First mandel bread

After finally getting our oven working, rounding up all the ingredients, (thank you, hubby!) and getting my baking sheet in the mail, (also, thank you, hubby, for ordering the correct size to fit our oven) I made my first batch of mandel bread.

It may seem like not so big of a deal to bakers, or people who have everything they need to bake, but when you move to a new place and don't have anything that you are use to baking with, it's more difficult. Ingredients are different in other counties, ovens are different (fahrenheit to celsius),  measuring cups are different, (I only had measuring cups with ml, so I had to calculate everything from cups - 1 cup is 236 ml, if you were wondering.)

Also, I can't eat gluten. So I can't taste them. My husband said they were good, maybe a little soft. Mandel bread is suppose to be a little crunchy to drip in coffee or something warm. So I'll bake them for one more minute next time.

I'm very happy with how they turned out, I make them a lot. And happy my husband is getting back into his routine of eating one or two in the morning after davening. =) 

The little things

In the morning in the US my husband would drink tea or coffee and have a cookie that I had made. In moving, this didn't happen yet, we are waiting for a cookie sheet that we ordered and I haven't started baking yet. But in Israel you can find parve things that aren't expensive. So my husband bought some parve muffins to have with coffee before he has his real breakfast. My husband is a personal trainer and fitness guru, so he'll only eat a little sugar, something sweet in the morning. Here's his parve muffin and ice-coffee with almond milk (we don't eat dairy at all.)

It's the little things that make relocating feel normal. 

Two years since...

It has been two years since I posted here, but I figured, why create a new blog? I love this one and it's still my life. A very short update: The summer I last posted, I met my husband, Tzuri, married him in October. Bh, we had a beautiful baby girl, Avigayle, the following July. I taught for two more years in the US at Jewish Day Schools. Now, we recently moved back to Israel. We have been here just over three weeks now and I am finally starting to feel more settled.

Although, there have been times in the past two years that I have felt like writing, I always have more of an urge when I'm in Israel. Maybe I feel more at home, maybe things are more interesting here, maybe I'm happier (so it's easier to write.) I'm not sure the reason, but these past few weeks I have had a lot of observations.

This time in Israel (bh, forever) is very different. One, we moved to Israel for good. (Not that we wouldn't ever consider living somewhere else for a year if there was some amazing opportunity, but we really have going to live in Israel and bez'h, our child and future children will grow up here. Two, I'm not in a major city. We moved to Kfar Saba, which is about 20 minutes (without traffic) northwest of Tel Aviv. Also, we moved to a neighborhood that is a majority Yemenite. Needless to say, people have already noticed that I'm not Yemenite and many people have already asked me when I moved from the US, even though I never told them that I wasn't born in Israel. (Clearly, it's fairly obvious to most.)

In summary, I want to write to tell about my trials and successes as a new resident to this community. Although, I already feel like we overcame the initial hurdles, (we have a working stove, bank account, washing machine, APARTMENT) there are still many things to be done. We are also in Kfar Saba so we can be close to my in-laws. They are amazing, but very different than my family and how I grew up. I know it'll take me sometime to adjust and understand the dynamics of this type of family life.

So to you and to me, welcome back!  

Bonna Devora Haberman z"l

When Rabbi Eliezer was excommunicated, the Talmud says that all the plants on the earth wilted and died. I never understood until today. Losing Bonna Devora Haberman​ is such a loss. My heart is truly in pain. Losing a leader, mentor, role model, and friend.

The rosh chodesh that I snuck tefillin into the kotel, Bonna was with me. She saw me, nodded, smiled, moved closer to me. We had danced together before, but we didn't know each other. I knew it was okay, even if I couldn't see HaShem smiling, Bonna was smiling and it was all the reassurance I needed.

The next month, I was sure I would get arrested. But I wasn't the only one with tefillin. Bonna proudly stood with her tefillin on as well, beaming, glowing, only how Bonna did. Whatever the barrier, it was no longer there. We would forever be able to lay tefillin together at the kotel. Although, they told me they were going to arrest me. I asked them not to until after Hallel...and Bonna was arrested instead. Not that she went instead of me, but she was much more brave than I was. She willing went. I didn't want to go to jail, even if I knew I was breaking an unjust law. We never spoke about it. We just kept laying tefillin together every Rosh Chodesh.

Today is my Hebrew birthday, it's not a gift I ever expected, but I am so grateful that HaShem allowed me to be in Israel to say goodbye to Bonna. Tomorrow I am reading Torah at the Kotel. Sefer Torah or not, I can't think of a more appropriate way of honoring Bonna and her memory. 

יהי זכרה ברוך

Going home.

לֶךְ לְךָ מֵאַרְצְךָ וּמִמּוֹלַדְתְּךָ וּמִבֵּית אָבִיךָ אֶל הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אַרְאֶךָּ: בראשית יב:א 

"Go forth from your land and from your birthplace and from your father's house, to the land that I will show you." Genesis 12:1

HaShem tells Avraham to leave his land, his birthplace, his father's home and go to another land. HaShem continues and says that he will bless Avraham in many ways. 

I feel that over the past six years of my life, I have been like Avraham. I left the land I was from, from where I was born, my parents' house, to a land (Israel) that HaShem showed me. I earned a Masters Degree in Middle East Studies, learned Hebrew, and for the past three years studied in the best beit midrash (house of study) in the world at the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies. At Pardes, I was free to question, change, grow, challenge my thinking, my actions, my way of living. And I did all those things. I changed, a lot. I didn't really have to explain to my parents and family how I was changing. It was just my thinking, but also the way I practiced my religion. I didn't have to explain how I became to feel more identified to Am Yisrael and the Jewish people than I did with being American. I didn't have to explain why I started to keep kosher, keep Shabbat, keep mitzvot. Maybe they saw pictures, or I mentioned something here or there, and they knew I didn't call on Saturdays, but they didn't really know the extent of my changes. Maybe that was my fault, or maybe I wasn't totally aware of the process that I was going through.  Either way, I wasn't the same person I was when I left my parents' home.

But unlike Avraham, at some point, I would be returning home. It happened last August. After five years in Israel, I returned to the land of my birth, to a place near (within driving distance) of my parents' home. I was blessed to receive a teaching position at a Jewish Day School in the midwest. I would be returning to the United States a totally different person than when I left. 

I can understand why HaShem never tells Avraham to go back home. It's hard. It's hard to explain things, it's hard to make demands on my family. It's hard to ask them to buy kosher things. It's hard to ask them to only use dishes that have been made kosher. It's hard to ask my Catholic father to make a kosher Thanksgiving. 

But...that's exactly what happened. 

Kosher turkey almost cooked on a kosher grill.

The weekend before when my parents were in Skokie, Illinois they went to the kosher Jewel and bought lots of things. I brought kosher utensils from my apartment and we cooked everything in those. We didn't use butter...on anything. We made roasted potatoes instead of mashed. And guess what, everyone survived. 

Reading books Thanksgiving morning with my niece and nephew.

And not only did everyone survive, I got to spend lots of time with my niece and nephew. The hardest part about living in Israel is being far away from them. Although I came home twice a year, I feel like I completely missed the first five years of my nephew's life. Both my niece and nephew are so smart, sweet, lovable and kind. By returning to the midwest, I definitely get to be a part of their lives much more. Being able to be with my family, makes all the requesting, explaining, awkwardness, all the ignoring the weird/rude comments, and even sometimes not being able to eat, all worthwhile. 

I remember being at Pardes talking to one of my rabbis and I was expressing my anxiety about going home a year before it was actually going to happen. He said, "you need to communicate." Although, simple, it's not simple at all. Communication isn't easy. But starting as early as possible and being as honest as possible, is very important. My families participation may have come with some complaining and lack of understanding, but they got exactly what I needed and did exactly what I needed to be able to be comfortable in their home...because in the end, our goal was the same. We all wanted to be together. 

Judy visits JDS

I was lucky that my faculty check in during student teaching landed right in the middle of my student teaching. It is really easy to get overwhelmed (especially as a second year, in my case third) with teaching, but also interviewing and juggling life. 

Not only was Judy a great observer and gave wonderful feedback after my lessons, she helped me focus and reminded me of my goals I had set for myself before leaving Pardes. Take risks, have fun, learn, experiment, take advantage of the fact that I have a (wonderful) veteran teaching watching my lessons, etc. 

Judy and me in the CESJDS Rabbinics office!

Judy's visit was brief, and while she was at JDS she met with my mentor teacher, the Judaic studies department chair, the head of school, principal of the middle school, and of course, most of the time she was with me. Although I'm sure the interviewing process will only become more stressful, she really eased my anxiety and helped me re-focus.

Besides all the helpful things she did and the guidance she gave, it was simply wonderful to see a friendly loving face from Pardes. Can't believe I'm at the half-way marker! 

JDS hockey team plays Israel!

Last night, after school, I went with the Director of Jewish Life and her five year old son to watch a hockey game between JDS (the school where I'm doing my student teaching) and Israel. I didn't know that Israel had a youth hockey team, but they were touring DC all the way from Metula, Israel. The team is made up of male and female, Israeli and Arab teens. The stands were packed and it was an awesome match to watch. I have no idea about the skill level as it was the first hockey game I have ever been to, but I thought both teams played well. I was proud of my students and the teens from Israel. 

Israel is in white and JDS is in blue. 

Opening ceremony of the hockey game 

My friend's son with two Olympic medalist hockey players. 

Tshirt from the game.

I was also impressed by how many students, parents, administrators, and community members came to support both teams and came to support Israel. The DC area is a really nice place to be and I'm happy to be at JDS to experience these types of events in America. 

First day of student "teaching"

I put teaching in quotations because even though it was my first day at Charles E. Smith Jewish Day School (JDS for short) in Rockville, Maryland, I definitely didn't teach. I observed, a lot.

Entrance of JDS (still dark outside when I arrived)

I had a couple of tours of the school, met many wonderful people, half of whom I hope to remember their names tomorrow, and sat in on classes. Besides the Judaic Studies classes I sat in on, I went to a jazz class which was very cool (and impressive). 

After meeting the tennis coach after school, we agreed that I would coach with her until April with the boys team every Monday-Thursday.  

Shabbats are already being planned! This Shabbat Yaffa will be in Maryland and I'll get to spend time with her. Maybe I'll miss Pardes less when we're together. Although, everyone at JDS is so nice and welcoming, it's hard to not love every second and very hard not to be excited about going to "work" everyday.

First day!!! 

My first day of real teaching will be next Monday. Until then I will be doing more observations and prepping my lessons for teaching. (Also, there are a lot of Pardes alumni that work at my school which makes it feel very homey!)

Best dad in the world.

Today I received an email from my dad. (This is normal, we email a lot.) 

The email said, "i am getting plates and bowls for you, do you need separate silverware? please let me know your dietary needs.  what do you want to eat while you are here?  what can you not eat and how can I prepare for this?  love, Dad" 

Me, my dad, and my sister

Monday night I am flying to America. My anxiety had been slowly building. I have been observant for a while now, but every time I would visit America, I gave in. But every time I did, it felt worse and worse. I didn't want to impose "rules" on my family or to be a burden. I didn't really know how to explain myself, why I wanted or didn't want to eat certain things, in certain ways, or on certain dishes. It felt bad to request things that I couldn't logically explain, like, "well, after it's dipped in the water, I can/will eat off of it."  

Yesterday, I talked to my dad on the phone and I started spewing all these anxieties and how I was nervous. And he said, "you're also going to have to give in a little." Yes, I totally agree, but I felt like even that is difficult if they can't understand how much I really am giving also. 

I want to be a part of my family. I want to go on family trips, I don't want to be different or outside, or make things more difficult for anyone. I don't want to feel like I can't participate. I really have the best family in the world. They are loving, giving, caring, supportive. They have only encouraged me to follow my own path and to become the person I want to be. 

I could also feel the anxiety lift off my shoulders when I received the email.  I don't know if my dad understands anything about keeping kosher. Probably some, no shrimp, no pig, no mixing dairy and meat. But he's not Jewish, in fact, he's a very observant Catholic. Maybe because his religion is so important to him, it's easy for him to understand why mine is to important to me. 

Christmas 1991 

Or maybe it's really just because he loves me so much, and understands that this is something that I really value and it's how I live my life. My dad (and mom, too, of course) has been providing for my every need since I was born, and so now too, this is a need, and I think my dad really understands that. For me, keeping kosher is a need. 

Thank you, dad, for listening to me and reaching out to me. For understanding the things that I didn't have the courage to explicitly say or ask for. Thank for you being a partner, and of course, like always, thank you for taking care of me. 

Institute

This isn't the first time I have written about The Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies, and honestly, it probably won't be the last.

Today, Shabbat, Parsha Va'Eira, was very special. There was a Bar Mitzvah of Avi, a son of one my teachers at Pardes, Meesh Hammer Kossoy. I have no idea how many students attended, but I couldn't look into any part of the crowd, and not see a classmate, teacher, dean, rosh yeshiva, spouse, significant other, etc.

Maybe this is normal for an "institute," maybe all places are like this, and they attend celebrations of co-workers and teachers. But, I have never been part of an institute that functions like this. I even looked up the definition of institute, so see if this was normal.

institute - noun : an organization created for a particular purpose

There doesn't seem to be anything explicit to think that this is how an institute would function. So what is it about Pardes that creates an environment that nearly the entire faculty and student body goes to a simcha/celebration of another faculty member? 

I think there is a sense of family that develops very quickly. We obviously all leave our homes to come to Jerusalem, yes, some with spouses, but most come alone. We quickly look up to our teachers/rabbis not just for Jewish guidance, but life guidance. Yes, they are amazing teachers of Tanakh, gemara, mishna, Rambam, Hassidute, etc., but more than anything, they serve as role models. They invite us into their homes to spend time with their children, to meet their wives/husbands. They feed us, they sing with us, they pray with us, they listen to us, they truly become like parents, (or in some cases like older siblings.) 

So, it is no surprise that when one of our beloved teachers has a celebration, we, as family, all want to attend. 

As for Avi, the bar mitzvah, he did an amazing job. He gave a dvar torah that could rival the best any Shabbat morning, read Torah and the Haftarah beautifully, ducked quickly out of the way of flying Hershey kisses, thanked his brother and sister for being the best siblings in the world, and graciously accepted all the mazal tovs he received.  

And as for his parents, they, of course, were exemplary models of loving, devoted parents who were beaming with pride over their son's rites of passage. 

A special davening.

There was something very special about this morning's davening (praying) that I don't always feel. But it started way before my friend started to sing pesukei d'zimra (the opening blessings.)

This morning wasn't your average morning, yes, we came early for davening at 7am like other days, but it was difficult. After the Jerusalem snow storm and two days of canceled school, the roads were still ice. My friend/roommate and I slipped and slid our way to school, grabbing on to each other many times in order not to fall. We laughed and took pictures of crazy things we saw on our way.

Gorgeous sunrise, but also note the accident that already happened...

Uh oh....

Sliding down the street! 

I really questioned why I was on the street before 7am to go pray. But...we went. And we made it safely. Only three of us were there after we brought the Torah downstairs (the only place in the building with heat) but we looked at each other with excitement. We were going to pray, and be together and be warm and support each other. When Carolyn started, she said, "you better sing with me!" And we happily did. Soon more women came, and prayed and sang with us.  We were still small, only seven of us, but it felt like a lot. And in a gentle way, it felt strong.

Naomi led shachrit, which I had never heard her do before, and in her soft, sweet voice there was so much beauty. I read the first two aliyot of Shemot, which was exciting in its own accord because everyone at Pardes has been studying sefer Shemot and most classes just finished the first parsha. I felt a lot when I sang it, but not nerves like usual. There was an excitement to read/hear the story and continue our journey through the Torah. I think we all connected to the reading in our own way. Candace read the third aliyah which included Puah and Shifra, the first two powerful and influential women we run into in Shemot.   

Everyone smiled, even in questions, answers, clarifications, and corrections. Everyone was supportive. I felt so good. My dear friend, (who is known to have a bit an anxiety at times) read the bracha for the Torah reading with confidence and not a hint of hesitation in her voice. She made me very proud and I was excited to be the one reading the aliyah. 

I don't think I need to restate how special this morning's women's tefilla was to me. But I do want to say that I feel so lucky to have a community in which it is possible to create such a safe space. I know at the end of the year, I won't be able to take this for granted, as I am already searching for communities in the US for which this can exist and thrive. But for now, thank you, Pardes, thank you, Naomi and Melissa, and thank you, women of Pardes who are always there to support me. 

Hillel in the snow

There is a very famous story about Hillel, which follows: 

"Most famous perhaps is the incident which occurred before his rise to leadership, when he was not yet a scholar, but had a burning desire to study Torah. At that time, Torah study was tightly controlled and limited only to those of the highest caliber and to those who could pay for it. Hillel, working then as a woodchopper, did not have enough money to pay for entry into the Beit Midrash. On a freezing cold snowy day, he climbed onto the roof of the Study Hall, and lay at the "skylight" listening to the lecture, until he froze. When the scholars below observed his form above, they retrieved him, and changed the policy such that anyone who wished to study Torah could come in and do so."

(Taken from: http://www.ou.org/about/judaism/hillel.htm) 

View out the window of the Pardes Beit Midrash. 

Yesterday, in Jerusalem, the snow that had been warned about finally arrived. It wasn't that much snow. But for Israel, a place that isn't prepared to deal with this kind of weather, the city really shuts down. Yet, something very amazing happened. So many Pardes students arrived at school. Many of them very early for mechetzah and egal minyans, and even after, more for classes. Teachers and secretaries showed up, too. Level dalet and hey had nearly 100% attendance. We all braved the cold, freezing, wet, snow, ice in order to come study. Even when school was officially canceled after news of Jerusalem schools also being canceled, many students stayed for hours to continuing studying in the Beit Midrash. 

View inside the Beit Midrash! 

Maybe we are all crazy. Maybe we just wanted to be where most of our friends were already. Maybe we couldn't imagine leaving to go back out into the snow. But I think it's something about Torah. We seem to be addicted. It fills us with something that we would all describe a little differently, but makes us feel good and helps us become better versions of ourselves. And b"h we have a place to study, unlike Hillel who wasn't allowed in, Pardes opens it's doors to everyone and offers Torah to anyone who seeks it. 

So thank you Pardes for being so warm, loving, and open. Because no one wants to be outside in this weather, not even Hillel! 

Being part of the IFL

Beyond my time studying Torah at Pardes, I am in my fourth season refereeing American football in Israel. I have seen a lot of amazing things, bones breaking, players helping each other, Christians, Jews and Muslims gaining respect for each other on a field. But this past Thursday topped all of these things. One of the teams really went out of their way to make one eleven year old's dream come true.

Read and watch the video here.

I'm very proud to work for this wonderful organization. Way to go, Israel Football League.

Why was Rosh Chodesh Tevet different?

This month, Tevet, at the kotel really felt different. Maybe it was logistics. It started at 8am and not 7am. I decided to walk. Someone (from WoW) stopped on their way when they recognized me, picked me up, and gave me a ride. Pardes is on Hanukkah break so I didn't have to run stressfully back to school in fear of being late for my lesson. I went out to breakfast afterwards with four other people who prayed with WoW at the kotel. We relaxed, reflected, laughed. 

I'm sure all of these things contributed to a nice morning. But I really felt that the davening (prayer) itself was nicer than usual. First, there weren't as many people there in general. The summer is gone, the tourists went home, the weather wasn't great. Only the "die-hards," the men and women who always come were there. And really, it was nice. It was intimate, I could here the shaliach tzibur (the prayer leader.) Even though we did a nusach (tune) that I didn't know, we did everything out loud together. It was slow, some of my friends at school would have found it very difficult (they prefer to daven quickly). But I liked it. I knew many of the women (and men) who were there. I was greeted with loving smiles and hugs. What it really felt like what my normal morning minyan (or for people who believe only men can make up a minyan, then I can use the word tefilla.) I like praying in a group of people I know and care about and who care about me. And that's what happened this morning.

From the first moment that the woman picked me up on the street, to the women at the entrance who let me hold the Torah for a few minutes before going into pray, to women coming in around me and rubbing my back to let me know they were standing close (protecting each other from the screams from the other side of the mechetza). From the personalized blessings from Nathalie, the shaliach tzibur, to warm accepting laughter I received when I was standing under the tallit for a blessing and I told the women around me to pray hard because I wanted to find my husband. There were mothers and daughters praying together. Women who could have been my mom. Young women my age who have been empowered to stand up for what they believe. Older women who have seen change and stagnation. Because of all these things, I felt cared about and important. I felt that my prayers were significant to this group and our prayers were rising together. For me, this is why I like to pray in a group and specifically why I like to pray in a group of women. It's safe, it's strong, it's supportive, and it's non-judgmental. I really hope and pray that every woman gets to experience an openness of prayer like this.

Last month contained it's own beauty. It was a success that hundreds of women from all over Israel and America came to pray together. But it wasn't intimate, it was big and successful in celebrating the 25th anniversary. I was happy for those women to be able to come and have a wonderful experience at the Kotel. Something they will remember for the rest of their lives, but they went home. And what was left, were the women who give themselves every month. The women who don't want it to be a show, who will keep coming no matter how long it takes. Maybe that isn't provocative, maybe that doesn't make the headlines, but it's exactly what I want. And talking to these women this morning, I realized I'm not alone. I'm not going to Robinson's Arch. I am going to pray in the women's section, with tallit, tefillin, and one day, one Rosh Chodesh, hopefully soon, I and others will read from the Sefer Torah.

Dvar Torah - Tower of Bavel

I wrote a dvar torah about the Tower of Bavel...you can read it here! 

Not just once, but four times!

Like any other normal day, I received an email from the synagogue/beit knesset that I go to every week here in Jerusalem, Mizmor le David. Usually, I delete them because I know the prayer times and have my meals already planned. But with all the chaggim/holidays, I read through the mass email to make sure I didn’t miss anything. There was an announcement that on Simchat Torah women could read from the Torah. It’s an orthodox beit knesset, so I was shocked and excited at the opportunity. Before I knew what I had done, I emailed back to tell them that I wanted to read.

At this point, Simchat Torah was about ten days away. So while sitting in a shiur about sukkot, I picked out the part of VeZot HaBracha (the last reading in the Torah) that I wanted to read. I picked a short one, I didn’t want to bite off more than I could chew. I chose the fourth aliyah, it is only four pasukim/sentences. This is what I chose:

Chapter 33

And to Zebulun he said: "Rejoice, Zebulun, in your departure, and Issachar, in your tents.		יח. וְלִזְבוּלֻן אָמַר שְׂמַח זְבוּלֻן בְּצֵאתֶךָ וְיִשָּׂשכָר בְּאֹהָלֶיךָ:
They will call peoples to the mountain; there, they will offer up righteous sacrifices. For they will be nourished by the abundance of the seas, and by the treasures hidden in the sand."		יט. עַמִּים הַר יִקְרָאוּ שָׁם יִזְבְּחוּ זִבְחֵי צֶדֶק כִּי שֶׁפַע יַמִּים יִינָקוּ וּשְׂפֻנֵי טְמוּנֵי חוֹל:
And of Gad he said: "Blessed is He Who grants expanse to Gad; he dwells like a lion, tearing the arm [of his prey, together] with the head.		כ. וּלְגָד אָמַר בָּרוּךְ מַרְחִיב גָּד כְּלָבִיא שָׁכֵן וְטָרַף זְרוֹעַ אַף קָדְקֹד:
He saw the first portion for himself, because there, the portion of the lawgiver is hidden. And he came at the head of the people; he did what is righteous for the Lord, and what is lawful with Israel."		כא. וַיַּרְא רֵאשִׁית לוֹ כִּי שָׁם חֶלְקַת מְחֹקֵק סָפוּן וַיֵּתֵא רָאשֵׁי עָם צִדְקַת יְהֹוָה עָשָׂה וּמִשְׁפָּטָיו עִם יִשְׂרָאֵל:

I practiced a lot. My trope teacher recorded if for me to make sure I was pronouncing all the words correctly. I kept referencing my trope book to make sure I had the notes right. I made my friends and roommates listen to me sing it over and over.

I always think reading Torah is important and a mitzvah, but this seemed extra special and extra important. One, I was going to read on a holiday. A holiday that is all about celebrating the Torah itself. So to read from the Torah on the day that celebrates Torah was extra special. Secondly, on a personal note, this was the first time that I would be reading Torah at an orthodox place that wasn’t Pardes or NFTY. I had read Torah many times for NFTY and the reform movement.  I have the utmost respect for the reform movement and it is one of my deep passions to work for them. I am usually one of the most educated Jews when I am reading Torah, and there are few people, if any, who know when I make a mistake. (I still take it very seriously and practice for weeks before I read for them.) And I also have read Torah a few times at Pardes. This is also nerve wracking, but it is a place where people know that we are students who are learning and people are gentle in correcting others and everyone is supportive. At Mizmor le David, people know what’s going on, they know exactly how it is suppose to be read. It’s serious, it’s a mitzvah.

I arrived so early in the morning, I was the first woman, and there wasn’t even a minyan of men yet. I was nervous. I put on my tallit and felt wrapped up in God’s presence, (I had asked before if it was okay if I could wear it, and they said it was fine!) and I started davening/praying which helped me relax and later we danced with the Torah for hours which also helped me calm down. Finally, it was time for Torah reading. It was already noon, I was ready, (and my amazing friends who came to support me were more than ready as well!) The women went outside and formed a separate minyan. At first I was annoyed, like the women were being kicked out. But I realized it’s too loud for two Torah readings to be going on at once. With the women, ten or men came out to insure there was a minyan.

On Simchat Torah, they read the torah portion many times. They do this to make sure that anyone who wants to do an aliyah, saying the blessing over the torah reading, has an opportunity. The person then receives a blessing called the Mi Sheberakh/May the One Who Blessed. It’s a blessing for healing and good health. It is traditionally read when the Torah is open. So this is a time for everyone to receive this blessing if they want.

It was finally my turn to read. A friend of mine did the blessing, I started, slowly and I tried to be loud. (It was hard to hear the people who read before me.) My friend had given me the advice to breathe and, “give yourself time” he said. It gives you a split second to think, annunciate, and look ahead. So I did. It was good, but the women thought I may be lost and “helped” me a little, even though I didn’t mess up. It was great. The after blessing was said. I stayed up there and did my own aliyah on the next torah reading, and received my own blessing.

Then we started over and I was waved up to read again. The women struggled over the blessing, but did it, and I read again. Perfectly.

There were so many people who wanted to say the blessing, they set up a third minyan in a side room and ten men crammed in to form yet another space to read torah. (In an orthodox setting, ten men are needed to read torah.) They asked me to go into that room because they needed more people to read. There was a man reading most of the portions, but when it got to the part that I knew, I asked if I could read it. They thought I wanted to say the blessing, but I told him I wanted to read the torah, and he asked again, “You want to read?” and again, I said yes, and the man stepped back and I took the yad/pointer from his hand. This time there were only three or four women in the room with the ten men and I was reading for a man who had said the blessing. And...I rocked it. It felt amazing.

I waited for one more read through of the Torah, and when it got to my part, the man handed me the yad with a nod. And I read, again...it didn’t get boring, it was more and more amazing every time. I did better every time. I was more confident with each reading. I became aware that it wasn’t just about my own reading, but that I was truly helping/assisting someone else fulfill a mitzvah. By my reading (four times!!!), they did the mitzvah of reciting the blessing and they received a blessing. I know I already said it, but it was so awesome!

Everyone who wanted to do a blessing did it. It was after one in the afternoon, I was starving, it was time to go home. I went to say bye to the man who I had originally emailed to say that I wanted to read Torah. He was smiling, happy and grateful that I read. He told me that next year I could read two portions! Be’ezrat Hashem/with God’s help, I will.

On my walk home, I was glowing. I felt so alive, so proud of myself. So proud of my own reading and that I helped other people do their own mitzvah. Maybe it was just torah, or maybe it was what torah helped me give to others that made me so happy. I’m not sure. But now that we are starting over on Shabbat with Bereshit, at the beginning of the torah again, I can’t help but think about what this year of torah is going to bring me and I can’t wait to get started!

NFTY, I'm shaking what?

Sukkot is a holiday that is really about joy. We are commanded to be happy. We build a booth outside in the elements of the weather to show God that we trust and depend on him. We are told to dwell in the booth/sukkah that we made. The rabbis interpreted this to mean that we eat and sleep in it.

So, great, I will build a booth, eat and sleep in it, and be happy. But we all know there is something else that has to do with Sukkah...the four species, or better known at the lulav and etrog. And we're suppose to shake it...

In Leviticus 23:40 the Torah names them these four plants:

• ets hadar (פרי עֵץ הָדָר ) magnificent trees
• tamar (כפות תמרים) palm trees
• ets avoth (עֵץ־עָבֹת) boughs of thick trees
• aravah (ערבי נחל) willows of the brook

The terms we are more familiar with now come from the Talmud:

• etrog (אתרוג) – the fruit of a citron tree
• lulav (לולב) – a ripe, green, closed frond from a date palm tree
• hadass (הדס) – boughs with leaves from the myrtle tree
• aravah (ערבה) – branches with leaves from the willow tree*

Why these specific four species of plants and why did God command us to gather them? One thing that is very cool, is that all the plants grow in the land of Israel. By gathering these plants God is taking us through our Jewish history. It's almost the same route that we took this summer on our NFTY in Israel trip. 

We were wandering in the desert, lost and following Moshe. I'm sure you can remember seeing from your bus window all the oases with palm trees in the middle of the desert. Those are the same date palms (lulav) that we use on sukkot. 

When Bnei-Israel (the Jewish people) entered the land of Israel that God gave them, they had to cross the Jordan River.  Not only did we cross the Jordan, we rafted down it. If you would have stopped paddling (or splashing your friends) and looked around, you were have seen willows lining the banks. The same willows (aravah) that we collect and use. 

In Jerusalem we talked about the first and second temples (the first built by Solomon and the second built by Herod.) All of Jewish life was centered around the Temple, and Jews would make pilgrimages to Jerusalem...I'm sure you're catching on by now. On the hilly country sides that surround Jerusalem, it's the perfect place for myrtle (Hadas) to grow.  

After the destruction of the Temple, Jews started to settle in other places. One of those places was the coastal plain region, all the way up and down the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. Can remember sitting at the Port of Yafo talking about the geography of the land? I'm sure your guide told you about the delicious oranges that are grown still to this day. But another famous citrus that is grown there is the etrog from the citron tree. 

I'm sure you're amazed! It's really awesome if you think about it. God is reminding us of how He brought us into the land of Israel and how we settled . Another interesting thing, is that all of these plants need a lot of water to grow. And as I'm sure you all remember from your rainless trip, Israel doesn't have a lot of water. So once again we are reminded about how we need God to provide rain for us. 

One last cool thing to think about when you're shaking away. All the four species come from different parts of Israel.

• etrog (אתרוג) – the west - along the Mediterranean Sea 
• lulav (לולב) – the south - in the Arava Desert
• hadass (הדס) – the east - in the Judean Hills 
• aravah (ערבה) – the north - along the Jordan River

Just like you did, in order to collect these plants, you have to go ALL over Israel. I hope you think a little more about Israel this year when you're holding your four species! HAPPY SHAKING!! 

Group 9 (Summer 2013) in Yafo - I'm sure there were etrogs near by! 

*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_Species

A NFTY Gmar Chatima Tova (A good signing into the book of life.)

During Yom Kippur, we are commanded to "afflict ourselves." "עינוי נפש" The gemara has a very lengthy discussion of what this could mean. Does it mean we don't have sexual relations, does it mean we physically hurt ourselves? No, the gemara concludes, it means that we don't eat or drink. But how do we know that? 

One of the proofs the gemara brings is that we were also afflicted and starving in the desert and it's the same word עינוי (affliction.) And since we were starving before God brought the ma'an to feed us, we know that we don't eat and drink. (Maybe a stretch, but that's what the gemara says.) So how is the desert like fasting? Why do the rabbis in the gemara make this connection?

Any NFTY in Israel alumni knows that there is definitely affliction when someone wanders in the desert. In every NFTY in Israel trip, hike for three days in the Arava desert, we sleep outside, we complain, we moan...this desert is the same desert that Moshe and the Israelites wandered through. 

Why did God afflict us in the desert? God just brought us out of Egypt and out of slavery, isn't it a time to provide for us and take care of us? I want to suggest that the desert is where religious experience begins. We go to a place where you have no where to hide. It's an open, vast, and dangerous place. When we fast and don't have food and water, we become more like animals following instincts of survival. Fasting is about confronting your nefesh/self/soul. One is forced to face the physical side of being.  

The desert is about a journey and so is Yom Kippur. It's not just about the day, or the time in the desert. It's what we take from it and how we grow and become better. From this weak vulnerable state, how do we act, behave, and change? How do we come out of Yom Kippur? I know that all four of my NFTY groups came out of the desert as better people. They all overcame challenges. They were patient, strong, and helped others. I wish all of you the same for Yom Kippur, when you're tired, hunger, and cranky, that you all still have patience and love for one another. That you confront God from not just an emotional and mental place, but also a vulnerable and physical place. And ask God for forgiveness and for a wonderful future. 

So NFTY, if you're sitting in services, and not feeling connected, think about the desert, think about how you grew and changed. You are a better person, probably for many challenges you faced this year, but also because of the times you were most vulnerable and came out triumphant. That's what Yom Kippur is about...going into a vulnerable state to become a better person. Be proud of yourself. 

I wish you all a meaning fast and Yom Kippur. Gmar chatima tova! גמר חתימה טובה! 

 Our not so afflicted selves in the desert this past summer! Happily overcoming challenges together!

Thirty Days of Tzitzit

The sunset this evening brought an end to my thirty days of wearing tzitzit. Like any Jewish ritual/mitzvah that I have taken on, I started out by "trying it out." So I thought this was a good approach to wearing tzitzit also. Thirty days, why not? They say that is how long it takes for something to become a habit.

Traditionally, only religious/observant men wear tzitzit. It is commanded in the Torah to wear fringes on your garments. And tzitzit is how it is been interpreted throughout the generations. Wikipedia says:

The Torah states in Numbers 15:38: "Speak to the children of Israel, and say to them, that they shall make themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout their generations, and they shall put on the corner fringe a blue (tekhelet) thread." Wearing the tzitzit is also commanded in Deuteronomy 22:12: "You shall make yourself twisted threads, on the four corners of your garment with which you cover yourself."

Fringes, tzitziyot, today are attached to the tallit and tallit katan. The tallit katan itself is commonly referred to as tzitzit. According to the Torah, the purpose of wearing tzitzit is to remind Jews of their religious obligations. In addition, it serves as a reminder of the Exodus from Egypt (Numbers 15:40). The Talmud equates its observance with that of all the mitzvot. Maimonides (Commentary on Pirkei Avot 2:1) includes it as a major commandment along with circumcision and the Passover offering.

I wanted to see if I too would be reminded of my religious obligations, or as a reminder that I too was a slave freed from Egypt...if nothing else, maybe it would remind me to be nicer to other people.

So a month ago, I bought tzitzit...boy size, it was similar to a t-shirt...and I cut it so I could wear it under my clothes. I'm sure it would look weird to wear a t-shirt under a tanktop. It was right before Shabbat, so I wear them to my teacher's house where I was spending Shabbat. It was exciting! I felt like a had a special secret, that only my roommate and I knew about. I didn't wear them for Kabbalah Shabbat because you could see them under my dress, but I wore them Shabbat morning to pray and all day and that was really nice to have them on. I felt special, maybe it was like wearing a new piece of clothing that you just bought and wanted to show it off, (even though no one could see them, I knew I had them on.) 

I definitely learned that tzitzit are not designed to be hidden under women's clothing. One day, I wore shorts to school. I didn't think they were so "short" and anyone who knows me, knows that I don't wear very promiscuous clothing, but when I tried to tuck the tzitzit into the shorts, I realized that they would come out the bottom of the shorts...was I allowed to cut them? How long did they really have to be? 

Me wearing tzitzit...I get that you can't see them...that's the point.

I didn't want to have to change my entire wardrobe just to wear them. I asked my teacher at school, "if someone would wear tzitzit, how long do they have to be? Could they be cut shorter..." He said the strings have to be twice as long as the knot part. Fair...I asked, "but what if they really don't want anyone to see them, and they are longer than this person's shorts." Without batting an eye he said, "Andrea, wear longer skirts..." Hmm...

So, really, I wore a lot of skirts this past month. It was the easiest way to hide them. I know you may be thinking, "Why does she have to hide them?" Well, I don't like being stared at...it really is a male mitzvah traditionally. I don't know if Jerusalem is ready for girls walking around with tzitzit blowing in the wind. But it would be awesome if the Jewish world was ready for it. 

This past Sunday, my Hebrew birthday, Rosh Chodesh Tammuz...I went to the Kotel to pray with Women of the Wall like I do every month. Because of the violence the month before, when I put the tzitzit on in the morning, it really felt like a bullet proof vest. They were protecting me. Way deep down next to my skin. And at the kotel, I pulled them out. No one in that minyan would be judging me for my religious practices, I was sure of it. 

My favorite time wearing them was in my house when I just had them on and nothing covering them. They have big slits up the sides, so it's definitely not the most modest thing to wear, but in my house it was nice. They were relaxing. 

Most of my relationship with my tzitzit was trying to hide them. I would like someone to design tzitzit for women. Then half the battle of wearing them wouldn't exist because they would lay and fit nicely under clothes. 

Not sure what's going to happen tomorrow...if I will put them on or not. I have basketball in the morning, so I definitely won't wear them for that..but after? I may feel obligated tomorrow...we'll see what happens.