The Circus and the Torah
Okay, so the two aren't really connected, but they are two things that happened this week that I really wanted to share with you, so this email will be in two parts. In chronological order: the circus and the Torah.

The Circus.
I spent this past Shabbat in Jerusalem with some very religious friends of mine and had a great time. We caught up with each other, I met knew people, rested a lot, and learned a bit, too. Then, on Sunday I played hooky from the kibbutz and stayed in town an extra day. My roommate told me about The Jerusalem Circus ("kirkas") so I decided to go to the matinee show before returning to kibbutz.

The circus was put on by children, but absolutely amazing. There were clowns, jugglers, acrobats, tumblers, a contortionist, unicyclists, plate spinners, trapezists, and more. The entire show was so exciting, and it was equally fun to wash the audience. The children were able to sit surprisingly still and attentively for nearly two hours through all the acts, without an intermission. Their parents smiled and laughed at the performances while the children sat absolutely entranced and spellbound, occasionally clapping and bouncing in their seats during incredible balancing and trapeze spectacles.

However, if this were any ordinary circus I'd still tell you about it, but it probably wouldn't merit a place in the subject line of this email. What made the show unique was who composed the performers and the audience. There were 24 child performers, ages six to 18. They were Jews and Arab Christians and Arab Muslims. The Jerusalem Circus partially supported by The Abraham Fund, an organization that works to advance coexistence, equality and cooperation among Israel's Jewish and Arab citizens. The entire circus was one huge incredible coexistence project, as could be seen the moment you walked into the theater.

There were hundreds of kids in the audience, mostly ages four to eight. They came with their parents, and simply by dress you could somewhat distinguish the various groups of people. I saw women wearing hijabs (traditional Muslim head scarves) and men and boys wearing kippot (traditional Jewish head coverings). I saw women wearing scarves and hats (traditional Jewish indicator of married women) and men covered in tattoos. I saw men and boys with tzitzit (traditional Jewish religious fringes) and Christian nuns in gray habits. And I didn't need to listen hard to hear Hebrew, Arabic, English, French, and Russian spoken in the crowd.

The introduction to the circus, given both in Hebrew and Arabic, explained a bit about the circus, including the fact that it has steadily grown and improved over the years, this being the fifth year of its existence. At the end of the performance, the director thanked each of the performers individually, and their names also truly demonstrated what a unique group they were. Some of their names were Elisheva, Shak'ed, Galit, Abdullah, Alex, Slava, Shireen, Aaron, Yusef, Sarah, Mahmud, and Jamie. So yes, it was a beautiful demonstration of coexistence, but it was also a circus, and a great one at that! The acts were quite phenomenal and I truly recommend checking out their webpage at http://www.jerusalemcircus.org/.

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The Torah.
Last night and today was Shavuot, the holiday celebrating the giving of the Torah to the Jews at Mount Sinai. (The Torah being the first five books of the bible, and possibly the Oral Law, eventually written down in the form of the Talmud, depending on who you ask.) It's also the spring harvest holiday, a holiday now celebrated by eating lots of dairy products, and one of the three pilgrimage holidays. Shavuot was one of the three times each year that Jews from everywhere came to the Temple in Jerusalem, back in the day. So where did Sarah go? Is this getting too predictable? Jerusalem!

One of the traditions for Shavuot is to stay up all night learning, and that was actually one of the main reasons I decided to go to Jerusalem. Although there were many classes offered on kibbutz throughout the night, they were all in Hebrew and I felt like if I actually wanted to learn something, not to mention stay awake all night paying attention, I could do so more easily among the dozens of English classes offered in Jerusalem. Randomly, immediately upon arriving in town, I ran into Ari and Emily from Gainesville - they were staying at the same hostel I was staying at! We ended up spending a lot of time together so that was great.

My first stop for the evening was a free dairy dinner for overseas students at The Conservative Yeshiva. After afternoon and evening prayers, we got down to the business of eating and shmoozing. I must have known a dozen people there from random connections (seminars, Shabbat meals, old friends) and it was absolutely wonderful to see so many of my favorite people in one place, just catching up over bagels. After dinner I went to a synagogue to hear my first class of the night, this one was called Freedom and Necessity at Sinai and it was quite interesting, although somewhat hard to follow. I truly enjoyed it, and it was a great way to start off the holiday because many themes that the rabbi spoke of were referred to by other teachers as the night wore on.

After this class I went up to a study hall with some friends to consume some caffeine and read and talk a little before our next adventure. Then we headed over to another synagogue to hear a class called Law and Narrative in the Book of Ruth. Ruth is one of the parts of the bible read specifically on Shavuot, but unfortunately I started dozing off a bit in this class (it was from one until two thirty in the morning) so I didn't learn much. Next some of us went to a workshop given by our friend Uri on Rabbinic Interpretations of Dawn. The class was interesting, though not quite what I had expected, but it kept me awake and alert until quarter to four in the morning, so what else could you ask for?

At four am, we started to walk down to the Old City, to the Kotel, or Western Wall, for morning prayers. We were joined by people from all directions, all heading to the same place, just as our ancestors did thousands of years ago. I got so excited by the idea of walking to the Kotel in the pre-dawn hours, re-enacting a pilgrimage made by my forefathers, that I grabbed my friend's hand and started to skip. We skipped and ran and skipped all the way to the gates of the Old City, laughing and singing as we went, incredibly excited and energized by the idea of joining thousands of others at such a significant place before the sun even began to rise.

I had originally planned on spending part of my time among the masses of people at the Kotel and part of my time at the traditional egalitarian minyan held off to the side. The latter minyan (prayer group) was held south of the main part of the Kotel, though still at the Western Wall, because its egalitarian (men and women equal) nature had caused very many problems in the past at the main Kotel. After passing the main Kotel area, I went first to the egalitarian minyan and heard some kids singing a song, so I pushed my way through to them, grabbed their hands, and started dancing. This was totally an advantage to not being at the main Kotel. Although when we passed it, on the men's side there was singing and dancing, something like that would never happen at the women's side of the Kotel. After a few minutes of singing and dancing in celebration of receiving the Torah, we started services.

Due to time reasons, security situations, and mainly the fact that I got carried away in the service, I never made it back to the main part of the Kotel to push my way through the throngs of thousands of people who were there. However, our egalitarian services were absolutely great. There were maybe two hundred people there, men and women of all ages, praying together at the Western Wall as the sun rose on Shavuot. We prayed, listened to the Book of Ruth, heard the Ten Commandments read from the Torah, and became a community. By the time services were over by eight o'clock we'd been there three and a half hours, and many of us hadn't slept in over twenty four hours. I gave lots and lots of hugs as we all left, because many of my friends who were there would be leaving Israel for various parts of the world in the coming week. After the goodbyes, I returned to my hostel for four hours of much needed sleep before I started the day again.

Today I woke up incredibly energized and headed over to a meal of wonderful dairy delights. There were salads and lasagna and cheese and pudding and chocolate cookies and lots of cheesecake. After the meal I had planned on going to one or two more classes on the other side of town, but decided to stop by my friends' apartment to drop off some kibbutz goodies (bio-organic dates) first. While there, I met another friend of theirs who was visiting on her way to a picnic lunch. I realized that I knew almost everyone who would be at the lunch, and decided to tag along instead of going to the classes. The picnic was moved indoors, and I was too stuffed from my first lunch to eat, but I had a wonderful time hanging out with everyone there.

After the meal, we all went our separate ways and I headed back to where I was staying. When I got to a park overlooking the Old City, I saw that the sun was starting to set so I grabbed my handy-dandy prayerbook from my pocket and did the last prayer service of Shavuot overlooking the walls of the Old City. (Whew, that was a lot of praying in twenty four hours!) Back at the hostel I went with Emily over to where Ari was staying and we made havdallah (to separate the holiday from the rest of the week) and then grabbed our stuff and rushed off to the bus station to go back to our regularly scheduled lives.

Wow! What an amazing holiday!
- posted by sarah @ 5/27/2004 11:42:00 PM

 
Ofoto Album of Beit Shemesh
http://www.ofoto.com/I.jsp?c=v778iil.7jbwdjyp&x=0&y=z57w0j

Most of these pictures are probably boring for most of you, but here's some pictures from track two of Otzma.
- posted by sarah @ 5/25/2004 12:15:00 AM

 
Still Working the Land
I'm sorry I haven't written in a while, but as I mentioned earlier, not much exciting happens on a farm. We work very hard, and as May turns to June, the temperature creeps up past one hundred every day. Even so, it's nice to work in Mario's garden because since it's relatively small (six acres) we get to do different work every day. He teaches us as we go, so we now can not only weed and harvest all the different crops, but we also know how to lay the irrigation pipes, hammer stakes, arrange plastic and netting to keep out bugs, and plant and sow various crops. Today we got to walk behind his tractor, helping with a huge tool that unearths onions. I finally have more appreciation for medicine bottles that warn to not take them when operating heavy machinery.

And that's truly as exciting as my daily life gets. Breakfast, work, lunch, work, shower, rest, dinner, check email, sleep. Six days a week. That's another disadvantage to kibbutz life. Although most of Israel is now on a five day work week (Sunday to Thursday), a farm doesn't really ever stop, so we work Sunday to Friday every week. That means a one day weekend, every week. And as my year in Israel is coming to an end, I feel more and more obligated to spend my Shabbats wisely, with people I haven't seen for a while or at places I've never been or will certainly miss.

Also, after working so hard each week, I'd really like to spend all day Saturday sleeping and recharging. But instead I spend my Shabbats with friends all across the country, and I'm usually too busy being a good guest to have time to nap. It's a disadvantage, but probably only because this is the last track of Otzma so I'm starting to feel sad about leaving Israel. I truly love life here on the kibbutz. It's simple and easy, but incredibly enjoyable. I love working hard outside. It's an absolutely beautiful setting and it gives me time to thing about everything under the sun, including why the sun is so hot and wondering why they can't air condition the fields.

This past weekend I signed up for a Shabbaton (Shabbat retreat) with Ta Shma. Ta Shma is the organization that Otzma learned with for three weeks a few months ago, and is also the group I joined for a Shabbaton in the desert during Hanukkah. This Shabbaton was held in the Golan Heights, a very sparsely populated region in the very northern part of Israel known for its beauty, hikes, and agriculture. After working from five thirty in the morning until eight thirty (we got special permission to leave early), my friend and I left the kibbutz to meet the bus taking us to our site. On the bus I saw a dozen people I knew, some from Otzma, some from the previous Shabbaton, and some through mutual friends in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. I knew it would be an amazing weekend.

First we hiked. It was an incredible hike; the Golan is absolutely beautiful in the late spring when everything is still in bloom. We also hiked along a river, stopped to eat lunch and swim in a waterfall, and about five hours later, made it back to the bus. We stayed in a hotel on a kibbutz in the Golan, and as soon as we were changed and unpacked, we began to do the learning for which Ta Shma is famous.

The theme of the weekend was Peace versus Truth, and all the learning sessions were led by three different rabbis from three different "flavors" of Judaism. The teacher/rabbis led the group discussions together and we also spent a lot of time working in pairs over some of the texts they presented. We discussed the how traditional texts viewed situations where peace comes in direct conflict with truth. For example, if your friend baked a cake that tasted awful, and then asked if t was good, what would you say? What if you knew that he was planning on making it again for someone he wanted to impress? The main focus of the Shabbaton was pluralism, which was reinforced by the teacher/rabbis, one Reconstructionist, one "Non-Aligned Traditional," and one Modern Orthodox. Within the context of Peace versus Truth, we discussed the limits of pluralism with regard to diversity and deviance. I know it sounds pretty boring, but I thought the entire weekend was quite exciting.

Saturday afternoon, as an alternate/prequel to the traditional afternoon prayer service, one the rabbis did a mini-workshop on Mincha versus Menucha. Mincha is the name of the afternoon service, meaning "offering," and menucha is the word for rest. We talked about different ideas of offering and rest and then made human collages representing these ideas. It was very cool, to be part of multiple living sculptures, acting out various ideas of life, rest, prayer, and Shabbat with our bodies.. Our last collage tried to show the relationship between mincha and menucha and I realized how much I truly live Shabbat to Shabbat here on kibbutz. Even though I often wake up just as early on Shabbat, and sometimes am even busier than on a weekday, I find myself truly using the day to recharge and prepare myself for the exhausting week ahead. It's so nice to have one day off a week when I know I am not expected to work and sweat and toil in the fields. It really becomes a day of rest when the other six days of the week consist of physical labor.

Other than Shabbats, we also often relax at night here on kibbutz. Along with some of the other volunteers, we sometimes make bonfires when it gets late. Thursday night we stayed up around the fire for hours, singing songs, making s'mores, and baking apples. I've found that all my years in girl scouts have paid off as I can make a fire like nobody's business. This week's fire-building tip: don't wear a skirt, pants are much easier.


Today is Yom Yerushalayim, Jerusalem Day, the day that Jerusalem was reunited during the Six Day War in 1967. There are, presumably, lots of festivities going on in Jerusalem, but here on kibbutz we had our own celebrations, too. Tonight's dinner was falafel which would have been incredibly exciting had they not run out within ten minutes, right before my turn on line. After dinner and a special prayer service, many people gathered together for a very Israeli sing-along. This is something that would never occur in the States, but here almost everyone who gathered to sing folks songs with a quasi-karaoke machine was over thirty. The songs spanned many types and generations, but most of them had to do with Jerusalem. Although I didn't know most of the songs (I knew six out of maybe fifty), I was able to sing along because the words were displayed on a screen. Some lines I caught included,
"I was born in this land / I dreamt of it long before I came here."
"Jews and Arabs live together in quiet and respect / We have no other city."
"I saw a city covered in light that played in me like a flute."
"One hundred generations dreamt of you / To see the light of your face / Jerusalem, Jerusalem / I will not move from here / Jerusalem, Jerusalem."
"Jerusalem of gold, and of bronze, and of light / Behold I am a violin for all your songs."
And from a song about the Western Wall, "There are people with hearts of stone / And there are stones with human hearts."

It was lots of fun, and certainly another event to put down in my book of Israeli Cultural Experiences. However, it's after midnight right now which is way too late, considering what time I wake up in the morning. But hopefully more Cultural Experiences will be waiting for me this weekend. I'll keep you posted!
- posted by sarah @ 5/19/2004 12:17:00 AM

 
Calendrical Counterpoint
April 26th - Memorial Day
April 27th - Independence Day
Counterpoint - a contrasting but parallel element, item, or theme

Yom haZikaron, (Memorial Day) began last Sunday night around sundown. At eight pm I was hanging out in the volunteer lounge with some other people, some using the computers, some reading, and some watching TV. Suddenly the sirens started going off. Across the entire country, sirens rang from 8:00 to 8:02, reaching every imaginable recess of the country side. In our lounge, we all immediately stopped what we were doing, stood up, and bowed our heads in silence, remembering the soldiers who have fallen over the years in the defense of Israel. Just as suddenly as they started, the sirens stopped again.

We all then headed over to the dining hall where the kibbutz was doing a program for Yom haZikaron. To the right of the podium was a list of seventeen names. To the left was a map of Israel with light bulbs in various locations. The names corresponded to the members of the kibbutz who had died serving their country throughout Israel's history. The light bulbs represented the places where they had fallen. The hour-long ceremony began with a video montage briefly telling the story of each of the fallen soldiers. Of the seventeen who had died, sixteen were men and one was a woman. They ranged in age from nineteen to forty-five, most dying in the their twenties.

When the video was over, the Kaddish, the traditional Jewish mourner's prayer was recited and followed by El Malei Rachamim, a memorial prayer. Then people began to go to the podium to tell their own stories. The mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and children of these fallen soldiers, all members of this one tight-knit community reminded their neighbors of their relatives' lives cut too short. The reflections were interspersed with some songs and other musical pieces reflecting the somber occasion. At the end of the ceremony, Hatikva, the Israeli national anthem, was sung together as a community.

The next day was a regular day out in the fields. Mario was showing us how to repair a broken hose when the siren started again. He put down his tools, brushed off his hands, and stood at attention. We did the same. For two silent minutes out in the fields I thought about the man standing next to me who had lived through all of Israel's struggles. I thought about the men and woman who had been members of the kibbutz who had died serving their country. I thought about how at that very moment, highway traffic was stopped because every driver had gotten out to stand at attention and in memory. And I thought about how even though everyone else was pausing in reflection, the birds kept chirping and the plants kept growing. The sirens finally stopped and Mario picked up the hose and finished showing us how to fix it.

Late that afternoon the entire kibbutz gathered together on the main lawn between the synagogue and the dining hall. There was another small ceremony remembering those who had died. Then the flag, flying at half-mast, was lowered, and then raised again to the top. The adults went into the synagogue to quickly pray the afternoon and evening services (separating between the two days) while the children had a bike parade around the lawn. Yom haZikaron was over. Yom haAtzma'ut (Independence Day) had begun.

As the adults left the synagogue, the children's bike parade slowed down. [This being a kibbutz, absolutely everyone has a bicycle. After all, it's a huge place, and you need to get around, but no one owns cars. Bikes it is. In fact, even I have a bike that's been loaned to me for while I live here. It's quite hard to get around without one. However, being a bit taller than three feet, I did not participate in the parade.] All the bikes had been decorated with flags and streamers and flowers and even tin foil wreaths bearing the number 56 (Israel's age). They were absolutely adorable.

Our attention was brought back to the outdoor stage where a ceremony of much lighter mood began. There were groups of children singing and dancing, a choir, musical performances, a few brief speeches, and more music. My favorite was a group of second graders who performed the song Rak B'Yisrael (Only in Israel), acting out every scene. Some of my favorite lines (although translated they don't rhyme) included:
The entire nation is in the military reserves - only in Israel.
Volunteers have a good time - only in Israel.
The kibbutz and the moshav - only in Israel.
Jerusalem of gold - only in Israel.
Children must attend kindergarten.
The tree has a birthday.
Parachutists are real parachutists - only in Israel.
And pilots are real pilots - only in Israel.

By the time these adorable seven year-olds had finished performing I was ready to sign the papers and make aliyah (move to Israel) right then. It was just so amazing to be surrounded by such an incredible festive atmosphere where absolutely everyone is truly grateful to be living in their country. So recently after remembering those who had given their lives for the nation, everyone was singing and dancing and celebrating the existence of the State of Israel and the Jewish People. Children were singing songs about their homeland in Hebrew, their native tongue, and yet a language that didn't exist in its modern form only 150 years ago. Everyone was truly moved by the simple fact that they are living on their own land. It's incredible.

The ceremony continued briefly with older kids doing flag maneuvers and tricks on unicycles. Finally everyone headed to the dining hall for a festive meal. As we walked down together, eight hundred strong, it was amazing to look around. Nearly every man, woman, and child was wearing all white or blue and white, and as we walked across the lawn it was almost like an Israeli flag waving across the field. In fact, Israeli flags of every imaginable size were posted on trees, buildings, bikes, golf carts, homes, roofs, and sidewalks. There was no mistaking the pride everyone shared in their country.

After dinner the younger crowds gathered back on the lawn for fireworks. Not the professional ones you may be used to on the Fourth of July. Oh no. These were thrown in the air by ten year-olds where the exploded into beautiful orange star-bursts. The high schoolers dipped their own creations into kerosene, lit them, and them waved them around like some trance party gone wild. After half an hour or so, the younger children headed home and the those of us in our teens and twenties headed over to a makeshift stage where a drum set, guitar, saxophone, and overhead projector were waiting. For the next few hours an informal singalong commenced. A microphone circulated and songs were begun in one of three ways. Either the band began playing a song, someone in the crowd took the mic and started singing, or the person at the projector put words on the screen. As soon as a song was chosen, the band/random soloist/projector would immediately catch up and everyone would begin singing. Presumably this continued for a number of hours, but I eventually went back to my room for some rest.

The next morning nine buses were waiting at the front of the kibbutz gates. Hundreds of kibbutz members boarded the buses and away we went. Many Israelis, especially religious Zionists like those at Kibbutz Sde Eliyahu, feel that the main mitzvah (commandment) of Yom haAtzma'ut is walking the land. So for the holiday, the kibbutz charters buses for its members so they can all go out and hike for an hour or two, truly walking the Land of Israel. After our beautiful hike, we did the true Israeli Yom haAtzma'ut tradition: barbecue!

As the bus returned to the kibbutz, I realized what a true Israeli holiday I had celebrated. I've been in Israel for over eight months now, and I've celebrated many holidays here with both religious and secular Israelis, but these holidays were always Jewish celebrations. For the first time, I was able to celebrate a completely Israeli tradition. Yes, both Yom haZikaron and Yom haAtzma'ut are recognized outside of Israel, but the celebrations always seemed somewhat forced. Celebrating Israeli Independence Day, in Israel, among people who actually fought in the War of Independence, is a truly unforgettable experience. And even if I didn't spend the night in any of the all night parties in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv that Yom haAtzma'ut is known for, I feel like in some ways my experience was, at least for me, even more genuine. After mourning individual members of our community, the sadness turned to joy as I watched children perform in Hebrew while flags waved in every direction. I sang classic Israeli folk songs, hiked down a mountain, and ate my fill of barbecue at a picnic with Israeli radio playing over loudspeakers. This was Israel at its finest.
- posted by sarah @ 5/03/2004 12:32:00 AM