Lech Lecha: Chaviva and Avram

Terach left with Sarai, Avram, and Lot to go to Ca'anan, mostly because it was his dead son's inherited land. So they left but stopped along the way.

Then HaShem speaks to Avram, tells him to Lech Lecha -- go forth, to yourself. Avram leaves with Sarai and Lot and heads to Ca'anan, fulfilling the original destination goal. It's there that HaShem promises so much to Avram and his future offspring.

So essentially, the first bit of the journey was not enough and HaShem and to tell Avram to keep going. Would he have gone on his own? Would he have stayed with his father?

The truth is, I feel like this about my journey and my conversion.

I found and began my Jewish journey in the Reform movement of Judaism around 2002/2003 and after much teeth grinding and examination of myself, who I was, and where I was going, wound my way through other branches of Judaism until I landed at the doorsteps of Orthodoxy in 2008.

That first leg of the journey was like leaving my land with Terach and heading toward the land of my inheritance -- Judaism.

The second leg was HaShem telling me to go further, to go forth to who I was truly meant to be. To embrace that person I was.

I feel a bit like Avram. But only a bit.

Thoughts on Lech Lecha

This week's Torah portion is Lech Lecha, which is a banner portion for converts everywhere. While prepping for this week's women's learning group, I happened upon this bit of wisdom from Rabbi Sholom Dover of Lubavitch via Chabad.org.

From the time that G-d said to our father Abraham, "Go from your land..." and "Abraham went on, journeying southward", began the process of birurim -- of extracting the sparks of holiness that are scattered throughout the universe and buried within the material existence. 

By the decree of Divine providence, a person wanders about in his travels to those places where the sparks that are to be extracted by him await their redemption. The Cause of All Causes brings about the many circumstances and pretexts that bring a person to those places where his personal mission in life is to be acted out.

It makes me think that perhaps this is why I've lived in at least 13 cities and had more than 25 addresses in my lifetime.

Wandering Jew that I am, perhaps when I ask, "What exactly do you have in store for me, G-d?" the answer is staring me right in the face.

Lech Lecha and Then?

The view from here. 

This week's Torah portion (aka parshah) is the classic trope for converts the world over: Lech Lecha.

At the ripe age of 75 years old, Avram (that's his name before he becomes Avraham) is commanded by G-d to leave home, to go forth from your land and your father's house, from everything you've ever known, to a land that will be revealed. Avram puts the ultimate trust in HaShem to guide him, but not without plenty of bumps and "hold on a second" moments along the way.

The promise, HaShem says, is that he will multiply Avram and bless him and his progeny and curse those who curse Avram and his kin.

The reason this parshah is so outstanding and emotional for converts is because Avram is, for all intents and purposes, the first willing convert. He hears G-d's calling and says, "Sure, let's do this" willingly and wholeheartedly while holding fast to his nature to battle with G-d over the things that he doesn't understand or agree with (just think about Sodom and Gemorah in Bereshit 18).

For me, this portion has always held a near and dear place, because coming from a place where I didn't know or grow up with any Jews, the "calling" (if you can even call it that) came as much from within as from without and the moment I felt it, life changed indescribably forever.

At this point in my life, where I think of myself so much less as a convert and more as just another Jew trying to find the right path and living how HaShem wants and needs me to, how do I relate to Lech Lecha?

Well, I'm mere days away from my one-year anniversary of aliyah (moving to Israel). Officially, the anniversary is October 16, I can't think of a more appropriate parshah.

Like Avram, I felt a calling (for years, folks, since at least 2008) to make Israel my home. I was being called to this land that was a mystery to me, even after frequent visits. The promise of finding a mate and starting a proper family stood waiting for me. So I packed up, left the land of my father, and arrived to the place that HaShem seemed to need me.

What happened? I was mated and started "multiplying" almost instantly. The amount of people I know who moved to Israel and got pregnant after some time of trying is equally astounding. There is something to be said to HaShem's promise to Avraham Avinu (our father), which continues to benefit the Jewish people thousands of years later.

Avram might have been the first to leave his comfort, his family, and start anew at the will of G-d, but modern aliyah is a true nod in the direction of the trope of Avram. It's hard, it's complicated, and we all end up screaming and crying in HaShem's general direction because of the roller coaster of emotions, finances, and reality that Israel really does do everything in her power to chew us up and spit us out. But we also learn to appreciate and experience the sense of community and family, the angels in our midst who would bend over backwards to make us feel at home, loved, cared for, and wanted.

Aliyah is not for everyone, but then again, not everyone can be an Avram, either.

So how do you bring Lech Lecha into your every day life? How do you go forth into the great unknown -- be it personally, emotionally, at work or at home? 

Shabbat Shalom everyone!

An Ultimate Hodge Podge Update

Holy wow, I haven't blogged since last Tuesday about aliyah. I'm guessing everyone is wonder what exactly has been going on, and my mind is blown even thinking about it. There have been phone calls in Hebrew with phone company, a visit to the bank (alone) to pick up my bank card, a visit to Misrad HaKlita to get my funds set up, and so very much more. I've been using my Hebrew like mad, which has been both exciting and intimidating.

Basically it goes something like this ... I walk into a store. I ask a question in Hebrew with my pretty okay Israeli accent. Shopkeeper responds with a really lengthy answer in Hebrew. My head explodes, but I nod and smile and say "okay" and "todah" (thank you in Hebrew) and go on my merry way. The thing that baffles most people is that I speak Hebrew much better than I understand Hebrew. Most people who grow up Jewishly hear Yiddish or Hebrew in some form, even if it's just in Hebrew School, so there's usually a gap in speaking but a decent semblance of understanding. I am an anomaly, but I think that's because I didn't start learning Hebrew until 2006 -- and then it was biblical Hebrew!

One gnarly thing about Israel is that I'm really living it up gluten-free style. You see, there are some things that are next to impossible to find in the U.S. both kosher and gluten free. One of those things? Rice noodles. Yes, something as simple as rice noodles, which essentially is rice and water, is impossible to find with a hechsher (kosher symbol). Here? Dozens of options. Curry paste? Easy. Fresh gluten-free bread? No problem. Gluten-free cakes? Delicious and less expensive. Here's what I nabbed for about 119 shekel last week (that's roughly $30).

That's fresh gluten-free sandwich bread, pita, a cake, two

packages rice noodles, and Tamari (wheat-free soy sauce).

Score! In the U.S. this would have cost me probably double. So when you're in Israel, look for this store on Agrippas in Nachlaot near the shuk.

As Chanukah approaches, these things are popping up all over the place. However, for me, these are a no-go. What are these? Sufganiyot, which are traditionally jelly donuts, but nowadays are gourmet and come in all sorts of exotic flavors. While the U.S. gorges on latkes, Israel gorges on donuts!

What else has been happening? Well, I spent Shabbat up in Ra'anana, which is a really nice little town outside of Tel Aviv that has a seriously amazing mall (yes, I went there, and yes, I bought kitchen gadgets and fresh, delicious coffee and loose-leaf tea). It was a huge blessing because I got to spend two whole days with my surrogate family! Good food, good company, getting to relax and see how grown up the kids are ... time flies when you're a world apart.

Finally, I was at the Jewish Agency for Israel's Board of Governor's meeting this morning as a "voice" for the generation of Jews that represent flux and fluidity and how JAFI can better engage and play to that audience. It was quite the excellent morning, and I got to catch up with a bunch of old friends from ROI Community and meet some newer folks, too. Networking is like coffee for me!

Mah od? (What else?) That's the quick and dirty. Life is still amazing, I'm working, I'm socializing, I'm drinking coffee, travelling, walking everywhere, waking up happy, and aside from a few annoying mosquito bites, I cannot complain about anything. I'd really wanted to write a Lech Lecha blog post since that was this week's Torah portion -- tying it to aliyah and how perfect and right it all feels -- but alas, time was not on my side this week.

Here is to another amazing week in Israel as an Israeli!

Lech Lecha: But How?

If you want to read some really awesome and emotional posts, there is one from 2008, and I know others exist I just, I don't have the energy to find them. So what now? What brilliant morsel can I add to the catalog of Going Forth (לך לך)?

Ultimately, I view Lech Lecha as HaShem telling Avram to go forth toward himself, to go forth and discover who he was meant to be. But not just to go forth into the ether, a cloud of mystery and the unknown, but to do it with a purpose and a thought in mind.

"I have set G-d before me at all times" (Psalms 16:8), I think, is the key thought here. Go forth, with G-d in mind, and get it done. Figure yourself out. Take the steps and find your true self.

I've reached an impasse ... with myself.

This week was probably the most trying week of my life (of recent memory). I was sick last weekend and I didn't bother to give myself enough time to recover. I've been exhausted, coughing, and drained all week. I didn't get my schoolwork done, I didn't perform in class, I left my Academic Hebrew course this morning completely defeated. I couldn't answer questions, I was distant, I was completely disengaged. This week has put a lot of things in perspective, including the fact that graduate school isn't what it used to be. By that, of course, I mean that I don't have the time or energy to engage in classes: I don't live on or anywhere near campus, I have an annoying commute, I can't be a part of the experience because I have obligations of, oh, you know, married life and being an adult. Basically, life's gotten in the way of my academic aspirations.

And now? I'm asking myself: Can I do this? Can I do this while married and being Suzy Homemaker?

When I was at UConn, I lived on campus and, yes, Tuvia and I were full-time dating, but there was this unspoken rule that school came first. I also didn't have to cook and clean and run errands and sit in traffic like I do now. It was easier.

And I've never been one who chooses easy over what I want. But now, I'm just wondering, am I asking for too much? Has HaShem handed me this impasse?

My sentiments about life in general right now are exacerbated by the fact that Jews around me are dropping like flies. By this I mean losing faith in "the system" and toying with hopping off the derech. Monkey sees, monkey does, right?

Lech Lecha, this week's Torah portion says. Go forth. To a land that I will show you, it goes. In a perfect world, I'd pick up and move to Israel and get my spiritual self re-organized. But, of course, like I said, life. I have a job and school and a husband and a life. A life that is too big for me right now. Time to regroup. Reexamine.

So, for me, right now, Lech Lecha means going forth to figure. it. out. It, of course, being me. And this all comes after the chagim. Shouldn't I have done this already? Then again, underconstructionism is my policy. A work in progress, always and forever. And the only direction, in my opinion, is up. There's no turning back at this point. There's no down, just forward and onward. 


Shabbat shalom, friends. May you find peace in your hearts, calm in your homes.