Religion: Rainbow

You’re taking your wife to Rainbow Serpent?!’ the hipster law student asked, his eyes trailing from Yair’s kippa to my scarved head.

‘More like she’s taking me,’ my husband replied with a grin to the incredulous looks from around the table. 

In the shadows of the backyard barbecue dinner, I looked down at my wedding ring with a smirk, amused at the other diners’ bewilderment at an orthodox Jewish married couple venturing to Rainbow Serpent, Australia’s famed alternative music and lifestyle festival in outback Victoria. Frummies going doofing? Yeah, right.

Perhaps it was Yair’s thick Israeli accent that led to the presumption that it was the natural choice of the Israeli to embark on this rite-of-passage at Rainbow Serpent, rather than the demure, Melbourne-born, Caulfield-ghettofied Jewgirl that sat beside him. An assumption that all Israelis yearn for the fabled freedom, dancing, drugs and debauchery associated with this four-day long weekend. A Chinese whisper murmured from seat to seat on the incoming airplanes, scribbled into dog-eared Hebrew guidebooks, slapped onto the noticeboards at local shwarma joints – all drenched with an imagined paradise of an escape, open and warm.

Indeed Rainbow Serpent is a sun-splashed, dusty paradise of sorts, where the colours of each person’s individuality is celebrated and cherished. Tattooed scalps and bejewelled torsos walk hand in hand with dreadlocked fairies and crewcut robots, as wide-eyed hipsters tip their straw hats towards their noses, shielding a sneak peek at the décolletage of a topless beauty. A smashing of subcultures erupts at festivals such as Rainbow Serpent, and it’s within the fragile boundaries of each clan that I feel most welcome. A feeling that tugged on my soul, even before I chose to ‘live within the lines’ of orthodoxy. Perhaps that’s why I’ve always felt so comfortable at these events. Leave your prejudices and judgments at home, and come to these dusty plains to celebrate life, to celebrate living. The length of a skirt’s hem, a shirt’s sleeve, a lock of hair, is banished to irrelevance. I am at home. Free.

In today’s world of blurred identities and an enmeshing of cultures, wide-scoped assumptions are still held, bubbling beneath the surface. Everything goes, yeah sure, in theory. Yet chinks in the status quo are often met with uncertainty and hesitation. To the dinner guests’ surprise, the scarved and sleeved wife was dragging along her superfrum Israeli husband to her favourite summer festival. Digging in my heels, I made sure that no smug married lifestyle nor religious observance was going to get in my way. We were going to Rainbow – religious style.

***

‘Welcome and Happy Rainbow,’ the smiling herd of Rainbow Serpent volunteers ushered us to the camping grounds. Having staked a secluded spot within a fenced area on an online map, it was now up to my navigation skills in finding it on the ground.

Driving towards the enclosed area, a straw-hatted, rainbow-panted volunteer waved us to stop. ‘Sorry mate, that section’s closed,’ he apologised, and pointed to the less-populated grounds behind us. ‘You can camp there, there’s heaps of space.’ Charged with the thankless job of guarding access to the fenced area, he had probably heard a number of excuses from others to get in to this prime festival real estate. But this was going to be a new one…

‘We need to camp there actually. It’s for religious reasons,’ I tried to explain, feeling a little ridiculous as the words bumbled out of my mouth. Yet I was not about to elaborate on the halachic restrictions of carrying on Shabbat (tiltul).

‘You know,’ he started saying as we eyed the empty camping area that ran along the inside of the fence, ‘it’s only cars that can’t get through.’ Dusk was settling on the dusty plains, and we didn’t have much time to pitch the tents in daylight.

‘Just no cars?’

‘Just no cars.’

‘Camping gear ok?’

The volunteer shrugged and smiled. We were in.

***

We awoke to the ferocious winds of country Victoria. Hot, furious, and whipping up everything in its wake, it imposed a harsh quiet on the camping grounds stretched out around us. The festival was to start today, and most people were still on their way. Yair’s tefillin straps cracked in the gusts, his tallit billowing across his back as he recited morning prayers. I settled into a camping chair, my back to the risen sun, warmth spreading across my neck. See? I said to myself, it’s not that hard being religious. This lifestyle, governed by ancient structures and hard-edged legalities, was a choice, and now I can mold my previous life around it. Simple.

***

Sunset was approaching as we were waiting in line for a two-dollar-three-minute-shower, a refreshing delight after being dusted with dirt from an afternoon of dancing. Throwing friendly nods of recognition to other members of the tribe, an invitation for Kabbalat Shabbat prayers was extended to the entire queue, for ‘the most spiritual and uplifting hour of your life!’ I raised my eyebrows at the claim, but appealing to the festival-goer’s soul is what brought most of us here. Subconsciously, at least.

That night, the dance-floor bass throbbed across the darkened campsite, a rhythmic lullaby pulsing beneath our feet as we trudged back from the Kabbalat Shabbat prayers; as we ate our canned tuna in the dim of a flashlight; as we turned in early for the night, cocooned in comfort.

The unrelenting sun chased us from our tented sweatboxes the following morning. Seven thirty. It was going to be a long day. Fanning ourselves in the shade of an umbrella, we changed positions with the moving sun, carefully rationing our bottled water to last us the entire day. My skin, hot and prickly, was beginning to burn, as we debated the merits of lathering sunscreen on Shabbat (another halachic no-no). Friends came and went, all shaking their heads at the strict observance Yair and I had chosen to apply to ourselves. And at the cooler hour of dusk, we ventured beyond our camp to the festival hub, wandering amongst the market stalls and tented shade. Made it. Shabbat was over. It was time to dance.

***

‘Where’s your boyfriend?’ a new friend sidled up to me outside the Chai Tent the next day. I was taking a break in the eucalyptus shade. 

‘My husband? Yair’s on the dance-floor. Over there,’ I told the friend, a tall, shaggy Sydney-sider.

‘You’re married? Didn’t pick that!’ he laughed. I smiled. For once my scarved head didn’t give me away. We talked and talked, and after much chatter, he then realised I was a religious Jewess. And for once, it didn’t phase him. In fact, my head covering seemed more like a fashion accessory than a point of difference here at Rainbow Serpent. On most days, the scarf makes the first impression for me, often morphing into an invisible cloak of sorts, locking any curiosity or interest out. 

How do I know this? I know, because I too use to think like this. I didn’t have time for the ‘religious’ ones. I found them boring, and all too similar to each other. They didn’t have the life experience nor the textured insight and conversation I was seeking when meeting new people. And now that I’ve crossed over to the other side, how interesting and lonely it’s become. The head covering brought with its soft fabrics and delicate patterns a stifling assumption that I too don’t possess the life experience, the depth of understanding and awareness of the world that would be required in a stimulating conversation. 

But here at Rainbow Serpent, anything goes. Everything goes. On arrival, I slithered out of my perceived cliché as fast as I could, yet as we packed up the tents and equipment at the festival’s close, the stereotypes came back out of the box to settle on our shoulders. Yet for that Australia Day long weekend, reality suspended and hovered over us for four magical days: first impressions were banished as we reveled in creativity, inclusion and splendour.

The Return

Returning to Israel has propelled and channelled my inner me to be the best person I can be.

Not without its challenges, the return has nourished my family, strengthened ourselves and our bonds with each other, granted us focus and drive, and enlightened our days with cheer and calm.

There is a love and a feeling of deep comfort here that I've only really experienced in another culture, another country. India. Yet perhaps I feel this love simply because I'm a Jewish Australian Olah, married to an Israeli with extensive ties here, have found a most welcoming and hospitable community, made new friends and reconnected with old friends.

I'm so very lucky. Thank you God. Thank you to all of you who have helped me get to this place - I cannot wait to share the rest of our lives together, withstanding the gaps in geography and lifestyles and enjoying this exciting adventure we call life.

Learn up, people. It’s time to connect.

It seems that mainstream Jewish organisations believe that less is more when promoting their events to the Melbourne Jewish community. As an unaffiliated young professional recently returned from living in Israel, I am out of touch with the goings-on of communal bodies. I scan my mother’s AJN each Thursday to see what events pique my interest, and occasionally receive an email update on the week’s lectures and shiurim happening across Melbourne. I would call myself proactive in my thirst for communal activity, and inform my friends and family about events that might have slipped through their social radar. But in my social circles, it seems that I’m the only one that’s actually interested.

When sharing information on upcoming events or lectures with my friends, I hit two roadblocks. The first is that they’re not interested. At last the gatekeepers of such communal bodies are starting to realise how non-committal, apathetic and uninterested Generation Y can be in responding to these events. I’m unsure if it’s because most of the activities aimed at ‘young people’ are perceived as a single’s meat-market, or if the theme of the communal event could be just that unappealing.

As one friend put it, when I was attending a recent lecture at Beth Weizmann, Gen Y was at home playing Guitar Hero. When I listened to Uzi Landau, a most impressive member of Knesset speak to a small crowd of (mostly) seniors, my friends were watching the Big Bang Theory. The only young people interested in and vocal about the current affairs of Israel, it seems, are members of the Socialist Alternative and Australian Friends of Palestine. Casual conversations over coffees or beers rarely turn to that topic. And that’s ok, as young Diaspora Jews are asking a whole lot of other questions about their own relationship to the State of Israel and its relevance to them. But this shall be left to another discussion later on, I hope.

As much as one person can encourage attendance to communal events, it makes it a little difficult to entice others to join me when I’m the youngest person in the room by thirty years. This is a second, if consequential, roadblock.

To be honest, I revel in the company of those much older than me, as I believe they have much to offer that I’m ever ready to absorb. However, the age and background of the audience is immediately considered upon arrival to such events. And could even be a turn-off for those looking to meet and interact with like-minded, similar-aged individuals.

Take the Gen08 discussion that took place last year – ‘The Jewish Community: What's in it for me?’ – for example. According to the advertisement in the AJN, it was aimed at 18-34 (ish) year olds to explore the ways to connect them with Jewish life, hence ensuring Jewish continuity. Hauling a mildly interested friend of mine with me, we entered the auditorium and were immediately confused. The hall was packed with those of our parents’ age – 50s, 60s, and older. A handful of young professionals, a bunch of young parents, and some students made up the rest.

Of a crowd of over 200 Melbourne Jews, the targeted demographic was certainly in the minority. And they were the ones that actually bothered to show up. This also influenced the direction of the discussion, which is not relevant to this article, but which left many young people quite frustrated at the end of the event.

A number of questions erupted from this experience: do young Melbourne Jews want to participate in any communal direction? Do they want to be a part of communal events? And if not, why? And if so, why aren’t they showing up? If Jewish continuity is a key focus, then how do we all connect? It’s hard out there. It’s made even harder when many of us are entrenched in the same social circles that haven’t really changed since high school or university. Once we’re in the work force, we become time poor and perhaps socially impoverished.

When thinking about the activities for young Melbourne Jews, I’m not talking about the university-aged, or those already heavily involved in communal bodies. What’s out there for those who enter the workforce and leave those days of informal Jewish education and Jewish discussion behind? How do we expand our minds in a social way? How do we expand our social spheres through non ‘meat market’ avenues?

This is where the Parlour Punch project will hopefully come in. The Parlour Punch aspires to be a series of monthly meets across Melbourne in which Jews – both young and young-at-heart – participate in focused discussions of a particular aspect of Jewish life. Informal, encouraging and self-directed, Parlour Punch project hopes to create a number of supportive mini-communities of diverse and engaging individuals interested in Jewish life and the world around us. Heralding the impassioned conversations that took place in the salons of Paris and Berlin some generations past, Parlour Punch belongs to Melbournian Jews and creates a space to connect, listen, argue, absorb, respond and inspire.

Parlour Punch is about keeping the conversation going – it's about the two Jews who argue the three opinions, shaping the community we live in, and listening to our fellow tribesmen and tribeswomen. The project celebrates diversity in religious beliefs, political outlooks and moral attitudes. Yet at Parlour Punch, being Jewish and the unity of the Jewish people is central, and we hope that our conversations and, perhaps someday, events will reflect this.

The idea is simple enough – get some people together in your lounge room, and, over nibbles and drinks, talk. Us Jews are good at that. Themes for discussion can be provided, but the bulk of the material is to come from the participants. Funny jokes, weird conspiracies, profound divrei torah, an article to be passed around and discussed – there are a myriad of options at our fingertips.

And invite people that you don’t usually see. Ask them to bring someone who might be interested. I suppose this also could be a way to meet new people, expand our social circles and learn about different pockets of the Melbourne Jewish community.

Perhaps every few months we could have a massive meet, where each mini-community hosts an event, be it a film night, a house party, trivia or a lecture and discussion.

Let’s keep the Jewish conversation going. Even if it hurts.

For more information, check out www.parlourpunch.blogspot.com. Contact us at parlourpunch@gmail.com if you’d like to get involved.

Diaspora Grieving

How far removed are Diaspora Jews from the Israeli Jewish experience?

An education awash with heavy references and classes on the Jewish State, its language, history, culture and stereotypes can only take a Melbourne Jewess so far. A Taglit Birthright holiday creates an alternate reality – encouraging young Jews to see beyond the negative media and apathy pervading Jewish youth around the world.

One foot dangling in the waters of Israel, while the other is still firmly planted in Melbourne.

I made aliyah nearly two years ago to live my lifelong dream – of being an Israeli. So excited was I to receive my blue ID card, I showed all my Israeli friends and family, who chuckled or just shrugged with indifference.

Travelling throughout India, I slapped on a thick Israeli accent when bargaining with shopkeepers. Once they thought I was a native Israeli, they gave me their cheapest price, as they knew they couldn’t get a tougher bargainer than an Israeli.

But my knowledge, my citizenship, my accent and now even my husband can never bring me an authentic Israeli Jewish experience. I will be forever ‘from somewhere else’.

it's been a while... again

I've been meaning to post on this blog for months now, and I have no excuse now. Time spent watching Law & Order: Los Angeles can be better used sharing the gems I find online with you.

It's been over a year now, and I'm not any closer to some sense of fulfillment. Returning to Australia from Israel has been difficult, and reentering the Melbourne lifestyle was a rocky adjustment. But now that Superman Cohen and I have finally moved out to our own place, our married life can really begin.

So let's get on to it then. Don't let me fall under a rock again, y'hear?

Meet Tarek Fatah

Hat tip - Israel Matzav (Carl in Jerusalem)

Geopolitical scrimmage over Israel’s Gas Bonanza

An article I wrote a couple months ago... long before we knew how the balance of power will shift and its effects on the region's energy resources. Enjoy...

In an ironic twist of fate, Israel could perhaps become a major Middle East energy producer. Now that we know the news is as reliable as it is optimistic, Israel has discovered one of the world’s largest offshore natural gas fields – with deposits estimated to meet Israel’s energy needs for the next 100 years, and then some.
The gas find has the potential to strengthen Israel’s energy security, enable her to become an important gas exporter and contribute wealth to her economy. At the same time, an energy independent Israel would trigger serious implications for regional realignment and stability.

The massive natural gas field – totalling 450 billion cubic meters – is located off the coast of Haifa in Israel’s north. Named Leviathan, after a biblical whale, the gas field straddles the maritime borders of Israel and Lebanon. The announcement has sent the Tel Aviv stock exchange skyrocketing to a new record high as claims were made that the gas in the new oil field could well be worth approximately US$95 billion.

The Leviathan find raises the chances of other major discoveries in the region, and could impel neighbouring countries, including Cyprus, Lebanon and Syria, to explore and possibly develop their own potential gas fields.

Yet energy disputes are already shaking regional relations. Since the gas discoveries, Hezbollah is snarling that Israel wants to rob oil from Lebanese territorial waters and has threatened military action if Israel taps into what it deems Lebanese energy resources.
Iran, seeking to expand its influence into the Levant, has already offered to help the Lebanese develop their potential energy wealth. So too have the Russians, further complicating the geopolitical scrimmage that’s developing over Israel’s gas bonanza.

Concurrently, Greece and Cyprus have hosted high-level discussions on the topic with Israeli leaders – it has led to recently signed maritime zoning agreements between Israel and Cyprus and could possibly lead to a pipeline from Israel to Greece. It is interesting to note that Israel recently acquired ‘air space’ permission from Greece for its air force drills, after she was suddenly denied fly rights over Turkey. Perhaps gas might be the next modern link between the two ancient civilisations.

Should a pipeline be built, Italy and Greece would be particularly eager customers, as most Europeans are unhappy with their over-reliance on Russian energy. However the most affordable option for Israel to export its new wealth is through an existing pipeline through Turkey. If Turkey were to return to its friendly relations with Israel, it would profit from highly lucrative income in transit fees, and thus would re-examine their Israel stance after news of the Leviathan discovery.

Whether foreign companies are prepared to risk investing in such a violence-prone region is questionable, particularly since Israel’s adversaries don’t want to see her strengthened by her newfound energy wealth at the expense of her neighbours.

It is not unimaginable that, in the next regional war, Israeli and Lebanese military elements could target the other's natural gas drills. There is already the worrying concern that Hezbollah could shoot missiles at an oilprocessing plant, causing enormous damage. Additionally, Hezbollah presents a serious naval menace with its submarine and navy commando units, trained by Iranians. Israeli Minister for Infrastructure Uzi Landau cautioned Lebanon if it tried to interfere with Israeli drilling, declaring that Israel would not hesitate using force. If this scenario ever plays out its course, it has the potential to cause a regional ecological catastrophe.

Among the gushing torrent of hyperbolic hopes, ambitious export and alliance-building plans, and aggressive threats from envious neighbours, Israel must “act correctly, level-headedly and responsibly,” as stated by MK Uzi Landau. As the gas boosts Israel’s economic growth, it will lower her energy costs by
US $1 billion annually, while creating jobs for hundreds of engineers and labourers in ensuring domestic distribution.

No doubt Israel’s transition to gas, while being environmentally friendlier than coal, will include dramatic political battles with trade unions and industry lobbyists. However, this exciting find means that Israel, with a long history of dependence on foreign energy, and hostility and boycotts from many of the biggest energy powers, could find herself in a much more advantageous position in the coming decade.