Light in Brussels

There was an Israeli studying saxophone at a Brussels conservatory who was released from the IDF in 2014 where he played in the army orchestra. There were the senior leadership of the European Israel Public Affairs (EIPA) organization, the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) equivalent group to the EU. There was the high school girl originally from England who now studied in Brussels because her mother was an official translator for the EU, possessing the unique skill of speaking six languages. There was the older woman who spent the majority of her career working for the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) in the 1990's and now served as a consultant. There was the father who served as an Israel Fellow in a European community and spent time in Florida with the Union of Reform Judaism (URJ), who generously offered to help me find my way to Israel through business after graduation. There was the woman born and raised in Morocco who was now doing consulting work in Brussels. There was the Russian woman who came with her young son and who communicated through warm smiles and kind eyes. And then there was Nehama and Avi, sitting at the head of the beautifully set Shabbat dinner table and welcoming this diverse group of people into their home.

How did I find myself here?

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Flashback to the night before around one in the morning where I lay in my hostel bed. Unsure of what would appear, I decided to google "JCC Brussels" and then "Brussels Jewish community.” At first, I was surprised by the different EU-related search results, having forgotten that Brussels was one of the main centers for the EU. Clicking on the first result, I explored the website searching for any upcoming events or programs over the weekend as well as some sort of consistent community Shabbat program. Not finding what I was looking for, I navigated to the page listing the five or so staff and found the two women responsible for programming. On a complete and utter whim, I sent an email introducing myself and asking about some sort of Shabbat experience in Brussels. Did something like this exist? Surely it had to, right? Little would I know or expect, the next morning while at the Brussels Museum of Fine Arts, I received a brief response from Nehama asking me to call her. Over Facetime audio and then Whatsapp message, she told me where I could find a Shabbat service and then invited me to her home for dinner. This is indeed the power of email, Jewish community, and kindness.

In my blue jeans, casual sweater hiding my passport belt, and Blundstone hiking boots, I walked with Rachel over to the EU Jewish Building around 5:30 Friday evening. We approached what looked like any ordinary brownstone urban building except that three guards stood right in front of this unmarked residence. In fact, the whole twenty feet front-facing perimeter of the building was barricaded by a temporary fence, the kind used at outdoor concerts to separate the dancing crowd from the stage. Accompanying the regular building security guard were two highly alert military officials, whereas the previous week at the JCC in Madrid, two police officers casually chatted outside a police car ten feet away from the main entrance. Because Rachel and I gave our personal information to Nehama, the security guard was expecting us, and we were able to enter the building with ease. Opening the door, we were met by a short wooden staircase that had small palm-sized vases of pink flowers on the edges of each stair. To our left was a white wall covered in name plaques of many different Jewish organizations all connected to the building, and to our right was the room with the service. Listening to the men in prayer, we hung up our winter coats in the adjacent coat room, went to the bathroom on the floor above, and made our way into the women's section of the service. Unlike the Madrid JCC, here women were separated by wall partitions—not a whole floor level. In the women's section, there was only a young woman sitting in the very back. While I had been to an orthodox shul once or twice before, this was Rachel's first time. Surprisingly, the language was in English, so I followed along in language but unfortunately not in prayer. The melodies and extent of prayer were different than what I was used to, and yet the core of the service was as familiar as always. I picked up on a hint of Brooklyn accent in the service leader's voice, and during prayer, he made equal eye contact with both Rachel and me and the men's side, something I wondered if he always did. Right after the service, he came up to us and introduced himself. He had a welcoming energy, and when I explained that I came from a reform community in an effort to justify my lack of really following along in prayer, he didn't seem phased at all. Is your mom Jewish? Yes. You're Jewish.

Afterwards, Rachel and I found Avi, Nehama's husband and her young son, where we then walked with the two of them and an Israeli over to their home. Walking in this part of the city, it was clear this was a more business and political district, as we passed by various official EU buildings. The little boy, around 8 years, impressed me by sharing how many languages he knew—French, Spanish, Hebrew, English, and even Yiddish.

Ten minutes later, we arrived at their home, where upon entering their apartment, there was an ornately decorated and set Shabbat table for twenty plus adults. Two sets of large Shabbat candles (more than double the size that my family uses at home) stood in the table's center as well as two kiddish fountains were placed at the head of the table. Such love and dedication was put into the placement of each item, making me feel even more grateful to be welcomed into this loving home. The walls were decorated with family pictures and pieces of Judaica. In the back corner of the open room were two couches, where Nehama's two young sons were engrossed in their books, and large ceiling-high book shelves lined the wall. Waiting for Shabbat dinner to begin and more guests to arrive, Rachel and I sat down with the other Israeli and young boys. We met the other adults as they trickled in, mostly communicating in our English and a tad bit of Spanish. There we met the various consultants and political activists, all making a huge difference in the Jewish community here.

The time came for us to all bring the various Mediterranean dishes from the kitchen into the dining room, which we didn't realize at the time was only the first round of dinner. We said the kiddish and hamotzi before eating the delicious food. Following this would be more rounds of delicious dishes: coconut milk-based matzah ball soup, chicken and vegetables, as well as chocolate cake for dessert. Transitioning between the meal rounds was facilitated by teamwork and assembly-like organization.

Beyond the delicious food and diverse guests, the most special and meaningful part of this Shabbat was the conversation. After a sufficient amount of individual side talk, Nehama asked everyone to go around the table and "present" themselves. Who are we? Where do we come from? And, most importantly, what inspired us this week? Nehama began, expressing her gratitude to everyone for joining and how special it was to have everyone together. As individuals went around to share, a common theme of inspiration was this Shabbat dinner: to be surrounded by welcoming company, shared a delicious meal, and, although not verbalized but truly felt, reminded that the Jewish community is alive and vibrant in Europe

When my turn came to speak, Nehama started by sharing how Rachel and I came to be joining everyone at Shabbat. She mentioned my email that was specifically addressed to her and sent at one in the morning, and she made a joke about how of course she knew I was Jewish by this fact alone.

I had difficulty sharing what inspired me that week. What was the most impactful inspiration I felt this past week? How could I narrow down all of my inspiration to just one or two things? Was it the sandwich shop Tonton Garby's that Rachel and I visited that afternoon for a tasty honey, apple, and pistachio-flavored goat cheese sandwich, where the owner shared the secret behind his business model and embodied positive business as a force for good to connect customers and value? That he treats each customer when it is his or her turn to order with full attention, exerting such love into the placement of each slice of apple onto the break lathered in cheese? That if a customer is not happy with a sandwich, he or she will not pay or that when he leaves home each morning, he tells his wife he is going to his shop—not to "work." That during our conversation with him in Spanish, he explained that Brussels no sol afuera pero sol en dentro. Brussels' light comes from within—not outside.

But this is not what I shared.

I prefaced by saying I would share two different inspirations from this past week, each connected to this Shabbat table. I first brought everyone back in time with me to Washington, DC in November of 2014, where I spotted Natan Sharansky at the conference I was attending, followed him outside the breakout session, and probably too boldly asked him for advice. Specifically, I asked him what advice he had for a girl who wanted to change the world. But I left these details out. Instead, I shared the advice he gave me: I must go back to my roots. These roots—the roots of my Jewish identity—are the backbone of the creation of this Blog and the motivation for me to email Nehama on a whim at one in the morning the night before. These roots are what brought me to this special Shabbat that I otherwise would not have experienced and perhaps could not have experienced anywhere else in the world. And then I shared about Lean In. Most of the adults around the table were women, all pursuing high-impact and high-level careers and all making a difference in the world all the while raising families. Women like Nehama, who while working for the European Jewish Community Centre, managed to cook and create this Shabbat experience. I complimented the women around the table and equally the men—the allies who support these women leaning in. Together, all of this was my inspiration.

In addition to introductions and side chatter, there were a few stories told that evening that resonated with me in particular, leaving me with a slow smile and renewed ideas to ponder. One was a story that Nehama's younger son shared to the table in French. This story was about a little boy who had to interrupt his studies to go help his siblings. He taught us that helping others always comes before work. Then, another story was shared by the director of EIPA. When introducing himself to me and Rachel earlier in the evening, he stated that he was originally from Ireland but reminded us that as Jews, it seems our only true home is Israel. His story was related to the Torah portion of the Jews leaving Egypt and crossing the Red Sea. The protagonist was a man desperate to be heard and understood by G-d, so he tried raising his voice by shouting and yelling. But we were told that G-d always listens and is always there—no matter how loud or quiet one is and no matter how close or how far one is.

Towards the end of the meal, it was finally Avi's turn to introduce himself, where he shared a story that struck me to my core. He spoke of questioning. He enlightened the table by sharing that when presented something new, we must question all sides and angles of the subject. We must question not in spite of but because of. We question not to destroy but to make better. We question not out of hate but love. While he spoke, I was brought back to my most recent advocacy trip in Israel, meeting with government officials, community leaders, and student activists. I realized that I ask questions that are based on an acceptance of what is presented to learn the material better—not to ask questions that are based on determing an acceptance or rejection of what is presented to analyze the core of the material further.

With full hearts and stomachs, we left many hours later. But wanting to give back and express my gratitude, I sent Nehama a Whatsapp message Saturday night asking if she could use an extra hand Monday morning, as my flight did not depart until evening, and I already explored all that I wanted to see of Brussels as a tourist. And so Monday morning, I walked across city and returned to the building I ventured into Friday for a Shabbat service. There, I helped Nehama by helping Avi set the conference room table for a women's lunch for a Tu B’shvat Seder. While only being able to stay for the first fifteen minutes of the Seder, I still met the handful of community members who came to learn more about this holiday. We discussed why Tu B’shvat is observed at this time of year, seemingly the dead of winter, and we named the seven fruits of Israel that we bless for the Seder: wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives and dates. On the first cloudless, sunny, and warm fifty degree day since I arrived in Brussels, I sat at a table fully covered by more fruits, vegetables, and dishes than I could name and women who made the time in their busy work day to come learn from Nehama.

Staring into the fields of green on the shuttle bus from the city to airport, my eyes were filled with light from the sun, but my heart was warmed by the light around me that weekend.