Well, friends, there's good news and bad news. Bad news: I have only five days left in Israel. Good news: I have five whole days left in Israel! I keep see-sawing back and forth between being sad and depressed about leaving, and being determined to enjoy all the time I have left here. Let me tell you, it's emotionally exhausting.
What will I miss most? The people, and the connectedness. How are those different? Well, there are many individual people in Israel whom I love--friends and teachers who each occupy their own little section of my heart. Additionally, aside from the people themselves, there is a larger sense of connection that I feel when I'm here, a sense of being part of a Jewish community, which is something that I don't often experience back at home.
My sense of belonging to a greater community in Israel is mostly thanks to the summer program at the Pardes Institute, which this year brought an exceptionally dynamic group of Jewish adults together to learn. I took two phenomenal classes: one on aggada, and one on the writings of Rav Soloveitchik. It was in this second class that I began to learn about the teachings of one of modern Judaism's great philosophers, and I was particularly impacted by the way he explained loneliness and connection.
Rav Soloveitchik writes:
"Quite often a man finds himself in a crowd among strangers. He feels lonely. No one knows him, no one cares for him, no one is concerned with him. It is again an existential experience. He begins to doubt his ontological worth. This leads to alienation from the crowd surrounding him. Suddenly someone taps him on the shoulder and says: 'Aren't you Mr. So-and-So? I have heard so much about you.' In a fraction of a second his awareness changes. An alien being turns into a fellow member of an existential community (the crowd). What brought about the change? The recognition by somebody, the word!" (from an essay delivered at the 78th annual meeting of the Conference of Jewish Communal Service)
Alone in a crowd among strangers...I feel like this often, which I don't think is all that unusual, but it's still an uncomfortable feeling. The beautiful thing about being in Israel, however, is that someone nearly always breaks through the loneliness and establishes connection. At Pardes, it happened when I walked in on the first day and was immediately overwhelmed by the huge number people milling about. As I looked around, I made eye contact with a staff member whom I knew from previous summers, and she came over with a warm, "Hel-lo!" and a hug. Connection established! Secure in the knowledge that I had been recognized, I felt brave enough to track down other familiar faces and even start conversations with some new people. A few days later, a woman with whom I'd exchanged about two words since the start of the program approached me and asked if I'd be her hevruta because she'd really been wanting to learn with me. Really? I thought. Why?! We did learn together, and I never found out why she'd wanted to, but it didn't matter--she had recognized me, we connected, and I wasn't just one anonymous person out of a hundred anymore; I was Somebody who mattered.
For me, being part of a larger community is one of the best parts about being in Israel. But, supreme introvert that I am, sometimes community gets to be a bit much and I need to scale it back. That's where friends come in. At home, I have a handful of acquaintances who are good for surface-level interactions, but only one really great friend. This is due in large part to the fact that during college and graduate school--prime friendship-making years--I was devoted nearly exclusively to my eating disorder and didn't have time, energy, or brain space to make friends. In recovery, my life has opened up considerably, but I still find making friends challenging due to some underlying issues (lack of confidence, social anxiety, etc) with which I'm still wrestling. In Israel, though, I get the chance to try things differently (I am on vacation, after all), and I have been rewarded with several precious friendships born out of genuine connection. I'm not sure exactly why it's easier in Israel...maybe it's because the relationships are facilitated by our shared love for Judaism; maybe it's because I'm braver here...but whatever the reason, the results speak for themselves. On this trip I was able to reconnect with all of my friends from previous years, but I also got lucky and made some new ones. We had long conversations (often on long walks) in which we talked about our journeys both in Judaism and in life in general. We aired our insecurities and found validation when the other person inevitably said, "Me, too!" Inside these connections, I felt seen in a way I rarely do, and it was an incredible feeling.
Rav Soloveitchik explains it this way:
"Friendship--not as a surface-relation but as an existential in-depth-relation between two individuals--is realizable only within the framework of the covenantal community, where in-depth personalities relate themselves to each other ontologically...In the majestic community, in which surface personalities meet and commitment never exceeds the bounds on the utilitarian, we may find collegiality, neighborliness, civility, or courtesy--but not friendship, which is the exclusive experience awarded by G-d to covenantal man, who is thus redeemed from his agonizing solitude." (Lonely Man of Faith)
So. As I prepare to leave this place that I love, I want to express my deepest gratitude to the people with whom I've felt those existential, in-depth connections. Thank you to Pardes for creating an environment and community in which such friendships can be born. Thank you to my true friends, old and new, for reaffirming for me the beauty of genuine friendship and showing me that I am capable--and worthy--of developing those connections. I will take the strength you've given me back home and try to use it to form some friendships there...because really, relationships are what make life in recovery worth living. And, b"H, may we meet again next year in Israel!
No comments:
Post a Comment