Yom Kippur

October 9, 2008
Yes, I'm typing on Yom Kippur. What can I say? The competition for computer time diminished so suddenly that I couldn't help myself. It is an important holiday though. Even in the Mishmar Hasharon Bubble the atmoshpere has felt different since the fast started after dinner at 4:00 p.m. today. After our exceptionally early dinner (lunch was at 12:30...ugh), small groups of people made their way through the kibbutz to the back gate that separates us from the moshav directly behind us, Kfar Chaim. (a moshav is a sort of closed community, I'm not sure exactly what defines it, yet)

The synagogue that most kibbutznikim (members of the kibbutz) attend is more conservative than what I'm used to: we women squished into our space separate from the men, behind the mechitzah (the curtain or barrier that marks the separation), everyone in long pants or skirts and covered shoulders. Throughout the service various older women would reach over my, and my friend Miriam's, shoulders to flip the pages of our prayer book and direct our attention to the correct spot. It was an Ashkenazi service and therefore more familiar to me than some of my Sephardi friends, but almost none of the tunes and rhythms were familiar, especially when the congregation would start a phrase in sync with the rabbi, strong and spirited, and then suddenly drop into a chorus of incomprehensible mumbling, everyone finishing the prayer at their own speed. Couldn't quite catch on to that part.

I contented myself instead by looking around at all the interesting faces and outfits, as the service progressed I realized that more and more people had gathered outide the small temple (there were about twenty women actually inside the building) and were sitting facing the open windows and doors, but clearly socializing. I was also considering how, based on this service, I could explain to one of my fellow ulpanists why, as a girl who grew up with reform jewish traditions, it feels belittling and at times demeaning to experience a service from behind a mechitzah. It definitely has something to do with the fact that at five and a half feet tall, I could see only the rabbi's head, the top of the ark doors, and a fuzzy version of the rabbi's face through the curtain as he delivered his sermon. Miriam's about Michelle's height (debatably five or five one:), and probably couldn't see anything.

Miriam and I headed back to our rooms and changed into our usual comfy-kibbutz-no-one-to-impress clothing, grabbed some shekels, and moseyed down to the gas station just in case it was open and we could pick up some chocolate to complete our planned feast: pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds and...chocolate. But of course it wasn't open! Nothing is open on Yom Kippur. There are no cars on the roads, except the occasional patrolling police car, but other than that this is a bicycle holiday. Groups of local high shcool kids and some families were cruising around on their bikes ten minutes after the service, and tomorrow bikers will be gathering all over the country. We wandered down the center of the highway for a bit, just because we could, and then came back to ulpan to find all of the fasters wrapped up in an uncharacteristically innocent game of Monopoly. It's amazing to walk down an empty road and imagine that most of this entire country is quieter today.

The vibes around here started to shift even before the fast began. Hebrew class starts at 7:30 every other day, and usually our teacher, Orna, will mercifully decide to talk to us during that first hour before breakfast, instead of jumping right in with worksheets and questions. This past Monday she spent that time conveying the circumstances that led to the Yom Kippur War in 1973, a month after she had officially begun her army service at 18 years old. As a new soldier, she was given a list of names of soldiers who had been killed, and her job was to inform people as they called into her base whether or not their son/daughter/cousin/brother/sister etc. was alive. She told us this as a way to illustrate why this war was so traumatizing overall and has had such a significant and long lasting effect on Israel's mentality and attitude. In Israel, even with a detatched or non religious approach, it's impossible to avoid the stories and memories that emerge on days like today.
Gmar Chatimah Tovah
Az