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.