Dust storm update

The folks at Hazon found this cool aerial photo of the dust storm that temporarily suspended the Hazon-Arava Israel ride on its last day.

The photos are taken from an airplane at 8000 feet, around Beer Sheva, about 90 miles north of where we were riding.

The storm itself came from Sinai and covered the entire Negev. The height of the sand-wall was about 4000 feet, and moved at 38 miles-per-hour.

I can't testify that the winds where we were reached that speed, but I can say it was the toughest headwind I ever tried to ride into!

Standing at the mountaintop

One of the exciting parts of the Hazon-Arava Israel ride for me was that the riding days of our journey from the Mediterranean to Red seas were separated by one of my very favorite Torah portions: קדושים/kedoshim, or Holy ("you will be; for Holy am I, HaShem Your God").

I love this Torah portion, or parsha, because it stands at the very center of the Torah. Not only is it in the very middle of the middle of the Torah's five books, but it is at the center of the Torah's central narrative: the narrative of a people coming out of slavery to the wondrous -- but also terrifying -- task of trying to be all of everything that God expected them to be. And God surely expected a lot of a people who, as slaves, had never even before been expected to make decisions for themselves. God expected them now to have so much wisdom as to be able to even figure out how to be קדוש/kadosh, to be Holy.

The Torah tells of the many stumbles of the people Israel in their efforts to find their way to becoming what God expected of them as they wandered through the desert. They sometimes complain and wish for the simpler times that were the predictability of the simple life of a slave. But the biggest stumble came just before back in chapter 10 when Aaron's two sons, in their excitement, brought "strange fire" before God, and were destroyed for this mistaken attempt to take part in holiness.

The whole rest of the Torah, beginning here with this parsha, is about the acts of repairing from this mistake -- about the acts of learning how to be Holy. The parsha gives a grand list of requirements for being Holy that is a kind of updating of the Ten Commandments. This list is almost the same as the Ten Commandments, but it has one important addition -- it commands us to take care of the poor and make sure they have enough to eat from the produce of the Land. And this book of the Torah comes towards its conclusion with this specific focus on the land and who may eat of it. It declares that you cannot treat this land as a resource that can just be used constantly with no regard for its limit. In the seventh year, the land must -- as God did on the seventh day of creation -- rest. It must have a Shabbat:

וְהָיְתָה שַׁבַּת הָאָרֶץ לָכֶם לְאָכְלָה, לְךָ וּלְעַבְדְּךָ וְלַאֲמָתֶךָ וְלִשְׂכִירְךָ וּלְתוֹשָׁבְךָ הַגָּרִים עִמָּךְ.
And the Shabbat produce of the Land will be food for you -- for you, and for your servant, and your maid, and your hired hand and for the stranger who dwells among you. (YaYikrah 25:5 )

Rashi, the great Medieval bible commentator, says that the reason the Torah lists all these people who may eat from the food of the Land is to emphasize that in that year -- that special Shabbat year of the Land -- you cannot act like you are a בעל/baal -- a master -- over the Land and the people who work and live on it. You are equals, and you must share in the food of the Land equally.

This, the Torah tells us at the central place that is this great parsha, is part of what it means to be a Holy people -- to be willing to rest the Land when it is the time for it to be rested, and also to be willing to make sure all are fed, and all know what it is like to be treated equally as a human being.

Riding through the desert at the beginning of this week, I thought often about what it means to be Holy. I thought of how precious water is. I thought of the great gift that God has given us in these modern times to be so free of the terrible diseases that for most of human history killed most people in the earliest years of childhood -- to have so much abundance of food that literally billions can be fed every day even with so much food just being thrown out before being eaten. These are the gifts that have come with our mastery of the tools of science, gifts that would not be possible without the intelligence that God has given us.

Yet with such great gifts comes so much responsibility. Being a Holy people in our time means limiting our overuse of the tools of science. It means not squeezing every drop out of what lies in the ground below us. It means giving the Land its Shabbat in its time. And it means that all among us are able to live full lives and enjoy the benefits of this Land.

We spoke of water so often during the bike ride. How precious it is, and how much we squander it. The experts who spoke to us sought to raise our awareness that the water that we use is not just in the obvious uses that happen when we open a faucet and take out water for things like our showers and our cooking. Every product we use -- the very clothes on our backs -- took water to produce. If we're really going to preserve this precious resource, we need to raise our awareness of all the inefficient ways it is used in the manufacturing and food production that supports us.

This is nowhere more true than here in the Middle East. The shortage of water regionwide is not what caused the conflicts that plague us, but it stands in the way of finding solutions. If there ever is to be peace, a way must be found for everyone to drink, for everyone to have the opportunity to live a full life.

Our speakers told us of some of the amazing things that are happening in Israel to solve the water crisis, things like the desalination plant in Ashkelon, and the widespread use of recycled sewage water for the irrigation of crops. Israel is one of the world leaders in these kinds of technologies. They are not cure-alls -- it takes a great deal of energy, for example, to make desalination work -- but they are wonderful examples of the determination of people here to find solutions.

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As I let go of the brake levers on my bike to start that final descent from our position near the mountaintop of הר יואש/har yoash -- some 2,300 feet above Eilat and sea level only about six miles away -- I thought of how precious life is. I cried with joy inside as I felt the wind whipping by my ears and witnessed the glory of the mountain and hillsides I was screaming by. God was out there somewhere and I was standing -- even as I was rolling rapidly on my two wheels -- before that Lord of my life. I was grateful for what I had been given. And, I promised to do my best to take care of it and thus make it a place where God's infinite and wondrous Holiness would be welcome among us humans here on earth.

Shabbat Shalom!

[X-posted to abayye]

Saving the world with two wheels

Jerusalem is a tremendously hilly city, yet, as our bus plodded its way through some of the city's most crowded neighborhoods on its way to the central bus station last night, I was cheered to see people on bikes -- some of them wearing the kippah that marks the religious, male Jew -- winding their way through the dense traffic on narrow streets.

One thing that makes Jerusalem doable by bike (despite the challenges of the hills, etc.) is it's actually amazingly compact compared to America's sprawling cities. Even Jerusalem's most far-flung neighborhoods are only about six miles from the city center, and most people's commutes are much shorter. Many Americans, on the other hand, find themselves commuting dozens of miles in each direction every day.

This more-compact nature of Israeli cities is just one of the many ways Israel has set itself up in a way that makes a more sustainable, and environmentally friendly, lifestyle possible, and is a reminder that there is much we can learn from the way Israelis approach life.

That is not to say that Israelis are more environmentally conscious than we are. I was reminded of this last Shabbat when we were in Mitzpeh Ramon as part of the Hazon-Arava environmental bike ride trip. I stepped outside the prayer service for a moment to get some air and think alone. It was so beautiful to look out towards the huge desert crater -- an inspiring example of God's works. But below my feet were the cigarette butts and other garbage that Israelis seem to feel free to dump anywhere. As one of the speakers on the trip told us, environmental consciousness is only beginning among the general population in a country where security concerns have long been paramount. He held out hope to us that things are changing, however -- as evidenced by the recent election in Tel Aviv of some environmentalists to city government -- and Israel is growing to be more consciously concerned about preserving some elements of the quality of life, and not just the preserving of life.

I was so glad to have a chance to contribute something back to Israel with two wheels (by participating in -- and raising money for -- an environmental bike ride). The bicycle has never been just a means of recreation for me. When I was a kid, I had a paper route, and I hauled my papers with a bicycle that had baskets on its sides and to which my Dad (of blessed memory) had jury-rigged a folding shopping cart as a trailer. I rediscovered the bike as a means of carrying cargo (groceries and such) while an adult in Los Angeles, and have continued that practice even amid the hills and winter winds of Reading, PA. I try to cast for myself in Reading a life more like the one I am able to have here in Jerusalem, a life where things are only a few steps -- or a few pedals -- away, and I do not have to get into some gasoline-burning and carbon-fume-expelling device every day.

Heschel talked about the glory of Shabbat as Judaism's great solution to the dangers of technological civilization. Shabbat does not ask us to abandon the benefits of technology -- we get to work for six days -- only not to be dominated by it, to be able to live free amid it. Those five riding days from sea to sea and inside the great emptiness of the Negev desert were a reminder that there is another way than living dominated by technology, and of how two wheels can help free us to be able to live free. I was so grateful to be a part of it, and hope to keep learning from it.

[X-posted to abayye]

Snorkeling and theology

Though back in Jerusalem now, I am still thinking about this morning's short but sweet snorkeling outing. The water was a bit cold for extended exploration -- not surprising considering that Eilat claims to have the northernmost coral reefs in the world (never mind that Wikipedia thinks the winner is Norway) -- and it was choppy as well. But it was still wondrous for me. Seeing the fishes in the Oceanarium yesterday (see Alan's pics and post) and then again this morning, filled me with a sense of awe and joy at the diversity of Creation. The line from liturgy that echoes in my head is: מה רבו מעשך ה' כולם בחכמה עשית/"How manifold are your works, God, in wisdom you have made them all."

These words from the morning prayers remind me of how Unity unfolds in our earthly experience into endless disctinct possibilities. I take joy in remembering the importance of diversity and in having these living, swimming, fishy reminders of its importance.

Here's on of my favorites of the dozens of different fishes I saw this morning. It's a Purple Tang:

The fires -- soon!

When we arrived home, today (see here), we found this pile of wood and cardboard in the entrance of the building. Now, just having come back from an environmental bike ride, I am somewhat hopeful it is piled here for recycling purposes. But I know it is much more likely that it is preparation for next week's Lag B'Omer, a holiday that the religious and the secular alike celebrate here by setting bonfires all over the city . . . . . I just hope they move it out from underneath the buidling before they torch it up! :)

[X-posted to abayye]

3 Mivtza Kadesh

We raised a glass high when we arrived back at the apartment in Jerusalem after the bus ride home from Eilat and the end of our bike ride from Tel-Aviv to Eilat. Minna and I both offered our hopes as we drank together -- asking for, among other things, many other experiences that will help bring the two of us closer together and also that will bind us more strongly to the Jewish people and the land and people of Israel. I wished also that it would be the Holy Blessed One's will that we would continue to find ways to have fun together that will involve some exercise to renew our bodies and our souls, and will take us out into the great outdoors that is the infinitely wonderous creation that God has given us. I felt thanks and gratitude, especially, to the Israeli crew who spent so much time with Minna and I when we were often the last riders of the group, and encouraged us and offered us their friendship. Most of them were alumni of the Arava institute who were volunteering their time for the ride this year. תודה רבה!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Todah Rabba)

Fishes!

Before we leave Eilat, today, to return to Jerusalem (for our last two weeks or so in Israel), we're going to try and go snorkeling.

Maybe we will see some fishes like these (that we saw at the local aquarium, yesterday)!

Made it!

Rolled into Eilat safely yesterday afternoon though the last day's journey was not without incident. Alan got caught in a sand/dust storm! Intense head wind and unbreathable air made the ride unworkable and all the riders pulled off the road and waited for the bus to scoop them up. The bus, meanwhile, was taking me and my smaller group on a tour of Timna (where the dust storm had not yet reached). We got to see some amazing sandstone "sculptures" as well as copper mines from the Calcolithic period and Midianite rock carvings before we cut our tour short to ride to the rescue of the cyclists stuck up on the plateau.

As a full busload, we rode to the top of the final descent into Eilat where the wind had finally died down enough to ride safely. They let Alan go down the steep descent first (out of the whole group!) because he likes fast descents. He rode down with Kfir, our professional lead rider, and they arrives together at the bottom of the hill. Then we all rode in formation to our hotel and I had a quick dip in the Red Sea before checking into our room.

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Here, by the way, is the map of the whole ride:


View Larger Map

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Now folks are heading their separate ways. Alan and I will stay here today and head back to Jerusalem tomorrow. And now, off to the Oceanarium!

On to Eilat

Alan has ridden away and I'm getting ready to head out as well. He'll ride from a nearby junction (doing a bit of back tracking) all the way down to Eilat. My group will be bused to Timna -the site of some ancient copper mines-- to do some touring on mountain bikes. Then we'll meet up with the rest of the riders for lunch and all head down into Eilat together.

One blessing of this trip has been the daily davening/praying. An irony of living in Jerusalem this year has been the marked absence of a daily prayer community for me. But both Alan and I have made it to morning prayers every day of the ride and it's been nice to have our little traveling group praying together. This morning, looking at the mountains over in Jordan, coming to the prayer that
focuses on gratitude, I felt particularly grateful for all the people who have supported us on this ride --the staff here, but also all the friends and family members and colleagues who gave the donations that made this journey possible.

Here at Ketura, we've gotten to meet students of the Arava Institute and hear about the work they are doing. One theme that many students expressed --Israeli, American, Palestinian and Jordanian-- was that they came primarily for the environmental studies, but have been most transformed by the social aspect: building a learning community based on co-existence. Being able to meet the people who benefit from the funds we raised makes a big difference!

I've also very much enjoyed the touring I've been able to do by only riding half-days. On Thursday (which seems like a year ago), we met a man named Haji Ibrahim. He is a communal leader in an unrecognized Bedouin village. The village doesn't receive any support from the government and is placed dangerously close to a number of toxic sites. He is very concerned aboout the health impacts on his community and had a number of very sad stories to share. He welcomed us warmly to the village and shared coffee he had ground himself and tea whose every herb he picked and described in detail.

Yesterday, I visited Kibbutz Lotan, a community associated with the Reform movement. This trip has definitely re-ignited long-dormant fantasies of kibbutz life. Much more to tell, but the bus is leaving soon.

God willing, this afternoon, we'll be swimming in the Red Sea!

Kibbutz Ketura!

Minna snapped this shot of me on the road bike I've been riding (lent to me after I broke a spoke on the mountain bike I'd been riding) outside the guest house at Kibbutz Ketura, where we arrived today after a 60-mile bike ride from the lip of Israel's great crater (which is not _really_ a crater), Makhtesh Ramon, where we had spent Shabbat. Kibbutz Ketura is the home of the Arava Institute, an environmental organization dedicated to trying to find sustainable living situations for all the Middle East -- something that, hopefully, will one day bring us closer to peace!

It was a great -- but challenging -- ride, today, with some spectacular descents, through some truly amazing desert scenery. We started the day with morning prayer on the lip of the Makhtesh before descending into it at high speed. It was such a great way to start the day -- praying in God's great glory... in the Holy Land!

Here's Minna at the Kibbutz with the desert mountains in the background.




And here she is in the Kibbutz pool talking with Gonen, one of the Israeli members of the crew who we've made friends with and who is working on a doctorate in environmental education.



And here are just some of the other riders _chillin'_ at the pool after a day of riding.

In addition to the spectacular riding, this has really been just a great Jewish community building experience -- just such a wonderful opportunity for folks to deepen their connection to Israel, environmental causes and Jewish fundraising efforts, amid other people doing the same thing!

Mizpe Ramon!

After 35 miles of riding --mostly uphill-- through beautiful desert, we have arrived at Mizpe Ramon. I haven't looked at the view yet, but the hotel sits on the rim of Machtesh Ramon a huge geological formation that many people erroneously call a "crater"...too tired to explain; Google it if you're interested.

Too exhausted for anything right now, actually, so I'll just say: Saw a fox, lots of ibex, some flowers, lots of desert; feeling proud of both of us and impressed with the Hazon/Arava crew; looking forward to a restful shabbat with Alan and (mostly new) friends.

Greetings from Ashkelon on Yom HaAtzma'ut

As Alan's post below tells in greater detail, we have arrived at the beautiful Ashkelon seashore on the first full day of our Hazon Israel Ride. Today I took the option of riding half the day and touring half the day. We visited a kibbutz that from 1945-1948 had a secret underground bullet factory. Workers entered through the laundry and the ventilation system used the chimneys on the laundry and the bakery nearby. Our tour guide, Yuval, was fantastic, combining a tour of the site with thought-provoking questions and his own reflections on what it meant for him --as an educator and a soldier-- that Yom HaZikaron/Memorial Day and Yom HaAtzma'ut/Independence Day were right next to each other. I'm proud of Alan for taking on the challenge of longer riding days, but I'm also very excited for the touring my shorter days leave room for.

Back in Boston, my rabbinical school community was also celebrating Yom HaAtzma'ut. Daniel (my study partner here in Israel) and I were asked to write reflections to be read at the morning prayer service in Boston. My words are included below. Tomorrow we head into the desert! It will be a very long day of riding for Alan and another half day for me plus a tour of a Bedouin village. We're also closing in on our fund-raising goal, but still need a final push. If you've got what to give, please visit our donation site by clicking here. AND, I got a write-up in the local Sag Harbor paper a couple of weeks ago; click here for the interview.

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Reflection for יום העצמאות/Yom HaAtzma'ut 2009

I am a warmly welcomed guest in the home of an eccentric and beloved relative. She offers her riches openly, a well of generosity. Swaths of desert and seashore and forested hills, I gulp down landscapes of such variety and beauty that I want more and more. Cappuccino and burekas for breakfast, their tastes and smells layering and mixing like the many languages I hear in the streets.

She promises protection and safety, a place to call home. This home: musty, windswept, full of old secrets, constantly under renovation, full of ghosts and and booby traps and pregnant women and young men pushing baby strollers. She is the strongest person you have ever met and she weeps constantly, not only for the death of her children but with the overwhelming longing brought on by the smell of sun-heated pines.

And I am both enchanted and terrified. I walk on tiptoes but with deep curiosity. There is always a lump in my throat when I speak to her, and I do not know whether it's from the miracle of Hebrew coming out of my mouth or from pure and inescapable anxiety.

We are, to each other, both deeply family and deeply foreign. She is a well of generosity and just as generous with scrutiny and criticism. She shows me myself in her mirror; it is one-way glass.

I open myself to listen, her songs and poems and speeches and jokes come flooding in. My own voice is washed away. I know she wants me here, but then she doesn't really know me or see me as I am; she doesn't really need me and she has me doubting that God really needs me. I know she wants me, but I have to leave a lot of myself behind.

Yet I am no more fair to her: I need her to love me; I wish she would leave me alone. I am by turns proud of her and embarrassed to be seen together in public. I cannot wait to get away and I cannot wait to come back.

When I am not here, and when I speak of her, I want to remember her in the fullness in her nuances, with all of her tensions intact.It is the sharpness of these tensions that makes her unforgettable.

The more I know her, the more I want to know her. I want to know her all the way down to a depth where disillusionment is no impediment to loyalty, disappointment no obstacle to love.

Milk and honey
Well and good
But what sets me celebrating you
is this more specific mix:
זבל/zevel* and jasmine flowers

(*Zevel means "crap," literally poop/manure but also in a somewhat similar sense of the English slang. As I wrote about early in my year here, the combination of dog poop and flowers in Jerusalem sums up something important about my experience here.)

A day of independence

Life just seems so much more intense -- so much more real -- to me here in Israel. In some ways, the Independence Day beachside bbq's that we witnessed when we arrived in Ashkelon, today (after pedaling 50 miles from Tel Aviv) were not much different from the ones you find in the States on July 4. But there was some incredible energy to it here. Minna told me a female cab driver here told her that if they were to pull over the car right there, the bbq-ers would run over to share their food with them -- עם ישראל פתוח/am yisrael patuah, the nation of Israel is open, the cab driver told her.

And, of course, the Independence of this holiday is so much more recent than the US of A's independence -- it only happened in 1948. And, even more importantly I think, the price of this independence is so much more current and intense, with all the wars and such that have touched this land and this people. Independence Day here is immediately preceded by Yom HaZikaron, Israel's memorial day for fallen soldiers and victims of terrorism. That holiday began on Monday night with a one-minute siren. All the shops were closed in Tel Aviv where we were staying. We turned on the television to a children's channel and watched a show where the host interviewed a small group of young children in depth about what it was like to have lost a parent to war. I just could not imagine something so intense being on a major network in the States as part of a national holiday.

The ride, today, was the first part of our trip from Tel-Aviv to Eilat. Here's a shot of Minna near an amusement park we took a break at just south of Tel Aviv:

And here are some of the other riders outside the amusement park:

And here we are by the beach when we finally got to Ashkelon:

It was a great day! .. . And it was so great to be in Israel for Yom HaAtzmaut (Independence Day). I almost didn't mind when the disco music of nearby celebrations kept us up way past our bedtimes last night, or even having to dodge the debris left over from the street celebrations on the narrow streets of Tel Aviv's Neve Tzedek neighborhood as we rode through it this morning. . . . I really felt free -- independent -- riding today!

[X-posted to abayye ]

Trained!

Well, ready or not, next week Minna and I will be going on the Hazon-Arava bicycle ride -- all the way from Tel-Aviv to Eilat! Today, I went on my last training ride, my fourth ride of the week. On Sunday and today, I took challenging rides through the Aminadav National forest, which includes the mountaintop Yad Kennedy monument to JFK (see pic on the right). Twice this week, once with Minna and once with our friend Amy (who will also be on the Hazon ride) I went to Yad Kennedy itself.

I really enjoyed my ride, today. I went past Har Herzel on my way to Ein Kerem and then down past Sataf to the Nahal Refaim entrance to the national forest. For a number of kilometers from there, I followed the Nahal (a Hebrew word for a stream) on a dirt road. It was so beautiful to be in the Nahal's valley and looking up at the hills around. From there, I climbed up almost to the Yad, and then down to get towards home. I was out for six hours all told. Oh, how I will miss riding in these hills!

The approximate route I took today (up until a spot below Yad Kennedy where Minna and Amy like to rest) is below in the red [part of today's route was on the path of a trail from Tel-Aviv to Jerusalem that's called מים אל י-ם in Hebrew and "From Coast to Capital" in English]:


View Spring 09 Jerusalem/Israel Rides in a larger map

Shabbat Shalom!

[X-posted to abayye ]