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Thursday Nov 20, 2008
Ten Lost Tribes Challenge - India: Under my purple shawl
Posted by Amir Mizroch
Comments: 1
    
This is going to be a very personal blog post. As the ceremony at Ben Hur's home was winding down and the last songs were sung, Eyal the guide suggested we should all sing Hatikva. The group didn't need much convincing and we all turned to the right, to what Ben Hur said was the direction of Jerusalem. I love my anthem, and it almost never fails to move me. This time, and in this setting, it was even more so. Hatikva brings tears to my eyes and strength to my heart, and I let myself feel the hope in the song, the happiness of singing it knowing how hard it is to live as an Israeli, what an absolute miracle we are every day; and I let my eyes well up with tears. After we were done, the men called for a minyan and started praying Arvit, the evening prayer. Unlike other times I decided to stay in the room with the men in my group while they prayed. I've been with them for two days and during each prayer I move a little to the side and watch. For some reason, I think it's because I was already engaged through the anthem, I decided to stay this time. Not having my kippa on me [I left it in my luggage] I pulled my new purple shawl over my head, like a talit and joined in. It's been years since I've prayed. Hearing the murmuring of the words of prayer all around me and swaying together back and forth and sideways with the ten men in the room felt to me like I was connecting with my tribe. Not connecting with God on a spiritual or religious level, but connecting to my roots, to my people. I was praying with my tribe. I looked around the room at the Bnei Menashe men praying with us and I felt like I was a Bnei Menashe. I too didn't know all the words. I knew some of the basic things, like the Shema Israel, and when to say Amen [it's easy if you just listen to when the others are saying it], and I knew how to move my back from side to side, and to bend my knees forwards and back. I hadn't prayed for ages and never really internalized the prayers in the first place. In essence, I was being carried along by the experienced worshippers in the room, just like the Bnei Menashe. Growing up in a small town in South Africa with very few Jews, I think I may have also felt, on some level, lost and alone in the world. Besides, what's really the difference between me and the Bnei Menashe? I also don't know where I [my soul?] originated, and which tribe I belong to [my good friend T.J. Davis says I'm either Binyamin on Yehuda]. So which one is it? Up until about 200 years ago, I also can't tell what my family history was, and where we were since that day the Romans expelled my ancestors from Judea [or was it Israel?]. Did my genes even originally come from ancient Israel, or were my great, great, great grandfathers in Latvia also told one day that they were the descendants of a lost Jewish tribe and that they should now reclaim their ancient traditions? Who knows? Then it hit me: the first time I'm praying in ages is happening all the way out here in North East India. I've had to come to India to connect with my tribe on this level. Under my purple 'talit' I prayed and wept, not tears of sadness, nor joy. Just tears. I can't explain it better than that. Amir Mizroch is the News Editor at The Jerusalem Post, a writer and an award-winning blogger. For all of Amir's blogs and articles, visit his personal blog Forecast Highs. PREVIOUS ENTRIES:
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Inger Johanne S. Grønning,
Thursday Nov 20, 2008
To Amir Mizroch!
Lucky me to find your blog! It is very interresting to read of your meeting with Bnei Menasche.
When we read Jeremiah 31,we must understand that this is a very important trip!
To the group and you - read Jesaia 52.7
I look forward to follow your blog! My best wishes from Inger Johanne (Norway)
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