Category: blog archive

Living as Part of a Family with Addiction: Courage, Hope and Love

Since it warmed up here in Minnesota, I took advantage of the balmy 9 degree weather by taking a walk outside around the lake. Though chilly, it gave me a chance to reflect back on a day that warmed my heart.

This second day spent in the Family program at the Hazelden Addictions Treatment Center in Minnesota provided me with a glimpse of the heartwarming acts of courage displayed each moment by the families of addicts. As a participant in Hazelden’s Spiritual Care Provider training, courtesy of a grant from the Reform Rabbinical organization CCAR, I was honored to witness the gutsy honesty with which spouses, parents and children of addicts processed the past and looked into the future as relatives of people in recovery. [All the names, situations and stories are composites. In order to protect the confidentiality of all involved, I generalize from my experiences and those of my colleagues.]

A Story
A woman seeks to leave a room. There are only two doors – door number one and door number two. She opens door number one, takes a step out where a person holding a stick whacks her in the head. (Pardon the violent image.) She stumbles back into the room. A little while later, she decides to try again. She opens door number one, takes a step out where a person holding a stick whacks her in the head. She stumbles back in the room. Some hours later, the same thing happens. Opening door number one, getting whacked in the head, and stumbling back inside. This goes on and on. At some point, she opens door one, peers outside, and notices that the person with the stick is no longer standing outside. What does she do? So she begins to look around to find the missing man.

This then is the dilemma of an addict’s family. After living the pain-filled life of one who loves an addict (addicted to drugs, booze, cocaine, pills, gambling, sex or…), is there a point that you stop looking after him or her? Is there a point that you just go through a different doorway and get on with your life? And what is going on inside of you that keeps steering you back toward door number one when you know from experience that you will be whacked in the head?

Here at Hazelden, we are learning that after years of focusing on the needs or dysfunction of the addict, each family member begins to transition into focusing back on him/herself. That transition is incredibly difficult.

We learned that when the loved one descends into the dark pit of addiction, the family member might want to begin a process called “detaching with love.” Detaching with love is not about anger or resentment, fear, anxiety, judgment or numbness. Rather, detaching with love is about taking responsibility for oneself and letting go of responsibility for the actions of the addict.

I learned that in homes of addicts, family members often try very hard to keep the addict from using. Hiding bottles or censoring words or watching what you do, all to ensure that you do not set her off on a drinking or drugging binge. Detaching with love helps you transform your own mindset. No longer must you walk on eggshells. Now, when you say something without intention of hurting anyone that makes her angry, that’s no longer your problem. (It is the addict’s problem.) Detaching with love is about setting boundaries of acceptable behavior.

It also requires one face difficult questions:

  • Will our marriage survive?
  • Should it?
  • Can I trust her?
  • Am I responsible for the past, or for the future?
  • If I still love him, how can I not try to save him?
  • But if I cannot save him, what am I to do?

I spent today with tears in my eyes, my heart filling with awe as regular people wrestled with intense issues. No surefire solutions guaranteed; none were really offered. Just a group of normal people, walking a painful path, struggling with their feelings and sharing insights with each other. No mystical heroes here, just regular Joes and Janes trying to figure out today and hoping to make it to tomorrow. No perfection here, just processing life.

They inspired me with their courage. I will keep them all in my prayers.

The post-LASIK surgery moments of amazement still continue!

In November 2006, I had LASIK eye surgery. You can read about my experience elsewhere on my blog. The post-LASIK surgery moments of amazement still continue!

I am in Minnesota for advanced pastoral training in addictions counseling and spiritual care at Hazelden. It is just above zero degera now and snowing. I grew up in Massachusetts and remember the downside of being out in the snow was the flakes fogging up or smearing my glasses.

Today, for the first time in my life, I looked up and watched the snow fall. No glasses to fog up or smear. Very cool.

Later while walking in the 2 degree weather, I looked over at my friend and saw that the steam from her breath was fogging up her glasses. Though my face was wrapped in a scarf, and steam rose from my breath, I did not have any glasses to fog up.

Venturing Out In the Cold: Exploring Addiction and Recovery in Minnesota

On Sunday, I left Los Angeles with its toasty 78 degree weather. When I awoke the following morning in St. Croix, Wisconsin (just over the Minnesota border), it was minus 19 degrees outside. Walking from the hotel to the waiting van, I thought my tuchis (rear end) would freeze off. Yet, after spending a few days at Hazelden, a residential addiction treatment center in Minnesota, I found myself warmed by the profound healing happening amongst recovering addicts, their families and the incredible Hazelden staff. [All the names, situations and stories are composites. In order to protect the confidentiality of all involved, I generalize from my experiences and those of my colleagues.]
I am one of four rabbis and a rabbinic spouse attending the Hazelden Foundation’s Spiritual Care Providers Professionals in Residence program. Recognizing that even Rabbis and Rabbinic families suffer from the disease of addiction, the Central Conference of American Rabbis (CCAR), my national rabbinical organization, raised funds so that our delegation could acquire the education necessary to help our own. We seek an understanding of chemical dependence and our role in helping persons affected by addiction recover and heal – physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Jews Don’t Drink!?! How many times have you heard that Jews don’t drink? Well we do. And we use chemicals, misuse prescription drugs, snort coke, and engage in a myriad of other addictions too! Like just about every ethnic group, our Jewish brothers and sisters too are seduced by their addictions until their lives are damaged beyond recognition. Slowly, too slowly, our Jewish community is waking up to help. So here I schlepped during the frigid Minnesota winter to deepen my pastoral skills in ways that could benefit both my colleagues and my Or Ami congregants.
In the past fourteen years, I have run recovery retreats, led Jewish 12 Step meetings on Yom Kippur, co-written curricula for developing Jewish 12 Step groups, and mentored rabbinical students to become 12-Step-friendly rabbis. None of this, however, prepared me for the intensity and depth of emotion that permeates this wonderful community.
At Hazelden, we participated in a family program in order to understand how addiction affected relationships. We partnered with addicts to learn first-hand about the challenges they faced. We listened to lectures about alcoholism as a disease and heard inspiring speakers who provide guidance and hope. At one point, I looked out the window at the falling snow hiding the frozen ground beneath. It reminded me that there is so much heartache hidden beneath the faces arrayed before me in Hazelden’s community room. But in the fellowship of recovery, the stories were shared and the pain revealed. Always, I was amazed at the strength of character that it took to face it and fight back.
We learned so much about addiction and recovery.

  • About how addiction is about a “desire to be numb” and the recovery is about “the desire to be alive.”
  • About how many addicts in recovery are grateful for the crisis in their life – their rock bottom – that brought them to recovery.
  • About one study which showed that a person with an alcoholic parent but an otherwise stable family was still FIVE TIMES more likely to develop alcoholism as was a person from a multi-problem family without an alcoholic parent.
  • About the three C’s: Cause, Control, Cure (a family member of an addict DID NOT Cause the disease, CANNOT Control the addiction, and CANNOT Cure it either).
  • About the fifty-pound phone, the notion addicts use to describe how hard it is initially to lift the telephone headset to really reach out for help.
  • About how the craving for the object of your addiction (booze, a joint, some pills) is so insidious and powerful that it is stronger than anything else (love of family, concern for job, caring for spouse).

Beyond making me so grateful for all the wonderful parts of my own life, my stay at Hazelden also taught me how addiction can rob anyone of the fullness of life.
This morning we were playing outside during a break. We had heard that in below zero temperatures, you could throw a full cup of boiling water up into the air, and it would vaporize before it hit the ground. We had to try it, and vaporize it did. I immediately thought of my newfound family group partners. Their lives were once so full. Yet as the chemicals heated up their days, those cherished lives – marriages, careers, economic security, families – were vaporized in less time than it took for that water to vaporize.
I feel so honored and fortunate to be learning this. And to have the opportunity to deepen my pastoral skills so I can reach out and help others. May the Holy One grant me the chance to use this learning to lead others down the path of recovery from addiction.

Welcoming Interfaith Families

I am amazed, each time I meet with an interfaith family, that they need to ask (in round about ways) whether the warm welcome and full integration that we offer to all Or Ami congregants is available to interfaith families as well. No one comes out and asks it directly, but I find it to be an undercurrent in the conversation.

Pleased that we offer a truly warm welcome to any individual or family who has chosen to create a Jewish home (and, if there are children, to raise them as Jews), we decided to put this into writing. We hope now that our Or Ami website is clear and true to the warm welcome we offer.

Our welcome begins:

My house shall be a house of prayer for all peoples. (Isaiah 56:7)

No one is more welcomed at Congregation Or Ami than you!

Congregation Or Ami, like all Reform Jewish congregations, holds the mitzvah (religious responsibility) of ahavat ger (welcoming the stranger) among the most important tenets of our faith. We actively welcome interfaith families into our communities and encourage their participation in our synagogues. We work to empower people to make Jewish choices for themselves and their families and strive to provide resources to inform educated decisions. We strive to be welcoming places for people of diverse religious backgrounds, sexual orientations and ethnic backgrounds.

Many couples that begin with two individuals from different backgrounds need to integrate separate lives into one family. And for interfaith couples and their families that integration also includes differing religious traditions and cultures. Remember: you are not alone. Congregation Or Ami, our Rabbi Paul Kipnes and Cantor Doug Cotler and our Reform Jewish movement, welcome you. Congregation Or Ami is already proud to be a home congregation for many interfaith couples and families, and we welcome you to share in the warmth of our community. We invite you to begin a conversation with Rabbi Kipnes to share your hopes or questions about being an interfaith family at Or Ami. Read more.

I am also proud that we added to the home page of our website images that signify our openness to diversity: the blue/white wheelchair (symbolizing our openness to people with disabilities), the rainbow flag (our welcoming of gay and lesbian Jews and Jewish families), and the 12-Step Triangle (our awareness of and acceptance of people recovering from addictions and dependencies).

Keep Far From Sin: Join in the Iraq Debate

These days, I think alot about sin. I wonder, worry really, if most of us have sinned these past years as we neglected to notice – really notice – that war raged on in Iraq. Most of us sat back in our comfy chairs, sipping our lattes and driving our nice cars, while American men and women gave sacrificed their days and their lives fighting on behalf of our country. Whether you supported the decision to enter the war or opposed it, whether you think that decisions were made based on lies or truth-telling, the fact remains that our country is embroiled in a war in Iraq and it is time for us to pay attention.

To go about our days, ignoring the fact that we are involved in this war, may be termed sinful. As Rabbi David Saperstein, Director of the Reform Movement’s Religious Action Center in Washington DC, wrote in the Jewish Forward on Friday, Feb 2, 2007, it is Time for Our Community To Join the Iraq Debate:

At last, the debate over America’s disastrous situation in Iraq has begun in earnest. With the entire nation now engaged, it is long overdue — and then some — for the Jewish community to weigh in and determine what insights Jewish values and interests can offer. We must do so not only because our prophetic tradition mandates that we speak out on the great moral issues of the day, and not only because as Americans we ought be deeply concerned for what this war means to our country, but also because Israel’s interests and security are so clearly at stake.
Yet in contrast to the stands taken on the Vietnam War, the proliferation of nuclear weapons and even the first Gulf War, too few rabbis have preached from the pulpit on the issue, and too few organizations have debated Iraq policy openly, let alone taken a position on the war and the urgent choices our nation must make. Read more.

So oppose the war or support it. Argue for a surge or against an escalation. Discuss – civilly please – whether to send in 20 thousand troops, withdraw them all, send in one hundred and fifty thousand, or do something else. But discuss, debate, get involved. To remain on the sidelines, during this great moral debate… now that would be sinful!

Flying Home: Sadness Mixed with Inspiration

A picture from our archeological dig…
I found a little piece of pottery!

Later, on the Airplane…

It is Sunday early morning. I am somewhere in the sky between Tel Aviv and Los Angeles International. The world flies by at some 504 miles per hour (according to the seatback trip update) as we sit cooped up in an El Al plane. I recall an old physics brain teaser: if you were riding in a closed, windowless train box car on a frictionless train track, how would you know when you arrived at your destination? We would break our heads trying to discover the answer. Of course, we never guessed correctly because there is no answer. In that situation, you cannot discern either when you are moving or when you are stopping. Think about it. The air within the boxcar is motionless within its closed system. The frictionless track ensures that you feel no movement from the outside. Its like that old question: if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a noise. We face an uncomfortable reality: if our senses cannot immediately perceive something, than how do we know if it is real?

I suspect I focus on these conundrums because in just a few hours (3 hours 38 minutes, again according to the seatback trip update), we will land again in Los Angeles and quick enough return to the world as we once knew it. Having spent ten glorious days in Israel, we now depart for home. I wonder if my experiences there – the utter joy and elation of being in and part of this holiest of lands – will be sealed off, as in a closed boxcar. If I am no longer in the forest (Jewish National Fund forest, perhaps?), will I still hear and feel the experience? I now wonder how we can really sense what is happening in Israel and continue to live with that holy history in my heart? Said differently, I am asking myself the same question I asked our trip participants just before Havdala on our last Shabbat: what will I do in the weeks to come (beyond reviewing pictures) to keep this Israel experience and my connection to Israel alive and well?

What makes traveling to Israel so special?

For the Jew, traveling to Israel is not like taking a vacation to Greece or to Mexico. Though each can be historically and culturally interesting, and can provide hours or weeks of relaxation and enjoyment, trips to Greece and Mexico do not generally claim the soul of the Jew in the way that Israel does. For the Jew, to travel to Israel is to simultaneously experience history and holiness. In Israel the reconstruction of our people’s ancient past provides signposts pointing toward the individual’s future. Though a tourist in Israel may be enjoying the nightlife or mall-life of Tel Aviv, his mind can never really separate from the city’s historical significance as the first modern Jewish city outside of Jerusalem. Floating in the water of Dead Sea, (its 30% salt content lifting you up), she is regularly returns to the eerie story of Lot’s wife, who looked back to witness the Biblical destruction of Sodom and Gemorrah and was turned into that pillar of salt. Shopping for beautiful art in the northern city of Tzefat, this tourist cannot help but relive the cosmic connection between the visionary creativity of these artists of modern times and the inspired imagination of the sixteenth century Jewish mystics who rewrote Jewish spirituality in these same hilltops. Go down south, try to flee the “meaningfulness” of Jerusalem and the north, and even a jeep ride up Machtesh Ramon yields another example of Israel’s distinctiveness: that this huge machtesh (crater that is not really a crater) is unique that it is the only geological formation of its kind in the world. Go hike a wadi – An Avdat, for instance – and you begin to wonder which of the rocks lining the road might have been the one that Moses struck, and which of the Ibex were descendants of the mountain goats that so captured the inspiration of the Psalmist.

Or travel to the Northwest of the country to the seaside city of Nahariya just below the Lebanese border. You might expect to find lightness or quiet beauty in this beach town, or lahefech (the opposite) a trembling anxiety in the aftermath of the Lebanon 2 (this summer’s yet-to-be-named war). Yet even in Nahariya, the post-war stories are unbelievable. What inspired the (initially derided) decision of the Western Galilee Hospital’s head build an underground hospital complex that just happened to save the lives of thousands this summer? What guided (or misguided) the katusha rocket to fall exactly between this heavily populated apartment building and that Beit Knesset (synagogue) so that it harmed no one? Where did that amazing 14 year old post-Bar Mitzvah boy find the strength to carry on after his aunt was the first to be killed by katusha in Nahariya? The answer might be found in the same inspiration that leads him to work as a shaliach tzibur (musical prayer leader) at the local progressive synagogue Emet Veshalom.

Israel is filled with amazing stories, spiritually moving sites, and poignant historical places. It touches the heart and transforms the soul. Baruch Ata Adonai, Elohaynu Melech HaOlam, Shehecheyanu, v’kiyimanu, vihigeeanu lazman hazeh. Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Guide of the Universe, for giving us life, for keeping us in life, and for bringing us – ME – to (and through) these special moments.

We are almost back home to Los Angeles, and I am already planning the next trip! (Probably an adults-only trip, four to five star experience for 8 days in February 2008 – interested? Email me/Rabbi Paul Kipnes).

Stories from the Lebanon 2 War: Poignant and Promising

My wife Michelle and I write:

On Wednesday we visited the Underground Bullet factory at Machon Ayalon, which secretly manufactured bullets right under the noses of the British, in a factory placed underneath a kibbutz bakery and laundry room. On Friday, we visited the underground shelter of the Western Galilee Hospital in Nahariya. This multimillion dollar project was scoffed at by many when first proposed and built as a potential waste of money. Thanks to the foresight of those who insisted it be built, it served six months ago as a refuge for those hospitalized during a time of attack. Like those who foresaw the need for ammunition in Israel’s fight for independence, this underground shelter and hospital ensured that medical care was available in the midst of repetitive and ceaseless katusha missile barrages. Later, the hospital opthamology department was hit by a katusha.

Later Friday, we sat in an underground shelter that served as the community center for Emet VeShalom, a Progressive Jewish synagogue in Nahariya. There we listened to the very personal and poignant stories of seven people who lived through the Lebanon 2 war. One 34 year old man, who left his family to return to military duty, spoke of the constant pressure of shooting artillery into precise coordinates ahead of the infantry. Another man, who was evacuated from the upper levels of the Western Galilee Hospital, spoke of his gratitude for the protection of the underground hospital where his treatment continued seamlessly. His wife was one of the only residents in her neighborhood who chose during the war to remain in her home; just in case the building was hit by missile fire, she would take out the trash daily to signal the trash collectors that there was still someone in the building. A white goateed grandfather, who was born in Algeria and moved to Israel on his own as a 15 year old, spoke eloquently about the routine experience of weekly katusha bombing over the years; though different now that he has grandchildren, he nonetheless remains committed to living up near the border where the life is wonderful.

The head of radiology spoke of his 2 year old granddaughter who, along with her new puppy, routinely ran into her apartment’s safe room at the sound of a rocket, waited for it explode, and then returned to playing joyfully with her new puppy. Finally, we heard from a 14 year old boy, born in Argentina and quickly becoming a shaliach tzibur (prayer leader) in the congregation, who choked back tears as he shared the trauma of losing a beloved aunt, the first person in Nahariya killed by a katusha. Each time he made a statement, he asked the question, “Why?” Over and over, these progressive Jews spoke with pride and warmth about how their congregation provided so much emotional and practical support for members of their community during the war, including regular newsletters and resettling members and non-members in the southern parts of the country. It was like being with Or Ami and our Henaynu Caring Community Committee.

Finally, we spent Shabbat – services and dinner – with the congregation. Though completely in Hebrew (after all, it is their mother tongue) with a bit of English and some Spanish for the Argentine immigrants, the service was wonderfully musical. Clearly the Rabbi/Cantor Israel Horowitz, with his graciousness and musicality, has grown this congregation in tremendous ways. Most poignant were the comments shared by Mickey, mother to Ehud Goldwasser, one of the soldiers captured at the beginning of the war. With strength and composure, she urged the community to join her efforts to lobby on behalf of all the soldiers who remain in enemy hands. Or Ami members were impressed with the warm embrace we received from our Israeli Reform brothers and sisters (and we enjoyed a delicious home cooked Shabbat dinner too!).

We purposely programmed this exploration of the reality and effects of the war until near the end of the trip. We had hoped – as has happened – that the trip participants would first fall in love with Israel, the real country, before dealing with these contemporary issues of life and death. It provided a context of ahavat yisrael, love of Israel. When Michelle asked the panel participants why, in light of the war, they remained in Nahariya and Israel, each answered in a similar way: the beauty of the north was such that they could not imagine living anywhere else.

It was an intense day of illumination and learning. Shabbat Shalom.

Kinneret, Tiberias, Tzefat: Feeling Fabulous in Northern Israel

I’m in heaven again as I watch the sun rise over the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee). This beautifully blue body of water (famed of late as the setting for Jesus’ Gospel miracles: turning water into wine, walking on water, multiplying fish and bread into enough to feed hundreds) also has the distinction of being the source of much of Israel’s drinking water, fresh water sports, fishing and boating. I had the pleasure of arriving early to give my (now healthy) daughter a half day away from the group so she could recover from a slight fever and cold that was making its way through the group (worry not, everyone is fine!).

From our 16th floor window at the Tiberias hotel, we had a gorgeous view of the bright blue sea. During our hour walk around the area, we stopped at a charming “beach” (some rocky sand down by the seashore) lined with palm trees. Not a wealthy town, Tiberias nonetheless was clean, calm and welcoming.

I have fond memories from my year-long stays in Israel (a year after high school, another year at the start of Rabbinical school) of trekking around this northern region. The lush greens of the hillsides, the deep colors of the agricultural land that checkerboards the valleys, and the flocks of birds flying to and fro. Getting me out of Miami Beach-like Tel Aviv and into the Galilee (north) is like taking basic yellow cake (tasty but unimaginative) and covering it with a layer of rich chocolate frosting. And here I was, walking with my eldest child, tasting the ta’am (flavor) of this Jewish city in this Jewish land. In fact, were it not for the regular rain and the biting winter cold (two things that in time I could get used to), I could make my home away from home here. I felt giddy.

The drive up north to catch up with the group in Tzfat (Safed) was equally magnificent. Our cranky cabdriver in spite of himself shared a bit of his history. I kvelled with joy as my little used Hebrew grew stronger and stronger as the conversation meandered from history (his family has roots in the north going back almost 100 years) to family (five children ranging from high school to post-Army grad school – one each studying law and psychology) to Kinneret water levels (still too dry) to the summer’s war (in spite of missiles landing nearby, they did not flee because “this is our land”) to where we needed to be dropped in Tzfat (clearly, he did not know that area).

As we drove up the winding road from northern point of the Kinneret to Tzfat, we were delighted at the simple splendor that greeted us. I nudged my daughter out of her book. Look there at the greenery. Look here at the rocky hillsides. See there, wildflowers. See here, clear blue skies.

We encountered the group outside the synagogue of the AR”I (Rabbi Isaac Luria), the famous 16th century mystic. A quick tutorial on Kabbalah, a quick tour of the ornate crammed shul, and a quick pause on the raised bimah to offer a Mi Shebeirach for many (including Linda Fingleson’s parents – she clearly would love being in the home of Jewish spirituality). Soon we were off for a lesson in Kabbalistic artistry with an artist cum educator. Shin, Mem, Aleph. Prime letters drawn in prime colors. Basic shapes – triangle, rectangle, circle. Circles within circles signifying the varying levels of awareness. Perceptions within perceptions. Are the concentric circles telescoping in or out? (Both.) What does this teach us about reality? (That we can observe holiness on both the micro and the macro level.) Ayin Sof (meaning, “That which has no end.”) The connections between colors and lines and shapes and concentric circles are those invisible lines of connections (a la Rabbi Larry Kushner) which illumine the ineffable. The Holy One, a.k.a. God. The experience meshed well with my Institute of Jewish Spirituality retreat program over the past two years. Connections within connections. A comforting alternative to radical individualism.

Oy, so much to consider. Some much we learned. Time to put it aside to do some serious shopping in the Artists Galleries of Tzfat. L’hitraot… See you (blog you) later!

You Mean There is a World Out There?

I finally took a moment to read Haaretz, Israel’s daily paper. Seems that there is actually a world out there. I read about the earthquake in Asia and its effects on the world’s internet (not much said, surprisingly, about people who were harmed by the earthquake). I read about the snow in Jerusalem, and in the north and south (yes, at Maktesh Ramon, where we toured by jeep yesterday, they had snow too).

I read about the few Qassam missles shooting into the South from Gaza. Apparently one missle injured two Sderot teens. The government instructed the Israeli Defense Forces to again destroy the missles when and if they can identify the exact location.

You wouldn’t know any of this is happening from where we sit. My daughter just commented, “It was interesting to hear this. We have no idea that any of that happened. It feels so safe here and everyone I talk to feels very safe!” We walked through Jaffa last night. If we weren’t so tired, we would have hung around in the Tel Aviv mall like everyone else in the city. But we needed to get some sleep instead. After a day of archeological digging and a tour of the Ayalon Institute (the secret underground factory where they manufactured bullets in the days before the Arab States invaded nascent Israel), we were just tired.

Here in Israel, you are more likely to get injured driving in a car than from a terrorist attack. No one is worried. No one is concerned. At least on the trip.

So if you are worried. Don’t be. We are having a great time and cannot wait to tell you all about it.

Floating, Camel Riding, Desert Wandering… All in a Day’s Touring

Floating in the Dead Sea. Its 30% salt content (as opposed to 3% in the Pacific Ocean) ensured that no matter how heavy the body (in my case, getting heavier and heavier with each delicious meal) we floated. Boy, was it cold! So cold, in fact, that we made quick work of the floating. Six minutes of body surfing before we dashed out of the water to drape ourselves in towels and sweatshirts.

Camel Riding at the Bedouin Village. In Mexico, you attend a “real” Fiesta experiences. In Hawaii, you party at the “authentic” Luau. In Israel’s Negev desert region, it’s the Bedouin experience that charms you. We disembarked from the bus and immediately ascended the camel humps for a ride around the area. Flashbulbs illuminated the near-darkness, capturing comical expressions on the faces of riders as the camels tilted this way and that. Next, sitting on padded mats on the ground, we listened to a Bedouin man describe the traditions of desert living: how the way you hold your cup indicated the depth of the hospitality you want to share and how grinding the coffee beans becomes the rhythm to which beautiful songs are sung. I confess I fell asleep on the cushy pillows, only to awake enough to stumble into the eating tent. There, sitting on bigger cushions, we dined on Bedouin delicacies of chicken shish kabobs, yellow rice, tehina, and freshly baked pita. Sated, I fell asleep again. Traveling can be exhausting.

A Little Bit of Heaven on Earth. We canceled the next morning’s program so that we could enjoy the beautiful sunshine and gorgeous Dead Sea view. (The decision turned out to be particularly clairvoyant as rain – and snow on Mt. Hermon – hit the rest of the country two days later.) The kids discovered the game room and entertained themselves with pool and more videogames. The adults, in contrast, enjoyed the hotel’s heated pool of Dead Sea water (for adults only). We floated and floated. One quick move and we spun out of control. Soon we learned to use our feet on the sides to stabilize ourselves. Someone noted that this might be how the astronauts feel in space. We tarried in the spa, enjoying the jaccuzis. In one pool, mini-alcoves provided specially aimed jets of water. This one massaged the lower back; that one the calves; yet another the feet. Others enjoyed facials and massages in the spa. A moment of rest and a bit of heaven here on earth!

Wandering in the Wilderness of Zin. Tanach (the Bible) came alive as we trekked deeper into the Negev for our Desert experience. First stop, En Avdat National Park and Nature Preserve. Wadi Zin is a broad ravine surrounded by strata of hard white limestone bearing thin seams of brown-black flint as well as base strata of soft clays and marls of reddish, greenish hues. In wet months, a stream flows down the wadi from a magnificent waterfall set halfway back along the trail. We reminisced about the Biblical significance of this area. We read in Bamidbar (the Biblical book of Numbers) that somewhere nearby in this Wilderness of Zin, Moses’ sister Miriam died, throwing the Israelites into chaos. Miriam had a prophetic knack for finding sources of water wherever they wandered. Only later, still in this Wilderness of Zin, did they receive water, when Moses struck the rock in violation of God’s instruction to speak to the rock. His frustration with his rebellious people brought Divine punishment, forbidding Moses to enter into the Promised Land. Throughout the hike, we imagined that each rock by the side of the trail might have been “The Rock,” and that this stream was “The Stream” which from which our Israelite ancestors drank. Our youngest children learned to track wild animals by identifying their footprints and spoor (a nice name for animal poop). The Psalmist wrote (Psalm 104:18), “The high hills are a refuge for wild goats.” These beautifully bearded Ibex with long curves seemed abundant. Throughout the hike we marveled as this species of desert goats walked boldly along the hillsides along the thinnest of ridges.

Lucille Goldin and Teen Andrew Gurewitz Blog on Through Israel

Or Ami Israel Trip Participants blog on through Israel.

Teen Andrew Gurewitz writes: I had a great time in the jeep ride through Maktesh Ramon. Well really they were a land rover. Today it is poring rain as we drive through the desert. The jeeps went all off road. One of the jeeps almost fell off the road. Quite the scare. Luckily, no one was hurt.

We also went for a lovely hike through An Avdat. We came to an oasis. Ibex were a popular sight on the hike as well. Ibex were a like a goat. The males have long curving horns. They are very sure footed. As well they blend in well with the cliffs. All in all it was a very good day.

Lucille Goldin: The Bedouin people who wondered through the desert were very interesting to learn about. We had the opportunity to go to a Bedouin Village and see first hand how they lived. The highlight for me was riding a camel with Ryan, of course he took the front so I got the rear seat! Our camel ride was followed by a welcoming ceremony in their large tent where we were served both tea and coffee.
We were then lead to another tent where we ate a traditional Bedouin dinner chicken, rice, flat bread while being seated on cushions and served on tables low to the floor. The food was actually good enough to have seconds! I was glad that we had passed on the opportunity for our group to sleep in Bedouin tents overnight as the weather was extremely cold and our beds and warm hotel rooms felt very good upon our return.

Day in Contrasts: Bruce Sallan Reflects Back on the First Shabbat

Bruce Sallan writes:

While I know it’s a spiritual coincidence, I love the irony of our two back-to-back days in Jerusalem…days of contrasts. First was the contrast of going to Yad Vashem, followed by the Mahane Yehuda open-air marketplace and then, we had the unplanned contrast of today.

Arnie and I detoured from the group, somewhat, as we all had a free evening. So, these particular details are partially specific to us, but I think will be of interest to all who are following our trip via these blogs as they seemed to be among our friends here who heard about it, at our dinner the next evening.

In the morning, as a previous blog illuminates (why is “illuminate” the word that always comes to mind?), we attended services at our sister (reform) congregation near Jerusalem. Kehillat Mevasseret Tzion, long in construction and near completion, was elegant in its design and simplicity and the service, led by Israel’s first native-born ordained female Rabbi Maya Leibovich, was lovely. A congregant, Gallie, sang exquisitely in the cantorial role, though just a mere 18 years of age. The Rabbi led much of the service in English and other than the extraordinary view of Jerusalem from the windows of the synagogue, much was familiar to us. Later, after an Oneg, she shared some of the difficulties and accomplishments their congregation has lived, in establishing themselves and building their Temple. Among them was the suspicion that an arson fire that destroyed their first pre-school, might’ve been set by very religious Jews who objected to their presence there and their form of Judaism. She also spoke of breaking the taboo that had always existed in Israel of a female Rabbi speaking at or leading a funeral in the state cemetery, which she did recently.

Living as we do in the Los Angeles area, it was stunning to learn of how there are such differences and infighting between the Orthodox and Reform movements in Israel. We learned even more about this at our lecture by Rabbi Uri Regev, in detail about aspects of Israeli life that most American Jews know little…specifically the rules about marriage and the exodus of Jews to other countries to actually get married vs. endure the requirements of the rabbis in charge of the institution within Israel!

So, where is the contrast you ask? This is where we detoured from our group, on a free evening, that followed our visit to Kehillat Mevasseret Tzion. I have an old friend, who invited us to his home for dinner. An American, who made Aliyah to Israel many years ago, whose name is Joshua Mann. He came to Israel to complete his rabbinical studies and stayed. While here, he met another American who had made aliyah a few years prior, Sema, and they fell in love and married. Ten children and four grandchildren later, he lives and studies in a new suburb about 40 minutes away from Jerusalem. 7 of his children still reside in their small home (he’s just 51, by the way!).

We were given the privilege of really seeing how an orthodox religious family lives. We broke bread at a simple meal with them. Joshua and the kids showed us their home, absent of most of the toys and technologies we take for granted (NO TV!), but full of the life and joy everyone prays for. His study was filled, top to bottom, with texts in Aramaic and Hebrew. He teaches Torah a few days a week and otherwise studies…5 nights a week with a group of other men. How he makes ends meet is a mystery to me.

We had a meal of salad and pasta…small portions…no one complained. Afterwards, all the family “benched”. The children attend either yeshivas (for the boys) or seminaries (for the girls). They study year round, getting 3-week breaks in the summer and around the high holy days…plus other breaks around other Jewish holidays. Their week is 5 and a half days…a half day on Friday, the day off on Shabbat…otherwise they study.

By the way, the boys and girls are pretty much “introduced” Fiddler-style to their future husbands and wives! Not forced; but not too different from the whole matchmaker tradition. His two girls are happily married, with two children each and one pregnant with her third! The oldest son is next in line, at 22, to get married. Divorce is rare in their circles.

After dinner, the table was cleared and a ping pong net strung. I was first challenged by the youngest, a 7-year-old and I squeaked by with a win…then Dad took up the family honor but was quickly dispatched by my left handed spin. Finally, Schmoel (the oldest son) took the paddle but sadly this American shut him out, too. The laughter throughtout the evening, knew no bounds, even in this funny game of ping pong on their oval dining room table.

The contrasts!? Too numerous to list. The State of Israel and its people, too amazing and too complicated to understand, though we’re certainly getting a taste. I should add that in all the years I’ve known Joshua, I’ve never seen him without a huge smile on his face. A lesson? Or just another contrast.

Yerida L’shem Aliyah: Descent for the Purpose of Ascent

There is a rabbinic notion about descending from heights. Yerida l’shem aliyah, they call it. Descent for the purpose of ascent. Arising out of the experience of our Biblical ancestors of leaving the Holy Land – from Abraham and Sarah to the generation who left the famine in Canaan for Egypt, this precept reminds us that sometimes we must descend into lower spiritual realms in order to ultimately ascend to greater spiritual heights. People in 12 Step programs know that sometimes a person needs to hit his/her rock bottom (lowest point of addiction) before s/he can begin the process of recovery. Individuals fighting cancer know that sometimes you must endure nauseating, painful chemotherapy in order to put the cancer in remission. Similarly, sometimes you need to leave the Holy City of Jerusalem to fully sense the endless wonder of the rest of Israel.

So on Monday, mixing sadness and excitement, we descended from Jerusalem’s spiritual heights, arriving soon thereafter below sea level at Masada and the Dead Sea. Ascending by cable car, we soon realized that Masada and its environs are indeed beautiful. Who cannot but marvel at King Herod’s architectural genius of building this palace (and fortress) atop the plateau of Masada?! In Herod’s day, you could relax in luxurious bathhouses (cold water, steam rooms, hot pools). Intricate water channels brought water from the desert’s flash rains into cisterns cut into the base of Masada, which a host of servants (or slaves) easily brought up to the top. You could settle down in multi-columned atriums, enjoying both the majestic vistas and the healing power of the warm desert air.

Masada is not a bad place to hole up, especially if you were the last of the Jewish zealots revolting against the Romans following chorban habayit, the destruction of second Jerusalem Temple, in 70 CE. The valor of the Jewish zealots residing on Masada during the Roman siege is still celebrated as the supreme example of self-sacrifice for the preservation of the nation of Israel. (Even today, when the recruits of the Israel Armored Corps take their oath of allegiance, they do so on Masada to remind each generation of the price our ancestors paid for our nation. They cry: “Masada shall not fall again!”) Our tour group relived the stressful debate about how to respond to the uncompromising Roman onslaught which was beyond the Jews’ ability to thwart. Shall we surrender? Fight to the death? Try to escape? We listened as zealot leader Elazar ben Ya’ir (played convincingly by Jon Wolfson) raised spirits and convinced his fellow zealots to make the ultimate sacrifice for their values. Yerida l’shem aliyah. You can read about the engaging conclusion online.

Equally engaging was tour leader Alexandra Benjamin’s invitation to family groups to identify central values and commit ourselves through specific actions to maintaining them. Some groups dedicated to Emet (honesty); others to Mishpacha (centrality of family); and still others to Shutafut (partnership, helping each other). Yerida l’shem aliyah. Apparently, our descent into the turmoil of Masada’s history allowed us to ascend in our recommitment to significant Jewish values.

Finally the few of us journeyed down the winding snake path. It was a precarious at times; a breeze other moments. Glorious vistas, aching knees and great conversation vied with each other for attention. (My group shared stories of how we met and became engaged to our spouses). Yerida l’shem aliyah. Descent for the purpose of ascent. I shall miss Jerusalem until the next trip, but I shall treasure these ascending memories.

Jon Wolfson Contemplates Leaving Jerusalem

We are driving down to Masada. Jonathon Wolfson contemplates leaving the holy city of Jerusalem:
As we leave Jerusalem, I have mixed feelings. On one hand, I am sad to be leaving this spiritual place, this heart of the Jewish homeland. We have spent an amazing five days exploring and learning about this special place. On the other hand, I am very excited about climbing (metaphorically…really in a cable car) Masada and continuing our discovery of this amazing land and history. I hope that everyone at Or Ami has a chance to travel with their family to Israel and make the all important connection to Israel, the land and its people!