Israel 2015- First (Second to Last) Shabbat Edition

5/8/15

            Sometimes life is like Rosh HaNikra. An endless cycle of waves crashing against rock. Gradually, undetectably, the rock yielding to the persistent power of the sea. Creations of unimaginable grandeur birthed incrementally. Constant change so subtle that the human eye, sometimes the entirety of the human life is unable to detect it. Teachers and parents, y’all know what I mean, right?

            Sometimes life is like the border between Israel and Lebanon. A barbwire fence that traverses a beautiful mountain range and extends out into the Mediterranean. Navy boats with different flags endlessly patrolling either side. God’s creation in human hands, the politics of nationhood and identity against the backdrop of mountains and sea. At Rosh HaNikra there is a railroad that once carried people from Jerusalem to Beirut and back again. There’s a prayer that says, “May it be so again.”

            Sometimes life is like Tzfat. Narrow alleyways, doors painted blue to try and trick the devil, “crazy” people easier to find than “sane” ones. Reason and logic run their course and we surrender to the irrational, to dreams, to spirit, and to faith.  We look towards the mountains and wait for the Sabbath Bride to descend from heaven to kiss us on the forehead and breath new life into our souls.

            And sometimes life is like Kibbutz Gonen. A collection of bungalows tucked on a hillside, a grassy quad perfect for a game of football or soccer with a handful of Israeli kids, and the absurd squawking of peacocks. Regarding that fowl squalor: could there be a sound less fit for such a magnificent looking creature?

            We woke up to the sound of birds chirping in Zichron Ya’akov. Outside our windows there must’ve been 20 different species of birds. Each with its distinctive tune. How wonderful that they don’t need to be told to greet the morning with song. But they do need to be taught how to sing. Listening to the birds was a powerful reminder that each of us has our own song as well. Sometimes it feels like we’re still learning the melody. Other times we’re singing at the top of our lungs. Part of what made today special was hearing our kids singing their songs.

            Rosh HaNikra is one of the most sublime places on earth. As our medic said, there’s life before you’ve been to Rosh HaNikra and there’s life after. But leave it to our kids (and Jason M. and Ryan B. in particular) to bust out their portable stereo system and start a Justin Beiber (or is it Bieber???) dance party! The incongruence was delightful. I didn’t realize it at the time, but what our kids were doing was experiencing Rosh HaNikra in their own way and with their own song. Further evidence of this is the fact that Zach B. got into an extensive discussion of the nuances of various Led Zeppelin albums while touring the magnificent grottos. Whereas I might’ve once been attuned only to the tension, today I felt deeply connected to the harmony. Why shouldn’t Beiber and Bonham and Rosh HaNikra coexist?

            On the drive from Rosh HaNikra to Tzfat we listened to our most recent Davis Album, “A Palace in Time.” The album is devoted to the music of Shabbat and Tzfat is the birthplace of the Friday evening prayer service. It seemed like a good idea. It was great hearing kids singing the songs that they recorded in some cases more than 18 months ago.

            It was on the drive to Tzfat that we came to a stark realization. This will be the year when we have to stop more frequently than we’d like in order for kids to visit the bathroom. We’re a small -bladdered group, plain and simple. In most cases this wouldn’t be worth mentioning, but Tzfat, mystical city that it is, has a serious bathroom shortage. To make a long story short, we ended up at Tzfat’s central bus station, a place so foul that we have never and will never (God willing) visit it again. I accompanied the group to the bathroom and couldn’t help but laugh as the girls spent the first five minutes of their bathroom visit simply screaming in repulsion at the idea of having to use these particular restrooms. That’s a song I’ll never forget. Our tour guide, Yishay, simply said, “I told you so.” Israel: country of contradictions.

            As with Rosh HaNikra, we brought our full personalities to Tzfat. On the bus ride from Tzfat to our kibbutz we gave the kids free reign of the microphone. We heard multiple stories about bargaining, about kids putting on tefilin for the first time, and one particularly sweet story. A few of our kids were walking and saw a religious woman. They wished her Shabbat Shalom and she told them, “Thank you so much, I needed that.” Our kids bring smiles without trying and they bestow blessing without even knowing. This is because they know, even if they don’t say it enough, that life has smiled upon them and that they have been blessed beyond measure in their lives.

            Shabbat is about slowing down and about peeling back the layers of stuff that accumulate over the course of the week so that we might behold ourselves, our loved ones, our world, and God more compassionately and more clearly. In that spirit we gave the kids a few hours to rest and hang out before Shabbat and an hour or so after services and dinner to enjoy the aforementioned quad under the starry sky.

            For services we transformed an ordinary social hall into a space full of spirited singing and sharing. Justin T. Jared R. Josh E. Cydney W. and Michaela Z. shared beautiful readings, lots of kids got up to help lead prayers and Jake R. played guitar as we sang the Shema together for the first time. We read some of the blessings that y’all shared on the menschlichkeit blog and had fun guessing which parents had written them and we sang some of the Jewish songs that the kids grew up with at Davis. We recited Mishbeirach for many of our loved ones and recited Kaddish as well. By all accounts it was one of the most meaningful services we’ve ever had—a good sign for our first Shabbat in Israel. From there we went to dinner.

            We started dinner with Kiddush and Motzi. The entire wait staff of the restaurant paused as we sang. It was clear that they weren’t expecting such a beautiful blessing to emerge from our group. We get that a lot when we’re in Israel. I think people are surprised by our kids’ level of Judaic knowledge and comfort with Jewish practice.

Part of what I love about Davis is that it forges Jewish identity seamlessly. Because our kids know their stuff, because they’ve lived the rhythms of our Jewish tradition for their entire lives, they are comfortable with things that might seem incongruous or even hypocritical to others. We sing the full Kiddush and then strum guitars on Shabbat. We sing L’cha Dodi but every heart isn’t necessarily overflowing with the spirit of Shabbat—it’s just what we do. It’s who we are. Others may wonder the exact nature of our Jewish worldview and practice, but for us there is remarkable internal coherence and with it integrity and authenticity. As it turns out integrity and authenticity are the foundation of a meaningful and fulfilling religious and cultural life. It’s pretty interesting if you think about it.

            So I’d never really thought about it before, but sometimes life is like Rosh haNikra. Sometimes it’s like the border between Israel and Lebanon. Sometimes it’s like Tzfat and sometimes it’s like Kibbutz Gonen.  Sometimes we surprise others, sometimes we surprise ourselves. We traffic in blessings and change the world with our smiles. What allows us to travel life’s road so gracefully is the fact that we’ve got a song that only we can sing. But before we can sing our song we must discover the melody. In order to discover the melody we have to find our voice. Before we find our voice we have to listen to our souls, to our loved ones, to the world around us, and to the voice that summons us into being.

Shabbat Shalom!