History and Religion and Politics... oh my!

On Tuesday we HUCsters reached the end of our summer Ulpan. After six long weeks, it was quite thrilling to say "l'hitraot" to my teacher. I actually quite enjoyed the experience of Ulpan, and found it a great way to begin our year in Israel. There wasn't a tremendous amount of pressure, the assignments were easy, and it was fun to get acquainted with my peers in such a low-stress environment. But I realized halfway through that my teacher's funny antics and lack of structure were hindering us from learning. I definitely didn't improve my Hebrew as much as I could have, and blame the summer heat for my lack of personal motivation. Thus, when Tuesday rolled around I was plenty glad to bid farewell.

Our ten-day vacation began with a tiyul up north, to Megiddo and Carmel, for our "History of the Bible" seminar. Before I lambast the class, let me say, I think the seminar has enormous potential. There is so much to be learned, and I believe we all have the desire to learn it. But the class is taught poorly, we march around on these tiyulim in sweltering heat and none of us can focus, the professors don't connect us with the material as I believe they can, and its status as a "pilot program" convinces me they haven't thought it through very well. It's disappointing, because there exists such wonderful opportunity for doing more than get tan and take cute pictures:

Adam and me make like our ancestors at the Carmel Caves

Lisa B (rabbi-to-be), me, and Leslie (future cantor) in the cave

The nice thing about our tiyullim is, they end with a trip to the beach. It's always so necessary to plunge into those warm waters of the Mediterranean. It has gotten so incredibly hot here in Israel (even hotter than July, when we first arrived) and when you're walking around all day, sweating like crazy and feeling like crap, it really is a wonderful treat to jump into the sea.

So, here I am, looking ahead to five days in Istanbul (we can't wait!) and a chance to breathe and mentally prepare for my fall semester. I am truly looking forward to starting my hardcore classes, like History and Liturgy and Rabbinics. I really feel more and more each day like this is what I was meant to do, and where I was meant to be. Even while disappointed with my summer classes, I still feel confident, excited, and optomistic about the future.

Speaking of optimism, I spent most of the morning watching YouTube videos of the DNC speeches. Today I caught Michelle, Hillary, and Barack. Hillary's speech moved me to tears, and Barack's sent shivers down my spine. It's hard to explain the immense feeling of patriotism I felt while listening to their words and perceiving each of their fervent desires to bring forth tremendous change. Being so far from my homeland, in a country that does not, and probably will never, feel like home, added to the impact of their words.

I miss America. I miss my home. I miss my family and California and the people who make up the wonderful life I lead. I feel honored and privileged to call America my home, especially while here in Israel. It's not that I have anything personal against this country; I certainly don't. But it's streets and trees and valleys are not mine; they are Israel's. The government belongs to its people; Israelis who live and work and raise their children here. Its soldiers fight for the future and perpetuation of the Jewish state, and to them I will always hold immense respect. But this is not my country, and this is not my home.

I believe so strongly in the words spoken by those at the Convention, not because I am a Democrat, and not because of my feelings regarding our current US government. I believe in these words because they encourage every human being to believe in their potential. I wholly support the inspirational message that every man, woman, and child can achieve great things if they set their mind to it. I cannot think of a more positive message to send to America, and to the rest of the world: believe in yourselves, and anything is possible.

Perhaps it was no coincidence that, just a few hours before watching these videos, Adam and I were working out at the gym alongside Benjamin Netanyahu, the former Prime Minister of Israel. (And future PM too, according to our trainer Ido) It was completely exciting, and he's looking good for 58. I couldn't help but stare at him and wonder, what has this man been through? What secrets is he privy to? How much of an impact did he have on Israel, and on world politics? To see him running on a treadmill in workout clothes reminded me that he is, just like all politicians and celebrities, just a human being like the rest of us.

Adam's return to the states is coming up soon, and I am not the only one dreading it. My classmates have fallen in love with him, and many of them have mentioned how sad they will be when he leaves. Having him here has been a truly beautiful experience. Seeing Israel through his eyes, perceiving my future here with him by my side, has been flat-out amazing. I will miss him greatly, but know he is off to begin a wonderful journey at UCLA.

Us at the Jerusalem Time Elevator, which you can read all about here.

The end of the summer always poses its own questions about the passing of time, people growing older, and good things coming to an end. The Yamim Nora'im, (High Holidays) are around the corner. Another season is ready to begin. Students will return to classes, families will come back from vacation, and people will begin their next cycles together. May it be a wonderful cycle for each of you, a year filled with promise, excitement, new adventures, and tremendous positive change for our countries and our worlds.

With love,
Jaclyn

Birthright... Birthrate...Boozeright... or Beautiful?

Last night I had my first major encounter with Birthright Israel. Birthright, for those who don't know, is a totally free 10-day trip to Israel whose purpose is to connect, or reconnect, young North American Jews with their Jewish identity. Its other, less obvious purpose is to get young Jewish men and young Jewish women to hook up, fall in love, get married, and have Jewish babies.

The program began in 2000, just after my parents shelled out a considerable amount of money for their sixteen-year-old daughter to spend a month in Israel with NFTY. Years later, I paid the price for this seemingly positive purchase. My status as someone who had already been on an organized trip to Israel deemed me 100% forbidden from participating in Birthright as a young adult. In the eyes of Bronfman and Steinhardt, I had already been convinced of Israel's magic, and thus, some other American twentysomething deserved to go instead.

Every day on my walk home, I pass the Prima Kings Hotel at the corner of King George and Ramban. Each day it seems there is a new Birthright bus unloading kids and luggage. A new, completely enchanted group of twentysomethings stands there, hanging all over each other, looking a bit dazed and hungover. They look up and snap pictures of their hotel and of each other in groups of three; big smiles on their faces as they connect with other Jews. It happens nearly every day, thus convincing me that Birthright has permeated the city of Jerusalem.

Last night, my friend Meredith asked Adam and me to join her in singing and playing guitar for the Birthright group her boyfriend was in. She even threw in a delicious homemade dinner prepared by her and our friend Ari. We willingly obliged, and headed over to the Montefiore Hotel around 9:30pm. We arrived to find tables of twentysomething Americans talking, laughing, and having a great Shabbos. Only upon closer inspection did I realize that everyone was drinking, and there were bottles of booze and wine everywhere.

We moved the group outside for the song session, and the booze followed. As the music began, I looked around to see some people having trouble standing up. People were kind of leaning on each other, acting progressively sillier, and singing louder and louder. While I'm sure they were having a grand ole time, I was kind of uncomfortable and somewhat grateful when my mother called midway through "Closer to Fine" to talk about her trip to Israel in October.

Now, I'm no Prohibitionist. I like to think wine is the perfect way to wash down a meal. And just the night before a group of us had a fabulous time celebrating Ari's birthday with tapas, sangria, and alcohol-fueled karaoke singing. Yet, something about this gathering of people reminded me of college. It sounded exactly like Adam's experience on his Birthright trip, and it even reminded me of when those six Canadian boys got "caught" drinking on my NFTY trip and nearly passed out from dehydration the next day at Masada. (Dudes, seriously, what were you thinking?)

I couldn't help but wonder... (in true CB style) are these people having an "amazing" experience on Birthright because they're partying the whole time? Or are they really, legitimately seeing and hearing and breathing Israel and connecting to something whole, something Jewish, and something real?

And then, something rather odd happened. A young man named Andrew came over to introduce himself to me. I immediately liked him, for I am drawn to anyone with the same name as my brother. (Or my mom, or dad, or even Chewbacca our dog... though that's less common) He started asking me questions about where I was from, and what I was doing here.
Upon explaining my purpose for being in Israel, his eyes lit up. He proceeded to confess to me that this was a wholly transformative experience for him. Andrew grew up with a Jewish mother and Christian father, they gave him the option to choose and he never really did. He had always been ambivalent about religion but curious about Judaism. He agreed to go on Birthright when his Jewish friends convinced him it was worthwhile.

Andrew informed me that, here in Israel, he had never felt so Jewish, he had never felt so connected. He could not believe how it had happened, and only after a few days. He felt that Israel welcomed him with open arms, and that this was indeed his Homeland. He wanted to return to Miami and seek out a Jewish community for himself. Best of all, he was interested in becoming a Bar Mitzvah at the age of twenty-six.

I told him that, as a future rabbi, this was music to my ears. His motivation to seek out a Jewish identity separate from his parents or his background was, inevitably, a truly wonderful result of Birthright. Booze or no booze, this young man will come away from his time in Israel with exactly the kind of philosophy Birthright wants him to have. A committment to Eretz Yisrael, and a desire to create a Jewish community for himself back home.

I can't help but hope Steinhardt and Bronfman are reading this post and grinning ear-to-ear.

Adam and I returned home soon after Andrew's confession. I thought about the whole thing on my walk home, and wondered if maybe I've been to critical of Birthright to begin with. Perhaps these people crave their Jewish community, and alcohol helps accelerate that process in the short 10 days they have here. Who am I to say that booze should not be responsible for helping people solidify their Jewish identity? And how can I possibly be so judgemental about a group of strangers with such a short time together on an organized trip abroad?

Last night I realized I need to cut Birthright a little slack. The program, for all its mishegas, can be a tremendously positive experience for people. The way in which other Jews connect with Judaism is really none of my business; each person is entitled to their own conduit through which to renew their interest in being a Jew. I think one's experience should be shaped by a truthful, realistic portrait of the country they are visiting, and not just the view from the Birthright bus window. Yet I also know my own travels abroad have painted me a certain picture of the places I have visited. I have not always been privy to the frustration and squalor that exists in every country around the world. This is the hard truth of travel.

The moral of the story? Everyone is entitled to their opinion, their experience, their feelings. I believe every Jew should come to Israel and live and breathe this country. How people get here is entirely up to them. What people do here is entirely up to them. It is my hope as a future rabbi that people connect (or don't connect) with Israel based on legitimacy and truth. It is my hope that people see as much of Israel as they can, for this country has a tremendous lot to offer the world. Finally, I hope that people do seek out all kinds of connections here. The word "connection" seems to encompass so much of what I seek, and what I hope to pursue throughout the rest of my life. Therefore, I hope others use that theme of connection and apply it to their own perception and comprehension of Judaism.

To close, I will say congratulations and Mazal Tov to Barack Obama and Joe Biden, the world's newest It Couple. May they have a long and happy life together!

-Jaclyn

Go North, Young Zoog

This past weekend, Adam and I took a romantic tiyul (trip) to the northern coast of Israel. Our sojourn began on Thursday afternoon in Netanya, where we returned to the Sugar family's beautiful home for one night. The next day we toured the ancient ruins of Caesaria with Tal and his mother, then spent Friday evening and all of Saturday in Haifa semi-on our own.

I absolutely love spending time with the Sugars. They are good hearted people who feed us delicious foodstuffs. They want to know who we are and attempt to connect with us on different levels. I feel incredibly fortunate to benefit from their hospitality. It warms my heart to see Tal and Adam together. Not only do they slightly resemble each other, (they are blood related, after all) but they get along like brothers. Their bond is so strong, in fact, it provided Adam with his all-time best jumping picture ever among the Roman ruins of Caesaria:

Team Awesome.

Caesaria is a very interesting place. To modern Israel it is essentially a coastal resort town, replete with golf courses and luxury hotels. It looks very lush and green from the car window. Yet the "city" of Caesaria is actually a national park filled with ancient Roman ruins from thousands of years back. You can literally walk anywhere and do anything amongst these ruins, then have a delicious and pricy lunch at one of the uppity restaurants in the park. The town itself is right on the ocean. It's really quite exquisite.

Love on the Rocks. Aint no big surprise.

We walked amongst the ruins for a good two hours. Unfortunately, our pamphlet-guide didn't provide us with enough information to ascertain what we were specifically looking at at any given time. So, we played and laughed and made up stories. We enjoyed. It was lovely.

I say, that a-way.

By noon the heat and humidity were so intense, we could barely function. We sat down for a lovely lunch, recharged, and promptly headed toward the train station to transport ourselves up to Haifa. While Caesaria was beautiful and definitely contained some great things to see, we felt we'd seen it all after only a couple of hours. Future tourists, take note.

We arrived in Haifa around 3 in the afternoon, only to discover the town was shut down. It was more like a ghost town than Jerusalem on a Saturday. There was literally not one shop open, and not one soul walking the streets. There were only cars whizzing past us, and even they were few and far between.

Haifa itself is very impressive from afar. As we pulled into the station we remarked on how much it resembles San Francisco, which of course made me nostalgic and slightly emotional. (More on that later) The vast bulk of the city is built into a huge hill, (Mt. Carmel) with white buildings dotting the greenery and huge hotels at the very top. It really is a sight to be seen.

Yet as we walked the .02 miles to our hotel, we realized that the port area (which is most likely the first thing tourists see, as it is at the base of the hill) was completely derelict. It was disgusting, actually. Buildings were falling apart, graffiti and garbage were everywhere. It was totally unsettling. Luckily, our hotel (which was in this area) was a gem. We had a great room, great service, great breakfast, and it was cheap. But from the beginning, we both felt that Haifa was a bit of a weird city. And the next day, that sentiment was reinforced tenfold.

Saturday morning. Haifa central. Breakfast in our stomachs, coffee in our bloodstreams. We met up with Adam's Israeli-British friend Amy, whom he met on Birthright and who lives in Nazareth. (Like Jesus!) The three of us set off to do as Haifians do. Only one problem. There were no Haifians to speak of. Again, it felt like a ghost town.

Luckily, the Haifa Museum's Contemporart Art wing was open. So, we wandered through the museum's bizarre and totally awesome Israeli Art from the 80's exhibit. It was really interesting and totally wacko, but we enjoyed it. Following that was lunch in the Arab Quarter. I still have no idea what we ate, but it was really delicious. And finally, we hiked and huffed and puffed up to the Science Museum, which was like a poor man's Exploratorium for children. It was there that we found every single Haifian in the entire city. Literally, the place was bursting with people.

At long last, 3pm came around. This was the time of our designated tour of the Baha'i Gardens, the crown jewel of Haifa's tourism. The Baha'i Gardens are essentially a series of perfectly manicured terraces built into the entire length of the slope of Mt. Carmel. Those who practice the Baha'i faith come there on pilgrimmage, as it is the 2nd most important site in the world for them. The gardens are actually quite gorgeous, and the enormity of their presence can be seen from just about anywhere in the city.

From the top mid-afternoon

From the bottom mid-evening


And stuck in the middle with Amy

Our tour was free, but we had to make an appointment. Apparently there can only be so many people in the gardens at any given time. Our tour was entirely in Hebrew, and at a certain point I gave up trying to translate due to sheer exhaustion and overheating. We started at the tip top of the gardens and walked down the ridiculous amount of symmetrical stairs. So basically, we started at the top of the mountain and worked our way down to the very bottom. By the end, or legs were shaking, our hearts were racing, and we were all in desperate need of some ice cream.

Post-snack, we met up with an old friend of mine from Davis, Shirley. She was born in Israel, raised in Davis, attended UCD, graduated in June, and is currently living in Haifa and working at the Technion. She picked us up in a fantastically air-conditioned car and drove us all around the parts of Haifa beyond the ridge of Mt. Carmel. We saw SO much! So many things were open! So many people were out and about! And there was so much beyond the hill... it really blew my mind. Thank goodness for Shirley and her lovely, lovely car.

We made our way to the pristine beaches of Haifa just as the sun was setting, and the four of us enjoyed a lovely dinner on the sea. It wa so wonderful to see Shirley, and to bond with Amy. That dinner was a delightful end to our interesting, sweat-filled day.

Me, Amy, Shirley, and that gorgeous sea.

By nightfall, Adam and I were on an express bus to Jerusalem. He does a much better job of summarizing the ridiculous antics that occured upon our arrival, so I'll send you to his blog!

All in all, it was a great weekend. We enjoyed ourselves in each city, even if some of the moments aired more on the side of muzar (strange). Haifa is physically a beautiful place, especially those glorious beaches. I want to return, mostly to explore the land that lies beyond that hill! And I will say that, while I respect Jews' need to observe and honor Shabbat, I think it's ridiculous that the majority of the city felt completely shut down (more so than J'lem!!) in the midst of tourist season. I mean really, what do Israelis do when they need a little vacay? They have the same days off as we.

Haifa succeeded in reminding me of how much I miss the Bay Area. I was already feeling pangs of homesickness, but Haifa solidified my deep deep longing to be back in the city by the bay. And even though I'm still enjoying myself greatly, and discovering new things and new places each day, there is a part of me that craves my old life, my friends and family, and my network of love. So, if you get a chance, send me an email, or even a letter! Know that I miss home a little bit, and think of it often.

Much love,
Jaclyn

Tisha B'Av

Today is a very strange, sad day in Jerusalem. It's Tisha B'Av, the 9th day of the Hebrew month of Av. It was on this day in 70 CE when the Second Temple fell to the Romans and Am Yisrael, the people of Israel, found themselves in exile. What makes this chag unique is that today in 2008, there is an Eretz Yisrael: a homeland for the Jews. While the Temple no longer stands, the fact that Israel exists as a country makes Tisha B'Av a strange, somewhat confusing holiday. Why lament the loss of something when you have it again, in different form, today?

I had heard of Tisha B'Av before, but never given it much thought. I knew what it commemorated, but it never packed a punch. I gleaned no meaning or significance from this chag, seeing it as merely another time when the classic Jewish holiday mentality was repeated: "they tried to kill us, they failed, let's eat!"

Yet as I expected, experiencing this holiday in Jerusalem gave me a totally different perspective.

Last night, soon after sundown on Shabbat, the entire city came alive with a bizarre, ruthless energy. Hundreds of people made their way to the Kotel (Western Wall) to mourn and lament the loss of the Second Temple. We HUCsters attended a service on campus and made our way to the wall around 10pm to experience the unique feeling of being there on a seemingly sacred evening.

The women's section of the wall, Tisha B'Av

As we walked the streets of the old city, we found ourselves caught up in the rush of the crowd making their way to the Kotel. Surrounding us were people of all ages, wearing all different kinds of clothes, behaving in all different ways. Teenagers in trendy clothing laughed and joked and pushed each other; young men in black suits carried what looked like sleeping bags, cooking equipment, and folding tables. There were tiny babies being pushed around in strollers and old men and women walking slowly and carefully. Everyone had the same goal: Kotel or bust.

Now, keep in mind that before last night, the Kotel was not my favorite place in Jerusalem. My two visits since my arrival have left me frustrated and disappointed on a variety of levels. I had no intention of praying last night; I was there merely to observe.

Besides the masses of crowds, which I expected, there were some pretty disturbing sights. The women's side was absolutely packed; it was so tight, you couldn't get through. The men's side had an abundance of room for anyone with a Y-chromosome. There were tons of people all around, some of them looked incredibly depressed, crying and lamenting. There were Haredim looking focused and angry; women in wigs pushing baby strollers and avoiding eye contact. Teenagers were smoking cigarettes (!?!), gabbing on their cell phones, smacking each other around, and behaving, in my opinion, inappropriately.

There was no cohesiveness, no warmth, and no general feeling of communal suffering. Everyone was in their own world, or in their own group, or just not at all interested in making unity. It felt like someone had taken the state of Israel, in all its internal and external conflicts, and amplified it to the umpteenth degree.

I don't know exactly what it was, but being present and watching this scene made me suddenly and inexplicably angry. I felt rage in my fingertips. I wanted to get out of there immediately, and I was upset with myself for feeling that way.

I found Adam in our meeting spot far from the wall, embraced him, and started whispering in his ear how uncomfortable I was. No sooner had I wrapped my arms around him than an old religious man started screaming at us in Hebrew. I wasn't entirely sure what he was saying, but I could figure from his gestures that our embrace was offensive. And within two seconds, a female guard approached us and physically separated us from each other.

Well, that about did it. I got so angry, so pissed off, so enraged, I nearly exploded. I stormed out of that courtyard with tears in my eyes and vowed to Adam not to return for the rest of my time here.

Last night was a perfect example of exactly what which enrages me about Judaism's role in Israel. Last night made me feel like an outsider. Not welcome, not wanted. Not included, and not really "Jewish." Like a stranger in a strange land. What kind of Judaism is this? The Judaism that exists at that Wall is not an empathetic, welcoming, loving language of God. It is separated, divided, incomplete.

Back on Reform Judaism's turf this morning, I felt much more comfortable and secure learning about Tisha B'Av. We had a series of discussions, text study, and T'filah in place of normal Hebrew today. It was truly fascinating to learn about it from HUC's faculty. From my teachers I learned that Tisha B'Av represents something major in the collective Israeli consciousness. It represents every loss, every exile, every promise of peace slaughtered before our eyes. It is a huge, major holiday... and learning about it while outside the confines of the the Haredim, (which I learned today means God-fearing) it made much more sense.

Last night was tremendously disappointing, but today renewed my faith. To me, even that painful admission is a representation of Judaism. The challenge, the defeat, the return. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly won't be the last. Tisha B'Av has blown my mind, and I'm glad that I am here in Jerusalem to experience it.

-Jaclyn

Family and Friends

Well, the illness I spoke of in my last post finally faded into oblivion. In the end, it turned out to be a nasty stomach virus (not "digestive troubles, as Dr. Know-Nothing assessed) and eventually it passed. I missed three days of school, but gained three days of rest. Adam took excellent care of me and continues to watch over my health like a hawk. An adorable hawk with a 'fro.

My body healed in time for the weekend, so we traveled north to Netanya to visit more of Adam's extended family. To say it was a wonderful experience would be a huge understatement. It was an incredible two days on so many levels, and I was thrilled to be included in all that we did.

Not only does Adam have a huge family in Marin, but his parents, uncle, and grandparents have invested a tremendous amount of time and energy into maintaining connections with their extended relatives all over the world. It's amazing to me, and I wish I had that with my own family. Alas, the Fromer and Hoffman clans are a small bunch, and to my knowledge there are few relatives to speak of abroad.

Adam with the Sugar Mishpucha

The entire Sugar family lives in Netanya. Mom and Dad are Alex and Ruth. Their kids are Anat and Dana (both married with two children each) and Tal is their twenty-four-year-old son, who still lives with them. Ruth's mother, named Marta, was Adam's paternal grandfather Leo's sister. Marta died over two decades ago, but Leo continues to stay in touch with the Sugars.

The Sugar parents own a beautiful home not far from the beautiful beach. We arrived in the early afternoon on Friday, spent a little bit of time at their home, and then Tal drove us down south to Tel Aviv (about a 20 minute drive) so we could walk around the ultra-chic port Tayelet, eat a sushi lunch, and swim in the sparkling Mediterranean.

Adam, Tal, and the Mediterranean Sea

That evening, Alex and Ruth invited the entire family over for an extremely delicious Friday night dinner. I think they were initially uncomfortable with my presence there as a female future rabbi, but I later realized their concern was that I would be disappointed with the lack of Judaism. There were no candles, no blessings, no nothing. And quite honestly, I didn't care. It felt like Shabbat to me because of the gathering family, and the warmth and love. I explained to the whole family exactly what I am doing here in Israel, and the unique nature of the Judaism I believe in. I think they understood.

The Friday night dinner was an amazing thing to partake in. The little kids were screaming, the adults were talking maher maher in Hebrew, the food and sodas flowed endlessly, and it felt like a true, delightful family meal. Adam was in his element, and those beautiful blue eyes of his sparkled as he connected with these people; his relatives, his family, his blood. By the evening's end, we were exhausted and full with huge smiles on our faces. It was just a great experience.

All of us conversed in decent English and broken Hebrew. My attempts to communicate with the four and five year old little ones were particuarly embarrassing. As soon as I saw them walk in I thought, "hooray! Little people I can talk to in Hebrew!" Yet I was mortified to discover that their Hebrew speaking skills could kick my own English skills at the age of five. I could barely understand them, they were so good. It was maddening, yet kind of hilarious.

Now's probably a good time to mention that my Hebrew has, regrettably, gotten worse since I arrived. I'm not quite sure why, as I spend four and a half hours a day in Hebrew classes. I honestly think the issue here is with Israelis speaking Hebrew here in Israel. It's a particularly muffled, mumbled, incoherent vernacular; I don't even think Israelis understand each other's words! They just moan and grunt in such a pattern that they quasi-comprehend one another. Unfortunately, I have yet to cross the threshhold of speaking Israeli Hebrew, and feel that I am falling behind because of it. I fully intend to do everything necessary to pull myself through it and kick ass on Ivrit. Just so you know.

Anyway, back to the weekend. Saturday was spent walking around the Seven Stars Mall in Herzliya. This was such a trippy, welcome respite from the deafeningly quiet Shabbatot of Jerusalem. First of all, the mall was packed. Absolutely packed. It was such an Anglo-cized mall, and looked uncannily like Fashion Square in Sherman Oaks. The fashions were just as sexed-up and indecent as they are in the states, and there wasn't a single "religious lady" store to be found. It was awesome. Not because I have anything against Middle Eastern malls or fashionable Orthodox women. But it was awesome to observe Shabbat life outside of Jerusalem; to see culturally-identified Israeli Jews enjoying their weekend.

Eventually it came time to bid the Sugars farwell, for the time being. Adam and I will probably stay with them again next weekend. They were incredibly kind, generous, and lovely. And it's safe to say Adam and Tal got along like best friends. Adam seems to bond with every long-lost family member he comes in contact with, and it's really wonderful to behold.

We headed back to Jerusalem in time to catch Mamma Mia at the Malcha Mall. (considerably less Anglocized than Seven Stars) The movie was awful, but kind of hilarious. And we were with a huge group of HUCsters, so it was loads of communal fun.

We've settled into a routine here in Jerusalem and at school. It's good, sometimes monotonous, but always interesting. Something new happens every day here. Partially it's because HUC designs it that way, partially it's because we're still at the beginning here, getting to know each other. And the newness of it all is still fairly fresh and exciting. The people are still great, the classes are still fun. We're all still discovering and gaining our ground.

My only regret is that I am not spending more time exploring my spirituality. I've been to several services at HUC, but have yet to venture out into greater Jerusalem for T'filah. Hopefully that will change tonight, as Adam and I intend to visit Har-El Synagogue here in Rehavia. But beside that, I feel that I am not committing myself enough to prayer. I know this will change as time goes on, but for now I'm feeling spiritually confused amongst all these different kinds of Jews in J'lem.

To close out this post, Tuesday Night was the first Beit Cafe (Coffee House) of the year, held outdoors at HUC. It was such a lovely evening; there was dinner, drinks, and lovely performances by my classmates. Adam and I performed two songs together, and it brought back many Nick Roth Trio/Mazeltov Cocktail Memories. I love singing with him, and hope that it continues upon my return to Los Angeles. Here is a pic of us singing together, behind us is the sun setting over the Old City in Jerusalem.



Take care, Much Love!

Jaclyn