Text and Photos by Rabbi Judith HaLevy

“There is no better way to feel the connection to Eretz Yisrael than to walk its length and breadth, cross its valleys, and hike its trails….Only when you walk the expanse of land, and see with your own eyes its ancient ruins and modern cities, only then can you feel the real connection to the land of Israel and feel yourself a son or daughter of this land.” –Ze’ev Vilnai, Israeli historian

We have walked, climbed, ridden on buses and camels, soared in cable cars and burrowed deep underground to experience the land of Israel, its history, its people and its promise for the future. As once participant said in our wrap up session, “”We are not only connected, we are cemented to the state of Israel after this trip.”

We experienced so much in these ten packed days. We began with Israel’s Declaration of statehood in the house where Ben Gurion spoke us into a sovereign reality, and we ended at the Syrian/Lebanese border, chatting with young soldiers while Hezbollah watched us face to face. In the interim, we ate amazing (and too many) meals, climbed endless staircases, crept through tunnels, relaxed in the Dead Sea, and drank a great deal of outstanding Israeli wine in picturesque settings. If anyone thinks that Israel cannot provide first-class accommodations, just ask someone about the lunch at the David Citadel Hotel in Jerusalem, or the breakfast at Kfar Blum.

We sat under Robinson’s Arch at the Western Wall and experienced true Shabbat peace. We sang with Cantor Marcelo for fours hours straight as the bus made its way from the Negev to the Galil. We danced our way across Lake Kinneret and shopped our way through Tzfat. We wept together in silence at Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust museum, and understood what it means to be a part of the Jewish people in this exciting, complex, and often difficult land.

We return home stronger than ever in our commitment to our Malibu Jewish community. We have cemented our relationships to each other, our Judaism, and to the unfolding saga of the Land of Israel. We have left in peace and returned in peace. We are grateful for all that we have been given.

Shalom,

Rabbi Judith

Friday, May 10/Rosh Chodesh Sivan

Jerusalem, The Kotel

For well over a decade, the Women of the Wall have gathered to read Torah and to pray at the Women’s section of the Western Wall on the morning of Rosh Chodesh, the beginning of the Hebrew month. They gather at 7 a.m., a time when few are at the Kotel. Women prayed and sang on the women’s side, reading Torah in a section made available to them, and the practice did not draw huge protest. Over the last years, however, the ultra-Orthodox of Jerusalem have made it clear that women are not to read Torah, wear a tallit, or even say Kaddish in a voice that others can hear in the vicinity of the Western Wall. Recently, the measures taken by the ultra-Orthodox have become more draconian. Anat Hoffman, leader of the women’s group, was dragged across the plaza in handcuffs and was roughed up by the municipal police while spending the night in jail. Last month, five women rabbis were arrested for “disturbing the peace and saying Kaddish aloud.” The case then came before the court, and the women won. The police were criticized for their excessive zeal, and a task force, led by Natan Sharansky, was appointed. This month, it was announced that the women had the right to pray, ALOUD at the Kotel. There were to be compromises, but the Women of the Wall were to be given full police protection. This morning was the first Rosh Chodesh celebration at the Western Wall since the verdict was announced. I was there.

Our fantastic Malibu Jewish Center & Synagogue trip ended yesterday evening at the airport around 10:30 p.m. (more about that later). I hopped in a cab with Julie, our guide, and headed straight for Jerusalem. I woke up at dawn and, alone, walked the quiet streets to the Wall. I expected to see a group of American and Israel women dancing and praying at the Wall in celebration. Instead, what greeted me at 6:45 a.m. was the sight of thousands of teenage Orthodox girls who had been bused in from local religious schools to pray in the crowded women’s section.  I did not see the Women at the Wall delegation, as they were arriving by bus from a meeting point, and I had walked. I made my way to the Wall but could not find them. It was only when I heard a loud shouting from the men’s section that I could see that the Women of the Wall were praying at the top in the open plaza area, surrounded by police. Their entrance to the woman’s section was completely blocked by the hordes of people, but they were holding a prayer service in the upper level. I wormed my way back and joined them.

We sang Hallel, the psalms of Thanksgiving said on Rosh Chodesh, the New Moon, and sang unmolested despite the young men with payos standing on the barrier wall making faces in front of us. There was even a bat mitzvah, and we held a tallit over the readers. In what was clearly a compromise, the bat mitzvah did not read from the Torah but from a book. Men from the Conservative and Reform movements joined in solidarity,and the entire service was led by women.

After Kaddish, said ALOUD, Anat Hoffman stood on a chair over the crowd and thanked the police for their protection. She asked us to link arms as we walked together to the bus, singing all the way.

Video: Women of the Wall, May 10, 2013

Somehow, I drew away to take these photos of the police, the military, the hecklers, and the Orthodox girls, and again missed the bus.

This left me alone by the Zion Gate, on the sidewalk with the Orthodox teenage boys who were hurling stones at the bus. One boy even lobbed a stone toward me! You aren’t Jewish, they shouted. Right in front of my eyes, a young man threw a rock, and a policeman grabbed his arm and wrested him to the ground. I kept walking up the steep hill, more than a little nervous.

A thin, well-dressed woman in black came out from the crowd to speak with me. “I am sorry,” she said. “I am an Orthodox, observant woman, but those boys are wrong. Please tell people that we do not all support them.” I promised that would.

I made my way back up the long, hot hill in the Jerusalem sunshine, aware that change has happened, but that we have a long, uphill journey ahead of us.

Photos by Karen Schoen

Today the group explored the northern borders of Israel with Syria and Lebanon. In the days leading up to June 5, 1967, Jordan, Syrian, and Egypt, supplied by Russia, threatened to push Israel into the sea. It took Israel six days to capture the Golan Heights, West Bank, and Sinai Peninsula–a great victory for Israel.

We walked on Mount Bental, now a nature preserve.  During the Six-Day War, this was used as a bunker. We witnessed the soldiers patrolling the border with Syria. It was an interesting contrast, seeing the red poppies and other flowers poking through the barbed wire fences.

We explored the nature preserve and saw the lush vegetation surrounding the rushing Dan River. This was a far cry from the dust we saw a few days ago in the Negev desert. We learned how the Dan is fed by the runoff from Mount Herman and then flows into the Jordan River, and ultimately to Lake Kinneret.

While walking around the nature preserve, we explored the home of the biblical tribe of Dan. The tribe of Dan was apportioned this part of Israel, from the Judean foothills to the coastal plane, after wandering in the desert for 40 years.

We also saw the recently excavated Canaanite Gate of the Three Arches from 1800 BCE, the time of Abraham. These are the oldest arches found. The belief is that this is where Abraham went to search for Lot after the latter was kidnapped (see Genesis 14).

Before leaving the kibbutz, we too fought back by using the Israelis greatest weapon: We planted a tree among the kibbutz’s citrus fields.

Our journey in Israel is quickly coming to a close, but we still had time for another fun singalong on the bus. Cantor Marcelo and our Keshet guides led us in Jewish songs, Broadway tunes, and other songs, and we all sang our hearts out.

Before describing some of our experiences, it may be worthwhile to comment on the extraordinary learning experience we are having. In addition to the knowledge that Rabbi Judith brings us daily, she has assembled a team of specialists who have added so much to our trip.

The team the rabbi insisted on were:

• Keshet–An unusual tour group based and run by educators.
• Julie Baretz–An outstanding teacher with a broad depth of the history of Israel. Her ability to transmit her knowledge to us is awesome and appreciated by all.
• Cheryl Meskin–A trip coordinator par excellence. Cheryl has moved mountains for our group. There is no Israeli who has not succumbed to her charming way of getting things for her brood, the MJC&S group.

Rabbi Judith has pitched in intellectually and is a constant presence in our learning experience. She is behind the scenes of everything and sometimes steps to the front of the line to put a punctuation mark on what she feels is important.

Cantor Marcello leads us in songfests and dancing as only he can do. Our caravan is certainly ready for an off-Broadway performance of both Hebrew and show tune melodies! He led the group in dancing up a storm at sea–a sunset cruise on the Sea of Galilee (also known as Lake Kinneret).

The morning of Tuesday, May 7, was heralded by roosters crowing and the a bright sunrise over Kibbutz Kfar Blum, located in a bucolic setting in Northern Israel near Tiberias.

We than boarded our bus with wonderful Shlomo, our expert driver, shepherding our group to Tzfat, a center of Kabbalistic thought that began 500 years ago and continues to elevate people’s spiritual understanding today.

This is a picture of Rabbi Judith amplifying a point made by Julie on a garden above Tzfat…

…and here is our wonderful Julie, whom we all learned to love and respect, in one of the synogogues in Tzfat.

This was followed by an amazing meeting and lecture/discussion with Kabbalistic artist Avraham Lowenthall. His youth was spent in Detroit in an Orthodox family, but in college he became fascinated with philosophy and mysticism. He thought of moving to India permanently, but then his scholarship in Kabbalistic writing drew him to Tzfat. Avraham’s artwork reveals aspects of his mysticism and his overall outlook on the meaning of an individual’s life in this somewhat turbulent world. His work was refreshing to all of us in terms of our own philosophies of life.Shopping and lunch followed in this unusual city, which almost has a feeling of a small French or Italian village on a hillside but is Israeli in every way. Art shops are everywhere, and the street side caves are plentiful and enjoyable. We then visited an ancient synogogue in Pekin that is 2000 years old. Pekin currently has only one Jewish family left among many Arab families, but the city still carries with it a pride of Jewish survival The young man in the photo was lecturing us on the history of Pekin and the importance of its symbolic survival. We also met with an awesome woman who is 80 years old and still represents the last Jewish family in Pekin. She walked with a dignity and strength that reminded many of us of our grandmothers.

Then it was time for us to return to our pastoral kibbutz hotel, driven by our fabulous driver, Shlomo.

All the days have been packed with history–and camaraderie. With the planning by Rabbi Judith and the team from Keshet, we feel blessed for our experience, both as individuals and also a group from the Malibu Jewish Center & Synagogue.

Shalom.

Wishing you were here,

Seth and Lynne

In keeping with the Jewish tradition of beginning each day at sunset of the day before, we prepared for Monday with a blessing over several different Cabernet Sauvignons, set out for us in a very sophisticated tasting in a beautiful natural crater outside Mitzpe Ramon on Sunday evening.

Photo by Dennis Seider

In the morning, we loaded the bus for a ride through the desert to Masada, one of seven fortresses built in the Judean hills by Herod. To understand why Herod built seven fortresses, let us tell you a few things about him. Rome conquered Israel (called Judea) in 63 BCE (Before the Common Era, equivalent to BC). As was their typical pattern, the Romans installed a king who they felt would be acceptable to the locals. Herod, who had a Jewish paternal grandfather and called himself Jewish, seemed like the right guy for the job. He ruled from 37 BCE to 4 BCE. He was an incredible builder (e.g., remodeled the Second Temple, built palaces and fortresses), but was rather paranoid (e.g., killed his beloved wife and three sons because he didn’t trust them). Herod was afraid of Cleopatra in Egypt or of the Jewish people rising against him, so he built fortresses. Masada was also Herod’s winter palace, built into the side of the hill, with royal appointments that would do Trump proud.

Photo by Dennis Seider

There were, for example, 12 cisterns that collected the very infrequent flash flood water and could supply a population of 1000 for four years as well as the king’s steam room (caldarium), lukewarm room (tepidarium), and cold dipping pool (frigidarium, of course).

Fast forward to 68 CE (Common Era, aka AD). The Jews are in rebellion against Rome, and it’s looking bad. A group of Zealots, who were very hard-line Jews taken to assassinating less fervent Jews who were not sufficiently against Rome, escaped as Jerusalem fell and, with their families, made their way to Masada. There were 960 in all. The Romans found them and spent months building a ramp to breach the walls. According to a Jewish historian of the time, Josephus Flavius, when they finally entered Masada, they found all the inhabitants dead except for 2 women and 5 children who said that each man had killed his family. Then they killed each other according to lots they drew.

Photo by Dennis Seider

For those of you who read Alice Hoffman’s The Dovekeepers, this is where the doves were kept.

You all know how stressful travel can be. Our visit to the Dead Sea and the spa was no exception.  As with much of the tour, we have been faced with some very difficult decisions. This stop included:

Photo by Karen Gray

• Mud or no mud?
• Aromatherapy or deep tissue?
• Another huge buffet lunch before or after?

Really, the stress is getting to us!

But first a few notes about the Dead Sea if you haven’t been:

1. The Dead Sea isn’t actually a sea at all! It is a saltwater lake. Hence the name–there is no marine life in the Dead Sea. The high mineral and salt content of the waters makes it impossible for fish or plants to live.
2. You can lay on the surface of the water without even trying to float. The high salt content makes you buoyant.
3. The Dead Sea is filled with minerals such as calcium, bromine, potassium, sodium, and chlorine.  It is supposed to be helpful for a variety of ailments, including rheumatism, psoriasis and more.
4. It is the lowest elevation on earth, 1388 feet below sea level.
5. The division between Israel and Jordan runs right down the middle of the lake.  We could see the Jordanian mountains while floating.

And as an aside, when we visited, we were perhaps the only guests who weren’t speaking Russian! Irina the masseuse did know how to ask if everything was “ok,” and yes, indeed, it was!

Photo by Leah Ellenberg

Yes, in the Dead Sea, you float. Sinking is impossible. Here’s Dennis Seider.

Photo by Karen Gray

After our “stressful” afternoon, we piled back into our bus with wonderful Shlomo, our driver, and off we went for what sounded like a long and boring drive north. But noooo, nothing is boring with this group, even for a drive of three or four hours.  Why? Because Cantor Marcelo pulled out his guitar and “Kumbaya” began with the MJC&S “campers.” For more than three hours, the group sang (with harmony!) everything from show tunes to pop to our occasional Jewish favorites. We drove along the Dead Sea and into the West Bank. After stopping at the security point back into sovereign Israel (while serenading our machine-toting welcome committee with “Hevenu Shalom Alechem”), we continued the songfest up and into the Galilee, with a stunning sunset, Tiberias, and the Golan Heights on our right. The news from Syria heightened our feelings about the area. Just at dark, we arrived at Kfar Blum, our “Beverly Hills” kibbutz home for the next three nights.  Really, we each have a beautiful suite, and after yet another huge buffet (perhaps the only one we’ve seen with burritos and no hummus!), we piled our slightly larger bodies into bed.

Photo by Karen Gray

Our spirits are high, our voices are weak after all that singing, and we end each day so very grateful for this grand adventure with our fabulous rabbi and cantor. It has been a privilege as well as a very personal journey for each of us…the trip of a lifetime!

Who Can Count Millions?

Friday morning in Jerusalem began with another amazing breakfast at the David Citadel Hotel.  It is important to remember that we are tasting Jerusalem in so many ways, and the meals here are something to behold on a daily basis.

Our trusty driver, Shlomo, transported us to Yad Vashem (“A Place and a Name”; see: Isaiah 56: 5  “Within my walls, a place and a name”) on the Western slope of Mount Herzl. I have heard about this museum for many years, and I am sure most of you have as well. Next to the Western Wall, it is Israel’s most visited site.  The current main exhibit area replaced a 30-year-old one, redesigned in recent years by Israeli-Canadian architect Moshe Safdie. The resulting changes to this premier campus dedicated to Shoah remembrance and research are extraordinary.

Julie, our well-informed guide, paved the approach to Yad Vashem with words of depth, understanding, and compassion. The Holocaust, she explained, runs beneath the surface of all that is Israel today. What happened to the Jewish people, other innocents, and Righteous ones should never happen again. Israel’s very existence reflects a commitment to secure that our collective human future is guided toward peace.

Photo by Dennis Seider

One of the rooms in Yad Vashem is an ascending dome holding images that defy gravity.

They are of those whose lives were changed forever by the Shoah, and we see our own reflections with theirs, as the cylinder drops into an unending dark pool. What would we have done to protect our brothers and sisters? What can we do now?

Entry to the exhibits was preceded by a walk on a rickety bridge. The sound was chilling. The ground beneath us was notably unstable, and there were parts of the building that followed this theme as a corner was hanging off a cliff. The main building reflects a stake being driven into the heart of the earth-oour collective human heart. You begin feeling its effects early on.

How can we share our collective tears with you?

Yad Vashem captures you in every corner with personal and historical information: those who were shot into a pit but survived among the dead; the artist who chose not to leave his paintings and was one of the first to be murdered; the arts and theater that gave life and hope to those in the ghetto; the brave escapes; the massive casualties; the genocidal plan of action; the materials used; the cries for mercy…too many stories to comprehend.
All this information is arranged around a traffic pattern that is best prescribed as a zigzag. You can feel, at once, disoriented by the painful reality of what happened while appreciating how the designers organized a time of great chaos and catastrophe using a variety of media. Following our individual and collective journeys through the museum was light from above.

Photo by Dennis Seider

Our visit to Yad Vashem began to wind down in the Hall of Remembrance, where we gathered for Kaddish. This dark, cavelike environment hosted a single flame surrounded by 6 million tiles, symbolizing those lost, connected forever in death, connected to us in life. As we approached the Children’s Memorial to the estimated 1.5 million children who were murdered during the Shoah, Rabbi Judith called for silence until we transitioned to the bus. Here was another personal story, about a couple who lost their first child to the gas chambers and wanted to make a memorial to him. This memorial grew to include the thousands of other children whose lives were cut short at the hands of the Nazi’s and those who helped them. There, five everlasting lights became millions of lights that looked like stars surrounding us in a sacred space that replicated infinity.

In stark contrast to Yad Vashem was a visit to the Jerusalem marketplace, which was bustling with life-spontaneous, wild, loud, intense-as the community readied itself for the Sabbath. Many of us tasted Shabbat in new ways, with foods that are not readily available to us back home, like incredible halvah, shwarma, falafel, and spices. There were more challot than I have ever seen in my entire life. The laws of Kashrut were in play there, as each vendor had a particular kosher certification. Moving in and out of places of business required some attention and care. Many of us were enthralled with the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of this marketplace and expressed the desire to return.

Adina and Aaron’s Amazing Story

Photo by Dennis Seider

Onward we went to the famous West Bank that is so much in the news.  We moved through a checkpoint and on each side of us was Palestinian life.  Along the sides of the road were remembrances of Biblical life: camels, a shepherd with goats and other livestock. The road was smooth and seemed new.  It led us to a settlement area in what is known as Area E-1. When you hear about land swaps, this is one of those places that may be part of that process.  In what appeared to be a clean, middle class town, surrounded by desert hills, was the apartment home of Adina and Aaron.  They were our special hosts through Keshet who would teach us about different Jewish customs and the special kind of faith that sustains courage. Aaron and Adina left Ethiopia for Eretz Yisrael so they could live the dream of settling in the land of their ancestors. They were among thousands of Ethiopian Jews who were air lifted to Israel a little more than 20 years.

Photo by Jay Scott

Their story has Biblical overtones. Avram followed the directive of Adonai Eloheinu to a land that was promised to him and his descendants: “Lech lecha….” Aaron and Adina followed a similar call, willing to risk everything, without even knowing all the potential risks, to make aliyah. The Ethiopian Jews are believed to be either the descendants of the union between the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon, early Christians who converted to Judaism, the lost tribe of Dan, or Egyptian Jews who settled in Ethiopia after the destruction of the First Temple in 586 B.C.E. Their lived experience of Judaism in Ethiopia was not Rabbinic, that is, the Judaism that we know; rather, it was commandment/mitzvot driven, straight from the Torah. For Aaron and Adina, having the opportunity to come to this legendary place was so powerful they felt they had no choice but to go “home.”

After a treacherous and uncertain journey over many months, the family arrived in Israel. Adina noted two things. First, she couldn’t believe there were white Jews! Second, because of traumatic events that had occured the prior year, she feared something bad would happen to her loved ones and herself. Ultimately, their story has a happy ending. Both Adina and Aaron found gainful employment in Israel. They had more children and raised their family according to traditional Jewish values. When Adina’s mother died about a year ago of natural causes, she was gathered to her ancestors on the Mount of Olives.

Rushing through the crushing crowds of the Arab Quarter, we made it to the Kotel with just enough time to snap pictures before Shabbat. The air was warm, and gentle breezes accompanied the birds that flew around us. The sky was clear and filled with sounds of Shabbat joy. These mingled with the Muslim call to prayer a couple of times.

Photo by Mindie Jo Snyder

Following some of the many cats that live in this sacred space, we navigated around to the Southwestern part of the Western Wall, which is a new excavation site. Here, in the most holy place of our ancestors, we called in the Bride of Shabbat with a Kabbalat Shabbat service. Just as Rabbi Judith and Cantor Marcelo called us to prayer, the bells of a nearby church rang out. We said prayers of healing for our loved ones, honored those who have died, and expressed thanks for being able to share the miracle of being here together. As the swallows flew in and out of the Wall, in the way they have been doing for centuries, the sun set upon the ancient stones before us, and we heard the siren that heralded the Sabbath. The Shabbat of a lifetime had begun.

We left our private area, where we were able to have an egalitarian service, and went around to the Kotel that is most commonly pictured. There was a large square filled with Jews of all kinds and ages with an indescribable array of activity and so many sounds.  People crowded into the men’s and women’s sides of the Wall to pray, to touch it, to leave notes there, to cry, to give thanks. No facing east toward Jerusalem this Shabbat. We were there.

Dear MJC&S Family,

Dear MJC&S Family,

Theodor Herzl, the visionary who turned the Zionist dream into a reality, wrote a book called Altneuland, or Old/New Land. Beyond time, old and new all at once, Israel was to be a utopia of the future and a rebirthing of the past. In these last 48 hours, I feel that we have done all of that and more. Between jet lag, time changes and a leap over millennia, I don’t know whether to bemoan the behavior of King David or praise the new freeway system that rings Tel Aviv. All I know is that this trip is fabulous beyond expectations, and we are only three days into our story.

Photo by Lisa Semler

After a sobering visit to Rabin Square early this morning, we departed for Jerusalem. Here, there is old and REALLY old. The highway from Tel Aviv is

Photo by Dennis Seider

We sat on the Southern steps of the Old City and learned about the Temple’s rebuilding and destruction. We could see the money changers, the sacrifices, the press of pilgrims on holiday.

The group sang through the dark tunnels, and supported one another in the hard places. Everyone seems tired but happy. We have learned so much from Julie, out guide, on just these few days. Dayenu…even just this would have been enough–but we are only at the beginning.

Photo by Dennis Seider

Lailah Tov,

Rabbi Judith