Children of Israel - Part 1

I found one of my favourite places in Israel today: a beautiful, massive, well-tended park. The park is liberally gifted with fruit trees, including some of the Shiv'at HaMinim, the Seven Species of produce with which the Land of Israel is notably blessed.* But besides the trees, the grass, the tranquility and the rolling masses of space dedicated to peaceful recreation and relaxation, I was most enthralled with the children.

Children are special. Or at least, children are people whose specialness easily shines outwards, whose specialness is not yet clouded by the deadening habits and ways of a society of norms, convenient character-boxing, and dismally low self-image. Children don't care what the world thinks of them. Children see the world without self-deception; they believe what they see, and they engage in it with totality. If a child is sad, he cries. If a child is happy, he dances and sings and smiles. Contrast with the world of 'grown-ups': if an adult cries, we assume there is some mortifying tragedy whose grief has caused this person to lose control. If an adult would start singing and dancing and smiling and laughing, most people would assume that he had lost his mind.

Why must it only be the children who taste life undiluted? Why must it only be the children who see things as they truly are? Why do we have to paint masks over our faces, cramp and constrict our ways, thoughts, ideas: our very souls? Why must we deaden and dull ourselves, to live emotionally constricted, experientially choked existences? We need to do some serious lightening up; we need to live with freshness, eagerness, innocent curiosity, and deep, honest passion. The child within us is still alive. Let it play! And sing and dance and cry and love and smile...

Of course, our experience and life lessons learned teach us things that children don't know, such as considering other people with more profundity and broadness, such as the necessity for rules and order and systems ('Why can't I have chocolate before I go to bed?!'), such as becoming more in touch with ourselves, with those people around us, and with G-d, such as understanding that our actions bear consequences in the world... But even so, such life's lessons don't need to weigh heavily upon us. We often get lost in the rules and systems and norms, and forget that they're only there to create order, and not to determine the very essence of who and what we are...

I love children. And when I see them, living life with no instructions or rules or restrictions on how they should feel, experience, live, I am inspired and refreshed. The children remind me to live in reality. The children inspire me to live passionately. The children remind me to throw away worry of what anyone else will think of me, but to listen to my soul, and to live, real life, like I once knew how...

So, what's special about the park; why is it now one of my favourite places? And what's special about the children of Israel? Look out for my next article in this series: Children of Israel - Part 2

Picture from here.

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* 'For HASHEM [G-d] your G-d is bringing you into a good land: a land of rivers of water; springs and depths coming forth in the valley and in the mountain. A land of wheat and barley, and grape and fig and pomegranate; a land of olive oil and [date] honey' - Devarim 8:7-8

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The Wrong Kind of People

The chase was on! In a rash challenge to my friends, I had chosen to take the lift (elevator) up to the cinema level of the shopping centre, while they had taken the escalator. Who would get there first? Time was crucial; everything was at stake!

I waited impatiently, as the seconds ticked by, for a lift to arrive: things were not looking good for my chances at winning. Suddenly, a lift stopped on my floor, and its doors opened. I rushed inside, to find a couple and their child, with dark skin of Indian or Muslim origin. I hurriedly asked them whether the lift was on its way up or down, and explained to them the urgency of the situation. They reassured me that they were also on their way up to the next floor, and the husband smilingly suggested to me that I tell my friends that I'd been delayed by the 'wrong kind of people.' As the lift's doors opened, just before I rushed out, I smiled at him and said, 'I don't think so.'

Unfortunately, I lost the race; my friends were waiting for me when I arrived. But the incident came back to me later, and on reflection, I see that it teaches a profound point. I heard Rabbi Mordechai Machlis say once in the name of Rav Shlomo Carlebach: "A person is never in the wrong place." In its simplicity, this statement carries great profundity. Nothing is for nothing; nothing is by chance. Our smallest interactions and experiences have purpose, relevance, and, if we can discover it, meaning. As Jews, we understand that there is a Master, who crafts and forms His plan: nothing is for nothing, nothing is by chance. We, and our lives and experiences, are woven into the plan, although our understanding of the context and relevance of the parts we play are at most dim and vague.

When I told the pleasant stranger in the lift in a brief phrase that I didn't think that he and his family were 'the wrong type of people,' I really meant it. They had been kind, had seen the humour, had been sympathetic to my situation. They were, as far as I'm concerned, the right kind of people, and, although our interaction was very brief, it was a pleasure to have to do with them. How many of our family, friends and acquaintances are the 'right kind of people'? How many people are we indeed privileged to know or to interact with; how many do we take for granted?

Shavua tov

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(Image from here)

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'Definitely, Maybe' & Hidden Treasure

I recently watched the movie, 'Definitely, Maybe' (PG13)*. It's a romantic film, with elements of comedy in it, set mostly in New York. Most of the other moviegoers in the cinema enjoyed the movie but I was positively disturbed by it. Here's why.

The movie is the story, mostly told as a kind of bedtime story to his daughter, of a man's convoluted and troubled love life. He finds himself bouncing back and forth, over the years, between three women, finding great attraction and infatuation with each of them, at different stages almost marrying two of them, finally marrying one, and divorcing one, years after having his daughter with her. It's a quirky and intelligent movie, but the comfort and identification that I imagine most viewers felt when seeing this movie were not present in me. Instead, I felt shock, sadness, and great despair.


First, understand where I'm coming from. I was brought up in a Torah home, and I've lived as a Torah Jew all my life. All the messing around between boys and girls (inluding dating 'just because', something I still cannot grasp) has never been a part of my life. Most of the relationships I see in my circles are wholesome and stable, with virtually no externally visible intimacy; it's kept very private. In the context of today's world, I am blessed and substantially sheltered. Despite my upbringing, I am certainly not naive, and I know what relationships are like today. But the social norms and contexts that this movie illustrates still hit me hard. It shocks me that so many thousands of people, so many thousands of people who are not stupid, deal in some of the most powerful, potent, and sensitive areas of the human experience with such nonchalance, indifference, and stupidity. Why do so many people, who can do so many other things efficiently and in balanced, clever ways, utterly fail to use any intelligence when it comes to matters that are so close to the heart, matters so powerful and yet so delicate?

The free and easy touching, physical intimacy, and sex that are so prevalent in society today are a sweet poison, a glamourised bomb. They look so tantalizing, they're so appealing, they awaken and satisfy the most powerful desires known to man (and woman). And yet, especially in contexts of looseness and casualness, they are perhaps the most destructive forces in the world (besides Facebook ;))

How are these things destructive? What happens is that the growing young man or woman becomes filled with a desire for connection, connection with the opposite sex. Well, that's great, but what do we do with it? The short way is to dive right in, like everybody else does; to get a boy/girlfriend, and to get busy. That's perfectly acceptable in today's Western society (I remember, though, when there was just a little more dignity and morality than there is today.... but things have changed). When the sparkle and the excitement wears thin, as will almost inevitably happen in such cases, the couple 'breaks up', and moves on. It was fun, it was fulfilling for a while, but now I feel the emptiness again, and you're not doing it for me any more... So I look for someone new, and the cycle continues... At some point, we may marry, because it's convenient, it seems right, but after a while, the same old ghosts come to haunt us again: we're still empty, this isn't working; let's 'break up' -- in this instance, divorce.

At a game we were playing on a Shabbaton once, a 6th grade kid remarked in context, 'oh, marriage and divorce are pretty much the same thing.' I was rattled. I understood that this was not just a telling comment of a kid, but also a symptom of a generation: a generation that cannot love, a generation with hearts torn to shreds because it just can't go about love the right way. The problem with the short way to intersexual (between the sexes) fulfilment described above is that it almost never works. A young person, whose heart is full, hooks up with someone nice, someone beautiful, for the physicality of it: he's a hunk, she's gorgeous, s/he makes me feel so good. And when it's over, all of the 'me' that s/he invested in the relationship crashes to the ground. It's gone, it's over. Thinking about this picture objectively, we can come to no conclusion other than it's just plain crazy. We are taking sweet poison: it feels so good, but it breaks me up inside, tears me to shreds. Who can recover from something like that?

Not many people. So, the victims (and almost everyone is a victim) somehow pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and limp along their paths. But once burned, twice shy, and they will hesitate a lot before 'making the same mistake' as before, before committing themselves to intimacy and deep closeness with someone of the opposite sex. Why? Because it hurts so much! But the hurt is only because it failed; why not try again? Because who needs hurt like that! It might just happen again. So we build up high brick walls, and any relationships we may get into will lack the full-heartedness of our first innocent love, will be pumped with blood from a still-wounded heart. The very saddest thing about this is that it's a cycle; it happens again and again, and we rip our hearts to shreds again and again. The saddest part is also that it happens to almost everyone. What is so tragic in the movie is that the poor man lives unhappily for years, unable to find content and fulfilment. His youthful "plan" of a good, idealistic life fades into a painful game of imperfect, bittersweet relationships. Who, in a society with complete openness and explicitness of the most intimate things, can escape unharmed? Who can possibly be immune?

"Can't buy me love!", sing the Beatles and it's very true. Well, if we can't buy it, how can we get love? How can we approach love with more intelligence and less heartache? Getting back to our young, single man or woman, our first step is that s/he wants to connect with someone of the opposite sex. This is the most natural thing, and is a very positive feeling. So, once again, what do we do with it? Diving in to free, casual intimacy has proven to bring disastrous results. What is our alternative?

I'll answer with a story:

There was once a poor peasant, who earned enough to survive by peddling trinkets. One day, he had a strange and disturbing dream: he was instructed to travel to a distant city, and to dig under a bridge. There, he would find a great treasure. The peddler disregarded the dream, but it came back, night after night, until he could no longer ignore it. He packed up a little bundle of food, and set off for the faraway city. After many days he arrived at the city, and made his way to the bridge. He began to dig, but was soon stopped by a patrolling policeman. 'What are you doing?' screamed the guard. The poor peddler told the guard his story, and of his journey to come to find the treasure he had dreamt about. The guard laughed uproariously. 'Hah! Well, what do you know, I had a dream too! I dreamt that, in a faraway village, there lives a poor peddler, just like you, in a little stone hut. And hidden in the wall behind his stove is a great treasure. Dreams! What a waste of time! Hah!" The peddler said nothing, but turned himself around and set out for his village. As soon as he arrived home, he began to take apart the stone wall behind his stove. And, to his joy, he did indeed find a great treasure. He was a rich man for the rest of his life.

The story is usually rounded off by a 'moral' message that sometimes the greatest treasures are right under our noses, and that sometimes is takes a journey to discover what lay so close by. But in our case, we can learn more from this simple story: we can learn about treasure. That which is precious must be guarded and concealed, but first, it must be recognized and valued. If we don't value something, what prevents us from throwing it away, even if it is really valuable?

Physical intimacy between man and woman is a treasure; it's valuable, precious and powerful. It allows the single, incomplete man to join with the single, incomplete woman, and to bring deepest intimacy and connection between them. In fact, G-d Himself joins in their union, if it is one of morality and love. Used correctly, coupled with deep spiritual connection and responsible commitment and trust, it dispels the feelings of loneliness and emptiness in the single human being, and fills him and her with love, unity and connection. If we realize that physical intimacy is a precious tool, we will certainly not be nonchalant in our use of it. We will use it sparingly; we'll keep it in storage until we're sure the time is right for its use. We will treasure it, and keep it safe and out of the public eye. We will share it only with our closest and most trusted, with our most beloved.

This is the key that so many people are missing. In their search for real, deep fulfilment, they grab hold of the physical side of the connection gateway, because it's easy and available, and completely disregard the spiritual side, because it requires patience and restraint. But when the physical is disconnected from the spiritual, it cannot stand for very long. Time passes, lines show, bodies age. Without a solid spiritual connection, and without a solid grounding of commitment and trust, lovers, partners, and spouses drift apart; they're still empty, still haven't found what they're looking for...

So how does this relate to us? If we want to have a good shot at life without having to break our hearts many times over, let's try to recognize the sanctity and preciousness of connection between man and woman, and to preserve it as something special and private. If you have a girlfriend or boyfriend, try to minimize physical contact in public. After you've done that for a while, try only to kiss or hug people you are truly very close to; not just any acquaintance or friend. Then, go on to reserving kisses and hugs even with your boy/girlfriend for very special occasions. Ideally, work towards what G-d, in His wisdom, prescribes: don't touch anyone of the opposite sex until you're married!** All this may sound difficult, and, in the context of today's Western society's values, backward and foolish. However, if you progress slowly along, keeping in mind what we've discussed above, you will definitely see that your physical interactions become more valued and special, and less commonplace and casual. Touching will become exciting again, like it was the first few times. And all the hands-off time will allow you both to work on connecting on the spiritual side, and on the commitment to each other as human beings, without getting clouded up by the excitement and distortions of casual, free touch.

And if you haven't gotten into the world of touch with the opposite sex, hold on! You can work towards the harmony and love in your marriage even before you've met your spouse! Difficult though it may be, your restraint in these areas translates to working to minimize your own broken-heartedness and pain for the future, saving other people the same heartache too, and to maximize the depth and intimacy of your connection with your future spouse.

May we use our relationships with intelligence, love, passion and holiness. May G-d bring about the meetings and unions of His children with their soulmates.

• If you're interested in reading more about these issues, read The Magic Touch and Outside/Inside by Gila Manolson, and Doesn't Anyone Blush Anymore? by Rabbi Manis Friedman
• For an article by Gila Manolson on this topic, click here.
• The image used above is from here.
  

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* Rated PG13. Please see here for a breakdown on the 'non-kosher' elements of the movie.
** This excludes immediate family

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Megilla in the Park: We Come to You!

I just saw a heart-warming article from Arutz 7, about an incredible initiative for Megilla reading on Purim. In the midst of a difficult national, communal, and personal period, it is so uplifting to read about initiatives like these.

The idea of this wonderful organization called Lev Yehudi is that so many 'secular' Jews in Israel feel uncomfortable with going into a shul to hear the Megilla being read. So, they are organizing lots of Megilla readings in more neutral or relaxed environments, such as parks, private homes, and offices. There is a lot of interest for these events, which is so inspiring to hear. The people behind Lev/Rosh Yehudi understand that there are so many people who want to hear the Megilla, to connect to the deep spiritual aspects of Purim and Jewish life in general, but who are scared of entering shuls because of media- or culturally-spread prejudice, bad experiences in the past, or a feeling of discomfort with the strict and seemingly uncompromising ritual and its proponents, the 'religious' Jews. So, instead of bringing the people to the Megilla, Rosh Yehudi brings the Megilla to the people! What a wonderful idea, and what awesome love for one's fellow Jew.

We often are led to believe that Israeli society is so polarized, but here is proof, or a reminder, that things are so often not what they seem... just like Purim.

For more details, please read the article over here.

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Never Again - Merkaz Harav - A Poem

And in all the noise, the silence fills my ears,
It engulfs me, and I can no longer hear.

Bullet, bullet, click, click
Fresh wounds, wounds of 'Why',
Meaningless colours change the face of the sky,
Blinded eyes, so cold, so cold.
Silenced blood, cooling mud.
Lead in our hearts,
our heart,
our
body falls, falls again.
One more time, one last time.

Muscles cold, cold as snow.
Eyes glazed, face broken,
Life is not the same.
Never the same, no,
Never again.
In all this molasses,
we said,
Never again.

Bullet to brain, bullet to brain.
In all this molasses,
What's in my name?
Root of your game?
Again and again,
You murder and maim.
Yet, yes, in all this molasses,
we said,
with the scars of our pain,
crippled and shamed,
after torture and slaughter,
again and again:
NEVER again,
we said,
NEVER again:
A rock or a bomb or a bullet,
the same.

What's in my name?Your hate is insane.
Again and again, just for my name,
What's in your brain?
Poison coils and roots its evil,
entrenched and cemented,
it's part of you!

I can't try to explain,
To a world of hatred and
twisted window panes.
I can only stretch again
my scarred, weary tough arm
Raise my gun, eyes prayerward, Heavenward
Tie my boots and take aim:
Again, and Again...

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Pride at a Robot

I had a simple, yet profound, experience the other day.

If you've been to South Africa, or if you read Madam & Eve, you'll know that one of the things that characterizes life in South Africa is the 'street vendors', the guys who stand at street corners, in the middle of the road, trying to sell you wire hangers, newspapers, little people and bicycles made of wire, and many other things, or just begging for a few coins or for something to eat. Huge unemployment makes these common sights.

A bit of a twist on the usual is where a guy will offer you a service, which you're expected to pay for. This can be cleaning your windscreen as you wait at a robot (the South African term for traffic lights), or holding out a big black bag for you to throw your rubbish into. As I mentioned, you're expected to give the man a bit of money in exchange for the service he has made available to you.

I was in my car the other day, waiting at a robot, when a man with a black bag approached my car. I am generally quite free with giving out money to people who are collecting at a robot, but for some reason, that day I didn't feel like getting out my wallet, finding a coin, opening my window, etc. I was in a rush to get somewhere for Shabbat, and I was focused on my travel route and the traffic. But I mentally nudged myself, and thought, why not just give the guy something. So I found a coin, and opened my window. As I gave the man the money, he said to me, "Thank you. My business has been quite slow today." I said something in reply, and drove off.

As I drove off, I was suddenly bowled over by what the man had said to me. Of all people, doing any kind of work to earn a bit of money to support themselves between now and tomorrow, to call what they are doing a business, this man, effectively (to my mind) just a step up from a beggar, would come right near the bottom of my list. I simply did not expect him to think of himself as a businessman, and of his day's work as a business. I suddenly realized that I had been privileged to interact with this man. He had such a positive outlook, such a confidence in himself, that was, to me, so unexpected. He was in such a lowly position, and yet he viewed himself with pride and with dignity.

When we talk about humility and arrogance, about self-denigration and self-confidence, concepts that often seem to be blurred and mixed with each other, we have a wonderful example to unblur the confusion. Here is a man who seems to be lowly and downtrodden, but upon closer inspection, we see that he is filled with pride; pride for himself, and pride for what he is achieving and accomplishing in his life; with what he has been given. This is the ultimate humility, and can be no further from arrogance. Humility doesn't mean that you look at yourself as the lowest of the low. It means that you see yourself for what you truly are, with true and honest appreciation for your talents and abilities and for the good that you accomplish in the world. It also means that, in the light of honesty and truth, you see all your limitations, failures and weaknesses. But it certainly does not mean that you see yourself as rubbish... this is false humility, and is a very dangerous and destructive mindset to have...

I was privileged to meet a wonderful, proud, humble human being, at the robot the other day...

Photo from this page

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Smile! :)

Shalom, world! :)

This is my first post to Tzipiyah.com. I'm very excited to be a part of this awesome project. A great yeyasher koach to Dan Ilouz for the initiative and all his efforts!

I live in South Africa. It's a good and beautiful place in many respects (although of course it's just not Israel). In fact, I just bought another pet elephant yesterday; my brother's riding him out to the shopping mall ;-) But seriously, things haven't been so wonderful here lately. Crime, our infamous problem, has been on the rise, and we're having a national electricity crisis: the provider can't produce enough for the booming population of city-dwellers. This has had a major impact on people's personal and business lives, and is significantly damaging the country's economy.

Looking around me, I find that a lot of people, including me, are getting depressed. We South Africans are easy-going, "chilled" people in general ('sweeeeet, broe'), but a lot of people are not taking the current situation well. There's a lot of fear, a feeling of a big unknown, and uncertainty about the future. A lot of people are leaving the country, including hundreds to Israel! :) (The aliyah organization is actually battling to cope with all the aliyah applications!)

But I was reminded of something that Rebbe Shlomo Carlebach says about happiness. Describing Reb Nachman of Breslov's approach to happiness and sadness, Rebbe Shlomo explains that sadness is a focusing on what one doesn't have, while joy is a focusing on what one does have, right this moment. Rebbe Shlomo explains:

"What is the difference between sadness and joy? Joy really fills
you: whatever you have is fuller; and sadness empties you out. 'I
don't have this, I don't have that,' so even what you have you don't
have. People walk around sad because they don't know what to do
with their future. You have this minute right now. What are you
doing with it? The difference between sadness and joy is very simple.
Sadness always tells you, 'Oy Vey! What are you going to do in ten
minutes? What will you do ten years from now?' If you are really
filled with joy for one minute, then you will know what to do the
next minute also.

What is G-d giving you? He is giving you this minute. He hasn't
given tomorrow, He promised He will give tomorrow. Of course I
don't know what to do tomorrow, because I didn't receive it yet.
Sadness is very much concerned with what I don't have, and I really
don't have tomorrow yet."

(From: 'Reb Nachman on Joy', at this site with great teachings of Reb Shlomo)

It's amazing what a difference this can make to your life. We all have situations that are difficult,
times that are tough. But the difference between sadness and real joy is really all in your mind.
It's a choice -- a difficult one, often; but a choice. Live in the moment. I know that this has made a great difference to me in tough situations in the past: if I just focus on this immediate moment, everything looks a lot better... when we realize that G-d has given us this moment, right now, to fill with meaning, it makes the past and the future comparatively almost insignificant... especially in terms of worrying.

Rebbe Shlomo ends his talk with the following inspiring words:

"In the end Reb Nachman says, 'I want you to know that all this
talk is really meaningless, because how can I tell you to be happy? It
is up to everyone himself, but I am begging you to be happy.'"

May we all merit to be happy!
May we see the true happiness of the final Redemption of our world, very very soon!

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Bmakom shein anashim, hishtadel lihiyot ...a tractor man

Unfortunately today Israel appears to be in a constant state of danger; the rise of Hamas, the threats of Iran and the international pressure on the government to continue to make painful unilateral concessions in the name of the dream of a future peace. Sitting here in New York City I find myself often steaming over my morning paper frustrated by my distance and inability to help, and terrified as to the future of my beloved country.

However, I take strength in my personal experience from a couple of summers ago, when I spent six weeks in Israel, in midst of the Israeli-Lebanese War. This experience and lesson can best be personified by two words: “Tractor Man.”

Need a little more explanation? Let me tell you a little story…


About a week before I was leaving back to the States for the summer, a few friends finally managed to drag me away from my work to take a nice day tiyul out to Ein Gedi. The day started out simply enough. We packed up food, plenty of water and actually managed to get on the right bus.

The only question was where to get off.

Realizing we were approaching Ein Gedi, we consulted the bus driver who informed us that we had in fact missed our stop. In typical Israeli bus driver manners, he let us off at the next stop with no other instructions as to how to find our way to the hiking sites. No matter, being the resourceful women that we were, we headed to the information booth at the gas station across the highway. Having consulted a map on the side of the booth, roughly equivalent to a schoolchild’s drawing, we started walking along the highway confident we had figured out the way.

Then the shoulder to the highway disappeared. Then it started to turn uphill. Note to self: walking alongside of a busy highway, in middle of the day, in the Israeli sun: not a good idea.

Having hiked for over twenty minuets with no nature reserve in sight, we collapsed under the first semblance of shade, unsure as to our next step. We realized we clearly had misjudged the direction, but could hardly fathom turning around and heading down that hill again. Tired and confused, we just sat for the moment.

And then he came… “Tractor Man”

We saw him from a distance. A dark skinned, skinny man in a big floppy hat, driving down the hill in his tractor. Despite every warning from my parents not to talk to strangers, I flagged him over to the side of road. The minute he began to speak I really started to worry. In a high pitch, almost girly voice, with a thick Middle Eastern accented Hebrew he asked me- “pretty, pretty girls, why are you sitting on the side of the road? Pretty girls are you lost?” However sketchy this man looked and sounded, beggars can’t be choosers and we were in desperate need of some help, so I stood along the side of the highway and explained our situation to Tractor Man.

With a big smile Tractor Man explained that we “pretty girls” had managed to walk about 2 kilometers uphill in the wrong direction, but no worries, he would save us. He said he had seen many lost tourists in the area, but so many people mistook him for an Arab that they would not stop him for help until they were desperate. But, as we pretty, pretty girls were so nice and sweet- he would save us. And save us he did. He gave us a large bottle of ice water and drove off down the hill in his tractor, only to return ten minutes later with his truck which we all piled into. Not only did he drive us over to Ein Gedi nature reserve, he actually took us to an ancient Synagogue which was in the area and attempted to entreat the cashier to give us an exclusive tour of the area.

Interesting story - but not seeing the relevance?

We never expected our “savior” to come riding in to the sunlight on a beaten tractor, but despite the off putting appearance and mannerisms, Tractor Man was a sweet man just looking to help a fellow person out of a jam.

In short, things aren’t always how they first appear.

The same holds true to what the situation was in Israel that summerl, as well as in general. The first week of the war, my mom called me up and insisted that she was watching “Israel go up in flames” on television. This was not a single perception of the matzav, but a consensus of the numerous friends and colleagues who were concerned enough to call and email to check up on me.

And truth, while I knew that even as I sat in my dorm, my classroom or my office in Yerushalyem, katushas and kassam rockets were falling just miles away in the northern and southern regions of the country, I could easily forget at the same time. Day to day life in most of Israel had continued just as it had days, weeks and months before the war broke out. Each day I waited with my 8:30 bus crew for the sluggish 21 bus to make its way to our stop. Each morning I picked up my chocolate milk from the makolet by my think tank If it weren’t for the nature of my work which had me examining Middle Eastern policy and international politics, I could have easily gone the summer oblivious to what was happening and leading an enjoyable summer vacation. However odd and inconceivable that may sound based on the images that were flashing across the international media, pictures sometimes are deceiving. Even in a state of war, Yerushalyem remained a quiet safe haven, far removed from the violent and terrifying images people perceived.

At the same time, the peaceful image, or perhaps mirage that we constructed for ourselves living in Israel that summer, also was not the reality. While the pictures on television were a distant threat, the war hit home with many of us on a very personal level as the summer progressed. Other than my boss, there was just one other worker, Shlomo, in my office. Though a constant annoyance with his teasing and tendency to randomly break out into a “Bob Dylan classic,” he was always there to help, entertain, or simply serve as a distraction. One day I was in the office and in desperate need of some help, totally stumped on my project, but Shlomo was no where to be found and was not answering his phone. My boss walked in about midday with the simple announcement that Shlomo was called up reserve duty in Lebanon. By the end of the summer I had four friends serving in the army, four amazing guys who had to put their life on hold, and in danger to help protect our country.

And as the summer progressed my 21 bus was no longer just filled with weary passengers traveling to and from work, but with families with their belongings packed high in an assortment of rag tag luggage- duffel bags, pocket books, trash bags. Families fleeing from the North swarmed into Yerushalayem, filling empty dormitories on campuses such as the Yeshiva University campus in Bayit Vegan with whatever they could carry. I was lucky enough to befriend an amazing and special family from Tzfat, which was forced to flee after having spent two weeks in a bomb shelter. This family of seven kids was overwhelmed when they were welcomed into a simple 3 bedroom apartment, and was insist ant that they needed only one room for their use and others families could move into the rest of the apartment. As I got to know Reut, Yehudit, Bat – El and the rest of the family, I realized that however peaceful and unaffected my summer was in spite of the war, many others were not as lucky.

Things are not always what they seem, and it’s our responsibility to look past the obvious and attempt to recognize what is really there. Perhaps as students with little income and less free time, we don’t appear to be the ones who can help pull Israel through this tough time. But maybe, just maybe, each one of us can be a Tractor Man and help put Israel and our fellow effected Jews back on the right course towards a more peaceful and serene future. We each can do our part, making our own contributions, whether it is through prayer, political action or simple words of support to those in Israel today. Don’t let appearances fool you, each one of us can have a powerful impact in our own small way.

Each one of us can be a Tractor Man for those lost on the side of a busy highway.

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Chulent in a can and religious freedom in Ramat Gan

When I served in the IDF's Netzach Yehuda (Nahal Hareidi) battalion, we used to be issued cans of what is called Luf during field exercises. Luf is a canned meat, similar in consistency to dog food, and is highly reminiscent of SPAM. There are two versions of Luf, the glatt version that was issued to the religious soldiers, and the regular version (still kosher) issued to regular troops. I never thought that it could get any lower class than that... I was wrong.

When it comes to innovation, Israel is a world leader. But, SPAM technology is too far advanced as is. That is why I let out an involuntary shudder when I saw CHULENT IN A CAN being marketed at my local Hareidi grocery store in Ramat Bet Shemesh Bet.

Recently in Ramat Gan, a principal at one of the local schools banned prayer on campus. His rationale was that the Jewish prayer services were being led by extremist elements bent on undermining the religious freedom of the secular students. I believe he called it "religious coercion". By praying in front of the chilonim, he contended, the religious were unduly influencing them and leading them to become ba'alei teshuva. What is interesting here is that he has blamed the "Dosim" (religious) for exactly what he is doing himself. This jibes very well with the long time goal of the extreme left in the country, the deligitimization of Israel as a Jewish state as put forth in the Israeli declaration of Independence. I can think of no other sign half as convincing as this chulent in a can that Israel is indeed a Jewish state. No place that is not Jewish in character could conceivably contain a market for such items, even in the highly Judaized tri-state area of the United States.

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This is a Test

If you see this, there are either no posts yet in this category or you have gotten to the last post in the category.

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