Hevron

"Teach me and instruct me 

how to behave with all people in the world

so that I may merit being in peace with all,

even with those who disagree with me,

And so that I should merit to always be 

a lover of peace, and a pursuer of peace

As it is written:

'Seek peace and pursue it'"

Rav Nachman of Breslav
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A few weeks ago, my school took a trip to Hevron. 

Hevron is a holy city in the West Bank, south of Jerusalem. It is notable for being the burial site of the biblical matriarchs and patriarchs (the Me'arat ha-Machpela, Cave of the Patriarchs). While being an incredibly significant religious site for Judaism, it is also a very important site for Christians and Muslims.

But unfortunately, Hevron is notable for another reason. It is one of the most complex and complicated areas of Israel, and perhaps a representation of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict at its worst. 

First, a bit of background about our trip. As I understand it, the goal of our trip was to see Hevron, visit the Cave of the Patriarchs, and to offer us a nuanced perspective and hear from multiple points-of-view about the current reality in parts of the city.

Currently, Hevron is divided into two sections: H1 and H2. The Palestinian Authority has control over H1, and has around 120,000 Palestinians, and no Jews, living there. H2 has around 500 Jews and 30,000 Palestinians, and is controlled by Israel. We visited H2.

We heard from many different people throughout the day, including: 

-A tour guide to give us a historical overview, including the history of the Cave of the Patriarchs 

-A representative of "Breaking the Silence," an organization in which "veteran combatants...have taken it upon themselves to expose the Israeli public to the reality of everyday life in the Occupied Territories."

-A resident of the Jewish community in Hevron

-A former soldier, speaking on behalf of "Stand With Us," an organization "dedicated to informing the public about Israel and to combating the extremism and anti-Semitism that often distorts the issues"

-A Palestinian activist

The first speaker said that we would probably leave Hevron with more questions than we had answers. We would leave with more confusion than we arrived with. We would feel more frustrated at the end of the day than we felt at the start.

She was right. But my biggest reflection of the day? Peace never felt so far away.

There is suffering, grief, and pain on all sides of this conflict. In Hevron, I could not only see it, but I could feel it. There is bitter debate over who has the "rights" to be there, and who should have control over the Cave of the Patriarchs. In this particular area of Hevron, the hostility has escalated to a situation where there are separated streets, wire cages on windows, and armed soldiers on every corner.

Hebron wasn't always this way. The population used to live in relative coexistence up until the last 20 years. Some of my teachers talked about how they used to go to Hevron and shop in the Arab markets there.

How did this happen? How did we get into a situation where people (on both sides) have to fear violence every day? Where people are afraid to leave their houses? Where soldiers need to walk around with machine guns and riot gear?

And on a larger scale, what do you do when you have two groups of people with two conflicting narratives? And when the majority of people on both sides want peace, but a despicable few act on their hatred? What happens when, by ensuring the safety of one group, another group's welfare is affected? And just because you have certain "rights," what is the price you pay for exercising them?

These are not new or unique questions. And they are not easy questions. This is the conflict.

On our way to Hebron, we stopped at a small coffee "shop," called Pinna Chama, that is a place where Israeli soldiers can go to get free coffee and snacks. It's run by volunteers.
Pinna Chama was established after a family lost their loved one in a roadside bomb attack. They wanted to create a warm place that soldiers could visit when they are in the area.



Graffiti outside of Pinna Chama

Photo by Andrea Weise

Outside of the Cave of the Patriarchs.

Photo by Andrea Weise

 Walking around Hebron.

Photo by Andrea Weise

This gentleman spoke on behalf of the Jewish community in Hebron. When asked what his vision is for Hebron, he said, "to live here normally, to live like people live everywhere else, to live without carrying a gun, to live peacefully with my neighbors."

This is a street in H2. Because of the division of the city of Hebron, these Palestinian shops were forced to shut down, essentially creating a ghost town. Also, Palestinian residents on this street are not allowed to leave out of the front doors of their houses.

Photo by Andrea Weise
A sign in H2.

Photo by Andrea Weise

 The sign says "Caution: This was taken by Israel. This is Apartheid." Many of the Palestinian homes/apartments have wire cages around the windows to protect them from violence.

Photo by Andrea Weise

This is a memorial for a Jewish baby that was shot by a Palestinian militant sniper during the Second Intifada.

Photo by Andrea Weise

 A young Jewish boy in Hebron. 

Photo by Andrea Weise

 Palestinian boys hang out outside of a grocery store.

Photo by Andrea Weise

 This gentleman spoke on behalf of the Palestinian community in H2. He hopes that Hebron will be a part of a future Palestinian state, and wishes to live in peace and security.

"Free Israel." 

Soldiers patrolling the streets in H2.

Photo by Andrea Weise
This pictures speaks for itself.

Why did I start out this blog post with a quote about peace, if Hevron gave me a feeling of just the opposite?

Every day, there are examples of co-existence and peace all around Israel. There are many people who have made it their life work to foster co-existence, peaceful relations, and understanding of the Other. While there are areas of extreme conflict, like Hevron, there are also places that are true examples of what peace could look like.

I admire my school for taking this trip. It is not an easy place to go, nor is it an easy place to discuss. At Pardes, we have students, faculty, and staff that stand at all points of the political spectrum, and some individuals have very close and personal connections with Hevron. But what has become clear to me is that we are all "pursuers of peace" in the best way that we know how.

Since the trip, there has been many conversations, both formal and informal, about the experience in Hevron. While people may vehemently disagree with each other, there has been overall a respect and a willingness to listen. Perhaps by listening to each other, by challenging other, we can be, and can encourage others to be, "pursuers of peace."

At least it's a start.

May Love and Light Fill Your Home and Heart

Growing up, Hanukkah was a fun time for my family. Each of the eight nights, we would get together and light the menorah. My brother and I would open presents. My mom would make potato latkes. My dad would insist the candles were going to burn the house down. When I think of Hanukkah, I think of my family.

While I missed home, it was incredible to experience a hanukkah in Israel. The country celebrates for eight days, with parties, festivals, delicious foods, menorahs and lights everywhere. Below are a few pictures from some of the celebrations!

And my Hanukkah gift this year? My family was able to visit me in ISRAEL! I was so blessed to spend the last few days of the holiday with them (pictures in a different post).

Picture by Leah Kahn

Sufganiyot! During Hanukkah, everywhere you go in Israel has sufganiyot, or donuts. While delicious, these bad boys explain why none of my pants fit anymore.

Picture by Cheryl Stone

Hanukkah Lights in Jerusalem :)

Lighting candles with my roommate on the first night of Hanukkah! While we lit ours inside, many people in Jerusalem light an outdoor menorah in a glass box. Walking down the narrow streets in Jerusalem was beautiful!

A Hanukkah get-together! Nikki and Jessie make latkes, or potato pancakes.

Yum!

Happy people on the first night!

...even happier?

Like I said, you can never have too many donuts!

Laura, Leah, and I on the first night. Hillel professionals... unite!

A visit from a great friend to light the candles on the second night!

My Guys

In Jerusalem, everyone has a *guy:

"You want to buy fish? Oh you HAVE to go see my guy in the shuk."
"My cheese guy is the BEST. He let's you try whatever you want."
"Time for a haircut? You have to go to my guy on Emek!"

The fun, and perhaps frustration, of living in a new city is trying to find your "guys."

I've been living here for close to four months, and I've just started to feel settled. I'm beginning to find the products and stores that I like. But...this came with a lot of trial and error. I bought quite a few things I didn't need. I've purchased zucchinis in place of cucumbers, or "lite" bread instead of the real bread. I've mistaken butter for cheese, and lord only knows what kind of shampoo I'm using.

It took me a while to figure out how to order my coffee, or how to ask, "does this have meat in it?" One time, I spent $20 for a pineapple. My roommates have witnessed my raging, on several occasions, about the price of food in Israel.

One might ask, "Lauren, aren't most things in English? Don't most people speak English? Surely, it can't be that hard."

To which I'd respond, "First of all, you're a jerk. Who asks that? Secondly, you're right, but sometimes it's more fun to try and do things on your own, and make mistakes."

But now, I'm finally starting to find my place and my routine. I have my "guys."

I have my fruit and vegetable place, where I go every Friday morning, and they greet me with a hearty "boker tov!" (good morning!). 

I have my bread place, where they give me free samples of cheese. I find great satisfaction that I know how to ask them in Hebrew to slice my bread. Small victories, ya know?

I got my tofu guy, who wishes me a "Shabbat shalom!" every week, my shakshuka guy who always gives me an extra egg, and my falafel guy, who isn't very nice, but does a great job proportioning the ingredients in the pita (very important).

Living in a new place can be challenging. These people might not know it, but they are my guys, and they've made Jerusalem feel a bit more like home.

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*I'm using "guy" to mean both males and females. Easy, hippies.

Places to Play in & Pray In

"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, 

places to play in and pray in, 

where nature may heal and 

give strength to body and soul."

-John Muir

Last Tuesday through Thursday, my school went on a tiyul (trip) to the Negev desert. The pictures (and corny captions) can tell the story.

(The detail is better if you click on the pictures)

Little girl, big world

Hiking on the first day in Ein Gedi

 Lauren & Kyle in Ein Gedi

Photo credit: Mira Shore
Hiking on the 2nd day in the Negev

Hiking in the Negev

Roomies!

Photo credit: Mira Shore
Laura, Kyle, and Me, relaxing after a day of hiking

About to hike to the top of this...

 Hiking up, up, up!

 Me, Deborah, and Kyle

Taking a short break

 Dancing on top of the world

 View from the bottom

Photo credit: Mira Shore
Avi, Daniel, Me, and Jordan

Photo credit: Andrew Lustig
Wandering Jews?

 Grateful am I :)

Inspired.

"Sleep less, do more...and have the courage to fail."

-Rabbi Levi Lauer

Every Tuesday at Pardes, we have a school-wide learning session, where a faculty member or guest lecturer speaks about a "critical issue" facing the community.

This week, we heard from Rabbi Levi Lauer, a past dean of Pardes and the current executive director and founder of Atzum, a social action organization in Israel.

The organization was founded in 2002 "to remedy injustices in Israeli society, and encourage individuals to become social activists and agents of change." The main issues that the organization currently focuses on are:

• Confronting and eradicating human trafficking in Israel.
• Providing support for terror attack victims, and their families. 
• Improving the lives of "righteous gentiles" (non-Jews who risked their lives during the Holocaust) living in Israel.
• Empowering the youth of the Ethiopian community in Israel.

Relating his discussion to our studies at Pardes, Rabbi Lauer emphasized the importance of studying text and grappling with the important questions that it demands of us. What does social justice really mean? What does it mean to be a good person? Why is there so much suffering in the world? What can (and what should) we do about it?

On the other hand, he suggested that maybe we are preoccupied with words, and it moves us away from the "pain of the streets." In other words, we shouldn't just study, we should go out and do. We shouldn't just learn what it means to be a good person, we should take action and put our values into practice.

The "pain of the streets." This phrase in particular really spoke to me.

I am often overwhelmed by the suffering and injustices of the world, yet I somehow find myself drawn to them. When I watch the news, I feel empathetic to the point of taking others' pain on as my own pain, to the point that the story stays on my mind much longer than it should. My mom sometimes makes fun of me for reading socially-just books "just for fun" (you mean to tell me that "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" isn't a beach read?).

In all seriousness, I find myself paralyzed with what my role is, so much so that I often end up doing nothing. I used to think that this slightly-neurotic mindset was a curse, but Rabbi Lauer's lecture today made me feel that it's actually the opposite: "we were not created to be ambivalent, we were created to make a difference."

Rabbi Lauer ended with a brief story, highlighting the importance of helping ONE individual:

Yitzhak is boy whose father was killed in a suicide bombing attack on an Israeli bus. Yitzhak was on the bus as well. He survived, but not un-scarred. Since the attack, Yitzhak has not been able to set foot on a bus. Because of all the medical bills, his family doesn't have very much money, and can't afford a car. Since his family lives below the poverty line, the government provides a little assistance (including bus tickets), but this still isn't able to get Yitzhak to school.

At this point in the story, Rabbi Lauer paused, almost at a loss of what to say next. I could see in his eyes, and hear in his voice, the passion and the pain that comes with doing social justice work. 

"We were created in order to get Yitzhak to school. That's why this state was created. We have to get him to school."

We were created to care, to act, and to alleviate the pain of others. Thank you, Rabbi Lauer, for the much-needed reminder.


*The quotes on this page were as I wrote them down, but they might have slight inaccuracies.

Amen.

This is the Penn State that I know and love...

May No Act of Ours Bring Shame

Photo credit: Becky Salman

Today, I woke up, and for the first time, I was not so proud to be a Penn Stater. 

This is a very disheartening thing to admit, as our Penn State pride and loyalty runs very, very deep. We have the largest and most active alumni association in the world. Our school traditions are ingrained in us as soon as we arrive on campus. I was a tour guide for the university for 3 years where I shared my passion and devotion for Penn State to future students. It's more than a school. It's an identity.

But as I watched the story unfold from across the world, my heart sank further and further, in disappointment, anger, and disbelief.

First, a child molestation case, involving young boys whose innocence were taken by a man that was seen as a community hero. Then, the involvement and cover-up by two well-respected university officials. Furthermore, the involvement of Joe Paterno, our iconic and beloved football coach, and President Graham Spanier, which resulted in their termination by the Board of Trustees.

But that's not where my disappointment and disgust ends.

Thousands of Penn State students decided that it would be in their best interest to trash the town in a disgraceful and embarrassing riot. They flipped over news vans. They broke store windows. They threw rocks at police officers. All for what?

In the aftermath of all this tragedy, I look at my Facebook news-feed, and I see current students and alumni posting all kinds of messages of support. From posting "Penn State Forever," to love letters to Joe Paterno, to calls for signing petitions and organizing rallies. I think this is important, and I commend them.

But today, I just don't feel it. 

The Nittany Nation is hurt, confused, and devastated... and the reality is that no one really knows what to do. These instances bring into question our own idea of morality: Did our beloved Joe Paterno do enough? What would I have done if I were him? Did the Board of Trustees make the "right" decision? How did the media distort this case? Why am I even upset about my school, when this whole thing should be about the victims?

I don't have all the answers. But what I do know is it's okay to grapple with these questions, and it's ok to feel the way that you do. If you feel angry, feel angry. If you feel sad, feel sad. And if you feel not-so-proud of Penn State right now, feel that way, and know that it's ok.

It will take some time, but Penn State will be whole again. Deep down, I know that Penn State is an extraordinary institution and the actions of a few does not reflect the goodness of the whole. Deep down, I know that I have great pride in my alma mater and my Penn State family.

But today, I'm sad. And that's ok.

The Adventures of Na'omi9: Kashering our Kitchen

My roommates and I decided a few weeks ago that we wanted to make our kitchen kosher. The word kosher literally means "fit," and it refers to the Jewish dietary laws. 

There are different reasons why one might choose to "keep kosher." Here are a few examples:

"Because God commanded me to do so."
"Because it adds intention and mindfulness to my eating."
"Because I'm Jewish and that's what Jews have done for thousands of years."
"Because it adds holiness to my daily routine."
"Because I live in Jerusalem and none of my friends want to eat at my house because they think I'm a heathen." (Ok, exaggeration. But some people do choose to keep kosher because of their community). 

These are all legitimate reasons to take on a kosher lifestyle. If you ask me why I want to keep kosher, I believe it would be a mix of all of the above. I've never really tried it before, so I it will be quite an adventure.

Anyway, I thought I'd share the process that my roommates and I went through to kasher our kitchen. Enjoy.

Preparation:

1) Sit down with Zvi, our halaka (Jewish law) teacher (and resident Pardes comedian), to talk about what we need to do/buy/etc. Confusion ensues.
2) Organize kitchen, separating things that we can save and things that we can't. Find rotting vegetables and stale pretzels in the cabinets. Eat the pretzels. With hummus.
3) Go to grocery store to buy new pans, dishes, etc. Get flustered after seeing the price of Israeli home goods.
4) Buy the expensive home-goods, but continue to complain about the price of them.
5) Label everything "dairy," "meat," or "pareve" (neither dairy nor meat).

Kashering

1) Start with major appliances. Thoroughly clean out oven, microwave, stove-top, counters, etc. Nearly pass out from the fumes of the cleaning product.
2) Turn on oven and stove top at full blast, and boil a cup of water in the microwave.
3) Pour boiling water over all the countertops (and inadvertently, the kitchen floor).
4) Call Zvi with 15 more questions that just came up.
5) Completely immerse ceramic dishes in boiling water 3 times each. Burn hands.
6) Drop hot rock in boiling water so that it spills over onto the sides of the pot.
7) Call Zvi again (with only 5 questions this time).

Toveling

If a dish or cooking utensil is new, it is customary to tovel it, or immerse it in living water to symbolically sanctify it.

1) Gather items to be toveled.
2) Trek to the mikveh (ritual bath) that's down the street from us.
3) Get the stare-down from some Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) children. Laugh at how silly, and uniquely Jerusalem, this situation is.
4) Dip dishes in the water and say the blessing for toveling dishes.
5) Realize we should have said the blessing first. Do it again.
6) Return home. Wash dishes. Put everything on labeled shelves. Call grandmother and make her proud.

You might be thinking that this all sounds a little weird. Well, for all of you skeptics out there, I took this "before" and "after" picture of our dishes, to illustrate what a difference kashering makes:

Before

After

Ok, enough of my bad jokes.

In all seriousness, I really enjoyed this process, and tried to do it with intention and honor. I think there is something really appealing about adding holiness to the seemingly ordinary things that we do in our every day lives. I do feel differently when I'm preparing my food, even it's just the reminder to have gratitude for what I'm about to eat and where it comes from. I'm also excited to be able to cook for friends, regardless of the level of kosher that they keep.

While the actual ritual of kashering a kitchen may sound a bit funny or strange, I do believe that there is a lot of value behind it, and I look forward to exploring this as time goes on.

And if you have any questions about kashering your OWN kitchen.... call Zvi.

Laura labels everything.

 The over-priced haul from the home-goods store.

 Dropping a rock into boiling water. Just another Friday morning.

 Laura and Todd kashering the dishes.

Getting the stare-down from Haredi children at the mikveh. 

 Todd doing a full-body dip into the mikveh.

Laura takes a turn.

It's Not You... It's Me

Now that the biggest chunk of Jewish holidays is over, we are finally settling into a rhythm at school.

Personally, I feel like I'm getting into the swing of things, and starting to really understand the many benefits of studying Jewish texts. One of the most unique components of Jewish learning that I've come to love is the tradition of studying in pairs, or havruta learning.

While the word havruta comes from the same root as the Hebrew word for "friend," a havruta is a very unique relationship. Generally, a havruta is someone who is at a similar Hebrew level as you, with whom you can translate and uncover different meanings of the text. An ideal havruta is someone who challenges you and makes you think in new ways, and who shares their ideas and insight.

We spend half of our study time in the classroom, hearing a lecture, and the other half studying with our havruta. So, it's very important to find a good match, as you will spend a lot of hours together. These past few weeks have been a scramble to find the perfect havruta. 

I've found that finding your havruta is a bit like dating.

The first day, in one of my classes, our teacher asked us to go around the room and say (1) what we are looking for in a havruta, and (2) what we feel like we can bring to a havruta.

The responses ranged from "I'm a good listener," to "I want someone who brings out the best in me." It sounded like a bad eHarmony commercial (I made this joke in class, which got a few chuckles, and maybe a few check-marks in the "possible-havruta?" column).

We were encouraged to "shop around," and work with a lot of different people, in order to find the best match. Students often went to their teachers (match-makers?) for advice. One can imagine the awkward social interactions that go on when the havruta isn't working out for one person.

"This just really isn't working out for me anymore..."
"I think you're great. I really do. I just...want to see what else is out there..."
"It's not you...it's me..."
"Kissing you feels like kissing my sister..."

Ok, just kidding on the last one.

And sometimes your havruta-finding skills attract the attention of others. Someone might ask you, "oh, who is your havruta in that class?" "Rebecca Farbowitzsteinberg." "Ooo, NICE."

In all seriousness, I find that I'm really loving havruta learning. I didn't think that I would at first, and even tried to find crafty ways to work on my own (that only lasted about 10 minutes, when teachers found me in the corner by myself). This type of learning challenges me, and forces me to think in a new way.

I have a different havruta for each class, and I find that I enjoy working with each person for a different reason. Some are patient. Some keep me focused. Some inspire me to think differently. Some I like to argue with. These are all good things, and I'm grateful to have found partners who bring out the best in my learning.

Now... if only my actual dating life was this successful (ba-bum-ching!).