The most holy place on earth.

A couple of years ago, we went to Israel for my daughter's Bat Mitzvah. For me, the most exciting part of planning for this trip was taking my children to this historical, important place and hoping they felt a connection to this amazing part of the world. I wanted them to feel more Jewish and connected by doing this thing, visiting this place. And I hoped to feel the same way too. We took a two week trip with a great tour guide. We visited many 'touristy' places: the Old City, some other parts of Jerusalem, the Knesset, Masada, the Dead Sea, Kinneret Sea, the Golan area, grottos by the Lebanan border, Greek ruins, Tel Aviv, etc. A whirlwind of a trip for sure. We couldn't go south because of the danger there at the time. After the trip was over, ha, 2 years ago now, I still reflect back on the experience. The most important thing I did there, for myself, was visit the Temple Mount. I feel like that was a monumental accomplishment for the latter half of my life. It's such an important, meaningful, pivotal place on earth, and I got to go there. Do you realize how many people in the world NEVER make it there? How many people have no idea of the true scale of the place? There are Jews all over the world who have never been there, aren't ALLOWED there. They don't know but I was there. My mother-in-law, my 13 year old daughter, and I dressed (what we thought!) conservatively and made sure we had nothing on us that would cause us to be noticed in a suspicious way. We stood in line for quite a while during the narrow window of opportunity. I had my Travelon purse, which would identify me as a tourist, and my American look about me. I turned my Star of David necklace backwards around to the back of my neck, and put on a black shaw. My daughter had on long shorts, longer than many others, but as we got to the top of the line, the Muslim decision-maker guy made us buy a shaw to wrap around her legs. It was ridiculous and an excuse to soak us out of some money. Whatever, we did it anyway. (we still have the cheap, crappy, nearly translucent shaw) The three of us felt the tension between us and the Muslim guy and we really thought he wasn't going to let us visit. I think they just wanted to cover a young pretty girl any way they could and make some cash. We finally entered the lower level plaza after some time. It seemed a lot like an American park near a library or something, covered in tan Jerusalem stone, but with non-working fountains intended for feet washing. I was dismayed that the Muslims that were there were having a picnic, and playing soccer. I thought this was a holy place and I thought they would be acting 'holy'...or, reverent...or something. I guess I didn't know what to expect. The al-Aqsa was off to our left but there was nothing going on during this 90 minute visiting window. I don't know, it all seemed very informal. I remember thinking "look around, take it all in". I would inhale deeply, taking in the hot dry air. I wanted to remember it forever, that I was finally here. And more importantly, I wanted to feel like G-d was somewhere around. I wanted to feel the weight of holy energy there. I kept looking for it, listening, breathing, hearing, waiting, but it never happened for me. I did, however, feel very nervous and self-conscious. I know the Muslim watch-guy was keeping an eye on us and our behavior. We walked around the plaza and I thought that is the only area we'd be allowed to tour but we saw people up on the plaza around the dome, and near 'the place'. We decided to climb the stairs and we crossed over the old rock that was part of the wall of the first Temple. I was hoping for G-d's presence to somehow reach us. Instead, I was startled by a group of about 8 or 10 obnoxious European men in shorts and t-shirts (with cheap shaws blowing in the breeze around their legs) yipping it up, taking selfies, and being loud. They looked like they had been drinking but I have no proof. I did, however, feel like smacking them across the head and explaining where exactly they were! And there were other people walking around the dome and looking like they knew what they were doing. I, on the other hand, felt like I was being watched and kept my distance away from the dome and the three of us skirted the edges of the Mount area. I instructed us to be respectful and quiet so as not to draw attention, and I was still hoping for that amazing connection to happen. I never did get close to the building there. I was nervous and afraid of doing the wrong thing. And I wanted to be reverent and humble in that place. I was afraid of being offensive to G-d and His holy place. I did squeeze in a selfie at the edge of the Temple plaza, at the top of the stairs leading away from the domed building, to prove I was actually there. Before we left, I took another long look around and tried to imagine all the people that had been there before me. The people coming with their sacrifices, their offerings for a better life, their troubles and their celebrations, the priests coming and going with their duties. I imagined what it might look like if a cloud did hover over the area while the Ark was stationed there. That my footsteps would mingle with everyone else's footsteps. In the end, my experience on the Temple Mount, while amazing, inspiring, and life-changing, was like it was for all my visit to Israel. I felt no special connection. I felt no draw to be there, no kinship with the people there. I wonder what is wrong with me? Why NOT me?? I think my at-the-time 13 year old daughter felt it. She seemed comfortable there. All the kids were more comfortable than I -they spoke Hebrew to varying degrees of success and just seemed to "fit in". Sadly, it is not my homeland. My ancestors weren't there. My past lives didn't happen there. The desert was not a place I could be. Over the years, I have considered what and how to make aliyah and whether I could or wanted to, but I think it's just not my place. I feel like I have been running the hills and forests of Appalachia for thousands of years. I have deja vu sometimes here. And while I wanted that in Israel, I am disappointed that it didn't happen. I think my daughter might have, and I guess I could visit her on occasion.

Sunday school, same as usual.

So, today was a meeting with parents of kids who are "on track" in preparation for their Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. Shirly, the education director, gave long explanations about the qualifications of our teachers, the advanced training of the staff, the newer technology available to the students, the variety of course offerings that the high school kids have to choose from...essentially, all there is to know about how great our Hebrew school is. Now, you have to know, that she has a captive audience. It's required for this age of students to attend Hebrew school so they can have a Shabbat morning Bar or Bat Mizvah at our shul. They need 75% attendance, too. My older two kids had no problem with that. My first kid was a pleaser and she seemed to love synagogue stuff. She picked up Hebrew easily at the Day School, she knew the prayers and seemed comfortable leading services even though inside she was a nervous wreck. She even likes Hebrew high school now, which is not required for anything specific except being connected to Judaism, which is of utmost importance to me and the community. My middle kid is now nine months past her Bat Mitzvah. She hated it. Hated services because they were boring. Hated getting up to go to synagogue. Hated Hebrew. She was, however, good at all of it. She (secretly) knew the prayers and what to do and how to do it and did beautifully leading services. My third kid is in 6th grade. And also hates all of it. Says he's bored. Says he knows everything and that it's a waste of time and doesn't even want a Bar Mitzvah. I've also made him aware that attending and doing it are not a choice. He will go and he will have a Bar Mitzvah, whether he likes it or not. I told him to find some joy in it somewhere, somehow, and that I didn't care how. He just grunted. So, there we were listening to it all: me, for the 3rd time. My mind was wandering even though I tried hard not to let it, and then I see that guy across from me. I squinted hard at him (I hope he didn't see me), because I left my glasses in the car. I recognized him from High Holiday services. He gets an aliyah every year at an "important time" in the service. Now, hold on, I'm not making any judgements here. Don't go assuming anything I'm not saying. I don't go to shul every day or even every week but we go mostly on Saturdays and I only remember him from Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur, or maybe both? I can see him well because when I sing in the choir, I get to sit on the bima and I can see everyone who comes up. It's quite entertaining really. So maybe he goes to Shabbat or weekday services and I just didn't see him then. Maybe he comes Friday night and I don't see him because I despise driving down to shul during Friday rush hour from one of busier quadrants of the county. I just don't remember him from Shabbat services I've attended. In my head, I'm trying not to make an assumption about him. I wonder who his wife or the mother of his kid is. Anyway, we come to the end for questions and answers (maybe) and he asks the question that EVERYONE has. All. The Time. And it's volatile. It's raw. And it's a reflection of problems that synagogues all across the country are having. He said something like, "So what do I do when my kid hates coming to Hebrew school and wants to stop as soon as his or her Bar or Bat Mitzvah is over?" (I added the 'or' because I don't even know who his kid is) Everyone shifts in their seats. Poor Shirly has to field this question. All. The. Time. And there is no right answer. Yes, kids today tend not to identify well with living a religiously observant life. We live in a secular society that really is more Christian than anything and I'll admit, I'm always feeling like a salmon swimming upstream when it comes to incorporating Judaism when my oldest plays volleyball and tourneys are on Saturdays. My middle rides horses and shows are always on, you guessed it, Shabbat, and they serve ham and cheese sandwiches and pork rinds at lunch concessions. Obviously, none of that will change because of us and it is our choice to be doing the things we are doing. I'm a musician and when do you think performances are in the United States of America?? It's a case of "we are good at these things, we love them, and we can't change when they happen." Yes, there are many observant Jews who forgo these kinds of activities to properly observe Shabbat and kashrut and all that. We don't eat the ham and cheese, we bring our own food, and if we have a choice, we choose better than when we don't get to choose. It's my/our choice to participate and I am always torn by it. But it's not Shirly's fault. It's not Shirly's fault if a kid doesn't like Hebrew school and doesn't want to go. It seems that many parents think if the curriculum were more like fun camp or constant excitement for the 3 1/2 to 5 1/2 hours they see her A WEEK, that all would be cured. It's just not the case. Sadly, I've decided there just is no one right answer. I firmly believe the teachers make it as fun and creative as possible and some teachers are better than others at it, of course. Sometimes the kid just HAS to go. And the parent HAS to show some interest. If I'm not a firm believer in it, my kid won't be either. If I don't go, the kids won't want to go either. And, here's the real kicker: If we don't do anything "Jewish" at home, then no one will identify with being Jewish. The parents complaining that his or her kid thinks Hebrew school stinks and doesn't want to make him or her go, seems to simply want to send the kid to school and expect the establishment to "make it fun" and fix the problem. Listen, I'm not the pot calling the kettle black here. I struggle with the same things. And when I find us not connecting, I have tried just sucking it up and making sure we do some Jewish stuff. We light candles, which is hard during football season and Friday night band, I mean, football games. We do, as a rule, try to eat together as much as possible, but if I light candles, the children better damn well be at the table. We put up a Sukkah, we go to shul, we have challah and brisket (except for my vegan daughter, just ask her), and the kids go to Hebrew school. Mr. I-might-not-see-you-other-times-but-I-only-know-you-from-the-holidays guy, maybe doing more Jewishly identifying things at home is a place to try. It seems to be that the more involved families have kids that are more involved, make Jewish friends, and want to come to synagogue. So far I've been lucky. Now my middle kid going to Hebrew High School and she's choosing to do it on her own.