Hey everyone,
So I know that it's been almost a week since my last post, and I hope this can cover everything since. I spent most of today running around (which I love; staying put bothers me) with Brandon and a few of the other students who I've met. I started on a tour of the HUC campus which is lovely and quite airy and open.
After that, I made it back to this awesome cafe in nearby Mamilla (think the Miracle Mile but, incidentally, less Jews) that I went to when I was here in January, and managed not to throw up this time, a huge feat considering the last time I was there, I ordered this huge and seemingly delicious salad, but thanks to a bug that decimated our entire bus, the salad didn't last long. This time however, I had salad, fish and quinoa and all of it maintained its status as food rather than night-ruiner and toliet-pleaser. Everyone wins.
Anyway, onto the reason for the title of today's post. After a particularly grueling Hebrew exam and figuring out the financial logistics of my new apartment (oh yea, I have an apartment, which I'll be moving into in a few weeks; I will post photos of it soon) and just general homesickness, I had a general feeling of "this shit is too fucking hard." It should not be this hard; the Hebrew is tough, the money is tough, the acclimation is tough. What are they trying to prove? And then I realized...right. We are the future leaders of the Jewish community, if it wasn't hard everyone would do it. I guess they wanna weed out the truest of true.
Anyway, oy the point of the title. So while feeling lost today, I took a walk down to the Old City with some friends at dusk and we walked along this incredible view of East Jerusalem just as the evening call to prayer was being sounded for its Muslim residents.The muezzins were calling from everywhere for a solid 8 minutes. And yet, off in the distance, these kids were playing basketball as if nothing was happening. The last of the 5 calls to prayer of the day was being urgerntly sounded everywhere around the area, and these boys were envelopped in their b-ball game.
So why is this important? Why am I writing about some Muslim kids ignoring the call to worship? Later on, we went down to the Kotel - the Western Wall - just around our own call to prayer time and I prayed at times, but at other times I was just there; watching, observing, being. Just like those kids playing ball, I knew what was going around, but I was trying to find my own way around it. It's helping me to realize that I gotta make my own waves here; sometimes I will join in with the prayer, and sometimes I'll just keep playing ball on my own. I'm not sure where I am with it all yet, and it's still so hard, but I'm definitely trying to make waves.
You're all beautiful, I love you all, and my computer battery's about to die,
Ari