October 108th (ft. covid)

Well it finally happened. I got covid. I thought I was one of those magically immune people but it seems my grandiosity has been shattered. Luckily my symptoms are very mild. I’m mostly just annoyed that I am stuck in my apartment. But today it’s raining so that makes it a little easier to be stuck inside. 

Let’s go back to where we left off. I had finished our first day of our reacclimating to Israel Israel seminar. On day two we began with Tfillah at HUC and then got on a bus for Tel Aviv. I slept the whole ride to Tel Aviv which I now know is because I was sick with covid. Hopefully I did not give it to any of my 23 classmates and five teachers on that bus. When we got to Tel Aviv, it felt a world away from Jerusalem. We left cold and cloudy Jerusalem to arrive to 70 degree and sunny Tel Aviv. The air felt lighter and the people seemed happier. One thing I’ve noticed in Jerusalem is that every third person is carrying a gun. There are both reservists required to carry their guns and those who feel they need it for safety. It is a weird feeling for me to feel safer when I see guns around. But in Tel Aviv I saw very few. Only the occasional reservist carried their gun. There was less of a constant reminder that the country is at war. We started the day with a street art tour from an amazing artist and tour guide named Maya. If you are going on or leading a trip to Israel I would love to put you in touch with her. The tour was engaging, powerful, and not too heavy, a nice balance after the day prior. I have been on two street art tours in Tel Aviv in my life, one with Brandeis Marin and one with JCHS. On those tours they emphasized how street art shares what cannot be publicized in mainstream spaces. Street art represents the fringes of society, the uproar against normativity. But this graffiti tour was different. The pieces of art we saw generally reflected how this country feels. They were works of art that showed pain and strength and pride in Israel. If even the fringe, anti-establishment street artists are displaying their Zionism, then so can I. I cannot properly explain all the images we witnessed so I will put them here.

Following our tour we sat in a studio and had a chance to process how we are feeling through art. Our wonderful artist tour guide has been creating sand sculptures of the hostages on beaches in Tel Aviv. She took photos of her temporary sculptures,  printed them onto notecards, and invited us to add to her art, just as we saw many do in the art on the streets. As intense as it was, there is something about finger painting that is healing. Here’s what I made: 

After lunch we visited the Tel Aviv Art Museum. The art museum happens to be located in what has become hostage square. During our lunch break we had time to roam around the square. I took my time visiting each art piece, booth, or sign. It was surreal to see in person what I have seen so many images of on social media. It also happened to be the first birthday of Kfir Bibas, one of the hostages. There were many tributes to him and news cameras interviewing family members. I can’t think too hard about the Bibas family or I will completely lose it. 

One of the more recent installations in hostage square is a mock Hamas tunnel. I was weary to walk through it, not wanting to put myself through unnecessary pain and trauma. But after a few laps around the square and another classmate wanting to go in alongside me, I stood in line. As I entered the tunnel I learned the artist installed sound effects to give the illusion of bombings and shooting above ground. This was a bit too much for me and I speedily walked through. By then it was time to meet back up with my group and enter the art museum. 

We met with the director of the museum who recounted what it was like to fear for the priceless works of art in the museum when the war broke out on October 7th. They put many works of art into the safe room and closed the museum for a number of months. They have now reopened with an exhibit called Shmini Atzeret (about October 7th) and programs to support those who have been displaced as well as the efforts of the hostage and missing families forum. It was amazing to see how even the art museum is involved in helping society heal. Afterwards we met with a film director and slam poet who was released from reserves after a shoulder injury. He talked to us about growing up in Jerusalem and the significance of creating art when it feels like there are more important things to do in the world. After a long first week of school, I was more than ready for a weekend in Tel Aviv with my cousins. (Still praying I didn’t give them Covid). 

Saturday night was the night of protests. At 6:30 there was a protest for elections now at Habima, a cultural square in the heart of Tel Aviv. I went to this protest with my camera in hand and voice ready to chant loud enough for Bibi (who was in Caesarea at the time) to hear. I was surprised to see Israeli protestors further to the left of me politically. There was a strong contingent calling for a ceasefire. Before this, I had only heard of American Jews calling for ceasefire so it was somewhat comforting to see Israelis calling for one too, even if I don’t agree with their politics. I am happy to know that the American left has its counterpart in Israeli society. 

                                                          "this is life, says the angel of death"

After the protest to call for elections, I made my way to hostage square to join the protest calling for a deal to release hostages. I was surprised and delighted to hear Matisyahu singing One Day as I made my way through the crowd. The camp person in me was pretty starstruck. May the words of the song he sang ring true “All my life I’ve been waiting for, I've been prayin' for, for the people to say that we don't wanna fight no more, There'll be no more wars, and our children will play. One day.” The families of the hostages stood on the stage with signs of their loved ones while they took turns speaking. I understood about 80% of it. It was intense. I left early to catch a train back to Jerusalem. 

When I got home I ate some truffle cheese crunchies from Trader Joe’s and to my dismay could not taste them. So I took a Covid test and it was positive. Damn! 

I spent my first day in quarantine Zooming into my classes. I took a nice walk in the park, watched TV, planned a service for next week, and started my first cross-stitching project. That night, the families of the hostages began a last minute protest campout outside Netenyahu’s private home, which happens to be just two blocks from my apartment. It was quite the test for me to have to stay inside when there was a protest against Netanyahu so close to my apartment. I felt better when I learned that the families would stay camped there until Netenyahu agreed to a deal to free their family members. So the next day, after my Zoom classes were over, I walked down to my favorite coffee shop which happens to be across the street from where the families were protesting. I wore two masks and sat outside at the cafe, way more than six feet away from anyone, don’t worry. I did homework and watched as different news channels came and spoke with the family members standing on the corner. One held a sign that read “we love our kids more than we hate Hamas.” Later that night I joined (from six feet away and in a mask) the protest to shut down Azza st. (the street outside of his residence). Student protestors poured red powder all over the ground and then opened a fire hydrant to make the whole street look like a bloody river. They carried a poster that read and chanted “the blood of the hostages is on your hands.” So intense and so powerful.

I woke up this morning to the tragic news that 24 soldiers were killed in a building collapse in Gaza. Every time I read that a soldier has died I pray that they are the last. May it be so. 

October 103rd

 1/17/24 5:52pm

It has now been just over a week since I landed back in Israel. And I still do not know how to process everything going on around me. It’s deep, it’s heavy, it’s intense. Writing this now is one of the ways I am trying to process. It would be easier for me to go through each day, watch Netflix, watch TikTok, go to sleep, and do it all again the next day. And there are definitely days when I have needed to do that, just shut everything out and off. But I also know how essential it is for my own neshama to really face what I am seeing, hearing and experiencing. So here is my attempt at that. And I’m hoping that some of you might appreciate a glimpse into what it’s like here too. 

On Monday after school I walked to the Knesset building to join a rally on behalf of the residents of the Gaza envelope who are currently internal refugees. They felt and continue to feel that the government has abandoned them. Being there with many who had personally witnessed the attacks of October 7th was heartbreaking. And at the same time, I found relief seeing those most impacted by the attacks actively rallying against this government. For so much of my time in the states since the war began, I assumed that I had to put my criticism of the Israeli government aside. This was not the time for criticism. This was the time to mourn and to show pride in my Zionism. If I hadn’t left all my pro-democracy shirts in my closet in Jerusalem, I would have put them in a bin in a back closet anyways. But being back in Israel, I have learned that I can hold my Zionism, grief, upset, pride, and faith all at the same time. Especially while yelling “elections now” and “BB to jail.” 

The rally outside the Knesset

A sticker that says "dismissal now"

This car says "in the name of the envelope, we will not forget and we will not forgive"

Today we had our first day of Israel seminar, a class that usually takes Year in Israel students through Israel’s history through field trips and presentations from people from all aspects of society. But when you’re living through history, the class has to pivot. Today was a reorientation to Israel where we talked broadly about the war, its different and complicated aspects, and how it will live on as a historic moment. First we listened to a number of songs which have come out since October 7th. If you would like war song recommendations, I have many. And then we split off into groups to discuss for half an hour. My group’s discussion almost immediately turned to “the day after.” We wondered how there could possibly be a solution after so much trust has been lost between both sides. My classmates explained their ideas for peace in the Middle East. I mentioned an organization called A Land for All and would recommend you all check them out (the idea is a two state confederacy). After thirty minutes we confidently declared to the assistant director of our program that we had solved the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. 

We took a teaching about war songs filled with grief and pain and turned it into a conversation about finding a solution to the conflict. It is our instinct as humans to look for an answer, to look for a way that all of this tragedy can have some sort of positive outcome. It was our way of coping with all the pain we had heard and were feeling. Later in the day, we talked about how reform Jews (and progressive Jews more broadly) think they can just tikkun olam everything. If there is a problem in the world, we can sprinkle some tikkun olam fairy dust and suddenly the world will be fixed. Today I learned that we should not always jump to fixing our broken world. Right now, it’s time to sit with the pain. 

Speaking of sitting with pain: after our discussion we boarded a bus and traveled as a class to Har Hertzel to visit the graves of fallen soldiers. When we first arrived, our teachers shared stories of people they knew who died in Gaza. One of my classmates told us about her cousin’s husband who was killed and what it was like to attend his funeral. As we tried to walk towards the newest plot of graves, we were stopped by a group of soldiers setting up for a funeral that would happen just two hours later. They let us through to stand by the all too fresh graves and say al male rachamim. When we finished our ceremony, we each had time on our own to wander and reflect. I went to each new grave and felt enormous guilt. Every time I check the news and see that the IDF has released names of fallen soldiers, I click on the article to see faces of people I do not know and a wave of relief passes over me. Thank god it’s not my friend from camp, thank god it’s not my dad’s friend’s son, thank god it’s not my Hebrew teacher’s nephew. So today I stood beside the graves of each soldier and I asked them for forgiveness.

The ceremony my classmates and I took part in to honor those who have fallen

             I was struck by the dumpsters outside Har Hertzel, filled with wreaths from recent funerals

And just to show you that there are happy moments too, I have included some photos of me and my friends doing normal things. 

Until next time,

Shayna 

Greetings from Jerusalem

Well would you look at that. Someone has started another blog. No matter how many times I told myself I wouldn’t do it, no matter how early 2000s it is to write a blog, here I am. I really told myself I wouldn’t do it. Oh well. A lot in the world changed October 7th and I guess you can add “Shayna will start another blog” to that list. For all my new friends out there or for all those who forgot (2020 was a haze I don’t blame you), go check out shaynascoronadventures.blogspot.com. It’ll be a trip I promise. But as much as this crazy year has felt for me like 2020, it’s not. So I am starting fresh. New year new me. Well I guess new year old me because here I am starting another blog. Or maybe new year still my father’s daughter (have you read his blogs from our travels? 10/10 would recommend). Let’s go back in time just a little bit. 

For all those keeping track of my tumultuous journey through rabbinical school, I am in my second year. But I am in the first year year in Israel program. And last year I was a first year with the second years. And this year I’m a second year with the first years. This is what happens when you transfer rabbinic schools after one semester. None of this is really important except you do need to save the date for my ordination in May 2028. Wow it’s crazy how I said let’s go back in time and somehow we have ended up in 2028. Okay back to October 7th. I had just finished the most wonderful two week trip with wonderful Israeli cousins through Slovenia. My little cousin does not speak English so I think I might be the only person who can say I spoke more Hebrew in my two weeks in Slovenia than I ever have in Israel. I met up with my friend from HUC in Vienna. Our Vienna - Tel Aviv flight was scheduled for 2pm on October 7th. Needless to say that flight was cancelled. So I stayed for a few days in Spain with friends from Wesleyan before deciding it was time to come back to Marin. I spent the past two and a half months ish doing rabbinical school on Zoom. 

And now here I am. Back in Jerusalem. It’s surreal. Everything has changed and nothing has changed. The adjustment has been really challenging. First of all I got pretty used to living with my parents over these past few months so being a world away from them is a challenge. But obviously they are coming to visit so I am looking forward to that. And just generally I can really feel the weight of a country at war, even in Jerusalem. It’s heavy. Signs to bring back hostages are posted everywhere. At the restaurant I went to for lunch yesterday, the waitress handed me the “bring them home menu.” I went to the Kotel for a communal prayer to bring the hostages home. The kotel was more crowded than I have ever seen it. The family members of the hostages held up signs and watched as 50,000 people prayed for their family to return. It was íntense to say the least. 

But there is joy too. And there is so much pride. Israeli flags are everywhere. On every street, hanging from every third car, on top of buildings, at public transit stops, and on streetlights. It feels so good to be in a place where I can feel proud of my Zionism. Like many on the Israeli left, I am critical of what is happening in Gaza but here I am able to hold both my criticism of the government and my steadfast knowledge that Israel will and must always exist. I hope to bring that ability to hold multiple truths back to the States and into my rabbinate. 

When my plane landed in Tel Aviv the captain got on the speaker and said “thank you for choosing El Al” which I find hilarious because it is basically impossible to choose any other airline right now. And then he said “אין לנו ארץ אחרת” “we have no other land.” And then I thought to myself: I actually do have another land (The United States of America). And it’s pretty great. I hope in the next five months to come to understand the importance of having a Jewish homeland while living a Jewish life in the diaspora. I might have another land to return to at the end of this year but we as Jews only have the one. And it’s not going anywhere. 

Shabbat shalom from yerushalayim. 

Even the passport reader says bring them home

Walking through the airport

"Bring Them Home Menu"

Prayer at the Kotel for the return of the hostages. There were 50,000 people!

The outside of the Old City