This morning, a guest speaker named Anat Hoffman came to Tzuba to speak to us. Hoffman is a part of  the Israeli Religious Action Center, an legal organization that represents the Reform movement in Israel, and also one of the founders and current chair of Women of the Wall. She spoke mostly about the amazing things IRAC has accomplished in making Israel a better place to live for Reform Jews. It was fascinating to hear this woman speak, as she was responsible for so many drastic changes in Israeli society that directly effect Reform Jews, including myself. Anat is an incredibly engaging speaker, and she told us all how we could contribute to fighting for issues we care about by sending letters to the Israeli government through IRAC, in order to organize everybody and make our case stronger.  Her message was very motivating, saying that we could all make a difference. I felt like I was listening to someone who really has had a profound effect on the world, and I am so thankful that there are people who dedicate their lives to such issues.

To commemorate Israel's 66th birthday, Haaretz, an Israeli newspaper, published a feature on 66 Israeli Women You Should Know: http://www.haaretz.com/news/independence-day
All of the women listed have accomplished some incredible things, but one in particular stood out to me. Oshrat Bachar will soon become the first woman to lead a combat battalion in the IDF. She will be the head of Field Intelligence Battalion 727, which is stationed on the Egyptian border in the Negev to deal with the rising terrorist activity over the past few years since President Mubarak was overthrown. Bachar is married with a seven year old daughter.
This is highly significant as all Israeli women serve in the army, but only 3% of the IDF's combat soldiers are women. Israel is one of a very few countries who has mandatory army service for women, so the IDF is pretty forward when it comes to gender equality in the army. However, women often occupy very different jobs from men in the army. Ever since The High Court of Justice ruled in 1996 that Alice Miller could take the exams to become a pilot, and a law was passed in 2000 saying women could volunteer for any position in the IDF, women have been filling new roles in the IDF. Women are now filling roles of high ranking officers that had previously only been filled by men, and now there is even a military battalion made up of both men and women. Recently, women have been changing others'  opinions on what they are expected to do for the Israeli army, and showing that they are just as capable as men to fight alongside them in defending their country. Oshrat Bachar is an excellent example of this happening. She is one of many firsts in the past few years, including the first female combat doctor in an elite anti-terror unit, called the Duvduvan. Bachar is just one of many showing that women are just as willing and able as men are to serve in demanding roles in the IDF.

Today is Yom HaZikaron in Israel, the memorial day for the 23,269 Israeli citizens who have fallen in battle or from terrorist attacks since the beginning of the State. So far, my experience has been vastly different from memorial day in America. At least where I live, serving in the American military is not heavily emphasized, and I hardly know anyone that has or plans to. Because of this, not everybody knows somebody or is related to someone who has died serving for the military. But here in Israel, a much smaller place, everybody serves in the army, and everybody is somehow connected to somebody who died fighting. For this reason, Memorial Day is a much more somber, mournful event in Israel than in America. Last night, we went to a memorial service at the kotel, at which various Israeli leaders spoke, including the President, Shimon Peres, and the Chief of Staff of the IDF. Just getting to the Old City was much more of an ordeal than usual, and walking to the temple mount we were surrounded by hoards of people and IDF soldiers guarding the city. I could not understand what the speakers were saying, but the mood was indicative of what they were saying. During the singing of Hatikvah, I found myself looking up to the top of the Kotel, to see two Israeli soldiers standing exactly where the soldiers who retook the Temple Mount in 1967 stood after conquering the Old City. I was thankful for what they had done, as if they had not I could not have been standing there at that time, honoring their comrades who fell in fighting for control of our holiest site. During the ceremony, I really got the sense that this day meant a lot to everyone.

This morning, though, I really started to understand exactly how much this day means to the citizens of Israel. Fortunately, only two members of Kibbutz Palmach-Tzuba have lost their lives since its establishment in 1948, both relatively recently. Halfway through Jewish History class, we all gathered outside of the rooms, and walked to a small cemetery for the Kibbutz that I didn't even know existed until today. Further up the hill from most of the graves were those of the two fallen soldiers, and above that was a memorial to the members of the Palmach, the IDF strike force, that founded Tzuba. After hearing a little bit about who the soldiers that died were from our teachers, we attended the memorial service of the members of the kibbutz in front of the soldiers' graves. While I could not understand what anybody was saying, the ceremony was very moving nonetheless. Among the speakers was the younger cousin of the soldier who died most recently, who is now in the same unit that he was at the time of his death. After his speech, I watched him tearfully embrace the soldier's father, as many members of the crowd also cried. The ceremony ended with an emotional singing of Hatikva, Israel's national anthem. Seeing everybody there, people who have lost loved ones and soldiers who are still putting their lives at risk, made the losses Israel has suffered very real to me. It has always seemed distant to me, as if soldiers of the IDF never actually die, they just protect us. But today it was extremely evident that in the fight, there will always be victims, and they are all people. This made me feel even more grateful for all of the people who risk their lives for Israel. They put others above themselves, and do everything they can to make sure we can continue to have a safe, Jewish nation. Without them, I wouldn't be sitting here looking out at Jerusalem.

Etgar Keret's writing has continued to enrapture me throughout the past week, and I find myself reading a story whenever I have a few minutes to spare. Today I read one of the most original and most eye-opening stories I ever have before. It is called "Pick A Color," and it starts off telling a story, describing everything and everyone through colors, a simplified form of race. The black man is attacked by white men, and then his wife is killed by a  brown man. He asks his yellow priest why God would do such a thing to him if God loves him, and instead of giving a normal priestly answer, he starts cursing at God. So God descends from the heavens, a battered, silver being, beaten by the golden gods, and tells the priest that He created the humans in His sorrowful image to watch them to pass the time. This is why the human race is so flawed.
This story was simply astounding to me. It was unlike anything I have ever read about God. It's written by a Jewish author, but depicts multiple gods. Not only are there multiple gods, but our God is the weak, persecuted one, not the great and almighty God we praise in services. The reason the human race is so broken and miserable is because we were made in the image of a broken and miserable God. But instead of being upset by this, the yellow priest and the black man feel blessed that they're going through the same thing as their most beloved God goes through. These ideas were so wild to me because I, like most people in the world, have wondered God lets such horrible things happen to people. There's always something a little bit dissatisfying about the answers. While this answer to the question may be disappointing, as it depicts God as a somewhat pathetic being, it's a little comforting thinking evil does not exist by God's choice, but because there's nothing God can do about it; that we can relate to God in that he is a lot more like us than we thought. Keret offers in this story an image of God that I have never been exposed to before, and I'm not saying that it is now the image that I have of God, but it is certainly a fascinating option to think about.

Today in Jewish history class we discussed the issue of the Deir Yassin Massacre. During the War of Independence, members of the Etzel, a separate, more hardcore military entity than the Hagana defense force, attacked the Arab village of Deir Yassin, killing over one hundred residents, including women and children. The area was somewhat significant in terms of military strategy, but what was really important about Deir Yassin is that it had huge effects, one of them being that it contributed to the fleeing of seven hundred thousand Arab refugees. We didn't really examine what effect this had on the outcome of the war, but based on the idea that this tragic event positively influenced the Zionist war effort, we discussed whether we were in support of this happening or not. My opinion is that if we are fighting for a Jewish state, we shouldn't do anything that would be considered against Jewish morals, especially the massacre of innocent people. Therefore, no matter how much it helped the Jews in the war effort, it is unacceptable, and I am embarrassed that Jewish fighters could do such a thing. However, when presented with the question of whether I would go back in time and stop it, I found it more difficult to answer. I can't imagine myself going back and changing history, no matter whether I agree with what happened or not. Ultimately, we won the war and have an independent Jewish state, and if there was a chance of this not being the case in order to save one hundred lives, Arab or not, I don't think I would change anything. This presents me with a dilemma, as I think that it should not have happened, however I don't think I would stop it if I could. There seem to be a lot of issues surrounding this region at which a simple, correct answer cannot be found, and perhaps this is part of why there is so much tension and conflict here.

Recently, Gertz handed out a book of short stories by Etgar Keret, an Israeli short story writer, to be passed around the class. Keret's stories are very, very bizarre, and are mostly about life in modern day Israel. I liked the stories so much, that I, along with many other students in the class, bought one of his books when we were in Tel Aviv yesterday. The second story in the book is titled Lieland, and it's all about the consequences of the lies you tell. In the story, a lifelong liar, Robbie, has a dream about his dead mother, in which his first lie comes back to spite him. Then, in real life, he travels to a land filled with the embodiment of all the lies he told. After seeing the horrible things he created with his lies, Robbie learns to stop telling such harmful lies, and eventually to stop lying altogether.
Etgar Keret's genius lies in his ability to pack so much into so little words. His stories are about three to four pages each, but so much meaning can be found in each one. At first, everything that happens seems so random and absurd, but when you think about it, it all has a deeper meaning. Through his stories, Keret paints a very clear image of Israeli society. The issues are complicated, but people try to deal with them through simple everyday interactions. So far, Keret is the only Israeli writer that I have read, and I hope to find that others are as entertaining as he is.

Last night, we arrived back at Tzuba after being gone for about two weeks. We stayed at a hostel in Jerusalem for a few days, hiked Yam L'Yam, a trip from the Sea of Galilee to the Mediterannean, and went to host families for the first two days of Passover. My friend Aaron brought me with him to Kibbutz Urim near Be'er Sheba, where he has relatives. While there, I got to see what an Israeli Passover seder was like. and really, apart from the fact that it was entirely in Hebrew, it didn't seem all that different from an American seder. We went through the Hagaddah, which I found out is pronounced with an accent over the ah, not the g the way we say it, we ate almost all of the same food, and the children searched for the hidden afikomen. About the food being the same, the Haroset was completely different. Instead of being made of chopped up apples like I'm used to, it was balls made of date spread. I'm really not sure which version I like better. One big difference is that at one point, the endless Hebrew babbling, to my ears, was interrupted by one of Aaron's middle aged relatives leaping out from behind a curtain shirtless, donning a Pharaoh hat and wielding a fake sword. Members of the family then acted out the story of the exodus from Egypt, and at one point, Aaron and I even got to be part of it, playing the roles of two Jews walking out of Mitzrayim. Anyways, the point of all of this is that through all of this, it still reminded me of home. Almost all of the important topics we cover were mentioned, all the foods that make Passover Passover were served, and I walked out feeling like my stomach was about to burst. Passover is a tradition that has been taking place for thousands of years, through multiple continents, and has seen so much change through the world. But somehow, Jews across the world still practice the same rituals to remember what our people have been through. This made me think about the perseverance of the Jewish people, and also the importance of rituals. In Jewish History, we have been talking about the founding of the Reform movement. In the beginning, Reform Rabbis stated in the Pittsburgh Platform that rituals should be abandoned, as Judaism has changed, and it's time for Judaism to be more like other religions. But not only do rituals make us remember the past, but they bring us together as a people, another thing the first Reform rabbis said we were not. Jews everywhere have the ritual of the passover seder, and because of this, I was able to feel at home at a seder thousands of miles from my home.

I found this article about the peace talks on The Times of Israel's webpage. http://www.timesofisrael.com/pa-un-envoy-boycott-israeli-settlements/
Recently, the peace talks between Israel and the Palestinians have been coming to a close without any solution. The talks are scheduled to end on April 29, but it seems that they could fail before that date. When discussing the talks, the Palestinian representative for the United Nations, Riyad Mansour encouraged the world to boycott goods from Israeli settlements in the West Bank. This sounds very similar to something I wrote about a few weeks ago, called the BDS movement. The BDS, or boycott, divestment, and sanctions, movement, operates on the principle of applying pressure to Israel in order to create an independent Palestinian state. The article goes on to explain other ways the Palestinians are trying to go above Israel, and become a state without its cooperation. I don't think a peaceful solution can be arrived at without the cooperation of both sides. In 2012, the West Bank, Gaza, and east Jerusalem was recognized as a non-member observer state by the UN, meaning it is not recognized as fully independent, but shows the UN's intent to one day arrive at a two-state solution. However, the United States and Israel were among nine nations that did not accept Palestine as a state. Because Israel did not recognize this, it did not have any effect on relieving the tension between the two entities. There is still conflict, and the West Bank is still not independent. If they continue to search for means of achieving statehood other than through cooperation with Israel, I don't think any meaningful compromise can be arrived at. Israel will continue to deny its statehood, while the Palestinians will continue to boycott Israeli goods, among many other types of efforts to achieve independence. This is why I think the peace talks should continue, so that both sides can together arrive at the best possible conclusion to solve the issue.

As you know, last week we took a five day trip to Poland to visit sites relating to the Holocaust. We saw lots of terrible things that had to do with death, like the death camps of Auschwitz-Birkenau and Majdanek, and also more lively things, like synagogues in the Jewish quarter in Krakow. There were a lot of programs building up to our trip, and during one of them David Solomon told us he thinks it is a journey that every Jew should make in their lifetime. So, going into the trip, I knew it was going to be very meaningful and have a significant effect on me, but I didn't realize exactly how much it would change the way I view the Holocaust. The things I learned there made me realize the importance resistance in all forms, as well as how evil the Nazis were.
One of the things that always baffled me about the Holocaust is that it seemed to me like the Jews always just went with it. I never understood why even at the last moment of life, when there was no hope left, people would still cooperate with the Nazis, making their hideous task easier. I always thought any last act of defiance, despite the certainty of death in the process, would be better than going "like sheep to the slaughter." It made me angry that nobody ever stood up to the Nazis. While in Poland, I learned that there were a lot more acts of resistance than I thought. The most notable is perhaps the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, in which a group of young Jews wielding handguns were able to hold off the Nazi army for four whole weeks. I was so happy to find out there actually were people who weren't willing to let the Nazis take them without trying to do anything about it. They showed that we are not a weak people, that we will fight back. In addition to this, we talked about less violent forms of resistance. I was introduced to the idea that just living a Jewish life is an act of resistance. The Nazis did everything they could to de-humanize the Jews, so having an orchestra and a school inside of the ghetto was resisting, by showing that they refused to become anything less than human.
I have always known the Nazis were truly evil. Their disregard for human life cannot be explained by anything else. But while in Poland, it really set in how wicked they were. I had never learned much about the Holocaust before, so I always wondered how it could have happened. It never made sense to me how an entire nation of people was willing to support someone whose plan involved murdering an entire race of people they live right alongside. We learned about Nazi propaganda, and how they de-humanized the Jews. Hitler was able to convince the German people that Jews were not real people. To them, they were animals, mere scum. They were brainwashed into thinking the Jews were parasites, hell-bent on destroying their society. Because of this, the Jews were treated like they were less than animals. They didn't deserve to live. Before going to Poland, I had never learned much about the ghettos Jews were forced to live in. We watched a movie called The Pianist about life in the Warsaw Ghetto. I was completely horrified at the things that soldiers did to other humans, and the conditions they were forced to live in. They were expected to survive on a diet of fewer than two hundred calories per day. It would not be out of the ordinary for me to eat a two hundred calorie candy bar, and still be ready to eat a full meal. Sometimes the guards would feed their dogs meat, and give the Jewish prisoners the bones to gnaw on. While the guards were told the Jews weren't human, they had to know the truth. They interacted with them every day. They saw their human emotions, desires, and feelings. And yet they still continued to shoot them as they walked past, for sport. I cannot fathom how any person could do such things to another. I am convinced that while the Nazis may have succeeded as making people view Jews as less than human, the Nazis themselves were even beneath that.
Poland was an incredible trip that I recommend every Jew to make. I have a much better understanding of the things that happened in the Shoah, and it's all real now, rather than being something I just learn about. Poland taught me that resistance is so vitally important, and that the Nazis were even worse than I could have imagined, among so many other things.

On Friday morning, we returned from a long five days in Poland, visiting sites relating to the Shoah, or Holocaust. We saw ghettos, old shtetls, and death camps. Overall, it was a very emotional but incredible informative trip that I think everybody got a lot out of. One of the main things we focused on while there was the contrast between the vibrant Jewish life in Poland prior to the Shoah, and the tragic amount of death caused by it. I think the place this was most evident to me is in the village of Tykochin. This was a Jewish village which was purged of its Jews in 1941. The shtetl of Tykochin is a model of Jewish living in Poland prior the Holocaust, while the mass graves the lie in its forests reveal the true evil in the Nazis' actions during the Shoah.
Tykochin was a thriving Jewish community for over four hundred years, and at least half of its four thousand residents were Jewish before the Holocaust. When we arrived in Tykochin, our first stop was what at first glance looked like just an open field. But upon closer inspection, we found it to be a Jewish cemetery. It hadn't been cared for in years, and most of the tombstones were either missing or lying on their sides. The point of visiting the cemetery was to show that there was such a large Jewish community living there, that they even had a huge area set aside just for Jews who had passed. Later in the morning, we went into the synagogue. While no Jews currently live there, the shul is maintained by residents, and used as more of a museum than a functioning religious center today. One of the most interesting things to me about this synagogue is that prayers were written all over the walls, because not everybody had siddurim to follow along with. After looking around for a few minutes, we prayed mincha, the afternoon service, and did a NFTY style song session. It was really fun to bring back some of the Jewish life that was robbed from this beautiful building. What I kept thinking about while I was there was that their community was just like my Jewish community at home, if not stronger. Gertz encouraged us many times to think about what it would be like if suddenly things turned bad for Jews in America, and to me that is inconceivable. I can't imagine anything happening to cause people to start persecuting Jews in the states on the level of the Holocaust, but I'm sure at one point, that's how Jews in Tykochin felt as well. Being there made this more clear than ever, because I could see what it would have been like, where the Jews came together, where they prayed and studied, where they were had their holy community, a kehillah kedoshah. The previous day in Warsaw was spent focusing on the dreariness of ghetto life, but this was the first time in Poland I got a feel for what it was like to be a Jew living in Poland. It seemed like it was probably pretty good.

In August, 1941, the Nazis instructed all Jews living in the shtetl to meet in the square. They loaded people on trucks, and forced those who could not fit to run behind them into the nearby forest of Lupochowa. While running, they were forced to sing a song about Nazis spilling Jewish blood. Over the next two days, Nazi soldiers shot and killed every single Jewish person, infants included, and disposed of their bodies in mass graves. After we left the synagogue, we got on the busses and rode in silence to the forest. It seemed a very far run. We heard from the account of the only survivor, who someone lived through being shot, and was able to climb up out from under the dead bodies covering her in the pit. She spoke vividly of watching her father be forced to undress, and seeing her sister beg for life, a futile effort of course. After hearing this disturbing account of what happened there, we walked to the site of all three pits, where all of Tykochin's Jews will lie forever. We lit some candles, and held a ceremony to honor them. Being there made me realize how truly wicked the Nazis were. All I could think about was what kind of person could stand there and murder that many people. The Nazi soldiers shot entire families, little children, old men, pregnant woman, mercilessly. It also made me think of the extent to which they intended to wipe out the Jews. They ended not only the current lives of so many people, but also the future lives. After those two days in August, there never has been and probably never will be a Jewish community living in Tykochin. This can be said of many places. At one point, approximately 75% of the world's Jews lived in Poland. Now, there are only about five to ten thousand. I don't think I will ever be able to comprehend the horror of what happened in Tykochin, and because of that I can only imagine what the Jews living there were like.

Yesterday, we went to the Israel Museum. We had already been there to see the Dead Sea scrolls and a model of the Old City, but this time we went to an exhibit about Jewish life in the Middle Ages. We went inside multiple reconstructions of synagogues from different parts of the world. What I saw that interested me the most was a painted sukkah. The deller family commissioned the artwork in the nineteenth century, and held on to it for decades. A picture of the sukkah can be found here on the Israel Museum website. http://www.english.imjnet.org.il/popup?c0=13557
In 1935, it was smuggled out of Germany in order to preserve it. I have never seen a sukkah that has been painted before, so it was very new to me. It's a very interesting look into the traditions of Jews in Europe. The paintings depicted the city of Jerusalem. It's pretty cool to think that while these Jews were living in Germany, they were creating images of the holy city, and now here I am living just outside of it. It was one of many moments that made me feel so lucky to be here. I also think it's really special that the sukkah was saved. During the holocaust, many Jewish artifacts were destroyed, making it harder to gain an understanding of what life was like before. But thankfully, some things made it out, and we can go to museums to learn and see actual objects that were part of Jewish life during that time.

This week I read an article by David Benkof of the Times of Israel. It can be found here. http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/palestinians-exist/

Benkof's goal of this article is to prove that the Palestinian identity is a valid one. Some people try to assert that Arabs have invented the idea of a Palestinian people, and thus there is no Palestinian-Israeli conflict.  David's point is that all peoples are invented, whether it happened recently, or centuries ago. He ends the article by saying that this argument needs to be dropped so that we can move on to a meaningful discussion about the conflict. I definitely agree with the writer's point that the Palestinians are just as much a people as anyone else, because all people's are invented. 

What interests me most about this article is when Benkof says that even the Jewish people is invented, as it had to begin at some point. This isn't exactly related, but it reminds me of a question I have wondered about for a long time. It has never been clear to me whether Judaism is a race or ethnicity, as well as a religion. I remember asking my dad what I should say when people ask me what ethnicity I am, and he responded that saying I was Jewish is acceptable. My mom didn't agree with him, saying I should cite the countries my ancestors come from. Race is something passed down genetically, so Judaism cannot be a race, because anyone can convert to Judaism. Ethnicity is defined as the fact or state of belonging to a social group that has a common national or cultural tradition, and according to that definition, I think Judaism could be considered a race. However, there are many different traditions within Judaism. While lots of Jews share many aspects of their culture, there are lots of different groups with different traditions, such as the Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform, as well as the distinction between Ashkenazi and Sephardic. I know that being Jewish is definitely an identity of some sort, but I don't know exactly what it is, other than a religion. 

This week I read an article written by Adam Kirsch for Tablet Magazine about the Jewish figures written about in the Talmud. The article can be found here: http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-life-and-religion/164675/daf-yomi-73
The author first notes that most of the figures written about in the Talmud are unbelievably wise Rabbis, so holy that most people have a hard time relating to them. For this reason, Kirsch thinks the people written about who aren't Rabbis can be more interesting. He discusses Tavi, a non-Jewish slave, who slept under his bed in while in the Sukkah, a strictly forbidden action, to demonstrate that while he knew the law well, he did not have to follow it. I agree that Tavi would be fascinating to talk to, because he would likely be more on my intellectual level. He could probably explain things to me, and I wouldn't be completely lost within the first two sentences. Tavi could tell us all about the Rabbis, from an outside perspective.
What I find to be the most interesting part of the article is the last two paragraphs. Kirsch explains a debate about whether the side of an elephant is fit to be a wall of the Sukkah. Certain Rabbis said no because it could walk away, and others said you could tie it down, and others raised the question of what would happen if the elephant died during Sukkot. The Rabbis decided that because you could prop the carcass up and it would still be high enough, it is still fit to be a wall. The fact that the Rabbis thought out situations to this extent is amazing to me. It just shows me how important it was to them to make sure that the law is followed perfectly, and that every scenario is thought out. At the same time, I wonder if they wasted their time imagining these ridiculous realities. Is it really essential that the Rabbis have rules for the off chance that somebody might decide to use their elephant in building a Sukkah? I'm sure there's a good answer to this question, so if you have one, let me know in the comments.

Yesterday was by far the most relaxing Shabbat I've had so far in Israel. Traditionally, Shabbat is the day of rest, and you aren't supposed to do much. But when I'm at home Saturday is one of two days I get to do whatever I want, so I'm almost always busy the entire day, whether I'm surfing or hanging out with my friends, etc. I've never really appreciated the idea of Shabbat, possibly because with or without Shabbat, my American schedule would still include no school on Saturday and Sunday. In ancient times, on the other hand, most people worked every single day, and the idea of a day of rest was absurd to non-Jews. I've been trying to make the most out of most of the Shabbats here and hang out with as many people as possible and do homework, keeping myself busy. Yesterday, I spent my time sleeping in, playing guitar, resting in the room, and playing cards. I didn't follow all the rules of Shabbat, for instance I turned on and off the lights multiple times, but most definitely did rest. Today I just feel so much better having had a day not to worry about school or anything. It made me realize the importance of having a day of rest, and I just might continue to use Shabbat the way it was intended.

This week I read an article written by a conservative Rabbi struggling to find a Jewish movement that appeals to him. Written by Rabbi Amitai Adler, the article can be found here: http://shma.com/2014/02/motion-without-movement/
Adler was raised in a modern Orthodox home, but one which was very unique. His father was Orthodox, and his mother went from being Orthodox to Reform. He describes how many different Jewish values important to different movements were cherished in his family. Adler then talks about trying to find a movement to fit his upbringing. He desired a movement that valued education, outreach to secular Jews, and offered spiritually rich services and experiences. He chose to become a conservative Rabbi, and while it appealed the most to him, this movement still did not perfectly fit Adler's idea of Judaism. At the end of the article, he expresses his plan to teach the unique form of Judaism he grew up with to his son, and hope that some day after his time, maybe more people will find meaning in his idea of Judaism.
Personally, the Reform movement is the only form of Judaism I have any real experience with, besides going to a few services at my local Chabad and a conservative Bar Mitzvah once. Even with the Reform movement being the most lenient Jewish movement, I don't exactly follow all the rules and guidelines. I expect there are probably some people out there who wouldn't even consider me reform. I think every Jew has his or her own idea of what's important in Judaism, and for this reason I think it's hard to divide all Jews into three major groups. Now, I know there are a lot of groups within the three major movements, but even so, I think every individual has his or her own perspective. For this reason, I respect Rabbi Adler for continuing to search for what he wants out of Judaism. He is a member of the conservative movement, but in his home, he creates the type of Judaism that is meaningful to him. In some ways this reminds me of how members of the Reform movement select which laws to follow; however, Adler is more dedicated to halachah, or Jewish law. I think a lot of people probably feel the same way as he does, in that they are always looking for a form of Judaism that fits them best.

On Saturday we came back from ten days away from the Kibbutz. This included Gadna, a program to give teens an idea of what it's like being in the IDF, going to En Gedi, lying on the beach in Eilat, and seeing four countries at one time from the top of a mountain. But for me, the most meaningful part was waking up at 2:30 am to climb Masada. Masada is the site of an ancient fortress on top of a mountain in the desert which eventually wound up in the hands of Sicarii group of Jews as the last holdout of the Great Revolt against the Roman empire. After living under siege for three years, the Romans were finally about to breach the walls and capture the Jews. But before this could happen, the last remaining Sicarii decided to commit mass homicide, and eventually suicide, to prevent the Romans from overtaking them. This way, their death was in their hands, and they didn't have to serve under the Romans. After Masada fell in 73 CE, there was never an autonomous Jewish state until the establishment of Israel in 1948, almost two thousand years later.
Today Masada stands as a symbol of Israel's strength. Upon completion of basic training, IDF soldiers used to climb Masada, and they would together shout that Masada will not fall again. To me, it is incredibly powerful that we finally have a Jewish state again, and Masada is a perfect emblem of the Jewish peoples' will to hold on to it. The Sicarii were so passionate about holding on to their land, that they were willing to hold out on a tiny hilltop completely surrounded by enemies. This in itself to me is illustrative of the State of Israel today, a haven for Jews surrounded by countries it often has trouble dealing with. The ceremony for the soldiers on Masada shows that although our situation might be similar, we will never let Israel fall, and we must do everything we can to hold on to it. Thinking about this while sitting on top of Masada was incredibly powerful to me, and it really made me think about the significance of and the necessity for Israel to exist, and also the strength and power of the Jewish people then and now, and how different that is from the two thousand years in between.

Today we went to the Israel Museum in the morning on Tiyul with our Jewish History Class. We got to see a scale model of what Jerusalem looked like around the first century CE, which included the second temple. After seeing this, we went downstairs to see the original Dead Sea Scrolls. The Dead Sea Scrolls are the oldest known texts of what we know as the Tanakh. They have been dated to as far as back 200 CE. To me, it was really fascinating to see these because it really put it in perspective how old our religion is. I have always known Judaism is thousands of years old, but I never really thought about what that meant until today. I was standing in front of scrolls that say the same things that the Tanakh I bring to Jewish History class says, which means I'm studying the same words Jews have been reading since those shriveled  pieces of parchment were written. Furhermore, Judaism is thought to possibly be as old as 4000 years, and the scrolls are only 2000 years old. While I know the Tanakh is not that old, it's still wild to think that the religion I practice, though radically different, has been being practiced for that long. I know this thought is not original at all, but the scope of that never really made sense to me until I saw the scrolls today, and I was able to see how ancient they looked. They are magnificently preserved scrolls, but even so they don't look like something anybody could easily read.

This week I read an article written by an ultra Orthodox rabbi about the vandalism of a reform synagogue in Ra'nana. On the Beit Knesset directs one to a verse in the book of Psalms which states that heretics and deniers of the Torah have no place in the world. The writer of this article makes the argument that the vandalizes are wrong to have written this, because reform Jews are not apostates, as described by Rabbi Eliezer Berkowitz. He said that an apostate is a either a person who rejects Judaism for an easier life, or one who rejects Judaism out of a desire to attack Jewish tradition.
The tone of this article was very interesting to me to read, because it showed me a different perspective that the Orthodox have of Reform Jews that I did not know existed. It seemed to me that the writer's attitude towards Reform was one of disagreement, but respect. I always just assumed that Orthodox Jews think of the Reform movement as a shameful rejection of tradition. However, some apparently hold an opinion that the Reform Jews want to make Judaism more modern, and though they disagree with the movement's principles, they accept this. Sometimes I feel like I have an unfair, incorrect view of the Orthodox community, but when I see things like this, it reminds me that while they might not agree with Reform views, they respect Reform Jews as people just trying to make Judaism more relevant today.

Every Friday morning, we do a Tzedakah project as a group. Tzedakah by the way is pronounced very differently here from how it is in America. This week, we went to help out at a home in Jerusalem for people with special needs. The people who live there work in a factory building things. So most of the group went to the factory to help them with their projects, but a small group of people went to the actual home to sing Jewish songs with the residents. I went to the home to play songs, as one of seven people who brought a guitar. We didn't prepare much, so I didn't really know the songs we were playing, but I did my best to follow along, and everybody seemed to be enjoying it a lot. It was really wonderful to see their faces light up when we started to play a song they liked, and how much fun they were having singing along. We ran out of songs that we all knew how to play pretty quickly, and then we all tried to follow whoever knew which particular song we were playing. To the people living at the home it didn't seem to matter that we were playing the wrong chords and slurring the Hebrew words, because they were just happy to have us there singing with them. It was a really great experience overall.

The article I read this week is about BDS, and can be found here. http://www.thejc.com/news/world-news/115428/a-synthetic-emergency-israel-divided-over-boycott-threat’

BDS, or Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions, is defined by wikipedia as a global campaign which uses economic and political pressure on Israel to comply with the stated goals of the movement: The end of Israeli occupation and colonization of Arab land, full equality for Arab-Palestinian citizens of Israel, and respect for the right of return of Palestinian refugees. These goals are very ambitious, and attaining all three would be a big win for the Arab-Palestinian population. This particular movement has a method of working towards them which targets the Israeli economy. By boycotting Israeli companies, divestment, essentially keeping universities from funding corporations that violate Palestinians' rights, and implementing sanctions against Israel, supporters of the BDS movement hope to damage the Israeli economy to the point that the Israelis will give in, and give the Palestinians everything they want. 

     This article in particular, found on The Jewish Chronicle, asks the question of whether the BDS movement is as much of a threat as some are making it out to be. The Israeli Intelligence and Strategic Affairs Minister is calling for a budget of 100 million NIS in order to combat the effects of BDS, but the Foreign Ministry, members of which are known to be more anti-Israel, are questioning whether this is really necessary. They argue that the damage done by the movement, which has been active since 2005, is minimal at this point. Tensions are rising as various developments in talks between Israel and others emerge, and some say Israel should not focus on something as minor as BDS. In my opinion, Israel should not devote too many resources to fighting this movement unless it is really doing considerable harm. However, Israeli exports are currently up, and the economy is doing well overall. I think Israel should keep an eye on those in support of BDS, but in the mean time focus on more important things. 

Maybe I shouldn't recycle topics, but this is too interesting for me to not write more about. I just commented on Gertz's blog, talking about something that just happened. Yesterday in Jewish History class, we talked about the idea that none of our Jewish biblical heroes are perfect, yet many figures in other religions are. So last night I commented on Gertz's blog talking about this idea, and that I thought it suggests an element of realism found in Judaism not found in other faiths. Then, a few minutes ago I was sitting in my room with Jacob, doing my math homework, and not really paying attention to the music playing in the background. It was an album I recently got, so I wasn't familiar with it. Suddenly I heard something about someone named Joseph. The last few days in class we were talking about Joseph, so I listened to hear what they were saying. It ended up the artist was talking about the father of Jesus, not the same Joseph, but what they said next amazed me. First, I didn't believe what I had heard, so I had to rewind it and hear it again. This is what I heard:

"and I've been thinking awkwardly
about the things that are holy
like Jesus, Joseph, and Mary
and Mary Magdalene
and even theoretically
I don't think I could ever see
the perfect human being
Jesus lived without sin"

The writer is questioning whether he believes that anybody, even Jesus, could live a perfect, sinless life.  It absolutely blows my mind that somehow I happened to hear the one verse out of this entire album that happens to be talking about exactly what we had discussed the day before. What's more is that that was the first time that idea had been introduced to me. Had I heard that verse a few weeks ago, it would have little meaning to me, but the timing of it was perfect. Strange coincidences seem to happen to me a lot, but this one seemed special to me. It made me think about coincidences, so I decided to find out what the Jewish perspective on coincidences was. I found this article, called "Who says there are no coincidences?"
http://www.jewishideasdaily.com/6078/features/who-says-there-are-no-coincidences/
 I don't exactly have time to comment on it now, but it brings up some interesting point, and I'd recommend reading it.

This week we've been assigned to discuss articles on our blogs. The article I chose is titled "What Drives Success?" by Amy Chua and Jed Rubenfeld for The New York Times. http://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/26/opinion/sunday/what-drives-success.html?emc=eta1&_r=1

The article discusses why certain ethnic and religious groups living in America have much higher household incomes than the average American. These groups include Indian-, Lebanese-, Chinese-, Iranian-Americans, and of course, Jews. Jewish people are widely known to be highly successful and to often hold important positions in our society despite only making up two percent of the population. What all the successful groups share are three traits: a superiority complex, insecurity, in the form of the desire to always do better, and the third is impulse control. 

I realized that these traits sound very familiar, that many Jewish kids I know possess them exactly. Jews, like many other groups are told they are chosen and expected to be successful, giving rise to the superiority complex. Impulse control, or the ability to resist temptation, is something I also see among my peers. It seems to me that Jewish students are much more likely to avoid harmful substances, like alcohol and drugs, for fear that it will affect their future. But students who are not members of one of these groups often don't think about this, perfectly exemplified by a popular phrase used by tons of high schoolers: YOLO, standing for "you only live once." People use this as a reason to live it up, and disregard the consequences. Perhaps the most prevalent of these three traits in Jewish youth that I see, is insecurity. Not that Jewish people are doubtful of themselves, but that it seems to me lots of Jewish students always expect the most of themselves, and no matter how well they do on things like tests and grades, they desire better. 

It makes perfect sense to me that Jewish people are often successful if these three characteristics are in fact what contribute to prosperity. 

While yesterday was officially the first day of Jewish History class, today was the first time we really got into the subject. We spent a good portion of the time discussing the documentary theory regarding the Tanakh, which proposes that the Tanakh actually had at least four authors, not one, and whether this fact changed the importance of this holy text. As students were offering their opinions, all I could think about is the question, "How can I make a decision about the importance of a text if I hardly know anything about it?"
Then Gertz went on to describe how little he knows about religious Judaism compared to learned scholars, and this gave me perspective about what I know. He's been studying Judaism for well over ten years, and it seems to me that he is a never ending pit of wisdom. And if he, by comparison, knows hardly anything, than that leaves me essentially without anything to go on at all. I'm still wondering how I can possibly try to understand and answer the questions posed to me without any background. I took away from all of this that I should try to learn more about the subjects we are studying in order to try to be able to better contribute and to grasp more information for myself.

After days of traveling, we're now on day two here at Kibbutz Tzuba. It looks completely different from how I imagined it, but I love it anyway. It's wild to actually be here after imagining it for so long. This is my blog for Jewish History class, which happens to be taught by Aaron Gertz, the Rosh for our session when I was in Shomrim in 2008 at URJ Camp Newman. He still remembered the twins and I. I'll be posting at least twice a week, usually about Jewish related things and probably about my experiences in Israel.