Piece of Mind Peace of Heart

The Tzfat bug bite, and I've been in this peaceful wave since Pesach. I was lucky enough to hike right after my Pesach in Tfat, then return to school for two days before they took us to none other than... Tzfat. I have been drawn to the serene city nestled in the mountaintops overlooking the Kineret. I find a lot of beautiful spirituality here. Not to mention, I love the art. I think I'd like to live here...

Yeah, I'd love to live here.

A Theoretical Conversation With My Father

I'm standing in my Neve dorm room, pacing back at forth. Now, I am downstairs in my family's kitchen sitting with my family and it's the middle of June 2012, eight weeks from now. My parent's are eager to hear about what I learned this year... I'm still pacing.

Mother: It's so good to have you home, Rebekah! I missed you so much!

I cringe. When was the last time someone called me by that name? I have gotten so used to Aviva...

Father: So, did they brainwash you? He laughs a tremendous, half-serious laugh. How was it? What did you learn?

I'll take a moment to think... or at least pretend to think, after all I have been preparing for this moment the moment I stepped off the plane in Israel, ten months back.

Me: What did I learn? Well... I learned a whole bunch of things...

And that's the moment I realize that sounds no good. I try again.

Me: I mean... I learned Torah, Mishna, Pirke Avos, Halacha, Chassidus and some Kabbalah.

I pause again, I'm not sure they have any idea what half that stuff means. If they have even heard of it, I'm not sure they understand what it's all about.


I can see my mom nodding with a polite smile and return to what ever work she was doing upstairs. 


Me: Well, I guess what I really learned was... Hm. I didn't really learn.. Well...


Again I pause... I can't BELIEVE I have been preparing for this moment for ten months and am still caught without an answer!


I close my eyes in a brief moment of meditation. I open them. 

Me: Dad, it was a very interesting year. I'm sure you think that they brainwashed me, or that I joined a cult... 

Those two terms, yuck! "Brainwash" and "cult" have swirled around in in my parents vernacular ever since my brother became religious, and then when I was soon to follow. Apparently a lot of secular Jews and non-Jews honestly believe that we all have been "brainwashed" to join a "cult" with the rise of the Baalei Teshuva movement... there is no point arguing semantics *sigh* a 4,000 year-old religion is not a cult. 

Me: I mean, you may think that I've joined a cult and been brainwashed... but I think I've figured it out.

He is wearing an amused look.

Me: You know when you get a headache and you know something is just not right? Then you take off your glasses and stop straining your eyes. Finally, you realize your glasses no longer work right? That you may be seeing the world a little fuzzy? 


Father: Yea?


Me: Well, you go to Moshe!

Ironically, Moshe was the first Orthodox Jew I came in "contact" with (teehee). He is my family's ophthalmologist...

Me: Moshe will put that big thing in front of your face and ask, "one, two or three, four?" until you can see the world clearer. That was this year for me. I haven't changed... not really anyway. The only thing I have done was fix my prescription. I fixed some of my near-sightedness. I know I may do a lot of things that are different from when I left, but it's not because I was brainwashed. I just started to see the world a little more clearly. 

Not bad, I think to my self. Uh-oh... he's giving me that look. That you-are-out-of-your-mind look. This is my chance, if not now... never. What do I do? Panic mode! 

Me: You know... I have been struggling with a lot of things about becoming religious... It's not easy one bit. Yea, I know there are a lot of laws and things that I now keep, that I didn't last year... but it has nothing to do with that, per say. It's not keeping the Torah and it's laws that is hard.

He's raising his eyebrows... is he interested or is he mocking me? Oh, I don't know! Deep breath! 

Me: The fuzzy line I once stood on, during high school, is now clear to me, and I realized I'm not on it, I have actually crossed it. This line is my morals and ethics. The hard part about this journey is realizing I may have been wrong. In fact, I was wrong! Once I thought I was alright to do stupid things, like be condescending and disrespectful to you and Mom, however justified I felt. But, this also goes for keeping Shabbos. At one point I thought it didn't matter and now I realized it does! All of this matters a lot! I need to do both...

Alright, Viv's, VivaLaVida (as my roommate calls me), Aviva, Bek, Bekah, Rebekah... make this a conversation he will remember. Try and take away as many doubts as possible. Show him your not any more out of your mind then when you left....

Me: This year has been about seeing the world more clearly. And I have been struggling to change accordingly. I'm not any more perfect than when I left... as in, I'll never be. But, I'm trying my best now. This year, I didn't learn Torah, Mishna, Pirke Avos, Halacha, Chassidus and some Kabbalah... I learned a new way of thinking... a new way of problem solving. I have gained a new skill in critical thinking and analyzing and asking the right questions. I learned what I believe to be moral and ethical behavior, as well as what is appropriate and further, what is appropriate as a Jew. I know we disagree on what the Universal Truth is... but that's okay. You should be proud of me... I'm doing the best I can... Im trying... I'm growing... I'm living my dreams... I'm living the best way I know how...

Deep breath. I suck the air in through my mouth and exhale through my nose. Repeat. My eyes are shut tight. Repeat, in... out. In, out.

I stop pacing. I open my eyes. My legs are sore, I must of been pacing my Neve dorm room for at least 45 minutes. I wonder what time it is, but I have no clocks in my room. I can't check my phone for the time, it's still Shabbos. I wonder what my mom and dad are doing. I make a mental note to call them after Havdalah. 

I wonder how my father would of taken that conversation. I mean... I wasn't really talking to him. Well, maybe just a little bit. As I paced around my room his image wasn't the only one I was talking to. I saw my closest friends back from Eisner (the Reform Summer camp I attended). I saw all my old buddies from NFTY. I saw the various people I may run into from EIE (my semester in Israel program). I saw the Rabbis of the various Reform and Conservative shuls I once attended. I saw my high school friends. I saw myself at sixteen. I was talking to all of them... all of them theoretically, of course...

My Spiritual Spring Break

I don't know if cities have souls- for every city has their own character. Jerusalem is the grandfather of cities, intense and powerful. Sometimes I feel swallowed by the the expansive Jerusalem stone and lost in Har Nof's conformity. Recently, this powerful intensity had been bothering me- I feel the stones melt into Iron. B"H, Pesach couldn't have come quick enough! I needed to breathe and starting on the 23 of March (Rosh Chodesh Nissan) I was free from school to choose what ever it is I would like to do.

I winded down my first week of vacation, just getting out of school mode, and relaxing. The second week, I went on a hike with a few girls from my school to a bat cave by Beit Shemesh, which unsurprisingly turned into a beautiful two-three hour exploration (aka: getting lost in the woods). Then, a few days later, I took two friends to Kibbutz Tzuba! I got to visit my old home and BOY was I surprised! A few factories popped up at the entrance, but more importantly, once on the kibbutz, I realized this was my home three years ago! Three years?! Wow. But, more than that, it felt like Paradise! It looked like paradise with all of the foliage and flowers abloom. Then, I took my friends to Tel Tzuba, the archeological site, and then hiked down and up the next mountain to Sataf. In Sataf, we trailed through some of the oldest agricultural findings in Judea & Samaria to three beautiful fresh water springs, one of which I took them inside to see the water drip from the limestone. If that was all I did, I would of been happy enough. But then, Pesach and Chol Hamoed came. Still one week left of exploration.

For the first Seder and Shabbat, I went to the Art Colony in Tzfat and enjoyed spending it with this great family. The mother was a wonderful artist and the very cheerful father helped run the business downstairs, both Baalei Teshuva. They had five beautiful children running around. I can say that this was the highlight of my month. While in Har Nof, I see the Yeshivish-Haredi families and how they work, what it's like and all of that... I don't often enough get a chance to see how OTHER types of Orthodox families work. Like, how they celebrate Shabbos, what kind of minhagnim they are doing, and how they go about teaching their children Torah. In this family, I got a feeling I don't normally get. They spoke about Torah, like a secular teenager would talk about their crush: they had overwhelming affection in their eyes. I really enjoyed the way the father shared mussar from Reb Shlomo Carlebach as well as from other well-known rebbeim with a sense of great joy and faith. It was... a very, very positive experience for me.

Once I came back to Jerusalem, I was feeling such a new and positive energy that I couldn't sit still. I wasn't yet ready to stay stagnant in Jerusalem, like I had been for the last few months. A day later a friend and I took off to the woods and spent all of Chol Hamoed camping with a group of people among the fresh and beautiful valleys and woods outside of the greater Beit Shemesh area. Not exactly sure where I was, no electronics, and more matzah than I would of ever wanted... I celebrated the most liberating Pesach I've had yet.

Back in civilization for the last days of Hag, I walked to the Kotel to finish off my journey. In the heart of Jerusalem, where the Shechina still rests, the Iron walls faded back to gold Jerusalem stone. I am rejuvenated and excited to return to my studies with eagerness of a curious mind and an open heart.

I Remember

I was sitting at a bench, reminiscing with my friend, who has been one of my closest friends since we came to Israel together in high school. Since then, I have become religious and am now studying at seminary... while he joined Tzahal and became a real kibbutznik. As we chatted, I told him about the rough month I have been having. It's honestly been one of the worst months for me, feeling like the sky had fallen down. 


I had a really bad experience at the beginning of the month, followed by a few deaths and a lot of painful soul-searching and "Pesach cleaning," trying to rid myself of some Mitzrayim. He was sympathetic and then we changed subjects. 


He told me he visited the Kotel the day before, which, caught me by surprise. I confessed that I hadn't been to the Kotel recently... I was avoiding it at all costs. I was having a lot of trouble praying and I was angry at Gd. To tell you the truth, I was REALLY angry at Gd. I felt like he has put me through a lot of really unfair and hard trials and didn't tell me why. Didn't make it clear what problem I had to fix or what tikkun was needed for a past life. But, what ever it was, I was angry. I felt like that four year old girl who was given a good potch from her mother, and was now sitting in the corner staring, refusing to talk. With her arms folded and mouth pursed, holding the expression of unforgivingness... I felt like that four year old, arms crossed... waiting for the "I'm sorry" from Gd, that I knew was never going to come. 


As ridiculous as I felt, no one had done anything to change my mind until my friend said something I would of NEVER expected: "I don't CARE if you're angry with Gd. That doesn't give you the right to not go to the Wall. Even if you don't pray, you still go there. If not to pray, to remember." To remember?


What he has said startled me. For some reason, I took what he said especially hard and started thinking. Two days later, I walked an hour and a half to the Kotel, unsure what I was doing there. I stood by the large, cold stones on the bright sunny Shabbat afternoon... I slipped into my bag and grabbed my white Artscroll siddur. Before I knew it, I was saying the Amidah. 


Hashem's "sorry" never came, but like four year olds, you just forget. Forget why you're angry at your mom, forget that you're not on speaking terms... And I forgot. I forgave. I moved on. I started praying. And the potch stopped hurting.  


I'm not sure how a soldier giving a seminary girl mussar, on a bench at the end of Ben Yahuda, works... but it worked for me, and I have been remembering ever since.

Forgive Me for my Drunkeness

     Though Purim is two days done, I still wanted to mention an interesting experience I had (and I'm not just talking about partying in Nachlaot). I had this incredible time dressing up and exploring the streets, seeing the religious communities I live in and often visit, in a more colourful light. I was happy to see happiness... something I often get drained from when only seeing black and white. But what made this Purim a truly inspiring event, turned out absent from my all my notebooks.

     After classes upon classes (from dissecting the Megillah to the halachot) and reading books on my own time (I loved The Miracles of Purim Part I and II by Rav Shlomo Brevda based off of commentary by the Vilna Goan), I was catching Rabbis and friends off guard with my new found knowledge. I felt great that in two weeks I had learned SO much about Purim I was teaching OTHER people. Not bad for a new Baalat teshuva. But, honestly, I was missing something. I didn't like how everything was so unilaterally focused on getting smashed, or conversely, the holiness of the day. I felt a disconnection between what I was learning and the festivities. I was told by some Rabbis that it had to be this holy, heightened and semi-normative experience OR by other Rabbis it was supposed to be this drunken chaotic mess. Either way, I was feeling a huge disconnect, and it was only growing the more I learned this day is supposed to be about Jewish unity. 

     And that's when Gd stepped in... and by Gd I mean that's when I serendipitously went to Rabbi Refson Jr.'s class, the last class before Purim break. Rabbi Refson sat down and started speaking about the spirituality of Purim. I was busy organizing my more... solid.... notes, while listing in on his passionate speech. Eventually, I focused my attention on his speech, as opposed to fiddling with my notes, because what he was saying to me started to seep in and resonate. 

     The sun fell, and Purim came in. I dutifully went to hear the entire Megillah, from first word to last, in all of its entirety, like I was taught. Instead of being tested on the ideas, Hebrew, and halcaha that I knew, I was tested in a much more interesting way. Ten minutes into this reading I was getting overwhelmed. I stifled a surprising swell of emotion and tears and had to stand up and pace in the back of the room. I often say the hardest thing about becoming religious is not being able to take back so many of the things I have seen or done. But more specific than that, it is the deep ball of regret that weighs you down. It is in the pit of your stomach, tearing at your insides. Even all the Yom Kippurim in the world can't lighten or relieve this feeling. That's why, when I heard the Megillah, I had to hold back this flood gate of tears. 

     Rabbi Refson had said that Purim is one of the holiest days of the year. In fact, after the Moshiach comes, the only two holidays that will be celebrated are Yom Kippur and Purim. I understand Yom Kippur, our day of repentance, but why Purim? Purim is the day when Hashem looks at us and says he accepts our prayers and loves us no matter how much we screw up (like the intermarrying and idol worship that took place during the time of the Purim story). Gd loves us and wants us to enjoy the world He has created and will save us when we seem unredeemable. So, while listening to our story, I realized even when I mess up pretty badly, and feel like all the Yom Kippurim in the world can't and won't fix my mistakes, I still have Purim to realize Hashem will always love me and THAT made my mistakes and regret a lighter load to carry. 

Shades of Gray

HOW I FEEL RECENTLY:

A Thousand Words

Sometimes I'm not in the mood to write all about what I'm learning, but still want to express it:

"Kotel Cries" 

I was davening at the Kotel, for the fifth day in a row, during Sukkos. I got to the Shmona Esrei, and as I was enunciating the Hebrew at a painstakingly slow rate, a women right next to me began to bawl her eyes out. I was annoyed. I was trying to daven! I couldn't concentrate. Eventually, I took a breath to look up and saw a small, newborn's hand in the crying woman's hand.  She was touching and kissing the wall. She took her baby's hand and put it against the cold stone and brought it to the infant's lips. It was a really beautiful sight, so a few days or weeks later, I found myself drawing the scene. 

"Kiddush Hashem- Rabbi Mintz"

Sometimes you think so hard during the day, your mind wanders off. As this great Tzadik spoke to us on kiddush Hashem, I couldn't concentrate on his words, so instead my notes on the subject ended up being a portrait of him. Close enough,

"Stone Flag"

Doodle of the Israeli flag layered with the kotel, and the prayer you say at the Kotel.

"People are always looking for the city of Happiness, but don't realize it is a state of mind."

-Rav Pam

"Metallic Malach" Oil and sharpie on Canvas. 

Represents an angel with six arms and six (metallic) wings holding a baby and overseeing the world. If your interested in why this picture came to me... in class we were talking about the "creations of Gd." But I began to think... a robot is a creation of man, just like a child is a product of man... robots have no choice, while humans have freewill. So whose stronger, human or robot? This parallels to Gd's servants (the angels). Who runs the world? Man or the Metallic angels?