Ten Years!

20 Tishrei 5778.

A celebratory gift of 2007 wine

It’s that time again: our “aliyahversary” is today on the solar (Gregorian) calendar. After a decade, I can tell you that we are happier than ever, missing nothing of America except the people we love.

We came to Israel with very American teenangels; and now we have men who are husbands, fathers, part of the national brocade called the work force, and the equally important tapestry of the IDF reserves. We don't see them as much as we'd like – think "Cat's in the Cradle" – but when we do get together, we admire the lives they are building, and the women with whom they have chosen to build.

Ten years in Israel. Two shemita cycles. The first one was filled with our errors of confusion, after which I studied with a friend Rabbi Yosef Tzvi Rimon's Shemita: From the Sources to Practical Halacha, which measurably enhanced my understanding of this special every-seven-year commitment to the Land.

We arrived with a rusty set of skills... and discovered new talents that blossomed into ways to make a little money and to enjoy our new lives. I remember saying to my beloved Rebbetzin Bracha Goldberger that all we had left to do in Baltimore was to grow old and die. But in Israel, even walking to the store, even doing laundry, would be holy and meaningful.

My favorite "Coach" photo, courtesy of Walla

Little did I know how much we might have to contribute to this wild, wild east. My husband is known to players and fans around the country as "Coach Eastman." I have blogged and written for various English-language sites, and with God's help, my first book will come out this month. Israeli young people and small children learn what we have to offer of music and art, English language, and snippets of grandparent philosophy. In Israel, we have become most fully ourselves.

One of the grands prepares to coach the old folks.

We came with limited Hebrew... and now have somewhat less-limited Hebrew. But the boys are fluent, so we're not complaining. We try to sort out our bills or long letters from Bituach Leumi (national insurance); and when we can't, our sons or their wives help us out. Next chapter: the grandchildren will translate for us. It's already a delight to hear the two-year-old moving facilely between little-girl English and Hebrew.

There are cultural nuances that we get that were mysterious when we arrived. I'm no longer unnerved by people yelling at me when I've made a mistake, understanding that the Israeli way is to ratchet up the vocal chords from zero to 60 in ten seconds, but to drop the tone just as quickly once appeased. The how and why and when of traveling is no longer a mystery. Buses and taxis are my friends. I know when to avoid the roads entirely, based on the fact that at certain times, the entire country is traveling. I understand that when the bus doesn't come, the driver is not being capricious. He probably has a full load of soldiers; and trying to climb our mountain just to tell us he doesn't have room for us is not good for the bus. (Someone will improve the electronic bus signs someday to pass on such messages.)

I have learned the best places to eat and shop for my needs and tastes, preferring excellent service and a good story, as long as these are within my budget. (Sometimes, the trick is to make the budget work, rather than finding the cheapest option.) I can argue with a bus driver in Hebrew, and occasionally win. I can give in Hebrew compliments to waitresses and shop clerks, and gratitude to soldiers, and receive the most beautiful smiles in return. I even have philosophical conversations with Israeli friends, though these are carried on in a chulent of Hebrew and English, with a soupçon of French or a Teelöffel of German for spice.

It's moving to see quotes from the Psalms in the grocery store.

My husband teases me that I will hunt down and photograph lizards and signs in Hebrew. True enough. There are so many varieties of lizards here, and much to learn from the signs, more and more of which I can understand. There is often humor in the simple phrasing that is worth understanding, as well as deep meaning and philosophy peculiar to Israel. The Dearly Beloved also has fun at my expense as I go around Jerusalem seven weeks after Yom Kippur and joyfully say "Melakam Sigd" to as many Ethiopians as possible. More smiles. (Truly, is there anything more delicious in this world than bringing smiles out of human faces?)

We have embraced the rhythm of Jewish holidays that make so much more sense here in the Land of their birth. And having the whole country more-or-less on the same holiday page at the same time is such a blessing, after years of being an afterthought in a tiny kosher section of Safeway and Wal-Mart. It rains most of the time when it's supposed to – even God doesn't like to be too predictable, I imagine – and there's no snow in the sukkah. Nearly everyone, nearly every car, stops for two minutes of silence to remember our fallen. Chanukah lights and Pesach decorations and children dressed as Queen Esther and Mordechai are prevalent throughout the country. There are hand-washing stations at the majority of restaurants; and even the less obviously religious don't bat an eye when seeing a fellow traveler reading prayers or Tehillim, or saying a blessing when leaving a restroom. "Homeness" surrounds and embraces.

Things that used to bewilder us now delight at best, or are quaintly annoying at worst. Why does every food package come in one-kilo bags, instead of in five-kilo bags? (No worries. It very seldom costs more in the smaller package.) Why can you get good service throughout the meal, but have to hunt down the waitress for the check? (Now that I think about it, what's bad about more time over the coffee and conversation at the end of the meal?) Why can't you walk anywhere in the country without meeting a beggar with his or her hand out? (It's a good reminder that I'm very blessed to have enough to eat.) Why do office supply stores and furniture stores also sell wine and other food products as special sales? (See what I mean? Quaint. Even adorable.)

I could go on for far too long... but you have things to do. I guess I'll close these thoughts with gratitude to Hashem. We miss our friends and family back in the States, and look forward to greeting you here whenever you can come. We are blessed to have electronic means of communication unheard of a decade ago, and these will surely only get more advanced. (Think a Princess Leia hologram visit, right in the comfort of your own dwelling.) And we have been blessed with friends here in Israel who are from many different countries and who speak many different languages. Their main common feature is that they fill up the extended family spaces for which our hearts have yearned.

Looking forward to the next decade and more, here at HOME!




Photo credits: really cute granddaughter, Nisan Jaffee; Avi and Ruti, Chanie Barami

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.

Life as the Sea, Friends like Waves

Yom sheni, 3 Cheshvan 5775.

I am so far behind in writing to you about what has been happening in Israel! It seems to happen any time there is a great weight of sadness. I have much respect for my friends in the Jewish blogosphere who continue to write even when their is much collective Jewish pain. So I have to catch up soon, with God's help, as I climb with everyone else out of the well of sadness.

I want to write about our seventh aliyaversary which passed on October 10. I want to tell you about the wedding of Stunt Man and Molly McMolly! I also mean to write about the Parade of Nations (who love Israel. Admittedly, some countries were probably represented by all five of the people therein who love Israel...). You need to hear about the storyteller I met at Stunt Man's place of work. And about the chol hamoed trip up north to see the Atlit detention camp, and the Tomcar rides, and the visit to the Druze villages.

For now, I'll just share yesterday's adventure in Netanya with a few of my "Coffee Talk" online friends. (We have been meeting for a few years online. At a certain point, it occurred to us that meeting each other f2f -- face to face -- was an important component of our friendship. We have met several times now, at various places around Israel.)

As with many other stories, this one is best told in pictures. Whenever my friends get me off of my beloved yishuv, I am reminded of how easy it is to move around this fascinating country... and I mean to do more of it!

 We juggled locations and times and dates and schedules... and in the end, only seven of our group could meet this time. What did we discuss? Our brilliant children and grandchildren, of course. Our latest endeavors, artistic, professional, or related to our hobbies. ("You are looking at the Summer Triangle; and those three bright stars are called Deneb, Altair and Vega...") I hang out with very talented, smart ladies: musicians, photographers, biologists, hematologists, psychologists, restaurateurs, writers, mothers, wives, friends... So the conversation is far from boring.

We met at a mehadrin dairy restaurant right on the water. I can recommend the food; though for the prices, the portions were not as generous as some of my favorite places in Jerusalem. (Except for the health salad -- which could easily have fed two or three of us!)

During our meal, we also shared Torah thoughts, and spoke about the concepts of achdut (Jewish unity), especially given current events. We managed to discuss politics and our very strong opinions about Israeli foreign relations with complete respect and peace -- which is one of the reasons I love this very diverse group so much!

 I arrived earlier than the rest, thanks to catching an Egged bus before the traffic jams that trapped my friends began. The downside was that I had a lot of time without them. The upside was that I had a lot of time with God's amazing creation, and with other interesting people I was privileged to meet.

They introduced themselves as Izzy and Denise Edelstein, formerly of South Africa, and now living in Atlanta, Georgia. They were here for weddings and grandchildren, the best of everything! Izzy was for many years a family doctor ("They don't make those anymore," he said). We chatted about the home visits of the family doctor in the "olden days." He and Denise have been married for 61 years, and are clearly best friends.

They took a photo of me, too, "just to prove you were here!"

Lovely people, who seemed to have all the time in the world to chat with me about travel and children and getting older. May the Dearly Beloved and I grow older with as much grace, and with the blessing of the fine friendship they share.

I also met a young couple with a baby named Tzippy in her stroller. I explained to her that her parents would not always take her on their romantic dinner dates. She was really fun! Her father mouthed the words silently with a joyful-but-hollow-eyed smile: "She's. still. up..." I commiserated, and gave him the bracha that she would not still be up at 3 AM...

And then there was the Decorator Cat... and the mongoose. Yes, we have it all in Israel.

 Strange but cute little fellows! Fortunately, they seemed calm about being photographed.

 Of course -- next to the wonderful and charming human beings with whom I was blessed to spend a few hours -- the best part is the sea and the setting sun. May we always remember to be grateful, no matter how sad, difficult, or frightening our world becomes, for all of the beauty and goodness around us.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has made the great sea.*

We dedicate our words of Torah and our acts of kindness to each other from this special evening to the memory of Yemima bat Avraham Avinu, הי״ד, that her innocent neshama might have an aliyah.

photo from Voices magazine online

Treat life as the sea,

heart as the seashore, and friends like waves.

It never matters how many waves there are.

What matters is that one wave touches the seashore.

an anonymous Urdu poem

*said upon seeing the ocean or the Mediterranean Sea for the first time in thirty days

You can't keep a good Jew down.

Yom shishi, 12 Iyar 5772.

Hey, holy Yidden!  Specifically, holy Israelis!  Wanna feel a little national pride?

Israeli para-athlete Moran Samuel won an international rowing competition in Gavirate, Italy. The organizers weren’t expecting her to win, so they hadn’t bothered to secure a recording of the Israeli national anthem, “Hatkivah.”
When Samuel found out there would be no anthem played when she was on the podium, she asked for the mic and started singing herself.  (Quoted directly from the blog 6 Degrees No Bacon Celebrity Roundup.

This is the indomitable spirit that makes me proud of my People.



And speaking of the resilience of the Jewish people...

With much gratitude to all of the people all over the world who have been praying for my dear friend Stella -- aka Tzuriya Kochevet bat Sara -- I would like to amplify the good news shared by her husband Yarden.  As Yarden says, "I know it's sefira [a period when many Jews do not listen to music, due to our collective pain at the loss of 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva to plague], but sometimes you just gotta sing."  Please share Yarden's joy over the latest news at his blog post Gotta Song in My Head.  It will lift your spirits.  Hodu Lashem, Ki Tov, Ki L'Olam Chasdo!  (Thank Hashem, for he is good.  His loving-kindness is forever!)

Please feel free to share any examples you have of uplifting stories in the lives of Jews you know, in the Comments section.  You will add to the happiness, and publicize the miracles.  Nice way to go into a Shabbat!

"Even the beggar stood."

Yom chamishi, 27 Nisan 5772.

The headline reads "The Nation of Israel lives."   Indeed.

Today was Holocaust Heroes and Martyrs Remembrance Day in Israel.

I had just explained to a friend yesterday that I am increasingly a "Holocaust wimp," meaning that I can't cope well with the pain of the Shoah. For this reason, I observe the losses of the Holocaust along with the gigantic sucking chest wound that is Tisha B'Av, rather than trying to deal with it again on this day.  I like to think that if it hurts this much, one can take a pass on being reminded -- because she obviously isn't forgetting.

The Dearly Beloved and I went to Yerushalayim today to meet with friends.

As we made our way down Yaffa Street, I realized that people were beginning to stand and aim their cameras at some point up the street.  Being curious about what they were looking at, and completely having pushed the significance of the day out of mind, I stopped and looked at them. Suddenly, the moment they were anticipating came: the siren began its terrible-yet-comforting wail to mark the moment of silence in memory of our brave, broken, betrayed brethren.

I stood and watched them standing, as if in some sort of frozen flash mob scene, some with cameras aloft, no one moving.  Then I closed my eyes, and spent a moment with my great-grandmother Ruth.

I thought idly of whether she was known as "Rus" in her native Poland, since they surely used the Yiddish pronunciation, rather than the modern Hebrew "Rut."

Ruth was the last religious member of my father's family.  As she and the rest of the family prepared to flee from their family farm near Warsaw, the Nazis arrived.  The story goes that their was a mentally-handicapped girl in the family that the Nazis (they should rot in Hell forever and ever and ever and ever and ...) decided to take into the woods for who-knows-what purpose.  The girl was frightened.  Ruth spoke the last words the family remembers.  "I'll go with the child."  The two women were taken into the woods, and never seen again.

I have always felt honored to be named for her.  And as I stood with my eyes closed, I imagined her in Shemayim, in full, glorious triumph.  She won, you see.  She has great-great grandsons who walk around on Jewish soil, with Jewish-made weapons in their hands, defending the Jewish NATION. Jewish Nation, Mister Yemach Shemo, and all of your ideological forefathers and descendants.

Don't YOU ever forget.  Am Yisrael CHAI.  The Jewish Nation lives.

When the siren died down and I opened my eyes, the Dearly Beloved asked me what I had been thinking.  After I told him, we were both teary-eyed for a moment.

I asked him what he had been thinking.  "How remarkable are the Jewish people," he responded, including the slowly moving masses with a wave of his hand.  Then he pointed to a bright pink lump of color on the opposite side of the street, in front of HaMashbir.  "Even the beggar stood," he said. We wryly discussed how he managed to afford that fancy, bright-colored sheet on his "salary."  It occurred to us that some dear soul had probably purchased it from HaMashbir in a moment of intense charity for a downtrodden brother.

Yes, Neshama Of Ruth, you won.  Your children are growing up in a land of which you only dreamed.

May we do much to bring you Yiddishe nachas.

Glossary:
Shoah: the Hebrew name for the Holocaust
Tisha B'Av: the day we remember the destruction of the Holy Temple, and every other evil perpetrated on the Jewish people
Shemayim: Heaven
Yemach Shemo: "May his memory be erased."  A way to refer to Hitler and his ilk.  We try not to glorify evil by calling it by its name.
HaMashbir: probably the fanciest department store in Jerusalem
Neshama: soul
Yiddishe nachas: what every Jew wants from his children: the feeling of pride that comes from a kid who "gets it," and tries his best to be moral and kind and G-d-fearing

What can I do? Am I my brother's keeper?

Yom chamishi, 21 Adar 5772.

There's this couple I know.  I don't like to talk about them.

He beats the kids.  She knows about it.  But she wants to keep up appearances, because it really, really matters to her what the neighbors think of her and the kids.

I feel that it's my civic responsibility to get the word out, so that maybe somebody will stop him.

She's been my friend for years.  But quite frankly, she is beginning to disgust me a little.  I mean, it's her kids, for crying out loud!

She tells me that he's trying, that he doesn't mean to hurt them, that he really wants everything to be normal for everyone.  He says he never hits them without provocation.  I guess that is what makes it hard for me to believe anything he says.  Because on the one hand, he says he wants to be a normal family -- at least, that's what he tries to convince the neighbors he wants -- but then he says that it's all the kids' fault.

I overheard a conversation he had with some of his cronies.  He really thinks the children need to be taught a lesson.  He really doesn't have any remorse.

But she is the one who breaks my heart.  I don't honestly expect anything from him.  He's a jerk.  (He was abused as a kid for years; and he takes it out on his kids, and makes excuses.)  But she says she loves her children; and yet she has watched this thing happening to them, year after year, for almost a decade.  And she keeps putting on nice dresses, and going out in public, pretending that life is good... while her kids are at home, hiding under the bed.

@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@

Now I must apologize, dear reader.  I am assuming you are as angry as me, and think this woman should get some sense, and that she should divorce this guy, and protect her kids.  Right?

The husband is Gaza.  The wife is the Israeli government.  And the beaten children really are mostly children.  They are the citizens of southern Israel, who have been bombed routinely for the last eight-plus years, with more than 200 bombs being fired at them in less than a week, purely for the "crime" of being Jews, in the so-called wrong place.

Citizens of Ashdod running to shelters when siren sounds ~ Photo credit: Jim Hollander

Many of these children will reach bar and bat mitzvah without a memory of a time that didn't include terror, running to bomb shelters with only 15 seconds to spare, school closed randomly because bombs are falling nearby, the stress on their families, the shame of wetting their beds long after the acceptable age...

I feel like that child beater's enabling wife's friend.  I love my country.  I have a long-standing respect for Israel.  She's been my friend for years...

But I must not be deaf to the booms and the bombs and the sirens just a few kilometers to the south of me.  I have to look at myself in the mirror every day; and I can't allow those children to continue being beaten with my complicit silence.

Iran and the Bomb -- What, Me Worry?

Yom shishi, 17 Shevat 5772.

My dear Miriam,

You wrote to me, asking me to give you some chizuk about the situation with Iran.  You wanted to hear how we cope, to perhaps pick up a little strength to ward off your own worry for us and for others you love in holy Israel.  And because I love you, I wanted to satisfy that request.  But, of course, I don't know if I can.

Because, you see, you are a very intelligent woman, who keeps abreast of current events, and who understands what is going on in the region and world.  It is perhaps your very intelligence that is your enemy, in this case.

Can I tell you our secret?  You have to be a little brainless to live in Israel.

Now that I have given you a chuckle (I hope), let me explain.  In this case, "brainless" doesn't mean stupid.  It doesn't even mean uninformed.  It just means that we don't use our brains on these issues.  We use our hearts, and our emunah.

I have been taught by wonderful rabbis that G-d keeps is eye on Israel from the North to the South, and all year 'round.  I have been taught that the safest place on the planet in the Last Days for a Torah Jew is Eretz Yisrael.  Living here has only increased my awareness that Hashem involves Himself in our lives on a daily basis; and if we allow this realization to seep in, He doesn't hide this fact from us.  I know that the whole world is in danger.  But I feel secure that Hashem runs the world -- and if only I trust Him, "yihiyeh b'seder," as the Israelis say.  It will be okay.

Thankfully, life is too busy for me to sit around wringing my hands.  The guys come home nearly every weekend and eat everything in the house.  That means cooking and cleaning and listening to stories of their fascinating young lives unfolding.  That means working during the week to make enough money to buy all that food.  I have a job I enjoy; and this marvelous invention of the internet -- as Rabbi Pinchas Winston calls it, the modern version of the Eitz HaDa'as Tov v'Rah -- allows me to talk with friends all over the planet, instantly and in "real time."  What better way to communicate our thoughts and fears, our hopes and dreams, and even the Torah we are learning?  My husband is growing and learning; I have chavrutot to keep me on my toes; I am learning new and healthier ways to eat and to feed my family.  Too much to do!  Baruch Hashem.

Soldier Boy started the stories of adventure when he was in Golani.  Now it's all about his wife and kids.  What could be sweeter than hearing the tales of the next generation's next generation?

Yeshiva Bochur and Stunt Man keep the adventure going in Tzanchanim, jumping out of perfectly good airplanes.  Want something to worry about???

Sports Guy and his father now leave a trail of artificial turf berries throughout my home.  Who has time to worry about the fate of the world?  I'll leave that to Bigger Hands.

So you see, my precious friend, I don't have any answers for you.  No matter where we live in this world-going-mad, the only answer is to continue to live.  And living with the knowledge that Hashem is in charge leaves no room for fear.

Can't wait to see you and your dear family here at Home, my sweet friend.

B'ahava,

Ruti

Glossary:
Chizuk: strength
Emunah: trust (in Hashem)
Eitz HaDa'as Tov v'Rah: the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil
Chavrutot: learning partners (in my case, for both Torah and Hebrew)
Golani and Tzanchanim: two of the brigades of the IDF

The Right to Choose -- Without Undo Pressure

Yom rishon, 6 Shevat 5772.

This post is dedicated to friends stranded in Chu"l who feel that people already in Israel "just don't get it" in the sensitivity department sometimes.  Note to friends already blessed to be here: Let 'em breathe, okay?  As our rav's rav used to say:  "A decision is a lonely place."

My Mama used to quote a famous old Western bit of folk wisdom:  "Never judge a man until you've walked a mile in his moccasins."

I am very grateful that Hashem finally (FINALLY!) said "yes" to my request to live in Israel.  I hope, daily, that He will not retract this great gift.  I pray, daily, that He will bring Home all of my holy brothers and sisters who want to be here.

When I first fell in love with Israel, back in 1991, I knew that this is where I wanted to spend the rest of my life.  Sort of the way I felt when I fell in love with the Dearly Beloved.

He brought me here for my first visit.  It was his third.  Nowhere else had ever felt this much like home.  I told him, "Go back and get the kids.  I'll wait here for you."

Ruti at the Kotel, when it was a bit more open.

At Yaacov Agam's famous "Fire and Water" fountain in Dizengoff Square.

Of course, it didn't work out quite that way.  It took 16 years for us to actually take up residence in Israel.

In the interim, I visited whenever I could.  (I have a very tolerant husband.)  Hashem engineered a job for me, with a boss who allowed me to make a business trip to Israel once a year.  (It helps to find an employer who has made aliyah, or is at least sympathetic to the idea.)

The visits were wonderful.  Leaving was increasingly painful each time.  Almost no one could understand what it felt like to be in my shoes, because each of us has a different story.

I stayed with friends during those visits -- and, baruch Hashem, with an increasing number of friends as the years progressed.  One early morning at the home of new friends, I davened quietly in the kitchen, as I waited for the household to awaken.  I gazed out over the red rooftops, and prayed a fervent prayer that Hashem would one day allow me this view on a daily basis.

Thank You, G-d.  He has!

A young woman joined me, and introduced herself as my hosts' eldest daughter.  We had a very pleasant chat about life in Israel, about my desire to be here, about her plans for the future.  Suddenly she asked me, "When are you making aliyah?"

Since I had shared a lot about my deep longing for the land, I knew that she could see that I was dedicated to getting here, if only...

"When Hashem says 'yes,' I'll be here," I sighed wistfully, knowing she would understand.

Instead, she looked at me with that gentle smirk that only the young can pull off convincingly.  "Oh, if you really wanted to be here, you'd be here already."

What followed is what my husband would call a Cylon moment.  Cylons (if you have not been glued to your TV set through the various iterations of Battlestar Galactica from 1978 until yesterday) are evil robots who, when they want to reduce you to dust with their laser weapons, first home in on you with a red beam from the region we call "eyes."  Once you see that little red light begin to glow, it pays to be light years out of the area before it locks on target.

Uh-ohhhh...

When a teacher or parent or coach gets very, very quiet, but you know they are angry and may explode all over your simpering excuse, this is a Cylon moment.

Skkkkkkkrrrrrrcccccchhhhhhhh!!!

I got very, very quiet.  The little light thingee behind my glasses started to warm up.  My response was barely audible, if somewhat clipped.  "Ah.  I suppose it's okay with you if I walk away from my significant debt, and leave my indigent and ill mother as a ward of the State."

She also got very quiet and reflective.  To her credit, she said, "Maybe I'll rethink my position."

(I really liked her a lot after that.  It takes a lot of courage to say the right thing in the face of the Cylon eye.)

I desperately want all the Jews I love who want to be here to have the clarity and the freedom to come Home.  But I also want you to know that I hear your pain, because I remember it.

Whether it is a commitment such as a large debt you feel the honorable need to repay, a parent or a child you cannot leave, or a handicap (real or imagined) you have not yet seen a way to overcome -- I will try my very best never to harass you.  Because YOU are the only one (besides Hashem) who can know when you can come Home to Israel.

Instead, you have (and always have had) my heartfelt prayers that Hashem will clear your mind and your path.

I'll keep a light in the window, and the kettle on.

Choices Made

Yom chamishi, 26 Tamuz 5771.

“The end result of your life here on earth will always be the sum total of the choices you made while you were here.” ~ Dr. Shad Helmstetter

Since I didn't leave my chair, this is someone else's photo.

Last night, I sat with the Dearly Beloved on our patio, and watched the fog give us a peek-a-boo show of the stars, as angels sang.  I know -- you think I'm being poetic here -- but angels really were singing.  The young ladies in the landlord's house upstairs use their home for choir practice on Wednesday nights; and the girls are getting really good together!  We don't know how many voices are in this choir...  but they truly sound angelic, especially as their blended voices float down to us from above, keeping perfect time with the drifting clouds.  The wind was strong enough that I needed a blanket.  It was cool and perfect.

This morning, I am gazing in awe as the clouds above the Mediterranean Sea pile themselves up like distant mountains.  The coffee is good; the air is cool and slightly breezy.  Light plays on the fields beyond our small town.

Later today, it will get hot, of course.  The air will become still; and these lovely Jerusalem stone walls will absorb more and more heat, until the afternoon is unbearably sweltering somewhat challenging.

I grew up in small towns.  People knew each other well, borrowed easily from one another, watched each other's kids in the streets.

I always wanted to return to that life, to raise my kids with that simple lack of city sophistication.

This was not to be, as to be an observant Jew in America usually requires trappings found only in big cities.  I say "usually" because I have known rare individuals who had the learning and strength to bring their children up in the Torah in small towns in America.  But they all had "Rabbi" in front of their names.  I know we could not have done that.  We needed Jewish day schools and kosher butchers and lots of people who were "on the same page."  For the most part, that and small town life don't happen outside Israel.

Stunt Man

Even though this was my dream for the 16 formative years of my sons' lives, we couldn't make it happen.  And I have to trust that Hashem wanted my boys to get the life lessons they acquired in the mean streets of the city.  They grew tough fighting gangs who wanted to take their bikes, their money, their candy, and at one point, even a life.  (Thank G-d they were stopped by other good and decent city dwellers!)  My boys have a jadedness level of sophistication that wrestles with the insular Torah image I had set in my mind when we started this journey into religion.

Yeshiva Bochur

 But I trust in Hashem's wisdom; so I look for the good in what has transpired against my will.  My sons are strong and fierce warriors, which makes them good soldiers.  The Torah they learned teaches them justice tempered with sweetness.  They are exactly the sort that Israel needs defending her from destruction.  I long for the day when all of that worldliness is reserved only for the football field and computer games.  But in the meantime, I can see purpose to our lives spent in an American city.

Soldier Boy

Later today, I might hop a bus to the holiest City in the world to purchase a few items for Shabbat.  I might walk over to the makolet, our little "corner grocery" a few blocks away.  I'll joke with Shulamit about air conditioning as she smiles behind the cash register, telling us she's counting the hours until Shabbat.  Someone on the local "chat list" will ask for a cup of sugar, a baseball mitt for a small boy (his was left in a tremp, and we won't get it back for a few days), directions to Har Homa.  I'll race along with several other citizens of Cyberspace to try to be the first to help.  I'll listen to the kids playing in the streets; and when I pass them, a few of them will greet me first.  A couple of them will give me a message for "Coach."

Sports Guy

I'll go to work and kvetch about the heat.  I'll lament that I never get make time to clean my apartment.  I'll wish the bank balance had a little more muscle.  The news will bother me just as much as it bothers you.

And tonight, I'll sit on my patio in the open air, watching the clouds with my husband.

May we share good news, and happy times.  Come and visit.  There's room on the patio for more chairs.

This post produced and bottled by Eastman©, inspired by Treppenwitz.

"What can I bring back to the States with me?"

Yom revi'i, 27 Sivan 5771.

This post in honor of 45 successful years of the Alan-Leslie merger.  May you share many more healthy, happy years; and may we be friends for all of them!

Leslie Itskowitz and I have been friends since our excellent mutual friend, Rebbetzin Sara Sachs, first introduced us during one of our Eastman family visits to Pittsburgh.  Leslie has a lovely sense of humor.  (When she walked in my door earlier this week, she quoted a line from the movie Pretty Woman:  "Just in case I forget to tell you later, we had a wonderful time.")  She also has a deep love for the Jewish people.  And she reads my blog.  So, being friends with her has been easy, even though I see her less often than I would like.

On this trip to Israel, Leslie brought her husband Alan to meet us, and informed us that they were spending their 45th wedding anniversary with us.  (I was sure glad I'd brought out the nice tablecloth!)

There was the expected banter between brothers-in-arms.  ("I'm sorry, Honey.  He's Navy."  "Oh, well then.  Alan, it's been a pleasure meeting you; but now you will have to eat outside.")  Leslie and I were very happy that our husbands got along so famously.  They were chatting away about politics within five minutes of meeting, and didn't stop conversing on many topics for several hours.  (Not much makes a woman happier than discovering that she and her very good friend have husbands who like each other.)

At a certain point in our conversation, Alan interjected a seemingly incongruous remark.  "So, tell me.  What can I bring back to the States with me when I return?"  It soon became apparent that he wasn't talking about shopping.  (The boys left that to Leslie and me, hanging out in the Elazar beit knesset when they drove us there for a wild clothes-shopping spree at the home of the delightful Shelley Bloom.)  He explained that his community in Pittsburgh expects to hear from him what is going on in Israel.  What's the "real story"?

Alan explained that although most of his friends see the world the way he does, getting good honest news from the pro-Israel perspective isn't always easy.

The MSM (mainstream media) have a field day with anything negative about Israel; but it seems they often gloss over stories that might show Israel in a positive light, or stories that tell of the abuse of Jews at the hands of Arabs.  And much of the problem comes from an Israeli emphasis on anti-Jewish news, as many of our own MSM sources seem to be pro-Arab and anti-Jewish (even though this may not be their intention.  Like leftist press the world over, they truly may believe that this slant is in the interest of world peace).

An acquaitance of mine has lived in Jerusalem for 30 years, but has not traveled "over the Green Line" since the 90s, because she thinks its wrong for us to encroach on "Palestinian land."  "What I can't understand," she said to me, "is why you settlers won't let the Palestinians drive on Highway 60 with you.  Why won't you let them use the same roads you do?"  It does little good to show her photos of late-model vehicles with Palestinian license plates traveling on Highway 60, in equal numbers to cars with Israeli plates.  She believes her favorite "news" sources; and they have informed her that what I see every day isn't happening.

I don't begrudge this Palestinian contractor his success.  I just resent the people who say he isn't having it.

FYI: The Palestinian plates are white and green, and the Israeli plates are yellow.  No segregated parking lots here.

Full disclosure: not every Arab in Israel drives a late-model vehicle.  There are poor Jews and poor Arabs in Israel.

I enjoy the support of commentators such as Melanie Phillips, though it rankles to have even Israel's friends intimate that a good portion of the bad press is somehow Israel's fault.  According to Melanie, Israel has ignored what she calls "the battleground of the mind."  "Israeli hasbara [PR] is a joke,"  she says.  "Israel is completely outclassed and outmaneuvered on a battleground it doesn't even understand it's on."

The bottom line is that Melanie is only partly right.  Israel could perhaps be more present on the battleground of the mind.  This would be helped if this tiny nation could be a little more "on the same page" regarding our own right to exist.  But I differ with her opinion that "nobody" is addressing the problem, "nobody" is speaking on behalf of the truth.  There are wonderful sources of information available.  (Please feel free to ask for my favorites.)  But one must pick and choose (and occasionally dodge) as the meteor shower of information zooms past over the morning coffee.

Perhaps the best wisdom came in a conversation with a dear friend in America.  "It is an issue far too large and complicated for me. Is it ideology or money that is the root of the problems? Is it really a matter of property? Is it a question of religious freedom? In either case, in the holiest place on the planet for three major religions, why doesn't everyone walk around in awe of their similarities; their connectedness and the three separate but equal children of Abraham?"

My friend continued to illustrate what I see as one of the most important hurdles Israeli hasbara has to overcome:  "I have grown ... resigned to issues that are so complex and unmanageable that I am left helpless. I have given [my focus] to minding very carefully those things I may be able to personally affect. I trust your depth of knowledge on Israel.  You know internally and authentically what is happening and why..."  My friend is a musician and teacher who plays "music with babies and old people so they can find their sweet place in the song that is this life."  She truly doesn't have the time or filtering process to decide about Israel.  That is my job: and she is willing to listen.

The fact is that we are living in a time of sensory overload, a virtual nuclear holocaust of information.  Every end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it movie I ever saw as a kid ended with a handful of stalwarts communicating post-destruction with the equivalent of cans and string technology.  That translates as one person to one person.  Remember the old shampoo commercial?  "You'll tell two friends, and they"ll tell two friends, and so on, and so on, and so on..."

My answer to our friends who feel confused by a lack of answers is to find one friend who is "a fact on the ground," who is actually present on the battleground whom you trust, and ask your questions, just as my  friend in America asks me.

And to our friend Alan, who asks "What can I bring back to the States with me?," I would answer as my husband did:  Take back the truth that you see with your own eyes.  Talk about what you know to be true based on what you hear and see and discern during your visits.  Obviously, there is responsibility here: but you have been aware of that all of your adult life. Your friends, overwhelmed by too much news, will be happy to have you as their eyes and ears on the topic,  as they go on with their very busy lives.

Alan left us with a very heartwarming farewell remark:  "As I look at you here, I know one thing I can tell them.  I can tell them that we are in very good hands."

You're welcome back any time, Alan.  And bring your excellent bride with you, too!  After Leslie and I finish shopping, you'll have lots more than hasbara to carry back to the States with you.  And in case I forget to mention it, we enjoyed your anniversary dinner at Ma'alot very much.  Ask us about it...

Dear Locals: Shelley Bloom does all kinds of clothing repair, and will pick up from the Gush and Efrat if you write to her email:  shellfashions@gmail.com.  Support local business!