tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71121262197243786242024-03-13T11:42:15.179-07:00AspaklariaReflections of a rebbetzin turned settlerAspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-2728730797984773022010-08-20T05:09:00.000-07:002010-08-20T05:18:15.638-07:00One year!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/TG5yX3NaMoI/AAAAAAAAATs/VCmKEQ0Fbvs/s1600/summer+2010+066.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/TG5yX3NaMoI/AAAAAAAAATs/VCmKEQ0Fbvs/s200/summer+2010+066.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507465148603445890" /></a><br />Happy Anniversary to us! Yup, it’s been exactly one year since our Aliyah! And while I didn’t eat any matzo today, I did seriously contemplate making matzo brie for breakfast to celebrate our Exodus, but it was about a million degrees outside and I do not have A/C. Tip for future olim to the Gush: whoever said you do not need A/C in the mountains LIED. Either that or the heat got to them and they are INSANE! Anyway, even with the heat, we couldn’t have spent the day in a better way. Today I greeted a life-long friend and her family at Ben Gurion airport as they made their Aliyah! We basically re-lived exactly what we did exactly a year ago, only from the other side and minus the dazed and confused, jet lagged and sleep deprived part. It was emotional and inspiring to watch other people “live the dream” as they say. I realized that it’s not just their dream, and not just the dream of millions before them that came true today. It’s Gd’s dream too. It is simply awe inspiring to watch Jewish people returning to the land of Israel. It is watching the past, present and future all at once. It’s watching the hand of Gd in action. It’s watching Jews in action – doing what they are meant to do. After re-living some of the less glamorous parts of Aliyah day # 1 (passing out on a couch or floor from exhaustion, schlepping baggage in ridiculously hot weather, learning how to live sans phone and internet, etc..) I ended my day on a different note. I spent part of my evening consoling a new friend after her visiting parent went back to the States. Its one thing to have a hard time saying goodbye to a parent, but it is another to watch your kids cry inconsolably because their grandpa or grandma or uncle or aunt or whomever they love deeply, has to go so very far away after being so close. She asked the question that we all ask ourselves at one time or another: “Is it really worth it?” The painful goodbyes, the struggles, the loneliness, etc… No one said it was going to be easy, but yes, it is so totally and absolutely worth it. If for no other reason than because Gd willing, we will never have to be that parent who says goodbye. We are here because this is the one place on Earth that a Jewish mother has a prayer that her kids and grandchildren and great-grandchildren will grow up in the same New Jersey sized Jewish state that she lives in. Plus, my kids have really cool Israeli accents now! So one year later we are still standing strong. And each new immigrant that joins us makes us stronger still. <br />Come Home! Let us greet you next year!Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-55889989589169204062010-07-26T04:51:00.000-07:002010-07-26T04:57:49.250-07:00To many Amerikayim!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/TE13MhtYTFI/AAAAAAAAATU/n9tnP40bs2s/s1600/flag.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 91px; height: 110px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/TE13MhtYTFI/AAAAAAAAATU/n9tnP40bs2s/s200/flag.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498181777180085330" /></a><br />One of the classic Aliyah debates is whether or not to shed just about every facet of one’s ‘old country’ in order to be properly integrated and accepted into the new one. In other words, do we purge ourselves of our American ways and values in order to take on those of our Israeli brethren, or do we bring our culture with us along with our big furniture and Skippy peanut butter? Should we resist the temptation of settling into an American community and sticking to American friends, or should we embrace the support and comfort of our landsmen? I think that the answer is different for every individual and every family. We have tried to do it all. Adapt to our new country’s culture and celebrate the one that we have always known. Mixing the old with the new. While we have naturally made American friends, we have also welcomed and pursued friendships with Israeli’s. We cherish our Israeli friendships as new found treasures, exotic and familiar at the same time. Which is why I was so hurt when I called the home of new Israeli friends and got the following message on their machine (in Hebrew): “Family ________ has gone to _____ for vacation because there are too many Amerikayim in Efrat. Too many Amerikayim! We had to go! Too many Amerikayim! Ahhhhhhh….“ It was meant as a joke. Kind of how I joke that I lived in a South American city called Miami and a South African town called Perth. I know that the person that said this enjoys joking around. He often speaks English to my kids in an exaggerated accent, making them giggle and love being around him. But it still hit a chord. It reminded me that to many Israelis, Americans are seen as too materialistic, too spoiled and well, too American. Some second generation Israeli Americans even try to hide their American origins. I learned that kids actually have a name for Americans that behave too American – they call the Ameri-kaki-im (how clever, you Yisraeli-poopy-im!) If kids are labeling kids as too American, it’s because they are learning it from their parents. Let’s face it. Their perception is correct to a certain degree, but it still makes me angry because it shows how little they appreciate and value exactly how much we Americans have sacrificed and left behind to build our lives anew. I thought of one friend who made Aliyah this year in spite of knowing that she may never see her chronically ill mother again. “What about the rest of Mom’s life?” her brother asked. “What about the rest of my kids’ lives?” she responded “I want them to grow up in Israel”. I think about another friend who made Aliyah almost on her own while her husband had to stay behind, other than a few short visits, in order to support the family during the first transitional year. I think of the many husbands who still travel frequently, sometimes every week, in order to make their Aliyah work financially and I think of their Eishet Chayil wives who have learned to be strong and capable while their husbands are away. I think of not only the salary cuts but also of the prestige cuts that many well established professionals take when they leave hard-won positions behind to start again from the bottom up. I think of the late nights parents spend with a dictionary in hand trying to decipher simple notes home from school and to write short mitzvah notes for their children in a language that their teachers will understand. I also think that while Americans may have bigger furniture and crave supersized Costco packages, they also have really big, supersized hearts. We welcome, support, and give our hearts to each other. While my Israeli friends have the luxury of visiting and being pampered by different relatives every other Shabbat, we have learned to become to each other the family that we lack. This past Shabbat, while my husband was speaking in the US, I spent Shabbat in an “American neighborhood” in Efrat, envied by some, but put down by many. You know what? It was the nicest Shabbat I have had so far (minus the husband away part). I watched as my kids played with their friends in the streets and in nearly everyone’s backyard with make shift Aunts and Uncles watching all around. I saw the love and support between families. You could feel the strength of character and the commitment to Torah and Israel that brought these families to Israel in the first place. They had a communal Seuda Shlishit where all the neighbors casually brought out tables and chairs into the middle of the street, shared delicious food, sang, and spoke divrei Torah. As the sun set behind the Judean Hills, I felt that I was a part of something very unique and special.<br /><br />At the last Nefesh B’nefesh reception, Rabbi Yehoshua Fass read a letter that he had received that very week. The letter was written by a 10th generation Yerushalmi. She asked him to relate a message to the new olim. She said that while she was a 10th generation Israeli raising the 11th generation, she often wondered what it would have been like to be the first generation. She said that in a way she was jealous of that first generation that they got to be part of something so special, so heroic. She said that one day in many years there would be another 10th generation Israeli raising the 11th generation, and that it would be because of them – the heroic Amerikayim making Aliyah today. <br /> <br />So my mind is made up. If these heros are the American Israelis, than I am proud to be counted as one of them. Let there be many Amerikayim. Here’s to many, many Amerikayim! “And crown thy good with brotherhood from sea (Kineret) to shining sea (Mediterranean).”Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-58120283390974350862010-06-27T11:21:00.000-07:002010-06-27T11:25:54.579-07:00Hand Made<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/TCeXXIijLXI/AAAAAAAAASo/x0f-hsxuPOs/s1600/Isabella_Toile.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/TCeXXIijLXI/AAAAAAAAASo/x0f-hsxuPOs/s200/Isabella_Toile.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487521094659419506" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/TCeXNF1PF9I/AAAAAAAAASg/C1vyIYOhn98/s1600/hand+made.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 100px; height: 134px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/TCeXNF1PF9I/AAAAAAAAASg/C1vyIYOhn98/s200/hand+made.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487520922133796818" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I love to run on Friday afternoons in Efrat. The atmosphere is super charged with the coming of Shabbat. The streets are almost empty, there are amazing aromas wafting through the air, and there are even a few children freshly bathed and ready in their nicest clothing. It is peaceful and serene. This past Friday, as I was finishing up my run, something caught my eye just before I was about to turn up my street. There was a chair with some pieces of pottery on it and a sign that read:<br /><br />You are invited to take<br /><br />Handmade<br /><br />Shabbat Shalom<br /><br />The sign was in Hebrew and so I read it several times to make sure that I had understood right. It’s quite unusual for people to give things away here. Our local chat list has people selling everything from used crocs to three legged chairs. It’s just not that material around here. So I was quite taken aback by this gift of beauty and the grace with which it was given. I grabbed a delicate cream pedestal plate and three small brown nesting bowls. I smiled to myself and felt Gd smiling to. Here’s why. Just before my run I was speaking to my father and expressing to him a frustration that he most certainly did not understand. My sister had recently been the beneficiary of some beautiful furniture. The person who gave it to her is not only one of my dearest friends, but also the owner of some of the most gorgeous things I have ever laid my eyes upon. If I had a magic wand my home would look exactly like hers, only here. I was feeling very happy for my sister until I found out that several pieces that she had gotten were covered in toile fabric. Toile. I know this is very hard to understand if you are a man or a woman who has not yet encountered toile, but when I see toile I get weak in the knees. It’s kind of like how my husband gets around steak. For those who don’t yet know what toile is, here is how Wikipedia explains it. “Toile de Jouy, sometimes abbreviated to simply "toile", is a type of decorating pattern (originating in France) consisting of a usually white or off-white background on which a repeated pattern depicting a fairly complex scene, generally of a pastoral theme such as (for example) a couple having a picnic by a lake. Toiles also often consist of an arrangement of flowers.” I can’t explain it, but when I see toile, I just can’t help but think that all is well in the world. I’ll admit it. I was jealous. So when I passed by those elegant but simple pieces of pottery, I felt like I was getting some sort of a consolation prize and that is why I smiled. Thanks, but I still preferred the happy picnic scenes on a French countryside. However, it occurred to me over Shabbat, as we were sharing our meal with our new friends and neighbors (pure Israeli), that there was a deeper message in all of this. Toile is a machine made fabric with a repetitive depiction of a pleasant scene. In contrast, something that is hand-made is imperfect, unpredictable, and unique. No two pieces are the same. It is also created by a human being every step of the way. It simply has more soul. So here is the message: by moving to Israel, I may have left behind toile, but I have been given ‘handmade’ instead. I left behind a pleasant life of relative stability and predictability for one heck of a ride. We are building a life from scratch in uncharted territory. We are creating the unique story that will go down in generations to come as the narrative of our family. We have been given the opportunity to be partners in creating the fabric of Jewish history. Don’t get me wrong. I still love toile, and will gladly accept any and all gifts graced by its beauty. But I understand better now that there is an irrevocable beauty in all that is handmade. There is perfection in imperfection. I have learned to see that the chance to use my own two hands to create my life is nothing less than a Gd given gift.Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-73229865785756597352010-06-17T11:34:00.001-07:002010-06-17T11:34:36.462-07:00This is what it’s all about.Before I made Aliyah I would hear people who had already moved to Israel describe their new life as ‘holistic.’ They would say things like “I have never had so little and yet felt so rich.” I could not completely grasp what they were saying until we moved here and experienced it first-hand. Two events that occurred in the last month drove the message home more than any other. This past Friday, my kindergarten son had his end of year production. But it was no production. It was real, it was simple, and it was absolutely beautiful. The event was centered around the children receiving their siddurim for the first time, or as their Rebbe put it, they received their ‘friend for life.’ To prepare the children for this momentous occasion, they went on a trip to teach them about prayer. And what better place to teach Jewish children about Jewish prayer than the place that Jews have been praying at and towards for last few millennia; the kotel. The kids prepared little notes to place inside the ancient walls and then delivered them in person. Although my son’s prayers included a request for the whole world to be made out of Bamba, I think he got the idea that there is Someone to pray to and Someone that cares. By going to the kotel he also learned that he was about to become part of something much bigger than himself. I know that he felt a sense of pride when he received his siddur two days later because when they called him up to get his siddur he looked out at the audience, flashed a huge grin, and bowed 3 times! Ahh…this is what they meant by holistic. To learn about prayer and to go to the kotel. To pray in a language that you understand. To live in a country whose most important site represents your most important value. Just a few weeks earlier at my first grader’s commencement the sentiment was much the same. After learning the entire book of Genesis (i.e. 1/5 of the Torah) the children and their parents celebrated at Ma’arat Hamachpela – Tomb of the Patriarchs. After learning the stories of our foremothers and forefathers the children were actually standing at their burial sites! Not to mention that they already live in the area in which many of the stories took place! Before the ceremony, someone leaned over to me and said “you are really going to enjoy this. With all the struggles that moving here brings you can sometimes forget why you came here. After you see this, you will remember why.” The kids proceeded to act out most of the stories in Breshit. Which isn’t so unusual for a first grade production. Except that they were doing it on the actual site that the stories took place. One could not help but feel deeply that the kids were not just re-enacting the past – they were continuing the story in the present. In the same place. With the same values. And Gd willing with an equally positive impact on our future.<br /><br />This is what it’s all about.Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-64626886635447594902010-06-07T09:18:00.000-07:002010-06-07T10:06:20.764-07:00The Runaround<a href="http://www.whirlinggirl.com/Merchant2/graphics/00000001/RunGirlRun350.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 372px; height: 350px;" src="http://www.whirlinggirl.com/Merchant2/graphics/00000001/RunGirlRun350.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Ok everyone, I get the message. I don’t call, I don’t write… Last time I felt this kind of pressure was when I was 9-years-old in sleep-away camp! So here I am, back in the blogosphere to let you know that all is well here in Machane Efrat. Where have I disappeared to for the last 4 months? I’ve been running around. Literally. (And also figuratively.) I now start almost every morning with a 4, 5, or 6 mile run around the Judean Hills. Can your rebbetzin do that? I couldn’t always. When we moved here almost 9 months ago, I could barely walk up my own street without getting out of breath. Then sometime around January I decided to walk around my block, then run, and then run some more. I haven’t stopped running since. I’m not really sure why. I’ve lost some weight, but not enough to make it worth my while due to my weakness for a certain Israeli food. Not falafel, not even schwarma, but its ‘cariot’ that I can’t resist. It’s a chocolate covered cereal filled with chocolate nougat that totally grosses me out as a breakfast cereal, but is just right for a snack that I can pretend is nutritious. It’s junk posing as good stuff. Hey, that kind of reminds me of the flotilla incident…but I digress. Back to running. Something is compelling me to run. Sometimes I think that I am making up for lost time. You get a mitzvah for every step that you take in Eretz Yisrael, so imagine the spiritual mileage I’m getting out of my morning escapades! And then there is the teaching that the air of Eretz Yisrael makes one wiser. Man, do I breath deep going up those killer inclines. I’ll be Einstein by August. Breathing deep also serves to calm and center me before I start my day, so I stress less and can better handle things like the dog emptying the garbage. Again. It also thrills me to no end to think that I am running on the same hills that our ancestors walked (or ran) on. I feel a deep connection with the land. I am now intimately acquainted with just about every brick and brush on my running trail. I guess this is my version of picking oranges on a kibbutz. But in the end, I think the thing that keeps me going is the idea that I am doing something that I never thought possible. I am pushing myself beyond limits I thought unbreakable. I am doing the unthinkable, for me anyway. This belief has served me well as I, and the world for that matter, stand at a crossroads. As we build our lives from nothing into something, I need to believe that the best is possible. I need to believe that challenges are surmountable. That I won’t crumble under the pressure. I have learned, physically and spiritually to smell the magnificent fragrances of our land and to appreciate the breath taking beauty, even as I struggle to put one foot in front of the other. I have learned that success comes one step at a time and that growth comes at the point where we struggle most. I have literally experienced the cliché that ‘what does not break us only makes us stronger.’ Then, as I sail down those hills that I ascended with such great difficulty, I experience the joy of reaching goals once thought unattainable. And then I know in my heart that anything is possible or as Herzl put it “If you will it, it’s no dream.” <br /><br />So what are <em>you</em> waiting for? Stop giving the runaround and GO somewhere. Maybe here. As we say in athlete-speak “JUST DO IT!”<br /><br /><em>DISCLAIMER – if in 2 weeks or 2 years I stop running, put on weight, and get breathless going up the stairs of my home, no one is ever allowed to mention this particular post again. </em>Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-81010977461358419422010-02-12T06:53:00.000-08:002010-02-12T07:02:57.865-08:00The reflections of a Rebbetzin turned Regular<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/S3VszmmevRI/AAAAAAAAAF8/pz2gRZH-kKE/s1600-h/Chain-Paper-Doll-Ballerinas.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 100px; height: 100px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/S3VszmmevRI/AAAAAAAAAF8/pz2gRZH-kKE/s200/Chain-Paper-Doll-Ballerinas.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437371758910815506" /></a><br />A funny thing happened on the way to holyhood. I became a regular person. This is not to say that regular people are not holy or that holy people are not regular. It’s just that my definition of holiness and my application of the term has shifted quite a bit. I left behind a very holy life – at least what I thought was a holy life – for a rather mundane daily routine. The life of Rebbetzin, by virtue of being married to a communities’ spiritual leader lives a life, by choice or not, that centers around shul, Torah, spirituality, and everything else that comes with the package. As someone once said to my husband, the Rabbi is paid to be a religious super Jew. I would add: and his wife is unpaid to do the same. Everything a Rebbetzin does and anywhere she goes is somehow connected to her husband’s position. No matter how friendly she may be with her congregants she is always different and other. The expectations are high. It lends itself to a very holy lifestyle. Teach a lot of Torah, reach out to those in need, have many guests for Shabbat, inspire others. Prepare brides for their weddings, comfort the bereaved, celebrate births and cook food for the new moms. Don’t cut anyone off in traffic; you never know who it could be. Make sure to get to every simcha, your presence makes a difference. Lead both by example and with inspirational words. Be a role model and model your role well -- as teacher, advisor, and giver. You get the point. Its holy. And all of the sudden, life has a very different rhythm. I’m no longer the leader of the pack, I’m one of them. No one is watching my moves, calculating how much I entertain, or expecting me to do…well, anything at all. I take care of my family and try to be a good person. That’s pretty much it. I talk to my friends about cooking and crafts, about our kids, our husbands and vacations we’d like to take. I take the time to exercise. I go to Torah classes to hear other people teach. I take an art class and dance lessons. I am a guest on Shabbat! Amidst all of this fun, I lost my identity. And then all the ‘shoulds’ started to surface. I <em>should </em>make more time for Torah study. I <em>should</em> start to teach. I <em>should</em> enroll in a women’s learning program. I <em>should</em> apply for positions in seminaries. I <em>should</em> head a committee – what committee? -- who knows, someone must need me to head their committee. But then I realized that the only thing I should do is be holy. What is holiness really? It’s not teaching about Chessed, it’s doing acts of kindness when no one is looking and no one cares. It’s easy to be holy and good and giving when everyone expects you to be (not to mention, your parnassa more or less depends on it). It’s another to do a favor for a friend in need or even a stranger, just because. To keep conversations positive and constructive and ever so gracefully steer them away from Lashon Hara. To give someone a ride. To make time for Torah study even when there is no class to teach. I’ve come to see that having a normal life and making it holy is perhaps even greater than having a holy life that you try to make normal. What does Gd want from us? “Only that you do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with Gd. (Micha 6:8)” Parshat Mishpatim which we will read this Shabbat stands in stark contrast to last week when we read about the revelation of Gd at Sinai. While last week was all about the holiest, most mystical experience that any group of people has ever experienced, this week is all about the nitty gritty laws of everyday living. The Torah is teaching us a powerful lesson – the very same lesson that I have stumbled upon myself –that the real test of holiness is not in the most inspirational moments of our lives, but in the smallest of everyday details that over time create something far greater and longer lasting than the greatest sermon or shiur ever could.Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-76689728034841973142010-01-24T11:56:00.000-08:002010-01-24T11:57:55.908-08:00Happy Birthday to me!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/S1ymIj2b2MI/AAAAAAAAAF0/Xpkj-9riDnI/s1600-h/1111Topsy_Turvey_Birthday_Cake_by_p.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/S1ymIj2b2MI/AAAAAAAAAF0/Xpkj-9riDnI/s200/1111Topsy_Turvey_Birthday_Cake_by_p.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430397916694698178" /></a><br /> With gratitude to Hashem I am celebrating my thirtieth birthday. Even better, I am celebrating it in Eretz Yisrael. I am grateful that at 30, I have just about everything that I would have wished for myself (you know, give or take a few pounds.) I have an amazing husband who both inspires me and makes me laugh. I have three wonderful children. One a brilliant philospher (aged 6), one a budding artistic protégé (aged 5) and of course my precocious princessa (aged 2). And let’s not forget Hero, the gentle giant. For all of the complaining that I have done about my pooch, I am grateful for one thing: With a decade of a multitude of changes behind me, it is nice to know that some things never change. If you put a piece of bread on a low lying surface, Hero WILL eat it. He WILL get gas. It WILL smell. Aside from that, you can always count on him to give a warm welcome, long after your presence is taken for granted by other family members living in your home. HOME. That’s another thing that I am grateful for. While I could not have predicted the Australia and Miami layovers, I always strove to be living in Israel. When I left Israel after a year and half of post-high school study, my prayer at the kotel consisted of three words only. Three words that I repeated over and over again. “Hashiveinu Hashem V’nashuva. “ “ Bring us back, Hashem, and we will return.” I was thinking about my desire to live in Israel, and acknowledging that it would be difficult to achieve the dream. I knew that I too would be settled one day chutz la’aretz and getting up to go to Eretz Yisrael would be like getting out of a warm bed on a cold winter morning. I prayed to Hashem for that gentle push, to have a hand in bringng me back, so that I could do the rest. Boy, did He come through. And here I am. Dreams fulfilled and dreaming still. May my dreams and yours continue to build a brighter tomorrow for us and for all of humanity.<br /><br />My prayer for the next decade:<br /><em>May it be Your will Hashem, that you bless me with knowledge, strength and love. Knowledge to know what it is that I am meant to do, the strength to do it, and the love to see all things through. May our will be one and the same as I fulfill myself by serving humanity. Please bless me with the wisdom to raise my children in Your ways. May my home be filled with blessings, peace and light. Please let that light make the world a little less dark, a little more bright. May we all merit to see our nation truly free and our world truly at peace, living the ultimate dream, speedily in our days. Amen! </em><br /><br />One more thing – <em>please bring all of my family and friends (and their family and friends) to also live in Eretz Yisrael. In peace and with joy. With wealth and health. And then we will have one HUGE party that will never end….</em>Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-16681182054943601892010-01-19T22:38:00.000-08:002010-01-19T22:39:12.812-08:00Proud to be Israeli<object width="416" height="374" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" id="ep"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="wmode" value="transparent" /><param name="movie" value="http://i.cdn.turner.com/cnn/.element/apps/cvp/3.0/swf/cnn_416x234_embed.swf?context=embed&videoId=world/2010/01/18/dnt.cohen.haiti.patients.dying.cnn" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#000000" /><embed src="http://i.cdn.turner.com/cnn/.element/apps/cvp/3.0/swf/cnn_416x234_embed.swf?context=embed&videoId=world/2010/01/18/dnt.cohen.haiti.patients.dying.cnn" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" bgcolor="#000000" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="416" wmode="transparent" height="374"></embed></object>Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-65530029040964369532010-01-07T22:33:00.000-08:002010-01-07T22:35:27.783-08:00Rothchilds in the news<a href="http://www.miamiherald.com/691/story/1404494.html"><strong>This is Israel to me,' says a settler from Miami</strong></a><br /><br />By SHEERA FRENKEL<br />McClatchy Newspapers<br /><br />EFRAT, West Bank -- Efrat, 10 miles outside Jerusalem, has become known for its Anglo-Saxon population.<br /><br />Nearly 30 percent of the town lies on Palestinian land that was confiscated from the nearby Arab village of al-Khader, according to a survey completed by Peace Now. New York Rabbi Shlomo Riskin and Israeli Moshe Moskovics jointly founded it with money donated by Florida businessman Irving Moskowitz.<br /><br />Oded Reviv, the mayor of Efrat, said that all of the 24 families he knows of that have moved to the settlement this past year are Anglo-Saxon. The city's tree-lined streets boast New York-style pizza, and the identical, angular red-roofed homes easily could be mistaken for American suburbia. The high demand for homes in Efrat has driven up prices, with a modest family-sized residence costing hundreds of thousands of dollars. <br /><br />Moshe and Yonit Rothschild moved to Efrat from Miami four months ago with their two children. They consider themselves part of the "moderate and mainstream" settlement movement.<br /><br />They said that their decision to live in a settlement had nothing to do with the Green Line, the internationally recognized border that between Israel and a future Palestinian state.<br /><br />"If you gave me a map, I couldn't draw the green line for you. ... It wasn't a matter of living over the Green Line. This is Israel to me," said Moshe Rothschild, 42.<br /><br />He said that he and his wife weren't happy about the Obama administration's opposition to new settlements, which he thinks is a "huge mistake."<br /><br />"I'm not less American than anyone else, and we are entitled to disagree with our president like anyone else is. I think there is a lot of misunderstanding of what the settlements are. When you use the word 'settlement' in the States, they think of fanatics."<br /><br />When the subject of a final agreement between Israel and the Palestinians is raised, the Rothschilds aren't sure whether they'd be willing to relocate inside the Green Line.<br /><br />Moshe said he'd "probably be willing to make that concession" if there were a guarantee of peace.<br /><br />Yonit, 29, is less sure.<br /><br />(Frenkel is a McClatchy Newspapers special correspondent.)Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-63404292169282956422010-01-04T03:02:00.000-08:002010-01-04T03:14:47.108-08:00Chutzpah<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/S0HMiG9jwEI/AAAAAAAAAFs/QAKHGwZKCLc/s1600-h/jamal.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 136px; height: 106px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/S0HMiG9jwEI/AAAAAAAAAFs/QAKHGwZKCLc/s200/jamal.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422840312687214658" /></a><br />If I didn’t know better, I would think the Arab Member of Kenneset, Jamal Zehalke was Ali G in disguise. What follows is a rather amusing excerpt from an interview that broadcasted on the Erev Chadash program hosted by veteran broadcaster Dan Margalit and his younger co-host Ronen Bergman (as published on Arutz Sheva). We are a strange people, allowing people like this to be a part of our government.<br /><br /><br />Bergman: “Why don’t you protest against Egypt? If they would open their blockade of Gaza in Rafiach, there would be no humanitarian crisis there!”<br />Zehalke: “I support the Egyptian opposition’s protest against their government” [evoking sarcastic laughter by the interviewer … ]We want to stop the suffering in Gaza, one must be totally obtuse in order not to see this.” <br />Margalit: "Not quite; Hamas has fired 8,000 rockets…" <br />Zehalke: “There were 1,400 dead Arabs and 400 children [in Cast].”<br />Margalit: “Because Hamas fired rockets…”<br />Zehalke: “Ehud Barak listens to classical music and kills children!”<br />Margalit: “Yes, we’ve heard that, we’ve heard that. What chutzpah (gall, nerve -- ed.) it takes to talk that way.”<br />Zehalke: “No, the chutzpah is the killing. Don’t say it is nerve.”<br />Margalit: “It is chutzpah.”<br />Zehalke (yelling): “Don’t you say chutzpah!”<br />Margalit: “I’ll say what I want, I don’t live in your type of country, I live in a democracy.”<br />Zehalke (yelling): “You talk as if you’re in the marketplace!”<br />Margalit: “I talk that way? You say that Barak is a murderer! You are chatzuf [cheeky, rude, disrespectful, from the same root as the Hebrew word chutzpa!]”<br />Zehalke (yelling): “Don’t call me chatzuf!”<br />Margalit: “You’re chatzuf!” <br />Zehalke: “Don’t call me chatzuf!”<br />Margalit: “You’re chatzuf!” <br />Zehalke: “Oh yeah? You’re a zero!”<br />Margalit: “Oh? OK, now you’ve convinced me.”<br />Zehalke: “You’re a zero! You’re a mouthpiece for all the prime ministers, and you’re a court reporter! You’re a court reporter!” <br />Margalit: “Yes, OK, Zehalke, you’re right, now get out of here. You don’t care about all the Kassams, now get out of here.”<br />After another round or two of mutual insults, when it appeared that Zehalke had finally left, Margalit had trouble calming down, and said, “You saw that chatzuf? He says that Barak is a child murderer!”<br />Zehalke’s voice is heard from offstage: “Don’t say chatzuf!”<br />Margalit: “Get out of here already!”<br />Zehalke: “Don’t say chatzuf! Don’t say get out of here already!”<br />Margalit: “Can you let me work, please?” (The next interviewee had already arrived)<br />Zehalke [still yelling from offstage: “This is Sheikh Munis here!” (referring to a former Arab village on the ruins of which northern Tel Aviv -- including the television studio -- was built)<br />Margalit [banging on the table]: “Aaah, now we see what you really want! Now it’s clear! You want to conquer this from us too! Now we see the truth!”<br />Zehalke: “No, we want to live together! I was born here, you are an immigrant!”<br />Margalit:”Oh, I’m an immigrant?” (Margalit was born in Tel Aviv in 1938)Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-32544660962213579722009-12-31T14:01:00.000-08:002009-12-31T14:08:30.249-08:00weekly funny - from our home to yoursOn Parshat Vayechi<br /><br />Me: Yaakov had more than twelve kids, why did Yosef have only two?<br /><br />Husband: Maybe because they were living in Chutz La'aretz and they had to pay yeshiva tuitions.Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-89179196049644571582009-12-31T13:59:00.000-08:002009-12-31T23:59:59.670-08:00My sister: the new meAnyone who makes Aliyah has done the math and figured out that moving from the land of plenty to the land of milk and honey requires a significant change in lifestyle. Yet we have all come to the same conclusion that sometimes less is really more. I had prepared myself to be at peace with giving up my house, cars, pool and full-time help, not to mention leaving behind a community that we loved and loved us (well except for a few wayward congregants here and there.) I understand now what a friend of mine, who had moved states, said to me about the experience. She told me that she couldn’t sleep one night because she could not stop thinking that if she died the next day, there would be no one at the funeral. No one in her new community knew her. I mean people <em>knew</em> her. They just didn’t know her. And now I know what she meant. But at the end of the day, I was prepared for this. I like my new home, my new-to-me car, and my life here very much. Still nothing could have prepared me for my sister picking up, exactly where I left off. As fate would have it, my sister moved into my old house today. Not only that, she is moving in at the same stage of life as me – with one rambunctious little toddler boy running around the great big space. So now she’s me, only thinner. I was so excited about this development. Something felt good about it. I was happy that my house was being inhabited by family. My lay-z-boy chair that didn’t make it into the lift would be in good hands once again (incidentally, this chair has the pattern of an old world map on it. When it didn’t make it to Israel, I took it as a sign that our years as wandering Jews are over.) But now I’m having a different sort of reaction. I’m not nostalgic for what was, but for what could have been. What would have been had we not chosen to move. And as my back hurts from washing up a ton of dishes because neither Maria nor Anita will show up to wash them tomorrow, I can’t help but confront the decision that I made to leave one life in favor of another. The truth is there are plenty of people in Israel and in Efrat, that live very nice lifestyles. But almost all of us have to go through that initial transitional phase where that quality of material life is one big question mark. We have to remember time and time again why we chose to move here and what we truly value. I am reminded of the first day that I met my (very) Israeli neighbor. She asked me the same question that many Israelis do. “Why did you move here, to this difficult land?” I answered her that my kids had everything. Materially that is. But not spiritually. When it comes down to it, we all know which makes a person truly happy in the long run. And that’s why we are here, and hopefully why my sister may join us one day. Because as great as a swimming pool is in your own backyard, it can’t compete with what I have in mine.Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-25167245660184580512009-12-28T12:55:00.000-08:002009-12-28T12:59:54.716-08:00Making sense of the non-sense<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/SzkbUgemLuI/AAAAAAAAAFk/RCaz5qybt1o/s1600-h/chai.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/SzkbUgemLuI/AAAAAAAAAFk/RCaz5qybt1o/s200/chai.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420393665646702306" /></a><br />The recent murder of <a href="http://www.israelnationalnews.com/News/News.aspx/135188">Rav Meir Chai </a>has to challenge anyone’s faith. Could there be a better man? Father of seven, idealistic settler, beloved rebbe of children, beacon of faith. For Heaven’s sake, his last name means “life,” and he will be forever remembered for his death. His first and second names, Meir and Avshalom mean light and father of peace, while his life came to an abrupt end amidst darkness and violence. I couldn’t help but be reminded of a philosophical conversation that I had with a friend a few weeks ago. He commented that people either experience Gd as the all-loving father or the abusive parent. Well, score one for the abusive parent scenario. Or so it seems… The success of terrorism is not so much in the amount of lives it takes. It’s in the amount of lives it effects. We have a greater chance of being in a car crash then being in a terrorist attack, and yet most of us don’t think twice about getting in the car. But we live with the fear of terror and grapple with the loving presence of Gd. The word Olam, world, shares a root with the word Ilaim, hidden. We live in a world where truth is hidden and terror is the supreme master of illusion. When a 40-year-old father and teacher is gunned down in broad daylight for the crime of living in the Jewish homeland, we are left wondering ‘where was Gd?’ I can hear the answers, ones that make sense, but still leave us wondering. I’m sure there is someone out there explaining that his last name “Chai” indicates that he is living on in the Real Life of the next world. That’s the same idea of calling a cemetery “eretz Hachaim,” “land of the living.” Nice, but not all that convincing for someone who has just lost a loved one. Someone else is undoubtedly connecting this week’s Parsha, Vayechi, which means ‘and he lived’ to Rav Chai. Just as “and he lived” is the heading for the segment in which Jacob dies, so to Rav Chai’s death is described as life. In both cases they live on through their children. While this may be true, no one can deny that living on in memory is no comparison for truly being alive long enough to walk one’s children to the Chupah. The most satisfying answer so far is a story that was reported in the <a href="http://theyeshivaworld.com/news/General+News/43865/Rav+Chai+Was+Already+In+The+Olam+HaEmes.html">Yehiva World News</a>. The story claims that 12 years before last week’s murder, Rav Chai had been in a terrible car crash – one that claimed his life. Yes, this article claims that Rav Chai died 12 years ago and went up to the Heavenly Court. He cried and pleaded to be able to come back and help raise his new son. He was told that he would get 12 more years. That baby boy turned 12 on the day of Rav Chai’s murder. According to this story, Rav Chai’s life-span was not the result of an abusive parent, but of a loving and merciful Father in Heaven. Now it all makes sense. If only it was true. Which it may be. Or it may not be. Remember the story about the Ethiopian kid who was killed in the Rav Kook massacre? There was a beautiful story circulating the Jewish world describing how he was rejected from the school for lack of knowledge and agreed to work in the kitchen instead just so that he could be there. Ultimately, he worked so hard at learning that he made it out of the kitchen and into the Yeshiva, just like the legendary Hillel the elder who learned his first bits of Torah by climbing on the roof and listening in on the lectures he was not privileged to attend. Touching story. Only, it never happened. So the jury is still out about the story of Rav Chai and his extra 12 years of life. We don’t know if it’s true or not. I guess the only thing that we can say for sure is that it could be true. It could have happened. Whether he told the story over or he never uttered it to a soul, or he never experienced it consciously himself, it could have happened. There are also dozens of other scenarios relating to heavenly courts and out of body experiences that could have happened, only we don’t know about them. In the end, knowing that we don’t know is the only way to make sense of the non-sensible. And for now, that will have to be enough.Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-12235011025574155312009-12-23T05:06:00.001-08:002009-12-23T05:30:34.324-08:00Bounty<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/SzIYXqi7YqI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/O6fj_uZM3xw/s1600-h/moshe%27s+camera+Dec+09+060.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/SzIYXqi7YqI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/O6fj_uZM3xw/s200/moshe%27s+camera+Dec+09+060.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418420096516973218" /></a><br />Today I did the unforgivable. As I was talking on the phone and about to get a phone number, I instinctively (gasp) tore off an entire sheet of paper towel and (gasp again) wrote down a phone number on it! Right after I did it, I realized the damage I had done and confessed it to my sister-in-law who was still on the phone and wondering what I had done wrong. “I did a very American thing,” I told her. “I wrote on a paper towel! I have no choice – I’m just going to have to save it and use it later on.” The ironic thing is that we had been discussing the difference between American and Israeli lifestyles. In case you are wondering what paper towels have to do with lifestyle, let me back up a minute. In the weeks leading up to packing our lift, I was very busy buying up all of America. This shopping escapade came to a crescendo when I entered the Mecca of all shoppingdom: Costco. There I was prepared to stock up on all of the products that are either very expensive or unavailable in Israel. As I filled up two (Costco-sized) shopping carts with well over a thousand dollars of stuff, I started to feel a little ridiculous. Was I prepared to come back to the US every time I ran out of paper cups? I resolved that it would be good to have all of this stuff to start out with and then when the time came, I would switch over the Israeli way. Well, that time is now. The truth is that almost everything is available here (even the ‘fake’ silverware), albeit in much smaller packages. Prices aren’t bad either. But there is one item that just cannot be replaced and that product is Bounty: the thicker quicker picker upper. It really is. By the way, in that great escapade in Costco, I didn’t fit even one roll in my cart. Bounty required a trip all of its own and we stuffed every drawer and chair with rolls of the Bounty goodness before they were packed onto our lift. Now, I am down to my last pack. Sure, Israel has paper towels but they are so not the same. Take a look at the photos and just guess which one is Bounty. It’s like David and Goliath. There is no way around it, Israel can’t compete with American Bounty…or can it? Paper towels are just one example of the many things that America has over Israel, materially that is. America has lots of stuff with little price tags. Israel has a little stuff with large price tags. So if things are what makes up bounty, then we know who wins the competition. But if David and Goliath can teach us anything, it’s that smaller is sometimes bigger and less is sometimes more. Bounty isn’t really about fewer towels to throw in the wash and more things to throw in the garbage. Bounty is the seven species of Israel growing wildly all over our yards and garden. It’s about looking out your bedroom window and seeing the breathtaking view of the land that Gd made just for us. Bounty is the luxury of taking a few steps and walking into history. It’s the luxury of making history. Bounty is living in a country that shares and supports your values and lifestyles. It’s being able to vacation without having to bring vacuum packed kosher food with you. It’s having amazing schools for your children and a plethora of learning opportunities for yourself. It’s not being afraid to wear a kippa to work or that you won’t get the job if you are a woman who covers her hair. Being in Israel is the greatest aspiration of the Jewish people for the last 2,000 years. Our generation is lucky enough to live that dream. So I ask you, isn’t that dream worth a few paper towels?Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-65224926964256071782009-12-23T04:00:00.000-08:002009-12-23T04:04:11.713-08:00Aliyah Revolution -- the AlbumGet 'em while they're hot.<br /><br />More info at <a href="http://rpc.blogrolling.com/redirect.php?r=2da706ac9b795332e4234aa8866335c1&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.kumah.org%2F">kumah.org</a><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qY8OvhOKTYg&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qY8OvhOKTYg&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-52490167761553688712009-12-21T12:22:00.000-08:002009-12-21T12:24:44.682-08:00We've only just begun<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/Sy_Zc2QEa4I/AAAAAAAAAEo/kPCPTR3Wyt8/s1600-h/jeremiah2911.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/Sy_Zc2QEa4I/AAAAAAAAAEo/kPCPTR3Wyt8/s400/jeremiah2911.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417787966372473730" /></a><br />There are some days that I feel like I have been here forever. My kids seem to fit right in (just as rowdy and rude as the next kid) and even the dog seems to have carved out his niche. And then there are days like today when I am so abruptly reminded that we are new and by no means well established in this neighborhood. For instance, this bright and sunny morning got off to a rather smelly start. We don’t have those large green wheelie outdoor garbage containers that we had in Miami. In fact, while Miami provided one such container for every household, the Rothchild family had to order an extra one on account of our daily contribution to Global Warming. Here, we have Zero. So when our garbage is full, we have to take it up or down the hill to the nearest dumpster. At night, especially when it’s dark and cold, we leave the garbage in our mudroom and take it out in the morning – Israeli style. The Israeli (or at least Efrat) way to take out the garbage is to put it on top of your car and drive it to where it belongs. Only, today we forgot it was there. Oops. Just as we turned out of Efrat and almost at the Highway our daily offering slid off our car and onto the busy road. As Israeli and Palestinian drivers looked on curiously (you think they would have seen this before) my husband had to dodge traffic to grab the bag which was, oops again, now slit wide open. Forceflex my tush. After getting what we could out of the way, we continued on to our grocery shopping where yet again, my greener side gleamed brightly. We were looking for a fairly simple product – confectioner’s sugar. After a brief game of hide-and-go-seek we found it not in the sugar aisle, but with the baking products. Of course. What threw us off was that we were looking for the usual bag of confectioner’s sugar, but where we were it was being sold only in small envelopes. Not being prepared for this I had no idea how many envelopes I would need for the recipe, so I grabbed a whole bunch. Better safe than sorry. Guess the ‘present’ we got for spending over 100 shek at the store? Yup! Confectioner’s sugar! Good thing too, because when we got home I realized that I had exactly enough. We ended the morning by looking at a very charming home that just went on the market. It was all going very well until we heard the asking price. Are we in the West Bank of Israel or the West Side of Manhattan? Like most of the homes in this area, the price is a great example of what happens when the demand far outweighs the supply (and we won’t get into why that is so). All of this had me a bit down and thinking that we had missed the Efrat Boat by 5, 10, 20 years. Yet, somewhere in the midst of all this, we stopped off in the budding industrial area just across from Efrat. There are a few existing buildings, a few more under construction, and a whole lot of space for more. You could feel the potential swarming around in the cool crisp air and see history in the making. I could almost hear the voices of the future looking back on the present and saying “remember the days when the Gush was all farm land?” Maybe we have not missed the boat after all and a bright booming future lies ahead. Perhaps we’ve only just begun…Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-36331986285703372892009-12-18T04:05:00.000-08:002009-12-21T12:22:14.373-08:00The second ever virtual Rosh Chodesh Club<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/Sy_Y7nvGbmI/AAAAAAAAAEY/d6VCJvQDfA0/s1600-h/imagesCAG7R58M.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 117px; height: 132px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/Sy_Y7nvGbmI/AAAAAAAAAEY/d6VCJvQDfA0/s200/imagesCAG7R58M.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417787395540414050" /></a><br />Welcome Tevet! This is a good month as intimated by its name. Tevet – Tov- Goodness. I don’t know about you, but I could use a good month! So what is the power of this month? What makes it so great? This month is all about growing out of Anger. That's a good thing because anger hurts not only the ones we love, but also ourselves; emotionally and physically. Anger is a natural part of the human experience, but it is one that we are meant to outgrow. According to Rabbi Lazer Brody, anger and spiritual awareness go hand in hand. You cannot get close to Gd if anger is your constant companion. You can’t get close to joy either – I have yet to see a happy angry person. So how do you cut a lifelong buddy loose? The answer can be found in this month’s letter; Ayin. Ayin, is not just the name of the letter, it is also its meaning. Ayin means eye. The key to freedom and emotional maturity is perspective. It’s all in the way we look at things. If you have ever seen a Jewish woman mumble something under her breath and then spit three times and say poo poo poo (something they would punish their children for doing and saying), then you know about the concept of the evil eye. Tevet is about the good eye. More specifically it is about the transition from the evil eye to the good eye which is accomplished spiritually by looking at the Chanukah candles on the 8th and final day, which just happens to fall in Tevet. If I haven’t lost you yet, follow me a bit further. The evil eye is essentially a perspective of judgment. Appropriately, the Tribe of the month is Dan, which means to judge. When our evil eye is leading, we judge reality, others, and ourselves harshly. Anger is the result of confronting a reality that contradicts our expectations. We judge it as wrong. For example, if I have the expectation that drivers should be courteous, I may get a little ticked off at the person who cuts right in front me as I have just finished waiting 20 minutes on line to exit the highway. That’s judging harshly. The fact is that I have no idea why that person did what they did. Perhaps his wife is in labor. Perhaps he was born without the part of the brain that tells him how to interact appropriately with others. Leading with the good eye is a state of maturity which, ironically, takes a page from the behavior of children. While we are not meant to remain children forever, we can and should remain childlike. Children are playful and joyful. The antidote for anger is to lighten up. To play, to laugh, to dance, to sing. The sign of the month is the Gedi - -a kid/goat. There is a midrash in kohelet that teaches that at the age of 10 a child “jumps like a goat.” It is this playfulness that can chase away the big bad wolf of anger. If you think this sounds too simple, just take a trip to Disney World and try to get angry. I dare you. You just can’t get angry in a place where even the street sweeper is whistling a happy tune and tap dancing with his broomstick as he works. The truth is that we don’t control the really serious things (or for that matter, trivial things) in life anyway. That’s Gd’s job. If it’s our expectations versus Gd’s chosen reality, He is going to win. Every time. May as well enjoy it rather than fight it. Ultimately, there is nothing to get angry about anyway. It’s all good. It’s all Gd. And we are all just children learning how to play the grandest game of life.Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-57515401695099264302009-12-16T13:16:00.001-08:002009-12-16T13:16:38.248-08:00AppreciationA few years ago when I was training to become a life coach, I was paired with a woman that to this day I have never met and at the time had seemingly nothing in common with. This total stranger and I would practice on each other over the phone for almost two years. Needless to say we got to know one another fairly well, pretty quickly. What stood out most was not what a Jew in Miami and a Christian in Philly actually had in common, but how strikingly different we were. We were on exact opposite ends of the same path. She was becoming an empty-nester, while I was just putting my twigs together (and still laying eggs). Her struggle was how to cope with losing her primary role as mom and homemaker and I was trying to come to peace with my role changing into exactly that. Both of our realities could be explained by a phrase that I had come across in a parenting magazine that asked “why is it that the days seem to go on forever, while the years pass by in the blink of an eye?” I was wishing that I was on her end of the spectrum, while she was nostalgic for my time of life. When you are living on 4 hours of sleep and you can’t walk more than a few inches before encountering spit up, mucus, bodily excrements or on a good day, a mixture of all three, it’s hard to appreciate the beauty of motherhood. Yet, when it’s all over a deafening silence takes its place. In talking to my “chavruta” I came to the insight that I would never regret the things that I didn’t get to do. But I will regret not enjoying the things that I did. The spiritual bread and butter of a Jew is appreciation. There is a comic that portrays two Jewish women at a restaurant. The waiter walks over to check on them and asks “is anything ok?” We have a tendency to forget that our very essence as Jews is to appreciate, not decimate. The Chanukah story is replete with one word in many forms – Yehuda the Maccabbe, Yehudit the Jewish Heroine, Yehudim the Jews are all related to the word Hoda’a – appreciation. Which is why I was so thrilled to have a day full of hoda’a today, the 5th day of Chanukah. I appreciated that I could not join my husband, sister and the boys today on a trip to the Dead Sea because my two-year-old daughter was a bit under the weather. I appreciated that I got to spend time with just her. I enjoyed holding her and taking the time to play with her. We baked Chanukah cookies and she washed the dishes. Then I took her chocolate covered behind upstairs and into a warm bath. I don’t take warm baths for granted anymore. Now my kitchen is full of a gooey flour and water paste and I don’t mind a single bit. This is a huge accomplishment for me. Usually when my kids are ‘helping me cook’ all I can see is the mess I’ll have to clean up when they’re done. Right now as I look at the sink full of dishes, the crust on my kitchen Island, and the splotches all over the floor, all I can see is my daughter giggling and sneaking tiny chocolate chips into small, pretty, flower covered envelopes that I had set aside for the occasion of writing thank you notes. They served their purpose well.Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-41267320340983418852009-12-16T13:02:00.001-08:002009-12-16T13:02:38.993-08:00A great miracle happened here! Literally.One of the best things about living in Israel is the month of December. No other month drives home the difference between living in exile and living in the homeland like holiday season does. No longer do I have to explain to my children that Santa is not a Rabbi in a red suit nor do my tiny simple menorah lights have to compete with the dazzling colorful light shows displayed on my neighbors’ homes. And I don’t have to bite my tongue to stop myself from singing along with “rockin around the you-know what tree” every time I go shopping. Here, the sights, smells, and sounds of Chanukah are everywhere. Even in the most unlikely places. Hyundai has a car called the “Getz.” Despite its ridiculous name (it could only be worse if it was called putz or clutz) they ran a great add. Plastered on a building in Jerusalem was a huge sign that read “Getz gadol haya poh.” “A great Getz was here.” Something about that just makes me smile. As we lit our first Chanukah candles on Friday at sundown it was one of those moments that I swelled with joy watching my family commemorate the miracle of Chanukah in the land that it occurred. I knew that the Maccabi wars had taken place in the Judean hills and I wondered to myself if the war had stretched down from Modiin (about an hour drive from here) to our area of the hills. The next day we found out from a friend who is also a tour guide, that indeed the battles had been fought on the very land we live on. In fact, the yishuv across the street called Elazar is named so for one of the Maccabi sons that perished in the battles. Here, where we live and play, those heros walked and fought. You just can’t beat that.Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-57835992814121882482009-12-11T02:48:00.000-08:002009-12-11T03:13:16.683-08:00Learning on the jobI want to apologize to all of the nice people who read my article in the Amit magazine and followed the link on the bottom to this blog hoping to find something thought provoking and inspiring here. Its seems that since the Freeze began, my mind has been frozen as well. Every time I sat down in last 2 weeks to write something I faced the following dillema. I didn't want to write about the Freeze, but how could I not? It's not that I'm not interested in it. On the contrary, aside from the fact that it could ultimately pose an existential threat to the State of Israel, it directly effects the likelihood of my ever being able to afford, let alone build, a home in this area that I have come to love so much. However, every time I tried to write something I realized what an ignaramous I am when it comes to Israeli politics. Sadly, I don't have the wit or humor to make up for it. At the same time, I realized that the average Israeli citizen knows more about Israeli politics then the average American senator (or in some cases president) knows about American politics. So for a whole two weeks I listened. I listened to the radio, read articles, heard the opnions of the locals and after all of that I have come to the following conclusion: NO ONE knows anything. Nothing makes sense at all and the only thing that seems a bit logical is that there is something going on behind the scenes that the public is not privy to. So there you have it. I have said my peice and added my two cents. Now I can go on talking about the really inportant things in my life like the lice I found in my son's hair two days ago and the chestnuts that just blew up in my oven. Those are two things that, unlike the current situatioin in Israel, I'm sure that I can learn to understand.<br /><br />In this week's Parsha we learn about the beggining of the whole saga with Joseph being sold into salvery and brought down to Egypt. Of course we know the rest of the story and understand that the events of this week's Parsha are part of Hashem's greater plan to provide food for Jacob and sons during the famine to follow. We also know that Joseph going to Egypt was the catalyst for the entire Passover story and consequently all of Jewish history. The lesson here is that we need not understand what is happening around us to know that it is all for our ultimate good. This shabbos, as I light my Chanuka candles in this time of deep darkness, I'll try to learn that.Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-72681599865665821442009-12-09T03:57:00.000-08:002009-12-09T04:11:14.268-08:00My new article<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/Sx-Ts8eX6MI/AAAAAAAAAEI/MZqNpkE3eLA/s1600-h/Winter10.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 175px; height: 235px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/Sx-Ts8eX6MI/AAAAAAAAAEI/MZqNpkE3eLA/s400/Winter10.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413207677479676098" /></a><br /><br />Check out my new article published in the Winter edition of Amit Magazine. You can see the virtual edition <a href="http://209.41.172.185/pdf/Winter2010.pdf">here</a> or read the text below. Enjoy!<br /><br /><strong>What’s Light Got to Do with It?</strong><br /><em>How 8 little lights show us how to shine</em><br /><br />In my second year of college, I accidentally discovered what would become my passion and focus of study for the duration of my four years. I had signed up for a course on drawing, thinking that it would be fun and relaxing. In reality, the class was anything but recreational. The course was painful. The professor was relentless. Still, I learned and increased my skills a thousand times over. I fell in love with the subject and changed my major from psychology to fine arts. The next year, I experienced a different professor and with her, a different approach to art. Professor Berger could look at the most horrendous painting and find something good about it. She would share her find with the student who painted it and that student would shine. The student would develop the particular aspect of her talent that Professor Berger had highlighted, and in that way develop into a sophisticated artist with a unique flair. This was quite different from the approach of my first professor, Professor Fink. A student could stay up all night working on a drawing only to have it torn up (literally) by the critical professor the next day. It wasn’t unusual for students to leave Professor Fink’s class in tears. The more we perfected our techniques, the more she would point out our flaws. The more she would point out our flaws, the more we would perfect our techniques. When I began her class I could hardly draw a straight line. By the time she was done with me I could replicate drawings by Michelangelo.<br /><br />So who is the better professor? <br /><br />The Talmud deals with this very question, only instead of Fink and Berger, it speaks about 1st century scholars Hillel and Shammai, and the question is phrased differently. The Talmud discusses whether we should add one candle each night of Chanukah or if we should begin with eight candles and subtract one candle each night. Hillel says that we increase, while Shammai maintains that we decrease. Whenever these two sages argue, there is always a deeper level to their respective opinions. Candles produce fire, and fire can do two things. It can destroy and it can illuminate. On Chanukah, our candles represent both the destruction of our Greek oppressors, and the light of our rededicated Temple and renewed learning of Torah. What Hillel and Shammai are really debating is which aspect of Chanukah is more important?<br /><br />According to Shammai, the primary lesson of Chanukah is to destroy evil. The path of spiritual growth begins by first destroying all of the negative aspects within oneself. We light one less candle every night to indicate that we have been working on ourselves and that we need less fire, as there is less to burn up. On the other hand, Hillel believes that the more important lesson of Chanukah is the light and the accentuating of goodness. The way to spiritual perfection is to find the good within ourselves and to develop our positive traits. Each night we add light to signify the growth of goodness within us.<br /><br />In reality we need to do both; eliminate evil and increase goodness. This is reflected in the laws of lighting Chanukah candles which require the light to be an actual fire (electric menorahs do not fulfill the obligation) and a light that provides illumination (the menorah must be placed in an area that is visible to all). Like my two professors, Hillel and Shammai offer two approaches to human development. Ultimately, we give preference to Hillel’s opinion. We increase the light every night of Chanukah by adding one candle. In this world and at this time it is better to focus on developing our positive traits, rather than getting bogged down with the daunting task of eliminating all of our negative tendencies. If we expect ourselves and everyone around us to become perfect, we will fail before we even begin. It is important to confront and destroy the evil within us and our world, however we must first believe in the goodness of ourselves. And while we are not free to walk away from the challenge of perfecting the world, the focus has to be on celebrating and developing what is already working. Our tradition teaches us that in the messianic times, we will follow the opinion of Shammai. One day we will be able to totally eradicate any traces of evil. However, now is the time to spread goodness and change the world, one tiny light at a time.Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-90632335616522680242009-12-02T04:35:00.000-08:002009-12-02T04:57:44.938-08:00Signs<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/SxZkBDyZjqI/AAAAAAAAAEA/V3AKcuFcM2g/s1600-h/no+entry.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/SxZkBDyZjqI/AAAAAAAAAEA/V3AKcuFcM2g/s400/no+entry.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410621971691572898" /></a><br /><br />Sights and sounds of protest abound. I took the above photo today at the entrance to Efrat. It reads “There is no entry for the agents of Bibi’s freeze.” Yesterday in Nokdim, a yishuv down the road, the residents were successfully able to quite literally stand in the way of the officers intending to put an end to building in the <em>yishuv</em>. In addition most leaders in Yesha (Yehuda and Shomron) have refused to aid the government in enforcing the freeze. There is talk among residents about having a build—in, the idea being that everyone should build something, anything. Let them arrest us all! The Rothchilds have come up with a scheme all of their own. With great sacrifice, we have decided to allow the city of Efrat to build us a large 500 meter home in a centrally located area. While we would prefer to undertake this task alone, for the sake of unity, we would allow it to be a collective project. We would allow the yishuv to adorn the new home with extravagant luxuries that we may have otherwise shunned out of modesty, in order to make the statement to the world “you may try to stunt our growth, but our olim will grow and prosper beyond your wildest imagination.”<br /><br />BTW, if you are factually challenged and suffer a bit from undiagnosed ADD like I do, I recommend the following blog from <a href="http://www.treppenwitz.com/2009/11/when-will-everyone-realize-that-we-are-all-from-gilo.html">Treppenwitz </a>(a fellow Efratite) that gives a great background to the conflict at hand. Also check out <a href="http://muqata.blogspot.com/">Jammel@theMuquata</a>, a resident of the Shomron. <br />If you are not doing so already, make sure to follow the news at <a href="http://www.israelnationalnews.com/">Arutz Sheva </a>and <a href="http://www.jpost.com/">Jerusalem Post</a>Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-89236834804973480672009-12-01T04:54:00.000-08:002009-12-01T05:02:00.525-08:00The battle against the Freeze MachineIn the following clip, Obama and Netanyahu don the images of Professor Coldheart and a helpless misguided child, respectively, as they role play current events. Oh – and we settlers are the fuzzy wuzzies. Still haven't figured out who the short little sidekick is. Hillary maybe? Suggestions?<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/LrGPdf_VoW4&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/LrGPdf_VoW4&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-60537272052533316352009-11-29T04:30:00.000-08:002009-11-29T04:41:29.533-08:00Ancient story, modern times<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/SxJqudFridI/AAAAAAAAADw/xPHI_64Ob6s/s1600/barakhen.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/SxJqudFridI/AAAAAAAAADw/xPHI_64Ob6s/s400/barakhen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409503448740366802" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/SxJqidGcAII/AAAAAAAAADo/7Hp9oY8z2Dc/s1600/obamaparo.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 104px; height: 70px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/SxJqidGcAII/AAAAAAAAADo/7Hp9oY8z2Dc/s400/obamaparo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409503242585112706" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/SxJqJNO_qfI/AAAAAAAAADg/E8LWwtLk_Lg/s1600/first+family.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/SxJqJNO_qfI/AAAAAAAAADg/E8LWwtLk_Lg/s400/first+family.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409502808829307378" /></a><br />The settlements are all over the news here in Israel and interestingly, this weeks parsha (Vayishlach) as well. I’ll be writing more about the “freeze,” what it means, and how we settlers are responding in the next few days. For now I wanted to post an excerpt from an article that I read last night that compares what is being done to us to what the ancient pharaoh of the pesach story did. It brought to my mind some unsettling photos that I had seen a few months ago.<br /><br /><em>(IsraelNN.com) In response to Prime Minister Netanyahu ‘s announced ten month construction freeze for Jewish residents of Judea and Samaria, resistance activists have accused the prime minister of mimicking the decrees of Pharaoh in the Passover story. The parallel, according to activists who are calling themselves the Task Force in the Struggle against Pharaoh's Decrees, is that both leaders work to curtail the Jewish birthrate.<br />“By trying to prevent a new generation of Zionist pioneers in Judea and Samaria Netanyahu is behaving like Pharaoh. Like Pharaoh, Netanyahu preventing the Jewish nation’s development. Like Pharaoh, Netanyahu imposes draconian restrictions on us. Only unlike Pharaoh who targeted only male children, Netanyahu’s decrees apply to everyone regardless of gender.” <br /><br />…The L’Herut Tzion (For the Freedom of Zion) organization, which works towards increasing political independence for the State of Israel, responded positively to the plan to struggle against the construction freeze but rejected the comparison of the prime minister with Pharaoh. A spokesperson for the organization argued that it is not Netanyahu but <strong>the American president who deserves the title of Pharaoh in this case.</strong> </em>Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112126219724378624.post-16407735837551265102009-11-26T00:54:00.000-08:002009-11-26T01:08:14.792-08:00Settlers?<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/Sw5EmtGJ6xI/AAAAAAAAADI/72mrT_Rp3XA/s1600/pilgrims3.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 168px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_weEeo6-DSwQ/Sw5EmtGJ6xI/AAAAAAAAADI/72mrT_Rp3XA/s200/pilgrims3.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408335634249673490" /></a><br />While I was reading my fan mail (ok, so all my fans at this point happen to be family and friends, but fans none-the-less) I came across the following question: “why do you describe yourself as a "settler"? That designation for people living in Yehuda and Shomron always bothered me - it seemed to me invented by pro-arab media to imply that we're new there and don't really belong.” <br /><br />The answer is two-fold. Firstly, it’s simply tongue and cheek, while at the same time describing the uniqueness of our experience in Israel as opposed to people who live on the other side of the line. Kind of like the blog <a href="http://joesettler.blogspot.com/">Joesettler</a>, which is a very pro Israel blog written by, well, a settler in Samaria. Though the more I think about it, this answer doesn’t really satisfy me, nor you, my beloved fans. So here is my other reason. When we were up on the Eitam (see full story <a href="http://aspaklaria.blogspot.com/2009/10/sukkot-part-ii.html">here</a>)Nadia Matar, founder of <a href="www.womeningreen.org">Women in Green</a>, made the following statement (more or less): “We are settlers! We are not ashamed of that name. We are proud to be settlers! Settlers are people who come to a place in order to develop it. We are here to live on this land, to make it beautiful, and to reclaim what is ours. And we are ALL settlers of Eretz Yisrael. The people of Tel Aviv are settlers, the people of Jerusalem are settlers, the people of Haifa are settlers, we are all settlers building up OUR land and making it better for our children. “ So there you have it: I’m a settler.<br /><br />Rabbi/Husband input: Avraham was called a Toshav – a settler. So by using that term we are connecting our experience on this land all the way back to Avraham. In addition, the mitzvah of living in Israel is called “Yishuv Haaretz” – settling the land. <br /><br />I looked up the word on Wikipedia and found similarly ambiguous connotations of the word. See my comments in parenthesis.<br /><em>A settler is a person who has migrated to an area and established permanent residence there </em>(yay! – we made aliyah and made Israel our official home), <em>often to colonize the area </em>(not exactly, Efrat has been owned by Jews way before it was liberated in ’67). <em>Settlers are generally people who take up residence on land and cultivate it, as opposed to nomads </em>(true, though the first few weeks here were a bit nomadish, now we, with our community continue to build and develop this beautiful land.). <em>Settlers are sometimes termed "colonists" or "colonials" </em>(not so good sounding) <em>and -- in the United States -- "pioneers" </em>(sounds much better. Last I checked, that was a good thing.)<br /><br />That makes not just us, but Americans settlers too. As the eve of Thanksgiving is upon us, I humbly submit to you that we settlers in Israel are far more worth celebrating, then those pilgrims who were actually colonist. Maybe a few hundred years from now, they will be celebrating a day that recognizes settlers, except that instead of turkey, they will commemorate the day with a big, nice, juicy rack of Schwarma. Yum!Aspaklariahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11839876201262237249noreply@blogger.com0