As with all life event's, there's a beginning and an end. Today we said goodbye to one of the kids in my unit for at least a short while, how long, we're not exactly sure, but he plans on coming back.
Today we found out that the father of one of the boys in my unit passed away Friday morning. A heart attack.
So while many of use are staying in our rooms feeling icky cause we're coming down with the common cold, he's flying home to only be met with the worst possible thing, the loss of a parent. The idea of coming home to an incomplete family, or one in which someone I love very much wasn't there, would make me question my faith in G-d or even my veiw on life and religion, or what life has in store for me.
At Friday night services, peoples eyes where filled with tears of sorrow, our songs are not so joyful nor uplifting. All over the campus is a quiet and solemn air, those who knew this young man well grieve in pain for his loss, and those who don't know him so well try to comfort them. Our talks and daily discussion become carefully spoken. We're all treading on thin ice, not wanting to say something offensive nor say something to sensitive. For this Shabbat we walk on our eggshells, treading on silent feet and praying for him to come back soon and for our community of learning to be whole once again.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Shabbat #2
I'm kissing the wall, my eyes are closed, in my head I hear voices. No I'm not crazy, these voices are talking to me. They're singing, they're singing the shabbat prayers. I find a crack in the great and mighty wall putting my lips up to it, and singing into it those familar sabbath prayers that have so many memories attached to them. I hear Joram singing loudly, not really aware of how loud he is, but knowing his prayers are reaching G-d loud and clear. I hear Kaleb, singing clearly where he knows it, and watching peoples mouths carfully where he doesn't. I hear Isabelle and Jenna next to me, the three of us singing and trying to not laugh as Jacob, Kaleb, Joram, Anastasia, Phil, or Jonah does something only they can get away with. I hear Marci singing next to me, and singing loudly when Jenna, Isabelle, or I does something we shouldn't and giving us that hard stare with the look of "really?" on her face. I hear Mom, singing next to me, making sure we're all doing what we're supposed to be doing and not misbehaving since it's one of the few things we do best, but also making sure, we're having fun, but not to much fun, only a nice healthy dose of it. I hear Dad, harmonizing along, being himself, and smiling at the community we have, and the family of ours that we love so much. I see everyone around the shabbat table, Mr. and Mrs. Fink, Uncle Phil, Aunt Alicia, Marci, Mom and Dad, all of us kids (There's really to many to name.) I sing to the wall, and pray hard for so many things. I pray for dad to get a better job, or at least one that he likes. I pray for all of these wars to end. I pray for people to use better judgement, and have a more open heart. I pray for the day when being a Jew isn't something you must worry about hiding, but something to be proud of. I pray for my family to join me here in Israel, this land that's so magical, it's my neverland, my heaven, my place where I am at home, my niche in this biome around me. I press my hand to the now warm surface of the wall, and feel that it's wet as well, I was crying and I did not know. I realize how much I miss my family, biological or unbiological, it does not matter to me. I say one last prayer, not one written in a book, nor pounded into my head, but one I felt needed to be said.
"Please G-d, let this world hear the music of life, and let it move them to a higher place."
Shabbat Shalom
"Please G-d, let this world hear the music of life, and let it move them to a higher place."
Shabbat Shalom
Friday, January 30, 2009
Shabbat #1
My fingers run over the smooth surfaces, finding the places in between that are rough or hard to find. My hands guide me along the wall like brail on a page I begin to see the mysteries before me unfold, like a story in a book, the triumphs and the failures begin to unfold. I come to a spot where my body drags me against the warm rock. I press my face gently to it, taking in everything, the smell of history around me, the sounds of prayer and being there for the first time.
Next to me the woman is crying, for what reason I don't know. I keep praying. "Barauch atah Adonai..." I begin, filling in with the rest of the prayer I've come to know by heart. My hand brushes the hand of the woman next to me and I rest it there. I hold her hand her tears fall against my hand. This stranger that I don't know, I help and comfort her, her head on my shoulder and me praying. My prayers I know have reached Hashem. Praying for more than just myself, the tears begin to flow down my own cheeks. I wipe them off, bid my crying friend goodbye, and turn to return to the rest of the group.
The wind flows over my face, and I breathe it in, shabbat is in the air. Back at the kibbutz, we come in to begin tefillah. The Rabbi asks quietly if anyone know a this one niggun, I do. I begin humming along with him. People look up as if to question what's going on, some look at me with strange looks on their faces, other's give me a pitiful look. I keep singing, and soon, everyone has joined in. My soul begins to reach Hashem as I let my soul unwind from all of the weeks troubles and self concious worries, or any other such tiresome care. I place my heart in my hands, and raise it to G-d, I pray a full shabbat evening service, even though we're only doing a reform service. I sing the tunes that the Beth-El'ers use. I harmonize where no one else but my family does.
I smell Mom's challah all of sudden, and my eyes are filled with tears, as I remember what I'm missing. The challah here pales in comparison, the foods okay, but nothing I'd really eat to satisfy my cravings, just to keep me healthy.
I so much miss home, but I'm in love with this country that it's hard to find a specific balance between the two. And as I sit here in my room all by myself, in the quiet solitude of my own company, I'm able to hear it as just one more helpful voice telling me where my heart is. It's not with the boys, they're to over-rated for now. It's not with the girls here, for as amazing as some of them, I just haven't been intruiged nor wanted them. It's in the history of Judaism and where my ancestors and my family's ancestors came from. It's in the language that is spoken so beautifully here. It's in the place where my parents are and where my dreams meet them at night. It's why I wake up at night crying softly sometimes. It's why I'm not wanting to tell people things anymore. The silent geeky kid, the one who know's everything. That's me to everyone else who can't see deeper into me. It's why I know more about themselves than they do, I've grown up, I don't shed my tears over them, I shed my tears for those who couldn't come, for my parents who aren't coming. I shed tears for being able to be here, to expierence this and yet not wanting it because no one is here to share it with me. I shed my tears for the emotions I have but can't explain, for the hug I need but can't receive, for the people I love so much but can't see right when I need them. I shed tears for reason's only I feel important.
Tonight I shed my tears because I cannot be with you on this shabbat, for the portion that I don't get to discuss, for the things I miss now seem more important. Life is good, it really is, but it's not home either. Things get better day by day, we become closer, I talk a little more, I breathe a little easier, I speak a little more freely. I use less duct-tape on my mouth to hold myself back. I love this place but I hate not having you here. I need you but I need to rely on myself, and this is hard, but I can do it... Hineni... Here I am.........
Shabbat Shalom,
Heather
Next to me the woman is crying, for what reason I don't know. I keep praying. "Barauch atah Adonai..." I begin, filling in with the rest of the prayer I've come to know by heart. My hand brushes the hand of the woman next to me and I rest it there. I hold her hand her tears fall against my hand. This stranger that I don't know, I help and comfort her, her head on my shoulder and me praying. My prayers I know have reached Hashem. Praying for more than just myself, the tears begin to flow down my own cheeks. I wipe them off, bid my crying friend goodbye, and turn to return to the rest of the group.
The wind flows over my face, and I breathe it in, shabbat is in the air. Back at the kibbutz, we come in to begin tefillah. The Rabbi asks quietly if anyone know a this one niggun, I do. I begin humming along with him. People look up as if to question what's going on, some look at me with strange looks on their faces, other's give me a pitiful look. I keep singing, and soon, everyone has joined in. My soul begins to reach Hashem as I let my soul unwind from all of the weeks troubles and self concious worries, or any other such tiresome care. I place my heart in my hands, and raise it to G-d, I pray a full shabbat evening service, even though we're only doing a reform service. I sing the tunes that the Beth-El'ers use. I harmonize where no one else but my family does.
I smell Mom's challah all of sudden, and my eyes are filled with tears, as I remember what I'm missing. The challah here pales in comparison, the foods okay, but nothing I'd really eat to satisfy my cravings, just to keep me healthy.
I so much miss home, but I'm in love with this country that it's hard to find a specific balance between the two. And as I sit here in my room all by myself, in the quiet solitude of my own company, I'm able to hear it as just one more helpful voice telling me where my heart is. It's not with the boys, they're to over-rated for now. It's not with the girls here, for as amazing as some of them, I just haven't been intruiged nor wanted them. It's in the history of Judaism and where my ancestors and my family's ancestors came from. It's in the language that is spoken so beautifully here. It's in the place where my parents are and where my dreams meet them at night. It's why I wake up at night crying softly sometimes. It's why I'm not wanting to tell people things anymore. The silent geeky kid, the one who know's everything. That's me to everyone else who can't see deeper into me. It's why I know more about themselves than they do, I've grown up, I don't shed my tears over them, I shed my tears for those who couldn't come, for my parents who aren't coming. I shed tears for being able to be here, to expierence this and yet not wanting it because no one is here to share it with me. I shed my tears for the emotions I have but can't explain, for the hug I need but can't receive, for the people I love so much but can't see right when I need them. I shed tears for reason's only I feel important.
Tonight I shed my tears because I cannot be with you on this shabbat, for the portion that I don't get to discuss, for the things I miss now seem more important. Life is good, it really is, but it's not home either. Things get better day by day, we become closer, I talk a little more, I breathe a little easier, I speak a little more freely. I use less duct-tape on my mouth to hold myself back. I love this place but I hate not having you here. I need you but I need to rely on myself, and this is hard, but I can do it... Hineni... Here I am.........
Shabbat Shalom,
Heather
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Day three
As I sit in the near quiet confines of my now nearly evacuated room, I'm able to get into the mindset to be able to finally write. Between the emotional conflict that is constantly running inside of me as I try to figure out how I indeed do feel about this country and how I feel about the people here I am able to enjoy certain moments as they come and go.
Besides unintentionally labeling myself as a nerd in Judaic History class, I'm able to enjoy everything that I'm learning. So far we've begun by learning some basic gamatria, it's really cool actually, all those letters having numeric value, and the rules along with it. Going to the archeological dig was pretty cool as well, despite my fears of being crushed to death and no one ever hearing me or saving me only to be found by some archeologist many years later and being discarded as unimportant. I was able to find what I believe to be a femur of an animal. My theory is that the room we where searching in was used as a food storage room or a slaughter house. I was identified as a great classmate (I knew the answers to all the questions the teacher asked as well as many other others. In hebrew class I've found that so far it's reletively easy, I'm in level 5, there are 6 levels. With a whopping 6 other classmates, 7 counting myself, I have a strange feeling that I won't actually be in this class for to long, we're starting in the middle of our book anyway. I once again proved my a nerd using vocabulary that most kids didn't understand. Unfortunately I don't know the past tense very well, and so I can't move up a level yet. Algebra went really well, there are 9 kids in my class, and as far as I can tell from the syllabus we're covering a lot of stuff that I already know. That's good though, my teacher (Jen Gold), is really cool, she teaches things in a way I pick up really fast....in song! I now have a song to remember things like the quadratic equation. I haven't had chemistry yet I go to that very soon though and I'm actually really excited for that.
Between missing everyone at home, peeing 5 rivers a day, and helping everyone else feel good about themselves and being used as a therapist while I actually IM, facebook chat or e-mail other people, things are okay. Homework is really light for right now....I say that very cautiously though. Tomorrow we go to the kotel for Shabbat, we're still spending it on the kibbutz, and unlike our trip to the archeological dig where I found out that after you drink 2 and a half liter's of water, if you feel like you have to go you HAVE to go, I now know that I will be using the bathroom every time I get the chance.
Anyway, last night as I complained I found peace with the cool wind blowing all around me, the stars shining above me, and the spirit of Israel all around me whispering "it's going to be okay" in my ear, G-d wrapping his/her arms around me like a protective blanket or a shield there to help me through the tough times.
Well I will have more to tell you later and in about an hour or two I will be on again. I've got Chemistry class soon and then I'm done for the day. I can do my homework in peace and quiet and talk to you as well without anyone else there to bother me! I love you all and will talk to you all later.
Leheetraot!
Besides unintentionally labeling myself as a nerd in Judaic History class, I'm able to enjoy everything that I'm learning. So far we've begun by learning some basic gamatria, it's really cool actually, all those letters having numeric value, and the rules along with it. Going to the archeological dig was pretty cool as well, despite my fears of being crushed to death and no one ever hearing me or saving me only to be found by some archeologist many years later and being discarded as unimportant. I was able to find what I believe to be a femur of an animal. My theory is that the room we where searching in was used as a food storage room or a slaughter house. I was identified as a great classmate (I knew the answers to all the questions the teacher asked as well as many other others. In hebrew class I've found that so far it's reletively easy, I'm in level 5, there are 6 levels. With a whopping 6 other classmates, 7 counting myself, I have a strange feeling that I won't actually be in this class for to long, we're starting in the middle of our book anyway. I once again proved my a nerd using vocabulary that most kids didn't understand. Unfortunately I don't know the past tense very well, and so I can't move up a level yet. Algebra went really well, there are 9 kids in my class, and as far as I can tell from the syllabus we're covering a lot of stuff that I already know. That's good though, my teacher (Jen Gold), is really cool, she teaches things in a way I pick up really fast....in song! I now have a song to remember things like the quadratic equation. I haven't had chemistry yet I go to that very soon though and I'm actually really excited for that.
Between missing everyone at home, peeing 5 rivers a day, and helping everyone else feel good about themselves and being used as a therapist while I actually IM, facebook chat or e-mail other people, things are okay. Homework is really light for right now....I say that very cautiously though. Tomorrow we go to the kotel for Shabbat, we're still spending it on the kibbutz, and unlike our trip to the archeological dig where I found out that after you drink 2 and a half liter's of water, if you feel like you have to go you HAVE to go, I now know that I will be using the bathroom every time I get the chance.
Anyway, last night as I complained I found peace with the cool wind blowing all around me, the stars shining above me, and the spirit of Israel all around me whispering "it's going to be okay" in my ear, G-d wrapping his/her arms around me like a protective blanket or a shield there to help me through the tough times.
Well I will have more to tell you later and in about an hour or two I will be on again. I've got Chemistry class soon and then I'm done for the day. I can do my homework in peace and quiet and talk to you as well without anyone else there to bother me! I love you all and will talk to you all later.
Leheetraot!
Day Two
So at the moment, my emotions are getting the better part of me. I'm holding it all together, or at least trying to. I have about an hour until I need to go meet my general studies teachers. I also have to go get a bunch of stuff changed because it says I'm in all three of the classes that I pulled out of, I'm not sure though, but I'm getting it taken care of.
We prayed weekday morning shachrit today, and it was the best thing of my life. There were so many moments of the day that just made me feel like I was where I needed to be at the right time. Starting out we began singing a niggun that no one knew what so ever, but within a few moments the room was filled with over half of us struggling to learn it and singing along with the guitar.
I'm gradually making more friends...kind of. I'm not doing so well at it, I'm not quiet, just a lot of people already know each other and aren't exactly working on making other friends either.
I got put in the highest intermediate class, I'm the closest to being put into the advanced class. I'm really proud of myself the teacher told me that I spoke really well, and that she can tell I understand at the level of an advanced student I just don't have enough vocabulary to get there.
It's so beautiful out here. I woke up this morning at about 4:30am, and just looked outside, my room has a view of Jerusalem, and I watched the sunrise and said a shehechianu. I sneezed 3 times, Katie told me to make a wish, and all I could wish for was that you guys were here. I can tell that I'm starting to become homesick. It feels like camp, but at the same time I can tell this wasn't what I thought it would be. It's so much more, and I haven't even gotten to the half of it just yet. I've not taken any pictures yet, I'm going to do that tonight I think, but I've been in a lot of pictures.
I'm the only Heather in the group, the official count in 119 kids. All of my counselors are amazing. We're taking a field trip tomorrow to the archaeological dig tomorrow I think, but I could be wrong.
I'm attempting to not cry right now. I don't know why I'm going to cry, but I know that emotionally I'm so overwhelmed.
I found out that the kibbutz produces safety glass, which is good cause I run into a lot of things, so at least I know I won't break anything.
I've been doing a ton of walking and my tushy is killing me! I'm going to have buns of steal when I get home.... fun! Anyway, not much of the great life changing blogs yet. I'll probably write one tonight or tomorrow or sometime this week. So that's my update for right now as of my break today!
I love and miss you all way more than I would ever normally admit to.
Don't worry daddy, the guys still see me as a wall flower and as someone who's funny and apparently the only person who can sow and mend clothes.... I've already made about 5 repairs to jeans, sweaters, shirts...etc. okay time to go calm down and see if any of you are on-line and talk to you if you are!
We prayed weekday morning shachrit today, and it was the best thing of my life. There were so many moments of the day that just made me feel like I was where I needed to be at the right time. Starting out we began singing a niggun that no one knew what so ever, but within a few moments the room was filled with over half of us struggling to learn it and singing along with the guitar.
I'm gradually making more friends...kind of. I'm not doing so well at it, I'm not quiet, just a lot of people already know each other and aren't exactly working on making other friends either.
I got put in the highest intermediate class, I'm the closest to being put into the advanced class. I'm really proud of myself the teacher told me that I spoke really well, and that she can tell I understand at the level of an advanced student I just don't have enough vocabulary to get there.
It's so beautiful out here. I woke up this morning at about 4:30am, and just looked outside, my room has a view of Jerusalem, and I watched the sunrise and said a shehechianu. I sneezed 3 times, Katie told me to make a wish, and all I could wish for was that you guys were here. I can tell that I'm starting to become homesick. It feels like camp, but at the same time I can tell this wasn't what I thought it would be. It's so much more, and I haven't even gotten to the half of it just yet. I've not taken any pictures yet, I'm going to do that tonight I think, but I've been in a lot of pictures.
I'm the only Heather in the group, the official count in 119 kids. All of my counselors are amazing. We're taking a field trip tomorrow to the archaeological dig tomorrow I think, but I could be wrong.
I'm attempting to not cry right now. I don't know why I'm going to cry, but I know that emotionally I'm so overwhelmed.
I found out that the kibbutz produces safety glass, which is good cause I run into a lot of things, so at least I know I won't break anything.
I've been doing a ton of walking and my tushy is killing me! I'm going to have buns of steal when I get home.... fun! Anyway, not much of the great life changing blogs yet. I'll probably write one tonight or tomorrow or sometime this week. So that's my update for right now as of my break today!
I love and miss you all way more than I would ever normally admit to.
Don't worry daddy, the guys still see me as a wall flower and as someone who's funny and apparently the only person who can sow and mend clothes.... I've already made about 5 repairs to jeans, sweaters, shirts...etc. okay time to go calm down and see if any of you are on-line and talk to you if you are!
Saturday, January 17, 2009
D'var Torah: Shemot
I could give you the whole synopsis of this weeks' parsha, but I’m pretty sure that Disney already did that with the movie The Prince of Egypt. Dad keeps telling me there was another movie before that one too. So instead I’m going to think a little abstractly and relate this to me, after all it does seem to be what teens do best.
I was looking at this week's portion and the part that caught my eye is at the part where Moses’s mother puts him in a basket and places him in the Nile. Such blind faith seems unrealistic in today’s time. That a mother could believe that her child will make it without a mother’s protection is quite an extreme, especially for a baby. As Richard Friedman points out, she's betting that the same river where all the other Jewish babies are being drowned is somehow going to save hers. I initially thought that baby Moses was perfectly quiet during his journey – that Prince of Egypt thing again – but then I read the portion and found out he was weeping. But a midrash in the JPS Tanakh says he sounded like a toddler and not a baby, obviously Moses was not a normal child!
At this moment, I can relate on a very personal level to Moses situation – to be put into a small confined space, and rather loudly wonder where on earth you’re going and when you’re going to get there. You see, in 8 short days I will leave my home for Israel, my other home. As part of the Eisendrath International Exchange I will be spending the rest of this semester there. I will be getting into my own basket, placed there by my loving parents, and going down my own Nile. It is a river in which, right now, many mothers are losing their babies, but in which my parents (and I) feel I will discover my life. Who will open my basket I don’t know, but by my blind faith I will go on my own.
Another interesting midrash explores why pharaoh’s daughter reaches out for the basket. They say that she heard a cry for help and reached out towards it to help. A while back some archaeologists found some biblical scenes depicting pharaoh’s daughter reaching out with abnormally long arms to receive the basket. The rabbi’s go on to say that it means that one shouldn’t stop at any lengths to help another. The sages also say that the daughter of pharaoh was stricken with leprosy, so she went down to the River to bathe herself. As soon as she touched the basket, she was healed and because of this she took pity on Moses and loved him even more.
--------
Shemot means names, our names are one of the most important things in our life. They give us an identity. If I called anyone of you, “hey you!” instead of Mom, or Mrs. Shiloh, or Mr. Gabonea, it wouldn’t be the same. The meaning would be lost. Pharaoh's daughter explains that the name it is related to “mashah” or “draw out” since he was drawn out of the water. But Mashah also meant son of. The Egyptians used it to name their children and put one of their gods names in front of it – Ramaseh, Batmaseh and so on. Whether intentionally or not, Pharaoh's daughter named the baby “son of the nameless G-d” or Hashem. What is even more interesting is that for the first 3 months of Moses’s life, he has no name. Not in Torah or in Haftorah, we are not told of what he’s called before Pharaoh’s daughter names him. To begin in the world on such a journey but without anything to be called by seems quite difficult, especially for 3 months. But it’s hard to think of the name Moshe as not being someone of greatness, power, and leadership. For Moses’s gave it all that and more. Becoming Shemot – growing into a name - is more than just being given a name, but giving it meaning, life, an image, a personality. There is a poem that was passed along to me, dealing explicitly with this week’s portion and the ideas of Becoming (Shemot) by Rachel Barenblat;
BECOMING (SHEMOT)
But Moshe said to God
Who am I to go to Pharaoh?
And God said
I will be with you
I am becoming who I am becoming
it is time for you to do the same
everyone else walked right by
but you saw the miracle burning
Pick up your staff now
and make yourself ready
The journey ahead is long
and generations will comb their stories
to learn how you tied your shoes
and how to lead the people
with compassion and with vision
as you are about to do.
For me at this moment, I can relate to Moses the shepherd, being afraid of becoming. Most people have trouble with this concept. For me it’s more than just becoming myself, but living up to everything that I know I can do. I believe that we all had this problem at one point or another. For me it almost feels unrealistic, because I don’t like traveling into the unknown, and becoming all that I’m supposed to be, means taking a chance at blind faith and praying that it will all come out okay. It’s what we all seem to do everyday.
If this week's portion has anything to teach me about next week's journey, it's that it often begins with a parental push. It may have a destination that is foreign but friendly. It can define who I am and transform me so much that people may not remember I was ever anything else. And that Hashem isn't afraid to change, or of my changes so I shouldn't be either.
Shabbat Shalom
I was looking at this week's portion and the part that caught my eye is at the part where Moses’s mother puts him in a basket and places him in the Nile. Such blind faith seems unrealistic in today’s time. That a mother could believe that her child will make it without a mother’s protection is quite an extreme, especially for a baby. As Richard Friedman points out, she's betting that the same river where all the other Jewish babies are being drowned is somehow going to save hers. I initially thought that baby Moses was perfectly quiet during his journey – that Prince of Egypt thing again – but then I read the portion and found out he was weeping. But a midrash in the JPS Tanakh says he sounded like a toddler and not a baby, obviously Moses was not a normal child!
At this moment, I can relate on a very personal level to Moses situation – to be put into a small confined space, and rather loudly wonder where on earth you’re going and when you’re going to get there. You see, in 8 short days I will leave my home for Israel, my other home. As part of the Eisendrath International Exchange I will be spending the rest of this semester there. I will be getting into my own basket, placed there by my loving parents, and going down my own Nile. It is a river in which, right now, many mothers are losing their babies, but in which my parents (and I) feel I will discover my life. Who will open my basket I don’t know, but by my blind faith I will go on my own.
Another interesting midrash explores why pharaoh’s daughter reaches out for the basket. They say that she heard a cry for help and reached out towards it to help. A while back some archaeologists found some biblical scenes depicting pharaoh’s daughter reaching out with abnormally long arms to receive the basket. The rabbi’s go on to say that it means that one shouldn’t stop at any lengths to help another. The sages also say that the daughter of pharaoh was stricken with leprosy, so she went down to the River to bathe herself. As soon as she touched the basket, she was healed and because of this she took pity on Moses and loved him even more.
--------
Shemot means names, our names are one of the most important things in our life. They give us an identity. If I called anyone of you, “hey you!” instead of Mom, or Mrs. Shiloh, or Mr. Gabonea, it wouldn’t be the same. The meaning would be lost. Pharaoh's daughter explains that the name it is related to “mashah” or “draw out” since he was drawn out of the water. But Mashah also meant son of. The Egyptians used it to name their children and put one of their gods names in front of it – Ramaseh, Batmaseh and so on. Whether intentionally or not, Pharaoh's daughter named the baby “son of the nameless G-d” or Hashem. What is even more interesting is that for the first 3 months of Moses’s life, he has no name. Not in Torah or in Haftorah, we are not told of what he’s called before Pharaoh’s daughter names him. To begin in the world on such a journey but without anything to be called by seems quite difficult, especially for 3 months. But it’s hard to think of the name Moshe as not being someone of greatness, power, and leadership. For Moses’s gave it all that and more. Becoming Shemot – growing into a name - is more than just being given a name, but giving it meaning, life, an image, a personality. There is a poem that was passed along to me, dealing explicitly with this week’s portion and the ideas of Becoming (Shemot) by Rachel Barenblat;
BECOMING (SHEMOT)
But Moshe said to God
Who am I to go to Pharaoh?
And God said
I will be with you
I am becoming who I am becoming
it is time for you to do the same
everyone else walked right by
but you saw the miracle burning
Pick up your staff now
and make yourself ready
The journey ahead is long
and generations will comb their stories
to learn how you tied your shoes
and how to lead the people
with compassion and with vision
as you are about to do.
For me at this moment, I can relate to Moses the shepherd, being afraid of becoming. Most people have trouble with this concept. For me it’s more than just becoming myself, but living up to everything that I know I can do. I believe that we all had this problem at one point or another. For me it almost feels unrealistic, because I don’t like traveling into the unknown, and becoming all that I’m supposed to be, means taking a chance at blind faith and praying that it will all come out okay. It’s what we all seem to do everyday.
If this week's portion has anything to teach me about next week's journey, it's that it often begins with a parental push. It may have a destination that is foreign but friendly. It can define who I am and transform me so much that people may not remember I was ever anything else. And that Hashem isn't afraid to change, or of my changes so I shouldn't be either.
Shabbat Shalom
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Israel
"Hashke'vein-u adoni eloheinu le'shalom...", a song of healing, repair, wholeness, security, that's what it's asking for at least. Looking out at the 80 teenagers and a possible 15 madricheem, my heart questions how much healing the world needs. I sing strong, loud, sweet, with assurance and guidance. My heart bursts with pride," if only you could see me now Mom and Dad..." I think to myself. I'm guiding 80 people in prayer, doing what I've longed and wanted to do since I was 10, I'm being a Cantor. As I sing I can see peoples eyes fill up with tears, behind me Jerusalem spills in through the windows. I close my eyes and all of sudden I'm floating again in the Sach'nee with 37 of my closest friends around me, I'm running around Beit She'an complaining and cursing the entire way to the finish line of the race, I'm jumping and singing with arab kids in a hospital, I'm singing at an ederly home, I'm at the Kotel praying for the first time, my body prest hard against it's smooth stones, palms flat and caressing it lovingly, my lips touching the rock gently whispering my prayers into it's ears. I open my eyes and tears fall from them. The song ends, I blink back tears, someone reads something in english, I turn the page and begin to sing the next song. I realize all of a sudden , Becky, Molly J., and me are all holding each other's hands, tears in our eyes. It is each of our first times in Israel but definitely not the last. At the end of the service we hug each other, all around us, 80 teenagers keep up the Ruach, for another hour and a half, I am Heather, I am a Cantor, I am an Ambassador for Unity..... I am part of Israel.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Best Friend
Have you ever lost your best friend? Or at least felt like you lost them for a certain amount of time? Have you ever had that feeling of having a whole in your heart that can't be filled because it's just that unique but you have to have it filled or else you'll die? Well I have that feeling, before school even ended my best friend was taken from me, before I could even complain once to her about how horrible life is during the summer or get a first inside joke, she was taken from me without any warning that this is what it would feel like. Okay so it may not be that she was torn away from me, she went of her own free will, and weather she knows that she is indeed my one true best friend or not she is and life is horribly dull without her! Who is my best friend you ask? well first off, she's known me for all 13 years of her life, and I've known her just as well, she knows everything about me and I know everything about her. She is my sister, and she's been taken from me by her love of camp for one month and now without her I'm lost. I'm lost because without her, I'm not the same person. There is a part of me that is gone and it's a large part of me too, we did a lot together. I miss being able to talk to her at night, even if she did bug me sometimes, or hear who she liked or didn't like of the guys that I liked. She is everything that I am not, and without her I don't know where my head is, things aren't as funny without her. Punishments aren't half as enjoyable without her, the house is to quiet and to much about the little boys running around without her. I feel upset when I don't get a letter from her. I miss being able see her in the morning and comfort her during whatever it was that she had that was hurting her. I even miss her calling me stupid or weird. She is the one person who if I lose, I would die of a broken heart because without her life simply isn't as great of an adventure or as good of a story to live. I want her back now, I want her here in my arms because I need her. I feel like I'm whithering away without her, and I don't know if I can last 2 more weeks without her. I'm trying but I need her now.......
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Handicapped
When it seems that you are an outsider looking in on something else how do you become the insider? When your vision is distorted or unclear how do you clear the fog from your eyes so you can see? When all your life you've lived with a handicap, even if it may be a small one, how do you overcome it? What if your handicap makes it difficult for you to learn certain things or you are missing many concepts in that area, how do you make it better? What if you've been trying to get over it since the 3rd grade. All my life I've had handicaps in math, none of it clicks, simple things like adding and subtracting are difficult for me to do, multiplying is hard too. The ADD doesn't help either, it's just another hurdle for me to jump over. The world of math has never made sense to me, I don't think is ever will, and to me that is not okay. I don't want to just barley pass by or know the material enough to just scrape up an A on a test. I want to understand it, and to pass without a worry or break into a sweat every time I'm asked to try a problem out in front of the class. I want to walk into an SAT and not dread the math section because I'm not sure what I will and won't understand and will I be able to answer more than 20 questions on it. I want to be competent in more than just geometry, I want to be good at algebra too. I've never liked my handicap, I've excepted it, but I've never become fond of it or ever shown it off. I've hidden it, hoping that if I get far enough ahead of the class I'll be able to appear just like everyone else, you know, normal. But when the school decides to asses you on your math thinking, it all comes out, every little trick, movement, and procedure that you've created to help get through the fog and get to the answer. In that assessment I felt naked, they had exposed me in a way that was uncomfortable and embarrassing, I felt powerless and out of control. I wanted it to end as fast as it could. I don't want that to happen anymore, I want out of this straight jacket, I need my wings to fly.....
Monday, September 3, 2007
Love
Love. What is it and how can you describe it in a way that I might finally be able to know what love really is. When I or another teenager says "I'm in love!" we might actually know what it is we are really talking about, and I don't mean the dictionary definition or the answer you give to us when we're little. It seems to me that the word love is undefinable, everyone having their own definition of the word, yes some may be similar but in the end there is a slight change to it here and there. If I told you that love is when you are with another person and you feel so overjoyed just to be with them, that their presence made you feel safe and warm inside, that you are willing to make changes or sacrifices for them, and that their touch and/or kiss makes you feel electrified, would you agree with me 100%? Most likely you would say no, or you would agree with me to some extent. I don't know what love is, I want to know, and I don't mean sex or puppy love. I want to know what love is more than just the dictionary definition. I think I'm in love, but I'm not sure, he's the one that I can see myself marrieing. I think I'm in love...I think I'm in love... I think I'm in love...I'm in love...
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