The Flood Gates

         They say if you open your heart to Hashem the size of a pin-hole, He will open flood gates for you. This concept was taught to us at the very beginning of school. I guess because it relays the message of willingness. If you are willing to let Gd into your life, however small, he will enter and open your eyes wide, as long as your willing to see. I think my pin-hole was returning to Jerusalem and Succos was the gate.

          The intermediate days of Succos, Chol Hamoed, were relaxing. I mulled around town and campus just enjoying being in my bed. But what was really awesome was the Shemfest concert that took place in Beit Shemesh. I was front row for one of the bands, Moshav, which I have been listening to for years. It was pretty sweet to see them live in Israel. While there, I also ran into more of those "becoming religious faux pas" moments. As we got there, I was confused by the tarps dividing the area in front of the stage. After realizing all I saw were boys dancing, singing, jumping, and moving about, I realized it was a mechitza (a mechitza divides the men and women's side)! I have never seen a mechitza at a concert, but it was a cool experience being able to dance and jump around in public, despite the religious demographic. Another moment was when Yehuda Solomon (the lead vocalist) jumped off of the stage, maybe a meter away from me. I've been to concerts before... why wasn't he slapping hands? He runs over to the other side and starts high fiveing the guys. OH, shomer niggiah! Haha. Silly things like this made it not only a ballin' concert but a cool experience.

          For the last days of Succos, I had a wonderful time. I not only stayed by Rabbi Refson for the first days and slept by the wonderful women I had previously posted about, but for the last days of hag I was sleeping in the Old City! This great family let me come for two of the meals at their apartment, which overlooked the main square in the Old City. It's one thing to be in beautiful NYC overlooking the Hudson and Manhattan. It's another thing entirely to be in a city carved of stone, 4,000 years old, and holier than any other place in the world. Then, I slept down stairs at a Rabbi's house. I ended up chatting with him over breakfast/kiddush and we swapped stories. I was telling him about the stuff I particularly find interesting to read... kabbalah concepts, chassidus, and moral aspects. He ended up being the author of books like the ones I find enjoyable to read! He handed me a book and gave it to me as long as I passed it around. I finished it (it was really good!) and now there's a list of girls waiting for it. Just when you think things can't get better...

          During the last days of Chol Hamoed, Shmini Atzeres, and Simchas Torah (the last days of Succos) I davened (prayed) at the Kotel. I even decided to walk from where I live, an hour and a half away, to the Old City the day after hag- just because it was so powerful. When I first approached the Kotel, two years ago, it was a fascinating piece of history. But now, as a religious Jew, it is a symbol of the future and hope. I never understood the people who davened there with such great intensity. The ones who cried bewildered me. By the third day davening there, tears welled up. I finally felt like this place represented a yearning I personally have for the rebuilding of the Beis Hamikdash. The hope that one day my children will see peace and prosperity and Truth in the world. And the day after I left the Old City (on my Simchas Torah) I had the weirdest dream; I was at the Kotel. So the next day, despite my apprehension for walking there a fifth time, I went. While I was there nothing particularly interesting struck me. That is, until I got to the middle of the Amidah (the central prayer in Judaism). A young woman had made it to the Wall next to me. She started crying, profusely. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her kissing the wall, touching it, running her fingers over the cracks and dips. And in her hand was a smaller one. She leaned in so her young baby could feel the wall, kiss it too. I couldn't help but watch as she cried and held her baby. I think she also wishes her child will see the day when the Temple stands and when there is peace, tranquility, and Truth in the world.

           The last meals I had were a mix between at the school and at two of the school "mothers." My Rebbetzin, the one who set up my amazing Succos, had me for dinner on Shabbos. And our Rakezet had us for the last meal. By Havdallah, which recognized the end of Shabbos and the last of Succos and three-day hagim, I realized this was the most amazing experience I could have asked for. The floodgates are open.

Welcome Home Our Son & Solider!!!

Gilad Shalit

"We will have peace with the Arabs when they love their children more than they hate us."

Golda Meir

Today, Israel proved we love our children more than we hate the Palestinian enemy. We released over 1,000 of them, who have murdered and slain us, in order to get our Israeli son and soldier, Gildad Shalit, back. Tell the U.N. and the rest of the world, we are waiting for peace... but are the Arabs ready for it?

InTents Hag

          I sat down and explained to her why I didn't know where I was going for Sukkos. It was because I had no idea how the holiday worked. How many days? Which days are observed like shabbos? What do you mean by meals? So after a long chat, my Rebbetzin set me up to stay by a woman with two kids and  to eat all my meals by the dean of Neve, Rabbi Refson. Not only was I completely honored to have been invited to all the meals with Rabbi Refson and his wife, but I was also in for a big surprise for the woman I stayed with.

          She was a convert, a divorcee, an oleh (someone who has immigrated to Israel), and one of her sons has leukemia. I couldn't believe her story but she has had a fascinating life and is one of the kindest people I have met. And in light of this, we both misunderstood the set-up, and since I observe two days of hagim (you only observe one if you are Israeli), I ended up staying there three days longer than she expected. Not only that, but she was going somewhere for shabbos so she simply trusted me and gave me the key. It's not typical of the Jewish community to be this open and trusting, however this woman was wonderful in every way. But so, too, were the Refsons. I was blessed to eat at the Refsons' because I was able to ask questions and see how the meals in a Sukkah worked, what blessings to recite, and got great food from wonderful people. It's one thing to learn about Judaism, it's another entirely to actually live it. And with that I feel to have been blessed to have had an incredible experience during the first days of Sukkos. 

          But, with growth, comes many mistakes. I went to Tel Aviv right before sukkos and kind of had a "blast from the past," so to speak. I felt like I was walking the streets of New York back in my old setting. But it's one thing to go back to where you have gone, and another to go back as you were. I was in such a completely different mindset I felt it had been a mistake returning to Tel Aviv. And not because I didn't have fun, not because it isn't beautiful, and not because I don't love the city. It was because I was looking at the way people dressed and the things people were doing and the way the whole society worked as opposed to Jerusalem. It was so familiar. It felt like America. It was completely (in) my past. I'm not sure I liked re-walking through all of my mistakes. 

She Followed Me Home...

I have (re)named her: Shwarma

Asleep in my arms 

Black Board

          I feel like those ancient black boards where at the start of every class we wiped the board clean, with dust still shimmering in the air. Nothing is forgotten entirely, just pushed aside for more room to grow and move forward. Forgiven. Yom Kippur.

          Viduy, with true kavana, breached my lips and heart. I am embarrassed and regretful for sins and transgressions that I have done. It's very hard to accept wrong doing, it's a strike against my pride. But more so, against the humanity within me that recognizes that I may have hurt other people. And with that I felt a deep sense of connection to Yom Kippur this year, when I am at the point of my life where I am trying to grow the most. Being in seminary with big aspirations to learn and grow as a Jew, I can attest to the humility shown by sincere conviction which screams, "I can change. I can become better. There is always better. I will move forward." And I am grateful for this. Yom Kippur, despite the hungry stomachs and depressing atmosphere, has a true and subtle happiness knowing we are allowed to start clean.

           There may still be chalk and dust in the air, but I believe the remnants of the black bored adds a kind of beauty. It shows nothing is forgotten, only forgiven. It shows we all came from someplace and are going somewhere.

My Siddur

Overwhelmed and Struggling

HAPPY NEW YEAR! L'SHANA TOVA! It's officially 5772, and I'm already wiped out.

          I spent Rosh Hashana back in Armon Hanatziv with Noa and her family. I love being with them, like in the past. They are warm and open and welcoming. But I can't say that it was so easy this time around. I didn't know on hagim (holidays) it's like a mini-shabbos, so here I was with four days and difficult decisions. Do I go with them here and there for meals even though they drive? Do I do this or that? Am I allowed to do such and so? I mean they taught us all this wonderful stuff about Rosh Hashanah but they kind of left out the important things. So, in the backwards world of irony, I ended up feeling most comfortable in shul. Something that had never struck me as particularly comfortable growing up.

          The machzorim were all in Hebrew. In fact, if it wasn't for learning my aleph-beis (Hebrew alphabet), I wouldn't even know which siddur-looking book WAS the machzor. And the women sat up in the top balcony. This neither worried me or made me uncomfortable, except for the fact there were only a handful of women and dozens of men. In fact, it was only the scarcity of women is what made me uncomfortable. But all-in-all, this was the place out of all Rosh Hashanah I felt most comfortable. No worrying about if I was dressed properly, no need to wonder if I was breaking halacha. Just me in a room with Hashem. Mano y Mano as I joked around with my Israeli friends coming out of shul.

          I tried praying by the book, though my Hebrew is quite timid. And as the short one-hour-or-so service seemed to drone on, with me in the dust, I just decided to talk to Gd. So there I stood. Black long sleeves to my wrists, a purple and black dress dropping off below my waste to below my knees. Uncomfortable, unfamiliar, stockings hugging my legs. Black, sued shoes protecting my feet. I fit in pretty well (well, aside from the pierceings and short hair). But, what made me stick out this time, was none of that. It was the fact I was in my own little bubble talking to Gd, in English, under my breath as my face contorted with regret and hope and a vast closet of emotions that normally don't come out with prayer. Eyes shut tight, I wonder what a King would think of such rambling. After all, Hashem Hamelech, The King. And there I stood on his coronation day, asking for my Gd to be my King, while simultaneously admitting confusion and blindness, and asking for light. It was an extremely meaningful day to me, but I can't say it wasn't difficult or confusing.

          Shabbos, that followed, came in and out. I was tired of trying to figure out halacha I had no idea about. And I was just tired of holidays. I made it through, not in grace, but in struggle and on Saturday night I went home to my bed. Sitting there, waiting for my roommates, reflecting on the experience, one of my madrichot (counselor/dorm-mother/helper/friend) came into my room to see what was up. I told her I had a nice break (because being with people I love and know is always pleasant despite typical struggles). Here, she informed me of half day classes on the next day because of the Fast of Gedaliah. You want to make a Baalat Teshuva cry? Put two hagim and a fast day in a row. Especially when she is new to shabbos to begin with. I was basically mortified. Way too much for me. Overwhelming. But, I made it through the fast in one piece and am sitting writing this alive and well B"H. I suppose Hashem doesn't give you more than you can deal with... but boy can someone's breaking point be centimeters away from where they are pushed.

           After saying that, this may come as a crazy surprise: I'm also having a hard time with school because I don't find it challenging enough. Here's my reasoning: life is hard, school is not. Let me explain... the only way I can deal with life is if I'm well prepaired in school and other forms of education. I feel like I'm having such a hard time living a Jewish life is because I have yet to learn how to do it. Luckily, B"H, I ran into a wonderful girl who shares a class with me and also thinks a lot like me. We are both very intellectual and when it comes to classes we want straight up truth. We are emotional, love gushy stuff, adore kittens and boys... but when it comes to our education we want to learn solid fact and truth and don't want teacher's biases blocking us from learning material. In better words, we are analytical and want text-and-source-based curriculum. She is a year older than me, with a much stronger Jewish background than me, and is in a completely different type of program. But to meet someone who has the same independent academic learning style I was extremely impressed and pleased to have picked up some good learning habits from her. And this also helped perpetuate an idea I couldn't previously express during another class.

          As I was describing my opinions about they type of learning we were doing, all the other girls said what I viewed as a negative (less text-based learning) as their reason for going to Michlelet Esther in the first place. But, I was frustrated because they could of chose a multitude of seminaries where I got two main choices coming from no Jewish background: Neve Yerushalayim or Mayanot. Since my brother is yeshivish and the Rabbi who was helping me preferred Never I decided to attend Neve. But, because of my age, I could only really be put into M.E. for being 18 and only post-high school. So I was a little disappointed to realize I may be one of very few people in my school who is really motivated and yearning to grow leaps and bounds in Jewish halacha and lifestyle. I'm going to go talk to one of my Rabbi's soon, but I still am wondering what do I say? I mean, I'm here because I want to learn, but how do I tell them I want to learn, but I don't know what exactly I'm looking to learn, and their classes just aren't what I'm looking for... Luckily, I have a tutor, so we'll go over Shabbos halacha, and from there I'll  branch out. But I am still extremely unsure. It's like walking through a pitch black tunnel, knowing at the end there is light... but in the meanwhile your still blind so you keep walking.

          Being Jewish is not easy. And as I said to a few friends: Israel is neither the country for sleep nor comforts.