Waiting is Patience

There is a psychology test called The Marshamallow Test. This measures how well children can delay gratification. Children around the age of four are given a marshmallow. They are told that if they can wait twenty minutes they will get two marshmallows instead of one. The study looks at temptation and gratification. Those who wait the twenty minutes are said to be able to delay gratification better than those who eat the marshmallow before the time is up. The findings suggest that those who are able to wait the five minutes and delay gratification end up doing better in school, form longer lasting friendships, and overall more successful in life.

As a human race, we all find waiting hard.We wait in line. We wait for the mail. We wait for vacation. These are short-term waits. Most of us just grow impatient and afterwards complain about the elderly lady who paid for her purchase all in pennies. However, we wait eighteen years to be an adult. We wait sixteen years to finish school and get a degree to work. We wait to have a family. We wait so long we never think it is going to arrive. Knowing that something you want is close and only one this stands between you and your goal is so irking. You just want to skip the steps and go directly to the goal. You think that skipping over these steps can't make that much of a difference, right? Imagine skipping over childhood. You wouldn't know how to function in society. Or going right into the workforce. You'd have no skills. So, as impatient as waiting for something is, all the steps need to be completed and are necessary in reaching your goal.

Right now I am waiting to go to Israel. I am trying to be patient and wait for all the right documents to come in, but it is hard. I just want to fly there myself, literally. Use my two arms to fly over there now. Swim across the cold Atlantic and be there. But instead of wasting that amount of time and money, I am waiting. Patiently. But patience wears low. For trying to not think about Israel only makes me think about it more.

Like the White Bear experiment The more you are told not think about something, the more likely you are to have it stuck in your head. Ever hear of "The Game" ? The loser is the one who thinks of The Game first and thus loses for thinking about it.

Prove it

Part of the aliyah process is proving that you are Jewish. This can be done in few ways. In my case, it's either my parents' ketubah (marriage certificate in Hebrew) or a letter from the rabbi. Being that the Ketubah is permanently in a frame, I opted for the letter. It's a simple statement saying that I was born to a Jewish mother and so I am halachikally Jewish.

This got me thinking. Who is "more" Jewish? The person who was born to only a Jewish father and knows all the rituals of Judasim? Or a person who was born to a Jewish mother, but knows nothing of the customs. That is to say, shouldn't a person who is spiritually connected to the religion be more accepted as a Jew than the Jew who has no spiritual connection?

I have many friends who are Jewish through their father. They know the customs and laws and are very involved in synagogue. They know Hebrew and go to Shabbat services. They are obviously very devoted to their Judaism. However, it is in my opinion that if they are that devoted towards the religion then they should respect the laws. I have made it clear in previous posts that it is my personal opinion that I think that people who are born Jewish through their father should go through a conversion process. However, if you tell me that you are Jewish I'm not going to ask you "through your mother or through your father?" It's disrespectful. If you consider yourself a Jew, then I do too. I will not disregard you as Jewish if you tell me your father is a Jew and not your mother, but just don't tell me you are half-Jewish. Either you are or you aren't.

I also have friends who are Jewish through their mother, but know nothing about Judaism. They never observe any of the holidays, the only Hebrew word they know is "Shalom", and don't give much thought to the religion in general. Well, obviously these people are Jewish, right? According to the Torah, yes.

But I'm not so sure. More religious people may think that I am "less" Jewish than they are and that hurts. When I would walk through the shuk in my jeans and tank top, the glares I would get from religious Jews said "I am more superior than you because I follow the correct laws of Judaism." But that's stupid. I consider myself Jewish despite that I don't follow all the laws of the Torah. I can't go and give someone who less religious than me that same look. I know how it feels. How can I tell someone they are not of the religion they grew up with? To tell them that they can believe all the stories in the bible and go through all the rituals, but not consider them a Jew? How can I do that? Judaism entails many different laws and everyone observes them differently. I have no say in anything. You can do as you please and if you feel you are Jewish then my all means go ahead and be as Jewish as you want. For the only one that can truly judge you is G-d.

Listen to Your Heart

For half of my childhood, I was questioned by by peers. "What are those triangle cookies?", "What's matzah?", "You only get 8 presents?". It's gets exhausting and annoying to have to answer these questions. When I moved to a more Jewish town, the questions changed from "eww, that's gross" inquiries to "I genuinely want to know" wonderments. While it was still somewhat bothersome to always have to explain why I was taking a day off from school, I was more ok with answering these questions because in return I would ask my friends of other ethnicities about their own culture. We traded information because we wanted to know not because we wanted to tease.

Everyone wants to be different. But then when we are different, we feel offended that people can't understand that our differences is what makes us unique. We tease and mock others who are are outside the group of conformity and yet we continue to say "I am different." But really, we're all the same. We want to be different, but not too different. We want to stand out from the group, but we don't want to be in the fringe. So while being Jewish has given me a sense of uniqueness, there was always a part of me that wondered what it was like to be in a place where the rules of religion were understood.

And for me, that place is Israel.

Living there for four or six months at a time just doesn't give me the sense of belonging. I still feel like a visitor no matter how well I know my location. And so, I am about to do what will hurt my family the most.

A move to Israel.

How am I supposed to explain that moving to Israel is something I need to do? If I don't I will regret this for the rest of my life. There are proven studies that say you regret inaction more than actions. So, even if I do end up hating life there, at least I tried. I had the guts to move to a different country. On the other hand, life is short and this is the time of my life when it's ok to pick up and go. It's ok to take adventures. There's nothing holding me back. Family will always be here and I will always love them and I will always be thinking of them. It may seem like I am abandoning the family I have known for almost 23 years, but it's not abandonment. I'm not leaving the US without looking back. I am tucking them in my backpack to pull out at any time. Trust me when I say I will be thinking of everyone. I will be feeling guilty for missing certain events. But, family will always be important. My mother taught me that.

I want to move to Israel for a million reasons. I can't explain every single one. I have tried hard in previous posts to illustrate exactly why I love Israel. Life in the United States isn't terrible. I have a good life. I had a good education. I am cultured and traveled. I have always known when the next meal was. I have always had a roof over my head. I have had parents who love me and support me. I am lucky to have been born in such a fortunate family. But that's just it. Sometimes you have to do something out of your comfort zone in order to fully appreciate what life has given you. I understand that it's not just my comfort zone I am walking out of. It's all of my family's and friends' comfort zone and it's this, that I think hurts them the most.

I know my move will be hard on my family, but I hope they understand that this is something I want/have to do.

My First Jew

When I go into a new environment where I don't know the people, I take off my Star of David necklace. You never know what people's perception of Judaism is and I don't want to upset anyone. Saying this, I recently started wearing my necklace to work because I felt comfortable enough around my coworkers. I never said I was Jewish (Except after mentioning that I worked in Israel for 6 months. Then someone asked me.), but my identity could be seen in my necklace.

Anyway, a few days ago the following conversation took place:
Coworker: You're Jewish?
Me: Yea
CW: By race or religion? Or both?
Me: Both.
CW: Oh. I've never met a Jew before. You look like any other white girl t'me. I've got these stereotypes and would have never guessed you were Jewish.
Then a customer came in and our conversation was interrupted.

I've never met anyone who has never met a Jew. To me that feels weird. I grew up in a town where much of the population was Jewish. I grew up in a state where, though there is antisemitism, it is not as great as other places in the United States. Being Jewish is my identity. It's part of who I am and when someone has never met anyone with a part of my identity it makes me feel both uncomfortable and exhilarating. I have the power and privilege to show this person what and who a Jew can be. But because I am his representative, it puts a lot of pressure on me. Do I have enough knowledge of Judaism to explain customs and ways? Do I know the right explanations? Do I know the answers to the whys? Unconsciously, this person that has never met a Jew is watching my every move. How I act and react towards others. How I dress. How I move. Everything. I know that some people live sheltered lives, but I know for a fact that this person has "been around the block." But not to have met a Jew? At the age of 20-something? In Massachusetts? That's hard to believe considering the amount of diversity in the state. And yet it's true.

How am I supposed to respond to someone that says "I've never met a Jew before." I've never climbed to the top of Mount Everest. What's your point? That's what I want my response to be, but in reality I know that it can't. I know that I need to show this person that the negative stereotypes of Jews are not necessarily true. I need to show them that Jews are a people. A person. It doesn't and shouldn't matter my religion or race. I'm a human being and my Judaism just happens to be part of my identity as much as being female or white.

Pull Me Closer

There was a bombing in Jerusalem. Not somewhere outside Jerusalem. But in the city. Across from the central bus station. Because I lived in this city for five months, this is very real to me. It's not some far away city. It's not a small city that I passed through. It's not even a city that I toured for a week. This is a city where I got to know the people and feel the essence. A place where I walked up and down the streets until I no longer needed a map. I place where I was no longer a visitor. I was there and I have an exact picture of the street. I became a part of Jerusalem and a piece of Jerusalem.

I have friends who are currently living there. Some of them are still working at their internships and take the 74 (the bus route that was hit). My friends from work take the bus to and from the central bus station after work.  No one I know was hurt and everyone is ok. There are people there that I care and worry about when things like this happen. However, events like this build a community bond. This is why Israelis know their neighbors and are so friendly with each other in the private of their homes. Because when someone needs help, you can't rely on foreign allies to help. Being across seas only adds to the distance and only helps with rebuilding. You need a neighbor and a friend, or even a stranger, to rely on because if something happens you have help.

While this does shake me a little bit, it also pulls me closer to the country.  I have a need and a want to be there. I want to be in the middle of the action. To know exactly what is going on. American news sources over exaggerate the events so how do I know what to actually believe? Never for one moment was I afraid or scared of an attack. The fear of a terrorist attack is part of the Israeli lifestyle. You have to take the good with the bad. However, while an event like this is higher in Israel than the United States, statistically, there is a small chance of getting hurt. "Only" 30 people were injured and one was killed after being severely wounded, but in a country of 7 million, that's almost nothing. The statistics of getting hit by a car crossing the street is higher.

Simplicity

I miss Israel. That's a fact that everyone knows about me. Sure I miss hearing Hebrew swarm my ears and the Jewishness of the country. It's more than the connection I have with Israel, though. I miss the simple things of Israel. I miss the essence of the country. The details that make Israel what it is.

I miss the juice stands that squeeze of fresh orange, pomegranate, and/or carrot juice. The guys behind the counter, whether old or young, were always friendly despite my indecisiveness. They always complimented my friends and I, but not in a creepy manner. In a genuine "I'm Israeli so I notice American  girls" kind of way. That still sounds creepy, but you have to be in Israel to understand. Hence, my point of why I miss the country.

I miss the Jerusalem stone roads that I always slipped on. I miss walking to the bus stop with the sun rising over the Old City and sparkling against the Dome of the Rock. I miss the bus drivers and their crazy driving. I miss the honking. The shuttling to Tel Aviv every weekend via Sheirut. I miss the beach (though I think that's mostly a general thing because it is so cold here!) and the tire playground. I miss the cafes. I miss the Aromas and the Angel Bakery. I miss the kindergarten. I miss my misinterpretations. I miss the Israeli accent. I miss the "telawivtelawivtelawiv" of the sheirut drivers at the Tachanat Mercazit (Bus Station). I miss the sea of black, also known as the religious. I miss the pita. The hummus. The tahina. The falafel. The chocolate and its spread. The persimmons and the fresh fruit.

But most of all, I miss the silence of Shabbat. I live in the suburbs so everything is always still and silent. But there is no way to describe the busy, overcrowded, overpopulated, pushing and shoving citizens of Israel right before the beginning of Shabbat. As soon as sundown sets, it's like someone put a silencer on the country. You can see families at their kitchen table saying prayers over candles, wine, and challah. From my window in Jerusalem, I could see into the apartment complex next door and every Friday I would see a father blessing his little girl. Everyone in Israel is with family and friends. No one is worried about anything except what to eat for dinner. The closest you get to this warm fuzzy feeling of familial ties is Christmas of Fourth of July. You don't (or at least I don't) even get this feeling on Shabbat in America. There's just an essence about knowing that everyone else in the country is doing exactly what you are doing at exactly the same time that gives you a sense of security and warmth.

It's Not the Same:Hummus and Pita

I've been home for a while now and Israel is visible in my room. Maps of Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and Haifa hang limply on my door as if to remind me that, though they are not the real thing, if I can close my eyes, I can still see remnants of my time in Israel. Experiencing the culture of Israel gave me a chance to reflect on the positives and negatives of America. Now, don't get me wrong. I love America and am very lucky to be born into such a great country (especially now when there is chaos all over the Middle East), but there are certain things about Israel (like besides everything) that I like better and Israel. For example, the food. There is no way I can eat American pita, hummus, or surprisingly, cottage cheese.

While Israeli pita is sold in supermarkets, it is still not the same. It doesn't have the fresh smell of flour and yeast that wafts not only up and down the aisles, but also lingers on your hands for hours afterwards. My nose doesn't tingle with delight when I choose a bag of pita in the supermarket. As I pick up the pita, I can't feel the heat as it warms up my hands. The pita is not fresh and does not beg to be eaten at that moment. There are no the dew drops on the bag thus instead of ripping open the knot, you place it neatly into the carriage.  You don't hear Americans yell "Wow! 5 sheks (roughly $1.50) for 10 pitas?" In America, you can't taste the oil and the floury thickness of the bread. You taste a flat round pancake that is easily severed in two. So, I am stuck with a circular piece of bread. And to dip in what? The hummus in America is not even close to the taste of hummus in Israel. There is an ingredient missing. Lemon juice? Garlic? Tahini? I don't know, but either way I refuse to eat it because the taste is so dramatically different. My tongue tell me that I am eating an entirely different condiment. In order to remedy this problem, I have resolved to make my own, which tastes 100 times better than American hummus and while it is not close to Israeli hummus, it's more of a chickpea concoction than the Sabra brand is. And then there's the cottage cheese, or as they say in Israel, Coh-Tij. I don't know what it is, but the cottage in Israel is...creamier. Milkier. Just more...edible.

Ok, so maybe I'm snob when it comes to food (I am certainly enjoying my Starbucks now), but you don't know the differences until you have tasted them. It's like eating American cheese all your life and then going to France and eating Brie. You can never go back. Or like eating supermarket brand chocolate and discovering that Hershey and Nestle exist. Or even pizza. Store bought pizza is ok, but Italian pizza is the real prize. The food is better an ocean away because it isn't processed as much and no one cares about eating healthy. Ok, that sounds wrong. What I mean is that people eat based on what their body tells them, not society. They will eat white bread, 3% milk, 5% yogurt, cottage cheese and sour cream, 25% cheese. Yet despite what may seem like unhealthy food choices, there are very few overweight people in Israel (and in the Eastern Hemisphere, in general). When I first arrived in Boston, one of the first people that I saw was overweight. It's kind of a shocker you don't realize. People in Europe just aren't fat. And it's because the food is more natural in those countries. If I really knew what I was eating in the US, I'm pretty sure I'd throw up Though Food, Inc. and Supersize me did a good job on that too. C'mon, America. Isn't it time to start eating organically and not the GMO crap?