"A woman belongs on the bimah just as much as an orange belongs on the seder plate". This phrase has been circulating throughout my family for years, and I never knew the origin. I assumed that it had come from a Jewish women's rights activist, advocating for the acceptance of women in modern Judaism. Instead, I found that its original meaning had become subverted, intended to be symbolic of gay and lesbian Jews, widows, orphans, and adopted Jews, who sometimes feel ostracized by the community. While I am still in favor of the woman on the bimah analogy, this new information adds much greater weight to the significance of the out-of-place orange, and from this point forward it carries new weight for me.

http://forward.com/opinion/172959/an-orange-on-plate-for-women-and-spit-out-seeds/

Yesterday on our tiyul to Ammunition Hill, we learned of the intrepid soldiers of the Six Day War who liberated Jerusalem of Jordanian occupation and rid the city of its dividing walls. During those same six days, we spoke of the gamble of the Air Force, in which the entirety of Israel's flying capability flew silently to their approaching enemies' bases of operation and destroyed their runways, virtually ending the war. As a result of the IDF's courageous endeavors, Israel captured Yehuda and Shomron (the West Bank) from Jordan, the Gaza strip from Egypt, and the Golan heights from Syria.

A select soldier's story specifically mentioned the abrupt crying of his commander when he realized they had taken back Jerusalem. A hard man, unknown to emotion, with tears running down his face as he looked out on the city that had been captive for so many years. Even though I feel no strong connection to Jerusalem, just the thought of such a reaction was powerful, and made me wish to be able to love on that level. Despite this, when I look out over Jerusalem, it never ceases to be awe-inspiring. I realize now why so many take the following to heart: "If I forget thee Oh Jerusalem, let my right hand lose its cunning..."

Israel has always felt like a nation to me, not a religious state. Living in Tel Aviv, I barely noticed the Jewish influence, as the bustling city life and lazy beach days gave little impression of religious activities. Per day, I would see on average zero to one Haredi, or even Orthodox people on the street. It was my secular home, and I loved it.

It is only now, learning about current events and living next to Jerusalem, that the full force of the ultra-Orthodox campaign has reached my ears and become obvious. Even more recently however, is talk of the fall of this "rabbinical hegemony". More or less, this term describes the religious parties' influence in modern Israel, from mikvah building restrictions to Knesset laws. But with the rise of secular Israelis and people living their daily lives without the help of the ultra-Orthodox, this independence has led to far less reliance on religion, and is turning Israel away from the rabbinate's dominion.

The return from Poland at the ungodly hours of dawn last week proved a hard, but relieving day. After the intensive, jam-packed week filled with talk of Jewish life and death in Europe, returning to daily Kibbutz Tzuba life with school the next day seemed like a culture shock. Back into the swing of things so soon. It was such a change in the mood from the past somber week that it almost felt surreal. But in any case, it felt amazing to be back in the Promised Land, away from the ugliness and depressive grim taste of a country filled with a connotation of evil for the Jews. As life resumed in the present, I was content with being a Jew in Israel.