My heroesThe last month may have been the most powerful of my life. I cried in the blood-stained fields of Auschwitz, returned home to the once golden and now pyrite paved roads of America, observed Passover with family and friends, remembered the fallen heroes who gave their lives for Israel, and celebrated the fulfillment of the Jewish people's dream to return to their homeland after thousands of years. My emotions have been varied, my thoughts jumbled and my perspectives broadened. And somewhere along the way, I found two of my heroes. Extraordinarily confusing times
There must be something in the water here, because my peers and I have caught a bug: suddenly we are confused about what our futures hold and what our tasks in the great challenge of life are. Some might say such confusion is characteristic of our age, but I tend to think that the confluence of events occurring in the world around us has created a "perfect storm" of doubt and uncertainty unique to my generation. And this realization has bred utter confusion and the need for a reevaluation of our futures. Mid-year crisis?
If you think of the gap year as a lifetime, then I should be having something like a midlife crisis right about now. Today is February 12th, which means that I have been in Israel for more than five full months. Half my year has passed in the blink of the eye. When I blink again, it will be mid-June and I'll be heading home. Can you say mid-year crisis? Mazel Tov, I can't. I committed a full year of my life to study here and it's already half gone. I should be anxious, feeling as though I haven't used my time to its fullest. I should be cramming in all-night learning sessions to make up for lost time and running around like a chicken with its head cut off. There's so much of Israel to see, and I haven't seen it all. There's so much to experience, and I haven't experienced it all. There's so much to do, and I haven't done it all. I heard a Rabbi speak about time being all we have and how wasting it on banality is just that -- a monumental waste. Shouldn't I regret the time I've wasted, the distractions from learning that I have partaken in? Dear Mr. President
Note to readers: The following is a piece I wrote immediately after hearing President Obama's inaugural speech just a week ago. It is a purely emotional response to his being elected President of the United States of America, and attempts to capture how I felt after seeing history in the making. Dear President Obama, I would like to congratulate you on your truly remarkable accomplishments. I search the depths of my vocabulary for words that do justice in describing that which you have accomplished, and I come up empty handed, tongue tied and frustrated. The closest I've managed are the words 'awesome' and 'inspiring'. I am awed and inspired by the opportunities our great country allows for each and every individual, awed and inspired by what can be accomplished with much hard work and a little bit of luck, awed and inspired by the institution of our government-- how, despite the ravenous critics and unrelenting attacks on the past administration, one moment can instantaneously unite millions of people. In short, Mr. President, I am awed and inspired by you. Yicchus not Yuck-us
"The Torah can get you so high... I mean so, so high. Like you have no idea," said the man with a look of sheer ecstasy (no pun intended) on his face. Everyone from Yeshiva started laughing. One thought went through my mind: Tzfat sure is quite a place. Where else could you hear a religious man with a long beard talk about highs the Grateful Dead would have envied? Even that conversation, though, couldn't begin to prepare me for my Shabbat stay in the holy city. When we arrived in Tzfat and looked out from the city's Jerusalem Street, one couldn't help but feel in a different world. White puffy clouds surrounded the entire city, which appeared to be floating in the sky. It was as if we were in heaven, only I envision heaven as having better pizza. What would you fight for?
Hannukah has ended, but the ideals and lessons of the holiday burn as bright as the holiday flames. This year the ideals of heroism, the right to live a Jewish life and fighting for what you believe in manifest themselves more vibrantly and visibly than in years past. Like the Maccabees, we are at war against an enemy who wishes to destroy our spirit, desecrate that which we hold dear and question our very right to exist as Jews in a Jewish land. Like the Maccabees, we have chosen to fight, knowing full well the danger which that entails. As I sit in Yeshiva, the battle in Gaza is on my mind. I think about the young soldiers -- my peers -- who are placing themselves in harm's way to defend their homeland and its people. I think how easily Moshe in Golani could have been Natanel. I think about the families in the South that live under the constant threat and barrage of rockets. I think about the families in Gaza and the unintentional civilian casualties, which are tragic casualties nonetheless. And despite all that, my thoughts are drawn time and time again to one seemingly unrelated event: a Hannukah party I attended days before the fighting began. Once in a lifetime?
People always asked me why I decided to go to Yeshiva for the year, and before I arrived in Israel I never really had good answers. To learn Jewish texts, well sure, that was an integral part of it, but I guess I could have learned anywhere in the world for the year. So when asked, I kept falling back on the good 'ole "It's a once in a lifetime experience" line. It was great: a taut one-liner that somehow convinced most people that I knew why I wanted to go to Israel. In hindsight, that platitude was only a self-justification, a way to convince myself that I was making the right choice. Once in a lifetime experience--big deal, there are a lot of things that I might only have the chance to do once, but I don't put off college to do them. But off I went, and now here I am, four months in and having a great time. Am I glad I came? No doubt about it. Do I know, in hindsight, what are the "real reasons" to spend the year learning in a yeshiva in Israel? Maybe not 100%, but I think I'm getting there. |
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