A Few Farewells

With school ending, I figured it wasn't such a big deal. I have started and ended so many programs (7 summers at camp, NFTY-EIE, two dozen NFTY/SMOOCHY kallahs, UMC, High School, and more) I figured I was pro at saying goodbye. But as my friends start trickling out of the Neve dorms and back to America, I realized how each single individual shaped my year... even the ones I never talked to much. To some I say goodbye forever, and some only for now, I laugh at the unexpected places time takes you.

In Jerusalem, this year, I have run into people I never thought I would see again! Just this week, I ran into a friend from UMC (urban mitzvah corp) from the summer of 2009. She lived in Florida, so I figured when I said goodbye it was forever. There was another friend from Florida, who made alyiah. I thought when we said goodbye at camp in 2007 it was also forever. But I guess not; I ran into her in NYC two years in a row and now in Israel. I thought I may never see one of my roommates from EIE, originally from Indiana, but now we often skype. Another girl from EIE ended up coming to Neve and I have been living with her, once again, for the last 8 months! And there is a girl I have known from 2002 and on the 22nd of every month, we reach out to each other to say hi. With all these people from all these different places, I have learned goodbye isn't always forever. And I have also realized, you can never become pro at it... with every individual it's a new and unique experience having to tell them you'll see them soon.

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!

Be Strong -יום הזכרון; Be Happy - יום העצמאות‎

 I know this is an interesting topic to approach post-becoming religious, but taboo seems to be my forte: Israel the State.

I may be a Torah-observant Jew living in a Haraedi neighborhood, called Har Nof, but I am still an avid supporter of the State of Israel. While my allegiance is to Hashem and I will always, always put Ertetz Yisroel above the state, I do not keep it a secret I wish to make political and religious Aliyah. I would like to be an Israeli Jew, not an American one. What does this mean, and why do I bring it up? 

As my dad always told me, "Don't forget America is the greatest country in the world." And to him, I have always replied, "I know." Because, in fact, I believe America is the greatest country in the world for civil liberties, human rights, and standard of living (see, this even PROVES I was born and bred American, haha). However, I am a Jew.  I am a Torah-observant Jew. I don't belong in America and, frankly, I believe too many people have become comfortable with their dusty suitcases by the door. Their grandchildren come to the house asking what the suitcase is for, while the owners of the bag have long forgotten what "exile" means. And while the dream is to return to Eretz Yisroel in the time of the Moshiach, I don't like pushing things off. I am a procrastinator. Maybe means no, and soon means never. I will not "maybe" go when the Moshiach comes knocking at my door. I will not tell him, "give me a minute, I'll be there soon." I'll be waiting for him at his house... knocking on his door. In the meanwhile, I will live in Israel the State enjoying my protection, benefits, and democracy. Eretz Yisroel is great, and I believe the State of Israel is the next best thing (right now) to the Moshiach... but why bring this all up? I will not only enjoy benefiting from living in Israel, I will enjoy serving it too. 

Yom Hazikaron was a very moving day for me. It took a lot of strength not to cry during a Masa presentation at the Latrun, where the families of soldiers and victims of terror were telling the stories of their lost love ones. It brought back a very familiar situation for me two years ago, when I was last in Israel for my first Yom Hazikaron. I have excerpt my blog post from that experience below, but first I'd like to preface it.

I want to bring in my blog from two... has it already been three years? Three years ago, because my views on personal loss have not changed. When I had written this blog, I had just lost a close friend from America, and connected my personal loss to the families of fallen soldiers and terror. But, I not only wished to express my shared pain in loss. I also wanted to share my envy of the soldiers' sacrifice for what they believed in. I suppose I had been reading too many romantic novels at the time... about dying for what you love. But even now, I believe when you are willing to live in Eretz and Medinat Israel... and serve Am Israel... and even die for it... you had truly lived for your ideals. And that is the something I respect and envy.

     I wouldn't call it the happiest day out of the year, although we should be celebrating life of soldiers that we knew,  or we wish we knew. The feeling of mourning still hanging in the stale air, no matter how many years has past since independence, and how many tears have been passed through our eyes...       The night was filled with tears and sorrow. John came back to me today. His death hadn't yet become a reality for me, but at the graves of the fallen, his smile came flooding back to me. His life had become a memory. These tekesim might have been about fallen soldiers, but I couldn't stop crying for my own personal loss. I held back tears thinking about John. I held them back as best I could.     I thought about the envy I felt for Israelis during this day. They all know someone who has died fighting for their country. This makes their connection with Israel written in blood. Those who lost a family member (son, brother, daughter, sister, husband, wife) buried their roots in the ground. How, how, how can I envy them? I have just lost a dear friend, and I cannot fathom even this loss, and to imagine... Envy? This is a very twisted reality in which we live, but it is true. I feel such deep sorrow for the lives lost, and for the family members. Can sense be made out of what I am saying?      I used to wish that I knew what loss felt like, that way I knew how to appreciate and understand when someone else goes through the same. So I could help comfort. I now know loss and I hate it. I hate the feeling of nothingness in your stomach, the lightness of my head, the heavy weight on my shoulders, the screaming inside my mind, the whimpers streaming our of my eyes accompanied by tears. Envy? Do I envy this feeling, so I can understand what it means to be physically tied with the land? Yes, yes I do. But, at the same time, when will I be able to share with you that a lost friend, a lost family member, is loosing a piece of yourself? A piece never to be replaced, damned to stay empty forever.      I can see myself serving my country. I can see myself loosing friends, and Gd forbid my family. I can see it. I can see me in a parallel dimension. These services might have not meant so much to the other kids on EIE, but for sure it meant the world to me. I know loss. He wasn't a soldier, but he was a friend. I thought about him during the service, and cried for him too. I have a mission to accomplish in Israel. I really believe I do. This felt like phase one. Only the beginning.     The importance of serving in the army has infiltrated my mind. From gadna, instilling my pride, and Jewish History, instilling my knowledge and history, today was a day for the dark underbelly of reality. What was the cost of my country? These soldiers, who were children. What, two, three, some four years older than I? The last 18 days have had me consistently thinking, what if I died? It's not a scary thought, because everyone does eventually... but it came down to the, "So what? It's one life out of many." I want to make a difference. An impact, and share my message. I don't care if I'm forgotten, I just want to live life, not let it pass by. Does that mean to do the normal things people do? Go to college, partying it up, forgetting that there is more life outside my window? Does it mean working mindlessly in an office to support a family that may or may not hold through years of wear and tear? What is life about? It's a question up for opinion... but it has been ringing in my ears with death larking behind, in the shadows of my mind. What is MY opinion, on how MY life should be led? I think I know what I want to do. I think I know how I want to help. But at the same time, I don't want to be one life out of many. I'd sacrifice my life for my country... but the question is would I be loosing a life of value, or of absent mindlessness? What does true sacrifice mean? What am I willing to risk?     Be strong, was the words of Yom Hazikaron, and be happy are the words of tonight. Sunset ended Memorial Day, and started Independence Day. Yom Ha'tzmeut, the day we got our country. 61 years ago, I got a homeland, other than the one I was born into. My country, my home. I will probably talk more about it tomorrow night, but for right now all I can think about is what was this day worth? Were the lives lost worth it? I believe so, but at the same time I always thought the people made the land holy, not the land making the people as such. When will Israel stop sacrificing its children's blood for survival? When?

I am looking at this, reading and rereading it again. I silently laugh, realizing that this is a peice of the puzzle that led me to end up where I am now: religious in Jerusalem. I now have a few friends in the Israeli Army, who are living my words, sharing my thoughts from the quoted blog.  But after a lot of thinking, I answered my very own question and decided I won't let my life pass me by. I won't be another kid "partying it up" in college and "forgetting life outside my window." I will live my life to the fullest and have the most meaning. However... man plans and Gd laughs. I did not make alyiah (though I still plan on doing so) and did not join the Israeli Army. I became religious and came back to Israel to go to seminary...

Today, my Main goal is to serve Gd. Yet, I would still like to serve Israel the State. The army is no longer a suitable environment for me, however, I plan on serving the country in other ways. I intend to participate in Sheruit Leumi (NAtional Service) and help the country of Israel by working with the people of Israel. But to put my plans aside... the reason I bring up my love for GD and my love for the State od Israel, is because of Yom Hazikaron, Rememberance Day. On this day I remember why I am proud to have a home in Eretz Yisroel. On this day, I am proud to have a home in the State of Israel, where my brothers and sisters are proud and willing to protect our nation. I am proud on this day to be apart of this nation. On this day, I am proud to be a Jew. And one day, I will be proud to be an Israeli Orthodox Jew living in my homeland, serving my Gd and my people.