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A Hike to
Another World
by Chaya Berdugo, Midreshet B'erot Bat Ayin Alumna
It's a beautiful
place to visit, but I'm not sure if it's really for me." Those
were my thoughts upon my arrival at Bat Ayin to spend two weeks
learning at B'erot. Throughout my summer in Israel, I often felt
like I was jumping worlds. Spending one Shabbos amongst the ultra-Orthodox
in Kiryat Sefer and the next with the Carlebach chevra at Moshav
Modi'in, one could get a glimpse of two very different approaches
to Yiddishkeit, for sure.
So, after a month at a Haredi yeshiva in Yerushalayim, here I was
jumping again and where I had landed was either a yishuv in the
middle of the Judean desert or the moon, I wasn't quite sure yet.
The experiential approach to learning at B'erot appealed to me,
and I loved the emphasis on creativity, spirituality and connecting
with the land of Eretz Yisrael. But, in my (admittedly subjective)
mind, there is a fine line between what I perceive as deeply spiritual
and what sets off the "HOKEY!!" alarm. I was afraid that
learning at B'erot might cross that line more often than I could
hang with comfortably.
Truth is, at heart, I am really not a city girl. But, after living
in an urban environment for a while... well, let's just say that
patchouli oil and the Grateful Dead are not exactly my thing. Although
my love for nature, non-materialistic healthy living and creative
expression is strong, in the realm of secular cultural affinities,
if I relate to a word with "hip" in it, it's more likely
to be "hip-hop" than "hippie". This, as I was
about to be reminded, means absolutely nothing once you get past
the external labels and to the heart.
My first night at Bat Ayin was not at Bat Ayin at all - we spent
the entire night walking through the Judean desert until sunrise.
After a complicated taxi ride our group of giggling girls finally
made it to our starting point. As we entered the caverns, the rocks
turned to soft sand, winding down into a labyrinth of cascading
mounds, the silence growing, glowing like the full moon guiding
our footsteps. Who can speak of the desert at night? There is so
much to say, and still no words. Sitting in a circle, our guide
Yisrael Cheveroni asked us to close our eyes and imagine the sounds
of a forest - trees, birds, animals, water. Then he asked us to
imagine the sound of the ocean. Finally he told us to open our eyes;
to look and listen to the place in which we sat. We repeated this
meditation and then he asked us, "If you were going to name
one of these places with a word that relates to speech, which would
it be?" Various opinions were tossed about, and then he reminded
us that the Hebrew word for desert "midbar" is related
to "medaber", which means "to speak". In Lashon
haKodesh, every word relates to the essence of the thing, which
it names. The desert is a place so seemingly silent, and yet Hashem
knows that it says so much. As Yisrael reminded us, a person can
come to the desert, see great sights and have a beautiful time.
However, if she never takes the time to listen, she will never hear
it utter the silent voice that pierces the soul.
We then each spent time alone - I remember it like a dream, the
sand, the moon, and the stars... laying there seemed like an eternity
and yet the time passed so quickly. Cradled in the soft sand, the
wind blowing warmly passed my eyes, I existed in a state so impossible
to describe - awake, yet not, in this world, yet somehow in another.
When we began to travel again, we each walked on our own. The space
between us serves as a reminder that as we journey through this
lifetime we go both together and alone. Finally, we stopped outside
the entrance to a cave. By this time, the darkness of the night
was beginning to lift a bit. Although we couldn't yet see the sun,
there was a hint of its presence in the lighter hue of the sky.
We entered the pitch-blackness of the cave, holding hands until
we lit candles to guide our way. We went deeper, and then stopped,
resting on the floor in a circle with candles as our only light.
In silence we sat. Then Yisrael began to read. As the first lines
of Bereshit poured from his mouth fluidly, he read the words "vayomer
Elokim y'hi " (G-d said, let there be…). Repeating the
phrase several times, "What word is missing?" he asked.
"Ohr" (light), came the answer. Without hesitation, he
leaned over and blew out the candles. We sat in a darkness so black
I could not even see my hand in front of my face.
What do we search for throughout our entire life? -Light. We entered
the desert, walking through winding caverns, going deeper into silence
until we found ourselves nestled here in the darkness of its womb.
Yisrael explained that from the night of our journey (just before
Tu B'Av) until the 25th of Elul, the day of the creation of the
world, is 41 days. The gematria of aleph and mem, the letters of
the word "ema" (mother) is also 41. Likewise, 41 days
must pass from the time of conception until a woman is first considered
an "ema". We sat in the womb of the desert at the time
when the world also symbolically sat in the womb of creation. When
we began to walk again, we traveled through a narrow canal, and
emerged from the cave to find that the sun had risen, beaming like
a newborn smile. I looked around me with fresh eyes. Something had
changed deep inside me, something I could not explain, but could
not deny. Something I didn't want to lose.
This experience was symbolic of my overall experience of the music
seminar at Midreshet B'erot Bat Ayin. Whether we were wrestling
in chevrusa over the words of Shir Ha Shirim, learning Chasidut,
or dancing, drumming, singing our hearts out before Ha Kodesh Baruch
Hu, there was always more going on beneath the surface than I could
grasp. The creativity never stopped. In my moments alone, I gravitated
towards the piano, composing melodies and singing niggunim. From
where these songs came, I had no idea, and many of them were forgotten
as soon as they were discovered. It didn't matter. Each one changed
me, and each one Hashem heard. At night, we gathered to share with
one another and create anew. I wrote these words about one such
gathering:
Sitting in a circle of candlelight
We pour poetry, pieces of ourselves
into pots performing transforming
moment into purpose
purpose into life
we each hold a story so different
that in another realm we might not even
bother with a glance
if by chance
we should meet
on a city sidewalk street
but song the thread that weaves us
searching for meaning
Torah the song that leaves us
lacking nothing
Hashem only you
can take this moment
born beneath the summer sky
and paint my dusty soul
in starlight
In addition to the program at B'erot, I found myself also falling
in love with the yishuv of Bat Ayin. There was simplicity and a
depth to life there that I longed for. The few families that I had
the chance to meet touched me with their warmth and respect for
one another as well their reverence for G-d and Torah. I saw glimpses
of a life I wanted to emulate. Towards the end of my stay at Bat
Ayin, I realized that the place that I was originally not so sure
was "for me'" had begun to feel like home in a very deep
way. Before I had even left, I was already making plans to return.
But even more important, was that I had already returned. In ways
small and not so small, I had returned to parts of myself that had
subtly been swept aside in recent years, parts of myself that were
waiting to be reborn again into kedusha. Rebbe Nachman says that
teshuvah is about constant movement. We are always changing, yet
as we transform we never entirely lose who we were.
Each prayer to Hashem is like a flower. As the days go on and we
pray new flowers, we do not lose the old. Instead, we gather them
all together in a beautiful bouquet, which we carry for the Holy
One. Similarly, each experience of our life is a part of us. The
key to doing teshuvah is not to deny our past, but to relive each
moment and give it over to Hashem. In doing so, we davka share our
soul with Him, and come only closer. Taking what was off the derech
and align it, we transform what was mundane into something holy.
I am grateful for the time I spent at B'erot Bat Ayin - for amazing
people, for deep learning, for beautiful music... and for new flowers.
Midreshet B'erot Bat Ayin will once again be taking the moonlit
desert hike during our Soul Connections Seminar.
Our "Women
of Wisdom" summer program includes:
Women, Art & Emuna:
June 15th - July 19th
Tu B' Av Soul Connections Seminar:
August 14th - 16th
Creative Hebrew Ulpan: August
17th - 30th
In the Path of Our Mothers:
August 31st - October9th
For the past ten years, Midreshet B'erot Bat Ayin has been
bringing women closer to Torah through teaching traditional Jewish
texts encouraging creative spiritual expression and cultivating
the Land of Israel.
Our learning addresses the whole Jewish woman.
Our students delve deeply into the wellspring of Torah and emerge
as knowledgeable Jewish women confident in their unique role in
the world.
Below are samples of the experiential programs that are incorporated
into our schedule:
- Torah & Creativity: Art, Music, Dance, Drama
- Torah & Meditation: Meditative Movement, Hitbodedut in Nature
- Torah & the Land: Agricultural Workshop, Nature Hikes
- Torah & Healing: Herbal Workshop, Rambam on Nutrition &
Health
To learn more about our program throughout the year or to join us
for any of our programs,
email info@berotbatayin.org
or call our office:
972-2-993-4945
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