There was this moment of transition the minute I entered the airport. Only a few moments earlier, I was in a cab shooting along the Israeli highway; the grainy hills flashed by, swirled in brown, green, and white like a strange sort of souffle. Haven't you ever noticed that Israel has the same green, brown, and white colors everywhere? Except in the Old City where it's all stone, that is.
What I love about Israeli scenery is that you can see for miles upon miles; little towns - or big ones - nestle in the hills and you can stand by the side of the road and say, pointing, "That's Efrat, that's Neve Daniel, that's Elazar." As the sky darkens for night, you can see little lights popping on, like fireflies, until the hills are glittering with this community and that, and you can watch it all from your little spot on the side of the road.
There's something liberating about standing on an Israeli hilltop and feeling like you can see the world. There are no tall, smoggy buildings to impede your vision. If you wanted to, you could just jump off your hilltop and land on the next one, and the next, and the next, as if you were playing hopscotch. Hopscotch across the land of Israel. Wouldn't that be funny?
Everyone in Israel could get up on their hilltops and wave to each other. That's what I like. And when everyone else is indoors, you could sit on your hilltop and just think. You could look out at your country and feel that it's yours, that it's ours. The whole world is yours, then: the azure sky, the brown, green, and white swirled hills, the trees that cleanse the air so directly you can smell it.
As soon as I stepped into the airport, I was no longer in that Israel. That Israel exists outside the windows, but not in here. Now I am sitting in Ben Gurion airport, about to leave to my gate. I think boarding just started. I have no idea when I'll be in Israel next, but I'll sure miss it.
Showing posts with label Israel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Israel. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Holiday Season
Although, sadly, Sukkos is over here in Israel, I am currently sitting in our Sukkah. Why? Because I'm super frum.
Just kidding.
It's because Mavis discovered that we can actually get internet in our Sukkah. It's not amazing internet, but it's enough that I can write the past few blog posts!
Israel has been incredible - I love coming here. In the distance, I can still hear the music and singing from hakafot shniot in Baka and in Gan Hapa'amon (although what I'm hearing is probably the ones in Baka). For those who don't know, in Israel they have hakafot shniot with music and dancing after Simchas Torah is over. It's like a community-wide chagiga. On Yissachar street, they're having hakafos now for Baka and in Gan Hapa'amon, it's for all of Yerushalaim.
After coming to Israel two years in a row for Sukkos (not to mention my year in Israel when I was here for all Shalosh Regalim), I cannot help but point out the distinct difference between chag in Israel and chag in America. In Israel, the entire country is saturated with festivity. Chol hamoed feels like a moed. On Hoshana Raba night, there are shiurim and people learning. All throughout the chag, there are shiurim, activities, chagigot... The holiday is in the air. You breathe in the experience of Sukkos just by walking down the street. On every street corner, teenage boys are calling, "Aravot! Aravot!" by their little aravos stands. Everywhere, everyone is wishing each other a chag sameach. Signs are telling you to have a shana tova. Ads and commercials are about sukkos, lulavim, and etrogim. The stores that are actually open have Sukkos specials. Concerts are everywhere. Sukkos are everywhere. It is impossible to be in Yerushalaim and not feel the chag around you. The smell of the Etrog is the country's perfume.
Isn't it so nice when holiday season is about our holidays?
Just kidding.
It's because Mavis discovered that we can actually get internet in our Sukkah. It's not amazing internet, but it's enough that I can write the past few blog posts!
Israel has been incredible - I love coming here. In the distance, I can still hear the music and singing from hakafot shniot in Baka and in Gan Hapa'amon (although what I'm hearing is probably the ones in Baka). For those who don't know, in Israel they have hakafot shniot with music and dancing after Simchas Torah is over. It's like a community-wide chagiga. On Yissachar street, they're having hakafos now for Baka and in Gan Hapa'amon, it's for all of Yerushalaim.
After coming to Israel two years in a row for Sukkos (not to mention my year in Israel when I was here for all Shalosh Regalim), I cannot help but point out the distinct difference between chag in Israel and chag in America. In Israel, the entire country is saturated with festivity. Chol hamoed feels like a moed. On Hoshana Raba night, there are shiurim and people learning. All throughout the chag, there are shiurim, activities, chagigot... The holiday is in the air. You breathe in the experience of Sukkos just by walking down the street. On every street corner, teenage boys are calling, "Aravot! Aravot!" by their little aravos stands. Everywhere, everyone is wishing each other a chag sameach. Signs are telling you to have a shana tova. Ads and commercials are about sukkos, lulavim, and etrogim. The stores that are actually open have Sukkos specials. Concerts are everywhere. Sukkos are everywhere. It is impossible to be in Yerushalaim and not feel the chag around you. The smell of the Etrog is the country's perfume.
Isn't it so nice when holiday season is about our holidays?
(Picture: An Etrog tree we saw in Ne'ot Kedumim)
Monday, September 28, 2009
We Are Keva: Post Yom Kippur Thoughts
"Thus far, we have spoken of Aseh toratekha keva in two senses: 1) making Torah primary in terms of values, and regarding our relation to Torah - and to God via Torah - as all-pervasive in our lives; 2) making it a fixed element of our day, with the attendant commitment and discipline. But there is yet another sense of keva which is implied in a baraita:
'Aseh toratekha keva' - how so? This teaches that if a person heard something from a sage in the beit hamidrash, he should not regard it as transient but rather as permanent. And what a person has learned, he must do and teach others to do, as it says (Devarim 5:1), 'You shall learn them and keep them to do them.' And so it says of Ezra (7:10), 'He prepared his heart to study the Torah of God and to perform it.' and afterward it says, 'And to teach statute and justice in Israel.' (Avot de-Rabbi Natan 13:2)
[...]
The latter portion of the beraita presents Ezra as an example of someone who made Torah keva. What was it that Ezra did? Above all, Ezra ensured the permanence of Torah. During his time, the Jews returning from the Babylonian exile had a very tenuous relationship to Torah. Chazal tell us (Tanna De-bei Eliyahu Rabba, Chapter 31) that when the Jews went into exile in Babylonia, they came to the prophet Yechezkel and said, 'We are now exempt from Torah and mitzvot, because a slave whose master has sold him is no longer obligated to do the master's bidding.' The prevalent conception in classical antiquity was that religion was only a function of geography and society: you worship the local gods of the country and society in which you find yourself. All the more so was this the feeling among the Jews in exile, since their entire national fabric had seemed to disintegrate. When they went to Babylonia, they felt they were finished with avodat Hashem.
We read in the books of Ezra and Nechemia that there was a great deal of assimilation and intermarriage among the Jews in Babylonia. Moreover, those who returned to Israel were certainly not of the more established strata, nor members of the intellectual or social elite. Ezra was faced with a tremendous challenge: to ensure that Torah would become permanent within that community. He made it clear that Torah is part of the essence of Klal Yisrael; it is not dependent upon geography, history, or society - it is keva, permanent and essential. He did not just explain and extend Torah through rabbinic enactments, but saw to it that the people understood that adherence to Torah was not negotiable; it is part of what being Klal Yisrael means.
This is what Ezra did, and this is what each person needs to do within his own environment, as part of his or her historical and social responsibility. If you have learned some Torah, 'ya'aseh vi'yelammed acher' - observe it and teach it to others. If you are in a community where Torah is in danger of disappearing, see to it that it does not disappear. Make it kavu'a. Make it clear that there is no vanishing American, English, or French Jew. Judaism is here to stay. It is your responsibility to make it clear to yourself and to others that Torah and avodat Hashem are the very backbone of Judaism. Prove that all the sociological projections about the end of the Jewish people are nonsense. We are keva." --By His Light: Character and Values In The Service Of God (pgs. 64-66)
I would also like to point out that Torah and avodas Hashem are not just things like "keep Shabbos" or "wear tznius." They also include behaving with integrity - both in business and in your personal life, treating others with respect (which does not mean agreeing with them. It just means, simply, respecting them), trying not to speak lashon hara, etc. We can't forget that we are members of the Jewish nation - the chosen nation - and, as representatives of that nation, we ought to behave accordingly.
One of the Rabbis in my shul spoke about respect. He mentioned that even someone you disagree with deserves your respect. For instance, Moshe went to speak to "Pharaoh, Melech Mitzrayim." Why did it need to say "Melech Mitzrayim?" We know Pharaoh is the king! But it's reminding us that Moshe addressed and treated Pharaoh the way one should a king, even though Pharaoh was enslaving the Jewish people.
There is always a way to do something and a way not to do something. Respect, aside from being the proper thing to give to a person (generally), will also gain you respect in return. And guaranteed, whatever you wish to say will be heard and taken seriously if said with respect much more so than if said disrespectfully.
Another Rabbi in our shul spoke before Yizkor. His speech was incredibly powerful - about seizing every moment you have with people, especially parents. There was one line that struck me more than the others - perhaps in light of the various tragedies that have happened over the last few years to people I knew, knew of, or heard about. He said, "Don't assume the laughs are always going to be there tomorrow. They can just be taken away." I think that's another thing we really need to work on: appreciating other people. Our family, our friends...they're gifts. Yet so often we treat them much more poorly than they deserve. I don't mean that every second you have to be kissing their feet, but I think we can treat each other, in general, much better than we tend to. Even people we love (maybe especially people we love).
This story might sound a little morbid, but it made me feel this exact idea very strongly. A girl in a class I'm taking told a story about her and her friends on vacation. There was a particular guy on the trip who was a good friend of hers, but she was really annoyed at him for whatever reason and so was ignoring him. That day they went to the beach and this guy slipped off a rock and drowned.
The girl said the biggest lesson she learned from that was never to hold a grudge.
Another sad story:
My Latin teacher from a few years ago wrote me a super nice recommendation letter for a summer internship. I actually had no idea what was in it at the time, but I was so grateful to her for writing it because I knew she was about to go away for the summer. However, I waited a while before emailing her to thank her.
She was killed in a car crash before I ever emailed her. I didn't know until later, but she never even got my email.
I know that most of the time, we don't lose people unexpectedly like that. Especially not young, healthy people. But the message of those stories, and of the Rabbi's speech today, was that you really have to (sorry for being cliche) seize the day and the moments you have with other people.
If you ever watch or read The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch, he talks about exactly that. Realize your dreams, strive for your potential, seize the moment, and appreciate the people in your life.
Wow...this post has gone in a very different direction than I originally intended. But okay!
On yet another tangent, a number of our tefillos today mentioned our being in exile. It made me feel extremely privileged to be able to go to Israel this year for Sukkos. I am leaving on Thursday, so I wish you all a chag sameach in advance!
I hope all your Yom Kippurim were meaningful and that your fasts went well. I have a funny story about our breakfast - maybe I'll write it up tomorrow (though it might have only been funny because it happened right after the fast when we were all a little light in the head, if you know what I mean).
L'shana Haba'ah B'yerushalayim!
'Aseh toratekha keva' - how so? This teaches that if a person heard something from a sage in the beit hamidrash, he should not regard it as transient but rather as permanent. And what a person has learned, he must do and teach others to do, as it says (Devarim 5:1), 'You shall learn them and keep them to do them.' And so it says of Ezra (7:10), 'He prepared his heart to study the Torah of God and to perform it.' and afterward it says, 'And to teach statute and justice in Israel.' (Avot de-Rabbi Natan 13:2)
[...]
The latter portion of the beraita presents Ezra as an example of someone who made Torah keva. What was it that Ezra did? Above all, Ezra ensured the permanence of Torah. During his time, the Jews returning from the Babylonian exile had a very tenuous relationship to Torah. Chazal tell us (Tanna De-bei Eliyahu Rabba, Chapter 31) that when the Jews went into exile in Babylonia, they came to the prophet Yechezkel and said, 'We are now exempt from Torah and mitzvot, because a slave whose master has sold him is no longer obligated to do the master's bidding.' The prevalent conception in classical antiquity was that religion was only a function of geography and society: you worship the local gods of the country and society in which you find yourself. All the more so was this the feeling among the Jews in exile, since their entire national fabric had seemed to disintegrate. When they went to Babylonia, they felt they were finished with avodat Hashem.
We read in the books of Ezra and Nechemia that there was a great deal of assimilation and intermarriage among the Jews in Babylonia. Moreover, those who returned to Israel were certainly not of the more established strata, nor members of the intellectual or social elite. Ezra was faced with a tremendous challenge: to ensure that Torah would become permanent within that community. He made it clear that Torah is part of the essence of Klal Yisrael; it is not dependent upon geography, history, or society - it is keva, permanent and essential. He did not just explain and extend Torah through rabbinic enactments, but saw to it that the people understood that adherence to Torah was not negotiable; it is part of what being Klal Yisrael means.
This is what Ezra did, and this is what each person needs to do within his own environment, as part of his or her historical and social responsibility. If you have learned some Torah, 'ya'aseh vi'yelammed acher' - observe it and teach it to others. If you are in a community where Torah is in danger of disappearing, see to it that it does not disappear. Make it kavu'a. Make it clear that there is no vanishing American, English, or French Jew. Judaism is here to stay. It is your responsibility to make it clear to yourself and to others that Torah and avodat Hashem are the very backbone of Judaism. Prove that all the sociological projections about the end of the Jewish people are nonsense. We are keva." --By His Light: Character and Values In The Service Of God (pgs. 64-66)
I would also like to point out that Torah and avodas Hashem are not just things like "keep Shabbos" or "wear tznius." They also include behaving with integrity - both in business and in your personal life, treating others with respect (which does not mean agreeing with them. It just means, simply, respecting them), trying not to speak lashon hara, etc. We can't forget that we are members of the Jewish nation - the chosen nation - and, as representatives of that nation, we ought to behave accordingly.
One of the Rabbis in my shul spoke about respect. He mentioned that even someone you disagree with deserves your respect. For instance, Moshe went to speak to "Pharaoh, Melech Mitzrayim." Why did it need to say "Melech Mitzrayim?" We know Pharaoh is the king! But it's reminding us that Moshe addressed and treated Pharaoh the way one should a king, even though Pharaoh was enslaving the Jewish people.
There is always a way to do something and a way not to do something. Respect, aside from being the proper thing to give to a person (generally), will also gain you respect in return. And guaranteed, whatever you wish to say will be heard and taken seriously if said with respect much more so than if said disrespectfully.
Another Rabbi in our shul spoke before Yizkor. His speech was incredibly powerful - about seizing every moment you have with people, especially parents. There was one line that struck me more than the others - perhaps in light of the various tragedies that have happened over the last few years to people I knew, knew of, or heard about. He said, "Don't assume the laughs are always going to be there tomorrow. They can just be taken away." I think that's another thing we really need to work on: appreciating other people. Our family, our friends...they're gifts. Yet so often we treat them much more poorly than they deserve. I don't mean that every second you have to be kissing their feet, but I think we can treat each other, in general, much better than we tend to. Even people we love (maybe especially people we love).
This story might sound a little morbid, but it made me feel this exact idea very strongly. A girl in a class I'm taking told a story about her and her friends on vacation. There was a particular guy on the trip who was a good friend of hers, but she was really annoyed at him for whatever reason and so was ignoring him. That day they went to the beach and this guy slipped off a rock and drowned.
The girl said the biggest lesson she learned from that was never to hold a grudge.
Another sad story:
My Latin teacher from a few years ago wrote me a super nice recommendation letter for a summer internship. I actually had no idea what was in it at the time, but I was so grateful to her for writing it because I knew she was about to go away for the summer. However, I waited a while before emailing her to thank her.
She was killed in a car crash before I ever emailed her. I didn't know until later, but she never even got my email.
I know that most of the time, we don't lose people unexpectedly like that. Especially not young, healthy people. But the message of those stories, and of the Rabbi's speech today, was that you really have to (sorry for being cliche) seize the day and the moments you have with other people.
If you ever watch or read The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch, he talks about exactly that. Realize your dreams, strive for your potential, seize the moment, and appreciate the people in your life.
Wow...this post has gone in a very different direction than I originally intended. But okay!
On yet another tangent, a number of our tefillos today mentioned our being in exile. It made me feel extremely privileged to be able to go to Israel this year for Sukkos. I am leaving on Thursday, so I wish you all a chag sameach in advance!
I hope all your Yom Kippurim were meaningful and that your fasts went well. I have a funny story about our breakfast - maybe I'll write it up tomorrow (though it might have only been funny because it happened right after the fast when we were all a little light in the head, if you know what I mean).
L'shana Haba'ah B'yerushalayim!
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Full House?
Tonight my brother Mavis said something that really hit me. He said, "Tonight all four of us are sleeping here, but tomorrow night it's just me."
It's true. Tonight is the last night for a while when all four kids are home at once. Tomorrow night I'll be in my apartment in the Heights, Straight Man will be in YU, and Trademark will be on the plane to her year in Israel.
It's funny - when I went to my year in Israel, I was leaving a completely different kind of house behind. I'm the oldest, so everyone was still at home while I was away. I was incredibly homesick for months after I left, and it would get worse when I went to different families for chagim and Shabbos. We have many friends in Israel who used to live in my community and although I loved going to them for Shabbos, and though going there gave me some of that family feeling that I didn't have at school, I would feel even more homesick in some ways. There was family life going on around me, but I wasn't part of it. I felt somehow...outside. I would be reminded of my own family and how I wasn't there. I would get jealous of the siblings bantering with each other and play-wrestling. I would feel this dull ache that seemed like it would only get soothed by going over to my own little brother and punching him in the shoulder or having my own sister tell me how to wear my clothes. What was worse - I knew this sort of thing was still going on at my house. It's just that it was going on without me. A whole year of sibling camaraderie went by, a whole year of everyone in my family growing, both physically and as people. A time when I called home one day and an unrecognizable male voice answered who turned out to be my brother.
I remember being jealous of the British girls because it was so easy for them to go home - only a five hour flight! Compared to ten or eleven hours, that felt like nothing! Like flying from New York to California! Both New York and California felt equally like home at those times, even though I'd never even been to California. I felt like if I could at least be in the same country as my family, I'd feel better. I never got homesick in camp. I wasn't the homesick kind, I thought. But it was this feeling that my family was so far away, that I couldn't even call them any hour of the day I wanted because sometimes it was the middle of the night for them.
I know how Trademark feels when she does things like beg me to keep her updated on all my dating adventures.
"But, Trademark, going on one date with a guy is not that exciting."
"Okay, but if you start going on a few dates, you have to tell me!"
One time when I was in Israel, I called home and was so upset that I asked my mother to just tell me what they all were doing. She described what they were having for dinner and how everyone was sitting around the table...
In some ways, Trademark is leaving behind a different kind of house. We're not all going to be sitting around the table on a random weeknight. Though Straight Man and I are not too far away, we're not really living at home anymore either - especially me. Most of the time, it's just going to be my parents and Mavis. And what if Mavis goes away for Shabbos?
My family is at the point in our collective family life where everyone is off doing his or her own thing. It's not one person away and everyone else still in the status quo as far as home life. It's everyone coming and going at various frequencies.
More than ever before in my house, there was a lot of packing and moving going on this summer. For me, I'm really looking forward to having Straight Man live in the same city as me. For a while, we were hardly in the same country. I know we probably won't see each other a lot - especially as he's on a rigorous YU schedule, but it's nice to know he's there, all the same.
For Trademark - I hope she has a spectacular year in Israel, whatever kind of year it turns out to be. And I will miss her a lot. Our house is going to get a lot...quieter...
And for Mavis - He should enjoy having the house to himself, and everything that comes with it. :)
So tonight there are six people in this house. Tomorrow night, there will be three.
...My family is growing up.
It's true. Tonight is the last night for a while when all four kids are home at once. Tomorrow night I'll be in my apartment in the Heights, Straight Man will be in YU, and Trademark will be on the plane to her year in Israel.
It's funny - when I went to my year in Israel, I was leaving a completely different kind of house behind. I'm the oldest, so everyone was still at home while I was away. I was incredibly homesick for months after I left, and it would get worse when I went to different families for chagim and Shabbos. We have many friends in Israel who used to live in my community and although I loved going to them for Shabbos, and though going there gave me some of that family feeling that I didn't have at school, I would feel even more homesick in some ways. There was family life going on around me, but I wasn't part of it. I felt somehow...outside. I would be reminded of my own family and how I wasn't there. I would get jealous of the siblings bantering with each other and play-wrestling. I would feel this dull ache that seemed like it would only get soothed by going over to my own little brother and punching him in the shoulder or having my own sister tell me how to wear my clothes. What was worse - I knew this sort of thing was still going on at my house. It's just that it was going on without me. A whole year of sibling camaraderie went by, a whole year of everyone in my family growing, both physically and as people. A time when I called home one day and an unrecognizable male voice answered who turned out to be my brother.
I remember being jealous of the British girls because it was so easy for them to go home - only a five hour flight! Compared to ten or eleven hours, that felt like nothing! Like flying from New York to California! Both New York and California felt equally like home at those times, even though I'd never even been to California. I felt like if I could at least be in the same country as my family, I'd feel better. I never got homesick in camp. I wasn't the homesick kind, I thought. But it was this feeling that my family was so far away, that I couldn't even call them any hour of the day I wanted because sometimes it was the middle of the night for them.
I know how Trademark feels when she does things like beg me to keep her updated on all my dating adventures.
"But, Trademark, going on one date with a guy is not that exciting."
"Okay, but if you start going on a few dates, you have to tell me!"
One time when I was in Israel, I called home and was so upset that I asked my mother to just tell me what they all were doing. She described what they were having for dinner and how everyone was sitting around the table...
In some ways, Trademark is leaving behind a different kind of house. We're not all going to be sitting around the table on a random weeknight. Though Straight Man and I are not too far away, we're not really living at home anymore either - especially me. Most of the time, it's just going to be my parents and Mavis. And what if Mavis goes away for Shabbos?
My family is at the point in our collective family life where everyone is off doing his or her own thing. It's not one person away and everyone else still in the status quo as far as home life. It's everyone coming and going at various frequencies.
More than ever before in my house, there was a lot of packing and moving going on this summer. For me, I'm really looking forward to having Straight Man live in the same city as me. For a while, we were hardly in the same country. I know we probably won't see each other a lot - especially as he's on a rigorous YU schedule, but it's nice to know he's there, all the same.
For Trademark - I hope she has a spectacular year in Israel, whatever kind of year it turns out to be. And I will miss her a lot. Our house is going to get a lot...quieter...
And for Mavis - He should enjoy having the house to himself, and everything that comes with it. :)
So tonight there are six people in this house. Tomorrow night, there will be three.
...My family is growing up.
Monday, March 16, 2009
What Happens When...
You have two midterms the day after you get back from Israel?
...Ouch.
There is this odd thrill in going in to take a test without preparing for it. Sure, sure, I've tried to study. I can't focus. My head is too foggy. It's too foggy for me to feel properly stressed, too, which is a good thing. Part of me is still in Israel, part of me is still stuck on an airplane (when you've got two big airplane trips in such close proximity to each other, you just sort of always think you're on an airplane. I thought I was still on the plane today while in the caf. I didn't want to eat anything because I felt too claustrophobic from the plane), and part of me is back in school wondering why I feel so confused and disoriented.
It's sort of like I stepped out of the world for a few days and now I'm back.
Hello everyone!
...Ouch.
There is this odd thrill in going in to take a test without preparing for it. Sure, sure, I've tried to study. I can't focus. My head is too foggy. It's too foggy for me to feel properly stressed, too, which is a good thing. Part of me is still in Israel, part of me is still stuck on an airplane (when you've got two big airplane trips in such close proximity to each other, you just sort of always think you're on an airplane. I thought I was still on the plane today while in the caf. I didn't want to eat anything because I felt too claustrophobic from the plane), and part of me is back in school wondering why I feel so confused and disoriented.
It's sort of like I stepped out of the world for a few days and now I'm back.
Hello everyone!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
An Innocent Question
Today, of all people, the professor of my King Arthur class opened up with, "so, what do you think of the Israeli elections?"
Immediately, a tumultuous uproar crescendoed as everyone began to speak at once.
"What a coherent, orderly discussion we're having," I remarked dryly.
A girl sitting near the front of the room tried to be more helpful. "If you want to know what it's like in Israel," she told our bewildered Professor. "It's kind of like this."
(And that is my contribution to such political matters.)
Immediately, a tumultuous uproar crescendoed as everyone began to speak at once.
"What a coherent, orderly discussion we're having," I remarked dryly.
A girl sitting near the front of the room tried to be more helpful. "If you want to know what it's like in Israel," she told our bewildered Professor. "It's kind of like this."
(And that is my contribution to such political matters.)
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
A Greater Story
I've seen a bunch of people linking to this story, written by a person named Leon de Winter. While I can understand the initial attraction to such a story, it actually makes me pretty uncomfortable. It took me some time to figure out why.
What stuck out most glaringly was the incredibly insular way de Winter deals with the issue in the Middle East. What is going on now in Gaza is taken completely out of context of the greater history of Israel, which is part of the problem with the way many people unconnected with the situation also view it, as highlighted in many of the comments.
That is how de Winter begins his story, yet he fails to mention that Jews have been living in Israel for hundreds of years, too. What happened to the early pioneers? Why no mention of them? By the way, Jews have always, for thousands of years, lived in Jerusalem.
The issue in the Middle East between Israel and the Arabs is much too involved and complex to be isolated into individual stories. They're not individual stories at all. They are one long plot point: the Arabs* cannot stand that we Jews exist and are thriving in Israel.
Many of the comments are horribly disturbing and show incredible ignorance in the general society out there. They are seriously not worth repeating, but if you'd like to take a look, brace yourselves. People think they are such authorities on what is going on in Gaza right now and on the whole Palestinian issue, when really they have absolutely no clue. It makes me wonder how often people take sides on any issue they are not personally connected with and how quick they can be to judge without knowing all the facts.
The one rebuttal I feel is worth repeating here is this:
Bingo.
Do I believe in killing innocent Palestinian civilians? Of course not. Do I believe in Israel doing everything in its power to eradicate Palestinian terrorists? Yes. Do I think all Palestinians are terrorists? Of course not. Do I think that this cease fire is just a time for the terrorists to re-arm? Yes.
We gave them Gaza and the Palestinians sent us rockets as a thank you present. How sweet. It would be naive of a person to think that Israel holding its fire will stop all the violence, especially since the violence does not begin with Israel.
I don't think a person could do justice to what is going on in the Middle East in one short story. It would take an entire novel, I'd think. Either way, there was something uncomfortable about that story. I also take issue with this:
That's an inaccurate representation of Israeli attacks on Gaza. Israel does not attack to "get back at" Palestinians, the way the story makes it sound. It does not smash their "kitchen or bathroom or refrigerator to pieces." Israel attacks terrorists. It's not interested in revenge. It is interested in self-defense. A truer representation would have the neighbor trying to put a stop to either the stone-throwing or the stone-thrower, not random attacks on pieces of furniture. Yes, many Palestinian civilians unfortunately have gotten killed and homes have been destroyed, but that has not been the purpose of Israel's attacks. Israel does not aim for innocent civilian life the way terorrists do. Israel does the best it can to avoid such things, sending out warnings, etc. But at the end of the day, Israel also has a responsibility to protect itself and its citizens, and if terrorists are using human shields, Israel has no choice but to act despite that. Ezzie explains this idea further, so I'm not going to do it here.
I think that one of the most important things to do is to be educated about Israel, its history, and what's really going on right now, and to make sure others are educated, as well. At the very least, checking what's being written at Jameel's blog or HonestReporting can help dust off the cobwebs of bias, false reporting, and inaccurate representations of Israel and the war.
May there be peace, soon.
*Yes, I know I'm not being properly politically correct and I'm generalizing. Obviously I don't think every single individual Arab hates Jews, but enough Arabs in the Middle East have given us trouble that I think it's safe to say there's an issue there.
What stuck out most glaringly was the incredibly insular way de Winter deals with the issue in the Middle East. What is going on now in Gaza is taken completely out of context of the greater history of Israel, which is part of the problem with the way many people unconnected with the situation also view it, as highlighted in many of the comments.
"Our neighbor lives in the house in which our grandfather used to live. He claims he bought the first part of the house from a Turki, and later the second part from a British bank, but that doesn’t make the sale any less illegal: my family lived in that house for hundreds of years and we don’t accept the documents of sale."
That is how de Winter begins his story, yet he fails to mention that Jews have been living in Israel for hundreds of years, too. What happened to the early pioneers? Why no mention of them? By the way, Jews have always, for thousands of years, lived in Jerusalem.
The issue in the Middle East between Israel and the Arabs is much too involved and complex to be isolated into individual stories. They're not individual stories at all. They are one long plot point: the Arabs* cannot stand that we Jews exist and are thriving in Israel.
Many of the comments are horribly disturbing and show incredible ignorance in the general society out there. They are seriously not worth repeating, but if you'd like to take a look, brace yourselves. People think they are such authorities on what is going on in Gaza right now and on the whole Palestinian issue, when really they have absolutely no clue. It makes me wonder how often people take sides on any issue they are not personally connected with and how quick they can be to judge without knowing all the facts.
The one rebuttal I feel is worth repeating here is this:
"Could you please tell me why the Palestinians never demanded a country from Jordan or Egypt when they controlled the west bank and Gaza until 1967 ?
How come they only demand land from Israel ?
Is it because there was no such thing as Palestinian people prior to that time ?"
Bingo.
Do I believe in killing innocent Palestinian civilians? Of course not. Do I believe in Israel doing everything in its power to eradicate Palestinian terrorists? Yes. Do I think all Palestinians are terrorists? Of course not. Do I think that this cease fire is just a time for the terrorists to re-arm? Yes.
We gave them Gaza and the Palestinians sent us rockets as a thank you present. How sweet. It would be naive of a person to think that Israel holding its fire will stop all the violence, especially since the violence does not begin with Israel.
I don't think a person could do justice to what is going on in the Middle East in one short story. It would take an entire novel, I'd think. Either way, there was something uncomfortable about that story. I also take issue with this:
"Every now and then our neighbor gets fed up with our stone-throwing — those are the best moments. Then he storms out of our grandfather’s house and smashes our kitchen or bathroom or refrigerator to pieces."
That's an inaccurate representation of Israeli attacks on Gaza. Israel does not attack to "get back at" Palestinians, the way the story makes it sound. It does not smash their "kitchen or bathroom or refrigerator to pieces." Israel attacks terrorists. It's not interested in revenge. It is interested in self-defense. A truer representation would have the neighbor trying to put a stop to either the stone-throwing or the stone-thrower, not random attacks on pieces of furniture. Yes, many Palestinian civilians unfortunately have gotten killed and homes have been destroyed, but that has not been the purpose of Israel's attacks. Israel does not aim for innocent civilian life the way terorrists do. Israel does the best it can to avoid such things, sending out warnings, etc. But at the end of the day, Israel also has a responsibility to protect itself and its citizens, and if terrorists are using human shields, Israel has no choice but to act despite that. Ezzie explains this idea further, so I'm not going to do it here.
I think that one of the most important things to do is to be educated about Israel, its history, and what's really going on right now, and to make sure others are educated, as well. At the very least, checking what's being written at Jameel's blog or HonestReporting can help dust off the cobwebs of bias, false reporting, and inaccurate representations of Israel and the war.
May there be peace, soon.
*Yes, I know I'm not being properly politically correct and I'm generalizing. Obviously I don't think every single individual Arab hates Jews, but enough Arabs in the Middle East have given us trouble that I think it's safe to say there's an issue there.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Had It
...Had it with distorted truth.
...Had it with lies.
...Had it with pictures that tell a thousand misleading words.
...Had it with truces that aren't real truces.
...Had it with cease fires where the fires never cease.
...Had it with walking on eggshells because the eggshells just prick our feet.
...Had it with betrayal.
...Had it negotiating with enemies any daft pea-brain should know can't be negotiated with.
...Had it with the pressure.
...Had it with giving in to the pressure.
...Had it with being painted as the big bad guy when, for goodness sake, if you look at the whole picture, we're as little as they come.
So here I tell the world - or at least that little pebble in the great wide canyon that is listening - that I--
Have had it.
...Had it with lies.
...Had it with pictures that tell a thousand misleading words.
...Had it with truces that aren't real truces.
...Had it with cease fires where the fires never cease.
...Had it with walking on eggshells because the eggshells just prick our feet.
...Had it with betrayal.
...Had it negotiating with enemies any daft pea-brain should know can't be negotiated with.
...Had it with the pressure.
...Had it with giving in to the pressure.
...Had it with being painted as the big bad guy when, for goodness sake, if you look at the whole picture, we're as little as they come.
So here I tell the world - or at least that little pebble in the great wide canyon that is listening - that I--
Have had it.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Listen
Dear Diary,
Today rockets landed in Northern Israel. Everything seems to be so out of control. I'm afraid something much worse is going to happen before things get better. Hamas keeps sending rockets from Gaza and Israel keeps getting blamed for all the deaths. I just don't get it. Why can't smart people use their common sense and see that Israel is the one being bullied here?
I feel so helpless. There's nothing left for me to write - it's all been written already. Besides, who would hear me? I can pray, but I can't see the results of my prayer. I pray every day and every day there is still war. I feel guilty for sitting here in America complaining about my misfortunes. Woe is me who feels helpless. I'm safe, aren't I? Shouldn't that be good enough? Those rockets can't reach me here.
So strongly do I feel my insignificance. I am a mere pinprick in the vast enormity of the world, and no amount of "but every person matters"will convince me otherwise. I know how much effect I have on things. Zero.
What do my fears, my cries, my desperate yearnings for Israel's peaceful sovereignty matter in the great wide world? Who is listening? Who cares? I'm just an anonymous American girl who would probably get eaten alive by any well-educated Palestinian supporter who really knew how to argue. I don't want to argue. As much as I want to punch Hamas in the face, as much as it angers me to see people being so blind to what's really going on, I don't want to get caught up in arguments that serve no purpose but to rile up the other side. Any true Palestinian supporter is not going to change his mind just because I can spit back the pro-Israel script.
Sometimes it feels like no matter how much I follow the news, no matter how much I learn, no matter how much I think I know, there's always some very important fact I don't know. That always gets me in the end.
I wish I was more powerful.
Sometimes it's like the entire world has lost its mind. I know I shouldn't throw around labels, but so much has gotten so liberal, so overly tolerant, that the lines of tolerance have gotten completely blurred. Tolerance and acceptance are not the same. I can tolerate something going on, within reason of course, without giving it my okay. I am allowed to disagree with something I feel is immoral. That's not discrimination. Just because someone is not living the ideal life, just because someone seems to be an underdog, doesn't mean that person is doing the right thing. Where do we draw the tolerance line? I feel like I live in a world that is constantly apologizing for itself. Isn't that what makes it possible for terrorists to use civilian shields? Because whoever attacks those poor civilians is automatically evil? Isn't that what makes it possible for a country to give another, smaller group of people a piece of land, those people using that land to attack the first country, the first country attacking this smaller group of people in defense, and the first country ending up the horrible enemy? The terms "good" and "evil" are not as black and white as that. Why is that so difficult to see? Someone being harmed does not mean the action which caused that harm was evil. And someone being saved does not mean it was a good thing that person was saved. Good and evil are not the same as comfort and discomfort. We don't live in this world to be comfortable. We live to be moral.
This diary entry is only that. A diary entry. No one needs to read it because I'm not saying anything new. I'm saying what's already been said. Just look around. There is no need for me to speak, and so I remain silent, except in my own private thoughts, in my own writings, in my own diary.
I hope the world, one day, will learn not to be blind and will finally be able to...see.
Today rockets landed in Northern Israel. Everything seems to be so out of control. I'm afraid something much worse is going to happen before things get better. Hamas keeps sending rockets from Gaza and Israel keeps getting blamed for all the deaths. I just don't get it. Why can't smart people use their common sense and see that Israel is the one being bullied here?
I feel so helpless. There's nothing left for me to write - it's all been written already. Besides, who would hear me? I can pray, but I can't see the results of my prayer. I pray every day and every day there is still war. I feel guilty for sitting here in America complaining about my misfortunes. Woe is me who feels helpless. I'm safe, aren't I? Shouldn't that be good enough? Those rockets can't reach me here.
So strongly do I feel my insignificance. I am a mere pinprick in the vast enormity of the world, and no amount of "but every person matters"will convince me otherwise. I know how much effect I have on things. Zero.
What do my fears, my cries, my desperate yearnings for Israel's peaceful sovereignty matter in the great wide world? Who is listening? Who cares? I'm just an anonymous American girl who would probably get eaten alive by any well-educated Palestinian supporter who really knew how to argue. I don't want to argue. As much as I want to punch Hamas in the face, as much as it angers me to see people being so blind to what's really going on, I don't want to get caught up in arguments that serve no purpose but to rile up the other side. Any true Palestinian supporter is not going to change his mind just because I can spit back the pro-Israel script.
Sometimes it feels like no matter how much I follow the news, no matter how much I learn, no matter how much I think I know, there's always some very important fact I don't know. That always gets me in the end.
I wish I was more powerful.
Sometimes it's like the entire world has lost its mind. I know I shouldn't throw around labels, but so much has gotten so liberal, so overly tolerant, that the lines of tolerance have gotten completely blurred. Tolerance and acceptance are not the same. I can tolerate something going on, within reason of course, without giving it my okay. I am allowed to disagree with something I feel is immoral. That's not discrimination. Just because someone is not living the ideal life, just because someone seems to be an underdog, doesn't mean that person is doing the right thing. Where do we draw the tolerance line? I feel like I live in a world that is constantly apologizing for itself. Isn't that what makes it possible for terrorists to use civilian shields? Because whoever attacks those poor civilians is automatically evil? Isn't that what makes it possible for a country to give another, smaller group of people a piece of land, those people using that land to attack the first country, the first country attacking this smaller group of people in defense, and the first country ending up the horrible enemy? The terms "good" and "evil" are not as black and white as that. Why is that so difficult to see? Someone being harmed does not mean the action which caused that harm was evil. And someone being saved does not mean it was a good thing that person was saved. Good and evil are not the same as comfort and discomfort. We don't live in this world to be comfortable. We live to be moral.
This diary entry is only that. A diary entry. No one needs to read it because I'm not saying anything new. I'm saying what's already been said. Just look around. There is no need for me to speak, and so I remain silent, except in my own private thoughts, in my own writings, in my own diary.
I hope the world, one day, will learn not to be blind and will finally be able to...see.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Modern Day Miracles
This is a newish (though slightly belated) video by Nefesh b'Nefesh that I thought was cute, and, in light of all the intense news coming out of Israel lately, also somewhat refreshing.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
A Wish
In the same day - today - , my brother came back from a year and a half in Israel and my best childhood friend left on Aliyah. Round and round and round it goes, this ferris wheel of people coming and going to Israel. Ascending, descending.
It's strange to think that I'm here in America worrying about finals and papers and almost forgetting that Israel's at war. It's scary how easy it is to forget that. Even for me, who has family living there and many close friends, including some currently in the army.
It's so easy to feel helpless when you know there's not much you can do but pray, but still I pray, even as I feel helpless, and I wish only safety and success for Israel and for the Jewish people all over the world.
Something has begun to happen. It's been beginning for a while now, inside Israel, outside of Israel. I don't know what it is or how it will end or where we'll all be when it's over. I don't know what it means now or what it will mean in hindsight. I don't know what will be with this war on terror.
I just know I want everything to be okay with the world. More than okay. I want it to be good.
It's strange to think that I'm here in America worrying about finals and papers and almost forgetting that Israel's at war. It's scary how easy it is to forget that. Even for me, who has family living there and many close friends, including some currently in the army.
It's so easy to feel helpless when you know there's not much you can do but pray, but still I pray, even as I feel helpless, and I wish only safety and success for Israel and for the Jewish people all over the world.
Something has begun to happen. It's been beginning for a while now, inside Israel, outside of Israel. I don't know what it is or how it will end or where we'll all be when it's over. I don't know what it means now or what it will mean in hindsight. I don't know what will be with this war on terror.
I just know I want everything to be okay with the world. More than okay. I want it to be good.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Where Is Chanuka?
The accident at a Chabad Chanuka party in the Five Towns this past week was scary, especially because it was so close to home. An older man lost control of his car on the corner of Franklin Place and Broadway and crashed into Chanuka Wonderland, where a Chanuka party for young kids was taking place.
I apologize for interrupting the more festive posts but I felt this was worth mentioning. However, I am also impressed by the positive attitude people can have while facing difficult situations. From the Newsday article:
Rabbi Heshy Blumstein of Young Israel of Hewlett and his wife, Mimi, visited some of the injured at Winthrop."It was a horrible tragedy," Blumstein said. Still, the fact that there were many survivors means "there are miracles all over," Mimi Blumstein said.
It's true. People were injured (the mother of one of my brother's friends is in the hospital) but, amazingly, no one was killed. That is a miracle.
And we need even more.
Tonight, right after Shabbos, my brother called from Israel and told us that the IAF had dropped bombs over Gaza. My parents turned on the TV and we watched the news for a bit, listening to Ehud Barak defend Israel's decision to the BBC. It's amazing, though, how much we can say and how little the world hears. Anyway, here is the JPost and Arutz Sheva. And, of course, Jameel.
I guess we really can't forget that the miracle of Chanuka is not just the oil, but also winning the war. We are always going to be the few against the many, especially with so much of the world rooting for the other side. We need another miracle of Chanuka, and what better time to pray for one than on Chanuka itself?
Life is full of miracles, even in hard times. This might be a difficult Chanuka, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hold the spirit of Chanuka all the same. It is not only a time to be festive but also a time to remember how much we rely upon the help of God and how we must look to Him in these times. We have had our victories, but we also have much to pray for.
With Chanuka nearing its close, we can't forget that.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Hachi Tov Mei'Eretz Yisrael
Okay, so I'm a copycat. You know how Ezzie has best lines from shabbos? Well, while I was in Israel (with helpful prodding from the Apple after one particularly funny line before we took off that I told her about), I kept a record of (almost) all the funny lines from our trip AND I took video of fun or funny moments. And so I present to you (without, sadly, a cool box thing like on SerandEz):
Hachi Tov Mei'Eretz Yisrael
1. (Announcement over the JFK loudspeaker) Attention those waiting for the flight to London, the aircraft has been attacked by a large bird.
(We then proceed to be delayed three hours which causes us to lose our luggage in London. Stupid bird. Hmph)
2. Abba (while waiting to take off after a three hour delay in New York): Excuse me, what's going on with the delay?
Tall, lanky, male British flight attendant: I really don't know, sir. I've just come by to get an orange.
3. Trademark (my sister): I hate it when it's like two minutes to Yom Tov and Ima's like "okay, I'm lighting candles" and then we like pop out and our heads are spinning and I want a drink of water.
Erachet: *blank stare* ???
4. Mavis (my little brother): We should make Aliyah - then we can get a Mac!
5. David (my friend's Israeli husband who is meeting me for the first time): Let us know before you come next time - then I can get your chatan ready.
Erachet: Heh. Yeah, if you know anyone...
David: *seriously* Well, he's busy now but I don't think it's going anywhere, so...
Erachet: *chokes* Wait - you're talking about a real person?!?!
6. (After Mavis learns that a 'pencil' is an 'iparon' in Hebrew - his elementary school was too frum to teach him Hebrew. It's sad)
Ima: And how do you say 'pen?'
Mavis: Ummm...ipar?
And, the funniest of the funny:
(We saw this at a carnival thing at Gan Soccer on Chol Hamoed. It wasn't very religious, more cultural, but pretty amusing and fun. This is just a random guy in the audience getting a little over-excited by the music, I suppose)
P.S. Straight Man doing the pen twirl, an important skill:
Hachi Tov Mei'Eretz Yisrael
1. (Announcement over the JFK loudspeaker) Attention those waiting for the flight to London, the aircraft has been attacked by a large bird.
(We then proceed to be delayed three hours which causes us to lose our luggage in London. Stupid bird. Hmph)
2. Abba (while waiting to take off after a three hour delay in New York): Excuse me, what's going on with the delay?
Tall, lanky, male British flight attendant: I really don't know, sir. I've just come by to get an orange.
3. Trademark (my sister): I hate it when it's like two minutes to Yom Tov and Ima's like "okay, I'm lighting candles" and then we like pop out and our heads are spinning and I want a drink of water.
Erachet: *blank stare* ???
4. Mavis (my little brother): We should make Aliyah - then we can get a Mac!
5. David (my friend's Israeli husband who is meeting me for the first time): Let us know before you come next time - then I can get your chatan ready.
Erachet: Heh. Yeah, if you know anyone...
David: *seriously* Well, he's busy now but I don't think it's going anywhere, so...
Erachet: *chokes* Wait - you're talking about a real person?!?!
6. (After Mavis learns that a 'pencil' is an 'iparon' in Hebrew - his elementary school was too frum to teach him Hebrew. It's sad)
Ima: And how do you say 'pen?'
Mavis: Ummm...ipar?
And, the funniest of the funny:
(We saw this at a carnival thing at Gan Soccer on Chol Hamoed. It wasn't very religious, more cultural, but pretty amusing and fun. This is just a random guy in the audience getting a little over-excited by the music, I suppose)
P.S. Straight Man doing the pen twirl, an important skill:
Thursday, October 9, 2008
L'Shana Haba'ah B'Yerushalayim
I know in America you're all still having Yom Kippur, but here it's over and we are no longer fasting (although by the time any of your are reading this, neither will you be!). :)
Just a few notes.
First of all, aside from my year in Israel (which I don't count much in terms of chagim at school because the atmosphere created there was created by the school, not just by naturally being in Israel), this was my first Yom Kippur in an Israeli shul and it was a bit of a different experience. I know that when I was younger, I used to get mixed up between Yom Kippur being a sad day vs. a serious day. But here, it is clearly not a sad day. Serious, yes, but there was so much uplifting singing and there was even dancing at the end in the mens' section for L'Shana Habah and it was just so...Yom Tov-ish. Which it should be! It is still a yom tov, even though it's a serious one.
Also, the windows of the shul were huge and open and it was just amazing to daven such intense teffilot while looking out at Israel. There's just no comparison.
Also, when they blew the shofar at the end, the guy blowing teaches a shofar class to some kids so the kids all blew and it was like a choir of shofarot. It was really cool sounding.
Also, I have never seen this before, but in the mens' section, there were guys walking around offering smelling salts to everyone else. Smelling salts. That's what they used to use in the olden days, like in Jane Austen's time and earlier, to revive women who were faint. But I didn't see any smelling salts in the women's section. Only the men. Hmmm. :P
Shana tova to everyone and I hope you all had an easy and meaningful fast!
Next year in Jerusalem! For ALL of us!
Just a few notes.
First of all, aside from my year in Israel (which I don't count much in terms of chagim at school because the atmosphere created there was created by the school, not just by naturally being in Israel), this was my first Yom Kippur in an Israeli shul and it was a bit of a different experience. I know that when I was younger, I used to get mixed up between Yom Kippur being a sad day vs. a serious day. But here, it is clearly not a sad day. Serious, yes, but there was so much uplifting singing and there was even dancing at the end in the mens' section for L'Shana Habah and it was just so...Yom Tov-ish. Which it should be! It is still a yom tov, even though it's a serious one.
Also, the windows of the shul were huge and open and it was just amazing to daven such intense teffilot while looking out at Israel. There's just no comparison.
Also, when they blew the shofar at the end, the guy blowing teaches a shofar class to some kids so the kids all blew and it was like a choir of shofarot. It was really cool sounding.
Also, I have never seen this before, but in the mens' section, there were guys walking around offering smelling salts to everyone else. Smelling salts. That's what they used to use in the olden days, like in Jane Austen's time and earlier, to revive women who were faint. But I didn't see any smelling salts in the women's section. Only the men. Hmmm. :P
Shana tova to everyone and I hope you all had an easy and meaningful fast!
Next year in Jerusalem! For ALL of us!
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Finally!
I thought about writing an actual post but I just can't find the words. So, to sum up --
I'm going to Israel tomorrow!
Who wants to come along in a suitcase? We're stopping in London for a few hours, too - you know you want to come along, even just for the British accents on the way (although South African accents are still the best)!
We're going for Yom Kippur and half of Succos (we're coming back on chol hamoed), but --
Sigh...maybe I just won't come back... :)
(I wrote that mostly just to scare my mom when she reads this)
I'm going to Israel tomorrow!
Who wants to come along in a suitcase? We're stopping in London for a few hours, too - you know you want to come along, even just for the British accents on the way (although South African accents are still the best)!
We're going for Yom Kippur and half of Succos (we're coming back on chol hamoed), but --
Sigh...maybe I just won't come back... :)
(I wrote that mostly just to scare my mom when she reads this)
Monday, August 18, 2008
The Power Of Chocolate
This makes me jealous, but in a good way.
For me, I think the part of the BBT/SerandEz shabbaton that stood out the most was when Jameel was giving out cow chocolate.
I know that sounds rather odd. There I was on a Shabbaton all about inspiration and integration and I got the most affected by chocolate?!
I just remember standing there and Jameel holding out the chocolate bag. I held one of the little bars in my hand and when I took a bite, my mouth immediately filled with the sweetness of Israel. I'm not exaggerating. To fight it, I said rather dryly to the Apple (I think), "you know we can also get these in New York, right?"
But it wasn't about the chocolate, of course. It was about biting into something that came from Israel. It was about connecting with Israel in the smallest of ways. It was about holding something that was exposed to the Israeli air. It was about breathing in the fresh air of Israel as best I could through that tiny bar of chocolate.
It was about culminating a Shabbaton about integration and inspiration and, really, Jewish unity through growing closer to the Torah, with the ultimate uniting factor - coming together one day to keep the Torah as one, single nation in one land: the land of Israel. Our land.
Okay, so that uniting factor comes with a lot of controversy and debate. But it is controversy and debate over a single issue which drives so many Jews - how to handle the State of Israel? We are involved in a shared debate, even if people are on different sides.
When we pray, we all face the same place - Jerusalem. At the end of the day, throughout all our differences, it is Israel - it is Jerusalem - which brings us together. Have you ever been to the Kotel and not seen people from all different Jewish paths? My point exactly.
All this really hit home when I was eating that chocolate. It made me want to go to Israel so badly. I almost started to cry.
I can't even begin to express how much I miss being in that country. I know I'm not ready to make aliyah just yet, but every time someone else does, I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. They're doing it, I say. They're living my dream. I just want to know when it'll be my turn.
P.S. Also, I just love chocolate. If anyone wants to donate some chocolate to the author of this blog, it would be most appreciated (my favorite kind is the crackling-candy cow chocolate, just by the way)! Besides, you never know what eating chocolate might inspire next! :)
For me, I think the part of the BBT/SerandEz shabbaton that stood out the most was when Jameel was giving out cow chocolate.
I know that sounds rather odd. There I was on a Shabbaton all about inspiration and integration and I got the most affected by chocolate?!
I just remember standing there and Jameel holding out the chocolate bag. I held one of the little bars in my hand and when I took a bite, my mouth immediately filled with the sweetness of Israel. I'm not exaggerating. To fight it, I said rather dryly to the Apple (I think), "you know we can also get these in New York, right?"
But it wasn't about the chocolate, of course. It was about biting into something that came from Israel. It was about connecting with Israel in the smallest of ways. It was about holding something that was exposed to the Israeli air. It was about breathing in the fresh air of Israel as best I could through that tiny bar of chocolate.
It was about culminating a Shabbaton about integration and inspiration and, really, Jewish unity through growing closer to the Torah, with the ultimate uniting factor - coming together one day to keep the Torah as one, single nation in one land: the land of Israel. Our land.
Okay, so that uniting factor comes with a lot of controversy and debate. But it is controversy and debate over a single issue which drives so many Jews - how to handle the State of Israel? We are involved in a shared debate, even if people are on different sides.
When we pray, we all face the same place - Jerusalem. At the end of the day, throughout all our differences, it is Israel - it is Jerusalem - which brings us together. Have you ever been to the Kotel and not seen people from all different Jewish paths? My point exactly.
All this really hit home when I was eating that chocolate. It made me want to go to Israel so badly. I almost started to cry.
I can't even begin to express how much I miss being in that country. I know I'm not ready to make aliyah just yet, but every time someone else does, I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. They're doing it, I say. They're living my dream. I just want to know when it'll be my turn.
P.S. Also, I just love chocolate. If anyone wants to donate some chocolate to the author of this blog, it would be most appreciated (my favorite kind is the crackling-candy cow chocolate, just by the way)! Besides, you never know what eating chocolate might inspire next! :)
Thursday, August 14, 2008
On Advice And Aliyah
There has been a lot of talk recently in the JBlogosphere on the topic of aliyah. Along with that talk, naturally, has come a lot of advice. Even off the JBlogosphere (actually, mostly off the JBlogosphere), I've heard a lot of advice from different people about how to go about making aliyah and, at a certain point, it can get very confusing. Everyone seems to be saying different things. And some of it isn't just advice. Sometimes, these are outright declarations (this happens often when you do Bnei Akiva, go to Moshava, go to Harova, etc). There are a lot of different people exclaiming different variations of, "the best time to make aliyah is ___ (fill in the blank)." Usually, because that's what worked for them. Makes sense, no?
Just the fact that, over the years, I've heard such different variations of "the best time to make aliyah" statement proves that there is no one best time. Every person is different. Every person has different struggles, different challenges, and different needs. Every person is looking for something different. Every person can cope with different things at different levels and at different times.
I've had friends who stayed in Israel after our shana b'aretz and made aliyah then. And they're doing great. I have friends who left college in the middle to make aliyah. They're also doing great. I have friends with plans to make aliyah right after they graduate college (real plans, not up-in-the-air plans). And I have friends who plan on making aliyah sometime in the (hopefully) near future but don't know when yet. I also know families from my community who we are very good friends with who are trying out aliyah right now. They have older kids but they're all into it and excited by it.
When I was little, my best friend moved to Israel with her family. We were both six and her older brother was seven. And they are in love with Israel. It worked out so wonderfully for them, and for all the families from my community who moved during those years (there are a whole bunch).
I've had (and have) friends in Bar Ilan, in other smaller colleges, in the army, doing Sheirut Le'umi...
I have friends who made aliyah and who have family living in Israel and I have friends who don't have as many friends and family in Israel, but things are still working out for them. And they're not just squeaking by. They are all ecstatic over having made aliyah and are waiting for me to join them.
My own grandfather made aliyah only a little over ten years ago (11 year ago this summer, I think).
Of course, it was challenging for all these people. Every single one of them had to go through times that were difficult - but that doesn't mean it was the "wrong" time for them to go. They worked through those times (or are still working through them) because their drive for living in the land of Israel, in our homeland, is strong enough to see them through. They embrace each challenge with the confidence, love, and dedication needed to succeed.
There is never going to be a time during our galus when it will be easy to make aliyah. It's always going to be hard. We just can't be afraid of it being hard. Yes, there are times that are better than other times, but that depends on each person. Any time to make aliyah is the "right" time as long as it is right for the person actually making aliyah.
I'm not trying to be overly idealistic, by the way. I am well aware that there are plenty of people who try to make aliyah and end up having to come back. But just because something didn't work out for one person at a particular time or in a particular situation doesn't mean it can't work out for a different person. The wrong time for one person is not necessarily the wrong time for you. And, on the flip side, the right time for one person is not necessarily the right time for you, either. Believe me, I've felt plenty of pressure to move to Israel once all my friends started doing it on their own (as in, not with their families). It was something I had to overcome (and sometimes I still struggle with it). It was the right time for them and they're doing well, but as for me - I needed to come back to New York for a few more years. And I'm glad I did. But they didn't have to (clearly) and they're glad they didn't.
I haven't made aliyah yet, but I know enough people who have to know this: although, in many respects, moving to Israel is a shared experience among all olim, there is also a huge element of aliyah that is personal, individual, and unique.
I think the best advice I've gotten so far about aliyah (it's actually a compilation of advice from a whole bunch of different people) is to make sure that you are ready. I know that sounds pretty obvious, but so many people get sucked into, "everyone is making aliyah now, I should, too" or "I was told this is the best time to make aliyah so that's when I'm going - I don't want to go at the wrong time!" etc. etc. etc.
I know, it isn't all idealism and sunshine and Kotel visits. You have to be ready in all different aspects - financially, mentally, emotionally, with a plan of some sort...but again, each of these things is so individual. No one can really say when the best time in any of these aspects is except you and what you feel comfortable with.
I hope we all make it there at the right time and with much success.
Am Yisrael b'Eretz Yisrael al pi Torat Yisrael.
Just the fact that, over the years, I've heard such different variations of "the best time to make aliyah" statement proves that there is no one best time. Every person is different. Every person has different struggles, different challenges, and different needs. Every person is looking for something different. Every person can cope with different things at different levels and at different times.
I've had friends who stayed in Israel after our shana b'aretz and made aliyah then. And they're doing great. I have friends who left college in the middle to make aliyah. They're also doing great. I have friends with plans to make aliyah right after they graduate college (real plans, not up-in-the-air plans). And I have friends who plan on making aliyah sometime in the (hopefully) near future but don't know when yet. I also know families from my community who we are very good friends with who are trying out aliyah right now. They have older kids but they're all into it and excited by it.
When I was little, my best friend moved to Israel with her family. We were both six and her older brother was seven. And they are in love with Israel. It worked out so wonderfully for them, and for all the families from my community who moved during those years (there are a whole bunch).
I've had (and have) friends in Bar Ilan, in other smaller colleges, in the army, doing Sheirut Le'umi...
I have friends who made aliyah and who have family living in Israel and I have friends who don't have as many friends and family in Israel, but things are still working out for them. And they're not just squeaking by. They are all ecstatic over having made aliyah and are waiting for me to join them.
My own grandfather made aliyah only a little over ten years ago (11 year ago this summer, I think).
Of course, it was challenging for all these people. Every single one of them had to go through times that were difficult - but that doesn't mean it was the "wrong" time for them to go. They worked through those times (or are still working through them) because their drive for living in the land of Israel, in our homeland, is strong enough to see them through. They embrace each challenge with the confidence, love, and dedication needed to succeed.
There is never going to be a time during our galus when it will be easy to make aliyah. It's always going to be hard. We just can't be afraid of it being hard. Yes, there are times that are better than other times, but that depends on each person. Any time to make aliyah is the "right" time as long as it is right for the person actually making aliyah.
I'm not trying to be overly idealistic, by the way. I am well aware that there are plenty of people who try to make aliyah and end up having to come back. But just because something didn't work out for one person at a particular time or in a particular situation doesn't mean it can't work out for a different person. The wrong time for one person is not necessarily the wrong time for you. And, on the flip side, the right time for one person is not necessarily the right time for you, either. Believe me, I've felt plenty of pressure to move to Israel once all my friends started doing it on their own (as in, not with their families). It was something I had to overcome (and sometimes I still struggle with it). It was the right time for them and they're doing well, but as for me - I needed to come back to New York for a few more years. And I'm glad I did. But they didn't have to (clearly) and they're glad they didn't.
I haven't made aliyah yet, but I know enough people who have to know this: although, in many respects, moving to Israel is a shared experience among all olim, there is also a huge element of aliyah that is personal, individual, and unique.
I think the best advice I've gotten so far about aliyah (it's actually a compilation of advice from a whole bunch of different people) is to make sure that you are ready. I know that sounds pretty obvious, but so many people get sucked into, "everyone is making aliyah now, I should, too" or "I was told this is the best time to make aliyah so that's when I'm going - I don't want to go at the wrong time!" etc. etc. etc.
I know, it isn't all idealism and sunshine and Kotel visits. You have to be ready in all different aspects - financially, mentally, emotionally, with a plan of some sort...but again, each of these things is so individual. No one can really say when the best time in any of these aspects is except you and what you feel comfortable with.
I hope we all make it there at the right time and with much success.
Am Yisrael b'Eretz Yisrael al pi Torat Yisrael.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Things To Read
I spent a lot of today just sitting here waiting for people to give me things to do and, as a result, I decided to read the JPost because at least it would look like I was doing something while I was waiting.
While whiling away the time, I found two interesting articles:
1. On government funding or not funding of Chareidi schools in Israel
2. On an interfaith meeting in Saudi Arabia
While whiling away the time, I found two interesting articles:
1. On government funding or not funding of Chareidi schools in Israel
2. On an interfaith meeting in Saudi Arabia
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
What Israel Means To Me
This post is going to be slightly disjointed because I'm writing it while feeling all worked up and emotional. I was just watching the live feed of a Nefesh B'Nefesh flight land in Israel and the greeting and ceremony afterward and it really made me cry.
To me, Israel is not just a Jewish country and it's not just a theoretical homeland. It's an actual future home. I'm going to live there. I don't know when, but I know it will happen - hopefully sooner rather than later. I struggle all the time with making sure I still feel passionate enough to want to live there and with figuring myself out so that I can become emotionally and mentally ready for such a big change in my life. Already, most of my friends have made Aliyah and those who haven't are doing so very soon (one in the next couple of weeks, one in January - and that's not including the ones who don't have dates yet but are planning on making Aliyah soon anyway).
I've worked hard and gone through a lot of doubt, emotional turmoil, and general re-assessing in order to make Aliyah truly my own dream. It's something I've wanted to do since I was a little girl for no other simple reasons than 1. my best friend had done it with her family (there are actually a whole number of families who have made/are making Aliyah from my community) and 2. Israel, to me as a six year old, was a magical place for Jews where a lot of things in the Torah happened and I felt that if I was there, everything would be okay because it was Eretz Yisrael. Since the summer I was nine until the summer after Israel I went to Camp Moshava, both as a camper (chanicha) and as a counselor (madricha). As much as I felt I was being a little brainwashed by Moshava, it was a wonderful, wonderful place to grow up in. It was rich with Jewish and Zionistic values and the heads of the camp really made it a priority to make sure that everyone at camp behaved appropriately and with respect towards one another. "Dugma ishit" or "Ishiut l'dugma" (being a role model, essentially) was a value stressed over and over and over to the Moshava staff. And - okay - I'm not going to go on and on about how amazing Moshava is. It, of course, has its issues and that's one of the reasons I decided not to go back and I ended up dropping out of Bnei Akiva (even though I don't think you can ever really drop out). But overall, it was an exceptionally positive experience, especially when I was younger.
Maybe one day I'll write a post about Moshava specifically. But as for now, the point is, I ended up feeling a little brainwashed. When I went to Harova for my year in Israel, I felt even more brainwashed. Because of all the brainwashing, I started to freak out a little about how I was unable to discern what I was being told I wanted and what I really wanted. I didn't want to make Aliyah because I was told to. I wanted to do it because I wanted to. I wanted it to come from me, not from ideas put into my head by other people. And I didn't want it to seem like I was only making Aliyah because it was "the thing to do" - because all my friends were doing it and that's just what one did if she went to Moshava and did bnei akiva and had all these Zionistic friends. I needed to convert this general dream into a dream I felt was truly my own. I had to make it mine.
Eventually, I did succeed at this. In a weird way, I feel a very strong, personal connection with Israel that has nothing to do with Moshava, nothing to do with Bnei Akiva, nothing to do with Harova, and nothing to do with my friends.
Well, okay, I'm sure it has a bit to do with all of those, but mostly it's because I worked hard to create a bond with the country that is my own personal bond. It's hard to explain it. The simplest way to describe it is...Israel makes me feel more complete as a Jew. I look at Israel and I feel G-d's existence in a way that I don't elsewhere. Having a relationship with G-d is so difficult, especially because He is not physical. Prayer is one way of connecting, but words are fleeting. You can't hold onto them the same way you can pick up a rock from the Jerusalem streets and grasp it tightly, or scoop up Israeli dirt and let it sift through your fingers. Israel, in a way, is something physical in which I can feel the presence of G-d and can realize all He has done for us and for the world.
And the history! The history that is in those rocks, the dirt, the sand, the trees, the streets, the air...layers upon layers upon layers of Jewish history! The atmosphere is so thick with it, I can feel it hugging me, warmly welcoming me, drawing me closer to my past, my ancestors, my heritage. I get enveloped by all the heroism that decorates our time-line, the bravery, the pride, the honor, the stubborn will to stand by our beliefs even under great stress.
As long as we have Israel, I feel comforted that redemption is not too far away. I feel in tune with my own identity as part of the great Jewish nation.
And, by the way, I definitely don't exclude America as a big, important part of my life, either. I'm an American and I'm proud of it. I'm not going to put down America just because I believe all Jews belong in Israel. It always really bothers me when people do that. America has done so much for us and has let us practice Judaism pretty freely, especially when you consider our history in other countries. We owe it tremendous hakarat hatov and anyone who says differently is deluding themselves.
I'm American and proud of it. I'm a Jew and incredibly proud of it. And one day I'll be an Israeli, too. I can't wait for that day to come. I'm waiting with baited breath. I'm at the edge of my seat.
Israel, sunny Israel, beautiful Israel, warm, loving country who has sooooo many issues...and yet I ache for it all the same...
One day, it'll be my turn.
To me, Israel is not just a Jewish country and it's not just a theoretical homeland. It's an actual future home. I'm going to live there. I don't know when, but I know it will happen - hopefully sooner rather than later. I struggle all the time with making sure I still feel passionate enough to want to live there and with figuring myself out so that I can become emotionally and mentally ready for such a big change in my life. Already, most of my friends have made Aliyah and those who haven't are doing so very soon (one in the next couple of weeks, one in January - and that's not including the ones who don't have dates yet but are planning on making Aliyah soon anyway).
I've worked hard and gone through a lot of doubt, emotional turmoil, and general re-assessing in order to make Aliyah truly my own dream. It's something I've wanted to do since I was a little girl for no other simple reasons than 1. my best friend had done it with her family (there are actually a whole number of families who have made/are making Aliyah from my community) and 2. Israel, to me as a six year old, was a magical place for Jews where a lot of things in the Torah happened and I felt that if I was there, everything would be okay because it was Eretz Yisrael. Since the summer I was nine until the summer after Israel I went to Camp Moshava, both as a camper (chanicha) and as a counselor (madricha). As much as I felt I was being a little brainwashed by Moshava, it was a wonderful, wonderful place to grow up in. It was rich with Jewish and Zionistic values and the heads of the camp really made it a priority to make sure that everyone at camp behaved appropriately and with respect towards one another. "Dugma ishit" or "Ishiut l'dugma" (being a role model, essentially) was a value stressed over and over and over to the Moshava staff. And - okay - I'm not going to go on and on about how amazing Moshava is. It, of course, has its issues and that's one of the reasons I decided not to go back and I ended up dropping out of Bnei Akiva (even though I don't think you can ever really drop out). But overall, it was an exceptionally positive experience, especially when I was younger.
Maybe one day I'll write a post about Moshava specifically. But as for now, the point is, I ended up feeling a little brainwashed. When I went to Harova for my year in Israel, I felt even more brainwashed. Because of all the brainwashing, I started to freak out a little about how I was unable to discern what I was being told I wanted and what I really wanted. I didn't want to make Aliyah because I was told to. I wanted to do it because I wanted to. I wanted it to come from me, not from ideas put into my head by other people. And I didn't want it to seem like I was only making Aliyah because it was "the thing to do" - because all my friends were doing it and that's just what one did if she went to Moshava and did bnei akiva and had all these Zionistic friends. I needed to convert this general dream into a dream I felt was truly my own. I had to make it mine.
Eventually, I did succeed at this. In a weird way, I feel a very strong, personal connection with Israel that has nothing to do with Moshava, nothing to do with Bnei Akiva, nothing to do with Harova, and nothing to do with my friends.
Well, okay, I'm sure it has a bit to do with all of those, but mostly it's because I worked hard to create a bond with the country that is my own personal bond. It's hard to explain it. The simplest way to describe it is...Israel makes me feel more complete as a Jew. I look at Israel and I feel G-d's existence in a way that I don't elsewhere. Having a relationship with G-d is so difficult, especially because He is not physical. Prayer is one way of connecting, but words are fleeting. You can't hold onto them the same way you can pick up a rock from the Jerusalem streets and grasp it tightly, or scoop up Israeli dirt and let it sift through your fingers. Israel, in a way, is something physical in which I can feel the presence of G-d and can realize all He has done for us and for the world.
And the history! The history that is in those rocks, the dirt, the sand, the trees, the streets, the air...layers upon layers upon layers of Jewish history! The atmosphere is so thick with it, I can feel it hugging me, warmly welcoming me, drawing me closer to my past, my ancestors, my heritage. I get enveloped by all the heroism that decorates our time-line, the bravery, the pride, the honor, the stubborn will to stand by our beliefs even under great stress.
As long as we have Israel, I feel comforted that redemption is not too far away. I feel in tune with my own identity as part of the great Jewish nation.
And, by the way, I definitely don't exclude America as a big, important part of my life, either. I'm an American and I'm proud of it. I'm not going to put down America just because I believe all Jews belong in Israel. It always really bothers me when people do that. America has done so much for us and has let us practice Judaism pretty freely, especially when you consider our history in other countries. We owe it tremendous hakarat hatov and anyone who says differently is deluding themselves.
I'm American and proud of it. I'm a Jew and incredibly proud of it. And one day I'll be an Israeli, too. I can't wait for that day to come. I'm waiting with baited breath. I'm at the edge of my seat.
Israel, sunny Israel, beautiful Israel, warm, loving country who has sooooo many issues...and yet I ache for it all the same...
One day, it'll be my turn.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Israel Day Parade - 60 years
Today's the Israel Day Parade! Raise your hand if you're going/were there (depending on when you read this)!
Yay Israel pride!
And, uh, this post is dedicated to my friend Winky who is an officer in the Israeli army and who is also getting married to one of my best friends next march.
Er, I tried to make this post more interesting but it's not really - not very. So then I tried to find the Shalom Sesame theme song on youtube and GASP it's not there! It's a travesty! I used to love Shalom Sesame! And since I don't really have time to start being all inspirational about Israel, I figured I'd just post this instead:
Ah, childhood (Pobody, feel free to change the words to "rubber penguin" if you'd like). Enjoy!
UPDATE: Things that will always be at the Israel Day Parade:
1. Fathers in baseball caps
2. Mothers in fanny packs
3. Grandparents in brightly colored foam or plastic visors
4. Non-Jewish marching bands
5. Neturei Karta
6. Rambam boys (and others) creating a scene around the Neturei Karta
7. Dorky, over-sized T-shirts
8. Dorky, over-sized 3/4 sleeve T-shirts that reach your wrists
9. Miami/Yeshiva/Other Boys Choir songs
10. Everyone from your entire life ever except for the ones who you actually want to run into. Rule: you're guaranteed to run into every single person you hoped you'd never see again
Yay Israel pride!
And, uh, this post is dedicated to my friend Winky who is an officer in the Israeli army and who is also getting married to one of my best friends next march.
Er, I tried to make this post more interesting but it's not really - not very. So then I tried to find the Shalom Sesame theme song on youtube and GASP it's not there! It's a travesty! I used to love Shalom Sesame! And since I don't really have time to start being all inspirational about Israel, I figured I'd just post this instead:
Ah, childhood (Pobody, feel free to change the words to "rubber penguin" if you'd like). Enjoy!
UPDATE: Things that will always be at the Israel Day Parade:
1. Fathers in baseball caps
2. Mothers in fanny packs
3. Grandparents in brightly colored foam or plastic visors
4. Non-Jewish marching bands
5. Neturei Karta
6. Rambam boys (and others) creating a scene around the Neturei Karta
7. Dorky, over-sized T-shirts
8. Dorky, over-sized 3/4 sleeve T-shirts that reach your wrists
9. Miami/Yeshiva/Other Boys Choir songs
10. Everyone from your entire life ever except for the ones who you actually want to run into. Rule: you're guaranteed to run into every single person you hoped you'd never see again
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