BERLIN
Very quick overview: personal tour of the city by community member including stop at the striking, moving, effective Shoah Memorial; stepping into the Guggenheim there where I asked if they had any remnants of my beloved high school art teacher's "Bible Stories" photography exhibit there... which they did! I bought a book with pictures from the exhibition - including photos of high school friends since we we had been the subjects of my teacher's photos. Unbelievable. Here's a link (mind the bad high-school haircut), including a photo of me and some friends posing as the jealousy story of Rachel, Leah, and Jacob; "Vashti's Blemish"; taking my headphones out to hear the "Revelation at Sinai." Click on "Divine Gestures" and flip through - you might recognize a face or two (A. Fish, J. Feldst...), or for the Ramaz-ers out there, a hallway or two http://rachelrabhan.com/Artist.asp?ArtistID=18308&Akey=Y2PRXC57.
...sleeping in the Midrasha/Yeshiva there (incredible entities!); Shabbat meals with the rabbi, more explanations of the German Jewish community; Shabbat afternoon babysitting the rabbi's adorable children in the park, growing quite attached to one another!; eating matzah and cucumber on the sidewalk; early train to Leipzig where we'd be contributing to the Pesach seminar there.
LEIPZIG
This community is incredible - their Jewish center was opened by Jews from Eastern Europe, some of whom learned about Judaism from organizations like YUSSR (Yeshiva and University Students for the Spiritual Revival of Soviet Jewry) and were thus inspired to help build Jewish life upon arriving in Germany. Many of the people we met only learned of their Judaism at age 7, 13, or later. My partner and I gave shiurim, led discussion groups, and fell in love with the people we met. By the end of the two days we spent with them, I truly felt that I'd bonded with many of the high school-ers and the people my age who run an integral institution of the German Jewish community.
During the discussion sessions, the high school girls I spoke with went pretty deep. I opened up the topic of the central importance of human-to-human interactions in Judaism, and was met with difficult, sincere questions: who says that the world was made for humans? Were humans God's mistake? What's a God? Simultaneously, my girls inspired me with their remarks about prayer - one said she feels God's presence most when falling - like a flash of "God's the only reason I'm ever breathing." Another recounted that she connects most to the prayer some say before going to sleep in which we verbally forgive anyone who may have hurt us that day - she points out the difficulty of saying the prayer with intention - do we really dispense of all grudges on a daily basis? What a hate-free existence - incredibly powerful but incredibly challenging.
Two of the girls I worked with walked me to the train station at the end of the holiday - they insisted on holding some of my bags and walking me to the door of my train car, waving as we parted. An incredible end to an incredible holiday, taking lots of memories, perspectives, and images home with me. Deeply inspired - not gonna forget this trip nor the people I met, stories I heard, or living monuments I saw anytime soon.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Germany, Family, Growth & Change
When my parents bought me a traveler´s backpack before I left to France, I bet they didn´t think I´d be filling it with enough kosher-for-Pesach candy to feed four German villages. Well I did. When I saw myself in the mirror before leaving my house, I laughed out loud at my image – my backpack extended from my lower back to a half-foot over my head. I had to bite my lip and stare at the ground as I walked to and through the train station because I kept laughing every time I saw people´s reactions to me. Parisians do not do bulk.
I'm heading to Hamburg, Germany, from which I will go to Flensburg to help run Pesach sedarim there. Next will be Berlin for Shabbat and Leipzig for the end of Pesach to participate in a Pesach seminar there. Can´t say much more about the trip cuz I just don´t know what´s gonna be!
The days before I left were stressful, culminating with my rushed packing – kind of like some other Jews who rushed about this time of year a while back – only I was on my way to Germany instead of leaving Egypt – and yes, it felt exactly like that.
I´m on the train seeing more of France than I´ve seen yet and ain´t she a fine patch o´ beauty! Seriously, I´m sitting here giddy that I´ll be riding over 48 hours of trains over the next week and a half. I'm thinking that a train ride is a very postmodern way to see a country. Whereas traditionally society tracks and emphasizes a certain number of histories, lives, personages, postmodernism (as far as I understand) suggests our ridding of such hierarchies of importance and recognizing the presence of multiple histories. There´s usually a good reason why certain sites become attractions, but perhaps seeing the countryside, the less universally recognized but equally French houses, skylines, and churches, are also France.
GERMANY
[writing from train to Berlin for Chol Hamo'ed]
SHABBAT IN HAMBURG –
I really did not plan to do any touring during this trip but once you´re here, you don´t have so much of a choice – new cities beg to be explored. Also, the guy with whom I was to lead sedarim is from Australia and thus made sure to see as much as possible since he´d traveled so far. I came with. In Hamburg, we walked all along the beautiful port and ended up at Beatlemania, or the Beatles museum here. Lots of fun.
Over Shabbat we got our first lesson on modern day German Judaism from the Rabbi, his wife and their many guests. On Sunday morning, we were off to Flensburg!
FLENSBURG
The kindest, most gentle-looking, Jewish-Abba-embodying man picked us up from the train station (who we later found out has quite a story of his own, as did everyone we met in Germany, inevitably). He took us to the Jewish community center where we quickly saw that it was not lacking in material objects, rather people to guide the use of the objects. The Russian women who run the center greeted us with a bouquet of flowers each, a sit-down lunch, and handed us pens and paper on which we were to write the schedule for the next few days as dictated to us, through a translator. This was just the first instance of the Russian women running the center with incredible organization, beauty, and dignity. We had a moderately coherent conversation in English, German, and Russian.
They sent us on a day-trip to Denmark the next day since Flensburg is right inside the German border, and we got to visit a camp where Danish Jews were kept (and not-killed) during World War Two. Again, this is just one instance of the overwhelmingly kind treatment we got throughout our time in Flensburg – the community members were so grateful that we´d come!
I stayed with a woman named Marie who spoke zero words of English and held me around the waist as we walked to and from her house each time as if I had broken my foot. Every time she did so I tried to imagine what my French friends would have done, but I went along with it because I knew that she just really wanted to take care of me. Every night, she asked me what time I wanted to be woken up and by the end, we had a solid set of hand motions that made for successful communication. Meanwhile, if in Dublin I suspected that my red-haired father who always says “Ladies and Gents” is secretly Irish, in Flensburg I began to suspect his German roots. Call me ignorant but all my life when he said “Good morgin!” I thought he was just, well, being my father. Just don´t tell me that there´s a place in the world where we pronounce the “k” in “knife.”
THE SEDER
…was really, really nice, albeit hours shorter than what I´m used to. We asked questions together, my seder-leading partner and I told divrei torah, an adorable child sang the mah nishtanah, and at the end certain people told us that this had been their first seder. It was incredible how many people attended - 60 the first night and 20 the second night - especially considering that many had work/school the next day. [The whole Jewish community in Flensburg - most of which is Jewish but also including non-Jewish spouses - is 80 people.] Everyone patiently sat through the process of my partner and I speaking in English followed by translations into German and then Russian.
On the second night, we began the seder by asking the attendees to introduce themselves and explain what Pesach means to them. Talk about exodus stories... more than a few people mentioned personal histories of leaving countries where they had been un-free. My partner and I tried to tell divrei torah about personal, psychological freedom because political, religious freedom was a delicate topic - many people still did not feel 100% free in their new country. It was quite a night - moving, intimate, bitter-sweet - and we went home feeling quite fulfilled, hoping that the Flensburg community felt the same.
We got personal tours of Flensburg from community members throughout the end of the first days and led programs for the few but adorable Jewish children there, and we left with gifts in our hands (and hearts) from the Russian women.
I'm heading to Hamburg, Germany, from which I will go to Flensburg to help run Pesach sedarim there. Next will be Berlin for Shabbat and Leipzig for the end of Pesach to participate in a Pesach seminar there. Can´t say much more about the trip cuz I just don´t know what´s gonna be!
The days before I left were stressful, culminating with my rushed packing – kind of like some other Jews who rushed about this time of year a while back – only I was on my way to Germany instead of leaving Egypt – and yes, it felt exactly like that.
I´m on the train seeing more of France than I´ve seen yet and ain´t she a fine patch o´ beauty! Seriously, I´m sitting here giddy that I´ll be riding over 48 hours of trains over the next week and a half. I'm thinking that a train ride is a very postmodern way to see a country. Whereas traditionally society tracks and emphasizes a certain number of histories, lives, personages, postmodernism (as far as I understand) suggests our ridding of such hierarchies of importance and recognizing the presence of multiple histories. There´s usually a good reason why certain sites become attractions, but perhaps seeing the countryside, the less universally recognized but equally French houses, skylines, and churches, are also France.
GERMANY
[writing from train to Berlin for Chol Hamo'ed]
SHABBAT IN HAMBURG –
I really did not plan to do any touring during this trip but once you´re here, you don´t have so much of a choice – new cities beg to be explored. Also, the guy with whom I was to lead sedarim is from Australia and thus made sure to see as much as possible since he´d traveled so far. I came with. In Hamburg, we walked all along the beautiful port and ended up at Beatlemania, or the Beatles museum here. Lots of fun.
Over Shabbat we got our first lesson on modern day German Judaism from the Rabbi, his wife and their many guests. On Sunday morning, we were off to Flensburg!
FLENSBURG
The kindest, most gentle-looking, Jewish-Abba-embodying man picked us up from the train station (who we later found out has quite a story of his own, as did everyone we met in Germany, inevitably). He took us to the Jewish community center where we quickly saw that it was not lacking in material objects, rather people to guide the use of the objects. The Russian women who run the center greeted us with a bouquet of flowers each, a sit-down lunch, and handed us pens and paper on which we were to write the schedule for the next few days as dictated to us, through a translator. This was just the first instance of the Russian women running the center with incredible organization, beauty, and dignity. We had a moderately coherent conversation in English, German, and Russian.
They sent us on a day-trip to Denmark the next day since Flensburg is right inside the German border, and we got to visit a camp where Danish Jews were kept (and not-killed) during World War Two. Again, this is just one instance of the overwhelmingly kind treatment we got throughout our time in Flensburg – the community members were so grateful that we´d come!
I stayed with a woman named Marie who spoke zero words of English and held me around the waist as we walked to and from her house each time as if I had broken my foot. Every time she did so I tried to imagine what my French friends would have done, but I went along with it because I knew that she just really wanted to take care of me. Every night, she asked me what time I wanted to be woken up and by the end, we had a solid set of hand motions that made for successful communication. Meanwhile, if in Dublin I suspected that my red-haired father who always says “Ladies and Gents” is secretly Irish, in Flensburg I began to suspect his German roots. Call me ignorant but all my life when he said “Good morgin!” I thought he was just, well, being my father. Just don´t tell me that there´s a place in the world where we pronounce the “k” in “knife.”
THE SEDER
…was really, really nice, albeit hours shorter than what I´m used to. We asked questions together, my seder-leading partner and I told divrei torah, an adorable child sang the mah nishtanah, and at the end certain people told us that this had been their first seder. It was incredible how many people attended - 60 the first night and 20 the second night - especially considering that many had work/school the next day. [The whole Jewish community in Flensburg - most of which is Jewish but also including non-Jewish spouses - is 80 people.] Everyone patiently sat through the process of my partner and I speaking in English followed by translations into German and then Russian.
On the second night, we began the seder by asking the attendees to introduce themselves and explain what Pesach means to them. Talk about exodus stories... more than a few people mentioned personal histories of leaving countries where they had been un-free. My partner and I tried to tell divrei torah about personal, psychological freedom because political, religious freedom was a delicate topic - many people still did not feel 100% free in their new country. It was quite a night - moving, intimate, bitter-sweet - and we went home feeling quite fulfilled, hoping that the Flensburg community felt the same.
We got personal tours of Flensburg from community members throughout the end of the first days and led programs for the few but adorable Jewish children there, and we left with gifts in our hands (and hearts) from the Russian women.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Cows, Pourim, and Dublin!
I have been so out of touch, taking notes on napkins and pieces of scrap paper from train stations all over Europe, but I´m finally typing it all out. I will summarize lots because there´s too much going on now to elaborate on the past! So here we go - snapshots, thoughts, memories that stuck:
SALON D'AGRICULTURE
In the words of my host mom – it´s the day when all the cows from France come to Paris. Picture lots of hay, lots of dairy products, lots of goats, and Sheilla walking through it all in her fur coat with her nose in the air to avoid the smells. Meanwhile Aline is sticking her nose right into those of the cows, getting her camera as close as possible to the action.
"POURIM"
Amazing costumes – Avatar, Obama, the works. Everyone was extremely welcoming and I met some people that have by now become close friends. I dressed up as a “Native American” - mostly because Sheilla gave me this amazing dress to wear but also because after the fact I realized the appropriateness. If the French were politically correct enough to refer to Indians as “Native Americans,” they might have thought my costume was funny. While picking up soft drinks for a Pourim Seudah the next day, the cashier eyed me strangely until she finally wished me a “Joyeuse Pourim.” Only in… Paris?
All together Pourim was a great experience – the only downside to meeting so many people during this holiday was that thanks to Sheilla´s incredible job doing my make-up (i.e. turning my skin 15 shades darker), many of peole didn’t recognize me the next time we met! Luckily my American accent served as the glass slipper to prove my identity.
IRELAND!
“Celebrating its 15th anniversary in 2010, St. Patrick’s Festival brings the nation alive, and promises six lively days and nights of free celebrations and encompasses a feeling of what it means to be or just feel Irish. We will be in Dublin and Limerick for the biggest and best celebration of St. Patrick’s Day in the world – join us!”
…well perfect timing then. I was in Dublin for the holiday weekend and it was like Christmas in New York. Everything green, everyone jolly, festivities everywhere. I was visiting my friend Shira who is studying abroad there and in addition to spending time with her, I got the privilege of a fantastic, personal tour guide. In just one weekend, she made sure I got to see most all the tourist sites – Trinity College and the Book of Kells, the many beautiful gardens, the Temple Bar area, and Kilmainham Goal, one of my favorites.
Also, she lives in this Bayit-like house (Jewish student home with people from all over doing all sorts of things), so I got to hang out with and hear the stories of lots of young Jews chillin' in Dublin. After spending the weekend dining with Chabad, praying at the first Ashkenazi synagogue I’d been to in a while and getting to know her darling Irish friends moderately well, we all went out together on Saturday night and had a euphorifically awesome time. There was also a group of British students at the house for the weekend which added to our bloody good time.
On Sunday we took a day-trip to a beautiful port town called Howth with one of Shira´s French house-mates (one of her three French house-mates, who helped me tremendously throughout the weekend with my French accent, God bless!). We saw seals, men playing Irish music, and lots of beautiful ocean.
The whole weekend was super refreshing – speaking English, meeting lots of young, interesting people, interacting with the Irish on the street, in cafes, and basically everywhere because they are some of the friendliest people I´ve ever encountered! I love Paris, but I wouldn´t say that openness and friendliness are its strongest qualities.
Lastly, and most humorously for me— so in Ireland we drive on the not-right side of the street, by which I mean the wrong side of the street ;). Fine. But then I kept noticing that the Irish do all sorts of things on the not-right side and though Shira is still skeptical, I´m convinced that it´s all related, and very funny. Their doors open the not-right way, and they even do the “bise” (double-kiss) starting from the not-right side! It was a bit confusing, and very funny.
So, after being very sad to leave Paris for the first time since the semester started, I was very sad to leave Dublin, which I´d grown to adore over the week-long seeming weekend. As I landed back in Paris, I almost wanted to cry as I thought of entering back into the land of French. But it was the kind of crying you do as you jog up a hill, or finish something excrutiating but that you know is good for you. Still, I was happy to be coming home, and happier still that it truly felt like home!
SALON D'AGRICULTURE
In the words of my host mom – it´s the day when all the cows from France come to Paris. Picture lots of hay, lots of dairy products, lots of goats, and Sheilla walking through it all in her fur coat with her nose in the air to avoid the smells. Meanwhile Aline is sticking her nose right into those of the cows, getting her camera as close as possible to the action.
"POURIM"
Amazing costumes – Avatar, Obama, the works. Everyone was extremely welcoming and I met some people that have by now become close friends. I dressed up as a “Native American” - mostly because Sheilla gave me this amazing dress to wear but also because after the fact I realized the appropriateness. If the French were politically correct enough to refer to Indians as “Native Americans,” they might have thought my costume was funny. While picking up soft drinks for a Pourim Seudah the next day, the cashier eyed me strangely until she finally wished me a “Joyeuse Pourim.” Only in… Paris?
All together Pourim was a great experience – the only downside to meeting so many people during this holiday was that thanks to Sheilla´s incredible job doing my make-up (i.e. turning my skin 15 shades darker), many of peole didn’t recognize me the next time we met! Luckily my American accent served as the glass slipper to prove my identity.
IRELAND!
“Celebrating its 15th anniversary in 2010, St. Patrick’s Festival brings the nation alive, and promises six lively days and nights of free celebrations and encompasses a feeling of what it means to be or just feel Irish. We will be in Dublin and Limerick for the biggest and best celebration of St. Patrick’s Day in the world – join us!”
…well perfect timing then. I was in Dublin for the holiday weekend and it was like Christmas in New York. Everything green, everyone jolly, festivities everywhere. I was visiting my friend Shira who is studying abroad there and in addition to spending time with her, I got the privilege of a fantastic, personal tour guide. In just one weekend, she made sure I got to see most all the tourist sites – Trinity College and the Book of Kells, the many beautiful gardens, the Temple Bar area, and Kilmainham Goal, one of my favorites.
Also, she lives in this Bayit-like house (Jewish student home with people from all over doing all sorts of things), so I got to hang out with and hear the stories of lots of young Jews chillin' in Dublin. After spending the weekend dining with Chabad, praying at the first Ashkenazi synagogue I’d been to in a while and getting to know her darling Irish friends moderately well, we all went out together on Saturday night and had a euphorifically awesome time. There was also a group of British students at the house for the weekend which added to our bloody good time.
On Sunday we took a day-trip to a beautiful port town called Howth with one of Shira´s French house-mates (one of her three French house-mates, who helped me tremendously throughout the weekend with my French accent, God bless!). We saw seals, men playing Irish music, and lots of beautiful ocean.
The whole weekend was super refreshing – speaking English, meeting lots of young, interesting people, interacting with the Irish on the street, in cafes, and basically everywhere because they are some of the friendliest people I´ve ever encountered! I love Paris, but I wouldn´t say that openness and friendliness are its strongest qualities.
Lastly, and most humorously for me— so in Ireland we drive on the not-right side of the street, by which I mean the wrong side of the street ;). Fine. But then I kept noticing that the Irish do all sorts of things on the not-right side and though Shira is still skeptical, I´m convinced that it´s all related, and very funny. Their doors open the not-right way, and they even do the “bise” (double-kiss) starting from the not-right side! It was a bit confusing, and very funny.
So, after being very sad to leave Paris for the first time since the semester started, I was very sad to leave Dublin, which I´d grown to adore over the week-long seeming weekend. As I landed back in Paris, I almost wanted to cry as I thought of entering back into the land of French. But it was the kind of crying you do as you jog up a hill, or finish something excrutiating but that you know is good for you. Still, I was happy to be coming home, and happier still that it truly felt like home!
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