Once again, I find myself apologizing for my lack of recent entries. It's been way too long! Here's the (not so) latest, but of course, the greatest, from Israel:
Last weekend, as I mentioned at the end of my last post, my entire Year Course section went to Haifa in the North. On Thursday, we drove to a Druze village and visited the shouk; the Druze are a minority in Israel, but serve in the military. Their religion, however, is a mystery; only a select few elders in the Druze community know and understand the inner workings of their beliefs, and cannot share their knowledge with others. After the Druze village (which resulted in some of the most delicious schwarma I have ever eaten) we drove to the top of Mt. Carmel, the highest elevation in Israel. Mt. Carmel used to have a waterfall flowing down one side, and now that the falls have dried, where the water used to be is a rocky trail called a "wadi." We started at the top of the mountain, climbed down the wadi (about three hours downhill) and then, in order to get back to meet our buses, we had to climb up a second mountain (it was straight up) and then back down the side of the second mountain. In the ancient world, it was the Carmel that kept invaders from entering Palestine from the North, which I now completely understand. No army (or person) could endure that schlep with horses, weapons, and God only knows what else. I barely made it to the end with my Northface backpack and water. However, I must admit a feeling of accomplishment when I reached the end of the trail (four hours later). That, and being completely sore from head to toe. Not to mention the dirt in which I was covered.
We spent the night in Haifa, and waking up the next morning was a challenge to say the least. My legs were throbbing, and I was sore in places in my arms and shoulders I didn't know I had muscles that could even feel sore. Once everyone was awake, packed, and had swallowed a sufficient amount of ibuprofen, we visited the Rothschild Gardens. Baron de Rothschild was a very wealthy guy; he gave very generously to building Israel's first settler communities. The most noteworthy part about the Rothschild Gardens is the "Blind Garden," which features plants with distinctive smells for those visitors who cannot see. We walked through the Blind Garden with our eyes closed, trying to identify the herbs and flowers planted there by scent alone. Some were easy to identify, but others were quite challenging!
After Rothschild, we went to Zikhron Yaakov, a small community outside of Haifa known for its pedestrian mall (yet, amazingly, people drive there anyway. Crazy Israeli drivers.) We visited the Ahronson House, where a spy ring operated in the early 1900s, passing intelligence about Egypt to the British. Later, we found a small cafe to enjoy lunch before returning to Bat Yam.
Once the week began again, time flew (as it tends to around here). The days truly get away from me; whether it be volunteering at Ben Gurion School (where I now have several fifth graders thinking I know Eminem because I'm American) or spending hours working on my midterm assessments for school (a research paper for Zionism and a project for Business Ethics) I always tell myself to blog, to catch up on silly things like my TV shows I download from iTunes, to email my family and friends. Let me take this time to apologize for not always getting around to it! I promise, I do think about all of you and miss you very much...
This week was especially busy because on Tuesday, all of Israel held memorial services for Yithak Rabin, who was assassinated in November of 1995. Every city holds a memorial, and I was asked to give a speech (there is always one presentation in English, and I was the speaker this year for Bat Yam) on behalf of Young Judaea at Bat Yam's service this year. The theme on which I was asked to speak was change: the meaning of change, the power of change, the methods in which we effect change. The original text of my speech is printed below (some of it was translated into Hebrew, and parts were taken out for the sake of time). It was truly an honor to present alongside the mayor of Bat Yam and a former Knesset member who was a friend of Rabin.
Thursday of this week was also a special day because a group of us took part in a tiyul (a trip) to Dialog in the Dark, Israel's blind museum. The museum was created for sighted people to experience the difficulties with which the blind community lives. Upon entering the museum, I held my hand to my nose and couldn't make out the outline of my fingers. It is truly blackness; my eyes never adjusted to the dark and I continued to stumble around, trip and call out to my friends. All of the guides in the museum are blind or visually impaired. The experience's affect on me was twofold: first, it forced my other senses to be heightened, especially hearing and touch. Secondly, I left with a new appreciation for my sense of sight. Over Shabbat, I found myself admiring the gorgeous moon and stars over Tel Aviv, taking in even small details like watching the traffic lights change and knowing what number bus to take. It's really true that you don't know what you've got till it's gone; after two hours without my sight, I want to take extra time to appreciate everything I am fortunate enough to see.
Tomorrow is yet another week; this coming Friday marks two months of me being in Israel! How crazy is that?! I'm looking forward to (finally) turning in my assignments, teaching on Tuesday (I'm hoping that Bar and Sapir did their homework correctly so I can give them stickers. It's amazing what some colorful, sticky-back pictures can do, incentive-wise) and an Idan Raichel concert Monday night (all of Year Course - 300 people - will be in attendance) and the Susan G. Komen walk for breast cancer awareness on Thursday (it's an all-day event in Jerusalem).
That's been the week(s) past, and a look forward. I hope my update finds you all well, and enjoying the beginnings of cold weather (I'm jealous. It's still 98 degrees here. In October).
I will post pictures soon (when I have both time and adequate internet connection).
Love always,
Elana
The Power of Change – Yitzhak Rabin Memorial
Bat Yam, 2010
Hello, my name is Elana Stern, and I am representing Young Judaea Year Course.
I like to think we made an active change in ourselves by deciding to spend nine months in Israel. Change is a frightening thing, both in theory and in practice. Making the decision to change is only half the battle; effecting that change and handling its potential setbacks and consequences is another challenge entirely. Instead of going directly (and predictably) from high school to college, we decided to take a risk, to make a change in the course of our lives. We have elected to jump over new hurdles, to explore the uncharted, to experience the road less traveled. In doing so, we effect change within ourselves and among those around us. Every day, we volunteer in the community of Bat Yam, aiming to improve the lives of others. We attend classes, we get involved in issues about which we care, we are handed opportunities that we can take or turn away. Our time here, and the decisions we make, have the power to effect change. Change is not often drastic, and it is not always welcome, but it is the only constant we experience.
Yitzhak Rabin was a man, and a leader, who understood the importance and the prominence of change. Long time politician, Knesset member and two-time Prime Minister of Israel until his untimely death in November of 1995, Rabin embodied the power of an individual’s potential to effect change for a better world. Faced with such problems as rehabilitating the IDF, socioeconomic issues and lack of public confidence in the Israeli government, Rabin’s political career was marked by achievements in diplomacy and his utmost involvement in engineering peace. In December 1994, Rabin was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, and in his acceptance speech, he noted:
“ I stand here mainly for the generations to come, so that we may all be deemed worthy of the medal which you have bestowed on me and my colleagues today.
I stand here as the emissary today -- if they will allow me -- of our neighbors who were our enemies. I stand here as the emissary of the soaring hopes of a people which has endured the worst that history has to offer and nevertheless made its mark -- not just on the chronicles of the Jewish people but on all mankind.”
His message is not revolutionary, it is not altogether new or groundbreaking, but it is, at its core, a plea for change. Rabin wanted peace, a peace that would take hold and eventually become permanent. He wanted a change for the future of Israel, and for the future of the world. He recognized the differences between his neighbors and his enemies, and sought to resolve them, to break the vicious circle of inconclusive politics and violence. He saw the possibility for change, for improvement, and committed his life to achieving goals driven by change he would never live to see.
Rabin, I believe it is safe to say, would not wait on the world to change. He would drive the change himself, speak out, loudly and fervently, on behalf of whatever the cause or purpose. Change is not simply making the decision to do something differently; it is actualizing our choices, it is taking active steps toward an end result, it is finding new answers to old questions. Change requires us to take risks, to stand at the forefront, and often, the desire for change necessitates defending our own beliefs in the face of adversity and stagnation. Change is progressive. Change is scary. Change is what we make it.
If you search for “change” in a thesaurus, you will find over one hundred different entries. Change can be a verb, a noun, or an adjective; defined as innovation, as something done differently, or smaller currency in exchange for that which is larger. Change is something we do, it is something we see, and something we experience. For Rabin, it meant new and improved politics, a dedication to achieving peace and lifetime spent, quite simply, doing things differently. For us, it means taking advantage of every new opportunity we are given. It means volunteering in new places and meeting new people. It means devoting ourselves to a cause, to a purpose, and watching our aspirations for change become realities. Change does not happen, it is made, change is not a possibility, it is a fact, and change will not always be easy or pleasant, but it will always be necessary. When we simplify it from complex ideas to everyday human action, change is the impact we have on ourselves and those around us; it is the differences we make in the world, no matter how small, which amassed among us, create a world better than the one with which we started.
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