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Something that was consistent in most of the lectures today was how no one answered the questions we would pose. Whether we were hearing from a Palestinian Professor from the Center for Jerusalem Studies or an Israeli Professor from the Rothberg School for Overseas Students, they still all had their biases and the ability to evade answers.
For me the upsetting part about Dr. Nisan’s lecture was his generalizations. Like Marie said during the lecture, it’s unfair to make a generalization about an entire group of people. I don’t think it’s fair to say that all Israeli’s are unsympathetic to the Palestinian Refugee problem because if that was true there wouldn’t be organizations located in Israel trying to help the refugees. Even if UNRWA didn’t exist for all refugees at all times doesn’t mean it should exist for the Palestinians. I just disagree with his comment (or my interpretation of his comment) that the refugee camps perpetuate the problem since it gives the Palestinians hope that their will one day be a Palestine. I think that their is a problem with the fact that the camps have existed for so long. I also disagree with the fact that the city is not divided. The fact that he brought up how there are Arab students at Hebrew University that protest and wave Palestinian flags show that the city is not unified. It might all be under Israeli sovereignty but its not a united city with East and West integrated and working together therefore I don’t think you can say it’s not divided.
It was just upsetting because the day started off so great with us visiting the Dome of the Rock and al-Aksa Mosque Compound (Haram el-Sharif/Temple Mount), places I never thought I would have the opportunity to visit and ended on such a negative note with someone who I would describe as being so extreme that he turns many people to the other side.
– Eliana
Reposting my reaction to Nick’s earlier post at the request of Donna-
Yes. I had to get to the market at 6:50 am this morning in order to have the ingredients to cook the meal for tonight because everything was closed on Saturday! It’s really hard for me to grasp the concept of Shabbat, although our counselor Debbie Zimmerman was willing to explain some of the rules (work vs. play) today on our day trip to the Dead Sea. I don’t think emergencies cease just because of a Jewish holiday and the way that the entire city shuts down really puts me on edge.
Stores that don’t close on the weekend risk their business because religious Jews won’t go there, but I am wondering how giving nonreligious people business actually affects another’s religious practice. If you do not want to shop on the Sabbath than just…well… DON’T! Why would it matter if it was open on Saturday for others who do not share the same faith as you as long as you stuck to your guns, right?
Perhaps I am speaking too much out of frustration that I couldn’t buy chick peas earlier and not enough out of respect for a tradition I do not fully understand or have experienced before. Am I imagining it though? Doesn’t it seem like “they” (I wish I knew who “they” were) are trying to create a strictly Jewish “community” with attempts of social control by shutting down the city? Everyday I am seeing more and more ways that the traditions the majority have in Jerusalem are seclusive to the Jewish and ostracizing to anyone else. I’m also getting the sense that this is very intentional.
Luckily we have 10 more Shabbats to look forward to and better prepare for. Finding a taxi was extremely frustrating Friday night AND Saturday morning, so let’s just hope nobody gets hurt!
Rebekah
So I guess that Donna and Justin could have prepared us a little bit more for what that discussion was going to be like. Obviously, Nisan refused to have any sort of discussion about the issue. He refused to listen to what anyone had to say and made broad generalizations about an entire group of people. All personal feelings aside, I thought that some of what he said illuminated a bit about Jewish history and feeling.
Mainly, I want to talk about his feelings about the Dome of the Rock, which reminded me of Masada. In Masada, the whole idea was that the Jewish people would rather die than be put under slavery. Today, after the Holocaust (where so many Jewish lives were taken away), any Jewish life is precious. Sure, some could argue that it was the Jewish “cowardice” or compliance that allowed the Shoah (the Holocaust) to escalate so quickly, but I personally disagree with that. The Jews had never been exposed to the complete extermination of the Jewish people before; they had no idea how to react in this situation, and so they did what worked in the past: waited it out. Unfortunately, that wasn’t helpful during the Shoah. Back to Masada, I feel that one reason that the Israeli people gradually became so against the idea of suicide was because of the massive loss of Jewish life during WWII. (Of course, this is my own personal opinion). What it seems to me is that Nisan would have killed himself right along with the others on Masada. In his view, giving up the key to the Temple Mount was an act of cowardice, almost, because it wasn’t standing up for the Jewish people. Because it was allowing slavery over death, basically.
Apart from that, I have to mention the fact that Nisan is the most paranoid man I have ever met. Considering Yousef’s question of whether or not we were part of an Israeli settlement, it seems that it does go both ways. Maybe that’s why finding a solution is so hard: everyone makes broad generalizations and refuses to talk to each other.
Hannah
Hey! Are you bored with your capitalist nine-to-five routine? Do you need a break from urban decay or suburban mediocrity? Do you enjoy climbing on top of large stones, standing underneath waterfalls, and floating on a salty body of water? Then I have just the itinerary to recommend for you!
Yesterday was by far the most exciting adventure in our seminar. First we traveled East to Qumran, a large archaeological site and the hiding place of the Dead Sea Scrolls until 1947. We learned that mikvehs were a potential unifier among Ancient Jews, both zealot and high priest. Actually, I am exaggerating, but one thing is for certain: there are more mikvehs than falafels in Israel. Ritual purity was (and in some communities still is) a very important facet of Jewish religious identity.
Next, we went to one of the country’s biggest tourist sites: Masada, which contains a series of fortresses built by Herod in 37-31 B.C.E. on top of a mountain. I climbed on top of a few stone structures before a worker yelled at me to get down. Well sir, how else am I supposed to experience every possible perspective in GES301 if I can’t see things from a different angle? Furthermore, if you don’t want me to climb something, why do you leave it so damn climeable? Tighten your security, bro.
Afterwards, we went hiking in Nachal David. It was exciting, and unlike Masada cable cars, not crowded at all. There are several beautiful and refreshing water falls in this sight. Unfortunately, we could not explore the steepest waterfall, which was blocked off due to safety reasons: yet another example of how caution hinders recreation, adventure, and fun.
Finally, we ended the day with a trip to the mystical Dead Sea. This extremely salty body of water separates Israel from Jordan. What makes this saline sea so mystical? Well, everything that goes into it floats. I, of coarse, learned this the hard way and started panicking when I couldn’t stand. I had some pretty bad almost-drowning experiences as a child and I can barely swim. Luckily, our GES Jerusalem group is a diverse mix of talented and multifaceted individuals. Rebekah, CPR and lifeguard-trained champion swimmer rescued me and eventually I could float on my own. Later on, we covered ourselves in Dead Sea mud. Tip: save your shekels; you can get the mud for free by reaching underneath stony crevices.
When we got back to the student village, we cooked and ate dinner together. I love everyone in our group, I can’t believe people actually tolerate my existence. Anyway, Ayelet made a tasty salad, Sarah sauteed some zucchinis and onions, and Rebekah cooked us a delicious spicy chickpea and rice dish. For dessert, we had ice cream. Speaking of which, what do you call a dairy product that contains neither soy nor dairy? K-Parve!
-Karina
Photo Credit: Nick
Today I had an experience that prompted an internal debate over whether religion impedes modernity. I went to a clinic and needed medicine. However, all but two pharmacies in the area were closed for Shabbat. So, Justin and I had to travel by taxi to the western boundary of Jerusalem to a pharmacy that was on a road barely traveled. If this pharmacy were not open, we would have had to wait two hours for pharmacies to reopen when Shabbat ended. It was already inconvenient to travel half-way across town to get a prescription, but waiting two hours would have been way worse.
It is strange to me that Jerusalem is considered a modern state, but part of the health care system is inoperative during the weekend. I understand why many stores are closed during Shabbat, but it seems backwards and inefficient to close necessary stores such as pharmacies. What are people supposed to do in emergencies? I saw another man at the pharmacy that had also been at the clinic, which showed me that most Israelis don’t just wait for pharmacies to reopen. The demand for prescriptions obviously does not end with the workweek, so why has Jerusalem not adjusted to this? This experience reinforced my observation that although religion in Jerusalem is diverse, the culture tends to cater to conservatives. In broader terms, religion determines the functions of society. I think I am so used to the (so-called) separation of church and state in the U.S. that sometimes I lose sight of Israel’s history and political structure. I definitely want to learn more about the intersection of religion and politics and how that affects policymaking, especially in Jerusalem. When we visited Meah Shearim we learned a bit about how religion can interfere with the policymaking process. In this case it was clear to me that religion was interfering with modernity and advancements in the quality of life. However, I recognize that how I define modernity is radically different from the residents’ perspectives. Emerging in my mind as one of the top challenges Jerusalem faces is how to progress while simultaneously pleasing the secular and religious worlds.
Nick
So tonight was the first night we really cooked dinner in the apartment. The other nights we skimmed by with pasta or eggs or cereal. But tonight we decided to make the chicken we had bought at the supermarket and some zucchini. The zucchini worked out fine and was yummy. The chicken on the other hand presented some challenges. We had frozen the chicken for obvious reasons and had not planned ahead to defrost the chicken before wanting to cook it. To defrost the chicken we put it in the microwave. It seemed like it was taking forever (in reality only 10 minutes or so) so we put the microwave on a higher level to speed up the defrosting. But once we had done that we stopped checking the chicken. By time we checked the chicken again the edges were cooked and hard, and stuck to the plate. In the end we just cut the part off and carried on with our lives. The lesson learned tonight was to always plans ahead and defrost everything required for dinner ahead of time so that we don’t need to use the microwave for defrosting ever again.
~Sarah
I have been thinking about the relationship of community, religion and space/place. The point has been raised several times that if a place or space, such as many of the sights we have seen since being in Jerusalem, is believed to be where “something” of importance (in this case, I am referring to religious importance) took place then does it matter if that “something” actually happened there? The Via Dolarosa where Jesus carried the cross consists of 14 stations whose locations were marked by Helena, three hundred years after Jesus carried the cross. There is a debate among historians about if the places marked are the actual locations for where Jesus carried the cross. For the last nearly 2000 years people have believed that the stations marked are in fact the places where Jesus carried the cross, and fell, and got back up, and warned of impending doom and so does it matter if this happened somewhere else? I would think no. If the emotional connection that comes with believing and having faith in something is present then the place has great importance. This is the case with so many spaces/places here. Certainly, seeing the dedicated pilgrims carrying crosses, shedding tears and praying confirmed this for me.
There, of course, is the layer of politics. Living here today, and always, there are governments and borders and many other aspects that must be taken into account. These spaces are shared and contested. There is tremendous disagreement over religious legitimacy in terms of claims to a place/space between groups. Something which we will be exploring more in the coming weeks. This past week though we had a lecture on “Archeology and Political Claims over the Old City of Jerusalem” and received a booklet titled “Between Holiness and Propaganda” which discusses an effort to be unbiased when sifting through history.
If a place is important to the entire population of a religion doesn’t this alone make it holy?
Marie
I guess something that I have been noticing over the past week has been the way that people have used/are using the pronoun “we” to refer to a collective group of individuals. I don’t think my noticing has any real skeptical slant to it, but when our guides have used the word to refer to a group of people of which they believe they are included, I always wonder how extensive/comprehensive their “we” is. At first I thought it to be a minor thing, something interesting to notice, but not worth getting caught up over. When the woman who gave the virtual tour in the archeological gardens, for instance, mentioned a collective “we” that excavated and analyzed the site of the Temple Mount, I wondered what the extent of her contribution was, but didn’t think much of it. I was reminded of my mom and sports teams…whenever the 49ers win home games, she loves to call me exclaiming “we won!, we won!” My usual response, which I never fail to voice, goes something like this: “Who is we? You didn’t ‘win’ anything: the players did.” In my mind, my mom is not a part of the collective 49ers thus, she did not win any game. Indeed when I go to the 49er website, and hit the “team” tab, her name shows up nowhere on the roster; when I google image the team, neither her face, nor that of any other fan for that matter, is anywhere to be found. In my mother’s eyes, she, as a fan, is inextricably tied to the team, regardless of whether or not her contribution to its successes/failures are visible. My mom’s identification with the team, from her perspective, shows a sense of comradery that transcends the traditional boundaries between the individual “I” and the collective “we.”
While there are some blatant differences that exist between the identification with sports teams and the identification with archaeologists/historians/politicians/communities/societies/nations, there are, perhaps, some noteworthy similarities. A point that Barbara Mann addresses in Tel Aviv’s Rothchild is the way that the private life is formed in the midst of a culture straddled with a commitment to collective ideals and experiences. While she was referring specifically to the urban developments in Tel Aviv, the idea, I think, can be abstracted from Tel Aviv as a particular region and applied, perhaps, to Israel as a whole. Is this a stretch? I guess I am interested in the way that individual narratives are enmeshed in the fabric of collective identities. Where does the first begin and the latter end? How do the two enrich/hinder each other?
Kamilah
“Now just so you know, everyone in Tel Aviv hates Jerusalem.”
Those were the first words uttered by J.Cam as we stepped off the taxi bus in the lively coastal city of Tel Aviv. By the end of our day, the statement had pretty much been proven true. Everyone we met and talked to did not shy away from expressing their distaste for the city we’re residing in this summer.
Our waitstaff’s opinion was pretty much clear on the issue:
“Jerusalem? Why would anyone want to stay there?”
“Oh no, Jerusalem?” (shaking her head) “Not my style, too religious.”
“Eww, boring.”
In spite of their proximity, Jerusalem and Tel Aviv are two very different cities. A commonly heard generalization is that Jerusalem is “historic” whereas Tel Aviv is “modern”. Today we went on a brief walking tour of Tel Aviv and saw several cases where Jerusalem influenced early architecture in Tel Aviv, as seen in mosaics. However, towards the end of the tour our guide, Barbara Mann, mentioned that Tel Aviv has a record number of Bauhaus and Art Deco-inspired buildings, something that is pretty uncommon in Jerusalem.
 Tel Aviv doesn’t have as large and influential of an Orthodox Jewish population as Jerusalem. Few people on Rothschild Boulevard paid any mind to observing codes of modesty. Tel Aviv was named “the gay capital of the Middle East”. Some inside sources (a.k.a. our neighbors next door) told us that Tel Aviv Pride is a great celebration to attend, wheras Jerusalem Pride is more of a political statement (and a stone throwing match). Maybe Tel Aviv does appear more secular on the surface, but who is to say that the depth of someone’s religiousness can be measured just by looking at their clothes, mannerisms, and behaviors?
When Nick and I walked to Jaffa in the afternoon, I compared Tel Aviv residents’ Now before I sign off and call it a night, I shall leave you all with this treasure. Behold! Eliana and Sarah’s dinner creation: strong dislike of Jerusalem to that of New York towards New Jersey (speaking from personal experience as someone who grew up in NYC then moved to NJ). Similarly, New Yorkers often call NJ “boring”. Perhaps I’m going off on a tangent, but to answer the criticism of Jerusalem, the “Holy City” is anything but boring. Sure the party scene is nothing like Tel Aviv (especially during Shabbot); but there is so much to do and see in this place that I worry that three months here is simply not enough time. In any chase, it’s understandable that Tel Aviv or Jerusalem is not everyone’s cup of coffee slushie. This is why we’re planning a group trip to Haifa in June!
Now before I sign off and call it a night, I shall leave you all with one more treasure. Behold Eliana and Sarah’s creation:
The chicken was defrosting in microwave but it started cooking instead. To be fair, Sarah did redeem herself and fried it to a crisp perfection (well Hannah and I wouldn’t know because we’re strict vegetarians but it looked pretty great afterwards). Now to get the chicken smell out of our apartment…hmm…
-Karina
We haven’t even been here for a full week and already I’m finding it difficult to truly encapsulate everything we’ve done so far. Although, if I absolutely had to, I would say everything about this past week has been totally surreal – I can’t believe that I’m here, that just about a week ago I was still wrapping up my finals back in Northampton, how shocked, inspired, excited and provoked I am about everything we’ve been seeing.
In particular, I’ve been thinking about how my definitions of so many things have expanded since we arrived. For one, this whole experience is so vastly different from any other ‘class’ I’ve taken, even though, it technically is one. Don’t get me wrong – I’ve learned a lot – sometimes more information than I can handle at once, but ‘studying’ here in Jerusalem, which is so unlike any other city in the world – obviously offers opportunities that we would never have in a classroom, as well as immense challenges. Being so immersed in both history and modern culture simultaneously (a few days ago we saw the City of David and discussed life in First Temple era Jerusalem, today we explored contemporary Tel Aviv architecture) can be completely overwhelming, but I can help but be completely blown away by it all. Not to mention that the nature of living, studying and constantly walking around this city means having to balance both the massive amount of information I’m receiving from professors, lecturers, tour guides, classmates and surroundings while also having to think about what to pack for each day, which shoes I can wear all day that will least aggravate all my blisters, how often to reapply sunscreen (clearly the amount of sunburns I’m currently sporting prove that I’m failing on this part), how I can make dinner without burning down the building and whether or not I should actually unpack all my suitcases at some point.
Second, although we might have just happened on the furthest place from Smith ideologically speaking, the Smithie/SWG major in me is constantly thinking about how much my perceptions of identities – especially my own – are being challenged. Jerusalem is a city of such sharp contrasts – among religions, cultures, genders – that I can’t help but thinking of where I actually belong in this equation. Although I’m technically a natural-born Israeli, I always feel like I’m a completely American tourist so much of the time here. Although I’m Jewish, seeing the residents of Meah Shearim has almost made me question the fact that we even have that in common. Before I left I set out to approach everything and everyone I encounter with an open mind, but I never thought I would have to approach myself in the same way.
Now that I’ve gotten all of these feelings out of my system (hey, you can take the girl out of Smith but you can’t take the Smith out of the girl), I will just say that I am really excited and just a little bit anxious about our further adventures.
-Ayelet
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