You only see when you hear.

"July, 1967...I have discovered a new land. Israel is not the same as before. There is great astonishment in the souls. It is as if the prophets had risen from their graves. Their words ring in a new way. Jerusalem is everywhere, she hovers over the whole country. There is a new radiance, a new awe.
The great quality of a miracle is not in its being an unexpected, unbelieved event in which the presence of the holy bursts forth, but in its happening to human beings who are profoundly astonished at such an outburst. My astonishment is mixed with anxiety. Am I worthy? Am I able to appreciate the marvel?

I did not enter on my own the city of Jerusalem. Streams of endless craving, clinging, dreaming, flowing day and night, mights, years, decades, centuries, millennia, streams of tears, pledging, waiting = from all over the world, from all corners of the earth - carried us of this generation to The Wall. My ancestors could only dream of you - to my people in Auschwitz you were more remote than the moon, and I can touch your stones! Am I worthy? How shall I ever repay for these moments?
The martyrs of all ages are sitting at the gates of heaven, having refused to enter the world to come lest they forget Israel's pledge given in and for this world:

If I forget you, O Jerusalem

let my right hand wither.

Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth

if I do not remember you

if I do not set Jerusalem

above my highest joys.

                                                                                                     Psalm 137

They would rather be without heaven than forget the glory of Jerusalem. From time to time their souls would leave the gates of heaven to go on a pilgrimage to the souls of the Jewish people, reminding them that God himself is in exile, that He will not enter heavenly Jerusalem until his people Israel will enter Jerusalem here.

Jerusalem! I always try to see the inner force that emanates from you, enveloping and transcending all the weariness and travail. I try to use my eyes, and there is a cloud. Is Jerusalem higher than the road I walk on? Does she hover in the air above me? No, in Jerusalem past is present, and heaven is almost here. For an instant I am near to Hillel, who is close by. All of our history is within reach. 

Jerusalem, you only see her when you hear. 

She has been an ear when no one else heard, and ear open to prophets denunciations, to prophets consolations, to the lamentations of ages, to the hopes of countless sages and saints; and ear to prayer flowing from distant places. And she is more than an ear.

Jerusalem is a witness. An echo of eternity. Stand still and listen. We know Isaiah's voice from hearsay, yet these stones heard him when he said... (2 : 2-4)

It shall come to pass in the latter days...

For out of Zion shall go forth Torah,

and the word of The Lord from Jerusalem...

And he shall judge between nations,

and shall decide for many peoples...

Nation shall not lift of sword against nation,

neither shall they learn war anymore.

Jerusalem was stopped in the middle of her speech. She is a voice interrupted. Let Jerusalem speak again to our people, to all people...

What is the secret of Jerusalem? Her past is a prelude.

Her power is in reviving. Here silence is prediction, the walls are in suspense...

This is a city never indifferent to the sky. The evenings often feel like Kol Nidre nights. Unheard music, transfiguring thoughts. Prayers are vibrant. The Sabbath finds it hard to go away... 

Jerusalem has the look of a place that is looked at... "The eyes of the Lord your God are always upon it, from the beginning of the year to the end of the year" (Deuteronomy 11:12). Psalms inhabit the hills, the air is hallelujah. Hidden harps. Dormant songs. "

[Excerpt from Israel: An Echo of Eternity, A.J. Heschel]

the little prince.

"  'The stars are beautiful because of a flower one cannot see...'

I replied, 'Of course' and I looked at the sand dunes under the moonlight in silence.

'The desert is beautiful,' he added...

And it was true. I have always loved the desert. One sits down on a sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet one can feel a silent radiation.

'What makes the desert so beautiful,' said the Little Prince, 'is that it hides a well somewhere.'  "

"I raised the bucket to his lips. He drank with his eyes closed. It was as sweet as a festival treat. This water was something entirely different from ordinary nourishment. It was born from the walk under the stars, the singing of the pulley and the effort of my arms. It was good for the heart, like a gift."  

"It is only with one's heart that one can see clearly. What is essential is invisible to the eye." 

{this moment}

{this moment} A friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment i want to pause, savor, and remember. 


If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments section for all to find and see.

Between the lines.

"Learning is what you do with knowledge that already exists, seeking is what you do for the truth." - Rabbi M. Feuer

"All that is thought should not be said, all that is said should not be written, all that is written should not be published, all that is published should not be read." - The Kotzker Rebbe

Snapshots.

A little bit of life through my eyes...

[afternoon sun]
[jerusalem stones]
[looking up]
[nachlaot graffiti]
[stones and sun]
[shirat devorah girls in the light]
[desert at sunrise]

Some Rosh Hashana Impressions.

I close my eyes and all I see is white. I hear the voices rise up around me and form one, whole voice which then settles down into my core, sending reverberations through my whole body. The melody is haunting, slow, intentional. Coming from that same core place in all those around me. We let out this voice, our voice, a call in hopes of drawing closer. To what? To the divine infinite all around us, to each other, to ourselves. A harmony of yearning.

"I called out from the narrows and you answered me with expansiveness."

And then, silence. Heads bowed. Waiting. Trembling. The shofar sounds, sending shock waves through each member of the congregation until it reaches every corner of the room. The sound travels through us, now one whole, like a wave. Shattering our false pretenses, our exterior shells, exposing our truest selves. We continue to listen, awaken, return to. Surrender to that which is so much greater than ourselves. I hear tears rolling down the cheek of my neighbor. I am still.

When my eyes open, I can finally see. Despite my exhaustion, I am being pulled upward. Growing and shrinking at once, transcending my physical limitations.

And the singing brings me back. This time joyous. The Torah, our ancient and timeless truths all wrapped into one scroll, is carried through the crowd. Our most precious possession. When it reaches the women, the tears start again. But this time I can see them. In my eyes and the eyes of all those around me. Gratitude. Awe. Devotion. All shared. Women dance in the aisle with their infants, grasp hands and sing with their neighbors. The majestic head coverings crowing each woman glisten in the sunlight that shines through the windows. The vision is both ancient and futuristic at once. I close my eyes again and all that I breathe in is light.

Returning to, once again.

Somehow another month has gone by. I actually can't believe it. I know, I know, so cliche to speak of time passing quickly. But there are times where it must be noted.
My life has once again changed drastically since I last wrote. Going from seminary life to being a Madricha (coordinator/counselor) for the program I went on 2 years ago (Livnot U'Lehibanot) has been quite a shift. Full of ups and downs, hardships and accomplishments. My experiences continue to be rich, complex, fulfilling, and challenging, somehow in a whole new way than I had expected. Going from student to teacher, from living in my own cloud of learning and reflecting and processing to serving as a mirror for others to grow and question. Teaching, listening, and questioning for others has been a whole new teacher for me!

Some things I've done in the last month:

Gave an hour long presentation on Kabbalistic concepts of Masculine and Feminine
Danced at a friend's wedding
Sat under a few waterfalls admiring rainbows in water droplets
Stayed up until 3am talking under the stars
Been called someone's spiritual guru (ha!)
Completed a 3 day hike (somewhere near 30 miles) ending in the Mediterranean Sea
Seen a full lunar eclipse
Sang to the Prime Minister's wife
Eaten way too much hummus
Cried at the most beautiful Shabbat sunsets
Been proposed to
Walked through a banana field
Cooked/done dishes for 35+ people
Napped on the side of the road with a group of 30 people


Here are some excerpts from emails and conversations I've had in the last month:
____

i wanted to share something i'm learning about today (in preparation for my final project that will be an hour long presentation on sunday!) this is from the book about kabbalah of masculine and feminine (by sarah yehudite schnieder).

"one of the features of paradox that makes it uniquely suited to this task is its capacity to generate a kind of electric current between its two poles. this happens automatically when the mind focuses in and discovers that it cannot make peace with either side. at the very moment the intellect savors the truth of one statement, the stink of heresy spoils its repose. jolted, the mind scrambles for a solution, which it does find in the other side. but that statement, too, is also no safe haven, for its truth has problems of its own.
back and forth, a reluctant nomad, the mind seeks peace to no avail until...a wonder happens. its oscillation triggers a kind of electric current that adds motion to the system. and once there is motion, there is time. and if the motion is perfectly symmetrical between truth and counter-truth, then there is above-time. now in addition to its static and opposing truths a dynamic element appears that fuses the system into a single coordinated whole that is greater than the sum of its parts and possesses the capacity to hold infinite truth."

it was written in reference to the paradox that god is perfection and yet also perfecting. (the sun and moon, relatively speaking). this reminds me of the israel/nationalism/person of the world dilemma. and religion and god. you and i. in my best moments, i truly believe in the necessity of this 'dance' between truth and counter truth, to find the where they can both be true.

____

i had this great conversation this morning with the couple i've been staying with, hillel and chaya. they're an amazing couple, totally after my own heart. their values and partnership and the vision they have in raising a family is beautiful. we started talking about physics and god and me going home and relating to the rest of the world. hillel has a shiur/class that he gives called "i don't believe in god, i'm not a monotheist, and i'm an orthodox rabbi." i think thats a good summary of our conversation and his orientation. (he's a rabbi, in yeshiva, and teaches meditation in the old city). we talked about the necessity of breaking away from all the empty shells religion has created. how transformation can only happen after a fall. he said he finds that spiritual people (especially scientists) who distance themselves from religion are totally coming from the right place, and a necessary place. seeing through the bullshit and the emptiness and challenging the status quo of big groups of people. this is so much of what i've been experiencing, that i find so hard to give over when i talk to people from home. that the concepts we were taught about what religion and god are need to be shattered before we can make any real progress. that i don't believe in that god either, or that religion that fosters blind faith or empty ritual. but it is so possible to find something greater, once we leave those shattered pieces behind. to realize that the way that we relate to the world, in awe of creation and physics, can be what religion is. then we talked about all these physicists who talk about light and how they concepts are exactly what kabbalah talks about, just slightly different language. and how amazing and transformative that realization is. that science and spirituality aren't separate or contradictory, but only reinforce each other. that oneness. it goes so far beyond god. and even YHVH, because the second we try to name it, we lose some of its essence.

____

the last few days have been such a whirlwind, whoa. going from being the ever questioning student to this new role of madricha/teacher to people on their own journeys is mind blowing. i started getting challenged the second i got here! "why are you wearing long sleeves when its hot out?" "oh, so you're religious?" "well, why?" "wait, you don't TOUCH boys!?!?!" its been crazy. i feel like in a few days i've had to solidify where i stand, sometimes in ways that i'm not even ready to do yet. overall, i feel good. i feel so happy and grateful about where i'm at in my own journey, and also nostalgic for this place that the participants/chevre here are in. i don't think i realized how far i'd come, truly, until i got to see the mirror of others experiences. but it's lonely too. i miss being around my classmates and teachers, to really focus on this journey and process which is still so new for me! i miss being the one who's experience is central in the learning environment. i need to find a way to be here for the participants here (some of whom are having crazy intense existential experiences so similar to mine and asking so many amazing, difficult, questions), but also continue my own growth and learning. so so weird to be back at this place that for 2 years i held in such a high place, as a place that had the key to unlock my spiritually, only to realize that i've outgrown it in a sense. that i now hold my own key more than this place holds it for me.

i had a moment on shavuot (a word on shavuot: one of the major 3 holidays. we've been counting the days between passover and this day (called counting the omer) and it celebrated the day the jews received the torah on mt sinai. a big deal, to say the least. but very lightly celebrated here so as not to freak out the participants or turn them off to religiousness). so, on shavuot, i had this moment by myself where i so distinctly felt god (which is impossible to articulate, but a distinct feeling for me). this feeling i remembered having here 2 years ago that i've had so few times. my time of seeing the "light" (as a teacher of mine would say). i had that same feeling, and instead of being in awe and somewhat scared of it like i was a few years ago, i welcomed it with open arms. i felt like, 'ah i knew you'd come back. and i'm ready for you. for this feeling to come and go, and not be scared by that. to accept god and torah as important in my life, no matter how scary that seems sometimes.' its so undeniably a part of me. so, i had my own mt sinai experience. of feeling god and saying "yes."

the coordinator who i was so close to on my trip, adam, led our first hike the other day. fitting, i thought. he was so interested in where i'm at, how my questions have changed in the last two years. as i was telling him somewhat about where i'm at and shavuot and my process he smiled and was like 'you should see yourself jenna.' i said 'i bet you never thought we'd be having this conversation, huh? after seeing me so angry and confused for those two weeks.' and he said, 'you know, i'm not actually surprised. the people who have the biggest fire, the most burning questions, are often the ones that will go to the farthest lengths to get them answered. and that is exactly what you're doing.' whoa. so true. how special to be able to be here, 2 years later, reflecting on progress and growth, and playing a role to now help others through their own journeys, wherever they might end up.
_____

There you have it. A less than perfect summary, but better than nothing. As for right now, I am trying to regain walking abilities after this insane hike. So ready for a restful weekend. And will hopefully be seeing Matisyahu in Jerusalem next week with some wonderful people! I'm. So. Excited.

Also, I'll be home in less than a month! So crazy.

Love to you all and see you soon :)

Pendulums

Is it possible that I haven't written in a month!? That seems crazy to me. But then again, time in general kind of blows my mind, so I am unsurprised at my surprise that so much time has passed without a blog posting. SO much has happened, changed, returned, changed again since last time I wrote. It seems silly to try to summarize any of it so instead maybe I'll talk about some events or thoughts that have been more present than most in the past month (from emails, class notes, conversations, etc). Bear with my ever swinging pendulum.

On Kedusha:
"...this relates to something i've been thinking about in the last 24 hours a lot, and that is the concept of kedusha. holiness. last weeks parsha was the one where god said 'and you will be holy because i am holy' and then goes on to list all the ways we are to do so. its a really interesting topic. holiness. what does it mean? what does it mean for us to be holy, or attempt to be? what does it mean to me? so many things. first of all, for most of my life, i had no interest in being holy. in fact, i was very ok with being the opposite of holy (maybe because i didn't like myself so much). but if i'm going to be living and learning here, than i want to really explore what this means, how to live in a way that makes you holy (or substitute whatever word works best for you - present, aware, mindful, awake - all of these are equivalent to holiness for me). but the word kadosh also means separate, which is interesting to think about. that there is an inherent separateness in holiness. this makes me uncomfortable. i thought everything was supposed to be one? god is one and we are one and whatever. so why do we need to be separate to be holy? i understand people's rationale (i don't subscribe to this), that the common person who isn't living according to the mitzvot (or isn't jewish) isn't holy because he doesn't have the kavanah, or intention, to be so. and if we are going to be, then we need to lift ourselves up from that. and the rules of kashrut (kosher) and of shabbat work to separate us even more from those people. make us stand out. make us holy. but i have serious issues with this. when i had my one-on-one with my rebbitzin yesterday i told her that. and she urged me to really read the parsha and see what i think after that and to try to be open to the concept and stretch it so that it means something to me. i appreciate her willingness to meet me where i am and how she would never be like 'well this is the way it, this is what it means to be jewish, and if you don't follow it, you're not.' in the same parsha are all the rules about how to treat others. including, my personal favorite: ואהבת לרעך כמוך (love your neighbor like yourself). so how this all fits together, i don't understand. should we only love our neighbors if they're jewish? because i'm not down.
but i do want to be holy. not because i feel like i am special in god's eyes/in the world more so than others, but because i want to live with kavanah. i want meaning...really, the overall purpose of kedusha to me is to raise up actions that can be done in a totally normal way to a level above. eating, the way you dress, sex, all can be holy acts (marriage being the most holy of all). not because god wants me to or needs me to, but because i want to treat myself that way. that is a beautiful thing to me."

On Practice:
"in talking about religion, judaism and orthodoxy to be specific, we are both struggling to find our place. whether to be fully religious (accept the whole neatly packaged bundle), reject religion entirely (not likely), or to find some way to pick and choose. be in between. and what the consequences of all these options would be.
for one, being fully religious seems like the easy way out. true, it does allow one to get to deeper levels of experience, but at what cost? immersing oneself in the study and practice of judaism has a lot of benefits and is truly beautiful at times, but it is also isolating. for people like us, who want to be out in the world and working with the people who have been cast out of society and given up on, this seems difficult for us. it is also predicated on the unwavering belief that god chose the jewish people, the torah is straight from his mouth, and therefore we must obey it as entirely as possible and then we are holy. i have issues with this because first of all, it is way too literal for me. yes, i believe in a god, or a uniting energy keeping us all together, but do i believe that this god felt the need to write out such detailed rules for how to live to be close to him? that he is angry and vengeful and strikes people down? not really. i think religion, like much of our lives, is human. passed down through humans. and while it is beautiful and intricate and deeply meaningful is still subject to human error and therefore should be open to interpretation. so how does one maintain a connection to this divine presence, be mindful, be part of the jewish community and tradition, yet hold this more humanistic and worldly view?
i value the religion, the structure, the heritage. and i so much appreciate and respect the people who can do it the fullest. we need those people. but to try to be that person wouldn't be honest of me. maybe it is not my place. it would be cutting myself short. so the question becomes how do i exist in a place where in between are not always respected or acknowledged? how do i maintain the awareness and the connection to judaism as well as my own truths as a person of the world? i have yet to figure this out. but i feel good about where i'm at in this exact moment. and i suppose that is all we have, isn't it?"

On Emunah:
(These ideas are from a shiur (class) that I went to yesterday, called "The Logic of Faith")

Emunah is the hebrew word that is roughly translated as Faith in english. But this term is so lacking compared to what Emunah actually means. Faith implies belief in something you can't prove exists (according to my computer's dictionary - "based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof"). But there is no place in Judaism that encourages people to have blind faith. It is the opposite, actually. A religious Jew will tell you that his belief in God is completely based on logic and reason. The story of the Torah is just that to many people. Judaism emphasizes the value of constantly studying, questioning, learning as much as you can, so you can discover the truth for yourself. I'm sure many of you reading this are skeptical. "The Truth!? Well, there is no such thing as truth. And if people are telling you there is, they must be crazy and trying to lure you into a cult." But we all know what truth feels like. Whether it is the beauty of an incredible friendship that has withstood the winds of time, the all consuming feelings of new love, or a really incredible meal (this is a big one for me, as you probably all know :) ). All of us have experienced our own truths in life. Those moments that transcend language, that deep down make so much sense to us that we couldn't even begin to describe them.
So, what then, is emunah? Emunah is faithfullness to that faith in your truth. Confusing, maybe. So let me tell a story to make this point. A man is lost in the woods in the dark, trying to get to his house on the other side. He is making his way, slowly growing more and more panicked at his inability to find his way. He climbs to the top of a mountain and screams to God, "Please! Just let me see the way back to my house!" All of a sudden, there is a huge flash of light. He looks down from the mountain and sees the path to his house completely clearly. But it is not easy. He will need to go 50 feet and then take an immediate left, so as not to go over the edge of a cliff. Then another 40 feet before he needs to duck under a huge branch, then right for another 20 feet until he comes to a stream he will need to jump over, and so on. In this moment of light, it all clicks. He sees the way, no matter how difficult. And then the light goes out.
What is the point of this story? That of course, we will have moments of light. Of clarity. When it all makes sense. And inevitably, we will also go through periods of extreme darkness. The key is to look for the truth in the light, and stay true to the light in the darkness.

This is emunah. Commitment to your light, your clarity, even when you can't see it. Trusting that it is still there. Suffering is, after all, not due to our circumstances, but due to how we react to those circumstances. What if we knew those truths, even when times were hard? With our friends, with our partners, with God. The clarity of hindsight we tend to get at the end of a situation, knowing why we needed to go through it and what we needed to learn, is just as possible in the beginning. Maybe not the details, but that feeling of emunah. Faith. Trust. It's possible in every moment. What will you choose?