Not that I have any plans

I was right. I did end up watching an episode of The Wire with Max on Wednesday night, just in case anyone was wondering about my psychic abilities. We also enjoyed some of our neighbor Darja's "relaxing tea" and chocolate upstairs, while she graciously let us use her washing machine to do a much-needed load of towels. (Don't go! Things will get more interesting that laundry.)

Thursday, (Dorot Day!) I was granted a couple hours of extra sleep by the planners of that day's seminar, and I don't think I was in alone in being very, very grateful for it. We met at Rebecca's house to begin our day entitled "The Politics of Kashrut." (Kashrut = Kosher) We heard from Ilan Shachar, a reporter for one of Israel's largest English-language newspapers Ha'aretz, who specializes in issues relating to the ultra-Orthodox and the Rabbanut (the religious governing body in Israel). The language barrier was tough (as was my constant worry that he was going to have a heart attack - he was a big man) but he managed to explain the complexities of the Rabbanut and how it has been come to be run almost entirely by the charedim (ultra-Orthodox). He gave us a great background, because it is the Rabbanut that has most, if not all, of the power when it comes to making and enforcing decisions about kashrut.

We left Rebecca's apartment and headed to a restaurant downtown (whose name I will not reveal to respect the privacy of the owner). The story of the restaurant is an interesting one. The restaurant had been owned for many years by a man who decided not to apply for a a teudah (a certification of kashrut, given by the Rabbanut, that kosher restaurants hang in the window) despite being 100% kosher. He was deeply disturbed by the practices of the Rabbanut's kashrut supervisors, who he believes get paid a lot of money to check (very infrequently) that a restaurant is upholding the standards of kashrut. When he passed away, his son took ownership over the restaurant, and over his father's attitudes toward the Rabbanut and the teudah process. But business is business, and he began to recognize that having a teudah would mean that many more religious Jews would eat in his restaurant. So he fought the Rabbanut for many years to get a teudah but to "get what he pays for." He didn't want to pay a monthly salary to a kashrut supervisor to come in once a week for 15 minutes. He believed that if he was going to hang a piece of paper on the door that says the government certifies his restaurant as kosher, he wanted that piece of paper to mean something. So it does. For him atleast. Not neccessarily for the thousands of others restaurants certified as kosher by the Rabbanut. (I should also mention that we ate really, really delicious food at this restaurant! I will definitely be going back.)

We left the restaurant and walked to our next stop which was, conveniently, just down the road. Marakia, a restaurant that serves mostly soup (marak means soup in Hebrew), does not have a teudah despite being kosher. The owner is a young guy who bought the business about 6 years ago from two woman who did not keep the place kosher. But the current owner came from a religious family, and felt that it was important to kasher (make kosher) the place. But he took believes that a certificate by the Rabbanut doesn't mean anything and he just doesn't by into the system. He believes that he and his customers should build a relationship, and that they should just know and believe that the restaurant is kosher if he says it is. I agreed a lot with where he was coming from, but what he was talking about didn't really seem to be a practical system for a Jewish country.

The rest of our afternoon was spent in the Orthodox Union building (where all the Dorot women were urged to dress modestly, the men in kippot, and we sat on opposite sides of the table). We met with Rabbi Yoel Lieberman, who has been working in the field of kashrut (if that is such a thing) including being a kashrut supervisor in food factories around the world. We did text study with him, presumably to get into the nitty-gritty halacha (Jewish laws) of kashrut. He was a little too scattered-brained for my style, but he gave me a lot to think about. Most of the texts he gave us were about how food cooked by non-Jews isn't kosher, no matter what the circumstances, and came right out and said it was a law to prevent intermarriage. Look, I don't keep kosher and I have very few friends who keep kashrut to that letter of the law. But it really bothered me. It's not like I don't know that Judaism has a lot of policies that promote insularity. It's not like I don't realize the realities of times in which these texts were written, or the realities of the present times, where the Jewish people are still terrified by intermarriage. But it's really different to read it on paper, to know that's what the texts of my religion say, and to grapple with the voice deep down that says "this does not make me proud to be a Jew."

Thank goodness for the man that followed next: Shmuli Bing (best name ever), the founder of the Tav Chevrati, the "Social Seal". I'll take the explanation right from their website. "Checking food to see if it is certified to meet specific standards is a familiar concept in traditional Jewish life, as many Jews will not eat foods or frequent eateries that are not certified as “kosher” by a rabbi or rabbinical organization. But, while many people are concerned that the food they eat is prepared in accordance with Jewish law, they are often not equally concerned that the workers preparing and serving the food are treated in a manner that is “kosher.” In Israel today, many restaurants and cafes offer their clientele fine food and impeccable service, but do not pay their kitchen staff and waiting staff for vacation days, sick days, and/or training days – basic rights that are mandated by Israeli law." The Tav Chevrati is a certification that a restaurant upholds all of the basic social rights of its employees and has disability access when possible. Restaurants owners can proudly display the Tav in their window, along side their teudah. (Also some of the restaurants that are Tav Chevrati certified are not kosher.) The system isn't perfect. There is a big issue in Israeli restaurants, in which very young people from underpriveleged backgrounds (i.e. Arab Israelis and Palestinians) work in restaurants for long hours despite regulations forbidding such hours during the school year. A restaurant with these practices would not get a Tav Chevrati, which on the surface is a fantastic thing. But I know that there are tens of thousands of classrooms less than than the number needed in East Jerusalem, and that for many Palestinian families, school is not an option and work is a neccessity. Still, the Tav Chevrati is an incredible venture and something I'm really excited about. I think I'm going to be trained in January to speak to long-term and short-term programs (Birthright, Nativ, YearCourse, other gap year programs) about the Tav Chevrati and to urge them to pick those restaurants over others whenever they can.

The day finished around 6:30. I jetted home and headed out again, this time with Max, to Matt's house for our big Dorot (catered) Thanksgiving dinner. (Or Joint Celebration of Indigenous People's Day and Rosh Chodesh Kislev, if you will.) There was a big table of Dorot fellows (and significant others) and more food than we knew what to do with. Sweet potato soup and toasted red pepper soup, chicken and duck and turkey (which others said was quite delicious), rice and lentils, lots of salads, ratatouille, roasted potatoes ... and lots and lots and lots of wine. Max and I left around 11:30, very full and a little (lot) tipsy. It wasn't the same as being with my family. I realized that despite having been in North Carolina for many High Holidays, this is the first year I haven't been with my family for Thanksgiving. But they called and I spoke to all 15 of them, before falling fast asleep.

Thanksgiving was followed by a distgustingly rainy day, during which I accomplished only 3 things. 1) I conducted all of my transactions at the bank in Hebrew. 2) I bought a lot of groceries at the shuk, including fish for the first time. (At the shuk they appear to only sell the whole fish but I finally figured out how to ask for a filet.) 3) Max and I finished watching the second season of the Wire. Oh. Four I guess. I also did my Hebrew homework. (Conjugating verbs in past, present, and future tense.) The weather finally started to clear up just as the sun set and Shabbat began. I made a delicious dinner for Max and I. Tilapia, oven-baked carrots and rosemary roasted potatoes, a big salad, and a whole-wheat challah from Pe'er (the best challah in Jerusalem.)

And now it's Saturday morning. A whole day stretches before me. Not that I have any plans.