Thursday, February 9, 2012

Traveling Blues

Exactly five months ago, I was petrified at the thought of flying alone.  I wasn’t just scared of the plane itself; I was also anxious because I would need to interact with strangers.  I was worried about how I would navigate through strange places solo.  Now, as I fly home, this doesn’t worry me at all.  Sure, I’m apprehensive about the flight, but not about my stopover in Toronto, or clearing customs there.  Even if I miss my plane, I now have the confidence that I will manage.  Somehow.
—Written waiting for my flight to Toronto. 

So, I didn’t miss my flight, but it is delayed 3.5 hours.  I ran through customs and raced up stairs only to arrive to a deserted gate.  I thought I was in the wrong place, but nooo, other unhappy passengers soon started showing up too.  Now we’re all waiting.  And sitting.  And complaining.  Most of us are on our computers.  I wonder if security would be unhappy if I pulled out my fiddle and started playing the blues?
—Written during my 3.5 hour delay in Toronto.   


Sunday, February 5, 2012

Homeward Bound

Going through Israeli airport security was an intense experience at 3 am.  The departures hall was filled with a line that snaked back and forth across the floor.  This line did not lead to a particular check in counter, instead it lead to security.  At Ben Gurion International Airport, everyone goes through security before checking-in.  Here, waiting in line, every single person was interviewed.  I was asked how long I was in Israel, who I was staying with, why I was there, if I could speak Hebrew, and whether I attended synagogue.  When I told my interviewer that I had been in Israel for two months, he stared in disbelief at the size of my backpack.  Ha! And I thought I had too much stuff!  After that, each piece of luggage went through a scanner and was then opened up and searched.  Only after this arduous process did I get to wait in line to check-in.  The “normal” airport security that we all know and love was easy: officials were relaxed and lines were minimal. 

From the air, I thought the Black Sea looked green.  The waves appeared sculpted from clay and in stasis.  Beneath their surface the ocean looked alive.  Green streaks seemed to race below the waves.  It was like a giant school of fish or eels were hurrying to some unknown destination on the other side of the plane.  Patches looked gray, mingling in an impressionist manner with the aforementioned eels. 

If I had drunk several glasses of wine, then I would say I was drunk.  Instead, I had woken up at 2:30 to catch a six o’clock flight to Istanbul.  Then I waited in lines for two and a half hours.  I wasn’t drugged, just sleep deprived. 

Istanbul was covered in snow.  I had pictured it to be a desert city filled with a glory that would be obvious from 2567m in the air.  I had thought that its resplendent past as the gateway between the East and Europe would be evident through my little airplane porthole.  But the city was blanketed in white and the history didn’t show from the air. 

Turkish Airlines is my new favourite airlines.  I was boarding my flight to JFK and walking through the first class section feeling sorry for what I expected would be my cramped economy seats.  As I passed the large, comfy first-class seats, I wished that I could spend the next ten hours in one.  Then I looked up to see what row I was at and where I needed to go to get to my seat.  I was standing at row 20, still in the comfy section, and my seat marked on the boarding pass was in 18a.  I walked backwards to my seat, convinced I had made some mistake.  I couldn’t understand why I got to sit in this nice section.  I was squirming around in my spacious seat, opening and closing the personal video screen, reading the food menu, and giggling.  I think the guy I was sitting beside was amused at my enthusiasm and happy bewilderment.  He told me that Turkish Airlines has this special seating section called Economy Plus, rows 10-20, where the customers receive all the amenities of first class, but for a normal price.  Since I was assigned this seat randomly, I was pretty pleased. 

By the time I got to JFK, I had been awake for 24 hours.  I was sweaty, cranky, and so tired I couldn’t walk in a straight line.  Everything was confusing, like why people kept asking for my passport.  I alternated between staring vacantly into space, talking to myself (which I normally only do in private) and giggling at nothing.  Crazy!  One of the things that amused my sleep-fogged brain was how I could understand everyone’s conversations.  It was the first time in 5 months that English was the most commonly spoken language around me. 

Instead of flying right to Vancouver, I am now in Florida.  I am visiting my great aunt and uncle here, like I did at the start of the trip.  I really like this symmetry.  I haven’t finished writing about Israel though; there should be several more posts coming about “The Holy Land”. 

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Mea Sha'arim

During our day in Jerusalem we ventured into Mea Sha’arim, the oldest ultra-orthodox Jewish neighbourhood outside the walls of the old city.  In “secular” Jerusalem there is a mix of ultra-religious and secular Israelis.  Mea Sha’arim is filled 100% by the ultra-religious, or the “blacks” as they are sometimes derogatively called here.  Long black coats, hats that appear ready to topple down, and wild beards characterize the orthodox men.  The women and girls wear long black skirts and “modest” necklines that don’t show any skin.  Married women must cover their hair in public so they wear headscarves, hats, or wigs. 
Message Board in the Jewish Quarter in the Old City

There are two major branches of ultra-religious Judaism:  Haredi and Hasidic Jews.  Up until around the middle of the 18th century there was only one type of religious Jew, those whom we would now call Haredi.  At this time, many Jews were poor and facing religious oppression and persecution, and many didn’t have the time for the intense focus on scholarly studies that were central to Haredi traditions.  The poorer masses wanted to revolutionize and revitalize the way they prayed and were led in this by charismatic spiritual leaders like the Baal Shem Tov.  They wanted to democratize Judaism and make the spiritual aspects more important than knowledge per se.  The Hasidic movement focused on integrating Jewish mysticism into everyday religion and the joy of praying.  The Haredim are the descendants of the people who disagreed with this movement. 

In Hasidic Judaism, different sects mostly identify themselves by which town their leader originated from in Eastern Europe.  Each town had different traditions and dress codes, which are preserved in the modern Hasidic dress.  They wear long period coats, different styles of knickers or pants, and characteristic hats.  Hasidic leadership is dynastic, stemming from the chief rabbi from whichever town their sect originates.  

The Haredim, on the other hand, don’t typically trace their roots back to specific towns.  Consequently, they have less specific dress codes that don’t relate to particular places of origins. Traditionally, Haredi chose as their leaders the wisest individuals who had studied in the yeshiva (torah schools). 

Haredim Outside a Synagogue in Rehovot *1
Today, usually the term Haredi generically refers to the ultra-religious, with Hassidism classified as a subset of Haredi Judaism.  However, since I think the differences between the Haredi and Hassidic Jews are significant, I don’t think of Hassidism as a subset of the Haredim.  I try to be very clear as to whether I’m talking about Hassidic Jews, Haredim, or the ultra-orthodox more generally (which includes both Hassidism and Haredim). 

When Ben Gurion was creating Israeli governmental policy in 1948, he created “The Status Quo Act” stating that the ultra-orthodox were not required to work or serve in the army.  The idea was that this policy would protect the yeshiva tradition that had been nearly lost during the Holocaust.  However, when this policy was created, there were only 400 orthodox Jews in Israel.  As of 2006, there were 700,000. 

A Man Praying
Now, this policy is untenable.  Secular Israelis pay taxes to support ultra-religious families with ten or 12 children.  The father often doesn’t work; he doesn’t need to, and instead studies torah in the yeshivas.  Many of these families are on the Israeli equivalent of welfare.  When this support system was established, it was set up to support a population that was 0.57% of the current population of ultra-Orthodox.  Many secular Israelis resent that they pay taxes to support the ultra-orthodox lifestyle and also that they need to defend that lifestyle by serving in the army, which few ultra-orthodox do.  

These issues have recently gained international media attention.  I am sure you have read about the orthodox eight year-old girl in Bet Shemesh (a small town outside of Jerusalem) who was called a prostitute because she wasn’t dressed modestly enough.  In Mea Sha’arim, a small group of ultra-religious adults dressed young children in the striped garments mimicking concentration camps clothing.  They were making the comparison that the Israeli government is like the Nazis, taking away religious freedom.  Later, other leaders and members of the orthodox community more broadly expressed horror and strongly condemned this protest. 

Haredi Youth in Jerusalem *2
I learned recently from some Rabbi and Cantor friends why there are an increasing number of significant conflicts between the secular and ultra-religious worlds here.  In the past, religious leaders were chosen by intelligence or parentage.  Now, the dynasties among Hassidism are being disputed as leaders die without leaving heirs.  Among the Haredi, community leaders used to be the most brilliant students who would attend yeshivas to become even more intelligent.  Now though, everyone is a devoted student who studies Torah his whole life—as made possible by Ben Gurion’s Status Quo Act.  So now, the best and brightest individuals are less likely to rise to prominence and leadership among the Haredi

This leadership vacuum contributes to the current conflicts.  There is no longer an ultimate authority among the ultra-religious to interpret Halakha (religious Jewish Law).  There is no one to control the fanatics spinning out of control or to say, “enough”! 

Jews in Krakow in 1931*3
For me, walking in Mea Sha’arim with my aunt and uncle was like traveling into the past.  I felt like I just entered a tiny shtetl in Poland.  The streets were crooked and grimy, the sun disappeared, and the normal city sounds of horns and laughter were muted.  Here, people strode past wearing the same styles of clothes that have been worn for 200 years.  Women avoided eye contact, men stepped stared straight ahead, and children looked like tiny adults with their long black coats and skirts. 

My aunt and I wore our long coats buttoned completely and arranged our scarves to cover our necks.  Not an inch of our skin was showing except on our faces.  Still, I felt exposed and I worried I was violating the “dress modestly in our neighbourhood” signs.  However, thankfully, we were completely ignored.  My uncle also wore his long black coat and hat.  Afterwards, he said many men glanced curiously at him trying to figure out if he was orthodox or not.  One man even said hi.  We laughed about this after because few people are farther from the Haredi lifestyle than my uncle. 

After we left Mea Sha’arim my aunt and I went in search of a bathroom.  While I was waiting in line (of course), I started talking to an orthodox woman holding her baby.  She asked where I was from and how long I was going to be in Israel—the same questions that “normal” people ask.  When it was her turn for the bathroom, I offered to watch her baby for her.  She let me hold her adorable daughter and I happily gazed into the toddler’s expressive eyes for several moments. 
Ultra-Orthodox at the Wailing Wall

This was a refreshing experience that happened right after walking through Mea Sha’arim.  I had felt alienated and wary of the ultra-orthodox, but then back in downtown Jerusalem I had a normal conversation with an orthodox Jew.  It reminded me that the religious community is not one entity that can be seen as a unified “other”.  “They” are comprised of families, friends, and many normal people with whom I can empathize and sometimes find common ground.  There are definitely extremists and fanatics among the ultra-orthodox Jews and there are also conflicts from where the secular and orthodox worlds mingle.  But there are also rational people who just want to live their lives closer to God in ways that represent their traditions.  My slice of experience among the Haredim reinforces my overall impression of Israeli culture and politics: life here is really complicated and simple generalizations are dismally inaccurate.  

For more information on the different types of Judaism, I would suggest perusing Wikipedia.  The articles there go into detail about the history of modern Judaism, different sects, and it also examines some of the modern issues I have discussed.  For this article, I have done extensive reading on Wikipedia and various other sites as well as talking to my family and friends in Israel.  This is a fantastic article I found that expresses some of my thoughts perfectly on the how we view ultra-religious society.  http://gamesetmattsch.wordpress.com/2010/10/11/sectsandthecity/. 
 
The images marked with an “ have been taken from the following websites: