My West Bank Story

No, there were no competing falafel stands, however there was still a love story. This time, though, it was between Gd and the Jewish people.

Two years ago, today, on Shavuos, I walked into Chabad for the first time. Two years ago I started a journey that I would never expected to lead me here. On the day the Gd gave the Jewish people the Torah, the symbolic ring in the marriage between Gd and His people, I too stood at Sinai to receive that very same gift.

Shavuos is the holiday we received Torah. But why is it named Shavuos? "Shavuah" means "week," "shavuos" being the plural for "weeks." Why is does the greatest day of the Jewish peoples' lives called weeks? If anything it should be "THE day" or something commemorating the momentous event. We have an idea that Shabbos (the weekend) was given to us to transcend the physical and connect to the spiritual. But what about the rest of the week? Torah is our guidebook for living a spiritual life through the mundane week. The day we commemorate receiving Torah we also celebrate getting the ability to transcend the physical during everyday life. This limitless idea of Torah is also said to explain why Hashem had to "wake up" the Jewish people.

Beyond the pashut (simple) of Hashem waking us up so that we, the Jewish people, could hear his lightning and see his thunder and accept his Torah forever, we realize sleeping comes with the idea of limitlessness as well. We not only got Shabbos and the ability to transcend physicality during the week, but additionally, we got the ability to do so while awake. Before recieveing Torah the Jewish nation went to sleep to let their minds slip into a limitless reality. After matan Torah (the giving of he Torah), we could do so while awake.

The ideas of our souls standing on Mt. Sinai, but having first, to be awoken, sit particularly well with me. And not because I have a nice image in my head of Hashem gently waking us up and giving us a gift. In fact, it must of been terrifying to here the word of Gd (apparently we died a few times after hearing him speak)! The reason I so strongly identify with this imagery, of every Jewish soul (was and will be) being awoken to receive Torah, is because I literally was given Torah on Shavuos half-asleep.

On Shavuos, I walked into Chabad, for my very first time, and received this Torah "half-asleep." I was yearning to learn about my people and heritage, but I had no idea what I was doing. On that very same day, two thousand years prior, my people found themselves in that very same predicament: needing to be awoken.

Woah. Two years, ten months, and ten days. Woah. 

Two years ago, I walked into Chabad the first time. Ten months ago, I came to Israel to awaken my soul and learn all I could about my Judaism. Today, on Shavuos, I was in the West Bank on a settlement learning all night preparing to receive Torah while awake and alert. And in ten days, I go back to America to see what has happened to me since I first heard of the story of Gd and the Jewish people falling in love.

Last Day of School

I haven't a single regret.

I can't say I didn't get what I came for. I can't say "I wish I did," "I wish I didn't," "Why couldn't I have," or the likes. I did what I came here to do: I found Truth. More specifically, I found out just how little I know. Better still, I found out what I have to look forward to learning for the rest of my life!

I'm sure you're all familiar with my "becoming religious story" and even if not, at least you will know this piece.  I first came to Michlelet Esther in September with no idea of anything. I knew I was on a righteous quest to find Truth and commit myself to what ever it was. And over the last year, I have transformed from the "Unorthroprax Baalat Teshuva" into an orthodox Jew. I am as unique as my person, but I am no longer "unorthroprax" (fully believing but not practicing). I am no longer the flaming Baalat Teshuva fighting for independence as my real test and having religion as my cause. I no longer feel in the dark about my Jewish past, either, no longer having to censor what I can ask about Torah for fear of not getting a suitable answer. I can ask any Rabbi and they will find me an answer that sits well with me, even if they have to come back a few days later or try ten different ideas.

This year has provided me with a solid foundation for my Jewish studies in the coming years, but as I have previously mentioned in a prior blog, this year has adjusted my glasses prescription. I see the world through clearer, blue-and-white stained eyes. While I don't feel like I have really changed, I do know I see the world in a different way. This is what motivates me to prioritize my life a bit differently and reevaluate where I once stood. I'm not sure what I will be up to for the next couple of weeks I have left in Israel, however I know that now classes have ended, I am ready to start living my life the best way I now know how.

Calamity: Part Two

On Wednesday, February 18, 2009 I walked into Yad Vashem for the first time. After leaving, I realized I would never see the building, jutting out of the mountainside, the same way again. Last week, on Monday, May 14, 2012 I walked through those doors for a second time. As opposed to my first visit, I became quickly distraught... hyper sensitive after my experiences at the camps and at Yad Vashem my first time. But this hyper-sensitivity didn't come about in the way I expected. At first I thought I was over reacting, and then after much consideration... I think I was right. "Why was I so distraught?" I asked my self again, "Those stupid headphones just ruin everything!"

After arriving at the main desk in the museum, we received  headsets that transmitted what the tour guide softly whispered into his microphone. "Has anyone learned anything?!" I cried to myself! Now, I hope laughter doesn't ensue my honest request for perspective, but I sincerely wonder why we have to take out the human element in EVERYTHING! We have cell phones, ipods, ipads, portable computers, and electronics for our electronics... why, may I ask, in a museum about how Nazi's stripped us of our human identity, do we, Jews, have to follow in the like: take out the human element? I was infuriated, upset, distraught, and disappointed. I took off my headphones and stood by the tour guide. When I heard his voice... it was not through those damn earphones! But, I resign, I may have over reacted. But before I move away from this topic, I implore you to listen to one last point: I could of understood the use of them for the elderly or handicapped, but with thirty young women closely packed in, tight, I dread the thought of loosing the human element.

After drifting off from the group and wandering the halls of my mind. I think I understood why the Holocaust makes me hyper sensitive. After all, I was in it.

As an advanced reader (testing at an eleventh grade reading level in second grade) I had a wide range of books available to me.Sadly. however, this made the books available to me void of age-appropriate censorship. One Holocaust book after another, I had a perfect picture of what the Shoah looked like by age ten. May I ask you if you know what the ridges of bones look like in a living skeleton? At around thirteen years of age, I was constantly having nightmares about the Holocaust. Some dreams I luckily died in, shooting me awake. Others, I watched my entire family die time after time. And others, I watched as friends and people I had once known betray me. B"H they were only nightmares and I eventually woke up. But after being horrified night after night I realized something utterly depressing: I woke up. Real Holocaust survivors, the people who had physically been through the trauma died asleep. They never woke up from their nightmares. I go to these Holocaust memorial sites and shutter to think if I was born in another generation, I may have not awoken from my many nightmares.

After I had settled on this notion, some of the "holocaust survivors dying while asleep," I decided to go find the group I had wandered away from. "Stupid headphones," I mumbled to myself. As I weaved in and out of the displays I looked up and I shuttered.

She was standing there like usual. Her long hair was flowing in the wind, like the edge of her long skirt. Her baby was pressed against her chest, while she whispered softly into her ear. That baby hasn't grown one bit, since I saw them both last. I take a deep breath and I walk up to them.


Hi. It's been a while, I'm sorry. Here, let me take her for you. No? Well, at least let me cry for you. I'm sorry. Why? Well, because you are much stronger than I. Wait what? No, no... I'm not being modest. Sincerely, you have much more strength than I. I have a question for you: are you tired of just standing there? What do you mean, what do I mean? I mean are you tired of just standing there? Why didn't you turn around? Why didn't you try to run? Weren't you tired of just standing there?! I suppose your right. Sorry, for getting upset at you. But I hate it. Hate what?! I hate how he just stood behind you like that. I DON'T CARE he was only doing his JOB! He was SIX FEET AWAY! You're too forgiving, I would of asked Hashem that he'd rot in hell. Don't "Chas V'shalom" me! Can't you look at yourself! He held a rifle to your head six feet away! You had your sweet baby in your arms! Her feet dangled above your shallow grave! ... If I can't change any of this, at least let me cry for you. 

I walked away from the black and white photograph feeling empty inside. I wanted to cry for her and her baby like I nearly did three years ago when I first met them. That picture is the cornerstone of my Holocaust education. I will meet that woman every time I step into that museum. That single picture was my calamity.

As I moved to the heroes of war. I ran into my friends and I was ready to leave. I had seen who I had come to see. Now, my group walked outside and moved onto Har Herzel, the cemetery for fallen soldiers.With numerous friends in the army and Yad Vashem lingering behind me, I looked at the graves and realized what it meant. The Holocaust led to the founding of Eretz Yisroel. These men and women are what made it real. In fact, they are what MAKE Israel real. My sadness slowly melted away as I thought of my goofy friends in the army and now I found myself smiling. I am in Israel today. I am in Eretz Yisroel. Oh my gosh, I live here. When did I start living the dream? My entire past vanished and I became excited for the future.

One day none of any of this is going to matter. One day the Beis Hamikdash will stand, the moshiach will be here, and we will once again be connected to our Source. I laugh again, when did I get here?

Lag B'Omer

Have you ever seen half a million Jews? On Lag B'Omer I did! I got to Meron at 23:00 and stayed until 6:00 and had quite the night. I saw thousands of people dancing, thousands camping out, hundreds of thousands mulling about.  While there was a fair share of crazy pushing I was so thrilled to see so many Jews in one place. I have to say is was awesome. I plan to camp out there next time I'm in Israel for Lag B'omer! =D

Nineteen

If someone asked me my age, I don't know what I'd say. Biologically, I just turned nineteen. Experience wise, I'd say I'm a solid twenty-five. Emotionally, I feel like I'm three. Just lovely.

In all honesty, I was pretty upset about turning nineteen. I think I nearly had a panic attack until I realized I should take a rain-check on the mid-life crisis. But, to get you on my mind set: I am living on my own and I don't have a job, I don't know what I want to do and I'm a wreck... At least my hair isn't turning grey. Point is, I feel like I'm nineteen going on forty and I don't handle stress well. So I took a deep breath and thought about the last year of my life. Let's start with my eighteenth birthday...

I lied. I don't remember it (GAH I'm already loosing my memory!). Just kidding... but seriously, I sadly don't remember it. A month after, I graduated from high school. I started keeping the laws of Tznius.  I had an amazing summer with the most amazing people doing crazy things. I worked at a farm, a mall, and a a local Hebrew School. I went to California on Heritage Retreats to learn Torah. I met Rabbi Refson and two-three weeks later I ended up moving to Israel to attend seminary. I started keeping Shabbos. I started to pray. I learned the brochos over my food. I learned how to read Rashi. I traveled and hiked Israel. I re-fell in love with my yiddishkeit. I committed myself to a life of Torah. I decided I wanted to serve Hashem. I grew up just a little more. I turned nineteen.

Once I took a deep breath and looked back at my year. I decided turning nineteen wasn't the end of the world. Eighteen was full of surprises and plot twists, but I see what I have accomplished and how I have grown. I literally see a Cinderella-worthy transformation and I am grateful to everyone who has helped me and encouraged me to grow.

In contrast to my foggy eighteenth birthday, I spent my nineteenth birthday in a completely different way. On both days, I had spent with close friends. But this year, I was in Eretz Yisroel. This year, I was religious. And ironically, this year, my English and Hebrew birthday fell on the same day signifying my transformation.

I went out with friends at night and woke up early the next morning to go to the Kotel. I spent my day in a blissful, spiritual state enjoying giving blessings and tzaddakah, in hopes of changing the world just a little bit. I talked to my friends and family and enjoyed all the facebook "congrats" while I cleaned up my room in preparation for Shabbos. My friends surprised me with a beautiful white Artscroll Tehillim book (to match my Siddur) with the most heartfelt inscription on the inside and my English/Hebrew name printed on the cover ("Rivkah Zissel Aviva"). Then, as the day got later, my seminary left to go to Moshav Matitiyahu where we welcomed in Shabbat, and I said goodbye to my birthday.

My nineteenth birthday was a mix of my spiritual and religious lives; and for some reason, I can't help but think that it represents what the next year will be for me: intertwining the two separate worlds I have created. I plan on trying to integrate my religious life with my secular one, instead of walking on the fine line between both worlds. And I guess I knew that line-walking had to come to an end eventually anyway. I'm just happy this year has provided me the foundation to do it in a sane and feasible way.

I have been blessed with so much this last year. I have had incredible people both come and, sadly, leave this year. I have had wonderful times and eye-opening experiences. I have journeyed miles and, Thank Gd, found Truth. I am so grateful for everything in my life, and I wish that you all, too, make the most out of your year and find direction and what your looking for!