L'Shanah Tovah! (long entry, be forewarned)

Happy New Year, everyone!

That's right, welcome to the year 5767 everyone! This past Shabbat was Rosh Hashanah, and there's a lot to tell from the past four days. Here goes:

Thursday, we packed up our rooms and left good old Kibbutz Tzuba and headed into the Old City of Jerusalem to see the Southern Wall excavations and to walk around in Jerusalem as it was in the times of the Second Beit Hamikdash, or Second Temple. This massive structure was built and reinforced by King Herod when Jerusalem came under Roman rule around 63 BCE and was the center of the world's Judaism for over a century. The parts of the walls still standing are massive, with each stone weighing at the least 15-20 tons, and some weighing in at an astounding 250 tons, but the architecture is still beautiful and makes anyone looking at it say, "Wow." Jews came from all over the world back then to make sacrifice in the Temple, and this Temple was even more important in the fact that there were no other places in which sacrificial offerings could be made according to Chalahic Law (the rabbinic law of the times).

The Romans, however, weren't such nice people to the Jews. Around 60 CE, the new Roman rulers began putting in place laws to subdue Jews and limit the practice of our faith. Caligula, a Procurator of Roman Jerusalem in that time, went as far as putting a statue of himself inside the Beit Hamikdash and making pig sacrifice in the holiest of our holy places. This, of course, didn't fly with the Jewish people, and instead of stand idle and let their faith be trodden on in the dust, they decided to revolt. In 66CE, the Great Revolt began. Riots ensued, Roman soldiers were killed, and for a while it appeared that the Jews could overthrow the Romans and regain rule of Jerusalem. This was not so, and in 70CE, the Romans put down the last of the revolting Jews. For them, that was not enough. On the 9th of Av, 70CE (by the Hebrew calendar), the Roman army shoved large pieces of wood into the cracks of the Temple stones and set them aflame, toppling and burning the Beit Hamikdash, sending all Jews that hadn't already fled or been killed into exile, and squashing the entire spirit of the Jewish people. This tragic story was what we witnessed the remains of that day, and is one of the most depressing and tragic events in our Jewish history. After seeing all the sights and gawking at the walls for a few hours, though, it was time to move on in our journey.

Our path was very different from the paths of most tourists, however. Josh and Reuven, our Jewish History teachers, have begun to refer to us as "pilgrims", rather than tourists. We don't just see the sights--we experience them and appreciate them for what they stand for and what these places mean to us as a people. For this reason, after leaving the Old City and the destruction of our Temple, we did what some of the Jews that fled the city did: escape the city and head to the desert. It was in this way that we arrived at Ein Gedi, a nature preserve on the shores of the Dead Sea, considered the most beautiful place in Israel by many.

This is the point at which my story breaks off from the story of the 29 other comrades I have with me on the trip, due to things beyond my control. In Ein Gedi, we were scheduled to take a hike through the desert valley Nachal Arugut, arriving at a waterfall in the middle of the Negev desert. About a mile into the hike, though, disaster struck. I was near the back of the group in order to get the shots I wanted for my film project, and as we hiked along a section of trail that was slippery from runoff and bordered on the left side by a ravine, the girl in front of me slipped and fell, sliding under the railing that was meant to keep people on the trail. I grabbed her and attempted to pull her back up, but she kept slipping, and one of the madrichim, Tom, managed to wedge himself between her and the rail so that she was somewhat stable. We pulled her back onto the trail, at which point she began screaming and sobbing that her ankle and foot hurt. After some deliberation, it was decided that the group was already too far ahead and she needed to get medical attention, so Tom, myself, one of the teachers and another girl from the group helped our fallen comrade back toward the trailhead. She couldn't put any weight on her right leg without excruciating pain, and between her injury, shock, and the harsh nature of this trail, it took us quite some time. Around two hours after her initial fall, we were met by some of the group with a stretcher, and at this point something amazing happened: Without a word, every grown man in this group of eight or so went into the same mode of thinking and acting. Having all been in the Israeli Armed Forces (IDF), they all had the same training, and this common bond kept us going up the trail. At one point, we were all very tired, sweating in the near-100 degree (Fahrenheit) heat, and trying to maneuver a stretcher safely, and a few men came walking down the trail and wordlessly took our places for a good amount of time. Nothing needed to be said, only things to keep our injured one laughing and as happy as circumstances could have it. Roughly four hours after the initial fall, we reached the bus, where she was sent to the hospital. It turns out she broke her ankle pretty severely and had to be sent back to the States to have surgery, and probably won't be coming back for the rest of the program. The bonds I made with the other "rescuers", though, will stay with me for a long, long time.

Thankfully, after this traumatic experience, I was able to go float in the Dead Sea for a bit. Now, if you've never done this before, let me tell you--it's a trip. The saline content of the water is so high that even myself, with all that muscle on me (modest, I know), was able to float and read a newspaper without even trying. After a nice cleansing mudbath and soak in the salty bathtub that they call the Dead Sea, we all piled back into the bus and had a short trip to the Masada Youth Hostel, where we stayed for the night.

4:30 AM Friday morning.

We woke up.

It was not fun.

Then, we walked out of the hostel gate and began the ascent up the Snake Path to the top of Masada. For those of you who don't know, Masada is a big rock--okay, plateau--in the desert overlooking the Dead Sea, surrounded on all sides by sheer cliffs and deep ravines. It was used by the Romans as a fortress, by Herod as a palace, and taken over by the zealots (a group of Jews that fled Jerusalem after the destruction of the Temple) as their own fortress. The rock is a great natural fortress, with only the winding, exposed Snake Path on the East and the Roman ramp on the West to approach from. We began climbing the Snake Path before the sun even thought about waking up, and I made the ascent of 450m (1500ft) in just over 40 minutes, just in time to see the sun rise over the Jordanian Mountains and the Dead Sea. The beauty of the scene is beyond words, and oddly enough, as the sun peeked over the lip of the mountain range, all 30 teenagers became completely silent, overcome by the sight.


The story behind Masada is that the zealots were besieged by the Romans for a year, and when the Romans began building a massive earthen ramp to the top of the plateau and began burning the walls of the fortress, the zealots realized that they were in very dire straits. Faced with the choice of becoming enslaved and losing their Jewish identity altogether, the zealots chose not to fight the Romans. In the morning, when the Roman army breached the wall, they found only one woman alive in the entire settlement. The other 960 residents chose to commit mass suicide rather than fall into Roman hands. Looked upon for so long as a heroic act, my being at Masada and hearing the stories, watching everything unfold before my eyes completely changed my view on the zealots' decision to commit suicide. There are many pros, cons, and ways of justifying or criticizing their acts, but if I were put in their position, who knows what my decision would be.

Leaving Masada (after a yummy fresh-squeezed mango juice), we travelled far South to Kibbutz Lotan, situtated in a valley in the Arava Desert, less than 1/2 mile from the Jordanian border. Lotan was our home for the next few days, in which we learned all about agriculture and the environment while celebrating one of the biggest holidays for Jews--Rosh Hashanah, the New Year. The kibbutz only serves as a home to 24 families, making it a rather small kibbutz for the modern day, but it has a different feel to it than our home, Kibbutz Tzuba. Lotan and its neighbor, Yahel, are both very concentrated social groups in which everyone works for the common good and there is practically no personal or private property. Celebrating Rosh Hashanah in Israel was a completely different experience for me--no organ, no fancy synagogue, just a group of Jews getting together in the common lounge to celebrate the New Year. In a sense, I felt a tighter bond with these strangers merely by praying alongside them and living in their community for a few days, something I rarely feel in the States for Rosh Hashanah, or even on Tzuba. The aspect of a kehillah (community) is very much present and comforting, and is something I value as part of my Jewish identity.

After learning all about desert agriculture (oximoron, I know--it exists, though!) and learning how to build houses that are environmentally friendly, as well as all kinds of stuff about our relationship with the environment, I settled into a nice hammock and picked apart a nice sweet Rimon (pomegranate) and listened to the festivities going on around me; the laughing kids, dancing adults, old codgers shmoozing, all kinds of things. The highlight of our stay on Lotan, though, was Saturday night, when one of the kibbutzniks took us on a hike in the middle of the night to lay in the sand dunes and look up at the stars. This was when we had our Tashlich service, where one is supposed to cast off all the sins from the past year and try to be a better person. The tradition is to throw bread crumbs into a body of water to represent the sins, but seeing as we were in the middle of the desert, we settled with mentally casting off those sins into the dunes where no one would find them.

Sunday night we returned to Tzuba around midnight, moved back into the rooms, and got back into somewhat of a school routine...okay, that was a lie, we're all still pretty dead tired and trying to keep up with schoolwork, but it's coming along. Even my Hebrew seems to be improving...okay, well that was a small lie, too...I'm trying to improve in Hebrew and doing so, just very slowly.

My moment of Zen from the weekend:

As I was lying in the dunes, listening to the wind and lack of noise, I could have sworn that the sky was filled to bursting with stars. Never in my life have I seen so many stars. I even saw a shooting star, and got to make a wish to start the New Year fresh. It's kind of funny--every year at Yom Kippur, we say "Next year in Jerusalem, Next year in Israel." Well, looks like my wish finally came true--I'm in Israel, saying "Next year in Israel."


L'shanah Tovah & L'shanah Ahavah,
(May your new year be good and filled with love)

Aron


PS-I still love letters and e-mails. Look at the post before this one for my mailing address, my e-mail is aronaltmark@aol.com.

The Plague and the return to Zion

Now that I'm almost all better and have somewhat of a voice again, I can finally update on all the events of the past few days.

This past Wednesday, we went on a mini-Tiyul to the Cave of John the Baptist, located right here on Kibbutz Tzuba. Reuven, one of our Jewish history teachers, is apparently also a famous archeologist. In the mid-90's, he and another kibbutznik were working in the orchard down in one of Tzuba's valleys, and it began to rain. Naturally, not wanting to leave the field and have to walk all the way back to their quarters in the rain, then return later, Reuven and his buddy found a nice bush to shelter under for a bit. It just so happens that they found this small cave, big enough for them to squeeze in and wait out the rain. Years later, though, Reuven brought in an archeologist friend of his and they excavated the mud out of the cave that had built up over the years. What they found astounded them---an image carved into the back wall of the cave, of none other than John the Baptist.

After more excavating, the teams uncovered an entire complex near the cave including a temple from the 8th century B.C.E., built over and around a large cistern that served as a ritual bath for hundreds of years, up until the towns around Jerusalem were conquered and the temples went out of use. This location served as a classroom for a few hours, which beats any box-style classroom any day. We also had class in another cave Thursday and discussed some psalms, Ruth, and the transition of G-d from an omnipresent being that slaps your hand with a bolt of lightning every time you screw up to the G-d that we know, the behind-the-scenes kind of G-d.

One of the coolest things by far, Friday afternoon we went to an old age home in Jerusalem and spread some love for the upcoming new year (Rosh Hashanah), as well as for Shabbat. Most of us couldn't even speak with the residents, mostly due to our complete butchering of the Hebrew language, but I did manage to struggle through a few conversations. The one woman that I gathered anything from talked to me in Hebrew, Arabic, and English--interchangeably. She was born in Baghdad, thought that Saddam "was a bastard" (the English she used), so she went to Germany and found out that they don't like Jews there either...so she ended up in Israel, below the bread line and without a decent home or care for her. After all this, I wished her a happy new year and good Shabbas, at which point she told me in Hebrew that she wanted me to shut up and leave her in peace...with a smile. All in all, it's the mitvah that matters, and we did a good thing that day.

Over the weekend, I went to visit with family that I haven't seen in something like 12 years. All I can say about that experience is that: a) BIG dogs are nice once you get to know them; b) Movies are so much better with Samuel L. Jackson, snakes, planes, and Hebrew subtitles; c) The quintessential Israeli beach experience includes swimming, sunning, and playing a strange game resembling ping pong, but larger; and d) Free laundry.

And then came The Plague. Shortly after that, a scary car ride, the sketchy Israeli doctors, followed by 26 hours of sleeping.

And then came the dozen bowls of chicken soup, the 30 liters of water, and the 64 trips to the bathroom to get rid of afore-mentioned water.

Now, I am better! (Heavens rejoice!)

Tonight we went to the Israeli National Museum and saw a scale version of what the city of Jerusalem looked like in the days of Herod's rule, the time of the Second Temple (or Beit Hamikdash, for those in the know). It turns out that the Western Wall (Kotel) is only 1/100th the size of the actual Western Wall of the Temple when it was still standing. After dodging some rogue sprinkler heads (scary stuff, let me tell you), we came to a little hole in the side of the hill that turned out to be a room with reclining stone benches and a large hole in the ceiling---for stargazing. This was my moment of Zen for the past few days, and allowed me to reflect on how excited I am to be here and what I have to look forward to.

Upcoming events: Tomorrow, more of the Old City. Thursday, more of the Old City and the Dead Sea. Friday, we climb Masada at 4am, and then spend the rest of the weekend (Rosh Hashanah) at Kibbutz Lotan in the southern Negev.

Love and abundant israeli cats,
Aron

PS- Send me letters!!!

Aron Altmark
NFTY-EIE High School
Kibbutz Tzuba
90870 D.N. Harei Yehuda
ISRAEL

Be sure to mark all letters with "AIRMAIL", otherwise they end up on some fishing boat in the Atlantic. If e-mail is more your thing, my e-mail address is aronaltmark@aol.com.

Sick.

So I've been pretty much out of touch with the world for the past two days--my apologies. Today I decided that enough was enough and had one of our madrich take me to the doctor, who told me I had some strange mutation of a sore throat virus, and that only I could kick it. Thanks doc...might as well just have taken the leg.

Anyway, this weekend I went to stay with Dayle and Naftali, my cousins eight or nine times removed on my mother's side, which was a lot of fun. It was very nice getting a different Shabbat experience, and seeing American movies with Hebrew subtitles at midnight is a great deal of fun, too.

I would update more, but I've been sleeping all day and plan on doing the same all night as well, so I'll close with this:

I'm becoming somewhat homesick, so if anyone would like to send me letters (real letters, not this e-mail crap, although those are nice too), here is my mailing address:

Aron Altmark
NFTY-EIE High School
Kibbutz Tzuba
90870 D.N. Harei Yehuda
ISRAEL

Be sure to mark all letters with "AIRMAIL", otherwise they end up on some fishing boat in the Atlantic. If e-mail is more your thing, my e-mail address is aronaltmark@aol.com.

More updates to come later, I promise.

Love and cough drops,
Aron

Sataf, Har Adar, & More!

I have now been in Israel for over two weeks, and I must say that I'm still in shock.

Friday morning, we got up early to go do a mitzvah project in which we travelled to a farmer's field and picked onions for a few hours. I know, it doesn't sound like much of a good deed, but in fact we were picking onions to feed Israel's poor population. This farmer pays over $1.1 million per year out of his own pocket, getting nothing in return, in order to grow food for the percentage of people under the "bread line." The experience of working the land and doing as our ancestors did in Israel so many generations back was very satisfying, as well as knowing that in two hours we picked over 700 kilos (1500lbs) of onions that will go to those who need them.

For our Shabbat services this week, we went to Kol Haneshema, Jerusalem's largest Reform synagogue. The services there were very nice, and amazingly not much different from services back in the States. Granted, the entire service was in Hebrew, but most of the tunes were familiar and almost all of the prayers I knew. It's good to see that the old camp song is still true: "Wherever you go, there's always someone Jewish..." and that no matter where I am I'll be able to find a service to attend.

Saturday night, we went to Rishon Le Zion and played on the beach. The sand here is very different, and the waters of the Mediterranean felt heavenly on my toes. I picked up a bunch of seashells, so a good number of people might be receiving shell necklaces as presents. Once we got back to the kibbutz, my roomates and I cracked open a pomegranate and had some of the most delicious pomegranate juices and seeds ever. All in all, our second Shabbat in Israel was a great experience.

Yesterday and today we spent on Tiyul (field trips) roaming about the country, walking in the footsteps of our forefathers and learning all about where they came from, why they came, and who these people actually were. Sunday morning was an early wake-up, just in time for us to get to the top of the hills of Sataf to see the mist hanging over the valley. This Arab village sits on an originally Jewish-settled natural spring, and is a prime example of how the land looked centuries ago to the original inhabitants of the Holy Land and even to the figures in the Torah. The farmers have a system of terraces that are used to grow crops, and have developed incredible ways of irrigation. Soon after sitting in the shade in the ruins of a 16th century Byzantian church, we crawled through a small cave to find Sataf's natural water source that allows for vegetation to grow in the middle of the desert. That part of the land hasn't changed in generations, and its beauty is timeless.

From Sataf, we went to Har-Adar to see the Har-El Memorial. This spot sits atop a mountain overlooking all of the Old City of Jerusalem and was a bunker during the 1948 War of Independence, as well as being a memorial to all Israeli soldiers killed in combat. From this vantage point, we could eat our falafel and look out on a 360 degree view of the land. On a good clear day, the Dead Sea is visible to the East, and Tel Aviv can be seen to the West. This was my first glimpse of the controversial Israeli security fence, which runs along the Green Line (post-1967 War) and separates the Israeli towns from the Palestinians. In some places, it is only a 12-ft high chain link fence with patrolling guards, whereas in others the fence is a complex network of trenches and 16-ft high concrete bunker-type walls. Since 2002, when construction of the fence began, there has been a 95% decrease in terrorist attacks and suicide/homocide bombings. Seeing the fence shows how much turmoil this nation still is under, but I don't see that in everyday Israeli life as much as I thought I would.

Last night, we travelled from Har Adar to the Teyellet (Promenade), which is one of--if not the best--view of Jerusalem. From there we saw the sun set and I fully understand why the city is called Jerusalem of Gold. It is absolutely breathtaking. Later, we had free time on Emek Refaim St., where I had my first real Middle Eastern falafel. My mouth waters just thinking of it...

...mmm...falafel...

Pardon me, my thoughts get away from me sometimes. In any case, today was one of the coolest sites yet. We went to the Old City and walked around the City of King David, learning about how the city used to look in biblical times and who lived there, when, etc. There is an archeological dig ongoing at the site of David's Palace, and we had the fortune of meeting the two head archeologists that discovered the city so many years ago. Their names don't readily come to me, but look up City of David and you should find the names. These guys are pretty famous, considering our Jewish history teacher (Josh) almost bowed down to them.

The highlight of the trip today was traversing Hezekiah's Tunnel, an ancient way of getting water to the City of David. An underground spring feeds from a tunnel deep under the town, and we ended up wading through waist-deep water a hundred feet or so underground, exploring the water source firsthand. The tunnel is no more than 4ft wide and 5ft tall in some places, but still carries fresh water from deep underground to the surface. This is what allowed David to establish Jerusalem and have water and means of irrigation, and still feeds the land to this day.

My homework load is still a bit crazy, and Hebrew and I aren't getting along as well as I'd like (thanks for that, Dad---those are your genes!), but all in all, I'm one happy camper. So happy, in fact, that I'm going to go take a nap before my next class. More pictures from the new adventures will be up soon, so check that out, and feel free to e-mail me things to make me smile.

Peace, love, and ancient irrigation!

--Aron
aronaltmark@aol.com

Pictures up!

Since it's Shabbat and we're partying like crazy, I'll just add that pictures from the trip can now be viewed at:

http://www.picevents.com/EventLogin.aspx?sid=57525

Leave the password blank--there isn't one. And this is just a way for everyone to see pictures, so don't buy them. All will be available when I get back, no reason to spend money.

--Aron

Middle Eastern Welcome

Tonight, I received my first hearty dose of reality being in such a region of turmoil. A few friends and I were sitting at an overlook spot on the kibbutz grounds that overlooks the valley below and the Arab villages in the surrounding hills, enjoying the night time vista. During a particularly quiet moment, we heard a sudden series of "pop-pop-pop!" noises, all in quick bursts. At first, we just looked at each other nervously, thinking "Oh, just fireworks..." when another burst went off, and that was the second my brain made the connection that what we were hearing was automatic rifle fire from not too far away.

Somehow, I kept my calm--a trait which has helped me numerous times--and told my three friends to stay together, while I called one of our madrachim (counselors) to see what to do, just as flashing police lights appeared to and fro in the valley. He came down and met us halfway up the hill, and we all went to our rooms to call parents and siblings. I stayed with him, though, being very curious as to what was going on. I was scared--had another conflict started? Were we really safe? So I asked Josh what to think of the situation. His reply: "Welcome to the Middle East, my friend." Things are fine, by the way, turns out it was just a few kids having fun with a automatic rifle and flares.

On a much brighter note, we went on our first big tiyul yesterday to a place called Tel Gezer. This archeological dig site was once the site of ancient Canaanites and is believed to be where the origins of Judaism lie. We were there to learn about how the people that eventually became the Hebrew lived in the days of old, and to gain a little more insight into something so dense as the Torah so that that knowledge can be used to decipher the texts and make sense of them.

The experience was amazing. Josh, our Judaic Studies teacher, let us in on a little secret: the very rocks and clay we stood on dated back to something like 4000 years ago. That's four millennia. To compare, some people feel age just going to a historical site like where the Civil War battles were fought in America, and those landmarks are 200 years old at the most. I stood on a casemate wall (hollow on the inside, good for defense and trade) that dates back to the first human written languages and mingling of cultures resulting from trade. This city was where one man may have walked through the gates and started the very founding of Judaism as we know it today. And I got to stand in the same place.

At one point, I had to crouch down and feel the dirt to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I was, in fact, studying the city of Gezer at the same time as I read about it in the Torah.

In other news, this weekend marks the first week of classes over and our first week here on Tzuba. All my classes are really fun, especially AP English Lit and Judaic Studies, and the almost one-on-one ratio is unbeatable. The Hebrew ulpan class is giving me a little trouble, but that can be attributed to Dad and his learning disabilities, and my goal is to come back to the Sates speaking fluent Hebrew.

We've also begun having theological discussions on Torah and Tanakh material in our spare time, which is a great way to make friends if in a strange place, as well as late-night Hebrew study sessions.

Tomorrow marks our second Shabbat in Israel (??????), which we will spend at a Reform synagogue in Jerusalem. I'm excited to see how Jews of the Reform movement operate in our homeland, coming from such as diverse background as myself. Saturday, we're going to Tel Aviv and hanging around the boardwalk for a good few hours, and after that classes start back Sunday.

*Sigh*. One can never escape routine.

Lila Tov & Shabbat Shalom
www.AronAltmark.blogspot.com

PS-Pictures will be on a separate linked website by tomorrow night, but they will be there for those of you that want to look. Much love!

First day of school

Now we see what the NFTY-EIE staff was talking about when they told us this program was going to be rough.

My days will be something like this:

6:30---Boker Tov (Good Morning)
7:00---Breakfast in the chadar ochel
7:30---Morning T'Fillah
8:00---Ulpan (Hebrew)
9:30---Break
10:00--Jewish History: Land, Cultures, and People
13:00--Lunch in the chadar ochel
13:45--1st class period (FREE!!!)
14:45--2nd class period (AP US History)
15:45--3rd class period (Trigonometry)
16:45--4th class period (AP English Literature)
17:45--5th class period (Honors Physics)
18:45--Dinner in the chadar ochel
19:30--Meeting in the Zoolah (lounge)
20:30--Free Time (Study Study Study Nap Study Study Homework)
23:00--Rooms In
23:30--Laila Tov! (Good Night)

It's going to be a pretty busy four months, but I'm so happy with my classes and my teachers. Especially AP English Lit and AP US History, those classes are going to be fun. I'm really excited about learning Hebrew, and I'm in level TWO! So maybe I'll have a new accent when I get back. That'd be funny, a little Jewish boy with a strong Southern Alabama Hebrew accent.

Last night, the staff blindfolded us and stuck us on a bus (in the Middle East, that was a fun experience), then surprised us with a night time vista from atop one of the mountains where we could see all of the Old City, and we had Havdalah on this spot. Afterwards, they took us to the big mall in Jerusalem, which was very cool. I picked up two Hebrew plays and some great coffee, beats Starbucks any day! The security was great as well, although I freaked out a bit seeing Israeli teens walking around with massive automatic rifles on their backs. All good fun, though.

I wanted to update everyone and will have even more pictures soon. Check previous posts for pictures added yesterday, and since tomorrow is Labor Day back in the States, I'm going to open up my cell phone for anyone to call between the hours of 9pm and midnight Jerusalem time, which is anytime after 1pm CST. Thank G-d for free incoming calls. My cell number, dialed from the U.S., is +972-52-600-0549. If I don't pick up, please leave a voicemail that will make me smile.

Laila Tov

--Aron

The Kotel

The Hebrew word Kotel is used to refer to the Western Wall in Jerusalem. This holy site is where the First and Second Great Temples once stood, both broken and ruined by the Romans, and is the holiest accessible spot in the world for any Jew to travel to. Millions of Jews each year make their trip to the Kotel to simply stand and pray, and be in the presence of G-d as one cannot find anywhere else, and many place prayers written on small pieces of paper in the cracks in the walls, hoping and wishing that G-d hear their prayers in this way.

This holy site was where we traveled today, after a half-day of archeological dig at Beit Shemesh, a tell at which we excavated caves and ruins. I managed to find several pieces of bone and pottery, all of which were no less than 2200 years old. The experience of having my hands sifting through the soil of Israel, of my homeland, and finding remains and artifacts from ancestors that walked the lands thousands of years ago was breathtaking. Seeing these finds and touching them gave a sense of age, of knowledge, and of importance to me for being able to participate in the dig, and the inquiry of my people's history.

The dig director, Ian, allowed us to take a few pieces of our own from the "trash" pile, so I now possess several artifacts from somewhere around 2200 years ago, if anyone is interested.

After the dig, we headed back to Tzuba, which we all now refer to as "home," for lunch and a small rest break. Then, I got all prettied up and boarded the bus for the Kotel.

I had no idea what to expect. Certainly, I had expected emotions to flow forth, but by no means did I think I'd find myself in tears simply at the sound of thousands of Jews praying together in a caucophony known as Shabbat T'fillah. Our group had a small service at the base of the ruins of the Southern portion of the Kotel (via the Zion Gate), and proceeded to the Western Wall.

Walking into the common area (after passing through a security checkpoint), felt like someone punching me in the stomach as hard as possible. I was dumbfounded. No words could explain the emotions goings through me at that very moment. But we were encouraged to go up to the wall and touch it, mingle with the crowd, celebrate Shabbat as it is in Israel, so I did. The very second my friends and I plunged into the mass of people, we received hearty "Shabbat Shalom!" greetings from everyone. No glum faces were seen, everyone was so happy and joyous to welcome the Sabbath and pray together. There were at least one thousand men in that small space by my estimate, so you can imagine how little space there is to move around, yet I somehow managed to find my way to the base of the Wall.

At first, I felt akward. I didn't know what to do. Then, out of nothing more than instinct, I reached out, stepped forward, and placed my hand on the stone. I felt like electricity was going through my blood, the power of millenia through my fingertips. The feeling is indescribable. Everything from joy to sadness, from anger to regret went coursing through my head, so much so that I didn't know how to react. Oddly enough, I found myself saying these words, "Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad." Hear O Israel, The Lord is our G-d, The Lord is One.

I rested my head against the stone, gripped it as tight as I could, and said the Shema again. Then the Shehechyanu, a prayer of thanksgiving for allowing me to be able to witness and exprience this day. Tears were flowing freely, and no sooner had I stepped away from the stone was I pulled into a large group of Chasidic men singing L'Cha Dodi. They were so friendly, so nice, and so genuinely happy to see me and to be there, that more tears, this time of joy, began to flow. We danced, sang, and immersed ourselves in being Jewish with perfect strangers from all corners of the earth, and let the emotions flow freely. After another hundred or so "Shabbat Shalom" wishes, and several invitations to come have Sabbath dinner, our group departed the Kotel, emotionally drained and happy beyond words.

Coming back to Tzuba on the bus, I was able to reflect on my exprience at the Kotel, and after speaking to several people over Sabbath dinner, realized that the first time anyone visits the Kotel, it is a life-changing moment. Certainly, it changed me, and is a moment I don't think I will ever let slip from my mind, not even for a second. It occurred to me that through all the doubts of adolescence and coming of age, through all the trials and tribulations, I never was truly seated in my identity as a Jew. As of today, I know where my heart and soul are, and that, my friends, appears to be in the East.

Shabbat Shalom

--Aron