New Year, Old City

25 September 2006

The picture of the day, in honor of Mr. G. and what we're not eating:

I write this from the lunchroom of a certain yeshiva that happens to be located above a Mazda dealership, rather than attending yet another class that I likely won't take. With the coming of this new year, I hope to be freed of my nagging desire to take as many classes as I possibly can--this is not high school, after all. So while I can't relax today with a coffee in some lovely cafe, I'll take my few moments to catch up on this rather-neglected blog.

I find myself settling in rather well to Jerusalem, still beset occasionally by bouts of homesickness, but doing my best to make space for myself in this town of overwhelming history. Rosh Hashanah here was very nice, full of new and old friends and synagogues on every corner. i was a bit surprised at the number of cars that I still heard outside of my window--I'm told Yom Kippur here is really the holiday of the bicycle, though not Rosh Hashanah.

One thing the holiday brought out for me was the (perhaps flawed) notion of authenticity: in telling a friend about my RH services where everyone spoke English, we both tossed around the word "authentic." If I've spent most of my ritual time with native English speakers, am I having a less "authentic" Israeli experience? On the one hand, I am here to learn Hebrew, and I'm somewhat frustrated that I'm not speaking more Hebrew in my daily life. But I also feel that American Jewry has really been innovative with forms of Jewish expression in ways that I don't see in "native" Israeli Judaism, particularly in terms of egalitarianism and women's issues. I do want to speak Hebrew during davenning, but not if that means I've no way to participate in the service.

There is also the paradox that Israel is entirely an immigrant society, a gathering place for Jews (and Muslims, and Christians, and foreign workers, but that is another story). While we may idealize a country of sabras, the culture has actually been created by people from all over the world who gave up their native languages and lands to speak Hebrew and become Israeli, a melting part even rawer than the American one. As easy as it is for me to disparage spending time with Anglos as being "inauthentic," I shouldn't pretend that the other ethnic enclaves are any more authentic than my corner of Emek Refaim. And I do love the morality, spirituality, flexibility of American Judaism, where I don't have to be either dati or chiloni but can be somewhere in between.

That said, it's time to begin speaking Hebrew! So far it's been very easy for me to shop classes at the various liberal yeshivot around town. I'm ready to begin working at a social service organization that can use my energy and my skills--and hopefully my Hebrew as well.

One other piece of excitement, on the ritual frame: I had my first tefillin experience the other day, one ritual I've avoided (while shooting longing glances). This may be something to be actualized this year...we shall see. I'm a bit scared to purchase tefillin here--will they be as kind to a woman as the Brookline folks? (See "egalitarianism" above.) Ah well, we shall see.