Yeshiva Boy: 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?

No. Half the year has passed and I feel great. It's not because I am unaware of how quickly time is passing. I appreciate how rapidly time has sped past me. It's not that I feel I have studied as much as I possibly could, because I could stay in the study hall past the required hours if I wanted to. Instead, it's that as I look back on the quickly fading half - way marker, I have fond memories of my time and great expectations of what lies ahead. I might not have done everything, but I sure have done a lot. I might not have learned 24/7, but I have learned a lot. And as for the distractions, well, those might have been among the most valuable moments of my year.

Before I get kicked out of Yeshiva, let me explain. I agree wholeheartedly that time is all we have and that wasting it is a tragedy. But I don't think that my "distractions" this year  are necessarily a waste of time (and I don't think my Rabbis would either). I have been training in Krav Maga multiple times a week, I've been writing a book, I've been meeting and schmoozing with amazing people -- from late night talks with my friends in Yeshiva to meeting Bibi Netanyahu the other night to talking to random Israelis on the bus -- and I've been seeing this beautiful country. And, of course, I'm writing this blog, a pint-sized journal of my gap year abroad. Now some people might call those activities distractions. After all, I'm in a Yeshiva for crying out loud. Learn! Learn! Learn!

What I've come to realize is that what some people call distractions from learning really constitute learning in the truest sense of the word. Because it's only against the backdrop of traveling the land of Israel that I can fully appreciate the laws regarding the land of Israel.

And it's only against the backdrop of interacting with all sorts of people that I can appreciate the laws regarding being a decent human, treating all people with respect and the like. And it's only against the backdrop of being engaged in activities that one might not consider religious that I can appreciate imbuing even the mundane -- the banal -- with a sense of purpose and meaning.

When you think about "distractions" in that light, they cease to be distractions and become something far more meaningful. They become tests. They become a question of whether you can succeed in implementing what you learn amidst the mundane and yes, even the banal, that we encounter in every day life. If I sat in the study hall from the time I arrived in Israel until the time I left, my return home would be accompanied by a crisis of faith. The world isn't a perfect place, and when faced with the giant test of life, all that I learned probably wouldn't stand up to the myriad challenges heaped toward me from all directions. I don't plan on living life in a bubble, and I'm proud to say that my year in Yeshiva hasn't been in a bubble either.

Midyear crisis? Fugetaboutit. Unless, of course, I'm too distracted to realize I should be having one.