Keepin' it Real

Four years of college, many an internship, party-throwing, and legitimate work experience has only partially prepared me for the realest job: Shabbos preparation. This past week was an in-Shabbos…what this means is that we stay at our school and make our own meals and festivities. Sounds simple, but it’s actually quite (and by quite I mean extraordinarily) complicated. Three meals, thirty hungry women with high standards and sophisticated palettes, and a very broad prohibition from doing any work at all once the holiday begins = a very big challenge. As you all know me…overly ambitious Jenna…I volunteered myself for the slaughter, to manage the cooking of the Shabbos food. Of course meted with serious trials such an oven whose temperature doesn’t adjust and getting locked out of the kitchen 5 minutes before candle lighting with all the food inside, I am glad to report that it was mission success: we gorged ourselves on food, we heard some deep words of Torah, and sang songs until our voices were reported missing.

I figure you guys would like some more information about my program since until now I’ve been providing little more than flowery anecdotes. So here’s the 411. The program that I chose to attend is wonderful and I wouldn’t want to be in any other learning institute. Besides knowing this to be true in my heart, it is reconfirmed every week when tons of women from other programs come to Mayanot to attend the open-to-the-public lecture on Chassidut. The learning I do is a perfect balance between in-depth textual studies (the Torah, Mishna, Gemara, etc), Halacha (the dry law), and Chassidus (the inner-essence of Judaism). The teachers are also incredibly intellectual and assessable. What I like most about the learning is that they don’t just sit us down and tell us the rules about Judaism, they teach the meanings and arguments for and against each law, mitzvoth, practice and tradition. We have the room to fight, delve, and understand versus taking it at face-value. Apparently this is quite revolutionary for a women’s yeshiva, but I personally couldn’t have it any other way.

However the icing on the cake at Mayanot is the women I am learning with. This program was created for the Baal Teshuva, the Jew who chooses a more observant life style later in life versus growing up that way. The key word here is “Chooses”. The self-realized, educated, empowered woman thing completely defines the vibes of this institution. There is no coercion, no pressure, no conformity. These women are so deeply spiritual and aware of their beings; their purpose; their life’s meaning, it is utterly inspiring. I sleep so little because the learning never ends, even out of the classroom we are up talking until the break of dawn discussing personal transformation, G-d’s omnipotence and manifestations, life, trials, how we ended up here, and what the final redemption looks like…is the messiah an actual being or is it a state of revelation that the whole world experience at once?

It’s also important to note how real these women are. They are from this world versus growing up in a sheltered traditionally orthodox household (of course there is something to be said for those who have, it’s also an admirable path) but the point is, these women infuse a whole new dimension into Torah learning since they relate it to the world at large. Only in a Baal Teshuva program do things like this come up: The other day in my Talmud class I was learning with my Chavrusa (learning partner) about a concept called Hova. Suddenly she stops and looks at me, “Didn’t JayZ sing a song about that?” or when we are singing a traditional song and one of the women yells out “REMIX” and starts breaking it down with a beatbox while the others proceed to get low. Or like when we are talking about Kabbala and some deeply mystical concepts and someone nudges me saying “Wow, I can’t believe we are talking about this and we aren’t on mushrooms”. There isn’t a need to forget who we are or where we came from. It isn’t about cutting off the circulation to parts of us we’d like to forget or disown, or trying to fit into some mold, or go down a specific route. These woman are not trying to change their beings, rather, they are using Judaism to reveal their true essence. Through Chassidus and teaching of the Tanya, we are learning practical tools to interact with ourselves and each other, gaining the clarity to discern G-dliness in this world (which lo and behold, can be found everywhere). This weeks Torah portion was about Abraham leaving his past world, his previous notions, his land and following G-d. It is called Lech Lecha which is translated to mean “Go into yourself” and that is what Mayanot is all about.

This is the first year of the Mayanot Woman’s Programs existence, and I have to tip my hat to them because of their incredible achievement. In theory Mayanot sounded too good to be true, how they transformed the idea into actuality is amazing: it’s a completely open learning environment striving for both intellectual and spiritual pursuits in Judaism. I am so proud to have witnessed it come to life, to have helped pioneer it.

BTW, since this is my blog it is my perogative to insert my political agenda and I know this is a contentious topic especially in the Jewish community, but there’s no surprise at where I hold on the matter…Congratulations on the election! I am so proud to be an American. Go Obama. Yes we can.

Short Essays

The other day we had a writing workshop and the theme was recalling our Jewish experiences while growing up. I wrote two short essays that I’d like to share.

Going to Shul with Grandma

“I’ll meet you there, you know where our seats are” said my grandma as she walked past our driveway (she’s my next door neighbor) en route to Hillcrest. The shul down the block is where she was off to. Member of the sisterhood, tzaddaka giver, and most notable voice in the congregation, Shirley Gilman Domber was on her way. Her hand tailored (by her own hands) skirt swinging back and forth as she strut down the street in Queens; although her Brooklyn swagger loudly proclaims where her loyalties lie. My grandma, head of the family, brisket maker extraordinaire, definition of resourceful, witty, too outspoken, outrageous, blue eye shadow wearing, salsa dancing, yamaka knitting, picture taking, chupa making, secret keeping, advice giving grandma holds her arms open and we all fit in them…although she isn’t really the touchy type. “Don’t give me kisses, you know I don’t like that stuff” she says. I arrive at the synagogue and find her sitting in her aisle, sucking on a hard candy because it soothes her throat and doesn’t count as food during the fasts. She has her siddur open but doesn’t need to look down until the Chazzan starts singing her song. “Oh I love this one” she’d proclaim as she shmears a finger on her pink lipstick and marks the page for future reference. Then she sings, louder than everyone else and about two beats slower then the rest. Her eyes are closed, her body is swaying. I stare, completely transfixed by her magnificent being.

The Yichud Room

When I was young my family attended a synagogue called Gamilas Chesed in Pittsburgh, Pa. It was the most beautiful House of Prayer I have ever seen, even to this day. It had blue stained-glass windows and an ark-shaped ceiling, casting a sapphirey glow on all faces of the inhabitants. When you entered the room it was as if entering another realm, you’d think the laws of gravity weren’t applicable there. Perhaps now that I am older, can actually read Hebrew, and have developed an appreciation for the words of prayer, I would be able to sit in that room, basking in the majestic royal blue while pouring out my soul. But as a young child, being there was absolutely unbearable. There I sat, swinging my legs that didn’t quite reach the floor, my ruffled socks covering my mary-jane rocking feet, wearing a fluffy itchy dress and my haired brushed back so tightly, my eyes changed shape….uch. My younger sister and I would stealthy sneak out of the room---to use the potty for the 15^th time--- and run across the reception hall where many a Kiddush was eaten. The pitter patter of our shoes smacked the linoleum, echoing throughout the room, until we reached the secret door. We’d exchange knowing looks and race in because whoever got there first would get to sit in the chair and be the honored cala (bride). The bridal chamber was a small room replete with ribbons, feathery couches, baskets of pearls and ribbon, cloth flowers, and best of all, a glass desk with a huge mirror, undoubtedly the place the bride sat as her friends and family fawned over her. The winner was whoever made it to the chair first, while the other sister would immediately fall into step pinning ribbon to the cala’s dress, tying flowers into her hair, applying lipstick to her mouth saying “oh darling, are you sure you’re ready to go through with this”.

Excuse me, I’d like to share some words

As I read this weeks Torah portion, the story of Noah’s Flood, it is pouring rain outside. I am touched by how relevant and alive these words still are, just as they were hundreds of years ago, last year, and yesterday. Many perceive the Jews to be a people a scripture, a scripture that is outdated, remote, overly wordy, and nonsensical that has been transcribed onto very heavy scrolls. Meanwhile the people of this scripture see it as a life line, the breathing beating essence of G-d. How can such a discrepancy exist? Although it is not my job to defend G-d’s existence to mankind (we should really be defending our right to exist to G-d) I am going to attempt to paint a picture of how powerful the Torah is and how it can be used as a tool to improve our lives, offering comfort and inspiration to all who take a chance and dive into its waters.

For those unfamiliar with the tradition, each Saturday morning the Torah is taken out and read to and by the congregation. The Torah is broken up so that there is a chapter each week. During the holiday of Simchas Torah (the holiday I mentioned when we dance with the Torah), we finish the Torah and start over. Right now we are at the very beginning, reading the well known Book of Genesis. To start at the beginning gives us unique opportunity (in the realm of this blog) to take a new approach to the scripture. Plus, the first book of Torah has the best stories! Last week we opened the Torah and read about how the world was created (a very contentious topic that -G-d willing- I will be brave enough to touch on one day) how man was created, and how within two paragraphs of being created, man was already screwing around and getting thrown out of the Garden of Eden. This week we read about the story of Noah and the flood.

It is said by Rabbi Nachman that every story in the Torah is about you and I. Each and every single one of us can be in found there. It is kind of like Where’s Waldo, except YOU are wearing the red striped shirt. Every time we revisit a story, we are in a different place in our lives, we are different people, and therefore our position in the picture changes, the meaning changes, the lessons we derive changes. Sometimes it is difficult to find where and how a person connects to a section in Torah, but the chapter on Noah is a perfect way to demonstrate the concept since there is so much simultaneously occurring.

The beauty of the place I am currently in (a Jewish learning institute in Israel) is that words of Torah never stop; making it easy to find the story we connect to. On the streets, late at night, in the classroom, over dinner, the words keep flowing. The words are meant to provide a life lesson, provoke thoughts, sustain us in the upcoming week, and connect us to our past. I’d like to share some of the parcels of wisdom I have learned about Noah’s Flood through a scene and dialogue that commonly occurs at the dinner table (eating is almost as important a custom in Judaism as sharing words)

** None of these ideas are original to me (although I have infused them with my meanings and interpretations). Since I can’t properly cite them, I’d like to make it 100% clear that the sages, Rabbinic commentators, my teachers, my classmates, etc have shared these incites and I am so thankful to have the opportunity to share them with you.

The are four ways to read and understand the Torah. Using the acronym PaRDes we learn these ways are:
1. Peshat – the plain and simple meaning
2. Remez – allegorical meaning beyond the literal sense
3. Derash – metaphorical meaning
4. Sod- hidden, mystical meaning
See if you can identify what level of meaning each of the stories below are.

A typical dinner time conversation goes as follows:

Eater #1: “Why was the world utterly destroyed in the story of Noah and not in the story of the Tower of Babel? Because in the Noah, people were sinning against each other through robbery and violence while in the story of Babel, love prevailed”

Eater #2: For many years I was troubled by the fact I had to work all day rather than study Torah. From Parsha Noah we learn that Noah’s Flood it is analogous for the material world we exist in. The waters represent making a living. We have to work in order to survive and provide for our families. In Aramaic the word Noah means comforting, therefore should have comfort in the world below (physical) and above (spiritual). However we can not become consumed by water below instead we must use it to intensify our spiritual being. We must stay afloat! Working in the world is not a spiritual blemish as long as we don’t become drowned by it. Instead, the submersion in the material world should fan our love and raise our soul to a higher stature. We do this by remembering to stay true to ourselves and not become completely invested in our work. This Torah portion teaches us, “come into my ark, that is the only way you’ll survive the flood”. We should work with our external beings, our arms and legs, in the waters below while reserving our hearts for more important things.

Everyone in unison: Skoyach (Yiddish expression for “right on”)

Eater # 3: The Torah says Noah was a righteous man in his generation, why does it say this?
This explanation explains Noah's shortcomings. Even though he was considered a great man, he was only righteous for own self interest. When G-d tells Noah his plan to destroy the world, Noah doesn’t ask G-d to reconsider nor does Noah reach out to the people around him. It is said that he spent 120 years building the ark and in that time he didn’t convince anyone else around to change their ways nor did he invite anyone else aboard. At the end of the story of Noah plants a vineyard, gets drunk, and ruins himself because he realized that he didn’t save anyone but his family and could not face his own failure. From this we learn that we should go into the Ark, but we must not be selfish about it, we must reach out to the world and bring them in too.

Eater #4: I’d like to follow up on that idea. I once read a drash (story) that said the soul of Noah was reincarnated as Moses in order to fix the bad karma generated by Noah’s lack of outreach. Just as Noah doesn’t protest for mankind, Moses pleads to G-d after the incident with Golden Calf saying, “If you destroy the people, I want you to erase my name from your book”.

Eater #5: In Likutei Sichos it points out that when Noah comes off the ark, the first thing he does is plant a vineyard. In the Torah it says:

“Noach, a master of the soil, degraded himself by planting a vineyard. He drank the wine, became drunk, and uncovered himself in his tent. Cham and his son Cana’an (grandson of Noach) looked at his father’s nakedness and assaulted him. Cham publicly related the incident to his two brothers, Sheim and Yafes. Shem and Yafes took a garment and placed it on both of their shoulders. They walked backwards, and covered their father’s nakedness. Their faces were turned backwards, so they did not see their father’s nakedness”.

Eater #5 continues: “Their faces were turned backwards, so they did not see their father’s nakedness”. Why is this mentioned twice? Isn’t it enough to say “their faces were turned backwards? The Baal Shem Tov teaches us that when a person sees another one doing an inappropriate act, there are two possible ways too react.
a) You can see the flaw in that person and be disgusted by the act.
b) You can see the action they are doing and think how can I help them improve themselves in this area?
One may ask another question. Why would G-d show us other people’s flaws?
This is answered by saying that G-d is not showing us other people’s bad habits. Rather what one sees is a mirror image of things that he, himself, is struggling with and needs to improve on. Cham took the first approach. He “assaulted his father” by judging him and focusing on the inappropriateness of the situation. This was a personal struggle that Cham was going through. Thus he recognized the flaws in his father’s actions. On the other hand, Shem and Yafes “did not see their father’s nakedness” they did not become disgusted at what happened. They simply thought of how they could help fix the problem. So when the verse repeats itself it is emphasizing that they did not see the flaws in their father’s nakedness rather they were trying to help him. The lesson one can take from this is clear. A person should be aware that if they are judging a friend, it is because of the fact that in this particular area he has not completely “perfected” himself. Instead you should be pure in thought and judgment, seeing that your fellow friend is in need of help. May we all be able to tell the difference between the two approaches and see the good in our fellow friends!

Everyone in unison: L’Chayam (Yiddish way to cheers, means “To Life”


The End! (Time to bench)

This exercise was my attempt to demonstrate the breadth and width of the Torah and its ability to connect with our lives today, each person relates to a different point. The Torah is not foreign and it is completely accessabl, no matter where we are in life and what we are doing. I’d like to point out that the Hebrew word for ark used in the story of Noah is “tevah”. Tevah can also be translated into the word “word”. We should all come into the ark, come into the words, and find the meanings we need to grow.

(Apologies to those who read my blog and don’t subscribe to the Jewish faith. My attempt is not to proselytize or alienate. I truly believe that these sparks of wisdom are relevant to all members of the human race. Don’t we all yearn to be connected with the world and each other? Don’t we all yearn to improve our lives and the world? Don’t we all search for meaning?)

And it don't stop

.....and just when I think all the fun is over and I publish the post, I am suddenly deafened by the sound of loud music and blinded by blinking lights. I look out the window and see out of nowhere, a spontaneous parade. What is the occasion? A Torah has been completed and is being delivered to a nearby synagogue. The entire community suddenly comes running out of their homes in order to join the procession, dancing and holding torches as traffic is stopped to let the parade pass. Is this real life?

A Temportary Dwelling Place

The most solemn day of the Jewish Year, Yom Kippur, ended with a light meal to break the twenty-six hour fast. Then, within minutes, as if in a synchronized dance, the Country of Israel slid from its state of national reflection and prayers into a state of celebration. Sukkot had arrived! Overnight Jerusalem transformed into Sukkot and it isn’t just a feeling. It’s a very tangible transformation because it requires that each household build a temporary dwelling place called a Sukkah (in layman’s terms: a hut) outside of their home. The edifice must conform to certain standards in order to be considered a kosher sukkah, if you are interested and happen to be a mathematical genius; I can direct you to the Mishna that outlines the requirements. If not, you’ll have to be content with my explanation: a sukkah must have 2.5 walls that can be made out of almost any material. The important part is the ceiling,
called the Sko’ch. The sko’ch must be made out of organic material that is detached from the ground (palms or bamboo shoots are commonly used materials) and the sko’ch must allow the moon and stars to shine through. Got it?

Growing up, the holiday of Sukkot never meant very much to me. It wasn’t important like the Jewish New Year, I didn’t get presents, and it was not an excused absence from class. However in Israel, celebrating the seven day festival of Sukkot is a very serious matter. You must be serious about enjoying yourself otherwise you are not properly observing the holiday. In other words, it is a commandment, a mitzvot, that you celebrate Sukkot and anything that contributes to the joy…food, drink, music, and dancing (within reason of course) must be indulged in. Additionally, for these seven days it is proper that you do everything in a sukkah, eat all your meals, entertain guests, study, chill, party, and even sleep in your sukkah. As you can imagine, it creates quite a social environment, everyone is just hanging out, busy in their commemorating. It is traditional to invite anyone you can into your sukkah, the more guests; the better. It is said that during Sukkot, we have access to the wellsprings of joy that will sustain us for the upcoming year. The more we enjoy Sukkot the better our year will be..another marvelous concept!!!!

My Sukkot, as ordained to be, was beyond enjoyable... I am trying to think of a more powerful term to encapsulate my experience, how about exuberant? It all began when a close friend of mine invited me to Sfat to meet her fiancé and to do some hiking. We were only meant to go for a day, but as I packed for the day trip a divine inspiration came over me and I packed a week worth of clothing. I was anxious to see Sfat, it is a very spiritual town, the birthplace of Kabbala, and is situated on the top of a beautiful mountain. I had been told by many people that if I loved Ithaca, Sfat was the town for me. I needed to investigate the scene, see what the lore was all about.

The mystical tradition of Sfat began during the 15th century Spanish reconquista, forcing many prominent Spanish Jews, such as the Arizal, to leave and seek refuge in this mountaintop town. Another migration to Sfat occurred in the early 21st century when a bunch fed-up progressive, Jewish renewal liberals from California moved to Sfat as well, creating a vibrant neighborhood set in an ancient town. Nature, art, and spirituality swirl together like the purple clouds at sunset. It’s a place where the sky and the earth seem to meet. A place where ancient mysticism meld with forward-thinking hippies. A place where macrobiotics, water conservation, and recycling are valued as much as the preservation of mystic traditions founded there. Yes, it was like Ithaca, only a Jewish version. Needless to say, I didn’t leave Sfat after a day. In fact, I moved in for a while. I laid my bag, my head, and my heart and took the deepest breath I had taken since watching my last Ithaca sunset on top of my favorite lookout. There are four holy cities designated in Israel and they correspond to the natural elements. Jerusalem is fire, Tiberius is water, Hebron is earth, and Sfat is air. I didn’t realize how desperately I need that breath of air until my lungs were about to burst open from that inhalation atop the mountain of Sfat.

I was put in touch with an incredible couple, the Goldfarbs, who were kind enough to take me in during my sojourn in Sfat. They were very much my speed; their sukkah’s walls were made from tapestries. They gave me the keys to their Kabbala cave and introduced me to musicians, healers, artists and writers galore. It was nice to meet so many well rounded Jews, rooted in their traditions but hands dirty from participation in the world.

Sfat was magical and musical. There were concerts every night to celebrate the festival of Sukkot…the best evening concert I saw was the Kabbala Reggae band ;) But what took the cake was the musical performance I was fortunate enough to take part in each morning. During the week of Sukkot it is traditional to recite special prayers during the morning services, called Hallel. Usually Hallel is said quickly and isn’t very exciting. However, in a tiny synagogue named Beirav hidden in the alleys in Sfat something very special happened each morning at about 7:30 am. The Rabbi would indicate it was time for Hallel and everyone around would reach into their bags and suddenly guitars, tambourines, drums, flutes, violins, and instruments I have never even seem before appeared. At my Bat-Mitzvah I read a psalm about praising G-d with music but during these mornings, I actually praised G-d with music.

Then came Shabbos in Sfat spent with four close friends of mine. HaShem must have conspired to bring us together since the group, whose travels were all independently motivated, ended up breaking bread inside a sukkah which was lent to us by the local pizzeria in Sfat. The sukkah, situated at the very top of the mountain, overlooked the valley and endless mountain range. Since it was on the main road we had random guests wander past our sukkah and curiously peak in. Of course we invited them to sit, drink some wine, and join us in song. Over the course of Shabbos we were visited by many, most notably the 14th generational Sfatian and the minister of Tourism in Northern Israel who said he’d donate us land to begin a Kibbutz. As the sun began its departure, we walked up to the tippy-top of the mountain which had been transformed into a well-maintained public park. At the foot of the final ascent we noticed the opening to a cave. Of course we went in and after stumbling around in the pitch black we found a huge dome shaped room with the craziest acoustics. A finger snap would echo for minutes. And so we did what anyone in our situation would do; we chanted and sang. We fell out of the cave, the alternative universe we were fortunate enough to enter for a while just in time to watch the most magnificent sun set I have ever seen. We sat, silent and breath-taken, stolen by the city of air.

Sunday morning came and I thought I would head back to Jerusalem. After being in Sfat for five days, my friends at school were getting worried and calling me. Unfortunately for them, my phone had died. As I packed my bag, my hosts informed me they were heading to the Modi’im Moshav to attend the yearly Sukkot Fair. She the founder of T’ai Chi of the Hebrew Letter Alphabet (http://www.otiyot.com/index.htm), He a writer and poet, were heading to the fair to sell their goods at the craft booths. Visiting the Modiim was something I really wanted to do and suddenly the perfect opportunity presented itself. So I put off my return a little longer and jumped in the car. (The Modiim Moshav is a religious communal settlement that was founded in the 60’s by Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, a revolutionary who created his own Jewish movement combining the love found in Hassidus and music…if you are interested, I suggest you read more, or better yet, seek out a Carlebach-inspired synagogue near you) The festival was awesome and I met even more wonderful people and heard awesome music.

Monday I went back to Jerusalem just in time. It was the last day of Sukkot. My crazy adventure was only the prelude to the ultimate culmination, Simchas Torah. Simchas Torah marks the end of the reading cycle of the Torah and the beginning of the new. It is on this holiday that we celebrate having the Torah in our life and so for forty-eight hours it is imperative to not stop dancing and singing…with the Torah. Swirling skirts, shaking floors, voices singing at the top of their lungs. Sheer rejoicing. I have never seen such happiness. It was so beautiful to be a part of it. Spending the month of Tishrei in Israel is a truly poignant and unique experience, moving through the breadth of the human experience from awe, fear, joy, love and inspiration.

My final thoughts on Sukkot as I sadly watch everyone disassemble theirs and return to their houses:
I think it is absolutely brilliant, as children, most of us spent hours (at least me and my sister did) building forts and tents out of dining rooms chairs, couches, and all the extra comforters laying about. We played inside them until our parents begged up to dismantle it so they could sit at the table for dinner. Now here, we have a holiday that caters to the inner child in everyone, requiring us to leave our home and build a tent, to play in it. However, this explanation for the holiday is too whimsical. There are many reasons we celebrate Sukkot, and these reasons aren’t solely because G-d wants us to play. The most beautiful explanation I heard is as follows: The sukkot is an analogy for our soul. Our soul’s home is in heaven but they are sent down to earth to reside within our bodies temporarily. At the end of our lives, our soul must return to its permanent home, our bodies are merely a sukkah. What we learn from this holiday is how our souls are meant to spend their short-termed residence in this world…they are meant to enjoy every second of it. To celebrate, dance, and revel in the Festival of Life.

What is going on?

Funniest caption contest...go

My Garden

I live in an area called Katamon. Its about a twenty minute New-York-City-paced walk south from Old City Jerusalem. This neighborhood is residential with white stone houses and huge gardens; gardens overflowing with succulents, palm trees, and the most deliciously fragrant flowers; gardens that more closely resemble tropical forests rather than manicured front lawns; gardens similar to the meadow Alice finds herself wandering through in Wonderland. Among the vegetation, one can find the five fruits of Israel in all their glory, basking in the Mediterranean sun. Over ripened pomegranates dripping bloody juice, staining the underbrush, olives and grapes in bunches so large the trees are developing a lean, dates and figs crystallized from the saturation of their own sugar. How can this be? How come all these plants, fruits, and flowers aren’t tended to? Pruned? Eaten? Or Harvested?

The answer, which sounds absolutely bizarre, archaic, and economically reckless, is that this past year was a Shmita year. Shmita is an event that occurs every seven years in the Land of Israel and literally means a Sabbatical year, kind of like a Shabbos for the trees. During this time, no one can gain or profit from the land. Just like everything I have been learning, there are a lot of reasons behind keeping Shmita, I'll provide two. The face value of shmita are the agricultural benefits allowing the soil to regenerate its nutrients. On a deeper plane, it represents putting your faith into G-d’s hands and trusting that sustenance will be provided. Interestingly, it always rains early in the season during Shmita (which is no small deal since Israel is a desert, in fact praying for rain is an integral part of the blessings a Jew makes every day). The Shmita officially ended with the celebration of the New Year, Rosh Hashana, last week. I feel very fortunate to have witnessed it at its pinnacle. The untamed, uncultivated gardens are sown into my memory.

On the topics of wildly untamed gardens, I have been given an incredible opportunity this past week. Allow me to preface this story by introducing the concept of “Hashgacha Protis”. Think back through your life. Just try and identify all the times you've encountered a mind-blowing coincidences or event that you just know was divinely ordained. Times that made you believe, if even for a split second, that everything happens for a reason, that there is a bigger picture, that you are a part of the divine comedy starring your favorite actors: you and the universe. Explaining Hashgacha is extremely difficult however the sages taught us that stories are usually the best way to illustrate a concept.

Here's the story:
Last week I was confronted by my body who sternly told me that I needed to improve my lifestyle. I went from living a very healthy lifestyle (eating organic foods, walking for miles, doing yoga) to sitting in a classroom from 7 AM to 9 PM breaking only to eat dodgy food from a miscellaneous catering company, not to mention that there is a bottomless jar of chocolate spread (how dare they put one of those in a building with thirty women!!!) sitting on the table that taunts me in my sleep. I give in to the chocolate, convincing myself it’s not so bad since I am dipping carrots. Nevertheless, my body was desperately screaming for me to find a balance, to bring some activity into my life. My body even started threatening me with "you're going to mentally burn out" "you're getting fat" "you'll miss the most beautiful season in Israel". As I am debating in my head, the head of the school was debating about what to do with all the gardens surrounding are campus now that the shmita is over. Somehow the Rabbi and others on the program got the notion that I am miss mother earth, which is actually quite funny since anyone can attest that my luck with plants is very little. That I tend to overlove them, resulting in their untimely death. That my green thumb is actually a sickly yellow. But nevertheless, someone planted this notion in their heads and I was asked to take charge of the landscaping on campus. I accepted the position. I love the gardens that surround my school. Every morning we have an hour for prayers and meditations which I spend in the middle of a purple lilac bush, eyeing the pomegranates ominously swinging over my head, watching the six foot rose bush's bulbs burst open. This is incredibly excited. I am hoping to hone my gardening skills. This also means that I’ll have an obligation to be outside toiling in the land of Israel. Now I really have gani (refer back to 1st blog entry)!!! Hashgacha Protis.

Anyways, I had a lot more to tell you about…my roommates, my classes, the holidays in Jerusalem, the temple down the block that resembles a hippie commune. But I’ve got to run, my cousin Harry and his wife, Rachel, just got to town (which means my suitcase is finally here) and Yom Kippur starts tomorrow which is followed by Sukkot, an awesome holiday that entails building huts and making parties in them (a grave oversimplification but worth noting).

With Love