Confessions of a Secular Jew

My eldest son chose to become religious even though we are a non-religious and secular family.
That complicates family life and relationships... - R 

An Orthodox family on a tour of the Old City of Jerusalem

At 80, R is a charming lady with fascinating thoughts about the Land of Israel, Judaism and the people of Israel. It is especially her eloquence that keeps me glued to her. After her non-religious grandson's rather crisp and merry Bar Mitzvah, we got talking about religion. Though R's mother was an observant Jew, her father turned non-religious and became a pioneer of a kind. He was the first in the family with radical views of 'quitting' religion at a time when religion kept the Jewsish diaspora bound together. He brought up his children with little or no religious influence. Religion was saved for the high-holidays like Yom Kippur. 

Despite her father's views, R was not far removed from religion because the Bible was a mandatory text to be studied throughout her 12 years of schooling. "The Bible has a lot to offer in terms of culture, language and even history; not just religion," she tells me. R tried her best to impart any and every knowledge she had about religion to her sons, not forcefully of course. Her youngest, she says, is not just non-religious, he is anti-religion. Her second son is the moderate kind, he is not vehemently 'anti' at the very least. And her third son, in a manner of speaking, is a sheep that found its way back to the shepherd. He lives with his family in Jerusalem, practicing Judaism as a Modern Orthodox Jew (more about the various shades of Orthodoxy in a separate post). She was quite impressed that her youngest behaved in a civil manner at the synagogue. He does not even own a kippah, if that suffices as a testimony for his anti-religion stance. Replying to her as she gave him a pat, he joked, "Who knows, I could be the next sheep." 

She confesses that having an orthodox member in the family strains relationships within the family (it is same with an orthodox family if a member decides to become secular or even tone down the level of orthodoxy). "My mother would like it that at least one member in the family has gone the religious way," she said, making peace with the situation. But it is because her eldest son is religious that the Bar Mitzvah ceremony was conducted by her eldest and religious grandson. The farther we go from our forefathers, the more dilute religion becomes, she observes. That does not pain her though, she recognises that scientific reasoning trumps blind faith. 

A pilgrim praying at the Western Wall

Having studied the Bible at length, R had the responsibility to coach her non-religious grandson on the Holy Text for a school exam. She commenced the tutoring with genesis and the story of creation. E did not allow her to finish the first sentence even; he was aghast that his grandmother was feeding him some ill-founded story. "God created man? You believe all this?" he asked. Not allowing her to explain herself, he said, "I thought you believed in nature and evolution." As she recounted this incident, I could see that she was proud of her grandson. "I must now pull his leg and ask him why he read verses out of the Torah for his Bar Mitzvah," she whispered to me, with a naughty glint in her eyes. 

Israel is a country of extreme contrasts. It is because of people like R and her family that I feel that there is still hope. 

Ivrit Progress

Yesterday I had my last Ivrit (Hebrew) class of the Spring Semester. I hope to go back for the Summer Semester and learn not just the language but more about the people. When I joined the course in March, three months after I moved to Tel Aviv, I knew nothing of Hebrew. Of course, I could say Hello - Shalom, What's up - Manishma, No - Lo, Yes - Ken, Okay - Biseder and 'English?' - 'Anglit?' These words were more than enough to get by in this rather cosmopolitan city which is also home to a gazillion immigrants. There are those staunch Israelis who will demand you speak in Hebrew, but the vast majority of the population will try to help you if you throw up your hands and just say "anglit?" with a puppy face.

Ten classes helped me overcome inertia and begin learning the language with more zeal. I can now read at a slow pace, I do not remember the entire alphabet, but I do not suppose pattern recognition will take too long to master. What remains the problem with Hebrew is my lack of vocabulary and the small glitch that Hebrew is written without vowels. I might encounter a word that reads (Vowel-placeholder)-S-P-R-S-(Long-Vowel-placeholder), and slowly decrypt it to 'espresso'. Aha moments abound here! Of course they have vowel indicators (dots and dashes under/above/beside/inside letters), but they do not use them. You will only find a long line that indicates that the longer vowel is to be used. For example: My name would be written as 'S-S-Mi-T'. The ee sound with M is indicated, but not the u sound in su. If my name were 'Soosmita', then 'oo' would reflect in the way it is written. Maybe this is why my landlady spells her dog's name (in text messages) thus: Hctor (maybe the 'o' is there because it is pronounced as a long vowel).

It is as if Hebrew evolved into SMS lingo much before mobile phones or even computers for that matter were invented. Even if I recognise the consonants, I never know what the word is, because, I do not know which vowels are present in the word.
I have begged many Israelis to answer one simple question I have about the language - Why No Vowels? Pat come the replies, "Who needs vowels?" "The consonant combinations are unique, so you don't need vowels to tell you how to pronounce the word."
The language has an inherent chutzpah that says - Vowels? For who? (Please go watch Trevor Noah say "Comma? For Who?" in his bit about Jacob Zuma)

My ears now seek out Hebrew words I know. While I was waiting at a bus stop a couple of weeks ago, I totally eavesdropped on a conversation about software development for a start-up that is based in North Tel Aviv! I even use Hebrew at the market these days. With the conviction of a local who wants to bargain, I say, "Cama" or how much. When the price exceeds 30 or a number I know in Hebrew, I walk away. I think the strategy works just fine for me, because I exude confidence when I ask how much, and soon I turn out to be a rude customer who means business. The shopkeeper drops the price to 10 or 15 and I could not be happier about my inadvertent bargaining skills. There is no better way to certify mastery over the language than one's bargaining skills in the language. And, I am killing it!

Hebrew Alphabet

The cursive Hebrew script is very different from the formal script that you will find in newspapers or keyboards. I am yet to make the connection between the cursive letters and the formal ones. That's another drawback, but I am willing to forgive that if they used vowels!

Cursive alphabet (dots are not used)

Must do in Jerusalem Old City

On my latest visit to the Old City of Jerusalem I tried to pack in some of the experiences that I call must-do.

• An early morning visit to the Dome of the Rock or the Temple Mount
• Tour of the Western Wall Tunnels or the Kotel Tunnel Tour 

and if your conscience allows you to do something sketchy just for the shock factor

• Tour of the Temple Institute (a free visit to their museum shop ranks very high in the WTF quotient anway)

Qubbat As-Sakhrah, or The Dome of the Rock

The Dome of the Rock

The Dome of the Rock is indisputably one of the most charged holy places in the world. Visitors are not allowed to bring any kind of religious texts /symbols/objects to avoid break outs of the smallest skirmishes. Recently, a Rabbi was not allowed to enter the Temple Mount because he had an apple with him. The logic was that, when he would eat the apple on the Temple Mount, he would have to utter a Jewish prayer, and that could not be allowed. We can all debate the soundness of the logic, but we cannot ignore the severity of the situation here. 

The queue looks long and moves slow. I made it to the ramp leading to the mosque compound after standing in line for just 30 minutes. Tourists are allowed to enter only from the Dung Gate at specific times (7.30-11 am and 1.30-2.30 pm) depending on the season. 

The Temple Mount complex is vast and comprises the mosque itself, a huge facade and porch, an ablution fountain, and a lot of space where visitors and pilgrims alike can rest. Until my most recent visit, I had only caught a glimpse of the golden dome from vantage points across the Old City. All of Islam at one point prayed in the direction of the Temple Mount before orienting towards Mecca. 

The mosque and its compound completely isolates visitors from the din of the Old City. Visitors are not allowed to enter the mosque itself, but only allowed access to the compound of the mosque. As the view of the golden dome got bigger and bigger I could only try to imagine what this magnificent mosque must look like from the inside. Other tourists who wondered the same tried to push their luck. I noticed a rather apologetic security guard explain to a couple of tourists who sought to enter the mosque the reason behind shutting the mosque to non-Muslim visitors. I overheard him say, "Mosques are generally open to the public. There was a attack, since then, non-Muslims are not allowed." 

Had I not had other plans for the day ahead of me, I could have spent a couple of hours walking around the compound of the mosque. 

While the imposing structure with its golden dome held me in awe when I entered the Temple Mount, it is the stark difference between two places of worship that gripped me. At the compound of the Dome of the Rock I could hear birds chirping, women sat in the shade of the porch either chit-chatting about mundane topics or praying, I could not tell. Children frolicked about, chasing pigeons and generally doing what children do when no one is paying attention. Men sat together reciting verses from the Koran. I saw one man in particular lazing under the shade of a tree on a bamboo mat that he seemed to have laid out for this very purpose. Here, I stand in front of one of the most beautiful mosques ever built. And I am reminded that a level below, a few metres away, men and women are facing this very spot and mourning at the Western Wall with only the image of their Temple from about 2,000 years ago.

Western Wall Tunnel Tour

The Western Wall Tunnel Tour is as much a must-do as a visit to the Western Wall itself (need to reserve slots in advance). The original western retaining wall of the Second Temple was about 488 meters. What we see today as the Western Wall is a mere 57 metre long section of the southern part of the western retaining wall. The city of Jerusalem was elevated by rebuilding it over archways sometime before 750 AD. The tunnel tour takes visitors on a walk under these archways for the entire length of the western retaining wall, exiting onto the via Dolorosa. 

If archaeological remains impress you, the Tunnel Tour is for you. For a fee of 30 NIS, the 90 minute guided tour takes visitors through the tunnel which is still an active excavation site. Smooth limestone from the Second Temple period at times more than 10 metres in length and 3 metres high run along the tunnel as you walk down a road 2,000 years old. It is as much an archaeological tour as it is a tour about the history of the Jewish people. The excavations that began after Israel won the 1967 war with Jordan have exposed walls, quarries, roads that date back a couple of thousand years. But the excavations were not without dispute.

The excavators went very close to digging all away to the spot that is believed to be the Holy of the Holies or the inner sanctum of the Temple of Solomon. Dispute arose and excavators had to stop digging in the direction of the Holy of the Holies. The excavation site towards the inner sanctum is considered to be the closest to the Holy of the Holies and devout pilgrims can seek to go down to the tunnels to offer their prayers. 

Side note: We were booked to visit the Tunnels on a Sunday. But we were delayed in reaching Jerusalem and could not make it on time. The really accommodating Tunnel admin allowed us to do the tour the next day.

Temple Institute

Just another average visitors' book

The tour of the Temple Institute could be taken up for pure masochistic reasons. You always know a religious fanatic when you see one, sometimes you can even tell that the guy does not really believe the sh*t he is spewing at you. Even if the guy truly believes in what he is saying, you could brush it aside. But the Temple Institute stirs a different emotion.

What is the Temple Institute, you wonder. Well, it is nonprofit that is preparing for that day when the Third Temple will be built. Every article in the Temple has to be kosher and all that jazz. This Institute has made/built many of these articles and seems to be awaiting the day to install these objects.  

The tour began with a 20-something girl talking about the foundation stone, Adam and other such Biblical mumbo-jumbo that I chose to ignore. Then she took it up a notch. "We can't build the Temple right now, because it is presently a little occupied," she said pointing to the Dome of the Rock. In fact, the Temple Institute has a FAQ page that addresses this concern of little occupation. It says, "With the acquiescence of the Moslem world the Moslem structures currently on the Mount would be disassembled and reassembled elsewhere."

Everywhere I looked I saw large paintings of tram lines around the Temple Mount, huge cranes lifting concrete blocks over a structure that resembles a temple in place of the al-Aqsa mosque. All this while she spoke of how the Institute was preparing the vessels, garments for priests, menorahs for the "soon to be built" Third Temple. Pretty soon I started wondering if at the back of the building there was a group of crazies just praying for the mosque to fall or something. 

We visited two rooms. One with the sacrificial altar, garments of the priests and high priest, and the water dispenser for holy ablutions. It turns out that the staff of the Temple Institute are only trying to interpret what the scriptures say about the Holy tools and apparel and do not know for sure what the Holy scripture says really. In the case of the breast plate of the High Priest which is supposed to have some 12 gemstones arranged a specific way, the website of the Institute says, "The names of these stones is particularly enigmatic: there are over 30 varying opinions as to the final identification of the 12 stones. Faced with this sort of situation, it becomes necessary to engage in what can be called 'linguistic sleuthing' in an effort to arrive at a working conclusion." 

Many aspiring priests have actually bought the priest garments from the Temple Institute. The tour group which I was a part of included a young boy who was training to be a priest. When the tour guide mentioned that the garment of the High Priest was yet to be bought, the boy with great excitement looked at his parents and said, "Gift for my Bar Mitzvah." 

I had so many questions during that tour and even before I could ask them the tour guide gave the explanation, "Because of G-d's presence." Now, I suffered this out of body experience, it is up to you to subject yourself to this too. 

The Temple Institute had resorted to crowd-funding to rebuild the Temple in 2014. It raised a total of 104,814 USD in two months! Watch these videos just for kicks.

As it turns out, the Temple Institute is quite inspirational(!). Of course, there are those who visit it and then go back chanting, "The Third Temple is coming", but there are others. Creative minds have made a TV show with the premise that there is an international conspiracy to build the Third Temple. Thankfully, the Temple Institute did not come across as something as extreme, if that is any respite.  

What do I do?

The answer to that question has always been plain and simple for me, until now. For the first couple of months in Tel Aviv I kept telling R that I would back to India by summer and that he could stay back complete his fellowship. I surely did not adapt to the change very well, then again, who does?

It took a while. The other day, I called my mother to inform her that maybe R would visit India at some point but I would return only when the fellowship ends. The transition was slow but I can point to one instance when I noticed that I had made the transition. 

At social gatherings or when I met new people here, their first and most common question to me was "What do you do?" I used to squirm to respond to that question. I did not hate to say that I was here only because my husband moved here. It would have made me feel better if I had a reply that began with "I do X" rather than "My husband does X." Of course, I would explain how I got here and then mention that I am exploring Tel Aviv, developing hobbies, etc. That never did seem enough. 

A week ago, at my Hebrew class, we were doing a round of introductions for the new students, when it was my turn to introduce myself. In the past I have maintained "ani lo ovedet" or I do not work. In the last class though, I decided to go with "ani hit'parati" or I quit and continued to tell them what I do in Tel Aviv. My decision to go with "I quit" was simple, I wanted to use a new word. The consequence of that small action has been remarkable. There is freedom in saying that I quit to explore a new land and more importantly explore myself. Since then, I have become more confident about answering the question I used to most dread. 

In the meantime, I went all-out trying to find work opportunities. A few weeks ago I began volunteering for the Tel Aviv Municipality as a content writer. The work is sporadic, but if some one wants a more traditional reply to "what do you do" I have a reply for that too, now. 

Istanbul or How I learnt to stop and smell the roses

TLDR: Put Istanbul on your Bucket List

April was every bit the roller coaster I was expecting it to be. The non-stop touring has filled my camera's memory card with an enormous number of photos that need processing and experiences and stories that I need to blog about. I will begin with Istanbul.

There is so little that we read in Indian history text books about how Constantinople stood as the capital of the world for a thousand years. The quantum of history that I needed to read about while planning this trip should have inspired me to make a week long trip instead of a three day trip. Sigh oh sigh. That said, Istanbul part 2 awaits.

Since I had only three days in the city, I tried to plan my trip down to the hour. Timely intervention by chilly breeze and rain ensured that my plans stayed caged in excel sheets. The rainy weather and a couple of spontaneous cousins made sure that my trip was impromptu enough to give me the jitters. Chugging Turkish beer in an alley while it drizzled outside and trying (more watching) nargila in a completely un-touristy part of Istanbul made me stop and smell the roses in a manner of speaking. (If you find yourself forced to sit down at a pub to avoid the rain, I recommend Efes.)

Day One began with me making my way to the city from the far far away Sabiha Gökçen International Airport. The AirBnB host suggested that his guests take the "historical tram" from Taksim Square and get off at the closest stop to his place. What he did not mention is that the historical tram is a mere tourist attraction and not a serious mode of transport. My rucksack and I tried to squeeze into the tram that was already full of enthusiastic tourists slinging selfie sticks only to realise that I could not do anything more than apologise to every commuter on the train who had to squeeze past me to click that wretched selfie at the front of the tram.

If you are visiting Istanbul, a ride on the tram will seem like a must-do at first, but once you have been on it with your rucksack and watched how the tram is slower than people on the street, you will be far less enamoured by it. Blame it on my Tel Aviv influenced sensibility, but people walking on the tram line while the tram was very much active came to me as a shock. Ah! the confluence of Asia and Europe, I thought to myself.

Kumpir

Another highlight of the day was Kumpir - a Turkish baked potato fast food. Calling it a fast food is a bit of a stretch for me. I have a small appetite but a potato the size of a banana split topped mashed with a ton of butter and cheese and topped with salads can't just be a fast food.

Days Two and Three were mostly packed with visiting the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, Topkapı Palace, Basilica Cistern, Grand Bazaar and Spice Bazaar. If you were wondering, yes, I skipped the famed and must-do Bosphorus Cruise, in exchange for a trip to the Yarn Market.


The queue at the Hagia Sophia seems demoralising at first but it moves fast. I set out expecting the lines in Istanbul to be as bad as those at the Notre-Dame Cathedral or even worse at the Vatican Museum, where I stood for at least a couple of hours in lines. It was truly refreshing that we entered the sites after standing in lines for only 30 minutes. A word of advise about the Topkapı Palace, skip it if you don't have the time and visit the Archaeological Museum instead. The Topkapı Palace is vast and majestic but there are far more impressive palaces in Europe. The treasury of the Palace is always listed as a must-see but the line was so long, I gave it a miss.

Blue Mosque and Hagia Sphia

After walking around the Old City area for two days, when your legs need to rest, I suggest you visit Gülhane Park adjacent to the Topkapı Palace. A chance visit to the park led my cousins and me to the Istanbul Museum of The History of Science and Technology in Islam. I would not call it a must-see but if you have the time, drop by this place for its well-curated exhibits. Look out for a Jantar Mantar exhibit while you are there. It reminded me of all the Kejriwal drama that Jatanar Mantar has ever witnessed.

On the drive into the city from the far far away airport I noticed many mosques that seemed to resemble the Blue Mosque. I kept wondering if each of those were The One. Apparently not, every mosque in the city is modeled after the Blue Mosque. While it is quite distracting at first, once you have seen the real deal, the rest look far smaller in comparison. These  local mosques incorporate the best of the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia. Sitting in a mosque during prayer time was most remarkable for me. Having heard a really garbled version of the azaan blast out of mosques in South India, I found it very soothing to listen to the prayers in Istanbul's mosques. I highly recommend a visit to a neighbourhood mosque during prayer time.

One of the main highlights of my trip was a visit to the Yarn Market in the city. I picked up about 10 skeins of yarn, cotton, mohair and sock yarn from a quaint little shop in Kürkçü Han. From some rough calculations, it turns out that I saved 50 % on the yarn bought in Istanbul. It is a little tricky to find Kürkçü Han. I was told that it was in the Eminönü neighbourhood of the city and that it was close to the Grand Bazaar. So I began asking for directions to Eminönü and was deep in the spice market of Eminönü when I decided to use code word : Kürkçü Han. I should have whipped out the paper with Kürkçü Han written on it right in the Grand Bazaar.

It is just a 5 minute walk from the Grand Bazaar if you exit via the street Mahmutpaşa Yokuşu Sk. The endeavour to find the market was beginning to destroy me when we had walked for nearly 30 minutes and the market was no where in sight. I was the saddest on the entire trip when a woman on the street selling knitted dolls indicated that she had no clue about this magical place I was looking for. Since I had a photo for reference, I walked back and finally found the market around 7.30 pm. But it was shut by then, so I returned at 5 pm the next day and made my purchases. The shopkeeper was amazed that someone all the way from India was shopping for yarn from his store. He was quick to give some stats on the countries from where he had customers. Though Israel was one of the counties he mentioned, I did not have the time or energy to share my Ascent to Israel with him. With the prices at which yarn is sold here, it is no surprise that knitters from around the world visit Kürkçü Han. I mostly bought yarn in the range of 3-4 Turkish Lira per skein. Colourful acrylic yarn at 1 Turkish Lira per skein was calling out to me from the racks, but I had limited space in my rucksack. (For reference, I purchase a skein of acrylic yarn at 10 Shekels in Tel Aviv)

I have yet to mention the night life of Istanbul, the lively Istiklal Street, long meandering walks from Beyoğlu Tunel to Karakoy, and everything about the monuments I visited. All that for another post when I am done processing photos.