New Encounters

I created this Blog to detail experiences that fulfill the three goals I set for myself before departing for my semester here in Madrid. Some weeks I will detail my various travels within Spain and across Europe; other weeks I will detail the special moments I seek that truly allow me to find Ruach. This post embodies the latter.

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The best person-to-person interactions happen when mid-conversation goosebumps start to cover one’s arms. A smile slowly spreads its way across one’s face, and a breakthrough in the relationship can practically be visualized and felt by both. One learns something special about the other person, something deeply rooted at his or her core, and in return, one shares something special about his or herself.

This was one of those moments.

As a follow up from my lovely Shabbat last Friday with the reform community, I reached out to Yael, the young woman who leads the Reform Jewish community in Madrid. She was so warm and welcoming when we first me, and before I knew it, we planned to meet Wednesday afternoon at a tasty French pastry and coffee shop in Madrid. Over coffee and a delicious chocolate French pastry, our conversation—all in Spanish—soon unfolded. I was grateful to learn about her family, her work, and, perhaps most important, her passion for growing the Reform Jewish community. Back and forth our conversation went, a beautiful mix of sharing and listening. Time was truly lost.

What most inspires me about Yael is her dedication to see growth and prosperity. During the day, she uses her law degree working for a government Ministry, but after work, she invests herself fully in developing the Jewish community. She constantly goes out of her way, whether it be inviting the community’s Rabbi from France to come next month for a Tubishvat service, applying for a program that will allow a large Reform congregation to donate a Torah to her community (perhaps one knows a Congregation in Chicago interested in this special program?), or studying Judaism so that she can better lead services twice a month. In return, I shared about myself … my love for Israel, my passion for Jewish community, and my life’s ambitious goals. I also shared about being raised in a Jewish home, importance of Federation, and my experiences at the Jewish Federations of North America General Assembly the past two years. We compared what the Jewish community looked like in Chicago to that of Madrid. I shared the numbers (300,000 Jews in Chicagoland, annual campaign of $80 million plus) and that of which is beyond the numbers, like my bat mitzvah project so many years ago. For each community, there are advantages and disadvantages. It is clear, though, that Jewish life, something sometimes taken for granted, is obviously easier in Chicago. On Friday, my mom can find a challah at the local grocery store or a dedicated Kosher-for-Passover section at most grocery stores across Chicago. No such thing exists in Spain. In time, this is perhaps a possibility—thanks to Yael and so many others.

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Thursday marked my first day of classes; my first class began at 8am and my last class ended at 2pm. As this was my first “8am” in college, I admit that I was worried waking up for my five consecutive alarms—especially because the sun would not rise until after my class began. It then only seemed fitting that after so many hours of genuinely interesting class, I would return home and take a 3 hour nap in my apartment. (One of the many advantages of studying abroad :D ). Waking up from my nap, I decided to spend time with my roommates, most of whom are from Panama, so I joined them in the salon.

Joining the conversation, one of the first questions I was asked was where I was from. Most likely, the friends of my roommates could identify my Chicago-Spanish accent within an instant of me opening my mouth. We talked a bit about Chicago, and I was then asked if I had traveled before. I said I had—Central America (Mexico), Asia (Singapore and Malaysia), and then the Middle East. I purposely chose to share the regions of the world I had been—rather than specific countries—so that I could have more control of the direction of the conversation. Upon sharing I traveled to the Middle East, the friend’s interest was piqued, and he asked me where. Israel, I said, calmly but assured.

Looking at the faces around me, I had trouble identifying the emotion. I had no idea what these young people, mostly masters students at various universities in Madrid, thought of this little country in the Middle East that meant so much to me. The main friend of my roommates’, who had the most interest in what I was saying, was especially engaged now. It was not anger nor fear nor disgust that overcame his face. More a mere genuine look of surprise. Ready to ask them a question to divert to a new conversation topic, I became the surprised one as I was asked questions about my time in Israel. The questions were gentle, innocent, and rooted in genuine curiosity of wanting to learn more about a country never traveled to but only heard of.

Before I knew it, I was advocating for Israel in my small apartment in Madrid, surrounded by master students from Panama and Colombia.

I spoke of my time in Kiryat Gat in summer of 2014, the uses of cement by Hamas to build terrorist tunnels into Israel, the Israeli development of the Iron Dome, the startup boom in Tel Aviv, and so much more. Words, facts, and stories were flowing out of me—all in Spanish. I was careful, with each bit more of information I shared, testing the waters based on the others’ body language. I did not want to offend, upset, or debate. And yet, I had all of their attention—it was quite amazing.

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That time you go to the JCC in Madrid for the first time excited for Shabbat and end up walking into the men’s section of the sanctuary, mid-sit-down onto the seat, until all eyes are on you and you realize you just made a ginormous fool of yourself, so you speed-walk out the fastest your legs let you, head-down and face ablaze.

Yup, that was me.

This past Friday marked my second Shabbat in Madrid, and besides making an accidental entrance of myself at the JCC, Shabbat was still quite enjoyable. When I did find the women’s section of the synagogue, I realized that two seats away from me sat a girl I recognized from high school. After the service when Jewish geography would run its course, I learned that three seats away from me was a girl also from Chicago who knew my Hillel friends at UIUC and the seat next to me was a girl from LA. Although I originally planned to have dinner at the JCC, I decided to join my new American-in-Madrid friends for dinner at the Chabad Rabbi’s apartment. Although I felt a bit apprehensive and nervous to go to the Chabad, I decided this would be a Shabbat where I would go with the flow and step outside of my comfort zone.

After walking up the five floors of windy, marble stairs in the dark and speaking a bit of extremely broken Hebrew to the Israeli couple climbing up behind me, our caravan finally arrived at the apartment. The main room in the apartment was a large study-turned-living room-turned dining room. Every wall in the spacious open area was covered in bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling and stacked full with books of all sizes. To compliment the overflow of books, I counted on more than one hand all of the clocks hung on all the room’s walls, finding the small space where shelf failed to meet ceiling.

After the food had been brought from the small kitchen down the windy hallway back to the main library/dining area, we all sat down for blessings and Shabbat dinner. Next to me at the head of the table was the Rabbi’s wife and on my other side sat the Israeli woman. Next to her was her husband, both visiting for the weekend on vacation, and next to him was another American student also studying in Madrid for the semester. The Rabbi sat at the other head of the table, and on his other side sat two American students traveling in Madrid for their long weekend off from school, and then across from me sat the two American students who I sat with in the women’s section of the JCC synagogue. I would be lying if I said I felt at ease during the blessings and rituals that were rather unfamiliar to me. Their blessings were obviously so much longer than those of which I would sing at my Hillel or home with my family. Even though I did not like it that I was told to keep my voice quiet so that it would be overshadowed by the men’s’ voices, I felt grateful that my lack of knowing the prayers would not be too apparent.

Reflecting back on this Shabbat, the most memorable moment of the dinner, something that made this experience valuable for me was one of the two stories the Rabbi told during dinner. He shared of the time that the Chief Rabbi of Chabad based in Israel came to Madrid for a day and requested a tour of the city. At first, the Madrid Chabad Rabbi thought he would show the Chief Rabbi the sites of the Jewish community, such as his home, the JCC, and a religious school. But no, the Chief Rabbi requested to see the real Madrid, including the Jewish and non-Jewish parts. There was one plaza, in particular, though, that the Chief Rabbi requested to see that the Madrid Rabbi was extremely hesitant to travel to—the Plaza Mayor right next to Puerta del Sol. This Plaza, a beautiful cobble-stone spacious area surrounded by red brick and beautiful painted four to five-story high buildings, was one of the first places I visited my first day here in Madrid. The Madrid Rabbi soon explained that he forbid himself from traveling here because of the dark, evil history that plagued Jewish people here, as this was where most were executed during the Inquisition and where so many crowds gathered to watch for entertainment. Upon arriving and without hesitation, the Chief Rabbi, against the Madrid Rabbi’s wishes, proceeded to enter the Plaza requesting the Madrid Rabbi join him. The two of them walked strait up to the large statue in the direct center. There, they said a prayer. Upon leaving the plaza, the Madrid Rabbi recognized a young student of his, where the three of them recited another prayer. Indeed, l’dor va’dor.