Aspaklaria

One year!

2010-08-20T05:09:00.000-07:00

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.
Come Home! Let us greet you next year!

To many Amerikayim!

2010-07-26T04:51:00.000-07:00

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.

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.

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).”

Hand Made

2010-06-27T11:21:00.000-07:00

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:

You are invited to take

Handmade

Shabbat Shalom

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.

This is what it’s all about.

2010-06-17T11:34:00.001-07:00

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.

This is what it’s all about.

The Runaround

2010-06-07T09:18:00.000-07:00

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.”

So what are you waiting for? Stop giving the runaround and GO somewhere. Maybe here. As we say in athlete-speak “JUST DO IT!”

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.

The reflections of a Rebbetzin turned Regular

2010-02-12T06:53:00.000-08:00

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 should make more time for Torah study. I should start to teach. I should enroll in a women’s learning program. I should apply for positions in seminaries. I should 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.

Happy Birthday to me!

2010-01-24T11:56:00.000-08:00

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.

My prayer for the next decade:
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!

One more thing – 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….

Proud to be Israeli

2010-01-19T22:38:00.000-08:00

Rothchilds in the news

2010-01-07T22:33:00.000-08:00

This is Israel to me,' says a settler from Miami

By SHEERA FRENKEL
McClatchy Newspapers

EFRAT, West Bank -- Efrat, 10 miles outside Jerusalem, has become known for its Anglo-Saxon population.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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.

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."

"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."

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.

Moshe said he'd "probably be willing to make that concession" if there were a guarantee of peace.

Yonit, 29, is less sure.

(Frenkel is a McClatchy Newspapers special correspondent.)

Chutzpah

2010-01-04T03:02:00.000-08:00

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.

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!”
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.”
Margalit: "Not quite; Hamas has fired 8,000 rockets…"
Zehalke: “There were 1,400 dead Arabs and 400 children [in Cast].”
Margalit: “Because Hamas fired rockets…”
Zehalke: “Ehud Barak listens to classical music and kills children!”
Margalit: “Yes, we’ve heard that, we’ve heard that. What chutzpah (gall, nerve -- ed.) it takes to talk that way.”
Zehalke: “No, the chutzpah is the killing. Don’t say it is nerve.”
Margalit: “It is chutzpah.”
Zehalke (yelling): “Don’t you say chutzpah!”
Margalit: “I’ll say what I want, I don’t live in your type of country, I live in a democracy.”
Zehalke (yelling): “You talk as if you’re in the marketplace!”
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!]”
Zehalke (yelling): “Don’t call me chatzuf!”
Margalit: “You’re chatzuf!”
Zehalke: “Don’t call me chatzuf!”
Margalit: “You’re chatzuf!”
Zehalke: “Oh yeah? You’re a zero!”
Margalit: “Oh? OK, now you’ve convinced me.”
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!”
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.”
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!”
Zehalke’s voice is heard from offstage: “Don’t say chatzuf!”
Margalit: “Get out of here already!”
Zehalke: “Don’t say chatzuf! Don’t say get out of here already!”
Margalit: “Can you let me work, please?” (The next interviewee had already arrived)
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)
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!”
Zehalke: “No, we want to live together! I was born here, you are an immigrant!”
Margalit:”Oh, I’m an immigrant?” (Margalit was born in Tel Aviv in 1938)

weekly funny - from our home to yours

2009-12-31T14:01:00.000-08:00

On Parshat Vayechi

Me: Yaakov had more than twelve kids, why did Yosef have only two?

Husband: Maybe because they were living in Chutz La'aretz and they had to pay yeshiva tuitions.

My sister: the new me

2009-12-31T13:59:00.000-08:00

Anyone 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 knew 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.

Making sense of the non-sense

2009-12-28T12:55:00.000-08:00

The recent murder of Rav Meir Chai 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 Yehiva World News. 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.

Bounty

2009-12-23T05:06:00.001-08:00

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?

Aliyah Revolution -- the Album

2009-12-23T04:00:00.000-08:00

Get 'em while they're hot.

More info at kumah.org

We've only just begun

2009-12-21T12:22:00.000-08:00

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…

The second ever virtual Rosh Chodesh Club

2009-12-18T04:05:00.000-08:00

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.

Appreciation

2009-12-16T13:16:00.001-08:00

A 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.

A great miracle happened here! Literally.

2009-12-16T13:02:00.001-08:00

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.

Learning on the job

2009-12-11T02:48:00.000-08:00

I 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.

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.

My new article

2009-12-09T03:57:00.000-08:00

Check out my new article published in the Winter edition of Amit Magazine. You can see the virtual edition here or read the text below. Enjoy!

What’s Light Got to Do with It?
How 8 little lights show us how to shine

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.

So who is the better professor?

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?

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.

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.

Signs

2009-12-02T04:35:00.000-08:00

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 yishuv. 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.”

BTW, if you are factually challenged and suffer a bit from undiagnosed ADD like I do, I recommend the following blog from Treppenwitz (a fellow Efratite) that gives a great background to the conflict at hand. Also check out Jammel@theMuquata, a resident of the Shomron.
If you are not doing so already, make sure to follow the news at Arutz Sheva and Jerusalem Post

The battle against the Freeze Machine

2009-12-01T04:54:00.000-08:00

In 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?

Ancient story, modern times

2009-11-29T04:30:00.000-08:00

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.

(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.
“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.”

…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 the American president who deserves the title of Pharaoh in this case.

Settlers?

2009-11-26T00:54:00.000-08:00

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.”

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 Joesettler, 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 here)Nadia Matar, founder of Women in Green, 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.

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.

I looked up the word on Wikipedia and found similarly ambiguous connotations of the word. See my comments in parenthesis.
A settler is a person who has migrated to an area and established permanent residence there (yay! – we made aliyah and made Israel our official home), often to colonize the area (not exactly, Efrat has been owned by Jews way before it was liberated in ’67). Settlers are generally people who take up residence on land and cultivate it, as opposed to nomads (true, though the first few weeks here were a bit nomadish, now we, with our community continue to build and develop this beautiful land.). Settlers are sometimes termed "colonists" or "colonials" (not so good sounding) and -- in the United States -- "pioneers" (sounds much better. Last I checked, that was a good thing.)

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!

Window of Opportunity

2009-11-26T00:15:00.000-08:00

I imagine this 'works' in the US on US time also. You may want to take advantage of what is posted below.

There is a tremendous et ratzon this Thursday Israel time from 1:43pm to 1:56pm Israel time, that only occurs every 50 years. This was predicted by the seferbrit Menucha. Many people will gather at this time on Thursday around his kever to pray for the Geula and each person for his own needs. You can pray from your own home.

"The ninth hour is the time of celebration and rejoicing, it is the hour of Mincha. Know that the ninth year of the Jubilee is the chosen, and the ninth month (Kislev) is the month of goodness and desire, and the ninth day of the ninth month is the most selected day from all the rest of the days of the month, and the ninth hour of the ninth day of the ninth month is the most chosen".

The above was written by Rabbi Avraham Marimon HaSfaradi, zs'kl, in the Sefer Brit Menucha. Also Rabbi Avraham Azulai, zs'kl, wrote in his sefer Chesed Le'Avraham, "I saw in the Sefer that the ninth month in the ninth day on the ninth hour is a time of great success and the reason for this is because it is the ninth wheel of the Yesod and is a pipe of abundance". Also the Ramban, zs'kl, writes that the ninth year of the Jubilee, on the ninth month, on the ninth day, in the ninth hour is time of special will.

Many great Rabbanim calculated the exact time of will and according to all it is tomorrow, Thursday afternoon, 9th of Kislev between the hour of 1:43 pm and 1:56 pm. It is a time of will when all the gates of Shamayim are open.

This window of opportunity is very rare when all the gates of Shamayim are open to our prayers and needs; utilize these rare 13 minutes of will to pray for all your desires and especially for Am Israel to be zoche to see the redemption, AMEN!

Another reason to make Aliyah (especially this time of year)

2009-11-24T01:10:00.000-08:00

Important message

2009-11-23T04:18:00.000-08:00

From the blog http://geulahperspectives.blogspot.com/
This message is too important not to post...

Last week, there was a horribly tragic story where R' Shmuel Borger's son Motty, who had just gotten married, died two days after his wedding. R' Shmuel Borger is someone who has been involved in chizzuk for Klal Yisrael for many years, and specifically recently with the production of the Tisha B'av chizzuk videos on behalf of Chofetz Chaim heritage foundation. In the middle of Shiva, this amazing person recorded a small request from us. Please listen and take the inspiration, putting it into action, then pass it on.

http://www.chofetzchaimusa.org/requestfromshmuelborger.mp3

Olim therapy, for $6 and under

2009-11-20T04:10:00.000-08:00

Piece by (painstaking, gut wrenching, life sucking) piece it’s all coming together. No, I’m not talking about aliyah, I’m talking about an actual puzzle that my husband and I have been spending day and night obsessively trying to complete. I haven’t been this engrossed in something recreational since the last Harry Potter book came out. This is no ordinary puzzle. It is a 750 piece, 26 inch jigsaw with one basic image that is repeated over and over again. Our puzzle contains a field with a bunch of flags – the SAME flags. My husband dug it out a few nights ago. He thought it would be a fun activity for the boys. Ha! It was a matter of moments before the boys figured out to stay away from the puzzle monster and mom and pop took over. Every night, and sometimes in the middle of the day we were drawn to this thing and determined to get it all together. It occurred to me that it was a great kind of Aliyah therapy that I highly recommend for anyone who has dismantled a well established life and is trying to re-erect it on a much rockier terrain. As we wait and work to get the pieces of our lives into some kind of picture that makes sense, we find comfort in engaging a puzzle that we actually can complete. Much like our aliyah, we began the puzzle with no idea how difficult it could actually be. There were times when one of us was doing great, connecting several pieces in one moment, while the other fumbled frustratingly for minute after long minute with no answers in sight. Then it would switch and the self sufficient puzzle maker would lose all confidence in her abilities while the other would thrive. We would support each other in those difficult moments, thankful that our ‘down’ moments did not correlate or we may have given up the venture all together. Then there were times when we were sure there was a mistake. Surely, the manufacture had forgotten to include all of pieces necessary inside the box. These were our moments of doubt, which only faith could pull us through. Every morning, the kids would run down the stairs to see the progress that we made. Sometimes we would share their joy, and other times bemoan that after all the hard work, not enough progress was made. Finally, after many nights that turned into early morning hours, and right before Shabbat we completed the puzzle. We were beside ourselves with joy and satisfaction. We are still trying to figure out how to glue it together without it falling apart and have decided to leave it on our dining table for Shabbat. It is our celebrated centerpiece. Only now it has occurred to me that perhaps this puzzling journey has only begun. The whole time we were doing this, it was such an obvious symbolism of our aliyah, but one part of the symbol just didn’t fit. The flags on the puzzle are American flags. So here I’m thinking that as I am putting this puzzle together, it’s symbolic of my life coming together in Israel, only the American flags kept getting in the way. It kind of ruined my neat little analogy. Yet now I understand the following: I need to dismantle the puzzle that I just worked so hard to complete. That’s right – totally take it apart. If I can do that and buy a new puzzle – one with Israeli flags, and find the strength to begin a whole new puzzle, then I will have truly reenacted my aliyah. So, I guess we will be moonlighting this week as well. Because if I can do this, then I can know with confidence that my life here in Israel will also come together, piece by piece.

First ever virtual Rosh Chodesh Club

2009-11-17T10:55:00.000-08:00

Way back in the old country, I used to create Rosh Chodesh meetings just about every month for the women of our community. Half of the night was devoted to doing something new and fun and the other half was for “exploring the mystical insights into the month of x” (after 8 years I’ve got that line down pat!) While I don’t miss the planning, arranging and advertizing(read: begging people to come), I do miss the learning and teaching. So here it goes… my first ever virtual Rosh Chodesh Club welcoming in the month of Kislev. We may not have silk painting and there won’t be candle making, but there will be Torah, and hopefully a whole lot of inspiration for your month.

Every month has its own energy and symbol. It also has its own letter, color, body part, tribe, and sense. When you put all of these facets together you have an understanding of the opportunities that this month presents us with. So what do the letter Samech, the color blue, the tribe of Benjamin, the bow and arrow, the stomach, and sleep all have in common? The answer is: TRUST. In short, here is how they all connect. The letter Samech is related to the Hebrew word somech, which means to support. Trust in Gd is knowing that He is always there to support us. In addition, the letter looks like a circle which is symbolic of Gd's all-encompassing love for us and involvement it our world, kind of like a baby in a womb. The color blue also reminds us of Gd’s constant care. Like the blue fringe on tzitzit, the color blue is meant to remind us of the sky, and beyond it, to our Father in Heaven watching over us. The bow and arrow are a bit tougher to explain. When I was in college, I was supposed to read the book “Zen and the Art of Archery.” Of course I didn’t actually read the whole thing, but I learned the basic idea from the bit that I read, which was that archery teaches a person to focus on who they are BEING and not on what they are DOING. The ability of the archer to shoot straight at his target depends upon a most tranquil inner spirit. When we are tranquil, i.e. trusting, we make our best decisions and that’s when we are most likely to hit our targets. In addition, once our arrow is shot – once we take action – we trust that the arrow, or our action, will end up wherever it is meant to go. This is how the few and weak Chashmonaim of the Chanukah story were able to defeat the great and mighty Greek army. They were masters of the bow and arrow – both physically and spiritually. The Tribe of Benjamin who is also known for archery prowess is associated with trust in Hashem. "To Benjamin he said: the beloved of G-d, He shall dwell in trust over him, He hovers over him all the day, and between his shoulders He rests" (Deuteronomy 33:12). Trust is also associated with sleep, because going to sleep is actually a great act of faith. Sleep, which is said to be 1/60th of death, requires trust that we will wake up the next day (something we often take for granted) and that nothing bad will happen to us and our homes while we are unconscious. Alternatively, we can understand that it’s only when a person has trust in the future that he can dream (sleep) about a better tomorrow. What’s left to explain is the stomach, but I think we can all relate to the way our stomach behaves when we are stressed out and anxious, as opposed to trusting and tranquil. IBS anyone? Trust feels soooo much better.

What this all means, is that this month provides us with the spiritual support to attain the state of mind (or at least come one step closer to it) that the Chasmonaim had during the story of Chanukah. This is a mindset and way of being that leads to miracles. It is the mindset of absolute trust and tranquility. In the words of The Alter of Kelm “He who has gained peace of mind has gained everything.” A few days ago I noticed that an overwhelming amount of my posts here have to do with fear, in particular my Arab-phobia, though some days I’m even afraid of my kids (ages 2, 5 and 6). No question I need to work on trust and tranquility and it’s not easy. Life is scary and we are living in very uncertain times. So here is a quote that I feel is particularly helpful: “He who fears one, fears none. He who fears many, fears any.” In other words, when we realize that everything that happens to us is from the ONE (who does everything for our best) who or what can we fear? But if we have other “gods” like money, people, you name it, then life is a very scary place with danger lurking around every single corner. This month is a great time to make the shift from fear to trust and from living out of worry to living out of love. So relax, dream, take aim at your goals, and let the arrows go. Know that wherever they (or you) end up is exactly where they (or you) are meant to be.

Have a meaningful, restful, and tranquil month my friends. And just in case you are still craving to create, click here for some great ideas. Supplies not included.

One more thing -- you can check out more on Kislev at inner.org. My thoughts were largely based on Rav Ginsburg's writings there, who bases his comments on the Book of Formation/Sefer Yetzirah.

Chodesh Tov!

Of Mice and Men

2009-11-14T13:42:00.001-08:00

I encountered two kinds of Israeli teens today. One in a Jerusalem Post article, the other in my neighborhood. First, I encountered a rather unpleasant sort of youth. As my kids were playing in the playground up the block from my house I noticed some bodies rustling in the trees and bushes on the hill just above. Being the arab-phobic that I am, I kept a vigilant watch on them to make sure these were not unwelcome guests. Then they started some kind of cat calling, making some strange noises that would not be unusual in my household, but totally inappropriate for those over the age of 6. At least, I figured, they were probably not Arabs. If they were out to get us, I would think that they would have the sense to be a little more inconspicuous. So I kept half and eye and ignored them. But then the profanities began. Like it’s such a thrill to shout an American curse word. Still, my kids didn’t notice, so I kept quiet. Next they started the weird noises again, only this time child #2 got wind of it and decided to chime in. They were going back and forth, and for a moment there it was all ok, but then they started with the stupid 4 letter words again. Thank Gd, my kids don’t know those words yet, but I do. What I wanted to say to them (in Hebrew if I could) was “if you think it’s so cool to say those facacta words to a five-year-old, then buy a one-way ticket to New York and stay there.” Instead, what I yelled up was “If you say that again, I’m coming up there.” Ooh…as if I look the least bit threatening. I doubt they understood any English other than the 4 letter variety, but at least it got them quiet. Thank Gd, later I read about Uriel Ben-Hamo, a chareidi who is also a boxing champion. This kid represents the best of us. He is strong physically and spiritually. Even more importantly, he combines the two. There is no duality. Boxing enhances his Torah learning, and spirituality is a big part of his boxing success. At the age of 18 he has become Isreal’s kick-boxing champion. His secret to success is hard work, prayer, and saying the shema in every corner of the ring before a match. By the way, his prayers are not just that he should win – it’s that neither he nor his opponent should be terribly hurtin the process. And somehow, I don’t think that you would ever find him standing on a hilltop watching children play and feeling the need to flex his muscles by yelling out in foul language. Israel could certainly use more Uriel’s, truly strong inside and out.

Desired Destination

2009-11-13T02:47:00.001-08:00

My mother received a most unusual gift for her birthday yesterday. A few months ago, she contacted the Registry at the United States Holocaust Museum and applied for information about her father (A”H) and mother who survived the Holocaust and for 6 other relatives who did not make it through. Out of all of those people, it was her father’s information that showed up on her birthday, just days before his 3rd yahrtzeit. We are totally amazed at how many documents were discovered and delivered. It is emotional and at the same time surreal to see the records, documents and personal signatures that testify to the horrors that our beloved family members endured. One particular document stands out from all of the rest. The Allied Expeditionary Force Registration form is faded and pale like all of the others. The form, which was filled out when my grandfather entered the Föhrenwald Displaced Persons Camp, contains nothing other than simple facts and information. Name, birthday, gender, etc… However, the banality of the document betrays the depth of emotion that it actually contains. The upper right hand of the document asks for the applicant’s nationality. My grandfather’s answer? STATELESS. Beneath that one, simple, cold word lays the entire tragic series of events that left millions like my grandfather alone, lost, and homeless in every sense of the word. Further down the document and slightly to the left, the form asks for the applicant’s desired destination. Zaida’s answer: PALESTINE. Israel was and is the only possible answer to the 2,000 year persecution of the Jewish people. Zaida never made it to Israel (other than a few visits), though he is buried here. Instead, fate took him to Columbus, Ohio where he made a good life for his wife and only child. Yet two of his grandchildren and almost all of his grandchildren have made their homes in the Jewish country. Sometimes goals are only realized by later generations. It is through us that my grandfather has finally reached his DESIRED DESTINATION and his legacy lives on.

Mitpachot for dummies

2009-11-12T09:48:00.000-08:00

There are a whole lot of ways to wear a mitpachat (head scarf). There is the basic bun look where the scarf is wrapped around the hair and tied into a neat bun at the nape of the neck. There is the new (what I call) “alien do” where the bun is quite large, often comprised of more than one scarf, and is formed between the top and bottom of the head. Kind of like a conehead,a pretty conehead. Then there is the soft flowing look where the scarf is tied around the head once and the material is allowed to linger freely and flowingly down the back of the woman. Truly bilblical looking. The list goes on and on and the real professionals know how to incorporate several scarves into one design. There must be dozens of ways to tie a mitpachat, and I have not managed to master any of them. Not a single one. For most of my married life I have been wearing a sheitel (wig), and as weird as it seems to wear someone else’s hair on your head, it actually felt quite normal. At least, it looked normal. When I decided to move to Israel, one of my friends cautioned me that in Israel, if you are young and cool, you wear a scarf. Anyone who wears a sheitel or a hat is obviously old and/or a dork. I’m not old, and I don’t want people to find out that I’m really a closet dork. Not yet anyway. Truth be told, I’ve always felt that covering one’s hair via a scarf was more in sync with the spirit of the law anyway. I made the determined decision to make the switch from old world sheitel to the timeless headscarf. But the reality is that it is a daily battle for me to tie the darn thing and even more challenging to keep it on. One time, I was driving out of the supermarket parking lot and I noticed the woman driving passed me looking at me with a bit of concern. I figured out later, when I got home and realized that my hair was completely uncovered, that the free fall of my scarf must have begun when she saw me. Maybe it’s because I have thick, unruly, curly hair. Or maybe it’s because I am certainly no native to the land of flowing headwraps. Maybe I will learn with time. Perhaps I should ambush a well-tied headscarf-lady next time I’m in a public restroom and make her spill the tricks of the trade. Or maybe I should go back to wearing some Chinese women’s hair on my head. Actually, make that super soft and fine European hair. Maybe blond. I certainly feel like one when I try to tie these frikin things!

Rain, rain (don't) go away!

2009-11-03T10:47:00.000-08:00

It’s cold and it’s wet – and we are elated! I challenge anyone to find a happier damp nation in the whole wet world! While rain in most countries puts a damper on things, in Israel it is a cause for celebration. I have heard of several “rain parties” being held in the area and our family is celebrating by trying out our fireplace (let’s hope it works) and toasting marshmallows. After 5 years of drought, Israel needs this rain so badly. This past October saw the greatest amount of rainfall since they started keeping track of rainfall in Israel. As of today, the Kinneret has risen over 3 centimeters. My husband and I were discussing this over breakfast and he let a little rain on my parade when he let me know that we still need 200 days just like this one in order to get the Kinneret back to where it should be. Well at least this is a start! The Hebrew word for rain is geshem, yet these days, everyone is referring to the wet drippy stuff as gishmay bracha, rain of blessing. We are literally experiencing ‘blessings on our head.’ Geshem is related to the word gashmiut – materialism. Geshem is the symbol for all material gifts from Hashem. So when it rains, it means so much more than greener grass and longer showers. It is a sign that Hashem has heard our prayers and is turning to us with favor. This past week we read about the separation between Lot and Avraham. The land where they were (which we visited this past Sukkot) could not sustain them both. Lot opted for the green pastures of Sodom. Avraham remained in the dry land of then Cana’an, now Israel. It’s easier to live in a well watered area where sustenance is all but guaranteed and life seems easy. However, the Jewish people have chosen the ‘road less travelled’ which requires constant prayer and acknowledgement of Gd Almighty. It’s a more difficult path, but as I once heard from musician Chaim Dovid Saracik, “who says easier is better? “ In our case, harder means more prayer, a closer relationship with Gd, and a greater appreciation for all of life’s blessings. So while the neighbor’s grass always seems greener (well, in my case it really is greener) if the dry, rocky terrain was good enough for Avraham, its good enough for me. Happy Showers!

Start-up Nation

2009-10-30T06:45:00.000-07:00

A new book has come out lauding the economy of Israel. Yes, Israel. Definitely not America. The book Start-up Nation: The Story of Israel’s Economic Miracle, is by Dan Senor (a former Bush-administration official in Iraq) and Saul Singer. In an interview with National Review Online’s Kathryn Jean Lopez Senor calls our attention to some truly amazing stats.

DAN SENOR: Israel represents the highest concentration of innovation and entrepreneurship in the world today: the most start-ups per capita; the highest percentage of GDP invested in civilian R&D; more companies on NASDAQ than all of Europe, Korea, Japan, India, and China combined; and the biggest destination for global venture capital per capita. Israel raises 2.5 times as much global venture capital as the U.S., 30 times more than Europe, 80 times more than India, and 350 times more than China — and these numbers are from 2008, when the world was in the midst of an economic meltdown. Israel all but escaped the crisis that ripped through economies everywhere else.

So what’s the secret to Israels’s success? The book goes on to explain that the mandatory military service is to thank. Ok, Maybe.

But this weeks Torah portion has a different suggestion:
Hashem said to Avraham, “Go for yourself frokm your land, from your relatives, and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation: I will bless you, and make your name great. And you shall be a blessing. (Genisis:12: 1-2)

This portion is very special to new olim. It celebrates the continuation of Avraham’s journey through our families. May we and all of Israel continue to be blessed with the blessings of Avraham!

Stand up for Israel

2009-10-26T13:54:00.000-07:00

The greatest statement made in the UN since the declaration of the State of Israel!

Fear Factor

2009-10-23T05:44:00.000-07:00

Today was a day of ironic fears that all coincided within a few minutes of time. A friend from the US was visiting and as we were driving through the breathtaking Gush Hills to Gavna (an amazing and beautiful restaurant), I was relaying to my friend the whole scary episode on the way back from the Eitam. It was quickly apparent that I was way more afraid of Arabs than she was. In fact she gave me a whole new perspective. I have to think of this land as MY HOME. Period. The Arabs are visiting in it. I need to do away with the Galut mentality that espouses apologetics and cowering before them. I need not live like a trespasser afraid of getting caught by the owner. I AM the owner. My intention here is not to be political. You need not agree with her point to appreciate how ironic it is that I, the “settler,” albeit for only two months, am far more fearful of Arabs and far less comfortable in disputed areas then my American friend. Oh – and she not only talks the talk, she walks the walk. She has done and continues to do amazing things within and for Israel that I haven’t the stomach for yet. She was coaching me on how to perceive the settlements, the Arabs, and the State of Israel and not the other way around. In the middle of this conversation my new cleaner called to say that she was petrified because my dog had fallen asleep on the stairs and she was afraid to go down them in order to finish cleaning the house. Now, anyone that knows Hero, my labradoodle, knows that he is more like a child in a dress up suit then a formidable Canine. He is large, but totally (even a little bit too much) harmless. In fact, we were once robbed in Australia. Hero (a bit of a misnomer so far) did absolutely nothing. It wasn’t long before my friend took the phone and counseled this poor, young girl, telling her that she has known our dog for years and that he really is a tinok – a baby. A rather large one. This girl who was cleaning for me has grown up in the Shdachim (settlements). Scary Arabs have been a reality for her for probably most, if not all, of her life. How ironic; she could probably look any Arab in the eye without batting an eyelash – but my overgrown puppy – now that was reason for panic! A bit later we arrived at our destination. Over a delicious lunch of stuffed butternut squash with Quinoa and tofu we were discussing our lives and I found that I was prodding my fearless friend to abandon her trepidation about an issue that doesn’t even register on my fear radar. So I guess we all have our monsters to face in life. Personally, I still maintain that my monster is the scariest. Yet they are all here to serve a purpose: to strengthen our Emunah, to challenge us to grow, to learn new things, and to let the fear go.

Rebbe Nachman of Breslov says:
The whole world is a very narrow bridge.
And the main thing is not to fear at all.

The Ark Ages

2009-10-20T04:29:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to my first women’s event here in Efrat. It was a gathering sponsored by the Women’s Beit Midrash in Efrat and was in honor of Rosh Chodesh and (yet another welcome for) the new olim. It was a beautiful event with words of Torah (in English!), singing, and mingling (all Anglos!). The speaker was teaching about the personality of Noach, from this week’s parsha, and contrasting him with the personality of Avraham. While Avraham beseeched Gd on behalf of the condemned in Sodom, we see no concern on the part of Noach for the entire world that was soon to be destroyed. Avraham is commanded to leave his home and go out into the great wide world, while Noach is commanded to stay inside an ark, separate from the rest of the world. As the teacher explained, one lesson that we can learn from these two distinct personalities is that there are times in life to be a Noach, and there are times to be an Avraham. Sometimes we need to be focused inward, taking care primarily of ourselves and our families, and there are times to be focused outward, taking on the needs of those around us and contributing to society at large. Sometimes we get too caught up in solving the world’s problems that we wake up one day to find that we are totally drained and hardly know our loved ones. This is what people call burnout, and I’ve had firsthand experience on more than one occasion. Other times, we are so caught up in our own lives that somewhere between our grande latte and American idol we fail to see the suffering of others. As one Mussar sage once remarked “your physical needs are my spiritual obligation.” It is quite a challenge in life to know when to move out of Noach’s ark and into Avraham’s open tent, and vice versa. This balancing act is compounded when we become parents as we find ourselves navigating the elusive path between giving our all to our children and making something of ourselves out in the world. As I was thinking over these thoughts during the shiur, it occurred to me that I was going through one such Noach-Avraham dilemma at that very moment. I realized that for the first time in nearly a decade, I was on the other end of the teacher-student spectrum. After creating many, many Rosh Chodesh meetings in Miami and in Australia, I was simply attending one. I was really looking forward to this. It has been so nice being the recipient of numerous programs and classes aimed at my personal well-being and spiritual growth. Yet as I listened to the speaker I felt a strong pang of longing for the “rebbetzinhood” that I left behind. I made a conscious decision when I came to Israel to be in the “Noach” phase of life. This year is for settling myself and my family. It’s for learning and growing. Yet, even as I create a cozy ark, and relish in the simplicity of my days, I still long to spread my wings and fly out into that great big world…

Hillel said: If I am not for myself, who will be for me.
And if I am only for myself, what am I.
And if not now, when. (Pirkei Avot, Ethics of our Fathers)

What? You don't want to marry GD?

2009-10-19T05:13:00.001-07:00

Show 46 - The New Aliyah Standard

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Explorations in Emunah

2009-10-14T02:42:00.000-07:00

It’s been 3 days since our little fender bender (which, by the way, may have totaled our car) and I’m still thinking about it. Actually, to be more precise – it’s not the crash that has me thinking, it’s the fear that I experienced in the moments before it when we caught our first glance of the Arab posse walking towards us. We were panicked and scared and truly feared for our lives. The debate that I am having over and over again in my mind is about how I could have, or should have, reacted in those moments. No question, I should have kept calm – truthfully, my panicked state of mind began the moment my foot hit the gas pedal when leaving the Eitam. I could have kept my cool from the get-go and had a much more enjoyable ride – at least until the point of collision. But should I have trusted that nothing bad would befall us? Is fearing the worst a lack of emunah, faith? Others in the car with me have since suggested that the incident was meant to literally jolt us from our seats in order to wake us up to the amazing individual providence that Hashem provides us with ‘b’chol eit u’bchol sha’ah’ – at every moment, in every hour. Indeed it was a nes, a miracle, that no one was hurt. I wish the lesson were as simple for me. Here is my dilemma: I have Emunah that everything that Hashem does is for the best – for our greatest good. No questions asked. However, what if the greatest good doesn’t always feel like the greatest good? The best thing for us can, and sometimes does, feel downright petrifying and painful. I see the faces and names of terrorist victims and holocaust victims – holy and pure – and yet their greatest good was an end that I dare not utter. I don’t need to understand Hashem’s ways and I trust that in the next world all makes sense and these holy ones are at peace. Yet their stories create quite a conundrum for me. I can trust that Hashem will help me. I can know that all is for the best. Yet, how does that help me keep calm and feeling safe when faced with a true danger that, for all I know, can be for my greatest good? In other words, how could I have known that being attacked by a group of Arabs was not in our best interest on that day? “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I do not fear because you are with me…(Psalms) Does the author of Tehillim not fear because he has faith that he will be saved from death, or because he is not afraid to die? Are we too expected to laugh in the face of death? That’s a tall order. And there is no better place to practice then in this beautiful rose of a land that is surrounded by plenty of thorns.

Sukkot Part II

2009-10-11T14:17:00.002-07:00

We had a beautiful experience on Eitam (see part one) and then we began our journey back to Efrat. That turned out to be quite an experience all in itself. I knew things were not ideal when we were among the last few cars to manage to turn around on the rocky terrain and head back. There was a big gap between us and the rest of the motorcade with yours truly leading the way. I was not happy about this. This was not the sort of area that I would like to get lost in, but at least those handsome soldiers were there to protect us! My mother was busy reiterating to me that she would never visit me if I moved out to the Eitam before they paved the roads, when in the distance we saw a group of people walking towards us. Being in the middle of an Arab village, these were Arabs that were walking towards us, kafiyahs and all. They were taking up the entire width of the road and coming our way. They showed no signs of slowing down or moving out of our way. Of course just about EVERYONE else was on the other side of this blockade and so I did what any other Jersey girl would do – I panicked. I also slowed the car down and hoped that the security car would get to the group of people before I did. Unfortunately, the guy behind me did not slow down and drove right into the rear end of my car. Now I was no longer driving through a scary neighborhood, I was stuck in one! As those in the last remaining cars got out to assess the damage, we were warning them (like lunatics) to get back into their cars as the group was coming closer. Turns out, the scary Arabs were school kids coming home from school. Who knew? Probably harmless, but how could we know? Until now, our only interaction with Arabs has been with the guy that came to change the battery in my parents’ rental car. After thanking him for coming out during the holiday of sukkot and wishing him ‘chag sameach,’ we realized he was in fact an Arab. Although my mother had thought his name was Smiley, it was in fact Yismaely. Smiley/Yismaely wasn’t the nicest guy around, but he didn’t seem dangerous either. The Arabs walking towards us today appeared to us as a group of mobsters out to get us. Come to think of it, some of the Jewish teens I have taught looked that way too. So in the end, we did get back to Efrat in one piece though a little shaken. We got a nice ambulance ride to Haddasah hospital in order to check everyone out and thank Gd, we are all doing fine. Miracle of miracles, my parents still made their flight tonight (thanks to some protectsia from a neighbor’s son who happens to be doctor at Haddasah). Tomorrow we will take the car in to be fixed and on Tuesday we will file a report at the police station. It’s a bit of hassle, but with the High Holidays not far behind us, what else is there to say other than “kapara!” May this be the worst thing that happens to us and may it replace anything else that was coming our way! And may we be able to pave the road to the Eitam – both literally and figuratively!

Sukkot Part I

2009-10-11T14:17:00.001-07:00

We have just completed an action packed and wonderful Sukkot that quite literally went out with a bang – but more about that in part II. Celebrating one day of Yom Tov instead of two took no time getting used to at all. We made the most of our full week of Chol Hamoed. We spent a day on a honey farm, danced at music festivals, canoed down the Jordan, rode camels, hiked, swam, flew kites at a kite festival, and explored caves. But probably the most important tiyul – trip – that we took was the one we did today. A few weeks ago when we were on a tour of Efrat, I asked about seeing the hill called "the Eitam." While much of Efrat is settled and beautiful, there are still several parts that are not. Tamar and Dagan both have families living in caravans on them, but there is nothing yet on the Eitam. In the original plans for Efrat, the Eitam is expected to house more than half of the entire population of Efrat. Problem is that it is on the wrong side of the proposed security fence. Ironically, as the chief Rabbi of Efrat -- Rabbi Riskin explained, they settled the other areas of Efrat first as they were smaller and further from Jerusalem. They felt that those were the hardest parts to settle and so they went there first. They never dreamed that they would be told that they could not build on Eitam. Now it is a dream that we will be able to lay even one stone. Even as I write there are people in Efrat planning to do just that in spite of it all, but with great effort. When I asked to see the hill, I knew none of this. I had heard that the Eitam was beautiful – the Switzerland of the Gush – and so I wanted to see it and dream that I could have a space to build a home one day. My inquiry about Eitam turned into a full fledged program and ceremony that took place today. The program was meant to include live music, food, and festivities, yet we quickly realized that it was much more than that. While we were waiting with the other cars in the motorcade to begin the trip to the Eitam, the lady in front of us gave us a tip. She said to go slowly as there would be some “potholes” along the way. Ok, I lived in New York, I can do potholes. What she did not say was that by potholes she meant boulders and craters on unpaved dirt roads that went through some rather unfriendly neighborhoods. And just in case our 20+ car motorcade was not getting enough attention from the Arabs watching us go by, my breaks were loud enough to alert the whole village. There were plenty of soldiers along the way, and my mother who was visiting, reassured me that they were so handsome that we would definitely be fine. As if they could stupefy any dangerous Arab with a single grin or flexing of their muscles. There was one soldier though that looked very scary and I was happy that he was on our team. I wouldn’t want to mess with that dude. The car ride there was a little nerve wrecking to say the least, but the arrival onto the Eitam was glorious. A huge Israeli flag was flowing down the side of the mountain. The children and some adults were carrying Israeli flags and Orange "Am Yisrael L'Eretz Yisrael" flags. There were photographers and soldiers and music. At the top, the views were spectacular. After we had some falafel we heard from the mayor of Efrat, the chief Rabbi and some others. They explained the history of Eitam, how and why it is beyond a doubt Jewish property, and the frustration of not being able to build on it yet. We hoped and prayed that we would be able to build there in the near future. I had not realized it when I signed up for this, but we were actually making a political statement and making history by being a part of this excursion. We were going there to declare that this land is rightfully ours and we are not going to give it up. We sang and we danced with soldiers standing guard and reporters writing notes. All this because I wanted to see a nice place that I could build a home for my family.

Extra-Ordinary

2009-09-30T11:19:00.000-07:00

Today was the closest we have had to a ‘normal’ day since we got here. After getting the kids off to school, I spent the morning cleaning and doing laundry. My husband went off to buy material for the succah. The boys managed to come home on their own – no one ended up in another town today. We did homework and colored. I made dinner. It was all seeming pretty ordinary until I noticed the view as I was driving our daughter home from Gan (nursery). The 5 minute drive from the Rimon neighborhood where she goes to school, down to the Gefen neighborhood where we live, was enough to take my breath away. As I noticed the panoramic view of the Judean hills I realized that ordinary living would forevermore be extraordinary. Later, the kids rode their bikes, we ate dinner and gave the kids baths. It was a good day. I’m starting to feel a little less like a new immigrant and a little more like a new being.

Later on I read this quote in the Muqata blog. It was very apropos.

From R' Ari Enkin at the Hirhurim blog:
"The Holiness of an ordinary weekday in Eretz Yisrael is like that of a Shabbat in Chutz La'aretz. The Holiness of Shabbat in Eretz Yisrael is like that of Yom Kippur in Chutz La'aretz. The Holiness of Yom Kippur in Eretz Yisrael cannot be found anywhere else in the world" -Zohar

I first saw this teaching shortly after making Aliya five years ago and it has been with me daily ever since. Frankly, for me it is one of the most compelling pieces of introspection and mussar – to know that I am in the palace of the King, where the Holiness is incomparably powerful - and even tangible. How those of us who live in Eretz Yisrael must properly prepare for, utilize, and appreciate Yom Kippur.

Yom Kippur -- a day of reflection

2009-09-29T12:13:00.000-07:00

Yom Kippur in Efrat was ... different - but not in a bad way. Just different from what I'm used to. One major difference was that I was not suffering through a fast day during a sweltering Miami Autumn. Plus in Israel - they change the clock before Yom Kippur in order to shorten the fast. How cool is that? The other major difference is what I did - or rather did not do - on the holiest day of the year. For the last 6 years I have managed to work out child care for the High Holy Days between youth groups in Shul and non-Jewish babysitters. In Israel, most shuls do not have groups and it is pretty difficult to find a non-Jewish babysitter that you would trust with your kids. So I knew in advance that much of my Yom Kippur service to Hashem would be servicing my own kids. Still, I could not fathom not going to Shul for Kol Nidre and so like many other moms, I went to Shul too. Then I spent the remaining two hours wondering why I had. I had made peace with the idea that I did not have a requirement to daven like my husband did. I had made peace with the idea that it was more important for me to take care of my children then to daven. I had come to understand that my husband's davening would count for me, which was a bit counterintuitive after being raised in a society that espouses equality between sexes. Yet, for some reason I had to go. I did catch a few notes of Kol Nidre before joining the chorus of children in the nearby playground. It made me nostalgic and I felt at home. Was that a reason to go? I watched the other mothers, many of whom were in the makeshift women's section in the lobby next to the door to the men's section. It was filled with women who could not make it into the real Women's section with their children but wanted to be part of the service none-the-less. The women were struggling to daven while holding babies and feeding children. Don't get me wrong - this was not a pitiful scene - it was quite beautiful and everyone was joyful. Only I could not figure out what to do with myself. Should I struggle too? If I made my daughter sit on my lap while I tried to get a few words out to Gd, would it even matter? If I do not have a requirement to pray and my husband's prayers count for me, then why should I bother? If my prayers do make a difference and I can impart a better year for all of us, than what am I doing outside the Shul in the first place? So there I stood, or rather sat , in a no-man's land - listening to the prayers, but with my daughter in my hands instead of a siddur. I loved the experience no less. When I was putting my kids to bed that night I thought about my tzadeket friend who told me with great joy how she had got up at 6 am on Rosh Hashana so that she could daven quietly and then be ready to start with the kids at 8. I thought about going downstairs to do some praying or meditating of my own once the kids got to sleep. I thought about it and I thought about her. And then I got up and went to sleep! Luckily, my husband parts easier with sleep than I do and he woke up at the early hour of 4:50 am. in order to go to the early Minyan so that I could catch the last hours of Musaf in the regular Minyan. I did enjoy Musaf immensely and I had to admit that 2 hours in Shul was easier than 6! I briefly cringed at the thought of not going to Neila, but had a most meaningful Neila service at home with the kids. I got to hear what THEY wanted to ask Hashem as Yom Kippur was coming to an end! So all in all it was a sweet way to start the year, though I'm still not sure what it is exactly that I did most of the day!
I hope your Yom Kippur was meaningful, whatever way you spent it! May all of our prayers be answered for the best!

All roads lead home

2009-09-25T02:52:00.001-07:00

Rosh Hashana is not just the beginning of the year, it is also, quite literally, the Rosh -- the head of the year. What this means is that we have a unique opportunity to create a vision of what we want to come that year and to make that vision the “head” – the leader of our year. In fact, the reason that we eat symbolic foods at our Rosh Hashana meal is not because they have magical powers (husband’s joke – if we eat lettuce, raisins and celery - Hashem will lettuce have a rais in salary). We eat these foods because they help to form our vision and to keep our picture focused on sweet stuff. This year we had plenty of visual aids to create a vision of what we want to follow. Rosh Hashana in Efrat was nothing less than picturesque and blissful. Of course it helped that we were invited out for all 4 meals and for the first time in 8 years, I cooked absolutely nothing! As the chag began I was watching my children play in the park next to the shul. The sun was setting behind the Judean hills. All around us were children playing happily in an area built of Jerusalem stone and Jewish dreams. The weather was cool and breezy. It was one of those Aliyah moments in which I felt that I really did have an “elevation.” I really did fulfill a dream that began long ago – way before me, my parents, and their parents. There is a saying by Rabbi Yehuda Halevi that says “Everywhere I go I am going to Eretz Yisrael.” When you make this idea the head of your year, your Aliyah begins in that moment. Long ago, I had a dream that I would live in Israel one day. Looking back in my life I see that I wherever I went, I was headed that way. I had to move to Perth, Australia and to Miami in order to move to Israel. From living in Perth I learned that it is possible to live far from family, and yet still be close. From the South Africans in Perth I learned that leaving certain luxuries behind does not have to mean a decrease in the standard of living. It can also lead us to a higher standard. As one oleh said “I have never had so little and yet felt so rich.” From the South Americans in Miami I learned that it is possible to be part of another country without losing one’s identity. Being an immigrant does not have to mean a life of trying to fit in or trying to be something you are not. I’m proud to be and Israeli but also proud to have been born in the USA with all of the good things that it has to offer. From living in Perth and in Miami I learned to appreciate 4 seasons that coincide with the Jewish yearly cycle. For the first time in a long time, Sukkot will actually feel like the time of year it is supposed to represent. No fan or air conditioner needed! Yet from Miami, I learned that it’s ok to be hot and sweaty, or as one of the locals put it “moist.” At least here we get a break from that. From living in Perth, I learned to appreciate a multitude of kosher food and restaurants. There was on kosher restaurant in Perth open two hours a week. After we left he closed and apparently told someone that he closed because we left! From living in Miami I learned to love Israelis and to see the softness beneath the hard veneer. In short, after being around the world and back, I learned that there is no place like home. Though many of us take the roundabout route, for Jews, all roads lead home.

Happy New Year 5770!

If I had Hebrew font, I could show you that the year is written Taf Shin Ayin. That could be an acronym for Teheh Shnat Aliyah. This should be a year of Aliyah. Wishing you a year of elevation physically and spiritually!

The Learning Curve (how the kids are doing in school)

2009-09-17T05:51:00.000-07:00

One of the most common questions that we are getting these days is about how the kids are doing in school. After all it is quite challenging to sit in class all day when the teacher is speaking your language, how much more so when you understand almost nothing. As one person put it: remember how you feel when you are listening to a speaker and everything he or she says is either terribly boring or going way over your head? Now imagine doing that 6 days a week for the whole day! Luckily, our kids have been pretty good about it so far. When they walk in we ask them how their day went and the response ranges from “good” to “the best!” Then we ask if they understood anything. To this they invariably respond with a huge grin and a very enthusiastic “not a word!” I call this success. However, we did have our share of blunders along the way. On the first day of school I went to put rosemary oil on their heads since this is said to repel lice – a nightmare for an American, but no big deal to Israelis who often let the lice take up room and board in their kids’ heads. In my haste, I forgot to mix the oil essence with water. In fact, I should have mixed a few drops of oil with a ½ cup of water. Instead I put more than a few drops directly on head. I figured out it wasn’t right when Shira started to cry and hold her nose and then when Akiva, who was up the stairs said, “What stinks?” Good thing she is only 2, or I may have cost her the chance to have any friends in her new class! The other blunder was not our fault. We had planned to drive our kids to and from school, thinking they were not ready for the bus system here, but they would have none of that. So on the second day of school, Ezra boarded the bus from school to our street, only they forget to let him off. After 30 minutes and a bunch of frantic phone calls he was located, still on the bus and happy as can be. The next day Akiva got on the wrong bus and ended up leaving Efrat and getting a tour of the neighboring town, Elazar. It took a while for him to figure out that he was no longer in Efrat and a very frustrated bus driver who could not speak a word of English eventually got him back to us. Since then it’s been smooth. I still marvel at their independence. At the ages of 4 and 6, they can come home from school all on their own and can even walk up the block to their taekwondo class all by themselves! They love the independence and it builds their esteem. Next stop: the grocery store. That will be cool.

Life without a Lift

2009-09-04T03:26:00.001-07:00

We just got called today to find out that our long awaited “lift” (container) is coming on Sunday. While I am elated at the prospect of having our own fridge, oven, washer and dryer there is something I will surely miss about living without stuff. When the Torah wants to describe Avraham as wealthy, the word used is “Kaved.” Kaved literally means heavy and every time I move overseas (this is the third time) I am reminded why. Life is so much lighter when there is less. All we have right now is 3 air mattresses, 2 thin foam mattresses, 2 pots, 2 tables, and 10 chairs. We have some linen, clothing, some cleaning products and food. That is it. The house is bright and airy. There is so little to make a mess with and little to clean up. Life is simple and we enjoy simple things. When we first got our borrowed tables in the house, my 2-year-old was so excited saying “table, table!” You would have thought she had just gotten an amazing birthday present. 2 months ago, she had literally thousands of dollars worth of toys at her disposable, and not one was nearly as intriguing. So while we are excited and eager to be in our own beds and to eat at our own table, I hope that we can take the lesson of simplicity with us and remember to buy less, share more, and pass on those things that no longer serve us.
Shabbat Shalom, Shabbat Menucha.
Shabbat of Peace and of Rest!

The Sunshine State

2009-09-03T04:28:00.000-07:00

We have internet! And all that comes with it – our US Miami number is now working, I can blog again, skype, you name it. After a whole week and a few days without, it’s like rediscovering the wonders of the web all over again. This past week and a half have been very busy. I started to write out everything that we have done, thinking that it might be helpful to anyone who is considering aliyah, but quickly found that my brain cells have been fried. I can hardly remember anything! It's a good thing that Nefesh B'Nefesh gives everyone a poster (that looks kind of like a rather fun boardgame) with all of the necesary steps listed on it so that we can have some sense of what has been done and what needs to be done yet. It’s kind of like having a baby. You are so busy and tired that you can’t remember a thing! So I’ll skip to my thought of the week. During this process, we have been given a lot of advice and support by friends, strangers, and professionals. However there is one line that is said over and over again, starting with one of the government officials at the welcoming ceremony. “Eretz Yisrael niknet b’yisurim,” (a quote from the gemara) “Israel is acquired with yisurim – tzoris -- extreme hardship.” In other words you are going to suffer this year. This is often tempered with “kol hatchalot kashot,” “All beginnings are difficult” – meaning it’s hard in the beginning, but it gets easier. This make me think that we are going through some kind of hazing to become part of a fraternity and while I know that a lot of people have horror stories from their initiating year, I find it very depressing to be on the lookout for ours. One woman even showed us a graph that showed how all olim go up and then they all dip down, and sometimes very down before going up again. I know that the first year is hard. I know that there are challenges. But so far we are having a really good time and I find the yisurim thought to be a bit of rain on my parade. My other problem with the thought is the fact that there is a lot of truth to it. Many olim do go through experiences ranging from slightly unpleasant to total nightmare. Why? Why would Hashem do that? Here we are, new immigrants that gave up the good life in America in order to live in the Holy Land. Can’t Gd give us a break? The zechuyot are great and everything, but could we skip the yisurim bit? It’s kind of like when Avraham comes to Eretz Yisrael, only to encounter a famine. So here is my thought that I acquired while speaking to a fellow new oleh who is having plenty of challenges of his own: ITS ALL GOOD. As my friend from Miami (now in Hong Kong) and fellow Life Coach Ana Scherer taught me to say – we ask for what we want and then acknowledge that we will get what we asked for or something better. In Eretz Yisrael (and everywhere else), there is a lot of ‘something better.’ We think we want A, but B may be better. Judaism talks a lot about light. Light is goodness, wisdom, even Gd Himself is referred to as the Endless Light. We are taught that when Hashem first created the world some of the light had to be hidden – it was too bright for human beings to stand. In the future, the light will return and we will be able to enjoy it. Light is a good thing, but only if we have the eyes to see it. When a person comes to Eretz Yisrael, there is a lot more light and sometimes it takes time for the eyes to adjust. How we experience our aliyah depends on how we see things and what we choose to focus on. As my husband says “we don’t see things as they are, we see things as we are. “ So much of life is experienced as a reflection of who we are rather then as what the true reality may be. Sometimes we experience the light as too bright even though it is always there to heal, to guide, to lead…to something better. However the potential is always there to experience the light as pure, wonderful sunshine. I’d like to propose a radical idea: it is possible to experience aliyah without feeling yisurim! Lest you think I am heretical and contradict the Gemara, allow me to suggest that we have had our share of tzoris and continue to bear our share of yisurim for the sake of obtaining and maintaining Eretz Yisrael. We need not bear anymore! I prefer to focus on a different ancient text – a blessing form the daily Amidah which states “Teka b’shofar l’cheirutainu v’sa nes lekabetz geluyotainu vkabzeitnu beyachad me’arba kanfot ha’aretz.” “blast the trumpets of our freedom, raise the banner high of our ingathering, and bring us together from all four corners of the Earth.” We are having a blast. Come join us. This is the true Sunshine State.

Shabbat -- the power of NOW

2009-08-22T13:47:00.000-07:00

We just spent a truly amazing first Shabbat with my brother and his family in Beit Shemesh. My sister, who is back for Shana bet, was there too. It was magical to watch our kids become best friends with their cousins and we found comfort in being with family who had gone through this before. In addition, those of us that could not fit in the townhouse stayed across the street with friends we know from Edison and we even had the surprise of bumping into good friends who were visiting from the US this weekend. On top of that, my Rosh Yeshiva from MMY, Rabbi David, is the Rav of my brother’s shul. We felt so at home and it all felt so familiar that I forgot where I was and that I was in the middle of a HUGE move and life change. I was actually taken aback when I was standing on the porch as the sun was setting and I took in the magnificent view. Then it hit me that we were having this wonderful Shabbat in Eretz Yisrael. Not that I had forgotten, it’s just that the focus had become so much on who we were with and the beauty of it all. Shabbat is always a chance to ‘get lost in the moment.’ To leave the past week behind and to let go of worrying about the next week. But this week, it was especially important for us. As I am learning quickly, a great tool for making Aliyah is to learn how to live in the present. In the few moments that I was down on that first afternoon, the image of Lot’s wife looking back at Sodom came into my mind. She turned into salt, the symbol of preservation – of preserving things of the past. It was then that I realized that if I look back at what I left, if I compare it to what I have now, and if I can’t let go, this process will be sad and difficult. Likewise, if I think about all of the challenges that we may face in the coming days, months, and years I’ll be terribly overwhelmed to the point of (analysis) paralysis. Shabbos was a great time to let go and just go with the flow. It was a celebration of all of the blessings in our lives at this moment. I will try more than ever to take that with me in to this week. That is the power of living in the NOW – that ability to be happy with the moment, and that is my secret to getting through this year!

The Exodus

2009-08-20T14:00:00.000-07:00

What an incredible experience! And even more amazing is how many people shared it with us – 1,000 people at Ben Gurion Airport and thousands more watching live on the internet. We were on board the largest plane load of North American of Jews ever to make aliyah together! We made history.

The Airport

The airport part went pretty smooth, especially once I let go of the need to know where every bag and child were at any given moment. With 10 bags, 7 carry ons, a huge kennel, dog, and three kids to look after, its no wonder the carry on with all of our food ended up being loaded by one of our well-meaning children onto the conveyor belt to the plane! At least we had our family with us to help and bring more food. Moshe was interviewed by chanel 1 news in Israel and quoted as saying “we plan to move to Efrat in the Gush and hope to build a house one day if Obama lets us.” Hero won the award for cutest dog (well, at least in my opinion) wearing an Israeli flag bandana around his neck that his Savti gave him.

The Send-off

Once we said our goodbyes, our journey really began, but at a very slow pace. As we were passing through the seemingly endless security line at a snail’s pace, the kids were busy complaining, I spotted a friend I hadn’t seen since the 11th grade and we started to make some new friends. I couldn’t help but wonder what leaving Egypt must have been like. Did one Israelite girl spot another whom she hadn’t seen since her 11th year of slavery? Were the kids wining and the fathers schlepping? I told my kids that they should be grateful for an Exodus such as the one we were experiencing. While they were complaining about long lines, I suggested that it must have been harder to walk all the way through the dessert. They didn’t like that. I got very emotional feeling that we were walking, breathing, and living a very important part of Jewish history right there and then. We were going on our Exodus, and while it wasn’t easy, it was transcendent!

The Plane Ride

Everyone was incredibly patient and kind on this flight. The captain began by welcoming all of the “olim yekarim” dear immigrants aboard the plane ride home. All on board were eager to help one another. At any given time at least half the plane was walking around (the seat belt light went off while we were still at a 60 degree incline), a baby was screaming, and there was a long line for the self-serve drinks, though curiously never for the bathrooms! The best part of the plane ride was the landing. The whole plane clapped and cheered and sang “v’shavu banim” (and the children return to their borders) together.

The Arrival

As we got off the plane our family kissed the ground together. We boarded the bus to the terminal and were let off to a crowd of a thousand! There was music and soldiers and such incredible energy that we wanted it to last forever. While walking through the lines of soldiers we ran into Natan Sharansky and my husband had a beautiful conversation with him. It later occurred to us how poetic the meeting was as Moshe had attended Sharansky’s arrival to Israel from the former Soviet Union in 1989. It wasn’t long before we spotted our family who had signs and flags to welcome us home. We danced, and sang, and celebrated. You can still catch the video of our arrival and short interview at nbn.org.il/live.

Since then we have been slowly acclimating and getting into reality. It is still very wonderful and surreal, thought I wouldn’t be telling the truth if I said that it has all been bliss. I did have a bit of a “down” somewhere between the HOURS of waiting for luggage, getting to our new home (which is less than ideal, though I knew this already), and repacking to go to the beautiful apartment we are borrowing from friends for a week. Today it occurred to me that this was my ‘amalek’ moment. Amalek was the first nation to attack the Jewish people after they came out of Egypt. They targeted and harmed the weak and vulnerable among the nation, but they did not win. Some sages explain that Amalek signifies doubt. When we are tired and weak, we are attacked by doubt, fear, and uncertainty. However, we need not succumb. Thanks Gd after food and rest I was able to say hallel on my first Rosh Chodesh in Eretz Yisrael and proclaim “Zeh Hayom asa Hashem, nagilah v’nismicha bo!” “Today is the day Hashem created to rejoice and be joyful!”

What a blessing. We are Home!

Not your Grandpa's aliyah

2009-08-17T21:54:00.000-07:00

Making aliyah today is nothing like our ancestors could have imagined. What follows is my list of top ten modern day miracles that have transformed the way we move to the holy land.

1. AIRPLANES – I know most of us are more or less over the invention of flight, but when you take a step back, you see that it truly is miraculous. Just the other day I was having a conversation with one of my kids. He asked me how all of the Jews will get to Israel when Moshiach comes. I told him about the tradition that we will come on ‘wings of Eagles.’ I then went on to explain that some people think that airplanes are the Eagles that the Torah is referring to. To this, my son responded. “ I hope its real Eagles. That is so much cooler. “ While I have to agree with him, you still have to admit – it’s pretty amazing that we can sit in a chair in the sky and fly with the birds all the way to Israel in a matter of hours.

2. CELL PHONES – Friends of ours who made aliyah 30 years ago told us that they had to wait NINE MONTHS just for a land line when they went. Today, we can have a phone instantaneously that can go with us wherever we go and allow our nervous chalaria mothers back home to contact us whenever they feel the need. More importantly, we nervous mothers living in Israel will be able to keep tabs on our children in a country that experiences some danger once in a while.

3. FACEBOOK and the like – it’s easier than ever to be in touch with friends and families overseas. I found this out by accident. I read somewhere about a pro Israel rally that I wanted to attend – the details were posted on facebook. I wanted to go to the rally so I joined facebook. I woke up the next morning to find a flood of facebook emails from friends and former students from Australia. Then followed friends from high school and elementary school. All of the sudden I could know the intimate life of someone I hadn’t spoken to since the first grade. I even met some family members via facebook, that I probably would never have met otherwise. What this means for us olim is that out of sight does not have to mean out of mind. The goodbyes are slightly easier and connections are kept strong.

4. DIGITAL CAMERAS – I chose a home to live in without even stepping foot in it. When I found something of interest, we had a very wonderful friend go check it out for us and take a zillion pictures. When I called him to see how it went, he had just gotten home. Within a matter of minutes he had uploaded the images and sent them to me thousands of miles away where I got a virtual tour of my home to be.

5. INTERNET – It used to be that a person living in the middle of nowhere was, well, living in the middle of nowhere. Now you can be anywhere and still be somewhere. You could be living in the Galilee and doing business in New York. Most importantly, you can be living in shekalim while earning in dollars.

6. SKYPE – Long ago I experienced my first trip to Disney. One of the memories that stuck out in my 5-year-old mind was a ride in “tomorrowland” that showed the progress of technology and projected into the future. Part of their depiction of the future was a phone that allowed the callers to be seen by each other. I’m not that old, and already what was science fiction then is reality now. Skype is a free service that not only allows people to call each other, but with a webcam, we can see each other too. While normally a private person like me would find this a nuisance, it’s a real boon when you have kids, grandparents, and nieces and nephews in your family.

7. Ikea – Ok, maybe this one doesn’t belong, however it certainly makes it easier to move when you know you’ve got good furniture at great prices in a store you are familiar with. Perhaps the most miraculous things about Ikea in Israel is that it is one of the only things that doesn’t cost any more there than it does in the US. Can we say that about anything else?

8. VONAGE -- Thanks to Vonage, we can take our Miami phone number with us to Israel, or for that matter, anywhere else in the world. No one has an excuse to not call us when they visit. You already know our number! To top it off, for the many people who pay a flat rate to make any amount of calls within the US, this means that calling us from the US to Israel will be FREE!

9. GPS – I was always afraid of getting lost when driving in a new place, but that fear is amplified by a whole lot when that new place includes unfriendly neighborhoods that make Harlem look good. I know it’s not foolproof, but having a GPS does help assuage those fears. And at least I won’t get lost on our little mountain of Efrat! If anyone makes a pilot trip to Israel, I strongly recommend renting a GPS. It is invaluable when you are trying to scout out the whole of Israel in a few days or weeks.

10. NBN – Last but not least, the greatest modern day miracle in making aliyah has to be the initiation of Nefesh B’Nefesh. What this organization has done and is doing to make aliyah from North America easier and more popular is unbelievable. I am honored to have grown up just up the street from its founder Rabbi Josh/Yehoshua Fass. Like the biblical Yehoshua, he is truly doing Gd’s work in settling the land. NBN has streamlined the aliyah process by providing guidance from start to finish, financial assistance, help finding a job, help navigating the Israeli bureaucracy, and so much more. Because of them, I will be able to board a plane tomorrow comprised fully of Olim. They will seat us by region so that we can start meeting each other, we will be Israeli by the time we land, and we will be greeted with huge fanfare and ceremony. And you can all watch it live at nbn.org.il/live. It doesn’t get better than this!

So that’s my list, but ultimately, the greatest miracle is the fact that aliyah exists today. I’ll end with a thought from Israel’s most famous poet, Yehuda Amichai. I borrowed it from my husband’s last sermon in Miami.

“Once I was sitting on the steps near the gate at David's Citadel and I put down my two heavy baskets beside me. A group of tourists stood there around their guide, and I became their point of reference. "You see that man over there with the baskets? A little to the right of his head there's an arch from the Roman period. A little to the right of his head." "But he's moving, he's moving!" I said to myself: Redemption will come only when they are told, "Do you see that arch over there from the Roman period? It doesn't matter, but near it, a little to the left and then down a bit, there's a man who has just bought fruit and vegetables for his family."

Moving Up

2009-08-04T20:18:00.001-07:00

Aspaklaria has a new lease on life. With my new life about to begin, it's time for a rebirth of this blog. Actually, it is because of this new journey I am starting that this blog has had a temporary demise. My family and I are about to make 'aliyah' – we are moving up to our Homeland – Israel. If anyone out there is considering this move, my first piece of advice; start getting ready now! First of all, make sure that your entire family has passports. As the granddaughter of holocaust survivors, I believe that every Jew should have a passport. I have been saying this forever, only I never took my own advice. Let's just say that my husband and I sighed in relief when our kids' passports were finally completed in early July (we leave mid-August). Second, de-clutter now! You never know how much stuff you have until you move. Even if you are not planning Aliyah in the near future (although you should) you may want to pretend that you are. This is so that you can reap the benefits of going through all of your worldly possessions and asking yourself questions like "do I really need this?" or "does anyone really like this?" and getting rid of whatever doesn't make the grade. FYI – these questions are meant to refer to things and not to people. A good rule to live by – toss anything that is not beautiful, usable, or meaningful. These last few months of organizing have not been easy – it's like Pesach cleaning on steroids, but I am hoping that it will pay off on the other end when my lift comes and everything actually fits inside my new Israeli home. The other thing that has occupied a lot of my time in preparation for this move has been shopping. But not necessarily the fun kind of shopping – like shoes and cloths – but shopping for things like paper towels and peanut butter. Well-meaning friends and family have armed us with lists of stuff to bring from the US that you can't find in Israel – or at least at a reasonable price. But after filling two huge carts at Costco and almost passing out when they had told me how much I spent, I couldn't help but think that the whole approach was a little ridiculous. Am I going to fly back every summer to by paper plates and aluminum foil? How bad can Israeli paper towels be? Will I be having an inner debate every time I need to use one of my precious American paper towels? I hope to answer these burning questions and more as we take this journey together.

Leila Tov!

Rosh Hoshana Inspiration

2008-09-24T09:09:00.000-07:00

Here is a gift of inspiration form my friend and teacher Rabbi Yitzchak Schwartz of Jerusalem. Enjoy!

3 summers ago

2008-09-04T17:57:00.000-07:00

I wasn't blogging yet in the summer of 2005. But I'm still mad and very sad about the Disengagement.

Let's not forget.

10 lost tribes

2008-09-03T17:04:00.000-07:00

Is it possible that Brazil was named after the Hebrew word for iron -- 'barzel'? Is Mexico the derivative of the original name 'Meshicho' meaning moshiach? Did Britain get its name from the words 'Brit Am,' hebrew for 'covenant of nations?' I know it sounds like a conspiracy theory, but the research of Historian Steve Collins is very intriguing. He also claims that at least 5 Native American tribes, including Cheeroke and Seminole, were of Jewish descent. That explains the casinos (that's my revelation, not his). Also interesting is the fact that an Israeli historian, Yair Davidiy, has independently come to many of the same conclusions as Collins regarding who the lost tribes are and where they went. One of the goals of my blog is to pass on inspiring and interesting information. So here is my first tip. Check out http://www.israelnationalradio.com/ and scroll down to the Tamar Yona Show on the 10 lost tribes. You can hear her 2 hour broadcast with Steven Collins. Maybe its all bogus -- but it sure is entertaining! You can also look at http://www.stevenmcollins.com/ and http://www.britam.org/

May as well blog

2008-09-01T19:29:00.000-07:00

So I guess I should blog.

I've been intending to do this ever since I first discovered the Renegade Rebbetzin a few years ago. I could have been her. In fact there were even rumors that I was her. But alas, I am not. I am however a Rebbetzin, and a bit renegade. I also have a lot to say. The two things holding me back have been time and a name for my blog. I couldn't, for the life of me, come up with a title that was either not taken by a blog that I already follow, or that sounded like the title of a blog that I would follow. Here are a few of the (pathetic and more pathetic) names that I was considering:

1. La Rabbina -- Because I live in Miami which is really in South America (before this we lived in Perth, Australia which is really in South Africa.) But then I started to think -- have I no identity beyond Rebbetzinhood? And anyway, I really can't salsa dance.

2. Mammatzen -- it has the whole mom and Rebbetzin thing going on, but still says nothing about who I am. It also sounds too much like macho man and that's not exactly my theme song either. "Ma ma mama tzen -- I want to be a mamatzen..." Uhh.... that would be a no.

3. Rebbetzin Joe -- Allow me to explain. I thought this would work (for about 2 seconds - before I realized that gender confusion is not the way to go) because I really am an average joe. And that's my strength.

Here is how this played out last night after I got back form our monthly Rosh Chodesh meeting for women. Every month I arrange something creative and inspiring for our community and last night it was a presentation of Yoga and Judaism. The Rebbetzin who I arranged to give the class (whose name I have no permission to publish, so I won't) gave an amazing talk about her personal journey and her creation of Jewgal -- Jewgal.com (that, I think she would want me to publish). This was followed by a practical class where among other things we formed letters of the aleph bet with our bodies and connected to Gd and each other in a very profound way. So I came home so inspired and in awe of this woman and her creation.

Me: What's my thing?
Husband: What do you mean?
Me: Whats my thing. She does this Yoga and Judaism thing. What do I do?
Hus: Do you really want to know?
Me: Yes.
Hus: You write. I don't know why you don't write more.
Me: Probably because we have three kids under the age of 5.
Hus: Ok, but that's what you do. You can write.
Me: Yes, but so many people can write. What do I write about? That's the important part.
Hus: But that's just it, you can write about anything. You always have something to say.
Me: So I'm opinionated?
Hus: No, I'm just saying that you always have a comment. On everything.
Me: Hmm..... (thinking -- that's the same as opinionated in my humble opinion)

But then I got it. The fact that I'm not really good at one particular thing is what makes me able to be into everything. Mediocrity can be a good thing. I may not do anything amazingly well, but I pretty much do everything. I love life. I love trying new things. I love ideas and music and art and roller coasters and meeting new people.

And what I do more then anything is reflect. I see, I think, and I share.

You'll see. You'll get to know me. And once you do, you will probably see a bit of yourself.

4. Aspaklaria -- prism, looking glass, lens, a kind of mirror.
I was minding my own business tonight when the word Aspaklaria popped into my head. I thought -- hey, that's me.

Now all I need is a live-in nanny.