shalom m'yerushalayim

Im eshkachech Yerushalayim, tishkach yemeeni *

2007-01-16T01:08:00.000+02:00

It was with much sadness - and more than a few tears - that I passed through the familiar sites of Jerusalem for the last time, stopping in Tel Aviv before the difficult 12 hour flight to New York City. How can one describe leaving Jerusalem? Leaving Israel? My initial impressions, after just three days in the States:

Life in Jerusalem feels, in many ways, as if it is lived on a tight rope; one misstep and the balance of the city will be so upset as to send every resident on a disastrous freefall. This phenomenon has an interesting effect, and one that I've mentioned before. Life is not to be avoided, but rather every second lived with intention and purpose. After almost six months in Israel, I, too, began to see my own actions and existence in terms of Ariel, of Ir Ha'Elohim, of Jerusalem. To leave, then, is to fear that the tenuous peace somehow carved out in the magnificent and unearthly city will crumble at the very moment my shoulders are no longer helping to hold it up. I'm told this seemingly self-important apprehension is not an uncommon one; to live in Jerusalem is to become such a part of the place that for even the briefest of moments every person feels as if her existence and the city's are entirely wrapped up in, and dependent on, one another.

The flight was a long one and subdued - none of the nervous energy that colored my voyage to Israel back in August and certainly none of the cheering. My thoughts, and those of my fellow passengers, were palpable: "Am I going home or did I just leave it?"

The huge El-Al airplane was packed the night I left Israel and, as luck would have it, I sat next to a woman of what one might call overly-generous proportions. With bright red nails and a thick Long Island accent, I couldn't help but curse the karma that gave me that particular middle seat. I was far too quick to judge this woman, however. Maybe it was the text message I had just received in Hebrew, or maybe it was my puffy-from-crying red eyes, but she turned to me and began to speak in the language that I'd grown so accustomed to hearing. We were chatting in Hebrew about my experiences and about how hard she always found it to leave, when the attendant began to collect from the passengers leftover Israeli shekels to donate to needy children. As I started to dump out the contents of my change purse, my neighbor leaned over to me and said "Don't give it all away, chamudi. You'll need some money for when you return." Putting a few coins back into my purse, I couldn't help but smile and think that such advice was some of the finest I've received since arriving in the Holy Land.

Such are my first, haphazard thoughts about leaving Jerusalem. In the next few weeks, as I begin to readjust to life in the United States, I'll post again with some final impressions and observations regarding my experiences abroad.

B'Shalom,
Meagan

*Psalm 137: 5 - If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her skill.

Hag Sameach M'Yerushalayim (Happy Holidays from Jerusalem)

2006-12-25T14:47:00.000+02:00

I know that I promised a blog on all things political, but as today is December 25th I thought it appropriate to, instead, touch on issues of religiosity here in the Holy Land. This subject, while much more personal and individual than politics, is not one to which I can express my thoughts in a truly thorough and complete manner. I will, of course, try as best I can to convey my experiences as I've come to view them at this juncture - five months into my sojourn in Jerusalem. This year, the Christmas spirit has filled me not with the jolly American consumerism of old, but with a more solitary and reflective version of observance.

I am very much a member of the religious minority here in the Jewish state of Israel; as an incredibly blessed, young, Christian woman living in the United States, it is without a doubt the first time I've been defined by such a status. It should be made explicitly clear, though, that this label has not played a negative role in my experience so far. Rather, it has been a spiritually enlightening designation. Over the last months, I've been approached, by both my classmates at Hebrew University and by curious Israeli friends, with questions about Christianity and my own personal version of faith.

Do you really believe in transfiguration? Isn't that just kind of ridiculous and unrealistic? and Jesus was a Jew - a really observant one, in fact! He kept Kosher and observed Shabbat. Wouldn't you, as a Christian, want to emulate Jesus' life? Such complicated questions are almost always coupled with shockingly, and deceptively, simple queries. So what do you DO at church? and What is Easter all about, exactly?

The kinds of conversations that are stimulated by such questions are few and far between in my life in the United States. At Wellesley, theological discussions are most often limited to the inter-denominational concept of God: is He real?, how does one reconcile God with the problem of evil? Religious affiliation is regularly chopped up to mere semantics in exchange for the greater philosophical debates that surround the primitive conception of a nameless, faceless higher power. But is such a focus truly greater?

In Israel, I've been forced to answer and, in turn, learned to ask the very questions I had been conditioned to avoid in my comfortable bubble of politically correct abstractions. Here, semantics are not brushed aside with ease, but treated with care, with reverential consideration. In this place, religion has been inextricably tied to suffering from time immemorial. The details are anything but insignificant; they govern life, they give faith. Perched in my Ivory Tower, comfortably ensconced in the hazy fog of academia, it was easy to paint religiosity with broad brush strokes, in a palette of striking hues. My experiences over the last months have forced me to alter my style, however: to slow down, to remember the way colors can blend together or pop out in contrast, and above all, to never forget or discount the details. In the details, the painting becomes a masterpiece; in the details, we find our faith.

Three weeks left in Israel; how time flies!

From Jerusalem - Happy Holidays.

B'Ahava,
Meagan

Turkey Photos, Finally!

2006-12-04T10:52:00.000+02:00

I know what you must be thinking right now - - "it's about time!" I know how you feel; I was thinking the very same thing as I began to create this entry. It's incredible how dependent our lives have become on the internet for communication; without access for the last month, I've been forced to return to more traditional methods of exchange. I surprised even myself when I wrote out (by hand!) a letter to one of my great friends from Wellesley who is studying for the year at the London School of Economics - oh, how my tired hand missed email at the end of that note. While I do appreciate gaining some insight into a no-'net existence, I can't say I'll be upset when I return to Wellesley's high-speed, 24 hour wireless network!

Turkey:

This photo is from one of my favorite spots in Istanbul: the Blue Mosque. Words can not describe the breathtaking grandeur of the place. It was truly incredible! We happened to be in Turkey during the month of Ramadan (the most important Islamic holiday); for those that don't know, this holiday consists of a fast during each day of the month, which is broken in the evening. Every night of Ramadan, next to the Blue Mosque, was the most wonderful break-fast fair. There were stalls upon stalls of the most tantalizing meats and sweets, a band playing popular Turkish songs, and very few tourists! It was walking around this fair, eating my baked potato and kebap, with the Call to Prayer playing over the mosque's loudspeaker that I had my most authentic Turkish experience.

The Hagia Sophia - another overwhelmingly beautiful place. Coming from Israel, where Judaism and Islam exist side by side, Istanbul felt like a different world. During my time in Turkey, I saw no Judaica anywhere; instead, it was Christianity and Islam that were indelibly intertwined. The Hagia Sophia was, originally, a Byzantine church that was converted into a mosque during Ottoman times. This kind of merging is very common throughout Istanbul's 'old city'.

A few more pictures from Istanbul:

And, of course, the unforgettable Turkish tea and coffee:

As for my post-Turkey existence in the Holy Land:

I just finished midterms here at Hebrew University and, to tell you the truth, life in Jerusalem has become just that: life! I go to class, do homework (yes, sometimes we do homework : ), and my days have become, for the most part, routine. It still surprises me, though, that after only four and a half months I've become so settled, so much a part of the community here in Jerusalem, as to feel completely and totally at home.

For next week, my experiences with precarious Middle Eastern politics!

B'Shalom,
Meagan

Sorry!

2006-10-23T15:10:00.000+02:00

My first post in...weeks! No, I haven't disappeared! Rather, Hebrew University moved the international students into a wonderful new dormitory complex that has no internet connectivity. For now, I have very limited online access so, sadly, no time for blogging.

I hope to be up and running again soon with pictures from Istanbul and more.

Thanks for reading!

B'Shalom,
Meagan

Holchim le'Tel Aviv

2006-10-03T18:54:00.000+02:00

Last Wednesday, I took the Ulpan final exam and officially ended my 7 week language course! As I've said, Ulpan has played a definitive role in my first two months in Jerusalem and I can't imagine these last weeks without it; however, I am truly looking forward to the new experiences and challenges that are sure to arise when I begin my academic classes. In celebration of Ulpan 'graduation', a few of my roommates and I decided to head once again to Tel Aviv for some much needed rest and relaxation. We certainly found time to rest and relax (mostly on the beautiful shores of the Mediterranean), but this mini-vacation also provided me with some amazing insights into the cultural mores of Tel Aviv's Orthodox Jewish community.

Here's what happened:

On Saturday afternoon, I headed to Rinana (a suburb of Tel Aviv) for dinner and Havdalah, a ceremony that is performed weekly to mark the close of Shabbat. The family I visited (distantly related to Hannah, my friend from Wellesley) moved in 1949 from Yemen to the Rinana neighborhood they still inhabit today. The family's place of residence is not all that has remained static, however: they have maintained many of their wonderful Yemenite traditions and, as well, preserved their Orthodox lifestyle.

Right off the bat, I was struck by the intense focus on the extended family as one very large unit. Tight-knit families are, I believe, common in this country (regardless of religious affiliation), but the multi-generational emphasis is not something I'd ever seen. One single bloodline ran through the entire neighborhood; they lived a compound-like existence, with aunts, uncles, and cousins running in and out of every home. Life is communal in almost every way. For example, a man would not think twice of walking into his brother's home and rummaging around for one item or another. On a slightly different, but related note, there is a hierarchy that is very apparent in this kibbutz-like lifestyle. The eldest brother is considered superior to his siblings (who happen to all be male) and his opinions are very highly regarded - though the thoughts and feelings of the parents are treated with the most respect and admiration. There are obvious benefits to this kind of existence, including a real sense of family and belonging, though the younger generations are now finding it harder and harder to maintain such open and intense connections.

As the afternoon turned to evening, we sat down at the dinner table for a feast of incredible Yemenite food. I couldn't determine the spices used in any of the dishes - they were completely new to me - but it was absolutely wonderful. During dinner, my eyes were opened to more than just foreign cuisine, however. As a guest, I was not permitted to lift a finger before, during, or after the meal. If I were a member of the family, though, as a woman, I would have been required to serve in every possible capacity. Male members of the family do not participate in any household or child-rearing work. A quick example of this: one man, who married into the family, rose during dinner to grab the plate of chicken that had been moved into the kitchen, only a few feet away. His brother-in-law proceeded to berate him for this, saying, "Let your wife do that. It's her job." Women in this family do not attend synagogue or participate in prayers that are said at home. I had a fascinating conversation with one female member, originally from South Africa, who had converted to Judaism in order to marry into this family. A college-educated woman who dreamed of being an actress in her youth, had no problem at all with the strictly defined gender roles. She saw it as division of labor - nothing more, nothing less; the men pray and go to Temple, while the women take care of the home and the children. The Wellesley-attending feminist in me found this lifestyle to be difficult to stomach, but I realize that such an existence has much merit. I truly do respect the emphasis on family and the obvious importance they place on religion and morality.

Another Interesting Brush with Orthodoxy

After spending Yom Kippur with a Wellesley-alum (class of '76, I believe), I was on my way home when I ended up at a bus stop in Bnei Barak, a very Orthodox suburb of Tel Aviv. After a few minutes, a shared cab stopped to pick me up for the trip back to Jerusalem. As I stepped on the van, I realized that it was filled entirely with Orthodox men; unfortunately, I was wearing pants and a sleeve-less shirt - not a revealing outfit by any stretch of the imagination, but not one that a woman wants to be wearing if she has to share a 45 minute ride with a van-full of observant men. As luck would have it, the only seat that remained was next to a boy who could not have been older than 15. As I sat down, he yelled "Lo, Lo!" (No, No) and wagged his finger at me in disgust. I realized in that moment that he practices what is called Shomer Negila, a form of Orthodox Judaism that forbids any physical contact at all with the opposite sex. Luckily, a jovial-looking man (also in traditional garb) jumped up and moved next to the boy, allowing me to have my own seat. I have to say, I was mildly offended by this boy's condescending manner, having never experienced anything quite like it before. I do believe, though, that it is a perfect example of the Israeli struggle to balance the needs of the Orthodox community with those of the non-religious, as well as the constant conflict between the modern and traditional worlds.

In other news...

This Thursday I'm heading to Istanbul, Turkey for a week! I'm so, so excited to do a bit of traveling in the region - I'll post pictures as soon as I return.

B'Shalom,
Meagan

Shana Tova!

2006-09-23T14:09:00.000+03:00

Today we are smack in the middle of the Jewish New Year celebration, Rosh Hashanah (meaning, literally, Head of the Year). It's hard to believe how quickly time has flown by these last two months and I can't help but wax nostalgic about where this amazing journey has taken me so far. With three months left to explore Jerusalem and the land of Israel, I can only imagine what adventures lay ahead.

This Wednesday marks the end of my Hebrew-intensive language program. Ulpan was, at times, a chore, but the program has truly been the reason for the improvement in my language skills. Ulpan was one of those things that we all loved to hate; getting up at 7 am every morning and speaking in Hebrew for five or six hours was more than a bit tedious, but it also allowed for some truly remarkable linguistic advances to be made. Then, with Hebrew words and sounds echoing in our minds, we would go out into the city and explore - using the skills we had been practicing only hours earlier in the classroom. As far as my own abilities go, I've yet to fully make that leap from understanding Hebrew to speaking it with confidence and ease. We are told that there is a timeline to becoming fluent in a language: first - you understand, next - you speak, and finally (if ever) - you acquire functional writing skills. I'm trying to speak in Hebrew as much as possible, though the rampant English-use makes it difficult sometimes; my personal goal is to be completely comfortable conversing in Hebrew by the time I leave. The picture above is of my Ulpan class (my teachers are also in the photo). Our class was ethnically and religiously diverse; the bond we created was very special and, I believe, completely unique. I am truly saddened that I may be seeing some of my classmates for the last time this week - they have all played such a large role in my experience in Jerusalem so far.

Last Shabbat, I made a trip with some friends to the Arab Quarter; our goal - find the best hummus and pita in Jerusalem! We ended up at a restaurant called Abu Shukri's where the food was out of this world, to say the least. While we waited for a table, my group decided to take a walk along Via Dolorosa (a road in the Old City) where we saw five of the fourteen Stations of the Cross. Standing in the very places where Jesus was condemned to die and where Simon helped Jesus carry his cross, was yet another reminder of the awesome religiosity of Jerusalem.

This photo is of the Second Station of the Cross (where the cross was laid upon Jesus).

Last week, I visited Tel Aviv for the first time! It was a beautiful end-of-summer/beginning-of-fall day and sitting on the shores of the Mediterranean was a wonderful treat. With that said, I have to admit that I was not wholly impressed by Tel Aviv. It is the most 'American' place I've yet visited and, like any big city, it was slightly dingy and very grimy. I was intrigued by the secular nature of Tel Aviv, however, and it could not be more different from Jerusalem, where holy sites and ancient markings define not only the city, but the people who live in it. Spending a day in Tel Aviv reaffirmed my conviction that I made the right choice when I decided to study in Jerusalem; somehow, life here in Jerusalem feels so much more 'authentic'. With that being said, spending a day at the beach was a wonderful respite from the religiosity of Jerusalem and the resulting tensions that often arise.

That's all for now - the next two weeks are looking jam-packed already! The end of Ulpan (and my final!), Shabbat with an Orthodox Jewish family, a trip to Tel Aviv to share Yom Kippur with a Wellesley alum, and then a week long vacation to Istanbul, Turkey! I'll be sure to post pictures and stories as often as I can : )

Rosh Hashanah Sameach! Happy Jewish New Year!

B'Shalom,
Meagan

Special Thanks : )

2006-09-17T19:25:00.000+03:00

For those of you planning to study abroad, check out HI-USA:

Hostelling International USA promotes the belief that one has to see the world to understand it. To this end, every semester, the Eastern New England Council awards two $500 travel grants to area college students who best demonstrate a commitment to educational and intercultural experiences in their travel plans.

This summer, we are proud to support Wellesley college junior Meagan Froemming as she studies in Jerusalem and travels throughout Israel and the Middle East. Especially in light of the current climate, her focus on pursuing peace in the midst of faith-based conflict could not be more timely and relevant.

We congratulate Meagan and wish her safe travels.

The travel grants will be offered again in fall 2006, and any student traveling abroad, through a study abroad program or otherwise, may apply. Application information available at www.usahostels.org.

Shalom Acshav! (Peace Now!)

2006-09-12T11:29:00.000+03:00

Yesterday I attended a lecture at Hebrew Union College in Jerusalem; the talk was given by Rabbi Dr. David Ellenson, president of HUC and father of my best friend from Wellesley! What follows is a collection of thoughts and points, some made by Rabbi Ellenson during the lecture and, of course, some musings of my own : ). Over the last month, I've realized just how 'alive' history is to the people of this land - and how events from hundreds of years ago still can and do influence everything from policy making to nationally held prejudices.

ZIONISM
It is fair, and I believe very accurate, to say that Zionism is absolutely central to the spirituality of Jews all over the world. This is not news to most of us, though the evolution of the idea in modernity is often, and unfortunately, overlooked. Without such historical perspective, the creation of a legitimate solution to the problem of peace in the land of Israel is virtually impossible.

Zionism can be best described as an old/new movement. 'Zion' has always been central to Jewish religiosity; there has been a yearning for a return to Zion since the moment of the first exile. The idea of a punishing God who banished the Jews to the galut (diaspora) was reinforced by the belief that only God himself could be the agent of return. This political quiescence was, in many ways, a messianic vision that characterized Jewish Zionist thinking before the 19th Century.

Fast forward to the French Revolution and we will arrive at what can be considered the true beginning of modern Zionism. The French Revolution, with its promises of liberty, equality and fraternity, meant that Jews could, by definition, live as individuals in emancipated states. It is from this time period that we see the emergence of modern Judaism, i.e. living an authentically Jewish life in the larger non-Jewish world.

Enlightened reason eventually gave way to passionate Romanticism in Europe, which influenced Jewish thinking in two significant ways. From the Romantic movement came the growth of nationalism. Jewish figures were positively shaped by this idea and began to think seriously in terms of Jewish nationhood, even though they lacked, as a people, the two most necessary components of statehood - a land and a language. With Romantic nationalism also came a renewed emphasis on the importance of blood lines and thus, the possibility of real inclusion for Jews in the non-Jewish world went out the window. It was in Paris, the birthplace of the Enlightenment only 100 years before, that Theodor Herzl, with shouts of "Death to the Jews" in the background, came to the realization that European/Christian antisemitism made Jews inherently unable to assimilate and that lives of safety would only be possible with a land of their own.

The Zionist Idea and Morality
Living in the Holy Land during the aftermath of the Israel-Hezbollah War, I've seen and heard the 'use of force' debated passionately and repeatedly by Israelis and Palestinians alike. In fact, that's really the only way in which I've felt the war here in Jerusalem; there is a dialectic between differing versions of morality that is unlike anything I've experienced in the United States.

Judah Magnes, in his work entitled "Like All the Nations?", says that if Jews are guaranteed three things: immigration, settlement on the land, and Hebrew life and culture, they will gladly yield the majority to Palestine. But the question quickly becomes, how are these three things possible without a majority? And so, again, the nature of the discussion changes; this time to the morality of power. Magnes says: "...it is not only the end which for Israel must be desirable, but what is of equal importance, the means must be conceived and brought forth in cleanliness."

The question plaguing Israelis now is how to engage in power in a moral way; how to have a State that is concerned with virtue and simultaneously, one that understands to be powerless is also immoral. So, is the use of force and the possession of power inherently moral or immoral? After being a part of so many circular discussions about that very question, I have not gained answers, but instead a new-found appreciation for the incredible responsibility placed upon those making the decisions.

So What Else is New?
Walking in downtown Jerusalem yesterday afternoon, we came across a hotel that had the British flag raised alongside the Israeli one. "Oh. Tony Blair's here!" my friend joked. Well, we laughed until we saw a huge motorcade with flashing sirens pulling up in front of the hotel! It turns out that Tony had come to Jerusalem (after his recent trip to Lebanon) to help the Fatah/Hamas coalition deal that is said to be finalized in the coming days; a deal that Blair has strongly supported over the last months. Because I have settled down in Jerusalem and because it's beginning to feel more like home and less like an extended vacation, it was a true kick in the pants to see Prime Minister Blair and realize that I am no longer just reading about the news in papers and books - now, I am living it.

For next week, I promise pictures and some details about the sites I've been visiting : )

B'Shalom,
Meagan

The End of Month One!

2006-09-04T20:49:00.000+03:00

As I mull over the last week, my mind seems to perpetually return to one subject - the Hebrew language. Now whether because I've just finished the first half of a killer midterm or because of the five classroom hours a day I spend attempting to learn the language, Hebrew has been on my mind and in my conversations more than ever before. Of course, we all know that immersion is the key to linguistic success; my time here certainly has cemented the veracity of that adage in my mind. And, while the last month has been filled with more new verbs and adjectives and construct states than I could possibly convey through a blog, living in Israel and learning this ancient language has given me insight into what was before just an exercise in rote memorization. Hebrew is, in many ways, a perfectly accurate representation of the Jewish people, of their constancy and fluidity. As the language of the Bible, of the liturgy, and of ancient Rabbinic literature, Hebrew is fixed - quietly and permanently. Yet at the very same moment, Hebrew is in motion - a language continually shaped and molded by modern needs and desires. Often, ancient Hebraic words, rooted in history, will change their identity and meaning. And therein lies the unique duality of the Hebrew language: it is at once an expression of sacred Jewish principles and at the same time an assertion of the exuberance and vitality of modern Jewish culture. Over a wonderful Shabbat dinner last week, as the conversation turned to how I was getting along in my Ulpan class, a native Israeli began to muse about the nature of Hebrew. She said of the language: "It teaches you to understand the history and the morality of the people who use the words; Hebrew teaches you to understand the Jewish people." It is in that simple phrase that the woman summed up what is most remarkable about the Hebrew language - and I couldn't agree more.

This week truly has gone by in a kind of blur; in between class and homework and avoiding the pesky stray cats that seem to be lurking everywhere in this city, I feel like I haven't had time for much else! Last Friday, however, I began what I know will become part of my regular routine: volunteering at a Jerusalem soup kitchen. Located next to the great Jewish market I mentioned in my first post (called in J-lem: Mahane Yehuda), the kitchen opens its doors in a religious section of town (as much as I loved that white paper jacket they had me put on, I think I'll forego the tank top next time : ). All joking aside, what a great experience it was to volunteer in Jerusalem! Completely unbeknownst to me until just last week, poverty rates in Jerusalem are the highest in the entire country: nearly 42 percent of all residents and 56 percent of all children live at or below the poverty line. The opportunity to use my Hebrew was a wonderful addition to my soup kitchen experience, but much more important were the connections I made with people for whom Jerusalem is not a vacation destination, or a place to do a six month stint, but instead a place where getting from one meal to the next can be a callous and exhausting endeavor.

So that's it for now! The next few days promise to be restful ones; I think we all will need a bit of relaxation after midterms. Until next time...

B'Shalom,
Meagan

Another amazing week!

2006-08-24T21:13:00.000+03:00

What an incredible week I've had! I've been staring at my computer screen for the last few minutes, trying to think of a way to put my experiences into words - somehow, I know even my most whole-hearted attempt will not adequately describe them. With that caveat in mind, I'll begin!

Last Saturday, my roommates and I took a day trip to the Dead Sea (in Hebrew: Yam ha-Melakh). Located about an hour and a half from Jerusalem, it was interesting to see how drastically the scenery changed as we got farther from the city and deeper into the desert. If I thought Jerusalem was hot, was I ever wrong - - the Dead Sea area was stifling; one in my group had a near-fainting spell on the walk down to the beach! Of course, we finally did make it into the Dead Sea and what an experience that was. I have never felt so buoyant in my life! To say I was 'floating' doesn't at all describe being in the salty Dead Sea; I almost felt as if I was suspended in mid-air. Relaxing in the incredibly warm water was wonderful until I rubbed my eyes - who knew that my bad habit could have such painful consequences! The Dead Sea, the Earth's lowest point and one of it's saltiest bodies of water, is located on the border between Israel, the West Bank and Jordan and has served as a place of refuge for such notables as King David and Herod the Great. Wading into the Dead Sea was as surreal a feeling as any I've ever had; it was quite overwhelming to think of the many, many generations who have come to the very spot where I was taking my afternoon dip.

That surreal feeling I had at the Dead Sea, well, it didn't have much of a chance to fade upon my return to Jerusalem. Just a day or two after our excursion, I went to the Old City, this time to visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Located in the heart of the Christian quarter, I was introduced to the Old City's shuk (market) on my way to the holy site. From beautiful pottery, to hand-crafted and bejeweled clothes, to tee-shirts that say "Someone in Israel loves me", this market had every trinket a person could possibly want. My friends and I had a great time walking through the market; we used our Hebrew to barter for things like leather flip-flops and cotton tee-shirts, and we laughed at the many shopkeepers who tried to lure us into their kiosks with claims like "Everything, one shekel. Anything you want, one shekel, for such beautiful sisters."

After finally tearing ourselves away from the sights and smells of the market, we arrived at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This church was the most beautiful I have ever seen - and huge! The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is one of the most venerated Christian religious sites, as the ground underneath the church is described in the New Testament as the place where Jesus was crucified and buried. Upon entering the church, one is immediately overcome by the size and beauty of the building; the centuries old paintings and stone carvings seem all the more impressive by the light of the thousand candles lit in every nook and cranny. As I lit the one thousand and first candle, I was overwhelmed by the history of the place; for centuries upon centuries Christians have been coming to that very spot to light candles for their families. To be a part of that chain was truly a once in a lifetime experience.

When asked why I want to spend a semester in Israel, I've always answered "to live what I'm studying in the classroom"; Thursday night my flatmates and I got the opportunity to do just that. This adventure was unlike any I've had in Israel so far - we attended dinner with a Muslim family in the Arab quarter of the Old City. Suzanne, our host, is a student who has lived in Jerusalem her entire life. She is now in the same Ulpan program as I, in hopes of someday perfecting her Hebrew and attending the University. Her family, a group of the most hospitable people I have ever met, laid out a feast for us that was beyond anything I've seen in recent memory. Tasting dish after dish of traditional Arab food and meeting member after member of the family, all while the Call to Prayer floated over the loudspeaker, was truly an incredible experience. The architecture of Suzanne's home is very typical: the different apartments are built literally on top of one another with open spaces for hanging laundry or cooling off in the summer. The building's tenants are all members of Suzanne's extended family; throughout dinner small children ran in and out of the dining area, babies cried, and the stream of relatives dropping in to meet us was constant. Because we had only just met Suzanne's family, the conversation never strayed too far from traditional pleasantries. However, we did delve into politics for a moment when a young mother of three children began to speak about the difficulties of Israeli imposed travel restrictions. She bemoaned the impossibility of sending her children to the best schools and spoke sadly about the almost two hour trip she has to make daily to the hospital to see her newborn, premature son. It was an eye-opening moment for a group of Jewish and Christian girls from the United States. While the food and drink was the tastiest I've had in Israel, Suzanne and her family provided for us something far more important: a window into the lives of those who often seem so far away from our experience here at Hebrew University. (Photo above: Damascus Gate, entrance to the Arab Quarter of the Old City)

I'm not sure what this week will hold for me here in Jerusalem, but if the last three have been any indication, I have a lot to look forward to!

B'Shalom,
Meagan

Getting Settled

2006-08-17T20:58:00.000+03:00

Well, I've made it through my first full week in Jerusalem! While there have been a few bumps in the road (like losing my debit card!!), my transition to Israel has been smoother than I ever could have hoped. The picture to the left is the view from Hebrew University's main academic building - a great shot of Jerusalem's Old City. Historically, Mount Scopus (where the campus is located) has been a Jewish enclave surrounded by Arab villages. Today, the area is stomping grounds for a real cross section of Israeli society - even in the simplest of things can one see the diversity and integration of the area. Take the bus system, for instance. Though I have no plans to ride public transportation while I'm here, I walk by a dozen bus stops every day on my way to class and every morning I see two different kinds of public transportation pull up - one after the other. First, I might see a bus with green stripes painted on the side - this is Palestinian transportation. The second bus, usually with a red design, is Israeli. The contrast between Israeli and Palestinian riders becomes clear when one watches the patrons step aboard their respective buses. Before the buses arrive, however, when men and women are waiting together in the shade, it is sometimes impossible to tell which color bus anyone will head toward. This simple example is, in my opinion, indicative of the ethno-political tenor of Mount Scopus on the whole: a strong sense of integration on the hill itself coupled, paradoxically, with insurmountable religious, geographic and political divisions.

After getting to know Mount Scopus and Hebrew U.'s campus, a few friends and I got together for a short tour of the Old City's Jewish Quarter, which included a stop at the Western Wall (called in Israel: the Kotel). I can't express in words how truly beautiful the Old City is. When I left for Israel, I expected to arrive in a place that was completely foreign and unrecognizable to me as an American. Mount Scopus is not such a place; in fact, my friends and I jokingly call our dormitory area 'Little America'. The Old City, however, is as foreign, as enchanting and as spiritual as I ever could have imagined. One of my favorite moments from the visit was when the tour guide turned to me and said "That wall you're leaning on - that's a new one. It's only been here for a thousand years." The Kotel itself was smaller than I had envisioned, but as wonderful as I could have imagined. The men and women pray at separate areas of the Wall and all visitors are required to dress modestly (meaning shoulders covered, skirts below the knee). I spent a few minutes praying at the Kotel and I put a note for God into a tiny space between the bricks - the sheer spirituality of the place was tangible and incredibly powerful. I'm sure I'll be back to the Kotel again this semester, but I know I'll always remember how moved I was on my first visit.

The last few days have been relatively uneventful - I have Ulpan (Hebrew-intensive language seminars) about five hours a day. As long as the days seem, my ability to speak in Hebrew has improved by leaps and bounds in just the last few days. The immersion approach is, of course, the only way to truly learn a language, but I'm still surprised at how quickly I'm becoming adept at haggling with cab drivers in Hebrew about the cost of a trip to downtown Jerusalem. Today I did my grocery shopping at the Jewish shuk (market); the food is more fresh at the shuk (and more inexpensive!) than at any farmer's market I've been to in the United States. The loud, bustling atmosphere is an experience in itself and I can already tell that I'll look forward to my shopping adventures at the market every week! Below are a few pictures from the Jewish market:

Next week is more Ulpan and a trip to the Dead Sea! I'll post pictures as soon as I have them : )

B'Shalom,
Meagan