Rosh Hashana: Part Two

I heard Ryan clattering around in the bathroom. Rays of sunlight pierced through the white curtains. The wind greeted the chimes hanging in the Lanksner's backyard. I woke up, certain that morning had come too soon, but equally assured that I had gotten a good night's rest.

"They're waiting on us downstairs," Ryan said as he entered the room. He adjusted his kippah and finished straightening up his bed. As usual, his corner was immaculate. Ryan would make a fine military officer if he ever decided to pursue that course. His bed sheets were so tight, one could bounce a quarter off them.

"We heading back to the synagogue?" I asked groggily.

"Yes sir."

"Alright, lemme go brush my teeth. I can't shower during Shabat can I?"

"No, I don't think they do running water during Shabat," Ryan answered.

"Neat."

After a few minutes changing into some fresh clothes and brushing my teeth with previously prepared potted water, I joined Ryan, Dafna, and Mrs. Lanksner downstairs. Once again, the ladies were wearing their dresses.

"Boker tov," I said with a smile.

"Boker tov," Mrs. Lanskner replied. "Would you like coffee or tea?"

"I'm fine. Thank you though."

"It's not a problem," she said as she moved toward the kitchen.

"Really, I'm okay."

"Alright, well it is time to go," Dafna said as she spun back and forth.

We set off to go meet Eliaz and Schmuley. It was around 10:00 in the morning. Most people had been in the bet-knesset since 8:00 a.m. I chuckled to myself as I thought about how people, young and old, would complain about sitting in church for four and a half hours back home.

Ryan and I followed Mrs. Lanksner upstairs. The family dog, Chino, chased us from the house and into the synagogue. A few commands in Hebrew by Dafna sent Chino heading back home. With no cars on the roads, most of the neighborhood dogs were allowed to roam freely. Chino reminded me of Baxter from the movie Anchorman. He was about as smart, too. Since I had been here, the dog had not so much as uttered a sound, but he followed orders like a champ.

We took our place at the back pew next to Eliaz, who nodded and gestured for us to slide in beside him.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

He looked down at my watch and then looked up.

"About an...uh...um...hour?" he responded. He clearly was looking for confirmation that he had used the right word.

"Since 9:00?" I asked.

"Yes. Yes. But I woke up late. I should have been here sooner," Eliaz said. He seemed a bit ashamed.

"Are you in trouble with your father?"

Eliaz shook his head and then pointed up at the ceiling.

"No, but...uh...maybe with Elohim (God)..." he trailed off.

I nodded. "The only kind of trouble that counts, huh?" I whispered back, a grin creeping onto my face.

Eliaz shrugged and kind of grinned in return. I patted him on the shoulder.

"I'm sure He'll understand," I whispered. "That's kind of what He does."

The service was essentially the same as it had been the night before. At least for me. Everything was in Hebrew so it was difficult to ascertain what songs were being sung and what prayers were being offered. I couldn't tell the difference. I saw Eric and his two sons sitting a few rows in front of us. He still had his pistol strapped to the small of his back.

After about half an hour, a contingent of men draped in white cloths covering their heads and shoulders moved to the front of the altar and started praying, swaying from side-to-side. Ryan seemed as perplexed as I did. I turned to Eliaz and asked what was going on. He said that the fathers were about to bless their sons. And sure enough, Schmuley rolled up beside Eliaz, threw a white cloth over him and began to pray underneath it. This was repeated by every father and son in the room. I was digging into the recesses of my mind to remember the significance of this, to try to recall a verse from the Bible that explained what I was witnessing.

It was to no avail.

An older gentleman, standing in the row in front of us, turned around and spoke with Eliaz after Schmuley finished. I heard Eliaz refer to Ryan and I. The man, probably around sixty-five or so, leaned over the pew and in perfect English began explaining that those at the front of the altar were priests praising God for the arrival of a new year and praying that the year would be one of peace and prosperity.

"Wait, so they're from the tribe of Levi?" I asked Eliaz.

His brow furrowed. He asked me to repeat it. I got a little too excited.

"Levi. They're Levites? Like from the Book of Leviticus?"

Eliaz turned his head to the side, brow still in a supercilious posture, and started to shake his head again. The older gentlemen intervened again.

"Yes, Levites. The tribe of the priests," he said in English. He then turned to Eliaz and spoke in Hebrew, interpreting for Eliaz's benefit and pronouncing the word as Leh-vee. Recognition dawned on Eliaz as he turned back to me and nodded his head in agreement.

"Yes, yes. That's right. Sorry, I say it differently," Eliaz said.

By 11:30, the service came to an end with the singing of another traditional Rosh Hashana song. Ryan, Eliaz, Schmuley, and myself gathered outside. Eliaz and I briefly discussed which of the Twelve Tribes his family belonged to. He was unsure, but thought that they came from either Benjamin or Levi. After two millenniums in Diaspora, things understandably were muddled.

Back at the house, Dafna grabbed some lechem (bread) and informed us that we would be going over to a friend's house. One of her close friends was getting married on Monday and they had all decided to get together for a lunch and hang out. Dafna explained to me that the groom is not allowed to see the bride for the entirety of the week prior to the wedding. He is required to spend time in Temple reading the Torah and preparing himself to be a husband and making himself pure in the "eyes of God."

It was an interesting afternoon. We were treated to yet another four course meal prepared by the family of Dafna's friends. However, everyone present was our age. Noah, Gideon, Miri, and a dozen or so others I didn't know were there. At first, I felt more than a little uncomfortable with the situation. It seemed to me that the dinner should have been just with close friends, but considering the fact that neither Ryan nor myself could speak Hebrew in a social setting, it was almost as if we were mere observers. In a way, it reminded me of when I was younger and in middle school. The difference of course was that whenever I felt uncomfortable back then, all I had to do was stick with Evan or Brad. That option wasn't available.

Noah and I had some more discussions about the IDF and the composition of the IDF with regard to the Druze and the Bedouins. Interestingly enough, there's an entire battalion of Arab Bedouins in the Israel Defense Force. They live in the Negev desert in southern Israel and are used exclusively for reconnaissance and "path-finding." Noah told me that the Bedouins are able to examine someone's foot print and determine how much that individual weighs, the individual's gender, the direction they are heading, the speed they are moving, and whether they are carrying anything.

I also learned from Gideon a few things about the Israeli Special Forces which I will not disclose. I will say that assuming those things are true, and I have no reason to believe they aren't, then the enemies of Israel have their work cut out for them. Gideon and I also exchanged idioms and euphemisms. I taught him a few from back home including "That burns my biscuits," "He's a sandwich short of a picnic," and "shitfire!" He enjoyed all three of those and proceeded to bandy them about like they were hot potatoes.

Noah grinned and just shook his head. With an exasperated and amused tone, he threw me an incredulous look.

"Thanks. You've just turned him into an Israeli redneck."

"It's why I'm here."

We spent the better part of four hours eating and talking. Ryan was getting into some deep conversations with two of the girls there. I met a girl named Shamam whom I would have a rather deep discussion with later in the evening concerning Christianity and Judaism. By 4:00, everyone was on the verge of collapse. We had eaten so much (again) that the only thing that sounded sensible was sleep.

Ryan and I took solid three hour naps back at Dafna's house. We awoke around 7:00 and spent some time in the Lanksner living room talking with the entire family. It turned out that we would be going over to the Avner household for dinner at their house. Apparently, it was customary to eat the first Rosh Hashana meal at one family's house and the second at the other family's home.

Dreading yet another four course meal, Ryan and I saddled up. As we approached the Avner household, Ryan opined about our experience thus far.

"Lemme tell you, Drew. This has just been horrendous. You know, first they torture us with kindness. Then they torture us with more food than we can possibly eat. And then they finish us off with an open invitation to come back at any time," Ryan surmised. "I just don't think I can handle this any more. Israel is worse than its critics say."

Coming from Ryan, the sarcasm was perfectly timed and hilarious. Mrs. Lanksner gave us quizzical looks as I doubled over.

At Eric's house, we gathered in the living room for a little while. Dafna brought over some photo albums. After she finished up her time with the IDF, she and some of her friends had trekked along the Israel Road. The Israel Road is a hiking path that starts in the north near the border with Lebanon and ends all the way at Eilat at the southern tip of Israel. It took Dafna and her friends two months to complete it. Ryan and I were blown away by some of the pictures, particularly of one overlooking the Valley of Megiddo.

At one point Dafna elaborated about how they had to sleep on a beach north of Tel Aviv near Netanya. A man staying at a hotel had seen the kids laying out on the beach and had offered them his hotel room for the night. As Dafna finished explaining this I quipped "Oh, so the guy thought you were homeless?"

Everyone started laughing. She tilted her head down and shook it.

"Sarcastic like Noah," she said.

"Have I mentioned how awesome he is?"

Dinner consisted of the same dishes we had had the night before at the Lanksner's with the exception of Eric's wife Maya bringing out apple pie and ice cream for dessert. Dinner finished at nearly 11:00. Ryan, Dafna, and I departed to go hang out with some of her friends again.

It was a clear night and the wind was blowing a cool breeze in a country where comfortable weather had thus far eluded us. We joined Dafna's friends behind Miri's house. They were sitting around talking and smoking "hookah." I politely declined and instead took them up on some tea. Ryan seemed to enjoy the hookah. After a few minutes, one of the girls we had met earlier moved her chair beside me. It was Shamam.

"So, I heard that you're not Jewish. I'm really interested to know why you're here," she asked skeptically.

"Drew, feel free to take this one," Ryan chimed from behind me.

"Alright, I enjoy getting this question if only for the mixture of reactions."

I told her right off the bat that I was Christian. That I wanted to learn Hebrew and Arabic. She pressed me a bit on the reasoning for this, but as always, I was careful not to get too specific with what I hoped to do after my time in Israel. I kept that portion vague. I then explained to Shamam about growing up in a pro-Israel household, about mom linking Judaism and Christianity together and teaching me the importance of Judaism to our faith, and how it was impossible for me to be a Christian without the Jews.

"But you think we're wrong don't you?" she asked pointedly.

"I think the old ways are no longer necessary because we have Jesus. It's not that you're wrong. The Jews are the Chosen people of God. I'm a Christian and I firmly believe this," I tried to explain.

"Which for a Christian means what?"

"It means that the Jews are the medium through which God has chosen to implement His will," I elaborated.

"Okay. That's cool. Can you tell me how you can tell if someone is a religious Christian?"

Wow, these are some seriously thought out questions. And come to think of it, I've never even thought about that one.

I stumbled for a moment in an attempt to gather my thoughts. The question, so simple and basic, was one I had never received before.

How did one determine that?

"Well," I started. "I suppose the only way to really tell is to get to know the person, to know their actions, and to see if they're living in Christ."

"So it's a feeling more than an act?"

"I suppose that's one way of putting it, but I wouldn't necessarily say that," I said with a chuckle. "It's not a 'feel good' thing. It's more of whether or not you can see Jesus in someone's life I suppose. We don't wear anything to signify whether we're more religious than someone else. But honestly, it's an extremely personal thing to be a Christian. It's between you and Jesus."

She nodded. I could tell she was pondering what I had told her. As the conversation continued, she told me she was attending Hebrew University in Jerusalem and studying biology and psychology and wanted to do research. She, like Noah the night before, seemed wary of how Israelis were perceived abroad. She was genuinely shocked when she heard that most Americans view Israel favorably and once again she referenced the election of Barack Obama as evidence that Americans no longer liked Israelis.

This is starting to become a theme. Do Israelis really think we no longer like them because of our President?

I did my best to placate her concerns. When we finished talking, she offered to show us around Jerusalem the next time we were there.

By 1:00 Ryan and I were back in our room at Dafna's house. We talked a lot about our day and the conversation I had had with Shamam.

"I thought you handled that just perfectly," Ryan said kindly.

"Eh, I don't. I didn't know how to respond when she asked how you know if someone is religious in Christianity. I should have explained to her that it's more of a relationship than a religion. I've never even thought about that before."

"It's all good, dude," Ryan said as he rolled over to go to sleep. "This has been awesome."

Yes it has. And it's doing a lot to reinforce my views.

As Ryan drifted off to sleep, I heard a thunderous sound from outside. I knew it couldn't have been a vehicle or train since none were operating on Rosh Hashana. I moved to the window and looked out over the neighborhood and the farmland beyond. The glow tails of four Israeli F-16's burned bright orange in the sky. They were accelerating fast and hard toward Gaza.

Well. Shana Tova (Happy New Year) to you too, Hamas.