Pardes has ended. Tomorrow, Friday, at midnight, I will fly back to the U.S. I wanted to write a quick post, that will hopefully be bookended on one side with a more reflective post when I have the time and space to reflect.
As many of you know, Israel is not a place I longed to visit. I came here, because of Pardes, somewhat reluctantly. Knowing that I would hate the weather (I’m a northerner through and through). Knowing that the people, the Israelis, would have personalities that would grate against me and offend and possibly even scare me with their aggression. I had no particular sentimental passion about the idea of the “Jewish homeland”, in fact, after the paper I wrote last school year, any seed of Zionist ideology still lurking in my brain was erased by disturbed disgust. (I believe that Israel should exist as a Jewish state, I just don’t identify with Zionism).
When I got here it was hot. The people were aggressive. The apartment I am living in was in a state of filth. And I was tired, still being affected by my newly diagnosed condition (and jet lagged). After six weeks, I’m beginning to see how I will tolerate living here for a year if things (yet unveiled to all) go according the the plan. The assets of a strong Anglo community are great. The body adjusts to the heat (although just barely!). The legs adjust to the hills–a good thing.The eyes adjust to seeing the soldiers with guns and the frum (orthodox) with their long sleeves and various forms of dress.
Pardes itself was just wonderful. I had occasionally spouts of uncomfortable feeling about the orthodox bent that comes with attending a halachically observant institution. But, you find your place. You discover a chevruta (study partner) in your classes that will meld or challenge your belief systems. It’s about discovery and flexibility. I am more aware in ways I think I don’t even understand now. I have an awareness of halakha, of the viewpoint of the Orthodox. And of the challenges of Jews being Jews everywhere in the world because of the great diversity of experience, especially in how that translates to explanation and education of the outside world. I was profoundly affected by learning in a pluralistic community where I felt free to grow and learn without self-consciousness. Sometimes, I felt awkward or weird or guilty about deciding not to daven (pray) in the egalitarian minyan, even though it is not my regular tradition and I feel better having more unstructured time. There were occasions when I felt strange not keeping Shabbat or eating in a non-kosher restaurant, even though I don’t regularly keep shabbat or kosher. So, the pressure was there.
I’m sitting here in my room in the German Colony, Jerusalem both excited to return to Madison, where the Pride fest will be attended on Saturday night and Sunday, where I will not have invitations to Shabbat lunch or seudat shlishi (3rd meal), and curious as to what it will mean to not be in a place where it is assumed that of course everyone will be walking to shul or eating a shabbas meal or lunch or seuda shlishi. Where after Shabbat ends on Saturday night, the streets come alive with families, singles, teens, and seniors. Where you still see small children eating ice cream outside Aldo at midnight. I wonder what that will feel like. Will it feel normal? will there be a feeling of loss?
The most exciting/interesting/lovely aspect of my Jerusalem experience was the people. I met such incredible people. And what I liked most was the lack of pressure. We’d eat dinner or hang out. But, we were all temporary. We all say good bye and if we see each other again, it will be with pleasure. There was such an interesting crowd. I was happy to be a part of them for 6 weeks. And I’m excited to maintain my Chicago friendships, which will hopefully translate into Shabbat dinners and shul hopping around the city.
Phrankly Phred 