Privilege and Perception

There is a well-known saying that goes along the lines of, "you don't know what you got till it's gone." I wholeheartedly agree with this saying, but I would expand its meaning so it also conveys, "you don't know what you got till it's staring you in the face."

I confronted both of these notions during my Chanukah holiday, which I decided to spend in Germany visiting friends I made when I studied in Australia. As soon as I entered Germany, I noticed several drastic changes from the environment I have become accustomed to in Israel. One of the most significant details I realized was the abundance of Christmas decorations situated literally everywhere I went.  The most common example of this was the large Christmas markets, which appeared at least once in every city I visited. These markets were crowded with both Germans and foreigners who were looking to buy toys, ornaments, and other gifts for Christmas and enjoy traditional German food and drink such as sausage, schnitzel, and my favorite, the traditional Christmas wine called gluhwein. As someone who has always enjoyed the Christmas spirit through the heartwarming songs, movies, and decorations and appreciated Christmas as a significant part of American culture, I got very emotional being in a place that so closely resembled what Stamford and DC look like at this time of year. While I love Israel and living here has been such an amazing experience, seeing the ubiquitous Christmas spirit of Germany made me realize that the predominantly Jewish environment in Israel is so different from the environment I grew up in, and that moving to Israel permanently would mean giving up on components of my American background and culture that I hold dear.

Decorations at a Frankfurt Christmas market

A Christmas tree in Berlin, with ornaments showing the different landmarks

My friends Kathrin, Sebastian, and Johannes drinking gluhwein

On the other side, noticing the dramatic shifts between Israel and Germany also made me appreciate the benefits that living in Israel offers, particularly the prevalence of Jewish expression. While in Germany, I was both enlightened and surprised by how different the German Jewish communities are from the ones I am used to. In Israel, I am accustomed to seeing multiple synagogues on one street and I just need to walk next door to attend prayer services and perform other Jewish rituals. In Germany, not only are there not as many synagogues as there are in Israel, but the ones that are there are extremely protected with security measures that produce barriers to entry, even for a proud Jew like myself. For the two synagogues I visited during my trip, one made me go through an exact replica of an airport security check, and the other made me hand over an ID after calling on an intercom requesting to be let into the locked building. I understand the precautions German Jews need to take due to the country's history with anti-Semitism, but out of all places, I never thought the most impenetrable place in a community could be a synagogue. True, things went much more smoothly after I got past the barriers, and I was so moved at the opportunity to light Chanukah candles and attend a Shabbat service with other Jews while traveling in a foreign land. However, the dramatic security presence and exclusivity apparent at these synagogues really left a mark on me, and made me appreciate places where I can comfortably practice my religion and connect with my fellow Jews.

A meaningful moment during my time in Berlin. Seeing the Chanukah menorah and the Christmas tree together at Brandenburg Gate.

Another meaningful Jewish moment from Berlin. Walking through the Holocaust Memorial.

These two experiences brought me significantly out of my comfort zone, and helped me to better appreciate what it means to be both an American and a Jew. I learned that though it often seems advantageous to be seen as an American or a Jew, especially when discussing relevant issues in today's global society, there are also contexts in which maintaining an American or Jewish identity brings more challenges than benefits. For each comfortable experience I have had as an American in the US or a Jew in Israel, I have been in other contexts such as Germany where neither identity is predominantly expressed, which has made me struggle with insecurity about success in these environments. Though I am most certainly proud to be American and Jewish and I appreciate the privileges these identities offer, I have become aware that privilege is based on your perception and those of the people around you, and just because you are considered privileged in one context does not mean you are privileged in every context.

I started to think a lot about privilege and perception after a session I participated in last week on the topic, which was creatively organized by my fellow Yahelnikim Brittany and Rachel. During this session, the entire group needed to sit in three rows and collect one piece of paper each. We were then instructed to crumple up our paper and try to throw it into the garbage can, which was situated in front of the first row. Naturally, the people in the row closest to the can had the best chance of achieving this goal. Conversely, the people in the back row had a much tougher challenge, despite having a seasoned athlete there.

This session brought to mind that people's opportunities for success are determined by the level they sit at in relation to others, which corresponds to their privileges in society. However, the most significant idea I gathered from this session is that one's privilege can easily change based on the context he or she is in, and one who we generally see as privileged is not always as privileged as we think. Like the athlete in the back row who couldn't make the shot, just because we have been privileged in the past does not mean that every situation will come easy for us, as contexts can always change in any direction.

I'm happy that this idea got brought to my attention, and I think this is an important point for people to remember. I am usually reluctant to discuss the concept of privilege because I think it can be a divisive and polarizing term. I have been in many conversations with my peers about privilege that have turned very heated because one group feels they are more victimized than the other and so the other group's contributions can be easily pushed aside and ultimately silenced.  I have felt this way many times as a white, heterosexual male. I, of course, realize that this part of my identity allows me certain privileges that other groups do not have, and I sympathize strongly with groups who need to suffer because of discriminations based on identities they were born into. However, I also strongly feel that my identity as a white male should not erase my place in these discussions, and it certainly does not mean that I do not have significant struggles and challenges.

Living in Lod has exposed me to many instances of struggles with privilege, in both obvious and more obscure senses. I, for example, have struggled a lot with language barriers and not being fully comfortable in a new culture. Even after three months of living here, I cannot get past my tendency to be polite and always get confused in situation when I need to be direct and confident. This is made even more challenging when I can't understand what someone is saying in Hebrew or Arabic, and when I have a hard time finding the words to say in response. Even though I feel equipped to do everything I need to do in my daily life and lucky to have the tools and experience to do so, I still feel jealous of all Israelis, regardless of their background, who are more comfortable with the language and culture and are able to fit in much more easily.

I was surprised to see something similar with the Russian community in Lod. Though many of them know Hebrew and are very active within the Lod community, many Russians here struggle greatly with maintaining their language and culture while adapting to Israeli society. Lia, the manager of the community garden I volunteer at, is one such person. This week at work, Lia shared that since in Israel the Russian language is basically confined to the Russian population, she and other Russians in her community need to work very hard to ensure their community members grow up aware of the Russian language and culture. I appreciated hearing about this challenge because it is not one that I have been exposed to in the past. This example showed me that each population in Israel, especially immigrant populations, has its own stories of struggle, and all of these stories are significant when discussing the notion of privilege.

I have also appreciated exposure to populations in Lod that do not receive benefits that I take for granted. For example, working in an Arab school in a poverty-driven neighborhood has shown me how privileged I have been to receive a quality education and live in an environment that suited my education needs. This week was the first week of Elrazi's winter break, and Jodie and I have been assigned certain days to go to school with our 5th graders and help prepare them for the Meitzav exam, a standardized test all 5th graders in Israel will take in March. We were instructed to give our students practice Meitzav exams, and I asked the English teacher Adel if we could tell our students to review certain topics at home. To my surprise, Adel instructed me to never give my students homework assignments, because with their unstable and unsupportive home environments they will never be able to complete them. This was a big eye-opener for me as someone who has never needed to worry about not being able to do my homework because of my situation at home. I gained a lot of insight from this, and it is definitely something I will keep in mind when interacting with my kids going forward.

My encounters with the Ethiopian population of Lod have also shown me how privileged I am to come from a stable home environment. This past week, I began conducting a weekly music lesson at the local matnas (community center), and my first two students were two little Ethiopian girls aged 6.5 and 7. I started the lesson asking the girls to introduce themselves and describe how singing plays into their lives. I asked one girl if any of her family members sing, like her father and mother, and she responded by saying that her mother sometimes sings, but her father "doesn't live in Lod" and she "never sees him." This response could have meant a number of things, but knowing the prevalence of youth at risk in Lod brought a very negative picture to mind. This got me thinking that my work makes it so I am constantly in touch with individuals who are completely alien to the benefits I have become accustomed to, and this is a great opportunity for me to make a real impact in their lives. Through this weekly music lesson specifically, I am aiming to use singing as a way to bring joy and hope into the lives of my kids, and to teach them that even if the world pushes you down there is always a way to be brought back up.

Through my time in Israel, I have learned about multiple facets dealing with the word privilege. I have learned to appreciate the privileges I have, and show sympathy toward those who do not share these benefits. On the other hand, I have also realized the importance of recognizing challenges that all groups are facing, no matter how privileged we perceive them to be. Relating to myself, I understand the need to think about the struggles experienced by the underprivileged communities of Lod and around the world. However, this does not mean that the challenges I face should be disregarded, and hence I should also feel entitled and confident about sharing my own struggles. Privilege is a word that gets thrown around a lot, and deservedly so. But instead of using it as a way to discriminate against other groups, we should be using it to recognize each other's struggles and come up with solutions that work in everyone's favor. By recognizing that privilege can be perceived differently in different contexts, I believe we can become more understanding and productive in any situation we are placed in.

Happy holidays to all, and to all a Happy New Year! :)

Leadership and Community

As I have been progressing in my post-college period and attempting to figure out my goals for a successful future, there have been two main ideas to grapple with: what it means to be a leader, and what it means to be in a community. I have had many opportunities to delve into these topics during my time on Yahel, but the most meaningful of these have occurred over the past week. During this time, I have realized that leadership and community are tied closely together, and one of these factors is essential to have for the other to occur. I have also learned that both factors, especially leadership, have different meanings for different people, and one can create their ideal community and leadership to fit their future plans and way of life.

I got much of my inspiration from a week-long Masa Leadership Summit that took place in Jerusalem. As you can probably assume from the title, this week was largely about building leadership skills and learning about different types of leadership and how to implement effective leadership in various environments. I definitely learned a lot in this regard, but a significant part of my learning derived from aspects I did not expect, including aspects of community. At this seminar, it was exhilarating for me to meet 230 young Jews like myself who came from multiple countries around the world and are all doing great work to enhance Israeli society. This was an amazing chance for me to make many new friends of interesting backgrounds and learn about the traditions of Jewish communities around the world. This was one of the first times I built relationships with multiple Jews my age who come from places other than English-speaking countries, like Russia, India, France, Argentina, and Ukraine. Our contrasting opinions and traditions really brought us together and helped us develop strong relationships that I hope can endure throughout the duration of my stay in Israel.

Leadership was also a strong focus of this seminar, but not always in the ways I expected it to be. I entered the summit thinking there would be many presentations about what effective leadership is, and I would just be expected to learn from these lessons and implement them while participating in my program. To my surprise, while there were presenters who guided us throughout the week, most of the programming was determined by the actions of the participants. This was especially prevalent during our small group workshops and discussions. Though there were facilitators present during each of our sessions, they really sat back and allowed the participants to control the direction of what we were doing. This became very difficult, especially during one politically-charged discussion one of my groups had about working together with Arabs to complete a task. However, whenever we got off topic or there was an awkward silence, the independence granted to us by the facilitators forced the group to step up and continue the discussion in a healthy manner. This experience taught me that part of leadership is trusting your instincts and taking initiative to perform actions that you feel would benefit the community.

The summit's staff members also tested our leadership skills through other surprising methods.  The most unexpected of these methods came during our large-group lectures and presentations, which included many figures with controversial views. At first, I and many other participants felt that these presenters were expressing what we considered to be Masa's "agenda," which was to get us to love Israel and eager to make aliyah. However, we later discovered that Masa purposely invited controversial speakers to challenge us to respond to them and defend our own beliefs. One example of such an example was the Director General of Prime Minister Netanyahu's office, who lectured us about the importance of Israel in the future of the Jewish people and essentially the irrelevance of Diaspora Jewry. Another example came when I took a trip to the Knesset (Israel's Parliament) and met with young female Knesset members from both the Likud (right-wing) and Mahane Hatzioni (left-wing) parties. In our meetings, both politicians were using generalizations and statistical data to describe the "correct" way the Jewish state should be run, and utilized personal rhetoric to delegitimize the views of the opposing party.

The Knesset building in Jerusalem

In the aftermath of these meetings, the Masa staff asked us why no one expressed fervent dissent to what these people had to say, especially when our identity as Diaspora Jews was challenged. One of our staff members from the Jewish Agency for Israel approached me and some others after the first lecture and explained that the speaker was meant to provoke a response from us and make us ask tough questions that would clearly show different ways of thinking toward the speaker's points, which she described as a tactic of strong leadership. Though I saw where this woman was coming from regarding the purpose of these exercises, I had to disagree that a strong, oppositional response to a controversial speaker in a room full of people is the only way to showcase effective leadership. I definitely have strong opinions on a variety of issues and I make it known when I disagree with someone, but I don't think the right time and place to do that is in a crowded room with an authority figure where your voice is less likely to be understood and received well. As I told this woman in response to her claim, I think silence can also be a powerful form of leadership because it shows that you are attempting to prevent tensions in your environment, and if you stay calm perhaps others will follow suit. I definitely  think leadership involves stepping up and fighting necessary battles to defend your beliefs. However, it also involves picking which battles to fight and choosing the ones that implement your purpose in the most peaceful and productive manner.

Another aspect of this summit I really benefited from was the work that the participants prepared for various programs. Like I mentioned earlier, the Masa staff was very helpful in not interfering in sessions and permitting the participants to really create the essence of each session. In addition to this, there were many parts of the week that were specifically designed by the work of each individual participant. One of these sessions was called an open source activity, during which each participant needed to present a talent or topic of interest to the entire group within a 7-minute time frame. I chose to utilize my love of music and write a song to perform for the group. The song I wrote was to the tune of "Hello" by Adele and it focused on my frustration about the current wave of violence in Israel and my hope for peace in the imminent future. This was a very cathartic activity for me because I was able to get a lot of my emotions out through songwriting and I got much joy out of performing a song that I created.

In preparation for the summit, I also needed to come up with a leadership challenge I have come across during my program that other Masa participants could help me solve. During one of my small group sessions, I needed to present my challenge to my group and answer all of their questions so they could come up with a productive solution. The challenge I chose was how to effectively discipline my kids at the Arab elementary school I work at in order to stop bullying and violence among the students there. This is a very tough issue, and my group was not able to decide on a clear solution. However, they did offer many helpful suggestions, and it was comforting to be able to speak freely about an issue that I have been struggling with emotionally. Through both this exercise and the open source activity, I learned that strong leadership depends largely on stepping outside your comfort zone and opening yourself up to new experiences that could benefit your community.

I was also able to experience community on a significant level last week through my group's Thanksgiving celebration. When I decided to spend a year in Israel, I assumed I was not going to be able to celebrate Thanksgiving, and I was initially ok with that. However, as the holiday grew nearer and I heard details from my parents about their holiday plans, I began to feel very left out and I realized how important this holiday was to me growing up and is still to my identity. Therefore, when almost all of the Yahel community came together for a festive Thanksgiving dinner last week, I was overwhelmed. I was in overwhelming awe of the efforts everyone put in to make this meal happen, preparing a multitude of dishes such as turkey, stuffing, Israeli and couscous salads, mashed potatoes, green beans, apple cake, pumpkin pie, and fried dough. (I was especially in awe of my Canadian flatmate Adrienne, who isn't even American and prepared a large turkey by herself so we could have a traditional Thanksgiving.) I was overwhelmingly surprised by how many people showed up to celebrate our mutual work and our relationships with one another, including most of Yahel's Rishon L'Zion participants who endured the costly taxi commute to and from our apartment.

Ultimately, I was overwhelmingly happy to be surrounded by this group of people that has truly become my family. As I sat among this large group enjoying delicious food and saying what I was thankful for, the first thing that came to mind was being in that moment; having this traditional Thanksgiving experience I thought would be impossible alongside these exceptional individuals who all committed to bringing this dream to life. Over the past two months, I have gone through so much with my fellow Yahelnikim, and we have bonded in ways I cannot compare with other friends. Though we are all different and I may disagree with them on many topics, in the end I know our bonds are rock solid and we will always have each other's backs. This realization at the Thanksgiving dinner table taught me another important lesson about community: no matter your differences in culture and background, a true community will always be there to give you support when you really need it.

Thanksgiving dinner at my apartment in Lod

 Over the past week, I have learned that leadership and community are very closely tied, and one component is essential for the other to occur. My experiences at the Masa Leadership Summit and my Lod Thanksgiving dinner have made me carefully evaluate both of these concepts and develop meanings for both that are very personal and relevant to my daily life. In my mind, no one likes a show-off, and leadership is not always about showing superior ability in terms of knowledge, courage, or coordination. Instead, leadership is about maintaining a strong connection to community, and developing a balance that maximizes the community's needs as well as your own. To me, being a leader can be about showing skill when it is needed, but it is also about showing vulnerability and relatability when those are needed. Many of the leaders I have on Yahel are so effective because they not only provide the guidance we need, but they also reveal moments in which they do not have all the answers and teach the humble message that at times even the strongest leaders need to be led by others. I surely know that I cannot reach my fullest potential as a leader without a supportive community surrounding me, and I look forward to developing my leadership skills this year with the assistance of my Yahel community and family.

The Importance of Religion Post-Paris

Stunning views into Lebanon and the Golan Heights

Enjoying a wine tasting at the Dalton Winery

Here in Israel, it is undeniable that religion encompasses a central part of daily life. From all the people I have met here, even the most secular Jews, I have found religion significantly influences essential aspects of identity in contemporary Israeli society. I have found this topic fascinating, and I think it is especially important to think about at this time. After horrible events occur in the name of religion, like the attacks that recently occurred in Paris, it is easy for people to frame religion as the enemy with a destructive and polarizing nature. However, through a Yahel seminar I participated in last week, I discovered evidence that is entirely contrary to this claim. This experience traveling through Northern Israel and meeting with diverse religious communities taught me that all of these groups, and religious communities as a whole, have transparent values that stand to enhance and benefit any person regardless of their background.

From the Ethiopian Jewish community, I learned the importance of dreaming. For many generations, the Ethiopian Jewish community focused their tradition on a single dream: to someday reach the Land of Israel and the holy city of Jerusalem. Now that their dream has come to fruition and there is a sizeable Ethiopian community in Israel, Ethiopian Jews can freely celebrate their culture with the comfort of being settled in their promised land. I was able to witness this remarkable sight last week when I attended a celebration of the Ethiopian holiday Sigd. Sigd is considered the holiest day on the Ethiopian Jewish calendar, and is a day devoted to spiritual contemplation through fasting, reading Jewish texts, and celebrating with an end-of-day festive community meal and dance. When living in Ethiopia, the Jewish community marked the Sigd holiday by hiking to the highest point of elevation in the village to read from the Torah and face Jerusalem. Now that they are in Israel and can actually travel to Jerusalem, Ethiopians from around the country host a communal Sigd celebration at an elevated spot in Jerusalem directly facing the Old City. This was truly inspiring for me to see because it showed me how when religious beliefs influence you to dream big, the outcomes when these dreams come true can be overwhelming and monumental.

From the Druze community, I learned the importance of hospitality. When arriving at the Druze village of Yanuch for a 24-hour stay, I had no idea what to expect from this religion I knew very little about. Nevertheless, not only did I come out of this visit with a much deeper knowledge of the Druze religion and culture, but I also left this village feeling like an intimate part of the community. This is undoubtedly due to the elaborate hospitality I felt for every moment while visiting Yanuch. For our entire stay in the village, my group was joined by a dozen young community members who took time out to bond with us and get to know us. Each young Druze person I met was very friendly, and I have remained in touch with many of them through Facebook and WhatsApp. There was not a moment that went by when they were not offering to make me more comfortable through offers of snacks, tea, coffee, or simply engaging me in conversation. Something that helped me build relationships with these people was my willingness to communicate with them in Hebrew, which was much more widely known in the village than English. Because I allowed myself to be vulnerable and exercise my Hebrew skills, I introduced deeper levels of conversation that in turn made my new Druze friends more comfortable engaging with me about a variety of topics. My knowledge of Hebrew became particularly useful with my host family, since they knew very little  English and Hebrew was the only way I could communicate with them. Much of their hospitality also came from their patriotism toward Israel and their enthusiasm toward Israel-related topics I am passionate about, such as Israel's mandatory army service and religious diversity. The elaborate warmness and generosity I received from this small Arab religious group I knew nothing about was unbelievable to me. My experience staying in a Druze village reminded me of the essential religious value of caring for strangers, and that even in our messy world kindness and hospitality can come in the most unpredictable of places.

Olive picking

From the pluralistic Kibbutz Hanaton community, I learned the importance of compromise and sticking to your roots. After hearing continuous discussions about the prevalence of dati (religious) and chiloni (secular) Jews in Israel, I assumed that it would be difficult to find a middle ground that matched my Conservative background. Nonetheless, I ultimately found a community that contained the values and customs I grew up with while still including pluralism and diversity, and that community is called Kibbutz Hanaton. Situated 20 minutes away from Nazareth, Kibbutz Hanaton was established by Conservative Jews in 1983 to revitalize a traditional Jewish presence in Israel with a focus on social awareness and communal responsibility. As soon as I walked onto the kibbutz, everything started to remind me of home. From the beautiful Kabbalat Shabbat tunes that I was accustomed to hearing growing up to the stunning views of nature and Jewish community that reminded me of my summers at Camp Ramah, my Shabbat experience at Hannaton was like a mind-out-of-body experience for me. I truly felt that though I was still in Israel, my soul was being transported back to home and my cherished Jewish roots that have made me the person I am today. It was also refreshing that so many of these kibbutznikim were American immigrants and their American accents gave me a strong sense of comfort after two months of living in a culture largely different from my own. However, while it was good to be in my own religious environment, it was also great to see the compromises made so all types of Jews can feel at home at Hanaton. A prevalent compromise I noticed concerned driving on Shabbat, which entailed that on Shabbat no one can drive within the parameters of the kibbutz, regardless of their level of religious observance. The community definitely has serious issues to be dealt with, but its inspiring message of compromise leading to cooperation and coexistence is one of tremendous merit. Both Kibbutz Hanaton's similiarity to my Jewish upbringing and its message of unity between different Jewish traditions possess tremendous moral value in my eyes, and I will definitely continue to consider it as I contemplate my plans for starting a life in Israel.

View of Nazareth from Hanaton

A famous cemetery next to the Kinneret 

From the different religious communities I met with last week, I gained a deep appreciation for what religion is and what it is not. I saw religion as something that brings people together, no matter how similar they are to one another. I also saw religion as something to be celebrated because of the cooperation it brings to the world, and the dreams it helps come to fruition. When looking at religion, I did not see an idea that creates divisions or incites hatred toward the other. Though I had nothing in common with the Druze villagers who hosted me, they still went above and beyond to welcome me with open arms. Though there is much tension between the different Jewish communities in Israel and in other countries, the Kibbutz Hanaton community puts those differences aside to create and sustain a peaceful environment through which everyone benefits.

After what happened in Paris last week, it is very important to think of religion along the lines of what these communities in Israel envision. Though there are some people who try to use religion as a way of delegitimizing and even murdering those who disagree with their practices, we must see how far removed they are from the nature and purpose of mainstream religious teachings. It will be hard to move past what we have gone through, but it is necessary to look for a way forward, and that way can most definitely be found through religious communities. Let us learn from one another and grow from each other's teachings and values, and appreciate that each of our religious neighbors hold messages of hope that greatly outweigh those who try to deface them.