So, about that election...

According to my sources, something major's going down in the US of A on November 4.

Even though I'm 6,000+ miles from home, living in a country so often spoken about by US politicians and reporters it might as well be denoted the 51st state, my entire being has become consumed by this American election. And while I hate to sound preachy, I just have to say it: Never before has an election been so decisive, so pivotal, and so unbelievably important to the future of my country and our world.

When I first realized I would not be in the states for the 2008 election, back when I thought my girl Hillary had a shot at commander-in-chief, I was devastated. Having volunteered for Kerry's campaign in 2004, and actually believing in him and what he stood for, I felt a certain obligation to work on behalf of the Democrats and do all I could to support their candidate. I wanted to be caught up in the energy and the excitement of an election. I wanted to register people to vote and educate them on the issues that matter! But mostly, I just wanted to slap a cool bumper sticker on my car.

Fast forward to Hillary losing the primaries, Barack Obama, for whom I had medium feelings, stepping up to the plate, me realizing that this election was going to be absolutely insane, and thus coming to terms with being removed from the mud-slinging and the name-calling; the finger-pointing and the negative press. I was actually kind of relieved to be outside the states for the election, though I vowed to take my rights seriously and vote absentee. (Which I did on Wednesday)

But over the last several months, I've realized that I am my mother's daughter. I am simply too fascinated with politics and dreams and the potential of human beings to sly away from the excitement. I simply cannot deny my concerns, my curiosity, and my love of people, the future, and my own citizenship. So since August, I've been following this election religiously.

Since August, around the time I watched his major DNC speech in Denver, I have fallen in step with the ideals of Barack Obama. I have come to see him as a leader that can not only bring about change, but can make others believe in themselves and what they are capable of. I have read his policies, and now know that they are totally in sync with mine. I have watched him speak to crowds of supporters and groups of indies, and seen him handle it all with ease. And especially recently, I have watched him take all the attacks and vitriole against him and rise above it, which says more about his character than any political ad, endorsement, or editorial could ever do.

Is he perfect? No. No person is. We forget that when we watch these people compete for our affections, and our votes. And whoever steps into the Oval Office on January 21, 2009 has more work to do than any of us could fathom. But in my bones, I feel that he is a great person. I feel that he can guide this country back on the right track. And I feel that he can put people in his cabinet, and appoint people to office, that will stand up for what is right and decent and progressive. I feel that he will make wise choices, lead effectively and intelligently, and above all else, he will point the country in a better direction. I believe in Barack Obama.

I've gotten into some heated discussions here about the virtues of McCain and Palin. A friend suggested I hate them and their party so much that I won't even bother considering them. And well, that's just not true! I don't hate Republicans. I feel that they represent a certain set of beliefs and principles, and for the most part, they're just not mine. In a perfect world, that would be okay. It would be enough to call a spade a spade, say we're different, and go on our merry ways toward the voting booth.

But unfortunately, that's not enough anymore. McCain and Palin represent a not-entirely-new mentality based on negativity, hate, and fear. I've watched both of them, observed their campaign, and more important than anything else, I've read where they stand on the issues. Suffice to say, I completely and totally disagree with what they stand for and the methods they're taking to garner support. I feel they would direct this country in a worse direction than we're already in; not because of who they are, but because of what they say they want to do!

I cringe when people say Bush's intelligence is enough to hate him. He's not an idiot, and that's not a reason to detest a politician. You look at what they stand for. You read what they have to say. You see who they appoint to positions and what they themselves stand for. You observe how they handle themselves in pressured situations, both home and abroad. You ask yourself if this person represents you, and your family and friends, and actually cares about their futures. You have to put your faith in your leader, and my faith is simply not with him, or with John and Sarah. It's with Barack and Joe, and it's staying there for good.

So, yeah. I'd say this election is pretty important. It's important to me, just Jaclyn, the woman who's studying to become a rabbi in the holiest city in the world. It's important to Adam, my beloved, living in liberal blue-state California, hoping Public Health will receive more attention and funding than it is now. It's important to my parents, my grandparents, and all their friends, worried about their investments and the hard-earned money they expected to last them through their lives. It's about the people I've never met in New Orleans, still picking up the pieces from Katrina and wondering when they'll actually get their fair due. It's about people all over America, in poor towns, in rich towns, red states, blue and purple, curious as to what the future has in store for them. And, it's about people the world over, looking towards my country and seeing what move we'll make next.

But it is probably the most important to those who have yet to come to be. To these future generations, what kind of world are we leaving them? What will those who come after us inherit, and how will they approach our creation?

VOTE.
-Jaclyn

Mom-o y Mono

Hello, friends!

I am writing to you from the confines of my living room, swathed in sickness and doused in warm liquids. A week ago I was diagnosed with the kissing disease, known throughout the world as mono. Who I got this from, I have no idea. But someone really nasty either sneezed in my coffee or spit in my cereal... and as a result, here I am! Swollen glands, intense fatigue, and an altogether bitter taste in my mouth about the sanitation (or lack thereof) in the Middle East.

The past couple of days have been a doozy, but the ultimate highlight was having my mother here with me. I believe it to be some sort of divine intervention that she scheduled her trip in conjunction with my diagnosis.

With mom in front of my apartment

It was wonderful, absolutely wonderful to have her here. For the first few days I was feeling fine, so we managed to get in some great sightseeing. We took in Yad Vashem, the shuk, Caesaria, Haifa, Akko, and Rosh Hanikra (all along the northern coast) and lay on the beach in Tel Aviv together. Though the mono posed a hindrance, it did not diminish from the joy of just being together. It also reminded me of how much I miss my family and home.

In the beautiful grottoes of Rosh Hanikra, the northernmost coastal point of Israel

My mother was here during the week of Sukkot, or "festival of booths." It's a holiday that commemorates the Jews wandering in the desert for forty years and making makeshift huts for themselves as temporary housing. It celebrates God's benevolence, for the people of Israel never had to strive for anything, as long as they kept their faith in God.

Personally, I found Sukkot to be a wacky, fantastic, and cool time to be in Jerusalem. Sukkahs sprung up in every corner of the city, and Jerusalem itself received a downpour of tourists of all faiths. Walking through the city, I noticed sukkahs on balconies, in front yards, back yards, and on the street! Restaurants erected them for their more religious customers and decorated them to the high heavens. It was altogether awesome, and fascinating to observe.

Mom in front of a massive restaurant sukkah in the Mamilla Mall

Posing with my landlord Naomi, her husband Yankele, their kids Yuval and Roni, and my roommate Lauren, after Shabbat dinner in their sukkah.

Perhaps the best part of having my mother here with me was getting her to see my life in Jerusalem. She met some of my friends, saw my neighborhood haunts, experienced the massive shutdown known as Shabbat, and managed to see the front facade of HUC. (They're all locked up for Sukkot) As we walked together through the streets of my city, it became more familiar to her. We visited as a family back in 1997, so to come back and see how this place has changed was interesting, to say the least.

Following a get-to-know-my-friends dinner with Lisa, Leslie, and others.

All in all, I would have loved for more time with mom, but the mono made things difficult. After a week together, she headed back to Los Angeles and I crawled into bed. So far, I haven't emerged from the apartment. When I will, no one knows! For now, I'm just trying to keep the faith and stay strong! Any wishes of wellness, you know where to find me!

So from Jerusalem to wherever you are, I'm thinking of you.

Much Love,
Jaclyn

High Holiday Reflections

Well, the High Holidays came and went, as I expected they would. And though some elements were very powerful, I was left with an Almighty Feeling of Blah as the last moments of Yom Kippur petered out; as cars returned to the roads and people returned to their kitchens.

As a whole, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in Jerusalem are two very unforgettable experiences. The city literally shuts down for both days, though YK is its own bag of tricks when it comes to city abandonment. On these two holidays, every Jew is in shul, or walking to shul, or getting ready to go to shul. The entire city becomes captivated by a specific moment in Jewish time. That, in and of itself, is amazing to behold.

The normally packed intersection of Ramban and King George on Yom Kippur: people taking to the streets, and not a car in sight.

Services were just a bit disappointing this year, and that was an unavoidable letdown. I expected more from them; more engagement, more participation, more warmth. Instead, prayer was cold and disjointed, peppered with moments of holiness and excitement. It was indeed a great experience to hear my friends sing, and to pray with the walls of the Old City directly in front of me. But I wasn't all that moved by services; I was moved instead by my own memories, my own private prayer, and my own internal reflections whilst praying with a group of Reform Jews.

Simply "being" here during the High Holidays was a different story, though. I had so many communal meals; festive and delicious gatherings of HUC peers and new friends. And that in and of itself was great. I had a fabulous time simply "being;" focusing my entire presence on living and soaking in High Holidays celebration in its different capacities.

With Meredith and Joel at Leslie's Rosh Hashanah 2nd day dinner

HUC students sure can cook!

Squeezing in every last ounce of fun at 11 Ramban's break fast

Perhaps the most meaningful component of my High Holidays experience was taking a long afternoon walk, meditating, and writing on Yom Kippur. After four hours of being preached at during morning services, I was just plain old done. So, I set out on a journey, armed with only my thoughts, some paper and pen, and just thought. I thought about what I want out of this year, and where I could have been a better human being last year. I meditated and pondered what I want for myself and those I love. Thinking about the future, my career, my relationship, friendships, and that which has yet to be, was cathartic. It truly reconnected me with my reason for being here.

Yom Kippur sunset on Ramban.

And finally, I will say that the silence on Yom Kippur is astounding. I knew leading up to it that would be the case, but the reality of having not a single car on the road for twenty four hours was incredible. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was open. People walked in the streets, hurrying to shul or to their own private celebrations. It was really a marvelous thing to participate in, and I'm glad I got to experience that very infamous Israeli moment in time.

Until next blog,

Jaclyn

Three months IN... Eight months to go.

Two days ago I passed the three-month mark. Three months here in Jerusalem. This is officially the longest period of time I've spent abroad, (Spain was just under three) and the longest I've gone without seeing my family. Had I not worked SO hard for my Student Visa, I'd be kicked out of the country now that 90 days are over. Luckily, I did get it (six days before departure, let's not forget) and therefore am allowed to stay a full year. Phew!

I think I've hit a bit of a slump here, punctuated by moments and days of pure joy and satisfaction. I attribute this slump to many things, the first of which being Adam's absence. In the days and weeks since he left I've gone through a roller coaster of emotions. I've vacillated between confidence and loneliness, excitement and disappointment. Mostly, I feel like I'm redefining myself as an individual, not as one half of a super-awesome couple. I'm standing on my own two feet without the beautiful Jew Fro behind me, cheering me on.

Granted, I do speak to Adam every day. And I see his face on Skype all the time. But it's just not the same to be here without him, and to be physically apart is brutal. Thus, as I continue to evolve here, some days are harder than others. Some activities make me miss him like crazy, while others, like going to Tel Aviv with my girlfriends (see below) I'm completely fine. The bottom line is, this year in Israel is tough to begin with. Going about the day-to-day without Adam by my side makes it just a little bit harder.

Another slump-y situation I've blogged about before is my spiritual quest here in Israel. I came here with an open mind and a desire to become more spiritually aware. I came here as a lover of prayer, and as someone who feels connected to God. I figured there was no place on earth I would be more comfortable praying as a Jew than Israel. This is, after all, the homeland of the Jews. Doesn't every Jew belong here? Isn't it true that the closer you get in proximity to the Western Wall, the louder God hears you?

Sadly, I feel that my quest for deeper spiritually in Israel has been a major disappointment. I can't seem to find a comfortable place in which to pray, or a community where I feel welcome. My HUC bubble is fine, but it doesn't feel completely authentic; there's something a bit off about the prayer we participate in. Perhaps it's the fact that we're engaging in American-style prayer abroad, and it's led by former Americans who've made Aliyah. There's a lot of cross-cultural confusion there.

It's also the tremendous feeling of tension and division amongst Jews here. I can't speak for other parts of Israel, because all I really know is Jerusalem. But either way, I feel the spiritual air here is so tense you could cut it with a knife. People are so used to fighting for something that they shun outsiders and are therefore naturally unwelcoming in their communities. Luckily, from time to time you find the occasional exception. But even those exceptions have their shortcomings, and I am left with a strange sense of homelessness when it comes to prayer.

School is another story. While I'm still completely enamored with what I'm learning, I'm starting to feel deeply insecure about my intelligence and my abilities. While I love my class, being surrounded by 41 people just like me is a bit difficult. We are all going after the same goal, which is great. But, some have more experience with the academic side of Judaism than I. Some seem to have a MUCH better ability to retain information than I. And, I consistently feel that my California upbringing puts me in a totally separate category. I think I'll need to devote a completely separate blog post to that.

The bottom line is, the past few weeks I've tended to look at this year like a prison sentence; a sentence I'm eight months from completing. But I don't want to have this attitude! This year is a gift, and I'm completely conscious of it. I want to appreciate it and live it up. But all these external negative factors are getting in the way, and putting me right in the thick of a push-pull battle between my happiness and frustration.

Luckily, yesterday I had a wonderful tiyul to Tel Aviv with my friends Meredith and Leslie. It felt fabulous to just get out of Jerusalem and head to an actual, thriving, bumping city. Now, let's remember that Tel Aviv is a representation of everything Jerusalem is not. It's footloose and fancy-free. It's rebellious, and slightly dangerous, and all-encompassingly badass. The beach is therapeutic, the shopping is divine, and the non-Kosher food is just... well, amazing.

The tiyul was exactly what I needed: some relaxation, some time away from Jerusalem, and quality time spent with good people. I'm glad we went. And perhaps the most awesome part of our adventure was meeting kind, sweet Israelis; genuinely good-natured, calm people. We had a great conversation with an Israeli now living in Belgium on the sheirut back from Tel Aviv. Just talking to him and gleaning some of his positive energy was a delightful experience.

So, to conclude yet another sermon-esque blog post, I will say this: I miss California like crazy. I'm making the most of the day-to-day life I lead here in Israel. I'm enjoying my classmates and really am having a great time. But the word Israel literally means "one who wrestles/struggles with God," and I feel that completely encompasses my experience here. To live here is to struggle, and not just with God. Struggle with oneself and one's people, with one's spirituality and with one's emotion. With one's past, present, and future.

So maybe I'm exactly where I should be.

-Jaclyn