What is in a name, anyway?

Yom revi'i, 27 Elul 5769.

Recently, a friend and writing mentor publicly announced subtly pointed out that the name of this blog is a bit hard to say, and even harder to remember.  Both of these things are true.  He said people shouldn't have to read the fine print to know what one's name means.  He also suggested that more people might read the darn thing if it had an easy and catchy name.

I have to admit that I wish I'd come up with one of those great names in the blogosphere, like Ima On and Off the Bima, The Elder of Ziyon, or West Bank Mama.

Never one to weep openly reject helpful criticism out of hand (and especially just before Rosh Hashana!), I have decided to poll my readers, to see if Change is Good.  (I love when I sound Presidential!)

So here are the options.  Please help me out by voting.  Feel free to just designate your response by letter(s) of the alphabet -- but elaboration will be funnier, and therefore more amusing to me.

A.  Leave it the way it is, Ruti.  No one Googles it, anyway.  We just wait for the email.

B.  Change it to English.  "Because we surely can!"

C.  "Because we surely can!" sounds TOO Presidential.      

D.  Call it "RutiMizrachi."  That's all I can remember, anyway.

E.  Call it "RutiMizrahi," to be linguistically accurate.  (That one is for Ben-Yehudah.)

F.  Try this idea instead.  I made it up; so I like it better! 
___________________________
(fill in the blank with your suggestion)

G.  Awww...  stop being paranoid, Ruti!  He wasn't even referring to your blog.  He was talking about Esser Agaroth, Hirhurim, The Mookata Muquata Muqata, and Treppenwitz!


Thanks, gang!  We aim to please!  (Our aim may be a bit off...)

The Second Annual J-Blogger Fest

Yom shlishi, 26 Elul 5769.

I had the most wonderful birthday day-before-yesterday! 

My favorite non-Yom Tov annual event is the J-Bloggers' Convention; and the Dearly Beloved was kind enough to let me spend my birthday hanging out with a whole bunch of virtual people, instead of with my family.  (I said that just for you, Baila.  Say along with me:  "Bloggers ARE real people!  Bloggers ARE real people...)

Hosted by Nefesh B'Nefesh and powered by WebAds, the Second Annual J-Bloggers' Convention took place in a lovely venue -- Beit Avi Chai, near the Grand Synagogue.  There were wonderful photographs on the walls, which stirred controversy.  ("Ah, more photographic evidence that there are no women in the Ultra-Orthdox world."  -- name withheld for snarkiness.)  My favorite photograph was of a Chareidi guy sitting on the ground in the snow, because I love when people get in touch with their inner little kid.

There was one sad occurrence, that we would not have heard about until after the party, if four-fifths of the attendees had not been news junkies:  astronaut Ilan Ramon, a"h, has now been joined by his dear son, IAF pilot Assaf Ramon, a"h.  May Rona Ramon and her other children be comforted among the mourners of Zion and Yerushalayim...

 
I attended workshops on "Defending Israel through Social Media Tools" and "Being a Better Blogger."   Treppenwitz and Jameel of the Muqata are my favorites, as they gave me the most useful advice; but I thoroughly enjoyed listening to Ashley Perry, and to Carl of Israel Matzav as well.  Yishai Fleisher moderated with great professionalism.  (Did Malkah choose that suit and tie, Yish?  Very nice.  Very "corporate," as Yeshiva Bochur would say.)

Moshe Shmuel Benji Lovitt was very funny, as always -- except that he has given up on having any hair at all, and is doing the fashionable but annoying cue-ball thing, and he needs to eat more food.  (Nu?  You're killing me, here.  Eat your chumous.  Take two pitot.  Eat!  Eat!)  Some people just bring out the Jewish mother in us.

There were a couple of panel discussions on various topics.  Three things struck me during these events:  1)  The presenters put a lot of work into trying to provide an incredibly varied group of bloggers with interesting content, and they will get better and better each year; 2) Half of the people in the auditorium are Twittering, I-Phoning, and Blogging.  We never would have gotten away with this in college lectures!; and 3)  If my mama hadn't raised me to sit politely and listen, I would be out in the halls, grabbing extra time with my peeps.

Because the best part of the event was the opportunity to "chill" with lots and lots of my favorite writers.  In the olden olden days, when print was still alive, writers used to meet in the salons of elegant dowagers.  Not necessarily writers themselves, these wealthy ladies became famous for hosting gatherings; and their salons became almost as talked about as the people who met there.

We may not be George Sand or Dorothy Parker, and NBN isn't creaking with age and dripping with emeralds -- but the opportunity to hang out with thinkers and writers of like mind totally diverse opinions is truly a pinnacle of my year.

I got the special treat of seeing my friend Rivkah practicing to be an Israeli (very soon, please G-d).  And there were people who blog in Israel, but I missed seeing -- either because they did not make the event, or there simply wasn't time to look for them around all of the programming.

I look forward to RivkA's budding plan to have a picnic with no programming, just so that I can chatter (not tweet) for hours with the likes of RivkA, Baila, Safra-Knit, Risa, A Soldier's Mother, One Tired Ema, Rahel, West Bank Mama, Penina, Muse, and the spousal units of QuietusLeo, Jameel and Treppenwitz, if their schedules allow.  We could try to get Moshe Shmuel fixed up with someone who would feed him.  Really.  I'm serious here.  Bring on the beer and barbecue!

Haveil Havalim, The Ruti's Birthday Edition, is up at The Reform Shuckle.  Have an extra slice, on the house!

"I will sing and chant praises to Hashem."

Yom rishon, 24 Elul 5769.

This seems to have been a Shabbat of hoda'ah (gratitude).

Friday night, there was a very lovely gathering in a home in my community for the best possible reason:  a terrible tragedy was averted, and a family continues to be whole, with no one missing at the Shabbat table.

A lovely young woman who is well known for her giving nature put her tiny body in the way of a vehicle as it rolled downhill with her small children inside.  Instead of careening out of control down the steep grade and into who-knows-what tragic ending, the car's encounter with 40 kilos of mere woman caused it to be deflected into a nearby boulder, which stopped it, and saved the children.

Her husband immediately made a seuda hoda'ah -- a feast of thanksgiving -- inviting the community to share dessert and an opportunity for a communal sigh of relief.  He spoke beautifully of his gratitude to the community that came together to volunteer assistance; to his wife for her courage and grace throughout the pain; to his teenager for being wise enough to see how fortunate we all are; to Hashem, for allowing his family to remain whole.  He suggested to the friends that overflowed his home that we should not put off our gratitude, but should express it while the emotions are still palpable.

Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb wrote an important d'var Torah on the week's parsha.  He reminds us that "thank you" are "the most important two words in our language...The world would be a much better place if we each could cultivate an 'attitude of gratitude'."

With that in mind, I want to add my thanks.  Thank You, Hashem, for saving my friend's life, and the lives of her children.  Please give a refua shelaima to Elana Michal Bat Tamar Chana.

  
And while I'm at it --  Thank You for allowing my family to live in this remarkable community, in this very beautiful and special, holy country.  The many things I have to thank You for would take more than one blog post; but at least I can offer a few words of thanks before I sleep tonight.

Thank You for giving me vision to appreciate the very tiny beauty around me.               

Thank You for giving me the time to watch life unfold in this amazing Land.

Thank You for letting me live in a country where there are peaceful, tranquil waterfalls and walkways, even in the center of the holiest city on Earth!

Thank You for letting me live in a country with a tallit for a flag.

Thank You for allowing me to live in a land whose ancient history is all around us, and proves that the Tanach You gave to us is a living, factual document.

 

Thank You for letting my family live in a land where it is easy to keep things in perspective -- if we just remember what it is we're looking at.

 

Thank You for the fact that the guys in our skies are the good guys...

...and the bureacrats take the time to become one's friends.

Oh, another thing, Hashem.  Remember that time we were walking in Givat Sha'ul, and the Dearly Beloved and I were really missing our Rav from the old country?  And suddenly, out of nowhere, You sent us that little hug?  We really appreciated that, Hashem.  Thank You!

P.S.  Thanks for another year of life.  My bracha is that everyone who reads these words is blessed to develop an increased attitude of gratitude this year.  May we finally say the words and do the actions that will bring the Geula.  May all of Hashem's Am Segula finally come Home.

P.P.S.  And thank You for making me a woman!  (The guys are leaving for slichot in about two hours.  I'll try not to snore too loudly.)

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