It has been an interesting time here, what with the President of Israel (who happens to be my neighbor... small country) being indicted for rape, and now today the former Justice Minister convicted of sexual harassment. Sometimes things like this have to happen all at once. I'm sure women in Israel would have preferred a less painful way to change the national attitude toward treatment of women, but this is hopefully going to be like pulling off a bandaid. Quickly people will get it that even at the highest echelons of government, men are not immune from the law that requires they treat their subordinates with dignity.
Maybe it will even translate into respect for other laws at the highest level. (But I'm not counting on it.)
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Takeaways from Jewish Philosophy
I don't write about my Jewish philosophy class often partly because it doesn't always seem applicable to my life and partly because it has taken me a while to get used to the teacher's style. But I am learning....
One of the overarching takeaways from the class is that of defining what is Jewish discourse. Topics that for me have always landed squarely in Christian discourse find themselves in traditional Jewish texts. By writing in Hebrew, the authors stay away from language that I find alien... terms like: afterlife, salvation, fear of God. All those seem so Christian. But where did those guys get it from? We talk openly about Olam Ha'ba, Melech Moshia, Yirat Hashem.
So, I'm learning that the universe of Jewish philosophy is much larger than I originally thought.
Which brings me to my next takeaway that really applies to this whole year of Jewish study. Because my formal Jewish education ended shortly after my Bat Mitzvah (familiar story anyone?) and I moved into a world where I was one of the most Jewishly educated people around, my relationship with God and my understanding of The Divine is little more developed than a midteenager. Yes, I have had a brain since then, but I haven't been challenged to work on a relationship or a concept in that time. I think I'm not alone. Many people decided who God was at an early time, accepted or rejected that notion and remained in that place. This year is pushing me hard to challenge my own concepts.
One of the overarching takeaways from the class is that of defining what is Jewish discourse. Topics that for me have always landed squarely in Christian discourse find themselves in traditional Jewish texts. By writing in Hebrew, the authors stay away from language that I find alien... terms like: afterlife, salvation, fear of God. All those seem so Christian. But where did those guys get it from? We talk openly about Olam Ha'ba, Melech Moshia, Yirat Hashem.
So, I'm learning that the universe of Jewish philosophy is much larger than I originally thought.
Which brings me to my next takeaway that really applies to this whole year of Jewish study. Because my formal Jewish education ended shortly after my Bat Mitzvah (familiar story anyone?) and I moved into a world where I was one of the most Jewishly educated people around, my relationship with God and my understanding of The Divine is little more developed than a midteenager. Yes, I have had a brain since then, but I haven't been challenged to work on a relationship or a concept in that time. I think I'm not alone. Many people decided who God was at an early time, accepted or rejected that notion and remained in that place. This year is pushing me hard to challenge my own concepts.
Monday, January 29, 2007
I'm fine.
This morning at 9:30 am as I struggled over the archaic text of Rambam's grandson (I was reading in a Hebrew translation from the original Arabic) in the center of Jerusalem, a suicide bomb was detonated in Eilat, killing 3 innocent people.
I'm fine.
I'm fine.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Responsibilities of Citizenship?
One week ago I met a girl named H. who has recently made aliyah to Israel. When I expressed interest and asked her whether she planned on living here forever, she said, "I don't make plans forever. We'll see how it goes." This is similar to many other interchanges that I've had with new olim. They are here, some for ideological reasons, others to start over, but many without the zealous commitment to the country. Some even admit that they are taking advantage of the financial benefits of aliya which include money for school, help with the first apartment, free plane ticket, reductions in taxes among other things. (I really don't know how representative this is of all olim... just my experience.)
Anyway, I was wondering what people thought about your duty to a country once you enjoy those benefits. If you do not intend to serve in the military, as virtually everyone does here, then do you owe the country in other ways?
Then I discovered another piece of interesting information to further challenge my thoughts on citizenship. Apparently, children and grandchildren of people who were denied German citizenship due to racism (ie. me and my brothers) are eligible to become German citizens. Never once have I desired or felt entitled to German citizenship; I don't consider myself German in the least, and yet the idea is rather appealing. First, German citizenship also means E.U. citizenship and it comes with another host of benefits: ability to work all over the E.U., easy freedom of movement, cheaper education and possibly others. Then, I think about my children. Will they regret that I didn't take advantage of this opportunity when I had it? I'm sure the German government won't offer this forever. Finally, when you are a Jew, there is always a little tiny voice in the back of your head that squeaks, "Keep your options open. You just never know," meaning, what if the situation changes in the U.S. and/or Israel and you aren't as welcome as you are today. Always have a backup plan.
So, despite my strong U.S. patriotism, I'm considering it.
And one more wrinkle to the story of citizenship is the plight of Toto Tamuz, the scorer for the soccer team that I watched yesterday, Beitar Yerushalayim. Toto came to Israel from Nigeria when he was 2 years old and was unofficially adopted by an Israeli woman. Because his biological parents arrived illegally, he doesn't have a real Israeli passport and cannot legally travel. So, does the government acknowledge that he has lived here his whole life and grant him a special citizenship or do they deport him to a land that he's never known? And now he's a celebrity! One of the chants from the crowd yesterday was, "Ten l'Toto Ezrachut!" (Give Toto Citizenship!)
The question is so much more complicated in my mind because if I wanted to be Israeli, I would apply and be granted my "right of return" immediately, despite my lack of identification with Israeli culture, and yet this man is a symbol of Israel, playing for one of the best teams, and he cannot.
Anyway, I was wondering what people thought about your duty to a country once you enjoy those benefits. If you do not intend to serve in the military, as virtually everyone does here, then do you owe the country in other ways?
Then I discovered another piece of interesting information to further challenge my thoughts on citizenship. Apparently, children and grandchildren of people who were denied German citizenship due to racism (ie. me and my brothers) are eligible to become German citizens. Never once have I desired or felt entitled to German citizenship; I don't consider myself German in the least, and yet the idea is rather appealing. First, German citizenship also means E.U. citizenship and it comes with another host of benefits: ability to work all over the E.U., easy freedom of movement, cheaper education and possibly others. Then, I think about my children. Will they regret that I didn't take advantage of this opportunity when I had it? I'm sure the German government won't offer this forever. Finally, when you are a Jew, there is always a little tiny voice in the back of your head that squeaks, "Keep your options open. You just never know," meaning, what if the situation changes in the U.S. and/or Israel and you aren't as welcome as you are today. Always have a backup plan.
So, despite my strong U.S. patriotism, I'm considering it.
And one more wrinkle to the story of citizenship is the plight of Toto Tamuz, the scorer for the soccer team that I watched yesterday, Beitar Yerushalayim. Toto came to Israel from Nigeria when he was 2 years old and was unofficially adopted by an Israeli woman. Because his biological parents arrived illegally, he doesn't have a real Israeli passport and cannot legally travel. So, does the government acknowledge that he has lived here his whole life and grant him a special citizenship or do they deport him to a land that he's never known? And now he's a celebrity! One of the chants from the crowd yesterday was, "Ten l'Toto Ezrachut!" (Give Toto Citizenship!)
The question is so much more complicated in my mind because if I wanted to be Israeli, I would apply and be granted my "right of return" immediately, despite my lack of identification with Israeli culture, and yet this man is a symbol of Israel, playing for one of the best teams, and he cannot.
Pics Yet To Share
I mentioned back here that I have an incredible view from my mirpeset, but never gave a visual. The little patch of green on the left is Gan Haatzmaut (Independence Park). The flatish dome in the center is the David Citadel Hotel and if my camera was pointed a little farther to the left you would see the outer walls of the Eer Haatika (Old City).
Back in September, I took a bunch of pics of Tel Aviv. This one makes me smile... the old contrasted with the new view from Neveh Tzedek.
And this pic was taken in East Jerusalem on Palestinian Narrative Day. See the "Peace Medical Center" with the "Smokers Shop" just below. Oy!
When you get a sec, scroll down to the bottom of the page where I added a little something as a solute to the Nev... (mi she'mayveen, yaveen).
Back in September, I took a bunch of pics of Tel Aviv. This one makes me smile... the old contrasted with the new view from Neveh Tzedek.
And this pic was taken in East Jerusalem on Palestinian Narrative Day. See the "Peace Medical Center" with the "Smokers Shop" just below. Oy!
When you get a sec, scroll down to the bottom of the page where I added a little something as a solute to the Nev... (mi she'mayveen, yaveen).
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Tel Aviv: The Hebrew City.... with a nightlife
Thank God for Tel Aviv...
Sometimes you need a break from the frantic frenzy that accompanies Friday afternoon in Jtown. You need to step back from the wild dash for that last ingredient or the final phone call to confirm the address of your lunch invitation. Sometimes it is nice to be apart from the quiet nights of intimate, deep soul searching conversation.
Sometimes it is nice to spend time in Tel Aviv. And that's where I've been since Thursday.
Thursday was another Yom Dorot which focused on the IDF, it's role in Israeli society and it's activities. Among other things we went to a firing range and where I shot a round with the semiautomatic rifle, the galil, and also discovered that I'm not a bad shot. Watch out!
Afterwards, I headed to TA for an asian fusion meal and then off to meet up with friends at TAU. We hit the town in TA fashion, meaning leaving the house after 11pm and arriving home accordingly (sometime after the newspaper was delivered at 6am and before the sun rose around 6:30am). Dancing, drinking, chatting.... all part of the night.
Friday a group of friends headed for a real Teymani (Yemenite) hole in the wall place near Shuk Hacarmel for lunch. Despite the long line outside, we were given a table upon arrival because some of the group are Yemenite regulars. One takes care of one's own in this country.
After a tasty marak adashim (lentil soup), I went to another friend's place for shabbat dinner, stayed over and didn't arrive back in Jtown until the Beitar Yerushalayim game Sat night where Jtown beat Ashdod 2 to 0.
There is more to write about the energetic zeal of the Beitar fans that scared me, about whether the IDF is a moral institution, about the club scene in TA compared to other places and about how the lentils from Yemen are unbelievably tasty... but it's late and the week will start tomorrow early with or without me!
Sometimes you need a break from the frantic frenzy that accompanies Friday afternoon in Jtown. You need to step back from the wild dash for that last ingredient or the final phone call to confirm the address of your lunch invitation. Sometimes it is nice to be apart from the quiet nights of intimate, deep soul searching conversation.
Sometimes it is nice to spend time in Tel Aviv. And that's where I've been since Thursday.
Thursday was another Yom Dorot which focused on the IDF, it's role in Israeli society and it's activities. Among other things we went to a firing range and where I shot a round with the semiautomatic rifle, the galil, and also discovered that I'm not a bad shot. Watch out!
Afterwards, I headed to TA for an asian fusion meal and then off to meet up with friends at TAU. We hit the town in TA fashion, meaning leaving the house after 11pm and arriving home accordingly (sometime after the newspaper was delivered at 6am and before the sun rose around 6:30am). Dancing, drinking, chatting.... all part of the night.
Friday a group of friends headed for a real Teymani (Yemenite) hole in the wall place near Shuk Hacarmel for lunch. Despite the long line outside, we were given a table upon arrival because some of the group are Yemenite regulars. One takes care of one's own in this country.
After a tasty marak adashim (lentil soup), I went to another friend's place for shabbat dinner, stayed over and didn't arrive back in Jtown until the Beitar Yerushalayim game Sat night where Jtown beat Ashdod 2 to 0.
There is more to write about the energetic zeal of the Beitar fans that scared me, about whether the IDF is a moral institution, about the club scene in TA compared to other places and about how the lentils from Yemen are unbelievably tasty... but it's late and the week will start tomorrow early with or without me!
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Easiest. Soup. Ever.
Oversteam broccoli until mushy.
Overboil potatoes until mushy.
Throw broccoli and potatoes and water into blender.
Blend.
Throw mixture back in pot with some "crack soup" and water.
Add touch of cayenne for zing.
Yum!
Overboil potatoes until mushy.
Throw broccoli and potatoes and water into blender.
Blend.
Throw mixture back in pot with some "crack soup" and water.
Add touch of cayenne for zing.
Yum!
Some Amichai Poetry
Always good for the soul...
From "Gods Change. Prayers Are Here to Stay"
10
Even solitary prayer takes two:
one to sway back and forth
and the one who doesn't move is God.
But when my father prayed, he would stand in his place,
erect, motionless, and force God
to sway like a reed and pray to him.
11
Communal prayer: Is it better to ask "Give us peace"
with cries of woe, or to ask calmly, quietly?
But if we ask calmly, God will think
we don't really need peace and quiet.
Y. Amichai
From "Gods Change. Prayers Are Here to Stay"
10
Even solitary prayer takes two:
one to sway back and forth
and the one who doesn't move is God.
But when my father prayed, he would stand in his place,
erect, motionless, and force God
to sway like a reed and pray to him.
11
Communal prayer: Is it better to ask "Give us peace"
with cries of woe, or to ask calmly, quietly?
But if we ask calmly, God will think
we don't really need peace and quiet.
Y. Amichai
Monday, January 22, 2007
Tivol, Tivol... What Would I Do Without You?
Tivol is the brand of packaged vegetarian "shnitzel" that comes in oh so many types in Israel. Thank Heavens for Tivol. I took photos of the grocery store refrigerator for proof.
Top shelf: "Tiras Mexicani" (Mexican flavored corn)
Middle shelf: "Tofu Tiras" (Tofu with corn) and a personal favorite "Tered" (spinach)
Bottom shelf: "Kruvit" (cauliflower), some plain tofu and some more tofu tiras.
In the next refrigerator there is:
Top shelf: the best of the best "brocoli" (I wonder what that's made out of
Middle shelf: It just says "schnitzel" and I can't read what it says under that, but I know they only make veggie products, so no worries... it is probably made out of some fake meat or something.
Bottom shelf: more brocoli and shnitzel
And in the final refrigerator:
Top shelf: "D'vash V'soya b'grill" (honey and soy on the grill) with "haza b'grill" (the taste of lamb on the grill)
Middle shelf: more of the same
Bottom shelf: "haza b'grill eem chili matok" (lamb on the grill with sweet chili) and super hamburger.
Top shelf: "Tiras Mexicani" (Mexican flavored corn)
Middle shelf: "Tofu Tiras" (Tofu with corn) and a personal favorite "Tered" (spinach)
Bottom shelf: "Kruvit" (cauliflower), some plain tofu and some more tofu tiras.
In the next refrigerator there is:
Top shelf: the best of the best "brocoli" (I wonder what that's made out of
Middle shelf: It just says "schnitzel" and I can't read what it says under that, but I know they only make veggie products, so no worries... it is probably made out of some fake meat or something.
Bottom shelf: more brocoli and shnitzel
And in the final refrigerator:
Top shelf: "D'vash V'soya b'grill" (honey and soy on the grill) with "haza b'grill" (the taste of lamb on the grill)
Middle shelf: more of the same
Bottom shelf: "haza b'grill eem chili matok" (lamb on the grill with sweet chili) and super hamburger.
Vote Hillary
As you may have noticed, I added a "Vote Hillary" icon to my blog, throwing my early support behind her for the primaries. Here's my reason:
Fundamentally, I believe that the biggest issues facing any incoming president today are largely internationally based. We now know what happens when we have a president who knows very little about the international scene, how it operates, and why. I do not believe that advisers can compensate for a basic understanding of international politics. I think that Hillary has the experience and the actual comprehension of international politics and the Middle East. Aside from that, she votes like I'd want her to, she has an impressive inner strength that I admire, and I think she might just be the leadership that this country needs.
I am not, as many of you might think, just supporting her because she and I share a gender. That would be the worst reason to support her. I happen to think that she's the best candidate in the field and I encourage more dialogue in the upcoming months.
Fundamentally, I believe that the biggest issues facing any incoming president today are largely internationally based. We now know what happens when we have a president who knows very little about the international scene, how it operates, and why. I do not believe that advisers can compensate for a basic understanding of international politics. I think that Hillary has the experience and the actual comprehension of international politics and the Middle East. Aside from that, she votes like I'd want her to, she has an impressive inner strength that I admire, and I think she might just be the leadership that this country needs.
I am not, as many of you might think, just supporting her because she and I share a gender. That would be the worst reason to support her. I happen to think that she's the best candidate in the field and I encourage more dialogue in the upcoming months.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Worthy of Redemption
I haven't written about the weekly parsha or my midrash class in a long while despite the fact that it continues to get me going in the morning.
Today we discussed: What makes the Hebrews worthy of redemption by God? Why are they saved while the Egyptians must suffer at the hands of the 10 plagues?
The first midrash we looked at was from Midrash Raba on Shir Hashirim. (How it relates to the original passage from shir hashirim is a total mystery to me.) Anyway, the midrash says, "... For four reasons the Israelites were delivered from Egypt: because they did not change their names, because they didn't change their language, because they didn't inform against one another, and because there was not one profligate among them.... [just as]... Reuven and Shimon went down to Egypt, so they went up from it; they did not call Reuven Rufus, nor did they call Shimon Luliani...."
My thoughts: Clearly, the midrash is telling us that the only/main reason for deliverance is shunning assimilation and maintaining internal cohesion. This is interesting because one of the reasons given for the destruction of the Temple was internal fighting and baseless hatred between Jews. Peoplehood and national unity is asserted as crucially important.
But let's talk a second about Reuven becoming Rufus and Shimon becoming Luliani. There's no way either of them would have ever taken those names for the simple reason that those aresilly Roman names and the context at issue is with Egyptians. This is the clue that the midrashic writers are no longer actually addressing an explanation for the deliverance of the Jews from Egypt, but rather the worthiness of Divine attention to the Jews of their times under Roman control. The whole discourse begs the question: In our day, what makes us worthy of deliverance/redemption? Are the four criteria stated above sufficient? Must they all be met for all of us? What does redemption mean at this point? (Maybe these are good questions for the seder this year.)
The next midrash we read was from Rashi. Rashi, in a very convoluted passage, explains that the Israelites didn't have any mitzvot to follow when they were in Egypt, so God gave them two commandments: to offer the sacrifice of the blood of the pascal lamb and he ordered them to do circumcision. The Israelites complied with Heavenly orders immediately, showing their worthiness of deliverance.
This is problematic for a number of reasons. Does God have to test his people before he knows if they are worthy? Don't slaves deserve freedom without jumping through these extraneous hoops? And why all the blood? And didn't God already promise Abraham that he would tend to the generations that would descend from him? How do these two mitzvot make the people worthy?
It is possible, that Rashi was also trying to talk about the importance of following mitzvot to a contemporary audience. He may have been trying to emphasize these particular mitzvot. I think, however, that it is more likely that he was trying to discuss the benevolence of God. He was emphasizing how generous God is for having given the Jewish people the opportunity for deliverance even in the most difficult situations. The mitzvot should be followed because they are a Divine gift, not given to all nations.
Today we discussed: What makes the Hebrews worthy of redemption by God? Why are they saved while the Egyptians must suffer at the hands of the 10 plagues?
The first midrash we looked at was from Midrash Raba on Shir Hashirim. (How it relates to the original passage from shir hashirim is a total mystery to me.) Anyway, the midrash says, "... For four reasons the Israelites were delivered from Egypt: because they did not change their names, because they didn't change their language, because they didn't inform against one another, and because there was not one profligate among them.... [just as]... Reuven and Shimon went down to Egypt, so they went up from it; they did not call Reuven Rufus, nor did they call Shimon Luliani...."
My thoughts: Clearly, the midrash is telling us that the only/main reason for deliverance is shunning assimilation and maintaining internal cohesion. This is interesting because one of the reasons given for the destruction of the Temple was internal fighting and baseless hatred between Jews. Peoplehood and national unity is asserted as crucially important.
But let's talk a second about Reuven becoming Rufus and Shimon becoming Luliani. There's no way either of them would have ever taken those names for the simple reason that those are
The next midrash we read was from Rashi. Rashi, in a very convoluted passage, explains that the Israelites didn't have any mitzvot to follow when they were in Egypt, so God gave them two commandments: to offer the sacrifice of the blood of the pascal lamb and he ordered them to do circumcision. The Israelites complied with Heavenly orders immediately, showing their worthiness of deliverance.
This is problematic for a number of reasons. Does God have to test his people before he knows if they are worthy? Don't slaves deserve freedom without jumping through these extraneous hoops? And why all the blood? And didn't God already promise Abraham that he would tend to the generations that would descend from him? How do these two mitzvot make the people worthy?
It is possible, that Rashi was also trying to talk about the importance of following mitzvot to a contemporary audience. He may have been trying to emphasize these particular mitzvot. I think, however, that it is more likely that he was trying to discuss the benevolence of God. He was emphasizing how generous God is for having given the Jewish people the opportunity for deliverance even in the most difficult situations. The mitzvot should be followed because they are a Divine gift, not given to all nations.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Myrrh Makes Art
On one of the recent past dorot days, we went to a home for the physically handicapped and did printmaking with the residents. For the first time in my life, I did something artistic that I was actually really proud of.
See my printed fish:
See my printed fish:
Responsibility and Its Discontents
Some of you, my faithful readers, must've been wondering... where exactly did Myrrh go for those days that she was gone? Well, I was in Bethlehem. Yes, the city of the Church of the Nativity, where Jesus was born, and yes, located squarely in the West Bank, a fully Palestinian city. I went with a group called, "Encounters" that takes Jewish leaders to learn from Palestinian peace activists what life is like for them on the other side of the Green Line. The trip was not supposed to be "balanced" or a true opportunity for dialogue. It was a setting where we might learn from a particular segment of the Palestinian people in a particular place about their perspective.
It was a very long day and a half. We visited a the Hope Flowers School, an elementary school that is committed to peace education. Then we met with a woman working for the Open Bethlehem Project who talked about her dreams of an international Bethlehem and gave us a tour of the wall surrounding and bisecting the city. She explained how the settlement of Gilo, which is now a large city, is situated on Bethlehem's land, and how the local population is dealing with the new realities. We moved on to listen to a panel of individuals who gave their personal life stories relating to their peace work including hearing the gut wrenching tale of a man whose daughter was killed in a mistaken car shelling and yet remains committed to peace. Next we met with some high school students and played a number of group dynamics games with them. We saw how many of us self identified as "supporting a two state solution" and how few of them self identified as "believing in a Jewish state". At night we relaxed and danced at an Arab restaurant and I slept over in the home of a Greek Orthodox Palestinian family. (I have pictures of them, but feel uncomfortable posting them on the internet without their permission. Sorry.)
The next day, we davenned shacharit in a room with a poster of Arafat on the wall (yikes!) and then met with a man who gave us a more politically oriented lecture. We finished the day with a trip to Nahkalin, with one of its residents who now holds a PhD from Hebrew University in Pharmacology. His impassioned talk was about the conditions of life in his town and what he sees as the future for Israel/Palestine.
Some things I learned:
First, Seeing is believing: I think it is important to say that there was virtually no truly new information. For someone like me who reads the news voraciously and is relatively well versed in the political history of Israel, I didn't hear anything that challenged what I already knew. That said, it is one thing to read about a wall and to see this:
This is a photograph I took of a home that is surrounded on three sides by the Israeli security barrier. I really don't know why it was constructed like this, but the family inside is now stuck. No one will buy their house for obvious reasons, and they can no longer run the business that they used to operate from the ground floor. No options are available to them.
Additionally, the maps of the wall are astonishing. Urban planning by military command.
Second, talk of a binational state. As I understood it, no one today talks seriously about a the possibility of creating a binational state on the original land called Palestine. But I was wrong. The Palestinians know that because of their high birth rates, they will shortly be a majority population between the Mediterranean and the Jordan River, and therefore advocate the establishment of one country on the territory. And I have to say, there is some sort of appeal to my universalistic mind. They talk of one united, secular, democratic country with one man, one vote. I wonder where they got a slogan like that? And hey... it is just like another country I know and love (well, sometimes). But here's the catch. A binational state is NOT a Jewish state. Period. And that's why there aren't any Jews advocating for it. Of course, that begs the question, do we need a Jewish state? And that returns me to my ramblings on Zionism that I discussed way back here. And what about my powerful emotional experience in Germany not 3 weeks ago? Does that play into the discussion?
The truth is not philosophical or theoretical. The truth exists today. Today there is a Jewish state on part of the land called Palestine, and militarily controls the rest of the land. To destroy that which exists today, would cause great pain and possibly the loss of much life. But is there some way to hasten the creation of that other state on the land controlled militarily? I know that I am just one person of MANY who want to see this happen now, but I just can't fathom WHY, WHY, WHY it has taken so long. I mean, I've read the history and I get it that decisions were made one by one, but taken all together, this year will mark 40 years since the 6 Days War. Maspik! Enough!
Third, I must mention specifically how hard it was to hear the story of this man and the death of his child. He, his wife and two daughters had decided to go to the store to get some food (or was it to go for ice cream? I can't remember.) All of a sudden, they heard the shelling and realized that they were shot. (Apparently, Israeli intelligence had received information that a terrorist would be driving that way, but the intended target was in the car following this man's.) When the man heard that the shooting had stopped, he looked backward to see his two daughters covered in blood. They put her in a military medical van which drove the family to the checkpoint. Then they transfered the family to an Israeli Magen David Adom van and rushed her to the hospital in Jerusalem. The 12 year old daughter died in the hospital. The rest of the family survived. (Before you say that the same sort of horrifying story can be told about every family who had relatives die in terrorist attacks, yes, I know. Those stories are equally horrible. This is not a terror competition.) The man just seemed so peaceful telling the whole thing. This happened back in 2003, but he was just so placid. One of the other panelists sitting next to him said something that I truly understood. She said, "Look, George. I think you are a wonderful man. But I don't think I could be you if my child was shot. I think, even today as a peace activist, that I would definitely pick up arms of my child was hurt."
And I totally identified with her. I don't even have children yet, but I'm sure that when I do, protecting them will be priority number 1.
Finally and most importantly this trip challenged me to think more deeply about my responsibility to this situation and this land. As a human, I have a responsibility. As a Jew, as a contributor to the well being of Israel. As an American, as someone who has seen things and read a considerable amount.... I bear some responsibility. But at what level? And how do I determine the right action?
The last speaker was very passionate and he kept saying (by accident, on purpose), "You did this or that." What he meant was, "Israelis have acted in such and such a way." And I am not an Israeli. But for him, he conflated my Jewish identity with Israel. Maybe he conflates everyone on the outside together. But I wanted to say to him, "Oh no, get your enemy straight. I'm not responsible."
I'm here in Israel. There's something about this place that I call my own. And yet, there are parts that I want to disown. Can I take the good without the bad? How do my actions reflect my politics?
No answers today.
More pics below:
This is a landscape taken from Beit Jala looking west toward Gilo. Jerusalem is on the far right of the picture. The tunnel you see in the middle is the Israeli bypass road. Palestinian cars are not allowed on it. There is a clear difference between the trees in the foreground and those in the background. The land in the foreground is still actively tended and harvested by those from Beit Jala who own it. The land past the little valley borders Gilo and is considered no man's land, despite being owned by Palestinians. Gilo is the fortress like housing development in the far background and is considered part of extended Jerusalem.
[When I was in Israel in 2000, the only thing I remember hearing is about the shelling of Gilo from Beit Jala.]
Click on the photo for larger image.
This next photo is not a proper machsom (checkpoint) but rather a road blockage. This road used to go from Bethlehem straight into Jerusalem. Now, it is blocked in many places. People must go to this point, get out of their cars and transfer to another form of transportation.
Initially, we did not go through this point of entry, but rather just walked over a mound of dirt that was placed on the road to block it. Many people go in and out by foot as we did. When we departed, we went through the main machsom, and my only feeling was cattle... we are being herded like cattle. We didn't even show our passports when we left the West Bank and entered into Israel.
Writing about all of this is so exhausting. More later.
It was a very long day and a half. We visited a the Hope Flowers School, an elementary school that is committed to peace education. Then we met with a woman working for the Open Bethlehem Project who talked about her dreams of an international Bethlehem and gave us a tour of the wall surrounding and bisecting the city. She explained how the settlement of Gilo, which is now a large city, is situated on Bethlehem's land, and how the local population is dealing with the new realities. We moved on to listen to a panel of individuals who gave their personal life stories relating to their peace work including hearing the gut wrenching tale of a man whose daughter was killed in a mistaken car shelling and yet remains committed to peace. Next we met with some high school students and played a number of group dynamics games with them. We saw how many of us self identified as "supporting a two state solution" and how few of them self identified as "believing in a Jewish state". At night we relaxed and danced at an Arab restaurant and I slept over in the home of a Greek Orthodox Palestinian family. (I have pictures of them, but feel uncomfortable posting them on the internet without their permission. Sorry.)
The next day, we davenned shacharit in a room with a poster of Arafat on the wall (yikes!) and then met with a man who gave us a more politically oriented lecture. We finished the day with a trip to Nahkalin, with one of its residents who now holds a PhD from Hebrew University in Pharmacology. His impassioned talk was about the conditions of life in his town and what he sees as the future for Israel/Palestine.
Some things I learned:
First, Seeing is believing: I think it is important to say that there was virtually no truly new information. For someone like me who reads the news voraciously and is relatively well versed in the political history of Israel, I didn't hear anything that challenged what I already knew. That said, it is one thing to read about a wall and to see this:
This is a photograph I took of a home that is surrounded on three sides by the Israeli security barrier. I really don't know why it was constructed like this, but the family inside is now stuck. No one will buy their house for obvious reasons, and they can no longer run the business that they used to operate from the ground floor. No options are available to them.
Additionally, the maps of the wall are astonishing. Urban planning by military command.
Second, talk of a binational state. As I understood it, no one today talks seriously about a the possibility of creating a binational state on the original land called Palestine. But I was wrong. The Palestinians know that because of their high birth rates, they will shortly be a majority population between the Mediterranean and the Jordan River, and therefore advocate the establishment of one country on the territory. And I have to say, there is some sort of appeal to my universalistic mind. They talk of one united, secular, democratic country with one man, one vote. I wonder where they got a slogan like that? And hey... it is just like another country I know and love (well, sometimes). But here's the catch. A binational state is NOT a Jewish state. Period. And that's why there aren't any Jews advocating for it. Of course, that begs the question, do we need a Jewish state? And that returns me to my ramblings on Zionism that I discussed way back here. And what about my powerful emotional experience in Germany not 3 weeks ago? Does that play into the discussion?
The truth is not philosophical or theoretical. The truth exists today. Today there is a Jewish state on part of the land called Palestine, and militarily controls the rest of the land. To destroy that which exists today, would cause great pain and possibly the loss of much life. But is there some way to hasten the creation of that other state on the land controlled militarily? I know that I am just one person of MANY who want to see this happen now, but I just can't fathom WHY, WHY, WHY it has taken so long. I mean, I've read the history and I get it that decisions were made one by one, but taken all together, this year will mark 40 years since the 6 Days War. Maspik! Enough!
Third, I must mention specifically how hard it was to hear the story of this man and the death of his child. He, his wife and two daughters had decided to go to the store to get some food (or was it to go for ice cream? I can't remember.) All of a sudden, they heard the shelling and realized that they were shot. (Apparently, Israeli intelligence had received information that a terrorist would be driving that way, but the intended target was in the car following this man's.) When the man heard that the shooting had stopped, he looked backward to see his two daughters covered in blood. They put her in a military medical van which drove the family to the checkpoint. Then they transfered the family to an Israeli Magen David Adom van and rushed her to the hospital in Jerusalem. The 12 year old daughter died in the hospital. The rest of the family survived. (Before you say that the same sort of horrifying story can be told about every family who had relatives die in terrorist attacks, yes, I know. Those stories are equally horrible. This is not a terror competition.) The man just seemed so peaceful telling the whole thing. This happened back in 2003, but he was just so placid. One of the other panelists sitting next to him said something that I truly understood. She said, "Look, George. I think you are a wonderful man. But I don't think I could be you if my child was shot. I think, even today as a peace activist, that I would definitely pick up arms of my child was hurt."
And I totally identified with her. I don't even have children yet, but I'm sure that when I do, protecting them will be priority number 1.
Finally and most importantly this trip challenged me to think more deeply about my responsibility to this situation and this land. As a human, I have a responsibility. As a Jew, as a contributor to the well being of Israel. As an American, as someone who has seen things and read a considerable amount.... I bear some responsibility. But at what level? And how do I determine the right action?
The last speaker was very passionate and he kept saying (by accident, on purpose), "You did this or that." What he meant was, "Israelis have acted in such and such a way." And I am not an Israeli. But for him, he conflated my Jewish identity with Israel. Maybe he conflates everyone on the outside together. But I wanted to say to him, "Oh no, get your enemy straight. I'm not responsible."
I'm here in Israel. There's something about this place that I call my own. And yet, there are parts that I want to disown. Can I take the good without the bad? How do my actions reflect my politics?
No answers today.
More pics below:
This is a landscape taken from Beit Jala looking west toward Gilo. Jerusalem is on the far right of the picture. The tunnel you see in the middle is the Israeli bypass road. Palestinian cars are not allowed on it. There is a clear difference between the trees in the foreground and those in the background. The land in the foreground is still actively tended and harvested by those from Beit Jala who own it. The land past the little valley borders Gilo and is considered no man's land, despite being owned by Palestinians. Gilo is the fortress like housing development in the far background and is considered part of extended Jerusalem.
[When I was in Israel in 2000, the only thing I remember hearing is about the shelling of Gilo from Beit Jala.]
Click on the photo for larger image.
This next photo is not a proper machsom (checkpoint) but rather a road blockage. This road used to go from Bethlehem straight into Jerusalem. Now, it is blocked in many places. People must go to this point, get out of their cars and transfer to another form of transportation. Initially, we did not go through this point of entry, but rather just walked over a mound of dirt that was placed on the road to block it. Many people go in and out by foot as we did. When we departed, we went through the main machsom, and my only feeling was cattle... we are being herded like cattle. We didn't even show our passports when we left the West Bank and entered into Israel.
Writing about all of this is so exhausting. More later.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Over and Out....
This will be my last post until probably after Shabbat. I am heading out of town tonight and won't be back until Fri late, and then Shabbat comes in. I'll also be away from email access, so if you need to reach me, pick up the phone! Lila tov, ya'll
Monday, January 15, 2007
Horrified and Angry
Just so you don't think that I am completely cut off from the world and not paying attention, I just want everyone to know that as I ramble on about hasidut and the Jewish community, I am reading the news about Iraq, about the decapitation of the hanged man, about Condi's visit here not a full block from my apartment, about the political wrangling: more troops, less troops, about a warmer Earth, about corruption here. I'm listening. I'm horrified and I'm angry.
Reb Bunim's final words: Jewish Enthusiasm
I don't actually know what Reb Bunim's final words were, but our class at Yakar on Preschyska hasidut is winding down, and this is the final story that we learned from him. Here is the story in my own loose translation.
Reb Bunim told this story:
When the first hasidim became followers of the Besht, the Evil Urge was distraught thinking that the world will be set ablaze with these hasidim's holiness. So the Evil Urge did something about it. He disguised himself, pretended to be someone else, and went to the two hasidim living in a town. He said to them, "What a great service you have. But shouldn't you pray together as a minyan (with 10 people)?" The Evil Urge fetched eight of his men to come and pray with the hasidim. Then the Evil Urge saw that the hasidim didn't have money for a Torah or a building, so he brought a rich man to the town to cover their expenses. And then the Evil Urge said, "I don't need to be worried about anything anymore. We are now the majority and that is what counts."
Oy!
So many questions! Like, what's so bad with providing a small community with the people and resources so they may pray within the prescribed structure? Why doesn't the Evil Urge try to just woo the original hasidim to the dark side? Why were the original hasidim so holy in the first place that the world was on the brink of being set ablaze by their holiness? What is really going on here?
I think it is important to note a bit about context. Reb Bunim was a hasidic rabbi from Preschyska. Meaning that he was both a follower of the Besht in a sense and also different. Some of Reb Bunim's stories are critical of the Besht's approach and sometimes Reb Bunim seems to support the followers of the Besht, like in the story above.
This is how I read the story: The original hasidim were holy and impassioned by the teachings of the Besht, so much so that the trappings of structure were unnecessary to their relationship with the Divine. They were able to create the fire in their souls despite their lack of a fully established community. This distressed the Evil Urge and so he operated under the maxim, "If you can't beat em, join em." From his evil followers, he planted 8 members and the riches to create all the structure that the hasidim might want. On the surface, this seems like a good thing, but what happens when one of the Evil Urge members decides to leave? Now the community is beholden to every single member. And what if the rich man wants to institute new rules and regulations on the community? Can the two original hasidim exert any control over what the community will become?
I think this story is particularly relevant to the Jewish community in America. Right now, there is an emphasis on recruitment, as if being part of the Jewish people required some sort of membership card. And while I understand this sentiment, I really think it is being handled all wrong. Actively recruiting people to be part of a nation that they are already a member is just absurd. Rather, if the original people burn with the blaze of holiness (which doesn't necessarily mean communing with God, it can be anything. It can mean exuding enthusiasm) then people will naturally follow. This unnatural growth, symbolized in the story by the Evil Urge, creates a kind of disingenuous community, that may eventually lose its soul.
This story could also be read as a a real indictment of philanthropy in the Jewish community too. Many Jewish philanthropies believe that they are helping the community by just throwing money at groups. Jews existed and flourished when they were poor as when they were rich, so I don't think it is the answer. On the organization side, communities have to remember that riches operate on supply and demand too. When supply goes up, so does demand... sometimes the more you have, the more you want. (I can hear the voices of those young communal groups saying, "Oh, if only we could pay an administrator to do all the junk associated with this community." But I warn you, and so does Reb Bunim, that once you have that administrator, it will create all sorts of new wants and desires that suddenly will become urgently important needs. As long as you want to do something else than raise funds and administer, keep those desires modest and don't flirt with the gifts of the Evil Urge.
Reb Bunim told this story:
When the first hasidim became followers of the Besht, the Evil Urge was distraught thinking that the world will be set ablaze with these hasidim's holiness. So the Evil Urge did something about it. He disguised himself, pretended to be someone else, and went to the two hasidim living in a town. He said to them, "What a great service you have. But shouldn't you pray together as a minyan (with 10 people)?" The Evil Urge fetched eight of his men to come and pray with the hasidim. Then the Evil Urge saw that the hasidim didn't have money for a Torah or a building, so he brought a rich man to the town to cover their expenses. And then the Evil Urge said, "I don't need to be worried about anything anymore. We are now the majority and that is what counts."
Oy!
So many questions! Like, what's so bad with providing a small community with the people and resources so they may pray within the prescribed structure? Why doesn't the Evil Urge try to just woo the original hasidim to the dark side? Why were the original hasidim so holy in the first place that the world was on the brink of being set ablaze by their holiness? What is really going on here?
I think it is important to note a bit about context. Reb Bunim was a hasidic rabbi from Preschyska. Meaning that he was both a follower of the Besht in a sense and also different. Some of Reb Bunim's stories are critical of the Besht's approach and sometimes Reb Bunim seems to support the followers of the Besht, like in the story above.
This is how I read the story: The original hasidim were holy and impassioned by the teachings of the Besht, so much so that the trappings of structure were unnecessary to their relationship with the Divine. They were able to create the fire in their souls despite their lack of a fully established community. This distressed the Evil Urge and so he operated under the maxim, "If you can't beat em, join em." From his evil followers, he planted 8 members and the riches to create all the structure that the hasidim might want. On the surface, this seems like a good thing, but what happens when one of the Evil Urge members decides to leave? Now the community is beholden to every single member. And what if the rich man wants to institute new rules and regulations on the community? Can the two original hasidim exert any control over what the community will become?
I think this story is particularly relevant to the Jewish community in America. Right now, there is an emphasis on recruitment, as if being part of the Jewish people required some sort of membership card. And while I understand this sentiment, I really think it is being handled all wrong. Actively recruiting people to be part of a nation that they are already a member is just absurd. Rather, if the original people burn with the blaze of holiness (which doesn't necessarily mean communing with God, it can be anything. It can mean exuding enthusiasm) then people will naturally follow. This unnatural growth, symbolized in the story by the Evil Urge, creates a kind of disingenuous community, that may eventually lose its soul.
This story could also be read as a a real indictment of philanthropy in the Jewish community too. Many Jewish philanthropies believe that they are helping the community by just throwing money at groups. Jews existed and flourished when they were poor as when they were rich, so I don't think it is the answer. On the organization side, communities have to remember that riches operate on supply and demand too. When supply goes up, so does demand... sometimes the more you have, the more you want. (I can hear the voices of those young communal groups saying, "Oh, if only we could pay an administrator to do all the junk associated with this community." But I warn you, and so does Reb Bunim, that once you have that administrator, it will create all sorts of new wants and desires that suddenly will become urgently important needs. As long as you want to do something else than raise funds and administer, keep those desires modest and don't flirt with the gifts of the Evil Urge.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
More Random Germany Pics to Share
When I arrived in the Berlin central train station, the first thing I saw was this gigantic shimmering Christmas tree... and it wasn't until I got closer that I realized it was COVERED in Swarovski crystals. This picture does NOT do it justice in the least.
These are silly, random people on the streets of Berlin. Cool, huh?
I wanted proof, goshdarnit, that I was in Berlin. So, here's me at the Brandenburg Gate. And one of the main hazards of traveling alone is that there isn't anyone to take your picture at these critical moments. So you make do photographing yourself. Why I'm not smiling is totally unexplainable.
I'm easily amused by signs like this one. The old DBG would be proud.
These are silly, random people on the streets of Berlin. Cool, huh?
I wanted proof, goshdarnit, that I was in Berlin. So, here's me at the Brandenburg Gate. And one of the main hazards of traveling alone is that there isn't anyone to take your picture at these critical moments. So you make do photographing yourself. Why I'm not smiling is totally unexplainable.
I'm easily amused by signs like this one. The old DBG would be proud.
Friday, January 12, 2007
How Could I Have Forgotten?
As I ramble on about my own refugee center place to host guests, I completely forgot to give all the thanks in the world to my incredible hosts in Potsdam. I contacted my old roommate in Berlin, hoping just to be able to see her. And she invited me to stay with her sister, her sister's husband, and two adorable children. See for yourself, pics below!
Having home cookin and real, sophisticated conversation alongside excellent tour guiding made the whole trip extra special. DANKE SCHON Juliane, Norbert, Charlotte and Jonathan!
Old roomie, AH, and Jonathan:
Charlotte has no idea how lucky she is to live right next to this beautiful palace in Potsdam:
AH and I are photographing ourselves.
The happy family (right to left): Norbert, Charlotte, Juliane, Jonathan and me.
Having home cookin and real, sophisticated conversation alongside excellent tour guiding made the whole trip extra special. DANKE SCHON Juliane, Norbert, Charlotte and Jonathan!
Old roomie, AH, and Jonathan:
Charlotte has no idea how lucky she is to live right next to this beautiful palace in Potsdam:
AH and I are photographing ourselves.
The happy family (right to left): Norbert, Charlotte, Juliane, Jonathan and me.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Comfort Food, Israel Style
I'm in a mat'tzuv'ra'chat (bad mood) today, for no apparent siba (reason) except that I'm stressed and overwhelmed with applications and my mech'kar (research) ... which is ho'lech tov (going well), but seems daunting.
So I'm eating comfort o'chel (food) l'a'ru'chat erev (for dinner), consisting of:
Leftover Soup (Marak M'leftovers... I don't know how to say leftovers.)
This soup is made by taking all the leftover veggies in the refrigerator, sauteeing them, adding some soup broth and simmering for a while. Yum!
(Today this consisted of: onion, tomato, zucchini, carrot, celery, and other stuff I can't remember.)
Cucumbers and Chumus (Chumus V'Me'la'fa'fone)
Slice cucumbers so they can be used for dipping.
Dip liberally in Chumus Charif (spicy Chumus).
For dessert:
Persimmon Parfait (A'far'si'mon Ka'nu'ach)
Slice persimmons into chunks (they are the round ones here that are hard and shaped like apples).
Sprinkle with light amount of balsamic vinegar
Add some dried cranberries
Add some cottage cheese
Top with some muesli (sort of like granola)
So I'm eating comfort o'chel (food) l'a'ru'chat erev (for dinner), consisting of:
Leftover Soup (Marak M'leftovers... I don't know how to say leftovers.)
This soup is made by taking all the leftover veggies in the refrigerator, sauteeing them, adding some soup broth and simmering for a while. Yum!
(Today this consisted of: onion, tomato, zucchini, carrot, celery, and other stuff I can't remember.)
Cucumbers and Chumus (Chumus V'Me'la'fa'fone)
Slice cucumbers so they can be used for dipping.
Dip liberally in Chumus Charif (spicy Chumus).
For dessert:
Persimmon Parfait (A'far'si'mon Ka'nu'ach)
Slice persimmons into chunks (they are the round ones here that are hard and shaped like apples).
Sprinkle with light amount of balsamic vinegar
Add some dried cranberries
Add some cottage cheese
Top with some muesli (sort of like granola)
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Reading at T'mol Shilshom aka Another LONG post
T'mol Shilshom is the title of a book by S.Y. Agnon and is also the name of a cafe, restaurant, bookstore, literary haven in the center of Jtown. For those of you visiting, we'll make a pilgrimage for sure.
Tonight, I presented the readings below as the culmination of the first term of my creative writing class. All my speech and debate skills flowed forth....
This was my introduction:
The first reader is Myrrh (obviously used my real name). She is living in Jerusalem this year as a Dorot Fellow and hails from PTown, OR. She is most often inspired to write by real life events, which are, as they say, MUCH stranger than fiction. Also, she wants everyone to know that she doesn't steal anything.... anymore.
...
By way of explanation before I copy my story: The prompt for writing this story asked us to think of a time where something was so important we'd be willing to lie or steal for it. This was presented in relationship to the Biblical story of Ya'akov, who steals the birthright from his brother and lies to his father to confirm it. For the record, this is a vast over dramatization of actual events. Sorry, mom! Anyway, here goes:
My mother thought that a gum wrapper would do. Or possibly a receipt or the torn corner of an index card. All these would have been sufficient in her eyes. When your family is financially strapped, you make do with cereal box tops for bookmarks. Reading was important, but keeping your place certainly didn’t warrant a glorious device. You didn’t pay good money for such a thing. Who needs a fancy bookmark anyway?
But really, she didn’t understand. I needed one of those bookmarks hanging on the tiny rounder at register at Books N Things. I loved that store. It was close enough to walk to all by myself, which of course spelled great independence for my 9 year old person. I made weekly pilgrimages where the store clerks would point out the newest arrivals. They never minded that I cluttered the aisle with all my desired purchases.
As much as my mother did not believe in fancy bookmarks, she did believe in books, so purchase we did. I racked up quite a collection of everything from the newest sci fi paper back to young adult how to’s.
But every time we went to the cash register to buy my newest interest, those glossy bookmarks hung there, teasing me. They were stiff with a brightly colored tassel and were covered with a quote declaring the importance of reading above all else. Yes, I wanted one of those bookmarks more than anything, more than life…. (I was a dramatic child, what can I say?)
So one day, utterly consumed with the covetous passion for that which wasn’t mine, I removed one of the bookmarks and took it home. I’m sure they didn’t cost more than $2, but for a family like ours, that would impact the daily accounting. To my mother’s credit, she was right. Why should her middle child possess such an unnecessary object when her other 3 children were duct taping their sneakers to make them last one more season? Why should her only daughter benefit from $2 for something to be soon discarded when there were other school supplies like crayons and paints and notebooks that actually enhanced our educational and artistic experience?
And she was also considering my development. She thought, “If Marissa starts receiving such vain gifts, what will she want next? In 10 minutes, she’ll be demanding a pony and stable!" So, I took the bookmark home, treasured it, tucked it into the pages of my most favored hard cover and … sure enough, was promptly discovered, my evil deed exposed.
Furious, she grabbed me by the arm and did the worst thing possible, worse that washing my mouth out with soap or grounding me to my room for an indefinite period of time. Her punishment amounted to humiliation par excellence. It was painful, horrific. In silence, we walked the quarter mile back to Books N Things and returned the stolen contraband.
Did I know I was wrong? Sure. Stealing was way up there on the list of no nos. It even made the big 10 alongside killing and lying. But I also felt like there was no justice in the world. My parents scraped together everything they could muster to send me to private school, which meant that yes, I could quote the poem Hiawatha at a disturbingly young age, but in that private educational sphere, I was surrounded by people who vacationed in Barbados and swam in private heated pools in their backyards.
Just weeks earlier, Jenny had asked me where I got my new Tshirt and when I replied, “It was a hand me down,” she stared at me, shocked and replied disgustedly, “You wear other peoples’ clothes?!”
I had never been to a new clothing store and thought everyone wore their older brother’s or bigger neighbor’s clothing. I had thought my lifestyle was entirely normal.
But Jenny exposed the raw spot that had always existed but remained hidden for years. She knew what it was like to remove tags from new outfits for the first time…. I wasn’t even sure what an “outfit” was… The rainy season for her meant new yellow puddle hoppers, for me it meant stuffing my shoes with plastic grocery bags.
I look back on my brief, (very brief I assure you) stint as a thief with a combination of shame and acceptance. Without a doubt, the stolen bookmark presented a lesson to me in right and wrong. But I also look back on a former Marissa who was consumed with envy and lacked overall perspective.
I still love bookstores and I often clutter the aisle with all my heart desires. And now that I make my own money, I can choose to spend $2 on one of those glossy, tasseled bookmarks. But I don’t. Receipts, corners of index cards and cereal box tops work just fine for me!
....
And then I read another poem: Ode to Bellydancing 2. (see here for the first rendition)
“Skinny girls are boring,” you say,
winking,
observing the round, wide hips of your admirers.
“Wrap yourself in pink, purple, gold.
Shiny studded jewels, many dazzling bracelets,” you approve.
“Modesty is how your shoulders shimmy,”
“Drum the baladi rhythm with each hip.
Let your knees tremble, but never appear.
Float your arms, snakes emanating from your body.”
Separate. Parts. Individually. Punctuate: chest, wrist, waist.
You detail every isolated movement.
And what of your adherents, your devotees?
Those that cast off their shy, body consciousness?
Women who bare stomachs
that will never grace the cover of Vogue Magazine.
What of the special ones who learn to balance swords on their heads,
and play finger sized cymbals?
What do you say to your dancers?
I hear you speaking.
I drink your message.
“Reach outside those rigid rules,” you preach.
Undulate in front of the mirror and
Value the curvy lines my body creates.
Smile at the sparkle of unnecessary glamour.
Wrap myself in silk scarves, revealing only eyes, unravel telling a story:
teasing, tantalizing, titillating.
Glow in my God-given shell
Tonight, I presented the readings below as the culmination of the first term of my creative writing class. All my speech and debate skills flowed forth....
This was my introduction:
The first reader is Myrrh (obviously used my real name). She is living in Jerusalem this year as a Dorot Fellow and hails from PTown, OR. She is most often inspired to write by real life events, which are, as they say, MUCH stranger than fiction. Also, she wants everyone to know that she doesn't steal anything.... anymore.
...
By way of explanation before I copy my story: The prompt for writing this story asked us to think of a time where something was so important we'd be willing to lie or steal for it. This was presented in relationship to the Biblical story of Ya'akov, who steals the birthright from his brother and lies to his father to confirm it. For the record, this is a vast over dramatization of actual events. Sorry, mom! Anyway, here goes:
My mother thought that a gum wrapper would do. Or possibly a receipt or the torn corner of an index card. All these would have been sufficient in her eyes. When your family is financially strapped, you make do with cereal box tops for bookmarks. Reading was important, but keeping your place certainly didn’t warrant a glorious device. You didn’t pay good money for such a thing. Who needs a fancy bookmark anyway?
But really, she didn’t understand. I needed one of those bookmarks hanging on the tiny rounder at register at Books N Things. I loved that store. It was close enough to walk to all by myself, which of course spelled great independence for my 9 year old person. I made weekly pilgrimages where the store clerks would point out the newest arrivals. They never minded that I cluttered the aisle with all my desired purchases.
As much as my mother did not believe in fancy bookmarks, she did believe in books, so purchase we did. I racked up quite a collection of everything from the newest sci fi paper back to young adult how to’s.
But every time we went to the cash register to buy my newest interest, those glossy bookmarks hung there, teasing me. They were stiff with a brightly colored tassel and were covered with a quote declaring the importance of reading above all else. Yes, I wanted one of those bookmarks more than anything, more than life…. (I was a dramatic child, what can I say?)
So one day, utterly consumed with the covetous passion for that which wasn’t mine, I removed one of the bookmarks and took it home. I’m sure they didn’t cost more than $2, but for a family like ours, that would impact the daily accounting. To my mother’s credit, she was right. Why should her middle child possess such an unnecessary object when her other 3 children were duct taping their sneakers to make them last one more season? Why should her only daughter benefit from $2 for something to be soon discarded when there were other school supplies like crayons and paints and notebooks that actually enhanced our educational and artistic experience?
And she was also considering my development. She thought, “If Marissa starts receiving such vain gifts, what will she want next? In 10 minutes, she’ll be demanding a pony and stable!" So, I took the bookmark home, treasured it, tucked it into the pages of my most favored hard cover and … sure enough, was promptly discovered, my evil deed exposed.
Furious, she grabbed me by the arm and did the worst thing possible, worse that washing my mouth out with soap or grounding me to my room for an indefinite period of time. Her punishment amounted to humiliation par excellence. It was painful, horrific. In silence, we walked the quarter mile back to Books N Things and returned the stolen contraband.
Did I know I was wrong? Sure. Stealing was way up there on the list of no nos. It even made the big 10 alongside killing and lying. But I also felt like there was no justice in the world. My parents scraped together everything they could muster to send me to private school, which meant that yes, I could quote the poem Hiawatha at a disturbingly young age, but in that private educational sphere, I was surrounded by people who vacationed in Barbados and swam in private heated pools in their backyards.
Just weeks earlier, Jenny had asked me where I got my new Tshirt and when I replied, “It was a hand me down,” she stared at me, shocked and replied disgustedly, “You wear other peoples’ clothes?!”
I had never been to a new clothing store and thought everyone wore their older brother’s or bigger neighbor’s clothing. I had thought my lifestyle was entirely normal.
But Jenny exposed the raw spot that had always existed but remained hidden for years. She knew what it was like to remove tags from new outfits for the first time…. I wasn’t even sure what an “outfit” was… The rainy season for her meant new yellow puddle hoppers, for me it meant stuffing my shoes with plastic grocery bags.
I look back on my brief, (very brief I assure you) stint as a thief with a combination of shame and acceptance. Without a doubt, the stolen bookmark presented a lesson to me in right and wrong. But I also look back on a former Marissa who was consumed with envy and lacked overall perspective.
I still love bookstores and I often clutter the aisle with all my heart desires. And now that I make my own money, I can choose to spend $2 on one of those glossy, tasseled bookmarks. But I don’t. Receipts, corners of index cards and cereal box tops work just fine for me!
....
And then I read another poem: Ode to Bellydancing 2. (see here for the first rendition)
“Skinny girls are boring,” you say,
winking,
observing the round, wide hips of your admirers.
“Wrap yourself in pink, purple, gold.
Shiny studded jewels, many dazzling bracelets,” you approve.
“Modesty is how your shoulders shimmy,”
“Drum the baladi rhythm with each hip.
Let your knees tremble, but never appear.
Float your arms, snakes emanating from your body.”
Separate. Parts. Individually. Punctuate: chest, wrist, waist.
You detail every isolated movement.
And what of your adherents, your devotees?
Those that cast off their shy, body consciousness?
Women who bare stomachs
that will never grace the cover of Vogue Magazine.
What of the special ones who learn to balance swords on their heads,
and play finger sized cymbals?
What do you say to your dancers?
I hear you speaking.
I drink your message.
“Reach outside those rigid rules,” you preach.
Undulate in front of the mirror and
Value the curvy lines my body creates.
Smile at the sparkle of unnecessary glamour.
Wrap myself in silk scarves, revealing only eyes, unravel telling a story:
teasing, tantalizing, titillating.
Glow in my God-given shell
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Weekending in Europe: Where Would You Go?
So here's the deal. I'm going to Budapest with my fellowship and they're picking up the bill. If I want to go somewhere for the weekend before the Budapest seminar, they are happy to book the flight for me, with me paying the difference between the original and the newly booked flight.
So basically, I'm thinking about spending a weekend somewhere else fun in Europe. Any suggestions? Amsterdam is the frontrunner because a good friend is studying there so I could see her and have a place to crash. I could also finagle places to sleep in London and Paris, but I've been to both twice. The entire country of Italy is out of the question because I'm positive that one weekend is woefully inadequate and will leave me just wanting more. Or I could entertain the idea of going somewhere totally random. Thoughts or suggestions?
So basically, I'm thinking about spending a weekend somewhere else fun in Europe. Any suggestions? Amsterdam is the frontrunner because a good friend is studying there so I could see her and have a place to crash. I could also finagle places to sleep in London and Paris, but I've been to both twice. The entire country of Italy is out of the question because I'm positive that one weekend is woefully inadequate and will leave me just wanting more. Or I could entertain the idea of going somewhere totally random. Thoughts or suggestions?
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Refugee Center at Chez Isaak
I hope that I can always be in the kind of living situation where I have extra sofa space, extra mattresses, blankets, sheets and towels and people know that they can come by and at the very least they can have tea, coffee and a bissel to eat along with their resting place.
Friday night: Refugee Center: Chez Isaak in JTown
Scene setting: I walk home from dinner with two friends who are walking farther north. One is heading to his apartment, the other is walking in the direction of the communal cabs back to Tel Aviv. It is approximately midnight.
Story: Thankfully, I stay awake for another hour or so reading or otherwise busying myself. Then, all of a sudden I hear a little pat, pat, pat on the door. Curious, I go to the front door and inquire who's there. It is the friend that departed just an hour back who can't get into his apartment. He has his key, but the lock seems jammed. If this were any other male friend in the world, I would suspect a set up to "sleep over," but with this friend, I'm confident that it's legit. I pull out my sleeping bag and arrange a bed for him on the couch.
We chat for another 20 minutes, and then my phone rings. It is the other friend who was trying to get back to Tel Aviv... apparently there aren't any of those communal cabs so late on Friday night. Can she also crash at my place? Absolutely!
I actually loved having both the guests over and my only regret was that I didn't have real beds for them to stay in. Now, of course, having guest rooms also means having a sufficiently large living space. And I have a limited budget and roommates. But I think I want to make that a priority in future apartment searches.
...
One of the many things I loved about my apartment in SF was our spare futon and my roommates' general readiness to entertain guests overnight. We knew that we were very lucky to live in a beautiful city, in a lovely neighborhood, so we shared as much as possible.
...
I will have the opportunity to properly host MI and DC, JH, and MY PARENTS this year in Jtown. Bring em on!
Friday night: Refugee Center: Chez Isaak in JTown
Scene setting: I walk home from dinner with two friends who are walking farther north. One is heading to his apartment, the other is walking in the direction of the communal cabs back to Tel Aviv. It is approximately midnight.
Story: Thankfully, I stay awake for another hour or so reading or otherwise busying myself. Then, all of a sudden I hear a little pat, pat, pat on the door. Curious, I go to the front door and inquire who's there. It is the friend that departed just an hour back who can't get into his apartment. He has his key, but the lock seems jammed. If this were any other male friend in the world, I would suspect a set up to "sleep over," but with this friend, I'm confident that it's legit. I pull out my sleeping bag and arrange a bed for him on the couch.
We chat for another 20 minutes, and then my phone rings. It is the other friend who was trying to get back to Tel Aviv... apparently there aren't any of those communal cabs so late on Friday night. Can she also crash at my place? Absolutely!
I actually loved having both the guests over and my only regret was that I didn't have real beds for them to stay in. Now, of course, having guest rooms also means having a sufficiently large living space. And I have a limited budget and roommates. But I think I want to make that a priority in future apartment searches.
...
One of the many things I loved about my apartment in SF was our spare futon and my roommates' general readiness to entertain guests overnight. We knew that we were very lucky to live in a beautiful city, in a lovely neighborhood, so we shared as much as possible.
...
I will have the opportunity to properly host MI and DC, JH, and MY PARENTS this year in Jtown. Bring em on!
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Most emotional moments
Biggest brother's wish is my command... more descriptions of Germany were demanded so here goes:
Germany wasn't such an emotional experience for me. I wasn't there to learn about the Holocaust or relive my grandparents' exile? relocation? from their home country. I viewed the trip as an opportunity to learn more about them as people, hoping that their birthplaces would reveal something intangible about who they were. For most of my life, I lived across the country from them and never really had a sense of who they were as individuals. They continue to live on as icons in family mythology (something that has its good and bad).
With all this in mind, I went to schul on Shabbat morning in Berlin. I chose which synagogue to attend very scientifically, based solely on which one was easiest to reach. I arrived at the address and didn't see anything that resembled a schul, but there was a police officer outside who pointed me towards a small door. This schul was completely enclosed from the main street by an apartment complex that was either built around the old schul or something.
After being searched and walking through a metal detector (I think I got "light" treatment because I spoke to the searcher in Hebrew) I entered a lovely smallish schul. I was greeted by the former rebbetzin of the place who told me that many of the attendees were Russian... she said she was kind of antisemitic... but the Jewish kind. Hmmmmm....
Then the service started. It wasn't my cup of tea religiously: there was an organ, a choir, a cantor who performed the service, and it skipped over pesukei dizimra entirely... but it was still really exciting. I kept thinking, "Wow, this is probably just like the service that my grandmother must've attended." And truthfully, it was all very familiar. (My German friends with whom I stayed asked me whether I would understand anything because they assumed it would be in German. I assured them that that's what unifies Jews everywhere, we pray in Hebrew.) The Torah was read in hechi kedusha style.
And then directly following the Torah reading we stood and recited the Prayer for the State of Israel in German.
Woah!
Then I started to cry. Big, heavy, teary, wet, loud sobs.
I just couldn't help it. There was so much emotion for me in praying for the safety of the State of Israel, inside an old German synagogue, in German while thinking about the circumstances of my own grandparents departure from this very place, all at the same time considering that I currently live in the center of Jerusalem.
Oy! I'm critical of the State of Israel, more than most. I'm angry at things the government has done and if I was running the show here in Jerusalem, it would be very different. But nobody in the 30s had the luxury of uttering this prayer.
I don't like to think about the connections between the Holocaust and the existence of Israel mostly because I don't want to admit that the world only allowed Jews to have their own state after they recognized that they were victims of such horrific genocide. I don't like to believe that Jews only sought out there own land because of their fear. I don't want to be part of a nation whose peoplehood is dependent on their victimhood. I understand the message of "Never Again," but I don't want to be defined by it.
And all that is balanced against what I know is true about the treatment of the Jewish people (and lots of other victims) of the Nazi regime.
So davenning in Berlin was a good reminder of lots of things. It reminded me how important Hebrew is to our people. It reminded me how grateful I am to have lived at a time where I can live a free life and practice Judaism freely. And I was reminded how much I value Israel.
Germany wasn't such an emotional experience for me. I wasn't there to learn about the Holocaust or relive my grandparents' exile? relocation? from their home country. I viewed the trip as an opportunity to learn more about them as people, hoping that their birthplaces would reveal something intangible about who they were. For most of my life, I lived across the country from them and never really had a sense of who they were as individuals. They continue to live on as icons in family mythology (something that has its good and bad).
With all this in mind, I went to schul on Shabbat morning in Berlin. I chose which synagogue to attend very scientifically, based solely on which one was easiest to reach. I arrived at the address and didn't see anything that resembled a schul, but there was a police officer outside who pointed me towards a small door. This schul was completely enclosed from the main street by an apartment complex that was either built around the old schul or something.
After being searched and walking through a metal detector (I think I got "light" treatment because I spoke to the searcher in Hebrew) I entered a lovely smallish schul. I was greeted by the former rebbetzin of the place who told me that many of the attendees were Russian... she said she was kind of antisemitic... but the Jewish kind. Hmmmmm....
Then the service started. It wasn't my cup of tea religiously: there was an organ, a choir, a cantor who performed the service, and it skipped over pesukei dizimra entirely... but it was still really exciting. I kept thinking, "Wow, this is probably just like the service that my grandmother must've attended." And truthfully, it was all very familiar. (My German friends with whom I stayed asked me whether I would understand anything because they assumed it would be in German. I assured them that that's what unifies Jews everywhere, we pray in Hebrew.) The Torah was read in hechi kedusha style.
And then directly following the Torah reading we stood and recited the Prayer for the State of Israel in German.
Woah!
Then I started to cry. Big, heavy, teary, wet, loud sobs.
I just couldn't help it. There was so much emotion for me in praying for the safety of the State of Israel, inside an old German synagogue, in German while thinking about the circumstances of my own grandparents departure from this very place, all at the same time considering that I currently live in the center of Jerusalem.
Oy! I'm critical of the State of Israel, more than most. I'm angry at things the government has done and if I was running the show here in Jerusalem, it would be very different. But nobody in the 30s had the luxury of uttering this prayer.
I don't like to think about the connections between the Holocaust and the existence of Israel mostly because I don't want to admit that the world only allowed Jews to have their own state after they recognized that they were victims of such horrific genocide. I don't like to believe that Jews only sought out there own land because of their fear. I don't want to be part of a nation whose peoplehood is dependent on their victimhood. I understand the message of "Never Again," but I don't want to be defined by it.
And all that is balanced against what I know is true about the treatment of the Jewish people (and lots of other victims) of the Nazi regime.
So davenning in Berlin was a good reminder of lots of things. It reminded me how important Hebrew is to our people. It reminded me how grateful I am to have lived at a time where I can live a free life and practice Judaism freely. And I was reminded how much I value Israel.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Photoessay 2: Aschaffenburg
Whew! I made it back to Jerusalem, safely and soundly around 5am, back to the stone buildings, back to the freezer temperature apartments, back to the car alarms from 6:04am to 6:36am. Yes, home... for now at least.
I have so much to write about, but I know that my family is just itching for photographs. I'm starting with the middle of my trip (cuz why not?), my visit to Aschaffenburg, the my grandfather's hometown. As I wrote here, I was shocked to discover that it was a really cute, and even hip place. Most importantly it is where my great grandfather Julious is buried. Now, I'm not really big on cemeteries. It isn't that I'm scared, but more that I'm more interested in dynamic live culture than the past. But one thing I realized about being in the cemetery... they aren't sad. No, having a cemetery plot means that you died of some cause or another and the people around you were able to say kaddish and grieve and you were given the proper respect owed to a person who is deceased. When you see the photos, you'll know why I was thinking this.
Welcome to Aschaffenburg. It was a pretty grey day so the photos didn't take very well... Could also have something to do with the photographer, but not sure... :) Right outside the trainstation, this is the hustle bustle that was taking place. Remember that you can click on the pictures for a larger image.
Walking a few blocks into the center of the town, you arrive at this lovely square. I tried as hard as I could to try and capture photos of old things, thinking that maybe I could show them to Ilse and see what she remembers... but it is pretty hard to tell as everything looks like it just received a fresh coat of paint.
There was a little fruit and veggie market going on. Thank God because I hadn't eaten any vegetables since arriving in the country and my tummy was very angry.
Behind the square is the schloss, the main visitor attraction of this and many other towns in Germany.
After checking this out, I moved pretty quickly to the cemetery. I didn't know how difficult it was going to be to get someone to open the gate to the freidhof (cemetery), but thankfully it was open. Right at the entry, there is this monument to those that died on Kristalnacht (I think... can someone confirm the German for me?)
If anyone wants to go back and find Julious' gravesite, it is right where my dad said it would be front, left hand side. For anyone paying attention, the script on his last name looks a little like "Jsaak".... are we sure of our name? Anyone? Anyone?
Julious must have been a zionist, after all the family had originally planned to go to Palestine. Then he died and the visa was revoked, right? (Folks, we have to get this story right, so please fill in details/corrections in the comment section.) I brought Julious a stone from Jerusalem. He was quite pleased.... I gave him a run down of where everyone is in the world and what we're up to. He asked me to tell the family he's very proud.
See the stone resting on his tombstone here.
After my making my acquaintance and chatting for a while with Julious, I went around to inspect and say hi to the other folks buried with Julious. There were Cohanim with fancy tombstones....
And tombstones whose text was totally gone, either stolen, broken or something else.
There were rememberances to people who didn't have the honor of a proper burial.
And then there were curious burials such as this one. These people were the only people buried here after 1945 and they died in 1995. Not only that, but they are Jewish, but someone put a Christian remembrance light near their grave. Weird.
So that's all I'm gonna put up at the moment. Of course, I have more photos from Aschaffenburg and other parts of the trip, but they'll go up in doses over the next few days. Take care and Happy New Year (Silvester) to all those in HUL... that's hutz la'aretz or outside the country meaning outside Israel.
I have so much to write about, but I know that my family is just itching for photographs. I'm starting with the middle of my trip (cuz why not?), my visit to Aschaffenburg, the my grandfather's hometown. As I wrote here, I was shocked to discover that it was a really cute, and even hip place. Most importantly it is where my great grandfather Julious is buried. Now, I'm not really big on cemeteries. It isn't that I'm scared, but more that I'm more interested in dynamic live culture than the past. But one thing I realized about being in the cemetery... they aren't sad. No, having a cemetery plot means that you died of some cause or another and the people around you were able to say kaddish and grieve and you were given the proper respect owed to a person who is deceased. When you see the photos, you'll know why I was thinking this.
Welcome to Aschaffenburg. It was a pretty grey day so the photos didn't take very well... Could also have something to do with the photographer, but not sure... :) Right outside the trainstation, this is the hustle bustle that was taking place. Remember that you can click on the pictures for a larger image.
Walking a few blocks into the center of the town, you arrive at this lovely square. I tried as hard as I could to try and capture photos of old things, thinking that maybe I could show them to Ilse and see what she remembers... but it is pretty hard to tell as everything looks like it just received a fresh coat of paint.
There was a little fruit and veggie market going on. Thank God because I hadn't eaten any vegetables since arriving in the country and my tummy was very angry.
Behind the square is the schloss, the main visitor attraction of this and many other towns in Germany.
After checking this out, I moved pretty quickly to the cemetery. I didn't know how difficult it was going to be to get someone to open the gate to the freidhof (cemetery), but thankfully it was open. Right at the entry, there is this monument to those that died on Kristalnacht (I think... can someone confirm the German for me?)
If anyone wants to go back and find Julious' gravesite, it is right where my dad said it would be front, left hand side. For anyone paying attention, the script on his last name looks a little like "Jsaak".... are we sure of our name? Anyone? Anyone?
Julious must have been a zionist, after all the family had originally planned to go to Palestine. Then he died and the visa was revoked, right? (Folks, we have to get this story right, so please fill in details/corrections in the comment section.) I brought Julious a stone from Jerusalem. He was quite pleased.... I gave him a run down of where everyone is in the world and what we're up to. He asked me to tell the family he's very proud.
See the stone resting on his tombstone here.
After my making my acquaintance and chatting for a while with Julious, I went around to inspect and say hi to the other folks buried with Julious. There were Cohanim with fancy tombstones....
And tombstones whose text was totally gone, either stolen, broken or something else.
There were rememberances to people who didn't have the honor of a proper burial.
And then there were curious burials such as this one. These people were the only people buried here after 1945 and they died in 1995. Not only that, but they are Jewish, but someone put a Christian remembrance light near their grave. Weird.
So that's all I'm gonna put up at the moment. Of course, I have more photos from Aschaffenburg and other parts of the trip, but they'll go up in doses over the next few days. Take care and Happy New Year (Silvester) to all those in HUL... that's hutz la'aretz or outside the country meaning outside Israel.
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