I came to Israel on my birthright trip in late July. I have never called myself a zionist, nor have I ever considered myself to be religious. I went to Hebrew school and got bat-mitzvah'ed at 13, stuck around for another year of Jewish education and then decided I didn't want to go anymore. The only temple services I have been to since then are funerals, and it was at one such funeral of a wonderful young woman that I realized that I am an atheist. I struggled to call myself Jewish after this and did what many young Jews do, refer to myself as culturally Jewish. I thought I was being cute. How can anyone possibly be an atheist and still belong to a religion? Well, apparently Jews can, just ask half of Tel Aviv. I was nervous to say I was an atheist during birthright until the second day when one of the Israeli soldiers on our trip said "I don't believe in God, but of course I keep shabbat and I am a Jew and I must protect my country."I didn't feel so weird after that.
I was immediately smitten with Israel. I loved everything about it - the beautiful landscape, the pushy people, the insane mix of the sacred and the sacrilegious, the food, the music...everything (save for the Ultra Orthodox influence, but let's save that for another post). Do I agree with everything the Israeli government does? Of course not, but if I were to lay out all I disagree with that the US government does against all I disagree with that the Israeli government does I'm fairly sure the US would be the greater offender.
On one of the first days of birthright our guide had us divide into groups of "agree, disagree or don't know" when he asked us controversial questions. One of the questions was something along the lines of "As a Jew I have unconditional support of Israel." Being the feisty woman that I am, I was in the disagree group and ready and willing to debate (which I soon found is a common thread among Jews...my word, are we an argumentative bunch). "Why should I place Jews as any higher than other people simply because I am one? Why should I support Israel in the atrocities it commits just because some of these people came from the same place I did?" Our guide let the discussion happen and said "We'll see how you feel at the end of the trip."
A few days into the trip (note: Birthright or "Taglit" is 10 days long and anyone who has done it will tell you the crazy amount of things that are crammed into those ten days. It is exhausting.) we went to Independence Hall, where Israel declared itself a country in the middle of war. We were shown a cheesy video about the founding of Tel Aviv and then led into the room where the first Israeli government was created and met. We had an incredible speaker with one of the most common and effective Jewish traits...he was an excellent story teller. It wasn't until he started saying "How amazing! We can have a Jewish army to protect us? A Jewish airline so we can travel? Jewish police who care about our needs?" that the reality actually hit me. The Russian/Polish/German/whatever governments didn't protect the Jews, they have always been outcasts who relied on their own community to protect themselves, and obviously in cases of WWII they were not able to. You can see this today in NYC where the Hasidic communities tend to be somewhat self-sufficient, including have their own ambulances. I have never really suffered any anti-semitism having grown up in liberal Jewy areas, so I had never really thought much about it. But it started to make so much sense...of course the Jews have needed to flock together, no one else wanted us, and now there is a safe area for all of them. "Never again" is a common zionist phrase, and with the formation of Israel "never again" is actually a possibility. Without the state of Israel there is no chance nor promise that Jews will not be killed simply for being Jews. It's happened over and over again throughout history and there is no reason to believe it wouldn't happen again. It was then that I changed my mind about the question of support for Israel. Yes, of course I support Israel (note: the state's right to exist, not necessarily the way it has/is happening), and in my mind anyone who believes in human rights ought to support the existence of Israel.
Later in the trip we went to the Western Wall. The old city of Jerusalem is the only officially sanctioned area that the Ultra Orthodox rabbinate control (there are also Haredi neighborhoods but I believe their rules are more from public pressure than actual laws). My immediate reaction to the area is anger as my biggest gripe with the Orthodox is their insufferable treatment of women. The tiny segment of wall that is left is divided between the men's and women's side. The women's side is significantly smaller (even though it was recently expanded) so the women have to crowd and push. I took this picture the other day, it was raining out and you can see how the women on the right are all squeezed together while the men have room.
I was grumbling as I approached the Western Wall (or the Kotel in Hebrew), angry that women are treated as lesser beings and not particularly excited about some religious site as I don't believe in the Torah anyway. The history of the Kotel is pretty fascinating, I'm not going to go into it now, but suffice to say - this wall is the oldest remnant of Jewish history. It was part of the Second Temple and built between 516 BCE and 70 CE to replace the First Temple, which like all important Jewish things, was destroyed. If you like history, look up information about the Kotel, the amount of times it has changed hands and been destroyed and rebuilt is pretty incredible, not to mention The Dome of the Rock and the Muslim significance of the area. Anyway, back to me grumbling. I was pissed off I had to cover my shoulders and knees, it was really hot out and I was jealous of my male counterparts who were wearing shorts. How dare anyone tell me how to dress. I also felt disconnected from the more pious people on our trip and found it all rather silly. It's just an old wall after all.
It is not just an old wall. Not at all. Many people will say they feel the hand of God when they touch the wall, and I understand why they say that. I touched the wall and placed my forehead against it and the feeling was electric. I did not expect what happened at all. The second I touched the wall I could feel energy pulsing through me - entire generations of stubborn Jews coursing through my veins. It is here I discovered my religiosity (a word I borrow from a great essay about how theatre can be religion). I do not believe in God, I do not believe in Heaven of Hell or any kind of afterlife or reincarnation or grand karmic scheme. I believe in people. I am amazed by people. Many of my fellow burners (people who go to Burning Man for those who don't know) will understand what I mean, as they know the feeling of "We did this. We created this, and it is all for us." I am in awe with what people can do, and I'd rather believe in them than some ethereal moralistic fairy tale. I believe in the Jewish people. When I touched that wall I felt the strength of my people, not God. I felt the thousands of years of oppression, of fighting, of pain and death, but I also felt the strength, and dedication and unbelievable stubbornness of a people that refuse to stop, no matter how many times they are conquered or butchered. Such toughness and fortitude, such amazing bravery. When I returned to America after this trip several people told me I had gained (more) swagger and confidence. It is at the Kotel I found it. I found pride and belief and the power to say "I will have what I want."
Israel is important and it needs to exist. Many of you (burners) know that "home" is not necessarily the place you live, but it's where you find your fellow freaks, the world can be lonely until you find such a place. Israel is like that. Here, I have to explain my Hannukah Bush costume because no one knows what a Christmas tree is until they travel outside the country. Here, everyone keeps shabbat (there will definitely be a post about shabbat in Israel, it's awesome). Here, debate comes standard and is expected. Here, Hine Mah Tov is sung on the streets. Here, a complete stranger will take care of you if you are in need and feed you and clothe you because you are Jewish, therefore you are family. I never expected to feel this way about Israel, but I do. So I am here, maybe for just five months, maybe for longer. For a nomad with no hometown there is something surprisingly familiar and comforting about this land. I am a part of it and it is a part of me.
So there we go, zionist schpiel out of the way. Tomorrow the group leaves for the Negev for three days which will make a lovely segue into my next post, Why I Moved to Israel: Part II or Good, Sweet God How I Love the Desert!
I was immediately smitten with Israel. I loved everything about it - the beautiful landscape, the pushy people, the insane mix of the sacred and the sacrilegious, the food, the music...everything (save for the Ultra Orthodox influence, but let's save that for another post). Do I agree with everything the Israeli government does? Of course not, but if I were to lay out all I disagree with that the US government does against all I disagree with that the Israeli government does I'm fairly sure the US would be the greater offender.
On one of the first days of birthright our guide had us divide into groups of "agree, disagree or don't know" when he asked us controversial questions. One of the questions was something along the lines of "As a Jew I have unconditional support of Israel." Being the feisty woman that I am, I was in the disagree group and ready and willing to debate (which I soon found is a common thread among Jews...my word, are we an argumentative bunch). "Why should I place Jews as any higher than other people simply because I am one? Why should I support Israel in the atrocities it commits just because some of these people came from the same place I did?" Our guide let the discussion happen and said "We'll see how you feel at the end of the trip."
A few days into the trip (note: Birthright or "Taglit" is 10 days long and anyone who has done it will tell you the crazy amount of things that are crammed into those ten days. It is exhausting.) we went to Independence Hall, where Israel declared itself a country in the middle of war. We were shown a cheesy video about the founding of Tel Aviv and then led into the room where the first Israeli government was created and met. We had an incredible speaker with one of the most common and effective Jewish traits...he was an excellent story teller. It wasn't until he started saying "How amazing! We can have a Jewish army to protect us? A Jewish airline so we can travel? Jewish police who care about our needs?" that the reality actually hit me. The Russian/Polish/German/whatever governments didn't protect the Jews, they have always been outcasts who relied on their own community to protect themselves, and obviously in cases of WWII they were not able to. You can see this today in NYC where the Hasidic communities tend to be somewhat self-sufficient, including have their own ambulances. I have never really suffered any anti-semitism having grown up in liberal Jewy areas, so I had never really thought much about it. But it started to make so much sense...of course the Jews have needed to flock together, no one else wanted us, and now there is a safe area for all of them. "Never again" is a common zionist phrase, and with the formation of Israel "never again" is actually a possibility. Without the state of Israel there is no chance nor promise that Jews will not be killed simply for being Jews. It's happened over and over again throughout history and there is no reason to believe it wouldn't happen again. It was then that I changed my mind about the question of support for Israel. Yes, of course I support Israel (note: the state's right to exist, not necessarily the way it has/is happening), and in my mind anyone who believes in human rights ought to support the existence of Israel.
Later in the trip we went to the Western Wall. The old city of Jerusalem is the only officially sanctioned area that the Ultra Orthodox rabbinate control (there are also Haredi neighborhoods but I believe their rules are more from public pressure than actual laws). My immediate reaction to the area is anger as my biggest gripe with the Orthodox is their insufferable treatment of women. The tiny segment of wall that is left is divided between the men's and women's side. The women's side is significantly smaller (even though it was recently expanded) so the women have to crowd and push. I took this picture the other day, it was raining out and you can see how the women on the right are all squeezed together while the men have room.
I was grumbling as I approached the Western Wall (or the Kotel in Hebrew), angry that women are treated as lesser beings and not particularly excited about some religious site as I don't believe in the Torah anyway. The history of the Kotel is pretty fascinating, I'm not going to go into it now, but suffice to say - this wall is the oldest remnant of Jewish history. It was part of the Second Temple and built between 516 BCE and 70 CE to replace the First Temple, which like all important Jewish things, was destroyed. If you like history, look up information about the Kotel, the amount of times it has changed hands and been destroyed and rebuilt is pretty incredible, not to mention The Dome of the Rock and the Muslim significance of the area. Anyway, back to me grumbling. I was pissed off I had to cover my shoulders and knees, it was really hot out and I was jealous of my male counterparts who were wearing shorts. How dare anyone tell me how to dress. I also felt disconnected from the more pious people on our trip and found it all rather silly. It's just an old wall after all.
It is not just an old wall. Not at all. Many people will say they feel the hand of God when they touch the wall, and I understand why they say that. I touched the wall and placed my forehead against it and the feeling was electric. I did not expect what happened at all. The second I touched the wall I could feel energy pulsing through me - entire generations of stubborn Jews coursing through my veins. It is here I discovered my religiosity (a word I borrow from a great essay about how theatre can be religion). I do not believe in God, I do not believe in Heaven of Hell or any kind of afterlife or reincarnation or grand karmic scheme. I believe in people. I am amazed by people. Many of my fellow burners (people who go to Burning Man for those who don't know) will understand what I mean, as they know the feeling of "We did this. We created this, and it is all for us." I am in awe with what people can do, and I'd rather believe in them than some ethereal moralistic fairy tale. I believe in the Jewish people. When I touched that wall I felt the strength of my people, not God. I felt the thousands of years of oppression, of fighting, of pain and death, but I also felt the strength, and dedication and unbelievable stubbornness of a people that refuse to stop, no matter how many times they are conquered or butchered. Such toughness and fortitude, such amazing bravery. When I returned to America after this trip several people told me I had gained (more) swagger and confidence. It is at the Kotel I found it. I found pride and belief and the power to say "I will have what I want."
Israel is important and it needs to exist. Many of you (burners) know that "home" is not necessarily the place you live, but it's where you find your fellow freaks, the world can be lonely until you find such a place. Israel is like that. Here, I have to explain my Hannukah Bush costume because no one knows what a Christmas tree is until they travel outside the country. Here, everyone keeps shabbat (there will definitely be a post about shabbat in Israel, it's awesome). Here, debate comes standard and is expected. Here, Hine Mah Tov is sung on the streets. Here, a complete stranger will take care of you if you are in need and feed you and clothe you because you are Jewish, therefore you are family. I never expected to feel this way about Israel, but I do. So I am here, maybe for just five months, maybe for longer. For a nomad with no hometown there is something surprisingly familiar and comforting about this land. I am a part of it and it is a part of me.
So there we go, zionist schpiel out of the way. Tomorrow the group leaves for the Negev for three days which will make a lovely segue into my next post, Why I Moved to Israel: Part II or Good, Sweet God How I Love the Desert!
