Beit Midrash

Okay, I went to this thing.

It's called Beit Midrash, which anyone who read the title would probably have guessed.

Now, a Beit Midrash is kind of where orthodox people go to study the Torah. So no, I did not go there. But at school this evening there was an event on Hillel, who was a rabbi a very, very long time ago. (I'm not sure quite precisely when - in the time of the first Temple, if that's any help.) So I decided to go, because my parents said I should, wondering if this was a really, really bad decision, and studied a few of the things he said and stuff he did, part of which we'd already done in Israeli Heritage class. It was obviously quite boring (my hand was thoroughly written and drawn-on by the end), but I don't believe that the decision to go was the worst I ever made. Plus, we had some great cakes after it. That was brilliant and it almost made up for the boringness.

A conversation with a friend from another class:

"Was yours boring too?"
"Oh yes. My parents said I should go because I'll never have this ever again. So I went, even though I was sick this morning."
"Evil."
"I suppose. But it's passed, and I'm not dead."
"It's passed, there's nothing you can do about it, and you're still alive."
"Precisely what I tell myself after every day."
"After every day?"
"Well, you know, being around you people, it's hard not to."
"Why does everyone say that?"
"You do understand the meaning of sarcasm, don't you?"
"Well...takes a bit to sink in...but yeah..."