Fatima and Iman

Okay, so that last entry was going to be the last entry before vacation – but I had such a good time at school today, I have to share. We met with Israeli Arab/Palestinian women who are studying to be teachers at a college in Baka el Gharbiyya, a town near Afula. (An Arab Israeli is someone who lives inside Israel and is considered to be a full citizen, unlike someone in the Gaza Strip). After a beginning lecture and a short getting-to-know you period, we split into groups to learn about the other. Four HUC students and myself walked around Jerusalem with Fatima and Iman, two women from a town near Nazareth. They wore the full coverings, from head veil to body-covering robe… and they managed to break all my stereotypes.

It started off with basic questions – what’s your name, where are you from, how many brothers and sisters do you have. Then it got into politics. We talked about how strange it was that the Israel/Palestinian conflict doesn’t personally enter into any of our lives, that we would expect more tension but really don’t experience any. We commented on how they travel easily to Jordan and Egypt, places we don’t go.

After everyone loosened up the conversation got even better: we discussed dating and engagement, how Islamic women, depending on how religious they are, can choose their partners or have arranged marriages, that usually marriage occurs at ages 20-22. Some families have 3 kids, others 10. That when you’re engaged, you’re allowed to kiss and hug the boy you’re with, so it isn’t new when you’re married. That PDA is shameful, so even married couples would never kiss in front of anyone else. They were surprised to hear that I grew up with two moms, since it was obviously not acceptable in their culture.

Then we got onto women’s rights. Fatima and Iman were amazed that Jonathan did the cooking in our home, but didn’t seem surprised that women make less money than men. We talked about how it relates to religion – they told us that whenever a woman is not allowed to leave the house without a man, it isn’t because of Islam, but because of tradition and custom. They wear jeans at home and dresses outside, and consider the separation of spheres and gender roles as fitting and right.

We bonded so much that we all exchanged emails, and at the end they offered to show us pictures of them without their head coverings from their camera phones! All in all, it was great fun, and extremely enlightening. Talk about giving voice to the unspoken Other.

Now off to bed, and tomorrow off to Greece! I just finished Saving Fish from Drowning, the new Amy Tan novel, so tomorrow on the plane I think I'll go for a radical change and start on The Historian.

Directions for a weekend getaway

Going on weekend trips is fun. Cats think so too, and usually want to come along.

First things first: when one arrives at grandparents' houses, one must EAT:

(There was still more in the kitchen when this was taken)

Then one must play Rummikub, watch fun movies (in this case My Big Fat Greek Wedding), and stay up talking until all hours. On the way back one must see pretty scenery, like camels grazing:



Then, when one returns, one should nap.



Since Jonathan and I had such a good time last weekend, we didn't even notice how fast time went... and here we are, it's almost Pesach. My last day of class is tomorrow, and we leave for Athens Thursday night. Wish us well, and I'll resume posting when we get back! Chag sameach l'kulam.

Going to the back of the bus

Historically, riding in the back of the bus has been quite controversial. Bus seating can be quite the social statement during certain times and places in history. Yesterday I was moved by the social statements I found in the back of the bus to Arad.

Now, I love sitting at the back of the bus. Not because of some great social statement, but because the back of the bus is the only place with a seat in the middle aisle that allows me to stretch out the legs of my 6’1” body. We were traveling from Jerusalem to Arad and it’s a 4 hour process that would otherwise require my legs to be squished for that length of time. My wife prefers the front as her 5’4” frame has no issue with the bus seating, but she tolerates my preference.

During the last leg of our trip from the city of Beer Sheva to Arad we sat ourselves down next to a young woman with a pink backpack on her lap. She looked to be in her early 20’s and was very carefully dressed. She had a beautiful ankle length pink patterned skirt, a black turtle neck top that covered her from her wrists to just under the chin, and a pink and black head scarf that covered her entire scalp, including her ears. It was clear that everything she was wearing was folded or pinned in place so that it would not shift to reveal an inch of skin that wasn’t her face or hands. The woman, round and dark, greeted us with a warm smile when we sat down.

Michal and I were unsure of our next stop so Michal turned to the neatly dressed woman and asked her in Hebrew if she could help us recognize the stop we wanted. As in many cases with us in Israel, an innocent question turned into a deep and bonding conversation. She was younger than her face revealed, only 18. She was Bedouin, and for those of you who don’t know, the Bedouins predate the Jews, Christians and the Muslims in Israel. Traditionally they lived harsh nomadic lives, living off the herd animals they bred. Though most Bedouin now live in small makeshift houses in random locations in the desert, their lives have not improved much. I suspect it is beyond the American experience to understand the level of poverty that whole communities live in here in Israel. Most Bedouin have no plumbing and have minimal electricity, living in what would look to the outsider as communities of ramshackle shacks set amongst the sand dunes. Actually, they live a life much like the American Indian, at least the ones still living on reservations.

Our dark-skinned Bedouin, Haneen, appeared in better straits than most. She was dressed well and was in a position to afford schooling. She was fluent in both Hebrew and Arabic, and was very excited about her skill in the English language and her dream of being a journalist. “English” she said to us, “is the international language. I MUST learn this if I am going to be free.” She went on to show us her notebook with her English assignments. On the front page, nestled amongst the Arabic notes was the word “Freedom” written in large stylized letters. She pointed to this word and told us, “I wrote this after I saw this movie about this man in Scotland who was killed and yelled FREEDOM before he died.” I told her the movie she saw was about William Wallace, my ancestor. Her eyes lit up as if she was talking to Mel Gibson’s friend.

As I looked at the word passionately scribbled in her notebook I was immensely touched. Not because she was almost romantically in love with my mother tongue. Not because she had been moved by the story of my family ancestry. Not even because my American culture had managed to penetrate even this remote village community. Though these are all wonderful reasons to feel connected and even flattered by her, what moved me most was what she revealed about herself.

In that moment she revealed the passionate dream of her future, and in turn the dire oppression of her life. Her dream spoke of her hope to live a life of choice and self- direction. She described the importance of speaking a language that would allow her to talk to people she is now forbidden to talk to. In a life of her tradition she would marry a man of her parents’ choosing, her love of him would not be an issue in the matter. A man that would be in his right to beat her if he chose and she would have no place to go. She would not be allowed to choose where she could travel, and her life would be to bear children and serve her husband, nothing more. Her life would be not much more than one of servitude. She may at best be a pampered slave, but she would still be, in most regards, a slave.

Haneen had chosen a life of beyond this, a life of Freedom. Her family, blessed as they must be, seem to encourage it, or at the very least, not to forbid it. She made a point to state, that it will not be IF she becomes a journalist, but WHEN she becomes a journalist. She held on to her dream with the passion of the young, and the convention of the oppressed. With those seven letters in her notebook Haneen had written a novel.

I had never met someone, face to face, that actually lived a life that in my mind, had become extinct seven hundred years ago. It was surreal. I was strangely both sorry and proud of Haneen. She had more ambition than I ever had, and was overcoming more roadblocks than I could have ever imagined at her age.

It was strange to think that in Tel Aviv women walk around half naked if they like and seemingly have all the freedoms of their male counterparts: To marry the man that they love, to choose to work or to be a mother, or both. Two hundred miles away and the clock is set back seven hundred years. In the same country the life of a woman can take dramatically different paths. Israel believes in not interfering with the cultures of the ethnic groups that live within its borders, but I question the wisdom in that. In the United States, we have shown that separate is not equal, and the ways of some of the RESIDENT cultures are not only out of date, but ethically conflict with the learned ethical values. The simple idea of equal value on all human life is beyond these traditions and will forever be in conflict with the progression of this country. But then again, this is Israel and struggle is this country’s name.

Me, well I just like to ride in the back of the bus.

(Some pictures of Bedouin Women)

Food and politics, the stuff of life

I love food. Yes, I realize this is known, but I just thought I'd reiterate. Let me list the multiplicity of love...

1) Pizza with Joe and Nicole. I hadn't realized there was order-in Pizza Hut in Israel!
2) Homemade pasta at Mara's with a parve (non-dairy and non-meat) ice-cream seeming-cake.
3) Fettucine with Miriam. Mmm.
4) Reese's pieces that Sandra sent. They're going fast.

In other, non-food news....

Monday my Hebrew class went on a short tiyul to the outskirts of Jerusalem. We read a few passages in the Bible about "the surrounding hills of Jerusalem" and were confused... there ARE no hills surrounding Jerusalem! Then we passed Mt. Scopus, where Hebrew University is, and it clicked - we don't even notice the hills today, they're incorporated seamlessly into the city. The ancient city, however, was tiny in comparison and sat in the middle of the (non-populated) surrounding hills. Nothing like literal geography to help make sense of text.

Today was also interesting, we participated in a student simulation of the Israeli government. Israel's governmental system is based on the British/European model, and makes very little sense at first glance to an American. There are many political parties, and there is no such thing as separation of powers (much less separation of church and state). The Knesset, or the Israeli governmental body, is comprised of 120 members. The public votes for one party that they want in office, and since there is no constituency, Knesset membership is based on the proportional percentages of the country's votes (e.g. if half the population wants Likud, 60 seats go to Likud). The Knesset is the governmental body, but not the government itself - since no party ever gets 60 seats, the parties form coalitions to work together and pass decisions. It is this coalition that is the actual "government," and so non-coalition parties (including big ones and minor ones like the Arab parties or the ultra-ultra-ultra Orthodox), sit in Knesset and are outside the government, either supporting it or working for its demise from the outside. The Knesset is elected every four years, but if a coalition falls apart before then, there can be a new formulation of coalition/government, or even a new election. The Prime Minister is the head of the majority coalition party and holds most of the power, and the President is like Britain's Queen, mainly ceremonial. Interesting, no?

In our simulation I was a member of the Shas party, one of the right-wing Orthodox parties. We were really a swing factor in formulating the coalition, because the right likes us (we're Orthodox and want to give tons of money to yeshivas), but the left also likes us because we're willing to give up land for peace. It was actually quite intriguing to watch - if there was such chaos at HUC, I can only imagine the real thing! At the end real life had flip-flopped - we're all liberal, but we formed a completely right-wing coalition, because none of the leftists could agree.

I'll end on a fun side note. I miss Hidalgo, yes... but our current pets are just as cute.

Jonathan cuddling with Osher.

A very unhappy Simcha after his bath.

Hidalgo

Hidalgo
December 2004 to March 2007 (Click on Image for bigger version)

On March 17th at about 1 AM, Hidalgo passed away. For those who don't know, Hidalgo was a black and white pet rat that I adopted with his brother Gesundheit from our friends, Jane and Sheryl (and Ruthie and Caleb). From the very start he showed that he was an animal with outstanding courage, unafraid to love or explore his world. While his brother was known for his love of food, Hidalgo was known for his athletic climbing and jumping ability and his love of exploring new places. It didn't matter if it was a new person, place, or thing, he wanted to run all over it and sniff every nook and cranny. He was even known to touch noses with the cats that lived in the same house, confident that they would adore him as did every other person who handled him. Such was the confidence of Hidalgo.

After his first year with Michal and I, he developed the ability to chatter and communicate with us as we would with him. He would do his best to imitate the behaviors we made with him in his effort to express his excitement or desires. Often, when we had been gone for a while, he would leap onto the side of his cage, suspending himself off the ground and chattering away to us to express his desire to be greeted properly.

Michal and I were not alone in our love for him. Jan, Michal's mom (whom we were living with at the time), had developed a close and loving relationship with him. She would often take him on her shoulder to watch a movie, surf the internet, or even water the lawn. Jan had even taken him with her in the car as a companion on her errands! Hidalgo loved to have Jan introduce him to the Hebrew students she would teach from home. Most of her students are around the age of 11 and 12, and they delighted in his friendly, explorative nature. No matter how many times his tail was yanked, his fur ruffled, or his body squeezed, he never attempted to bite anyone. He usually expressed his displeasure with a few drops of pee or a loud "squeeee" if he was handled too roughly.

When the time came for Michal and I to leave for Israel, it became apparent that we could not separate Hidalgo and his brother from Grandma Jan. Their bond with her was as strong, if not stronger than their connection to either Michal or I. So with a luxury four-story cage and a handful of handmade toys we left Hidalgo and his brother with Jan.

Well-educated in animals, I knew the reality of little Hidalgo's lifespan, and that I would most likely not see him alive again. With that in mind, I said my goodbyes to him when I left for Israel, knowing he could be in no better hands in his final days. When the time came, Jan's close bond with him told her his end was near. She took him with her to the living room where she reclined with him resting on her bosom. There he passed away gently, warmed by her chest and comforted by the sound of her heartbeat. I could not ask for a better end for anyone.

I would like to ask anyone who had a good memory of him to please leave a comment and tell us how you remembered him. Below are some pictures and a poem that I wrote in his memory.

-----------
Hidalgo

Snow-white stalks on coal-colored field; his whiskers twitch with every sniff.
Small pink hands grasp the food offered and an excited “thank you” chatters back.
The world is so large and there is so much to see; I’m sorry, but I can’t let you just hold me!
I jump an impossible jump and the world is mine!!! To sniff all new scents is so divine.
Down a shelf I clamber and under a couch I scoot, what new treasures can I find?
A find! A find! A stale french fry is all MINE!
A momentary pause to enjoy the simple things.
I am a rat and I am wise, for I have learned the lessons you humans wish to surmise.
To never let pass the opportunity
To always sniff the passing rose
And, all the world for that matter.

Hidalgo getting his favorite food, Peanuts!

(click picture for bigger image)

Hidalgo (left) and his brother Gesundheit(right) with Jan.

(click picture for bigger image)

The week, aside from snow

I just realized that I never wrote about last week's Israel Seminar Day (Wednesdays). This past week was on women in Israel. We heard one amazing feminist speaker and then I went to the Jerusalem Battered Women's Shelter. I've been to a few such shelters in California, and this was sadly similar. There were only two aspects that I thought were particularly "Israeli" - one, many of the women in the shelter are Ethopian immigrants (many of them who still don't speak Hebrew) who suffer from their husbands' response to the sudden lack of a patriarchical society. And two, during the Intifada the shelter was almost empty, because no matter how bad it got at home, women didn't want to leave their houses.

Thursday night was burrito night with Jaimee, Helayne, and Matt (thank you Becca for the fixings!). Early Friday we left for Holon. My sister's birthday is March 25th, so we had a joint celebration. It was a fun couple of days, but crowded - at the dinner, and staying in the apartment, were me, Jonathan, my father, stepmother, sister, brother, my stepmother's sister, and her daughter. Plus the dog. At least I got to speak a lot of Hebrew. We also saw an American friend of mine, Deborah, who's studying medicine at Tel Aviv University. She, Jonathan, and I met in the bus station McDonald's, of all places, because it was easy to get to and open on Shabbat.

I'm excited for school tomorrow, because it marks only TWO WEEKS LEFT until we go to Europe!

It's SNOWING!

Like a hundred thousand tiny angels descending from the sky, the snowflakes fall. Some as big as a baby's hand. It's like a momentary gift from God above. With my cats in tow, I hurry to the kitchen window and open it up. I lean my head as far out as I can so I'm able to see the skyline; my cats join me. As far as the eye can see, small white flakes float from the heavens. The cats are amazed. They take turns, targeting a single flake from the hoard and carefully watching its individual descent until it falls from view. Alternating kitty heads bob up and down in rhythm to the flakes. At times, one of their chosen takes notice and floats down to greet them. Simcha jumps back in surprise when it lands on his nose. "What strangeness!" he thinks. He shakes his head and it's gone as magically as it appeared.

As much as I complain about the underlying conflict that plagues the populace here, there is an undeniable magic to this city. On days like this, I am reminded of it. There is something truly holy here that struggles against the flowing tides of hate and conflict. In a brief moment of triumph, let it snow.

Snow from our kitchen window.

What IS this white stuff?!

Look, Dad, SNOW!

Ugh, it got on my head.

Impossible weather

It's snowing again. Hard. And it's beyond cold.

It was just spring last week. What happened?!

March TI bulletin article

The other night, my friend Mara went to the restaurant “El Poyo Loco” for chicken wings, and then went bowling. She told me that she and her table were the only Americans in the restaurant and the bowling alley – “It’s like we were experiencing Israeli culture,” she said, “only it happened to be American!”

Her words struck a chord. I’d always contemplated the differences between Israel and the United States, and sometimes even the similarities, but I’d never before considered how they meld. Israel has truly become Americanized, in food, culture, and even language. Israeli fast-food can be schwarma (meat roasted on a spit and put into pita) or kosher McDonald’s. Jonathan and I rent movies from Blockbuster, and the expression “kol b’easy” means a task will be simple. Has American culture been transplanted to Israel, or has Israeli culture assimilated aspects of America? In many cases, I think the answer is one and the same. The two are inseparable.

Israel is still definitely Israeli, but it is not purely so. On one hand, Purim is a huge affair with costumes donned by adults in grocery stores and banks alike. The shuk, or open market, is standing room only on Friday mornings before Shabbat. Ultra-Orthodox Jews run their own bus system between B’nai Brak in Tel Aviv and Mea Shearim in Jerusalem, the two ultra-religious havens in the country. Bedouin shepherds harass their camels to cross the road on the interstate to the Dead Sea, and in the far south, kibbutz members pick pomellos under the blazing Sinai sun.

On the other hand, chicken wings and bowling may have been solely “American” at one time in the past, but they are now thoroughly Israeli. The Russian influence is equally large, as almost one-fifth of Israelis come from the former Soviet Union. During the month of December one can see Christmas trees in department stores, and many restaurants now serve pork. In the main hospital in Beersheva, the “Exit” sign is in Hebrew, Arabic, and Russian, but not in English. Russian music pours out of Russian clubs, vodka outsells schnapps, and customer service lines have recorded messages in Hebrew and Russian only (the option to speak in English is found only in the Hebrew menu).

This cultural clash is not uncommon in today’s world, no matter one’s country of origin. I picture the contents of my refrigerator in Long Beach before I left - I always had certain staples on hand, and wedged in among the milk, cheese, and orange juice were the constant package of tortillas and the container of salsa. Was I adopting Mexican culture by considering burritos a comfort food? No, burritos were my culture, just like freeways or hamantaschen. Certain facets of Mexican culture have been adopted by southern California, as bean and cheese burritos, El Pollo Loco and churros at Disneyland are now as de rigueur as baseball and apple pie.

Not all southern California culture is Mexican, and not all Israeli culture is American or Russian. But the intermixing is easily apparent, just like it is in the rest of the world. The Euro is widespread across an entire continent, Starbucks is found in China, and the internet connects people from Tibet to Alaska. The world is shrinking, and only so much originality can be retained in the face of globalization. Outside influences are unwittingly absorbed into a native culture, no matter its location. In the case of Israel, I am left asking if it is for the better.

I love birthdays

Yesterday was amazing.

I was born at 11:17am on March 12th, and every year I always check where I am at that time, sort of as a symbol of time passing and what the future year will hold. This year I was in Hebrew class, discussing (in Hebrew) if the nostalgia for the Temple and the Jerusalem of old in Psalms is the same as wishing for a true reversion to a past, or if the past is really a metaphor for a hopeful future. If where I am on the minute of my birth is a sign, and I was discussing Hebrew philosophy in Jerusalem – then next year will be great!

Instead of school ending at 5:30 like it was supposed to, my last class was cancelled. So I skipped home cheerily to open the door and find… the smell of a bakery! Jonathan made batches upon batches of chocolate chip cookies. He cut up Elite chocolate bars instead of using regular chocolate chips. Then he decorated some with frosting, like such:



We dressed up and went to dinner at an Indian restaurant, and after pigging out on chicken tikka masala and garlic naan, we promptly fell into food coma. A few hours later when we’d recovered, we watched a movie, had ice cream cake and then I opened up the package that had been tantalizing me all evening: jewelry, and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and HP: Goblet of Fire in Hebrew! Yes, I am a geek. I love it. He knows it, it’s wonderful. And the cats even seemed especially snuggly.

Talmudic musings

Tonight’s readings for Rabbinic Literature have left me quite thoughtful. Prior to coming to HUC, I had always thought that Talmud = Mishnah + Gemara. (Mishnah is a compilation of laws redacted circa 220 CE, and Gemara is a compiled commentary on the Mishnah written a few hundred years later.) But after speaking with my professor after class today, I found out that many people often use the word “Talmud” when referring to the book I knew as “Gemara,” because they both mean the same thing, “study.” (“Gemara” is merely Aramaic while “Talmud” is Hebrew). “Talmudic” as an adjective is actually used generally in reference to early rabbinic literature, meaning anything from the 2nd-7th centuries (including Mishnah, Gemara, and Tosefta, an additional commentary on the Mishnah). In terms of content, Mishnah delineates specific laws, while Gemara broadens the Mishnah to form larger concepts; first came the particular, then came the abstract.

What’s most interesting to me is how it plays out in real life. Together, Mishnah and Gemara comprise a system that imposes legal boundaries on relationships. In the eyes of the ancient rabbis, the relationship between a person and another person, and a person and God, were one and the same. Both people and God were subject to the same obligations, since even God obeyed God’s decrees (e.g. according to them, God rested on Shabbat and put on tefillin, the boxes on the head and arm). The paradigm is hard to fathom today because it anthropomorphizes God to an unheard-of extent in today’s Reform Judaism. But the point is crucial: since there is no difference between people’s relationship to God and their relationship with each other, civil, ritual, secular, and religious law become embedded within the same structure. Religion and law are interwoven, to the extent that concerns of religious practice are not separated from what we today would call “secular” issues.

To quote one of my readings, Silberg in Talmudic Law and the Modern State: “The relationship between man and God, which, practically speaking, is the relationship between man and himself, between man and his own deepest moral and religious sentiments, is caught up in the network of juridical relationships, is integrated into the complex of juridical categories that were created by the lawgiver… [This outlook] renders impossible any division of religious and civil law into separate spheres. Both religious and civil law are cast into similar molds since both types of law involve the structuring of legal patterns of relationships, whether between man and man or between man and God. As a result of this obliteration of all boundaries, the entire range of religious practice is embraced within a network of purely juridical concepts.” (85, 83)

It’s really fascinating how the relationship with God is like that of people with each other, and how it underlies all daily transactions. In many cases God is even a character, a pseudo-person who has to be dealt with legally. For example, there is a law that says that if an ox of a lay owner gores an ox belonging to the Temple, or vice versa, then no one is held responsible or should pay damages. The reason, you ask? Turns out that God is the property owner of the Temple, and so technically owns the ox. Since, according to Exodus, liability can only found between “neighbors of a people,” and no lay person can ever be the neighbor of God, no one can ever be at fault.

One of the tenets of Reform Judaism is that is non-halachic, meaning it does not conform to Talmudic, rabbinic law. (That's a huge difference between Conservative and Orthodox Judaism, by the way, since they are halachic.) But even though Reform Judaism long ago rejected halacha’s normative quality, I think we still carry its essence with us. Religion and law is no longer the same thing, but our relationship to other people is still an inalienable part of our relationship with the divine. One cannot ask forgiveness from God on Yom Kippur before first asking forgiveness from other people. In the Amidah, the central prayer, we ask for wisdom and good leaders before asking for the Messiah. The relationships between us and God and us and each other are moral, not legal - but does that diminish the power of the Talmud? How much wisdom can still be gained from this antiquated rulebook/anthology if one looks at it through a strictly moral and/or spiritual lens and not a legal one? Then again, I wonder if it’s even possible to do that, because we might not be able to separate the legal from the moral without separating the religious practice from the secular - and in that case, we destroy the Talmud’s very foundation.

I’m sure that all these questions have been addressed and answered by someone else – I just need to spend some time in the library and read more books. I know that none of them are new to the world, but they’re still all new to me… and I have to admit, the process of asking them is just as much fun as finding the answers. :)

JOE AND NICOLE MADE US COOKIES!

Bless them. They were chocolate chip and wonderful.

It was the perfect end to the perfect day. It started at noon when we got up and had brunch - Jonathan made french toast with last night's challah, topped with sugared strawberries and vanilla ice cream. Then we washed the cats, I did some fun reading and Jonathan played a game, and later on we went to a wine and cheese oneg hosted by Elyse and Danny, the two rabbis I've mentioned earlier. They must have bought out the cheese guy at the shuk - I consider myself a cheese aficianado, and I was even introduced to some ones. Mmmm new cheeses.

After making plans for next week with Miriam, Rebecca came home with us from the oneg and helped me with Hebrew. Hifeel, Nifaal, dageshes and falling Nun's - UGH I suck at it. Rebecca showed me that apparently there is a method to the madness, and patterns to the chaos.

After the Hebrew lesson we made Havdallah, and right after we finished Nicole and Joe called us upstairs. Nicole had fallen down today and hurt her foot, so to help her feel better we brought over some chocolate liqueur... and lo and behold to go with the liqueur they had made us cookies! (They were in thank you for Jonathan's help with the lock, and our lending them dishes for their dinner party last night).

And now, here I am, skimming work and looking up celebrity gossip, and Jonathan is sewing the tallit he made a few days ago at the tallit workshop he attended. I'll post pictures of it when he finishes.

Shabbat may be officially over, but the warm feeling remains alive in our household tonight. :)

Husbands and trees

I’m not quite sure what it says about me that I slept until 2pm quite easily today. I feel great! I was, however, just slightly abashed when I got up – apparently Jonathan had been up hours and hours before, and had done all the dishes, taken apart and fixed Nicole and Joe’s door lock that had broken, gone to the hardware store with Nicole afterwards, and then stopped by the market for fresh challah. *Must* he be so productive while I’m out cold?! It’s a wonderful trait in a husband – he didn’t even say anything besides “I’m so glad you slept in” – but really, it does inspire a small sense of guilt on my part.

Anways. So I never did blog about Wednesday. It was “Environmentalism in Israel” day, and my group went to the Hebrew University to hear a speaker, and then went outside Jerusalem proper to hike in the surrounding hills and hear a talk by a conservationist group. The first speaker was incredible; he was funny, engaging, and used post-modern lingo to discuss different models of environmentalism over the years (nature preservation, environmental sciences, and place-based environmentalism, he called them). For the first time in a looong time, I really missed Whittier College and the post-modern paradigm. Then, to top it off, he started talking about Kant and the inherent rights of nature – "I TAUGHT THAT AT CSULB!!" I wanted to say. But I didn’t. :)

The nature hike was a bit unexpected, but really beautiful. Apparently the Jerusalem municipality wanted to build hundreds of new homes and thought there wasn’t any room in the city, so they were going to annex the surrounding hill country. One of the environmentalist groups got up in arms and hired architects and surveyors to canvass the city and publish detailed reports saying where exactly more room can be found in the city itself. The municipality caved, and the hills were saved. Yay hills. Oh so green and pretty, makes me want to start singing
"Edelweis."

The most interesting thing for me was on the macro level: for years this country has only had the wherewithal to worry about the Arabs/Palestinians. Now it’s grown up a bit and has the interest and resources to address issues like environmentalism, feminism, etc. Lobbyist groups and NGOs (non-governmental organizations) are sprouting up all over, and the country is quickly developing infrastructure paralleling the US. In one way, it’s positive, of course. But in another way, I miss the old-world charisma of Israel. It feels so modern to me now, compared to what it was in my childhood. I guess it’s the difference between a country as a child, and a country in the midst of teenage growing pains. I wonder what Israel will be like in another 20 or 30 years as it comes into its adulthood.

Cat pictures

Both Simcha and Osher were born in March of last year, so in honor of their joint birthday and their transition from kitten- to cat-hood, here is a new batch of pictures.



Jonathan was writing on the white board, and Simcha jumped from his desk chair to his back! He immediately made himself comfortable, much to Jonathan's amusement.




Cuddles are such lovely, lovely things.




A cat after my own heart! I'm in the middle of writing a paper on the Mourner's Kaddish. When I went to grab one of the books, lo and behold, Simcha was asleep on them. This was taken right after I took a book out from under him.


If you like these, more cat pictures are here.

Argh

I was up at 5:30 this morning because a mosquito was eating me alive. I am choosing to see this as a sign of spring.

It also helped that I used the time to write my Hebrew composition, now entitled "Scourge of the Earth." Nothing like venting in a foreign language to help one feel better.

Brief language interlude

I missed two class sessions of Biblical Grammar a couple weeks ago, and since that class is like math and builds on what came before, I’m a bit confused as to what we’re doing now. Not getting anywhere by myself, I decided to call my professor and set up a meeting to go over the material.

When she answered the phone, I said this, exactly:

“Sima? Hi, ze Michal m’kitah bet b’HUC. Yesh li harbeh tzurres be kitah shelach. Eefshar lifgosh eetach b’shavoa haze o haba l’deber al hashiur?”

Literally, this translates into, “Sima? Hi, this is Michal from Kita Bet [class level 2] at HUC. I’m having a lot of trouble with your class. Would it be possible to meet with you this week or next to talk about the lesson?”

Halfway through my sentence Sima started to giggle, but then she immediately caught herself and stopped. We set up an appointment for next week. But I didn’t know why she laughed – my Hebrew was good, I thought, what was the problem? Then I realized – “tzurres” is Yiddish!

Purim

Purim in Israel is definitely an experience. Think Halloween but with nothing scary – Purim is happy, fun, everyone is dressed up and in a great mood.

The season started a few weeks ago when bakeries began selling Hamantaschen, three-pointed cookies with filling. In the States the fillings are things like cherry, apple, and poppy seed; here the fillings are chocolate, fig, and date.



Even the stores got in the act, selling Purim costumes, foods, baskets, and everything else commercial you can think of. Here’s one aisle in our local supermarket, and our cute little Purim basket.





But how did we celebrate, you ask? First we dressed up in our beeyootiful costumes:


I went as a clown, Jonathan went as me (he even carried my purse!)

Then we arrived at HUC. The “service” was hilarious, because it was so tongue-in-cheek – instead of usual prayers we sang contemporary songs on the topic (ie. instead of Mi Chamocha, praising God for getting through the Red Sea, we sang Disney's "Under the Sea", and instead of Ahavat Olam was "Can you Feel the Love Tonight?"). The main part of the evening was the Megillah reading, aka the reading of the entire Book of Esther. The cantors learned the special Esther trope (singing) and did beautifully, but even so, it was over an hour.


Service leaders Phil Monroe and Frum Josh.


After the service ended, everyone headed over to the moadon (large room with a small café) for a falafel dinner and the Purim Shpiel. The Shpiel is a traditional part of Purim, and usually involves retelling the story of Purim in a wacky way. This one wasn’t actually about the holiday, but was a fabulous spoof on professors, students, and life at HUC. There were skits on Celebrity Jeopardy featuring professors, a Chasidic Ladies Man skit, an ad for why you want to work out at the HUC gym (located in the bomb shelter), and even a SNL Cheri Oteri/Will Farrell cheerleaders sketch on cheering for the various parts of the service (“how long is silent prayer going to last already?!” and “ooh ooh better get people prepped for the Torah service so they don’t fall asleep!”)

After the Shpiel, most people went out for the traditional drinking and partying. (It says somewhere in the texts that you should get so drunk you can’t tell the difference between Mordecai and Haman, the hero and the villain). But Jonathan and I are old, apparently, cuz we stayed home and were really happy. I got up really late the next morning and spent hours on email… a very good vacation, if I may say so myself.

Here are some more pictures.


Nicole the pomegranate, Joe the lemon tree, and us.



Mara the fairy and I.



Jonathan, Ethan, Kim, me, Nicole.



Mara and Sleeping Beauty Rebecca.

It's March!

Hooray for March. This means we leave the country in less than three months! I still love Israel, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't ready to go home. Apartments with insulation, customer service in English, tortillas on demand, and carpet in every building... I'm shivering with anticipation already.

Nothing particularly eventful has happened this week. We had an extremely forgettable field trip to Tel Aviv on Wednesday, I had a test on Thursday, and since then I've been sick. (I blame the test). I think I just overexerted myself, what with getting no sleep on the tiyul and then staying out late the other nights due to HUC programs. But Jonathan has been fabulous about making me eggs, toast, and tea and Savta sent over her jello recipe, so hopefully I'll feel better by tomorrow or the next day.

Joe's friend from Scotland is visiting him and Nicole, and upon meeting him and saying hello I grinned - I'd never actually heard a thick Scottish brogue in person. It took a few minutes for me to understand what he was saying! Now I'm even more excited for our Scotland trip.

Jonathan has been doing lots of Cincinnati research, and he's been finding some great deals on houses. I love Craiglist. Let's hope that at least some of these places are still on the market in May, or that they're replaced by even better ones.

As comfort food, I finished As A Driven Leaf for the umpteenth time. Such a good book. I also read a great mystery that Becca had brought me called The Fig Eater, and I'm partway through Arthur and George.

That's the bad thing about being sick - I feel well enough to read fun novels, but not coherent enough to write papers or concentrate on Hebrew homework... if only teachers would understand! Thankfully we have tomorrow and Monday off for Purim, so if I'm feeling better we'll go down to Holon for the Purim Parade. If not, we'll stay here and I'll luxuriate in my pajamas. :)