Party! Party! Party!

Yom chamishi, 25 Tishrei 5773.

Yesterday was our fifth "aliyahversary."  Woo-HOO!  How did we celebrate?

The Dearly Beloved coached his football team.  He had to wrestle with executive decisions about where to play which guys, who worked best on offense and who on defense, and which guys needed to be cut from the developing team.  This is a very difficult decision, as he knows that all of those guys want to fulfill childhood dreams.

Sports Guy went to the team doc and got a dislocated shoulder Kinesio-taped with pretty blue tape.  And then he stayed up most of the night with good friends from Baltimore, watching the Orioles and the Yankees duke it out over who will go to the World Series.  (I don't hear any fat lady singing yet, New Yorkers...)

Stunt Man sat in a classroom -- as all of his former rebbeim and teachers know, NOT his favorite pastime -- taking advantage of one of his Israeli army benefits: preparing to pass his bagruyot.  (Think high school finals combined with college SATs.  All in Hebrew.  Talk about combat!)

Yeshiva Bochur surprised his girlfriend, Champagne Girl, who is living with us temporarily.  (This precious girl has earned this sobriquet by being as uplifting and optimism-enhancing as a glass of champagne.)  It is always a delight when Yeshiva Bochur appears at the door after a long stretch with his army unit.  That delight is enhanced by watching her bubbling joy at his arrival.  (There is something very sweet about watching a beautiful young lady's appreciation for one's son.  Good taste, has our Champagne Girl!  What better affirmation is there that we parents did a good job!)

And how did I celebrate?

There's nothing as powerful as "sister support."

I had real coffee for a change with eleven of around thirty "virtual" friends.  We have been meeting in our special Facebook group for about eight months to chat over our morning or afternoon coffee; and it just seemed important to finally meet -- as one of our very computer-lingo-hip members says -- "f2f" (face to face).

Celebrating five years over Israel's national beverage.

There were two women-and-daughter teams in attendance (and one remarkably well-behaved and patient baby, our only male attendee).  We covered a range of ages, and boasted aliyah dates spanning from just last year to 1967.

We spent more than three hours together!

Women told amazing stories of struggle and survival, physical and spiritual and emotional in nature.  We shared various uplifting life philosophies: "You can't really know someone else until you hear her story."  "Think good and it will be good."  "I believe in living a purposeful life."  "Age isn't about wrinkles.  It's about giving up a sense of wonder."  "I've spent the last twenty years trying to earn the privilege of living in Eretz Yisrael."  (The one who offered that surprising revelation has given so much to Israel, she has more than earned her privilege!)

We ended our get-together by dividing up the recitation of the 150 chapters of King David's Tehillim, in the merit of those with serious illnesses, and of those looking for their life's partner, and in the honor of our founding member's father's neshama.  This would be meaningful at any time; but there was a very special glow in that room, filled by the stories and the appreciation of those stories, that made the prayers soar.  I was very moved by the fact that all of my designated chapters spoke so specifically about the character of the ladies I'd met!

As we know, nothing happens for "no reason."

May we share many more cups of virtual coffee, and also many hot, steaming, real cups -- f2f.

This post is dedicated to Paula, Tamar, Anita, Chaya Golda, Drora, Rachel Ann, Chava, Freyda Minna, Angela, Toby, Hadassa, Hadassa, Chloe, Rose, Fayge, Esther, Janet, Miriam Esther, Linda, Bracha, and Chava.  See you next time, gals?  Coffee pot's on, and your chair at the table is waiting.

Glossary:
Aliahversary: the anniversary of one's aliyah, immigration to Israel
Rebbeim: plural of rabbis, here meaning school Judaica instructors
Bagruyot: the tests all Israeli high school students spend their last instructional years to pass, to prepare for college entrance
Tehillim: Psalms, customarily recited in groups or individually in times of trouble or great longing, or even great joy
Neshama: soul

"Simple pleasures are the best."

Yom revi'i, 10 Av 5771.

For most people I know, the last three weeks have been more hellish than usual.

By "usual," I mean that during the Three Weeks, Jews all over the world immerse deeper and deeper into the sense of loss that has existed since the Churban, the destruction of our Holy Temple.  We did not merely lose a building.  Due to our participation in its destruction, we lost something much more dear:  our close connection with the Creator of the Universe was stretched to near-breaking.  We were at this point in history as far from our Beloved Father in Heaven as He will allow us to stray, for He will never entirely allow the connection to be broken.  In spite of our "best efforts."

We are enjoined to be b'simcha -- filled with happiness and gratitude -- during most of the year.  But during this time, we are commanded to remember that Destruction and, as with every other major commemoration in the Jewish calendar, to feel it as if it were happening to us now.

That has been very easy to do with the Three Weeks this year.

The news has been beyond awful.

Every other day, a new name is added to our overstocked Tehillim lists, as we are asked to pray for more and more and more people affected by dread diseases.

The Arab world is awash in the blood of not only combatants but ordinary men, women and children.

Many brave and heroic American fighters have lost their lives, more tragically than usual, if only in the level of their heroism, and the density of the national loss.

As the chaotic stock markets tumble in Asia and Europe and the US, the UK is in flames.  An example:  a furniture store that has survived in a London neighborhood for a hundred years -- that survived two world wars -- was burned to the ground by rioters, as looters trashed the shops nearby.  Five days of this.  And even if the police get it under control, where will the fissures of the "Arab spring" erupt next?

We religious Jews have suffered humiliating tragedies at the hands of our own, even as the heartbreak that used to grab national headlines continues on unabated.  As I thought I could not bring up any more tears over the loss of the Beit HaMikdash, I read the story of a three-year-old girl forgotten in a van in Netanya...  You know how the story ends.  It ends with the driver -- a normal fellow, just like you and me -- screaming to the Heavens:  "How could I have forgotten her???"  As her parents mourn with shock their only child...

It is the morning of the Tenth of Av.  In the impossible-to-comprehend sense of Jewish time, the Temple is still burning from yesterday's destruction.  In fact, today the flames actually may be at their worst, according to our Sages.

But those same Sages had rachmanut (compassion) for the Jewish people; so we only are asked to live in the pain of the Destruction for one day, and for a bit of the next, albeit less intensely.

Practically, this means that we can begin to climb out of the abyss created by the Destruction and its consequent spiritual nadir.

We can enjoy again.  We can feel overwhelming gratitude again.

I've been "off caffeine" for a couple of weeks, in preparation for the 26-hour fast of Tisha b'Av.  (If I didn't wean myself off of coffee, I would have a headache that can only be described as "bodacious.")  So you can imagine how special is that first sip of coffee.

I once said to The Dearly Beloved that coffee should have its own special bracha (blessing).  He taught me something very beautiful.

As you know, we say blessings over the food we eat, to show our gratitude to Hashem.  Over beverages other than wine (which does rate its own bracha), we say "Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, by Whose word all things came to be."

When you say that bracha, taught my Dearly Beloved, you can have in mind all of the things you might encounter throughout the day for which you can't make a blessing.

Amazing, special things that swell the heart, that we might think ought to have a bracha.

Like a beautiful flower.

captured in New Zealand by my friend Sparrow

Like the first cool fog on a summer morning.

Like the smile on the face of a child.

Photo courtesy of KFProductions

Photo courtesy of KF Productions

After that bracha-enhanced cup of coffee, I say the after-blessing:  "Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the Universe, who creates the many forms of life and their needs..."  One can infer from those last few words that Hashem has left a few needs for us to fill.  May we have the merit and the wisdom to take the gifts that He has given us, and use them to repair and complete the world, and to help to bring the time of the Third Beit HaMikdash, a time when there will be no more suffering, and only revealed good.

Why We Do It

Yom chamishi, 14 Kislev 5769.

I had the nicest cup of coffee this morning with a fellow blogista.  (Despite the slightly South American flavor of that term, I think it really would be the Hebrew word for "female weblog author."  Though Benji would probably spell it "blogeestah."  Ehhhhhh....  but I'm no lengweech aikspoort.)

Anyway -- back to coffee.  She and I have been trying to get together since the JBlogger's Convention, many months ago.  So today, we finally did it.  Happily, we did have lots of other things to talk about besides virtual reality; but we did touch on our mutual fascination with friends who say things like "I just don't get the whole 'blog' thing.  I mean, what's the big deal with 'blogs'?"  Oh -- and my favorite:  "Yeah but, how can you spend so much time with blogging and bloggers?  I mean, they're not even real."

It was nice to share experiences and impressions with someone who "gets it."  Frankly, we are probably as mystified as to why our friends don't adore the blogosphere as they are about our seeming obsession with it.  So here's a little thumbnail analysis of "why we do it."

• We like to write.  And it's easier now than ever!
• Blogging keeps us from having to repeat everything we write to each of our friends individually.  (Sorry.  While we love you, one can only give over the story of "what's happening" so many different ways before even the writer gets bored with repeating herself.)
• What a great semi-permanent way to keep that journal!
  
• It's fun to communicate with other people who like to write.
• Secretly, we wouldn't mind being published.
• Hey!  We can publish ourselves, thereby avoiding the pain of countless rejection letters.
• "Hanging out," even virtually, with like-minded souls (politically or religiously, or sharing similar life experiences, difficulties, or interests) is very empowering and validating.

We had a very nice time sharing our aliyah experiences, discussing our pride in our amazing kids (puh-puh-puh), and marveling at one another's life stories.  We also talked about the growing grassroots power of the internet:  the freedom to set one's own agenda in commentary, rather than being muzzled by the agenda of a company or a sponsor; the ability for two-way sharing of ideas; the immediacy of "man in the street" journalism (such as that which kept us all glued to the twittered reports during Mumbai). 

I can absolutely verify that she is 100% real.

I'm looking forward to reading her latest opinion or adventure in her next blog post.

And I'm looking forward to the next cup of joe.  Thanks, Baila.  I'll call.  ;-)  

Ehhhhhhh...  this one's just for you, girl.  What will those techno-wizards think of next?