With the new term beginning, things have again reverted to a predictable routine. It has been nice to get back into learning here, though it is going fast. Pressure is mounting for me to figure out what I am going to be doing the following year. At the same time, I am trying to make the most of my time here, while also realizing that the whole body of Jewish knowledge cannot be acquired in eleven months (or even a lifetime) and not to be overwhelmed in that regard.

During Chol HaMoed, I travelled with some of the guys from the Yeshiva to Beitar Illit - a Hareidi (”Ultra-Orthodox”, though that term is generally not preferred by the Orthodox community in my experience) settlement in the “West Bank”. Wikipedia claims (based on official Israeli statistics) that it is the fastest growing city in Israel with the highest birthrate - with a present population of 32,000 that is expected to more than triple by 2020. We went to Beitar to have lunch in the Sukkah of one of our rabbis. We took a bulletproof bus that had separate seating for men and women - an interesting experience in itself. Beitar reminded me of Har Nof in terms of aesthetics, though it felt newer. From Rabbi Lerner’s Sukkah, it was possible to see the neighborhing Arab town - quite close - with the small security fence that political leftists make a huge fuss about (the so-called “Apartheid Wall”). During Chol HaMoed, I also was able to reconnect with some friends that I hadn’t seen in some time and become more comfortable moving around Yerushalayim (and enjoy some of the gastronomic offerings). We saw a stunning light show of sorts at Migdal David (the Tower of David in the Old City) depicting the history of the city of Yerushalayim.

Simchat Torah was spent back at the Yeshiva. During the Hakafot (dancing with the Sifre Torah) on the morning of Shmini Atzeret, we joined the rest of the Beit HaKerem community, where we danced in Kikar Denia (Denmark Square) a few blocks away. It was quite nice to see that kind of communal unity and public celebration. However, I really enjoyed the second day, where only the smaller group of students who keep two days (i.e. North Americans who do not intend to stay long term in Israel) had our own prayer services and meals - a much more personal experience.

This past Shabbat, we travelled south to Dimona for a Shabbaton. Dimona is a town of roughly 40,000 people in Negev desert. It is a development town - meaning it was established in the 1950s to encourage migration from the overcrowded urban centers to other areas of Israel. Such towns are generally among the most economically disadvantaged in Israel, with high levels of unemployment. According to one of the community’s rabbis, Dimona has a mixed population (Ashkenazi, Sefardi, secular, religious) and efforts by the rabbinate and Judaic institutions in the city to increase the religiosity among its residents have been so successful that it has become a movement of sorts. The sociology major in me would like to explore whether there is a possible correlation between poverty and increased religious commitment/involvement in a given region. Dimona is also, so I am told, adjacent to the site of Israel’s nuclear program. Jokes concerning the potential radioactive content of the food we ate and other nuclear-related humor were plentiful during the weekend. Even the logo of the “guest house” (i.e. high-end youth hostel) we stayed in resembled a nuclear explosion - though this could have been merely coincidental.

On Sunday following the Shabbaton, we went hiking with a tour guide (and former student of Shapell’s/Darche Noam) in the Ein Ovdat canyon. The guide explained the geological, political, and theological features and significance of the canyon. Ein Ovdat functions as the southern border, according to one of two opinions, of what was the Biblical Land of Israel. In the afternoon, we travelled into Be’er Sheva - the most populous town in the Negev - and took a tour of an archeological site, Tel Sheva, that was once an urban center and important outpost at various points in and around Biblical times. 

I have posted a variety of photos below. Please be aware that some of the photos were taken by Benji Cheirif (noted in the comments below the photos). He’s an awesome photographer and his work can be viewed here.

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Last Friday, I joined my cousins who live in Israel and their parents from England for breakfast/brunch at the Inbal Hotel on Jabotinski Street. It was a very nice morning. It was interesting to see how the the Inbal had constructed a massive Sukkah in the courtyard of the hotel as well as around part of the outer perimeter. Later that day, I spent Shabbat with the Bermans.

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On Sunday, I spent the day wandering the streets of Jerusalem with my camera (a Nikon D80 dSLR with SB-600 speedlight and a 18-70mm Nikkor DX lens). I started off at the Shuk Arba Minim (the market for the Four Species for Sukkot) that was set up on Yaffa Street just west of Machane Yehudah (if I remember correctly). There were a significant number of vendors selling various Lulavim, Etrogim and the like. Each time I would make eye contact with a seller, he would begin trying to sell me his offerings. More times than not, the seller would talk to me in English, I suppose able to recognize me as a non-native.

I then ventured over to the Shuk, Machane Yehudah, with more of a goal of taking photos of the colourful scenes than making a purchase. I met an overly friendly vendor selling his art and other nicknacks.

I then made my way toward the Mea Shearim / Geula area, the streets were crowded with people buying and selling Arba Minim (Four Species), Sukkah decorations, and building materials for constructing Sukkahs. I picked up an inexpensive tape measure that, in addition to inches, has markings for the Biblical/Mishnaic measurement units that are used for, among other areas of Jewish law, constructing a valid Sukkah and ensuring a Lulav of adequate length.

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I’ve been thinking about an interesting phenomenon that I have observed here in Israel. With regard to homes and buildings, it seems that here in Israel there is less of a separation between what is outside and what is inside. Whereas in Vancouver, by and large in my observation, people do not extend their indoor mode of living so naturally to the outdoors - in terms of using the outdoor space on their property in the manner that one would use indoor space - by contrast, in Israel, it seems that outdoor space functions as more of an extension of indoor space, rather than something separate that demands its own mode of use entirely. I am told that this is evidently due to the dry weather conditions that exist for most of the year. I nonetheless find it quite interesting. During the holiday of Sukkot, where people dine and sleep in their Sukkahs, this relationship between outdoor and indoor living space becomes even more emphasized. 

Last night I attended a Simchat Beit HaShoeva - a celebration mirroring the celebration in the Beit HaMigdash (Temple) during Sukkot that would include the water libation ceremony, though contemporary celebrations do not include this ceremony - at Darche Noam / Shapell’s. It was a nice evening consisting of refreshments in the Sukkah with a D’var Torah, followed by rounds of dancing to live music. Sukkot is described in our liturgy as “Z’man Simchataynu” - the time of our rejoicing. While all the Jewish festivals consist of happiness, Sukkot stands as special in this regard, where happiness and rejoicing is effectively legislated as a explicit fundamental component of the Chag. Perhaps one way of looking at this is to understand Pesach as the time of redemption for the Jewish people, then Shavuot as the time we receive the Torah, followed by the introspective month of Elul that precedes Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, which in turn is the time of our collective judgement, where Sukkot is the joyous culmination of this yearly cycle.

Today I went down to the Old City and prayed Shacharit (the morning prayer service) at the Kotel (Western Wall). Today, as it was the second day of Chol HaMoed (the intermediate days of Sukkot) - or the first for those from outside of Israel (like myself) - there was a large scale Birkat HaKohanim (the Priestly Blessing that Kohanim recite) at the Kotel. The Old City and the Kotel Plaza in particular were packed with people. It took a significant amount of time to get down to the Kotel itself. When coming back up, I found myself squeezed into a narrow block of the Jewish Quarter, with a huge number of other people all pushing and yelling to get through. It was a rather uncomfortable experience to say the least. I had lunch with friends at Rimon in the new mall just outside the Jaffa Gate. It was really good food. We ate in the restaurant’s massive Sukkah. We then walked around the Old City for a while and observed the festivities.

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That’s it for now. Feel free to comment by clicking the comment link below. Please note that to protect against spam if you comment you will now need to enter the text in the box below the comment field (it is also part of a project to digitize old books that computer OCR software cannot read).

A few weeks ago, I spent Shabbat in Har Nof. Har Nof (lit. Scenic Mountain according to Wikipedia) is a religious neighborhood in the northwest corner of Jerusalem. It’s a hilly neighborhood (or rather, located on a hillside), devoid of much greenery but is surrounded by the Jerusalem Forest. I found it to be a rather interesting experience to be in such a neighborhood over Shabbat.

Around midnight on Friday night, as I stood on the balcony of the family I was staying with, I was astounded by the near utter silence. Only the sounds of crickets chirping, and every so often of people walking down the street below, and perhaps the faint mechanical whirling sound of the HVAC systems in a nearby low-rise apartment building could be heard. Likewise, the next afternoon, when most families were presumably enjoying a Shabbat afternoon nap, only the birds and the moderate wind could be heard. It was incredible just to stand there, enjoying the quiet, and it made me realize how much I have become accustomed to the ambient urban soundscape that is ever-present in most places that I find myself. 

Another interesting, and perhaps somewhat disconcerting experience, was the strong feeling of anonymity that could be felt in Har Nof. As a (albeit relatively recently) observant Jew, who at most times has been in a predominantly non-observant or non-Jewish environment, I am at most times acutely aware that my identity stands out in relation to those around me. So to be in an essentially completely observant neighborhood, yet one that exists without the intimate familiarity of the small Shabbat-observing community that I am accustomed to in Vancouver, was a profoundly fascinating feeling (for lack of a more precise term). An identity that I am so accustomed to as something that stands out (though perhaps my hatless head with its colorful knitted kippah still affords me such a status as different in Har Nof) became something standard and prevalent, and with this came a sense of anonymity.

Last Friday, I took the bus into the center of town, from where I walked into Mea Shearim (lit. One-Hundred Gates, though based on a verse in Bereshit - the highly observant community to the north of the Ben Yehudah / Yaffo area). I didn’t spend much time observing the neighborhood - though I did note that pedestrian traffic at the intersection of Strauss and Mea Shearim Street (Kikar Shabbat I believe it’s called, though let me know if I am in error) was sparse at ten o’clock in the morning on this particular Friday - though I don’t know why nor have I experienced other Friday mornings there for comparison. The purpose of my trip was to buy some Jewish books at one of the many Sefarim shops, and I thoroughly enjoyed browsing the extensive selection of books at Manny’s.

Afterwards, I walked back to Yaffo Street and over to the Shuk (”Machane Yehuda”). I also did not spend a significant amount of time here, but will hopefully return (with camera) in the next week or two. The Shuk is such a lively place (though crowded - especially it being Friday I imagine) and I hope to spend more time perusing the various stalls and such. As I walked westward along Yaffo Street, it began to rain - not incredibly heavily but significantly nonetheless. I had never experienced significant rain in Israel (as I have never been here but in the summer months). I remember once feeling a very slight rain in the summer in the North, but never had I experienced rain in Jerusalem. Coming from Vancouver where it rains constantly, the rain for me is strangely comforting and “real”.

I made my way to the Central Bus Station, where I spent a good hour or so trying to figure out which bus to take to my Shabbat destination - I simply could not understand the broken English (or fluent Hebrew) when I asked various people (including several employees) from where the requisite bus was departing and found myself circling the area for some time.

Tomorrow is Erev Rosh Hashana. I will be spending Rosh Hashana here in the Yeshiva. It should be a spiritually impactful experience (or so I am told).

I hope to use this space to post more photos in the near future. I have not had the opportunity as much as I would like as of yet to take a great deal of blog-worthy photos. I will also endeavor to post more frequently.

Ketivah V’Chatimah Tovah / may you be written and sealed for good.

It’s been almost two weeks thus far since I arrived here in Israel. After settling in at Darche Naom / Shapell’s in Beit HaKerem, I spent the first few days getting over jet lag in Givat Ze’ev, staying with the Bermans.

Some web and non-web research tells me that Givat Ze’ev (Lit. Hill of Ze’ev - after Ze’ev Jabotinsky) is a relatively large settlement northwest of Jerusalem. It acts as a suburb of Jerusalem, offering more affordable and larger housing, and is located on the other side of the 1949 Armistice line (the “green line“) and is thus within the so-called West Bank. It is a quiet residential place with temperatures similar to Jerusalem.

I enjoyed a nice quiet Shabbat in Givat Ze’ev with the Bermans, including an interesting Seudah Shlishit (third meal of Shabbat) experience at a potluck with local young observant families. I took part in a youthful and quite spirited Kabbalat Shabbat and Shacharit (morning prayer service) at the local branch of Bnei Akivah (a religious zionist/nationalist youth group). I will still have to get used to the prevalent use of Nusach Sefard (the variant arrangement of Ashkenazi prayers designed to offer a compromise or hybrid between traditional Ashkenazi and true Sefardi prayers).

After spending Shabbat in Givat Ze’ev, I returned to Beit HaKerem and began my studies. Research informs me that Beit HaKerem (lit. House of the Vineyard - a Biblical name) is a well-to-do neighborhood in the western part of Jerusalem. It was established in 1922 during the British Mandate. It features abundant greenery, and one person I talked with likened it to living within a forest. It is located to the north of Bayit VeGan and and to the southeast of Har Nof (the only other nearby neighborhoods that I am significantly familiar with, though there are several other distinct neighborhoods surrounding it) and I’m told it is about a one hour walk from the Old City (and, I’m told, a fifteen minute drive). Beit HaKerem is a largely secular neighborhood. Indeed, the Ha’aretz newspaper calls it “the last secular holdout in Jerusalem” in an article from February 2008 that paints a rather unflattering picture of observant Judaism amid present demographic trends in Jerusalem. The neighborhood is enjoying ongoing development, including a segment of the Jerusalem Light Rail, which is scheduled to begin operating in 2010.

Yeshivat Darche Noam / David Shapell College of Jewish Studies is housed in a medium-sized building located on Rechov Beit HaKerem off Hertzl Boulevard. It contains a large study hall (Beit Midrash) and a library, a dining hall and related facilities, numerous seminar-style classrooms, and dormitory facilities. The grounds are attractive, and include a courtyard of decent size with lush greenery. I was initially attracted to this institution because of its approach that values and respects the diversity of philosophies and traditions that exists within the spectrum of Halachic Judaism and its positioning as a post-university program which also values secular knowledge and work in the professional world. The name Darche Noam could be translated Ways of Harmony (or, as “Rabbi Artscroll” would tell me, Ways of Pleasantness). I am presently quite happy with my choice of institution, though the intensity of learning has been somewhat exhausting (I’m told I will become accustomed to it in short order) but nonetheless so far it has been quite enjoyable.

I have posted some photos below.

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