The week

Just a quick update: Shabbat afternoon (Saturday) was wonderful! I went to Sharon and Nathan's for the afternoon. We ate a ton of food and then took a walk around one of the kibbutzim near their house, at Ramat Rachel. They have a viewpoint there where you could see almost all of Jerusalem, from north to south. It's gorgeous. And Bethlehem is the next hill over - I forget how close the West Bank is.

Judy is having a great time. She and Jonathan have been spelunking all over town while I've been in classes. I'm the lucky recipient of the baklava they bring home.

Two more days of school and then finals. Is it like this for everyone else, when the week before finals is harder than the actual final week itself? Maybe it's because I try to do the papers beforehand. Either way, between the imminent end of school and packing up book boxes, it's hitting me - I'M GOING HOME! And I'm not quite sure how I feel about it. It'll be wonderful to see people in the States again, but really, it's the people I miss, not the things. I like living in Israel - it's such a healthier lifestyle, and the culture seems more real, less polished. Maybe one day we'll make aliyah. Who knows. Right now, I just don't want to leave my Israeli family... as well as the Machane Yehuda vegetable market.

Winding down

Life seems to be simpler lately – my time is split between friends and homework. Judy got here the day before yesterday, and it’s been great. We went to the shuk, out for schwarma, to the Old City. Yesterday she took a bus tour all day and I wrote a paper. It worked out nicely.

Last night was “Cincinnati Shabbat” at Matt and Erin’s, for all of us who are going to the great state of Ohio next year. It was wonderful getting to know people better, and I’m looking forward to having classes with everyone. One thing is sad though – everyone else at the table is only moving to Cincinnati in August! Guess we’ll be on our own the months of June and July.

The cats have been going CRAZY the past few days. It’s been getting warmer, spring has finally arrived…. And with it the psycho, demanding cats have returned. I think they’ve got spring fever too. Last night Simcha woke us up at 5am meowing and meowing. After yelling at him to no avail, Jonathan finally picked him up and plopped him on the bed. He nestled in the crook of Jonathan’s arm and fell asleep. You’d think he could just jump up there by himself, but no! He had to be hand-carried.

And on a slightly different note, I highly recommend the movie Pan’s Labyrinth. It’s a Spanish movie set after their Civil War in 1944, centering on one girl’s experience. It breaks between the world of reality and the world of her fairy tales, and she meets fairies, a faun, and all sorts of magical creatures that help her deal with real life.

And that’s about it on this front. My Liturgy paper is calling my name.

What I'll miss about Israel

This year in Israel is coming to an end and one is inevitably drawn to reflection. Was it a good year? Was it a fun year? Was it a worthwhile year? There were many things that I found anywhere from annoying (see dranage pipe leaking on my head) to horrible (my first 36 hours with no phone, no internet, no food, and nothing open). With that said, I have to be honest. This has been the best year of my entire life.

This was the first year Michal and I lived alone together (I love you Jan, but would YOU want to live with your mother-in-law?). We found that the crucible of living in a foreign land bonded us closer together. I have traveled and learned about more of the world than I have in all the other years of my life combined. I have forged my own community for the first time and it has been wonderful. This past year I have had the life and marrage I have always dreamed.

So, in a nice way of review, I am going to list the things I'm going to miss the most about Israel, and then list the things I'm looking forward most to in the good ol' US of A!

What I'll miss in Israel...
(in no particular order)

1. Pita made fresh daily.
2. Walking down to the corner market for last minute groceries.
3. Talking to Nicole and Joe through their living room window from my balcony
4. Seeing my community of friends walk down my street on any giving day.
5. A city that stops for Jewish holidays.
6. The best baklava in the world (and at a price I can afford).
7. Humus as it was meant to be made.
8. Being a part of my wife's school.
9. Having people over just to play with our cats.
10. Never worrying about violent crime.
11. Being able to talk theology and politics with anyone on the street.
12. Being expected to break the rules.
13. Knowing that the person talking to you means what they say.
14. No one ever being insulted because you want to bargain.
15. Being forced to relax on Saturday mornings.
16. Being able to fill your grocery cart for less than $100.
17. Seasonal food.
18. Living with people who love to be spontaneous.
19. Being able to visit Savta and Avraham on any given weekend.
20. Having other people tell my wife how wonderful I am.
21. Knowing everyone.
22. Being on the far side of the planet from the nearest Republican.
23. Walking down the road to see 2000 year-old ruins.
24. Being 2 hours (or less) away from Europe, Asia, or Africa.
25. Being able to wear jeans to formal occasions.


Things I am looking forward to in the US
(in no particular order)

1. Being able to buy food on Saturday.
2. Ordering pepperoni and sausage on my pizza.
3. A real BBQ cheeseburger.
4. Cheap Indian food.
5. Eating out for less than $6 a plate.
6. Vehicles that obey traffic laws.
7. Customer service.
8. Well-organized business.
9. Internet that works as you were told it would.
10. Electricity that isn't likely to blow anything out at any given moment.
11. Not having Islamic terrorists trying to blow me up (and burn my cookies).
12. Being paid more than $3 an hour.
13. Being able to read EVERYTHING.
14. Never having to say "Ot Medaberet Engleet?"
15. Someone bagging my groceries for me.
16. A dishwasher.
17. Real Mexican food.
18. Police that actually catch criminals.
19. Jamba Juice.
20. Cheap computers/electronics.
21. Toilets and beds that fit me.
22. Minute Maid Orange Juice.
23. Thrifty Ice Cream.
24. Being able to rent and play all the movies at the video store. (I hate Zone 2 and the stupid MPAA)
25. Real broadband access (Okay, I know this seems like a repeat of #9, but I can't tell you how I miss my high speed access! *sniff*)

There are more things I think I can add to these lists, but these are my top 25.

Why do I admit these things?

Due to reasons I won't even begin to go into, it has now been sufficiently demonstrated that I cannot do a push-up. This is sad, pathetic, and even mildly embarrassing (which of course is why I put it on the blog... go figure). Jonathan, Joe, and even Nicole all correctly performed at least two push-ups. They suck.

All this as a long way of saying that school was boring today, but the evening has turned out quite nicely. After talking with my dad on the phone, I went upstairs to see where Jonathan had disappeared to - and was immediately fed dinner and dessert by our erstwhile neighbors. Over dinner we had a very interesting and serious conversation about Yom HaZikaron, Memorial Day. The siren had sounded for two minutes at 8pm tonight, and from tonight until tomorrow night is the day of remembrance for all Israeli soldiers who lost their lives in defending their country. Tomorrow night turns to Yom Haatzmaut, Independence Day, which is a day of jubilation. How interesting that the holidays are juxtaposed - extreme sadness and grief gives way to celebration, as it is recognized that Israel would not exist without the sacrifice of those who fell while founding it.

All this, of course, was mere build-up to the demonstration of exercise prowess. I still maintain that I outshine them all in leg strength.... but if the laughter was any indication, I don't think they really believed me. Hmph, I say, hmph.

Homeward bound

We go home in exactly one month, and life is starting to turn more towards the States than Israel. It's hard to be present and in the moment when so much stuff is going on; finals, Scotland trip, moving to CA, moving to Cincinnati, finding an apartment, insurance, Jonathan finding a job, etc. We've even packed up three boxes of books to take to the post office and ship home. Whenever anyone came to visit, they always brought stuff with them; it was fabulous at the time, but it's proving more difficult now to schlep it all back. (Though never let it be said I’m ungrateful – I don’t know what I would have done without a new book infusion every now and then.)

Taking the cats home is becoming somewhat of a hassle, too. They need health vaccination forms at the vet, papers and stamps at the Ministry of Agriculture (which we can only visit on Wednesdays between 1:30-3pm), and then more papers with the customs agents at LAX... it's totally worth it, though, of course. All I'm saying is that they better appreciate it and snuggle with me lots!

On our way to dinner last night at Sharon and Nathan's, the visually-impaired woman I read to once a week, we had a mini-bus adventure. Jonathan, myself, and Rebecca (who had stopped by to chat and walked us to the bus stop) waited 20 minutes, which is a pretty long time for the #7. We got into a great discussion of how we are best suited to various rabbinic professions (e.g. should we be professors, congregational rabbis, chaplains, directors of a camp, or work in a college Hillel?) We saw the bus coming, hugged goodbye… and then it just whizzed right past! It didn’t even stop. We had to wait another 20 minutes to catch the next one. Needless to say, we were a bit late for dinner.

Jonathan has been making more oatmeal cookies to replace the batch that was burnt in the bomb threat, and the HUC students he's shared them with love them. Sharon, Nathan, and my dad’s family, however, didn’t. I had totally forgotten that Israelis don't like sugar. Nathan told him, “Whenever I have a recipe, I always halve the sugar.” “No kidding!” Jonathan said. “I always double it.” It's a cultural thing, I guess - Israel is so intent on veggies and whole wheat, that sugar and many processed foods aren't nearly as popular.

School-wise, nothing much interesting is happening. We had a ceremony for Yom Hashoah, and walked outside for the two minutes – it was amazing seeing taxi drivers stop their cabs and get out, and hearing construction noise stop for two minutes exactly. Aside from that, though, the only news is non-news…. It seems like all the teachers have realized that we only have two weeks of classes left, and they apparently have a month’s worth of lesson plans. I’ve never had so much work! It feels like I’m back in high school – I’ll have two finals per day during finals week, and three papers and two Hebrew compositions due beforehand… thank goodness I wasn’t behind at all, otherwise I’d be really lost.

One fun anecdote though: in discussing our upcoming final yesterday, my teacher, Osnat, informed us that we will be tested on all the verb form possibilities at once, not one at a time like we've been doing. We were a bit surprised, then worried - that makes the test much much harder. Then we asked if the verbs would be all mixed up, and she looked horrified. "Lo, lo!" (she explained, "no."). "Ani lo l'hiot sneaky!" (I won't be sneaky!) I loved her use of language, just as much as her announcement making it an easier test.

Oh, and Joe got his visa! We wanted to see it, but it was safely tucked away in the HUC safe. I’ve never been more happy with my Israeli passport. It’s saved so many problems. Even little things like paying for the water bill - they always want ID, and giving them the Israeli passport number saves on the explanations of "This is a CA Driver License? You don't own your apartment? Who is the landlord? How long have you lived there?" etc.

Oy, it got late. Off to light Shabbat candles...

Reasons Israel is different

#128 - Islamic terrorists might burn your cookies.

I suppose such bold statements require explanation, so let me tell you what happened to me today.

Several events have happened recently that inspired me to make a fresh batch of cookies. For one, my downstairs neighbor was broken into (the third apartment in my stairwell in the last 30 days) so I figured a few oatmeal cookies might be nice. We were invited for dinner at someone’s house who asked that we bring the dessert; well…I’ll just make a bigger batch. Oh, and I got a call just a few hours ago from our upstairs neighbor (who also got robbed a while ago) that Joe, her fiancé from England, just got his US immigration papers, he’s going to be an American soon (‘cept with a much cooler accent). So, I whipped up a big batch of oatmeal cookie dough and put a batch into the oven.

I had just closed the oven when I heard a loud (boom!). Now, despite my Mr. Mom lifestyle, I am a guy and have in the past been very familiar with guns. That boom sounded very familiar. In a few moments I heard it again. I started to patrol my windows and I heard it again. It sounded like a shotgun, very much like one, but it couldn’t be a gun fight for it was too spaced out and no sounds of gun fire (I have been in vicinity of a gun fight in the past while living in Monterey). Now, there is a ton of construction near my apartment, so maybe they are using small explosives to open up some rock. Or maybe the crane keeps dropping large objects. I’m puzzled and annoyed because the sound makes my cats jump a foot every time it goes off; so I figure I will take 3 minutes out and walk out to the construction and see what is making the sound of a shotgun.

I have excellent night vision, but in really bright sunlight I’m almost blind without sunglasses. Unfortunately I left in such a hurry that I had forgotten my sunglasses and my dim light adjusted eyes were not adapting well to high noon sun reflecting off the white Jerusalem stone walkway. I kept walking out, I figured I would just squint really hard - it can’t be that hard to find a loud booming object.

I walk all the way to the street and see a police car down the hill about 100 feet, I think “hrm… maybe they are keeping people back from the construction sight.” He takes notice of me and starts yelling at me in very animated Hebrew and waving a lot. Now, my Hebrew is pretty bad, I have a hard time understanding even bits of it spoken slowly, so I really had no chance of comprehending this long string of continuous syllables spoken at warp speed. I figure I would walk towards him and find out what the fuss is about. I knew I couldn’t have done anything wrong; I just walked out of my apartment.

I get closer and I can make out the words “POH, POH” (here, here) repeated again and again. “Oh," I think, "he wants me to come over to him!! I understand what he is saying!” I was very excited about my language breakthrough that I didn’t stop to understand why a policeman was running over to escort me away from my apartment. Suddenly realizing that something might be up, and English might be the better choice, I ask him, in Hebrew, to speak English to me. He then said, in a very thick Israeli accent, “There is a bomb! You have to stay away!”

He puts me behind a car about 100 feet from were I was and I squint real hard. My eyes are finally if painfully are adjusting to the light and right were I was standing is a mechanical robot with what appears to be a big mechanical arm and a top-mounted cannon. I literally was standing just inches from it when I stepped off my walkway.

I try not to dwell on my near life-endangering experience and watch the robot closely. It is in front of a satchel. I ask someone nearby and they tell me someone left a satchel unattended and the bomb squad is here to see if there is a bomb in it by detonating it with the robot. I watched as the robot shoots another round of compressed air, basically a blank shotgun shell, that hits it with such force that the bits of plastic shell are blown all the way through the satchel. That was the shotgun sound I had been hearing.

I admire the genius of the process; the hard localized concussion from the top-mounted cannon on the robot would set off any motion or shock sensitive explosive device. Then the robot’s mechanical arm rips open the hole it had made with its repeated shots and a mini-camera, also on the robot, peers into the sack. About 5 minutes later a man looking the part of a space marine in his heavy armor ambles to the satchel and examines it thoroughly himself (there’s a job I would never want). It appears to have been a harmless backpack that some absent-minded student had put down while talking to a friend and then forgot to pick up before going on their way. I ponder the look on their face should the police contact them.

The bomb squad wanders off with the backpack and I stand around bored, in the sun and blinding light, for what seems forever before I’m finally allowed to return to my apartment. I open my door to the smell of burnt oatmeal cookies. *sigh*

You see, in a country where Islamic terrorists aren’t trying to blow up any random Jews they can, that backpack would have just remained there for the absent-minded student to return. At the very worst, some backpack-deprived person would have donned it on as their new find. But, here, in Israel, where people have been blown up by random backpacks left behind by Islamic fanatics, we have to call a bomb squad to pummel it for 30 minutes with high powered plastic packed shotgun shells. Inevitably, overly curious domestic husbands wander out and get caught up in the mess, and end up with their cookies burnt. Damn those Islamic terrorists.

Oh, and for the record, I want to go home now.

Yom HaShoah

The Holocaust killed 6 million Jews, of which 1.2 million were children. It is, as all of us know, the worst tragedy of the Jewish people in modern history, the worst atrocity of the industrial age, and an utterly horrible thing to think about. The day of remembrance for those who died is a national memorial day called Yom HaShoah. It is always on the 27th day of the Hebrew month of Nisan.

Today is the 27th day of Nisan, and Yom Hashoah is commemorated in Israel in a way that only Israel can. Since the Jewish day starts at sundown, not sunrise, shops and services close the night before. All government agencies shut down, and a special siren is sounded at 10 AM the following morning. Something unbelievable happens at the moment that the siren sounds across the hills of Jerusalem; something that I have never seen or heard of in any other culture. When the siren sounds at 10 AM, the entire city stops for the duration of its wail, as if the siren itself were the screams of the 6 million who died. EVERYTHING STOPS! People stop where they are walking, conversations end, traffic no longer moves, and people get out of their cars and stand, with heads bowed, in silent tribute. No one talks, as if unwilling to break the sound of those who had died.

The wailing siren last for 2 minutes, but in a way it seems to echo for eternity. In that time I can see everyone around me on the busy street of Keren Heyesod stop and reflect on the tragedy that changed the world. In a way, these 6 million men, women, and children died so that their descendents could stand where they are, right then. Had there been no Holocaust, it is unlikely that Israel would have become a reality. Conversely, I wonder if the Holocaust would have happened had there been a Jewish state.

For the past year I had become somewhat jaded by the politics of Israel, the frustration of its disorganization, and its rude social behaviors. In those two minutes all those feelings were changed. In those two minutes as I stared at all my fellow tribe members, heads bowed in respect of all those who died because there was no Israel, and I renewed my vow, “Never Again.”

May article for Temple bulletin

It’s amazing to me that almost an entire year has gone by. Ten months went like that – POOF and they’re gone. I leave for the United States in five weeks, and I find myself musing on what lessons I will take from my time here.

- Buying shwarma in pita for lunch from an Arab vendor, I remind myself that Israel is culturally Middle Eastern, not simply Ashkenazi.

- Listening to my Philipino neighbors argue in Tagalog, I remind myself that not everyone is Middle Eastern, or even Jewish.

- Watching a young Orthodox mother struggle to corral her payos-bedecked children into car seats, I look down at my spaghetti with meatballs and parmesan, and remind myself that even amongst all the Jews in this country, not all Jews are the same.

It’s hard to remember these things in a city of black hats and ghost-town Shabbats, a city that looks down upon women with kippot and sees Reformi as uniquely odd. Tel Aviv is familiar in its secularity, comforting in the fact that it feels just like home. Jerusalem is messy in its religious divisions.

And then I think about it – Jerusalem will never be uniform, for it is, in a sense, a microcosm of Judaism. Jerusalem contains so many different types of people and nationalities (Jews, Arabs, Russians, etc), so many types of Jews, and so many political viewpoints that it’s bursting at the seams. To the tourist, the city seems both ideal and idyllic, but underneath the surface, the city is fraught with tension.

Judaism, too, is similarly divided. The Conservative movement is weakening, Reform is becoming increasingly assimilated through intermarriage, and Orthodoxy is on the rise. In Reform Judaism alone, questions abound: should we include more Hebrew in services, how do we deal with issues of kashrut, what do we do to even the gender gap and bring boys back into camps and youth groups. Who hasn’t heard the joke that when there are three Jews in the room, you get four opinions? Or the one about two Jews stranded on the desert island? They built three shuls: one that Person A goes to, one that Person B goes to, and one that neither of them would be caught dead in. To a Jew, the separations are clear; to the non-Jew, the tensions are minimal, and denominations and divisions are blurred and indistinct.

Luckily for us, Jerusalem is Judaism in miniature not merely because it is split into many factions yet presents a united front: in addition, both the city and the religion also contain a sense of solidarity and spirituality. No other religion in the world incorporates a sense of cultural belonging in its very bylaws; no other city dresses all in white and smiles on Yom Kippur. All Jews worldwide ate some form of matzah this Pesach, and every Yerushalmite in every corner of the city mourned the loss of its children in the last Lebanese war. Judaism is wrapped up in the history, the land, and the people of Jerusalem… and I count myself lucky, and proud, to have been able to live among them.

Have a wonderful month, and I will see you all at services and oneg on May 25^th!

Tales of a divided Israel: A kosher McDonald’s in a secular area, and a sign requesting modesty outside ultra-Orthodox Mea Shearim.

A lazy Thursday and my domestic god

Today was the best day – shuk with Mara in the morning, visiting with Abba at lunch, watching Brokeback Mountain in the afternoon, and cookies with Nicole and Joe in the evening. They have their big appointment at the consulate tomorrow (to get Joe's fiance visa into the US), so we wanted to wish them well.

And then the funniest thing happened that reminded me why I married my husband.

I’m online reading Google News, the modern equivalent of a newspaper. I look over next to me to see Jonathan sewing. I reach for one of the cookies he had made right at the moment he starts cooing to a cat. Then we catch each others’ eyes and burst out laughing. Mr. Mom and the working wife, indeed!

Yasas and ciao!

Where to start? I could write pages on the Parthenon, and the ancient Greek agora where Socrates taught. The Mask of Agamemnon at the Greek National Archeological Museum, and the flea market at Monastiraki Square. The metro stations displaying the archeology found when digging the subway, and the cheery faces of every Greek we met. Then of course moussaka, spanikopidas, ouzo, and yogurt with honey.


At the Temple of Hephaesteon in Athens, overlooking the Acropolis and ancient agora


In Rome I could speak of the immensity of the Colosseum, the Roman agora, and Palatine Hill. The beauty of the Vatican and Sistine Chapel, and the surprising number of open squares scattered across the city. The Trevi Fountain and Spanish Steps with their trillions of tourists. The crypts and catacombs under Rome, churches with unbelievable art, and the hostel where Maxi and Elke served homemade hot chocolate in the mornings.


Us at the Trevi Fountain. We got a miniature version for the cats to serve as their water bowl. :)



Streets of Rome.



Inside of Colosseum.


In Florence there was the Ponte Vecchio bridge, the outdoor courtyard/museum in the Piazza della Signoria, and the Santa Croce church with its elaborate tombs of Michelangelo, Dante, Galileo, and Machiavelli. Through it all was gelato once a day, pizza cut by weight and folded in half, and lasagna and spaghetti to die for.


Ponte Vecchio bridge in Florence.



All-important gelato, Italian ice cream.


We have hundreds of pictures, literally - three memory cards' worth. I think we have one card's worth of art alone. Jonathan has already started sorting them, so he'll put up a huge picture post in the next week or so. Here's some art as a preview.


Caryatid at Acropolis museum in Athens.



Inside of St. Peter's Basilica



Part of a bronze door relief in Florence, by Bernini (same guy who designed St. Peter's square)



"Rape of the Sabine Women" in Florence



Ceiling of the Map Room at the Vatican.

Back from Rome

I’m sick. I’m sure I got whatever it is I have while being squeezed like a sardine in the Vatican museum where I was breathing in the exhales of 20,000 people in a room with no open windows and only two open doors (both plugged with yet more people). Tip of the day is, “Never visit the Vatican Easter weekend”.

So some typhoid mongrel in the room gave me his phlegm filled disease. Fortunately, I was on so much adrenaline while in Rome that I didn’t care and didn’t let it slow me down much. It wasn’t until I was on the flight home that I was smacked down by the cold. It seems my ears, clogged from my congestion, decided to punish me for the change in air pressure by giving me the sensation of a metal spike being driven into my skull. Loads of fun during landing let me tell you. Thinking about it I probably infected people in the plane from all my coughing. I can only hope it was one of the family members of the bastard that gave it to me. Not that I'm bitter.

So, I’m in bed right now, angry at my maligned ear that still hasn’t decompressed from the flight and feels like someone stuck a helium balloon in it. My throat is a bit sore, but most annoying is the cough that I’m sure is going to hurl out my lung at some point. The constant expelling of green goo is no fun either. I’m sure my wife has had a grand time sleeping as the bed quakes from the hacking fits I get about every 10 minutes.

Either out of pity for me, or a desire to sleep tonight, she called the doctor. Interestingly enough, they do house calls in Israel, so he came right to my bed. Nice. Less nice was the fact he spoke no English, just Hebrew. Fortunately my brother in law, Doron, was here and acted as interpreter. He made me do uncomfortable things, like breath, while he listened with his icy cold stethoscope. After much strange gesturing and poking, and a mish mash of almost intelligible Hebrew he announced that I had bronchitis, or possibly Bacchus disease, which if I use my newly attained Latin skill is the disease of too much wine and partying. It was in Hebrew so translation was sketchy. In either case I am to stay in bed and take antibiotics. As a bonus the drugs are even free. Let's just say that I’m becoming a real fan of socialized medicine.

And before you ask, Rome and Athens was so worth it.

I’ll post more on the trip later. If I don’t die from Bacchus first.