Heidi's blog

I'm at Ben-Gurion airport now, waiting for the plane that will take me home. This morning I finished packing and cleaned my bathroom and room. (I didn't leave it completely clean, but it's certainly cleaner than it was when I moved in.)

I went to my new friend Bonnie's place in Haifa, with all my luggage, to spend the afternoon with her and have shabbat dinner (she normally wouldn't do the blessings, but since I was there she wanted me to do them, so it was a proper shabbat dinner).

From her place I got a sherut (a shared van) to the airport. It's been a long time since I've been here, and I think security is even more formidable than when I was here last, or at least more high-tech. There are many layers of security checks. At the first one, where you put all your luggage through an x-ray machine (before you check your bags), I got flagged for some reason and sent for a thorough search of my bags.

They opened my suitcases and started taking stuff out, asking me questions. (This was the second round of "Why were you in Israel? Have you been to Israel before? Are you married? What's your husband's name? What are your parents' names? Have they been to Israel?") So I'm answering all the questions: "What were you doing in Israel?" "Ulpan at the U. of Haifa." "Why?" "I'm studying to be a rabbi." "You are?! Really?! Wait here a minute."

She goes and gets someone else, possibly a supervisor, who starts really grilling me. "Have you visited Israel before? When? Why? You're shaking. Why are you shaking?" "I have a tremor. My hands shake. That's what I do. Also, you know, I'm a little nervous." "Why would you be nervous?" "Because this all makes me feel like maybe I did something wrong. Which I would like to emphasize that I did not." (That's our Heidi, always telling more of the truth than necessary, especially when nervous. At least I managed not to be a smartass.)

She continues. "Are you involved with a synagogue? Which one? What synagogue before that? And before that? What about when you were a child?" "Well, I wasn't raised Jewish. I'm a Jew by choice." "Why did you convert to Judaism? How did you fall in love with Judaism? It's strange for someone raised in one religion to convert to another." I give the briefest of brief versions of the story. "And now you're studying to be a rabbi? It's strange that someone who's going to be a rabbi is flying on Friday night." Ah, there it is. So now I'm explaining the theology of the American Reform Movement. She takes my passport and goes off with it (this is the second time an aiport security person in Israel has taken my passport and gone off somewhere with it, and this always makes me nervous). She has a conversation with another security person, comes back, and says, "OK, it's fine, you can go." I'm wondering if they've never had a Reform rabbi come through the airport before, and I know that's not the case. At any rate, they didn't seem to know what to make of me.

At the next security check, it seemed that they hadn't made the appropriate notation on the sticker they put in my passport. "Did you talk to security?" I am asked. "Yes I did," I respond, possibly a little more fervently than strictly warranted. Another person wanders off with my passport, but comes back after a while, makes the note on the sticker, and I'm on my way.

Then another security x-ray of my carry-on stuff (even though it already was x-rayed once), and at least they seem to be done asking me questions. Passport control, and now I'm finally at the gate, boarding in about 15 minutes. Can't wait to get home. I will say there's no messing around with taking off your shoes or pulling out your bag of liquids in Israel. I guess they figure they've got it covered without having to smell everyone's shoes. I think they're right.

This concludes the diary of my month of ulpan in Israel. It has been a good experience, and while I didn't get everything out of it that I had hoped, that is more because my hopes were too ambitious than because the program and the trip were not good. They were both very good. I'm glad I did this, and we'll see what happens from here.

Had the final exam today. It was very very difficult. I took almost the whole 2.5 hours to finish it. There were lots of words I didn't know. I'm not sure we learned them, because I studied the words we were given, and some of these words didn't even look familiar. I'm certain I passed the exam, but I don't know how well I did.

Anyway, the ulpan is over now and I'm heading home tomorrow night.

This is it. The final exam is tomorrow. I put in a solid five hours studying for it today, so I'm about as ready as I'm going to be. I'm not feeling too anxious about the exam, though I'm sure I'll be nervous tomorrow.

I've learned a remarkable amount in the time I've been here. I'm not satisfied, but I recognize that I've come a long distance in a very short time. I'm proud of that.

I am starting to get anxious about the trip home, true to form. The plan is that I'll pack and take care of some loose ends tomorrow afternoon, then on Friday I'll take all my stuff and go to my new friend Bonnie's place in Haifa. I'll spend the day with her, then take a van to the airport in the evening, since my flight isn't until 11:50 pm.  I tried to book the van tonight, but the guy said call tomorrow. Someone told me people are having trouble getting seats in the vans, though I'm not sure of the veracity of that.

Tonight Mike told me he talked to the girls, and they're doing well at their grandma Karol's house. He told Shoshi (age 4) that she and Hannalina would be coming home on Friday, and the next day I would come home. She got very quiet. He asked her if she was okay, and she said, "Daddy, when you talk to me about people who aren't near me, it makes me feel sad." Awww. Can't wait to get home to my family.

We're gearing up for the big final exam, which is on Thursday. As it turns out, I'm not a different person here than I was at home, which means that I have been slacking on the studying for the exam, which I will regret come Wednesday when I'm cramming for Thursday.

Tomorrow is my mom's Jahrzeit (well, starting tonight). Three years. I decided to try to get a minyan together and do a brief ma'ariv service. I asked a number of people if they would come, and in the end I think there were maybe 15 people—definitely a minyan, anyway. I did a Reform-style service, though I only had my Artscroll prayerbook, so no English translations that I like. It went well; a number of people told me afterward that they thought it was beautiful. At least one person who was there lives in a country where there isn't a lot of liberal action, so it was her first experience of American Reform, or any kind of liberal service, really. She said she really enjoyed it.

After the service a couple of people stayed around. I was just sitting by the table that had the jahrzeit candle on it. One of them suggested that I tell them about my mom. So I talked about her for quite some time. That was really a gift, and made the whole thing especially nice for me.

Later I got into a long conversation with a man who's planning to be a cantor (actually already working as a cantor). It's always interesting to talk to colleagues who are studying in different places and hearing about their plans and challenges. I got to bed way too late, though.

Another busy weekend. Friday we left campus at 6:00 am (well, pulled away about 6:30) for a day trip to Jerusalem. There were different options for sites to see. I chose the trip that included Ir David (David's city), The Burnt House, another archeological museum, some free time in the Jewish quarter and at a big market.

Ir David is a Visitor's Center and archeological site that includes water tunnels that were created by King Hezekiah 2,700 years ago. King Hezekiah built the tunnels to bring water from a spring at the edge of the city (vulnerable to attack) to the middle of the city (where the water supply could be protected and a siege withstood for a long time because of the availability of water).

We also went to the Western Wall, where the women's side was too crowded for me to get to the wall itself. After going to the Western Wall, we went to the Burnt House Museum, a tiny museum in the Jewish Quarter that's built over an archeological site. There is another small museum like this, the Wohl Archeological Museum (where we went next). In the endless battle between archeologists and real estate developers in Israel, this is a compromise. You find an important site, build a small couple of rooms around and over it, and then put a building on top. Then the archeological work can continue and the public can come to see what was discovered, but the space is still being used for real estate.

Anyway, the Burnt House is a site where archeologists found a house that had been destroyed by being burned down. It's in the Jewish Quarter and would have overlooked the Temple. They've figured out that it's quite likely this house was burned during the same destruction of the city by the Romans that included the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE. They've found stone bowls and stuff in there, and because the priests used stone bowls for food (it has to do with kashrut and purity issues) it was probably the home of a priestly family. Pretty good commute for that guy. The museum shows a movie that is projected directly onto the ruins, which is a fascinating technique. Unfortunately, the movie was very melodramatic, with bad dialogue, probably some inaccuracy as to social roles (I found it unlikely that the servant woman would speak as freely with her bosses as this one did), and so it was kind of hard to watch. I tried to ignore those things and let it do what it was supposed to—make the history more real—but it wasn't easy.

Just a block or two away is the Wohl Archeological Museum built over and around another archeological find. This one is six different residences that would have belonged to wealthy people. There are mosaics set in some of the floors, and a mikveh.

There is a kind of casual sexism and stereotyping here that was evident at that particular site. The guide was talking about the decorations in homes almost 2000 years ago. Some walls had frescoes, others had stucco. Some had frescoes with stucco over them. Why would there be a fresco that was stuccoed over? He asked, and answered, Ask the wives who lived in the houses. Just like women today, they wanted to decorate and they would change their minds and redecorate, while men were occupied with culture and business. Seriously? That is made up out of whole cloth. As far as I know, there is no archeological evidence whatsoever for which family members made decorating decisions, or what occupied most of the time of women or men. If anyone can prove me wrong, I'd be happy to find out about it, because that would be pretty interesting. This sort of thing also happens a lot in examples given in class, often reversed—young men are looking for beautiful young women (women are never looking for men), etc. Certainly in the US this exists too, I just haven't been confronted with it so blatantly in a while, and it's been getting on my nerves a little.

At any rate, both sites were very interesting to see, though we didn't really spend enough time for me to try to absorb the sheer length of time we're dealing with. In fact, in the second museum, there were artifacts from the time of the First Temple, which was destroyed in 586 BCE! It's hard enough to wrap my brain around that, especially in 20 seconds of walking past the exhibit.

We had an hour of free time to walk around the Jewish quarter and eat. I did some gift-shopping, which was enjoyable, and ate a bread with onions on it (kind of like a focaccia, but it was more like pita bread) that I bought from a hole-in-the-wall bakery where I could see the fire from where I was standing in a big old brick oven, and the workers were making the bread right there. It probably looked just about the same (I mean, there were places that looked just about the same) 1000 years ago.

From there we went on to Mahaneh Yehuda a big market. (A new friend I met the next day (see below) commented when I told her about this: "Oh, great. That's where all the bombs go off." I asked when the last time was that a bomb went off there, and she said it was about 10 years ago. So it was fine. Also, I'd already been there by then and no bombs had gone off, so there was no sense in getting upset at that point.) We walked around there for about 40 minutes, then got back on the bus and went back to Haifa.

I was very tired, felt sweaty and grungy and had hurting feet, but as soon as we got back I hurried to my room, changed clothes and went to services at Or Hadash. Based on my conversation with the rabbi the week before, I thought there was a community dinner after the service, but there was no sign of a dinner, so I just went back to my dorm and ate Moroccan bread and cucumber dipped in labneh (a yogurt-like cheese that is delicious). It was actually a quite satisfying supper.

Saturday morning I went to services at Or Hadash again, with two other ulpaniks. I was meeting Bonnie, the cousin of a friend, there. Bonnie had invited me for lunch after services. During the service (which was a bar mitzvah for twin boys from France) those of us from the ulpan got an aliyah. That was my first aliyah in Israel, so that was cool. After services, Bonnie extended her lunch invitation to the other ulpaniks as well, which was really nice. So we all went to her apartment after services.

Her apartment is amazing. She and her husband have a view of the Mediterranean Sea from high above, and inside the apartment she has done a tremendous amount of creative work to make the most of the space. She's had special chairs made that convert into recliners with footrests. You can flip the footrest over and you have a small table. Take the arms off and push the chairs together and—voila!—it's a sectional. And so on. The apartment is also full of art: Her father was a sculptor, and many of his clay figurines are on display; her husband's father was an artist who worked with metal, so there are elaborate and beautiful pieces made of metal, like menorahs.

Speaking of her husband, he happens to be the foremost expert on Iraq in the world. I didn't get to meet him because he's in the US just now. Bonnie herself is a tour guide in Israel. I basically hired her on the spot to lead a congregational tour for me in a few years, when I'm a rabbi, and I have a congregation, and we have a congregational trip to Israel. She is just delightful, and I'm looking forward to a long friendship with her. I owe the friend who brought us together something nice.

I stayed at Bonnie's until maybe 9:30 or 10 pm. She walked me to a bus stop, and because she wasn't planning on waiting with me, she basically ordered a young woman waiting for the bus to speak with me in Hebrew, both so I could practice and so I would have someone to talk to. It was funny, nice, and embarrassing. I did end up chatting with the young woman, who turned out to be 16 years old and was friendly. She wanted to practice her English, so for a while I spoke in Hebrew and she responded in English. It worked out pretty well.

When I got back to campus, I had to finish my homework—I had to write a story about a shod—a robbery—in Hebrew. Of course, I can't just write a simple story about someone getting robbed. There has to be plot and a Law-and-Order twist (back in the day it would have been an O. Henry twist, but oh well). It ended up about two pages long and definitely straining the limits of my Hebrew ability. It has some logistical difficulties plot-wise (would an undercover cop really seduce a 16-yr-old girl to spend a night in her home in order to catch some nefarious robbers? And how did he know they were going to hit that home anyway? And on that night? And wasn't she pretty upset when she found out he was really an undercover cop and not just her boyfriend?), but you know what? The point was to practice my Hebrew, not to write a plausible story. So there.

I can't quite believe this is the last week and I'm leaving for home on Friday night. I'm very glad, but also wish I could stay longer. Just today I had the sense that speaking is coming a little easier; like I'm at the top of the mountain and just about reading to start coasting down the other side into Hebrew fluency. And now I'm leaving. I need at least another month here, but it isn't going to happen. Realistically, if I really try, I could probably maintain my current level of Hebrew, but I don't think I can progress further without the immersion part. It's a little disappointing and frustrating. Nevertheless, I'll be very happy to be home with my family again.

The word is that the conference call last night had over 140,000 people listening in. It was okay. Nothing surprising.

I gave my lecture in Hebrew today to my class (my topic was conversion to Judaism: Jewish traditions and what I think of them). It went okay. I was pretty nervous and mostly read from my notebook. My classmates were kind and said I did well and it was interesting. One of them said he could understand almost everything because I spoke slowly. I had to speak slowly—it's the only way I can speak in Hebrew. It lasted 15 or 20 minutes including when people were asking questions. I have to say that in general one of the great things about this ulpan is that my class is very kind and supportive of one another. People make jokes and make fun of each other in a light-hearted way, but no one jokes about, makes fun of, or belittles anyone else's Hebrew skill or lack of it. It makes for a very comfortable learning environment.

It was a good experience to speak Hebrew in a sustained way for that long. What's funny is that afterward I went to lunch (my lecture was at the end of today's class) and sat down with a guy from the ulpan who speaks German. He started talking to me in German, and I found that I literally could not speak in German. Every time I opened my mouth to say something to him, Hebrew came out. I had a very hard time switching gears to German and still Hebrew conjunctions and prepositions kept slipping in. This is good news for my Hebrew.

Tomorrow buses leave at 6 am for a day trip to Jerusalem. I'm definitely going to bed earlier tonight.

The last couple of days have been largely uneventful. Yesterday morning I felt very yucky, maybe the peanut bar I ate for breakfast didn't agree with me or something. I didn't leave class, but felt miserable for a couple of hours. It passed, but then I felt too worn out to go on yesterday's trip to the Ghetto Fighters Museum. It got mixed reviews from the couple of people I talked to who went. (One thought it was pretty interesting; one thought it was primarily for children and therefore inappropriate for our group.)

Tomorrow I give my brief (5 minutes or so) lecture to my class in Hebrew. We were allowed to choose any topic we wanted—I have chosen to talk about conversion to Judaism and the problems I have with some of the traditions surrounding conversion. I possibly should have picked a topic I'm less interested in, because I'm barely able to talk about the tip of the iceberg of what I think about this topic. It's frustrating, even though I know the point isn't really the content, it's speaking coherently in Hebrew for a few minutes.

Everyone in class has to do this, and we have to write out what we're going to say and give it to the teacher for correction before we give the talk, so that we speak properly. I think that's a good system for our level of Hebrew. It gives us a chance to practice what we want to say so it goes pretty smoothly, and then it is both good to speak non-stop for a few minutes both for the practice and for the confidence-building. I'm nervous, but kind of looking forward to this now. (The last couple of sentences are working as a self-pep-talk.)

Today we had a little extra time at the end of class, so the teacher asked us to tell jokes in Hebrew. First of all, I realized how many of the jokes I know are pun-based, and thus wouldn't work in Hebrew. Then I did manage to tell a joke in Hebrew (though I had to ask for a couple of words along the way). It wasn't a one-liner, either; it was one of those 4-guys-on-a-plane jokes. This one had a Mexican, a French guy, a German, and a Texan. I thought of it partly because two guys from Texas in the class had done their lecture today—on the history of Texas. I was proud of myself that I could almost tell the joke in Hebrew.

I'm staying up for a midnight conference call on healthcare reform with President Obama. It's less momentous than it sounds; it'll be me and about 10,000 other people. Still, it's cool. The call is with PICO, which is a national faith-based community organizing organization (I don't know if all their affiliates are faith-based, actually). I'm involved in Brooklyn Congregations United, which is a local branch of PICO. I believe that earlier today there was another conference call specifically with rabbis. I'm kind of sorry I didn't know about that one in time; could have done it instead of the midnight one (5 pm Eastern time). Well, straight to bed after.

Hard to believe there's just a little more than a week of my trip left. It's not enough time. I'm envious of the people who are staying for the semester. At the same time, I'm counting down the days until I get back to Mike and the girls. If only I had done this at 22. But then, the person I was at 22 would never have done this. She would've been too scared, and by the way, she wasn't Jewish. What she did do was go and live in Germany for 4 months with her grandparents, which was also an amazing and worthwhile experience in many, many ways. So I guess I'll let her off the hook.

The most interesting thing today was this evening's lecture, which was excellent. It was by Galit Roichman, who spoke to us about Israeli movies and showed clips from a number of different movies. What I especially liked about it was she used movies and how they have changed thematically and in the way they approach Israeli culture to give a snapshot of that culture and how it's developed and changed over the last 50 years. Of course it was general and glossed over a lot, but for someone like me who is trying to get a bit of a handle on Israeli culture in a short time, it was fascinating to get this kind of overview. It was an effective way to plunge fairly deeply into the subject within the limits of a two-hour lecture.

The very very short version: Israeli movies used to wrap Israeli problems and concerns in myth, producing movies with a hero who was the mythical Tzaba (a cactus Israelis have chosen as their symbol—prickly on the outside, soft and sweet on the inside). The Tzaba in the movies is male, gorgeous, tough, and stoic. Women swoon over him. (Note: this is contrary to Zionist reality, where there was a lot of equality between women and men, who worked and fought side by side.) Later movies indicate that Israeli confidence has increased, and they tackle Israeli social problems more head-on and in more realistic ways.

Movies mentioned (most with clips shown):
• Don't Mess with the Zohan (Galit made a point of saying it's stupid and she doesn't like it, but it does do a good job of illustrating the myth of the Tzaba)

• He Went in the Fields (1967: selling the Zionist dream, wrapping problems of Israel in myth—an important film)

• Walk on Water (still has the Tzaba, but starting to look at things in a more real way. Just ordered this one from Amazon because I really want to see the whole thing.)

• Chaverat Lul (kind of an Israeli Monty Python from the 1970s, that among other things satirized the way each wave of immigrants to Israel reacts to the next [very much like in the US, except on fast forward—what happened in the US over 200 years happened in Israel in about 50 years])

• Turn Left at the End of the World (takes on in a realistic way the issues of immigrants who made aliyah and were immediately sent to development towns—border towns or desert towns with bad economies, no culture, not much of anything, that were important to Israel to have and grow, but were not pleasant or easy places to live. The movie shows the sense of betrayal, pain, culture clashes, etc. among the immigrants who wound up in these towns.)

• Waltz with Bashir (sparked a shift in the collective Israeli subconscious, because after they saw it, ppl who were involved in the first Lebanon war went home, and, for the first time, began to talk to family and friends about what happened to them during the war.)

I didn't take my computer with me to Tel Aviv, so I'm a couple of days behind. This is unfortunate, because they were a very busy couple of days and it's going to be hard to catch up. But here goes.

First I have to say that the Safer family, Israel division, rocks. Iris (Mike's first cousin, once removed) met me at the train station in Tel Aviv. I wasn't sure how it would go, but aside from the fact that we knew absolutely nothing about each other, I felt so comfortable with her that I might have known her for years. First of all, just that she invited me to come and spend two days with her and her husband is an admirable leap of faith on her part. Second, she devoted so much time and energy to me, and she is just a lovely person.

Anyway, she met me at the train station, and we went first to a place called עץ בעיר (Eitz ba'Ir)—Tree in the City. It's the home and business of a woman and her husband who are environmentalists. They don't have air conditioning, they compost, they recycle everything, etc. She sells organic, recycled, sustainable products. I bought some aloe ointment, some extra-special tahini (made from sprouted sesame seeds—extra healthy), and a couple of recycled-material lunch bags for the girls. The house was very very much like Amy and Mike Zoll's on Martha's Vineyard, even to the mosaic in the bathroom made of broken pieces of china/ceramic. Very nice people, interesting place, and admirable work.

After we left there, Iris and I went to the home of Reuven Rubin, a famous Israeli artist (though I, in my ignorance of most things art-related) had never heard of him. He died in 1974, and his home is now a museum of his work. His paintings show how he saw Israel, and are mostly pretty realistic. He didn't do abstract work. I was very attracted to one of his paintings, Pomegranates on My Window. I'm not sure why, but I felt strongly enough about it that I bought a poster of it. Maybe it's the vibrancy of the colors, which doesn't really come through on the computer screen. I also bought two beautiful books—an abc book and a counting book, both illustrated with his paintings.

After the museum, Iris and I walked through a craft fair with lots of interesting and beautiful things. We stopped at a stand with amazing wooden puzzles—argh, I just realized I don't have their card with their website url. I'll have to get it from Iris. Anyway, the artist was delightful and showed us how the different puzzles and games worked. He carves the wood, and his wife does the drawings on it. Really remarkable stuff.

We had lunch (corned beef sandwiches), then walked through the shuk, which was predictably busy, with lots of great fruits and vegetables. By that time I was pretty tired and hot with schlepping around my overnight bag and my various purchases. We headed back to Iris's house, which is in Ramat Gan, on the border with B'nei B'rak. They have a very nice apartment, a duplex with an outdoor deck upstairs. I was sleeping in the upstairs room, which blessedly has an air conditioner. I took a two-hour nap in the cool room before dinner.

Iris and her husband Yossie's son Hanan and his wife came for dinner (there are three sons—Niv is the oldest, and Hanan and Alon are younger, twins). We had a very nice dinner, even though I started asking Hanan about politics, which he was a bit reluctant to talk about. I was a little persistent, though, because I really want to start getting a sense of how Israelis see the world. I know there are many many different perspectives among Israelis, so I'd like to get as many as I can while I'm here. Once Hanan realized I wasn't looking to argue about politics, rather just wanted to know what he thought (which seemed to be surprising to him), he didn't mind talking about it.

After a delicious sleep in the cool room for the night, Saturday morning Iris and Yossie took me to the Ayalon Institute in Rehovot. The Ayalon Institute is a museum now, but it used to be a kibbutz called Kibbutzim Hill. What made it different from other kibbutzim is that the hill had a secret, underground factory in it that operated from 1946-1948, making Sten gun bullets for use in the War of Independence. There was a secret entrance to the factory in the laundry building of the kibbutz, and 45 workers secretly went underground every day, all day, to make bullets.

What I found most interesting about the tour was the end, when the guide repeated a question he'd asked us to think about earlier: If Zionism is about equality, justice, and peace, how could these kibbutzniks justify making bullets for no purpose other than to kill people? He answered his question by saying first that education is extremely important, and thinking hard about the decisions that you make when they involve using violence. Then he also said that it's important to remember that the Ayalon Institute is one small thing that happened in the whole Zionist movement, just a little piece. He said Zionism is mainly about equality, justice and peace, and he thinks in Israel it's gotten turned around and militarism is too much glorified, and it needs to be turned back around so the military part is the small part, and equality, justice and peace are seen as much bigger and more important. (I'm paraphrasing—he didn't use those words exactly, but that was the point.) It was fascinating to have him suddenly make this overtly political statement at the end of a tour that was very just-the-facts,-folks. In talking to him afterward, Iris and I found out that he is a member of a kibbutz there, or very close to there, which is dedicated to education, and these kibbutzniks provide the tour guides for the Ayalon Institute. Fascinating.

Next we went to visit friends of Iris and Yossie's, Dinah and Shlomo (I think). Their families are Zionists from way back. Dinah told me about her great-grandmother, who was a prominent businesswoman in Poland/Russia in the late 1800s. She had 10 children and supported the family through her business, which was buying and selling lumber. Her husband was a yeshiva bocher (though he had earlier been involved in the Haskalah). In her business travels she saw the results of the pogroms that had begun happening at the time, and she went home and told her husband they had to leave and go to Israel. He said no way. Unable to convince him, she went to the Bet Din (rabbinic court) and said she wanted a divorce. Her husband and the Bet Din said she was nuts to want a divorce and to want to go to Israel. She said (this was all through a representative—as a woman she couldn't appear before the Bet Din herself) that being nuts is grounds for divorce, so she should get the divorce. She got the divorce, took the five kids who were unmarried, and moved to Israel. Her family has been there, in the same town, since then.

Dinah commented that young people today don't know what real Zionism is. I asked, "What is it?" She said that when the Shoah came, the five kids her great-grandmother took to Israel lived, and the five who stayed behind died, "and that's what Zionism is."

Later we were talking about my plans to be a rabbi. She commented on the amount of interfaith marriage in the U.S., saying it's a problem. I, unable to keep my mouth shut (shocking, I know), said I don't think intermarriage is really the problem in the American Jewish community. I think the problem is that we aren't raising our kids to love Judaism and be committed to it and see having a Jewish family as a priority—not because of Jewish continuity, but because it's just the way they want/need to live for themselves. If we were raising our kids that way, it wouldn't matter who they married; they'd still have Jewish homes and Jewish families. And I and my husband are a case in point.

Then I commented that my perspective to some extent reflects the attitude of the movement I identify with, the Reform Movement. She said, "Well, it's better to be Reform than nothing." You know I couldn't let that go. So I said, "As a Reform Jew, I think it's better to be Reform than to be Orthodox, too!" I was a little surprised when she said basically, "Well, sure, who wants to be Haredi?" (They were secular Jews, as are Iris and family.) Anyway, again, fascinating and very friendly people.

When we went back to the house we had some lunch and I had another long and lovely nap. Late in the afternoon, Iris's sister Toby came to visit, with her daughter Vered and Vered's two children, Elah (age 4) and Eitan (almost 3, I think). At the risk of being redundant, they were so nice, friendly, and easy to be with. The kids were tired and not very social, but I got a couple of great photos of them.

After dinner Iris took me to the train and I came back to Haifa. Today I felt well-rested and in a very positive mood about class and life in general, even though I'm missing Mike and the girls quite a lot. We got our midterms back today, and I scored a 93, which I'm pretty proud of. Each of us has to give a brief lecture to our class in Hebrew. Mine is on Thursday, so I started working on it today. I plan to speak about conversion to Judaism, since it's a topic I know quite a bit about and am very interested in. It should also stretch my Hebrew ability, which I hope will be a good thing.

Tonight we saw a movie: The Syrian Bride. I wish there had been a discussion after, because the movie had many layers and references, and I know I didn't understand all of them, just because I don't know enough about the way things work here. Also, it's a complicated movie—nearly every character has his or her own subplot. I did get that the whole end of the movie was an allegory for the peace process (or lack thereof). It was certainly an interesting film, though also kind of sad.

And now I'm up-to-date, and I've got to go to bed.

Midterm was today. I was about as hard as I expected. I couldn't remember a few vocabulary words, and I know I made a few mistakes, but I'm fairly certain I got an A or a B. The test started with a short passage we had to read (4-5 paragraphs) and answer questions about. I was very pleased that I could understand almost all the words in the passage pretty easily. The flash cards paid off.

This afternoon I took the bus down to the Horev Center, a mall and shopping area not far from the University. From there I walked to Or Hadash, which is the Reform synagogue where I went to services last Friday evening. It was a pretty long walk, uphill. I could have switched to another bus, but I wasn't sure where to get it, so I decided to walk. By the time I got there, I was literally dripping sweat. It was running down my face and neck, my shirt was all wet, etc. Very unpleasant. Also my face was that unattractive blotchy red color. Fortunately, the rabbi was busy and I had to wait. While I got a tour of the synagogue from the overseas coordinator, Jessica, I had a chance to recombobulate.

The synagogue has an impressive social action agenda. There are 20 different projects they have going. Today, in August, their slowest month, there was a summer camp for underprivileged kids and two preschool classes (1-2 yr-olds and 3-4 yr-olds). The rabbi said that usually there's a lot more going on. I also saw their bomb shelter, which is apparently the best one in northern Israel, and which saw the heaviest use during the Lebanon war in 2006, when Haifa was targeted by rockets from Hizbollah in southern Lebanon. Their sanctuary is a very flexible space because they have chairs that can be moved out of the way so they can have folk dancing (once/week) and b'nei mitzvah celebrations, etc. (They bring in tables or whatever.)

When I did get to meet with the rabbi, Edgar Nof, he was very nice. He invited me to come for a community Shabbat dinner they're having a week from tomorrow, and I said I would if we're back from our scheduled day trip to Jerusalem in time (it's another ulpan trip). We just chatted, nothing too profound. I'm glad I got to talk to him in person, though. It's good to have a connection to a rabbi in Israel, and if I ever bring a congregational trip to Israel, I'd like to try to plan on spending a Shabbat in Haifa with Or Hadash.

After meeting with the rabbi, I walked back to Horev Center, wandered around the mall for a while, bought some borekas for dinner at the bakery in the grocery store (they were yummy) as well as a triangular flat pastry with parsley or spinach, lemon, and some other spices inside. I got the latter at a stand in the mall that also had homemade-looking hummus, tabouli, and other stuff. I have no idea what the pastry I had is called. I asked the guy, but I didn't understand what he said. So I just bought it. I'm in that stage of buying food that looks interesting without really knowing what it is. Haven't found myself eating chicken feet yet, so that's good. And the pastry was delicious.

My Hebrew out in the world is still pretty worthless, unfortunately. A month is not going to change that, either. That's a little discouraging. Nevertheless, I'm already far beyond where I was less than two weeks ago, when I got here.

By the time I got back to campus, I was pretty wiped, and my left foot (which has been giving me trouble since mid-June) was hurting. I ate my borekas and triangular pastry, then went to this evening's lecture. It was a Bedouin man who was supposed to talk about what it's like to be a member of the Bedouin minority in Israel. Turns out this guy is an advisor to Foreign Minister Avigdor Lieberman (which was surprising to me, because I wouldn't have thought Lieberman would want a non-Jewish advisor) and until recently was the Israeli Consul in San Francisco. I've met Israeli consulate diplomats before, and he was like most of them: unwilling to say anything negative about Israel or anyplace else, for that matter. (I expect that's true of many diplomats, not just Israeli ones.)

It was disappointing because the lecture a few days ago, about Obama and Israel, was so interesting and seemed balanced, but when you don't know all that much about the situation (I don't know as much as I should) it's hard to know how balanced a lecture is. I would have been very interested to hear a lecture that addressed some of the same questions, but from the perspective of a Muslim Bedouin. Didn't happen. It was basically an ad for how great the diversity of Israel is and how great it is to be an Israeli Bedouin. I know enough to know that he has to have glossed over a number of social issues. It was too bad. In passing, he also tossed off a comment about how the United States has treated Native Americans that was utterly false ("...gave the tribes land to live on and encouraged them to keep their culture"). I don't blame him for not being well-versed in American history, though. He was nevertheless a dynamic person. He has a memoir coming out in late September or October called A Shepherd's Journey, which I think might be interesting. He hinted at some very interesting life stories, but almost every time he was about to tell one, he referred us to the upcoming book instead. It would have been nice if he'd've talked about his life if he wasn't going to talk about politics, but he wouldn't do that either. What did he talk about that whole time? Not much.

One thing he did tell us was that his grandmother, at age 94, spoke Yiddish. She'd learned it through her relationship with Zionist chalutzim (pioneers) who'd come to Israel in the 1930s. That was a very interesting detail. The one long personal story he told was about coming to New York right after high school (he's about my age) and not being able to find the one contact he had (the phone number wasn't good anymore). He came to NYC having never been anywhere but his village before. He was advised by a Hasid at the airport to go to 13th Ave. in Boro Park to find Israelis who could help him. In finding his way there, apparently he asked New Yorkers whether he was on the right platform for Brooklyn and did not get help. When he discovered he was on the wrong platform, rather than going up the stairs and around, he hopped down on the tracks and went across to the correct platform. He didn't know there was anything wrong with that, and he says no one said anything. I felt bad he had a negative experience of New Yorkers.

Tomorrow morning I leave for Tel Aviv to meet Iris, some kind of cousin of Mike's. When I talked to her on the phone, she said she thinks the last time she saw him, he was about 12 years old. I'll spend the night with her and her husband, and come back to Haifa Saturday night when the trains start running again.