Three Weeks In

So much to tell and yet I haven't found time until now to post a second update. Tomorrow marks the beginning of my 4th week in Israel, and yet there are still 3432324 things to do slash errands to run when my Hebrew classes end at 12:45pm every day!

I'm now in my second week of classes in Ulpan, and I've been really enjoying it so far. This particular program is designed for young adults approximately 23-33 so I'm pretty much smack dab in the middle. The directors have said there are about 150 students from 20 countries. In my class alone, we have other people from the States, but also Canada, the UK, France, Australia and Argentina, so it's a really nice mix. I can tell already that these five months will really do wonders for my vocabulary, not to mention my desire to be able to read and write at an academic level.

I've started to get to know some of the other students both in my class and the other classes, and one of them, a guy from LA named Jaymes was my bartender the other night at Mike's Place when I went to watch the AFC Championship game. Certainly in our class, we already have good rapport with each other, so the coming weeks and months should be enjoyable.

Starting next week, I'll be getting a new roommate, and while she might not respond to calls of "Issssberrrrrrttt!??!" the way Alex did, I'm very much looking forward to her moving in. It's a funny story (and for all of you who were on OTZMA with me, you'll find this particularly funny). because Sarah Cohen, while not related to me, was my former madricha or participant coordinator, when I was on OTZMA. She made aliyah several years ago, so she knows the country and the neighborhood better than I do, so once she moves in, we'll re-arrange some of the furniture, put some things up on the walls and the apartment will feel a little more settled.

What else? I'm in the process of finding a gym to join (one where I can rock out with my do rag and sweatbands) so I'm actually heading out for a test workout at a gym in town. And in case anyone is looking to call or wants to look me up on iMessage or What's App, my phone number is +972-50-70-20-552, or from inside Israel, 050-70-20-552.

Ani Oleh Chadash - I am a new immigrant

A few days into my journey as an oleh chadash, a new Israeli immigrant, the only word that comes to mind is "overwhelming." But as hectic and chaotic as a move like this is, it's landscapes like the one above that make it worth it.

Having mixed up the hours the Ministry of the Interior was open yesterday in order to get my teudat zehut, or national ID card, I decided to take a walk into the Old City for the first time since I landed. After all, how could I be in Israel for longer than three days and not go to the Kotel. I walked in through Jaffa Gate and continued into the Jewish Quarter. Weaving through the different alley ways and streets, I turned a corner and all of the sudden in front of me was the Mount of Olives, the Al Aqsa Mosque, the Temple Mount, and the Kotel or the Western Wall. Tears immediately welled in my eyes and I understood all over again why I came here. I walked down to the Kotel Plaza and joined people from all over the world marveling at this wonder that somehow has withstood multiple destructions as if it were the first time I had been there.

Thankfully, I have family and friends on both sides of the ocean who are incredibly helpful and supportive as I make this transition. I haven't spoken to a single Israeli family member or friend who has not said "let me know how I can help you" or "Come over for a meal or Shabbat" or "our house is always open." This past Shabbat, my relatives in Efrat greeted me with pints of Ben & Jerry's (four of them!) and lots of love, and I've gotten similar open arms embraces, both literally and figuratively, from every other person I've reunited with here.

And today, I tackled the next round of the famed Israeli bureaucracy, obtaining my teudat zehut, setting up an appointment with the local Ministry of Absorption to go over my rights as a new citizen, and opening up a new bank account. I may not be fully settled yet, but I'm on my way.

Something my aunt June reminded me of the other day, and that I thought about as well when I was packing my suitcases in Boston, was how fortunate we are to be living at the present moment in time with so many ways for global communication. Just over a hundred years ago, all eight of my great grandparents packed maybe one suitcase and boarded a ship bound for the United States, knowing they would likely never see the family they were leaving behind or visit their places of birth, nor might they find the family who had already come to the US. Meanwhile, I can call, Skype, Gchat and iMessage anyone anywhere and anytime, and I had the luxury of bringing four suitcases packed to the brim with clothes and other personal items, along with two additional carry-ons.

I can also share some of my experiences in this space, which I hope will be at least sometimes interesting, possibly humorous, and at the very least, a way to keep tabs on how I'm doing even when I can't see you all when I'd like to. Yalla balagan!

My Boston-Haifa-Jerusalem Connection: An Open Letter to the Boston Jewish Community

First of all - Thank You.

I have called Boston home for nearly all of my 27-plus years on this planet, and there are many individuals and organizations in this community to whom I will be forever indebted for contributions to my life too numerous to detail in this space. Of particular note are the three people closest to me - my parents, Ted and Meda, and sister Becca for their unconditional love and support.

In a couple of weeks, I will uproot my entire life and leave the only city I’ve ever truly known well in order to make Aliyah and move to Israel. I will leave family and friends behind in order to fulfill a dream, our dream, the dream of the Jewish people. Growing up, I was never that kid who knew what he wanted to be when he grew up – a doctor, a scientist, a lawyer.

The opportunity to become an Israeli, to live in and contribute to the Jewish culture and renaissance in the Land of Israel, something I know my ancestors prayed for and dreamt about, is my dream.

Those of you who know me well know that I love this country, and that there’s a reason the 4th of July is my favorite holiday (and not just because fireworks are one of my favorite things in the world). But ever since I got off a boat on the shores of Haifa for the first time when I was 15, I’ve felt a visceral, emotional attachment to Israel that has never been present with America in quite the same way (the trip with Camp Young Judaea in New Hampshire was designed to simulate the experience of those on the Exodus and other ma’apilim in the final years of the British Mandate). Like many aspects of the establishment of the State of Israel and the return of the Jewish people to our homeland, it defies a rational and logical explanation. The closest thing I’ve been able to come up with is the title of a book by the inspirational author, Daniel Gordis, "If A Place Can Make You Cry."

Two and a half years ago, I set out on another journey to Israel as a participant on a program called OTZMA, an experience that was at the same time similar yet also profoundly different to the one on which I am about to embark. OTZMA is a 10-month post-college community service and leadership training program run by The Jewish Federations of North America, and sponsored by MASA and locally by CJP and the Boston-Haifa Connection. I had the opportunity to live and volunteer in Ashkelon, Haifa and Jerusalem and to appreciate the many ways these three cities differ.

Since I was aware of the American bubble that surrounded the 38 of us throughout the year, I made a concerted effort to get outside of that bubble and to experience Israeli society as much as possible, spending chagim and many Shabbatot with my family, some of whom are sabras and others who are olim, some of whom are religious, and others chiloniim (secular).

A crucial piece of this effort was getting involved in the Boston-Haifa Connection, where I spent some of my time volunteering during the three months I lived in Haifa. Not only did I learn about all of the programs and activities the partnership funds and runs, but I also experienced the true power and value of the connection and the bonds formed between Bostonians and Haifaiim. The partnership’s Young Leadership Committee, which had just been started a few months earlier, greeted the four of us from OTZMA who would be living in Haifa with open arms and friendship. They took time out of their busy schedules to make sure we got to experience Haifa the way residents see it, whether that meant coming with them to the best bars and clubs on the weekend or for the best knafe in the German Colony.
As a direct result of the excellent education I received as an elementary and middle school student at Solomon Schechter in Newton, I speak Hebrew fluently with almost no trace of a foreign accent, which enabled me to get to know my peers in Haifa and elsewhere in Israel on a much deeper level than had I been forced to rely heavily on my English.

It was while I was in Haifa that I first realized Israel was not only the future of the entire Jewish people, but my future as well. This was a feeling that stayed with me, and by the end of my year on OTZMA, I was seriously considering Aliyah and went for an informational interview with Nefesh B’Nefesh, the organization tasked with Aliyah from the US, Canada, and the UK. But for the same reasons that I can’t quite explain my emotional connection to Israel, I am aware that it has an almost mystical hold over me and that this was a decision I needed to make from the US; if Aliyah was the right decision for me, it would be the right decision for me to make after four, six, eight or 10 months of being back the States.

And indeed it was and is the right decision for me, and I have had enough time to think about it and analyze all of it with a clear head. I’m under no pretenses that it will be easy. I’m notoriously bad at goodbyes, and the process I have already started of saying goodbye to family and friends has not been easy, nor will it get any easier in the coming days, or even once I’m settled in my new home.

There are many things I’ll miss about this town and about the incredibly vibrant Jewish community here. At CJP’s Young Adult Open House Party back in September, I stood at one corner behind the Boston-Haifa Connection Young Leaders table and marveled at how the gigantic banquet hall room was filled corner to corner with 50 different organizations that cater to young adults, and dozens upon dozens of young Jews trying to map them all out and find out what each is about. If you are young and Jewish in Boston, there is an organization or group for you. I will particularly miss the organizations I have worked the most closely with - The David Project, CJP, the Boston-Haifa Connection, AJC and AJC ACCESS and am looking forward to following their important work from Israel.

But for me, the road from Boston to Haifa continues on to Jerusalem, the eternal capital of our people. I have chosen it as my new home and am excited to explore the opportunities that await me and to make my contribution to the 21st century Zionism, for as we learn from Shammai in Pirkei Avot, “Say little and do much.”

L'hitraot B'Aretz,
Matt Cohen

This post was originally published by the Boston-Haifa Connection’s blog on JewishBoston.com.

I'm Baaaack

I am excited to be re-starting this blog as I begin a new chapter in my life, moving to Israel as an oleh chadash in just a couple of weeks. In the year and a half this space has been dormant since the end of OTZMA, I've had the opportunity to contribute to The David Project's online blog, as well as writing and editing the Boston-Haifa Connection's blog. I look forward to sharing my thoughts and adventures, and yes, all those "only in Israel" moments that are bound to pop up along the way. Az Yalla!

A Year of Opportunities

Amazing. Life-changing. Inspirational. I can think of a lot of words, almost all of them clichés, to describe my year in Israel, but naturally none can even begin to sum it all up. How can you describe the pure joy of dancing at the Kotel on Yom Yerushalayim? The satisfaction of standing on the banks of the Kinneret after completing the Yam L’Yam hike? The ability to spend time with and get closer to my Israeli relatives? The amount of information I’ve learned about Judaism, Israel, and myself?

I have spent the past 10 months living in Israel as a participant on OTZMA, a post-college community service-based program sponsored by The Jewish Federations of North America, the Jewish Agency for Israel and MASA. OTZMA’s structure afforded me the opportunity to live in three different cities – Ashkelon, Haifa, and Jerusalem – and to learn what daily life is like in Israel in these very distinct places. While there are certainly plenty of cultural things I’ve had to adjust to (the Sunday-Thursday work week, the complete chaos that is a line at the supermarket), I have enjoyed each and every day I’ve had here.

I love the energy and vibrancy of this country, as well as the amazing calm and tranquility that come every Friday, 18 minutes before sundown. I love that a couple of weeks ago, the driver of the Egged bus I was on stopped in the middle of the street to pick up a hand-delivery of freshly baked rugelach. I love how I’m constantly being challenged to think about what being Jewish means to me and to re-consider my level of observance. I love how despite going years since actively pursuing any kind of Torah or Tanach study, the things I’ve experienced and the Biblical connections to the places I’ve visited make it impossible for me not to re-engage in our wealth of religious sources.

One of my favorite parts of OTZMA has been the education component, which has allowed us to learn about the wide range of domestic and foreign issues facing Israel and to meet with both government policymakers and NGO representatives. We’ve traveled all around the country, from Har Ben Tal in the Golan to Sussiya and the southern Hevron Hills to Yerucham and the Negev. We even had our own mock “Camp David 2010” conference to study in-depth the major final status issues surrounding the peace process. Each of these sessions, seminars, and trips has left me wanting to learn more, adding books and other resources to my “to read” list.

While I’ve gotten into my fair share of debates and arguments about some of the major political issues, it’s only by being a part of a community that I’ve began to truly understand the real challenges facing Israelis in their day-to-day lives. In Haifa, for example, I helped teach a television production class to high school students with behavioral issues, and I was able to see how this kind of educational approach can spark these kids to turn their lives around. I also got to work with Ethiopian Israelis in both Ashkelon and Haifa and learned about the difficult balance between preserving Ethiopian culture and absorbing or assimilating into Israeli culture.

It’s been fascinating to talk to all kinds of Israelis about life here. Whether religious or secular, Ashkenazi or Sephardi, third-generation or oleh chadash, Israelis care deeply about the future of their country, and as anyone who’s spent time here knows, they hold nothing back when it comes to their opinions of how best to move forward. And the great thing is there are people truly working to change and improve life here. During my two months as an intern at The Jewish Federations of North America’s Israel office, I’ve had the opportunity to see how American and Israeli philanthropy supports social change all over Israel. Just as it is in the United States, the gap between rich and poor in Israel has become a huge problem, and it’s critical to the country’s future that there are significant resources going to aid young adults find affordable housing, provide better after-school enrichment programs for youth-at-risk, and boost economic development in the Negev.

As the campaign to de-legitimize Israel grows, it’s become increasingly important for Jews everywhere, and specifically young Jewish adults, to consider everything Israel has given to us and to the rest of the Jewish world in just over 62 years of existence. For the first time in literally thousands of years, the Jewish people have a country of our own, one where we can decide our own future and live freely as Jews. For generations upon generations, our ancestors prayed for the return to Jerusalem and to this land, and now that we have it, it’s our individual and collective responsibilities to ensure its success.

A century ago, the original Zionist chalutzim came here and settled and built the land. They drained the swamps, developed an infrastructure and gained international recognition for the re-establishment of a Jewish state. The generation that followed paid a heavy price to defend the nascent state over years and decades of wars and also played a crucial role in developing and transforming the country’s economy. The challenge set forth to me and my generation is to figure out how we will continue their Zionist ideals and what we will do to ensure that Jewish life continues to flourish, not only in Israel, but in the Diaspora as well.

Like many of my fellow OTZMAnikim, one of the reasons I came here was to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. After graduating from college and working for three years at what had been my dream job, I realized my real passion lies with the Jewish people and with Israel. This year has re-affirmed that feeling as well as my commitment to finding a career that helps me do my part to strengthen the Jewish community.

I want to take this opportunity to thank the people and organizations who have made this experience possible for me: The Jewish Federations of North America, MASA, and Combined Jewish Philanthropies in Boston for their support of the OTZMA program as a whole and their financial contributions towards my personal participation. The OTZMA staff has worked tirelessly to provide us the best possible experience, coordinating some amazing education seminars and what I’m sure will be a memorable final tiyul. I also want to thank my fellow OTZMAnikim, without whom this year would have been a lot more difficult. We should all be proud of the amazing work we’ve done as individuals and as a group, and of the way we’ve become a family, celebrating holidays together and supporting each other through the hard times along the way. You’ve all challenged me, kept me smiling, and yes, provided me with tons of ice cream, and for our experience together this year, I feel truly blessed.

Originally written for The Federation Connection Blog of The Jewish Federations of North America.

Yam L'Yam/Sea To Sea

Somehow we did it. This past weekend, Jeremy, Sam, Brett, Ari and I completed the cross-country hike known as Yam L’Yam, or Sea To Sea. The hike took us from Israel’s western coastline of Yam HaTichon/the Mediterranean Sea, to its eastern border of Yam HaKinneret/Sea of Galilee, a 65+ kilometer hike (40 miles, not counting the inclines and declines, including Israel’s 2nd-highest mountain, Mount Meron of 1208 meters).

It was without a doubt the most physically challenging and mentally demanding thing I’ve ever done. There were many moments along the way where I was tempted to quit and others where I didn’t think we’d be able to finish the hike. But we did, and I’m very proud of this accomplishment.

We left Jerusalem Thursday evening with all of our gear – clothes, sleeping bags, tents, food, cooking supplies, and 6 liters of water a person. Picking up the bags was not an easy task. Boy would it be fun to strap them to our backs and start hiking with them. Well that’s what we did a few hours later. We got off the train in Nahariya, and hiked through the city and down the beach to our pre-hike camping spot for the night. The actual trail didn’t begin for another few kilometers but we wanted to make sure to get a solid night’s sleep.

After waking up around 5:30am, our first Manbreakfast of granola, Captain Crunch, and some nuts took place shortly thereafter. By 6:45am we filled a symbolic small bottle with water from the Mediterranean and we were off. After a few kilometers, you know, just for fun, we got to the beginning of the trail at Achziv, which is well identified because it takes you through a banana grove. The big adjustment for day one was dealing with the giant weight on our backs. But as you’ll be able to see from the pictures, the views and scenery were gorgeous, so at least we had that going for us.

We stopped for lunch near the base of Montfort, a Crusader fort somehow built atop a pretty steep mountain. Our Manlunch consisted of peanut butter and chocolate spread sandwiches, some salami, and apples. After lunch, we ventured through the first of several foresty trails cutting around and through little river streams and very green foliage. But as would be the theme with every day, the last leg was the hardest. We had a mountain and then some to climb to get to the end of our day’s hike. The initial incline was a quite a workout, but after about half an hour of steady climbing and several “I can feel it’s right around this corner” comments, we were all feeling pretty frustrated. But finally we got to the top of the nature reserve and exited to the road at the trail head.

Now this was where we expected to find our water source and campsite easily. Neither were to be found, but we checked the map and found the town of Abirim was right down the road, so we headed there at least to find some water. Just before reaching the gates, we met a man walking by us who had spent a few years studying in Santa Barbara, California. He invited us into the tiny town of 40 families to grill near the little park area just beyond the gates and to camp right there. The water tap was literally a stone’s throw away from our campsite so we couldn’t have been happier. We threw down our bags and started putting together some dinner, cutting up peppers, onions, potatoes and sweet potatoes, adding some beans, wrapping them together in a foil and tossing them on the grill. The dinner was cooked to perfection and tasted great after a very long day of hiking. And then at the unbelievably late hour of 8:45pm we headed to bed to prepare for Day 2.

We packed up early in the morning and left Abirim, and for the first portion of the day we were doing some highway hiking, going through the towns of Fesutah, Elkosh and Hurfesh. Despite having to walk along the side of the road for several kilometers, it was an interesting landscape passing through an Arab, a Jewish and then a Druze town. Just past Elkosh we picked up a hiking trail and all of the sudden we were back to the beautiful forest hiking we all love about the north.

Our goal for the day was to get to the base of Mount Meron by 2pm, to give us enough daylight to climb the mountain, enjoy the view and the experience, hike back down and set up camp. We set a great pace for the first part of the day, so we got Meron according to schedule, re-filled our waters and joined the Israel Trail, the hiking trail that goes from Tel Dan near the Lebanese border all the way down to Eilat (on our third day, as we were going south, we passed by a few different hikers who had in fact started in Eilat and who had almost made it across the length of the country…talk about an accomplishment). But back to us…When faced with a 300 meter ascent over the course of just one kilometer, there’s only one thing to do: power through it as quickly as you can.  This was a perfect example of a time where I didn’t know how I was going to push through. After ten minutes of really booking it up the mountain, my legs were gassed, but since my friends were still moving, I was still moving. But as is usually the case with these situations, the view from the top was worth it. Even though there was a bit of a haze, we could see a good part of the north, including the city of Tzfat, which was really cool because when we were there for the 2-week Livnot program, we could see Meron from the balcony, and now we had switched spots.

It took a bit longer than we anticipated to descend and to get to our campsite, but we did have enough time to gather our wood and set up our tents for the evening while it was still light out.  There was a bit of a scare when we were sitting around the table finishing up dinner and could see a fox in the not too distant bushes waiting for us to clear out so he could eat our food. So we made sure to bring every last bit of food scrap to the dumpster by the water tap across the way from our camp site and Mr. Fox was never to be seen again.

Day 3 began great – we hiked through Nahal Amud and wound up joining up with a portion of a hike we had done together back in December while we were on Livnot. There was a particular bridge crossing over the river where we had stopped for a chevruta, or learning session, on that hike, and so we took a break at that same bridge in honor of Livnot (and wrote a little note for the current Livnoters who will be doing the hike in the next couple of days).

But as Nachal Amud turned into Nahchal Amud Tachton, things took a dicey turn. Our pace, which had been really quick for the first couple of hours, quickly ground to nearly a halt as we dealt with some really tricky climbing up and down. The hardest part was not really knowing how many kilometers we’d gone since the last landmark on the trail, since most of our hiking was up and down the wadi instead of steady forward progress.

We took a break for our last manlunch and re-charged our batteries. Within 45 minutes, we had reached Highway 85 and knew we were entering the homestretch, the final 10 kilometers of Yam L’Yam. The trail took us underneath the highway and for me, through the toughest stretch of the hike. By this point, I had drank 4 of my 6 liters of water and knew I needed to keep drinking to avoid getting dehydrated on the hottest day of our hike. It sure didn’t help that the majority of this next stretch would be in the open sun with very little shade. Thankfully the rest of my friends had water to spare and made sure I had enough water.

After about 2.5 or 3 kilometers of hiking at a good pace, the terrain became our enemy again. We entered a section that was absolutely beautiful to look at, but that slowed our pace considerably.  Assessing the situation, and accounting for the fact that we not only needed to get to the Kinneret while it was still light, but that we needed to get to Tiberias to catch the bus back to Jerusalem, we decided to change course and get to the upcoming highway and take the highway to the Kinneret, as opposed to staying on the Israel trail until the town of Ginosar on the water.

But once again, we had no way of telling how far away from that turnoff we were. Finally, we turned a corner and could see power lines, signaling the highway and civilization couldn’t be far. And sure enough, a few steps later, we could see the highway. We got up to the highway, took a break, and knew we were less than an hour away from our goal. We began the final journey, and as we cleared the first hill on the highway, the Kinneret came into sight for the first time, and it had never looked more beautiful. Talk about a morale boost, to be able to see our goal right in front of us, the city of Tiberias on the right, the Golan Heights on the other side of the water. I felt the excitement build as we got closer and closer to the water.

We stopped at a gas station to refill our water and then set off for the water, only because of our re-routing, we didn’t wind up at an area with a public beach. But from the map, there appeared to be several paths going from the main road down to the water. And to take the title of another Yam L’Yam blogger, we went from Bananas to Bananas, cutting through another banana grove to get to what we thought would be an open beach. It wasn’t, but after some weaseling, we found an open path and stood on the banks of the Kinneret.

After three long, tiring days, lots of trail mix and water, and perseverance, we made it. Ari emptied our little bottle of water from the Mediterranean into the Kinneret and it was an unbelievably satisfying moment for all of us, knowing we completed this very daunting and challenging journey across Israel.

Yom Yerushalayim: The Essence of Zionism

"Im eshkachech Yerushalayim, tishkach yemini"/"If I forget you, O Jerusalem, Let my right hand wither."

From the moment I first knew I wanted to come to Israel on OTZMA, I was excited about living in Tel Aviv for Part 3 – the beach, the big city, the food. I didn’t yet know what kind of internship I was looking for, but I figured I would find it in Tel Aviv.  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I needed to be in Jerusalem. It wasn’t just that the places that interested me most were here, although from a practical standpoint that certainly contributed to my decision. But the real reason lies in the importance of Jerusalem to the Jewish people. It is here that the two Temples stood, and to here that generations of Jews prayed to return, to this day facing Jerusalem and the Temple Mount specifically during prayer.

So it is this connection to Jerusalem that made celebrating Yom Yerushalayim so special. It began Tuesday night with the Yom HaStudentim/White Night concert in Gan Sacher featuring an odd yet entertaining lineup of Israeli and American bands, from Hadag Nachash to 70s funk band Kool and the Gang. But the real highlight was the sunrise performance by Ehud Banai, a Jerusalemite and one of Israel’s most well-known and respected singer/songwriters. The entire Banai family still lives in the city, and Ehud has written several songs about living here, particularly “1 Haagas Street” about his home right by the Machane Yehuda shuk.

Flash forward several hours to Wednesday evening and the unbelievable scene at the Kotel. Jews of all kinds – young, old, Ashkenazi, Sephardi, haredi, hiloni/secular – joined together, proudly hoisting Israeli flags and dancing at the the Kotel plaza, celebrating 43 years of the reunification of Jerusalem, and the ability of Jews to return to the Old City, something denied during the 19-year Jordanian occupation of the city from 1948-1967. Celebrating Yom Ha’atzmaut on the streets of downtown Jerusalem was great, but it didn’t compare to the emotion, the pure joy, that I experienced and watched everyone around me experience at the Kotel.

This is the very essence of Zionism – the right of the Jewish people to be free in our homeland, the State of Israel, and Jerusalem, the eternal capital of the Jewish people, and it’s no coincidence that the root of the word Zionism, Zion, is one of the Biblical names for Jerusalem.  We no doubt hold different opinions when it comes to politics, religion and how Israel should proceed from here, but the importance of Jerusalem to our past, our present, and our future couldn’t be more clear.