Archive for the 'aliyah rites' Category
August 19th, 2008 by elie
I’m in New York City for the next three weeks.
On one stretch, between my office on 35th to the bus on 42nd, I hear not one - not two - but three Hebrew conversations.
I get on the bus, there’s a six pack of hard lemonade in my seat; former passenger leftovers. I drop everything and carry it over to the bus driver. Then I walk back to my seat and feel guilty that if it’s laced with explosives, I just killed him.
Yeah, that never gets old.
August 12th, 2008 by elie
Last night I got to be the family member who picks up my cousin’s sick kid from a camping trip near my house.
Basically, I have Israeli cousins up north, and they sent their daughter on a youth movement camping trip which was located about 15 minutes from my place. She had called them late last night, complaining she didn’t feel well. They called me and asked if I minded picking her up and letting her stay over.
Of course I obliged; if you’re an oleh with Israeli friends/family who have done nothing but taken care of you since you arrived, all you want to do is repay them. Often I’m told to “pay it forward,” which I do, but it is so nice when you can really prove how settled you are by doing favors for the same people who took you in at the beginning.
It was also kinda fun to be the adult family member to sign out the minor. I felt like an authority. Plus they all called me “doda” which made me feel old, but in a cool, hip, young aunt kind of way.
August 7th, 2008 by elie
For me, there aren’t daily Israeli-firsts anymore; it’s more like periods of firsts washing up on the shore. I pick them up and hold them to my ear and listen to the waves of meaning they try to offer.
At least, some of the time.
I participated as a support/witness for a friend undergoing conversion (of sorts). For the second time, I saw the insides of a Beit Din in Jerusalem; this was a specific Beit Din that specializes in conversion.
I’m glad that what I expected wasn’t exactly what happened; at least what I saw. I’m a harsh judge of bureaucratic Jewish process; so often it lacks heart and soul.
Anyway, it was an interesting, intimate and emotional experience that I feel pretty honored to have participated in. My friend has actually always been a practicing Jew, but since arrival in Israel, she’s been painfully aware that it is not according to the standards officially set out here.
I’m relieved that the rabbis didn’t let me down with any chilul Hashem action. I’m ecstatic that my friend can move on with her life. I’m also more appreciative of what I’ve had without ever trying…
Before it was our turn with the Beit Din, we saw a young couple and their baby walk out of the room. There was this aura of silent relief; but it was an exhausted relief, a relief that comes only after you’ve become red in the face trying to do what you know is true.
This man was just that, and he looked at us, wishing us luck. He said - really to God more than to anyone else - “two years“. Those words were so heavy; they carried so much. They carried his story. Two years.
I wished him mazal tov and when he said thank you, I could feel him meaning it. It felt good.
The rabbis had seemed to have already made up their mind by the time my friend’s adoptive family and me walked in to ‘testify’. They had a warm, yet serious demeanor. I thought that was exactly what this warranted: a cocktail of seriousness and warmth. I felt like I could trust these guys. The one who interviewed me had kind eyes; he reminded me of a Talmud teacher I had in high school.
Afterward, when we were all called in for the ‘verdict’, it hit me truly for the first time what I’ve always had. I’ve always had certainty, status. I’ve had the luxury of not being doubted. I’ve had a self-identity as solid as stone.
My friend was given the spiritual head-nod to ‘join’ Dat Yisroel by a panel of rabbis only after providing evidence of commitment. Commitment that had to be inspected, prodded and ultimately, judged. Commitment that - whether it mattered or not - had already been accepted on her behalf before she was born.
I’ve never had to affirm my belief or my Jewish commitment to another human; it never really much mattered to a panel of rabbinical judges. I’ve never had to say Shema Yisroel and accept this covenant in public. Before I was born - whether it mattered or not - it had already accepted me.
June 5th, 2008 by elie
Russian man with silver teeth: grumbles something in heavy accented Hebrew (or maybe it was Russian?) and points to a package of frozen dough
Me: “Slicha?”
Russian man with silver teeth: grumbles something else in Hebrew, pointing to the price
Me: looking confused
Russian man with silver teeth: smiles big, “Aaah…. Priveyet, russian russian russian russian russian…”
Me: smiles back, “Lo yoda’at…”
Russian man with silver teeth: now he’s looking confused, grumbles again in Russian accented Hebrew
Me: explains what he needed to know in American accented Hebrew; unfortunately for him, the price is not to his liking.
Russian man with silver teeth: walks away grumbling, “Nyet! Nyet! Nyet!”
And there we have it, once again. Russians assume I am Russian. It has happened probably a dozen times now. If only I could understand what that means…
June 4th, 2008 by elie
Wouldn’t it be cheaper to just keep a blog?
There is a new show going into production called HaOlim (”The New Immigrants”) which is a sort of Real World for new immigrants to Israel. As Jewlicious reports:
“So the concept is pretty straightforward. Eight young olim from different countries live together in a big house in Tel Aviv. They each have to pool their finances, like in an old skool kibbutz, and accomplish various tasks, while going through the usual shtick that one goes through as a new immigrant. As the show progresses, the audience will witness moments of hilarity and heartbreak and everything will culminate in the selection of the Ultimate Oleh who will get a luxury condo in Tel Aviv, a new car and a hot job to help them with their new life in Israel.”
So essentially, is this a step ‘up’ for reality tv? Har, har.
Call me skeptical, maybe it’s just the Israeli in me, but that doesn’t really sound like a true aliyah experience. Do they have to speak Hebrew in the house? Do they have to walk into Misrad Hapnim/a bank/university admissions office completely alone and work it out? Camera crews don’t count.
I can see it now: The sniffling in front of the cameras about how lonely they feel… How hard it is to speak a new language… How life here has its ups and downs… All that while being incredibly hot, wrapped up in reality tv makeup and fashion.
There were no cameras when the rest of us rummaged through the black hole of new olehship. Then again, there is the blogosphere.
Are you making aliyah in the next few months and Interested in trying out? Email info@haolim.com. Behatzlacha!
May 7th, 2008 by elie
Spent the evening strolling around the Yom Haatzmaut celebration going on in the Tzur Hadassah elementary schoolyard. Clowns, kids, silly string, shaving cream, noise makers, cotton candy, lights, balloons… This no singles’ event.
I started reading old entries from a few years ago, describing my purpose for moving to Israel, my role in the aliyah movement, my reasons for coming here. It’s only now that I’m starting to realize the actuality of all my fancy words and dreamy descriptions. I can have kids in this small town and they can run around with all kinds of different friends and come to a “county fair” on Yom Haatzmaut and not worry about having to explain what that means.
I can actually see this in all the other kids running around here. They never give a thought to what it might be like to be surrounded by people who don’t understand. This is life: small Israeli town, big Jewish holidays. Everyday life and Jewish meaning colliding. As much as we allow it. And, man, would I be willing to allow it.
April 16th, 2008 by elie
There is something so completely special - when you can look past the depressing, lonely, sad aspects - about being an olah in Israel, cooking your family’s traditional Passover recipes for your own seder with fellow olim…
My grandmother is far far away, but here I am, across the world, continuing her delicious traditions and recreating her dishes in my very own Israeli kitchen. Like so much of the population before and around me, I am an immigrant here, bringing my own brand of Judaism and Jewish food to this true melting pot of a country.
April 13th, 2008 by elie
I have never experienced this anywhere in my life but here with my Israeli mobile number:
*Ring ring*
Me: “Hello?”
Israeli caller: “Hello?”
Me: “…hello?”
Israeli caller: “Hila?”
Me: “No, must be a wrong number…” (about to hang up)
Israeli caller: “Who is this?”
Me: “What’s the difference?”
Israeli caller: “Hila?”
Me: “No. Wrong number.”
Israeli caller: “Who is this?”
Me: “Not Hila.”
Israeli caller: “Who the hell are you?”
Me: *click…*
It is RIDICULOUS that I have to justify who I am when someone else called a wrong number. And they perseverate and perseverate, wasting their own time in getting irrationally angry at me for not being who they want while wasting their cell phone bills.
And this is across the board; most wrong numbers I get go exactly the way I’ve transcribed it above. Once I had an Anglo call a wrong number and that was totally different. It’s like the elevator thing. I really don’t understand it - wait, hold on one second, my phone is ringing -
*ring ring*
Me: “Hello?”
Israeli caller: “Hila?”
Me: “Still wrong number.”
Israeli caller: “Who is this?”
Me: “For the love of god…”
*click*
March 21st, 2008 by elie
Here’s what I love about it being Purim in Israel and being a part of an Israeli community: Coming home after a seuda with new friends (including 342674 kids) and then finding Mishloach Manot at your doorstep -
I guess you could say it’s a hidden miracle that we come to Israel single and adventurous and within three years, we end up married, suburban and combating baby spit at a tea party on a Friday afternoon.
Happy Purim!
February 8th, 2008 by elie
After almost a week of driving back and forth to work through trees and hills (the way God intended, no doubt) I have to say that it’s as if I’m only just now settling into my Israeli life. Jerusalem is more international, more global… in importance, position, people. It was a very different Israel, if Israel at all.
Now I feel tucked away on an Israeli yishuv, surrounded by nature and silence. No one has to know I’m here and I can just look up and feel like I’m standing with thousands of years of history, the image of God and myself.
I’d suggest to people that if they’re thinking of moving from Israel because it didn’t work out - and they’ve only lived the city life - try this for a change of pace and appreciation. Of course, I’ve only just arrived, but for now I’m betting that this will be a very different experience.
