After 3 days of hiking on my desert survival trip, I am safe at home in Jerusalem, and am writing to finish my High Holidays post with the Yom Kippur Edition.
The scene was set before the ritual even started. After walking the 15 minutes to the shuk, we were redirected to a parking lot nearby, where as we got closer we observed dozens of chicken feet, and a weird smell exuding from the area. We walked up the steps into the parking lot, and it looked like an outdoor slaughterhouse with a stinky smell, blood on the floor, tons of people crowding around, and a few shochets (butchers) taking the chickens from the people who had just performed the ritual in order to shecht (kosherly kill) the chickens. Not to mention the fact that there were dealers selling squawking chickens all over the place, and de-feathering machines hidden off in the back. The most amazing, yet utterly disgusting, sight I saw was the actual shechting of the chickens by the shochets. I had never seen animals being killed, and although it was nerve racking to see the blood pour out of the chickens necks as they turned them over and threw them into a cone for draining, the process seemed to be very humane. Pick up the chicken, move the neck forwards, then backwards (to break the neck), delicately slit the neck, and then throw into an upside down metal cone for draining. The draining buckets were gross, but I decided not to focus on them.
To begin the ritual, we first needed to buy a chicken. I split the chicken amongst 4 friends, so we each paid 10 sheqalim, for a total of 50 sheqalim for the bird (50 sheqalim = $13.50). We then took our pictures, and started the ritual. Since I was the one that purchased the chicken from the dealer, I held it for a pretty long time before we started saying the brachot. Our chicken was pretty heavy, and holding it's wings back and holding it up in the air was neither pleasant for me nor it. I fought through it nonetheless. After we had all completed the ritual, let me note that it's very weird to swing an animal over your head, I picked up the chicken and brought it over to the shochet. I paid 10 sheqalim, and we watched in amazement as the life was drained from our "scapegoat". The deed was done.
Yom Kippur is the only major holiday this year that is not on Shabbat, so we had a open Shabbat that weekend to have for to ourselves. I decided to stay at base for Shabbat, and was invited by my Talmud teacher to have Shabbos dinner at her house. I decided to accept, and that decision really paid off; the food was incredible. To start off Shabbat, I ventured over to Shira Chadasha, the egalitarian Orthodox shul (yeah I know, sort of oxymoronic), located near Emek Refaim, a street in the German Colony, known for it's wide array of fancy restaurants and chic ice cream and sorbet shops. While the walk was a bit long, it was well worth it as the community was vibrant, melodically oriented, and peaceful. There was a mechitza, but it was more like a translucent cloth, with the davening table located at the front in between the mechitza. Despite the fact that woman leading Kabbalat Shabbat was particularly slow (and I don't particularly enjoy women leaders to begin with), her voice was beautiful, and the emotions in the shul were more than lifted.
After services, I found my teacher and traveled to her house with a fellow Yeshivabucher, along with her daughter Re'uti. The walk was a bit long, but it was well worth it. The food cooked by my teacher's husband, Amos, was out of control. The vegetable soup was thick, like pumpkin soup, but was comprised of many many vegetables in a perfect blend. The soup was extra hot, and the Shkedei Marak (soup nuts) were extra cold, frozen, to offset the soup. I would have been satisfied with just the soup, but next Amos brought out a deliciously marinated and spiced chicken with potatoes, rice, salad, potato kugel that tasted like my Grandma's potato latkes, and a multitude of other food items. To say that I was full after that "encounter" would be an understatement. After talking, enjoying the food, and benching, we concluded the night and started to head for home. Amos told us that the only way to thank them for the food was to come back again and eat some more, so of course, how could I decline. The walk was far, and I was pooped when we got home. Unfortunately, I missed the tisch, but found a group of friends talking outside that I decided to join. Man, was I full.
The next morning, I visited Sha'arei Shayna ("The Gates of Sleep") for davening, aka my bed. I was just so tired, and proceeded to have a restful, and peaceful Shabbos. I woke up just in time for lunch, ate, and then slept and chilled some more. An open Shabbos at base was just what I needed to help rejuvenate my body, and get prepared for Yom Kippur.
Yom Kippur was so much better than I had expected it to be. We ate pretty early, around 3:30, and tried to stuff our faces with as much food as possible to hold us over for the day to come. We were planning on going to New Deli, but unfortunately everything was already closed, so we were out of luck. The food at Beit Nativ was terrible once again, however, so even though I ate a lot and felt full, the sensation only lasted for about 5-10 minutes. Kol Nidre was an awesome experience. We visited Kol Rina, one of our favorite spots, and were once again impressed by the ruach and home feel. As is common with every one of my Kol Nidre experiences, I of course dosed off for a bit of the service. I'm glad that I didn't sleep for too long though, otherwise I would have missed out big time. The Selichos part of the night was really cool because they used familiar tunes for certain prayers. I recognized the tunes for Erev Shel Shoshanim and B'Shem Hashem embedded into the liturgy, and found it very easy to follow along and to participate. The service was beautiful, but wow was I hungry. It's a good thing my hunger subsided.
As we walked back towards Beit Nativ, we saw a large group of people crowded together in the middle of the main intersection next to our building. What I forgot to mention is that the streets close down on Yom Kippur, and that cars just don't drive. Not only is this true of the cars in Jerusalem, the religious bubble of the country, but of all Jewish cities. You can walk in the street, ride bikes (although according to Halakha you're not allowed to), ride skateboards, or just plain sit. As we approached the site, we realized that it was a large Nativ group singing Zemirot and dancing together. We quickly joined in. The Jerusalem Post chronicled the event after the Yom Tov:
SOME SIXTY members of Nativ, a youth affiliate of the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism in the United States, who are here on a nine-month study and leadership program, organized a Kol Nidre night happening in Jerusalem, by way of a kosher Woodstock at the conclusion of Kol Nidre services. Taking advantage of the absence of traffic, the youngsters sat in an enormous circle in the Agron-Keren Hayesod intersection and lustily sang Hebrew songs. People heading home from nearby Orthodox, Conservative and Reform congregations were attracted by the sound, and enthusiastically surrounded the singers who occasionally got up to dance in voluntarily gender-segregated circles. Smiles registered on the faces of the spontaneous audience, many of the people who stood around tapped their feet and clapped in time to the melodies, and some even joined in.The next day was full of davening, davening, and more davening, but on that day, I could not have been happier. Our shul of choice for Yom Kippur was the Ashkenaz shul at Yamin Moshe, where I had been once previously, and where we had met Nachum Binder's dad. We heard that he would be davening Musaf, and knew that we could not miss out. Amazingly, we were able to sit in shul from 7:30 to 1:15, without flinching, and felt extremely accomplished. The liturgy of the day seemed to take on a greater importance, and my Yom Kippur experience was highly enriched due to the fact that I was spending it in Jerusalem. Unfortuantely, when we left, I forgot my Machzor, but hopefully they will still have it for me the next time I visit.
Via JPost
At Beit Nativ, we slept, and then walked next door to the Masorti congregation for Ne'ilah and Ma'ariv. I was less than impressed, and to top it off, I was forced to sit on the balcony, where women commonly sit in Orthodox shuls. People were not there to pray, some men and women were touching each other inappropriately in the context of the day, and it was just an annoyance to be there. I'm really worried that Nativ is going to turn me off of Conservative Judasim all together, but Rabbi Roth, who spoke to us at Erev Nativ after Yom Kippur hopefully saved me. Finally break fast came, and we chowed down on cookies, crackers, and mini cinnamon rolls, while sipping juice and lemonade. It was an easy fast, but the food was just so good.
Never had my Yom Kippur been more meaningful, more spiritual, or just more beautiful in general. If you have never been to Jerusalem for the High Holidays, then I highly recommend it, and if you have never been to Israel in general, I think you know my thoughts on that point. All in all, Yom Kippur was awesome, and so was Kaparot. I've never been so happy with such powerful day.
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