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!

Thanks, Mom! We needed that!

Yom sheni, 14 Tevet 5772.

We are all about kiddush Hashem, honoring the name of G-d in this world.  We are nothing if we are not living that goal.  With all of the turmoil in the Jewish world today that causes me to have a vision of the Satan scoffing at our failure to fulfill that goal, Yarden's mother's letter gives me reason to hope.  It's the little things, all strung together, that will save the world in the end.

Letter from Mom

by Yarden Frankl

January 9th, 2012

I didn’t feel any need to write an update today, since no words can match the picture below. But then my Mom (who had come with my Dad to help out) asked that I send her letter out to “Stella’s Army.”

Dear Stella’s Army:

On our flight and since getting home, I keep thinking about what you are doing for my family. To me, you are the meaning of true religion. Your support, kindness, and help to Stella and Yarden, my wonderful grandchildren and to Jerry and myself is beyond what ever the ancient sages could have imagined.

You are truly the interpretation of the Talmud as it should be. I have sat through many a college and graduate course in religion and philosophy and have never really understood what religion is all about until I saw you and your deeds.

The Rabbi who came to talk with Stella right before she left for her most challenging experience (if you don’t count being married to Yarden [HA! -Ed.]), the Rabbi who called from Maryland right after the operation, the unbelievable people who are staying with Stella so she should never be alone in the hospital, the people who kept bringing food so I shouldn’t have to cook, the super people who took me to get the things the children needed, and the ones who kept my husband company while I was gone, the children’s friends who came to keep my grandchildren company so they could get their minds away from what their mother was enduring, the countless other people who kept volunteering anything they could to make the time more palatable – you are truly the reason we have been put on this earth.

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I understand your support of Stella – she is one of the most amazingly good people I know.

But your support of Yarden is above and beyond – we all know he is slightly mezhuganah (don’t forget I have known him from birth), so as his mother, I truly thank you.

With much love and gratitude for your unending kindness,

Anthea Frankl

Whenever I was trying to accomplish something "impossible," a little pep-talk from my dear Mama, a"h, could carry me to the finish line. Thanks, Yarden's Mom. We needed that. May we share happy news beyond our greatest imaginings! Please keep davening for the complete and speedy recovery of Tzuriya Kochevet bat Sara. Thank you!

The Dawn of a New Day

Yom sheni, 17 Cheshvan 5772.

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess whose people were from a far-away land.  She climbed mountains and crossed seas to marry her handsome prince.  At last, after scaling unbelievable heights and spanning unimaginable depths, they married and had children and were happy.  They moved to a mountain in a Wondrous Kingdom, and they were happier still.

One day, the princess got very, very sick.

And now it was the prince's turn to scale unbelievable heights and span unimaginable depths in order to fight against the terrible sickness, which seemed very much like a great, coiled dragon.  The prince put on his armor, and prepared to do battle with the forces of darkness.

The people of the village on the mountain gathered to see the prince off.

 Weavers and dyers made beautiful garments for the occasion.

The youth of the village adorned the trees and flowers with lavender balloons to remind the prince that he was not alone.  The village sage gave a speech of encouragement.  And then the prince departed.

He rode his trusty steed for hours and hours and hours, over hills and up mountains, covering miles and miles and miles in an attempt to slay the dragons that terrorized the nights, and to bring hope to himself and his princess and their children.

In the process, he brought hope to his community.  But not just to his community.  As the prince traveled those many miles, he brought hope to his people, those who were scattered across the globe, and those who were just around the corner.  There were knights with trusty steeds who joined the prince on his travels.  There were builders and bakers and memory stick makers.  There were minstrels and carriage drivers.  There were even court jesters.

As he rode, spreading his message of hope, the prince discovered time and again that he was not riding alone.  There were runners and riders.  There were people walking dogs, and dogs walking people.

There were those who traveled through space and time to share in the prince's struggle, among those longing for the dawn, longing for the dawn.  All along his route, the prince and the princess were reminded that many, many people had been longing to give a hand in the fight against the dragons and on behalf of goodness and kindness.

The people completed the ride together.  The prince and the princess and their children shared weary but joyful smiles.  The war was not over.  Not yet.  But they had won this battle.  And they knew that they would never, ever be alone.  Together, and with the help of the Mighty King, they knew that they could make it to the bright light of morning.

"Behold, how good and how pleasant is the dwelling of brothers in unity!...  May there be life forever!"

Please continue to daven for Tzuriya Kochevet bat Sara, among the other precious cholim of Am Yisrael.

Additional photos borrowed (ehhhhhhhh...) from Laura Ben-David.

Reason to Rejoice, Permission to Participate

Yom shlishi, 4 Cheshvan 5772.

To all of our excellent friends who have been davening with us over the months for the refua shelaima of Stella (Tzuriya Kochevet bat Sarah), please read Yarden's latest blog post, and share our hope and happiness.  (The short version: against all odds, Stella's situation has improved dramatically.  The Frankls thank you for your prayers, and say "Keep 'em comin'!")

Those who can attend this crazy all-night ride-a-thon, details are available in this post.  (The Dearly Beloved and I will be sitting in lawn chairs on the sidelines at some unspecified ridiculous hour of the morning to shake pompoms and yell "Go, Team Frankl!"  We will try to drink beer to rub in the fact that we are NOT exercising.  And we'll be there at the finish line at 6:15 AM to accept our share of the accolades.)

Those who cannot attend, due to being unfortunately delayed with business overseas, please join us in donating to the cause, which is bigger than all of us.  The need to "do something" is strong in all caring human beings...  and straddling a bike for 12 hours is more difficult for me than pushing a "donate" button.  And I'll feel just as involved as Yarden will, without the need for mass quantities of diaper rash ointment.  (Heh-heh, Yarden.  You go, boy.)

And finally, add Stella's dream to your prayers.  "B'ezrat Hashem, we will stay on track, and we'll surprise my doctor again after the next scan! I really want to be written up in a medical journal (egoist that I am) about the miraculous case of Stella Frankl!"

There is no limit to the number of people who can be on Team Frankl.  Dust off your bike.  Make a pledge.  Or just pray with all your heart that this fine young mother gets her dream.  May we share joyful news!

Glossary:
Refua shelaima: complete recovery

"See me, feel me, touch me, heal me!"

Yom shishi, 20 Tamuz 5771.

I mentioned on Shiv'a Asar b'Tamuz that I had a friend who was feeling literally rejected by the people around her, simply because they would not smile at her, nor respond to her greeting of "Shabbat shalom."

Since then, I have heard other stories that cause me much pain, from around Israel and outside Israel.

• A young newlywed I know tells me she will never become religious.  "I went to an Orthodox shul a few times, to try to learn about Judaism.  I had stopped wearing pants; but I couldn't get used to the idea of covering my hair.  I asked the way to the women's section.  A man in a big black velvet yarmulke looked at my hair, and said 'You're probably the type who is more comfortable sitting next to her husband in shul.'"  Clearly, he judged her by what was not on her head, just as I find myself judging him by what was on his.
• A rabbi gives a shiur on a controversial subject.  Only a handful of people bother to show up.  As they are all Anglos, and one elderly woman has trouble understanding Hebrew, the rabbi chooses to break his usual pattern, and give the lesson in English.  Fifteen minutes into his lecture, a native Israeli (who is fluent in both languages, and who also disagrees with the rabbi's stand on the issue under discussion), walks in, and demands that the shiur be given in Hebrew, since we're all in Israel.
• A boy asks a philosophical question in class; and his rebbi -- followed by the students -- laughs at him.  The boy resolves never again to ask another question, because his questions are stupid.  It takes him years to develop self-confidence.  He still lacks confidence in the Torah educational system -- because of one moment and one rabbi.

There are many more stories like these; but my objective in writing them here is not to tell titillating tales about my people's failings.  The stories are meant to shake us up, to shake me up!  To remind us to listen to ourselves, to look at ourselves.

Do I get so wrapped up in my own thoughts and worries, or in a call on a cell phone, that I fail to notice the Jew passing by long enough to smile?

Do I decide that someone is "less Jewish" because of how she is dressed?  Is she somehow less worthy of dan l'chaf zechut, or at least of me guarding my tongue, than someone who has mastered wearing "the uniform"?

Do I sometimes forget that I represent Torah, and must think before I speak, lest I cause a Jew to think badly of people who "know more Torah"?

Do I show rabbis the respect that they are due?  Am I careful to criticize an opinion with respect, and never the person?

Do I remember to look around me at all of the people in the room, and think of what their needs might be?  Or do I only concentrate on my own needs?

Do I remember to make bridges between Jews?  Or do I carelessly, flippantly, put stones in the walls between us?

Do I encourage people to speak?  Or do I spend too much time filling the airwaves with my own words?

Do I pursue truth?  Or do I only spout platitudes or verses that others have stated before me, without thoughtful analysis? 

Do I listen to the searching question of a child or a ba'al tshuva or a friend with my whole self, or only with my ears, waiting for an opportunity to show them how much more I know than they (chas v'shalom)?

The world is in a terrible crisis right now.  We are all lost, alone, frightened, desperately needful of acceptance from each other.

I cannot say that by smiling at every random Jew I meet on the street I will save the lives of my friends who are suffering life-threatening illnesses, or that the answer will come from listening patiently or doing a kindness or living in Israel (for anyone who thinks that is the answer) or doing more mitzvot more diligently (for anyone who thinks G-d is mad at us for lacking attentiveness to His laws).

But Torah and our Sages -- both ancient and modern -- stress the need for kindness to each other.  We cannot know the mind of G-d.  I have a hard time relating to G-d as a King, or as something fear-inspiring.  (I'm working on it...)  But I can begin to relate to G-d Our Father, from my standpoint as a parent.

When my children are mean to one another, it enrages me.  I come as close as possible to "losing it," when they are hurtful to each other.

But when my children are kind to each other, when they "cover" for each other or help each other -- I can forgive them any slight against me.  

I think Hashem must be like this toward us.  While we must certainly do His mitzvot to the very best of our ability, while it is a shandeh if we ignore His gift of this holy and amazing Land, I cannot help but think that wherever we are in the world, treating each other much, much better than we do now might cause Him to change how nature and nations are treating us.

I don't know about you, but I'm tired of fasting for the Churban.  I'm tired of watching the world crumbling around me.  Most of all, I'm tired of saying goodbye to friends, and fearing more goodbyes.

I'm going to smile more, listen more closely, think about the wisdom of my words before I say them.  Please help me.

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Stella's Sunrise (taken on an early walk with my friend)

I have found that it's easier to daven with kavana for people when I know them.  Please feel free to get to know my friend Tzuriya Kochevet bat Sara in this lovely interview, posted at her husband Yarden's blog Crossing the Yarden.  I think you will love her as much as I do.  And that can only help your davening, and help to save the world.

Glossary:

Shiv'a Asar b'Tamuz: the 17th of Tamuz: a fast day commemorating the Destruction of the Temple

Shiur: lesson (esp. in Torah studies)

Dan l'chaf zechut: the commandment to judge favorably

Ba'al tshuva: individual becoming more religious

Chas v'shalom: Heaven forbid

Mitzvot: commandments, good deeds

Shandeh: a shame [Yiddish]

Churban: destruction of the Holy Temple in 586 BCE

Do you want the good news or the bad news first?

Yom shlishi, 10 Tamuz 5771.

A couple of weeks ago, one of my spinning buddies and I started swapping information about our visits to the doctor.  She was having stomach trouble.  I was having headaches.

We had a few tests.  She had PT scans.  I had CT scans.  We joked when we met on our bikes that we had to be sure she had no pets running around in her stomach, and that I had no cats running around in my head.

Every morning we have a chat over a virtual cup of coffee.   (Yes, I know we just live down the street from each other.  But we never got into the habit of meeting for a cup of coffee -- and starting because of our health concerns would have seemed like artificial sweetener.)

This morning we sent each other off to get results from our respective physicians.  We "tough biker broads," as we've started calling ourselves, planned to reconnoiter later to share good news.

Our husbands have been waiting nervously on the sidelines.

I have some sort of "jumpy vein" thing which is not a big deal, apparently.  We'll have to figure out what the cause is.  Do I need to take some sort of muscle relaxant to finally get a good night's sleep again, after two months without?  Or should I buy an expensive, specially-contoured pillow?  Do I need dental work?  Who knows.  All I know is that my husband can stop worrying about aneurysms and other scarier stuff.  I was feeling pretty cheerful, until I got home to read my friend's husband's blog, where he has been posting to their many anxious friends about her status.

My friend has inoperable stomach cancer.

Who took all the air out of the world all of a sudden?

First come the questions.  Some are existential.  Some are silly.  Some are practical.  Why do really mean people hang around the planet sucking Tums to ease their justifiably cranky tummies, and nice, sweet people filled with light and goodness struggle for their very lives?  Do I have the right for my morning shmoozes with my friend, now that I'm not in the club anymore?  What of substance can we do?

The first question is unanswerable until the Moshiach comes.  The second is just the yetzer hara, trying to make it all about me.  I'll have to cope with my own survivor guilt, as I have had to many times as friends I love had struggled.  The third is answered by our tradition, by common sense, and by the family themselves.

Our tradition teaches us that G-d does listen.  We will pray for her complete recovery, for the new advances in cancer research to be in place in time for her, for her family's strength.

We will listen when they choose to talk, not treating them like lepers, but not driving them crazy with our need for solace.  We will use the avenues that they have offered for coordinating assistance that they may need as we fight this fight together.

I will keep "dinging" my friend once in a while in the morning to talk about LIFE.  Because no matter how afraid cancer makes all of us, my friend is very much in life, and living, and loving.  When I see her, we'll talk about the kids and make jokes about exercise and discuss the myriad other things we both care about.

A good friend struggling with this disease once said to her friends:  "Don't give me the 'sad, droopy eyes look.'  I don't need you to bury me yet.  Let's share our lives together!"

Please daven for a refua shelaima for Tzuriya Kochevet bat Sara.  May we share good news!

Unity: The Peace of Strength and Valor, Take Two

Yom chamishi, 5 Tamuz 5771.

Someone reminded me that sometimes a repost is appropriate.  As we move into the difficult days of Tamuz and Av, I am reminded that there is only one way out alive.  "Veahavta l'reicha kamocha." 

Who started the silicone bracelet craze?

Gel or rubber or silicone bracelets have been popular since the 1980s.  Lance Armstrong was probably the most powerful force for the "charity bracelet" movement, when he used the medium to promote cancer awareness with his "Livestrong" campaign.  Since then, enterprising companies and individuals have used a variety of colors with or without molded slogans as interesting personal billboards.

In zechut of Stella's war against that C monster.

 Never one to pass up a good idea, I decided to make my own statement.  Since late August of 2005, I have been wearing a bracelet combination in an effort to cause conversations about achdut (unity).

It seems to be working.  People of various ages and religious affiliations ask me about my bracelets.  For the most part, the discussions have been interesting and civil -- even when certain aspects of "the bracelets' story" bring up controversial opinions.

Here's the story.  I was part of the "orange camp" in the year leading up to the expulsion from Gush Katif.  From my safe little perch on my kitchen stool in Baltimore, I used to watch the internet news daily, following the unbelievable and heart-rending story of my people in our Land.  This is not the forum to rehash the history of those dark days -- and I don't want to depress myself.  Suffice it to say that Kleenex made a lot of money off of me that year, and the color orange became more than a fashion statement.  Meanwhile, the color blue -- which had always stood for Israel -- was adopted usurped by the pro-Disengagement crowd.

History lesson:  we lost.  We lost Gush Katif.  We lost another piece of Jewish and Israeli self-esteem.  Our humiliating sacrifice brought us not one step closer to peace in the Middle East.  And we took a big hit in the achdut department.

Immediately after Gush Katif, very loving people would no longer give rides to soldiers.  The "orange camp" and the "blue camp" were at each others' throats, even more than before.  There was a lot of pain, and a lot of blame.  However correct those in pain were about their stand, the rage and hurt didn't fix anything.  I was of the somewhat unpopular opinion that G-d said no.  Not because Gush Katif wasn't part of our yerusha (inheritance).  But for reasons of His own, that would take pages and pages to guess at -- and like questions about the Holocaust and dinosaurs, the guesses won't have any satisfactory answers till the End of Days.

After a family trauma, one has several behavioral options.  Blaming each other is a perennial favorite.  "If you had worked harder/prayed harder/fought harder..."  "If they or he or she would have done the right thing, this wouldn't have happened."  Diving to the bottom of the abyss, and refusing to rejoin humanity, is a good hiding place in the short term.  ("We will never forget -- and we will never forgive.")  But it has its obvious limitations in the long term.

Another choice is to pull more closely together.

I'm of the opinion (and I didn't invent it) that the single most important job of our generation of holy Yidden is to somehow give up our devotion to our differences, and instead to focus on the fact that we are family.  Hashem will not give us our Holy Temple -- no matter how many mitzvot we do, no matter how many marches or rallies we attend, perhaps no matter how many prayers we pray -- until we make nice with each other.

So I wear my orange bracelet, to remind myself "Eretz Yisrael l'Am Yisrael," that the Land of Israel belongs to the Nation of Israel.  I do not want to waver in that commitment.  The color orange also reminds me of the "Gush Katif refugees," who six years later are still suffering.  I have added a blue bracelet, to remind myself that my heart should remain firmly in the East (Israel), no matter how much pressure there is from the West -- and to love my fellow Jews who disagree with me or are uninformed about our heritage.  I wear a green bracelet as well, in support of all of our children who fight to defend this people in this land -- and as a reminder to myself that those young soldiers were given an unfair and untenable burden.  I don't blame them.  And I pray that they will never be so ill-used again.

I tie this trio together with a red bindle.  As it comes from a red thread that was wound seven times around Kever Rachel, it ties my heart to all things holy and Chasidic.  It reminds me to love the Chareidim, who are also my brothers.  Attached to the red thread is a bead of Sephardic derivation, for these holy Yidden are also my brothers.  I look forward to finding something to add from the Ethiopian and Bnei Menashe branches of my dear family...

An Israeli woman in slacks and a designer scarf began screaming at us in a crosswalk one day.  "What's so good about being a Jew?  What's so great about holding onto the whole land?"  (Apparently we were wearing a uniform that triggered something in her.)  I tried to think of how one responds to that much anger in the length of a crosswalk.  "I really love that scarf," was all I could think to say.  We parted with kind words and smiles.  I didn't change her mind, or fix her problems.  But I didn't make them worse.

Rav Mordechai Eliyahu, zt"l, said that to bring Moshiach, everyone should do teshuva (repentance) in the area of "veahavta l'reicha kamocha (and love your fellow as you love yourself)."

"The exalted peace we long for, the peace of strength and valor, is the peace where the seemingly opposing powers within our nation are united, where all forces and ideologies are recognized as being the words of the Living G-d." -- Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook

To make a contribution toward ending the lingering pain of Gush Katif, please visit Rabbi Yosef Tzvi Rimon's worthy JobKatif project, which is working to assist the many remaining refugees to get back up on their feet.

Baltimore mishpacha:  Here is a very good article to refresh your memories and to update you by our own Kenneth Lasson, written last year:  Five Years Later: Gaza's Former Jewish Settlers.