Monday, August 24, 2015

All for the Gush Katif Brides: Elul Ushered in by Rabbanit Yemima Mizrahi

Yom sheni, 9 Elul 5775.

Rabbanit Yemima Mizrahi, photo from her Facebook page
I have listened to and read Rabbanit Yemima Mizrahi for many years, but last night at the Great Synagogue was my first opportunity to see and hear her in person. The occasion: to raise money for the still-struggling but happily still marrying brides of the former communities of Gush Katif.

The event was a veritable Who's Who of fascinating, inspiring, hard-working women, all gathered together to raise funds for Gush Katif brides. Let me drop just a few names: Anita Tucker, outspoken spokeswoman for the destroyed communities of Gush Katif. Sharon Katz, founder of the Raise Your Spirits acting troupe and producer of the Dames of the Dance collection of amazing dancers (and many more holy projects than I have time now to post!). Fayge Bedell, whom I only know as Sharon's comedic foil onstage for the aforementioned fund-raising projects. Rivkah Lambert Adler, fellow blogger, founder of the twice-yearly Book Swap in Ma'ale Adummim, and one of the driving forces back in the day behind Baltimore aliya to Israel. And many more amazing ladies, many of whose work on behalf of others is only done in secret...

You simply must watch her in action to see Torah as beauty.
To watch Rabbanit Yemima Mizrahi speaking is to witness a human being making herself into a living shofar. She uses the techniques of the singer, the dancer, the stand-up comic, the mime, the painter, her body and arms and hands the brushes to color our hearts and minds with prayer, to educate us with her prodigious Torah knowledge with humor and sensitivity. Rabbanit Yemima embodies for me David HaMelech's remark: "I am prayer."

My foremost thought when I listen to Rabbanit Yemima is how much she makes me care, makes me empathize with the plight of my sisters: those struggling to find a parnassa; those who have not yet found a life partner; those who want children but have not yet or cannot have them; those who have both, but live in the special hell of broken dreams. I have yet to hear or read anything by this special teacher without being reminded of them -- not due to some heavy-handed lecture on her part; rather, due to the heart-plucking way her voice speaks to them, reassures them, pleads with God on their behalf. How can the heart not cry out with her for them? And in humble gratitude, if we are in the position to only empathize, rather than sympathize. Thank you, dear God, for what you have given me. Let me never, ever take it for granted. Let me not turn my blessings into complaints. How dare I, when my sister or brother is not so blessed?

The talk was focused, of course, on preparing ourselves this Elul for a meaningful Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. Can we drop our hurt feelings over some real-or-imagined slight? Can we stop saying "לא" (no) and replace it with "לו" (for him [or her, or Him, or anyone else besides ourselves])? Note that these two words together spell "אלול" -- the holy combination of letters for the month of Elul. Can we practice the many voices of prayer -- the shhhhhhhh, of silent, introspective, shutting-down-our-anger prayer; the kretz of a sigh that sends "to death" all of the negative things we want to empty from ourselves; the power of making our entire bodies into shofrot (ram's horns) to blast our prayers to the heavens...

Rabbanit Yemima told many stories, as she always does. One especially resonated for me. And of course, it made me cry.

The story was an illustration of the concept of "I'm sorry." With her trademark humor, Rabbanit Yemima reminded us that we Ashkenazim don't really get slichot, the penitential prayers said before and on the High Holy Days. Ashkenazim recite the slichot with varying intensity between ten days and a week prior to Rosh Hashana, before the morning prayers. That means getting up a bit earlier, and I don't envy my husband and sons this task. The Sephardim (I'm sure with the same struggles toward intensity) are asked by their tradition to get up to say these special prayers at midnight for a full month before Rosh Hashana. (This is the only thing on the "con" side of The Dearly Beloved's pro/con scale for why he does not want to switch to the Sephardi way of life.) Finally, the story, with another traditional (and heart-rending) Rabbanit Yemima device: she tells the story on herself.

I won't try to quote her full, beautiful telling of the tale. One of her special talmidot (students) was dying "of the terrible disease," and asked her to please visit. But -- to quote her painful words, spoken airily, but with excruciating pathos: "I am very important, and I am very busy..." It took the rabbanit a very long time to make the time -- but finally she did. The talmida said to her, "You didn't come for me. You came for you." And Yemima shares with us that she understood that she was only coming to the talmida finally, finally, so she could say that she checked the mitzva off her list, she had "visited the sick." And she could think well of herself... Oy! I choke now as I type the words! Which of us has not felt this? That we waited too long to do that special mitzva, but "knocked it out" finally so we could make a check-mark on our "Good Jew" list... The story ends with the sweetness that the girl became her special mitzva until she was sure that she was forgiven. In the phrase chozer b'teshuva -- one who returns to the practice of mitzvot -- the word "return" is the key. We can't just do it once. We can't just say "I love you" once, and have a marriage work. We can't just say "I'm sorry" once, and expect to be taken seriously.

There were more stories, more lessons, more patented RYM jokes. As this lecture was videotaped, I hope I can share it with you at some future date.

And when you are looking for that special mitzva, that special tzedaka, for the days of the holy month of Elul (or anytime!), consider learning with the ladies of L'ayla, under the auspices of the OU Center in Jerusalem and led by the extraordinary Rivki Segal (formerly of Baltimore, of course). And if Gush Katif still hurts your heart as it does mine, even a decade later, consider helping the children of the expellees as they marry and try to build batei ne'eman biYisrael -- donate directly or sponsor wedding gifts or sponsor community shabbat kalla events in your own homes.

Click on the photo of the document below to embiggen it, and to get the information you need.

Check out how you can help the Gush Katif Bridal Registry.

You can make a difference in the lives of people still suffering a decade after the worst crime a Jewish government perpetrated against its own citizens. And contact the devoted ladies below if you would like to sponsor a bridal shower in your community.

Lisa Goldenhersh - (050) 575-5436 or (773) 409-4091
Riki Freudenstein - (054) 432-0938 or (718) 874-2035

You can do this in any country in the world, or in any community in Israel! But if you're planning a party in Neve Daniel, check first with brand-new olot (immigrants) Shayna Levine-Hefetz and Eva Lynn Goldstein-Meola, who are planning a bridal shower here, as one of their many early Israel-based mitzvot. #OlimFromBaltimore

Let's pool the spiritual power of Jewish women to make this the last year without the Holy Temple. Oh -- and if you are not Jewish, nor a woman, but you want to help, you can also add to the wonder and beauty of the world and of this project. But you knew that... In the merit of this mitzva, may anyone you know and love who needs to find a match, who is praying for a child, whose life is far from blessed, hear good news.



Sunday, August 9, 2015

After Yesterday, Cooler-Yet-Warmer News

Yom sheni, 25 Av 5775.

And then there are days like today, filled with blessing.

We're in the Old City, on our way to the Kotel. Waiting for our son and grandchildren to catch up, we plan to sit for a moment in the shade, trying to read the minds of the Hareidi parents and four sons surrounding the bench. Are they just arriving? Just leaving? We don't want to take a space they had staked out for themselves.

"Are you just arriving? We don't want to take your seats," I say in Hebrew. The young besheiteled woman answers in English. "No, we're just going." And then she puts on mock hostility. "And if we weren't already, we are now!"

The Dearly Beloved and I play along. "Oh, yeah? Well, fine. Fine! Just fine."

We all laugh and banter some more, asking where all of us are from. We're from Neve Daniel; they're from Ramot. Before? We admit to being most recently from Baltimore.

"She's a recovering Bostonian," says her husband, no doubt quite warm in his long coat and felt hat. "It's like an addiction. It's taking a while for her to get over it." I ask where he's from. "London, and then Amsterdam."

"Ah, well, that is even a worse addiction," I tease. "How is your recovery going? And with a mixed marriage and all..."

"Slowly, slowly. It's a lot of work, but they say marriage is a great testing ground."

I tell them Rav Ezriel Tauber's explanation of marriage, about God taking two lumps of coal and rubbing them together with a lot of friction to create two diamonds.

More banter, and we part with brachot for each other's happiness and health.

And I think: what a wonderful lesson they just gave their four sons, who watched this obviously cheerful banter and blessing pass between their very frum parents and these very different Jews.

Whatever inspired the Boston-London-Amsterdam merger, may they live long and well, and encourage generations to lead with ahavat Yisrael.

**********

As we were walking back up Yafo, trying to get our over-warm but well-fed and watered grandchildren back to the bus for home, I sent the family ahead, and stopped into the shop of my old friend Menashe to see if he could repair my excellent bag that has served me well all over Israel.


No purse works as well as this inelegant little pack. But the top zipper had finally developed a rip. Small wonder: I stuff the world into this pack. I figured if the price was right, I'd just dump my possessions into a plastic bag and leave my pack for repair to pick up later in the week. Menashe examined it carefully. Then, he jumped up, insisting that I follow him. We crossed the street and entered a shop with an assortment of Iranians working behind the counter: a fellow in his sixties behind the sewing machine; next to him, a woman who looked suspiciously like Menashe (and turned out to be his sister); a very elderly "grand dame" sitting behind her cane, her red hair covered with a fine flowered shawl. Near her was another slightly younger woman. All of them, Menashe's family, by blood or by marriage.

In rapid-fire Farsi, Menashe explained what needed to be done, hugged and chatted with a friend at the door, and bade me farewell. In minutes and for ten shekels, my pack was repaired. "Thank you so very much, a thousand times thanks, Sir, and blessings to you and your family!" I said. It sounds better in Hebrew. He smiled, I think pleased that stopping his previous task abruptly hadn't been taken for granted. But business with Iranians is never quite done... 

"I have a lovely blouse, just perfect for you," said Menashe's sister. "Ah, lovely. How much is it?" I was a little concerned, in case I would have to decline. "For you -- fifty shekels." Joyful that it was within my means, I accepted the blouse as if it had just been designed for me on the spot. We made the transaction, following which she mentioned that she had the perfect skirt...

"No, thank you. This is all that I can manage today -- but it is quite lovely."

I thanked them again, and the man behind the sewing machine insisted that if I would ever need work done in the future, I would come to him. Of course! Are you kidding? I'm practically a family friend now.

I only found out how fine my blouse was when I got it home and took it out of the package. Cut like what I was wearing today, but of such a soft fabric, with a very nice pattern... It really did feel as if my wily saleslady knew her customer well.

**********

The kids survived the heat and allowed us to get photos of them at the Kotel as presents for their mother and the grandparents in the Old Country. And I had some experiences that reminded me of the subtle joys of living in an incredibly diverse family, in a small country, where getting along matters so very much.

I wonder if the little threads of kindnesses today will help to repair the spiritual fabric in time to bring better days? May it be so.

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Heating Up to Boiling

Yom rishon, 24 Av 5775.

Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository
Ever take the time to watch a pot of water come to a rolling boil? It starts with tiny bubbles at the bottom of the pot, followed by steam rising from the increasingly noisy and active water, until at last the bubbles are climbing over each other violently. If the pot is quite full, the dangerously hot water can boil over. If you are too close, the burns can be devastating.

The news is daily filled with greater tension and uncertainty, not just for Jews in Israel, but for Jews around the world; and non-Jews are in just as much danger, whether they feel affected by it or not. Some "near the top of the pot" may not yet realize how hot it's getting, but those of us nearest the burner are already feeling extreme heat.

The higher than usual atmospheric temperatures have surely not helped the rising tensions.

The horrific incident of a religiously-dressed Jew murdering a Jewish girl at a Gay Pride parade in Jerusalem, in some mistaken belief that he was fulfilling God's desires, scares me to my core. And if this was God's desire -- which I absolutely do not accept -- I would be even more frightened. Whatever God wants from us in this situation, b'zman hazeh, my teaching by excellent and holy rabbis did not lead me to believe that killing a Jew would solve the problem. I prefer the solution of a rabbi in one Hareidi community in Israel who, when asked what should be our response to the first Erev Shabbat Gay Pride parade ever, said, "Stay home and make Shabbat. That is the best protest."

As if this is not enough, we are surely on the brink of another war with the Arabs, this time, inside our borders. I firmly believe that the suspected "Price Tag" attack that resulted in the death of an 18-month-old Arab and his father from a firebomb attack on their home will prove to have been perpetrated by a rival Arab family. But in the meantime, far too many on both sides of the argument assume that this heinous crime was committed by Jews. I don't know how the laws governing the media work here in Israel. But I know in America you're not supposed to publish headlines without "alleged" or "suspected" until the perpetrator is convicted. We are sometimes our own worst enemies.

Speaking of enemies... How's the whole embracing Iran thing going for ya? I have stayed fairly quiet on this subject, as there are many people more coherent and knowledgeable than I saying much. I will let my beloved Rabbi Menachem Goldberger from the Baltimore synagogue Congregation Tiferes Yisroel speak for me, in a letter he wrote to his Baltimore congregation. Thank you, Rabbi, for your strong words. May many more in our former home country speak out as you have done. In time.

Rabbi Goldberger, before we aged him beyond his years.
Dear Kehilla HaKedosha,                       
Erev Shabbos Parshas Ekev 5775     B"H        

Yesterday Democratic Senator Charles Schumer of New York, the No. 3 Senate Democrat, announced that he will vote against the Iran Nuclear deal.  I encourage you to read his statement which is thoughtful, and very thorough.  It's available on line at Yeshiva World News as well as on other sites.  Representative Eliot Engel of New York, the ranking member of the House Foreign Affairs Committee announced he will vote against the deal as well.

I want to congratulate these men on their brave and courageous stance, under tremendous political pressure from the White House, for voting their conscience and expressing clearly the danger to the world of a wealthy, nuclear Iran, which this treaty would allow.

President Obama, in his speech at American University a few days ago, reached a new low in comparing the "hard liners" in Iran with the Republicans and stating that they found common cause with each other.  I guess that President Obama forgot overnight that he is the one who just snuggled up to the Iranian hard liners and made a deal with them, that the hard liners are not a fringe group but rather the government of Iran lead by their supreme leader, and that he found common cause with them.  I guess he forgot that the people of Iran who tried to overthrow this wicked regime in 2009 were left to themselves as he sat on the sidelines and gave them no US support.   President Obama found no common cause with them.  When he speaks I feel like I'm reading "1984" by George Orwell. 

May Hashem Yisborach, our true help and strength, have compassion on his precious nation Klal Yisroel and watch over us.  May He guide us on the right path and help us to overcome our enemies.

Good Shabbos, Shalom al Yisroel,

Rabbi Menachem Goldberger 


May this particular pot be calmed, somehow, before it boils over and burns everything around it beyond saving. And may Hashem at last decide that it is time for Mashiach, whether we deserve it or not.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Building-Blocks Made of Kindness

Yom revi'i, 7 Av 5775.

This Tisha b'Av, it will be ten years since Gush Katif. I still remember the spiritual-high hopefulness followed by the excruciating, sucking-chest-wound pain when we heard that the Jewish communities of Gush Katif would not get a stay of execution after all. It took the breath out of us -- and we didn't even live in Israel yet.

One of the many, many reasons I as an Israeli love my former kehilla back in the Old Country is that they, lead by their Rav and Rebbetzin Menachem and Bracha Goldberger, have never given up on Israel, on the dream for as many of us as possible to make aliyah, and on supporting us emotionally and spiritually here at HOME. Now they are doing what they can (as they have many times in the past) to help out financially as well.

Thank you, Holy Kehilla. Thank you, dear Rabbi and Rebbetzin. In the merit of these kindnesses, may this at last be the year of the Geula shelaima.

Dear Kehilla Hakedosha,
This Tisha B’Av marks the 10th anniversary of the expulsion from Gush Katif.   
For years, the residents of Gush Katif were known for their generosity to the poor of Israel and their extraordinary productivity.  A self-contained bloc of settlements, they were responsible for 15% of the entire country’s agricultural exports. Fully 97% were employed.  The day after the expulsion 85% were instantaneously unemployed.
Sadly, while there was a plan for removing them from their homes, there was no plan for the day after. Overnight, these productive individuals had no jobs and no businesses. Depression, trauma and other emotional, psychological and even health issues ensued.
JobKatif was founded by Rav Yosef Zvi Rimon to help the evacuees become independent, self-supporting individuals once again. To date, JobKatif has helped 2,650 people re-enter the work force.
A worldwide Achdut campaign is now underway to assist many of the remaining unemployed Gush Katif evacuees re-enter the work force.    
While we cannot solve the injustice that was committed to these people, nor right the wrongs of the past, we can unite together during the Three Weeks.
How?
Our shul, along with many others, is trying to take responsibility for just one Gush Katif evacuee. By doing so we can help repair one of the most the painful chapters in modern Jewish history. 
A total of $2,200 will help ensure that a single Gush Katif evacuee currently unemployed can once again enjoy independence, self-pride and dignity.  There remain 330 who still need our help.
This is an historic moment for Klal Yisrael.  Before Tisha B'Av, when we petition Hashem for rachamim for ourselves in the face of imminent danger to Israel's existence, it is imperative that we demonstrate our care and concern for each person from Gush Katif.  We cannot be callous to their pain any longer.  Let us pray that the dignity we pledge to accord them will be a zechut for us all in these perilous times.  
Please take a few moments to listen to Rav Yosef Zvi Rimon.
We would appreciate whatever you can to do help.  You can send your donation with "Job Katif" in the memo line to Shomrei Emunah Israel Fund, 6221 Greenspring Avenue, Baltimore, MD 21209. Mention that the donation came from Congregation Tiferes Yisroel.



If you will be traveling in America for some reason and need a warm and welcoming kehilla in Baltimore, may I recommend Congregation Tiferes Yisroel? The Rabbi and Rebbetzin and the entire kehilla never heard of judging a Jew by his or her head covering, or lack thereof. They understand better than any people I know the sentiments expressed by Rabbi Refael Rubin of Netanya. (This brief video is well worth the less than five minutes of your time. Let me know what you think -- and feel free to share!)



And what are we capable of building with our building-blocks of kindness? May we finally get our act together so that we can share joyful news of the Complete and Total Redemption, speedily and in our days!

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

"Where everybody knows your name" #5: La Boca!

Yom shlishi, 15 Sivan 5775, 30th wedding anniversary to the Dearly Beloved!

8 Shlomzion Hamalka 02-5635577
Regular readers of this blog know that it's not enough for the food to be good -- though that is certainly a factor in making the WEKYN column. At least as important as good food and decent prices is amazing service. All of the above are available at this wonderful restaurant in the South American style.

After he got out of the army, Guy Kimhi did what most Israeli youth do: he traveled to another country before planning to settle down. Guy's choice was to follow family roots going back generations, and explore South America. He was fascinated with the food; and to make a long story short, he brought back recipes and skills, and opened his own restaurant. When Guy begins to speak about the subject, it is clear that he is still in love with South American food and culture, and strives to present both as beautifully as possible.

The Dearly Beloved and I have been frequenting La Boca for some time, always happy with the delicious and subtle dance of flavors, the generous portions, and the over-the-top excellent service. Indeed, even though we are not big spenders, Guy treats us as if we are. I am certain that our first meeting with a pair of our mechutanim was successful in large part due to Guy's and his wait staff's courteous treatment of us and our guests.

La Boca recently moved from its old home on Emek Refaim to a new location on Shlomzion Hamalka in downtown Jerusalem. It is an easy walk from the light rail, in an increasingly interesting neighborhood (as more and more fine dining establishments make it their home).





We always enjoy the business lunch, which includes tapas (small and very tasty salads) and bread, an appetizer and a main dish. The delicious food is always beautifully plated, truly works of art as well as a symphony for the tastebuds!

I tend toward the spicy and pickled flavors, and the Dearly Beloved enjoys interesting mixtures of milder flavors. There is always something for both of us in the choice of tapas salads, meant for dipping, but quite tasty even if you're avoiding bread.






I tried something different recently, the Beef Tenderloin Carpaccio. It was delicate and interesting, really delicious.

The Dearly Beloved preferred to stick with our favorite, the Chicken Enchilada, stuffed with chicken and vegetables, and served in an elegant deep-fried wrap. The peanut topping and salad of market-fresh lettuces and sprouts make this a meal by itself -- and this is only an appetizer!



Our main-dish choices were also very satisfying and beautiful. The Dearly Beloved, again sticking to our usual tradition, chose the Spring Chicken prepared with coconut milk and Brazilian salsa. He often substitutes the mashed potatoes with his favorite roasted potatoes, but found that he also enjoyed the mashed potatoes, as they were clearly fresh and full-flavored, with a lovely texture. Always eager to make his guests comfortable, Guy never seems troubled by such substitutions. The accompanying roasted vegetables are always different, interesting and delicious.


I decided to try the Fajita La Boca. I usually avoid bread; but this time I enjoyed the wraps. (You have to splurge once in a while!) They were delicate and soft, yet strong enough to hold the tasty and sophisticated filling of tender chicken and sauteed vegetables seasoned with coriander. The pesto and chunky tehina were perfect accompaniments.

There are so many choices at La Boca to satisfy every palate! From steak to at least a couple of choices for vegetarians, it is possible to satisfy a variety of preferences. There is also a well-stocked bar and wine list -- and while we almost never have room for dessert, there are a number of varied choices to satisfy the sweet-tooth as well.


The new location at Shlomzion Hamalka 8 is on the ground floor (as opposed to the former location, up a long flight of stairs), so is wheelchair-accessible. The kashrut is Rabbanut Yerushalayim.

There is a room upstairs for parties of up to 120 guests.

La Boca is the place, in our opinion, to celebrate a joyful occasion, whether your celebrants include a large party or only a couple.

In fact, we'll be going later today to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary -- and we can't imagine a better place to spend such an important event!

"Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name,
And they're always glad you came..."  
-- from the "Cheers" theme, by Judy Hart Angelo and Gary Portnoy 

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Miracles that Follow from Making Nice

Yom sheni, 8 Iyar 5775.
[Originally written in August 2014.]

An ID card that actually fits in the wallet
I wrote long ago about our first appointment at Misrad HaPnim (the Ministry of the Interior) to get our very first teudat zehut (ID card). Details: Anat, our Israeli p'kida (clerk) was not going to let us become citizens, because after the grueling question and answer session she put us through, she couldn't find the raised stamp on the Dearly Beloved's birth certificate. Finally, miraculously, she was able to feel it. (Okay, we're also old and faded...) Too much suspense. But at last, we became citizens.

While my son Soldier Boy was here for his brother's wedding, we returned to Misrad HaPnim to replace his expired teudat ma'avar (temporary travel document), and to get my very first darkon (passport). (The teudat ma'avar works just fine for the first several years; and one is permitted to renew it three times.)

First we stood for a very long time in the sun, waiting for the misrad to open, in a long line of other hopefuls. To his eternal credit, Soldier Boy did not complain, even finding ways to look at the situation in the most positive light. (I love getting to know my children as adults!) Finally, finally we went inside. I typically carry a small Swiss Army knife with me. After years of experience, I now carry the smallest, least-scary knife possible, assuming that no security guard in his right mind could possibly see this as a weapon. Today, however -- perhaps due to heightened tensions? -- the security guard removed my immature little knife from my possession, had me fill out a form to reclaim it later, wrapped it in his copy of said form, securely taped it, and locked it into a safe. Shaking my head and chuckling, I followed the ever circumspect Soldier Boy to the next line, where we were told that his document would cost 560 shekels (nearly $160 at today's rate, and more than I had on me) to replace, due to loss. That pretty well nixed the idea of both of us walking out with documents. But his was critical. I would pay for part of it, and charge the rest, if they would let me. We took our number and sat down.

I fretted for a while, and he reassured me. "What's the worst? They'll tell us we have to come back tomorrow." Okay. He was right...

After a not-too-long wait, our number appeared on the LCD display with instructions to go to Window Number 7. Having the superstitious instincts of any sports fan (or gematria maven, for that matter), we were heartened by the fact that this is the Dearly Beloved's favorite number. Who should be our p'kida? The lovely Anat! Nearly seven years later, and we got the same clerk! And I remembered her, and her name, which almost never happens for me. "Ha-shem shelach 'Anat'?" I asked, a little warily (due to my usually terrible memory). She was awed that I remembered her after all these years. I told her that we had been very grateful that she was the person who approved our citizenship, and that we had had a nice conversation about her children's artwork (no longer posted). I didn't see any need to remind her of the less-positive aspects of our first meeting.

To cut the long story short -- Anat smiled through giving Soldier Boy a lecture (or six) about no longer living in Israel, and telling us that his teudat ma'avar would cost us only 140 shekels!!! We both gratefully signed papers for his documents and mine -- all of which cost less than the original quote for his single document.

My first Israeli passport, making me 37% more Israeli
No one loves bureaucracy or bureaucrats. But sometimes if you treat them like people with lives and children and stories outside their little cubicles and annoying rules, they can surprise you by returning the favor.

My embarrassingly tiny Swiss Army knife
Post script: As we were leaving (jubilant, because it had ended very well), we stopped at the security desk to retrieve my pocket knife. The guard finally located the very tiny package, but insisted on checking the signature on the paper wrapped around it. The knife fell out of it's paper cocoon as the guard struggled to remove the tape.

"You can use the knife to cut the tape if you want to," said Soldier Boy. The guard was offended at the suggestion. Soldier Boy -- every helpful -- opened the tiny knife and offered it to the guard. "Really. It will make it easier." The guard (rather than arresting Soldier Boy for pulling a tiny knife on him, which is what I was anticipating) made some Israeli noises that equated to "Back off, buddy. I'm in charge here," and went back to tape wrestling.

He was finally successful. But I couldn't help but think that my son needs to return very soon to Israel. We need a little good old-fashioned American ingenuity to get us through the coming years in the Middle East.

"Hey, Shai! Use the tiny knife to cut the tape!" "Ah, chabibi! What a concept!"


Friday, April 24, 2015

A Special Birthday Party

Yom shishi, 5 Iyar 5775.

I just don't remember this kind of enthusiasm for the significance of the Fourth of July! Perhaps that is because we Americans are generations-removed from gaining our freedom as a nation. Perhaps it is because Memorial Day is a couple of months before Independence Day, so the meaning of the one is not tied so intimately to the meaning of the other.

It cannot be denied that having Yom HaZikaron blending into Yom HaAtzma'ut has a special power: these sacrificed their lives, these precious lives were stolen too young... and we have this country, fought for and fiercely defended, on the soil given to our people thousands of years ago by God. We feel the anguish of the loss of 23,320 members of our family. And immediately after that, we feel the fierce triumph and joy in holding and building this Jewish country.

What I love here in Israel in general, and in Neve Daniel in particular, is that adults and children, Bnei Akiva students and little kids, soldiers and civilians -- whether native-born or immigrant -- seem to be caught up in the drama and joy of the day. Yes, there will be barbecues and other celebratory gestures. But there is also a lot of work that goes into the patriotic ceremonies that cannot help but bring tears of pride.

Little stars, performing for their loved ones.

Every parental heart danced right along with the little ones.

I can imagine how beautiful this was supposed to be: Adam singing a lovely song with his strong voice, doves released to fly free overhead... Unfortunately, in the unseasonable cold, the poor birds really wanted to stay in their warm huddle in their crates. Ah, well. Man plans, and God laughs.

The Bnei Akiva "daglanut." For more information about this beautiful tradition, see my friend Romi's post here: http://aineretzacheret.blogspot.co.il/2011/05/magic-of-daglanut.html In addition to the well-choreographed moves, let's not overlook that these tough (and slightly crazy) kids were in tee shirts, while many of the rest of us were in winter coats!
The Dearly Beloved awaiting the start of the ceremony. As usual, he is trying to disappear discreetly into the crowd. But it's very, very cold -- so he had to wear a hoodie under his usual holiday attire.

May she long wave free and proud.

Even in the cold, fireworks warm the soul!

"You're grown, but still a little kid inside, right?" My Hebrew must have been "good enough," because I got a very sweet smile from this soldier, followed by "B'vadai!" -- "Of course!" Only in Neve Daniel, with strong "winter" winds blowing, would the young people still make cotton candy and popcorn.

Thank you to Amit and Tamar and Hadas and all of the other people who worked so hard to make this ceremony such a beautiful event!

Happy 67th birthday, Israel! L'tiferet Medinat Yisrael!