The December Not-So-Dilemma

Last week at school, we had a day of learning about Chanukah. One of the sessions talked about the "December Dilemma," i.e. it's hard to be a Jew on Christmas. This "December Dilemma" was something I didn't really think about as a child. Growing up, I went to a Jewish day school and lived in a pretty Jewish neighborhood. I never felt left out of anything because as far as I knew, Chanukah was the best winter holiday ever, and I enjoyed celebrating it with my family and friends, even if it wasn't a major holiday. When I was in high school, I didn't really care about Judaism, and by the time I was in college, my Jewish identity was strong enough that I didn't feel left out of anything. It was only as an adult that December 25th started to bother me. Not because I felt left out, but because I felt that it was really hard to grapple with my identity as a Jewish American when everything around me screamed of something that I had always thought of as someone else's holiday. It was almost like my identity as Jew and my identity as an American didn't mesh. I know Christmas is technically a national holiday, but is it cool with everyone else that I don't celebrate it? I enjoy Christmas music and think trees are pretty, but when it came to the day itself, I really didn't know what to do with myself. I wanted it to be just another day, but it wasn't. Even when I worked for Hillel, I had off work on December 25th, which always baffled me. I'm not complaining about an opportunity to party with my friends, but it was still weird.
Here in Israel, there is no "December Dilemma." When you go into the supermarket, they say, "Chanukah sameach," just like around Rosh Hashana they say, "Shanah tovah."I'm missing the peppermint mochas and gingerbread lattes at Coffee Bean (American winter staples for me), but I'm loving the fact that I have already eaten my body weight in delicious sufganiyot (like jelly doughnuts, but better) and still haven't tried every bakery. And I love the fact that I have a final on December 25th. I don't like to be exclusivist, and I think it's important that every culture or religion in any given society is given a space to express itself, but sometimes, it's just nice being in the majority. I like not having to explain my holiday to people I meet on the streets because everyone already knows what my holiday is about. I can just be. It makes me kind of want to fly to Israel every December. . . after a trip to Coffee Bean, of course.
So far, Chanukah has been nice. One of my friends has decided to do this thing called the Sufganiyot Challenge where we try different sufganiyot every night. I actually got a head start because I'll be out of town for a few nights with my parents, but whatever. Last night, we went to Roladin and English Cake, so I had a tiramisu one and a blueberry one. Om nom nom.

Today, we counted the free ones they gave us at HUC as part of the challenge. Speaking of which, today, we had a candle lighting ceremony at HUC for night two. My friend Lori and I planned it, and three other friends played guitar with us. It was a lot of fun. Most of the stuff we ended up doing reminded me a lot of my childhood (read: almost all in Hebrew, yeah, I didn't learn "The Latke Song" until I was an adult), but this was even better than my childhood because it consisted of fifty something adults all beautifully singing Chanukah songs together. I knew we had a musical class, but wow. Chanukah song sessions need to happen ALL THE TIME. And people should rotate and lead their favorite Chanukah songs. It also reminded me of what is perhaps my favorite thing about HUC: community. If I can't be attending parties with my friends back at home involving latke wars and irreverent party games, I'm glad that I can be here. Also, our apartment came with a chanukiah.

I've been a bad, bad girl.

So, I haven't posted in forever. I like my posts to be well-thought-out, and HUC is eating my life. In a good way. But Karen called me out on not posting a couple weeks back, so I think now it's time to post. So, I was going to post about Sukkot, but that didn't actually happen. So, very briefly, I attended my first ever Sukkot services. You may be asking, "Sara, aren't you super Jew? Didn't you grow up at a Jewish school? Haven't you literally been a professional Jew for the past however many years? How can you have NEVER gone to a Sukkot service before?" Well, I don't know the answer to that question, but there's a first time for everything! It was really interesting. I went to Shira Hadasha since I wanted a more traditional experience in which I could also participate. Mostly, the service looks like a traditional festival service, but there are a bunch of parts where you wave the lulav (palm branch thingy with two other kinds of trees, used in conjunction with this yellow fruit called an etrog), such as at the end of Hallel. There's also this part called Hoshanot in which everyone takes their lulavs and walks in a circle waving them. Since Shira Hadasha has a mechitza, the women and men each made their own circle. It was easily the coolest thing I have ever seen happen in a service. I want to go to Sukkot services every year! Not that I have a choice in the matter anymore ;) Also, I would love to give you an idea of what Sukkot looks like in Jerusalem.

Every kosher restaurant has a sukkah because much of their clientele feel halachically obligated to eat in it. Also, it's just nice to sit and eat in the sukkah. There were some streets that you could barely walk down because of all the sukkahs. Not going to talk about Simchat Torah, as my experience was pretty standard Reform, but I did get to play guitar both in the evening and in the morning, so that was nice.

I was also going to talk about what happened at the Kotel on the night that Hadassah came to visit in October. I got most of my anger out on Facebook, but I do want to say that what happened was deeply disturbing. It was Hadassah's 100th anniversary convention, but they were not able to come to the Kotel on Rosh Chodesh, so Women of the Wall invited them to come the night before. HUC students were volunteering at the event, and those of us who sing had prepared to lead them in song. The police were eyeing us from the beginning. When the Hadassah women got there, Anat Hoffman gave a quick speech, and then my friend Alli led everyone in the Sh'ma, the prayer/verse that many, myself included, find to be most central to Judaism. By the time we were done, Anat had been arrested for supposedly saying the Sh'ma too loudly. Utter madness ensued. Haredim were screaming at us and arguing with us. Those of us who were brave enough argued back. People were arguing with the police. It was scary, but I felt empowered to be there and support the cause. Anywhere else, this would be termed religious discrimination, but not in Israel. Let me be clear that Anat did NOT get arrested because of kol isha (the concept that men aren't supposed to hear women's voices). They usually only arrest people for wearing a talit. They never arrest the service leaders unless they're wearing a manly talit or something. And even then I've usually seen them wait until after that part of the service is over. They basically just arrested her because she's one of the leaders of the organization and they wanted to scare the rest of us. I haven't worn a talit to the wall the past couple of months. I wouldn't have a problem getting arrested for a cause I believe in, but I worry that my visa might be in jeopardy if I do. Maybe I'll once again be brave enough at a later date.

And now, the thing you all are really wondering about, judging by all of the "happy birthday" wall posts coming from America: Yes, I have been safe. The first azakah (alarm) was scary, as I was walking to services alone and had no idea what to do. I decided to keep walking to services after it was over, since services were in a basement and many of my friends were there. And it was Nava Tehila, meaning said basement was filled with awesome music. I did feel the need to tweak my Shabbat dinner plans in order to be able to walk home with my neighbors, and I'm glad I did because I felt so much safer. There was a second azakah during liturgy class on Tuesday and we all had to go into the bomb shelter. Fortunately, Hamas really can't aim. They're terrible. They ended up hitting an uninhabited area in a Palestinian village in the West Bank, which is also bad but is clearly less scary for me than if they had hit Jerusalem. When I think about it, even though being scared is perfectly valid and the emotional half of my brain wanted to be scared while everything was happening, the logical half of my brain told me something different. I have almost gotten hit by more cars than I can count since I have been here in Jerusalem. I have heard two azakot. Shouldn't I be more scared of being hit by a car? In any case, there's a ceasefire now. Let's hope it holds. If I were to have my choice, I'd much rather spend the rest of my year worrying about not getting run over by a car.

We were able to get our minds off what was going on with our tiyul (trip) to the Arava (in the south, but on the other side of the country where it was clearly safe). We saw a crater in the desert that wasn't really a crater (there's a Hebrew word for it but none in English), and three of us gave speeches about how it was created and then the class had to guess which was correct. I gave a speech about how a meteor hit in that area and killed all the kosher dinosaurs. But it turned out that the crater thing was actually created by "total pwnage." We then got to take a gorgeous hike in the crater thingy. The next day, we hiked up this mountain called Har Shlomo. Israel does not do "trails" the way America does. I would say this was closer to rock climbing than hiking. I used to be really afraid of heights and had thought I had gotten over that fear, but apparently I didn't because I had a quasi panic attack. For a good reason: There was a ledge where you had to hold onto a handrail in order not to fall off the mountain. But everyone on the hike was supportive of each other, and we all made it to the top. Special shout out to Ari and Max for their mad cheerleading skills. And the view was spectacular.

The way down was also pretty scary. But don't worry; I only fell down one cliff, and someone caught me, so I'd say it was a successful day! But seriously, that was one AMAZING hike and I'm so glad I pushed myself to do it. When we got back to the kibbutz, we had a delicious Thanksgiving dinner cooked by some classmates. There may have been some Madlibs at the table. I may not want to repeat said Madlibs. There was also lots and lots of pie. I really like pie. And I learned a new game called Cards Against Humanity, which is like Apples to Apples but better. Other things that happened on this trip include going to another kibbutz and making mud bricks, eating ice cream at a kibbutz that has a giant dairy factory (sorry, Nick, I forgot to take pictures), and snorkeling in the Red Sea. Also, Shabbat was really cool. It began with services. We split the service in half. My friends Danny and Sam led Kabbalat Shabbat, and I led Ma'ariv with my friend Chase. It was a lot of fun. The zemirot after dinner, which my friend Jordan and I led, were equally fun. The rest of Shabbat was sort of a blur, though I really enjoyed the Saturday morning service, since it involved the "Free Willy" song. By that point, my sinuses had decided to take revenge on the fact that I was not firmer in demanding antibiotics from the doctor I saw prior to the trip (they don't seem to like to give them out in this country, and while I don't think they should be available on demand, this is one instance where I know my body better than any doctor). Oh well, at least I used Shabbat for what it was meant for: REST. Overall, it was a really good tiyul, and I had a lot of fun hanging out with my classmates. I'm so glad that these are the people who will be my future colleagues.

The Holiest Days of the Year

It seems fitting that as a cantorial student, I should write a post on my High Holiday (henceforth referred to as HHD, since I am too lazy to type the whole thing multiple times) experience. I'm not allowed to take pictures at services, so I will attempt to pepper this post with random pictures of HHD-related objects. Like this apple with this honey:

I spent Erev Rosh Hashanah at HUC, singing in choir. It was a bit weird for me. It was my first time in five years not being at my home congregation. When I was in college, I never came home for the holidays, but it was a bit different. When I was in high school, I didn't really care about Judaism, which meant that I didn't really feel any sort of attachment to my home synagogue at the time, so I was completely open to celebrating the holidays with my new community at Berkeley. In the five years that I was home between college and cantorial school, I did form an attachment to the community at my synagogue, especially the choir, so it was very hard to be away. But it was nice nonetheless. It was awesome seeing my friends lead parts of the service. They all sounded beautiful. As for the sermon, it turns out that Rosh Hashanah is also the new year for vegetables. The rabbi kept mentioning "vegetable love." I think that needs to become a thing.

For the first day of Rosh Hashanah, I went to Shira Hadasha, the feminist Orthodox congregation that I mentioned previously. It was pretty awesome. I didn't get there quite at the beginning of the service, but I got there early enough that they were able to find a seat for me, which is good because if I had gotten there later I probably would have been standing the whole time. It turns out that even in Orthodox communities, HHDs are the most attended services of the year. It was a nice service. It was my first time ever attending an Orthodox HHD service. It was an experience. The service order for some reason made a lot more sense to me than the service order in the current Reform machzor (HHD prayerbook), Gates of Repentance. That may change when the new one comes out. There were several places where the shofar is blown. There was the specific shofar service, where it was blown a bunch of times with some prayers. Then, there were the three different sections that I am familiar with; the Reform movement uses these sections as the shofar service, whereas the Orthodox put them in the Musaf Amidah repetition. After ever section in this part, they sang the cool Chassidic Areshet S'fateinu that we used to sing in my synagogue only after the third section. They also did a bunch of shofar blowing at the end of the service.

I have a lot of respect for the guy blowing the shofar. He had to blow it a lot! In Orthodox services, much of what I consider to be the most interesting liturgy is actually in the repetition of the Musaf Amidah. For example, Unetaneh Tokef, the really scary judgement day one that ends with the "on Rosh Hashanah it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed" thing. Apparently many Israeli congregations do a melody written by Yair Rosenbloom. He's one of the people who wrote my favorite Israeli song, "Shir Lashalom." He wrote this Unetaneh Tokef after the Yom Kippur War in 1973. The melody beautifully illustrates the text. And it seems like EVERY Israeli knows it. I couldn't believe how many people were singing along. In my experience, it's usually been more of a cantor/choir prayer. So powerful. I will admit that while I recognized much of the liturgy, there were some parts of the service that confused me. For example, there were a lot of piyutim within both Amidah repetitions that were done out loud, while much of the text that I grew up thinking was the most important was done either b'lachash (silently) or just chanted quickly by the service leader. That being said, I was able to follow along and participating in a surprisingly large amount of the service. I recognized things like HHD nusach, and most of the Torah service, and "staples" like Avinu Malkeinu. It was overall a wonderful service, and I'm so glad I decided to have a more traditional experience, since I will most likely never have the opportunity to have a traditional HHD experience ever again.

For the second day of Rosh Hashanah, I prayed with a Jewish Renewal congregation called Nava Tehila. My friend was playing mandolin, and I had wanted to pray with them anyway, so this was a great opportunity. This congregation writes much of its own music, and it's very mantra like. And it works. It gives those of us who don't know the melodies an opportunity to catch on. This was good, because I didn't really know any of the melodies, other than the standard nusach and I think maybe Avinu Malkeinu (or another one of those prayers that you just can't get away with not doing the "traditional" melody). The service was held in a tent in the Jerusalem Nature Museum, i.e. outside. Allergies aside, it was a nice atmosphere. For both of the silent Amidahs (Shacharit and Musaf), they basically gave us time to meditate. They sent us to the far reaching corners of the museum and allowed us to either use the words on the page or to just sit and be, which was nice and relaxing. They also gave us a lot of time for reflection and discussion with our neighbors. The also did group aliyot. I wish I could remember what they were, but I did go up for one of them. The rabbi was also really awesome. Everything she said just made me want to take a deep breath and take a look at the world around me. There were a couple motifs throughout the service. One of them had to do with the things you wanted to change about yourself, your community, and the world. The other had to do with present, past, and future (in that order). One of the coolest parts of the service was at the end where they brought everyone into the center of the tent, and we sang this piyut called Hayom (today). It was overall a nice experience, and I was glad that I had the opportunity to do something completely different from what I am used to. There were also plenty of delicious classmate potlucks. So happy to have found a community here.

Before I talk about Yom Kippur, I would be remiss if I didn't at least mention Shabbat Shuvah (the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur), since it was my first "official" HUC service (official meaning the first one that counted as one of the services I'm supposed to lead). I led it with a good friend of mine. It was my first time ever leading as Shabbat Shacharit service without guitar, but I was able to incorporate some of the things that I learned both as a camp songleader and from leading minyan at home, and I got to use some awesome new music as well. I had fun leading. I used to get really nervous while leading services. I still do, but now mostly just beforehand. The nerves go away the second I start singing. Which I believe has to do with kavanah and text and all of those things that I as a future cantor think about. And also, since my perception of G-d changes from minute to minute, I'm going to say it has something to do with G-d, like I'm connecting with G-d or something. Also, leading services was something that I always did recreationally, and it finally dawned on me that this is part of what I'm going to be doing for a living. It blows my mind. Wow, that was way too introspective for the interwebs, and this is more of an experience blog than an innermost personal thought blog, so I'm going to just stop here and give you a picture of a delicious round challah.

Yom Kippur in Israel was interesting. For one thing, they just stopped daylight savings time. There's actually a big argument going on in Israeli society about this, which we touched upon in Hebrew class. All of the secular Israelis are against going back to standard time so early because it wastes energy, but many of the more observant Israelis want to change the time before Yom Kippur because the fast ends earlier. I have to agree with the secular Israelis on that one. Yes, the fast ends earlier, but it also starts earlier. My friends and I ate dinner at around 3pm. So early! And, Yom Kippur services start early because Kol Nidrei is basically a legal document, and you can't talk about legal stuff on a holiday, so it ends up being a really long fast anyway.

For Erev Yom Kippur (AKA Kol Nidrei), I was back at HUC. In addition to singing in choir, I got to lead most of the Vidui (confessional) part of the service. Among other things, I got to sing the piece that I auditioned with, so that was nice. It was a prayerful experience. I also got to see some more of my extraordinarily talented classmates lead other parts of the service. I have a great class. After services, a bunch of us went to this street called Emek Refayim for a walk. Apparently, it's a "thing" in Israel. It's normally a very busy street. On Yom Kippur, it is still busy, but with people, not cars. So, that was quite fun. Also, on Yom Kippur in Israel all the secular people ride bicycles, especially the kids, and it's gotten to a point where people have jokingly referred to it as Chag Ha'Ofanayim (Bicycle Holiday). So, we saw a lot of that.

After that, four of us went to the park to play on the swings. I may technically be an adult, but I'm still a kid at heart. Then, three of us went to the intersection of King George and Agron, which is one of the busiest intersections in Jerusalem. It's so busy that crossing the street here adds a good five minutes to my commute to school. I can't speak for all of Israel because I haven't seen it, but in Jerusalem, NO ONE drives on Yom Kippur, not even the secular Israelis. The only cars on the streets that I saw were the occasional ambulance and also special shuttles that went to and from the hospitals (there are no taxis or buses on Yom Kippur, so people need some way to visit their loved ones). So, what did we do? We sat right down in the middle of the intersection and chilled for a while. Yup, just sat right down. It was easily one of the coolest things I've ever done. I most likely feel this way because I am very much a goody-two-shoes, and I guess this had an element of badness to it, but whatever, don't burst my happiness bubble. But it was also cool from a "for the first time in my life I'm living in a country where the majority of the people celebrate the same holidays as I do" perspective.

I was at HUC for the entirety of Yom Kippur, which meant having the chance to see even more classmates lead parts of the service. I'm not going to comment on the services themselves because, honestly, the best part of the services was having the chance to see my classmates lead. There was this one part of the morning service called Zeicher L'musaf (the Reform service does not include musaf. . . I shall have to find out why), and I've never actually looked at the part of Gates of Repentance that they used, so I probably could not tell you what was going on, but it involved a lot of singing awesomeness and insightful classmate speaking awesomeness, and it was pretty much entirely led by HUC students. Let's just say that I am very proud to call these people my classmates.

It didn't feel like all that long of a day, probably because I had many classmates to chill with in between services. It was also a much easier fast than the past couple of years have been. Not sure why. Possibly because I was singing a lot less (even though I did more leading, the choir was not singing for as many services). This whole fasting thing is something that I would like to figure out while I'm in school so that I don't have to worry about it as much later on. I'm extremely uncomfortable with the idea of not fasting and haven't not fasted since I decided I liked Judaism again, but it's hard to be lightheaded while singing. I can deal with it while singing in choir, but my hope is that I will one day get a job as a cantor. There has to be a trick to this. . . I did lead a good chunk of the Ne'ilah service (the last service of the day, means "locking" in Hebrew, a metaphor having to do with the physical manifestation of "gates" of repentance, and also being inscribed in the Book of Life) and felt fine, so maybe it won't be so bad. . .

We pretty much all ran downstairs for our bagel break fast after services were over. I hope that all of my wonderful friends and family also had fabulous HHD experiences.

Pioneers and Repentance

I've been going way too long between posts, and I have such had a lot to say every time I post. But such is the life of an HUC student. The last few weeks have been crazy. First, a trip to Haifa with my friend Dan for my one-week summer break (pictures are on Facebook). Then came the first week of school. I have ten classes this semester, read: at least twice as many classes as I took per semester in college. But I like most of them so far. In my musicianship class, one of the objectives on the syllabus is, "Have fun." And I really like my cantorial workshop too. We are learning weekday nusach, which means that hopefully I'll finally learn how to daven properly. We're going to be learning some awesome stuff this semester. I have the same awesome Hebrew teacher as last semester, and she basically just picked up where she left off, which is good.

I also have what is called Israel Seminar, where I learn about Israel. This past weekend, we went on a study trip up north for this course. I want to talk a bit about this trip. The trip started near the Yam Kineret, or Sea of Galilee in English. It was interesting, to say the least. We went to a lot of different sites that were somehow connected with the pioneers. A couple days ago, a friend told me that my Zionist camp didn't do it's job if I'm not sure whether I'm a Zionist. I don't know if I completely agree with that statement. If Zionism means that I care about Israel, I am definitely a Zionist. If Zionism means that I would make aliyah or work on a kibbutz, or that I would have aligned myself with Herzl back in they day, I don't know that I would call myself a Zionist. Or maybe I'm just unsure of myself because all of the right-wing organizations tell me I'm not a Zionist. Which, come on, anyone who seriously agrees with every single thing that Israel does has never been to the women's side of the Kotel. . . I don't think that makes me anti-Zionist. . . For the record, I criticize the US all the time too, probably more than I criticize Israel, and no one's ever questioned my American-ness. Anyway, if I was confused before, this trip confused me even more. When I was a little kid at Jewish day school, we talked a lot about how the chalutzim (pioneers) came to Israel, drained the swamps, and worked hard to make the land livable. When I was at summer camp, we learned about the Zionist spirit of communal living and helping one another. But here, next to the Kineret, I learned that none of this was like the perfect picture that it had been painted to be. For instance, when we were in the cemetery, we read a story about a woman who was too sick to work, so she was forced out of her g'vutzah (group), and ended up killing herself. Where's the community there? When we were at Tel Chai, an early Zionist settlement in the north, we learned about the shot that was symbolically the start of the Arab-Israeli conflict. It wasn't even clear whose fault it was. Before anyone starts taking sides here, I want to point out the the French actually owned the land at the time. The one thing that was not confusing was that the Kineret is GORGEOUS. We got to go swimming in it. I also got to lead a shacharit service right in front of it with my friend Danny. I need to find a way to spend more time up there. So beautiful.

The next day, we looked at a couple of other places in the area. We went to this town called Kiryat Shmonah and talked to some of the protesters there. Remember the tent cities from last summer? Those protests. The protests were supposedly the inspiration for Occupy Wall Street, but the protests here actually meant something. I am going to get a lot of flack for this, but I was honestly disappointed in Occupy Wall Street. I expected it to be a bunch of people who were sort of like me, people who were working but just could not afford to live. Or people who had lost their jobs due to the economy and  couldn't find new work. Or people who couldn't afford education or health care or even basic needs through no fault of their own. Basically, people who really did feel screwed over by the system. I found a few of those people, but I mostly found hippies in tents who had nothing better to do with their lives. In the case of the protests in Israel, it really was a bunch of Israelis of all different backgrounds (my group spoke with both a secular women and an Orthodox man) who couldn't afford to live and wanted the government to make changes. They've actually been able to make some changes on a local level. However, on a national level, it has been very hard for them. Apparently, when you have a multi-party parliamentary government system, and no one wants to go against any of the parties in their coalition lest the government fall apart, it's really hard to get things passed. And I thought things were bad in the US with politicians wasting our money on meaninglessly blocking legislation from the other side. That night, we stayed on Kibbutz Hanaton, which is a kibbutz with ties to the Masorti (Conservative) movement in Israel, but which is in effect pluralistic. And, from what I saw, it is proof that pluralism works. Maybe Jerusalem could take a hint from them.

That's all I'm going to say about the trip, because I also want to talk about what happened right after, namely Selichot, which can basically be described as a service with the purpose of preparing one for the High Holidays. The word "selichot" literally means "forgivenesses." In Ashkenazi communities, it traditionally happens on the Saturday night before Rosh Hashanah, somewhere close to midnight. Several of us from HUC went to the Great Synagogue. This was probably was not the smartest thing that I have ever done, as I was completely dead the next day, but it was totally worth it. I've never been quite sure exactly what the structure of Selichot is in the Reform movement, even though I enjoy going. We sing Hashiveinu three times, much of the Vidui (confessional) section is sung, and my rabbi tells a story. At the Great Synagogue, it was a bit different. They started out with Ashrei (a couple lines followed by psalm 145, traditionally sung in the morning and afternoon services), but this was much more drawn out. Then, there was some davening, and then they sang a piyut (post-Talmudic poem, for those of you who are Jewish the best example I can think of is Adon Olam). Apparently, there is a different piyut for each day of the week leading up to Rosh Hashanah, and this is the motzei Shabbat (end of Shabbat) piyut. If I remember correctly, it had something to do with rest, and also repentance, G-d looking kindly upon us, etc. Then, they do the Vidui section, which does start with Tavo L'fanecha and ends with Shema Koleinu but otherwise looks nothing like a Reform Vidui. . . though maybe the Vidui they actually do on Yom Kippur is closer to what I'm familiar with. . . I shall have to find out. It was, to say the least, amazing. The service was led by the Hazzan and accompanied by the choir. The music was gorgeous. I had never heard any of those settings before, but they were literally music to my ears. I was able to follow along for a large part of the service, but there were parts where it took me a while to find my place because I just didn't know some of the liturgy. I'm supposed to learn more about this stuff in my third year. I can't wait!

On Monday morning, some of us when to a Sephardic synagogue that my Hebrew teacher grew up at. The Sephardic tradition is to do Selichot really early in the morning (read: 5:30am) every weekday (i.e. not Saturday) during the month of Elul, which is the last month of the Jewish calendar. It is a very different service. First of all, the women's balcony has a curtain in front of it. According to my Hebrew teacher, this was a relatively recent development. There was never a curtain there when she was growing up. Sephardic synagogues used to be a lot more egalitarian but have been influenced by the Haredim. I can't comment if this is the case in the US. The rabbi who is the main rabbi for the Year in Israel program used to be the rabbi at a Sephardic congregation in LA, and he was ordained at HUC, but who knows if things have changed. In this case, I was still able to follow the service. It was completely different from the Ashkenazi Selichot. It did start with Ashrei, so that part was the same. There was what looked to be a rabbi leading the service, and he kept pointing to different men to lead different parts. There were a lot of acrostic poems, and in between, there was a line that is sung somewhere in the Yom Kippur service (I forget where), "Adonai, Adonai, el rachum ve'chanun, erech apayim, v'rav chesed v'emet," which means, "G-d, G-d, merciful, and gracious, long suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth." Every time this line was chanted, everyone stood up, and the shofar was blown. I think there was also some sort of Vidui, but I don't really remember because the liturgy was so different. Despite me being groggy for the rest of the day, it was an interesting experience, and I'm so, so glad I went. Afterwards, I went out for breakfast with two friends, and we discussed some very deep Jewish questions. What a way to start my morning!

And on that happy note, I'm off! Shanah tovah, everyone!

Services, and Services, and Services, Oh My!

I am LONG overdue for an update. Majorly. So much has happened lately, and there is so much that I could talk about, but since this is a cantorial school blog, I mostly want to focus on some of the prayer experiences I've had. This will be long, but I promise it will be interesting.

But first, let's talk about my Biblical History class. This class is part lecture and part site seeing. I don't know if that's the correct description, but we go on field trips to some of the sites we've talked about, so I guess that's the best description I can come up with. These trips have mostly consisted of my sweating half my body weight, but there have been some cool things too. We got to see the city of David. I did bring my camera, but I found that the coolest things there happened to be things that you can't really take pictures of. Example: Hezekiah's tunnel. This tunnel was allegedly built by King Hezekiah as a water supply during the rebellion against Syria. It is no longer used for this purpose, which is good, because I bet hundreds of tourists walk through it every day. It's pretty narrow and has low ceilings. Even I had to bend down at one point. There was one point where we were told to turn off our flashlights and be silent. Awesomeness. On another one of these trips, we went to see a bunch of caves. Some of them used to be cisterns. In one of them, we all went inside and sat on the floor. The acoustics were so good that someone started singing the beginning part of "Circle of Life." Followed by a lovely rendition of Ozi V'zimrat Yah. Then, we got to go into burial caves. This is what I look like as a zombie:

But I digress. Two weeks ago, twelve of us went to this moshava (I guess that's Hebrew for town) about forty-five minutes outside Jerusalem to spend Shabbat, or at least the Friday night part of it. We started out by taking a tour of the moshava. It was really interesting. Gedera was settled in the late 19th century by this group called Biluim, people who wanted to settle the land of Israel. There are actually still remnants of the first farm in the town. Even though it was one of the first moshavot, it is still very small. They are in the process of redeveloping the main street to make it more chic. Many people there know each other. They have a community garden, which was gorgeous. There is also a group of Ethiopian Jews who live there, but they have their own neighborhood. The congregation that we went to is a small Reform congregation called Kehillat Yuval that meets in a local elementary school. It was started by a woman who had spent some time in the US and decided that she wanted to be a part of a Reform community in Israel, so she found other families in Gedera who felt the same way, and voila. The rabbi, Myra Hovev, was ordained at HUC in Jerusalem, and she has done a wonderful job of helping this community grow. The service itself was lovely. They have a songleader, and Rabbi Hovev also plays the flute. The focus is mainly on Kabbalat Shabbat and not on Ma'ariv because that is the culture of the community. So, they skipped things like the Barchu and the Amidah because that is what works for their community. The kids got to participate a lot, which is great because the community is basically all families with young children. Two of my friends, Chase and Dan, and I got to play guitar, and we even taught a melody for Oseh Shalom that they didn't know previously, and now the rabbi wants to use it! After services, we went to our respective host families' houses for dinner. I went with Dan and my other friend Leslee to the house of a wonderful couple with a fourteen year old daughter, a ten year old son, and a six year old daughter. The six year old is going into first grade, but she already reads at a second grade level. She even to us from a book of jokes. The son was very nice and friended us on Facebook. The oldest daughter was very sweet, and definitely your typical teenager, complete with magazine posters on the wall. She was telling us all about her favorite music. The food was delicious and included homemade tahini. Yum!!! The best part was that I got to use my Hebrew, and they corrected me when I needed it. I understand Hebrew very, very well, but sometimes when I speak I think way too much and it messes me up, so it is nice to have people who are willing to help me out and won't just start talking to me in English the second I make a mistake. It was a lovely evening and I wish I could have spent the entire Shabbat there. I will have to go back at some point.

Last Saturday morning, I went to the Great Synagogue. You may be asking, "Sara, was it great?" Yes, yes it was. The Great Synagogue definitely lived up to its name. It was also a really interesting experience. If you go to a traditional Orthodox synagogue, the entire first part of the service is led by a lay person. That part was really hard for me to follow. It might have been easier if I was sitting on the bottom floor with the men, but in all honestly, being on the balcony wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be. Once they got to a prayer called Shochein Ad, the hazzan (cantor), Hazzan Chaim Adler took over. He led the service with the choir. The synagogue does have a rabbi, but he did not lead the service, and I get the sense that he is mainly responsible for learning and programatic things. The chazzanut was hands down the best chazzanut I have ever heard in my entire life. I wasn't really familiar with most of the melodies that were used, with the exception of the Torah service, so I mostly just listened and followed along in the siddur, which was nice. I like to participate while at services, but sometimes its nice to do that in a more passive manner. It was a really wonderful service, and even though it was so huge, I felt that there was a sense of community there. I am going to have to go back there, definitely on S'lichot if not sooner. After the service, I struck up a conversation with the Rebbetzin (rabbi's wife) and managed to get myself invited over for Shabbat lunch. This was even after I told her I was an HUC student, which I for some reason felt comfortable doing, probably because she's American. It's really interesting how in America the majority of Jews, no matter how they observe Judaism, accept that there are many different ways to observe Judaism, while in Israel there are actually groups of people who think that the way I observe Judaism, including the part about studying to become a cantor, is hilul HaShem (an act profaning G-d). So, when I encounter Orthodox Jews in Israel, I will usually try to gage things before I tell them what I am doing here. Anyway, the lunch was HUGE and very tasty. It's a good thing I don't eat meat because if I had tried to stuff one more thing into my body, I would have been like that guy on Monty Python's "The Meaning of Life." Also invited to lunch were a group of Modern Orthodox 20 and 30-somethings from New York and their Rabbi. They were from this community called Manhattan Jewish Experience, which sounded really cool and like something I might like to check out once I'm in NYC. There was also a young recently married couple, an older couple of which the husband is a well known and talented artist, and another woman. The Rabbi required us to go around the table and say who we are, where we come from, and what we're doing in Israel. And then people asked questions. It was really interesting hearing everyone's stories. Again, no one had a problem with the fact that I am an HUC student. And, again, almost everyone there was American. We also talked a bit about the Torah portion, which was cool. It took me way too long to write this post, so I don't remember what was said, but I do remember that it was really interesting.

This post is getting long, so here is a picture of some waves crashing on the shores of Tel Aviv:

On Sunday morning, I went to Women of the Wall again for Rosh Chodesh Elul. Just as the last time, it was awesome. However, this time, four people got arrested. They didn't actually do anything to disturb anyone; they were simply wearing black and white talitot. They weren't even wearing them like you would wear a talit; they were wearing them more like scarves. So, they shouldn't have gotten arrested, but they did. Since my talit is colorful and feminine, it does not count as a talit as far as the police were concerned, so I did not get arrested. What's really interesting is that the only people their talitot seemed to bother were the police officers. Seriously, I know it's technically a law, but don't the police have anything better to do than to arrest people for wearing talitot? Shouldn't they be out arresting thieves, murderers, and other violent people? If I were an Israeli police officer, I do not think that I could, in good conscience, arrest someone for doing something that causes no harm. Anyway, we ended up doing the Torah service in front of the jail. One of my classmates got an aliyah. It was all a very meaningful experience. It sort of made me realize why I am here. While I know that I cannot change an entire culture in one year, I do think that I can at least do my part to stand up for what I can believe. I care a lot about Israel, but in order for it to survive and not implode, there needs to be more religious tolerance among Jews. As I stated in a previous post, there is no halacha against a woman wearing a tailt; it just makes a small vocal minority uncomfortable, so it became the law. This all made me a few minutes late for ulpan, but my teacher was totally cool with it, and there is no other way that I would have rather spent my morning. Oh, and we all got to blow the shofar at the end because it was Rosh Chodesh Elul, which is the month before Rosh Hashanah. For the first time in my life, I was able to get a sound from a small shofar. Going to keep practicing. . .

This evening, I went to Shabbat services at Shira Hadasha, a feminist Orthodox congregation. I don't know that I would call it egalitarian, as there is still a mechitza (separation between men and woman), but it is as egalitarian as you can get within the framework of halacha. Let it be known that I have absolutely no problem praying in an Orthodox community with a mechitza, I just very much like to feel like I can participate. I have been to services with a mechitza where the women do participate, and I have also been to services where they don't. In this one, not only are the women allowed to sing, they get to lead part of the service. On Friday nights, the women lead Kabbalat Shabbat (psalms and poems to welcome Shabbat) and the men read Ma'ariv (evening service). The amud (podium) where they lead from is in the middle of the mechitza, so both sides are able to participate equally. Kabbalat Shabbat was a lot of Carlebach melodies, so I was able to sing along. It was quite spirited and enjoyable. Ma'ariv was led by the men and was a little bit less sing-y and more daven-y, but it was still also enjoyable. I had a moment where I realized that as long as I know the liturgy and the nusach (which in this case, I did), I can pretty much walk into any Ashkenazi synagogue and participate. It was nice. I will go back at some point. I want to go to a Shabbat morning service. . . the women there get to chant Torah!

Whew! That's all for now. Signing off!

Happy Sad Happy

It's been a heck of a week! Last Friday, Udi, our Israeli intern, took me and four friends/classmates, Lindsay, Daniel, Alli, Lisa, on a hike to the ma'ayanot (springs) just outside Jerusalem. So much fun! I hadn't been hiking since I've been here, and frankly it's been a little bit too hot to do a big hike, so this was refreshing. It was the perfect summer hike. Some of it was exposed, but there were a fair number of shady parts. The best part about the hike was that we got to stop at a couple of springs. The first one was honestly kind of sketchy. It had a lot of algae and bugs, and some people do not know how to pick up after themselves. So, I didn't stay in for very long. But it was fun because we got to chill, and Udi made us tea out of zatar and mint that he picked from the trail. Apparently, making tea while hiking is an Israeli thing. Apparently, so is making coffee, as I learned when Udi made us some when we stopped at the picnic benches by the second spring. The final spring we came to was a hidden treasure. It was nice and clean. I stayed in that one for much longer. It was also considerably colder than the first spring, but while I am usually not much of a cold water person, on a hot day like this, that was a good thing. So refreshing!

Oh, and did I mention that the hike had amazing views?

It was overall a wonderful day. In the evening, I unfortunately ended up going to Temple Sha'arei Mitbach (Gates of Kitchen) for services. Silly rice for taking so long to cook! But my dish came out nicely. I am digging this Shabbat potluck almost every week thing. I love cooking, and I love tasting other people's cooking. I don't know that I would have the patience to cook an entire meal for twenty people with the amount of counter and oven space that I currently have in my kitchen. But cooking one dish for a potluck or a meal for a few people I can do. Based on apartment prices in NYC, I'm resigned to the fact that I will have a small kitchen for the next five years.

Anyway, Saturday night began Tisha B'av. Tisha B'av is a day in which we commemorate basically everything bad that ever happened to the Jews, all of which supposedly happened on this date.  The big one is the destruction of the First Temple in 586BCE and the Second Temple in 70CE. It is a fast day. I do fast, though not because I mourn the destruction of the temples, without which Judaism arguably would not exist in its current form. I fast because according to tradition, the Second Temple was destroyed because of internal hatred between Jews, and I see so much of that paralleled today that I worry that we are going to end up being thrown into some sort of figurative exile if something isn't done. We began with a program at HUC and then split up into four separate services for the reading of Eicha (Lamentations): the Kotel, Nava Tehilah (Jewish renewal), Kol Haneshama (Reform), and the Sephardic Beit K'nesset. I chose the Sephardic Beit K'nesset because I wanted a traditional experience that was not the Kotel (as I have mentioned before, I do not really like what has become of the Kotel).

The Sephardic Beit K'nesset was a really interesting, and I'm told a very Israeli, experience. It is one of the oldest synagogues in Jerusalem. Unlike the congregations back home which focus on bringing in new members and recruiting from the outside, some congregations in Jerusalem apparently are made up of a bunch of member families, descended from a long line of founding members. I'm not sure if this is just a Sephardic/Mizrachi thing or if it extends to other kinds of congregations, but regardless, such is the Sephardic Beit K'nesset. It was a really interesting prayer service. The women had the option of sitting either on the balcony or in a side room. Most of the non-HUC women sat in the side room, and those HUC students who also sat in the side room had some interesting conversations with them. I chose to sit on the balcony because I decided that it was easier to see what was going on. The service was interesting. They don't really have specific clergy people who lead the service. They have sort of a lay hazzan (cantor), and other than that people just all pray together, or they go around in a circle. The men were sitting in some sort of a circular formation near the ark. There was a little boy there who was singing along with them. Apparently, that is how kids learn the nusach.

The service was a bit hard to follow. I didn't recognize either the text or the nusach, which is quite different from Ashkenazi (Eastern European, like my antecedents), so I didn't quite understand what was going on all the time. I was able to follow a lot of the reading of Eicha. It made me feel mournful just listening to it. I regret to admit that this was the first time I ever heard a reading of Eicha, but I am told that the Sephardic Eicha trope is also very different from the Ashkenazic. Honestly, I was trying to pick out some sort of pattern but couldn't. This may be because there were quarter tones, which do not exist at all in Western music, i.e. my ears are not used to it. Like the service, there were some parts where the lay hazzan was chanting, and some parts where all of the men were chanting together.

The synagogue itself was pretty interesting too. Unlike Ashkenazi synagogues, Sephardic synagogues have the bimah in the middle. Though, they didn't actually make use of the bimah, since they were sitting on the floor, which I am assuming is because Tisha B'av is a mourning day. I also had the fortune of sitting next to Cantor Tamar, who explained some of the artwork. For instance there are pictures around the synagogue of the various names of G-d, all surrounded by related artwork and descriptive words. There is also a plaque that listed all of the founding members, and Cantor Tamar's family name is on there. What's really interesting is that in Jewish tradition, when you're naming someone in Hebrew in any religious context, you're also supposed to give their parents' names. In Ashkenazic tradition, you always give your father's name first, so I am שרה בת אברהם וקרן. Or if you want transliteration, Sara bat Avraham v' Keren. In Sephardic tradition, the mother's name always comes first, and that was evident on this plaque. Cool, yes?

After the service, a few of us, decided to go to the Kotel. No, I didn't change my mind about the Kotel; I just thought it would be interesting since so many people go. We only stayed for about fifteen minutes. I first took a look at what was happening on the women's side, then decided to venture into the women's side, but quickly retreated due to the masses of people. I then took a peak at the men's side to see what was going on over there. On both sides, people were sitting on the ground, which is a traditional mourning practice, since you are not supposed to be comfortable while mourning. The main difference between the men's side and the women's side is that the men were reading Eicha aloud while the women were reading it silently. And people were full-out mourning. Like, weeping. It's not something I've really seen before.

But I don't want to leave all of you on a mournful note, so here are a few happy things that have happened in the past few days. On Monday, I went to the Jerusalem wine festival. I managed to have the different wines explained to me entirely in Hebrew. I even had a lovely conversation with one of the pourers about the different kinds of grapes that grow in Israel. Yes, in Hebrew. w00t. There were so many tasty wines, and I found out that I can buy many of them in the wine shop next to the shuk. Fancy dinner, anyone? Speaking of food, my friend Abby took me to this place called HaSabichia. All they make is sabich (hummus, eggplant, egg, and other stuff in a pita), and it was the best sabich I have ever tasted. I will be going back. If we want to continue with the food topic, we went to this dairy buffet on Tuesday night at this art gallery called Ticho House. There was live jazz music, and I could eat everything at the buffet. We had an ulpan "concert" on Wednesday where each class sang a different Israeli song. Our class sang a song called "Halleluyah" that won the 1979 Eurovision song competition in Jerusalem. Quite the cheesy song, and we had fun with it. The other classes were also amazing. I had a very happy moment today while doing some pre-Shabbat shopping. I was visiting my favorite spice/rice/other bulk stuff place in the shuk, and one of the guys who worked there was telling me that in addition to working in the shuk, he is also a hazzan. Then I overheard a women saying that she spoke Spanish. So, I started talking to her, and it turns out that she was born in Chile, which is one of my favorite countries. In fact, she lived in Providencia, which was the neighborhood right next to mine (Las Condes) when I was there! I love the social aspect of the shuk. Sam and I also managed to find vegetarian Indian food for dinner, which is nice because while I love Israeli food, I have been missing other kinds of food. Must be the Angelino in me. There, is that happy enough for you? I hope so, because I am off for now!

I am Woman, Hear Me Pray

Well, I got through orientation week and the first week of ulpan (basically intensive Hebrew study). I somehow managed to test into kitah dalet (level four), which is the highest level this year. Yeah, no idea how that happened. It's challenging, but I like the teacher, and I am definitely learning something. We are also required to take a biblical history class this summer. I have never taken any class like that on an adult level, so this should be interesting. . .

It has been a wonderful Shabbat. And Rosh Chodesh, for that matter. After all this time, I finally got to go to Women of the Wall! Women of the Wall is a group of women of all Jewish denominations and practices who meet monthly at the Kotel in order to pray on Rosh Chodesh (the beginning of a new Jewish month). The Kotel has gotten pretty bad in terms of the way women are treated, and they want to do something about this. Women are currently forbidden from wearing a talit at the Kotel (seriously, there's no actual halachah against it, and don't they have better things to make secular laws about anyway?), and they aren't allowed to sing either. So, every month, these women get together and stand at the back of the women's side, wearing their talitot, and davening together. Here is their website, in case anyone wants to learn more:
http://womenofthewall.org.il/
It was a wonderful service, and a wonderful experience. They use their own siddur, which contains traditional liturgy (minus the addition of women into a couple of prayers). There was a lot of nusach, a lot of personal davening, and a lot of singing out loud. Even though I am not a very "traditional" Jew, I like praying more traditionally once in a while. I never properly learned how to pick up a siddur and daven through everything, and the only way I am going to learn that is by doing it. And I did like the communal singing as well. There's just something about praying among a group of women who are all there for the same purpose. Surprisingly, this service was relatively quiet. Last month, someone got detained for wearing a talit, and they ended up having the Torah service at the jail. This time, nothing happened. A couple of my friends said they heard someone say something on the men's side, but then another man told them to be quiet because we're all Jewish. Wow. Anyway, it is actually illegal for women to read Torah at the Kotel. Not only that, they were recently told that they're not even allowed to bring the Torah to the Kotel. Don't even get me started. Suffice it to say that I've chanted Torah many, many times, never once thinking there was anything abnormal about it, and it baffles me that there are people out there who don't think that women should chant Torah. So, we marched, singing, around the corner to this place called Robinson's Arch, which is in an archeological park and part of the same wall, just a different side and discovered later. The Torah service was wonderful. They gave an aliyah to a young Israeli woman who had never had an aliyah before. It's interesting, because I've had multiple aliyot over the course of my life and haven't thought twice about it, and she hadn't had one, so it was a huge deal for her. Israeli religious society is so different from what I'm used to back home! It was so wonderful to see her being called up to the Torah for the first time. I will definitely be going back to Women of the Wall, hopefully every month.

After that, my friends and I rushed out of the Old City to grab a sheirut (I guess it's like a shared taxi) to Tel Aviv with the rest of our class. Tel Aviv was wonderful, though ridiculously humid. It was like the East Coast on steroids. First, many of us took a tour of Neve Tzedek. I don't remember ever going before, so this was nice. It's the oldest neighborhood in Tel Aviv, and it is gorgeous. We got to see a lot of interesting buildings, some schools turned apartments, some historically owned by famous Israelis. I would start throwing out specific random factoids, but it was so hot that I cannot really recall much. But it was very interesting. The tour was led by someone named Alyne Bat Haim who made aliyah many years ago, and she invited us back to her apartment for refreshments and to talk about our perceptions of Israel. Very interesting woman.

Afterwards, we went to this place called Abu Chasa in Jaffa which has the best hummus I have EVER tasted. That's not even an exaggeration. The ridiculously long line should tell you how good it is. In fact, the line was so long that we couldn't even eat in the restaurant. So, we nommed on our hummus at a lovely shady spot by the port. Then, we went to the beach. It was hot, so I went in the water to cool off. The Mediterranean Sea is NOT like the Pacific Ocean. How so, you ask? For starters, it's really warm. So, it's much easier to just dive right in. However, it's also extremely salty. It was a pleasant afternoon at the beach.

For services in the evening, we went to a place called Beit Tefilah Yisraeli, a progressive congregation. During the summer, they meet on the north port. Yes, this was where we had services:

Yes, there was a glorious sunset involved. The guy who was leading the service (not a rabbi yet, currently a student in HUC's Israeli rabbinic program) timed the service so that the sunset would coincide with L'cha Dodi. Perfection. There was a band consisting of a violin, a string bass, a keyboard, drums, and more. The person doing the singing was apparently one of the finalists on Kochav Nolad (the Israeli version of American Idol) at one point. The siddur was progressive in some ways and traditional in other ways. It did not specifically change any of the liturgy, but there were some omissions (most notably V'shamru and the Aleinu). There were also many Israeli songs throughout the siddur, and we sang some of them instead of the traditional liturgy. For example, in lieu of one of the psalms, we sang "Eizeh Achla Olam," a direct translation of "What a Wonderful World," and instead of Mi Chamocha, we sang, "Lu Y'hi," which was basically Naomi Shemer's rewriting of "Let it Be." There was also a part where we sang a line about being thankful (don't remember exactly how it went), and the service leader went around with a microphone and people said what they were thankful for. One guy named Ariel said that he was thankful for his family, and the vocalist then sang something along the lines of, "Ariel is thankful for his family," completely kosher gospel style. We used a lot of Israeli pop melodies for things. They did the entire L'cha Dodi and switched melodies in the middle as is tradition. They modulated many times. Wow. We did not face east and instead faced the ocean, with the idea that we were facing Jerusalem, just from the opposite angle. I'm slightly disappointed that we learned several of their melodies at Hava Nashira and they weren't used in this service, but I liked the meodies that were used. It was an interesting prayer experience and a wonderful way to bring in Shabbat.

We had something of a Hava Nashira dinner where we were talking about it. There was definitely a performative aspect of it. The good thing about this is that it brings a lot of Israelis who would otherwise never ever attend services. A lot of people who are walking along the promenade end up stopping by and staying for a while. The chairs were completely full. In this way, it definitely serves its purpose. I am interested in seeing how the service is during the year when they are not at the port.

Well, that's all for now. Until next time, here's some glida for your ogling pleasure.