Watch The Third Jihad for Free on 9/11

I don't waste time being an alarmist. That's not what this blog is about.

But for the past ten years, I have listened not just to the propaganda that I prefer -- we all choose to listen to, read, and watch those media that agree with our perspectives, after all -- I also have followed websites of those with opposing views, in order to see what they really think.

What you are about to watch is narrated by a Muslim, Dr. M. Zuhdi Jasser who has bravely chosen to speak against the growing threat.



Related to this is an excellent post by Robert Avrech at Seraphic Secret. Caroline Glick is one of the most brilliant thinkers speaking out on behalf of Israel. She speaks plainly, and will remind those who may have forgotten that the current "two state solution" policy didn't even exist in American and Israeli thinking prior to 1993!

"In distress you called and I rescued you..."

Yom chamishi, 21 Elul 5769.

My dear, dear friend,

I have been thinking a lot about the tsooris you are going through.  You have to know that the stress you are under with this problem weighs heavily on my heart, because you are so dear to me, and I hate to see you suffer.

Hashem doesn't clue us in as to why and how He decides to distribute troubles.  We won't understand until the end of days.

So of course, it seems terribly unfair from my limited perspective that someone as fine as you, whom I care about so deeply, must endure this pain.  I have asked Hashem frequently to lift it off your shoulders, to ease your burden.  I am ever hopeful that whatever it is that He wants to accomplish with this test will be accomplished very soon.

Sometimes, I try to make myself feel better about your situation by pulling concepts from our meforshim you yourself have introduced me to.  You know -- that it's all a test; that Hashem won't give us a greater trial than we can successfully pass; that He loves us, and is helping us to improve our position in Olam HaBa by meting out our grief bit by bit...  Sometimes, it helps me to realize how great a person you must be in His eyes, that He has chosen you to bear a burden not for yourself, but for our entire generation!

The fact is that we know nothing. 

But I want you to know that I love you so very much, and that I hurt for you.  More importantly, I want you to know how much I learn from watching you deal with this burden with uncommon grace.  Thank you for continuing to teach me how to be a good and noble Jew.

May Hashem lift the suffering from your shoulders, and from all of our holy people, very soon -- and in so doing, may He also lift the suffering from all the diverse peoples of His world.

K'tiva v'chatima tova, dear one.  May we together celebrate our redemption, m'yad!

Glossary:
 Tsooris:  Yiddish for trouble
Meforshim:  sages, commentators on the Torah and Gemara
Olam HaBa:  The World to Come
K'tiva v'chatima tova:  May you be inscribed and sealed for good [traditional greeting prior to Rosh Hashana]
M'yad:  immediately


Happy 15th birthday, Sports Guy!  May you know only joy, and no suffering, till 120!

Ulpan beckons yet again. Five months is not enough.

Yom sheni, 18 Elul 5769.

On Shabbat, I had one of those "wake up call" conversations you can only have with a little kid.

The Dearly Beloved and I take our usual afternoon stroll.  As we pass the beit knesset, he decides to join the line of men for one of the mincha minyanim; so I wait for him in the lovely gazebo outside.  My peaceful reverie is pleasantly interrupted by a small boy of about five or six who joins me.  We exchange Shabbat greetings. While he busies himself with a melting candy for several minutes, I continue to watch a line of very tiny ants making their way across the floor.

After a bit, he comes over and sits next to me.  I ask him to remind me if the ants are called "nemalim" in Hebrew.  I think that he tells me that he isn't sure exactly what they are called, because he is only in kindergarten...  but my Hebrew really is lacking, and he is capable of jamming a lot of words into a sentence.  I know I could get this language, if people would only be kind enough to speak in three- or four-word sentences, enunciating like the Pimsleur lady, and speaking very slowly...

We exchange names.  His is Yeshaya.  I tell him it is a strong name.

When we hit a bump in the conversation, I ask him to repeat, slowly.  "Can't you hear well?"  he asks me politely.

"I can hear okay; but I don't understand Hebrew very well.  I am a new immigrant."  I use this explanation a lot.  It has worked very well as my excuse for not comprehending completely, not being able to make my point clearly.  Not only am I forgiven, but I also get that heartwarming "atta-girl" that makes new olim strong.  You know:  "Way to go!  We're so proud of you!  Thanks for making aliyah!"  That is the response I am used to receiving.

Until now.

"You are a new immigrant?  When did you make aliyah?"  he asks.  Seeing that I am having a bit of trouble understanding -- he lisps, after all! -- he repeats his question, slightly differently.  "How long have you lived in Israel?"

"Almost two years."

"Do you mean 'two weeks'?  Because two weeks is new."

"No, I mean two years," I say, happy to know the difference between "shvu'ayim" and "shnatayim."

He patiently, earnestly explains to me the facts of life.  "Then you're not a new immigrant.  Two years is not new."

Well, I can see that we are talking a third of his lifetime here.  I can see his point.  But I try to explain how much harder it is to learn a language when you are not a little kid.  He accepts this, and changes the subject.

"Do you have a baby?  My baby brother just had his brit."

"Mazal tov!" I say to him, happy to be on more comfortable ground.  "What is the baby's name?"

"D'vir," he responds.

"D'vir?"  I ask, trying to think of its meaning.  I mean, every word in a foreign language has at least five words that sound similar, but can cause major embarrassment if you guess the wrong one.  Dvar?  Dovair?  Diboor...?

"Kdosh ha-kdoshim," he says, patiently.  The Holy of Holies.  Something to do with the Sanctuary in the Holy Temple?  My face clearly registers a question.  "Didn't you learn Torah?" he asks.  "Are you a convert?"

I'm still not trapping all the words.  He uses the verb form of the word "convert," and I have not encountered it before; yet I slowly am getting the root of the word, and therefore the meaning.  But he is six, and is not going to wait for the concept to develop in my mind.

"Was your mother Jewish?"

I am amused by this little tiny man asking me all these intimate questions.  But at the same time, I am enjoying the exercise.  And there is nothing like chatting with a little stranger to elicit honesty.  "Yes, I am a convert,"  I answer him.  By now, I have translated his earlier questions in my mind.  "But I was a convert since I was 32 years old.  I have learned a lot of Torah.  I just learned it in English!"

"How old are you now?"

"I am 51."

"You're older than my parents."

Yes, I have no doubt.  I am older than a sizable chunk of the population of the yishuv.  And most of my peers on the yishuv are the grandparents of six-year-olds and new babies, rather than their parents.

He chats a while longer about the new baby, about ants, and about gan (kindergarten).  He doesn't seem to notice that I am mostly making appreciative noises, rather than fully comprehending.

When the Dearly Beloved approaches the gazebo, I introduce them, and take my leave of my new friend.

"I leave you for ten minutes, and you take up with another man," the Dear One quips.

My answer is incongruous.  "I've gotta get back to ulpan."

No more excuses.  The Yeshayas of the yishuv are not impressed.

Haveil Havalim #233 is up at JoshuaPundit.  Hopefully the smoke damage wasn't too great, Josh, and everybody is back at home, safe and sound.

Glossary:
Beit knesset:  synagogue
Mincha minyan:  quorum of 10 men for afternoon prayers
Pimsleur:  excellent recorded language course
Yeshaya:  G-d is salvation
Olim:  new immigrants to Israel
Brit:  ritual circumcision, performed usually on the eighth day of a newborn boy's life
D'vir:  sanctuary, inner chamber
Yishuv:  small community
Ulpan:  language immersion course

May our merits be as plentiful as the seeds of a pomegranate.

Yom chamishi, 14 Elul 5769.

 

I was a little worried about my Rosh Hashana table as I walked through Meah Sha'arim with a dear friend the other day.  Seems the pomegranates think the New Year has come and gone...

With two weeks until Rosh Hashana, it was a relief to see that the local makolet still gets the nicest produce available, IMHO.

The hands holding these beautiful rimonim are the hands of Yeshiva Bochur, sof-sof on his pilot trip to Israel.  He will go to yeshiva for the year...  and look for his permanent makom in the Holy Land.  Baruch Hashem!

May 5770 hold the promise of increasing nearness to Hashem, to our appreciation of our individual purpose, to our comprehension that we are nothing without each other.

As Yeshiva Bochur (aka "Sage") writes in a recent "rasta-style" song,

Why must we fight against our brothers,
why must we fight against our neighbors.
we lost the Temple for baseless hatred
forget the grudges, remember the sacred
pray to di Most High for our salvation
freedom will come with the voice of a nation.

Get up today, stand up tall
united we stand divided we fall
without love we don't got hope
without G-d we stand alone

Sage logo courtesy of Yaakov (aka "The Russian") Vershubsky

Glossary:

Makolet:  mini-market, local grocery

Rimonim:  pomegranates

Sof-sof:  finally

Makom:  place

Another take on the dog days of summer

Yom rishon, 10 Elul 5769.

In the spirit of Elul, here is one of those precious family moments that briefly takes us from  the level above nature to the level of nature.



Rabbi Benny Zippel of Chabad Lubavitch of Utah blows the shofar when family dog, Chewy, decides to add his voice to the mix. Thoroughly enjoyed by all in attendance.

Hat tip to Bagolan  (Thanks, Adam.)

West Bank Mama has put together a great edition of Haveil Havalim:  #232 - The Back to School Edition.  There is so much to read these days -- it's nice to have one place to get a very good taste of what is happening at the Jewish/Israeli grassroots level.  A little Torah, a little politics, a few slices of life...  Put the kids on the bus, and enjoy a quiet read.

Are we builders or destroyers?

Yom shishi, 8 Elul 5769.

It's Elul.

No big deal, right?  All we have to do is spend the next month cleaning up our act, getting ready for the big show:  Yom Kippur.  We have to forgive every Jew who wronged us, and make ourselves forgivable in the eyes of Hashem.  Oh, yeah -- and let's not forget that noodling in the backs of our minds is that famous Chofetz Chaim rewording of an already troubling famous concept.  Every day that the Temple is not rebuilt, we are tearing it apart with our own hands.

With our own words, actually.  And our petty (but not to us, of course!) little angers at other Jews.

And every day that we are Temple-free is another day we get to fear our enemies, bury our loved ones over stupid violence and disease, suffer small and great torments, physical, mental, emotional...

And all we have to do to end the suffering is to love our fellow Jew.  Not climb Mt. Everest.  Not walk over burning coals in our bare feet.  Not starve ourselves for forty days, nor even take a vow of abstinence.

Just love Jews.  Every Jew, even the least lovable.  Even the Jews that drive us crazy.  Easy, right?

IMPOSSIBLE.

Given our natures, given our weaknesses and easy rationalizations over our hurtful responses to our dented fragile egos, acid-soaked coals would be a cakewalk, compared to loving that %#@&* who did X to me five years ago...

Impossible.  Totally insurmountable.

Fortunately, as Rebbetzin Tzipporah Harris points out, its not our job.  It's Hashem's.  All we have to do is ask Him to solve the impossible.  But we have to ask sincerely.

Rebbetzin Harris listened to the words of great rabbis who are telling this generation that without Ahavat Yisrael -- love of the Jewish people -- Ahmadinawhackjob will get the bomb, and he will be empowered to wreak more destruction against the Jewish people than in the darkest days of World War II.  She listened, and she decided to do something to help.

Rebbetzin Harris started Ahavat Yisrael Chaburim, small groups of women who take upon themselves to eradicate senseless hatred from among their membership.  The hope -- the prayer -- is that all of these small groups (and today there are more than 80 of them around the world) will create ripple effects that will cause the entire Jewish world to "get over it."

She addressed "impossible" with a story, that goes something like this:

A family was notified by the hospital that their elderly mother had died.  They were, of course, distraught; but they followed Jewish ritual, and had her body picked up by the Chevra Kadisha, which as always prepared her lovingly for burial.  After the shiva period, the family got a phone call:  "Why haven't you been to visit me?" asked the old woman.  They were too shocked to respond; and they received a second call:  "Is everything all right?  Why hasn't anyone come to visit this week?"

They rushed to the hospital to make the astonishing discovery that their old mother and grandmother was still alive!

The hospital staff quickly discovered their embarrassing error:  they had confused the woman with her roommate.  The family had buried and sat shiva for a complete stranger!

The family was dumbfounded, but completely overjoyed to have more time with their dear relative.  But now the hospital staff had a terrible problem.  They had to call the other woman's family, and tell them that not only had their mother died a week ago -- but someone else had buried her!

When the young doctor in charge of the staff made the call, he introduced himself to the woman's son.  The man barely let him finish before he started to speak harshly:  "If this is about my mother, you can tell her the answer is still NO!  All day long, she sits with that prayerbook of hers, asking God to give her a 'kosher Jewish burial.' That's all she does, all day long -- and we're not going to do it.  You can just tell her to forget it!"  And he slammed down the receiver.

Even the impossible is not hard for Hashem.  We only have to ask Him for it, with all our hearts.

Join a group like Rebbetzin Harris' chabura.  Gain strength from other Jews who have the same holy goals.

Make that phone call.  Send the email that you know you need to send.  It starts something like this:  "Dear [Ploni], I love you, and I want to have a relationship with you."   Say you are sorry for your part in the difficulty between the two of you -- without dredging up the stupid fight that got you to the place of so much hatred.  (Contrary to certain schools of psychology, airing the problem rarely solves it.)  And then just focus on the things you like and admire about him...

Get over it.  Our lives depend on it.

Send A Friend to Israel Contest

Yom chamishi, 7 Elul 5769.

 Almost twenty years ago, I fell head over heels in love with Israel -- and I spent the next decade and a half driving my husband crazy.  When he was finally crazy enough, he brought me here to live.

The Dearly Beloved has always liked this picture.  I had just figured out how to ask for something -- the ancient asimonim, probably -- and I felt like I could actually live in this exotic place.  It was the success that made the smile; but to him, it was the face of somebody who had found her makom.

During the years between that first visit to Israel and finally making aliyah, many of my friendships were with people who also longed for a home in Eretz Yisrael.

Of course -- how else could it be?  Who else could understand the longing, the fits of tears brought on by "HaTikvah," the daily fascination with an obscure internet radio station broadcasting illegally from a ship off the Mediterranean coast?

One of my best friendships developed with a very special woman who not only listened to my whining about a home in the Holy Land -- she eventually became instrumental in helping me and many other Jews to fulfill that dream.

Rebbetzin Dr. Rivkah Lambert Adler has not yet been permitted to fulfill this dream for herself.  But during the several years that she has nurtured "her baby," the Baltimore Chug Aliyah, she has shepherded a significant number of us from "our father's home" to the land that Hashem showed to the Jewish people and gave to them as an inheritance.  She set up meetings for us with Nefesh B'Nefesh representatives, as well as with people who taught us about banking and shipping and every other aspect of surviving in our future new home.  For some of us, she made the dream seem possible.  For others, she kept the dream alive, when "reality" would have crushed it.

Until Hashem allows Rivkah to come home, she blogs her love of the land, her desire to walk among the people as a citizen, her angst at being "outside the candy store, looking in."  And she and her dear husband, Rabbi Elan Adler, keep bringing speakers to Baltimore to remind every Jew that he is a potential oleh, that his land is calling him home.  And sometimes she visits us here in Israel, and reminds us of what the fever to be here felt like.

  Please take a little time to look over Rivkah's blog.  It is called Bat Aliyah.  As she says, "On September 11, 2001, I had an epiphany and realized that it was time to come Home."

I wish that every Jew in Chutz l'Aretz could want Aliyah the way this beautiful and precious soul does.  She is intelligent, funny, erudite.  Everyone who reads of her love for Israel and for the Jewish people wants to be part of that love affair.

If you are a blogger, and have not yet decided whom to nominate for the opportunity to fly aboard a Nefesh B'Nefesh flight to interview incoming olim, please consider my dear friend, Bat Aliyah.

Glossary:
Asimonim:  tokens used to operate Israeli payphones -- now obsolete
Makom:  place (here, "the place one belongs")
HaTikvah:  the Israeli national anthem
Chug:  club or organization
Oleh:  immigrant to Israel
Bat Aliyah:  Daughter of Aliyah -- one who "is a child of" the mitzvah of settling the land of Israel
Chutz l'Aretz:  anywhere outside the land of Israel