Another bit of religion from the Cantorial student
Today was my first Israel Seminar. This is a course we have every Wednesday where we talk about Israel, our relationship with the land, and actually go out into the land itself. Next week we're going up north the the Golan and Galilee for a couple of days to talk about "the New Jew."
When I first heard about this class, I thought it was going to be like the Bible study classes I had to deal with over the summer: stuck in an overcrowded lecture room with a professor talking at us for 2 hours, followed by a day comprising of hours of walking in extreme heat. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea. So, today's class was a really good surprise for me.
We took an entire morning to talk about our views of being in Israel, on being reform Jews studying in Israel, and on the land itself with its endless tension and conflict. It was the first time in a while I've had the opportunity to sit down and really think about all of these issues that I deal with every day I'm here.
When I was growing up, I was taught in Hebrew school that Israel is "the Land of milk and honey" - a sort of modern day Eden. I pictured beautiful orchards full of pomegranates, synagogues, and warm, friendly Jews everywhere I went. Then I went on birthright. While this 10 day program gives Jewish kids from all over the world a chance to see the land of their ancestors, and now the Jewish state, they keep Israel more like a museum than anything else: look, but don't touch, and no flash photography. An Israeli would never listen to those rules. When someone goes on birthright, they are kept in a bubble and shown only what Taglit wants them to see, like the Western Wall, the Dead Sea, and Massada. It's all propoganda, but it's also a free trip to Israel which makes it harder to complain about it. I loved the Israel I saw on birthright - it was a brilliantly executed 10 day production of attempting to get Jewish kids to make Alyiah (move to Israel).
I've been living in Jerusalem for over 2 months now, and I have to say that my views have changed dramatically, but I didn't realize how much so until today. We were split up into small groups and given a choice of texts to talk about. My group chose to study a passage of Mishna and Talmud about coming to Israel. Some of the rabbinic interpretations were hard to swallow for a modern reform Jewish woman, and I won't rehash it all here, but it aroused a lot of thoughts in my head. It was then that I realized that I don't see Israel the way I did as a kid, or even on birthright. Also, even in the Mishna text, there was a disctinction made between living in the Land of Israel, and living in Jerusalem. It is more difficult to live in Jerusalem than anywhere else in Israel. It has nothing to do with the weather or the hills or the slippery stones of the sidewalks - it's about the tension. It's strange that my coming to study Judaism in the holiest city in the Jewish State could bring about so much controversy. The fact is, HUC students don't just come here to see the land and be immersed in the language like I'd originally figured. We're here to bring a Reform Jewish voice to Jerusalem. I am living in a city that essentially shuts down on Shabbat. There are Charedim who will scoff or even yell at me for wearing a tank top, a skirt that isn't deemed long enough, or not having my head covered depending on where I am. The average woman my age living in Jerusalem is married with between 1-3 kids already. Charedi men will avoid any physical contact not only with me, but any woman; even something as unimportant as brushing a shoulder while walking on the street. When people ask me what I'm studying here, I have to be extremely cautious about who I tell that I'm studying to become a Reform cantor. In the US, people would ask me: "What's that?" In Jerusalem, I generally won't even say where I study if asked, unless I'm in a Reform community (of which there are 2-3).
One of the things that struck me in the text was the idea of someone being compelled by someone else to come to Isreal, and to come to Jerusalem. I came here because HUC told me I had to in order to become a cantor - I have been compelled to be here, and so I am. It may not seem like a big deal to have to live in a different country for a year, but living in Jerusalem is living in constant tension with the world around me. I got used to American tension because I grew up with it. Here, it's different. In Jerusalem, one has to fight to legitimize being Reform and studying to be a leader of the movement. In the US, I felt like people didn't take me seriously because I'm Reform. Now, I'm studying to become a better educated Jew and to become a leader in this movement, which I feel very strongly connected to. In Israel, it's not only delegitimized, but in a lot of cases it's not even recognized. Even though I'm studying to become a cantor, I would generally be seen as a secular Jew.
What I'm struggling with now is how much I'm willing to try getting out there and making a difference in this dilemma. When I was in Rochester, the Chabad family never made me feel like less of a Jew for not being Chassidic. They took me into their home and treated me like family, and they embraced my wanting to learn all I could about Judaism. Because of them, I know it's possible for Charedim to accept more liberal Jews, but how much can I do here as just one person? With everything else I'm required to do this year, can the presence of 42 North American Reform Jews in the middle of Jerusalem actually make a difference? Maybe not on the older generations, but quite possibly on the younger.
That was just one of the many issues cluttering my head at the moment, but it was the one I felt compelled to share.
When I first heard about this class, I thought it was going to be like the Bible study classes I had to deal with over the summer: stuck in an overcrowded lecture room with a professor talking at us for 2 hours, followed by a day comprising of hours of walking in extreme heat. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea. So, today's class was a really good surprise for me.
We took an entire morning to talk about our views of being in Israel, on being reform Jews studying in Israel, and on the land itself with its endless tension and conflict. It was the first time in a while I've had the opportunity to sit down and really think about all of these issues that I deal with every day I'm here.
When I was growing up, I was taught in Hebrew school that Israel is "the Land of milk and honey" - a sort of modern day Eden. I pictured beautiful orchards full of pomegranates, synagogues, and warm, friendly Jews everywhere I went. Then I went on birthright. While this 10 day program gives Jewish kids from all over the world a chance to see the land of their ancestors, and now the Jewish state, they keep Israel more like a museum than anything else: look, but don't touch, and no flash photography. An Israeli would never listen to those rules. When someone goes on birthright, they are kept in a bubble and shown only what Taglit wants them to see, like the Western Wall, the Dead Sea, and Massada. It's all propoganda, but it's also a free trip to Israel which makes it harder to complain about it. I loved the Israel I saw on birthright - it was a brilliantly executed 10 day production of attempting to get Jewish kids to make Alyiah (move to Israel).
I've been living in Jerusalem for over 2 months now, and I have to say that my views have changed dramatically, but I didn't realize how much so until today. We were split up into small groups and given a choice of texts to talk about. My group chose to study a passage of Mishna and Talmud about coming to Israel. Some of the rabbinic interpretations were hard to swallow for a modern reform Jewish woman, and I won't rehash it all here, but it aroused a lot of thoughts in my head. It was then that I realized that I don't see Israel the way I did as a kid, or even on birthright. Also, even in the Mishna text, there was a disctinction made between living in the Land of Israel, and living in Jerusalem. It is more difficult to live in Jerusalem than anywhere else in Israel. It has nothing to do with the weather or the hills or the slippery stones of the sidewalks - it's about the tension. It's strange that my coming to study Judaism in the holiest city in the Jewish State could bring about so much controversy. The fact is, HUC students don't just come here to see the land and be immersed in the language like I'd originally figured. We're here to bring a Reform Jewish voice to Jerusalem. I am living in a city that essentially shuts down on Shabbat. There are Charedim who will scoff or even yell at me for wearing a tank top, a skirt that isn't deemed long enough, or not having my head covered depending on where I am. The average woman my age living in Jerusalem is married with between 1-3 kids already. Charedi men will avoid any physical contact not only with me, but any woman; even something as unimportant as brushing a shoulder while walking on the street. When people ask me what I'm studying here, I have to be extremely cautious about who I tell that I'm studying to become a Reform cantor. In the US, people would ask me: "What's that?" In Jerusalem, I generally won't even say where I study if asked, unless I'm in a Reform community (of which there are 2-3).
One of the things that struck me in the text was the idea of someone being compelled by someone else to come to Isreal, and to come to Jerusalem. I came here because HUC told me I had to in order to become a cantor - I have been compelled to be here, and so I am. It may not seem like a big deal to have to live in a different country for a year, but living in Jerusalem is living in constant tension with the world around me. I got used to American tension because I grew up with it. Here, it's different. In Jerusalem, one has to fight to legitimize being Reform and studying to be a leader of the movement. In the US, I felt like people didn't take me seriously because I'm Reform. Now, I'm studying to become a better educated Jew and to become a leader in this movement, which I feel very strongly connected to. In Israel, it's not only delegitimized, but in a lot of cases it's not even recognized. Even though I'm studying to become a cantor, I would generally be seen as a secular Jew.
What I'm struggling with now is how much I'm willing to try getting out there and making a difference in this dilemma. When I was in Rochester, the Chabad family never made me feel like less of a Jew for not being Chassidic. They took me into their home and treated me like family, and they embraced my wanting to learn all I could about Judaism. Because of them, I know it's possible for Charedim to accept more liberal Jews, but how much can I do here as just one person? With everything else I'm required to do this year, can the presence of 42 North American Reform Jews in the middle of Jerusalem actually make a difference? Maybe not on the older generations, but quite possibly on the younger.
That was just one of the many issues cluttering my head at the moment, but it was the one I felt compelled to share.