"Kibbutzniks"

In the itinerary, this morning’s first event was described simply: “hike to mountain overlook for tefillah.” But it failed to do justice to the majesty that we encountered. Following a narrow, windy, and rocky path, we made our way out of the kibbutz and into the mountains of the Negev. Harrowing at points, gently sloping at others, we ascended a series of peaks while the beautiful vista expanded around us. Each time we arrive at an apparent peak, thinking we had arrived, gigantic chunks of the mountains were revealed to us. This happened literally three times, but we finally arrived at the top and overlooked the Arava Valley below us to the east and the continuation of the Negev to the west. Many have tried but few have been capable of describing the stunning natural beauty of the mountains and the valleys of this region. As we began davening, many thoughts turned to Moses and Sinai and the conditions faced on that mountain. Looking out, if we for a second imagined that the road was not there, nor the green leafy patch of the kibbutz, the landscape cannot have changed much over the past couple of thousand years. As we learned, the Arava valley, which forms the natural border between Jordan and Israel in the south, sits on the Afro-Syrian ridge, where two tectonic plates meet and are apparently rubbing against each other (to the point that over the last 19 million years, the land of Israel and the land of Jordan have been moving in opposite directions, around 150 kilometers, to be exact). But with human settlement here, the view was similar to that beheld by the ancient Israelites, and davening in this space, high above the earth and nature’s glory was a sacred experience. The way down, while quicker, was far scarier because we were constantly looking down at the ground far, far away. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAyygi_Ecz8

After an al fresco breakfast outside, we learned about efforts on the kibbutz to introduce organic farming to Israel. While some strides have been made, Israel still lags behind in these efforts compared to the United States. Nonetheless, more and more Israelis are becoming interested in growing and buying produce certified as organic and there are movements within the so-called eco-kosher community to bring together kashrut and organic ideologies. At Ketura, the community organic garden is still quite small and there are no plans for commercial organic farming as of yet, but there is an educational component to it, as well as hands on. We mulched in the vegetable garden and weeded the flower one.

After lunch and some down time, we boarded the bus and headed back out to the Negev. Ascending up out of the Arava valley, we entered a lonely stretch of road, surrounded by the hilly and rocky desert on both sides. Stopping seemingly in the middle of nowhere, we got off the bus with nothing but vast expanse on either side of us, with an Air Force base and the Sinai deep in the horizon to the west. After another minor trek upwards, we ascended a peak where we found the famous Negev sand dunes. We took off our shoes and socks and enjoyed a good hour in the finest, softest sand almost anywhere on the planet. Careening down the hill, then scrambling up for more, it was a physical yet extremely entertaining time. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zp1Y5lmGdBw

What followed was perhaps one of the most meaningful experiences of the trip, if not entire lifetimes.

As the sun set to the west, we separated, each individual finding a spot of solitude in the dunes, looking out at the seemingly infinite stretch of mountains and desert. Sitting, alone, we were left to our thoughts, our feelings, cut off from everything but ourselves and the majestic power of the earth. For a good hour, we sat, reflected, interrupted only briefly by the sound of the shofar to let us know it was time to write about our experience. In the process, the remaining light of the day faded, as twilight descended on the desert in the light of the infant moon. After days and days of interactions and engagement with others and ourselves, suddenly, swiftly all that was removed. In an instant, we were transported into a timeless, eternal world that has not changed for millions of years, vigilantly standing still through night and day, winter and summer, war and peace. The power of the land truly took hold of our imaginations here.

Afterwards, around the campfire and over s’mores, we shared our experiences. To some, it was about beholding the immenseness of the universe, of feeling really small in a really large space, surrounded by billions of stars and galaxies, each with their own story to tell. To others, it was about the transformative silence, the most incredible silence there is: total to the point that paper falling to the ground or pencil writing on paper were literally deafening. And in that silence, in that tranquility, was an incredible connection to the past, to the present, to ancestors, and, most importantly, to a universal feeling of peace. Some described it as the ultimate act of solitude, an entrée to a live show of the cosmos unfolding. Still others referred to the overpowering loneliness, both physical and emotional, that overtook them and refused to let go. Some literally cried in a cathartic cleansing, while others mentioned the obvious and undeniable removal from the monotony and routine of patterned life. For some, although being in Israel for the 7^th time, it was only on this trip, and especially during this experience, that they realized a true connection to the country and a true love of the land. And finally, perhaps most importantly, the most commonly expressed feeling was one of connection between the students, of the veritable and tangible love that exists after years and years of knowing, trusting, and engaging with each other. Hearing student after student express this emotion lifted the spirits of the entire group above and beyond. As the fire began to die out and the stars, infinite in number, penetrated our consciousness, something nearly miraculous happened. Without a plan or announcement or warning, one by one the students began rising, standing shoulder to shoulder. As others realized what was happening, they too joined, without a single word, until finally the circle became complete, and we, a small group in the middle of a vast desert, formed an unbreakable whole, cemented by song. That singular memory will live in our hearts and minds forever. In fact, our guide David from the kibbutz, in all earnestness, told us that out of the hundreds of trips to the desert that he has conducted in his life, he has never, ever seen what he saw tonight --- the reflections, the insights, and the communal bond that holds together this unique and wonderful group of students. If there was ever a higher purpose to this trip, we found it tonight.

Back on the bus, back on the kibbutz, we ate a barbecue dinner and retired for the night, having rediscovered this beautiful connection between ourselves. Tonight we shall sleep like kings.