Two way street

I think it may be time to blog about my current state of being in Israel. That, and I'm engaged in some serious procrastination over my Second Temple history final.

I've been here four and a half months, and in that time there's been a major schism in my personal life. On one side, I could not be happier. My social life is awesome, and I don't think I've ever been this busy. I am developing incredible relationships with my classmates; becoming really close friends with some, I believe, for life. We all live near each other, hang out easily, get together for Shabbat dinners and birthday celebrations, and laugh all the time. We rely on each other and have cultivated somewhat of a collective family here in Israel. The only thing missing in this department is my beloved Adam.

And yet as those relationships grow and I become more and more content with my social surroundings, my relationship with the place I live is regressing. The more time I spend on the streets of Jerusalem, the more discontent I grow with it. And sadly, it's getting to the point of depressing. I came here with eyes wide open, and slowly my heart is hardening to this country.

I can't walk to school in the morning without screaming "shut up" at someone honking their horn. I've started avoiding certain streets and stores and people because I just don't have the patience to deal with their bullshit. And perhaps the biggest indicator of my frustration, I was thisclose to slugging a man in the face on Friday morning. Not only did he cut me in line at the bakery, but he interrupted my conversation with the meltzarit (waitress) and pushed me out of the way so he could pay. I yelled at him, but refrained from physical violence. I figured, if I'm going to be a rabbi, I probably shoudn't go around assaulting people at this stage in the game.

Sadly, the man's behavior is what I've grown accostomed to here in Jlem. It's just the way people treat each other. There's a coldness, an attitude, impatience, arrogance, and a hard exterior that's often hard to crack. I've been lucky to crack certain people's sabra-ness, like Assaf the Laundry Man and Ya'akov my makolet (little market) guy. But most others make me want to remain a defensive island unto myself, which thus perpetuates the viscious cycle.

The struggle I face now is what to do with all this negativity. I don't want to feel this way about Israelis, or about Jerusalem. I want to see more good. I try to find the positives in every situation; to convince my friends that there are silver linings to every cloud. A realistic optimist, they call me. Above all else, I try to find the humor in the ridiculousness. Sometimes it helps to just shrug your shoulders and laugh.

But there is a very real problem here, a problem I'm determined to confront and overcome in the next six months. That problem is, how do I support a country (financially, spiritually, emotionally, educationally, and all sorts of -llys) when they seem so clearly disinterested in me? Not just as a female Reform rabbinical student, but as an American Jew? Sometimes I sense this Israeli attitude that, simply because I'm an American Jew I have a natural obligation to support Israel. What's the point in wooing me if I'm already committed?

At the same time all these thoughts are raging inside me, I am completely convinced that Israel is the most fascinating country on the planet. Learning the history and sensing the culture, you can't help but be enthralled by its very existence. And unlike what you see from the window of a tour bus, living here is a completely unique experience. I'm thrilled to be doing it like I am, because it feels authentic. Like it or not, I'm really seeing Israel. When May eventually comes and I return to the people and place I love, this experience, good and bad, will stay with me the rest of my life.

In case you hadn't gathered it already, I miss all of you very, very much. Many hugs and much love to California.

שלום וברכהת

Jaclyn