The Three P's: Purim, Passover, and Packing

Today is my second to last day of my first year of rabbinical school. The last few months have just flown by, and I can't really believe that my year in Israel is almost over. Purim was such an amazing holiday to celebrate in Jerusalem. Besides doing our own Purimspiel, we also went to Shuk Machane Yehudah to celebrate with all different kinds of people. The weeks that then led up to Passover were a total blur. They included a flurry of tests and cleaning before Passover and also a trip to Vilna, Lithuania.

Our time in Vilna was perhaps one of the most meaningful times of my life. I was freezing my butt off (supposedly it was spring)-- I will never forget how cold my toes were...ever...I felt that I was in a place both of extreme loss and of rising possibilities. Vilna was the Jerusalem of Eastern European Jewry, but after the Holocaust only a small remnant remain to tell it's story. In spite of its dark history, Vilna's Jewish community is beginning to rebuild in post-soviet Lithuania. One of the most inspiring encounters we had was with Amit, the vibrant leader of the Vilna Jewish Student Organization. She serves as the leader of a group of 20 and 30 somethings in and around Vilna, and she is trying her hardest to build Jewish community on her own. Besides being absolutely admirable, her work is truly exciting because she actually is getting participation from young Jews whom the Chabad and Orthodox rabbis cannot reach. Not only that, but she and the leader of the Vilna Jewish Community, are working together to bring pluralistic Judaism to Vilna. After meeting with Amit, our classmates could not leave her without a rabbinical student to help her with her seder, and so Rae and Hilly stayed behind after we left to lead a seder in the TV Tower of Vilna and to continue to experience Jewish life in Vilna.

Passover was relaxing and wonderful. I had seder at Nancy Lewitt's which was divided into two sections: Anglo Olim and then their Israeli children. It was not only a funny way to see generational differences but also to see the way in which Israeli identity differs from secular parents to Israeli children. The rest of Passover break was spent in a myriad of places including Tiberias and Caesaria as well as a shabbaton in Modiin with friends. It was a lovely way to relax and explore Israel before the insanity of final exams and packing.

Now, I sit in my cubicle in the Jerusalem campus library working on Liturgy finals, an itinerary for a 20's and 30s trip to Israel, while also studying for my rabbinic texts, Hebrew, and Biblical grammar finals. It's a lot. I'm also intentionally avoiding packing and wrestling with what it will mean to be going home after such a full year of experiences and learning.

 I guess that's what camp is for, right? Not really. In the midst of all of this studying and packing, I'm also working on a curriculum guide for camp, meeting with senior staff, and outlining services for the summer for Camp Daisy Stein where I will be the Judaics Director this summer. As much as I will miss Israel, my friends, and my experiences here, I'm more than ready to move onto the next step of my career; working at a Jewish summer camp! I'm also ready to start working on High Holyday sermons and services and to prepare to go "home" to Cincinnati, to return my life in the United States and to begin my journey stateside towards my rabbinate.

As the year ends, and I think about what I will pack, what I will bring home, I think about all of my favorite memories from Pre-ulpan, Shabbat dinners, coffee shops, and spending time with friends. Although I can't take Jewish time with me back to the states, I will try my best to retain it in my daily life--to make Fridays a time to prepare for Shabbat and to truly rest on Shabbat. I will also take with me all of the knowledge and skills I have gained this year; most of which I'm not sure are even things I can articulate. As per usual though, the things I will miss the most about my year in Israel will be the people in my life who live in Israel and also those who will be on different campuses next year. I'm not sure what I will do without Sonia, my coffeeshop owner, or Eli at the front gate with his cats, or Shoddy--the shy yet flirty Arab-Israeli barista at Beit Shmuel--or the guys at my corner store who ask me where I've been when I don't come by. I will miss Salim and his twin sons who ALWAYS throw me off and then laugh at me for getting confused. I will miss my Hebrew teachers Tali and Tami, Dave and Jeremy for their kindness and their antics, Nancy for her generosity, and Naamah for her wisdom and grace. Most of all, I will miss "my team," my closest friends in my program without whom I would not have survived this year.

While I will miss my friends and the important people and places in my life here, now it is time to pack up, and to make space for the next generation of HUC Year in Israel students so that they can fall in love with this place, learn from this place, and find themselves.

Clap Your Hands If You Believe

I want to believe in you
I see you try
I see you struggle
I see you give up
I see you hide

I want to believe in you
I want to be your kid in the audience
I want to clap and say I believe
But I'm not sure you believe in yourself

I want to believe in you
I want to believe even when everyone has given up on you
I want to believe even when you've given up on yourself
I want to believe in the impossible, in you

I want to believe that you can be redeemed
I want to believe that this country can be redeemed
I want to believe that life isn't hopeless
That little girls can clap and believe
That little boys can clap and believe
and that even I and you can believe

I want to believe in the positivity of the world
of the trees of the grass of the air, of GOD
I want to believe in the possibility that life can be sweet
filled with kisses, family, chocolate

Most of all, I want to believe that we can believe in each other
If I don't believe in you, and you don't believe in me, and we don't believe in we...
Who will we be?
Will we be a people of non-believers? Doomed to repeat our history? Our discrimation? Our failures?
Or will we be a people of can-believers? Will we believe in ourselves enough to survive to do more than survive, to thrive?

I don't know if you believe, but I believe.
I believe. 

The Wall and the Mountain

The following pair of poems reflect my experiences while visiting to major sites in Israel; the Western Wall and the Temple Mount/Dome of the Rock. My words are not meant to be inflammatory, however they are inherently political and religiously charged based on my context and on my actual experiences at these places. My mentioning of the phrase Allahu Akbar, is not meant to be negative or provocative,  it is only based off of actual experiences and my need to process those experiences through poetry. My hope is that my poetry will promote deeper thinking about the concepts of insiders, outsiders, and "inbetweeners," and prompt a discussion about sacred space, history and the politics of conflict.

Bailey
___________________________________________________________________________________

The Wall


  The steps gleam in the sunlight

  And they feel heavy under my feet

 Who walked here?

 I walk here.

 I walk here?


I enter the gates, those gates David entered?

Those gates, Romans entered.

Those gates, Crusaders entered.

Those gates, Caliphates entered.

These gates. I enter.

I feel small under their history their ancient gaze.

I feel small under God's eyes. Under the wall.

The wall!

I feel insignificant.

I feel set apart.

I feel outside.

I feel outside inside in a world of insiders and outsiders.

I feel like I'm inbetween worlds not Muslim, not Haredi. Not Israeli.

I feel small.


The wall: where Jews have longed to pray. Where Jews have cried, begged, for freedom, redemption, for the messiah.

I stand conflicted. I stand crying for freedom, for equality, for women to wear teflin, for my own political reality.

I am uncomfortable. Is this even my place, my space. Why am I here? Who am I to say women should be able to pray on the men's side? Who am I to say that I should stand here in pants and not a skirt?

Who am I?



In the long run of history, in the eyes of God, in the shadow of this. Wall. I am small.

When I look up into the eyes of the woman who stares at my jeans covered legs.

When I look up at the partition on my right

When I'm told I don't belong by eyes, by shaking heads, by hands

I am ashamed. in that moment.


But moments later. I am definant!

I AM a JEW!

I AM a Woman!!

I AM ME!

Why do I bother you so much?

Why do I anger you?

Do you really think the world will end due to my uncovered elbows?

Who put you and only you in charge of God's world? His Her's It's?

Why you? Who are you to judge me?

Who are you?


We all walk the same steps.

We look up at the same wall.

We see the same things with different eyes.

The stones glimmer and the wall sees.

God sees. God hears. Not from the wall, but from our hearts.

The stones glimmer and the wall sees. 


___________________________________________________

The Mountain


From the Mountain you can see the world.


The dome sparkles in the sunlight and the olive trees sway in the wind.

The humming of old men at prayer fills your ears

While the water drips from a faucet nearby.


The Mountain is palatial. It is expansive. It is opressive.

The old men once peaceful at prayer lash out in song.

Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!

God is Great!

God is great!

God is great!

She is great!

The words of God they shout tear into your skin

They make you want to run away

They're supposed to.


The men sit in their circle.

My hands sweat and running away sounds like a great idea.

I am not welcome here.

Allahu Akkbar!

I am not welcome here.

Allahu Akbar!

You are not welcome.


There was a man who said the Mountain had once been for the Jews, then for the Muslims, then for the Christians, then for the Muslims...

A cycle of insiders of outsiders of insiders. 

He didn't deny it.

He didn't hide it.

He didn't yell.


Allahu Akbar!

God is great!

Allahu Akbar!

God is great!

Allahu Akbar!

Who is YOUR God?

Why am I on this mountain?

Why are we fighting?

Why do we all feel uncomfortable in our own skin, our own place, our space...

Sacred space.


Allahu Akbar!

God is great!

Allahu Akbar!!

God is...

The call to prayer can be heard from the rooftops.

It begs this city to hear it's cry.

It begs this city to see its pain.

It begs. It begs.

Allahu Akbar!


I am here.

I am stam.

I am stam.

I am uncomfortable, an outsider in my own skin, in my heritage, in yours, in his, in hers.

We are inbetweeners.

We fuddle through our prayers our Allahs our Adonais, our God's.

We struggle to find a footing in the shifting sands of time, on mountains on walls, on rocks on stones.

We throw them. We cry to them. We pray with them. We...We...

Allahu Akbar.

Adonai Echad.

Allahu Akbar.

Shemo Echad.

Allahu, Adonai.

Akkbar, Echad. 

Our Patriarchs and Matriarchs Updated

      Some kids are just really lucky. I was one of those kids. I don't remember a time in my life where there weren't adults other than my parents who I could talk to or look up to. Besides a handful of very influential teachers, most of the people I looked up to growing up were adults my parents age who treated me like a young adult, who respected me and who helped me to grow and to cultivate my talents. I think I realized as a young adult the blessing Slidell Little Theatre was for me, but I think now it's impact is really hitting home. Over the last 7 months two of the "patriarchs and matriarchs" of my SLT community have passed away. They were integral to my development as a child and a young adult. They gave me the space and the permission to be creative; to act, to sing, to pass out programs, to watch plays, to be a kid. At the same time, they respected my opinion and my views without always treating my like a child. Through their guidance and love, in addition to that of my family, I was able to truly flourish as a young adult and to grow into the woman I am today.
    Every time I go home, I make an effort to go back to SLT. Although the physical space is different and different young adults and adults play in it's hallowed halls, it's still a major part of who I am. As we get older, we realize that life is fleeting. But, today, I'd like to think less about the fleeting nature of life and more about the importance of "patriarchs and matriarchs" in our youth. Our parents and grandparents are more often than not the guiding lights in our lives, however, we often take for granted the important role other adults play in the lives of children. For me, it was the leaders and directors of my camp, and for others it could be their coach or teacher. It doesn't really matter who that person is to a child, just that a child has someone like that in their life.
   As I embark on the rabbinate, I hope to be that inspiration, that light to all those around me. If we can demonstrate to both children and adults that we can provide unconditional care and concern, we will make a deep impact on the world. Just listening and showing interest can make someone's day, especially a young adult. My friends and I prove the rule. We were given a space, Slidell Little Theatre and Young Actor's Theatre (Camp), to explore, to learn about ourselves, our art, and to interact with adults who respected and cared for us as if they were our aunts and uncles or older cousins or siblings. We then tried to pass their legacy onto the next generation of their kids and the next group of kids that came to SLT. We passed down their tradition, our tradition. They were our forefathers and mothers. They were our patriarchs and matriarchs.
   When Ms. Fabian passed away on Yom Kippur, I was devastated. She with the help of another woman had started and perpetuated the camp I went to for over ten summers, where I made my best friends, and where I came into my own. There was not a summer or vacation that went by without me visiting SLT in hopes of stealing a hug from Ms. Fay, Mr. Fred, Mr. Pat, Ms. Bonnie, Ms. Rose, and so many others (Julie and Paul). I was so lucky to have people in my life who I could turn to, who I could learn from outside of my family. My "patriarchs and matriarchs" helped me find my way, helped me discover who I was, and made me who I am today. Now, all I can hope is that I can do the same for those who enter my life, that I might guide them in their lives, and that I might better their lives just by existing for a fleeting moment in their worlds.

                                     "I am who I am today because I knew you."

            May their memories be for a blessing, Pat Mcloud and Fabian Martinez.

Lech Lecha: Conversion, Scandal, and Respect

    A little over four years ago, I converted to Judaism. I made a very intentional choice of where I would begin my conversion process. I knew that some people had had difficult times being welcomed by Conservative communities, and I knew Orthodox Judaism wasn't for me predominantly based on gender equality and acceptance of LGBTQ individuals. My most positive experiences had been with Reform Jews which led to my attendance at services, and my later active participation at Temple Israel in Memphis, TN. After a lot of thought, I took the plunge and contacted a rabbi at Temple Israel.
    I vividly recall my first meeting with the rabbi who would later agree to help me in my conversion process. He must have been very surprised by my dress. I was wearing a black dress, red light up earrings, and a red light up necklace; all in the spirit of V-Day and the V-Day performance I was to be in that afternoon. If nothing else I showed him what I was passionate about and gave him a good look into my vibrant personality. From that day forward, my rabbi and I forged a very positive relationship which provided me with comfort and support during my process. Additionally,  I was very blessed to have the support of my family, friends, and my community in my decision to be a Jew by choice. I was and continue to be very blessed, however other women and men have not been so lucky.
    Last week it came out that a very well known rabbi, who had been part of many Jew by choice's conversion processes, was accused and arrested for voyeurism. He stands accused of spying on women as they entered the mikvah by placing cameras in the mikvah so he could watch as women immersed. At such an intimate time as immersion, a convert expects the trust he or she has built with their rabbi to remain.
  This scandal unfortunately just made me happy to have converted through the Reform movement, but the response of the Orthodox community was also encouraging. Rabbi Eliyahu Fink wrote in an article in Haaretz, "The Torah enjoins us not to oppress the convert and also commands us to love the convert. American Orthodox conversion has now been rocked by two massive scandals of rabbis abusing potential converts in the last few years. Clearly we are not doing enough to prevent oppression and demonstrate our love towards converts. That needs to change immediately."
(http://www.haaretz.com/blogs/the-lighthouse/.premium-1.621147)
    He is absolutely correct. There should under no circumstances in any branch of Judaism be such a breach of trust in which rabbis and community members do not speak out against an individual in power who took advantage of community members and converts. Mitzvot do not just require Jews to follow laws given by Moses or that are detailed in the Talmud or Shulchan Arukh, we are also commanded to be moral human beings.
    As a Jew by Choice, this story was particularly poignant. Although this is not a situation taking place in the Reform or Conservative movements, I think there is a greater take away for all branches of Judaism. This week's parasha is Lech Lecha, when we read of God's command to Abram and Sarai to go forth from their homes and to become a great nation. Eventually we also read that Abram and Sarai are granted new names and are henceforth called Abraham and Sarah. In many ways Abraham and Sarah are Jews by Choice. They chose to follow God's command to follow on the journey he had planned for them. I charge all Jews to reflect on the journeys we are all called to. What is your journey, Jewish or otherwise? Each of us has a unique journey, and Jew by choice's journey should not be thought of as any less of a journey than that of a born Jew or vice versa. Not only in this case, but in general we need to be aware that each of our journeys has value and relevance, and that respect and trust are of the utmost importance if we are to help each other in our own journeys. The courts will deal with this rabbi, but it is up to us to not continue to be bystanders and to uphold Jewish values of respect in all aspects of our lives.