Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover!

Eve PosenLeave a comment

As a rabbinical student, and an avid reader, going into a book store of any sort is like entering a playground and not knowing what to play with first. I often have to hold myself back from even entering for fear of sensory overload and exhaustion. But, here in Israel, how can I resist. I often wander into stores, pick up a book that has a beautiful maroon and gold cover and binding, and hold it in my hands. Knowing very well that the pages within it are pages written by those much wiser than me, much more learned. The pages are filled with the wisdom, thought processes and teachings of the rabbis that came before me. Sometimes the book has a beautiful cover, and sometimes it looks very plain. Either way, I pick it up, read a page or two, and put it down.

It is intimidating to pick up these books filled with so much. But, I know I can handle it now. My Hebrew has improved by leaps and bounds this year. My textual skills are honed, my reasoning about as logical and illogical as the Tanaim and Amoraim. I am ready. But still, I find myself so intimidated by these books. I have the keys to unlock their secrets, but am I ready? I think I am ready, I am able, now, I just have to decide which ones to open first.

Last week, as part of my packing and finalizing my year in Israel, I took myself on a book buying adventure. I had done my homework, emailed rabbis and asked what books to buy, what books would be helpful, what books they love. I had made a list of all the books I wanted to buy, in order of importance to me. I made my list and then shopped out the prices, checked them out in the stores, made appointments to check them out again, and eventually purchase. And, on Wednesday I went to the store that offered the best prices and confidently announced that I was ready to make my purchases.

The owner advised me to meet with his seforim specialist, but I, having done my homework politely declined and began to tell him my list of purchases. The first few were no problem, a Mishnah with Bartenura commentary, Otzar Roshei Teivot, Alkaly Hebrew to English, a Tal-man version of the Vilna Shas (full set of Talmud), here is where my problem was. Did I want the big size or the slightly smaller size? Did I want the extra “Boys in the back” (commentators)? Did I want the 36 volume set or the 20 volume set? With this, I was lost. In all my research, all my question asking, no one even brought this up to me. I had no idea what to do. I guess I needed to think more. I met with the specialist, and decided on which set to get. The larger sized, extra “boys in the back” 20 volume set.

And like that, I OWN AN ENTIRE VILNA SHAS!

An overpowering and overwhelming experience to be sure. I couldn’t help but tell everyone I talked to for the rest of the day. I did it, I bought myself a shas. I own it.

When I first began rabbinical school 3 years ago, I was terrified of the Talmud, scared of the Mishnah, overwhelmed by the Aramaic, Hebrew, logic, structures. And now, not only can I figure it out, I have the tools, skills and confidence to wrestle with any text. And so, I feel ready to own the Shas, not only physically, but mentally, emotionally. Now, I have grown, now I have learned. Now, I am getting there.

From the narrow I called, I was answered from the Expanse

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Last Tuesday was the last session of Rav Siach, the interdenominational conversation group I have been a part of this year. Throughout the last year we have met on Tuesday nights and discussed with each other a variety of issues. Mainly though, we got to know one another, networked, discussed and grew as individuals. At the closing session we discussed the notion of calling from a narrow place and receiving the expanse.
Is it necessary to call out from a narrow place, from one’s own narrow place? Does one need the expanse? During this conversation I found myself wondering where I was? Am I in a narrow place? Is this narrow place within my movement? within my social group? is it me alone?
and then, what is the expanse? Is it the movement? Is it my peers? Is it world wide Jewry?
Big heavy questions to be asking myself so late at night. I didn’t come to any conclusions, other than I needed some sleep. What I thought about was the place I call from, and to whom am I calling? I don’t think that there is one answer. Some days, I am in a very narrow space, and the entire world is the expanse. Other days, I am in that narrow space with my colleagues and the Jewish world at large is that expanse. What I thought about is that throughout this incredible experience I have learned how to define myself better. And, It is o.k. to call out to the expanse, because it will answer. Rav Siach, rabbinic conversation, much conversation, we certainly did both with each other.
But, I think the work now is to have that Rabbinic Conversation with myself. I must reflect on this experience, reflect with my colleagues, and continue the conversation. This program was a great start, but if I don’t now call out from my space and receive an answer from the expanse, the conversation has ended. I will miss my Tuesday night conversations, and I will hold dear the uniqueness of our group. There we were in Jerusalem, in a city and a state that has so much inner strife, and we were dealing with the divisive issues, in our own little space, we began the conversation so many have run from, now, we must continue it!

Ein Kerem-I see my reflection..

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Last Friday, as part of my Ta Shma Rav Siach program we went to Ein Kerem, a Christian village on the outskirts of Jerusalem. The town is beautiful, with fantastic architecture, wonderful little houses and shops, and many different churches. Our visit was one that allowed us to see the vast parts of this country and even city that are not fully Jewish. We visited a few different churches, understood a bit of the plight of John the Baptist. We met iwth a Franciscan Father who allowed us to enter into his world.
His view brought me back to earth, his way of life grounded me. Father Furguss owns nothing personally because he will then depend on God for everything. He took a vow of Poverty, not that he will always be in want, but that he will live with the basics. His words shook me, made me realize how much I take so many things for granted. How, I spend so much of my time searching, looking, wanting, yearning, but perhaps is i spent some time reflecting on what I have, what I use, I would see that I have enough.
Father Furguss also said “one can loose faith unless they reflect on what they believe in.” So often I forget to take a step back and reflect on what I believe in, on what is happening in my world, on what I feel. So often I get caught up in the moment, in the future and forget to reflect on the past, on what was, on what made me.
This call out on a Friday brought me back to my roots, made me reflect, find my center, and long for some good quality time in AB West. It is true, without reflection, I would be lost. The lesson learned fit so well with the purpose of Rav Siach. we engaged in conversation with those whose outlook on the world varies widely from our own, yet we found common ground, we opened the discussion, we engaged.

You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone!

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I think this is very true. Not that I have lost something, but that I am realizing how quickly this year has gone by, how soon it will end, how much I have fallen in love with this country despite all the irritants, how sad I will be to leave. Everyone knows I have had points of wanting to leave this year, but I really have loved almost every minute of being here. LIfe here is hard, challenging, frustrating, but it is also beautiful, simple and perfect.
I love that the country shuts down for Shabbat and holidays. I love the kosher food everywhere. I love the coffee shops that are so unique. I love the walk to school, the beautiful blue sky and sun that shine down upon me each morning to wake me up. I love the air, the hustle and bustle, the language, the culture. I even think I’ll miss being pushed in line, being told No, and all the difficulties.
I have found myself a home, and Israel has a home in my heart. Jerusalem is a tough city, but a beautiful city. It is hard to imagine walking around in a few weeks, not surrounded by history, by my heritage, by my history. There is a connection to this land, that I dont’ feel in America. this is my land, this is my place, these streets have so many stories to tell.

This year I have done it on my own, I have survived, I can do it. I made decisions and stuck by them, I took control of my learning, of my life. I have met and made some incredible friends, who will be with me for the rest of my life. I have had some friendships change, some end, but they have taught me what I needed to learn from them, and I have moved on. I have learned about what I value, and how I want to be with those I love. I have learned to be in the world as Eve, and how Eve fits into the world.

But I guess all good things must come to an end. So, from here on out, I will make the best of each day! I will love my studies, but spend time taking in the land, the cities, the culture, the language, the beauty. I will be back, soon, I cannot stay away from a place that speaks to me so fully… So, here I go, booking my ticket back to America, a new person, a changed person…

The days flow into one another…

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Yesterday was Yom haAtzmaut, the day of Israel’s independence, which comes as the day before, Yom HaZikaron, the Israeli memorial day ends. The days flow into one another as only they can here in Israel. Only this country can have a serious, somber, meaningful day of mourning and as 7pm rolls around move into a day of the biggest celebrations ever seen.

Beginning Sunday night, most restaurants are closed for the evening, stores are closed, and Israeli T.V. and radio stations are only allowed to play approved content, which means only war stories, stories of victims, or somber music. The entire country enters mourning, remembers the pain and sorrow of years and days gone by.

Monday, I went to Har Herzl, Israel’s national military cemetery. I walked through the different sections, learning about the individuals who gave their life in pursuit of peace, in pursuit of this land. I saw the graves of those who died before my time, those who died too young, those who died in the wrong place at the wrong time. Families gathered around graves, spoke about their loved one, reminisced. Families reunited with the family of the person whose grave is next to theirs. Families have a pattern and spend the day with their loved ones, visiting, picnics, tears, laughter. I wandered by the new part of the cemetry, graves still fresh, some onle a few days old, some a few weeks. Graves of those who died while I was here, younger than me. At one grave there were men still in army uniforms, and some without, about 5 of them, about my age. It was clear that they had come here to be with the 6th memeber of their group. They sat there, playing cards, laughing, crying, remembering. A tribute to their friend, their counterpart. And my heart wept for those for whom this is more a reality than I will ever know. The loss of someone so young, or someone who had so much to share. How can we remember? How can we include them? Can the whole that they have left ever be filled?

We walked further into the cemetery and ended up at the section for those who gave their lives in the 1948 war, 59 years ago. As we approached, the Chazzan was chanting El Maleh Rachamim for them. We had stumbled upon the AzKarah ceremony for them. I stood there, tears in my eyes and a heavy heart. Here, 59 years ago, these people died to protect the land that I am standing on. These are the people who fought so that the Jewish homeland could be created. We stayed until they finished, marking the symbolism, the meaning, the wonder.

After a quick trip to the graves of Yitzhak and Leah Rabin, Golda Meir, Teddy Kollet and Herzl, we sneaked a peak at the area for the ceremony that night and headed home to gear up. At 7pm the country begins to liven up. Restaurants open, people start coming out, getting ready to celebrate. Mourning turns into celebration, everywhere you look there is an Israeli Flag, children laughing, running, spraying sheleg, happy to be alive. The music was loud, free and plentiful, Ben Yehuda packed more than I have seen it in years, everyone celebrates, everyone smiles, everyone knows how to treasure these moments. Eventually people dwindled to their own space to get ready for the massive BBQs of yesterday. I walked out of my apartment and was bombarded with the smell of BBQ, every park was filled with picnics, with families having fun, some even brought out their couches and TV.

I met up with my friends Matt and Jen and headed to City hall to see the celebrations there. We visited the Central Jerusalem Prison from the British Mandate period, saw street performers and took in the feeling of bliss that surrounded. I ended my celebration with a BBQ with other Schechter students and called it a night so I could prepare for school to begin again today!

I was here for Israel’s 50th, and now 9 years later, as a changed person, I celebrated again. I hope to be here for her 100th birthday, I hope and pray that the celebrations never end, that the joy never ceases, that the memories get sweeter…