The Grand Finale

I decided to officially stop blogging. The last few months have been full of adventures as I have been busy going to ulpan, working, volunteering, and trying to live my life to the fullest. However, I found little reason to share them because these experiences have neither been out of the ordinary nor provided something to gain from by reading about. Therefore, I am sitting down to write one last blog. These blogs have been an accounting for the last five years of my life and it is only appropriate to give it a grand finale. And what is better than ending my journey than with how it started: on Kibbutz Tzuba.

Last night, was an alumni event for NFTY-EIE. My brother, friends from Camp Eisner, and other alumni that have transformed in numerous ways since their high school semester abroad, came back to reminisce and share their stories. As I shared my journey from EIE to going back to America; from high school to three incredible years at seminary; from college online to my acceptance for a masters at Harvard University; from an American Reform Jewish girl to an Israeli orthodox woman- I shared my transformation and realized the impact that these four very special months had on my life.

I was proud to help represent orthodox Jews to some of these teenagers who may have never met one. I was proud to say I was different. I was extremely proud to tell them that they shouldn't fear straying from the normal path, to ask questions, to test their beliefs, and to never stop growing. EVER.

As these kids leave their semester abroad in the next two weeks, exactly five years after I left mine, they will undergo incredible changes. Hopefully, I'll see some of them in Harvard. Hopefully, I'll see some of them in Israel. Hopefully, I'll see some of them at my shabbos table in the years to come. And lastly, I hope that I never forget that the person I am today started with one question:

What does it mean to be a Jew? 

Advice to all Ba'al Teshuvas Out There

I have started to phase out of blogging. Don't be offended, it has nothing to do with you (whoever "you" are), life has just gotten in the way of leisurely writing. Nevertheless, I had a very important conversation with a friend that I felt was crucial to share for all ba'al teshuvas (and even you frum-from-birthers) out there. 

Me:

What happen? Where did your self-confidence go? You were never afraid to come off as weird or make mistakes!

Friend:

I never am normally... but this is not normal! This is important!

Me:

I don't understand, you never worried about what others thought of you.

Friend:

I care what you and my other friends think.

I care what my Rabbi thinks.

I am afraid I am going to mess up everything I have been working so hard to accomplish.

Me:

hm...

Friend:

I am trying very hard to move forward and I feel stuck. I feel like I'm moving as slow as a caterpillar. 

Me:

Good thing catipillars turn into butterflies ;)

Friend:

You know what I mean...

Me:

The rabbi that inspired me to become observant, gave me a compliment the last time I saw him in America. But what his compliment really was, was an enlightening statement on the ba'al teshuva movement. 

He said, "It is so good that even though you became religious, you stayed the same 'Bekah' that I met three years ago." What he was trying to say was, I am complimenting you because you stayed true to yourself. What he implied, however, was that only a few people who becomes religious do. They don't stay true to their former-identify while changing their lifestyle. 

My suggestion to you, is that you should care about all the little things like appearance, behavior, and mannerisms. The small things can be important things. But just because you CARE what your friends and your Rabbi think, doesn't mean you have to try and fill that fantasy. 

Take what we all say and WEIGH IT against your own personality and beliefs. I dress modestly and I still have my peircings, even though I have slowly been phasing out my more noticable ones. But I didn't take them out when my rebbetzin begged me, when my brother offered to pay me $300, or when I got faces from teachers. I took them out when I was ready. I took their advice and weighed it against my personality and beliefs. But that is just a physical example. 

My point to you is care about what we say. BUT DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT WE THINK MORE THAN WHAT YOU THINK!!!!!! It is your life, and your not going to fit in anybody's box as hard as you try. Just stay yourself. That's the person your friends and family love. That's the person G-d made you. 

A Lesson in the Holiday Season and its Cycle: Up to Cheshvan

Quite an interesting month as passed. Even though I cannot believe we are already in the middle of the month of Cheshvan, it is also not surprising because of the vast amount that has changed. Cheshvan is called "Mar Cheshvan" or "Bitter Cheshvan" because it has no holidays, and it is also the time when the flood during the time of Noah started (and ended).


During Sukkos (did that already pass too?!) I had a really enlightening conversation with one of the hosts that sparked an understanding of the holiday cycle in a clear way that I had never been taught. While I marvel at it, turning it over and over in my head to taste the ingeniousness of it all, I would like to share the greatness of the holiday cycle.

The month of Elul is the last month of the Jewish holiday cycle (it is only the sixth month on the Jewish civil year cycle). This month is a month dedicated to reflection and planning. We take this month to do things like Slichos (prayers and poems added to liturgy to prepare us for national repentance on Yom Kippur) and do extra mitzvot (commandments) for our merit. I feel that Elul is about planning.We look at the arrows we shot all year long. We realize they didn't hit the target that we desired and so we think about where our new target ought to be.

Then comes the New Year, Rosh Hashana. We demand that Gd, on this day, inscribe us in the book of life. Many people misinterpret this to mean that we will physically live in the next year, but that is a different conversation. Rosh Hashana is a wake up call to tell us that it is our choice to have a spiritual life. If we tell Gd we want to live, then we try to do what he demanded of us. This is so we can live a life connected to Him, the creator and source of all Good. We can draw close to him in observance of the commandments (or the Noahide laws, if your not Jewish) and love, and even simply prayer. If we desire to have a life that is beyond the scope of carbon, if we desire to live a life that is beyond simply staying alive in this world, we need to decide that we are living in the book of life. So Gd inscribes us in the book that we desire. For a wicked man while alive is as if he was dead and a righteous man is alive even when gone. On Rosh Hashana, we draw the new targets for the new year.

We recognize our faults and misdeeds; we recognize what we could do better. This is the Ten Days of Repentance in between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. We start to repent for the things we have done wrong. We don't only repent so Gd will be merciful and have pity on us... which it often seems. We try to examine where we went off our OWN paths and where we deviated from our goals. During the Ten Days, we try to figure out where we went wrong and stay on our best behavior to show Gd that even though we mess up, we are completely capable of changing... even if it is only for ten short days. We measure the projection of the missed arrows.

Yom Kippur comes along and here we are again. Back to that excruciatingly long day were we fast and pray all day. This year, I had the best Yom Kippur in my life. While we intellectually know that this is the happiest day in the year (because Gd forgives us); we emotionally know we are starving, tired, and bored. This year, unlike the past years, I knew I was standing infront of Gd. Not to be judged, but to judge myself. To reflect on my misdeeds and to ask Gd to forgive me and let me try again. When Yom Kippur closed, I know I (along with the entire Jewish nation) was forgiven. This is when I fixed my aim.

The ten days between Yom Kippur and Shmini Atzeret is another important span of time. Four days after Yom Kippur ends, Sukkos begins. Sukkos is a time about spending time with our Father, Hahem. Rosh Hashana was about Gd, our King. Yom Kippur was about Gd, the True Judge. Now, we get to hang out in Gd's, our Father's, house and be embraced by His presence. Sukkot is all about being enjoying and simply being in the presence of Hashem. This is greatly appreciated after the seriousness of the high holidays.

Nevertheless, we don't just experience Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur to forget about it one week later. The ten proceeding days until Shmini Ateret is about DOING. We are supposed to do a lot of good deeds, acts of kindness, and try to drag out the spiritual high we get from all these holidays. Essentially these days are the days of integration.

After the happiness, we get a special holiday the day after Sukkot ends to be "extra happy". Why? Well, we repainted our targets and we fixed our aim (Rosh Hashan and Yom Kippur). We celebrated this success during Sukkot. Then, during the ten days until Shmini Atzeret, we had a practice trial to see how well we shot our new arrows and how well we hit our new targets. Even though it may not have been 100%, we nailed at least a few things. These two months of Elul through Tishrei, we have transformed ourselves into elevated people. We have recalibrate ourselves in ways we have all but forgotten from two months prior. Now, on Shmini Atzeret, we recognize Gd loves us (the Jews, on Simchat Torah, and the entire world, on Shimini Atzeret). We recognize our ability to grow and change. We understand our mission in this world. This is a cause to have a true celibration.

So why, right after do we go into Cheshvan? Mar Cheshvan, Bitter Cheshvan, the same Cheshvan in which the world was destroyed because of wickedness during the time of Noah? Many Rabbis claim that it is a bitter month because there are no holidays. I'd like to agree because even though the Flood started in Cheshvan, it also was the first day that Noah left the ark a year later. Therefore, the fact it has no holidays of its own would make it a bitter, sad month. But, I heard about three years ago that while Cheshavn has no holidays in it now, this is the month that the Third Temple will be rebuilt. A joyous occasion indeed. So what about this month merits the rebuilding of the Third Beit Hamikdash? I am not speaking as a Rabbi, but simply as someone who likes to draw connections.

Now that the intense holiday season is all done and over with, we have a month following with no holidays. The same month that will merit the building of the last Temple. If I would have a guess, the two have something to do with one another. After two months (Elul and Tishrei) of extreme self-work, introspection, and striving to fix imperfection the next logical thing is elevation. The entire month of Cheshvan is about elevating ourselves to a level previous to Elul. We have grown and changed and redirected ourselves in the direction of perfection and ultimate destination. It is only logical after all of this hard work, eventually, Gd-willing soon, the Third Temple would be build shortly following this time.

Until then, I am using Cheshvan as a month not just to go back to my old routine. I am using it as a time to solidify the person I tried to elevate myself to be during the holiday season. Cheshvan is a difficult time full of struggle. It is the battle between old and new, continuing to keep focus on my goals and not going back to what is comfortable and easy. And that is really... well, hard.

Wishing you all a successful Cheshvan that should merit the rebuilding of the Third Temple in Jerusalem.

'Tis The Season

This Rosh Hashanah was probably the most inspirational, meaningful, sweet new year I have experienced. It's been three long and trying years in my path to observance, but I went to shul and spoke to Gd on an intimate level I have never previously reached. The bulk of my short twenty years on this earth, I have been hassled into a skirt or dress and forced to synagogue for a long grueling day in services. Time was measured by how much was left in the prayer book. This year there were no "services", no "time checking", or moments where my mind wandered too far off of my dreams and goals for the new year. Instead, I really spoke to Gd. I knew what was going on during this time of self-introspection. I was not in a prayer service, I was in court on this Yom HaDin (Day of Judgement).

I told Gd He is inscribing me in the Book of Life. That's because we tell Gd on Rosh Hashanah if we want to connect ourselves to Him. If we do, we are spiritually alive. If we don't, we are spiritually disconnected from the source, e.g. Dead. Gd may be "inscribing us in the Book of Life or the Book of Death" but he is just the scribe- we are the judge and jury for our own trial. I think I did a pretty good job. 

But now, in the Ten Days of Repentance (from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur) we ask Gd to look on us favorably and give us a good (physical) life. To have wealth (to serve and connect to Him), to have health (to serve and connect to Him), to get into the right school (to serve and connect to Him), to please, please, please give me a puppy/kitten/ferret (... to... Uhm... serve and connect to Him). Essentially, we ask for the physical to elevate it and us to the spiritual (a uniquely Jewish concept). But during this time we don't only ask for things. We also ask for forgiveness for any wrong doing we have done to ourselves, others, and Gd. We are on our best behavior during these ten days and we finish off with Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement). 

The Day of Atonement is a not to tell us how bad we are and show us the bad we have done. The day of potential, Rosh Hashanah, is the day of repainting our target; Yom Kippur is the day we measure the missed arrows and correct our aim. Essentially, on Yom Kippur, we asses the potential we have and see where we need to apply it to become our ideal (or as Maslow puts it "self-actualized"). 

I wish everyone an easy fast on Yom Kippur and I also wish that people take a moment to look within themselves and ask are they who they really want to be? If not, what are they willing to change to get there?

On a last note, I'll share something a teacher said recently:

There was a man on the train who ask someone one next to him if the train was going to a particular station. 

The person exclaimed, "Oh no, your headed in the wrong direction!"  

So the man decides to do the smart thing: he says thank you and then changes his seat to face the opposite direction. 

May anyone and everyone who looks and realizes they are not headed to their destination, get off the train and get on the right one despite the difficulties. 

It's worth it. 

Hineni

Well, Hashem, here I am.

I remember sitting on the soft ground on the Quad at a Union of Reform Judaism's camp, Camp Eisner. I remember the smell of sun-burnt grass and seeing the thin layer of dirt and dust billow up from the surrounding buildings as children ran through. BOKER TOV, BONIM!

"BOKER OR!" responded the excited nine-year olds. Was this really all eleven years ago? Looking at the painted glass windows surrounding the Quad, I the hear biblical illustrations trying to spill their stories. Hineni, here I am, said Abraham. Do you know who Abraham is? I look to the front of our daily Jewish class, Limud. I raise my hand. The leader picked one of the Rabbis' kids. I was unsurprised, they are the ones always picked; after all, they are the only ones who know all the answers. 

In the years to follow, one of our counselors wrote a great song. In song session the older kids are thrashing around. They are jumping up and down, belting their hearts out. I wonder how many of them rocked out like this at the last Dispatch concert.

Here I am, hineni, where should I go? 
Lech-lecha, a journey, to a place unknown...

The song gets louder with each verse. Electric static is in the air. Hineni. Here I am. 

Today, I found myself in Kyriat Moshe, Jerusalem participating in my third year of orthodox seminary. Shana gimmel? What happened to those sun kissed summer days of my childhood? Instead, it's August and I am diving deep into biblical texts. I am also learning rabbinic commentary older than my imagination can grasp. Today, I came across the word "hineni" in the parsha (Torah portion) dealing with Akeidas Yitzhok (The Binding of Isaac). The Rabbi asked the class who could translate the pasuk (verse) in English. I raised my hand. He called on me. "And Avraham said here I am..."

After only one week of learning in-text, the Rabbi seemed pleasantly surprised I got it right on the first shot. I surmise he was thinking I finally figured out how to detect verbs and nouns, get to the shorsh (root), conjugate the word in the past-tense singular male structure (if necessary), and look it up in the dictionary. While he was right, I have adequately learned how to do all of that in one week, I didn't need to look up the translation in the dictionary. I just had to remember pleasant summer mornings, running my hand through the grass, and listening to the Limud instructors as the dust billowed up from the passing children.

Today, I am no longer in summer camp.  In fact, I am not even in the Reform movement anymore. Eleven years later, I have transformed into a woman of Torah and mitzvos. Dedicating my life to living in the path of Hashem. I am still a normal human being. Well, the word "normal" is stretching it a bit; I was never really "normal". But, what I intend to say is that I mess up, get lost, forget my goals, and often do things I really should not be doing. However, I know what I would like to accomplish in my lifetime. With this in mind, I know the rest of this month, Elul, will be spent trying to figure out how to achieve what I want to accomplish this year. Not just want I want to accomplish, but who I want to become while I attend my third year of seminary.

This time next Elul, I want to become my potential.
This time next year, I want to proudly say:

Hashem, Hineni!