Yom Kippur in Israel

All of the holidays in Israel are somewhat of a surreal experience. This is especially the case for any of us who come from towns, cities, or places where we aren't surrounded by Jews constantly. If you live in Crown Heights or Boro Park or Williamsburg or even the Pico/Robertson area in LA... you are surrounded by Jews. You don't feel like a minority but in Vero Beach, Florida or Broomfield, Colorado... you would be hard pressed to find someone "like" you. And so has been my existence. Judaism was a family thing for me and less of a communal experience. Sure we had our shuls and that community but we didn't leave near each other nor did we walk to shul so what we had rested in the walls of our synagogue.Jerusalem, in fact Israel, could not be more different. Walking to or from our host families homes for meals on the chaggim (holidays) you see the streets filled with walkers. Sometimes a car will woosh past you but when it does you remark on it with surprise rather than it being the norm. But the best part? The best part of it all... saying Shana Tova or Shabbat Shalom or Chag Sameach to everyone who you pass. It is as if all of Jerusalem becomes one community on the holidays.On Yom Kippur this is especially true. This holiday seems to be the one sobering Jewish fact in the land of Judaism. Secular Jews and less observant Jews will drive on Shabbis or Rosh Hashanah (despite the observant Jews' interpretation of the prohibition to drive on holidays). However, on Yom Kippur, you will find the streets empty of all cars. Even in Tel Aviv which is known for being secular, it is gauche to drive on this sacred day.

The only cars you will see on the road on Yom Kippur are ambulances. The national television and radio also are not broadcast on this day. Our rabbi told us that the lines for Blockbuster are around the block for families who don't celebrate Yom Kippur in preparation of this day!

Yom Kippur in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv is quite a sight to see. But I wasn't there. Instead I chose to spend my Yom Kippur, one of our holiest days, in one of the four holiest cities to Judaism... Tzfat.

Tzfat or Safed or Tsfat or Sefat or Zefat (our multiple ways of trying to recreate a sound that we don't have in English) remains the center of Jewish mysticism, Kabbalah. A hotly contested hill, Tzfat has been home to Jews since the Torah. It was allocated within the land for the tribe of Naftali. The Babyars wiped it out in the 1200's, there was a HUGE influx of incredible rabbis during the Spanish Inquisition of around 1492 and there was a Hebrew printing press there by around 1577. I highly recommend visiting to anyone who is in Israel or coming. Today it is a beautiful mix of shuls, artists, and mysticism.

I traveled with four other women to stay at a lovely hostel called Ascent where we were put up for two nights and they had their own services. It was an incredible and spiritual experience. On Yom Kippur we fast and intensely pray to G!d for not just forgiveness for past deeds but our future. This year, Yom Kippur fell on a Shabbat which makes it an even greater day. We are expressly told not to fast on Shabbat. It is a joyous day not to be marred by fasting or sadness (though I believe there are some exceptions). On Shabbat Yom Kippur, we fast. Many people believe that Yom Kippur is a sad day but that is just the impressions from the trappings (fasting, wearing white, calling out confessions) when in fact it is a joyous day. We are celebrating G-d's intense love for us and us for G-d. Adding the joy of shabbat with the joy of Yom Kippur makes this a special year. Additionally, here I am, standing on top of a mountain (Tzfat is the highest city in the country) shouting my praise and adoration for G-d. My body was physically depleted but my soul was soaring.

The morning after Yom Kippur, we rolled out of our hard, hostel beds and wow! The sun was shining so bright, it was as if we were all standing like Moses in front of G-d's essence of Mount Sinai. I knew this new year was going to be an amazing one.

*Thanks to my Tzfat, Mayanot, and Snorkel & Study buddy Rucheli for that last pic. Check out her blog here - Rucheli's Writings

Childish Memory

Prior to coming back to Jerusalem this summer, I had a very fuzzy but definitive picture of Jerusalem in my mind. It was built upon memories from the mind of 16 year old me. From the time I came to Jerusalem for the fall semester of my junior year of high school... 13 years ago.There were landmarks in my mind... Ben Yehuda street, Hebrew Union College/Beit Shmuel, King David street, the YMCA, Jabotinsky street, Independence Park... along with less well known locales. The shouk on the corner that was open on Friday nights to sell us beer, the restaurant across the street that served the best pumpkin soup, that place on the corner where our tiuyl bus would always stop and we would run in the back door and get the best baklava ever, and that one street in that one neighborhood where the lady from Belgium sold the BEST waffles ever!Here is the problem with all of these memories - over the years they have degraded a bit, as all sweet memories do and what remains was the fun and sweet parts not the challenging parts (like getting there). Also, most of the time they stuck us on a chartered bus or led us somewhere and we really weren't allowed to go places alone, therefore, I never really learned how to get around by myself.Coming back to Yerushalim (Jerusalem), I wanted to revisit the places of my child's memory but I really didn't know how to get started so I just let it flow. I got to know my new neighborhood and slowly started venturing out with other girls to further places. Currently we are located in the Katamon neighborhood near Emek Rafaim. Emek is a great and busy street with ice cream shops, super markets, tons of restaurants and coffee shops. The setup seemed vaguely familiar but one peek at the map and it seemed like King David street was miles away.It all clicked the day I walked with a friend, on Erev Rosh Hashanah, to my G-dparents' shul. I knew I had been there before but a lot had changed since I was here 13 years ago. We finally found the place and I had a HUGE "AH CHA!" moment. This Emek road that I had been trekking up and down was actually the much less developed street that was a bit of a walk for us but a nice treat 13 years ago. We would buy Pomelos and Pomegranates from the street vendors and sit on the sidewalk and eat. There wasn't nearly as much car traffic as now, if I remember correctly. Also, I don't know where she went but I heard the Belgium waffle lady is still around the city somewhere. It all was starting to make sense. Then I visited with a Denver friend after Rosh Hashanah on Emek. We decided to visit the new Mamilla Mall near the old city. We took a cab and unlocked the other puzzle. Here was the school and dorms, the building that was just started being built (that is now a HUGE and expensive hotel and apartments), and the memories from my child's mind. Sadly, the bits and bobs of collected memory aren't there any more. Most of the shops were removed and the landscape has changed greatly with this new walking mall but there was the Jerusalem of my childhood.It's been an amazing time, connecting past with present and present with future. I am just thankful for the opportunity to do that!

We have to walk?! Where?

Here's something you need to know about Jerusalem. Other than people park/drive on the sidewalks so be careful.It's actually a smallish town. And public transportation and the shops close down for the sabbath. For those of you who have no clue what I am talking about, here is a crash course. On the sabbath, otherwise known as Shabbat or Shabbis or Shabbos, G-d gave us some prohibitions. Since G-d rested on the 7th day, so are we supposed to. This irons out to 39 types of work that a prohibited.Forbidden on Shabbis:

  • Planting
  • Plowing
  • Reaping
  • Binding sheaves
  • Threshing
  • Winnowing
  • Selecting
  • Grinding
  • Sifting
  • Kneading
  • Baking
  • Shearing wool
  • Washing wool (Scouring/Laundering)
  • Beating/Combing wool
  • Dyeing
  • Spinning
  • Weaving
  • Making two loops
  • Weaving at least two threads
  • Separating two threads
  • Tying
  • Untying
  • Sewing at least two stitches
  • Tearing for the purpose of sewing
  • Trapping
  • Slaughtering
  • Flaying
  • Curing hide
  • Scraping hide
  • Scoring hide
  • Cutting hide into pieces
  • Writing (two or more letters)
  • Erasing
  • Building
  • Tearing something down
  • Extinguishing a fire
  • Igniting a fire
  • Applying the finishing touch
  • Transferring between domains

If you want more details on this, check out the trusty Wikipedia, but suffice to say, some seem super relevant and some not so much but our sages and rabbis have made them relevant. Okay fine. I don't want to get to involved in the laws but this means that all the public transport are shut down and we can't take a cab to our destination. If you want to go anywhere, your only choice is to walk.The point here is that on my very first shabbis in Jerusalem, which has been building a great anticipation, we are walking to the Kotel. Yes, my friends, we are headed to the Western Wall. Very exciting... except it is a 35 minute walk from school.In America, either you go to a shul nearby or you don't go. At least, that is how it is near me. Or frankly, some of us will just drive to shul anyway because the mitzvah of going to daven is more important to me than the prohibition to drive that has been derived from these 39 prohibitions on work. I don't think either perspective is wrong, just different ways to look at the same coin.So we head out for the Kotel. You don't really notice the somewhat strenuous walk because the scenery is amazing. You pass new apartments and old domiciles, petrol stations and ancient roadways. Jerusalem is an amazing amalgam of modernity and old style. New ideas and strongly held ideals.We took the snake path up the side of hill on which the Old City sits. The anticipation builds.We walk along the walls and enter through the Zion Gate. I am ACTUALLY in the Old City!Down the hills and streets, past the playground inside the Old City where Muslim and Christian boys play Football (Soccer to the Americans), and into the crush to go through the security to get to the Kotel.The image laid out before me was breathtaking.

We pushed our way up to as close as we could get to the wall, on the women's side, and did our evening prayers, the Maariv service. Despite being pushed and knocked over by over zealous Christian Russian bloc tourists, it was quite an amazing experience.

The walk back didn't seem to be quite as strenuous... perhaps my self was lighter for the experience.

Traveling Talia for Tishrei, Pt 2

Once I actually found the sherut (taxi van), I had to tell them where I was going… I (I know, I know silly me) didn’t actually write down the address, I just knew it in my head. But when they asked me… I was pronouncing it like an American… and not correctly. And I had forgotten it was a two word name Hizkiyahu HaMelech. Only the document I had had the first word spelled Yehesikayhu… at least I knew my neighborhood, Ketamon.As we drive towards Jerusalem, we are stopped several times to be checked by soldiers. I don’t know the location or purpose of the check other than to keep bombs from exploding in Israeli cities. We passed walls and barbed wire, check points, cities and deserts. All stunning to watch fly by as you hold on for dear life (Israeli drivers are up there for worst in the WORLD… folks, in Israel, the sidewalk is not just for walking, it is for parking too, evidently). After letting a few people off, the driver hounded me for more information. I became a serious casualty of American convenience. When my iPhone would not pick up a signal and I when could not check my email for the details, panic began to spread through my stomach. How in the world would I find my Yeshiva? Would he dump me on some unknown corner with my three suitcases (seriously though I am here for 5 months…) and I would have to end up making camp on the sidewalk? Finally I remembered that my iPhone stored old emails and found one with the address on it. Thank G-d! The other passengers were getting nasty with me. Not as if I was holding them up, he kept dropping them off as I was trying to figure myself out.He dumps me on a corner and I see the school a block up… hill… I start to panic a bit. Here I am in a country where suitcases are blown up if they are left alone for even one minute (because that could be a bomb) with too much luggage (yes mom, you were right … though I was thankful for every bit when I got inside), a very poor command of spoken Hebrew and no way to get to the school. And then, a bright shiny face greeted me.“Are you with Mayanot?” she asked IN ENGLISH!“YES!” I replied tamping down the urge to hug her. She took me to the gate and helped me carry my luggage down the stairs and up the stairs and finally I found my home for the next five months.Yes, I am nearly 30 and living in a dorm and sharing a bathroom and eating communal meals but the classes, the knowledge, the atmosphere of incredible women is worth every second.Yes, we are locked away in our safe castle for now (locked gates all around the building to keep us safe) but soon it will be Tishrei and time to venture out and celebrate the Jewish holidays with the entire country.Did you know our weeks are Sunday through Thursday here? Friday is the Muslim sabbath and Saturday is ours so Fri and Sat are the Israeli Sat and Sun.Did you know you are not allowed to open for business on the holidays here? Pretty cool. To hear the shofar blown in the city of the Bais HaMigdash (the Holy Temple), I think will be a defining moment for me and I hear the singing and dancing parties on Simchat Torah are pretty amazing here.

Traveling Talia for Tishrei

Okay, I couldn’t resist the alliteration but I have already traveled and it is not yet Tishrei. We are still in the holy, soul checking month of Elul. However, I have traveled.I left my safe and lovely home in Denver Colorado (as well as my delightful and fun colleagues at Patheos) to travel all by my lonesome to Eretz Yisrael, the land of Israel. The travel part was long. It involved a rented minivan and drive from Denver to NYC as my younger brother was starting grad school in the city. Then seven days of hanging with him before embarking on the 12 hour plane right to Israel.Sitting at the gate at JFK, I felt minuscule. There were so many people and so much flying by me. Russian, Hebrew, Yiddish, English, German, and many other languages I couldn’t name. Families and elderly, babies and students. So many people all off on an adventure of their own.Whenever alone in an airport (which is fairly often for me), I always look for single women to chat with. It is nice to have a person to watch your bags for a quick bathroom or water run. This time I met a woman named Neta. She was almost seven months pregnant. We started chatting and I learned her story as she learned mine. She was traveling the USA with her husband (who was on an earlier flight back to Tel Aviv, unfortunately). They were hiking in the Grand Canyon, New Mexico, all over California, they rented a car and traveled for two months around the United States. When they left Israel, she was barely showing and about at the end of her fourth month of pregnancy. Returning, she had a nice belly and was nearly seven months along. We talked about the surprise her family will have when they see her next. We were line buddies for boarding, which is exponentially harder when you are flying to Israel.There is a second security check before you get on the plane. Another take your shoes off and laptops out situation and in fact, you cannot take drinks on the plane unless you have the receipt for buying them in the airport! Once through and settled on the plane, Neta and I were parted.I settled in for the long flight. It was an evening flight where we got dinner right away and then the best plan is to sleep for as long as you can. Still you hear strains of a multitude of languages floating along the cabin. By ‘morning’ or wake-up time, we have crossed 7 time zones… it is 1:30pm in Israel. We have ‘breakfast/lunch’ and touchdown in Eretz Yisrael.That is an amazing feeling! Wow! Everyone applauds and you look out the window to see the desert stretching far and wide before you. Palm trees dot the distance and new construction is everywhere. Ben Gurion airport is technically Tel Aviv but you aren’t near the sea. I didn’t feel holy but I was glad to be out of my seat prison.Once arrived you have the whole new country/passport/customs deal. Get stamped, get luggage and find your way. This trip was so different from my last. Previously, I was a kid, 12/16/17 years old… buses came for us. This time, I had to find my own way on a supershuttle like taxi to Jerusalem… Now that… that was scary!Stay tuned for part two…

Introducing Totoro

Hi. My name is Totoro. I am a Japanese character well known from movies like My Neighbor Totoro.What most people don't realize is that I am actually Jewish (my mother's maiden name as Kohen and I was named after my Zaide, Tuviya). I am headed on an adventure to Israel. Join me for the fun!

That's me, I'm hanging out in my Colorado apartment surveying the insane amount of packing left to do! But rather than pack, I really feel like checking out some wikipedia details on Israel.

Taking personal responsiblity

Breslov Men Don 'Veils' En Route to Reb Nachman's GraveThis is what I was talking about way back when (here) about men taking responsibility for themselves.So you have a standard of modesty. Good. That is a good thing. But you can't force everyone else to live up to it. G-d gave us free choice and that free choice extends to our levels of modesty.I understand that people are up in arms because they think it is a Muslim idea to wear a veil but they are wrong. Don't Jewish women wear tichels (scarves) to cover their hair? The biggest difference in the two is how we tie them. Muslim women are required to cover more areas than Jewish women. I don't understand the uproar on this. Rather they want these men to run around shouting and pushing and hitting women who aren't dressed to their level of tznius (modesty) or breaking televisions? How does that promote klal Yisroel (the unity of the people of Israel)?I commend these men. Kol hakavod, good job for taking your priorities and morals into your own hands without hurting other people or marginalizing them.I mean, I wouldn't want to wear a scarf around my face but I am not a Breslover man...

Dear G-d. Please let these suitcases be under 50 pounds.

Look. I honestly admit that I over pack. I couldn't lie about that. One trip with me and you would see right though my ruse. But in the past few years I have tried to be more strategic, packing reusable outfits, less shoes, and when I visit my 'sisters' in NYC, packing little and letting them dress me.But seriously, I am going to Israel for FIVE MONTHS! This is no ordinary, stay in a hotel, relax by the pool vacation! There are needs here! Toiletries, bedding, towels, okay I know I can buy them all in Israel but why spend the money if I have some I can just leave there! And clothes... okay, I need casual clothes for school, dressy clothes for shabbat and chaggim (holidays). I need summer clothes for when I get there and winter/chilly/rainy clothes for a few months in.Basically, the schizophrenia overwhelmed me and there I was with about 6 suitcases worth of clothes, shoes, and accoutrement that had to fit into two bags, under 50 pounds. After much hemming and hawing, we made it! I officially have two checked big suitcases hovering at 50 pounds, one smaller rolling carry on bag, and a backpack carry on... and a pillow. What if they stop me and tell me I can't have the extra carry on. I mean you are allowed one carry on, one personal item. Does my pillow push me over!? What if any suitcase is too big or too heavy?! Everything is carefully packed to the breaking point!At some point it is just out of my hands and into G-d's... and Delta's. My dear brother came with me to JFK... maybe because he wanted to say goodbye but more likely to see if they would actually take the bags."Miss, please come forward." "Yes, uhm, here is my passport and ticket." "Great, put the bag on the scale." (Now running through my head... all excuse to use and tears lined up if it is over the weight...) "Great, next bag." "Wait WHAT!?"I look at the scale. Big Green Bag (heretofore known as BGB) = 50 lbs. ON. THE. DOT.Big Purple Bag (BPB) goes up = 47 lbs.What flashes in my mind? I could have totally packed 3 more pounds of stuff in there! HA! Never overlook an opportunity but the bags slip away into the bowels of JFK to be regurgitated into my plane.My dear brother spends about an hour sitting with me in the cramped and very uncool lobby of the Delta terminal of JFK before we decide to part ways.I, of course, turn into a watering pot while he stays calm, cool, and collected. He waits while I wait in line to security. As I put my things on the conveyor, I look up... he's gone. He was my last thread connecting my physically to my family, friends, and life in the United States. And with that, voila, it's cut. I start my swim out to sea.Next... Traveling Talia for Tishrei, Pt. 1

Living in NYC is nothing like living in Colorado

Okay, I mean yes, that is somewhat of a 'DUH' statement but it really hit us once we were settled into Ronin's new apartment.1. NO AIR-CONDITIONING!! WHAT?! Seriously, like the hottest summer on record and no relief. I would sit on an air-conditioned subway car all day rather than sit in the sticky, hot apartment.2. Teeny, tiny spaces! Bathroom = small. Bedrooms = small. Living room = small. Kitchen = small. Elevator = small. I have to say, though, that I am way impressed with New Yorkers. They really know how to make their space work for them!3. "Hey I have an idea, let's just stick a shower head in the middle of the wall and call it a shower." Yes, it spews water... but really, can we call that a proper shower? Whew! You seriously had to choose a side to shower on because the water stream was perpendicular to the tub... not parallel with it...4. Hey Denver ladies, I know you love your high heels but unless you are a Real Housewife of NYC, you just can't wear heels in NYC... no matter how hard you try. Okay so some women might have callused feet of steel but for the most part you have to walk 5 blocks to get the train, down a ton of stairs, stand in the train for 20 minutes, up the stairs, walk 10 blocks to get to where you are going... no real exceptions. Thankfully, NYers have style and have found super cute, fashionable flats. :)And I could go on but basically, my bro and I had a blast hanging out for a week together and getting to know his neighborhood and neighborhood Pinkberry. It was a really amazing time together and I am so glad I got that special bonding time with Ronin before I left for my long adventure in Israel. As a big sister, I felt good knowing that he was safe in his apartment, knew where everything was, knows how to get places, and will really enjoy his time in the City... continuing to make me jealous that he has a NY, NY 100.. address before me. :)Next up - Dear G-d. Please let these suitcases be under 50 pounds.