We woke up early, had breakfast, and boarded the busses for the long drive to Tzfat. Along the way we passed through the Galilee on what happened to be a pristine day. As we gently rumbled through the increasingly dramatic hills and valleys, surrounded by olive trees, farms, and small villages, we eventually caught our first glimpse the Kinneret/ Sea of Galilee.
We arrived in Tzfat and began climbing through the narrow alleyways, many of them painted blue. Like the water. Like the sky. The unique character of Tzfat is instantly recognizable in the abundance of artist galleries, small synagogues, and the people, primarily Ultra Orthodox, going about their various activities.
Tucked away in a quiet courtyard we took a few minutes to look at the surrounding mountains. Mt. Meron, just across a beautiful valley, is a sacred site to the millions of disciples of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. Bar Yochai was a rabbi during the Talmudic age. He was famous for passionate teachings which were infused with mysticism and mystery.
Shimon Bar Yochai, Tzfat, and Kabbalah more generally provided us with an occasion for deep philosophical, spiritual, and theological reflection. It's almost impossible to reconstruct the mystical journey we took. A journey which touched on the opening sentences of the Torah (In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth), the Israeli Flag, the primal elements of water, earth, and fire, and many secret messages embedded in the Hebrew language and in a particular way of manipulating Hebrew letters to reveal their "secret" meanings: gematria. With our heads spinning from the stream of consciousness our guides asked us to focus in on one piece of the cosmic puzzle: the human being. Given the many mysteries, realities, blessings, curses, uncertainties, opportunities, profundities, and other stuff of this universe, how might each of us, as individuals, participate in the cosmic dance? Judaism's answer (or at least one of them): Tikkun Olam.
Tikkun Olam means repairing the brokenness of our world. Rather than some far flung and grandiose notion, Tikkun Olam is actually quite humbling. We begin with ourselves. With the way we treat our own bodies, hearts, and minds. With the words we speak. With the relationships that form the sinew of our daily lives. From there, and only from there, we expand our realm of concern. We think about all types of brokenness. We think about all who are vulnerable. We think about the ways in which creation suffers, in which our world has gone awry. We accept responsibility. Then with joy and with determination, we proceed. In doing so, we join the array of cosmic forces that propels our universe forward and toward the good.
Typical 8th grade lunch table discussion sort of stuff. Well at least that's what I presume they were discussing during our "choose your own adventure" lunch. But I may be wrong.
For those of you that receive gifts or discover that your kids made special purchases in Tzfat, please consider those items in the light of the preceding discussion. My prayer for them is that those items serve as a reminder of the primal power of Tzfat and of each individual's obligation to participate in Tikkun Olam.
We came down from Tzfat into the Jordan River Valley. There, just north of the Kinneret, we went rafting. The hosts at the rafting facility were so excited to tell us that the Jordan River is the fullest it has been in at least a decade, likely longer. Having rafted once or twice before (and still recovering from those adventures) I can confirm that the Jordan was mightier than ever. It's certainly no Chattahoochee, but then again, when's the last time you heard of someone being baptized in the Chattahoochee?
The kids loved rafting. They loved the cool water. They loved getting caught in the thick brush that lines the river. The loved the occasional fish hopping out of the water to check out the action. I'll take a moment of personal privilege and share about the raft that I joined. We were the first raft in and the last raft out. Initially confident that we would race to the finish line, we quickly discovered, for reasons that we can't quite pinpoint, that we were not going to be a fast moving raft. After the first couple of rafts swept past us we changed our tactic. We basically pulled up our paddles and chilled out. After reassuring the kids that I was, for the duration of the rafting trip, "just one of them" they proceeded to really get into the spirit of the river. Eventually the conversation shifted from chit chat to story telling. I heard stories about summer camp, about trips to the beach, about mischief in various classes over the years and so much more. My favorite band, The Grateful Dead, has a song lyric, "Listen to the river sing sweet songs, to rock my soul." That's what I thought about as I listened to the kids going back and forth. When the conversation stilted I asked a prodding question or two, and off they went. I felt honored to be there. It felt special. It felt holy. And we were a good twenty minutes behind the penultimate raft.
After some ice cream and treats we came back to the hotel for dinner and packing up our bags.
This evening at 9:30 we sent the kids to their rooms so they could finish packing and get a good night's sleep. A bit worried that the "early" hour might leave room for some additional mischief, we made a heartfelt appeal to the kids. We told them, "It's been a great trip and so much is yet to come. You don't realize it but you're tired. And your chaperones are tired too, and still need to pack their bags. It's in your best interest and our best interest that we all have an early night. Can you get on board with that?"
90 minutes later the night isn't over, but I can report that we think we took the right approach tonight. We communicated clearly our hopes, needs, and expectations. We gave the kids a "why" that they can relate to. So far it's been a quiet night. In addition to boding well for tomorrow, it reinforces my sense that these kids are grateful. Will they always want to stay up later? Yes. Will they always want more free time? Yes. But they understand that there are only 24 hours in a day and that we are all in this together. Their partnership in tonight's reasonable "to your rooms" time (notice I didn't say bedtime), means that they are starting to understand their role in making this trip the transformative journey that it can be. It seems like they're starting to realize that the quality of their experience is less about the water level of the Jordan River than it is about the quality of their presence and the openness of their hearts as they float downstream.
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