Abacaxi Mamão

A Day On the Subway: Follow-Up

2011-11-30T21:07:00.000-05:00

At long last! A follow up to this post from more than two months ago. I am sorry for the delay. This is what happened, as much as I can recall at this late date.

I was on the subway this morning, late to a meeting. As I got on, I noticed a man occupying three seats. (He was sitting in one and a half and had his bag on the third.) I had to stand for a bit, until someone else got off, in order to sit. Before someone else got off, I thought about asking him to move his bag, but realized that he seemed to be down on his luck, so decided not to bother him. As I stood up to get off at my stop, he first fell sideways, into the empty seat beside him, and then off the seat entirely, on to the floor. The teenagers near me tittered and got off, but I said, "Sir, sir" to him as loudly as I could muster to try to wake him up. He did not move or appear responsive to me. But I was late for a meeting! And this was my stop! What would you do?

I got off the train after seeing that someone else was trying to wake the man, and telling someone in the next car what had happened. By the time I hurriedly left the scene, other responsible citizens were on it. I think that I thought about alerting a subway official, maybe upstairs as I walked out, but I was leaving from an unstaffed entrance, so that didn't happen. Also, it seemed that the train conductor might already be aware of the situation, since the train was delayed in the station. Oh, right! Some other people called out from the open doors, to the conductor, "Someone needs help here!" I think. In any case, by the time I left, it was clear that others were involved and feeling responsible and actually acting on that feeling of responsibility towards their fellow citizen.

This experience so bothered me--mostly that the teenagers would titter and get off the train, although, also, to a lesser extent, that I hadn't stayed to help--that when I heard that a man was lying on the front steps of my apartment building on Thanksgiving afternoon, I rushed down and tried to see if he was okay. Again, I said loudly, "Sir, sir, are you okay?" No response. A fire truck went by and still no response. He was lying there, not moving. I called 9-1-1, but before the call was completed, an ambulance pulled up and some EMTs jumped out. They took his pulse and he didn't move. One of them shook him, and he jumped up immediately and said that he was fine. They asked him where he lived and things like that, and I went back inside to continue my Thanksgiving cooking.

On the next train that I was on, a bit later that day, I saw a credit card on the floor, halfway under a seat. A few people were standing near it; I wasn't sure which of them had dropped it. Then I looked up and saw a woman standing with her wallet open, looking for something in it. It was a somewhat crowded car and there were several people between me and her, but I didn't want her to get off the train with her credit card still on the floor. What would you do?

As far as I can recall, I told her about her fallen credit card and she didn't care. I have no idea what was up with that. Other people were similarly confused. I guess it wasn't a credit card, but something else? Trash that she was discarding from her wallet? Someone else's lost credit card, perhaps? I don't know. It was crowded and I did not investigate further.

As you get off the train, you notice that something is dripping out of the plastic bag that the woman in front of you is holding. She seems to be carrying a lot--a backpack, a purse, multiple plastic bags. You have no idea what it is, but it looks pretty gross. Is it really any of your business what's leaking out of someone else's plastic bag? Maybe she knows and doesn't care. What would you do?

I was the person carrying a bunch of stuff, and someone pointed out the leak, and I was so grateful and appreciative. A container of salad dressing had opened up in my plastic lunch bag and was dripping and it was disgusting, but I was able to save the situation by going to the nearest trash can in the subway station, disposing of the offending leaking substance, throwing out the now-gross plastic bag, and putting my other food, some of it still ungreased, into another plastic bag that I had on me. Then I could go about my day. Nothing got on my clothes or on anyone's property, including the MTA's. Win!

You see someone crying at a Starbucks as she puts milk and sugar into her coffee. What would you do?

This was me. I was crying at Starbucks. That's where I rushed after I got off the first subway, and I was totally emotionally overwhelmed and feeling terrible about being late to my meeting and I just started crying. It was really, really nice that two people (not one, but two!) asked me if I was okay and if there was anything they could do to help.

Lesson: New York City has a reputation for being large, harsh, and rude, but there can, at times, be something charmingly caring about it. Strangers taking care of strangers, in tiny little ways, every day. If you live here, and see someone in distress or with something dripping, say something. It's what makes living here moderately tolerable!

A Day on the Subway

2011-09-19T23:19:00.000-04:00

I was on the subway this morning, late to a meeting. As I got on, I noticed a man occupying three seats. (He was sitting in one and a half and had his bag on the third.) I had to stand for a bit, until someone else got off, in order to sit. Before someone else got off, I thought about asking him to move his bag, but realized that he seemed to be down on his luck, so decided not to bother him. As I stood up to get off at my stop, he first fell sideways, into the empty seat beside him, and then off the seat entirely, on to the floor. The teenagers near me tittered and got off, but I said, "Sir, sir" to him as loudly as I could muster to try to wake him up. He did not move or appear responsive to me. But I was late for a meeting! And this was my stop! What would you do?

On the next train that I was on, a bit later that day, I saw a credit card on the floor, halfway under a seat. A few people were standing near it; I wasn't sure which of them had dropped it. Then I looked up and saw a woman standing with her wallet open, looking for something in it. It was a somewhat crowded car and there were several people between me and her, but I didn't want her to get off the train with her credit card still on the floor. What would you do?

As you get off the train, you notice that something is dripping out of the plastic bag that the woman in front of you is holding. She seems to be carrying a lot--a backpack, a purse, multiple plastic bags. You have no idea what it is, but it looks pretty gross. Is it really any of your business what's leaking out of someone else's plastic bag? Maybe she knows and doesn't care. What would you do?

You see someone crying at a Starbucks as she puts milk and sugar into her coffee. What would you do?

This all happened to or around me in the past twelve hours. A day in the life, as it were. A follow-up post with what I or others did will appear at some point in the hopefully-not-too-distant future.

9/11/2011

2011-09-09T14:48:00.001-04:00

I was trying to figure out what to do on Sunday in commemoration of 9/11, and nothing that came into my inbox felt right. There was a morning of community service planned in my local Jewish community, which included cleaning up parks and preparing synagogues for high holiday services, but it conflicted with another engagement and it didn't strike as what I most wanted to do. Somehow, hanging out with local Washington Heights Jews felt wrong in commemoration of the day of chaos and bewilderment that I experienced in New York City ten years ago today. It feels too parochial, somehow.

Another thing is that I am back at school. The last full school year in which I was sitting in a classroom, taking notes for classes I was taking for academic credit, began in September 2001. In fact, it began on September 11, 2001. I keep finding myself dating things 9/6/01 instead of 9/6/11 (etc.). It's a weird feeling.

I wrote about my experiences in NYC on 9/11/01 here, in 2006. That was the only year in which I wrote about it, I think, in the 6+ years since I began this blog. It was the fifth anniversary of 9/11. In short, on September 11, 2001, I did some early-morning thesis research at the Barnard Archives and was told, while paying for my microfilm, that a plane (or two planes?) had hit the World Trade Center. I was imagining a little, tiny plane. I got on the subway to head to Penn Station to get my train to Boston, where I needed to arrive by the afternoon to register for the classes for my senior year of college. The subway stopped at 42nd St. and wouldn't go further downtown. I got out and walked down to 34th St. Eventually, I got on the first Amtrak train that was leaving NYC for points north later that afternoon, and when I got back to Boston, I went straight to the campus Hillel, where everyone was glued to the television. I was not really clear on what had happened until a bit later than everyone else, since word on the street in NYC was scattered and confused. I watched some TV at an appliance store in Penn Station, and some people on the street turned their car radios on and opened all their car doors for people to listen. But I didn't have the trauma of one tower falling and then another tower falling. I had no idea. All I knew was chaos and confusion and that something bad was going on. Although I didn't know how bad. On the streets of New York, I watched people stream up from downtown, shaken and bewildered and sharing cell phones to try to call loved ones.

I don't know what to do or say or even really feel. I have the feeling that I get sometimes of simultaneously being in two different places in space-time. Here in NYC, downtown, in September 2011, and in midtown in September 2001. It's a weird feeling. Maybe I will write more on Sunday.

Blast from the past...

2011-09-05T10:40:00.000-04:00

Uterine Wars posted an article about "ghost blogs" from 2007, which asserts that blogging would become less popular starting in 2007. (Note that this is also Uterine War's goodbye post.)

The line that gave me the most pause was "[He] has not been heard from for more than two months, the point at which most analysts consider a blog to be defunct."

If that's the case, then this blog has been defunct many times over! Has it been? Maybe.

When I was in school...

2011-08-02T16:05:00.000-04:00

I'm going back to school. There, I said it. It's been eight and a half years. I expect things to be different this time around, and it's making me feel a little bit old.

For example, will the kids be taking notes on computers, not in notebooks? When I was in college, I had a laptop, but other students had desktops. It was not the norm to bring a computer to class--at all. (The laptop that I had freshman year was my uncle's hand-me-down that sometimes shut down suddenly in the middle of work and could only be turned on again by taking the battery out and slamming it back in, hard. So I did a lot of my work in the computer lab that year.)

When I was in college, all of the dorms had ethernet (as opposed to dial-up--remember that?), but wireless didn't arrive on campus until my senior year, and then only one library was equipped (as far as I recall). I babysat for a family that had wireless at home and I remember thinking that it was crazy to be able to connect to the internet without a cord! Like, just nuts! (The paterfamilias was a computer science professor, so it made sense that they were wireless earlier than most.) When I lived off campus my senior year, I had dial-up at home. I remember fiddling with TCP/IP settings.

I just signed some federal loan agreements, and whoa, have they overhauled that system! Back in my day, you went to the bursar (I think?) on the first day of school and signed some papers. I don't think I even read them, at least not after the first time I signed them, freshman year. They said to pay back the loans after graduation. End of story. Now, they make you take a 16-screen quiz before you can borrow money. I was grumbling all the way, because it was extremely boring and I needed to answer their insipid questions and then scroll up each time to close the window that automatically opened to grade my response, but I actually learned some things about my loans that I didn't know, in addition to some repayment incentives that either didn't exist when I was paying back undergraduate loans or that I didn't know about. (They may not exist for long, anyway. See this. Or maybe grad students won't be able to get subsidized loans at all. That seems like a stupid decision to me. Isn't more education good for growing the economy, inventing things, running things more efficiently, etc.? Although I do agree that going to college is more crucial than going to grad school.)

What other changes will I notice when I return to campus this fall?

Africa: Day 1 (Rwanda)

2011-06-21T23:16:00.000-04:00

This is a little bit boring, as Abacaxi Mamao posts go, but hopefully later ones will be more interesting. I am mostly writing this up for myself, and for others, in case they are interested. But mostly for myself.

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I arrived in Rwanda on Tuesday evening, after a 5 am flight from TLV to Amsterdam and then another flight from Amsterdam to Kigali. The 1.5 hour layover in Amsterdam was lovely—just enough time to stretch my legs and gape at the library (!) and little fireplace area (!) in the airport, as well as the sign directing travelers to the casino. I took my first anti-malaria pill of the trip while in the Schiphol airport.

The only notable things that happened at the airport were, first, that I met the wife of the ambassador from Stockholm, who pointed out the American ambassador to me, as well as his second-in-command, whom he was going to the airport to pick up. He looked very tall, white, and American to me, among the international travelers arriving in Kigali. The second-in-command was a smallish white woman with fiery red hair.

Then, as I was walking through the “nothing to declare” customs line, the customs official pulled me over and told me that I couldn't bring plastic bags into the country. I knew that plastic bags were not used in Rwanda, from my sister who is living (and working) there. But I didn't think that they would forbid people from bringing plastic bags into the country. My plastic bags were full of some snacks from the US (peanut-butter-filled pretzels, pretzel chips) and some last-minute things that I bought at the airport in Israel (Israeli chocolate, halva), or from a grocery store in Israel (petit buerre (sp?) chocolate tea biscuits). It was a lot of small stuff, and they were taking my bags away! I stuffed what I could into my retrieved baggage (my carry-ons were full) and stacked the rest precariously on top of my suitcases.

My parents (who had arrived a day earlier and stayed in Kigali overnight) and sister met me at arrivals and we went to the Jeep that Mollie had hired to take us and all of our stuff to the Agahozo-Shalom Youth Village, near Ramagana, Rwanda, and about an hour from Kigali. The driver was a very nice man named Irena. When we got to the end of the paved rode and the beginning of the dirt road, at Ntunga, my mother, as prone to motion-sickness as I am, said, “Uh oh!” as the ride went from silky smooth to slightly bumpy. Had we only known how much more bumpy pothole-filled paved roads would be in parts of Kenya and near Nyungwe National Park, we would have, instead, been grateful for the dirt road! We also marveled at how people walked by and even rode bikes in the pitch blackness, along the dirt road.

After that bumpy start, or, rather, end, we pulled up to the gate at ASYV and moved out stuff into the guest house, which seemed lovely, until we tried to turn on the water. There was none. “Oh, yeah,” my sister said. “Sometimes there is no water at night. Don’t worry, though. There is always water in the kitchen and we will go to the kitchen to get filtered drinking water tomorrow morning.”

We settled into our mosquito-net-laden beds for the night. I was comforted by the fact that I had some water left from a water fountain at the Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam.

The smell of Chapstick

2011-03-29T11:52:00.000-04:00

Do you know that particular, waxy smell that Chapstick has? It's different from Blistex or other lip balms. I don't know what gives it that smell. What I do know is that it reminds me, instantly and irrevocably, of Chanukah.

Why the association?, you might very well wonder. When I was little, we kids got eight presents for the eight nights of Chanukah, one on each night. And for as long as I can remember, one of the presents was a stick of Chapstick. At first, it was the clear kind. But then, when I got older, it was the more exciting cherry flavor. And do you know why the cherry flavor was more exciting? It's because it was more like lipstick. And that was exciting, fun, and cool. Especially when I was little.

I thought of that Chapstick smell-Chanukah association as I read Marjorie Ingall's piece in Tablet ("Little Ladies," Marjorie Ingall, February 22, 2011), in which she wonders about the sale of makeup to six-year-old girls. She's not the only one.

I sympathize with her. But when I remember how non-princessy I was (dressed in gender-neutral primary-colored clothing by my mother, the better to hand down to my little brother), and how I still coveted those tubes of Chapstick, plain or fake-cherry-infused, I wonder. My mother didn't wear makeup, so I wasn't trying to imitate her. My grandmothers did, and one grandmother happily introduced me to nail polish when I was about six. I polished my nails intermittently throughout my tween years.

So, is Walmart creating a market with its geoGirl line, or capitalizing on an existing desire among little girls to paint their faces? On the other hand, as the Ms. Magazine blog post ("Walmart’s geoGirl: Doesn’t Every 8-Year-Old Need to Exfoliate?" Mia Fontaine, February 9, 2011) points out, this is a far cry from a tube of Chapstick:

The line, which boasts a total of 69 (let’s hope that’s coincidental) products, contains everything from eyeshadow, mascara and blush to exfoliator, anti-oxidant treatments and face soap. After all, what 8-year-old doesn’t need to slough off dead skin and elongate her eyelashes?

And what of the claim that the push is coming from parents and not kids? That's a disturbing one!

Thoughts?

"Chocolate's Startling Health Benefits"

2011-02-24T14:00:00.004-05:00

Startling to you, maybe, John Robbins! Not to me!

So you don't have to read the whole Huffington Post blog post ("Chocolate's Startling Health Benefits," John Robbins, Feb. 22, 2011), I'll tell you that chocolate's health benefits include:

"Chocolate, it turns out, is particularly rich in polyphenols....The polyphenols in chocolate inhibit oxidation of LDL cholesterol....One of the causes of atherosclerosis is blood platelets clumping together, a process called aggregation. The polyphenols in chocolate inhibit this clumping, reducing the risks of atherosclerosis."
"High blood pressure is a well known risk factor for heart disease. It is also one of the most common causes of kidney failure, and a significant contributor to many kinds of dementia and cognitive impairment. Studies have shown that consuming a small bar of dark chocolate daily can reduce blood pressure in people with mild hypertension.
"[C]hocolate thins the blood and performs the same anti-clotting activity as aspirin. 'Our work supports the concept that the chronic consumption of cocoa may be associated with improved cardiovascular health,' said UC Davis researcher Carl Keen.
"Chocolate is the richest known source of a little-known substance called theobromine, a close chemical relative of caffeine. Theobromine, like caffeine, and also like the asthma drug theophylline, belong to the chemical group known as xanthine alkaloids. Chocolate products contain small amounts of caffeine, but not nearly enough to explain the attractions, fascinations, addictions, and effects of chocolate. The mood enhancement produced by chocolate may be primarily due to theobromine."
"Chocolate also contains other substances with mood elevating effects. One is phenethylamine, which triggers the release of pleasurable endorphins and potentates the action of dopamine, a neurochemical associated with sexual arousal and pleasure. Phenethylamine is released in the brain when people become infatuated or fall in love."
Another substance found in chocolate is anandamide....It binds to the same receptor sites in the brain as cannabinoids -- the psychoactive constituents in marijuana -- and produces feelings of elation and exhilaration.
"[C]hocolate also boosts brain levels of serotonin."

Do you have to eat a ton of chocolate to get these effects? No.

"According to a study published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, adding only half an ounce of dark chocolate to an average American diet is enough to increase total antioxidant capacity 4 percent, and lessen oxidation of LDL cholesterol.

Of course, to get the full effect, it is best to eat dark chocolate, which also has less sugar and fat added.

And more good news!

"As far as fats go, it's the added fats that are the difficulty, not the natural fat (called cocoa butter) found in chocolate. Cocoa butter is high in saturated fat, so many people assume that it's not good for your cardiovascular system. But most of the saturated fat content in cocoa butter is stearic acid, which numerous studies have shown does not raise blood cholesterol levels. In the human body, it acts much like the monounsaturated fat in olive oil."

Happy chocolating! (I knew that I would find a use for this blog category again.)

In Memoriam: Laughing over chocolate

2011-01-24T18:59:00.000-05:00

My paternal grandmother, my last remaining living grandparent, passed away early in the morning of Sunday, January 16, the 11th day of Shevat. This is the eulogy that I delivered at her funeral the following day.

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When I was faced with the difficult task of thinking about what to say in memory of my beloved grandmother, Grandma Joan, I was utterly silenced. Where would I even begin? She meant so much to me—so much to all of us—in so many different ways. It is difficult to know what to say.

When faced with the task of speaking about something that seems too vast to put into words, the Jewish liturgical poets often expressed the enormity and difficulty of the task by writing an alphabetic acrostic, as if to say: Even the entire alphabet is too small to encompass this thing!

This is how I feel about my grandmother. Even the entire alphabet—all of the words made from all of the letters that we have available to us—is too small to encompass all that she was.

While I think that she, of all people, would so have appreciated an acrostic poem written about her, I decided, instead, to focus on a few of the things that I learned from her.

One was the way that when she listened to you, she focused her full, undivided attention on you. Those large eyes, turned on you, seeking out yours, listening closely to what you were saying, and offering so much sage advice—that was Grandma Joan. I honestly never thought about this quality of hers until yesterday, when I realized that I would never again be the focus of her undivided attention. She always treated me this way, whether I was a young child coming to her with a small problem or a young adult, coming with her for advice on a professional matter.

One example of this focus—of her undivided attention that I lapped up—was her memory of my eclectic food preferences. I told her once, when I was around seven, that I liked chive cream cheese, and after that, for years and years, she always had chive cream cheese for me when I came. She also remembered that I loved cranberry juice, and would get it especially for me, and that I disliked tomatoes and salad dressing. I was shocked that she could keep these things straight, with so many grandchildren.

Grandma Joan focused her full attention on you when you spoke and she always took me so seriously. One example of this was our correspondence, when I was perhaps middle school age, about the existence of God and our conflicting views about the role that mitsvot, or traditional Jewish commandments, should play in one’s life. We had a very interesting written correspondence, back and forth, about this.

Grandma Joan not only listened with undivided attention, and took everyone, from adult to child, seriously, but she gave such good advice! Some things that I already knew but had a tendency to forget—break large, overwhelming tasks down into small ones—and others that were utterly foreign to me but have more than proven themselves over my life: you can cook without recipes. Her bean salad recipe is a staple of my non-recipe cooking repertoire.

Grandma Joan not only focused, listened, and advised, she also encouraged. She always expressed such pride in my writing and artistic accomplishments, especially at a time when the school environment I was in did not particularly encourage artistic pursuits. She loved to talk about the genes for writing, storytelling, and art that we shared, and I loved to listen! Although she felt that she had lost so much from the Alzheimer’s in recent years, she continued to take drawing classes and to show me her art, and when I wanted to make a necklace to wear to my brother Avi and sister-in-law Shira’s wedding last May, I went to her for her impeccable eye for design and beading. Although she felt that she couldn’t help me because she didn’t recall all of the principles of beading, I really wanted her eye for design, which she shared, as she always did, so generously.

Grandma Joan shared generously and enthusiastically of all that she had. Whenever we came to visit, she would put out spreads for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When Miriam and I would go down to Mount Vernon for our joint annual birthday trip, she would take up to farms, farmer’s markets, the zoo, and doll museums, but more than that, she taught us how to make chocolate pudding from scratch, how to make jello with fruit juice, how to sew our own doll clothes or otherwise craft them from Grandpa Israel’s discarded paisley ties or holey socks.

When I think of all of my grandmother’s many talents—from her psychological insight, to her gift of words displayed through so many poems and essays throughout the years to her studied completion of many New York Times’ crossword puzzles, and her artistic pursuits from drawing to beading, her cooking and meal presentation, her love of reading and her longstanding participation over many years in one book group, the way she was so careful to conserve all that she had so that she could give as much as possible to others—I think of the woman of valor described in the book of Proverbs, in an acrostic, because words cannot contain her wonderousness.

One verse, in particular, stands out as apt when remembering Grandma Joan—Proverbs 31:25:

עֹז-וְהָדָר לְבוּשָׁהּ; וַתִּשְׂחַק, לְיוֹם אַחֲרוֹן

"Strength and splendor are her garments, and she smiles at the last day."

My grandmother was, indeed, a strong, and in her own, utterly unique way, a splendorous woman, and she smiled and laughed almost to the last day.

When I had dinner with Grandma Joan a little under two weeks ago, and brought her a bunch of desserts, since I had read a New York Times article that said that people with Alzheimer’s should have all the chocolate they want, we laughed together a lot. I know that my grandmother’s more recent years were a struggle, and that she was so sad not to have the truly spectacular memory that she had in her earlier years. As late as her 70s, she was learning a new language—Yiddish—and learning new exercises and eager to share in her grandchildrens’ love of technology, as baffling as she sometimes found it, and as proud as she was of her non-touch tone phone. Still, when I visited her a little under two weeks ago, we shared scrumptious coconut ice cream and taste-tested three kinds of chocolate, and made fun of the labels. We were literally giggling like schoolgirls over the overwrought copy on the chocolate labels. When I was looking over old photos of her, her wide, bright, complete smile really stood out for me.

Grandma Joan, indeed, laughed almost to the last day. I feel so blessed that I was able to share in her laughter, and bask of her focus, and learn so much from her, for so many, many years.

Awkward

2011-01-12T17:31:00.003-05:00

I invited a non-Jewish friend of mine over for tea. Normally, someone's status as a Jew or a non-Jew is not so important in my daily life, but it happens to be that the vast majority of my friends are observant Jews. It's difficult to socialize with non-Jews, what with rules about eating out, and since I don't really like to drink alcohol, that remove the ever-popular bar option.

So, I have this non-Jewish friend, who knows that I am Jewish, and I know that she is some kind of religious Christian. She does liturgical dance, which sounds really cool, and refers to Jesus as "Jesus Christ."

So, anyway, she is over for a cup of tea, and because I don't have so many non-Jewish friends, I forget about the calendar on my fridge--with Shevat/Tevet written on some of the days, and parshiyot, and local candle-lighting times. Suddenly, that strikes me as weird. She asks me what "Shevat" and "Tevet" are, and I explain that there is a Jewish calendar that is different from our regular calendar, and that those are the names of two of the Jewish months.

Then she says, "So, you don't believe that Jesus Christ is your Lord and savior?"

And I say, "No, I don't."

And she says, "You just believe he's a prophet, right?"

And I say, almost apologetically at this point, "No, I don't believe that he was a prophet, because I don't believe that a lot of what he said was the truth. I believe that he was a teacher."

Super awkward. I hope I didn't offend her. I don't mind if she thinks that Jesus is her Lord and savior. I mean, it's totally alright with me.

But then she asked me what he had said that I didn't believe, but the truth is--Jesus said some pretty nice things! Many of which I believe! And I couldn't remember what was Paul and the various apostles and what was Jesus, so I kind of didn't know what to say. I said something about getting rid of the need to follow all of the commandments, and she said that she followed the ten commandments, but then I told her that there were 613.

Then we got into an interesting discussion about my eating habits:

"So, you'll never have a tuna melt!"

"No, tuna isn't considered meat."

"So you'll never have a hawaiian pizza with bacon and pineapple?"

"No, because bacon isn't kosher, so I wouldn't have it even if it wasn't meat and milk."

"So you don't eat ham?"

"Nope."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"No, not really. What really bothers me is that I can't eat vegetarian food out cooked. Like, pizza without any meat on it. Or a baked apple. Or a hard-boiled egg. Also, sometimes Shabbat bothers me."

I did not get into the gender thing, or various issues I have about kohanim and converts, or how some Jews are just absolutely crazy.

So I turn to you, dear readers. What did Jesus himself say (even if as reported by Mark, Luke, John, etc.) that was so objectionable to our rabbinic antecedents? Thanks.

15 minutes of fame!

2010-11-08T13:59:00.004-05:00

Make that fifteen seconds.

Check out figure 11 on page 50 of this recent AviChai report [PDF], "The Reality of the Virtual: Looking for Jewish Leadership Online."

In other news, much has happened in my life to make me very, very busy. Happily, dating, but also, a truckload of exciting freelance projects that are making full utilization of my writing, editing, organization, and project management skills. I've mostly dispensed with serious learning for the time-being, despite a desire to continue learning. After all, "אין קמח, אין תורה." ("Where there is no flour [sustenance], there is no Torah." Ethics of the Fathers, 3:17) Truer words were never said!

However, to ensure that the reverse doesn't come to pass ("אם אין תורה, אין קמח." "Where there is no Torah, there is no flour [sustenance]." Ethics of the Fathers, 3:17), I am teaching a weekly Talmud class. My work is also very steeped in Torah.

I would like to blog at some point about teaching Talmud, which I just started doing last week with a healthy dose of trepidation. My goal, in teaching a beginning Talmud class, has been to not make the mistakes that teachers of mine have made. That is my guiding philosophy. I hope to reiterate that and expand upon it at some future point, and to make it a positive statement, rather than a negative statement.

Has it really been four months?

2010-05-07T14:51:00.001-04:00

Apparently it has.

Things have been busy.

Yes, that's what they all say.

I think I've been using Facebook to share things of interest instead of this blog, but Facebook is clearly short-form, while this blog is clearly long-form. I miss long-form!

With what have I been busy, you ask?

(Thanks for asking.)

I've been attempting to study Torah full-time and do freelance writing/editing/development work part-time, but that's basically a recipe for disaster. In the end, I no longer write for pleasure; I no longer feel like a writer at all; I rarely write in my journal; and I feel like five billion other things are ripping at my concentration as I attempt to sit and study Torah. I am failing to enjoy learning Torah while I learn Torah and to enjoy my freelance work while I do my freelance work. The latter is somehow easier than the former, but not by a lot.

* * *

The following is a statement that I wrote about my life as a writer. It was true at one time. I am no longer sure that it is. But it's nice to read something that I felt so confident about at the time!

My life as a Jew and my life as a writer are intimately bound up in one another. My voice and the leadership roles that I have taken in the Jewish community have all been through my writing. As someone who was often relegated to the backs and sides of communal spaces as a child growing up in the Orthodox community, and who still feels strongly a part of that world through my allegiance to advanced Torah study, my voice is most easily, and least threateningly, shared through the written word.
My broad, overall goals as a writer are: to engage creatively with all aspects of Jewish life and learning; to share a passionate, caring voice that is eager to engage with both the enormously fulfilling and more heart-breakingly difficult aspects of being a modern, committed Jewish woman; to share my love for both asking questions and seeking answers; and to use my strong grounding in classical Jewish texts to struggle with contemporary issues.
One important sub-goal of my writing is to close the chasm between the emotional and intellectual selves in the world of Jewish learning. In my experience, too much of classical Jewish learning shuns the emotion in favor of the intellect. I seek to bridge that divide by using classical Jewish sources to shed light on our emotional inner lives, and through that, on the emotional truths that permeate so many classical Jewish texts, from Tanakh and its commentaries, to Talmud, halakhah, and its commentaries, to the siddur and its myriad commentaries.
Another one of my goals as I move forward in my continued involvement in the organized Jewish community, especially the community of yoshvei beit midrash—those who sit in the study hall—is use the medium of the written word to tease out the interplay between Jewish text study, Jewish prayer, and mental health issues. These complex relationships exist for many, but are rarely, if ever, spoken of in public.

That's it, really. Just sharing!

JOFA conference (and associated blog)...hopefully not missing the point entirely

2010-01-07T00:51:00.003-05:00

Welcome to 2010, everyone!

JOFA just announced their upcoming conference.

And associated blog.

The first (and thus far, only) post seems to miss the point of, well, blogging, which is to link to stuff. The text itself is rife with phrases for fun and exciting linkage. Should I offer myself for hire?

The conference itself, in as much as you can know anything before any of the actual sessions are online, looks like it's going to be great (yay, film festival! I hope they show good stuff). The idea of a middle school track is interesting to me. Do they not have a high school track because they assume that interested high school students go to the regular sessions? (Oh, right! That's what I did at the first conference. And it was totally fine. And I thought I was a grown-up. I mean, come on, I was 17!)

Sunny (!) San Francisco, Snow-Tipped Trees, Blue Bays, and Cotton-Candy Sunsets

2009-12-31T15:20:00.003-05:00

Some photos from my recent vacation. Click to make them larger.

First up, sunny skies and warm weather in San Francisco!

Why would anyone go to the North Pole if they could be here?

Then, a rainy trip to the beach. Still beautiful, though, in a breath-taking kind of way.

We tried to get some of the world's best coffee/tea, but it was closed.

The drive up to Lake Tahoe was one of the most beautiful things I've ever experienced. The trees, outlined with crisp, fresh snow just took my breath away. And the sky really turned this color!

Emerald Bay:

View from observation point (got there via gondola):

More pretty Lake Tahoe:

A few days later, sunset at Asilomar:

Asilomar State Beach:

And before I knew it, I was home again!

Airport mincha, ads in security area trays, and what does TSA do, anyway?

2009-12-30T13:57:00.000-05:00

So, I've been traveling again. It makes me happy! I think that's because I like to look at new and interesting things, and there are so many more new and interesting things around when one is in a new environment than when one is stuck in one's routine at home. Lessons learned:

I should make an effort to get out and about in NYC more often, since there is lots to do and see in NYC that I haven't gotten anywhere near seeing yet.
I should get out of NYC more often, even if just for the weekend, by visiting friends who live within cheap-bus-commutable distance of NYC. Even Riverdale and Teaneck.

I saw a guy davening mincha, facing a structural column, at Newark International Airport. Nothing remarkable about that--I had just done a similar thing, myself. But he wasn't wearing a kippa, which struck me as odd from a sociological perspective (not a halachic perspective). I wonder if people think the same thing about me, when they see me davening in jeans? I mean, I don't think twice about it, but, really, a man wearing a kippa isn't so different from a woman wearing a skirt. Both are customs that indicate allegiance to a particular community, although I would say that kippot have more symbolic meaning than skirts (remembering that God is above you), while more people probably justify only wearing skirts on halachic grounds. I would also say that it's more socially acceptable for an Orthodox woman to wear pants than for an Orthodox man to not wear a kippa, but that's a product of my time and social circle, not an absolute statement. All of this is besides the point. I just thought it was interesting that a person would make the personal choice to daven mincha while forgoing the kippa that is normally warn by people who would be committed enough to weekday mincha to say it at the airport. Now I expect to hear from all of you who say: I am a non-regulalary-kippa-wearing male and I daven mincha!

My second travel-related or travel-inspired observation was that someone had the grand idea of putting advertisements in the bottom of those plastic trays that people throw their things into to send them through the x-ray machines at security checkpoints. It's brilliant because it was an otherwise flat, monotone surface that people more or less have to look at regularly. Also, you can target them to travel-related things, since you know that everyone who looks at them is traveling. (This may draw a higher per-viewing price than print advertisements placed in less-targeted locations.) My only complaint is that it makes it harder to see if you've left something in the tray. I wonder if airports that have these ads will see a spike in things forgotten at security?

My third observation, which was made on December 17, eight days before the flight 253 attempted terrorist act, was that I accidentally left five keys, on a key ring, in my pocket. I wanted right through the metal detector, sans belt, sans shoes, with all of my liquids neatly crammed into 3-oz.-or-less containers in a quart-size ziploc bag...and nothing happened. No beep, no buzz, no stopping me. Five metal keys on a key ring is quite a bit of metal for a metal detector to miss! I happen to be a harmless sort, but couldn't I have been carrying that amount of metal in the form of a very sharp knife?

Anyway, the vacation was very good. I saw some spectacularly beautiful things (e.g., Lake Tahoe after a fresh snow and several beaches), breathed in a lot of fresh, clean air, ate a delicious meal (thanks to my uncle--thank you!) at The Kitchen Table, a kosher restaurant in Mountain View, wandered around Old Sacramento alone (verdict: tourist trap; I should have gone to the railway museum instead of the military museum and schoolhouse museum), met some very nice, friendly, interesting new people (particularly at the Mission Minyan in San Francisco), visited one of my grandmother's first cousins and made her day, caught up with friends and relatives (in San Francisco, Berkeley, and Pacific Grove), had a surprising amount of fun watching month-old piglets at Little Farm and then taking a spectacularly slippery, muddy, fall-down-on-my-butt-at-least-four-times hike in Tilden Park in Berkeley, and felt that maybe I should construct a long-term plan to get out of New York City in a more permanent manner.

Happy Chanukah!

2009-12-17T12:53:00.006-05:00

I'm sorry for the long silence. Things have been a bit awry in my life as of late, and this blog has suffered. Sorry, blog (and readers).

I thought that this semi-recent David Brooks op-ed about the Chanukah story was interesting. I always love it when people discredit fairy tales about holidays and talk about the real history behind them.

Parts of this Yoni Brenner Shouts & Murmurs New Yorker piece made me laugh out loud. On the subway. (There were some parts that I liked less.)

Happy Chanukah!

My Life in Talmud Torah (With Emphasis on Talmud): Loss (Part 2)

2009-10-15T16:00:00.010-04:00

Part 1 here.

It was July 1997.

I had just turned eighteen years old and had spent at least twelve years working my ass off in day school so I could get good grades and get into a good college. I had gotten the good grades (mostly), been accepted to the good college, and was about to take a year off to go and study in Israel. First, though, I worked full-time in June and August in Boston, so that I could spend July in New York City, living with a lovely couple with three sons on the Upper West Side, and studying Torah full-time.

I couldn't get enough of Torah. Torah had been like a drug for me towards the end of high school, which was a bit of a rocky time for me emotionally. It was some sort of panacea or a life raft. I clung to it with all my might, in the belief that it, and only it, had the power to save me by righting all the many wrongs that I identified in the Orthodox Judaism in which I had been raised.

I was young and idealistic. I had had a young (far younger than I am now), idealistic, male teacher in high school who had promised me that women learning Torah on a high level would remake the world of halacha and cure all that ailed The System. I believed him. (See this and this for more on that youthful vision, particularly as it relates to Orthodoxy vis-a-vis feminism.) I loved learning Gemara, in particular. At the summer program for high school students that I attended in July 1997, I learned from the best teacher I had ever had, a recent graduate of their unique "I can't believe it's not smicha [rabbinic ordination]!" certificate program. (Yes, it was called that even then.) All the cool people--the thoughtful people, the people who cared about the things that I cared about--seemed to be professional learners and teachers of Torah. I thought I might study in Israel for a year, go to college, and return to this institution or another to collect my own "I can't believe it's not smicha!" certificate. I was the cream of the Modern Orthodox intellectual crop; I was hope for the future of Modern Orthodoxy. I was told that it was for people like me that the founder of my day school had created it. I had questions, of various theological sorts, but they were taken seriously and I was promised that, in time and with enough learning, I would find answers.

And then I went to Israel. And there, in what I always thought of as yeshiva, they told me, "The world is not ready for women to learn Gemara five days a week."¹ I knew that this was not true, since I had been learning Gemara five days a week since I was twelve years old, and had just done it for the entire month of July--five mornings a week and one or two evenings a week of night seder--and the world had not said, "Boo." I was not the only one who wanted Gemara five days a week. Several of us, in the highest Gemara class available to us first year students, petitioned the administration for more Gemara, and they said no. We gave them a very logical reason for wanting more Gemara, namely, that with Gemara on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, we spent each Monday reviewing the complicated material, especially the ever-convoluted rishonim, especially as taught through the not-always-textually-accurate-although-it-claims-airtight-logic Brisker method, from the previous Wednesday, since it had all but been forgotten in the intervening four days. They told us that if we stayed in Israel for a second year, at their esteemed institution, that we could have Gemara five days a week.

None of us took them up on the offer. Instead, we went back to the US, to our Ivy League institutions, were nobody told us that we could not get the same education as men because "the world wasn't ready for us." (I did get permission to skip regular Sunday and Thursday morning Jewish thought classes to learn Talmud with another student who had joined the petition for additional Gemara.)

I was not in Israel in isolation. I was there with my male classmates. I spent the Pesach break at a male yeshiva, witnessing, firsthand, while the men were gone, the facilities that were dedicated to men's Torah study. I saw the organic community (no need to import a minyan of opposite-gender people in order to daven as a community!), the beit midrash (large and well-stocked!), the dining hall (three meals a day! no need to take time away from Torah to go grocery shopping and cook!), and the library (well-stocked!). I saw what I suddenly knew, in my heart of hearts, that I would never, ever have.

That year, as I learned more about halacha, I believed in it less. Based on what seemed to be to be hard and fast, intractable problems in halacha--including but not limited to the fact that women could never form their own autonomous prayer group, saying dvarim she'bikdusha--it didn't look like I would be able to get the kind of intense, all-consuming yeshiva-based Torah education that I craved, and that even if I somehow managed to acquire the learning, it didn't look like I would ever be able to have or live a Judaism that would be, well, truly, if I was utterly honest with myself, intellectually palateable. I would also be on the sidelines, unable to really daven the way a person should without the importation of a minyan of men, and never truly respected for my opinion.

I came back to the US without a vision for a future for myself in Jewish learning. The pain I felt at the time is still palpable today. I wasn't sure that I wanted to keep Shabbat or kashrut. I started off my college career attending minyan three times a day, then gradually reduced to once a day, and pretty soon, I was only going on Shabbat, and not too long after that, I stopped going to shul on Shabbat. (I never stopped going to kiddush or Shabbat meals at Hillel, even though I sometimes left them early. Thank God for my unhealthy food issues!) I never really even tried to learn in college.

Oh, that's not quite true. I didn't want to give up that all-consuming vision or dream that I had had, so I went to New York, back to the institution of which I had so many happy memories, for a week of learning over Christmas break. I felt nothing inside. It was boring, empty, and meaningless.

Then I went back to Israel and studied for a few weeks at another institution at which I had been happy during my year in Israel (not the one that denied me full access to the Torah to which I clung). It was an unmitigated disaster. I found Gemara boring and halacha pedantic. Someone told us that the Rambam said that it was not assur, but merely inadvisable, to hug one's brother/sister (of the opposite gender). The teacher made some kind of big deal out of the fact that the Rambam had not outright forbidden hugging one's sibling, as if that was some kind of prize to cling to. That pretty much sealed the deal: This whole Jewish learning thing--heck, this whole adherence to the formalism of halacha thing--was absolutely not for me.

But, I needed the community. I never stopped needing the community. When I no longer cared about learning or davening, I went to shul for the community. I was lucky to have friends who learned and davened and made Shabbat meals, and that kept me in. The world is too huge and lonely a place without Shabbat and the community that traditional observance of Shabbat automatically creates--of people who live within walking distance of each other, of people who play Taboo and Set and Trivial Pursuit together, of people who sponsor seudat shlishit in memory of their dearly departed.

In college, I immersed myself in the study of history and gender, and recognized that the rabbis were all right--feminism was a dangerous thing. Sojourner Truth spoke to me in a way that no rabbi I had never met or whose words I had ever read had. I found my voice, in college, as a writer, a journalist, and student of history and gender--the voice that had been so clearly denied me within the organized Jewish community. I articulated, sometimes only to myself and sometimes to others, a position of suspicion of halacha and halachic practice based on my studies of history and gender, and I felt the pain of generations of women who had come before and been denied full participation in society, in democracy, and in decision-making bodies over the centuries. I tried davening at the egalitarian minyan, but it felt like someone was putting a bandaid over the gaping wound of Jewish history's relationship to the role of women, and, anyway, I liked hanging out with people who knew and talked Torah and got my mishna jokes, and that was, unfortunately, not so true in the egalitarian community, despite it's relatively high level of Jewish education.

I left college alienated from the organized Jewish community and the learning of my youth. If I learned Torah at all (and of course I did--what else are you going to do when you're bored and sitting in a place with sefarim?), it was despite my year in Israel four years earlier, not because of it.

__________________________________________________________
1. This is a direct quote. It was seared into my brain instantly and has never left. If people only knew the impact of their words, especially their words of discouragement, maybe they would think before they spoke....

"Understanding the Anxious Mind," New York Times Magazine article

2009-10-07T22:50:00.001-04:00

Thought this was interesting.

One-room schoolhouses, American adults who have never heard of Alfred Hitchcock, and other oddities

2009-10-07T21:16:00.005-04:00

I am away on vacation. It feels like the first time in awhile that I've traveled, but, of course, it is not. I spent last year in Israel, and traveled outside Jerusalem quite a bit. I was down in Washington, D.C. for Rosh Hashanah, and before that, I spent a week in New Hampshire at the National Havurah Institute. But none of those things is really traveling, because none of them put me into actual human contact with The Other. People I don't talk to or gchat with everyday.

This trip is reminding me why I love to travel--and why I hate airplane travel in this post-9/11, post-fee-for-each-checked-bag, small-airplanes-due-to-high-gas-prices age. First the former. Maybe I will post about the latter separately.

I flew out West, for the first time since I was at shiva for my grandmother in July 2007. That's a very long time for me to not be on the West Coast. From 2000-2007, I went 2-3 times each year. This trip reminded me of my dear, departed grandparents a lot, for some reason. I kept thinking of things that I wanted to tell or show them, especially my grandmother, who has only been gone for a little bit over two years. It sometimes feels easy to remember that people are gone until you are in the place--or on the coast of the country--where you expect to see them, and then it hits you all over again.

Part I. Airplane Tales

That wasn't what reminded me that I love to travel. It was the woman sitting across the aisle from me, in my super-deluxe, miraculously free exit row (plus bulkhead) seat with an empty seat between it and the person in the window seat. She was quite chatty, and was mostly chatting with the flight attendant who was sitting and facing her in the jump seat. She had some interesting tales to tell, and it is unlikely that I would have met her in my normal environs.

She lives in rural Montana, with her husband, although she did not grow up there. Her children and grandchildren live nearby. Her grandchildren attend a one-room schoolhouse, where there are twenty-two kids, ages four to thirteen, with three teachers. It's not how she grew up, but she thinks it's fantastic. Her four-year-old loves it. She is doted on by the older kids, and the older kids learn a lot from helping with and interacting with the younger kids.

I wasn't sure what to think. My first thought was, "Cool!" but my next thought was, "What are those kids missing out on by being in that environment?" I guess that they make up for a lot of those things when they get to high school and have extra-curricular activities and more kids to hang out with. I wonder what happens to the kids in that school who don't have or make friends there. Does that happen, or do they all just turn out to be nice and friendly with each other? What about the kids who would really flourish with extra-curricular sports and a newspaper and a play? Do they have those things on a regional level in middle school? And then I thought, is it so different from kids who go to small Jewish day schools or are home-schooled? Perhaps not, and those kids often turn out okay, I think. Anyway, I still think it's cool, and gave me things to think about. I don't think I've ever met anyone whose grandchildren/children/self went to a real one-room schoolhouse before.

Later on in the flight, we experienced some turbulence. I don't mind a little back-and-forth turbulence, but am not a huge fan of that free fall dropping kind of turbulence. We had some of the latter, and the same woman told me that she was traveling in Africa, and she was supposed to fly somewhere. She got to the airfield and couldn't believe the plane that they wanted to fly her in--it was an old World War II plane of some kind. She said that they used anything that flew. She got on, and she and the other passengers sat down, and there were no seatbelts. And this was a plane where you need one! The turbulence we experienced on our airliner was nothing compared to that plane in Africa.

On the flight back East, I sat next to a woman who told me her whole life story in about 35 minutes. Most of it was boring (medical technologist, then taught chemistry at a community college), but she then told me about her granddaughter, Grace, who was named Grace for an interesting reason. Her mom (this woman's daughter) needed a liver transplant when she was in 11th grade, due a rare genetic disorder that her parents didn't know was even a possibility until it showed up and shot her liver. She got into Brown and some other fancy-pants colleges back east, but decided to go to school locally, possibly because she had such rough years in high school. She got married and after a high-risk pregnancy, had her daughter, whom she named Grace, after the grace that God showed her in letting her live and have a child. Her liver is still functioning beautifully. I thought that was lovely. (The woman telling the story was wearing a prominent cross and her white cotton blouse was adorned with Disney characters.) I don't know if I've met the parent of someone who received an organ transplant before.

This woman was also extremely lovely, even though I was very, very tired and eventually begged off to go to sleep. (It was a four-hour red-eye flight.) She was extremely enthusiastic about my chosen profession of being a writer and editor, and said that it was so impressive. She was happy to be sitting next to a writer and would look for my picture inside the back of a book jacket someday. She was really so lovely, although a bit too talkative for the hour.

That was Part I of my "This is so much fun. I never would have heard these stories if I had not chosen to get on these planes."

Part II. Strangers in a Strange Land

So, I was in this medium-sized Jewish community on the West Coast for the first two days of Sukkot. The last time I was there, I was shocked and appalled when, at a Shabbat meal, the Orthodox male head of household (a man in his 50s with three adolescent-to-young-adult kids) said that he was shocked and appalled that a university in some midwestern state had not hired a biologist due to his creationist views. That is, he thought that such a professor should be hired, and should not be discriminated against for his "religious beliefs."

So I already got that this was a kind of anti-science, hareidi-ish, black-hat community. Furthermore, I had gathered that many of these anti-science-in-the-name-of-"Torah" people had baal tshuva backgrounds.

A few vignettes:

We are sitting around the table, and the topic of actors who get typecast comes up. One of the guests, a married-and-pregnant woman of about 22 or 23, says that the man in Psycho got typecast in such a way. Then she mentioned The Birds, and I said, "Alfred Hitchcock," because, you know, that's one thing that those two movies have in common. Her husband, also in his early 20s, born and raised in Denver, Colorado, says, "Oh, is that the actor in it?" His wife, to her credit, says, "No, the director," but I remain appalled that someone wouldn't know that, and not for any discernible reason.

Now, there's lots and lots that I don't know. But I expect people to know the stuff that I do know. Like the Secretary of State. The hostess of that meal had to think for three or four minutes to remember who the current Secretary of State is. And she said, "Is it a girl?," fishing for a hint, before she finally got it. A girl!

The young wife, who knew who Alfred Hitchcock was, lost points for her answer when I asked her what she did in life: "My husband's in yeshiva." "Oh," I said, "That's nice. What do you do?" It turns out that she works in graphic design and tutors women at a nearby seminary. That's pretty interesting, in my mind, and I don't know why she didn't answer that first.

The other thing that ticked me off at that meal was someone's comment that, "My husband worked so hard to put up this sukkah. He spent eight hours on it! It's so interesting that the men do all of the work for Sukkot [putting up the sukkah] and the women do all of the work for Pesach [cleaning]." I responded that, most years, I helped to build a sukkah [although not lately, except for last year], and she said, "Yeah, but most women don't." The moment was saved, though, by her husband's question to her: "How many hours do you spend making each Shabbat or Yom Tov meal?" Counting inviting people, planning menus, shopping, cooking (8 dishes! who makes eight things for a meal? she does), setting, serving, clearing, and washing, she and my aunt figured about 12 hours of work per meal. He pointed out that she was therefore the one who did far more work than he for Sukkot and every Shabbat and yom tov that they had ever had. Yay, husband!

The other nice thing about that meal was that one of the women of the family was speaking about something they learned in a Torah class, about how aveirot [sins] are like little dings made on the soul, and how they can never be truly erased, because they affect others whom you might never even meet. Another woman asked if teshuva was therefore never really possible. They were stumped. I suggested that teshuva was possible but that even it did not take away the dings, which are how we learn from our past mistakes (even those for which we have done teshuva). We see the dings and remember to do better next time. That was met with approval.

What else? Oh, at another meal, which included the host and hostess, their 22-year-old single yeshiva bochur son, two male guests, and me and my aunt, the bochur began to sing songs for yom tov. Nobody joined in. We all just listened. His dad joined in once or twice, but otherwise, it was a solo concert. Awkward. Strange. I wasn't about to sing--didn't want to create problems or be offensive--but the other two male guests didn't know the songs. I guess. His mother talked over his singing a few times, so as to have some pleasant conversation in the sukkah, but that was a little bit weird, too. And one of the (need it be said? strange, single, older) male guests kept trying to ask me what he considered provocative questions about my supposed desire to become a rabbi, even though I told him that I didn't really want to be a rabbi.

We had one meal at a Modern Orthodox family that is more my style. I may have shocked them (okay, I guess I did, but mostly because I honestly forgot that one shouldn't discuss these things as the Yom Tov table) by mentioning the word "niddah" amongst "Shabbat" and "kashrut" as topics that my program covers, but otherwise, it went smoothly. They were very interested in my studies and freelance work, and supportive of both. It was really nice to have people interested in what I do.

At both yeshivishy meals and the Modern Orthodox one, the men purposely sat between the table and the wall of the sukkah, and as far away from the door as possible, so that the women would be able to sit where they could help. The men--including the male hosts and their male sons--sat throughout the entirety of the meal, while the women--including the female guests--served and cleared each course. Clearing plates and bringing out plates seem like the classic thing that even a man who "doesn't know his way around a kitchen" (as I do not) could do. Especially in his own house! It was bewildering. Now, my mom does all of that at home, for the most part, because that's how she wants it. I help if we have guests, though! And I've been places where the host and hostess do all of the serving and don't let any guests help. I've never seen so many hosts sitting and doing nothing while their hard-working wives, who already did all of the shopping and cooking for the meal, also do all of the serving, aided by the female guests. At only one of those three meals was I even thanked once for anything (by the male host). I'm sure I could have sat and not helped, either, but that didn't seem right, when other female guests jumped up to help. I usually offer to help. But it seemed strange to offer to help the female hostess when her husband and son were just sitting there, doing nothing. Am I missing something here?

While walking to another meal, I overheard a little boy, maybe three or four years old, ask his father, "Why is the....?" "How do the...?" He was excitedly looking around and tugging his father's hand to show him whatever was interesting him so much about the world around him. The father's answer was: "Because the Borei HaOlam made it that way. We don't know why or how. We don't ask questions about those things." I both could, and couldn't, believe it. How can anyone not encourage that kind of curiosity in children? How can anyone not want to know how or why the "Borei HaOlam" made it so? His answer, "We don't ask questions" was heart-breaking and deeply anti-Judaism to me.

In contrast, at a final meal we were at, the kids were asleep, but their dad told a story about their three-year-old, who, seeing someone using a leaf-blower, asked his dad, "Does it blow the leaves back onto the trees?" The father said, "No, it doesn't." The kid worriedly asked, "Then how does the trees get its leaves back?" afraid that the trees remained bare forever. The dad said, "It gets new leaves in the spring." "Where do the leaves come from?" "The tree's DNA tells it to make more leaves in the spring." The kid was satisfied. I was satisfied. That's a Jewish answer if I ever heard one.

Now, the truth is, as I find myself less and less inclined, as the years pass by, to attach the label "Orthodox" to myself, this sort of thing annoys me less. (I tend to say that I'm "observant," leaving open the real-and-occasionally-chosen option of davening egalitarian.) It's like right-wing evangelical Christian educational mores don't really bother me, even if I disagree with them and would do otherwise. They are separate from me and affect my life very little. (When they start to affect my life, that's when they bother me.) It's like I never understood why people got mad at people like the Duggars, who have far more children than anyone really should. What's it to you (unless you think that the children are endangered or mistreated, which I have no reason to believe they are)? Nothing.

Still, these are people I davened with over yom tov. They're my people. On the whole, they probably accept me as one of them. But their outlook on life and aspects of their lifestyle--everything except their hachnasat orchim, from which I benefited greatly and which was really very, very nice--was totally anathema to me.

Still, I am glad that I met them. This is probably what most of Orthodoxy is like, and I need to remember that. Actually, I am quite sure that that's the case. I mean, I assume that

yeshivish + chareidi > Modern Orthodox

in terms of pure numbers and even some Modern Orthodox people are remarkably misogynistic and anti-science.

It's good to meet people I normally would never meet, except possibly in the dating trenches, even (or especially) when I find it troubling, because it reminds me of what's important to me about my lifestyle and my way of life. (Every time I meet these men in the dating process, I think they are the anomaly, but clearly, they are not. There are whole communities of people out there who distrust science, are ignorant of classic American culture, and think that women should be silent and always in the kitchen.)

I may be sometimes lonely and occasionally lacking in community, which these people certainly are not--they were all so warm and welcoming!--but at least I know about Alfred Hitchcock and DNA and can sing at most Shabbat and yom tov meals that I attend.

Shana tova!

2009-09-18T13:05:00.004-04:00

It seems unlikely that I will be able to write Part 2 of this this week. Hopefully next week.

Shana tova--wishing a year of health, peace, and prosperity to all! I don't have any great insights at this time, except that I need to go help my sister by making tsimmis and broccoli. If I think of something later today and have time, I will post it.

In the meantime, you can enjoy President Barack Obama's Rosh Hashanah drash below.

I think he may have a future career as a pulpit rabbi.

My Life in Talmud Torah (With Emphasis on Talmud): Discovery (Part 1)

2009-09-13T22:05:00.015-04:00

Last week as I was learning Torah in the beit midrash, I felt my 12-year-old and 18-year-old selves peering over my shoulder and each sagely nodding their approval. I'm not sure I can explain what that felt like. Trying to is making me rather teary, and I'm not even sure why.¹ It was an eerie and uniquely wonderful sensation.

Let me start from the beginning.

It was September of 1991. I was twelve years old, and about a month away from celebrating my bat mitzvah with a birthday party at the local art center with all of the girls in my grade. The only thing that marked the occasion as specifically Jewish was that I gave a d'var Torah on Parshat Noach. (My birthday was in the Hebrew month of Tammuz, but that was an inconvenient time to celebrate a bat mitzvah.) I had survived nine years of day school education and already learned most of Chumash and the first few books of Na ch.²

We sat down in the classroom next to the lunchroom-auditorium and opened up a paperback Gemara textbook with a reprint of the first chapter of Tractate Berachot from the Vilna shas and took out our highlighters.

The teacher read, in that sing-songy Gemara voice:

מאימתי קורין את שמע בערבין? משעה שהכהנים נכנסים לאכול בתרומתן עד סוף האשמורה הראשונה דברי ר' אליעזר. וחכמים אומרים עד חצות. רבן גמליאל אומר עד שיעלה עמוד השחר
Me'eimasai korin es shma b'aravin? Mehsha'ah shehakohanim nichnasin lehechol b'trumasan ad sof haashmorah harishona...

He read and translated and we all diligently took notes. We highlighted assiduously--one color for each sugya, or section. Tests required us to recall key phrases:

דתניא, "as we learn in a b'raisa"
תא שמע, "come and hear"

"'Come and hear,' not 'Come here'!" I remember the teacher joking.

I remember, at some point that year or the next, sitting on the ledge in the grassy courtyard of my school, helping a classmate understand a difficult section of Gemara. It suddenly occurred to me that this was really, really fun. It was a kind of game, or logic puzzle, and when I had cracked it, it felt wonderful!

I had never really had that sense about anything purely academic before. I pushed myself to excel in school because that's what was expected of me, so that's what I had come to expect of myself. I really enjoyed the few art projects we got to do in elementary school, where I had also enjoyed writing and "publishing" short books, and had liked learning life sciences in seventh grade, but had no particular passion for anything else I studied in school. I was terrified of getting bad grades and I worked very hard to prevent it. I kept the fact that I enjoyed learning Talmud to myself for the next several years.

When classes were first tracked, in seventh grade, I started out in the regular, non-honors track for limudei kodesh [Judaic studies]. Over the course of high school, I gradually moved up into the honors class.³ Sometime around tenth grade, my first year in the honors limudei kodesh track, I was first willing to admit to enjoying learning Torah, especially mishna and Gemara. The summer before eleventh grade, I went to an open [to women] beit midrash in my neighborhood and learned the mishnayot of Masechet Kilayim, by myself, with my buddy, Pinchas Kehati. I learned lots and lots of Hebrew words for different kinds of squash. It was thrilling. I don't really remember why, but it was. After that experience, I decided to enroll in what was called "Super Talmud," wherein I spent two extra periods a week studying Gemara, on top of our usual 9-10 weekly periods of Gemara. This meant that I had class until 7:30 pm one night, instead of the usual 5:43 pm high school dismissal time. During eleventh grade, I read As A Driven Leaf and considered spending the summer between eleventh and twelfth grade studying Torah, full-time, in Israel. I had one phone conversation with the infamous Baruch Lanner about it, during which he made a strange comment about my stellar PSAT scores that sounded vaguely sleazy to me. I decided to go on a less intellectual, more social, and most importantly, free, summer program in Israel, instead. I think that it was during this time when I started learning Torah, on my own, in the beit midrash of a local shul between mincha and maariv. Perhaps that was the following year, though. I brought the mishnayot of Masechet Sukkah to Israel with me, and learned some of them.

By the fall of my senior year of high school, I was committed to spending the following year studying Torah, full time, at a yeshiva in Israel. I later found out that others called women's institutions "seminaries," but I never heard that word in high school. As far as I knew, both men and women went to yeshiva in Israel after high school and before college, and the programs of study were roughly similar--hours of gemara every day, with some chumash and halacha on the side. I was interested in an alternative to the institution I ended up attending, which I thought might offer some of the amenities of the men's programs, including prepared meals (to allow more time for learning) and a more sophisticated approach to Talmud study, but that didn't pan out. (The program didn't happen.)

By the spring of my senior year of high school, I was additionally committed to spending the summer before my year in Israel studying at a women's Torah study program in New York City. I worked full-time at the Vaad of my hometown in June and August (sorting dusty books--fun!--and doing data entry in Hebrew--great for improving my Hebrew touch-typing skills!), and went to New York City to learn more Torah in July.

Stay tuned for Part 2, hopefully later this week!
_______________________________________________
1. I had to fortify myself with mint chocolate chip and Jamoca ice cream just to sit down to try to write about this, but that's gone by now, and now here I am, just starting to try to put this down into words. What's that you say? I shouldn't always eat to get myself to write? It's bad to reinforce the association between sugar/fat and productivity? Too late! I started eating M & M's to write my papers back in high school, and, uh, 70 pounds later, here I am. (Whoops.)
2. I remember that I had learned from Parshat Lech Lecha through the end of Breishit in 2nd and 3rd grade, I think Shmot in 4th grade. I don't remember which Chumash I learned in 5th or 6th grade. We did the first half of Breishit in 10th grade, and I think the second half in 11th or maybe 12th grade. I learned Joshua in 4th grade, Judges in 5th grade, Samuel I in 6th grade, Samuel II in 7th grade, Kings I in 8th grade, and maybe Kings II in 9th grade? After that, we learned Jeremiah, Psalms and the Five Megillot), and Isaiah. I wouldn't say that the Chumash or Nach curriculum was very well organized at the school that I attended.
3. I believe that I was placed into the regulars class, rather than the honors class, because I asked too many questions in elementary school. I was severely under-confident and over-anxious in school (and in life), and I asked, more than was deemed necessary, what words meant throughout my Judaic studies career in elementary school. I wish that someone had worked with me on feeling more confident in the things that I knew (because I *did* know things), rather than telling me (as they did), to "Stop asking questions." Grrr...

Uh, yeah...

2009-09-09T09:35:00.006-04:00

Although I am a woman, not a man, and I learned a little Spanish in high school (not French), this rang resoundingly true. Except for the last panel!

Hat tip to BZ and mazal tov on his recent marriage! (And move to a new city and starting grad school!)

sort of sad

2009-09-02T13:16:00.003-04:00

I just changed my Blogger location and the time zone for this blog from Jerusalem back to New York. I guess I'm really back now. (I changed Facebook and Twitter awhile ago, but somehow forget about changing it here.)

Apartment-hunting on the Upper West Side and in Washington Heights

2009-09-02T11:58:00.010-04:00

This is probably too late for most of you, who have already arrived, fresh and naive, to my fair city. For others, it may be helpful. This is mostly useful for those looking for apartments with shomer Shabbat/kashrut roommates on the Upper West Side and in Washington Heights, although it can also help with those looking for new apartments, with or without roommates. Some of it may also help in other areas of New York City.

As I'm sure you've already discovered, apartment-hunting in NYC can be very stressful, although it may be better now that fewer people have jobs and thus fewer people are flocking to NYC.

There is a website called BangItOut.com with lots of apartment listings, especially if you're open to moving into apartment with one or two other usually SS/SK (shomer-Shabbat/shomer-kashrut) roommates. It is best for the Upper West Side, but also has a few apartment listings in other parts of NYC and other cities. You can put an ad there if you're looking, although it's best to be proactive and read through the listings. This is true in general in NYC, since there seem to be a lot more people seeking apartments (especially of the less expensive, not gross variety) than apartments/rooms available. The burden is really on the seeker to find a place, not the people with the apartment to find new roommates.

Upper West Side
Other UWS-specific listings that may help include:

Maalot West, the less popular sibling of Maalot Washington (the way to find an apartment with a room open in Washington Heights if you're looking in the SS/SK market)
the KOE (Kehilat Orach Eliezer) weekly Shabbat announcements with listings (I don't see it online, since KOE just apparently redid their website)
the Kehilat Hadar weekly Shabbat announcements with listings (http://www.kehilathadar.org/community/postings)
Look on Craigslist for Upper West Side and Morningside Heights, if you're willing to go a bit further north (past 100th St.). Note that some "Upper West Side" apartment listings will be well into Harlem, which is all fine and good, except that some parts of Harlem (most?) are outside the Upper Manhattan eruv.

Speaking of eruvin, here is a useful map of the Upper Manhattan Eruv.

Washington Heights

Washington Heights-specific listings and listserves that may help include:

There is a great website called Maalot Washington with lots of apartment listings, especially if you're open to moving into apartment with one or two other roommates.
You can put an ad on the Maalot listserv in addition to posting on the Maalot Washington website and responding to ads there and on the listserv.
Look on Craigslist for Washington Heights and also Hudson Heights. (Realtors started calling the fancier part of Washington Heights "Hudson Heights" after it started gentrifying/going upscale. Hudson Heights would generally be the area north of 181st St. and West of Fort Washington Ave.) I saw some apartments that way.
You can put an ad on the Migdal Or listserv by writing, I think, to midgalor [at] gmail.com.

Here is the map of the Washington Heights eruv. Lots of people live outside the eruv, although fewer as time goes on (the eruv is only a few years old). It is almost always cheaper to do so. I live outside the eruv, but it's a little sadder to be outside the eruv now that several of my friends have babies. (There is also an eruv on the Yeshiva University side of Washington Heights, but I know almost nothing about it. Information on the YU eruv can be found here.)

General NYC apartment-hunting advice

NOISE: Some buildings/areas are a lot noisier than others (usually traffic noise, but also loud music late at night in Washington Heights, and noise from people gathering outside of bars on the Upper West Side), so if that's an issue for you, check it out before signing. I usually try to visit potential apartments once during the day and once at night before signing anything. A quiet neighborhood at 5 pm might be rocking at 11 pm, which may or may not bother you.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that an apartment in the West 90s between Amsterdam and Broadway was far, far quieter than an apartment on (and facing) Columbus Ave. It also depends, of course, on how high the apartment is--the further from the street, the quieter it will be. I am pretty sure that an apartment that's higher up will also be cleaner, since dirt from car exhaust seems to be a huge part of the dirtiness of the city. I don't have scientific evidence of that, though. It also depends a lot on whether the apartment in question faces the front (street) or back (alleyway) of the building. Likewise, if an apartment faces the George Washington Bridge, it will almost certainly be too noisy to stand. However, you may find another apartment in the same building, which faces in a different direction, that is bearable. Keep in mind, too, that noise levels will be different in the summer, with the windows open than in the winter, with the windows closed.

FEES: If you can get something directly from a real estate manager/landlord without paying a fee, that's obviously the best, since realtor's fees are often as high as 15% of the annual rent. You can usually see a lot more with a broker/realtor, though, although (almost?) all of them charge, or at least they did in 2007, the last time I looked for an apartment in NYC. I've lived in three apartments in NYC: two that already had people living in that I joined, and one that I found new with a friend. The last one is the only one that I paid a fee for. It was $2000 for a $1200/month place (if you live outside NYC, you will think, "That's so expensive!" and if you live inside NYC, you will think, "Wow, that's so cheap!"). I just amortized that cost over the two year lease and took it into consideration when comparing rents, and it was still worth it. It is a huge chunk of change all at once, though.

One way that people I know have been successful at finding apartments directly through the real estate manager/landlord is by literally walking the streets in the neighborhood in which you are interested in living and talking names/numbers off of buildings or speaking to supers/doormen about the availability of apartments in that building.

SAFETY: All of Manhattan is pretty safe these days, although I do always try to walk on busier, well-lit streets in the later hours, and there are some places I just won't walk alone late at night. (This usually just means that I get off at a different subway stop or take a different subway home.)

If you want to see how one neighborhood you're considering compares to another, you can check out the NYPD police precinct crime statistics.

The precincts on the Upper West Side are:

20th: W. 59th to W. 86th St.
24th: W. 86th to W. 110th St.
26th: W. 110th St. to W. 133rd St.

Note that Central Park is its own separate precinct.

The precincts in Washington Heights are:

33rd: W. 156th to W. 179th St.
34th: W. 179th St. to the top of Manhattan (includes Inwood)

ONE LAST WORD: Check for black mold and water damage in the walls/ceilings, especially in older apartments. They are legally required to remove black mold, but it's hard to remove. (It's a health issue.) Black mold looks like you'd expect it to look. It's especially prevalent in bathrooms, but if you see it anywhere else, it means that the walls/ceilings are, or once were, wet. Water damage is often due to old plumbing, which should be replaced (rather than repainting/replastering the walls, which is what they will want to do). You can spot water damage from round stains on the ceiling or walls, and also by places where the paint bubbles out or is kind of buckled. Not just peeling, which could just mean that the paint job is just old, but coming off of the walls in roundish bubbles. Even if the wall is dry there, that usually means that it was wet there once.

Good luck! And New Yorkers, please add tips of your own in the comments, if you have 'em (and I know you do!).

Re-Emergence

2009-09-01T11:30:00.000-04:00

Dear world,

I am so sorry for the very long silence. In the over two months since I've written, I:

turned 30 (not so traumatic, I have fantastic friends and family!)
spent another month working in Jerusalem and loving it
packed up and moved back to New York City
gone to my very first National Havurah Institute
lived in a bedroom without furniture (sleeping on futon) for two weeks
spent eight hours moving boxes and furniture from my brother's apartment and a storage facility back to my apartment
moved back into my old bedroom, and, more critically, my old bed!
welcomed my new roommate
hosted a Friday night dinner for two sisters, one cousin, one brother, and one future sister-in-law
hosted two sisters and a cousin in my apartment (we all slept together in my air-conditioned bedroom on one very hot Friday night and had a lot of fun remembering being kids and sharing a bedroom at my grandparents' home over Thanksgiving)
spent 6+ (7+? 8+?) hours going dress-shopping with my mother and suit-shopping with my father (for my brother's wedding in May)
threw, together with three siblings and one cousin, a 60th birthday party for my father and uncle (twins), which was attended by 20+ family members

Now the family is gone. The apartment is a disaster. I have not unpacked at all, and there is much cleaning to be done. I begin the next phase of my institutional life this coming Wednesday, so I'm hoping to get all of this stuff done before then.

Onward!

Losing my early adopter credibility?

2009-06-28T09:32:00.005-04:00

Personal tech timeline:

1986: I first used a computer (Mac Plus).
1990: I designed birthday party invitations for my eleventh birthday using SuperPaint. (See this and comments for people waxing poetic about MacPaint!)
1996: I got e-mail and first surfed the web (Lynx!). I remember the first time I saw a web browser with pictures! It was so cool--even cooler than when we got our first color TV circa 1986 (1984?).
1996: I learned Adobe Illustrator (was that the layout program? I can't really remember what it was called).
1997 or 1998: I taught myself HTML from a book and created my own website, hosted on Geocities, z"l.
1998-1999: I had a Mac laptop. Laptops were only just beginning to become popular. Most of my friends during my freshman year of college only had desktops. (Note that I said "had" rather than "used." This laptop was a hand-me-down from my uncle, and the battery didn't work at all. It sometimes would randomly turn off in the middle of working on something, and the only way to get it to turn back on again was to take the battery out and slam it back in quickly while hitting the power on button. Also, I think that it had an Ethernet port, but no Ethernet card, so I'm not sure I could get on the internet with it. In fact, I'm fairly sure that I couldn't. So I mostly worked in the nearby computer lab or in the basement of Hillel.)
1998-2003: I used Pine to check my e-mail in college, even after a web-based interface became available around 2001 or 2002. Pine was so much faster! (Attachments were a bit of a pain, though, since they required opening an FTP program.) When I graduated college, I got a free Unix shell account through Lonestar so I could just transfer my address book and all of my folders over without losing any data. I still have that account, and still (mostly) remember the important shortcuts in Pine.
1998-2003: I backed up all my papers on the server, using FTP.
1999: I got a laptop (blue, ibook, clamshell) without a floppy disk drive. This was seen as fairly insane at the time. I had a readable CD drive, but did not write to CDs. I mostly transferred files on and off using FTP, but I broke down eventually and bought an external floppy disk drive that I used maybe six times in all the years that I had and used this computer. I used this laptop continuously and all over the world from 1999 until 2004, when the "B" key issued it's last dying breath and the "S" and "I" keys were also sticky. Also, it didn't have a wireless card, which started being impractical around 2004.
2000: I got my first cell phone (Qualcomm! Do they still make cell phones?) during my semester off from school. (I used it for about six months, then stopped service when I returned to school.)
2001: I bought a Palm (actually, a Handspring, z"l) so I wouldn't have to drag my laptop around while I was doing thesis research in libraries in Israel and Cambridge. It lasted until early 2006, when I got a Palm T|X with WiFi to replace it. I still use the T|X, but the battery only lasts a few hours, so I don't use it much.
2003: I joined Friendster. (Remember that?)
2003 or 2004: I joined Facebook--one of the first 2200 to join!
2004: I started my first blog (I think it was 2004--might have been 2003--it was a secret one that didn't last long).

So, why didn't I join Twitter until 2009?¹ And what compelled me to join now? A client of mine (I'm doing freelance consulting) asked me what a Twitter was, and I felt like I had to join in order to shore up my claim as a young, technologically progressive person.

Here are some useful resources for anyone, like me, just joining Twitter now (so late in the game!):

Twitter / Home
All You Need to Know to Tweet on Twitter - NYTimes.com
Ten Things you Must Know before Using Twitter | Tech N’ Marketing
Twitter search sites: The three best, and all the rest | Webware - CNET
WeFollow: Twitter Directory and Search, Find Twitter Followers
Hashtags
How #FollowFriday Works - Mashable: The Social Media Guide
400 Twitter Feeds of Job Openings, Job Postings and Job Leads Around the World | JobMob
Nest Unclutterer (Very good for automatically weeding out the spammers who keep following you in the hopes that you will follow them.)
Slashdot Book Reviews Story | The Twitter Book
Smart Bitches | Me and My Twitter
How to Avoid Facebook and Twitter Disasters - washingtonpost.com (I think this is mostly self-evident, but maybe you won't.)

Here are some recent articles about Twitter:

Here are some fun or useful feeds to follow on Twitter, if you're just getting started. You can click on the links and check them out even without being a Twitterer yourself.

Nerd Approved
Religion_State
Women's Refugee Commission
JewLearn: myjewishlearning.com
American Jewish World Service
Jerusalem Blueprint
Chronicle of Philanthropy
Reuven Werber: This is one the few individuals I follow whom I do not personally know; he has a lot of interesting links to share.
JLearn 2.0: Jewish learning in a digital world
David Pogue: NYT tech columnist
Foodimentary
GrammarCops
Lippman Kanfer Institute: The Lippman Kanfer Institute is an action-oriented think tank for innovation in Jewish learning and engagement.
Feministing

________________________________________________
1. This is not quite a fair account of my life. For example, I did not purchase a digital camera until 2008, mostly because of financial considerations. I did not want to get a lousy one, and could not afford a decent one, so I stuck with my film camera. Also, I have never owned a cell phone that took photos or was smart in any way, shape, or form. Again, entirely an issue of not being able to afford either the phone or the data plan that would make a smart phone smart. There are surely other examples of general technological lag in my life that I am just not thinking of right now.

The serious drinking problem of our generation

2009-06-26T06:59:00.013-04:00

Hah hah hah! "You still drink out of metal, huh" is the best line I've seen in a comic in awhile. I just discovered "Pictures for Sad Children" because this one was "Digg"ed. And it is pretty funny, but nothing is as funny as "You still drink out of metal, huh" because it's so particular to the current time and place in which we find ourselves.

Until last spring (2008), I was drinking out of bad plastic water bottles like everyone else. You know, the thick plastic kind you can buy for $0.99 at CVS/Duane Reade/Long's or empty Poland Spring (or generic) water bottles refilled over and over again with tap water. Like everyone did! I even had a Nalgene (before they made them BPA-free), although I never managed to drink out of it without spilling water all over myself, even with the special insert for uncoordinated people.

Last spring, amidst all the BPA brouhahah, I switched to the new safer metal but...ugh...there was the cockroach incident. The cockroach incident was the one wherein I washed the bottle out and put it upside down to dry in the dish drainer overnight. I refilled it in the morning, screwed the top closed, and drank out of it all day. When I opened it to refill it later in the day, I saw a (live, skittering around) cockroach inside. That convinced me not to drink out of anything opaque. Ever again. (I did receive a lovely birthday present of a fancier, insulated, metal water bottle with a mesh cover that one could drink through--called an ice guard, I think--which could also be left in while drying, thus denying entry to wily, water-resistant cockroaches. It's too heavy to shlep around Jerusalem, but I hope to use it when I'm at a point in my life where I am sitting in one place for long periods of time and want to drink safe, chilled, cockroach-free water.)

Anyway, so after the traumatizing cockroach incident (which, incidentally, caused me no harm at all), I switched back to the old bad plastic. Specifically, refilled Mey Eden bottles with the colorful sports caps. They're a good size.

While in the US this past March/April, I got a new, good, BPA-free plastic bottle. But it seems to unscrew itself and spill everywhere, so I will ultimately need something newer/better to drink out of. Recommendations welcome. I want something I can drink out of without spilling all over myself (i.e., smallish opening), that I can drink out of quickly (not a sports cap that requires sucking rather than guzzling), that has or accepts a clip for attaching to the outside of a backpack, and that can be opened up fully for a thorough cleaning every once in awhile. I thought this bottle was it, and it was, except for its unfortunate tendency to open and spill everywhere.

What's does your drinking history look like?

Incidentally, when people started walking around with water bottles all the time (late 1990's? I don't really remember when it started, but know that people didn't used to walk around with water all the time, even in the summer when it was very hot), my maternal grandfather, z"l, commented to me about about how silly it looked to see adults drinking out of bottles like babies. I guess the ubiquitous sport-top water bottles reminded him of baby bottles. (They do look similar.) I told him that I preferred screw-top bottles, because they were easier to drink quickly out of, and he said that was better, but not by a whole lot.

Why did people start drinking so much water? Or at least, carrying it around with them? Are there fewer drinking fountains? Was there a spate of illness/death due to dehydration? Was it after the 8-cups-a-day thing was first publicized? (For more on this, see #4 here, #1 here, and this--she convinced me. If you don't trust random personal blogs written by people you don't know--and I don't know why you wouldn't!--see this.)

I don't drink eight cups of water a day, but I hate being stuck somewhere, very thirsty, without water. It happened earlier this year, when I was delivering food to people before Purim, after I had eaten two slices of salty pizza and had nothing to wash it down but a cup of Coke. I was so thirsty and there was a sink but nothing to drink water out of--it drove me crazy. I also walk a lot in the hot Jerusalem sun, so I think that dehydration could be an actual issue.

Evening on Jewish Psychology--"Bereavement and Loss: Between Separation and Continuity"

2009-06-18T06:36:00.008-04:00

There is what looks like a fascinating evening on "Jewish psychology" at the Begin Center, cosponsored by Beit Morasha of Jerusalem and The Rotenberg Center for Jewish Psychology.

Caveat: I am not 100% sure about this whole "Jewish psychology" thing. It might be ridiculous. I am curious, though.

The evening takes place next Wednesday, June 24, from 7-10 pm. The general topic of the evening is "Bereavement and Loss: Between Separation and Continuity." It costs 30 shekels and will be in Hebrew. Please pass this information along to anyone else you know who might be interested. Thanks!

The translation of the e-mail announcement (to the left or above, depending on your screen/browser width) is [links all mine!]:

Bereavement and Loss: Between Separation and Continuity

Robert M. Beren College, Beit Morasha of Jerusalem

and

The Rotenberg Center for Jewish Psychology

invite the public to

the annual evening of study of Jewish psychology

in memory of Boaz Rotenberg.

It will take place on Wednesday

2 Tammuz 5769

24 June 2009

At the Menachem Begin Heritage Center

6 S.A. Nachon St., Jerusalem

at 7 pm

The translation of the poster, below, reads:

Annual evening of study of Jewish psychology

in memory of Boaz Rotenberg

Bereavement and Loss: Between Separation and Continuity

Wednesday

2 Tammuz, 5769

24 June 2009

Begin Heritage Center

7 pm

Opening Remarks

Mr. Meir Fechler (sp?), Executive Director of the Center for Jewish Psychology

Introduction to the Topic of bereavement and loss in Jewish psychology

Mrs. Michal Fechler (sp?), clinical psychologist

7:20 pm

Part A

Bereavement as a Decree of the Dead so as not to be Forgotten from the Heart [that's a terrible sound translating and this is why translation is so difficult!]
Professor Mordechai Rotenberg, Recipient of the Israel Prize 5769 and Head of [יושב ראש? acting head?] the Center for Jewish Psychology
Films of Memory: A Narrative of Cinema an Coping with Bereavement
Mrs. Bilha Bachrach, Alumna of the Maaleh Film School and Lecturer in School for Social Work at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem

8:00 pm

Part B

Panel: Coping with Actual Bereavement [I am not 100% sure that רב-שיח means "panel"--please let me know what it means if I'm wrong]

Moderator: Prof. Mordechai Rotenberg

Clinical Perspective
Dr. Baruch Kahana, Lecturer in School for Social Work and in Clinical Psychology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem
Mrs. Rut Gombo (sp?), clinical psychologist
Educational Perspective
Rabbi Ronen Ben-David, Principal of Neveh Chana Boarding School
Midrashic Perspective
Dr. Ido Hevroni, researcher in Rabbinic literature

9:45 pm

Concluding Remarks

Prof. Binyamin Ish-Shalom

Rector of Beit Morasha of Jerusalem

Entry Fee: 30 NIS

Parking next to Independence Bell Park ("Gan HaPa'amon") or opposite the Har Zion Hotel

Menachem Begin Heritage Center

6 S.A. Nachon St., Jerusalem

(between Independence Bell Park and the Cinemateque)

Only one very unfortunate typo out of many

2009-06-17T02:48:00.000-04:00

Read It Later: Savior or Satan?

2009-06-13T14:33:00.012-04:00

Back in October, I added an extension to Firefox called "Read It Later," thinking that rather than having twenty million tabs open in four different windows (which was causing Firefox to become unresponsive ("crash") at least once a day), I would just save things to this list and then I would, well, read everything later.

Well. It didn't quite work out that way. It seems that if I don't have time to Read It Now, I also don't have time to Read It Later.

Here is a selection of truly fascinating stuff from my Read It Later, as of April 23, 2009, most of which I still have not read. But maybe you will! (I don't really think you will. I am mostly posting this so I can delete all those bookmarks and get started on a new Read It Later list.)

Science, Health, Etc.

Basics - In a Helpless Baby, the Roots of Our Social Glue - NYTimes.com
Discovery Online, The Skinny On ... Falling-Asleep Twitches [I get these all the time. And all these years, I thought I was the only one! Now I know what they're called!]
Most Kidney Donors Lead Long, Healthy Lives - US News and World Report
My Genome, My Self - Steven Pinker Gets to the Bottom of his own Genetic Code - NYTimes.com
Pen Mightier Than Passion: Scientific American Podcast
Personal Health - Babies Know - A Little Dirt Is Good for You - NYTimes.com [I always thought so.]
Picture Emerging on Genetic Risks of IVF - NYTimes.com
Researchers unlock secrets of 1918 flu pandemic | Science & Health | Reuters
Slashdot | How the City Hurts Your Brain [Interesting.]
They're Playing My Song. Time to Work Out. - New York Times

Language

Mental Health

Technology

Food

Gender

Families

Education

Fun

Israel

Judaism

Pesach

Obama, Etc. (remember, I started this list in October)

The Economy

Appeal of the Dollar Adds to Woes Abroad - NYTimes.com
Bad economy? Do what you love - CNN.com
Bargain Hunting for Books, and Feeling Sheepish About It - NYTimes.com [Yeah. I relate to this one.]
Budget concerns force states to reconsider the death penalty - CNN.com
Editorial Observer - With the Downturn, It’s Time to Rethink the Legal Profession - NYTimes.com [Kind of glad I didn't go to law school any of the many times someone told me that I should.]
Endowment Director Is on Harvard's Hot Seat - NYTimes.com
Findings - Oversaving, a Burden for Our Times - NYTimes.com
For Papers, a Downsizing Trickle Becomes a Flood - NYTimes.com
Harvard: the Inside Story of Its Finance Meltdown - Forbes.com
Humanities Ph.D.'s Are Anticipating Hard Times - NYTimes.com [Kind of glad I didn't go to grad school to get a PhD in History any of the many times someone told me that I should.]
In a slump, camping comes into vogue - CNN.com
The Reckoning - Bush's Philosophy Stoked the Mortgage Bonfire - Series - NYTimes.com
The Reckoning - From Midwest to M.T.A., Pain From Global Gamble - Series - NYTimes.com
The Reckoning - WaMu Built an Empire on Bad Loans - Series - NYTimes.com
Unannounced Layoffs Hit Workers by the Thousands - NYTimes.com

Real Estate

A Month Free? Rents Are Falling Fast - NYTimes.com

Travel

Finding the Charm of Cross-Country Rail Travel - NYTimes.com

World News

A Selection of New York Times Op-Eds

Misc

מילונים, a.k.a., words and books combined into deliciousness

2009-06-11T18:16:00.001-04:00

Ah, two of my favorite things!

Speaking of words, I am thinking of buying a decent, one volume, Hebrew-Hebrew dictionary at Shavua HaSefer in Jerusalem this week. I think they're likely to be better than most Hebrew-English-Hebrew dictionaries, certainly than the small or medium-sized paperback ones I've seen (Oxford, Bantam-Megiddo, Zilberman, etc.).

These were the ones that I saw for sale at the Hebrew University Akademon (university bookstore):

If nobody knows the difference between them, I will buy according to price and weight. Also, if someone/everyone is quite sure that the multi-volume Even Shoshan or multi-volume Alkali is much better, I will consider buying one of those instead. They're just much larger and heavier than any of these.

Also, if you're looking for the proper Hebrew word for mini-van, seek no longer! Courtesy of the Academy of the Hebrew Language:

מילה בלועזית	תרגום בעברית	מילה חדשה
passenger van	רכב המיועד להסעת 8–12 נוסעים ומטענם	סָעוֹן
מיני ואן	מכונית גדולה המיועדת להסעת 5–8 נוסעים ומטענם. בתקנות התעבורה מכונה רֶכֶב פְּרָטִי דּוּ-שִׁמּוּשִׁי	סְעוֹנִית
GPS navigator	התקן מערכת איכון המשמש לניווּט	נַוְטָן
GPS locator	התקן מערכת איכון המשמש לזיהוי מקום	אַכָּן
passenger capacity/limit	מספר האנשים המרבי שרכב יכול להכיל; לרוב בתחבורה ציבורית	דְּחֻסָּה
"שאטל"	כלי תחבורה המסיע נוסעים ממקום מסוים ואליו, לעתים תכופות או באופן סדיר ובדרך כלל אינו חלק ממערכת הת"ץ הסדירה	הֶסֵּעִית
"ח'אפֶּר"	רכב לא מורשה הנוסע במסלול של תחבורה ציבורית סדירה ו"חוטף" את הנוסעים מתחנות השירות הציבורי	חַטְפָנִית
[There is no word for this in English as far as I know.]	התקן המציג מסר בכתב או בסמל התקֵף בעת הארתו. למשל: סמל של סיגריה ועליו פס ביטול או סמל של חגורת בטיחות	מַזְהֵר. רבים: מַזְהֲרִים.
רמפה	כביש חיבור המשמש למעבר בין שתי דרכים באותו מחלף;	מֶחְבָּר
[I have no idea what this is]	רכב מסחרי לא-אחוד, מכונה טֶנְדֶּר	מִטְעָנִית
moving sidewalk	רצועה הנעה לאטה בהינע חשמלי המאפשרת לאנשים לעמוד עליה או ללכת עליה כדי לעבור ממקום למקום. בשימוש בנמלי תעופה	מַסּוֹעַ לֶכֶת
delivery van	רכב מסחרי אחוד	מִשְׁלוֹחִית
[merging and its opposite—dividing?; I don't think there's one word for this in English]	התמזגות והיפרדות סמוכות מאוד של כלי רכב הנוסעים באותו כיוון בכביש	הִשְׁתַּזְּרוּת

This was taken from here, the list of the Academy of the Hebrew Language's newly-approved Hebrew (non-cognate) words for transportation.

Public Service Announcement: On1Foot

2009-06-11T04:04:00.004-04:00

Press release for a fine, new endeavor:

The American Jewish World Service (AJWS) has officially launched a searchable online database of Jewish social justice texts designed to support rabbis and Jewish educators who want to teach about Judaism and social justice.

The database, called On1Foot, is an educational resource that allows users to search and browse hundreds of biblical, rabbinic and contemporary Jewish texts about social justice, upload new texts and create custom source sheets using the texts and suggested discussion questions.

Useful for the development of sermons and divrei Torah, classroom training and volunteer enrichment, family education and Bar and Bat Mitzvah preparation, On1Foot was created with the following goals:
To make the full catalogue of Jewish texts on social justice available and accessible to users.
To extend the breadth and depth of Jewish social justice education.
To serve a central forum for discussion within the Jewish social justice movement.
By increasing access to these texts, the site will increase the frequency with which Jewish educators and clergy teach about social justice and facilitate text study in this context. Clergy and educators can now more easily create substantive, expansive and interesting teachings that go beyond the simplicity of pursuing justice and allow for nuance.

On1Foot has brought the expertise of a wide array of Jewish social justice organizations across the United States and around the globe together in one place; the site will facilitate collaborative conversation about issues of justice, equality and social activism. On1Foot is a project of American Jewish World Service and is co-sponsored by AVODAH: The Jewish Service Corps, Hazon, Tzedek, Mechon Hadar and Uri L'Tzedek.

Professional development: New words

2009-06-10T05:21:00.030-04:00

I am translating a document at work and learning all kinds of useful Hebrew terminology/lingo/words! In most cases, I knew the shoresh [root] and could sort of figure it out from context, but double-checked online just to be sure. (The words that have nekudot [vowels] are the ones I looked up on Melingo/Morfix.)

These are in the order that I came across them--first without definitions, then with (feel free to test your knowledge of Hebrew words or phrases that I either didn't know, or knew but looked up and found a better translation):

פרופסור חבר
מרצה בכיר
תעסוקה
אושרה
שלב מעבר
חקיקה
מְמֻנֶּה
רְוָחָה
נגישות
סְקִירָה
חָשַׂף
מַטָּלָה
הֶבֵּט
מַחְשָׁבָה
חֻקָּה
שִׁלֵּב
עיצוב

One day, when my Hebrew is much, much better than it currently is, I can look back at this list and laugh. Oh, how I will laugh!

פרופסור חבר = associate professor
מרצה בכיר = assistant professor (although it sounds to me like "senior lecturer," and I don't know if the American hierarchy that I understand to be teaching assistant--> lecturer --> assistant professor --> associate professor --> professor exists in Israel)
תעסוקה = employment
אושרה = approved/accepted (in the context of a dissertation being accepted--what's the English word for that again? the good outcome of a thesis defense?)
שלב מעבר= transitional stage (opposite of "יעד סופי" or final destination)
חקיקה = legislation (from חקק, engraved? as in "on the tablets," as in the Ten Commandments?)
מְמֻנֶּה = supervisor (i.e., "the appointed one," like למנות= to appoint)
רְוָחָה = welfare
נגישות = accessibility
סְקִירָה = survey
חָשַׂף = reveal, uncover
מַטָּלָה = task, mission, assignment (I didn't know this word at all)
הֶבֵּט = aspect (מבט is perspective, but I didn't translate that into "aspect" in my head, although it kind of makes sense)
מַחְשָׁבָה = thought, worry, consideration, interest, philosophy (I knew it had something to do with thinking, but "thought" was not the right word to use here--consideration or possibly philosophy was much, much better)
חֻקָּה = constitution (who knew?)
שִׁלֵּב = integrated (I translated it at "combined," but integrated is better)
עיצוב = designing, shaping, modeling, styling, formation, molding, working, casting; shape, style, format (this one, courtesy of Babylon, which I'd never really used before)

Meyer Hack at Yad Vashem, Monday, May 15, at 11 am

2009-06-08T10:20:00.004-04:00

Meyer Hack, a 92-year-old long-time Boston resident, will be donating Holocaust artifacts to Yad Vashem this coming Monday morning, June 15, at 11 am.

I understand that he is not well, and is coming with a nurse and caregiver, and that it would be a tremendous mitzvah and give him chizuk [strength] to have many faces, familiar or not, in attendance.

If you regularly attended Congregation Kadimah Toras-Moshe any time in the last few decades, you probably have fond memories of him and his wife Sylvia. He was the candy man and always eager to speak with anyone, especially, I think, the "young people" (i.e., anyone under 80!).

Please pass this along to anyone in Jerusalem (or elsewhere in Israel) who may have known Meyer and Sylvia or be interested in attending even without knowing him.

As an added bonus, Rabbi and Rebbetzin Halbfinger and other past and current members of the congregation will be in attendance.

Thanks!

The people have spoken!

2009-06-07T15:44:00.002-04:00

I just changed this blog to "full feed," for you feed-reader junkies out there. Enjoy!

Israeli Bureaucracy, Part 0: New Misrad HaPnim Phone Scheduling System

2009-06-07T09:21:00.013-04:00

This is "Part 0" because it precedes Part 1, and is really just to relay some late-breaking information about Misrad HaPnim (מסרד הפנים), the Israeli Ministry of the Interior.

The Jerusalem office is located at 1 Shlomtzion HaMalka, not, as I somehow erroneously thought, at Kikar Safra.¹ That part is not late-breaking. It was always true.

The late-breaking information is that the old number that you used to call to get an appointment at the Jerusalem office of Misrad HaPnim, 02-629-0239, on Sunday-Thursday, from 8 am to 1 pm, which they never answered,² has been replaced by a new number. This new number is 1-700-551-111.³ This change happened sometime between last Sunday, my last visit to Misrad HaPnim, and today (also Sunday), my most recent visit to Misrad HaPnim.

I found this out when I went to the scheduling office at Misrad HaPnim to try to change my appointment with the visa people, since I knew that you could never reach them via phone. The door was locked and when I knocked, no one answered. Someone came out of another office and said, "This office is closed." I asked, "When will the person who works here return?" and she said, "Never. Nobody works in that office anymore. You have to call the number listed on the door." Uh, okay. Someone worked there last week. When I told her that I had tried to call many times before and that nobody answered the phone and that coming to this office (204, if you're curious) was the only way to get an appointment,⁴ she shrugged.

Then I heard voices coming from inside the office, and a different employee of Misrad HaPnim informed me that the person who worked in that office was "on break," meaning, I think, a 15 minute break. I asked her when said employee would be back, and she said she didn't know. She also referred to this mythical scheduler as a woman, when the person I had seen last week was a man. Hmmmm...

Then I noticed a new sign on the door, with the new number mentioned above. I asked her if this was a new number, and she said, "Yes! There is a brand-new national scheduling system!" She was very excited and happily reported that this number worked. A cause for joy, indeed.

I explained all of this to the two South Africans behind me in line who could neither read nor speak Hebrew (not even to know that "פקס" meant "fax number" and not "phone number").

I noted that the new sign reported that the new number worked from 1-3 pm, and so at 1:31 pm today, I called it. I pressed "1" for the 02 (Jerusalem) area⁵ only to be informed that one needs to call (as before) between 8 am and 1 pm for service!

I'm not sure what it means if the national scheduling system number operates only between 1-3 pm and the regional (Jerusalem) scheduler answers only between 8 am and 1 pm. I guess I will try to call 1-700-551-111 tomorrow morning and, if that fails, again right at 1 pm. I also have no great hopes that they now answer the phone. It just sounds to me like a new national number that routes callers through to the old regional scheduling number, which nobody answers.

This, among other reasons, is why today was a two-coffee day.

________________________________

1. How great is it that Google Maps covers Israel now? Truly great. Much better than Walla Maps, which is what you had to use before last fall.
2. This information is based both on my experience calling at three different times on three different days and listening to the machine message loop until it died and went into beep-beep-beep mode instead of ringing, and on the first-hand admission of the person who was supposed to answer it.
3. That's right, 1-700, followed by six digits, not seven digits.
4. This is well-known among people in the know. You have to try to call a few times and then go down to Misrad HaPnim, Room 204, and tell them that you couldn't get through on the phone and then they'll let you make the appointment in person. I've never tried to make an appointment via fax (02-646-9523) because I never had regular use of a fax machine such that they could fax me back with confirmation about my appointment time. If you're reading this and you have regular access to a fax machine or you have an eFax number, you can try this and let me know how it goes.
5. Not surprisingly but somewhat confusingly, you press "2" for 03 and "3" for 04, etc.

________________________________

P.S. I've been working at a cafe with a large, flat-screen TV on one wall all afternoon. When I came in, it was mostly full of women (and a few men) working on a laptops or drinking coffee with friends. My back is to most of the room, and I've been working hard and not looking around much. I just turned around and noticed that the midd of the cafe is full of guys, almost all sitting in one direction, facing the TV, avidly watching a tennis match being broadcast live from somewhere where it makes sense to have ads for BNP Paribas, FedEx, Perrier, IBM, and Peugot. (Who or what are "SOD" and "FED"?) There are a few women and men still sitting along the edges of the room, working on laptops or hanging out with friends, but the middle of the room has totally changed character in the last few hours.

Iran Preparedness Training

2009-06-02T06:38:00.007-04:00

There was a national air-raid siren drill this morning. I knew it was going to happen and I wasn't looking forward to it.

I was so dreading it that the actual thing wasn't so bad. I threw my pear core into the compost bin (all my roommate's doing; I am mentally supportive but physically unable to deal with the rotting fruit and veggie scraps, which stink to high heaven, especially in the summer months), grabbed my backpack and hat (since I was leaving for the day), walked rapidly down to the ground floor from the third floor (fourth floor American) which suddenly seemed much further up than it ever had before (with the exception of times I've had to drag multiple heavy suitcases up the stairs), and watched my roommate struggle to quickly open the two locks on the miklat [shelter] door.

Once inside, it was clear that everyone in the building would not fit if there was, chas v'shalom, Hashem yishmor, lo aleinu [Heaven forfend, Lord protect us, not on us], an actual impending air attack. It was full of mattresses, stacks of plastic chairs, and adult-sized bikes. There was room for maybe five people to stand comfortably in there, in a building with six apartment units, at least half of which have three bedrooms. (I think they all must.) This is, of course, illegal and, also of course, extremely common. Miklatim (miklatot?) are supposed to be 100% empty, all of the time.

The siren lasted 90 seconds, I think, and when we came out, an elderly woman (70-80 years old) wearing a nightgown and a bathrobe peered down the stairwell and asked us what was going on. We told her it was a drill. She kept saying that she hadn't known about the drill, and she was scared out of her mind, and she almost died, and my roommate kept saying that it was a drill. A neighbor of hers came out, and kind of yelled at her for not knowing about the drill (they've apparently been announcing it for two months), but then kindly asked her to come into her apartment to rest up. (This neighbor who knew did not come into the miklat with us.)

Someone, from an institution that shall remain unnamed, sent out an e-mail informing us of the impending drill, which was great, since I otherwise would not have known. Thanks! But she referred to it as an "exotic" way to end off a year in Israel, a sentiment that made me ill. Would that I and the rest of the world could avoid such exoticism. I naively wish with all my heart that I could live in a world where air-raid sirens didn't exist. It made me feel horrible for all the people all over the world who grew up with air-raid sirens, or, God help us all, were attacked by missiles without benefit of that high-pitched, eerie warning.

I do not like living in a country within easy striking distance of nations (or people/organizations) with high-range missiles who want us dead. This was true when bombs or whatever they were were streaming in from Gaza, but I was too scared about the whole thing to articulate. Being so close to Lebabon, Syria, Iraq, Iran, and, well, Gaza, just does not sit well with me.

Neither does the reality of a country where young children go to Yom HaZikaron (Memorial Day) commemorative ceremonies (how do you say "tekes" in English? not exactly ceremony, I don't think). I found these images and realities from Yom HaZikaron to be very sad, and somewhat surprising.

These were children at the local elementary school ceremony last month, which was half Yom HaZikaron (talking about the loss of soldiers cut down in the prime of their lives, reading names of dead soldiers, reading poetry, dancing sad dances, singing sad songs) and half Yom HaAtzmaut (Independence Day, happy, marching, flag waving, singing happy songs). It wasn't very graphic or as somberly horrifying (to me) as the Yom HaZikaron tekes for the community that I went to the night before, at a local community center, where a man who had lost three sons in Israeli wars said Kaddish for the community. But, still. One and two year olds listening to talk about dead soldiers while snacking on Bamba? They clearly don't understand. Do five and six year olds learn about it in school? They were in attendance as students in the elementary school where the tekes took place. Were those eight and nine year olds reading names of dead soldiers at the school ceremony, or were they all ten or older (I can't tell)? How does anyone teach this stuff? Do they glorify the dead for sacrificing for their country? Talk about how sad it is that anyone has to die in war? Wish for peace and minimize death talk? I am both intensely curious and don't want to know.

The only equivalent I can really dredge up from my own experiences as a child are being taught about the Holocaust, since Yom HaZikaron, while commemorated at my religious Zionist day school, felt very distant and mostly associated with old-school, sad Israeli folk songs. I don't remember learning about the Holocaust for the first time. It feels like something I must have always known about, although that clearly isn't the case. I started having Holocaust nightmares, which I think a lot of Jewish kids have, when I was around nine. I was definitely reading kids' chapter books about the Holocaust by the time I was nine or ten.

The first person I knew who died, who I remember hearing about, was my great-grandmother who died in the summer of 1985, when I was six years old. I had scary dreams involving death after that, too. I don't know if I really understood what death was when I was six, except that I knew that it was bad and scary. The nightmares indicate that I may have also understood that it was somewhat out of my control. I also had scary dreams about being kidnapped and about robbers trying to get me, so it wasn't purely death and Nazis who appeared in my nightmares. (Tip: Do not take your four-year-old to see Follow That Bird. Worst idea ever. I distinctly remember being four when it was the first movie I ever saw in a theater, but IMDB says that it didn't come out until I was six, so I guess my memory is faulty.)

Enough about death for today. In summary: I am glad that the air-raid siren was only a drill and sad that we live in a world where it usually isn't.

Stretching the truth in advertising

2009-06-01T03:04:00.006-04:00

I'm sure that this apartment is lovely and the location is great. However, saying that Mekor Haim St. is in Baka is like saying that 120th St. is on the Upper West Side. Close, but no cigar.

Also, I don't know if this is stretching the truth exactly, but I would not advertise myself as a Technion grad if I could only tutor math at a junior high/middle school level. If you're going to tout the fancy smarty-pants school, it should be because you feel you can tutor high school and university students. At least high school!

And here is the Hebrew:

Two day yom tov (and tales from the trenches of pre-yom tov shopping)

2009-05-31T11:54:00.020-04:00

I had a lot of work to do this past week (and the week before, and next week), so I did not cook. Instead, I went to two grocery stores and the bakery. It was quicker, but only by a small amount.

People treat two days of non-chol (i.e., Shabbat or chag) the way I imagine folks in the mid-Atlantic treat an impending winter storm that is predicted to drop 4-6 inches: with a touch of panic and several trips to the grocery store to stock up on large quantities of bread and milk. Although two days of chag are a dime a dozen in the Diaspora, it is something of a rarity here, only seen on Rosh Hashanah and when chag abuts Shabbat, as it did this past weekend.

The grocery store was already kind of crazy on Monday (people walking around with carts piled high as if they expected an impending week-long inability to purchase food, rather than two days with four holiday meals and two days with the grocery stores closed).

When I went back (poor planning) on Wednesday morning, I thought I was very clever to go before noon and on erev erev yom tov, not the eve of the yom tov itself. However, when I made my way to the deli counter in the back of the store to try to buy cheese, the line was...something else. I wanted to try some goat and sheep cheeses, since I am lactose intolerant and have found that they are easier to digest. The line was perhaps 10 people long, but it took me about thirty minutes to get to the front of it. Many people were purchasing multiple kinds of cheese, some shredded, some sliced, and all had to be carefully weighed before being shredded or sliced and then wrapped. I don't think they had extra people working behind the counter in anticipation of Shavuot, as would have made sense. No, they seemed to have the usual two.

Line gymnastics:

I wanted to have a look at the actual cheeses before waiting in line for 30 minutes, only to find that they were all bovine. So I went up to have a look at the cheeses and almost before I had moved, the cart behind me moved up to close the spot. So I had to gingerly force my way back into the line that I had clearly not meant to leave, since I went from the cheese line to the cheese counter to look at the cheese.

II.

A woman came by and asked the man behind her to save her place in line behind him while she went to do more grocery shopping. This is the norm in Israel. It happens in the checkout line, too, but at least then they leave their cart in their "space." I always tell the people that I will save their spot (and even did this myself, once--whoops!), but if someone later comes and challenges their claim, I don't interfere beyond saying, "She came and asked me to save her spot ten minutes ago." If you don't engage in this practice, you're probably a friar [sucker], which I surely am, for waiting in long lines when it is not necessary since other people are waiting in the line anyway.

Anyway, so this one woman asked this guy to save her a spot, and then she went off with her empty cart and returned to the line with a full cart five or ten minutes later. I had seen an Arab couple hovering behind/near the line, trying to decide if they should join it, for awhile. It was not quite clear when they joined the line, but they were definitely in the vicinity, and eyeing the cheeses, before the non-friar woman asked the man to save her a spot. The line-space-saver told the returning non-friar woman that she had a spot in the line, but it was behind this Arab couple, which I corroborated by saying that I had seen them in line before she got there. She was not happy.

But, no, that was not all!

III.

While she was gone, a man standing next to the front of the line (looking at the cheeses) had called out, apparently to no one in particular, that he was at the end of the line. So when the woman came back, and wanted to claim her space in front of the Arab couple, and was rebuffed and moved behind them, she also had to contend with this man standing next to the front of the line who claimed to be immediately behind the Arab couple and thus--you guessed it--in front of her!

I felt that she pretty much got what she deserved for trying to get around waiting in the damn line. If you're going to ask someone to save your (non) spot while you continue your shopping, you're going to have to accept that other people are going to come and verbally "save" spaces in the line in the interim. And you aren't really going to be able to contradict them because--guess what?--you weren't in line.

She was pissed off, but it was somehow resolved without coming to fisticuffs and everyone succeeded in buying their cheese for yom tov.

[Interlude: I asked for 100 grams each of three different cheeses and in each case, the weight was over--once by 48%. He asked if it was okay and I wanted to ask him to take part off and re-weigh it, but then I remembered the long line behind me and said that it was not great, but I would accept it. I am such a friar. Don't people who cut and weigh cheese all day know approximately how much 100 grams is? Do you think, dear readers, that he purposely over-cut to get me to buy more? Or was he just not being careful?]

IV.

Not so with the two men arguing at the actual checkout line. Okay, so they didn't come to fisticuffs, but they were loudly screaming at each other. When the woman behind me in the express checkout line grumbled "איזה חוצפה!" ["What hutzpah!"] that the elderly man in front of us was in line with far more than 10 items, I pointed out that this line was for handicapped folks and he probably qualified under that, even though he was shopping with his younger daughter. (I only know this because I once made a face and someone pointed out that the person was elderly and thus entitled to wait in the express line rather than the very long, yet often faster, regular checkout lines.) And then I said that the real hutzpah was the grown men (both customers) arguing loudly in the checkout line next to us. She gave me a look like I was crazy and she really did not understand why grown men arguing in the checkout line, delaying the purchases of everyone behind them, was hutzpahdik.

On actual erev chag, I cleverly got up at the early hour of 9 am and went straight to a local dairy bakery. I say "cleverly" because things are still relatively quiet at 9 am on most Friday mornings (it's either like Sunday or a workday here, depending on who you are, meaning that people are either at home or at work at 9 am), and the grocery stores only get crazy at around 11 am. Only 9 a.m. is clearly not early on erev chag. The bakery was packed. I knew exactly what I wanted and so I went about, getting it, and then got on the end of what I assumed was the line.

The line apparently had two ends, though, because there was nowhere--at all--to stand. So people just stood wherever they were when they picked up their last item and then found their way to the line eventually. So, for example, if you were by the borekas and wanted challah, you just got into the kind of line in front of the boreka counter and waited until the line got to the challah and then picked up the challah on your way to the kupot [cash registers--someone who works at one is called a "kupa-ee" or "kupa--eet"].

I, however, found myself in the part of the line that was behind a warrior Israeli woman--a non-friar to the core. She declared that our part of the messy non-line was The Line and she addressed each person waiting anywhere else and told them that they should get behind us. And they did! It was amazing!

VI.

When we--this warrior woman and I--got closer to the registers she started opening up plastic bags for people and handing them out, to speed things along. It was a lovely moment. She was so impatient that she was helping the cashiers.

VII.

There was a woman standing off to the side of the cash registers, not in the line but distinctly next to it. She was holding her purchases just like everyone in line. When the warrior woman imperiously informed her that the line started there (and pointed), she said that she was just waiting there, but she knew exactly where her "place" in line was and she wasn't cutting. This also seems to be a distinctly Israeli thing. Who remembers when she started standing there, watching the cashier? Why would she prefer to stand there rather than in her place in line, unless she is planning on fudging when she got into the line (in some imaginary fashion--since she neither informed anyone, unlike the folks at the grocery store nor put anything to signify her place in the line)? I mean, unless she was cutting she was not saving either time or energy, since she was still holding onto everything and the line was quite compact, although a bit windy. The whole thing couldn't have stretched more than fifteen feet around the innards of the store. Strange. She was probably cutting.

VIII.

There was a woman of small stature--they used to be called midgets but I honestly don't remember the PC term now--going shopping with her daughter. She went to the front of the line to pay for her things. The warrior woman complained loudly to the cashier. The cashier told her to pipe down since the small woman could not wait in line for all that time. The warrior woman's impatience clearly was not directed only at people slow at opening plastic bags, but also at people with legitimate reasons for cutting the line (and doing so in a non-sneaky manner).

This line was also about thirty minutes, in total, or maybe 40, but a lot more interesting because of my conversations with the warrior woman and others in line. Everyone in line seemed to be either an older woman or a man with small children. I guess the younger women were all at home cooking and the older men were...what were the older men doing? Hmmmm... Not being friarim by waiting for 30-40 minutes in line, that's for sure.

Speaks for itself

2009-05-25T05:37:00.005-04:00

The awesomeness of this book speaks for itself:

the idea
the title
the graphic layout

And it was on sale! I didn't buy it, though, because I rarely cook, and when I do, even more rarely from recipes, and when from recipes, never from recipes in metric, and even if I would cook from a recipe in metric, never in Hebrew.

Israeli bus ride

2009-05-24T15:59:00.006-04:00

I had a great experience on the bus this morning. I had to wait awhile (as usual), and it was very crowded (as usual), and so I took my place, standing at the far back of the bus. There were a lot of us on the bus--again, typical for this line. This line also swings around two particularly sharp turns at breakneck speed on the way into town, and I am often afraid I will lose my balance and fall onto someone standing next to me during these turns. I try to hold on to one thing with each hand for these turns, and usually place my backpack on the ground for the duration of the ride--you physicists can explain this, but it's easier to stay upright while speeding around sharp turns when you're lighter. There is also a place where we careen over a bump in the road (I think we may actually lose contact with the ground--we're going very fast then, because it's a straight part of the road where the bus stops are spaced far apart), but there's not much I can do about that except regain my bearings once we touch down again.

Anyway, it was quite stuffy in the back of the bus. Most of the windows were closed. It was a sunny morning, maybe 75 degrees Fahrenheit outside. (I still don't know what that is in Celsius. 20-something?)

One of the riders, standing like me, a young man in his 30s, shouted to the front of the bus to ask the driver to turn on the "mazgan" (air conditioner). This is a normal occurrence on an Israeli bus. We'll call him "irritated passenger." The driver did, but then one the elderly people sitting at the front of the bus complained so the driver said he had to turn it off. I tried to suggest that we open all of the windows in the back of the bus instead (I think this would have solved the problem--we were moving quickly and it wasn't too hot outside), but clearly, irritated passenger had a point he wanted to make and he was not going to stop until he had made it. Irritated passenger initiated, through shouting the length of the bus, a conversation with the driver and other riders. This is roughly how it played out (although in Hebrew):

Irritated passenger: "Look, we're choking back here. We're standing because this bus is too crowded for words, and it's hot back here. Please give us some air!"
Driver: "No. Older people in the front don't want it."
Passenger in the front of the bus: "Here, there's a seat next to me. Why don't you take it?"
Irritated passenger: "No, I'm standing because I am young and healthy and lots of people older than I are going to get on at the next stop."

He was right. I started asking the people around me to open windows, which they did, and I thought that solved the temperature/air problem quite nicely.

Irritated passenger: "There are so many people on this bus, it's illegal! If we got into an accident, people would get hurt! There is a 70 year old man standing because there aren't enough seats!"
Another passenger in the back pipes up: "I waited 20 minutes for the bus this morning!"
Irritated passenger: "That's right! There are not enough buses in the morning. I have not sat down on a #X bus in the morning in months!"
A third passenger in the back pipes up: "I often wait 40 minutes to get back from town in the afternoon!"
Irritated passenger: "That's why we need to do something! I am going to pass around this piece of paper with my name and cell phone number and ask you to add your names and numbers, and I am going to take it to Egged and will SMS you all the results. This is outrageous! They promise the hareidim, 'Call this number and we will improve your bus service' because they expect to get money from the hareidim [presumably he meant the hareidi elements in the government] and meanwhile, south Jerusalem suffers! Do you know how much better service is north of Jaffa Street than south of it?! I've complained before and Egged says, 'It's just you, nobody else feels this way.' We need to show them that a lot of passengers feel this way. They can't keep getting away with this! We're paying for our tickets; we need better service!"

He passes the legal pad around.

Another passenger, suspiciously: "What are you going to do with this list?"
Irritated passenger: "I am going to take it to Egged and show them all the people who are affected by bad service. And I am a lawyer. I will sue them if I have to."

I was kind of surprised by how many people were willing to sign a blank piece of paper with their names and cell phone numbers. I mean, I did, but I was sort of surprised that so many people did. We'll see if anything comes of it. In the early fall, I saw a petition in the lobby of my building from people who wanted Egged to provide more frequent morning and afternoon service on this bus line and, as far as I can tell, nothing came of it.

Then the irritated passenger/lawyer started getting into a conversation with another passenger, who was an olah hadasha (new immigrant--she was in level "bet" ulpan so the conversation was in English), about her arnona (expensive property tax that everyone, even renters, pay) and why the government wasn't giving her the reduction she was supposed to get as a new immigrant (90% off). He told her his father was also a lawyer and specifically, an arnona expert, and gave her his card so she could call him for help/advice.

To cap off my day, I had a nice conversation with the cook at a cafe that I frequent about life, politics, Israeli vs. American customer service (here, they make it hard to buy things; there, they make it easy), Wisconsin (his brother lives there and he visited in 1994 and thinks its great but his kids live in Israel and he isn't about to leave them to go to America, even though everything is better there and three of his brothers live there, although another one of his brothers was killed by a mugger in Chicago about ten years ago--that apparently wasn't enough to sour him on America), studying, Obama, Iraq, Iran, working, and masters degrees (his wife is getting one; I don't have one). The conversation was all in Hebrew and I remembered words I needed about two minutes after I needed them. My Hebrew is good enough that I can usually figure out a work-around for words I don't remember. I still don't know how to say "index" (as in the list of subjects with page numbers in the back of a book) or "non-fiction" (as in the kind of book that would need an index) in Hebrew, though.

זכירת ירושלים

2009-05-21T04:50:00.001-04:00

I bought a Tikun Yom HaAtzmaut at a used bookstore here a few months ago. (I loved used books. Even more than new ones, although that is a tough comparison since each brings me joy in different ways.)

It was published in 1956 (תשט"ז), and when I first leafed through it, I got chills at this page:

Here's a closer shot of the text:

I can't really imagine a time when the Old City of Jerusalem was unreachable by Jews. It's always been a part of Jerusalem for me, since my first visit in 1996. When my mom lived here in the early '60s, of course, she never saw the Kotel, but that seems so foreign to me. Seeing it here in a book--imagining a Yom HaAtzmaut without all of Jerusalem--felt sad to me, and I don't usually get sad about such things.

I then received a 1978 copy of the same tikun and it still had the "זכירת ירושלים" in it, and my chills went away.

I guess it's supposed to be about a rebuilt, messianic Jerusalem. I've never heard of anyone saying this now on either Yom HaAtzmaut or Yom Yerushalayim, so maybe it fell out of favor over the past 31 years.

In both editions, the "זכירת ירושלים" goes on for a few pages. I hope to look through it today. It looks like it contains some interesting texts that I wouldn't normally come across. (The rest of the tikun also contains many collections of texts that look interesting.)

Happy Yom Yerushalayim!

A to...W

2009-05-19T08:15:00.003-04:00

I've been spending a lot of time looking at and revising my resume over the past few months (the learning full-time thing didn't work out; more on that another time), and then someone asked me for some good resume verbs. So I went through my resume and deleted everything but the verbs. I was shocked to discover that I've done 49 different things in a professional or, in a few cases, volunteer capacity over the past ten years:

Administrated
Advocated
Answered
Assisted
Attended
Built
Clarified
Collaborated
Compiled
Copy-edited
Created
Delivered
Designed
Directed
Disseminated
Edited
Evaluated
Expanded
Facilitated
Formatted
Initiated
Led
Located
Maintained
Managed
Moderated
Organized
Planned
Prepared
Processed
Provided
Recommended
Researched
Responded
Reviewed
Rewrote
Served
Set up
Sought
Streamlined
Suggested
Summarized
Taught
Trained
Updated
Uploaded
Visited
Worked
Wrote [written]

When I went back to looked to see what I had actually done, without removing duplicates, it seemed to be a more accurate reflection of my professional experience and strengths:

administrated program
advocated on behalf of students
answered correspondence
answered inquiries
assisted semi-finalists
assisted with activities
attended professional meetings
built webpages
collaborated with graphic designers
copy-edited book
copy-edited e-mail newsletter
created a new filing system
created and maintained office-wide calendar
created resource binders
delivered introductory remarks
designed concert program
designed, created, and updated web page
directed webmaster
disseminated information
edited and made suggestions for grant proposals
edited multi-chapter memoirs
extensively edited individual parts of book
facilitated changes
formatted and copy-edited 280-page book
honed course descriptions
initiated and managed redesign of webpage
led faculty meeting
led feedback discussion groups
led recruitment and retention efforts
located missing references
made recommendations to the board
maintained and expanded webpage
maintained contact
moderated listserve
organized and formatted footnotes
organized conference calls
organized panels, individual lectures, and a benefit concert
planned programming
planned Shabbat dinners and other extracurricular programs
planned two seminars
prepared press releases
processed student applications
provided support and advice
researched foundations
responded to semi-annual reports
reviewed and evaluated dossiers
rewrote material on website
served as liason
served on the board
set up and moderated three listserves
sought new instructors
streamlined and clarified guidelines
taught Biblical and Rabbinic texts
trained new staff member
uploaded information
visited weekly and formed deep and ongoing friendships
worked closely with web designer
worked with faculty members
worked with graphic designer, copy-editor, and printer
wrote comprehensive evaluation reports
wrote essays
wrote grant proposals
wrote successful grant proposal
wrote, edited, and copy-edited text
wrote, edited, and organized summaries

Some of these are things that I would quite happily do again (for money), some are things I would (and do) do for free, while others are things to which I would be loathe to devote significant time unless the money was really good or it was a cause to which I was passionately devoted. I really did have fun with a lot of this work, though, which is handy to remember once in awhile.

The things that are not on this list are the things that I would really like to avoid in the future:

being passive-aggressive
being stuck cleaning up after events while colleagues go home to their spouses
being yelled at by irate students for anything, ever
canceling classes due to under-enrollment
disputes with colleagues
getting yelled at for neglecting to look up a package's location before it was even supposed to arrive (I mean, really, why does it matter if it was last seen in Pittsburgh or Lexington, Kentucky if it isn't due to arrive until tomorrow?)
having to correct basic spelling and grammatical mistakes in colleagues' work and then being yelled at for being too "picky" while doing this (basic verb-noun agreement, appropriate use of apostrophes, placement of quotation marks, use of commas to offset clauses--no rocket science, people, but it still matters)
looking up zipcodes at usps.com
not being thanked for hard work
photocopying anything, ever
picking up dry-cleaning for a boss
resolving payment disputes
retyping anything for anyone, ever
scanning thousands of records in Excel, looking for duplicates
showing colleagues, repeatedly, how to create folders in Windows, attach documents to e-mails, add columns in Excel, and other basic computer tasks that anyone working in an office should just know, regardless of their age
showing up late (I want to get better at this. See #1, above.)
stuffing envelopes
white-outing little black specks off of documents that have been photocopied too many times

I'm sure that there is a lot more, but it's probably not so safe for the Interweb.

Yom Ha...Never mind

2009-05-12T11:45:00.000-04:00

Oh, that's right! It's Lag B'Omer!

I knew this quite well last night, when the skies of Jerusalem were filled with smoke and the aroma of lighter fluid, and even remembered during mincha, but forget when I went out to run an errand this afternoon.

What reminded me? The mall full of merchants selling things, small children running about, and a cooking activity for children that involved cutting up mushrooms and two portable ovens standing at the ready. Now, it is true that I ran my errand after 5 pm, when both parents and children might be out and about on a normal day.

However, the level of activity in the mall indicated that it was a school vacation day. On school vacation days, including Sukkot, Chanukah, election day, and Purim, I have noticed that the mall is the destination of choice. They advertise fun, free activities for children and some of the usual Friday merchants are selling their wares--everything from handmade baby bunting to home brewed olives and Tupperware. (On Friday, there are also a number of take-out stands, but none today.)

The mall is a nice destination here in Jerusalem because it is out of the hot sun and once you go through the security area once at the entrance to the mall, you don't need to open all of your bags each time you go into a store, the way you would at a normal store outdoors. It has a bookstore, a drugstore, an electronics store, an appliance store, several clothing stores, several shoe stores (5? a lot), a grocery store, a toy store, a lingerie store, a stand that sells Judaica, at least two cell-phone stands, a pizza place, a Burger King (kosher), a meat grill, a sandwich store, an ice cream stand, and two coffee shops. What more could a family need on Lag B'Omer?

There is just something nice about a place where a packed mall reminds one that it is the 33rd day of the omer. Although, I suppose that people go to malls in the US (and elsewhere) when kids don't have school. I just happen to never have lived in a very mall-focused city or town.

My main memory of Lag B'Omer from childhood is of years of horrible, dreaded Color War. Color War is terrible for uncoordinated, socially-inept kids who tend towards sunburn and dehydration. It's like the worst of everything possible.

I hope to post on all of the "Yom Ha"s that we had recently soon.

"מונית הכסף" ["Money Taxi"] and "Chaim" Kafka

2009-04-26T14:58:00.004-04:00

I joined a gym here in December, in an attempt to maintain physical and mental health. It was not a decision I made lightly, since it is quite expensive. It's kind of a rip-off. It costs about what a nice gym on the Upper West Side of Manhattan costs (between $75-$80/month, depending on the exchange rate, which is only a little bit less than I paid for the New York Sports Club, circa 2004-2007, when I belonged), and has worse machines, facilities, and service.

It has only one branch, no towels are provided, and there is only one toilet in the women's changing room, which also lacks paper towels. A man knocks on the door periodically to ask if he can come in to clean it, since they only employ one cleaning person and he is male. Since it is almost always in use, he rarely comes in, and it doesn't get cleaned very often. They often play very loud, bass-heavy music in the cardio room. It's very thumpy, and sometimes hurts my head. (I ask them to turn the music down about once a week.) When the weather is decent, there is often someone smoking on the patio, and the door to the cardio room is sometimes left open, which means that I am sucking in secondhand cigarette smoke as I run. (Someone usually tries to close the door, which sometimes stays closed. It still smells like cigarette smoke, though.)

There are elliptical machines, but only the kind with pedal-like foot things and arm things, not the kind on which you can change the angle or even the resistance, as far as I can tell. One of the treadmills produces electrical shocks every time you touch it, or continuously if you have earbuds in your ears while you run on it. The stationary bikes, a relatively new addition, do not have individual televisions. The only non-bike, non-elliptical machine, non-treadmill is usually either broken or its television is broken.

I joined this gym, instead of a slightly cheaper one, because it seems to have decent ventilation, nice showers, and an individual TV by most of the cardio machines. It also has enough elliptical machines that I can get one almost every every time I go (weeknight evenings) without waiting.

Anyway, so now I watch Israeli TV about three times a week. One of my regular shows (besides Friends, ER, and Ugly Betty) is "מונית הכסף" ["Money Taxi"]. Apparently (I didn't have a TV in the US and therefore didn't know), this is like an American show. Unsuspecting Israelis hail a taxi, get into it, and are shocked to find out that they're on a quiz show on national television. It has flashing lights inside and you have to reach your destination without getting three wrong answers in order to win your grand prize of the money you've accumulated by answering questions correctly. If you need help, you can call someone on your cell phone or lean out the window and ask someone on the street.

The questions are a mixture of Israeli politics, popular music, literature, and some basic world history. There is also a smattering of basic Jewish questions ("What are the names of the four sons at the seder?" "For what sin were Adam and Eve kicked out of the Garden of Eden?"). To my pleasure, most contestants seem to get the Jewish questions right, as well as the Israeli politics and general sports questions, which I couldn't answer in a million years ("What is the nickname of MK Yossi Cohen?" "Which soccer player is known as 'the bomb'?"). One question that neither I nor the contestants could answer last night was "Which Israeli highway goes from Metulla to Eilat"? I guessed 1, the contestants guessed 4, the answer was 90. Sometimes, there are questions that I wouldn't expect them to be able to answer: "What was Elvis Presley's middle name?" The answer is Aaron, which sounded familiar to me once it was revealed, and which was mentioned in the subtitles (there are always subtitles on at the gym) as "Aharon," i.e. אהרון.

However, last night, there was a question that elicited a humorous response, in my eyes. The question, "What was the author Kafka's first name?" The contestants weren't sure, and threw around Yossi or Moshe as possibilities. "Wait," one of them asked, "was he even Israeli?" None of them knew. They called one of their sisters, who said, "Maybe Chaim?" so that's what they went with. When the correct answer was revealed as "Franz," they cursed the Ashkenazim who they said rig these games to be biased towards Ashkenazim!

I found the assumption that he must be Israeli and therefore must have a name like "Yossi," "Moshe," or "Chaim," sort of sad. I wonder if it reflects a larger problem in Israel of non-exposure to classic Western art and literature. I also found the immediate dig at Ashkenazim, once the name was revealed as "Franz," to be amusing, but also sad (outrageous?) that so many years after most Mizrachi Jews arrived in Israel, they still feel like they don't have the same educational background as their fellow Ashkenazi citizens. What's sad and outrageous is that they probably don't. (After Obama was elected I asked a few people if a Mizrachi Israeli had ever been a serious contender for Prime Minister, and the answer was no. Please let me know if you know otherwise.)

In general, I find the show interesting, both for the questions that contestants can and can't answer, and for the banter between the driver/questioner and the contestants, and between the contestants. There are some dati/chiloni [religious/secular] jokes, and some Ashkenazi/Mizrachi jokes. I don't think I've heard a single question referring to Arab culture or history, unless you count a question about the birth country of a famous Egyptian singer (who I had never heard of). There aren't usually questions about current events.

Anyway, just another slice of Israeli life. Now that the days are longer and the weather is better, I may be giving up my posh gym membership, since I really can't afford it.

Chol HaMoed Pesach in Rosh Pina

2009-04-14T10:24:00.000-04:00

I went to Caesarea on Sunday, but didn't take any videos. Maybe I'll share some photos at some other time. It was beautiful, although the traffic getting there was pretty horrendous.

On Monday, I went to Tzfat and Rosh Pina with my parents. There is a great little stream and beautiful open, green space right outside Rosh Pina, where the images for this little film were taken. This one just under a minute, and a little less exciting than the Netanya one, but has more cool "Ken Burns" effects. Enjoy!

You can hear the stream in the background, and also the melodious tweeting of birds. Once again, I used iMovie to make it. I was wondering if there is some way to extend the lovely background from the movie parts to the stills, which are silent.

Before we went to Rosh Pina yesterday, we spent some time in Tzfat, visiting a friend of my parents' who was staying with her daughter, who is a year younger than I am and has four kids, the three youngest of whom are 4, 2, and 3 months old. She is also rather chareidi. (I felt kind of out of place wearing jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers, but nobody there seemed to mind.)

It is always somewhat shocking to me that if my life were different (very different), I could have four kids, too. I mean, I could have become chareidi and gotten married and had a succession of children. I can't imagine that I would have been happy that way, but who knows? Sometimes the idea of not having to make choices all of the time is quite appealing! Most of the time, though, I wouldn't exchange my present life, tumultuous and unfulfilling as it is at the moment, with one attached to four small, needy children. That is not to say that I don't, one day soon, want to be busy with small children, but I'm just glad that that, at 28, I didn't have four children.

Chol HaMoed Pesach in Netanya

2009-04-12T16:56:00.009-04:00

I went to Netanya on Friday and enjoyed the afternoon on the beach and the midrachov (How do you say that in English? Pedestrian walkway or something clunky like that?) while the lucky ducks in the Diaspora were ~~suffering through~~ enjoying their second day of a "three day yom tov." I took some video clips, so I decided to learn how to use iMovie and turn it into something other than a rather static five clips totally 1 minute and 52 seconds. This is the result (one minute total):

I thought that the result was more fun than a few still photos, but I hardly ever take the time to watch videos on anyone else's blog, so I won't take it personally if you don't.

The distinct thwakking sound that you hear in the background is people playing with a ball and paddles (like ping pong but without the table). There was a really nice mix of people on the beach--yeshivish types (black velvet kippot, white shirts, and black pants on the men, sheitels, long sleeves, long skirts, closed-toe shoes on the women, many children), Arabs, secular Israelis, modern Orthodox types, French-speakers, Russian-speakers, Hebrew-speakers, Arabic-speakers, English-speakers (both British and American). Here, for example, is a photo of a man buttoning his shirt up over his tzitzit while an Arab woman stands nearby:

Enjoy the rest of Pesach or any other holiday you may be celebrating in this springtime season!

Breaking radio silence to report on Birkat HaChama

2009-04-08T07:38:00.013-04:00

I went to one gathering at 7:45 am in Raanana, and passed two more after that. It was nice, but I think it only felt special because it's something that we do once every 28 years. If we said a bracha over the sun every time we appreciated it (like when it comes out after a few cloudy or rainy days; or when it's shining while we are dragging lots of luggage to the LIRR from our brother's apartment in Queens), it wouldn't be a big deal.

And here it is!

The one thing that was really nice was what Rabbi Seth Farber said before we began the blessing and Psalms that surround it. He noted that Passover is about a particularistic national redemption, while blessing the creator of the sun transcends nationality and is about what we all share as inhabitants of the same planet. He said that this Pesach, while celebrating our particularistic redemption from slavery we Egypt, we ought to keep in mind the rest of the world, and hope for its redemption from slavery and suffering to freedom, as well. I thought that the contrast between the particularism of Pesach and the generality of blessing God for creating the sun was a nice touch, and one I hadn't heard before.

Here are some recent New York Times articles on the subject--oh, how I miss my New York Times! (Despite this, which one of my friends was complaining about, and rightly so.)

"A Jewish Holiday, Once Every 28 Years," by Samuel G. Freedman (NYT, April 3, 2009)
"For Jews, Another 28 Years, Another Blessing of the Sun," by Joyce Cohen (NYT, April 6, 2009)

I also need to take a minute to complain about chametz-burning here in Israel. What is it with people throwing plastic bags into the fire? Don't they know that it's bad for the environment, it stinks, and it doesn't burn well? Also, that it's halachically entirely unnecessary?

People also burn all kinds of things that don't need to be burned or even thrown out or given away (rice noodles?!). I saw someone throw chametz inside a plastic peanut butter jar into the fire--why? A woman came by and shouted at the chametz-and-plastic-burners, but only about all of the smoke they were making--איזה חוצפה! she shouted--to be making these fires on an empty lot after everyone in the nearby houses had worked so hard cleaning their houses for Pesach. She had a good point. We live several blocks away and it smelled bad this morning. The fires would be much smaller and less ghastly if they consisted of: wood and chametz. Okay, and a few dried up old lulavs if you want. But because they are poorly constructed (bread is underneath; burning newspaper and cardboard boxes on top), they also contain piles of burning plastic bags and mountains of newspapers and cardboard boxes. Most of the bread was getting toasted, at best.

Some photos of Birkat HaChama gatherings in Raanana this morning are below.

Purim funnies

2009-03-10T06:54:00.002-04:00

This is pretty good, especially if you like Mad Men:

Can I just say that I love having this day between Ta'anit Esther and (Shushan) Purim? It's great! Especially since I have the day off. I hate being hungry for the evening megillah reading and then the temptation of all the junk that's usually available immediately thereafter. I did make the mistake of breaking my fast on pizza last night, though, and then being very, very, very thirsty as I was delivering food packages to some elderly poor.
Note to self: Stop after the water, bell pepper, hummus, and rice cakes. Skip the pizza.

I have one little vent to share. I was delivering these food packages and some of the people we visited wanted to give us something small in return. I felt it was important to politely say "no" but then to take whatever was offered. It must be hard enough to accept charity without your own hospitality being rejected! I accepted an orange from a woman (most were giving out fruit or chocolate), and since I was so incredibly thirsty, I immediately opened it and began to eat it. Sweet tangy juice! One of my co-volunteers was shocked that I would eat it--she actually called me "brave." When I asked her what she meant, she muttered something about it having cooties. This was the same person who was incensed that such poverty existed in modern day Jerusalem, and didn't understand why "the government" didn't do more to help them. If you aren't willing to eat the generously-offered orange of a poor, elderly, Russian woman, I ask you: How is she going to get a job and get out of poverty? Poor people don't have cooties, nor do their oranges. I just don't understand people sometimes. When I feel bad about not doing more to help people (and I do, often--just not often enough to go out and do something about it), I can at least comfort myself with the thought that I don't think that poor, elderly Russians have the cooties. Rant over.

Happy Purim to those celebrating both today and tomorrow!

I met a Jew...

2009-03-08T09:03:00.005-04:00

from Paras the other week! He sounded vaguely French, so I thought he said Paris, but when I made some comment about having been there for a week once, he took one look at my white skin and said, "No, Paras!" (Or more accurately, "לא, פרס"). I guess "Paras" is just how you say "Persia" in Hebrew, but when I first heard him say it, I thought it was a specific region in ancient Persia that was mentioned in the Megillah:

יג וַיֹּאמֶר הַמֶּלֶךְ, לַחֲכָמִים יֹדְעֵי הָעִתִּים: כִּי-כֵן, דְּבַר הַמֶּלֶךְ, לִפְנֵי, כָּל-יֹדְעֵי דָּת וָדִין. 13 Then the king said to the wise men, who knew the times--for so was the king's manner toward all that knew law and judgment;
יד וְהַקָּרֹב אֵלָיו, כַּרְשְׁנָא שֵׁתָר אַדְמָתָא תַרְשִׁישׁ, מֶרֶס מַרְסְנָא, מְמוּכָן--שִׁבְעַת שָׂרֵי פָּרַס וּמָדַי, רֹאֵי פְּנֵי הַמֶּלֶךְ, הַיֹּשְׁבִים רִאשֹׁנָה, בַּמַּלְכוּת. 14 and the next unto him was Carshena, Shethar, Admatha, Tarshish, Meres, Marsena, and Memucan, the seven princes of Persia and Media, who saw the king's face, and sat the first in the kingdom:
טו כְּדָת, מַה-לַּעֲשׂוֹת, בַּמַּלְכָּה, וַשְׁתִּי--עַל אֲשֶׁר לֹא-עָשְׂתָה, אֶת-מַאֲמַר הַמֶּלֶךְ אֲחַשְׁוֵרוֹשׁ, בְּיַד, הַסָּרִיסִים 15 'What shall we do unto the queen Vashti according to law, forasmuch as she hath not done the bidding of the king Ahasuerus by the chamberlains?'

After he revealed where he was from, we exchanged some quotes from the Megillah (mostly things like "שֶׁבַע וְעֶשְׂרִים וּמֵאָה מְדִינָה" / "over a hundred and seven and twenty provinces"). Sometimes, these little, insignificant exchanges happen and I feel very happy to be here.

It made me wonder if Jews from Persia feel differently about Purim than Jews from other parts of the world. Do they celebrate it more personally? Differently? Do they claim special ownership over it? Is Bostonian:Patriot's Day like Persian Jew:Purim?

Beds, Dryers, The Sandak, and Eggplant

2009-02-03T16:11:00.002-05:00

I'm sorry that I haven't written more. I've been very busy with other (paid) writing, so this blog has somewhat fallen by the wayside.

I am still also less-than-thrilled with how this year is going, so I don't have much exciting or interesting news to report. For example, last night I dreamt about dryers (dryers! why didn't I appreciate them in the US?) and beds. In the dream, we had a new washer and dryer in my apartment, and I discovered a real twin-size bed sitting out on the mirpeset [porch] that had somehow escaped my attention. The bed was more exciting than the dryer--I've really gotten used to hanging clothes up to dry and the slightly stiff, scratchy feel they have when I take them down to fold and put away, and can even feel a bit self-righteous about all of the energy I'm saving, but I'm sleeping on a narrow, thin, Israeli foam mattress (what is sometimes called a מיטת סוכנות ["Sochnut bed"] because it's what new immigrants used to be given by the Jewish Agency upon making aliya). It's not very comfortable. It's also very close to the floor. This dream shows you about how interesting my life is at the moment.

On a more upbeat note, although I have been feeling rather blase (sp?) about Israel, I was delighted to see Purim costumes for sale in February instead of October! Sometimes, those little things just get to me, in a good way. (What should I dress up as?)

I was amused to note that the Hebrew translation for The Godfather (as in, the movie), is "HaSandak."

I discovered something called "Jerusalem eggplant" (חצילים ירושלמים) at a Shabbat meal, which turns out to be a surprisingly good combination of roasted eggplant and hard-boiled eggs, and much less mayonaisy than many of the eggplant concoctions sold here.

Miketz and Christmas

2008-12-25T06:29:00.008-05:00

Two separate items. I am not suggesting a relationship between them.

First, here is another great American Jewish World Service d'var Torah, this time on Parshat Miketz. I wish it recommended reputable organizations that are doing just what the d'var Torah suggests--preventing hunger and famine, rather than responding to it after the fact. Anyone know of any good places to donate towards this cause?

Secondly, I was in Bethlehem last week, including on St. Nicholas Day, and saw a great Santa Claus decoration. There is no reason at all why Santa Claus should be pasty white--St. Nicholas was from what is now Turkey.

I don't know if I am in a place right now to write extensively about Bethlehem. It was a different world from my world in Jerusalem (West Jerusalem, that is), and many aspects of the trip were quite difficult for me. I was happy to read this recent New York Times article ("Palestinians Work to Jolt West Bank Back to Life," December 23, 2008) about increased tourism in Bethlehem and other West Bank cities, since that seems like it would improve life for everyone in the region.

Happy holidays to all who are celebrating something at the moment!

Still true

2008-12-21T10:42:00.002-05:00

This is still true. I wish I was in a space to write something this hopeful and assured this year, but I am not. Maybe by the 6th night of Chanukah, I will be.

Tonight is Shira's eighth yahrzeit. You can read more about her here and here. I don't have anything to say about her yahrzeit this year. I am thinking about her, though.

Public works worthy of investment

2008-12-07T06:44:00.004-05:00

This is probably one of the more generally ignorant posts that I'm ever going to publish, but I hope that those who know more can comment and teach me.

I just read this New York Times article ("Obama Pledges Public Works on a Vast Scale", NYT, 12/6/08), in an attempt to keep up with what is going on in the US these days. I haven't really been reading any news online, and, as such, am terribly under-informed. The article basically talks about the major infrastructure spending that Obama is planning in order to create more jobs, in the model of the Federal Aid Highway Act of 1956, which created many highways and bridges that are now on the verge of collapse.

My main reaction is that I would hope that infrastructure spending would focus on mass transit and alternative energy, both of which I think are incredibly important and too often under-funded in favor of building more roads and bridges.

Cities that have mass transit should have better mass transit, and cities that don't have mass transit should build it. And subways are way faster than buses, people. I don't know about light rails--I assume that they are faster than buses but slower than subways. How did cities like Washington, DC, finance the construction of their relatively new Metro subway system in the mid-1970s? Why aren't more cities building them or improving their existing ones? Los Angeles, anyone? Dallas? Houston? Phoenix? Not only would investing in mass transit create jobs, it would also make cities more pleasant to live in by reducing smog and congestion and lessen dependence on both cars and gasoline.

Alternative energy is also a no-brainer to me. There is a limited amount of gas; we need other ways of running all of our computers, home appliances, subways, buses, and cars. I would hope that investing in alernative energy would also involve investing in education, especially science education, on all levels.

Let's hear it for naps!

2008-12-03T16:12:00.001-05:00

I think I would find it much easier to get up in the mornings if I knew that I could take a two hour nap every day.

Grandparents and recalling Christmases past while hiking in the Negev

2008-11-28T07:07:00.000-05:00

This was sad and poignant and strange. Aspects of it reminded me of my childhood, growing up four hours from my paternal grandparents and a whole country (and a wide country!) away from my maternal grandparents. It made me nostalgic for a childhood that I didn't have, of living close to extended family. It also made me miss my grandparents, both dead and alive. I know that I was lucky to have them in my life for as long, and as much, as I did, but I still want them around for longer.

I spoke to my grandmother, my one living grandparent, on the phone last night, in honor of Thanksgiving, and it made me miss her even more. I hadn't spoken to her since I left the US in August. There is no excuse for that, given the price of long-distance calls these days, but the miles somehow make it seem further. So much of the time we have spent together has been around activities or food, that it's hard to sustain a relationship over the phone. I don't think I would want to commune with her over the Internet, even if she were willing to, which I don't think she would be. It would have been really fun to "do" Thanksgiving over the Internet, via webcam, with the extended family, but it wouldn't have been the same. At all. Thanksgiving is a BIG deal in my family, at least partly because it was the only holiday my immediate, Jewishly-observant family could do with my non-observant wider family. I've only, in my life, had two Thanksgivings before this one without my grandmother, siblings, parents, cousins, aunts, and uncles. One was when my grandparents didn't make a big Thanksgiving because they were having a 50th wedding anniversary party the same winter, and the other was when I was in Israel in 1997. (Is it normal to say "make Thanksgiving" the same way one says "make Pesach," or is that a Yiddishism that has crept into my English?) My mother is making Thanksgiving dinner tonight, for my father, sister, me, and two friends, but it isn't the same, although I am looking forward to it tremendously.

I was hiking in the Negev over the past three days, and the subject of Christmas traditions came up. Yes, a bunch of Jews hiking in the Negev, discussing Christmas. Why not? One Jew, who grew up in Utah, recalled hitting the slopes every Christmas, since they were virtually empty. Another Jew, probably from New York although I wouldn't swear to it, recalled movies and Chinese food.

At first, I said that my family didn't have any Christmas traditions, but then one came to mind. My grandparents used to visit us from California twice a year: December vacation and Pesach. The December vacation at the day school I attended typically began on December 26, just to make a point.

The Christmas tradition that I recall most strongly took place on December 26: the day the Christmas chocolate went on sale. We would go to the local drugstore and stock up on red and green Hershey's kisses and half-priced sugar cookies shaped like Santa Claus. All such foods were forbidden by my parents, but allowed, and in quite liberal portions, by my grandparents. The other thing that we used to buy was smoked sable from the local kosher butcher. It was delicious. My mother didn't like it, so we never had it except when my grandparents came to visit. I wonder if you can get it in Israel? And why did I never buy it for myself, once I was of age to do so? My grandfather also used to buy us all the herring we could eat. I don't like herring any more, but when I was seven and eight, I loved it. And, again my mother didn't like it, so we only had it when my grandparents came to visit.

You can't do half-off Christmas chocolate, half-off Santa cookies, smoked sable, and cream herring over the Internet.

Yet.

I never share photos on this site, but I wanted to share some views of the Negev. It was so great to get outside--both to be outdoors and to be away from the beit midrash, largely because of my recent frustrations. I might write about the trip some more at some point. I also want to write about the KolDor conference and the General Assembly (aka "GA"), both of which I attended a few weeks ago now. Enjoy!

Torah and life

2008-11-24T08:27:00.007-05:00

Things are, quite frankly, not going so well in the beit midrash, and thus in life. I am not enjoying learning nearly as much as I have in the past. I'm not really sure why, except for one idea that I am finding extremely difficult to articulate. I look around the beit midrash, see others happily and excitedly engaged in learning, and it makes me sad.

So I have made a list. Because lists are easier.

I used to learn to escape from deep truths and the emotionally difficult parts of my life. I loved learning and did it a lot. It was a great escape on many levels, especially studying Mishna.
Then I decided to stop escaping from deep truths or I stopped being able to escape.
Then I disliked learning Torah, since I only knew how to learn in this bifurcated, sanitized-from-emotions, way. Learning Torah reminded me of that former life of escape from emotions that I had rejected. Also, whenever I learned (and I think this is related), it felt boring and irrelevant. Cut off from the meaty part of life, somehow.
So I didn't learn for a long time (1998-2004).
But I missed learning.
When I started learning again, I found that I didn't feel like I was leaving my emotional life at the door, so to speak. I felt like I was somehow bringing my whole being to my Torah study. And I found that I loved learning as much as I had before (say, back at #1).
But now I am not enjoying learning, to a large extent. It's like I'm back at #3. And I don't know why.

At the end of this past summer, which was spent studying Torah, I wrote that "I have a renewed conviction that one can and should bring one's personal and emotional life to bear on one's limmud Torah." I somehow suspect that the institution where I am currently studying, or the program within the institution where I am studying, does not support this "bringing the whole being" model of Torah study. Somehow, it feels like I am being asked, or forced, or encouraged, to check who I am at the door, and enter the beit midrash sanitized from emotion and personal history. I think if I stood up in the beit midrash and said "I think that one can and should bring one's personal and emotional life to bear on one's limmud Torah," I would either be laughed at, ignored, or just simply not understood.

Do any of you understand what I mean by that? I tried to explain it to someone in person recently and he really didn't understand what I meant. Or, rather, he said that he felt that that's how all limmud Torah is, by its very nature. He didn't understand what the alternative was, that I was rejecting, which made me feel he didn't understand what I was saying.

The kind of learning I am interested in doing is the kind of learning that informs and is informed by the actual lives we live. By my life, and my struggles, and my values. I want Torah study that illuminates rather than represses, that connects and unifies rather than divides. I want Torah that engages me at my core. I want to be able to learn Torah the way that I talk to my closest friends or read the newspaper: with my whole being, informed by everything I've done and that has been done to me, by my feminism, my attention to detail, my liberal proclivities, my concern for humanity, my interest in how legal systems can create positive change in the world, by my need for creative expression. This is my Torah, and more that has yet to be written.

I feel guilty articulating this. I was raised with a certain rigorous intellectual standard for Torah, and the accompanying feeling that anything that actually touched or affected people was fluffy nonsense. Gemara should be about pure Gemara (or, sometimes more accurately, about rishonim). Halakhah should be about serving God, not articulating deep emotional truths. I still cringe when people try to make Torah about politics or current events. How is that different from what I want? I don't want some watered-down version of Torah just for the sake of making it personally meaningful--do I? Am I just a casualty of the "me generation," where if it isn't about me, it isn't worthwhile or important? Just how self-absorbed am I, anyway?

I have two other goals besides learning Torah in a way that engages my whole being and that involves bringing my whole self--warts and all--into the beit midrash. (No, I don't have actual warts. Just metaphoric ones.) Another list:

I also want to know everything. Really. I want bekiut that I don't have at the moment. And I want to acquire it in some way other than, say, reading through the Shulkhan Arukh, which I find to be boring. Maybe I just haven't found the right way to do it or the right person to do it with. I don't know.
I want better skills. I want a larger Aramaic word bank in my head. I want to be able to read through a page of Gemara with less difficulty, and even to attack Tosfot with some expectation of success.

I have loved learning Gemara, halacha, and Tanakh in the past, and I want to love learning it again. I don't know how to fix whatever is wrong. Heck, I can't even really articulate it that well! (I'm not even 100% sure that the problem is this (see above), and not something else more pragmatic, like not being in the right shiur or not being interested in the particular material I am studying.)

Does this sound like anything any of you have ever felt? I am hoping that if people ask me questions or challenge me to be more articulate, I could better explain what I mean.

Someone help me, please!

Rashi supports women's empowerment!

2008-11-18T05:40:00.007-05:00

See this nice d'var Torah on Parshat Chayyei Sarah. I'd never noticed that Rashi before, or that Rivkah's father and brother first attempt to send her off without asking her before they changed their minds and ask her.

I do wonder what the role of Rivkah's mother is in all of this. She is mentioned, after all, in Genesis 24:

כח ותרץ, הנערה, ותגד, לבית אימה--כדברים, האלה

28 And the damsel ran, and told her mother's house according to these words.

נג ויוצא העבד כלי-כסף וכלי זהב, ובגדים, וייתן, לרבקה; ומגדנות--נתן לאחיה, ולאימה

53 And the servant brought forth jewels of silver, and jewels of gold, and raiment, and gave them to Rebekah; he gave also to her brother and to her mother precious things.

נה ויאמר אחיה ואימה, תשב הנערה איתנו ימים או עשור; אחר, תלך

55 And her brother and her mother said: 'Let the damsel abide with us a few days, at the least ten; after that she shall go.'

Remembering Rabin and enjoying democracy in Israel

2008-11-09T16:21:00.004-05:00

Today, the 11th of Heshvan, was Yitzhak Rabin's thirteenth yahrzheit [anniversary of his death]. I can't believe it was thirteen years ago. That makes me feel old. So much has changed in the world since then.

I know exactly where I was when I found out--at the local nursing home, where I visited residents every Shabbat afternoon. I usually ignored the televisions that were on in residents' rooms, but that day, it was impossible. I don't think I knew that he had died; only that he was shot. I didn't really get the full story until after Shabbat ended. After I found out that he had died, it occurred to me, for the first time, that a democracy could stop being a democracy under the right circumstances. I had to take some SAT IIs the next day, which was quite difficult.

Fast forward thirteen years. I am here in Israel. I listened to someone read a lovely Rabin memorial poem on the radio was I walked from Talpiyot to Meah Shearim. (One of my new activities is taking long walks, since Jerusalem is a lovely city for walking and I need the exercise.) I read many interesting, scandalous, depressing, and humorous campaign posters for the upcoming mayoral elections. On Friday, I watched teenagers standing next to each other on street corners, holding up signs and passing out fliers for opposing candidates, but chatting in between handing things out. On Shabbat, I chuckled at the (inexcusable given the number of native English-speakers campaigning for him) poor English translation on one of Nir Barkat's handouts: "Barkat shall execute!"

I am really enjoying this election. In a way, I feel more connected to this election than to that other recent election, although I voted in that one and won't vote in this one. I don't really have time to read any newspapers here, so I wasn't following Obama/McCain at the end, but here, the election is all around me and it feels like everyone is involved and everyone cares. And it's nice.

Prayer before voting from neohassid.org

2008-11-04T00:50:00.004-05:00

Enjoy [PDF]! And happy voting. [Hat tip to Steg.]

I voted from Israel with an absentee ballot and I hope my ballot arrives in time--even though I was voting in New York, where it is extremely unlikely to matter.

Computer tips--not just for your grandmother

2008-10-20T08:52:00.003-04:00

I expected all of these to be old hat, but they weren't. I learned a thing or two (literally--one or two things). Did you know that tab + shift allows you to jump through a form backwards?

I haven't read the comments yet, but I feel like there are probably some gems in there, too.

Mental health parity and amusing Rashbam

2008-10-06T13:08:00.004-04:00

Yay for the Paul Wellstone Mental Health and Addiction Equity Act of 2007. It's about time. I am so glad that this made it into the bailout bill. I don't quite get how these two issues are related, but whatever. I guess it's more like they got bundled together with other issues and they were all passed and signed into law as a unit. (8th grade civics was a woefully long time ago.) I am also impressed with the bipartisan nature of this bill and hope that this bodes well for future health care reform in the US.
For a good time see the Rashbam [medieval commentary] on Genesis 24:1, "ברך את אברהם בכל" (Warning: I have an interesting idea of what constitutes a "good time" sometimes. I don't want to get your hopes up--it was more momentarily amusing and interesting enough to share with someone in the beit midrash than a long-lasting "good time.")

Spare change

2008-09-28T12:49:00.000-04:00

I haven't gotten into the Elul/Rosh Hashanah mood yet. I've been saying Psalm 27 almost every day (more or less), and went to selichot two Saturday nights ago, but haven't been feeling it.

What I am feeling right now, and have been feeling since the first of Elul, is some combination of overwhelmed, exhausted, burned out, apathetic, and scared. I was feeling particularly bad about that last Thursday, when it occurred to me: I am feeling all of those things because I am changing. A lot. (Heck, I have change to spare if you need some.) And if Elul/Rosh Hashanah isn't about taking a close look at one's life and deciding to change, I don't know what it's about. It's just that I made the decisions to change (= to do teshuva) several months ago, and now I am living out the results of those changes in real life and real time. And man, it's hard...

Why is change so hard? Why am I so resistant to doing the things that would most help me in life? Why is it sometimes so easy to do the wrong thing and so hard to do the right thing? Why, even when we make changes that we think are for the best, does it still not feel good? Should I interpret this general weariness as a sign that I have made a big mistake in uprooting my life, quitting my job, and transplanting myself to a new country, or just as a sign that I have uprooted my life, quit my job, and transplanted myself to a new country--and those things are exhausting, hence the weariness? Is this what we call a "difficult transition"?

One of the things that has been particularly difficult in this change is my new environment of intellectual challenge. Simply put, I am studying difficult texts, with relatively little support from people other than my chavruta [study partner], and shiur [class] is difficult for me to follow, at least partly because I don't get through all of the sources before shiur begins. Like this summer, there is a relatively wide range of background and experience in the shiur, but unlike this past summer, I feel like I fall out on the lower end of things rather than the higher end of things. This is not a feeling that I am accustomed to, and not because I am especially brilliant, but because I've always gravitated towards the things that I was naturally better at, and avoided the things that were more difficult for me. Thus, it is hard for me not to understand everything, and to accept that I won't be able to understand something in particular. I have so much to learn and I can't learn it all instantaneously. That's what I'm here to do, right? Learn? So I need to accept being with not understanding things and not asking the most brilliant, penetrating questions, and just listening sometimes, without necessarily taking anything in.¹ This goes against my nature.

All in all, I would say that this Elul, I am changing and learning to live better and differently. It's not, as I sometimes feel our classic liturgy impresses upon us, to feel bad, unworthy, and guilty. It's about closely examining the way things are and learning to live in a way that is productive, rather than constantly damning. It's about learning, in my case, to understand less, rather than always pushing to understand more and feeling stupid for failing at it.

My blessing for my readership is: May this coming year of 5769 bring you to the changes that will sweeten and deepen your life. May you have the courage, as I am trying to, to do things that are difficult and to be open to admitting their difficulty--let's agree not to pretend that everything is easy, okay? May the things that inevitably begin with difficulty this year bring immeasurable rewards in the end. May you be able to appreciate the fullness of those rewards in their time.

To change!

______________________________________________
1. Moving down to an easier class is not an option. The next lower class would be too easy. Also, since I almost always understand more than I think I do, I am assuming that that is true in this case, too, and that I am getting more out of just sitting, listening, and not understanding than I think I am. If that makes any sense.

Shmitah: Restoring Purpose to the Sabbatical Year

2008-09-25T10:19:00.002-04:00

Another essay about shmitah and its broader implications. Almost, but not quite, too late. Just under the wire. (As is my minhag.)

* * * * *

What happens when a law designed to help poor people ends up hurting them? What happens when a law designed to give the land a bit of rest has the potential to destroy entire agricultural settlements? Do you follow the letter of the original law, trusting that it will all work out, or do you enact new laws to fix the old laws and maintain their spirit?

These are the kinds of questions that arose centuries ago in connection to shmitah, the sabbatical year, which is taking place during this Jewish year of 5768. During shmitah, fields are left fallow, slaves are freed, and debts are forgiven. In this essay, delve into how the Bible and the Rabbis tried to preempt or mitigate problems with letting the land lie fallow and forgiving loans.

The Bible itself anticipates that the Jewish people will lack faith that they will have enough to eat in the seventh and eight years if they neither harvest nor plant in the seventh year, as the shmitah laws ordain:

“And should you ask, ‘What are we to eat in the seventh year, if we may neither sow nor gather in our crops?’ I will ordain my blessing for you in the sixth year, so that it shall yield a crop sufficient for three years. When you sow in the eighth year, you will still be eating old grain of that crop; you will be eating the old until the ninth year, until its crops come in.”
—Leviticus 25:20–22

The Bible promises that the sixth year’s crops will produce a triple yield: enough to sustain an agricultural economy for the sixth, seventh, and eight years of the cycle.

The Bible also anticipates a potential societal problem that would have severe ramifications for the poor: people would refuse to loan money to poor people as shmitah approaches, due to the law that requires loans to be forgiven during shmitah.The solution? Once again, God promises to reward, with blessings, those who follow this law.

Beware lest you harbor the base thought, “The seventh year, the year of remission, is approaching,” so that you are mean to your needy kinsman and give him nothing. He will cry out to the Lord against you, and you will incur guilt. Give to him readily and have no regrets when you do so, for in return the Lord your God will bless you in all your efforts and in all your undertakings.
—Deuteronomy 15:9–10

The Rabbis saw that despite the incentive of Divine blessing, the problems anticipated by the Torah had, in fact, arisen. Poor people were being denied essential loans in the years leading up to the shmitah, and the agricultural burden became increasingly difficult as small-scale local economies were transformed first by the Roman occupation of the Land of Israel and later by the development of a modern economy in Ottoman-era Land of Israel. In response, they developed two other solutions to these fears: prozbul, instituted by Hillel the Elder circa 30 BCE to 10 CE (see page 8 for definition), and heter mechirah, first introduced by several rabbis in the Ottoman-controlled Land of Israel in the 1888-1889 shmitah year (see page 17 for definition).The discourse that surrounds these rabbinic enactments provides a fascinating view of the competing forces within Jewish law.

In the narrative below, learn about prozbul and heter mechirah as ways of thinking about the interplay between the letter and the spirit of the law, and between the biblical injunctions and how later generations contend with them. Use the development of prozbul and heter mechirah as a lens through which to view both the process and the objectives of halakhah, or Jewish law.

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In the Midrash Leviticus Rabbah, the Rabbis acknowledge how difficult it is to keep all of the laws of the shmitah year, and suggest that he who follows these laws is stronger than anyone else, because he sees his hard work destroyed day after day for an entire year, and still follows the law:

“The mighty in strength that fulfill His word” (Psalms 103:20). To whom does the Scripture refer? Rabbi Isaac said,” To those who are willing to observe the shmitah year. In the way of the world, a man may be willing to observe a commandment for a day, a week, a month, but is he likely to continue to do so through the remaining days of the year? But throughout that year this mighty man sees his field declared ownerless, his fences broken down, and his produce consumed by others, yet he continues to give up his produce without saying a word. Can you conceive a person mightier than such as he?”
—Leviticus Rabbah, 1:1

One solution to the problem of loan forgiveness is for people to voluntarily repay their debts, despite their cancellation. This is the advice given by Abbaye to Rav Abba in the following Talmudic passage:

“Abba bar Marta, who owed Rabbah money, brought it to Rabbah’s house in the seventh year. Rabbah said: ‘I cancel the debt.’ So Abba bar Marta took his money and went away. Subsequently, Abbaye, seeing that Rabbah looked sad, asked him,’ So, why are you sad?’ Rabbah told him what had happened. So Abbaye went to Abba bar Marta and asked him, ‘Did you offer money to Rabbah?’ Rav Abba replied, ‘Yes.’Abbaye: ‘And what did he say to you?’ Rav Abba: ‘I cancel the debt.’Abbaye: ‘And did you say to him, “Nevertheless, take it?” Rav Abba: ‘No.’Abbaye said to him,’ If you had said to him, “Nevertheless, take it, he would have taken it. At any rate, go now, and offer it to him.” Rav Abba went and offered it to Rabbah, saying, “Nevertheless, take it.” Rabbah took it from him and said,’ Until now, this disciple of the wise did not know what to do!’”
—Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Gittin, 37b

Even though Rav Abba was the disciple of the wise, he did not understand that if one has the money, one should voluntarily repay even a cancelled loan. Abbaye understood this delicate social and financial balancing act, and gave good counsel to Rav Abba.

This voluntary repayment of loans was not, however, ultimately enough. To understand why it was necessary for loans not to be forgiven during shmitah, it is helpful to read Deuteronomy 23:20: “You shall not deduct interest from loans to your countrymen, whether in money or food or anything else that can be deducted as interest.”

Because no interest was allowed, loans existed mainly as a short-term way to aid the poor between the periods of planting and harvesting crops. Most loans were given to poor people the lenders personally knew.

The combination of interest-free loans and loan forgiveness ended up hurting the very people it was designed to help; the law no longer fulfilled its stated purpose because the wealthy stopped lending their money out. In doing so, they violated an explicit prohibition in the Torah:

“Beware lest you harbor the base thought,’ The seventh year, the year of remission, is approaching,’ so that you are mean to your needy kinsman and give him nothing…”
—Deuteronomy 15:9

Hillel the Elder therefore opted for a change to the legal system itself, called a prozbul, rather than relying on voluntary repayment of cancelled loans.

The Mishnah in Tractate Shevi’it (10:3) reports: “When [Hillel the Elder] saw that people refrained from giving loans one to another and transgressed what is written in the Law,’ Beware lest you harbor the base thought…’ Hillel ordained the prozbul.”

What is a prozbul? The prozbul is a method by which people transfer their personal loans to the beit din, or Jewish legal court. The beit din, because of special powers granted to it to redistribute property, is then able to authorize people to collect their loans even during or after the shmitah, when loans are normally abrogated. This “legal fiction” provided a way around loan forgiveness and restored the Torah’s goal of helping, rather than hurting, the poor.

While this may seem like a loophole designed to help wealthy people get their loans repaid, it was really a way to encourage people to continue offering interest-free loans to the poor. Thus, a Mishnah in Tractate Gittin (5:3) adds that the prozbul was established by Hillel the Elder “to repair the world.” In Hebrew, this is called tikkun olam.There are only a few instances of older laws being superseded by later laws in order to achieve tikkun olam.This is a phrase that speaks to the highest level of ethical and moral considerations.

In addition to changes made to find ways around the shmitah loan forgiveness law, changes were made, throughout history, that affected the law about letting fields lie fallow so that the land could rest during the seventh year.

Rabbi Judah the Prince, the editor of the Mishnah, began this process by limiting areas of the Land of Israel in which agricultural laws, including shmitah and tithing, had to be observed. The Jerusalem Talmud (D’mai 2:1) reports:

“Rabbi [Judah the Prince] permitted Beit She’an; Rabbi permitted Caesarea; Rabbi permitted Beit Guvrin; Rabbi permitted Kfar Zemah.…”

Those around him were uncomfortable with his permitting what they felt that the Torah prohibited. In response, Rabbi Judah the Prince shared a parable about a verse from II Kings:

“Rabbi, thereupon, expounded to them the following verse: ‘[Hezekiah] also broke into pieces the bronze serpent that Moses had made, for until that time the Israelites had been offering sacrifices to it.’ Now, is it at all likely that Asa did not destroy it? Or that Jehoshaphat did not destroy it? Surely Asa and Jehoshaphat destroyed every form of idolatry in the world! It must therefore be that his ancestors left something undone in order that [Hezekiah] might distinguish himself. So, too, in my case, my ancestors left something undone for me to distinguish myself.”
—Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Hulin 6b-7a

Still, how was Rabbi Judah the Prince able to say that Beit Shean was not part of the Land of Israel, in order that it be excluded from the agricultural laws of shmitah and tithing? The Babylonian Talmud (Tractate Hulin 7a) continues:

“To this, Judah, son of Rabbi Simeon the son of Pazzi, demurred: Is there anyone who holds the view that Beit Shean was not part of the Land of Israel? Is it not written: ‘And Manasseh did not drive out the inhabitants of Beit Shean and its towns, nor of Taanach and its towns?’ [Judges 1:27] [When he raised his objection] there must have escaped his attention the statement of Rabbi Simeon son of Eliakim who reported that Rabbi Eleazar son of Pedath in the name of Rabbi Eleazar son of Shammu’a [said as follows]: Many cities that were conquered by the Israelites who came up from Egypt were not reconquered by those who came up from Babylon…. They did not annex these cities in order that the poor might have sustenance from them during the shmitah year.”

This was not the only thing that Rabbi Judah the Prince did to ease the burden of the shmitah laws on the poor. The Jerusalem Talmud (Taanit 3:1) reports that a man who was suspected of breaking the shmitah commandment was brought before Rabbi Judah. He said to them: “What should this poor man do? He works [his land] in order to keep himself alive,” thus suggesting tacit approval, or at least acceptance, of the man’s decision to ignore the shmitah laws.

Some later commentaries, as well as the Talmud in other places, posit that the shmitah laws were no longer biblically ordained during this period, and that they were only rabbinic in nature. Thus, the Rabbis had the ability to modify them to help the poor.

Under another circumstance, Rabbi Yannai actively commanded farmers to sow the land during the shmitah year. This was during a time when the Land of Israel was under Roman occupation, and annual taxes were payable at harvest time. If there was no harvest, the taxes could not be paid and people’s lives would be endangered.
—Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Sanhedrin 26a

Josephus tells us that the Israelites were exempt from paying taxes only during the shmitah year during the days of Caesar (Josephus, Ant. XIV, 10, 5-6). This exemption was abrogated in the year 261 CE, and the Jews had to start paying taxes every year, whether it was a shmitah year or not.
—Heinrich Graetz, History of the Jews, vol. 4, and M. Auerbach, Jahrbuch der Judisch-Literarischen Gesselschaft 5 (1907)

Between 70 CE and 1878 CE, Jews were not sowing and reaping in the Land of Israel at all. Although there were Jews living in the Land of Israel continuously during that period, they bought produce from the local Arabs. The first modern agricultural community in Israel, Petach Tikvah, was established in 1878, but it had failed by 1882, the next shmitah year.

The first time there were successful agricultural communities in the Land of Israel during a shmitah year was 1889.These included Rishon L’Zion, Rosh Pinah, Zichron Yaakov, and a reestablished Petach Tikvah.The farmers were afraid that if they stopped working the land for a year, their communities would fail. The financier who backed these communities, Baron Rothschild, threatened to withdraw economic support if the farmers let the land lie fallow for the shmitah year, and suggested they get loans from Jerusalem to stay afloat. In desperation, they wrote to Rabbi Yitzhak Elchanan Spektor, the Chief Rabbi of Kovno, who was a member of the early Zionist organization, Hovevei Tzion, that had established the town of Rishon L’Zion.

Rabbi Spektor permitted heter mechirah, literally “the permission of selling,” by which the land that the young Jewish farming communities worked was temporarily sold to non-Jews for the shmitah year. Since the laws of shmitah only applied to land in Israel that was owned by Jews, the Jewish farmers could work this land. This controversial legal loophole was opposed by the rabbis in Jerusalem and by others. However, heter mechirah was later reaffirmed as permissible by Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, the Chief Rabbi in the British Mandate of Palestine.

Today, there is still much controversy over the acceptability of relying on heter mechirah in Israel. Some let their fields lie fallow and just take what grows naturally from the previous year’s planting. Others rely on newer innovations of recent decades, such as hydroponic growing, permitted because the shmitah laws only apply to produce that is rooted in the land, not the water. On a similar principle, some farmers grow produce in beds that are raised above the ground during the shmitah year.

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“The Shmitah (sabbatical) year frees the land from total human ownership. The yield of the land in that year, whatever grows without human effort, is ownerless and is available for all, including the animals of the earth. The philosophy of the interrelatedness of all life within itself and with its Creator is the seed for vital ecological and socio-ethical insights, responsibility, and promise.” —Dr. Eliezer Berkovits, Not in Heaven: The Nature and Function of Halacha (New York: Ktav, 1983)

יג וַיֹּאמֶר הַמֶּלֶךְ, לַחֲכָמִים יֹדְעֵי הָעִתִּים: כִּי-כֵן, דְּבַר הַמֶּלֶךְ, לִפְנֵי, כָּל-יֹדְעֵי דָּת וָדִין.	13 Then the king said to the wise men, who knew the times--for so was the king's manner toward all that knew law and judgment;
יד וְהַקָּרֹב אֵלָיו, כַּרְשְׁנָא שֵׁתָר אַדְמָתָא תַרְשִׁישׁ, מֶרֶס מַרְסְנָא, מְמוּכָן--שִׁבְעַת שָׂרֵי פָּרַס וּמָדַי, רֹאֵי פְּנֵי הַמֶּלֶךְ, הַיֹּשְׁבִים רִאשֹׁנָה, בַּמַּלְכוּת.	14 and the next unto him was Carshena, Shethar, Admatha, Tarshish, Meres, Marsena, and Memucan, the seven princes of Persia and Media, who saw the king's face, and sat the first in the kingdom:
טו כְּדָת, מַה-לַּעֲשׂוֹת, בַּמַּלְכָּה, וַשְׁתִּי--עַל אֲשֶׁר לֹא-עָשְׂתָה, אֶת-מַאֲמַר הַמֶּלֶךְ אֲחַשְׁוֵרוֹשׁ, בְּיַד, הַסָּרִיסִים	15 'What shall we do unto the queen Vashti according to law, forasmuch as she hath not done the bidding of the king Ahasuerus by the chamberlains?'