I fell in love with Israel after spending three months in Hod HaSharon during my junior year of high school. Amidst the endless tours, photo opportunities, and hurried falafels, I caught a glimpse of life in the Holy Land. However, I did not fully immerse myself in the difficulties and realities that confront Israelis on a daily basis. When I embarked on pluralistic Year Course, I chose Shevet—a track which would provide me with a different, Modern Orthodox perspective regarding Judaism and Israel. Although I was excited about challenging my religiosity and beliefs, I felt entrenched enough in my beliefs to disregard any monumental change. In the past three months, I have had two especially poignant instances during which I challenged my practices and beliefs.
 
Whereas my past experiences during Sukkot entail a boring recitation of the specific attributes of each of the arbat haminim, I knew this Sukkot would be different. After experiencing a myriad of emotions during Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur, I was unsure about what Sukkot would awaken within me. The reflective period of Rosh HaShana was over; the guilty repentance of Yom Kippur had passed. In a complete change of pace, Sukkot brought peaceful tranquility. A ten-day vacation for Israelis, Sukkot is lauded for its overwhelming presence of food, diversion, and exciting outdoors amusements. For me, Sukkot passes unnoticed most years, save for a few shakes of the lulav and etrog.
   
In one of Shevet's learning sessions, our leader Simon Cohen excitedly told our group that we would be visiting Meah Shearim's shuk in search of the perfect four species. Naturally, women would travel separately from men, would wear tzniyut clothing--"no skin, please!" read our handout--and would have a completely different experience. Nervously, I clothed myself in the traditional black and white, only exposing my wrists, ankles, and a small bit of my neck. After being dropped off at the entrance of the Ultra-Orthodox neighborhood, my girlfriends and I stood aghast at the warnings for women on the walls: "Women: There will be punishments for those not wearing appropriate clothing." Of course, we thought we were dressed appropriately, and we carried on with our journey, ignoring the many signs declaiming groups' traveling through the area.

After entering the heart of the neighborhood, a man walked through the street, yelling that we should leave immediately. Spitting and waving glue at us, he insisted that we make our exit at once. Naturally, most girls were frightened and they left right away. However, some braved the criticism and stayed back--respectfully.

Although the experience was a strange one, this is the reason for which I have come to Israel. I am not here to rehash my life, revisit my customs, and reenact my Jewish experiences. Instead, I am here to be made uncomfortable, and to question and challenge my Judaism and that of others. While I consider Ultra-Orthodox life equivalent to that of the Middle Ages, I must respect and contain myself before someone who believes in it with his or her heart and soul. Thus, Sukkot evoked within me the feeling of pensive recitation and questioning.

Similar to this experience was that of my time during Simhat Torah. In the same vein of questioning and exploration, Shevet traveled to Tzfat for an overnight at Ascent, a Chabad guest house in the heart of the city. Although I have been to Tzfat and have been exposed to Chabad culture, there is not one without the other in this most electrifying of cities. The stay was physically comfortable, albeit psychologically unsettling. The happy cheer that all the Baalei Tshuva demonstrated during our stay was heavily contrasted by the overwhelming sense of recoiling on behalf of those who had not been exposed to Chabad affiliated Jews before. Again, the nature of our year in Israel is to be exposed to different cultures, and Chabad is most definitely that. 
 
Indeed, my experiences during both chagim were memorable. In fact, I believe that they are adding to, and shaping, my current Jewish identity in ways that I cannot yet understand. The fascinating aspect about Shevet is that I learn things unconsciously as I incorporate them into my thought process and everyday interactions. 

Another aspect of Shevet that deeply interested me was the idea of Shabbatot BeYachad among different communities. On a Shabbat, Shevet was divided into two groups: one traveling to Netivot in the south, and the other to Efrat in the West Bank. I knew the experience would be unique from the moment I stepped into the imposing armored bus. Before the trip, we were instructed to choose a person to room with, as we would be staying with host families in groups of two. Defying the realms of comfort, I decided to room with a girl that I had not spoken to very much on the program. The move, albeit frightening, proved to be one of the best decisions I have made here. 

After climbing into our host's car--the president of Efrat's Carlebach synagogue--my friend and I excitedly pointed out the beauty of Efrat. I never would have expected a city in the West Bank to appear as serene, tidy, and welcoming as Efrat. As soon as we arrived at our host's home, I was overwhelmed by the hospitality and kindness we were showed. Our host hurried to the shul in order to prepare for our group's arrival later on, and his wife served us cake and tea. Whereas, in the past, host families who are accustomed to accepting young adults into their homes have neglected to make conversation with their invitees, my friend and I chatted with our host family nonstop for a couple of hours.

As the days went on, we enjoyed several functions at the synagogue and we walked around Efrat and met different families. Before we left our family, we were invited to return whenever we chose and were sent off with hugs and smiles. Staying at a family's house with someone that I had not had the chance to connect with allowed me to get to know her better and to establish the foundations for a new friendship. The deepest impact this weekend had on me was the utter trust that the family bestowed upon us and our incredulity at receiving it. This goes to show the polarity between living in the galut where one is on guard constantly, and living in a small, close-knit community in Israel.