Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
The Hanging Tree - a Mission thought
THURSDAY
On Thursday morning, five of us went to the Kotel to daven vatikin - attending a minyan which synchronizes its prayer such that Shema is recited just before sunrise, and the Amidah with sunrise.
I first did this on a Federation mission six or seven years ago, when a rabbi from Minneapolis organized a bus to the kotel for such a minyan. It was an experience I hope to retain always. The weather was not great, so all of the minyanim were in the indoor alcove, crammed together among breakfast-noshers and tzedakah collectors, chaos and cacophony reigning as the multitude of minyanim prayed simultaneously but at different paces, Jews of all kinds together - and all of the sounds and noises converged slowly as we neared sunrise, so that Shema was recited aloud in near-unison, and then Tzur Yisrael was overwhelmingly loud - and then there was utter silence as sunrise hit and we began the amidah. I can't begin to describe in words just how stirring that silence was.
After that, I did it again a few times, but not in the past 3-4 years. This time the experience was rather different, and not as powerful. Part of it is that we had fine weather, so we were outdoors and more spread out and echo-less. Part of it is that a minyan right behind me was out of sync, taking their time, so that they broke the silence of the amidah with their own Shema. Still, thank Gd, it was good.
The morning's program was a tour of Ir David (City of David), Chizkiyah's tunnel, the Davidson Center and the southern wall of Har haBayit (the Temple Mount), but before all of that we heard from Rabbi Michael Melchior, MK and Cabinet Minister. He spoke about trying to bring religious and secular Israelis together in tolerance, and he was generally eloquent.
I was very much in agreement with his remarks until someone asked him about the "ultra-Orthodox" who "don't share his vision." Then he went off in a diatribe against those nasty ultra-Orthodox Jews who wield their power and threaten not to recognize his conversions, and how he had personally outfoxed them on a bill to help agunot. I was disgusted by his portrayal of his adversaries as greedy, power-hungry people who would trample women for the sake of their own hold on power. Maybe it was just because he had been battling them on this bill, or maybe I'm naive and his portrayal is correct, but I just don't believe in vilifying the opposition.
In the afternoon we visited Yad vaShem's newer section. I was surprised to find that a cousin of mine was our guide! She was fantastic, and the tour was most moving. I actually had not wanted to go; I know what this sort of thing does to me. But I had to go, as community rabbi, so I did.
Then, after we returned to our hotel, I grabbed an eish tanur shawarma at my favorite Yerushalayim restaurant, Maoz, and headed for the airport. The rest of the tour group is still there, remaining into this week (and some beyond), with chesed projects and more touring.
There was much more on this trip, but hopefully this digest will provide a sense of what it was like. Perhaps it will influence others to go, whether on Federation mission trips or on their own.
The bottom line:
*Federation trips are packed with activities.
*The speakers and programs represent a spectrum of left and right and a chance to hear some great presentations.
*The activities mix chesed projects, touring and free time.
*This is an opportunity for spiritual growth as well as activism and community.
*I didn't talk about this much, but the food is great!
טובה הארץ מאד מאד ("The land is very, very good" - Bamidbar 14:7), but the trip was way too short. Oh, well... next time.
Showing posts with label Israel: Federation trip. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Israel: Federation trip. Show all posts
Friday, November 7, 2008
Liveblogging the JFLV Mission to Israel, Day 2-3
Click here for Part I, here for Part II.
TUESDAY, continued
We resume our story with a trip to Beit haTefutsot, aka The Diaspora Museum.
I love the idea of this museum: To memorialize Jewish existence in communities outside Israel, since all of us will eventually move to Israel and those communities will disappear. My only problem is that while the communities are, indeed, losing their relevance, it's not really happening because we are making aliyah. The communities are, by and large, disappearing into the landscape.
Unfortunately, the exhibits clearly have not been updated in a while. In particular, their once-vaunted genealogy/community database is now far outstripped by Internet resources, and should either be converted into an Internet search tool or seriously mega-updated.
Then we went to the Palmach Museum, which I thought was absolutely wonderful. With its personal story and its way of incorporating the visitor into the exhibit, this creative presentation draws you into the Palmach experience of defending Jewish lives in Israel in the 1940's, before and during the formation of the State.
Here I began to think about the glaring need to draw religious and secular Israeli society together. Does the haredi in Geulah know the story of the Palmach fighter – not in a vague historical sense, but in a personal and emotional sense? Does the grandson of the Palmach fighter know the story of a Bnei Braker – again, not in a distant sense but in a direct and emotional way? What if every resident of Meah Shearim would be paired with a kibbutznik for a week, for them to really sit and talk, but also to live life together, to see the passions and emotions of the other?
Yes, I know, I'm naïve regarding the effect this would have, but I still dream.
WEDNESDAY
For Shacharit this morning we tried another shul, a small Sephardic shtiebel close to the hotel (21 Gruzenberg).
I am already a closet Sephardi; Sephardic davening and minhag pull at me, not just because they are different from my lifelong norm but because of the authenticity of their roots and the sincerity of so many of their adherents. My Cordovero blood rebels against my Torczyner Ashkenazus. This morning was no exception; I drew a lot from the experience.
Also: Today, (or really with Maariv last night), Israelis began saying v'ten tal umatar, davening for rain. Per the Mishneh Berurah's counsel, I didn't recite it, but that was really uncomfortable. How could you be in Israel at this time of year and not daven for rain?!
Our travel day began with a trip to Sderot and two nearby kibbutzim, Ruhama and Sa'ad, the latter a religious kibbutz. The disclaimer UJC insisted on giving us beforehand, regarding potential harm, reminded me of my first year in Kerem b'Yavneh. It was the year of the Gulf War, when many chutznik parents asked (or insisted) that their children come before the war. In KBY, very few of us left. My family came to Israel to be with me. To alter the Disengagement mantra, יהודי לא בורח מיהודי, a Jew does not flee from another Jew.
Turns out that forty kassams were launched at the region that morning, and they hit Ashkelon while we were in the Sderot area, but we were fine, thank Gd.
Credit is due to UJC for not skirting the problem of the Disengagement. Twice today, in Sderot and then in a program I'll describe in a few minutes, we came face-to-face with its failure.
We met with kids, saw the bomb shelters and schools, and had discussions with school personnel. My favorite part: When the principal was surprised to hear there are still Orthodox communities in America. He won my heart with that line; forget Zichron Yaakov, Kibbutz Sa'ad is for me.
In the afternoon we traveled to a few different programs in the Yoav region, our community's UJC Partnership 2000 partner area. I was approached by a man whose brother is a developer in moshavim; he wanted to know if I and a few others from the Lehigh Valley might be interested in starting a moshav for ourselves.
We also saw a play put on by families evicted in the Disengagement, and had a chance for Q&A with one of the evacuees. We talked about what the evicted families were doing now, and how people deal with the depression. I asked about political preference in the current Israeli elections, but didn't get a clear answer. As I said earlier: I'm glad the mission dealt with the Disengagement issue head-on, and didn't try to skirt it.
One post left to go - Day 4, Thursday.
TUESDAY, continued
We resume our story with a trip to Beit haTefutsot, aka The Diaspora Museum.
I love the idea of this museum: To memorialize Jewish existence in communities outside Israel, since all of us will eventually move to Israel and those communities will disappear. My only problem is that while the communities are, indeed, losing their relevance, it's not really happening because we are making aliyah. The communities are, by and large, disappearing into the landscape.
Unfortunately, the exhibits clearly have not been updated in a while. In particular, their once-vaunted genealogy/community database is now far outstripped by Internet resources, and should either be converted into an Internet search tool or seriously mega-updated.
Then we went to the Palmach Museum, which I thought was absolutely wonderful. With its personal story and its way of incorporating the visitor into the exhibit, this creative presentation draws you into the Palmach experience of defending Jewish lives in Israel in the 1940's, before and during the formation of the State.
Here I began to think about the glaring need to draw religious and secular Israeli society together. Does the haredi in Geulah know the story of the Palmach fighter – not in a vague historical sense, but in a personal and emotional sense? Does the grandson of the Palmach fighter know the story of a Bnei Braker – again, not in a distant sense but in a direct and emotional way? What if every resident of Meah Shearim would be paired with a kibbutznik for a week, for them to really sit and talk, but also to live life together, to see the passions and emotions of the other?
Yes, I know, I'm naïve regarding the effect this would have, but I still dream.
WEDNESDAY
For Shacharit this morning we tried another shul, a small Sephardic shtiebel close to the hotel (21 Gruzenberg).
I am already a closet Sephardi; Sephardic davening and minhag pull at me, not just because they are different from my lifelong norm but because of the authenticity of their roots and the sincerity of so many of their adherents. My Cordovero blood rebels against my Torczyner Ashkenazus. This morning was no exception; I drew a lot from the experience.
Also: Today, (or really with Maariv last night), Israelis began saying v'ten tal umatar, davening for rain. Per the Mishneh Berurah's counsel, I didn't recite it, but that was really uncomfortable. How could you be in Israel at this time of year and not daven for rain?!
Our travel day began with a trip to Sderot and two nearby kibbutzim, Ruhama and Sa'ad, the latter a religious kibbutz. The disclaimer UJC insisted on giving us beforehand, regarding potential harm, reminded me of my first year in Kerem b'Yavneh. It was the year of the Gulf War, when many chutznik parents asked (or insisted) that their children come before the war. In KBY, very few of us left. My family came to Israel to be with me. To alter the Disengagement mantra, יהודי לא בורח מיהודי, a Jew does not flee from another Jew.
Turns out that forty kassams were launched at the region that morning, and they hit Ashkelon while we were in the Sderot area, but we were fine, thank Gd.
Credit is due to UJC for not skirting the problem of the Disengagement. Twice today, in Sderot and then in a program I'll describe in a few minutes, we came face-to-face with its failure.
We met with kids, saw the bomb shelters and schools, and had discussions with school personnel. My favorite part: When the principal was surprised to hear there are still Orthodox communities in America. He won my heart with that line; forget Zichron Yaakov, Kibbutz Sa'ad is for me.
In the afternoon we traveled to a few different programs in the Yoav region, our community's UJC Partnership 2000 partner area. I was approached by a man whose brother is a developer in moshavim; he wanted to know if I and a few others from the Lehigh Valley might be interested in starting a moshav for ourselves.
We also saw a play put on by families evicted in the Disengagement, and had a chance for Q&A with one of the evacuees. We talked about what the evicted families were doing now, and how people deal with the depression. I asked about political preference in the current Israeli elections, but didn't get a clear answer. As I said earlier: I'm glad the mission dealt with the Disengagement issue head-on, and didn't try to skirt it.
One post left to go - Day 4, Thursday.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Liveblogging the JFLV Mission to Israel, Day 1-2
(see Part I here)
MONDAY, CONTINUED
On Monday evening I walked with a few friends north along the beach promenade into Yafo (Jaffa). We peeked into a couple of interesting stores and took a gander at a suspended tree, heard chazaras hashatz for minchah from a small shul, and returned to the hotel. We saw the end of sunset over the water; it was beautiful. I never get to see sunset, since minchah/maariv is always at the same time; it was a beautiful sight. (I had davened minchah earlier, and I davened maariv later.)
Seeing the Mediterranean is a special thrill for me. I grew up and attended elementary school right by the Atlantic, and I really miss the ocean in Allentown, but beyond that it's the Mediterranean – so crucial to Torah, so essential to our history. And I was able to make the berachah, Asher asah es haYam haGadol. It was very moving.
While we're on the nature topic – the flowers here are also striking. My favorite is bougainvillea, for both beauty and nostalgia. Yeshivat Kerem b'Yavneh, where I studied for two years after high school, has huge, beautiful bougainvillea. And our guide, Rachela, taught me something: What we usually think of as the bougainvillea flower is actually a leaf!
Dinner was at Le Relais Jaffa, and was excellent. I think there must be a rule about every mission having a meal in a tent; I'm pretty sure each mission I've attended has eaten at least one meal that way.
TUESDAY
GoDaven.com is a great resource; courtesy of that site and mapa.co.il, a couple of us went to shacharis at a Belz beis medrash (study hall) a little over a mile (1.8 km) from the hotel. People talk about the secular character of Tel Aviv, but we walked along R' Yitzchak Elchanan and R' Shmuel Mohliver, past R' Tzvi Hirsch Kalischer, and along R' Shafar and R' Mazeh.
The graffiti was disturbing, particularly the fact that so much of it was in English. Our guide says it doesn't bother her, which I find interesting.
I love Birchas Kohanim, always feeling great kavvanah (focus), and this morning was no exception; it was wonderful.
We did debunk one myth: I had always heard that the Belzer chassidim daven shmoneh esreih (the amidah) quickly to avoid losing kavvanah, but this was not true of the chassidim with whom we davened. It wasn't very long, but it sure wasn't rapid-fire.
We then went to Beit ZOA to hear Aluf Benn. I was disappointed that I didn't get a chance to look around, since my Cousin Jacques (about whom I posted last week) was president and my grandfather Moses Torczyner was very involved – but Aluf Benn was fantastic.
It is cliche but true that many UJC speakers tend toward the dovish, and it is certainly true that Benn, as editor of HaAretz, is to the left, but his presentation was balanced, and, more to the point, fantastic – a shrewd analysis of the American and Israeli elections and likely results and impacts for the Middle East. It was extremely lucid and appealing for neophytes as well as knowledgeable people, and he balanced it with views both left and right without discernible bias. I had a chance to ask him a couple of questions re: Gilad Shalit (Benn does not see him being freed soon, because of the extreme demands Hamas is making for his release), and re: any long-term fallout from the Acco riots (Benn doesn't see that happening).
We then went to Kikar Rabin. Today is the 13th anniversary of his assassination by Yigal Amir, adding to the relevance of the visit. I was no fan of Rabin before November 1995, but I vividly recall that night, when I was driving back from my leining job in Massapequa, and I turned on the radio and heard about the assassination. I remember crying in shock, and fearing the split I was certain this would create among Jews in Israel and everywhere.
In ensuing days the shock grew as I found out that it was Yigal Amir, whom I knew in Kerem b'Yavneh, and next to whom I sat for a time in Rav Silver's shiur. He was just a normal, quiet guy in yeshiva. He participated in the Purim shpiel the year after my Shanah Bet year, acting as a marathoner who took a short cut across a field and sank in the mud. He was a normal guy, and the yeshiva was certainly no hotbed of political activity; like anything that would take away from learning, politics were never on the agenda. But he read stuff or heard stuff, and decided to take matters into his own hands.
Thirteen years later, in my view, history shows that Rabin's Oslo accords were indeed wrong, that Israel has no sincere partner for peace, that concessions like those of Oslo only embolden our enemies. Witness the results of Disengagement. But to murder Rabin...
This afternoon was Bet heTefutzot, which I love for the concept of it, and the Palmach Museum, which was incredible. More on this later... we're doing Daf again soon.
MONDAY, CONTINUED
On Monday evening I walked with a few friends north along the beach promenade into Yafo (Jaffa). We peeked into a couple of interesting stores and took a gander at a suspended tree, heard chazaras hashatz for minchah from a small shul, and returned to the hotel. We saw the end of sunset over the water; it was beautiful. I never get to see sunset, since minchah/maariv is always at the same time; it was a beautiful sight. (I had davened minchah earlier, and I davened maariv later.)
Seeing the Mediterranean is a special thrill for me. I grew up and attended elementary school right by the Atlantic, and I really miss the ocean in Allentown, but beyond that it's the Mediterranean – so crucial to Torah, so essential to our history. And I was able to make the berachah, Asher asah es haYam haGadol. It was very moving.
While we're on the nature topic – the flowers here are also striking. My favorite is bougainvillea, for both beauty and nostalgia. Yeshivat Kerem b'Yavneh, where I studied for two years after high school, has huge, beautiful bougainvillea. And our guide, Rachela, taught me something: What we usually think of as the bougainvillea flower is actually a leaf!
Dinner was at Le Relais Jaffa, and was excellent. I think there must be a rule about every mission having a meal in a tent; I'm pretty sure each mission I've attended has eaten at least one meal that way.
TUESDAY
GoDaven.com is a great resource; courtesy of that site and mapa.co.il, a couple of us went to shacharis at a Belz beis medrash (study hall) a little over a mile (1.8 km) from the hotel. People talk about the secular character of Tel Aviv, but we walked along R' Yitzchak Elchanan and R' Shmuel Mohliver, past R' Tzvi Hirsch Kalischer, and along R' Shafar and R' Mazeh.
The graffiti was disturbing, particularly the fact that so much of it was in English. Our guide says it doesn't bother her, which I find interesting.
I love Birchas Kohanim, always feeling great kavvanah (focus), and this morning was no exception; it was wonderful.
We did debunk one myth: I had always heard that the Belzer chassidim daven shmoneh esreih (the amidah) quickly to avoid losing kavvanah, but this was not true of the chassidim with whom we davened. It wasn't very long, but it sure wasn't rapid-fire.
We then went to Beit ZOA to hear Aluf Benn. I was disappointed that I didn't get a chance to look around, since my Cousin Jacques (about whom I posted last week) was president and my grandfather Moses Torczyner was very involved – but Aluf Benn was fantastic.
It is cliche but true that many UJC speakers tend toward the dovish, and it is certainly true that Benn, as editor of HaAretz, is to the left, but his presentation was balanced, and, more to the point, fantastic – a shrewd analysis of the American and Israeli elections and likely results and impacts for the Middle East. It was extremely lucid and appealing for neophytes as well as knowledgeable people, and he balanced it with views both left and right without discernible bias. I had a chance to ask him a couple of questions re: Gilad Shalit (Benn does not see him being freed soon, because of the extreme demands Hamas is making for his release), and re: any long-term fallout from the Acco riots (Benn doesn't see that happening).
We then went to Kikar Rabin. Today is the 13th anniversary of his assassination by Yigal Amir, adding to the relevance of the visit. I was no fan of Rabin before November 1995, but I vividly recall that night, when I was driving back from my leining job in Massapequa, and I turned on the radio and heard about the assassination. I remember crying in shock, and fearing the split I was certain this would create among Jews in Israel and everywhere.
In ensuing days the shock grew as I found out that it was Yigal Amir, whom I knew in Kerem b'Yavneh, and next to whom I sat for a time in Rav Silver's shiur. He was just a normal, quiet guy in yeshiva. He participated in the Purim shpiel the year after my Shanah Bet year, acting as a marathoner who took a short cut across a field and sank in the mud. He was a normal guy, and the yeshiva was certainly no hotbed of political activity; like anything that would take away from learning, politics were never on the agenda. But he read stuff or heard stuff, and decided to take matters into his own hands.
Thirteen years later, in my view, history shows that Rabin's Oslo accords were indeed wrong, that Israel has no sincere partner for peace, that concessions like those of Oslo only embolden our enemies. Witness the results of Disengagement. But to murder Rabin...
This afternoon was Bet heTefutzot, which I love for the concept of it, and the Palmach Museum, which was incredible. More on this later... we're doing Daf again soon.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Liveblogging the JFLV Mission to Israel, Day 1
A lot of my readers have never been on a UJC/Federation mission to Israel, and (based on email I have received) there are a lot of misconceptions out there about what happens on these trips, so I'll be blogging the Jewish Federation of the Lehigh Valley's mission to Israel. There are 96 of us going - quite a strong number, thank Gd, given that the Valley boasts all of 8000 Jews.
Day 1 of our trip was an exhausting whirlwind, bringing back memories of mission trips past (I single out Jerry Roth, my former mission roommate, of blessed memory) and creating new ones as well.
We succeeded in having two Daf Yomi sessions on Sunday, one at the gate and the other in the air. The gemara was not easy; it jumped from topics of slavery to korbanot to tumah to tort law. Nonetheless, we held on tight and enjoyed the ride. It's amazing that the Amoraim (sages of the gemara) had all of these sources at their fingertips, without resorting to a CD-ROM.
No sleep on the plane, regrettably. I did manage to catch two movies I enjoyed, though: I, Robot and 21. Unfortunately I also tried Daredevil; I would have been better off playing Tac Tac Toe. What a bad film that was.
My seatmate was a good sport, putting up with sitting next to a rabbi; there are lots of people on the mission who are more fun than I am (yes, it's true), but she didn't abandon me for the glamour and fun.
I chose to daven shacharis at my seat (sans tallis/tefillin), rather than look for a minyan. I just don't think that harassing the flight crew is worth holding a kavvanah-less, buffeted-about minyan next to the bathrooms. I found a chance to put on tallis and tefillin and say shema in the airport while waiting for the luggage, so all was good. At least here everyone in the airport knows what you're doing, and you don't draw stares for this odd use of leather...
I've been asked repeatedly why I am returning to America before Shabbos, while the mission continues until mid-week next week; the answer is that I am not going to leave Caren with our four potential hooligans for an entire Shabbos. Then the follow-up question comes: Why go on the trip at all, just to be in Israel for four days?
There are several reasons:
1)I'm homesick for Israel.
2)I've reserved and canceled trips twice since my last mission (Dec 2003), and I'm tired of canceling.
3)These mission trips area always wonderful, showing me sights I have not seen before; I return to the States truly recharged.
4) I feel like I may be able to add something to others' experience.
5)I can't stomach counseling others to go, if I won't go myself. Someone did comment to me that it's wrong for clergy to have to pay for these trips, but to me, if you aren't willing to reach into your wallet yourself, you can't really ask others to do it.
And now it's Monday, but I still consider it Day 1, since we have not reached a hotel yet, and I haven't showered, changed or slept yet.
From the airport we went straight to Neot Kedumim, a project restoring a large chunk of parkland with plants from the Torah. Our guide was great, hitting many high points in a very short period of time. One striking sight: A cedar planted just feet (okay, meters) away from a date palm. This is botanically unusual, since palms thrive in hot climates and cedars are native to colder climates – but they put the two together to fulfill the biblical passage regarding righteous people, that they should flower like the date palm and flourish like a cedar in Lebanon.
I've been sending Neot Kedumim small checks for years in response to their mailings; it was good to finally see it in person.
On our way to the next stop we passed by Zichron Yaakov, a place I've long wanted to live. Manyu years ago, before children, I had a pipe dream of buying land in Zichron as a first step toward aliyah.
Our next stop was to pick eggplant for MiShulchan l'Shulchan, From Table to Table. Among their other activities, they get volunteers to harvest fields which are not worth the farmers' while. We picked the eggplants for an hour or so, getting muddy and burry but – speaking for myself – feeling good about the endeavor. (I did hesitate because one may not mass-pick vegetables that grow during shemitah, even after shemitah – but without sefarim around, I concluded that because the owner had rendered them hefker, and we were picking them for aniyyim, and because for all I know the eggplant had grown after shemitah, and because this was for tzedakah, I could comfortably rely on heter mechirah.)
I think I'll cut this one off here; I'm typing on the way from Table to Table to Tel Aviv, and I hope to post it before minchah. Time to start up another Daf session, anyway.
This is my third JFLV mission. Each of my previous two has had a flavor of its own; the first felt like a first-time adventure even though I had lived in Israel for two years, and the second was more like a reunion, with many previous missionites (I can't say missionaries) returning. I wonder what this one will feel like, when it's complete.
Day 1 of our trip was an exhausting whirlwind, bringing back memories of mission trips past (I single out Jerry Roth, my former mission roommate, of blessed memory) and creating new ones as well.
We succeeded in having two Daf Yomi sessions on Sunday, one at the gate and the other in the air. The gemara was not easy; it jumped from topics of slavery to korbanot to tumah to tort law. Nonetheless, we held on tight and enjoyed the ride. It's amazing that the Amoraim (sages of the gemara) had all of these sources at their fingertips, without resorting to a CD-ROM.
No sleep on the plane, regrettably. I did manage to catch two movies I enjoyed, though: I, Robot and 21. Unfortunately I also tried Daredevil; I would have been better off playing Tac Tac Toe. What a bad film that was.
My seatmate was a good sport, putting up with sitting next to a rabbi; there are lots of people on the mission who are more fun than I am (yes, it's true), but she didn't abandon me for the glamour and fun.
I chose to daven shacharis at my seat (sans tallis/tefillin), rather than look for a minyan. I just don't think that harassing the flight crew is worth holding a kavvanah-less, buffeted-about minyan next to the bathrooms. I found a chance to put on tallis and tefillin and say shema in the airport while waiting for the luggage, so all was good. At least here everyone in the airport knows what you're doing, and you don't draw stares for this odd use of leather...
I've been asked repeatedly why I am returning to America before Shabbos, while the mission continues until mid-week next week; the answer is that I am not going to leave Caren with our four potential hooligans for an entire Shabbos. Then the follow-up question comes: Why go on the trip at all, just to be in Israel for four days?
There are several reasons:
1)I'm homesick for Israel.
2)I've reserved and canceled trips twice since my last mission (Dec 2003), and I'm tired of canceling.
3)These mission trips area always wonderful, showing me sights I have not seen before; I return to the States truly recharged.
4) I feel like I may be able to add something to others' experience.
5)I can't stomach counseling others to go, if I won't go myself. Someone did comment to me that it's wrong for clergy to have to pay for these trips, but to me, if you aren't willing to reach into your wallet yourself, you can't really ask others to do it.
And now it's Monday, but I still consider it Day 1, since we have not reached a hotel yet, and I haven't showered, changed or slept yet.
From the airport we went straight to Neot Kedumim, a project restoring a large chunk of parkland with plants from the Torah. Our guide was great, hitting many high points in a very short period of time. One striking sight: A cedar planted just feet (okay, meters) away from a date palm. This is botanically unusual, since palms thrive in hot climates and cedars are native to colder climates – but they put the two together to fulfill the biblical passage regarding righteous people, that they should flower like the date palm and flourish like a cedar in Lebanon.
I've been sending Neot Kedumim small checks for years in response to their mailings; it was good to finally see it in person.
On our way to the next stop we passed by Zichron Yaakov, a place I've long wanted to live. Manyu years ago, before children, I had a pipe dream of buying land in Zichron as a first step toward aliyah.
Our next stop was to pick eggplant for MiShulchan l'Shulchan, From Table to Table. Among their other activities, they get volunteers to harvest fields which are not worth the farmers' while. We picked the eggplants for an hour or so, getting muddy and burry but – speaking for myself – feeling good about the endeavor. (I did hesitate because one may not mass-pick vegetables that grow during shemitah, even after shemitah – but without sefarim around, I concluded that because the owner had rendered them hefker, and we were picking them for aniyyim, and because for all I know the eggplant had grown after shemitah, and because this was for tzedakah, I could comfortably rely on heter mechirah.)
I think I'll cut this one off here; I'm typing on the way from Table to Table to Tel Aviv, and I hope to post it before minchah. Time to start up another Daf session, anyway.
This is my third JFLV mission. Each of my previous two has had a flavor of its own; the first felt like a first-time adventure even though I had lived in Israel for two years, and the second was more like a reunion, with many previous missionites (I can't say missionaries) returning. I wonder what this one will feel like, when it's complete.
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