A Day Well Lived- Israel 2023

     It turns out that life is less about what we do and more about how we do it. As we've surely noticed, two people can have what appears to be, from the outside, a nearly identical experience, but have that experience mean something completely different to each of them. For one person, the experience can be a peak experience, even life-changing, while for the other that same experience can be a total waste of time. Life is less about what we do, and more about the quality of our doing. 

    To do something, even something familiar and mundane, with the fullness of our being, is to elevate and transform that action through the quality of our doing. If we've ever had a piece of toast smeared with butter and thought, this is the BEST piece of toast I've ever eaten, it probably had less to do with the toast itself and more to do with the quality of our eating it. 

    Today was a day full of iconic experiences-- exploring Masada, riding a camel, floating in the Dead Sea, and celebrating Shabbat in Jerusalem. Thankfully, our kids took responsibility for the quality of these experiences. By taking responsibility, they made today a truly unforgettable day. They made today into a series of peak experiences that they will never forget. Not only will they never forget, but they'll continue to be nourished by these experiences each time they look back on today, and they'll be able to "time travel" from the as yet unknown future back to this wonderful day. 

    On top of Masada our kids took responsibility for their experience by listening closely, asking and engaging in big questions, and pushing through their exhaustion to be as fully present as able. 

    Our camel rides, while relatively brief, were in a beautiful and remote part of the Judean desert. Our kids took responsibility for their experience by being gracious in pairing up, by holding on tight, and by trying to engage as fully as possible not only with one another, but with the incredible beast that is the camel. 

    At the Dead Sea our kids took responsibility for their experience by following all the safety instructions, covering themselves and one another in mud, and then leisurely floating, content with what was and not striving for something that wasn't. 

    As a result of their taking responsibility, each of these experiences was infused with that special quality that makes an experience that much more satisfying, complete, and memorable. 

    After freshening up, we met in the lobby to take some pictures in our nice Shabbat clothes and then headed to a local reform synagogue. This community, Kehillat HaDror (The Jerusalem Free Synagogue) resembled Davis in some surprising ways. Most notably, it was housed in an elementary school. But there were other similarities including a moment of joyful dancing (yes, we ALL joined in) and also a special blessing for the children. As one of our kids gleefully exclaimed when the rabbi called up the children,  "Hey, we're children!!!!" For those of us who encounter the all-too-rapid unfolding of the years, it was a sweet reminder that they're still kids. Maybe not "children" exactly, but still... 

    Returning from Shabbat services, we enjoyed the changed energy of Friday night in Jerusalem. The onset of Shabbat is a powerful reminder of what human beings can accomplish when we share values, share traditions, and share a vision for our world. As you likely know, there have been significant political demonstrations in Israel for the last 6 months. Divisions that, according to North American media, threaten to "divide Israeli society." Being here in Israel, it's hard to see Israeli society truly unravelling. There's just too much shared vision, shared values, and shared experience to make that unravelling seem like an imminent (or even remote) possibility. What's true for Israel is, funnily enough, true for the class of 2023 as well. These kids have been through so much together. In terms of worldview and life experience, they're much closer to one another than they can ever realize. Individually, their Jewish identities will never unravel. In the years to come they'll surely grow, evolve, and mature, but rest assured, they won't unravel. And what's true for them as individuals is true for them as a class. Four short years from now we'll see them at the Senior Sendoff. And we'll know then, even as we likely know now, that they share an unbreakable bond. And in the coming days that bond will grow even stronger as they greet each and every experience with a sense of purpose, enthusiasm, and, perhaps most importantly, responsibility for the quality of their presence in each and every moment.  

Jewish Standard Time- Israel 2023

     As you likely know, our much anticipated direct flight to Israel encountered some unexpected pre-departure "turbulence" in the form of mechanical issues. Said issues can be summarized as follows: we boarded, it was hot, it was hotter, we deplaned, we hung out and ate Delta snacks, we boarded again, and 11 swift and painless hours later we landed in Israel. Direct flight for the win! The flight was uneventfully chill and we were so travel weary that the student led rendition of Am Yisrael Chai slated for our landing didn't quite materialize. Best not to force such things. Actually, best not to force most things. 

     After meeting our guides and before boarding the busses in the newly (and inconveniently) reconfigured Ben Gurion Airport, a few of our participants, inspired by some parental reflections at our departure ceremony, decided to fulfill their newly acquired life long dream of literally kissing the ground. You've surely seen the pictures by now including the award winning picture of me taking a picture of the kids kissing the ground. You can't say we didn't try! Though this blog is a labor of love, I understand that a picture (especially from Israel) is certainly worth at least a thousand words. 

    Modeling the unofficial yet ever present 6th Davis Menschlichkeit Value of "flexibility" we relocated our Welcome to Israel l'chayim to a small courtyard in a quiet neighborhood adjacent to the bustling Mahane Yehuda marketplace (shuk). Standing beneath a Mulberry tree that was literally dropping perfectly ripe fruit on our groggy heads, we said shehecheyanu, sipped a bit of grape juice, sampled the berries (after confirming what they were), and received instructions for our first yamishuk (free choice meal voucher system). 

    Though somewhat discombobulated, we all managed to navigate the wonderful chaos of the cacophanous shuk. Thankfully, overly wrought phrases like "wonderful chaos of the cacophonous" can be summarized in Hebrew's most elegant word, always evident in Israel: balagan. The shuk is always a balagan, and even more so on Thursday afternoon and Friday. That's what makes it such a perfect introduction to Israel. Consider the following-- eager and at the ready, many of our boys wrapped Tefillin at a small stand located between a fishmonger and a "clothing" store prominently featuring boxer shorts  emblazoned with the unfortunate yet memorable slogan: "I'm Jewish, you can check." Add a saxophone player, a group of punk/ goth kids blasting death metal, more than a couple of folks asking for Tzedakah to feed their families, a handful of Judaica and houseware shops, and pretty much every fruit, baked good, and prepared culinary item imaginable and you've got the shuk. Every single step in the shuk brings a different sight, sound, smell, and experience. And you can never be completely sure what you just stepped in. It's probably the perfect venue for working through one's jet lag and a wonderful microcosm of Israel (and Jerusalem in particular). 

    From the shuk we visited a local chef (formerly a chef at the King David Hotel) who now offers cooking workshops. We were happy to be seated at long (immaculately clean and very un-shuk-like) stainless steel tables where we had a chance to don varsity style paper hats, roll out challah, watch a tahini preparation while it baked, and then dip our fresh loaves into the unctuous (never used that word in an Israel blog before) tahini. As delicious as it was, it was not as delicious as checking into the hotel, showering, and heading to our first dinner buffet where we quickly learned that only a small majority of our students had already locked themselves out of their rooms (they've otherwise been supremely responsible). You may be full just from reading this blog. If so, imagine how we feel now. Full, freshly showered, and ready to pass out (italics for emphasis). 

    I called this post Jewish Standard Time because JST is a familiar concept to most/ all of us. Usually, JST is a kind of throwaway term. We blame JST when a friend is predictably 15 minutes late. Without being too heavy handed, I'd say JST in its colloquial use is borderline offensive. Maybe not. As an alternative to the snarky use of JST, I think there's another (better) way of thinking about JST. Jewish Standard Time points to the fact that Jews and the Jewish community have our own unique and special relationship to time. If we let it, Jewish Standard Time can become an organizing principle in our lives, as it is for many Jews and as it is for the State of Israel. Prayers are recited daily and at specific times. The Torah is overflowing with descriptions of holy days and commandments that need to be performed at specific times and seasons. The list goes on. Here are some ways that I think we've experienced JST since hugging y'all goodbye yesterday. 

- Our flight was 3 hours delayed, yet somehow "right on time."  

- The shuk was pulsing with the palpable energy of the rapidly approaching Shabbat, a weekly cadence. 

- We entered Jerusalem, a city where you can talk about 2,500 BCE in the same breath as you talk about 2023. 

- A few hours with friends felt like a lifetime. 

- We ate 3 meals in 5 hours. 

- We ran into two Davis Academy alumni, neither of which we've seen in years, and yet it felt like it was just yesterday that they were children in our care. 

- the children who just yesterday looked up at the big kids in the Lower School gym today kissed the ground of the land they've always known was home without ever truly understanding what that might mean. 

- And tomorrow we wake up at 5:30 AM to hike a mountain to encounter a 2,100 year old chapter of our people's long and ever-unfolding sacred story.