One Nation, One Heart

             I've been posting a lot of Jewish pride stuff lately. I've been trying to rally the troops and show my fellow Jews and Israel-supporters that all will be well, as long as we support one another. And while the feedback has been good, I know it's been a bit of a downer lately. So I am so excited to tell you about the weekend I just had. It was one of those weekends where happiness and Jewish pride and good weather and national unity oozed out of every minute! Two events in specific were so awesome and impactful, I wanted to shout them out.

             Friday was the Jerusalem Marathon (and half marathon, 10k and 5k.) To be fair, I was in Israel for last year's marathon as well, and fully slept through the whole thing- no shame. This year, I had a few friends running it and I felt invested since I worked on preparations for the SHALVA team; I decided to get my lazy tush up at 7 AM on a Friday (equivalent to a New York Sunday) and cheer the runners on. This is the part where I mention that, once upon a time, I ran a half marathon, and have no interest in revisiting that physically excruciating time just yet.

My half-marathon 2 years ago (7th time posting)

             Back to my athletically inclined friends! I had a few running the Half, so my friend Ahuva informed me that she would be passing Azza Street in about 20 minutes. Can we just say that considering the glacial pace I made it to Azza from my apartment, it was an excellent choice not to run myself. I get to the location, coffee in hand in a Starbucks mug (relevance of this fact to follow) and parked myself next to an Israeli lady, and American yeshiva boy and 4 disgruntled policemen (relevance of this fact to follow, as well.) I was situated at the bottom of one hill, close to another decline and not far from the end of the race. I felt it was my duty to get the runners to the end with a smile on their faces! As runners of all ages and types came down the hill, I "whooooo!"ed and "Go,go,go!"ed til I was hoarse. Some ignored me, some high- fived me, most smiled. A few asked where there was a nearby Starbucks and looked punched in the gut when I said there was none (cheerleader fail.) The disgruntled cops who basically had a few old Israeli ladies and an excitable American (me) to deal with set about turning our corner into a crime-scene- worthy area of tape and barriers. Seriously, guys, let me "Whoo" in peace. I saw Ahuva running down and LOST IT. Then, she tried to make me run with her and luckily noticed that I was wearing boots and a leather jacket- the perfect "I'm retired from running" ensemble. After she passed and it was clear I must have missed my other friend, Mandy, I decided to go to the finish line and congratulate the athletic citizens of Jerusalem.

           The finish line was awesome. There were tents for the different charities people were raising money for (because what is a race without attaching a mitzvah, right?) and free Zumba classes. There was food and drink and the finish line for those awesome (insane) full-marathoners. I even met the winner of the entire race, fresh outta Kenya!

BFF

           But what was the best part of the whole day? The feeling of pride and unity that was almost physically palpable as you walked around the streets. This wasn't a marathon where people ignored the runners or just came to cheer their friends and family. Because everyone cheered for all the runners- everyone was your friends and family! It was a feeling unlike any other I've experienced at any race and I truly hope to make this a yearly things (and maybe even run it at some point but NO PROMISES.)

How do you beat these views?

         
            To keep this vibe going, I decided to go to a shabbat potluck lunch the next day. It was an event called SHUKSHABBAT and it was so outside of my comfort zone, I was slightly petrified. In Jerusalem there is a strong spiritual/hippie-style community in an area called Nachlaot. This community is lovely, happy, friendly and...not where I generally hang. That said, I asked my friend Brian to join me and wingman me in this new territory. The details were hazy: come at this time to this place and bring stuff for a potluck. Cool- what stuff? What people? Will there be plates? What if everyone brings cups and ketchup? What if there are no cups? What if it rains? Should We bring enough for everyone? Cool- how many people are coming?

                 Now, if you're a hippie, you will realize that all of these questions out me immediately as a non-hippie. Everyone who "belonged" there probably thought "cool. I'm in. I'll bring my tehini and my harem pants." Meanwhile I packed cutlery, a blanket, cups, napkins, snacks, wine and cookies. I wanted to a) not starve b) be able to share c) not sit on bird poop and d) not eat with my hands. You can take the girl out of NYC....

               So we get there early (because hippies don't give a flip about time) and wait for the kiddush food...and wait....and wait...and then start drinking wine. Because if I'm gonna get on their level, I'm gonna need wine. But then something incredible happened. Everything is set up and we're all sitting on the floor, meeting new people from all over the world who have settled in Jerusalem for a week, a year, for life. A guy gets up to make kiddush, and let's just say- he should be the representative of this event. Resplendent totally in white- tallit, kippa and overalls, with flowing, waist-length dreadlocks, he gave a beautiful extended rendition of kiddush while we all listened (and some of us floated) before we sat down to eat. The meal was truly a "yours is mine is ours" mentality. Here, take my hummus and try my guacamole! Do you have any challa left? Can I have some strawberries? Let's make a l'chaim on my wine! (Until that ran out, too too soon.) It was the most peaceful, unified crowd I've yet seen in this city. Girls in flowing dresses or leggings, guys in jeans or black hats, dancing and singing together- sharing their own stories and stories from the Torah portion. Set up in the corner was a small Torah scroll, so we could all join in the mitzvah of hearing Parshat Zachor in case we missed it that morning.

                  I don't know what the total amount of attendees was, but it was in the hundreds. I don't know if it was the gorgeous weather, the friendship chocolate an older hippie lady gave me, or the copious wine and non-copious water I drank, but I have never felt so unified with my fellow Jews in my life. I thought, "Hey! Maybe this hippie life is for me!." Now, I don't actually think that's true, I think it doesn't really jibe with my type-A, NYC, tiny bit Jappy personality but I will say that I enjoyed every minute and would jump at the chance to experience that pure joy and peoplehood again. I realized that this event could never happen anywhere else in the world, not in the Jewiest town in the diaspora. There will never be another city where the train tracks don't run on Saturday, where hundreds of people show up with food and wine and songs- ready to share with strangers who will soon be friends- all in the name of Shabbat.

                     So blessed to be here, and hoping that you all join me for a weekend in Jerusalem soon!

Jew in a Box

      I had planned to write about the High Holy Days. That was the plan- a straightforward, and hopefully humorous, account of my second Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur as an Israeli. But honestly, Rosh Hashana was lovely and uneventful and Yom Kippur I was battling what can only be described as the plague, so I don't have that much to report. Then, two things happened that gave me the urge, the need, the desire- to blog. And I live for that.

     The first was a life- changing book I just finished and the second was an unpleasant Facebook exchange (although these days, aren't most of them unpleasant?) The book I read was called "Catch the Jew" by Tuvia Tenenbom and it is his account of trying to get the gist of this whole "Israeli- Palestinian" issue by speaking to a representative of basically every faction in Israel. He talks to Arabs and Jews, Europeans and Africans. He talks to the Right and the Left, Hareidim and "settlers", Bedouins and MKs- he really gets around. It's fascinating, but what stuck out to me is his accounts of discussing the divides specifically within the Jewish community. He pokes fun at everyone, basically, but reserves most of his wonder (and, honestly, ire) for Israeli Jews who hate their fellow Jew. Some of it is really hard to read, and even harder to digest. Here he is, in the one Jewish country in the world, meeting Jew after Jew who hates Jews, hates Israel, and dedicates their lives to destroying both from the inside.

      Act Two. In a Facebook group this evening (mostly dedicated to promoting democracy in the Middle East), someone posted (and to be more accurate, posted during Shabbat) "How much of a internal threat are Orthodox jews (sic) to the state of Israel? In what ways and why? I'm guessing not all orthodox jews (sic) fit in this description but the ones that do." And then in the comments, people were discussing it.

         Now, after scraping my jaw off the floor, I responded to the nature of "Sorry this Orthodox Jew couldn't respond, as it was Shabbat, but this post is rude, divisive and unnecessary." But I was still stewing. I will say this; I think the guy who wrote this meant Hareidi/Ultra- Orthodox Jews. And I will further say this- I don't care. Because for whatever problems I may personally have with specific political issues, I love Jews and will always try to defend them. And it makes me nuts that I live in a religion where I have to spend so much time defending and rationalizing and debating and arguing with and disagreeing with and analyzing my fellow Jews. It got me wondering how much time a devout Christian or Muslim or Buddhist spends defending his fellow coreligionists. 

      It says in the Torah "Love your neighbor as yourself" and yet we Jews have built within our tiny community even tinier factions still. And it has become all the more apparent now that I'm Israeli. Sure, in the States we had different groups, but we were all still American Jews, bound together by the fact that we were the "other", this tiny (but well-known) minority within a huge American population. Here in Israel, the Jewish state, we are blessedly not the "other." And this is great, and this is bad. Here, being around other Jews is no great shakes. And because they're everywhere, factions form quickly, so people know where in this sea of Jews they belong. Sure there are times when we can all come together, like when we're huddled in bomb shelters or competing at the Olympics, but generally- there are schisms. Left vs. Right. Secular vs. religious. Vs. Hareidi vs. Hasidic vs. "settlers" vs. Ashkenazim vs. Sephardim vs. Ethiopians vs. Russians vs. Bibi vs Buji vs. Sabras vs. Olim vs. me vs. you and so it goes. 

         And dear reader, I am ashamed to admit, of course I engage in it too. Of course I classify myself and people I meet. Sometimes I wrinkle my nose, sometimes I like someone instantaneously, knowing nothing much about them. Sometimes I clap for statements I agree with and sometimes I "boo" politicians with whom I disagree. Sometimes I judge and sometimes I'm harsh. I forget that they're also Jewish, but that they grew up differently than me, with a different family and different life experiences. There's a guy who tells everyone he dislikes me and the only reason I can think of is because we disagree politically. I've always been nice to him, we have similar social circles and we're both Anglo olim. But politically, we diverge and so he dislikes me, and I in turn him. But I get to thinking about this and become uneasy. I say that I "love Jews," but isn't he Jewish? Aren't Jews who live outside my box Jewish? Aren't they also my family? Shouldn't I defend them the way I did "the Orthodox" in that guy's Facebook post, or in any instance of anti-Semitism where I would go to bat for any of my Jewish brothers and sisters, regardless of the "box" in which they live?

       I was hanging out with my friend Eli, talking about this dilemma, and it struck me that Eli is a guy who cares nothing about boxes. I asked him how he is the way he is and he said "I just hate everyone regardless." He is an extremely friendly guy and he was joking. The subtext was that he just loves everyone regardless. He basically just sees humans as humans and it got me thinking. I need to start seeing Jews as Jews, now living in Israel more than ever. In America, it was easier- it was our little subculture in a vast non-Jewish country, but here I need to be careful. I need to mean what I say and say what I mean. I don't have to agree with the people who think differently than me, but I have to hear them. I don't have to join people who live differently than me, but I have to defend them when I can. And I don't have to give up my ideals, but I have to understand that they may not be everyone's ideals (although they should be- they're really good ideals. Kidding!) And this year, in Israel in 5776, when I say that I love all Jews and I want to actually LOVE ALL JEWS. I think I can do it- wish me luck!

Pretty deep Jerusalem graffiti