In Times of Darkness, I'm Thankful for My Jewish Family

Yom chamishi, 5 Kislev 5775, Thanksgiving.

Along with all of my fellow Neve Daniel residents, I received a note with the following several-times-forwarded message:

"this is what Har Nof ppl got on the door handle this morning"

I wasn't sure what to expect. Threatening messages, God forbid? In the current terror climate, after the events of the previous week, that was the first thing that came to mind. As soon as I opened the email and saw the first sentence of the note and the chocolate bar, I got a lump in my throat. Not of fear, but of an emotion you can only feel when you are surrounded -- physically or even only spiritually -- by family.

The letter basically says the following:

Our brothers, dear residents of Har Nof!

The Nation of Yisrael is one body, with one soul.

The pain is universal:

The community of Yisrael is in terrible grief

and in deep pain.

In our difficult hours -- many of Am Yisrael stood by our side.

Now -- we are by your side.

You are in our hearts and in our prayers.

We add [our voice to the collective] Torah, faith and prayer

"In the name of all of Yisrael."

God's blessing upon you, only be strong and courageous!

With love,

The citizens of Itamar

After I read it, I tried to tell the letter over to the Dearly Beloved... and by the time I was finished, we were both choking back tears.

There is much here that is beautiful. The act is touching, by itself. The letter and the gift of sweetness were from a community which was devastated by a terror attack in 2011 in which six members of the Fogel family were brutally massacred as they slept.

And while this is a beautiful story all by itself, there is more to this lovely deed that is worthy of note.

The love letter was delivered by the citizens of Itamar -- a primarily Israeli Dati Leumi community in the Shomron -- read that "settlers dwelling over the Green Line" -- given to a largely Anglo Hareidi community in Jerusalem -- read that "not East Jerusalem, and therefore mostly uncontested Jewish property." It is a reminder that we are all one family of Jews, undivided by how we dress or daven or learn Torah, where we live, or if where we live is considered to be politically correct. I only mention this to you in case you are fooled by the media into believing that when the going gets tough the family will be divided. We are truly one body with one soul -- and we are in this together!

On this eve of the American Thanksgiving -- this is something for which I am truly thankful.

Dignity -- on both sides of the equation

Yom revi'i, 12 Adar aleph 5771.

Let me share an adventure in volunteerism with you, just because I suspect I'm not the only person who drags her feet about it due to embarrassment.

Just before we made aliyah, I bought a wonderful cookbook, purely as a result of a well-written review.  The Holocaust Survivor Cookbook has become a favorite -- but not just because of the delightful recipes.  It is a book filled with stories and photographs that take the empty place in my heart where bubbies and zaydies ought to be.

The book grew from the desire of two idealistic young olim, Sarah and Jonathan Caras, to "give something back to the people of their new homeland."  They volunteered  at the Carmei Ha'ir Soup Kitchen in Jerusalem in 2005.  Later, they brought their mothers to visit Carmei Ha'ir; and out of that experience, the seed for the cookbook project began its germination.

There was an article in the cookbook about the soup kitchen that impressed me a great deal.  Instead of the rows and rows of narrow tables and benches that one imagines (or has even seen in televised reports about such worthy charitable institutions), with the downcast and life-tossed homeless huddled over bowls of soup, Carmei Ha'ir has a special approach.  There goal is that each human being that is served at their facility have an experience of dining out at a "real" restaurant, with full dignity, elegance, and cuisine comparable to other dining establishments in the area.

The idea of participating in such a project intrigued me.  What Jew doesn't want to help someone, in some way?  It's coded into our spiritual DNA.  But here's the rub, and here's where the embarrassment starts.

Too much money is not something that the Borei Olam has plagued this family with.  So donating large sums is not something that we are very often able to do.  And I am shy about just walking into an establishment and saying "Point me to the kitchen!" as I roll up my sleeves.  Dining at the soup kitchen (which anyone is allowed to do, perhaps leaving the price the meal would cost in a regular restaurant) seemed like a fine beginning.  But again, I was embarrassed.

You know the feeling of using a service that some people really, truly need, when you don't?  What if I went in, and my clothes looked a little too nice?  Is it only me that thinks: "What right do I have to be here?  What does that poor fellow over there think of me?  'Oh, she must be slumming...  Taking a gander at the poor folk.'"  Well -- perhaps I do over-think a thing.  But the point is, I want to know "the rules," before I just pop by.

So I started to look over the Carmei Ha'ir website for clues.

 First of all, it is a beautiful website, user-friendly and informative.  I could have found out everything I needed to know by perusing its pages.  But that little button -- "Questions?  Chat with us now" -- is always an irresistible lure to me.  Why?  Because I have found, time and time again, that people who man live chat desks  are very often "my kind of people," who really want to help the "caller" to get clear answers.  And I write better than I talk over the phone, which reduces my embarrassment.  So I clicked on the little chat icon...  and what followed was more gratifying than I could have hoped for.

The gentleman on the other end of the chat was named Moshe.  He very pleasantly listened to me unburden myself of my concerns (thankfully a shorter version of what I just told you).

Then he asked me what skills I had to offer.  I was a bit surprised.  What skills does it take to peel potatoes?  And impressive skills such as counseling or cooking gourmet meals for fifty are not in my repertoire.  But after a bit of back and forth, it seems that writing and proof-reading are perfectly acceptable donations to an organization such as this -- as are other skills most of us take for granted.

The point of this blog post is this:  CALL.  Not just this organization (though I am sure they would be happy if you did), but any organization in your area that just might need your help.  Look for someone in the organization who can answer your honest questions about how you can help.  You may surprise yourself.

When you want to help someone, when you want to give of yourself, never be embarrassed by a lack of money.  Tzedaka b'guf -- the giving of charity by doing -- may be much less daunting than you think.

Glossary:
Aliyah: Jewish immigration to Israel
Bubbies and zaidies: grandmothers and grandfathers
Olim: Jewish immigrants to Israel
Borei Olam: Creator of the Universe

Sunday Sojourn #1

Yom sheni, 19 Cheshvan 5769.

In 1991, the Dearly Beloved took me to Israel for the first time.

He wanted to show me all of the tourist sites that he remembered from his visits in the '80s.  But I already had the seeds of aliyah sprouting in my soul; and I told him I wanted to spend our time experiencing the life of the residents.  He's an understanding fellow; so, instead of showing me Masada, he let me drag him to the makolet.  Instead of visiting the banks of the Yarden, we were sent from teller to teller in the banks of Yerushalayim.  We visited families, and listened to them talk about what real life in Israel was like.  It was just as beaurocratically ridiculous as everyone said.  It seemed like an interesting challenge.  When we got back to the States, I told my husband that I would take the time to be a tourist when I lived in Israel. 

Over Shabbat last week, the Dearly Beloved informed me that it was time to make good on my 17-year-old promise.  And that Sundays would be "tiyul day" for the two of us.  After all, the kids get to go on tiyulim through their schools.  It's not our fault we're too long in the tooth for yeshiva.  And now we have these special bus passes for olim, that allow us to travel anywhere in the country (except Eilat) for a very reasonable price.  Why not use them?

The first stop was a visit to one of our favorite bakeries, very near the tachana.  The pastry is as good as is pastry everywhere in Israel.  What makes this bakery special is Amir, who makes a great cup of cafe shachor, and treats everyone like a mentch.  (Throughout my marriage to the Dearly Beloved, the guy who gets our money isn't always the cheapest.  He is good at what he does, and treats us the way he would like to be treated.)

After that pleasant visit, we added another photo to our catalog of the "Most Exhaustive Photo Essay of Every Possible Angle of the 'Bridge of Strings'".  This project has picked up a more feverish pace since the new mayor-elect, Nir Barkat, has expressed his desire to tear the thing down.

In 2005, I sat at my computer and watched, day after day, as the soap opera that would become the nightmare of Gush Katif unfolded.  It was a surrealistic time; and the only people with whom I could relate on the subject lived in Cyberspace.  More accurately, they lived all over the world; but we shared the need to "live" the Gush Katif drama at a depth most people around us couldn't seem to fathom.  So we became an internet support group, holding virtual hands throughout the trauma.  The Gush Katif Museum is tucked into Agrippas Street.  We discovered it quite by accident.  It is a stop we would recommend for every tourist.  We expected a small museum, filled with facts and photos.  There were those.  The time line makes it painfully obvious that Israel has built herself, only to tear herself down at the world's insistence, many, many times.  My favorite photos were of children.  One was holding orange ribbons in each hand, stretched out to invisible hands outside the left and right frames of the photo.  Another shows rows and rows of young soldiers.  In the foreground, his back to us, is a tiny boy, offering a few cookies to the tenderly smiling soldiers in his chubby hand. We did not expect the poignant paintings, full of the intensity of the youth who stood their ground.  Nor did we expect to spend an hour sitting together and crying.  Whichever side of the argument you fell out on, you will find that the film is a fair representation of the good and bad on both sides of the struggle, and of some of the pain each side endured. I don't usually suggest that people take time to be sad...  but there is a time for everything, as the wise king said.  And there are, unfortunately, more events in Jewish life to which the expression "never again" must be appended, and repeated to ourselves, in full video sound and fury.

Well, after that, a little fun was certainly called for.  We stopped into Emek Refaim at one of our favorite restaurants.

  After I seasoned both our dishes of Temani Meat Soup with a little charif, the Dearly Beloved said that he would prefer to handle this task for himself in the future.

 

Look.  My main job in this climate is to get a lot of water into each member of my family every day.  You can see, by the empty water bottle at his right, that I was very successful.  

Next week:  Tel Aviv, and the quest for the wily Dancing Camel pub. Stay tuned.

Free for Soldiers

Yom shishi, 16 Cheshvan 5769.


I love living in a country that treats its soldiers this way.

Just seeing the sign makes me smile.

(The sign offers free internet surfing to the soldiers at the internet cafe in the Central Bus Station in Jerusalem.)

They don't seem to mind it, either.






Shabbat shalom u'mevorach!

A Day in Yerushalayim

Yom rishon, 16 Av 5768/17 August 2008, Sunday.

We picked a very hot day to see how people "do summer" in Yerushalayim. If hot, humid Baltimore would adopt some of these hobbies, life in that city might be just a bit more pleasurable, I think. Kids were playing in public fountains all over town -- and no one was yelling at them. In fact, there were fathers sitting and learning nearby. Families were enjoying outdoor barbecues in the parks.
We met some friends for lunch in a busy restaurant in the Ben Yehuda shopping mall. Once again, we were reminded of a positive difference in the dining experience in Israel: in the States, there is a sense of being rushed from one's table for the next customer. In Israel, one dines and shmoozes, and actually needs to accost the waitperson for the check. (Of course, there will always be exceptions. If you can find that sort of restaurant -- other than a serve-yourself establishment -- on the Eastern Seaboard, please let me know for my next visit.)
We stopped in at our favorite bookstore, M. Pomeranz Bookseller, on Be'eri. The books we had ordered had not yet arrived. But we had a lovely chat with the proprietor and one of his long-time employees. That held us in place long enough for a very old friend to stop in. More chatting, and another reminder that there are no coincidences. Call me biased, but this fact seems even clearer in the Holy Land.


In the Old City, an older man walking with a young man, both in tefillin, reminded us of the preciousness of being in our own Land. Was this a father and son, or a rosh yeshiva with a beloved talmid? It didn't matter. In the Rova, every kind of Jew can be himself, without feeling out of place. The shawls handed out to some women at the Kotel may have given them food for thought; but every Jew is welcome.

The main theme of the day was that life is about time with people and Hashem. When we Americans are working so many long hours to live the American Dream, it is sometimes impossible to take time for that reality. Israel can afford us the opportunity to enjoy a simpler life, if we don't try to recreate the USA here. There are no guarantees for an easy life; but I don't remember tripping over that option in the USA either. But Israel has allowed us to emphasize the things we cherish the most: human interaction, time to be ourselves, an increasingly central relationship with our Creator. I am so grateful that we have this privilege. I pray that Hashem will not take it away from us. I pray that more and more of our dear friends will be able to join us at Home.