whats your story blog selections 2009-2010

4
Northwestern.NewVoices.org www.NUHillel.org/whatsyourstory Selections from NU Hillel’s What’s Your Story? blog 2009-2010 Launched in November 2009, Fiedler Hillel’s What’s Your Story? blog aims to sustain a vibrant online environment where Jewish students, alumni, faculty, parents, and prospective families connected with Northwestern University can tell and share meaningful stories of Jewish life. In a pioneering partnership with New Voices Magazine, beginning in September 2010 the blog will be cross-posted at both www.NUHillel.org/ whatsyourstory and northwestern.newvoices.org. Students, alumni, parents, faculty, and friends of Jewish life at Northwestern are welcome to read and comment on the posts on the site. Students and alumni interested in blogging for the project should contact blog editor Coco Keevan ’12 ([email protected]). The development of Fiedler Hillel’s What’s Your Story? blog has been generously supported by a grant from the Covenant Foundation. What’s Your Story? Staff 2009-2010 Editor: Irene Klotz ’82 Bloggers: Zoe Fox ’11, Esther Gibofsky ’07, Alex Hayes ’11, Alex Ilyashov ’10, Sarah Weissman ’11, Jonah Newman ’12, Jodi Savitz ’11, Robert Susi ’11, Project Supervisor: Rabbi Josh Feigelson About the What’s Your Story? blog Booklet printing by Quartet Digital Printing.

Upload: fiedler-hillel

Post on 21-Mar-2016

219 views

Category:

Documents


0 download

DESCRIPTION

Selections from NU Hillel's Whats Your Story blog.

TRANSCRIPT

Northwestern.NewVoices.orgwww.NUHillel.org/whatsyourstorySelections from NU Hillel’s

What’s Your Story? blog2009-2010

Launched in November 2009, Fiedler Hillel’s What’s Your Story? blog aims to sustain a vibrant online environment where Jewish students, alumni, faculty, parents, and prospective families connected with Northwestern University can tell and share meaningful stories of Jewish life. In a pioneering partnership with New Voices Magazine, beginning in September 2010 the blog will be cross-posted at both www.NUHillel.org/whatsyourstory and northwestern.newvoices.org.

Students, alumni, parents, faculty, and friends of Jewish life at Northwestern are welcome to read and comment on the posts on the site. Students and alumni interested in blogging for the project should contact blog editor Coco Keevan ’12 ([email protected]).

The development of Fiedler Hillel’s What’s Your Story? blog has been generously supported by a grant from the Covenant Foundation.

What’s Your Story? Staff 2009-2010

Editor: Irene Klotz ’82

Bloggers: Zoe Fox ’11, Esther Gibofsky ’07, Alex Hayes ’11, Alex Ilyashov ’10, Sarah Weissman ’11, Jonah Newman ’12, Jodi Savitz ’11, Robert Susi ’11,

Project Supervisor: Rabbi Josh Feigelson

About the What’s Your Story? blog

Booklet printing by Quartet Digital Printing.

Submitted by Jonah Newman on Thu. 03/25/2010, 06:52 PM

Our group of 14 Northwestern students came to Lafayette Square after three long days of painting houses and seeing the devastation and destruction that still lingers more than four and a half years after Hurricane Katrina ravaged the city. On Monday, we toured the Lower Ninth Ward, one of the hardest-hit sections of the city and one which will almost certainly not bounce back; each day on the way to our work sites we have seen Katrina’s impact -- dilapidated buildings, abandoned houses with boarded-up windows, spray-painted X's indicating that the police checked the building for dead people. Even while we work to paint the outside of houses damaged by the storm I feel like the new coat of paint will only temporarily cover up the much deeper damage of the storm: a loss of community, a loss of trust, a loss of self-worth.

But we’ve also seen signs of hope: the Brad Pitt project that is trying to rejuvenate the Lower Ninth; the hundreds of young people working (more often, volunteering) to make the city a place worth living; most of all, the pride and enthusiasm yesterday afternoon at Lafayette Square.

For me, the power of Passover has always been in the way that it celebrates freedom while reenacting and reimagining slavery in the past and in our own life. During the Maggid section of the seder, we say “This year we are slaves, next year may we be free” during the Ha Lahcma Anya and then sing “Avadim Hayinu” – We were slaves in Egypt but now we are free.” The Seder—and Pesach itself—revolves around this contradiction: even as we celebrate our freedom and redemption from Egypt we are always fighting the forces of slavery in our present lives. In some interpretations, we cannot be fully free until everyone is free. In others, the privilege of freedom opens up new opportunities to enslave ourselves.

I haven’t seen this juxtaposition so tangibly anywhere else as I have in New Orleans. Even as people here come together to celebrate their freedom at "Wednesday in the Park" or Mardi Gras or Super Bowl parties, they are enslaved by the absence of their neighbors, family and friends who haven’t returned, and possibly never will. Even as New Orleans rebuilds, it is enslaved by a lack of infrastructure and levees that are no stronger than they were the day before Katrina hit.

On the other side, even as people still struggle -- four and a half years later -- to put the pieces of their lives back together, they find occasion for hope and pride in a city that is truly unique. As Father Bill, a life-long New Orleans resident and pastor at an Episcopal Church here, said to us on Monday: “New Orleans is a weird city; here we celebrate both life and death.” You could easily substitute slavery and freedom. This city, more than any other, understands that these two are not opposites, but rather go hand-in-hand.

Slavery and Freedom in New Orleans

NU Hillel’s What’s Your Story? blog 2009-2010 NU Hillel’s What’s Your Story? blog 2009-2010

Submitted by Zoe Fox on Thu. 04/15/2010, 02:17 PM

Beginning right after Passover, Israel enters an extremely emotionally charged week. Monday marked Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day, next Monday is Yom Hazikaron, Memorial Day, and Tuesday is Yom Ha’atzmaut, Independence Day. Having attended Jewish Day School my whole life, this week packed with holidays is something I’ve grown up observing; however, the vibe in Israel is truly unique.

I’ll admit I still confuse American Memorial Day with Labor Day, probably reflecting the lack of significance of both days to me. Both are long weekends with major sales and congested highway

traffic towards the beach. Memorial Day in Israel is the polar opposite. On both Yom Hazikaron and Yom Hashoah a siren rings throughout the entire country at ten am. Teachers stop their lessons, businessmen stop their meetings and cars and busses stop their routes. The entire country stands together in a meaningful minute of reflection, with undisputed personal and national significance.

Needless to say, being part of a multi-million person freeze in time is a powerful experience. However, this week in particular it is important to me to have experiences that make me feel included in the national sentiment.

Last night I got the opportunity to volunteer with an incredible grass roots organization, Standing Together. The organization’s mission is to show Israeli soldiers that Jews around the world appreciate their service to the Jewish state. Three of my friends and I rode to a small military base by a West Bank settlement outside of Jerusalem to prepare pizza bagels and kettle corn for the unsuspecting unit of forty soldiers. We spent the evening playing soccer, trying on military uniforms and most importantly providing the forty stressed soldiers with a much needed break from army mode. After we left the base we made a second stop at a check point, making more food deliveries and having a spontaneous dance party with a female soldier who was exactly our age.

The most important part of the experience for me was being able to put faces on the soldiers who are engaged in the much-conflicted Israeli presence in the West Bank. While I often find myself questioning IDF and Israeli government decisions, it was moving for me to see soldiers who I can consider my peers at work for the Jewish people as a whole

Standing Together

NU Hillel’s What’s Your Story? blog 2009-2010

Submitted by Robert Susi on Mon. 02/22/2010, 09:53 AM

Buried in the Book of Numbers is the story of Balaam, a messenger/divine interpreter sent by Balak, the king of Moab, to curse the Israelites who had just recently settled in the land of Canaan. Fearing that the Israelites, given their massive numbers, would eventually grow to take over Moab, which bordered Canaan, Balak says to Balaam, “Come now, curse this people for me, since they are stronger than I perhaps I shall be able to defeat them and drive them from the land.” (Numbers 22:6) Following Balak’s orders, Balaam goes to find God, in order to ask that he curse the Israelites. As it is put in the Book of Numbers, God reveals himself to Balaam, at which point Balaam relays the message that Balak had instructed him too. God replies “You shall not go with them; you shall not curse the people, for they are blessed.”

With this response from God, Balaam returns to the court officials who accompanied him and informs them he cannot curse the Israelites. After relaying the message to Balak, another group of court officials, “more numerous and more distinguished” then those before, were sent in order to try and convince Balaam to curse these new settlers of Canaan. To this, Balaam replies, “Although Balak were to give me his house full of silver and gold, I could not go beyond the command of the Lord my God.”

Once Balaam returns to Moab, Balak summons him. Balak says to Balaam, “ Did I not send to summon you? Why did you not come to me? Am I not able to honor you?" To this, Balaam replies, “ I have come to you now, but do I have power to say just anything? The word God puts in my mouth, that is what I must say.”

In reading this story, which takes place within Numbers 22-24, I was quite surprised to see God, speak to a non-Israelite, and beyond this, I was surprised that a non-Israelite recognized the supreme authority of the Israelite God. The story seems to serve the purpose of showing that prophecy is not unique to the Israelites, and that non-Israelites are susceptible to divine intervention. Still, the question remains, why did Balaam listen to God? Why did a non-Israelite recognize the almighty nature of the Israelite God?

These questions caused me to think about the implications of such a concept. Essentially, I see this view as an assertion that Yahweh is the sole, supreme power in the universe, and that regardless of cult affiliation, in connecting with him, any individual would realize and believe in his omnipotent nature. However, does God’s communicating with Jews and non-Jews conflict with the notion of Jews as the chosen people? It was the Israelites who made a covenant with God on Mt. Sinai, so why does God still reach out to non-Jews? Could God have protected the Israelites in Canaan without speaking to Balaam? These are questions I have no answer to, so I’ll leave answering them to you.

When God Spoke, Why Did a Non-Jew Listen?

NU Hillel’s What’s Your Story? blog 2009-2010

Submitted by Sarah Weissman on Mon. 02/08/2010, 11:01 PM

Prattle (v): to utter or make meaningless sounds suggestive of the chatter of children

“A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn't play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.”

-Pablo Neruda

As my friends and I prepare for our 21st birthdays, I’ve found that everyone is so excited to grow up. I’ve never been a big birthday person, but this year especially I’m not ready to chime in on the “we’re real people” rampage. I guess my friends’ excitement is understandable being that drinking finally will be legal, but the idea of being an adult is not a reality for which I am excited.

I know, I know, 21 is not necessarily that old, and my friends and I still have a lot of maturing to do and life to experience, but I’m not ready to give up playing and acting like a kid. I like watching Disney movies and playing board games, and I think coaching kids sports teams is a blast -- I’m not ready for that to seem unacceptable.

I think my desire to uphold the child inside me is why I love the Jewish holidays. I can’t lie, I dread reading The Four Questions at Passover, but except for those two minutes, I love being the youngest. The kids’ table is always the most fun and lively, you don’t need to have serious conversations, and you can whisper to your neighbor during the Seder. My best memories are playing dreidel and looking for the afikomen, and when it comes to holiday celebrations, I don’t have to act like a grown up. The Jewish holidays will always remain a time when I have no worries or responsibilities and the only jobs that I have are to laugh, eat and eat some more.

Maybe the Jewish holidays are a time when I’m spoiled. Maybe I should be learning to cook (because sometimes I may be a grown up Jewish woman and most of them know how to make at least matzo ball soup) or have serious conversations about politics, but for now I know that I can still sit back and relax. Just think: When the Jews escaped from Pharoh’s enslavement and crossed the Red Sea, they did not sit around and discuss how they would go on or if they needed laws. Instead Miriam led them in song and dance. I agree with Neruda, if I give up the child in me, I’ll miss her. And honestly, grown ups that don’t remember the child they once were and can’t find time to relax and play, aren’t my favorite people to be around. Children’s ability to be amused by the simplest activity is not meaningless, but perhaps we should look to them to learn to have the same light-hearted attitude. So maybe my Jewish culture will forever inspire me to remember how to be young at heart.

Young at Heart

Submitted by Esther Gibofsky on Wed. 11/18/2009, 02:57 PM

Let me start by saying, that I can not cook. In fact, during my most recent phone call with my mother, she detailed to me how to make a grilled cheese.

Some -- my mother among them -- might be surprised that I graduated college having never cooked bread and cheese on the infamous Foreman grill. "Esther, you seriously can't cook a grilled cheese? You are worse than I thought," my mom said.

For all intents and purposes, my cooking skills are non-existent. But I firmly intend to master a few essential dishes in the kitchen as part of my duties as a Jewess.

To many Americans, the phrase "comfort foods" evoke memories of fried chicken, macaroni-and-cheese and french fries. To me, they evoke memories of brisket, noodle kugel and matzah balls. The foods that we grow up with become important parts of our childhood memories. And it can often be a little surprising to discover that not all of your friends have experienced multiple meals that began by eating a piece of gefilte fish covered in horseradish. These uniquely Jewish dishes can be off-putting for the uninitiated, but ask any novice of Jewish cuisine to sample some Challah bread and I'm sure they'll come around.

On Jewish holidays, my mother commands the kitchen. Her recipes inspire awe from our guests, as she delights with old favorites and asks for feedback on her new creations. She buys Kosher cookbooks on a whim in the same manner that I would flip through US Weekly looking for entertainment. Even though I've never been the daughter blessed with the oven know-how, my mother loves when I help. She chuckles when I ask what all the grape jelly is for. (For those who don't know, grape jelly is an integral part of many brisket recipes.) And herein lies the disconnect: Never in a million years would I look at jelly and think "Yes! This needs to be with a piece of meat!"

Since I'm determined not to serve PB&J at any of my future Shabbos meals, I know that I better get in the kitchen and figure it out.

Why Jewish Women Should Learn to Cook

Submitted by Jodi Savitz on Sun. 12/20/2009, 09:47 PM

I missed Thanksgiving while I was in Argentina, a very vital holiday in my family culture of getting together, schmoozing and eating noodle-kugel with raisins whenever we find the excuse to. I missed that noodle-kugel! So for the third night of Hanukkah, my family planned something different this year -- a Thanksgiving feast, complete with turkey, cranberry sauce, sweet-potato latkes and kugel. Needless to say, I was happy.

Yet, amidst the kugel-contentment, my mother and I had a conversation recalling their trip to visit me abroad; she simply couldn’t forget how many little children we had seen walking around the streets and subways of Buenos Aires, sometimes alone, sometimes shoeless, sometimes under age five, and clearly lacking the supervision that they deserved. We sat talking for a bit about how even though this country doesn’t let homeless four-year-olds wander the streets for long (before Child and Family Services officials pick them up, at least), our country and neighborhood still need help as far as homeless children are concerned. I reminded my mom that, although I’m no expert, I did spend a better part of high school volunteering at a local foundation in Fort Lauderdale called Kids in Distress.

Kids in Distress (KID) is more or less a modern-day orphanage, a 24/7 facility that acts as a shelter and temporary housing facility for children throughout South Florida who have been abandoned, abused or neglected. In high school, I maintained a strong connection with the facility’s “KITES” department, a unit that works specifically with children from aged newborn to four-years-old, mostly by serving as a group nursery where volunteers hold, feed, diaper and otherwise give the infants and toddlers the attention they need.

I used to spend the holiday break helping to deliver toys to the center, since my high school managed to collect thousands throughout the year (we had an ongoing drive that specifically donated to KID). Now when I’m home from school, I usually take a few days and visit the KITES center, rocking newborns and playing with the toddlers.

As is my practice, I had planned to go alone, but but this time my mom asked to come with me. We were both greatly affected by the children in Buenos Aires, but at least at home there is a place where we can do more than simply hand the children a peso and walk away. I’m taking my mom to Kids in Distress to help her become a registered volunteer, and as cheesy as it sounds, I think this is the best Hanukkah gift I could give to her -- the chance to give something of herself to children who have nothing, and who want nothing more than to be loved.

P.S. I’m bringing a copy of The Rugrat’s Hanukkah Special to KID … I hope it’s a hit with the toddlers, but if nothing else, it’ll really make my holiday complete

The Gift

NU Hillel’s What’s Your Story? blog 2009-2010 NU Hillel’s What’s Your Story? blog 2009-2010