June 13, 2008
Mevaseret Zion, Israel
It was a busy day today in Jerusalem: Friday, Yom Shishi. I walked from neighborhood to neighborhood—the City Center to the German Colony, to a street lined with cafés and shops called Emek Refaim.
I met my cousin Rachel at the supermarket, and walked with her to her car. Once the trunk was filled with a dozen bags filled with food for Shabbat, we walked down the street Aroma, to meet her daughter Odeya. Once cold drinks and complimentary chocolate were in hand, Rachel drove us back to Mevaseret Zion.
I helped Rachel put away the groceries and then took a nap.
At 5:30, I woke up. Warm, thirsty. My skin was red from the sun’s strong rays, and my shoulders felt hot. I changed out of my pajamas into a black dress with white polka dots, and slipped on my blacker leather wedges. I was preparing for synagogue, and for the first time in years, welcoming the Sabbath with prayer, song, and the spirit.
At 5:45 we got into the car—Rachel was flustered from cooking. She applied lipstick while driving, and called her husband because she remembered she left something cooking in the oven. I sat in the front passenger seat, and looked out towards the hills of Jerusalem. The white stone buildings were gleaming among the green and brown hills. We drove back to Emek Refaim, and Rachel parked the car on side street. As we walked the two blocks to the synagogue, she explained “This is Shira Chadasha, I took you and your father here a few years ago. But that service was upstairs, we are going downstairs.”
We walked into the basement entrance, and took our prayer books and song sheets. She warned me, “It’s a long two hours of singing, if it’s too much, you can go upstairs, or take a walk.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “I think I will be okay.”
The basement was a large and bright room with white walls, and a cool stone-tiled floor. Chairs were arranged in a semi-circle, and there were cushions on the floor in the middle, where some children were lying down. At the front of the circle, was the Rabbi, Ruth. Beside here was a man and a woman, each with a guitar, a monk playing the violin, and another man playing the mandolin.
During the service we sang songs of Jewish mysticism: Yedid Nefesh (Soul Mate) and L’Cha Dodi (Come My Beloved), where we bowed towards the door as we welcomed the Sabbath Bride.
Ruth spoke to us about this week’s reading from the Torah. God commanded Aaron (through Moses) to make a menorah (seven-branched candelabra). Ruth told us a story about the prophet Isaiah—he saw three seraphim, angels; the wings, the knafayim, were the branches of the menorah, and his body, was the stem.
After saying this in Hebrew, she translated in English. While understood most of the Hebrew, I wasn’t able to understand some of the details of her story. She said that we were to imagine wings opening from our heads, our centers, and wings below our hips.
We sang to spread our wings, we sang to fly.
Between songs, there was silence. Then, Ruth spoke about wings, about soul, about angels, spirit, and fire.
The women, nashim, sang as we arose from aish, fire, the root of the Hebrew word for woman. Rachel’s daughter Tamar joined us, and the three of us sang. I couldn’t follow the words, but swayed back and forth, and tapped my feet to the rhythm, humming along. Rachel turned her palms up and raised her arms. Tamar closed her eyes. The two nuns that were there with the violin playing Monk sang, and swayed. Two men in white shirts roamed around, dancing and spinning. A young woman joined the serviced and played the fire song on her Congo drum.
I felt my eyes burning, and then small tears formed in the corners. I realized I was crying being I was alive. Singing, spirit, and body — all pulsating and breathing at that moment.
The service ended with the traditional evening prayers. When the last word was uttered of the prayer Aleynu, everyone turned to wish each other a peaceful Sabbath. I hugged and kissed Rachel, and told her I felt cleansed ands calm, as if I just took a yoga class.
For two hours, I felt my spirit, sing, and I wished for a peaceful, restful Sabbath, in the one place that could take me there. Only in Israel.
July 23, 2008
Brooklyn, NY
I’ve been home for a month—back to work, Brooklyn, my friends, and speaking English. The rejuvenation I felt upon my return melted away in a week, and again I am stressed out, burned out, overtired, and overeating. Reading my thoughts and feelings from a place of tranquility, I remember it, but don’t believe it happened – and miss feeling alive, happy, well rested, and warm. At least I have yoga class to bring me back to that place, that I long for when I forget to just be. Hineni.
