4th of July and other Bronfman Goings On

The last week or so has been a whirlwind of visits to my past and experiences completely new and wonderful. Actually, I’m coming to realize that those two things aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive. Last week, I celebrated the 4^th of July in almost American style. Emphasis on the almost. I mean American-style food has to count for something, right? Over a dinner of hot-dogs and french-fries, a group of Bronfman alumni gathered at Shimon’s house to discuss the legitimacy of living in the Diaspora and whether living outside of Israel is actually in accordance to Jewish tradition which dictates that this is G-d’s punishment to the Jewish people, or whether that argument is nothing but an excuse for lazy or overly comfortable Jews to sit pretty. While it was a little bit weird to celebrate the birthday of the USA by discussing whether we should actually leave it to live in Israel, it was amazing to come back to that group and realize that, even with the Bronfmanim who were much older and I hadn’t met before, there is a bond that the program created that I think overcomes so many barriers. But even more exciting, was running into people from my year who I hadn’t seen in years.

On Friday, we went on a hike outside of Jerusalem and learned about the ancient agriculture of the region and the methods they used to get water to irrigate their fields. Of course, this was pretty much the best thing ever for me. In addition to the fact that I got to see a little bit of the geology of the area. Up until then, my exposure had been limited to observing the layering of the rock bordering the highway (which is actually a pretty great thing to do for anyone going on a road-trip this summer…) The hike even included the privilege of wading through really murky water. At least I am pretty convinced it wasn’t clean though I couldn’t actually tell given the spring was in a tunnel underground.

Finally, another new experience was distinctly related to a blast from the past. On Sunday, I decided to ditch class (gasp!!!) to go see Jonathan Safran Foer speak to the ’10 Bronfman Fellows. After an hour and a half journey (I only got minimally lost on the way there) I found my way to Goldstein. When I arrived, I stopped short as if I had walked into a wall. I had walked into the little mall where we had bought our food supplies (Room 7’s breakfast stash of peanut butter and Nutella) and our pre-excursion ice-café. All of a sudden, I knew I had arrived. Throughout the walk from the entrance gate to the Bronfman building (same as always) my eyes were watering. I couldn’t believe I was back there but without all of the people who had made that summer the most formative experience of my life. While it was very cool to hear Jonathan Safran Foer speak because he is the author of some of my favorite novels, the best part of the event was that he somehow was able to give voice to everything I was feeling. Though while he spoke of his experience on Bronfman, I knew it had been significantly different from mine, I couldn’t help but feel that, though the details differed, someone else had been through what I was dealing with right then. When I got back to my apartment, I headed straight to my room to re-read my Bronfman diary. I was absolutely shocked to see that my entries mirrored almost exactly what J.S.F. was so generous as to share from his own. I think that’s how I know that that program really succeeds in its goals. No matter the differences, Bronfman Fellows come out of the experience profoundly changed in some very similar ways. That and that we for some reason still have our diaries on hand to reference in moments like these…