snow falling on the holy land

With two minutes until the bus was scheduled to leave this morning and dripping wet from my shower, I threw on a t-shirt, pants, my north face, and CROCS without socks. I ran outside, with Yossi yelling after me that I would be too cold only to see that I was one minute late and the bus was gone already. Of all mornings for the bus to actually leave on time...

One 35 shekel cab ride with Ilana and Mari later, one "mezuyan!" Hebrew oral test later, one 30 shekel VERY wet and cold cab ride back with Debbie, I reveled in the pleasure of my own bed...until Abbie told me it was snowing.

Lots of joyous jumping ensued, and a snow party and snowball fight happened right away, of course. Everyone decided to go to the Old City and Yemin Moshe to see the snow but with call for West Side Story 75 minutes away I decided I didn't have time and took a quick walk downtown to see the area. It was mostly deserted but there were a few "only-in-Jerusalem" sights I saw, like a religious man holding out this big bright white and red polka dot umbrella over his daughter's stroller to keep her from getting wet while he meanwhile was getting soaked, teenagers in Kikar Tzion trying to show off to no one around, and so on.

When I got back I found out that the show for tonight was canceled (and rescheduled for Monday). It's nice to have a break but I'm hoping so hard that tomorrow night's show won't be canceled...that's when all my family and friends are coming and if the show is rescheduled for Tuesday, my family will already be back in the States...But it'd be nice if my Hebrew written final tomorrow was cancelled...

Political Communications field trip to Tel-Aviv

On Thursday, my Political Communications teacher took us to Tel Aviv for the day. We visited Galei Tzahal, Galgalatz, Ha'aretz, and Channel 10.

Galei Tzahal is Israel's national army radio station. It was the first station in Israel to broadcast 24 hours a day, and has a more colloquial language format, making it popular with teenagers (who like the less-haughty language), and senior citizens (many of whom are not native Hebrew speakers and would not understand more formal language). It is based in a run-down neighborhood of Jaffa, which is an Arab city next to Tel Aviv. As Galei Tzahal is an army radio station, it also functions as an army base-albeit more of a low-key one, as plenty of civilians work there too. There are soldiers walking around in uniform, but they are mostly youngsters who want a future in journalism, radio, or music. We got to see different parts of the base, including the news desks, internet publishing rooms, and broadcasting rooms.

Galgalatz is mostly a music station, which is an offshoot of Galei Tzahal and is in the same building. It is one of the most (if not the most) popular stations in Israel and in fact, because it is also streamed online, many people from outside of Israel listen to it as well. We had the opportunity to see the studio and listen to the announcer recording, and then to head over to the music library. There we met the guy who is in charge of the thousands of songs Galgalatz has in possession. We got free stickers. It was cool. ;)

Then we headed over to Ha'aretz, which is Israel's 3rd biggest newspaper, but with the most sophisticated reporting. We met with someone, I think he was the head of the news desk or an editor there or something? We learned some really interesting stuff about the paper and Israeli journalism, and got free newspapers and water. (Can you tell I like free stuff?)He then showed us the newsroom and we were able to meet Gideon Levy, quite possibly one of the most inflammatory controversial reporters in Israel. (Go to www.haaretz.com and read some of his articles, you'll see what I mean!) It wasn't a planned thing so he didn't have anything prepared but we got to ask him a few questions and hear his controversial views.

After lunch at the Azrieli Center (MALL! SHOPPING! CONSUMERISM! AHH!--can you tell I miss the shopping Jerusalem does NOT offer?), we headed over to Channel 10 News, one of the big news channels (although they do produce other shows other than news-there were ads around for some weight loss competition show, I guess America isn't the only country that offers stupid, brain-numbing reality shows). We saw the news rooms, control rooms, the studio, and a room full of Arabic specialists keeping tabs on al-Jazeera and other Arab stations. Of course there were TVs broadcasting news from everywhere in the world, and I SAW CNN ON SOME OF THEM! Not that I was even a big CNN junkie at home, but it's so exciting to see things like that in Israel. We saw the anchor get ready for filming the 5:00 news, he was wearing jeans and a shirt with a too-short tie. But he slipped on a suit jacket, sat down, and no one could see the fashion faux pas anymore. From the control room we could see the digital editing happening on the spot and then the final product being broadcast on national television.

The need for fluent English speakers in this field was evident to me throughout the day, especially at Ha'aretz which publishes English editions online and in print. As journalism is a field I've thought about in the past, I was glad to see that there could be a spot for me in this field in Israel.

Flip-flopping

Ever since I became aware of politics and the effect that the political process has on our everyday lives, which I think started in 4th grade because of the recent presidential election, I have always been a liberal. As I became more and more aware of politics, my commitment to liberalism increased. When I finally turned 18 and was able to vote, I was proud to associate myself with the values that the Democratic party represented to me.

The only time I used the words "right-wing" were in reference to myself was when I was discussing Israel. I came to Israel for the first time in the summer of 2004, unsure of what my political views were on this place that I had been told about my entire life. Every minute I spent during that idyllic summer only pushed my views further and further to the right.

(Right-wing in Israel most notably refers to the belief that Israel's borders should be those of biblical times, including part of Jordan and the Sinai Peninsula. Also, it usually takes a very negative view towards the Palestinians, and promotes Jewish settlement in the West Bank and Gaza.)

I don't know why, but over the past month or so, my views have been heading more and more towards the left. (Left-wing being in favor of giving up land for peace, supporting Palestinians, etc.)I started out silently disagreeing with many viewpoints of my History of the Modern Palestinians teacher, but now I find myself agreeing with her on many more points. At the same time, I don't know what to believe, and my views keep changing.

For that class I had to read a book called Strangers in the House by Raja Shehadeh, an account of a Palestinian man growing up in the West Bank. Even though I could see where some of the book was clear propaganda, it had an effect on me.

On Friday and Saturday I went to a Shabbaton organized by MASA, the Israeli government organization that provides scholarships for Jews ages 18-30 looking to spend an extended amount of time in Israel. The topic of the weekend was Israeli Security, and it included a tour of the security fence/wall/barrier. I thought I'd be able to gain some perspective, but I only grew more confused.

It's been implied to me before that true Zionists must be right-wing, and as I consider myself a Zionist, this is troubling. I know of course, that that's not true, but I feel a sense of guilt when I see a young Palestinian trying to wash cars stopped at a traffic light for a shekel or two of income for his family, only to be rebuffed by the Israeli drivers.

Every time I see some mark of terrorism, my heart flipflops and I find myself on the right-wing side again. A plaque on a wall reading "Here, on _________, ________ people were killed when a suicide bomber blew himself up on the # ___ bus. May their memories be for a blessing." The Frank Sinatra cafeteria at Hebrew U, where a suicide bomber blew himself up a few years ago before there was efficient security there. Police standing on corners in East Jerusalem. Security guards checking my bag when I enter a restaurant or store.

I recall pictures of Palestinians burning American and Israeli flags. Of suicide bombers' last pictures, decked out in bomb belts and holding a gun. Of masked men surrounding a young boy, instructing him in the use of a rifle. It's hard to know that you're hated simply because of your religion.

But then I learn about the brainwashing that goes on in schools, camps, youth groups, and other aspects of Palestinian society. I learn of the immense poverty, of the inability to make a decent living. The difficulty of farmers to get to their olive trees on the other side of the security fence/wall/barrier. And I feel bad for them. And I feel like the enemy.

It's hard not to know what you believe in. Especially when you're the kind of person I am, one who's grown up with steadfast, unwavering beliefs.

The Israeli-Palestinian conflict/clash/situation isn't one you can pick and choose in. In America you can be Republican but be pro-choice. Or you can be a Democrat and be pro-privatization.

It's hard, if not impossible, to reconcile the opposing sides in this issue.

A few things I've been thinking about

Israeli health systems:
On Sunday I went to the public health clinic located in Kanyon Wolfson, because I had a terrible cold and sore throat and wanted to make sure it wasn't strep. It wasn't. Actually, I don't know. The doctor didn't do the test. He spent about two minutes total with me. I dismissed it, assuming that it was just because I came during clinic hours and there were a lot of people waiting. But Tuesday, I felt even worse, kept hacking, and my chest was tight. I made an appointment, figuring there wouldn't be many people waiting he'd he'd be able to devote more time to me. He spent four minutes with me. At least he diagnosed me with bronchitis and gave me some disgusting medicine. Moral of this story: I miss doctors back home. The personal attention is always really nice, especially when you don't feel well. Second moral of the story: Bronchitis is not pleasant. I've missed a week of school and two midterms.

Places I would like to see/Things I would like to do before leaving Jerusalem:
Israel Museum-we spent a little bit of time there on Pilgrimage, but I'd love to be able to spend a whole day there, going at my own pace. Debbie wants to go with me, we just have to figure out a time.

Kotel Tunnels-I've heard that the admission is expensive, so maybe I'll wait for when my parents come, and we can go together (...and they can pay for me.)

Museum on the Seam-I pass this museum on the way to and from school everyday, and have always been tempted to say to the cab driver, "let me out here," but then I think about all the work waiting for me back at base. I read something about the museum and its mission the other day which just got me more interested in it.

More of the Old City-due to security regulations, when we first got here we weren't allowed to go to the Old City for a while, and I think that led to it falling off peoples' radar screens. Before I came on Nativ, I envisioned myself spending entire days wandering the narrow streets, buying falafel at the amazing place above the Cardo, haggling with shopkeepers, and poking my head around each corner in search of the next piece of magic that I associate with this place. However, I can count the number of times I've been to the Old City on just one hand, and almost each time was just the Kotel.

Mount Herzl and Yad Vashem- Mount Herzl is one of those places that I think one just needs to experience by themselves. Same for Yad Vashem. However, both places require a significant portion of time, as well as a pricey cab fare...If you haven't been able to figure it out yet, time and money are things I'm both pretty short on.

Mea Shearim-I've had a few opportunities to go already, but the ultra-Orthodoxy aspect just keeps scaring me off. Some friends of mine have had bad experiences there because they weren't dressed modestly enough, but I've got an irrational fear that even if If my three "areas" (elbows, collarbones, and ankles) are covered, they'll be able to see through the disguise and harass me. Whatever, I just need to get over it.

Beitar Yerushalayim soccer game-Most of the games are on Shabbat, and the ones that aren't are usually when I'm busy...but if there's an opportunity...

The Jerusalem Time Elevator-39 shekels...39 shekels...39 shekels...I'm eventually going to cough it up. (That's about $10 American...but I can buy dinner for a week with that!)

American holidays:
Back in America, the day after Thanksgiving was when I began my annual Christmas-gripes. There was no getting away from it. Christmas music, signs, decorations, etc...it was EVERYWHERE, and I hated it. I couldn't even get away from it at school, no matter how "non-denominational" they tried to be about it. Putting one little Menorah on a table in the Atrium next to the 25 foot "Non-Denominational Holiday Tree of Lights" or having a "Traditions Assembly" before marching through the halls singing the "IDEO" song about Jesus was never okay with me. Every time someone wished me a Merry Christmas, I had to restrain myself from making a snide comment back, even though I know that they were just trying to be friendly.

A lot of people here are complaining about the lack of "holiday cheer" around Jerusalem, and most of Israel for that matter (Bethlehem is quite a Christmas center this time of year, however). Some people have made comments along the lines of "I hated it when I was there, but now I realize how much I really missed it." I don't feel that way at all. I enjoy not having this holiday shoved in my face every which way I turn.

However, I've realized what it must be like for the non-Jewish residents of Israel every time a Jewish holiday comes 'round, in fact, what it must be like for those in Jewish areas every time SATURDAY comes around, and they cannot use public transportation or even go to the corner grocery store.

And at the same time, the one teensy tiny thing I miss about Christmas is that it turned Hanukkah into a bigger holiday than it really is. Not that I advocate consumerism, but it's nice to hear that 1 Hanukkah song thrown into the 30 Christmas ones, to give and receive presents, to have Hanukkah parties, and so on. The only sign of Hanukkah I've seen here is that all the bakeries are selling sufganiot, jelly doughnuts. And they're not that good. Geez, that's one thing I never thought America would be better at.


All the world's a stage...
When I went to auditions for West Side Story at school, I was intending to sign up for something backstage, and then to leave. A friend who went on Nativ last year told me that the play was the best part of her year, and I should, under no circumstances, miss out on it. However, at auditions, a few friends convinced me to try out, and lo and behold, I got the part of a Jet. Then again, everyone who tried out got a part, mine consisting of two lines:

Line 1: Riga diga dum!
Line 2: But if they knives, or guns...

A few weeks later, a friend of mine dropped out of the play, and my talentless self got the part of Baby John. Like...an actual part. Actual lines. My last stage performance was in 8th grade at Schechter. We did Snow White, and of course as it was a Schechter production, everyone had to have a part. The script was changed and a bunch of "sidekicks" to other characters were added in. Was I Snow White's sidekick? No. A dwarf's sidekick? No. I was the sidekick to the woodsman. Yes, the woodsman who takes Snow White out into the forest but can't bring himself to kill her. I held the plastic knife.

So, I recognize that I am in no way ever going to be an actress, but I'm glad I'm in the play. I've gotten more confident and am having a lot of fun with my part. The people in the play are really awesome. And of course, what can beat having the line in the Office Krupke song: "Glory Osky, that's why he's a jerk!"

New idea...

Instead of sending out update emails once a month and then just copying and pasting them here with some pictures (whenever the website decides to let me do that), I've decided to post more frequently here. I'll still send out the update emails, but if you want to read some more of what I'm doing, you can just visit this site on a regular basis.

Dear friends and family,

As I sent my last email update to you a month and a half ago, the state of Israel was beginning to shut down for Yom Kippur. The airplane hangars at Ben Gurion International Airport were closed. Radio stations went off the air, TV stations broadcasted nothing, not even an “Off the Air” screen. Not a single bus or car was seen in the street, and traffic lights were turned off. An eerie silence descended over the land that has been my home since September. Almost every single Jew (the vast majority in Israel fast each year, no matter how religious they are the rest of the year) ate their last meal, sipped their last glass of water, and dressed in all white to welcome the holiest day of the Jewish calendar.

After going to services that night, a friend and I walked up and down Emek Refaim, a normally busy street filled with shops and restaurants. Because of the downhill slant of the street, I could see hundreds of people talking to each other, their white clothing creating a startling contrast against the darkness of the night, with the hills of Jerusalem beyond them. Young children rode their bikes over the smooth asphalt of the street that the 364-day-a-year sidewalk doesn’t provide. People sat in the middle of the road, lay down in intersections, just talking to each other and taking the opportunity to reflect on their place in the world.

For the closing services of Yom Kippur, I went to the Kotel (Western Wall; a surviving remnant of the walls around where the ancient Temple stood). There were dozens of groups praying, representing many religious beliefs and ethnicities. Different melodies mingled with each other in the cool air, and as the sun went down, shofars (an instrument made of a ram’s horn) began to blow their awe-inspiring notes. Candles were brought out for the Havdalah ceremony, and as soon as the candle’s flame was extinguished in a cup of wine, food began to appear everywhere, from backpacks, pockets, and boxes. People shared their own food to hungry strangers, and offered those who lived far away rides home.

A week later, during the intermediate days of the Sukkot holiday, we set out for three days in the desert. I envisioned soft, smooth sand dunes, cactuses, and oases, but that was far from what I encountered. We were driven deep into Machtesh Ramon (a machtesh is a geological formation unique to Israel-it’s like a canyon, but carved by wind instead of a river) to began a 20-something mile hike. I know that doesn’t sound like that much, but when every step you take is over a different type of ground, it’s not plain walking. Sharp rocks, hundreds of tiny pebbles, dirt, caked sand, sucking sand, and so on-not a single step was over any flat, hard surface.

The first day wasn’t too bad, there wasn’t much going up or down. We pitched tents (although most of us slept outside under the stars), made dinner, sang songs, and learned how to make pita in a campfire (it was pretty much a failure though). The second day, however, was torture. We had packed up camp, eaten breakfast, prayed the insanely long service that goes along with Sukkot, and climbed a mountain…all before 9 am. After scaling the mountain, I looked around at the vast desert that surrounded me, congratulated myself on this amazing accomplishment, but suddenly I heard our guide behind me, pointing to a spot far off in the distance, many mountains away and saying “that’s where we’ll stop for lunch.” The rest of the day was filled with traversing these mountains, each of which seemed taller than the next. We scaled rock cliffs without harnesses, climbed up and down mountains, that to me, looked like something a superhero wouldn’t even be able to do. My shoes began to rip open from the sharp rocks, each of which jabbed into my foot with incredible force, and I made a mental note to myself, to NEVER, EVER, use 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 rubber shoes from Target for hiking. That night, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the sweatshirt I was using for a pillow. The next day featured one humongous mountain made up of about 4 or 5 smaller ones. Each time I reached the summit of one of these mountains, I would look up, and groan, realizing how much more lay in front of me. My right arm was in a sling from an injury the previous day, and well, one-armed mountain climbers aren’t the most efficient. I drifted to the back of the group, and realized that one of the fittest guys in my group was there. I asked him why he was hiking at the back, when he could easily be at the front. He replied, “Here, I can take all the time I want to look around me. I’m not in the front, surging ahead, trying to get there first. Here, I can appreciate where I am and why I’m doing this.” I spent the rest of the day at the back, and while I didn’t get to any of the rest stops first, I took the opportunity to look at the magical beauty of the desert, which surrounded me every which way I turned. When everyone had reached the end of the hike, we sat down to eat and talk about the previous three days. We shared experiences of newfound friendships, inspiring experiences, and the gratefulness we had at being able to get so much closer to each other. However, I must admit that my favorite part of the trip was the ride back to Jerusalem: We stopped at a gas station, where we could wash 3 days of dirt off our hands, use real bathrooms, and indulge in iced coffee from Aroma, an Israeli coffee chain that is about 3 million times better than Starbucks. We stopped for dinner at the Masada Youth Hostel, which is literally right under the mountain which sheltered a group of Jewish zealots from the Romans thousands of years ago. At the youth hostel, we jumped into the pool with our clothes on, and enjoyed a dinner that we had no part in making.

After the holidays ended, the real semester at Hebrew University started. Unfortunately, I’m not much of a fan of school and homework after being such a responsible person for the past 19 years of my life (yup, I had a birthday October 19, complete with 3 parties-although one of them was a surprise party that I missed because my friends didn’t figure out the whole how-do-we-get-Nehama-there thing), but no worries, I know that I need to do well in order to receive credit for my classes here. I’m taking two mandatory classes: Freshman Writing, and Hebrew. Freshman Writing is quite possibly the most worthless class I’ve ever taken as I’ve already passed out of this requirement at the University of Maryland TWICE, through AP scores and SAT scores. Hebrew, on the other hand, is helping me a lot. It’s so fun to be learning the language in Israel, which is functioning as one large classroom for me. For example, I learned the word “handassah” which means “engineer,” and on the way home, I realized the street we were on was named “Chayal Handassah,” Engineer Corps, in honor of the engineers in the army. This is only one small example-I’m using my newly learned Hebrew everywhere I go. Enough people in Israel speak English that I could go through the year without once speaking Hebrew outside of the classroom, but that would be a waste of an amazing experience, and I’m trying not to let it pass me by. My other classes are History of the Modern Palestinians, International Law, and Political Communications. The latter is my favorite-the professor is a journalist and a special advisor to many Israeli political figures, and is always throwing in a tidbit about the eating habits of one politician, or the affairs of another.

A few weeks ago, I went to a memorial rally in Tel Aviv for Yitzhak Rabin, the Israeli prime minister who was assassinated 11 years ago. The Hebrew date of his assassination coincided with the English date for the first time, and 100,000 people showed up. There were speakers and performers, and at the end Shir La’Shalom (A Song To Peace) was played. This song, which Rabin sang 11 years earlier at the peace rally where he was assassinated, are his last recorded words. Ironically, the song tells of the impossibility of bringing someone back from the dead, and how necessary it is to be active in the quest for peace. Literally just one minute after the rally ended, the skies opened up, dumping so much rain that everyone was soaked through to their underwear in less than three seconds flat. The streets of Tel Aviv turned into rivers, and it was worthless to even try and avoid puddles-the entire city had turned into one big one. Although running through all this rain to the bus (and sitting on the bus soaking wet for 45 minutes) wasn’t a pleasant experience, the rainstorm was a welcome occurrence to a country severely lacking water.

The week after the Rabin rally was filled with “dialogue” about the upcoming Gay Pride Parade… “dialogue,” meaning ultra-Orthodox, many Christians, and many Muslims joining together (one reporter joked it was the first time these three groups had worked together on something) to try and stop the parade, which was to take place at the park right outside of my dorm. Due to many security alerts, a compromise was finally reached where the format was changed to a rally in a closed stadium, and took place this past Friday, with no casualties (people have been killed in the past). In America, we’re so used to the concepts of “I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it,” and “live and let live” that it’s hard to imagine free speech being restricted in a democracy. But the political and religious aspects of Jerusalem, as well as the current situation in Gaza (many soldiers and policemen were occupied there and couldn’t protect the proposed open parade route), deemed the limitation of free speech necessary in order to protect people.

Speaking of Gaza…I didn’t want to address this issue at all, but to ignore it would be unfair. I’m not going to give my opinions on the situation, these updates aren’t a political forum for me, but I would like to say something many of you know already: The American media is biased against Israel. You cannot depend on American news sources to get the correct facts about what is happening in the Middle East. After comparing some news sources from the US with Israeli ones, I was appalled at the discrepancies. I’m not going to go into the specifics of the situation, but if you want more information, www.haaretz.com, www.jpost.com, and www.ynet.com are three Israeli newspapers with online English editions.

Now to address safety-all of this is happening in Gaza, which is nowhere near me. The Israeli army is one of the best in the world and has caught every would-be suicide bomber that has tried to enter Israel in the past half a year, if not longer. If there ever is a situation with the slightest potential of danger, we receive text messages on our cell phones alerting us to the situation, and telling us that there will be no free time until further notice-this has only happened twice since we got here, and both alerts were over within an hour.

In other news-I’m a Jet in the production of West Side Story here. If you’re going to be in Israel the last half of December, and would like tickets to the show, let me know ASAP, so I can buy them, they’re going to be sold out soon. And if you’re going to be in Israel at all over winter break, let me know!

If you’ve got any comments, questions, constructive criticism, thoughts, opinions, etc., I’d love to hear them, shoot me an email. Also feel free to forward this to anyone who might be interested in it, they can then email me and ask to be put on the list. For those of you who checked out www.nehamdoesisrael.blogspot.com and were disappointed with the lack of pictures, don’t worry, I managed to figure it out and will have pictures up soon! (However I can’t find my camera, so all the pictures will be old ones or stolen from other people for a while.)

B’ ahava m’yerushalayim (with love from Jerusalem),

-Nehama Rogozen-

Test #2...I think I figured out how to get pictures on here! :)

This picture is from the Temple Mount, where the Holy Temple stood about 2000 years ago. Contrary to popular belief, the Dome of the Rock (the dome in the picture...obviously), is not the same as the Al-Aqsa Mosque, which is on the outer perimeter of the Temple Mount. The Dome of the Rock is situated above where Abraham is believed to almost have sacrificed Isaac, where God supposedly created the world from, and from where Muhammad supposedly ascended to heaven.

about time i got around to doing this...Update #1

* I will post pictures as soon as I can! (if you know an easy way to import pictures, let me know)

Dear friends and family, Before I start telling you what I've been up to over the past month, I want to describe where I am, so you can join me on this journey.

I'm sitting on my bed in my double room on the top floor of Building A at the Fuchsberg Center for Conservative Judaism, located in Rechavia, a central neighborhood of Jerusalem. A few feet away, a skylight lets in a beam of light from the bright afternoon sky outside. Although I cannot see it from this angle, usually I can hear a cacophony of noises, meshing together in what I have come to know as the soundtrack to my life here. A driver breaks a traffic law, blocking other cars- honks abound, but a second later, those same honking drivers are committing a traffic violation of their own. Police sirens sound as the prime minster makes his way from his residence two blocks away in a motorcade that I hear and see multiple times a day. Protestors scream from a sidewalk, protesting meat-eaters (I would have joined them if I had time), or carrying candles in honor of those fallen in Lebanon this past summer. Friday afternoon, I can hear the siren that announces the start of Shabbat (the Jewish Sabbath). However, Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar starts in just a few hours, and the streets are noticeably quieter. Soon, there will be no cars in the streets, all trafffic lights will be turned off, and those who attempt to listen to the radio or watch TV will only encounter silence and blank screens.

I live at the intersection of five different streets, any of which I can follow and be somewhere different in just a few minutes. Independence Park is just 20 seconds away. Ben Yehuda, a main street of downtown, filled with restauraunts and stores, is just 5 minutes away. Yemin Moshe, a picturesque village with an amazing view of the Old City is about 7 minutes away. Emek HaRefaim, another popular street is 10 minutes away. The Old City of Jerusalem is 15 minutes away. In short, I live in one of the best locations there is in Jerusalem.



For those of you who don't quite understand what I'm doing here, let me explain. I'm one of 85 participants on a program called Nativ, a year-long program in Israel sponsored by USY, the youth group I was involved with during high school. For the first half of the year, the entire group lives together in Jerusalem and studies either at Hebrew University, or the Conservative Yeshiva (a yeshiva is a school for the study of Jewish texts). For the second half the year, we're split into 3 groups. Two groups will be doing volunteer work in the south, and the third group will be living and working on a kibbutz (a sort of socialized farm community).

I am doing the Hebrew University and Kibbutz tracks. Currently, at Hebrew U, we just finished our "minimester," where 3 normal college courses are fit in over 3 weeks worth of classes. I took a class about Israeli society, culture, and politics, a class about Jewish texts and historical contexts, and a class called Jerusalem Through the Ages. The latter is a lecture/field trip class in which we learned about various aspects of Jerusalem for an hour, then go see them for the next 3 hours. We went to such locations as the Southern Wall Excavations, the Western Wall, Hezekiah's Tunnel, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and the Temple Mount.

I've had two experiences with these field trips that I want to share. First, Hezekiah's Tunnel. The tunnel was built thousands of years ago to channel water from a spring outside the city walls into the city during times of siege. The tunnel itself is architecturally amazing for many reasons, I suggest you google it to learn more, it's pretty interesting. Anyways, today you can walk through the tunnel, which is a really cool experience. First off, there is still water in the tunnel, ranging from a few inches high to a few feet deep. Because the tunnel is built through a rock mountain, it is solid rock all around you and the floor is uneven. There is no light (although we had a few flashlights), so it's hard to see where you're going and where you're stepping. The ceiling at points is only about 5 feet tall. It doesn't sound like a fun experience, but trust me, it's really cool to walk through a water tunnel from so long ago.

The second experience I want to share is one that occurred at the Western Wall, also known as the Kotel. The Western Wall is a remaining part of a wall that surrounded the Holy Temple more than two thousand years ago. It is often believed to be the holiest place in Jewish tradition, although I've personally never felt that connection. To me, the Holy Temple is the only holy place, and praying to a wall that once surrounded it sort of feels like a substitute for the original. Of course, I realize that the Temple was destroyed millenia ago, and the Kotel is pretty much the closest thing we have to it (in additon to the Southern Wall which was recently excavated). So when I visited, I didn't expect to encounter anything particularly extradionary. However, the day we visited happened to be one on which hundreds of new soldiers were getting inducted into the army. Each soldier was given his or her first rifle, in addition to a copy of the Bible. I expected to see these soldiers tearing up at this profound moment, but at the end of the ceremony each pulled a cell phone, started smoking some cigarettes, or trying to get their hands on falafel.

A few days ago we went to a memorial service sponsored by AACI (Association of Americans and Canadians in Israel) for those who have died in terrorist attacks or in the army in the past year who are American or Canadian. It was particularly poignant because one of the names being inscribed on the memorial wall was that of Michael Levin, an alum of Nativ from four years ago. Mike was killed this past summer in Lebanon after cutting short a trip home to Philadelphia in order to come back to fight. Although I never met him, I have a few friends who were very close with him, so I have heard many inspiring stories about him. His parents spoke to us a couple weeks ago, and it was a very emotional morning for all of us.

One phrase I've heard over and over again since arriving here is "life goes on." For these soldiers, 18 years old, exactly my age, the army is a natural progression in their lives, which is hard to fathom for us Americans. Life goes on, even if you've just been given an M-16 rifle and the duty to protect the State of Israel. Life goes on when there are terrorist attacks. Life goes on when the Knesset (Israeli government) has failed to reach a suitable decision in a controversial case. Life in Israel just keeps on going, and going.

This attitude threw me at first when I arrived here. Israeli attitudes are so incredibly different from American attitudes. When an Israeli says something, they mean it. There's no trying to smooth over words to try and avoid offending anyone. There's no extraneous junk thrown into a statement, an Israeli says what needs to be said, and no more. At first, I thought this was plain rudeness, but I've come to see the Israeli point of view behind it. They believe that Americans are too sensitive, hesitating, and uncertain. They also believe that Americans are gullible and can't do math to figure out the exchange rate...thus leading to some very jacked up prices. At the same time, anything new and innovative is referred to as being "American," even if it is not from the US. In America, my religion always seemed to define me to others, here, where the majority of people are Jewish, you are defined more by where you come from than your religion. (Although you are often defined by your involvement in Judaism...keep reading.)

Israel is defined by its status as a religious country just as much as it isn't. Let me explain. A very, very general statement that I've heard time and time again is that you are either secular, or religious in Israel. This is not true at all. Secular Jews in Israel understand Judaism, which is often not the case in America. For some, their understanding of the laws and decision not to follow them often creates a superiority complex in which they consider themselves 'higher' than those who do follow them; they feel like they've 'seen the light' and others haven't. Within the Religious community, there are many divisons. There are Ashnenazi (eastern European) and Sephardi (basically everything else, but mostly around the Iberian Peninsula), Lubavitch, Hasids, and so much more. One big issue is Zionism-there are many within the Religious community who do not believe the State of Israel should exist until the Messiah comes, and the most fundamental of these people often align themselves with Palestinians who are against Israel. On the opposite side of the spectrum are the Religious Zionists, who have isolated themselves in the "settlements" of the West Bank, as well as in Judea and Samaria. (There are so many issues surrounding this group of people, that I can't even begin to explain, if you'd like more information, google the issue, or email me back and I can send you a paper I wrote about the subject for a class.)

I am neither secular, nor religious. If I were secular, I would probably have no qualms about eating a bacon cheeseburger on Shabbat. If I were religious, I would most likely be married already, with a baby on the way. I am Masorti, the Israeli arm of the American Conservative movement. However, Masorti is different than Conservative in the US because it is more traditional in terms of following Jewish law. It's an interesting thing to experience. So far, I've been to about a half-dozen different synagogues, and it's been interesting to see the different traditions, tunes, buildings, and of course the food afterwards ;). At this point in time, I feel most connected to Shira Chadasha, a synagogue that is Modern Orthodox but egalitarian. They allow women to lead most parts of the service, and there is a mechitza (a seperation between the men's side and the women's side), but it is a mostly see-through gauzy sheet, which is moved during the sermon and announcements.

And final jump in subject because I know this email is getting pretty long: I've picked my classes for the semester, and I'm pretty excited. I'll be taking History of the Modern Palestinians, Hebrew, Freshman Writing, The Role of International Law in Formulating Public Policy (an advanced course!), and Architecture of Jerusalem. The last course may be swapped for a Jewish Education class and internship...that is, if I get accepted to it. In conclusion, I hope each of you is having a wonderful time at home/on your college campus/wherever else you may be. And for those of you who are Jewish, shana tova, and I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me for anything I may have done this past year.

If you have questions, comments, are unfamiliar with any of the vocabulary, PLEASE email me back, I'd love to hear.

And lastly, feel free to forward this to anyone else you think would like to see this. They can then email me and ask to be put on the list. On the opposite note, if this is too annoying/clogging up your email inbox, let me know.

Until next month!
-Nehama

Address until Feb:
Nehama Rogozen
Nativ College Leadership Program
8 Agron Street
POB 7456
Jerusalem, ISRAEL

Phone #:
From Israel: 052-421-1209
From US/Canada: 011-972-524-311-209

Skype name: nehama.rogozen
AIM screename: ramahkid

Test post

This picture is from a swearing-in ceremony at the Kotel (the Western Wall). In addition to receiving their first gun, each 18 year old receives a copy of the Tanakh (composed of the Torah, Prophets, and Writings).