined, domed ceiling, 500 year old restaurant in a cave. The owner, Farid’s friend who explained that the foundations under where we were eating were 2000 year old remains, but the Archeological Society wouldn’t let them dig anymore. We had an overpowering meal with way too much food and even more meat. Farid, well really Arab men in general always make me feel a little bit awkward. Male and female interaction is awkward, with cultural boundaries that seem to criss-cross and them slam into each other somewhere in the middle.
Flirting, jealousy and possession are three intense, and vastly differently viewed issues between Arab men and non-Arab men. Maybe due to rearing practices, or maybe just a cultural phenomenon, Arab women and men aren’t raised to interact with each other to the same extent as in the western world. The social and gender hierarchies exist to a greater extent and are most evident in one on interactions. We left the restaurant and traipsed through dark alleys surrounded by walls of Jerusalem stone, up back staircases and to a house that was the home of the guy who owned the restaurant. We sat on the couches in this domed home and smoked sheesha, watched music videos and drank while simultaneously conversing in three languages; switching from one to the other without thought. Farid stared at me all night, making Rob really uncomfortable since he was sitting in between us. Basically it was a typical night like one I would’ve spent in the Arab world- smoking, music, good, tv and political conversations. I later found out that one of the guys we were with had just been released from jail. I asked him what for. Nonchalantly, he laughed and said he wouldn’t tell me. Needless to say, I was a bit worried. Then Rob and I returned to our hostel and passed out.

Easter in Jerusalem

This morning, fog covers the hills of the valleys like whipped cream as we ascend to the holy city. Smelling of cigarette smoke, my sherut winds up the roads crossed by untold numbers of people over the centuries. Sometimes I feel like I don’t truly appreciate the history of this place. Emperors, slaves, diplomats and prophets have walked these roads I now climb. The Turks, Egyptians, Israelites, Hittites and countless others have traded along this passage, have been healed, converted, robbed and even slaughtered.
The source of religious conflict for over two thousand years, this piece of land has produced the most important and consequential historical events in the last 2000 years. I, for one, am completely fascinated by religion. It is one of the only things in the world that produces vast chain reactions; extreme reactions in general. People die out of religious conviction, settle in war zones because of religious principle (settlements in Israel), start revolutions, create cults…it is one of the only things in existence that completely controls people. People are often more critical and apprehensive about trusting other people as leaders but will give anything and everything for pleasing a higher power.
Easter Sunday. 9am. Getting of my sherut, I walked bags in hand to the Old City. Quiet, the city was beginning to awaken. Even smelling holy, Jerusalem emit ed all the new smells of morning. Stores opening its doors, shops pulling up the metal fences and opening, and cafés busy with travelers on their way in need of a caffeine fix; I descended down the slippery steps of the Old City to David street where my friend Dave and I were meeting to drop off our things before heading to church. [Dave and I go to Ulpan together and he was raised Christian so we decided to celebrate Easter together.] Entering the New Swedish Hostel and walking to the front desk, the manager asked me why I was speaking in Hebrew. I responded in Hebrew, “Because I live and study here.” Disgruntled he said “we do not speak Hebrew here.” Puzzled only for a moment I replied, “in Jerusalem?” He says, “Yes this is an Arab city, here we speak Arabic.” I accidentally giggled out loud and he wasn’t pleased. Fixing my mistake quickly, I responded in Arabic telling him I also study Arabic. Much happier, he told me where I could leave my things and went back to sipping his coffee and ignoring me. I met Dave and we ventured to the church, met a priest in training from Florida, got lost and eventually found the beautiful stone church situated quite obviously beside Jaffa Gate. We met some fellow travelers and were early for the 9:30 service. Anglican, this church was built in the 1800’s as a Protestant place of worship with clear Jewish roots, as exhibited by the wooden rerodos at the front of the church, where a synagogue usually keeps the Torah. The priests were all funny, sarcastic guys and seemed to live in the real world, which is quite refreshing to see especially among Christians who live in the Old City.

The church was definitely not as crowded as I had expected it to be on Easter Sunday. We began the service by reciting the Schma and singing traditional Protestant praise songs. This was the first time during my trip I ached for home. Singing those familiar songs made me teary, nostalgic of Easter in Jupiter at my church. But most of all, I missed my family. This is the first Easter in which I’ve been without any family or for that matter, away from home. I tried to concentrate on the service, on experiencing Easter in the city where Jesus died and rose again. A lot of scriptures we read that morning pointed out that we were in fact celebrating Easter in this holy place. The sermon was just okay, about remembering the Resurrection every day. But during the sermon the preacher kept squinting and I kept asking myself, is there sunlight in his eyes? Can he see when his eyes are so squinty? Does he have to go to the bathroom? Anyway, I left the church happy but still missing the familiarity and holiness I feel when I am at my church.
Afterwards, Dave and I wanted to go to the Garden tomb, the actual site where Jesus tomb was. We made it for the French service at 12:30. Listening to familiar songs in French and snapping photos, we observed all the Frenchies for a while. After about a half hour Dave and I both looked at each other with a look that said- I’m done, I hope you are too. Too hungry to concentrate on a church service in a language we didn’t understand, we headed back towards the Old City still walking the streets of East Jerusalem. We noshed on hummus, falafel and pita before making our way through the Damascus Gate to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre where the ‘remains’ of the original cross are; where the cross once stood. Crowded with tourists and different ethnicities celebrating in their unique ways, we entered where woman gather at this marble plankon the ground called the Stone of Annointing and bless all kinds of things, sob, clutch their crosses and pray pleadingly. Moving further in, Dave and I were awestruck at how many people were waiting to enter the Edicule where the tomb of Christ also is. (There is much debate among Christians because there are claims from both sites to be the actual tomb)The Syriac Orthodox Arabs were in charge of the church on Easter- they were keeping the line to enter orderly by clocking all the people with a huge wooden plank. Mob like, people were pushing, cutting and yelling. It detracted a bit from the sanctity of the place for me. Men in Fez’s patrolled the corridors keeping passages clear and escorting important people to the front of line, much to the dismay of those waiting. Also, at one point they kicked this Israeli guy and his girlfriend out of the church- to the point of him revisiting and them physically forcing him out. Rather uncomfortable. We left that section of the church and migrated to a large, ornate room called the Catholicon where a ceremony was taking place. Some kind of Bishop or Archdeacon was wearing an ostentatious gold, jewel encrusted crown and was blessing those gathered around him and leading prayer. Clutching crosses and moaning personal prayers, people were enraptured by this silent blesser. Experiencing enough hierarchical holiness for one day, we went and met my friend Emily from UF for coffee who now attends Hebrew University. We grabbed some snacks and went back to the hostel and indulged in a lovely nap before our evening activities.

Reminiscing before Easter

On a sherut to Jerusalem (It’s Easter Sunday) I am musing over the memories of the weekend. Spring time in Tel Aviv means the hordes of people take over the beach. Bikini clad- every old and new bathing suit style since 1920 can be seen on the sandy stretches lining the Mediterranean. Men sporting banana hammocks gather crowds while smacking paddle balls back and forth in designated sidewalk area’s. The constant ping and pong echo from Jaffo all the way to North Tel Aviv. Police officers patrol the sidewalks on rollerblades gliding on the top of the pavement like pretend grown-ups on a power trip. We laid on the crunchy sand til sunset meeting Itay’s friends and soaking in long anticipated sun rays.
The night before was tons of fun, but a little fuzzy from French Riesling, we walked 10 blocks to meet everyone for Asian-fusion cuisine. Devouring whole bowls of food, from appetizers to entrées I think only one person actually finished their food. We sluggishly made our way to an alternative bar on Basil Street with great music from all genres and plenty of beer on tap. Talking with people about their different reasons for being in Israel and crazy stories from where everyone comes from kept us up all night. By the end, I ended up explaining the basics of Christianity to some friends who didn’t understand the differences between Protestants and Catholics and were curious about the role of the Pope and the history of hierarchy in the Church.

Pre-Passover

Friday rolled around and I was more ready than ever to leave the Kibbutz. While I love the escape and the forced tranquility it has provided, I needed an escape, a release, a rush- something to do. I woke up to my phone ringing on Friday morning. It was my taxi driver, waiting to take me to Tel Aviv. I completely forgot the time change and my phone (which is a piece.) did not automatically change. Running out the door, I had packed and gotten ready in 10 minutes. I wanted a gold star for how well I did! Unfortunately for the rest of the world, I now consistently work on Middle Eastern Time. This translates into me always being at least 20 minutes if not 2 hours late. I went to a Bikram Yoga class in North Tel Aviv, a beautiful, wealthy suburbia north of the bustle of the city. Surrounded by cafés selling fresh breads infused with cinnamon, nuts and other spices, coffee, and organic food markets, the area is at the same time like a neighborhood and an industrial area with uncountable office buildings.
Doing yoga in another language was again, interesting. I didn’t realize how much I understood and how much language acquisition I actually absorbed- but it was definitely a lot of body words. 4 days in a row of Bikram Yoga when you haven’t been going definitely impacts your body. Now, I can not move. In a good way though. Full of Israeli’s, Russians, Ethiopians and Brits, the studio really represented the fusion that makes Israel so special. I made Shabbat dinner and lit the candles to usher in the Sabbath. We relaxed, played scrabble, walked along the boardwalk, and chilled. I met with Sierra again and we found the most interesting stores- stores full of antique dolls, stores full of plastic roses, gigantic explosions of designer goodwills in a nameless hole in the wall, and stores selling tea pots. I love it!

The Night of Passover

Monday night I went over to the Zuerkel families’ house bearing a bottle of French Reisling wrapped in lavender wrapping tied with a beautiful purple flower which I purchased from an organic market in Ramat Aviv. It was warmly received, of course. Myself, Reut, her two sisters, brother and parents made our way over to Reut’s uncles house on the other side of the city. The roads were packed with cars like sardines in a can all in a hurry to not be the last arrivee at the family gathering.
Gathering there before the whole clan had gotten there, we exchanged kisses, hugs and formalities. In Hebrew, I explained to everyone who walked into the door (and there were about 30 people) that I was Reut’s friend and we had been roommates in Haifa. All this was in Hebrew. For those of you who know me, you know I am rarely reserved or shy. I felt so out of my element surrounded by Hebrew speakers in an intimate family setting on a Jewish holiday…all things which I love but at the same time stressed me out a bit. I just sat back and observed more than I usually do.

Reut’s father led the Pesach dinner with every family member reading different sections of the story of Passover. The men sat wearing kippas (yamacas) all in a line. Reut’s father headed the table, leading the dynamic that set in for the whole evening. Raising your voice for your opinion to be heard is the norm. Even the reserved family members had learned throughout their lives in Israel that it is an absolute necessity to speak up, and loudly in order to be heard at all. Politeness is dismissed. If you want to speak, just continue speaking until everyone else gives up. Hands are decoration. No good story is complete without flying hands, exaggerated facial expressions and maybe even an uprising from the table! Meals with Israeli’s are anything but dull. The dynamics between the family are amazing to watch. Grandpa and Grandma sit at the end of the table mooshing their food around with the teeth they have left. The son and his Russian girlfriend hold hands and snuggle while engaging in conversation with the rest of the family. The women of the family are constantly moving, refilling the bowls with various salads- eggplant and garlic, lettuce, carrots with pecans, liver, radish, every salad you could think of. They check on the children, refill the table with napkins, drinks, and of course more wine. The kids scream in protest of vegetables and joy when they receive their presents.
The men huddled together on one side of the table, murmuring the blessings for the Seder. One began and another would follow, finishing his sentence. We leaned to the left to drink the wine with our right hands, sang all the Seder songs and ‘amen’ed when appropriate. The food was a blend of Turkish and Moroccan cuisine because her family is half from Morocco and half form Turkey. At the end, we sang a special Seder song in Hebrew and then again in a dialect of Turkish with Spanish influence called Ladino. Passover dinner is always quite lengthy so the teenagers became a bit restless. Jokingly, the men reciting the Seder began throwing wine corks at the kids who were talking, in a half-serious attempt to make the Seder more serious. By that time, everyone was enjoying the company, the food and the general atmosphere of the Seder. Huge fail. Giggles ensued every time the men would miss a throw, especially when they landed in various household objects. Throughout the course of Passover dinner each adult consumes four glasses of wine. Add the wine with the typical conversation style of Israelis and what is produced is an amusing evening. The cousins all got a little tipsy from the wine and then desserts come. Everything is brought to the table; desserts without yeast, coconut cakes, mint tea from the garden, even pictures form the grandma’s fashion show.

short and sweet

on my way to passover dinner but realized i hadn't posted in a while. just did my nails, hence i am typing letter by letter as to not mess up my nails. haha. had an amazing weekend in tel aviv, will post tomorrow- relaxed to the max. i promise i have some interesting updates and good stories.

Dear Readers,

First of all, thank you for continuing with me on my journey thus far. It ain't over till its over [and I have a surprise that I will be revealing to you soon!!!] I would like to pose a challenge to you, my lovely readers. I have received so many emails about how my travels are making you all excited about the world and the endless possibilities that await you.

My challenge is this: this year, just once, do something completely and totally out of your comfort zone. (Switching ice cream flavors or parking spaces does not count!) Go outside yourself, engage with someone you never would have, plan a trip you've always wanted to take, ask someone what they really think about you, go skydiving. Whatever it is, do it for you- something you would have never dared to do. I challenge YOU, because sometimes when we live in our own worlds, we forget that there is something beyond it. I am reminding you that your life is what you make it. Now go, do something that will inspire you in ways you have yet to comprehend.

(and let me know how it goes)

About A Year Ago

Reviewing past entries from my journal, I stumbled upon a specific entry that happened a little more than one year ago. It’s funny how time flies. It said...
“I finally figured out why sophomore year has been so tough. I’ve been trying to reconcile conflicting desires for months. Ever since I returned from Israel I’ve been having trouble readjusting to a life with limited traveling. I am happy, I know I am blessed but there is something missing; a challenge. Sometime that turns me on my head, forces me to question my existence, my surroundings and the essence of myself. I want to be in a new environment- scared, unsure, but ready for a new adventure.
I love life and all its beauty. Traveling makes me open my eyes to places, things and cultures I am unfamiliar with. Seeing Petra was mind-blowing, the most beautiful architecture in the Middle East. The Dead Sea, the Mediterranean at sunset. I love that life leaves me breathless, wanting more. Regardless, I had a realization today. Life is way too short to fight so hard. I finally joined my head and my heart and decided I am returning to the Middle East, ready to dive into the unknown.”
Diving deep- it's what I think I will always love.
Looking back to what seems like years ago, I realize that a) the most important thing in life is to follow your heart and b) this is absolutely what I am passionate about. This was an extremely difficult decision for me- to leave my family, friends, everything I was involved with and jump into what has become my life 'path' for lack of more appropriate term. I have been traveling since and not only has it become quite an expensive hobby, but my passion as well. I think it will be difficult for me now, not to experience another adventure, but rather to return to Gainesville. To go back now becomes the challenge.
Isn't it funny how life takes your challenges and turns them into the easy things. The things that were once easy become your new challenges. Recently, I have found this to be true with people in my life as well as general experiences.

And on the 7th Day...

It is midday. Everyone is scrambling from one stand to the next. Most women trail behind them metal wheely carts in which to deposit their purchased items. Bargaining is the game. These strawberries? How much? The freshest and the best is what everyone is searching for in this madness called the shook on these bustling Friday afternoons. Eggs, challah bread, cheese, vegetables are all being sold. All of it must be the very best to serve your family. You can always tell where to go…the stands with the most Israeli’s and the least amount of food left. Fresh white cheeses stacked on top of each other, olives floating in bins full of juicy olives of every color, the fresh vegetables plucked from the surrounding fields; bright purple eggplants, sun yellow, melony orange and forest green peppers all thrown in cardboard boxes displayed for all the customers to see. Today is Shabbat. Shabbat Shalom. My favorite day of the week. Around 3, the magic of Israel happens. The whole country, simultaneously, slows down. Stores begin to close, people cram on their last bus home, soldiers are in transport from their base to see their family. Slowly the silence sets in. The sun sets and everyone is home. After the five stars are visible in the sky, everything stops. Shabbat begins.
I am lucky enough to spend my Shabbat with Reut’s family- who have become my family here in Israel. They always welcome me into their home- her mother with lots of hugs and family time on the couch. We relaxed together, getting formalities of how the week went out of the way. Sitting down to dinner, Reut’s father and brother, who is 12 ½ and about to be barmitzvah-ed recited the prayers from the prayer books. We ate all the usual Shabbat salads, breads, and ended with grilled fish. Throughout dinner, Reut’s family encouraged me to practice my Hebrew, so I ended up telling her family my little stories. I felt like a 2nd grader writing a mini essay and probably sounded like one too. Sometimes it is really frustrating speaking another language. While I can usually communicate what I need, it is another thing entirely to communicate jokes, or a high level of expression. I couldn’t talk about philosophy or the current political situation, at least not to the extent I would like to participate. So, I listened and learned a slough of new words.
While letting our food settle, we tried on our dresses for her brothers’ barmitzvah in April and then got ready to go out to Tel Aviv. Picking up Ali, we proceeded to get embarrassingly lost in Tel Aviv. One thing worth noting, in Israel the road signs are completely unhelpful. Next to the pedestrian crossings and tiny- it is impossible to read them while driving. Trying to find parking was interesting in and of itself. Never ever try to find parking in Tel Aviv on the weekend. Throughout this driving disaster, we began talking about Israeli politics and the Israeli view of outsiders, specifically of non-Jews. My friend says to me, “When people ask you if you are Jewish, it’s because they want to know if they can trust you. So immediately I question her; “wait, when people ask me if I am Jewish and I say no, they automatically trust me less?” she answers, “well, yes. It sounds bad but that’s how it is.”” Rather off put by that comment, I have to admit, it is what I expected. Kind of unfortunate I am viewed that way. I suppose I understand the mentality. Most people are surprised I am here doing what I’m doing, and are even more intrigued when they find out I’m not Jewish. An anomaly here, I love what I love and that’s it. Generally speaking, the underlying feeling here is that if you aren’t Jewish, you cannot truly understand the draw that brings Jews to Israel. You cannot possibly comprehend the feeling of safety, security and draw to the homeland that people feel when they choose to be here. I obviously am not Jewish and while I may not understand because of my religious upbringing, I like to think I empathize.
Back to my story; we got lost near the beach and got out to ask for directions. Thank god my Hebrew is improving! I end up getting directions, but, by this time Reut is skeptical about being able to get there so she invites these two random guys to get in the car and direct us there since they were heading in that direction. Kind of sketchy if you ask me. Thank god there were normal. We ended up at Hemmingway’s, a great bar in central Tel Aviv. There we salsa danced a bit and ended up finding our own little niche in the club. I love to dance and often times end up in my own world. It is by far one of my favorite things to do in life. I got bored around 2am so we ended up barhopping, walking in heels to 3 different bars. I met up with some friends, but not before purchasing my favorite late night food, salted peanuts. We all went to this random Russian bar, where I met the bar owner and Ali became the bartender for a while...

the Puzzle unpuzzled

Ms. Tzipi Livni Vice-Prime Minister & Minister of Foreign Affairs of Israel noted in her conference; ‘Proclaiming terrorists as a nation’s cultural heroes will negatively influence education and the fabric of society with long term implications and damage to the international recognition of a future Palestinian State. In Israel’s fight on all fronts to combat the threat of religious extremism and terrorism, the cooperation and support of the international community is greatly needed.’ Noting exactly my sentiments on how a harmful and caustic cycle of a lack of societal benefits (education, safety) causes the glorification of terrorism as a means to an end, Tzipi and I could not agree more.
While I did note the importance of allowing the Palestinian State to build infrastructure both from a political standpoint and a physical one (houses, education, health care, roads, etc) it is equally important to recognize the state of Israel’s right to defend their land. The Israeli’s whether or not the Palestinians like it, have proven their military and agricultural dominance in the region. Since the creation of the state, the Israeli people have been tireless in its defense. Such a large majority of the national budget is channeled into defense and intelligence. Look at a map. Please, go do it. Note the size of the country. Israel is tiny. For all the hardships the Jews have endured since their exodus, isn’t it time we let them rest? Let’s look at a solution, lets’ talk. I am in favor of talks and a two-state solution. But most importantly, lets educate each other.
After living in both worlds, the Jewish/Israeli world and the Egyptian/Islamic one, I can honestly say the two mindsets are not the same. The two groups of people just think differently. Different cultures, languages and geographic locations all work together to thread the view of how you look at the world. The Arab world and the Israeli one are different. It is so difficult to pinpoint that thing, the thing that separates one from the other. One of my friends here always asks me, “why, Sarah, why? Why are they (the Arab people) so violent? Why are they bombing schools?” I don’t know what to say to her. My only response is, “They do not all think that way. You have extremes in every place, and the Arab violence gets a huge chunk of attention from the media.” I stand by what I say, but unfortunately, I have noticed, and I really want to learn why, that hatred runs so deep. On both sides. If the Middle East and all its problems were one big puzzle, I think I have the 4 corner pieces, and maybe a few sparsely scattered in the middle. Slowly but surely. I think my biggest realization from living here has been: how is it possible for diplomats and mediators in this process possibly attempt to mediate something unless they have lived here? Unless they have taken the time to learn those cultural nuances, to master the languages, to really listen to the people, and not only the leaders? I suppose it’s human nature. Revert to the leaders. But maybe some positive change could be made if instead of focusing on forcing talks between two governments with agendas- what if we focused on the new generation. Focus on the kids who will be the leaders, so we don’t’ continue to breed generations full of their grandparents hate. Education is the first step in a process that will last beyond any of our lifetimes.

Life is Delicious

Relaxing under the sweet shade of a palm tree in the center of the park in my little city of Rehovot, I feel that life cannot get any more perfect. Today I had a physical therapy appointment- my second one! I am improving. Thoughtfully, I decided to forgo returning to my Kibbutz straight away. Instead, I would enjoy a leisurely lunch with myself. I made my way to the market to grab some fresh cheese. Favoring my favorite cheese vendor, I happily requested a small container of fresh mozzarella balls and a bit of homemade tuna salad- the good kind with triangles of chopped hard boiled eggs and roasted red peppers. I said hello to my friend at the nut stand, he knows me well now. A nice man resting his chin in his hands stood behind the banana stall, turned to me and told me to please, take a banana, because I had beautiful eyes. How can you say no to that? What a delicious banana it was. Life is sweeter when you stop to notice it. I indulged on a shady hill in the park near the center of town and read an entire James Patterson book in one sitting.
While laying down in the park, observing love, children learning to ride bikes, romance blooming on spread out picnic blankets and workers rejuvenating- I cannot help but feel so blessed to be where I am in life. Sometimes I feel as though my life is one long poem; sometimes with rhymes, metaphors, love, a little mystery and a great plot but always, there is another line. Sometimes I look at a line that may not make sense if I focus on it, but when I let the stanza complete itself, nothing could be more beautiful. I love being in love with life.

the Settlements Part 2

If the violence is to stop then the Israeli’s must allow the West Bank to develop. Noting the examples set forth by developing nations across the globe, it is apparent that wherever violence, war, poverty, and a strong need for infrastructural stability converge, there is terrorism. According to the highly influential dictionary.com [insert facetiousness] the definition of terrorism: the use of violence and threats to intimidate or coerce, esp. for political purposes. In some cases, terrorism manifests itself in an extreme form; as seen in the Israeli-Palestinian example through suicide bombings. Or, look to the example which instantly enters any American's mind when I say terrorism; airplanes flying into towers full of innocent people. Or in Somalia, where both the militia and government are ravishing the country to gain the upper hand against the other. In other instances terrorism appears in slightly less-discernible forms like Iraqi insurgencies and pipeline bombings in Colombia. The common factor in all these cases is the staggering presence of the societal problems listed above. In situations such as these a unique pocket opens within society. Political parties, individuals and social organizations step in to fill the gaps that the government leaves empty. Throughout history we have seen the Nazi’s/Hitler’s social platform promise a better Germany, the Muslim Brotherhood and Hezbollah step up as the active social organizations who provide public necessities for the poor, and countless other organizations who claim to help the people. Terrorism breeds here. I am afraid that no matter the conditions on either side (except of course in the extreme case that Israel completely takes back the West Bank in its entirety), then absolutely nothing will improve until a stable government and viable social benefits are available to the Palestinians. If people are clothed, well fed, and most importantly, educated, the present gaps that are drawing youth into these terrorist movements have a chance of being stopped, or at least significantly hindered. The new settlements in Jerusalem will not help this matter.

the Settlements Part 1

March 17th and 18th
Oh the days here pass with the rising and falling of the sun. At 6am sharp the sun peeks over the mountaintops from the east and by 5:30pm the sun is almost set below the tree line of my kibbutz to the West. We study every day, in class. Sometimes there are games and others straight grammar. Yesterday I missed class because I had my first physical therapy appointment in Rehovot. It went surprisingly well- I now have exercises to attend to daily and a new Russian/now Israeli friend who just happens to be my physical therapist. Well I won’t bore you all with menial things occured. But I actually do have a topic of interest for today’s blog: settlements. Bum Bum Bum…
To give you all a bit of background: Under the the Oslo Peace Accords signed in 1994, Israel has full control of about 60% of the occupied West Bank. Palestinians have full control and building rights in only 17% of the total territory. The Oslo accords were only meant to be temporary, but their provisions have lasted 16 years. Close to 500,000 Jews live in more than 100 settlements built since Israel's 1967 occupation of the West Bank and East Jerusalem. They are illegal under international law, although Israel disputes this. (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/8537068.stm)
Though the Balfour Declaration (look it up people!) wasn’t exactly fair because it pushed Palestinians out of their land, it happened. Just about everywhere else in the world when land is won in a war it is won. Though I realize this point of view may be rather archaic, Israel proved its dominance and right to maintain autonomy over Eretz Israel in the Independence War, The Yom Kippur War, the Six Day War and both Intifada’s. The Israeli people have at the very least earned their right to be here. They turned the desert into an agricultural anomaly. Beautiful, lush and brimming with vegetation and new agricultural technology. While Occupied Territory, Israel has a right to defend itself. To uphold its sovereignty, especially against suicide bombings and anti-Israel movements. The idea of settlements continually being built is more or less a slap in the face to the Palestinian people.

The Druzim; a world within a world

Waking up to greet the dawn, we were on the bus by 6:30am. Fully loaded with three quarters of a liter of coffee, I boarded the bus, ready for a hike in the north. My day now is a little rough if I begin without my coffee. Priorities in life people, remember priorities! :)
First we stopped at a detainment camp south of Haifa that was used during the British Mandate to keep the Jews there until there were enough visas to release them into Israel. Freakishly similar to the concentration camps-but only aesthetically. This was minus the killing/labor intensive/starving conditions. It was quite eye opening, to see those kind of conditions in the land that is supposed to be the safe haven for the Jewish people. After that, we journeyed to the site of the hike. My director and I don’t exactly see eye to eye. Generally speaking, I am a very rationale, respectful person. You see, I have a hurt foot. I wanted to go on the hike, I was prepared and fine. He treated me like a 7 year old. Then I acted like one, though not publicly. You know those people who really get under your skin, and even when you try to get along, there is just something? Well unfortunately for me, that is the case. He made me sit on the bus while the others did the two hour hike. It wasn’t bad, our Ulpan house mother stayed with me and we hung out, watched a movie and I did some homework.
When everyone returned, the bus took off again, this time to a Druze village. For those of you who don’t know who the Druzim are a religious community found primarily in the Middle East whose traditional religion is said to have begun as an offshoot of Islam. They generally disagree about being affiliated with Islam, depending on geographic regions. They are an extremely secretive religion. No one knows about the contents of their Holy Books. And marriage out of the Druze religion is forbidden and grounds for excommunication. As is revealing any of the secrets of the religion. If you aren’t religious, then you may not talk about the religion with the unreligious person. This applies even to husband and wife. The house we visited today, they explained the basics of the religion and the daughter who was 20 told us that her mother is religious and may not have conversations concerning the religion/inner most rituals with her husband. Interesting, right? (www.druze.com & http://www.mfa.gov.il/MFA/MFAArchive/2000_2009/2002/12/Focus%20on%20Israel-%20The%20Druze%20in%20Israel) The food was amazing, as usual. Kofta (my favorite Arab meat!) and tons of salads, laffa (special Arab bread made on a hot dome shaped grill) and fig juice. We went to the shook after that, ate some amazing kunefa and bused it back home where everyone on the bus passed out like kindergarteners in need of their morning nap. Overall it was a successful, emotional, rather strange day.

Kibbutz Ein Hashofet

This weekend I traveled up north with my friend Ali to go see one of my friends from when I lived in Haifa in 2008- Sierra. She is one of my favorite people in the whole world. We traveled up by bus and taxi to Ein Hashofet, a kibbutz in the north, just below Haifa. Seeing another Kibbutz was interesting in itself. Beautiful, small, and full of greenery, Ein Hashofet has a beautiful view of the mountains on one side, and the sea on the other. We arrived, caught up with life the past two years and then napped to get ready for the night.
After waking up from our nap we lit the Shabbat candles, broke the bread and headed over to the cafeteria to celebrate Shabbat. The differences between my Kibbutz and Ein Hashofet were definitely visible. Much smaller, the cafeteria was full of families, giggling, children running around with little pieces of challah and the elderly shuffling their plates of mashed potatoes and vegetables through the check out line. Unlike my Kibbutz, this one is more privatized. At my Kibbutz and in our grocery store people who do not live on the kibbutz can come and buy things. At Kibbutz Ein Hashofet it is still closed to the public. When I went with Sierra they had to pay for us because we couldn’t pay with shekels. The living situation in Ein Hashofet was smaller, more intimate. My Kibbutz is the second largest in Israel so obviously the intimacy factor may be less intense.
Tomer, a friend from two years ago came to visit with a couple of his friends. We all met up at the pub, with all Sierra’s friends from her Ulpan. The live band was awesome and we all were dancing together for a few hours. Seeing old friends is one of my favorite things. I met some unique people. There were Christian Japanese students there learning Hebrew in order to study the Hebrew versions of the Bible. There were Poles, Russians, Australians, Crotians, etc. So many students who make aliyah (move to Israel to become a citizen- it literally means ‘to go up’) participate in Ulpan programs. The diversity blows my mind. We danced till dawn, just about literally. I think we came home around 4:30 in the morning.

The next day was a challenge. Everyone woke up around noon. Indulging in copious amounts of tea, water, and coffee, we layed out in the sun and relived the last night. I laughed so hard I got a stomach ache; especially when everyone passed around the pictures. We made a huge Israeli salad, courtesy of my gracious friend Sierra of fresh avocado’s from the fields there, onions, tomatoes and cucumbers. Hummus was included of course! Relaxing, enjoying each others company, catching up on flashcards and basking in the suns rays on the grassy area in front of their Ulpan complex- I was enjoying life. Afterwords, me and my new friend Al went on a walk to this tent on the Kibbutz because he wanted to purchase some artwork from this artist who lived there. I was rather confused. Why a tent? Someone lives on a tent here? As in, a camping tent? For their home? Why? Turns out, this amazingly relaxed Israeli couple in their late 20’s built this Mongolian tent house thing. Circular like a Circus Tent, the house had tons of rugs on the floor, artwork decorating the curved canvas walls, incense burning all lit dimly by the wood burning stove. We sat down on a futon, drank tea and caught up on the Kibbutz gossip , though I had no idea whom they were talking about. Then we got down to business, Al purchased some amazing paintings. Ali and I began our journey back to Rehovot, rather uneventful except for the hitching. We are getting really good at it here, and especially from a Kibbutz it is pretty safe. Overall an amazing weekend.

the Arabs

What is the difference, truly between the way the Israeli’s view the world and the Arab-Israeli’s & Muslim Arabs of the Middle East view the world? I specify because trying to include the broader Jewish or Muslim communities in my explanation of the perspective I have experienced would be impossible and end in useless generalizations.
When I lived in Egypt, I used to get annoyed at the close mindedness I experienced on a daily basis. Looking back, this was unfair. The Arab Muslims I interacted with had huge hearts and welcoming arms, much like the Jews. The difference in my mind is mainly this- the Arab Muslims who come from the Middle East live in nations who are suppressed through governments leading under the guise of true Islam. Political Islam is the government. Its leaders and subsequently, its institutions claim sole legitimacy to true Islam. In this way, its people are raised in an environment where challenging the religion is challenging the state (and can result in serious consequences- ie. imprisonment).
The mindset is refined when Arabs turn on the TV and see images of American’s flying private jets, throwing sweet 16’s worth more than they make in a lifetime, and throwing away precious resources in the name of materialism. No wonder their images of us are what they are. The claims made by their governments, and in some cases religious authorities, are confirmed by the only contact they have with our culture: television, movies and magazines. Liberalism does not exist to the extent it does in America.
More to follow...

East Jerusalem

Last week, while on my tour of Israel with EdHill Tours, I ventured out into Jerusalem, in search of Wifi. I led some others to buy vino and other things and then went my own way, ended up at CaféCafe while it poured buckets of water on my head.
A Palestinian friend came to meet me- we learned about each others beliefs: Religions, families and jobs- switching constantly between Arabic, English and Hebrew. I’m coming to a place where it’s really exciting for me to speak because I can have a decent conversation in either language. He took me to East Jerusalem- to a hookah café. It’s funny to note the immediate differences you see when you drive three blocks from Israel to East Jerusalem-signs all in Arabic, men and women in kufeyas, burqa’s and hijabs. The buildings, plants and streets are not as well kempt; crusty paint, crumbled chip bags, fewer lights and an aura of simplicity. There is an absence of aesthetics here- in much of the Arab world- big flashy, bright and new is not their style. Everyone is with families, working, or smoking nargila. Like Cairo, I was once again the only women in the entire café- we smoked and talked politics. I had to mentally change my brain to Arabic. Typical of the Arab cafés-- all men, a soccer game playing in the background, and men mumbling words back and forth between puffs. He explained his views of Israel to me. He says “the Jews took our land, kill our people. We fight with rocks to defend our homes that the settlers take and then shoot will guns.”
He also told me the Holocaust didn’t happen- that the numbers were exaggerated to a ridiculous degree and that Hitler had the right idea. It’s sad- but I have gotten used to hearing this from the other side. I obviously do not agree – if anything, I believe the Holocaust was covered up way more than we know. He later told me he had Jewish friends but absolutely hated the settlers. Not surprising.

Is Religion full of it?

I hope not.

On the Sea of Galilee: We sand Awesome God and the sky began clearing. I looked out over the lake to the mountains with the sun peeking out of the clouds and I felt something. Reaffirmation of the knowledge that a higher power exists.
Today we witnessed a messianic Jew and his wife renew their wedding vows. He did so because he wanted to do it in the eyes of God. I’m not sure how I feel about the beliefs held by Messianic Jews- I really am not judging, especially with my strange view of religion. But, I wonder how the Jewish community views Messianic Jews. Are the beliefs in Jesus' divinity and being Jewish mutually exclusive?

Throughout the tour, these are some of the questions that I had problems answering. Readers, feel free to jump in on these.

Questions about Christianity:
1. Where did the other people of the Earth come from? (When Cane went away to other lands and met other people who were not mentioned in the creation story)
2. Why is Christianity so exclusive?
3. How influential was the politics of the Papal Conferences on the decisions of which books to include in the bible?
4. Why are not all the books included so we can make our own educated conclusions about the Bible?
5. Where are the excluded books and why are they still hidden?
6. Mary Magdalene’s book and several others claim that Mary Magdalene was Jesus’ wife – if this is true, does this affect Jesus’ divinity/perfect-ness.
7. If humans are inherently imperfect where do we get the idea that church and its hierarchical and organizational leadership is legitimate? (Jesus didn’t start the church- it was started for more than 250 years after his death- Paul and other followers of Jesus created ‘the church’ off of their interpretations of what they thought. Jesus was a Jew. Are the idea’s mutually exclusive?)
8. The trinity- history says the Catholic Church added in the concept of “the spirit”- is that true?? If so, why was it added?
9. Is it possible to be a Christian and not believe Jesus rose from the dead?
10. If God really knows our hearts, why is the profession of faith so important?
11. Is structure necessary? What role does the physical church play in my spirituality versus say believing tenants of other religions and trusting in my faith?

I wish everything came easily to me. I just cannot blindly follow. I have to know, you know? I need the history, the facts. I realize faith is not concrete- that is what it is faith but foundations are important as well. Without them, I don't see a point to believing.

To Do in life/ في حياتي / בחיי

I plopped onto my bed the other day and decided to make a to do list. Not a to do today or tomorrow or even this year, but more or less a to do list for my life. However, I refuse to call it a bucket list. It is my list :) (Side note: additions occur on a weekly-ish basis. These are some of my favorites)
1. Go Spelunking
2. Get my Scuba Liscense
3. Discover my faith
4. Live and Work in another country
5. Climb Mt. Kilimanjaro
6. Visit Every Continent
7. Become conversational in 10 Languages (Hebrew, Arabic, Italian, Spanish, Turkish, Farsi, French, Afrikaans, Swahili, Chinese)
8. Fall in love (though obviously not planned)
9. Milk a cow
10. Model for an art class
11. Go Fishing
12. Attend a Bikram Yoga Retreat
13. Ride in a hot air balloon

in the Dr's Office

Went into the city for my Dr’s appointment. I officially hate socialized medicine. I stood in line, not understanding the pages over the intercom. Sitting, rather dejectedly in the waiting room, staring to hear my number called, I was stared down by the old couples also waiting huddled together in their crouched over way. Finally got into the office, and of course my doctor and I have a bit of a language barrier. In baby Hebrew- as in “my foot is hurting me. The medicine did not work. I hurt.” I felt like I was in a film, slowly rewound to the first grade where I was sitting in a small chair glancing up at the big adult, unable to communicate what I want with the words I know. At least I am constantly humbled here haha!
After my appointment, I was shuffled to three other offices before I was told the next available appointment I was supposed to have for physical therapy was 6 weeks from that day. I laughed. And left. Fuming, I sat in Aroma, my favorite Israeli café and indulged in a soy Americano. Sitting with my computer I was pouting and this random Israeli woman sat down next to me and starts spitting out Hebrew faster than I could speak English! I said wooah slow down in Hebrew and she responded in English- she said I am a make up artist (just got back from a conference in LA about new products or something) and told me she’d pay me to come to Jerusalem so I could be in her portfolio. Kind of cool. We’ll see if it all plays out.

1 Thumb Up

Returned from my tour, my paradise. I felt so spoiled all week, in the very best way. I love love loved the tour and all the people who were part of it. Now back to reality on my Kibbutz. Work, study, relax, contemplate life and all the jazz.

March 3, 2010
I hitch hiked today. I had to get home and as a poor college student, I’d always contemplated the idea. So I took a bus to a major junction and with my bum ankle decided I didn’t want to walk, I hitched. Kind of unthinkable and stupid in America, but it’s pretty common here. This nice soldier picked me up and drove me to the Kibbutz. (I had a key/sharp pen ready just in case!)

what do YOU believe?

I am reading the Faith Club, a very interesting book my mom surprised me with about three women from the Abrahamic faiths having intense interfaith dialogues- confronting stereotypes, misconceptions and perceptions of each other. The Jewish woman in the book was expressing her frustration at a lack of being able to just let go and trust. To have faith and to just know that you believe what you believe, to really trust in the religion and the principles you were raised with.

She said something that resonated with me. We have faith in so many things in our daily lives, with no guarantee of a future, we just blindly trust in the people, or ‘the institution’ and that all will turn out like we want to believe. Why then, do I have so much trouble making the leap of faith with God? I have faith in marriage, that I will marry an amazing man and stay married. I have faith in the love, acceptance and growth of my family. I have faith in my belief of a higher power. I have faith in the ideal of government, in meditation, in love itself, and in people. I have faith good will triumph over evil. So what is my problem with the God part of the equation?

I have issues with Jesus. I feel blasphemous for even saying it, for writing it, especially with how my parents have chosen to live their lives. They believe with every fiber of their being in the saving grace of Jesus. I don’t not believe that he existed, or that he was something amazing. But, frankly I don’t believe that he died and came back. I think that like so many things, people believe what makes them feel better. What they want to believe. The gospels, or at least many of them, were written long after Jesus’ death, with every intention of spreading the new religion of Christianity. If I was a disciple or follower of Christ, I would probably tweak the details a bit too, you know, to increase the awe and splendor of it. That, after all, is what draws so many people to God.: the inexplicable grace, wonder and acts that are beyond human.

I want to believe in Jesus. I want to feel validation for the spiritual/religious tenants I have been taught for the last 21 years of my life. I do believe in God. I believe that God, Allah, Adonai, and Krishna- that they are all one. God creates religions as a tool for his grace and beauty and purpose on earth. Jesus, Mohammad, Buddha, and the future messiah for the Jewish people present unique outlets of faith for ultimately the same end. Not one religion will appeal to everyone. People need different paths, different outlets of expressing their faith. That is why I love celebrating parts of each religion. I am not cherry picking the very best of everything to create some super religion. I just believe that inherently, all these religions have the same core. That there is truth to all of them, and that performing acts of kindness, going to my church, praying in a mosque and celebrating Shabbat all will bring me closer to the God I feel exists.

I find myself closest to my spiritual ‘high’ when I am appreciating nature. It is in nature that I see divinity and something more than what I can physically see. It just has to exist. Of that much I am sure. My trip with Christ Fellowship this week gave me back a piece of faith I have been missing for a long time. I'm still figuring everything out...it was quite a lot to absorb.

A Whole Lotta Jesus.

Started the morning off with the sermon on the Mt of Beatitudes. The pastor gave a sermon in this little chapel belonging to the Nuns who reside there because it was raining. Another church group was jammed inside the chapel within the chapel. Everything spoken made me think. About witnessing (I personally don’t believe in it), about how I view my life, if there is a will beyond what I can see, if anything at all exists, etc. We traveled onto Capernium and shockingly enough it rained on us. There, a Messianic Jew prayed in Hebrew and explained how his life was changed by Jesus Christ. I honestly had no idea what to think about it. We explored around the miracle triangle where 70% of the miracles in the New Testament happened. Everything beings to blend together, despite the magnificence of the separate sites.
February 27, 2010
This morning we took the boat from a dock near our hotel on the Sea of Galilee. Known as the Knerret in Israel, it literally means ‘a big harp’, which is the shape of the lake. It was pouring down rain all morning. Of course I am confined to wearing my Brikenstocks while I am here because I strained my tendon and can’t have any pressure on the back of my foot. Hence, my feet and Birks become sopping wet as we trudge through the puddles down towards the dock. We finally boarded the boat and started the morning off with a sermon from their preacher about Jesus and Peter walking on water, the storms, and some of the miracles performed around the lake. Hymns were sung, the usual Awesome God. (which the pastor didn’t know the words to which I found hilarious!- but in good way, he had a great sense of humor about it) We got to witness a couple who are Messianic Jews (Jews who believe Jesus is the Messiah) renew their wedding vows. It was a total surprise to his wife and it was a beautiful little ceremony on the lake. As the rains came down blowing through the plastic window-like coverings along the outer-rims of the boat we continued in song. The sun broke through the clouds just in time for the end of the wedding and was stunningly beautiful as it cast light over the surrounding areas of the lake, washed fresh anew with the spring rains. Everything here is in bloom because of the early hot weather we experienced early on. Mustard seeds, violet, thyme, daisies, even almond trees are blooming on the hillsides where the beginnings of Christianity sprouted thousands of years ago. I have really been challenged on this tour. I constantly question my beliefs, what I think is the correct approach to religion (for me) and the historical accuracy of religious texts. I spoke with the Pastor today, asked him if he takes the bible literally, short answer: yes. Long answer: looks at the Book of Revelations with a critical eye, which I thought was an interesting answer. The most amazing thing about this trip; whether or not I declare myself a believer in Jesus, which I still am questioning- experiencing this aspect of Israel from a Christian perspective has added a completely new dimension to my faith and understanding of a book I have read since I was a little girl. The Bible makes so much more sense to me now. The geographic dimensions, climate, pathways, and general influence of the area- it all clicked. I only wish my family had been with me for this. My Dad is such a history buff and I think it would’ve been great to ask him about how everything molds together, historically speaking.
Anyways we went to a Kibbutz afterwards for a look at a boat found from the first century. I was getting a soy Americano, my typical pick me-up. Ever since that darn country of Italy, I have been addicted to coffee. It started with the espresso families served me in the morning, continued with the coffee I drank daily before class at the American University in Cairo, and has been solidified by the free coffee provided by my Kibbutz. I am now addicted. And I love it. I love the smell of coffee, the shape of the beans, the colorful bags.
Ok, just checked myself. Wow. I wrote a paragraph of how much I love coffee. See what all this touring is doing to me? I am delirious in my sleepiness. (But still love coffee) Continuing, we visited ruins of a bathhouse and amphitheater near the Jordanian border. We literally passed the Jordanian flag and a military outpost. I got motion sickness so was more interested in what our tour guide so affectionately refers to as the “Peepee-tourium” than I was in the amphitheater. Thank the lord humans invented medicine- the Bonine returned me to my normal state. Lunch was at another Kibbutz, of fish and salads. Today was baptism day and just about everyone in the church got baptized in the Jordan River. I abstained. If I am ever baptized in the Jordan River I want it to be by my parents. Everyone was so moved by the experience, and I become the camera lad y. I think at one point I had 6 camera’s in my hands- snapping back and forth between the people dressed in their bathing suits draped in white robes. Now, I am absolutely exhausted. I can’t even be reflective about my religious experiences today. Out of all the people (and most are 50 and over) I am the old grandma. It’s my bedtime darn it, and I’m tired! So to bed I go. Tomorrow is Masada, the Dead Sea and Jerusalem at sunset.

The Christian Tour

On the Christian tour now….we are singing a Christian song as I type. Feeling way out of place, but will figure it out. I’m just not used to the Christian stuff. The outward, tangible expressions of Christianity. Not that there aren’t any present at my church. But, where I come from, personal expression of religion is expressed in a more conservative manner. Maybe I have boxed myself into my creative interpretation of what I believe is Christianity. Anything outside of the comfort zone of Christianity I have created makes me highly uncomfortable.
Last night I met my roommate Debra Waldman who is friends with Peggy Knockman- an amaingly kind woman who used to babysit me when I was a little girl… such a small world. I immediately met three of the pastors of Christ Fellowship, his wife and the circle of people surrounding him. They were very welcoming as I waited for Meredith and Richard to arrive on the last bus. I met great people, whom were all exhausted from their flight from Florida. I dropped of my outrageous bright orange backpacking backpack in my amazingly large, spacious room across from the beach at the Dan Panorama hotel. I met my roommate who was surprised that I was there, funnily enough. (Apparently she wasn’t expecting me until next week) She is the sweetest lady, and introduced me to all her friends. We ate dinner together, chatted about what journeys in their lives brought them here, why they are taking this trip. One of the ladies was a Québécois and quite well traveled. Another was this tall blonde woman who reminded me of me a little. She loves traveling, adventure and was all about going for a walk, seeing the neighborhoods and going into the sketchy places where tourists really shouldn’t go. After a HUGE buffet dinner (as in ridiculously huge- extensive-aromatic- delicious-did I say huge?!?) I took everyone for a walk down the pier- showed them the main sights, pointed out the port and city of Yaffa and ended up explaining a lot of history that I knew about the area. For example, there are so many cats in Israel because when the British came to occupy Palestine they brought cats with them because there was such a large problem with rats. Ever since they brought them over after WW1 the cats have been breeding like rats (how ironic!) and overwhelm the streets.
I slept so well and boarded the bus after an overwhelming breakfast. We are now on our way to Caesarea. Here are some of the questions asked on the tour bus this morning: Is the name Jew derogatory? How long is the school day? What is Zionism? Are you Christian? What are main industries in Israel? How much is gas? (Answer $8.50/gallon) Everyone on my tour was genuinely sweet, one of my favorite characteristics of Christians in general; they tend to be such kind-hearted people, emanating an inner joy. We were divided into 5 buses and were off. Caesarea was beautiful, with seaside beaches which reminded me of Prince Edward Island. Gently jagged rocks with slow waves and bits of beach, the Roman amphitheater was beautifully positioned, conveniently located next to the ancient palace of King Herod. This king was manic-depressive and basically killed everyone who was close to him including his wife, children and advisors. The story of Paul was told about him witnessing. To be honest, I was confused with the Christian connection they were making except for the fact that a disciple Paul was put on trial here. The Pastor gave a great sermon that focused on sharing your faith, which I don’t necessarily agree with unless someone asks you about your personal beliefs, but I listened with an open mind and an attempt at an open heart. I am trying so passionately to figure out what I believe, why I am here and how the heck I have gotten here. How is it that, the girl who wanted to become a senator has lived abroad basically now for 4 semesters and wants to move abroad to work with NGO’s become me?
At lunch I sat with a sweet elderly lady who spoke with me about her life (literally the whole thing) over an hour of a falafel lunch. Another woman asked me if I spoke Jewish. I giggled. (But of course I said, yes I am learning to speak Hebrew.)
I want to believe what I believe because I believe it. While that may seem obvious, so many are Jewish, Christian or Muslim, Zoroastrian, or whatever, simply because that is the religion they were born into. Not me. My faith is just that, mine. To discover, to cradle, to hold, to honor, I want a faith to be confident in. I want to know why I believe something. But most importantly I want to know why I believe in this and not in all the other religions.
On the tour we saw Mt. Carmel, the valley of the Armageddon, the supposed sight of Earth’s final battle, the hill where Jesus was chased up because he read the wrong section of the Torah (and the Jews were not happy about him claiming to be a messiah- this Jesus boy they knew growing up with) and parts of Nazareth. Our bus almost fell off of this hill, which was a high point. We all had to disembark unload luggage out of the back of the bus so it wouldn’t fall over the side of the mountain, and get locals to assist us with tying ropes to the bottom of the van and all the men pulling it up. I’m waiting for some kind of feeling. I’m not expecting a burning bush God like appearance but I want a feeling, I want to be able to take that leap of faith into whatever I believe. It is starting to come together, to make sense. I’ll explain soon I suppose. (When it all becomes able to be expressed concisely)