The Old City

Here I am, decompressing from an emotionally-charged and physically HOT day in the Old City, listening to my iPod to drown out the weird drilling sound coming from upstairs, glancing at Haaretz headlines to feel more aware of what's going on in the world, and feeling completely, totally confused.

Let's start in Turkey. An attack on the US Consulate in Istanbul. People dead. A message sent to the rest of the world. Obviously sad, obviously disturbing.

Then let's move to Iran. A claim that they can fire a rocket into Tel Aviv. A grainy, possibly doctored image of a rocket blasting into space with "Don't Mess with Ahmadinejad" written on the side. A threat to my current home, and the rest of the world, that Iran can kick your ass five ways til Tuesday.

Finally, back to Israel. Two people from Tel Aviv arrested for aiding Al Qaeda. Giving information to the "bad guys" about highly sensitive stuff. Like airport security and transportation codes and all that jazz.

So, how do I process all of this? How does it make me feel to read all this and visualize myself smack dab in the center of a map of the Middle East? How difficult is it going to be for me to actually step outside this little comfort zone I've created this week, possibly to travel outside the city or (gasp) into neighboring countries?

Why does it seem like with each passing year, and each highly-publicized act of violence, the world seems to get a little smaller? The feeling of safety and security you thought you had for five minutes morphs into a new feeling; fear, distrust, discomfort. It doesn't change the fact that you've got a job, or school, or something keeping you where you are and doing what you're doing. But it also makes it feel just slightly more intense, more difficult, more charged.

Today's activities have made me all the more pensive about this subject. We finally went to the Old City for the first time since our arrival. And I have to say, it felt very different from the last time I was there. The Arab and Christian Quarters we walked through felt totally devoid of happiness or emotion. Everyone shoved tchotckes in our face, but without their insatiable energy or tireless enthusiasm to make a sale. It was as if everyone had given up caring.

The man who served us our hummus in the Arab Quarter looked so unhappy and so lost; obviously not a new phenomenon in Israel, but nonetheless upsetting. The people of the Old City seemed, on a whole, just kind of dead. The city also looked much dirtier than it was the last time I was there, or perhaps I just didn't notice it. There was construction going on, too. Which I thought was forbidden! There was a giant crane in the Jewish quarter. A giant crane! It made the Old City seem far less enchanted, far less dazzling, and far less impressive as the headquarters of all the world's major religions.

And then we went to the Wall. The holiest site in the world for us Jews. I've been there several times before. From my recollection, each visit prompted an emotional reaction. I felt moved in one way or another. The Wall always made me feel like a Jew.

But today, I felt nothing. No connection. No tears. No prayers came to mind. I was more annoyed than anything else, and surprised, as I watched girls and women around me texting or talking on their cell phones; women in inappropriate clothing not getting spoken to by the guard. It was incredibly strange and slightly upsetting.

A group of us future female rabbis started talking about how offensive the wall is to us. The men's section is vastly larger than the women's. Men can wear whatever they want. Men have a large, air-conditioned room in which to pray and study. Women have a shockingly small section in which to pray, have to cover various parts of their body so as not to tempt the men across the mehitza, and have a tiny shanty shack which you can't even get to because it's surrounded by occupied chairs. The Western Wall is such an interesting phenomenon; the name itself representative of creating a division amongst people, cultures, and sexes.

So begins my rabbinical school experience. Religion and its affect on the pious and the secular. Judaism and its restrictions. Other cultures' rules and reactions and ridiculousness. I have to admit, I am actually excited to get down to the nitty-gritty of all this and dissect it to such an extreme. As painful and surprising as all this is, I am looking forward to coming out of this year with a deeper knowledge of all of this.

And even as I look at the rest of the world through the lens of the news, the distorted reality of the times we live in shaking me to my core, I cannot help but wonder what this year has in store for all of us--each country and religion and culture--as we face the inevitable changes that lie ahead.

For your viewing pleasure, here's a pic of us prior to our Wall visit. Notice the difference in our choices (or lack thereof) of dress.

xoxo,
J