I am going to try to keep this short and sweet. Especially since this happened two weeks ago, and the smells, tastes, and neon lights are all fading into the depths of my poor long-term memory.
I spent Shabbat with the venerable Chaim Kutnicki. Chaim is a friend from MIT who made Aliyah this summer, works at an amazing software company outside of Jerusalem, and...lives in a small, one-room apartment in Nachlaot.
Shabbat services Friday night were spent at Kol Rina, described as a "Carlebach Shul" that is set in a bomb shelter, and is packed, standing room only, with possibly the most diverse crowd of religious (word chosen carefully!) Jews I've ever seen: there were different kinds of Chassidic sects, Da'ati Leumi (Religious Zionists), Hill-Top Youth, Na-Na-Nach's, probably a smattering of vaguely-Reconstructionist/Searching Jews, and some hippies who got lost in Jerusalem and, when they asked for directions, were promptly pointed in the direction of Kol Rina. Services lasted at least 1.5 hours, and included some of the most intensely beautiful and loud praying I have ever taken part in (though the loudness may have had something to do with the fact that there were about 200 people packed into a room the size of a basketball court). Dinner was some Persian food bought from the Shuk, and then some much needed sleep.
The next day was the same place for morning services (though these were considerably less raucous), and lunch was spent at a newly-married couple in the neighborhood (and friends), none of whom spoke English. I mostly sat and tried to figure out what they were talking about while eating the delicious (vegetarian) lunch. I should mention that before lunch, we visited a retirement home, where we sang Shabbat songs for the residents---these visits always a mix of the depressing reminder of our either our mortality (or the depressing realities of old age) along with a few happy moments when a sweet old lady or man seems to be made somewhat happier by our presence (or at least pretends to be). After lunch, the rest of Shabbat was spent napping, reading, and then a short exploration of the neighborhood.
Since then, I have (in no particular order):
-Lost my apartment
-Regained my apartment (+ a stove....long, long story which you can call me to talk about/email me if you are at all interested)
-Studied in Ulpan
-Played Paintball w/ fellow Med Students
-Spent Shabbat in Netanya at Colin Berkeley's (Cambridge Student who studied at MIT for the year) beach front home, along with four other MIT students (and an American in the Israeli Army)
-Spent Shabbat in Petah Tiqwa (aka Petach Tikvah) with the Friedman's (Betzalel Friedman is an old friend from Inianapolis)
-Ate tons and tons of unhealthy food (including, but not limited to, Pizza Hut, Burger Ranch, shwarma, shwarma, shwarma, Israeli-mall-chinese-food, shwarma, pizza bourekas, Bulgarian cheese bourekas, potato bourekas, regular cheese bourekas, mushroom bourekas, and shwarma).
-Read the following books in whole: Saul Bellow's "Herzog"
-Read parts of the following books: S.Y. Agnon's "Days of Awe", Saul Bellow's "To Jerusalem and Back: A Personal Memoir", Kafka's "The Castle" [Too difficult to read...]
-And other things...
Today it rained in Haifa, which was strange. Not just for me....I hear that raining in September is very, very rare. I have many things to write about, but not so much time. Please send me emails if you want to pick my brain. And to all of you who I owe emails...have patience.
I'm going to also try to post a video tour of my new (unfurnished) apartment. In case you wanted to see it.
Yallah Bye,
Michael
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
Of Israeli Rap-groups, Rooftop Tents, Beautiful Slums, and Neon-Arked Synagogues. [Part 1]
(Or how I learned to stop pretending and accept my status as a foreigner in a foreign Land.)
I realize that I am leaving about a week and a half of my life unaccounted for by telling you about this past weekend, that is a small amount of time in the long run, my past weekend is still fresh in my mind, and I can sum up the past two weeks in the following sentence: “Every morning from 8:30 to 12, I sit in Ulpan half asleep; otherwise, I have played some soccer, spent Shabbat in Netanya, signed for an apartment, and went out drinking with my fellow med students.”
On Thursday, I met with my landlord, her fiancée, and her realtor, and had the silliest negotiation over an apartment that has ever happened in the history of real estate. The Hebrew speaking realtor negotiated between me and the landlord, both of whom are Americans. I was prepped by Sam, and had a laundry list of demands that I should make regarding the contract---and not take no for an answer. Sort of like that scene in the movie Tommy Boy, I not only did a terrible job, but I somehow managed to make the contract even worse for me than when I began. But---in the end---I’m getting a huge, beautiful, airy, second-floor apartment right next to the Mediterranean Sea for $600 a month. So, I’m not really sweating it. Also, the landlord’s grandmother (who is actually my de-facto landlord, since my landlord lives in L.A.) is a very sweet lady, and seems genuinely interested in taking care of me. She has already fed me…twice. So I think I came out on top, and also got a good chance to remind myself why I could never, ever go into business because I am the world’s worst negotiator.
Right after signing the contract and shaking hands, I got on a bus to Jerusalem. Once there, I walked over to the center of town/Kikar Tzion/America-in-Israel and decided to take charge of my situation (that being a guy without a bed to sleep in). Something in me---I’m not sure from where---inspired me to walk into a hostel, ask about rooms, and when told there were no rooms, took up an offer to sleep in a tent on the roof of the hostel. Which really wasn’t that bad of an idea, except at 8 AM the next morning…
When I finally got to where I (thought) I wanted to be, I was very confused, since the concert was being held on an outdoor stage, and I found it strange that a bar would also have an outdoor venue. I shrugged this paradox off, and asked the ticket-taker where I could buy a ticket. He shrugged, and then suggested a booth about 100 yards away, but added that he thought the concert was sold out. Indeed, the concert was sold out, which I really found interesting, considering that this rap group is not that popular. I probably muttered something like, “Ehhh….mah lah’ahsot?” which is Hebrew for “C’est la vie,” bought a beer, walked around this outdoor area surrounding the concert, and plotted my next move. Since I was meeting Sam at the bar, who was coming from a wedding in Abu Ghoush (which I thought was an Arab town, but is in fact not only Jewish, but also famous for their good hummous, which ended up delaying Sam even more than he was already delayed), I called him up to tell him that the concert was sold out, and that I was nursing my troubles with a beer. He warned me not to drink too much, as he wanted me to behave in front of his friends who he was bringing along for the night’s festivities.
The phone call ended with me agreeing to not get too drunk, though still confused as to when, exactly, Sam would leave the abundant, tasty, and, most importantly, free hummous long enough to get on bus to Jerusalem. I sat down to try to organize my thoughts and enjoy the music coming from the concert long enough to realize that it was decidedly not rap music…or anything even close. Confused, I walked back over to the same ticket-taker who informed me that the concert was sold out and asked him, literally, “Who is that over there making that music?” He looked at me like I was from Mars (though, judging by his accent, I would say he was from Russia, which isn’t that great, either), and informed me that it was Jethro Tull.
“Ze lowh ha’Mah’ahbadah?” [This is not The Laboratory?]. He reported that this was, indeed, not the place I was looking for after all, and that my bar and concert were a few blocks away. I was very appreciative to find out that my concert was not sold out, but I was very, very confused to have nearly stumbled into a Jethro Tull concert. I cannot honestly say that I even thought Jethro Tull was still alive, let alone touring the Middle East. I thanked the ticket-taker, made the 2 block journey to the actual Laboratory, and found a much more “Laboratory” looking venue---a very stylish, local bar that was much more Israeli than any other bar I had ever seen in Jerusalem before---probably because of its distance from major American hangouts. Instead of document all of the silly things that happened to me at this concert, I will just say that going to any concert alone, and especially a concert which is not sung in your native language, is a disorienting experience. But, I made some friends (the bartender claimed that she has known the band since before they were big, and that they are nice guys), had a few drinks, and even managed to get someone to drive me to my next destination (Mom and Dad take note: I saved $5 with this move. So when I call to ask you for more money, please don’t act like I am not pulling my weight).
I met up with Sam and two of his friends, Ross and (I forgot….?). Ross was a friend of Sam’s from high school, I believe, and the girl was connected to Sam through some Zionist conspiracy trying to subvert American foreign policy. Fortunately for everyone present, I managed to keep my promise to Sam to be presentable for his friends, and only managed to shout down one of them throughout the course of the night (Sam’s Zionist friend complained that Jewish organizations are spending money in all of the wrong places…..since Judaism should not be living in the past, and should start to conform to our (i.e. our generation’s) needs. For some thoughts on this, see my previous post, and probably future posts as well). At around 4 in the morning, the kosher pizza place and the kosher bagel place were still open, and when I went with the bagel and lox, which sounded pretty good at that moment, I was immediately accused of harboring ghetto-tendencies, but I think I came out the winner in this one, since the word “ghetto” originated in Italy, the same as their pizza.
Sam and I parted ways with Ross and the AIPAC girl, and went over to our tent on the roof of the hostel. It was quite comfortable there, but just as Sam was about to lay down, he asked me, “Wait---it’s going to get very hot in here in the morning, won’t it?” To which I answered, with the sort of logic you can expect from someone half-asleep who generally doesn’t like to be proven wrong at anytime of the day: “Oh. Don’t worry. It’s dry heat here in Jerusalem.” I’m aware that this is a mystifying comment on many levels, not the least because dry heat is how I would describe the inside of an oven, which was exactly what our tent felt like at 8 in the morning. I must say that, in case you’ve never tried it, trying to sleep in an oven is not really possible. So, ever the troopers, we got up, tried to go back to sleep in the shade, failed, then collected our stuff, mumbled something to the hotel manager about not mentioning that sleeping past 7:30 AM on the roof was nearly impossible, paid our bill, and went to purchase a breakfast of fruit, bureakas, and orange juice---all purchased in the shuk (Machane Yehudah).
I should add a small side note about orange juice in Israel. Actually---any justice I could possibly do to the difference between what Israelis think is orange juice, and what Americans think is orange juice, has already been done by Dave Chappelle, when illustrating the differences between what white people think is “grape juice” and black people drink, referred to as “grape drink.” Actually, the term “orange drink” is written on the sides of bottles of the fake orange drink that Israelis seem to love, though they call it “Meetz Tapuzim,” which translates to orange juice. Which, in the end, just makes it even more difficult to get Israelis to give you ACTUAL orange juice when you are looking for it. Either way, this is all important because Sam and I actually managed to get our hands on a bottle of real orange juice (at the cost of 25 Shekels/$6.00, which is no small expense over here, especially for food).
We ended up taking all of this food over to Sam’s friends house in Nachalot, a neighborhood in Jerusalem. Well, to call it a neighborhood in Jerusalem is to do about as much justice to this neighborhood as calling The Village a neighborhood in NYC. Nachalot is the neighborhood that is located directly behind Mahane Yehudah Shuk, and goes as far as Kadamon (near the German Colony and Emek Refaim). It is apparently the neighborhood to live in Jerusalem. It is all gorgeous, old Jerusalem-stone houses with red roofs. However, some of these houses look like beautiful new mansions, and some of them look decidedly like some sort of holy slums. Walking near my friend Chaim’s apartment (more on that later…), I noted to him that the neighborhood was maybe the most pleasant slums in the world. Basically, I’ve begun to realize that Israelis really do not care what the outside of their houses look like. They put stupid looking “dudes” (the silly choice of a word for a water heater) on their roofs, they don’t ever paint the outsides of the houses, and they often have lots of different, strange things hanging off the outside walls of their house. This is all to say that, whereas they do not care about the outsides of their houses, the insides of their houses are almost uniformly warm, inviting, comfortable, and all-around wonderful to sit around in.
That said, Sam’s friend’s apartment was one of the most comfortable apartments I have ever had the pleasure of sitting in. There’s really no way to explain it; maybe it was the cool breeze, maybe it was the beautifully tiled floors, maybe it was the comfortable chairs, maybe it was the orange juice, maybe it was all the flowers, or maybe it was the great company---either way, it was just great sitting around in that apartment. Maybe it is Jerusalem. I’ll stop speculating here. Either way, the sisters to whom the apartment belongs (Maya and Hadas…well, it is Maya’s, but Hadas seems to be staying there) were wonderfully welcoming, and let us (Sam, Chaim, and I) smell up their apartment for a good part of the morning. For the sake of all involved, I will refrain from going into too much detail of the extent of their warmness, but, needless to say, I was made to feel at home. I have posted a picture of the apartment (along with Sam and Maya) below.
Actually, I’ve posted a few pictures below. And, with that, I am going to end this post, with a promise to continue it at a later date (including the parts where I discover the popularity of neon-framed synagogue arks among the Charedim, and maybe even admit how truly foreign I often feel in a place that also often feels like home (i.e. The Paradox).
I realize this is way too long and way too detailed an account of my weekend….and it has taken way too long to write as well. I am working on finding a happy medium with writing this blog. Perhaps it is all for the best, and I will become a faster writer as the months go on.
Or I may just stop writing when med school starts. We will see. Enjoy the pictures:
Picture of Kikar Tzion (Zion Square) from my Hostel Roof-top.
Jethro Tull Concert.
Israeli Rap Concert (HaDag Nachash).
Beautiful Apartment (w/ Sam and Maya).
A view of my apartment from the outside (with Mt. Carmel in the background).
I realize that I am leaving about a week and a half of my life unaccounted for by telling you about this past weekend, that is a small amount of time in the long run, my past weekend is still fresh in my mind, and I can sum up the past two weeks in the following sentence: “Every morning from 8:30 to 12, I sit in Ulpan half asleep; otherwise, I have played some soccer, spent Shabbat in Netanya, signed for an apartment, and went out drinking with my fellow med students.”
On Thursday, I met with my landlord, her fiancée, and her realtor, and had the silliest negotiation over an apartment that has ever happened in the history of real estate. The Hebrew speaking realtor negotiated between me and the landlord, both of whom are Americans. I was prepped by Sam, and had a laundry list of demands that I should make regarding the contract---and not take no for an answer. Sort of like that scene in the movie Tommy Boy, I not only did a terrible job, but I somehow managed to make the contract even worse for me than when I began. But---in the end---I’m getting a huge, beautiful, airy, second-floor apartment right next to the Mediterranean Sea for $600 a month. So, I’m not really sweating it. Also, the landlord’s grandmother (who is actually my de-facto landlord, since my landlord lives in L.A.) is a very sweet lady, and seems genuinely interested in taking care of me. She has already fed me…twice. So I think I came out on top, and also got a good chance to remind myself why I could never, ever go into business because I am the world’s worst negotiator.
Right after signing the contract and shaking hands, I got on a bus to Jerusalem. Once there, I walked over to the center of town/Kikar Tzion/America-in-Israel and decided to take charge of my situation (that being a guy without a bed to sleep in). Something in me---I’m not sure from where---inspired me to walk into a hostel, ask about rooms, and when told there were no rooms, took up an offer to sleep in a tent on the roof of the hostel. Which really wasn’t that bad of an idea, except at 8 AM the next morning…
When I finally got to where I (thought) I wanted to be, I was very confused, since the concert was being held on an outdoor stage, and I found it strange that a bar would also have an outdoor venue. I shrugged this paradox off, and asked the ticket-taker where I could buy a ticket. He shrugged, and then suggested a booth about 100 yards away, but added that he thought the concert was sold out. Indeed, the concert was sold out, which I really found interesting, considering that this rap group is not that popular. I probably muttered something like, “Ehhh….mah lah’ahsot?” which is Hebrew for “C’est la vie,” bought a beer, walked around this outdoor area surrounding the concert, and plotted my next move. Since I was meeting Sam at the bar, who was coming from a wedding in Abu Ghoush (which I thought was an Arab town, but is in fact not only Jewish, but also famous for their good hummous, which ended up delaying Sam even more than he was already delayed), I called him up to tell him that the concert was sold out, and that I was nursing my troubles with a beer. He warned me not to drink too much, as he wanted me to behave in front of his friends who he was bringing along for the night’s festivities.
The phone call ended with me agreeing to not get too drunk, though still confused as to when, exactly, Sam would leave the abundant, tasty, and, most importantly, free hummous long enough to get on bus to Jerusalem. I sat down to try to organize my thoughts and enjoy the music coming from the concert long enough to realize that it was decidedly not rap music…or anything even close. Confused, I walked back over to the same ticket-taker who informed me that the concert was sold out and asked him, literally, “Who is that over there making that music?” He looked at me like I was from Mars (though, judging by his accent, I would say he was from Russia, which isn’t that great, either), and informed me that it was Jethro Tull.
“Ze lowh ha’Mah’ahbadah?” [This is not The Laboratory?]. He reported that this was, indeed, not the place I was looking for after all, and that my bar and concert were a few blocks away. I was very appreciative to find out that my concert was not sold out, but I was very, very confused to have nearly stumbled into a Jethro Tull concert. I cannot honestly say that I even thought Jethro Tull was still alive, let alone touring the Middle East. I thanked the ticket-taker, made the 2 block journey to the actual Laboratory, and found a much more “Laboratory” looking venue---a very stylish, local bar that was much more Israeli than any other bar I had ever seen in Jerusalem before---probably because of its distance from major American hangouts. Instead of document all of the silly things that happened to me at this concert, I will just say that going to any concert alone, and especially a concert which is not sung in your native language, is a disorienting experience. But, I made some friends (the bartender claimed that she has known the band since before they were big, and that they are nice guys), had a few drinks, and even managed to get someone to drive me to my next destination (Mom and Dad take note: I saved $5 with this move. So when I call to ask you for more money, please don’t act like I am not pulling my weight).
I met up with Sam and two of his friends, Ross and (I forgot….?). Ross was a friend of Sam’s from high school, I believe, and the girl was connected to Sam through some Zionist conspiracy trying to subvert American foreign policy. Fortunately for everyone present, I managed to keep my promise to Sam to be presentable for his friends, and only managed to shout down one of them throughout the course of the night (Sam’s Zionist friend complained that Jewish organizations are spending money in all of the wrong places…..since Judaism should not be living in the past, and should start to conform to our (i.e. our generation’s) needs. For some thoughts on this, see my previous post, and probably future posts as well). At around 4 in the morning, the kosher pizza place and the kosher bagel place were still open, and when I went with the bagel and lox, which sounded pretty good at that moment, I was immediately accused of harboring ghetto-tendencies, but I think I came out the winner in this one, since the word “ghetto” originated in Italy, the same as their pizza.
Sam and I parted ways with Ross and the AIPAC girl, and went over to our tent on the roof of the hostel. It was quite comfortable there, but just as Sam was about to lay down, he asked me, “Wait---it’s going to get very hot in here in the morning, won’t it?” To which I answered, with the sort of logic you can expect from someone half-asleep who generally doesn’t like to be proven wrong at anytime of the day: “Oh. Don’t worry. It’s dry heat here in Jerusalem.” I’m aware that this is a mystifying comment on many levels, not the least because dry heat is how I would describe the inside of an oven, which was exactly what our tent felt like at 8 in the morning. I must say that, in case you’ve never tried it, trying to sleep in an oven is not really possible. So, ever the troopers, we got up, tried to go back to sleep in the shade, failed, then collected our stuff, mumbled something to the hotel manager about not mentioning that sleeping past 7:30 AM on the roof was nearly impossible, paid our bill, and went to purchase a breakfast of fruit, bureakas, and orange juice---all purchased in the shuk (Machane Yehudah).
I should add a small side note about orange juice in Israel. Actually---any justice I could possibly do to the difference between what Israelis think is orange juice, and what Americans think is orange juice, has already been done by Dave Chappelle, when illustrating the differences between what white people think is “grape juice” and black people drink, referred to as “grape drink.” Actually, the term “orange drink” is written on the sides of bottles of the fake orange drink that Israelis seem to love, though they call it “Meetz Tapuzim,” which translates to orange juice. Which, in the end, just makes it even more difficult to get Israelis to give you ACTUAL orange juice when you are looking for it. Either way, this is all important because Sam and I actually managed to get our hands on a bottle of real orange juice (at the cost of 25 Shekels/$6.00, which is no small expense over here, especially for food).
We ended up taking all of this food over to Sam’s friends house in Nachalot, a neighborhood in Jerusalem. Well, to call it a neighborhood in Jerusalem is to do about as much justice to this neighborhood as calling The Village a neighborhood in NYC. Nachalot is the neighborhood that is located directly behind Mahane Yehudah Shuk, and goes as far as Kadamon (near the German Colony and Emek Refaim). It is apparently the neighborhood to live in Jerusalem. It is all gorgeous, old Jerusalem-stone houses with red roofs. However, some of these houses look like beautiful new mansions, and some of them look decidedly like some sort of holy slums. Walking near my friend Chaim’s apartment (more on that later…), I noted to him that the neighborhood was maybe the most pleasant slums in the world. Basically, I’ve begun to realize that Israelis really do not care what the outside of their houses look like. They put stupid looking “dudes” (the silly choice of a word for a water heater) on their roofs, they don’t ever paint the outsides of the houses, and they often have lots of different, strange things hanging off the outside walls of their house. This is all to say that, whereas they do not care about the outsides of their houses, the insides of their houses are almost uniformly warm, inviting, comfortable, and all-around wonderful to sit around in.
That said, Sam’s friend’s apartment was one of the most comfortable apartments I have ever had the pleasure of sitting in. There’s really no way to explain it; maybe it was the cool breeze, maybe it was the beautifully tiled floors, maybe it was the comfortable chairs, maybe it was the orange juice, maybe it was all the flowers, or maybe it was the great company---either way, it was just great sitting around in that apartment. Maybe it is Jerusalem. I’ll stop speculating here. Either way, the sisters to whom the apartment belongs (Maya and Hadas…well, it is Maya’s, but Hadas seems to be staying there) were wonderfully welcoming, and let us (Sam, Chaim, and I) smell up their apartment for a good part of the morning. For the sake of all involved, I will refrain from going into too much detail of the extent of their warmness, but, needless to say, I was made to feel at home. I have posted a picture of the apartment (along with Sam and Maya) below.
Actually, I’ve posted a few pictures below. And, with that, I am going to end this post, with a promise to continue it at a later date (including the parts where I discover the popularity of neon-framed synagogue arks among the Charedim, and maybe even admit how truly foreign I often feel in a place that also often feels like home (i.e. The Paradox).
I realize this is way too long and way too detailed an account of my weekend….and it has taken way too long to write as well. I am working on finding a happy medium with writing this blog. Perhaps it is all for the best, and I will become a faster writer as the months go on.
Or I may just stop writing when med school starts. We will see. Enjoy the pictures:
Picture of Kikar Tzion (Zion Square) from my Hostel Roof-top.
Jethro Tull Concert.
Israeli Rap Concert (HaDag Nachash).
Beautiful Apartment (w/ Sam and Maya).
A view of my apartment from the outside (with Mt. Carmel in the background).
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
So it looks like I finally found an apartment here in Haifa. More specifically, it is in Bat Galim, and is about a 5 minute walk to the main Med School building. Oh....and it's right on the beach. Pictures taken from a bedroom window of the apartment are posted below.
Yet another reason to come and visit....
Michael
Yet another reason to come and visit....
Michael
Friday, August 17, 2007
Writing this blog is always a challenge, because---when I am busy---I am both unable to update the blog, and accruing blog-worthy experiences that I feel the need to share, and---when I finally find time to update the blog---I have so many things to write about that I do not even know where to start. On top of that, I do not want to burden all of you with a book’s worth of writing about the mundane happenings of my life. So I will try to seek some middle ground in all of this, to the benefit of us all.
I realize that I have not really done justice to my short, but (very) sweet trip to Jerusalem of Gold (and of Bronze, and of Air….). I mentioned that I met up with my friend Ian Jacobi (of MIT fame), but I forgot to go into some of our wanderings (physical and otherwise). Looking for a place to eat, I decided that I was tired of dining at the America-saturated restaurants in and around Ben-Yehudah street, so we took off in the opposite direction (physical and otherwise) towards Mea She’arim. For all of you who don’t know, Mea She’arim is probably the most famous Ultra-Orthodox neighborhood in the world, due to its proximity to the normal tourist routes through Jerusalem and its militant enforcement of their modest dress code on all who happen to pass through the neighborhood; many an immodestly-dressed tourist gets lost in the Mea She’arim neighborhood and emerges, at the very least, reprimanded (usually in some combination of Yiddish and English that she could not possibly have understood), and, at worst, assaulted with old food and other slightly annoying objects used as projectiles to fight off the modern world and all of its temptations.
But, if you can ignore this insult to our modern sensibilities, the neighborhood is actually a very beautiful mess of mystics, children, American yeshiva bochers, Halachic geniuses, bal habusters, and peddlers all running around through ancient-looking houses in disrepair, hat/wig shops, silver Judaica sellers, Yeshviahs, Sefarim (Jewish Book) Stores, and restaurants----the entire scene seeming like a mixture of a Polish shtetl from 150 years ago and an Arab shuk (market) from a scene in Arabian Nights. It’s very much alive in ways that do not exist in advanced, sensible places like most of America (except, perhaps, pre-Katrina New Orleans).
Anyway, we were walking through the neighborhood looking for a place to eat. As we walked into restaurant after restaurant, we came to the conclusion that, like their modes of dress, their food is also monochromatic: brown. Every little restaurant in the entire neighborhood served the exact same thing: different forms of shnitzel, tzimmus, some different forms of potatos, and some different forms of hummus. The only variation on this theme was a pizza place. Luckily, however, we ran into a friend of Ian’s from his Yeshiah in a Seforim Store, who also happens to be something of an epicurean and incredibly knowledgeable about not only the best places to eat in Jerusalem, but also the best deals in town as well. He suggested to us a Moroccan restaurant (my favorite nationality of restaurant, to be sure) in my old stomping grounds, Emek Refaim. Honestly, I do not think I have had good Moroccan food since the Village Crown closed last year, so I immediately demanded we take his advice. So we hailed the first cab we could find and rushed over, to be treated to an dinner of fresh pita, various pickled vegetables, hummus, tahina, harif, Moroccan cigars (thin pastries rolled around ground beef), French fries, and shnitzel. While this meal may not sound that exotic, those Moroccans do something to their food that makes it taste like heaven.
But the food was not nearly as important as the conversation we had. While we spent time catching up on each other’s lives and catching up on other people’s lives as well, one particular topic that came up in conversation I find worth mentioning here. Ian brought up that he had read a certain online debate between the chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary (JTS), the ivory tower of the Conservative Movement, and the editor of one of the larger online Jewish blogs, Jewcy.com. (You can find it here: http://www.jewcy.com/dialogue/2007-06-11/joey1). The two men sent a very impassioned series of letters back and forth to each other, debating about the current state of American Jewry, and its future. The basic argument of the debate was pluralism vs. particularism; the editor of Jewcy was arguing that American society had finally and completely destroyed the “ghetto walls” keeping Jews in closed-up society, that ideas such as stressing Jewish marriage to other Jews was just a vestigial tradition left over from the shtetl, and that we (Jewish particularists….or, more regularly, traditional Jews) should get over all of these outdated traditions, stop being afraid of the rest of the world, and embrace the entire human race (specifically noting that we, as Jews, are doing a decent job with this in how we are dealing with the whole Sudan/Darfur situation). On the whole, while I found his writing to be very eloquent, his tone was nearly hysterical in his desire to defend his own existence, and was very provincial, in that I think he would have a hard time acknowledging the existence of Jews outside of the Upper West Side (I am well aware of the fact that I am not making any logical arguments here, but instead offering my vague feelings about the debate…I really encourage anyone interested to read the debates yourself, and I would love to hear your opinion via email…maybe even have our own debate).
The chancellor of the JTS, representing a much more traditional viewpoint than I would have ever expected from a chancellor of the JTS, argued that the debate that the editor of Jewcy is presenting has already occurred---100 years ago. Indeed, 100 years ago, Jews involved with the burgeoning socialist movement (i.e. The Bund) were making the very same argument, and their vision for Judaism opening up and not worrying so much about what is happening only to Jews (since, in the new socialist reality, Jews would not be persecuted) and start worrying about the entire world (or at least the working class). This, of course, ended in the gulags of Communist Russia. He also took a few shots at the other’s argument that I felt rang true; specifically, he shot down the Darfur argument, saying that if all of these people marching around Manhantten with Free Darfur signs truly, truly cared about the situation, they would be down in Darfur helping with the refugee efforts (or, at the very least, over here in Israel, which is the only country in the region that will accept refugees from Darfur and grant them political asylum. I met a girl, from Indiana no less (!!!), who was looking at the Technion Medical school who has been working in the refugee camps here in Israel, helping them deal with their new reality here in Israel).
Either way, I am not going to outline the entire argument here, but I brought it up both because I found it a very impressively written expression of this argument, and because the argument, in some way which I am not exactly clear at this moment, resonated with my desire to live in a Jewish state. Since I am quite pressed for time at this moment (Shabbat, along with my ride to Netanyah, are fast approaching).
The rest of my stay in Jerusalem was really quite wonderful: I met up with Hannah Kapnik, a friend from Wellesley who has been in Jerusalem all summer as a counselor for a group of Jewish high school ubermenschen (Bronfman Fellows), who introduced me not only to a very strange exhibit of plaster grizzly bears from around the world (by “from around the world,” I mean that whatever group commissioned the project sent an 8-foot plaster grizzly bear, paws raised as if to attack or dance [I could not tell], to each country in the world, where a local artist painted the entire bear in some sort of way that represented that country; for example, the bear sent to the USA was holding a torch, and was painted to look like a bear version of the statue of liberty, and the bear from Cuba had a cigar sticking out of its mouth, and had some communist propaganda scribbled on its shoulder, along with a very strange picture of Fidel), but also introduced me to my new favorite café in Jerusalem, which is a hole-in-the-wall off of King George Street where the café is lined with book and they serve the most amazing iced-drinks.
Afterwards, I finally tracked down my cousin Jenny, who was holed up in her hotel (since her Birthright group would not let her leave). It ended up being really wonderful to see her and get to talk with her for a while, since I realized that I really had time to talk to her for a very long time. It also reminded me how nice it is to have family around, and how much I cannot wait until the rest of my family visits me here (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). I ended up staying at the hotel for the night, since I missed the last bus back to Haifa, and Jenny was horrified when I told her I was going to just stay up all night in Jerusalem. So I appreciated the floor to sleep on as well.
Since then, I have been studying in Ulpan, and working on figuring out my living situation for the next year/next four years. I have a very long story to tell about meeting a fellow a student at the Technion Medical School….who is from Oklahoma, and about finding what I hope will be my new apartment. So now you all know what to look forward to. Also, I am going to spend Shabbat in Netanya with the Brothers Kutnicki (Chaim and Solomon). So that should produce quite a few very funny stories.
I also really want to thank everyone who has taken the time out to write to me. It is always wonderful to hear from you.
Shabbat Shalom,
Michael
I realize that I have not really done justice to my short, but (very) sweet trip to Jerusalem of Gold (and of Bronze, and of Air….). I mentioned that I met up with my friend Ian Jacobi (of MIT fame), but I forgot to go into some of our wanderings (physical and otherwise). Looking for a place to eat, I decided that I was tired of dining at the America-saturated restaurants in and around Ben-Yehudah street, so we took off in the opposite direction (physical and otherwise) towards Mea She’arim. For all of you who don’t know, Mea She’arim is probably the most famous Ultra-Orthodox neighborhood in the world, due to its proximity to the normal tourist routes through Jerusalem and its militant enforcement of their modest dress code on all who happen to pass through the neighborhood; many an immodestly-dressed tourist gets lost in the Mea She’arim neighborhood and emerges, at the very least, reprimanded (usually in some combination of Yiddish and English that she could not possibly have understood), and, at worst, assaulted with old food and other slightly annoying objects used as projectiles to fight off the modern world and all of its temptations.
But, if you can ignore this insult to our modern sensibilities, the neighborhood is actually a very beautiful mess of mystics, children, American yeshiva bochers, Halachic geniuses, bal habusters, and peddlers all running around through ancient-looking houses in disrepair, hat/wig shops, silver Judaica sellers, Yeshviahs, Sefarim (Jewish Book) Stores, and restaurants----the entire scene seeming like a mixture of a Polish shtetl from 150 years ago and an Arab shuk (market) from a scene in Arabian Nights. It’s very much alive in ways that do not exist in advanced, sensible places like most of America (except, perhaps, pre-Katrina New Orleans).
Anyway, we were walking through the neighborhood looking for a place to eat. As we walked into restaurant after restaurant, we came to the conclusion that, like their modes of dress, their food is also monochromatic: brown. Every little restaurant in the entire neighborhood served the exact same thing: different forms of shnitzel, tzimmus, some different forms of potatos, and some different forms of hummus. The only variation on this theme was a pizza place. Luckily, however, we ran into a friend of Ian’s from his Yeshiah in a Seforim Store, who also happens to be something of an epicurean and incredibly knowledgeable about not only the best places to eat in Jerusalem, but also the best deals in town as well. He suggested to us a Moroccan restaurant (my favorite nationality of restaurant, to be sure) in my old stomping grounds, Emek Refaim. Honestly, I do not think I have had good Moroccan food since the Village Crown closed last year, so I immediately demanded we take his advice. So we hailed the first cab we could find and rushed over, to be treated to an dinner of fresh pita, various pickled vegetables, hummus, tahina, harif, Moroccan cigars (thin pastries rolled around ground beef), French fries, and shnitzel. While this meal may not sound that exotic, those Moroccans do something to their food that makes it taste like heaven.
But the food was not nearly as important as the conversation we had. While we spent time catching up on each other’s lives and catching up on other people’s lives as well, one particular topic that came up in conversation I find worth mentioning here. Ian brought up that he had read a certain online debate between the chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary (JTS), the ivory tower of the Conservative Movement, and the editor of one of the larger online Jewish blogs, Jewcy.com. (You can find it here: http://www.jewcy.com/dialogue/2007-06-11/joey1). The two men sent a very impassioned series of letters back and forth to each other, debating about the current state of American Jewry, and its future. The basic argument of the debate was pluralism vs. particularism; the editor of Jewcy was arguing that American society had finally and completely destroyed the “ghetto walls” keeping Jews in closed-up society, that ideas such as stressing Jewish marriage to other Jews was just a vestigial tradition left over from the shtetl, and that we (Jewish particularists….or, more regularly, traditional Jews) should get over all of these outdated traditions, stop being afraid of the rest of the world, and embrace the entire human race (specifically noting that we, as Jews, are doing a decent job with this in how we are dealing with the whole Sudan/Darfur situation). On the whole, while I found his writing to be very eloquent, his tone was nearly hysterical in his desire to defend his own existence, and was very provincial, in that I think he would have a hard time acknowledging the existence of Jews outside of the Upper West Side (I am well aware of the fact that I am not making any logical arguments here, but instead offering my vague feelings about the debate…I really encourage anyone interested to read the debates yourself, and I would love to hear your opinion via email…maybe even have our own debate).
The chancellor of the JTS, representing a much more traditional viewpoint than I would have ever expected from a chancellor of the JTS, argued that the debate that the editor of Jewcy is presenting has already occurred---100 years ago. Indeed, 100 years ago, Jews involved with the burgeoning socialist movement (i.e. The Bund) were making the very same argument, and their vision for Judaism opening up and not worrying so much about what is happening only to Jews (since, in the new socialist reality, Jews would not be persecuted) and start worrying about the entire world (or at least the working class). This, of course, ended in the gulags of Communist Russia. He also took a few shots at the other’s argument that I felt rang true; specifically, he shot down the Darfur argument, saying that if all of these people marching around Manhantten with Free Darfur signs truly, truly cared about the situation, they would be down in Darfur helping with the refugee efforts (or, at the very least, over here in Israel, which is the only country in the region that will accept refugees from Darfur and grant them political asylum. I met a girl, from Indiana no less (!!!), who was looking at the Technion Medical school who has been working in the refugee camps here in Israel, helping them deal with their new reality here in Israel).
Either way, I am not going to outline the entire argument here, but I brought it up both because I found it a very impressively written expression of this argument, and because the argument, in some way which I am not exactly clear at this moment, resonated with my desire to live in a Jewish state. Since I am quite pressed for time at this moment (Shabbat, along with my ride to Netanyah, are fast approaching).
The rest of my stay in Jerusalem was really quite wonderful: I met up with Hannah Kapnik, a friend from Wellesley who has been in Jerusalem all summer as a counselor for a group of Jewish high school ubermenschen (Bronfman Fellows), who introduced me not only to a very strange exhibit of plaster grizzly bears from around the world (by “from around the world,” I mean that whatever group commissioned the project sent an 8-foot plaster grizzly bear, paws raised as if to attack or dance [I could not tell], to each country in the world, where a local artist painted the entire bear in some sort of way that represented that country; for example, the bear sent to the USA was holding a torch, and was painted to look like a bear version of the statue of liberty, and the bear from Cuba had a cigar sticking out of its mouth, and had some communist propaganda scribbled on its shoulder, along with a very strange picture of Fidel), but also introduced me to my new favorite café in Jerusalem, which is a hole-in-the-wall off of King George Street where the café is lined with book and they serve the most amazing iced-drinks.
Afterwards, I finally tracked down my cousin Jenny, who was holed up in her hotel (since her Birthright group would not let her leave). It ended up being really wonderful to see her and get to talk with her for a while, since I realized that I really had time to talk to her for a very long time. It also reminded me how nice it is to have family around, and how much I cannot wait until the rest of my family visits me here (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). I ended up staying at the hotel for the night, since I missed the last bus back to Haifa, and Jenny was horrified when I told her I was going to just stay up all night in Jerusalem. So I appreciated the floor to sleep on as well.
Since then, I have been studying in Ulpan, and working on figuring out my living situation for the next year/next four years. I have a very long story to tell about meeting a fellow a student at the Technion Medical School….who is from Oklahoma, and about finding what I hope will be my new apartment. So now you all know what to look forward to. Also, I am going to spend Shabbat in Netanya with the Brothers Kutnicki (Chaim and Solomon). So that should produce quite a few very funny stories.
I also really want to thank everyone who has taken the time out to write to me. It is always wonderful to hear from you.
Shabbat Shalom,
Michael
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
There is something about being in Israel that compels me to write. I hate to be one of those people who kvells about the land 24/7 and acts like the air here makes life more meaninfful and the bread makes it more complete----but it's difficult to not immediately be taken in by just how beautiful everything in this country is.
I noticed that my passport was stamped the exact same day that I left Israel last year. I am trying to make up some sort of story about how this is appropriate, how it's as if I never left, etc., etc. But a lothas happened since I was last here. A year later, I am in Israel for very different reasons, staying in a very (!) different place, and I'm here for a very long time. But---to be sure---the events of last year's trip here set in motion my decision to come here, and I'm glad they did.
I will not write about all the things that happened in the weeks leading up to my departure from the U.S. Suffice it to say, there have been very few times in my life when I have been as emotional or unable to deal with an event as these past few weeks. I do want to thank everyone who has been so supportive of this huge, crazy decision of mine. I don't think I would have gotten on the plane without you.
I do recall trying to make something out of the fact that my flight to Israel included a stopover in Frankfurt, Germany. I had given up, really. But while sitting outside the terminal for my 5 hour layover at 6 AM, a group of three Chassidic men---probably Bobovers, though I'm really not sure---were going around to the other clearly-Jewish men looking to form a minyan (quorum of ten Jewish men) for Shacharit, the morning prayer. [As I was wearing a Colts hat and sitting without 30 children running around me screaming, I was naturally not approached]. Despite that, I ended up joining them in the corner of the room as the 10th man, and there were a few surprised looks when I pulled out my Tefillin bag and Siddur. As I was putting everything away at the end of the service, a British Chassid remarked exactly what I would bet most of us were thinking: "This here was an extra special davening [prayer service]---To show the Germans we are still here...and stronger than ever." I guess that is it---Frankfurt is where my mother's parents spent time in a DP camp after WWII, and 60 years later, I was on a connecting flight to study medicine in the country which, according to Thomas Friedman, has the most publicly traded companies in the world (after the US). So, while part of me wants to refrain form trying to extract this sort of intense symbolism out of a layover in Germany, I simply cannot.
So, here I am. I arrived at Ben Gurion safely without too much fanfare, took the train to Hof HaCarmel (The Carmel Beach), and took a cab to Sam "Shmuel" Korb's breathtaking apartment in Ramat Begin (near Ahuza in Haifa). If you need a visual cue to how beautiful the view is from his living room is, I have posted a picture to help you out:
Sam is a good friend of mine from back in my days at MIT (i.e. he was a brother at AEPi). He made aliyah last summer, and is currently serving with the Israeli Navy Seals in their research department. He has learned a lot of Hebrew since I last saw him, and has clearly picked up many of the local customs (especially his incredible hospitality!) We spent all day Friday cooking various items for his Shabbat "Kiddish", drinking wine, doing laundry, and listening to terrible Israeli music. All in all, it was a nice way to get reintegrated into the rhythm of Israeli life.
I am going to end now and continue later. I will just say that I am currently in the Jerusalem Bus Station, where I quickly ran off to after Ulpan this morning to meet up with an old friend from MIT (Ian Jacobi) and my cousin Jenny (who is currently in the Birthright "MEGA Event" which apparently lasts late enough that I will miss my last bus back to Haifa, and have to take the first one in the morning. Oh well----my last moments of freedom before Medschool starts.
As always, I love to hear from everyone. My email is michael.j.star@gmail.com, and I will have a phone soon.
Best,
Michael
I noticed that my passport was stamped the exact same day that I left Israel last year. I am trying to make up some sort of story about how this is appropriate, how it's as if I never left, etc., etc. But a lothas happened since I was last here. A year later, I am in Israel for very different reasons, staying in a very (!) different place, and I'm here for a very long time. But---to be sure---the events of last year's trip here set in motion my decision to come here, and I'm glad they did.
I will not write about all the things that happened in the weeks leading up to my departure from the U.S. Suffice it to say, there have been very few times in my life when I have been as emotional or unable to deal with an event as these past few weeks. I do want to thank everyone who has been so supportive of this huge, crazy decision of mine. I don't think I would have gotten on the plane without you.
I do recall trying to make something out of the fact that my flight to Israel included a stopover in Frankfurt, Germany. I had given up, really. But while sitting outside the terminal for my 5 hour layover at 6 AM, a group of three Chassidic men---probably Bobovers, though I'm really not sure---were going around to the other clearly-Jewish men looking to form a minyan (quorum of ten Jewish men) for Shacharit, the morning prayer. [As I was wearing a Colts hat and sitting without 30 children running around me screaming, I was naturally not approached]. Despite that, I ended up joining them in the corner of the room as the 10th man, and there were a few surprised looks when I pulled out my Tefillin bag and Siddur. As I was putting everything away at the end of the service, a British Chassid remarked exactly what I would bet most of us were thinking: "This here was an extra special davening [prayer service]---To show the Germans we are still here...and stronger than ever." I guess that is it---Frankfurt is where my mother's parents spent time in a DP camp after WWII, and 60 years later, I was on a connecting flight to study medicine in the country which, according to Thomas Friedman, has the most publicly traded companies in the world (after the US). So, while part of me wants to refrain form trying to extract this sort of intense symbolism out of a layover in Germany, I simply cannot.
So, here I am. I arrived at Ben Gurion safely without too much fanfare, took the train to Hof HaCarmel (The Carmel Beach), and took a cab to Sam "Shmuel" Korb's breathtaking apartment in Ramat Begin (near Ahuza in Haifa). If you need a visual cue to how beautiful the view is from his living room is, I have posted a picture to help you out:
Sam is a good friend of mine from back in my days at MIT (i.e. he was a brother at AEPi). He made aliyah last summer, and is currently serving with the Israeli Navy Seals in their research department. He has learned a lot of Hebrew since I last saw him, and has clearly picked up many of the local customs (especially his incredible hospitality!) We spent all day Friday cooking various items for his Shabbat "Kiddish", drinking wine, doing laundry, and listening to terrible Israeli music. All in all, it was a nice way to get reintegrated into the rhythm of Israeli life.
I am going to end now and continue later. I will just say that I am currently in the Jerusalem Bus Station, where I quickly ran off to after Ulpan this morning to meet up with an old friend from MIT (Ian Jacobi) and my cousin Jenny (who is currently in the Birthright "MEGA Event" which apparently lasts late enough that I will miss my last bus back to Haifa, and have to take the first one in the morning. Oh well----my last moments of freedom before Medschool starts.
As always, I love to hear from everyone. My email is michael.j.star@gmail.com, and I will have a phone soon.
Best,
Michael
Sunday, July 30, 2006
I cannot really explain why I have failed to update this blog lately: I know that some people enjoy reading it, and I also enjoy the time it affords me to reflect on events that have occurred recently.
In light of that, and the fact that my absense has probably chased off most of my friends who used to count on the consistantcy of my writing, I will skip a large chunk of my trip here, and just start from the past few days, along with some thoughts on the current situation.
Friday was the first time I had left Efrat in a week. I've been holed up in this beautiful encampment for 7 straight days, studying different bits of esoteric Jewish texts, some short bits of beauty and truth by the emminant Israeli poet Yehudah Amichai, and the details of the human endocrine system (MCAT's, here I come!). I went in with the mission to go shopping for the different elements of my family and extended friends. I was mildly successful in this regard, but, after I checked a few people off my list, I (as usual) found myself distracted from this important task, by wandering into one of the greatest used bookstores...ever.
I should preface this by saying I am something of a used bookstore addict. Some people have chocolate, some crack-cocaine, others have their favorite TV show----I have used books. I would even say that it is my "anti-drug", except it has completely taken over, and I would simply call it "my-drug-of-choice." (To anyone keeping track, if you are ever wondering what to get me for a gift, it really is a simple as....a nice used book). Anyway, this used book store was very, very misleading. It was, first of all, tiny: the whole store couldn't have been bigger than 30 ft. by 30 ft. It was, literally, a hole-in-the-wall. Not only this, but about half of the store was taken up by books in Hebrew, a language that, although I have studied it for the bulk of my life, and cannot (for the life of me!) actually read it competantly. Instead, I was drawn to the small corner of English books. What made this corner so amazing, you are probably thinking? *Every single* book on its shelves were books that I either love, or I have wanted to read for some time. Not only did it literally contain every and any book I would want in a library of my own, but they were all lovely hardback editions of the books published back in the days when they knew how to publish a book (ie pre-1960!). To top it all off, none of the books cost more than 40 shekels (~$5).
The excuse I had made myself for entering this bookstore was looking for two VERY OBSCURE books that I did not really expect this place to have. The first was a famous Hebrew-to-English Dictionary compiled in the early 1950's by a famous Professor of Hebrew named Prof. Alcalay. It is considered THE definitive dictionary of classical Hebrew, and it was the key to all my Hebrew-reading problems. The only problem was: it stop being publised in 1965. The other book was a very, very obscure collection of essays written by a famous turn-of-the-century Jewish thinker who went by the pseudonym "Ahad Ha'am" ("One of the People"), aka Asher Ginzberg (). His name kept coming up in discussions with friends of mine, and I had a chance to glance through just this collection of essays, which a friend of mine at Yeshiva happened to have in his library (no small feat, considering Ahad Ha'am's radical nature, and a Hasidic reject to boot).
Do you think I would have gone to these lengths, describing these two very obscure and hard-to-find books if I hadn't, indeed, found them on the shelves of this amazing book store? No. They were both there, in beautiful, very-old editions (I can imagine they are both investments in their own right).
Anyway...I digress. I then hiked up Jaffa Street to Kikar Tzion and, deciding I had had enough of sitting by idley while my brothers were fighting up North, I joined the A.....I mean I donated some blood. I know what all of you at home in the US are thinking: are you crazy, Michael!? How could you risk such a promising, young life, right as it was getting interesting?! Well, I guess I am just an idealist.
By this time, I was hungry, a little woozy from loosing a pint of plasma, eurykothytes, leukocytes, platelets, hemoglobin, assorted amino acids, proteins, and a lot of water (note: My grandmother doubted I would actually do my MCAT studying here in Israel. I love you Mama Reggie, but I have proved you wrong). I was also itching to start reading my new book. So I got lunch at "The Village Green", an amazing vegetarian restaurant, with hippie-watching galore.
I will now do a quick run-through of my Shabbat. Two good friends of mine: Chaim Kutnicki and Samuel "Shmulik" Korb, were coming to spend Shabbat with me at my Yeshiva (where we were having our final "in-shabbat" of the summer). What is important is that I knew Sam was visiting, but I have *completely* forgotten that Chaim was going to be visiting as well. Around 1 PM on Friday, I got a call on my trusty "pelah-phone" (Hebrew for "miracle phone") from Chaim: "Hey Mike, what's up?"....Me: "Not much, Chaim, what's new with you?".....*small talk*....Chaim: "So, you remember that I am staying with you for Shabbat, right?".....Me: "Offfff course! Yeah. Can I call you back in one second...?"
Anyway, it all worked out in the end. The two of them joined me on the bus ride back to Efrat (complete with a long phonecall from Chaim's mother, in which we spent 30 minutes assuring her that the bus to Efrat is, indeed, bullet-proof.
Shabbat was wonderful: full of great food, good prayer, and some very impressive talks from the "Rosh Yeshiva" (lit. "The Head of the Yeshiva"), Rabbi Brovender. He spoke a few times over the course of Shabbat, but the thought that has stuck with me the most was, when talking about the upcoming national-day-of-mourning/Fast Day refered to as "Tisha B'Av" (lit. "The 9th Day of the Month of Av"), segwaying from a rather hilarious account of obscure Halacha that applies to the day, he declared, "...The bottom line is, Shabbat beats out Tisha B'Av. It always will. We might be mourning next Thursday, but---no matter what people try to do to us---we are still here, we are still mourning on this day, when both the first and second temples were destroyed, but we are mourning them ONLY because we never gave up hope that we would return to the land....and here we are."
I will take this chance to segway into a light review of my outlook on the "here we are": i.e. here in The Land of Israel. I don't want anyone to think I have dropped my stalwart, anti-expanstionist tendancies, and joined the cult referred to "Religious Zionism." I am *certainly* a Zionist, though probably closer to Ahad Ha'am's "Cultural Zionism" than anything else. On the other hand, in the last few weeks especially, I have become more and more sensitive to how important Israel is for Jews around the world, both physically and spiritually.
The events of the past few weeks (ie "The War in the North") have been cathartic in a few ways. First of all, it has shown how deep much of the Muslim world's hatred for Israel runs. What has really demonstrated this is something that seems to have been completely looked over in what I have read in the main-stream Western press: the terrorist group Hezbollah stands for NOTHING except the destruction of Israel, hatred of Jews around the world, and hatred of America. Please, do not mix up Hezbollah with other groups such as Hamas. As awful as Hamas is, they at least have a cause (ie the defense of the Palestinian people), and they are (many hate to admit) legitimate, especially now that they are no longer able to kill innocent Israeli in suicide bombings (well....they are still trying, but Israel is doing an amazing job at hampering these efforts, thank G-d).
Hezbollah, on the other hand, started as a defense group for the Shiites living in Southern Lebanon when Israel still occupied that land. When Israel withdrew COMPLETELY from there in 2000, the UN passed a very popular resolution calling for the disarmament of the terrorist group by the Lebanese government. For no good reason, this just never happened (see: 1,403,983 times the UN has been ineffective at doing anything). Hezbollah continued building up arms (supplied by Iran and Syria), against Israel....to prepare for its destruction. Make no mistake: they do not even pretend to be freedom fighters. They just want to kill Jews. Case in point: when Israel bombed one of their military outpost in Lebanon a decade ago, their response was.....to bomb a Jewish community center in Argentina that killed a few dozen Jews. This is not a case of Jewish neuroticism: they simply hate Jews.
Iran is even worse. I am going to stop this rant, because it is going no where, but I think the Western world, but especially Jews, should be frightened of Iran's nuclear program. They are NOT crazy, nor are they stupid. Iran wants to be one of the world's new Superpowers, and they are convinced that having nuclear weapons, as well as a good portion of the world's oil source, will help them acheive that status....and they might be right. Their leader also claims the Holocaust didn't happen, and openly stated that one of his goals as President is to "wipe Israel off the map."
Anyway, Islamic funtamentalism's anti-semitism is nothing new , but I have managed to live my life for the last 22 years believing that it has mostly been eradicated from this world, and that even the Muslim world's deep-mistrust of Israel would melt away once something resembling peace emerged in the region.
Now, I really don't believe that at all. I really don't know what to think. I am saddened by every innocent Lebanese death that has occurred in the last few weeks, but I cannot fight the feeling that....better them than us.
Final thought: the final step in the evolution from "multiple gods" to Abraham's "One G-d" was from the nationalist "our nations god versus your nations god" to the Universalist "G-d". What makes monotheism so important to this world is that, when we believe in and/or pray to that G-d, we are, in some way, praying for the benefit of all humanity. I don't think there is any question that the death of innocent civilians (who are suffering the brunt of the current conflict, whether it be the American civilians who died on September 11th, the Israeli casualities of the many suicide bombings, the innocent Palestinians and Lebanese civilians, etc., etc.) is a blow to this universalist philosophy. I know, from being here for the last 2 months, that Israelis are tired of being killed by fanatical Muslims, but---probably worse---are tired of being forced to kill them. As former Prime Minister Golda Meir said, "We may be able to forgive you for killing our sons, but we will never be able to forgive you for making us kill yours."
Here's hoping that---somehow---we will find a way to some form of peace.
Michael
In light of that, and the fact that my absense has probably chased off most of my friends who used to count on the consistantcy of my writing, I will skip a large chunk of my trip here, and just start from the past few days, along with some thoughts on the current situation.
Friday was the first time I had left Efrat in a week. I've been holed up in this beautiful encampment for 7 straight days, studying different bits of esoteric Jewish texts, some short bits of beauty and truth by the emminant Israeli poet Yehudah Amichai, and the details of the human endocrine system (MCAT's, here I come!). I went in with the mission to go shopping for the different elements of my family and extended friends. I was mildly successful in this regard, but, after I checked a few people off my list, I (as usual) found myself distracted from this important task, by wandering into one of the greatest used bookstores...ever.
I should preface this by saying I am something of a used bookstore addict. Some people have chocolate, some crack-cocaine, others have their favorite TV show----I have used books. I would even say that it is my "anti-drug", except it has completely taken over, and I would simply call it "my-drug-of-choice." (To anyone keeping track, if you are ever wondering what to get me for a gift, it really is a simple as....a nice used book). Anyway, this used book store was very, very misleading. It was, first of all, tiny: the whole store couldn't have been bigger than 30 ft. by 30 ft. It was, literally, a hole-in-the-wall. Not only this, but about half of the store was taken up by books in Hebrew, a language that, although I have studied it for the bulk of my life, and cannot (for the life of me!) actually read it competantly. Instead, I was drawn to the small corner of English books. What made this corner so amazing, you are probably thinking? *Every single* book on its shelves were books that I either love, or I have wanted to read for some time. Not only did it literally contain every and any book I would want in a library of my own, but they were all lovely hardback editions of the books published back in the days when they knew how to publish a book (ie pre-1960!). To top it all off, none of the books cost more than 40 shekels (~$5).
The excuse I had made myself for entering this bookstore was looking for two VERY OBSCURE books that I did not really expect this place to have. The first was a famous Hebrew-to-English Dictionary compiled in the early 1950's by a famous Professor of Hebrew named Prof. Alcalay. It is considered THE definitive dictionary of classical Hebrew, and it was the key to all my Hebrew-reading problems. The only problem was: it stop being publised in 1965. The other book was a very, very obscure collection of essays written by a famous turn-of-the-century Jewish thinker who went by the pseudonym "Ahad Ha'am" ("One of the People"), aka Asher Ginzberg (). His name kept coming up in discussions with friends of mine, and I had a chance to glance through just this collection of essays, which a friend of mine at Yeshiva happened to have in his library (no small feat, considering Ahad Ha'am's radical nature, and a Hasidic reject to boot).
Do you think I would have gone to these lengths, describing these two very obscure and hard-to-find books if I hadn't, indeed, found them on the shelves of this amazing book store? No. They were both there, in beautiful, very-old editions (I can imagine they are both investments in their own right).
Anyway...I digress. I then hiked up Jaffa Street to Kikar Tzion and, deciding I had had enough of sitting by idley while my brothers were fighting up North, I joined the A.....I mean I donated some blood. I know what all of you at home in the US are thinking: are you crazy, Michael!? How could you risk such a promising, young life, right as it was getting interesting?! Well, I guess I am just an idealist.
By this time, I was hungry, a little woozy from loosing a pint of plasma, eurykothytes, leukocytes, platelets, hemoglobin, assorted amino acids, proteins, and a lot of water (note: My grandmother doubted I would actually do my MCAT studying here in Israel. I love you Mama Reggie, but I have proved you wrong). I was also itching to start reading my new book. So I got lunch at "The Village Green", an amazing vegetarian restaurant, with hippie-watching galore.
I will now do a quick run-through of my Shabbat. Two good friends of mine: Chaim Kutnicki and Samuel "Shmulik" Korb, were coming to spend Shabbat with me at my Yeshiva (where we were having our final "in-shabbat" of the summer). What is important is that I knew Sam was visiting, but I have *completely* forgotten that Chaim was going to be visiting as well. Around 1 PM on Friday, I got a call on my trusty "pelah-phone" (Hebrew for "miracle phone") from Chaim: "Hey Mike, what's up?"....Me: "Not much, Chaim, what's new with you?".....*small talk*....Chaim: "So, you remember that I am staying with you for Shabbat, right?".....Me: "Offfff course! Yeah. Can I call you back in one second...?"
Anyway, it all worked out in the end. The two of them joined me on the bus ride back to Efrat (complete with a long phonecall from Chaim's mother, in which we spent 30 minutes assuring her that the bus to Efrat is, indeed, bullet-proof.
Shabbat was wonderful: full of great food, good prayer, and some very impressive talks from the "Rosh Yeshiva" (lit. "The Head of the Yeshiva"), Rabbi Brovender. He spoke a few times over the course of Shabbat, but the thought that has stuck with me the most was, when talking about the upcoming national-day-of-mourning/Fast Day refered to as "Tisha B'Av" (lit. "The 9th Day of the Month of Av"), segwaying from a rather hilarious account of obscure Halacha that applies to the day, he declared, "...The bottom line is, Shabbat beats out Tisha B'Av. It always will. We might be mourning next Thursday, but---no matter what people try to do to us---we are still here, we are still mourning on this day, when both the first and second temples were destroyed, but we are mourning them ONLY because we never gave up hope that we would return to the land....and here we are."
I will take this chance to segway into a light review of my outlook on the "here we are": i.e. here in The Land of Israel. I don't want anyone to think I have dropped my stalwart, anti-expanstionist tendancies, and joined the cult referred to "Religious Zionism." I am *certainly* a Zionist, though probably closer to Ahad Ha'am's "Cultural Zionism" than anything else. On the other hand, in the last few weeks especially, I have become more and more sensitive to how important Israel is for Jews around the world, both physically and spiritually.
The events of the past few weeks (ie "The War in the North") have been cathartic in a few ways. First of all, it has shown how deep much of the Muslim world's hatred for Israel runs. What has really demonstrated this is something that seems to have been completely looked over in what I have read in the main-stream Western press: the terrorist group Hezbollah stands for NOTHING except the destruction of Israel, hatred of Jews around the world, and hatred of America. Please, do not mix up Hezbollah with other groups such as Hamas. As awful as Hamas is, they at least have a cause (ie the defense of the Palestinian people), and they are (many hate to admit) legitimate, especially now that they are no longer able to kill innocent Israeli in suicide bombings (well....they are still trying, but Israel is doing an amazing job at hampering these efforts, thank G-d).
Hezbollah, on the other hand, started as a defense group for the Shiites living in Southern Lebanon when Israel still occupied that land. When Israel withdrew COMPLETELY from there in 2000, the UN passed a very popular resolution calling for the disarmament of the terrorist group by the Lebanese government. For no good reason, this just never happened (see: 1,403,983 times the UN has been ineffective at doing anything). Hezbollah continued building up arms (supplied by Iran and Syria), against Israel....to prepare for its destruction. Make no mistake: they do not even pretend to be freedom fighters. They just want to kill Jews. Case in point: when Israel bombed one of their military outpost in Lebanon a decade ago, their response was.....to bomb a Jewish community center in Argentina that killed a few dozen Jews. This is not a case of Jewish neuroticism: they simply hate Jews.
Iran is even worse. I am going to stop this rant, because it is going no where, but I think the Western world, but especially Jews, should be frightened of Iran's nuclear program. They are NOT crazy, nor are they stupid. Iran wants to be one of the world's new Superpowers, and they are convinced that having nuclear weapons, as well as a good portion of the world's oil source, will help them acheive that status....and they might be right. Their leader also claims the Holocaust didn't happen, and openly stated that one of his goals as President is to "wipe Israel off the map."
Anyway, Islamic funtamentalism's anti-semitism is nothing new , but I have managed to live my life for the last 22 years believing that it has mostly been eradicated from this world, and that even the Muslim world's deep-mistrust of Israel would melt away once something resembling peace emerged in the region.
Now, I really don't believe that at all. I really don't know what to think. I am saddened by every innocent Lebanese death that has occurred in the last few weeks, but I cannot fight the feeling that....better them than us.
Final thought: the final step in the evolution from "multiple gods" to Abraham's "One G-d" was from the nationalist "our nations god versus your nations god" to the Universalist "G-d". What makes monotheism so important to this world is that, when we believe in and/or pray to that G-d, we are, in some way, praying for the benefit of all humanity. I don't think there is any question that the death of innocent civilians (who are suffering the brunt of the current conflict, whether it be the American civilians who died on September 11th, the Israeli casualities of the many suicide bombings, the innocent Palestinians and Lebanese civilians, etc., etc.) is a blow to this universalist philosophy. I know, from being here for the last 2 months, that Israelis are tired of being killed by fanatical Muslims, but---probably worse---are tired of being forced to kill them. As former Prime Minister Golda Meir said, "We may be able to forgive you for killing our sons, but we will never be able to forgive you for making us kill yours."
Here's hoping that---somehow---we will find a way to some form of peace.
Michael
Sunday, July 23, 2006
I first want to aplogize for a lack of postings here. I guess this break in posting comes from a lot of sources, but mostly because I've been so busy here with day-to-day dealings that I haven't had time to post.
Which, of course, is a vicious cycle, since now I feel responsible for posting the million-and-one things that I've been up to, and my thoughts on the conflict, but don't have the time.
I will say this (again): I am safe here. I am certainly as safe I was before the rockets started raining down on (Northern) Israel, and probably safer (due to complex set of events that I won't get into). The point is: Israelis are a resiliant people, they would rather pack up their bags and leave than let a bunch of missles ruin their day. They've all served in the military, most have been through this before (think, 1991, Bush #1, Saddam Hussien, scuds all over Israel...). It's simply a different way of living here.
Speaking of which (mom, stop reading...actually, you know all this): I love it here so much. I love the people for their disinterested way of living life, for their livliness, their love of the country, their Mediterrainean beauty, their ability to combine a life that is equal parts 21st century and 1st century. I love the land: tree covered hills, nothern mountains, coastal cities, desert, southern resort cities, ancient-mystical cites, modern cities, desert encampments, West Bank enclaves....all aged thousands of years, connected by a rapid-transit bus system.
Life here is just so much more refreshing than it is in the states. On one hand: of course it feels like that to me, since all I am doing here is learning and visiting people---I have no responsibilities (besides calling my mother once a day), and no worries about anything. However, while I admit this probably has an effect on how I view this country (esp. since I understand that actually *living* here and dealing with the meshugass of the government, and making a living, etc can be overwhelming), I know what I like, and I like Israelis. I am in the camp of religious Jews (see Yeshayahu Leibowitz or Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel) who believe that Judaism has no real concept of holiness of PLACES (ie the physical), and, thus, do not want to claim I find this place more-or-less holy than somewhere else. On the other hand...the people make this place like no other place in the world.
I'll stop with this Israel-love fest.
Everything has been status-quo at the Yeshiva. Still learning the same things with the same Rabbis. While it's a bit late, I am going to try to post some ideas that are brought up in our classes that you can chew over, and possibly add some thoughts to (actually, I will add one of the more interesting ideas I came across last week at the end of this post....be excited!).
I spent last Shabbat (a week ago...July 14-15) in Jerusalem at the apartment of my friend Rachel. Rachel was supposed to have a huge pot-luck dinner with her friends from Pardes (a center for modern Jewish learning...or something like that), and----in an amazing (and ironic/gross) display of disregard for possibly all Jewish ethics---nearly all of these kids backed out of the dinner, leaving Rachel to cook for 15 people all by herself, and the kids who *did* show up did not contribute anything to the dinner, and, before the meal was up, annouced that they were "going to (Jewish name)'s apartment for a get together there" (ie they not only decided that our dinner wasn't good enough for them, but found it important to inform us that they had a better place to go to). I could go on....but I would be doing the entire meal a huge dis-service: I had a wonderful time. The food was amazing, I was around friends (Matt Cons, as well as two friends from Wellesley were also there), and my contribution to the meal (namely: a bottle of vodka) was put to good use. We had some intersting discussions (well....yeah), we sang some beautiful z'mirot, and...had an all-around great Shabbat dinner. Matt Cons and I crashed there for the night.
We woke up the next morning in time for the "Late Minyan", which is apparently a famous minyan in the Baka neighborhood (where Rachel lives), that starts at the late hour of...9:45. Israelis are famous for starting VERY early on Saturday, for no apparant reason that I can tell, besides that of annoying Americans who like to sleep a bit later on Saturdays. Most minyans start between 7-8 AM on Saturday, and are done by 9:30 or 10 (contrast with American Shabbat Services, which tend to start around 9 or 10, and end around noon). Anyway, the "Late Minyan" starts at 9:45, and is a bunch of funny British guys who, like myself, enjoy their weekend beauty sleep. The service was swift, and to the point (just how I like it), and we were out of there by 11:30.
Alright. I need to go to bed, but I will try to do some more updating as the week goes by. I hope everyone in America is doing alright (and dealing with the heat alright). It has been great to hear from all of you (who have written), and especially great to get some feedback/response to the blog.
Anyway, I will leave you with the small Torah thought I promised:
In a class on Halacha, or basic Jewish law, the Rabbi was explaining that a famous posek (well-regarded, famous rabbi who is able to make big decisions regarding Jewish law) made the point that, with all of the intense silliness about kosher-ness in the religious community, there is very clear law in the Talmud that goes like this: If you are invited to a dinner, wedding, bar mitzvah party, or anywhere else food is going to be served, and, when you find out that a certain Rabbi certified the food as kosher, and---either not knowing said Rabbi, or not thinking him "good enough" for yourself---decide to refrain from eating the food, you are committing a HUGE sin, which is much, much worse than actually eating non-kosher. The point here being that you are publically announcing that you find Rabbi so-and-so not up to your standards, and you are publically insulting/embaressing him AND whoever through the party. By the way, he makes the point that you MUST eat at this event. Even if you don't make a big fuss about it, you are still held liable.
The Rabbi (in our class) then went on to tell the story about a big dinner he went to in Jerusalem a few years back, which was obviously kosher, but there were some Haredim (ultra-Orthodox) there who refused to eat. Bottom line: don't lose out on the big picture.
I miss you all,
Michael
Which, of course, is a vicious cycle, since now I feel responsible for posting the million-and-one things that I've been up to, and my thoughts on the conflict, but don't have the time.
I will say this (again): I am safe here. I am certainly as safe I was before the rockets started raining down on (Northern) Israel, and probably safer (due to complex set of events that I won't get into). The point is: Israelis are a resiliant people, they would rather pack up their bags and leave than let a bunch of missles ruin their day. They've all served in the military, most have been through this before (think, 1991, Bush #1, Saddam Hussien, scuds all over Israel...). It's simply a different way of living here.
Speaking of which (mom, stop reading...actually, you know all this): I love it here so much. I love the people for their disinterested way of living life, for their livliness, their love of the country, their Mediterrainean beauty, their ability to combine a life that is equal parts 21st century and 1st century. I love the land: tree covered hills, nothern mountains, coastal cities, desert, southern resort cities, ancient-mystical cites, modern cities, desert encampments, West Bank enclaves....all aged thousands of years, connected by a rapid-transit bus system.
Life here is just so much more refreshing than it is in the states. On one hand: of course it feels like that to me, since all I am doing here is learning and visiting people---I have no responsibilities (besides calling my mother once a day), and no worries about anything. However, while I admit this probably has an effect on how I view this country (esp. since I understand that actually *living* here and dealing with the meshugass of the government, and making a living, etc can be overwhelming), I know what I like, and I like Israelis. I am in the camp of religious Jews (see Yeshayahu Leibowitz or Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel) who believe that Judaism has no real concept of holiness of PLACES (ie the physical), and, thus, do not want to claim I find this place more-or-less holy than somewhere else. On the other hand...the people make this place like no other place in the world.
I'll stop with this Israel-love fest.
Everything has been status-quo at the Yeshiva. Still learning the same things with the same Rabbis. While it's a bit late, I am going to try to post some ideas that are brought up in our classes that you can chew over, and possibly add some thoughts to (actually, I will add one of the more interesting ideas I came across last week at the end of this post....be excited!).
I spent last Shabbat (a week ago...July 14-15) in Jerusalem at the apartment of my friend Rachel. Rachel was supposed to have a huge pot-luck dinner with her friends from Pardes (a center for modern Jewish learning...or something like that), and----in an amazing (and ironic/gross) display of disregard for possibly all Jewish ethics---nearly all of these kids backed out of the dinner, leaving Rachel to cook for 15 people all by herself, and the kids who *did* show up did not contribute anything to the dinner, and, before the meal was up, annouced that they were "going to (Jewish name)'s apartment for a get together there" (ie they not only decided that our dinner wasn't good enough for them, but found it important to inform us that they had a better place to go to). I could go on....but I would be doing the entire meal a huge dis-service: I had a wonderful time. The food was amazing, I was around friends (Matt Cons, as well as two friends from Wellesley were also there), and my contribution to the meal (namely: a bottle of vodka) was put to good use. We had some intersting discussions (well....yeah), we sang some beautiful z'mirot, and...had an all-around great Shabbat dinner. Matt Cons and I crashed there for the night.
We woke up the next morning in time for the "Late Minyan", which is apparently a famous minyan in the Baka neighborhood (where Rachel lives), that starts at the late hour of...9:45. Israelis are famous for starting VERY early on Saturday, for no apparant reason that I can tell, besides that of annoying Americans who like to sleep a bit later on Saturdays. Most minyans start between 7-8 AM on Saturday, and are done by 9:30 or 10 (contrast with American Shabbat Services, which tend to start around 9 or 10, and end around noon). Anyway, the "Late Minyan" starts at 9:45, and is a bunch of funny British guys who, like myself, enjoy their weekend beauty sleep. The service was swift, and to the point (just how I like it), and we were out of there by 11:30.
Alright. I need to go to bed, but I will try to do some more updating as the week goes by. I hope everyone in America is doing alright (and dealing with the heat alright). It has been great to hear from all of you (who have written), and especially great to get some feedback/response to the blog.
Anyway, I will leave you with the small Torah thought I promised:
In a class on Halacha, or basic Jewish law, the Rabbi was explaining that a famous posek (well-regarded, famous rabbi who is able to make big decisions regarding Jewish law) made the point that, with all of the intense silliness about kosher-ness in the religious community, there is very clear law in the Talmud that goes like this: If you are invited to a dinner, wedding, bar mitzvah party, or anywhere else food is going to be served, and, when you find out that a certain Rabbi certified the food as kosher, and---either not knowing said Rabbi, or not thinking him "good enough" for yourself---decide to refrain from eating the food, you are committing a HUGE sin, which is much, much worse than actually eating non-kosher. The point here being that you are publically announcing that you find Rabbi so-and-so not up to your standards, and you are publically insulting/embaressing him AND whoever through the party. By the way, he makes the point that you MUST eat at this event. Even if you don't make a big fuss about it, you are still held liable.
The Rabbi (in our class) then went on to tell the story about a big dinner he went to in Jerusalem a few years back, which was obviously kosher, but there were some Haredim (ultra-Orthodox) there who refused to eat. Bottom line: don't lose out on the big picture.
I miss you all,
Michael
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Israel Update
While I am sure the American media has made the proverbial "mountain out of molehill" out of what is happening here, the situation on the ground for an American tourist (like myself) in-and-around Jerusalem is not so severe. Honestly, I have the same feeling I had during the Hurrican Katrina disaster: the events taking place are so horrible and so close, yet strangley removed from actually affecting me. As much as we are praying for all of the families who lost a loved one, as well as for the captured soldier's safe return, I do not know anyone who is involved in what is going on, since most people I deal with here are American.
Anyway, today is the fast day of the 17th of Tammuz. It is remembered as the day that the Babylonians breached the walls of Jerusalem, which began the three-week seige of the city that eventually led to its destruction (on the 9th of Av). It also commemorates the day when Moses came down from Mount Sinai, saw the golden calf, and broke the two tablets. Really, the Jewish people could probably pick any day of the year, and find some terrible event that occurred on that day, and have a fast.
On the other hand, it's amazing to think that, as tragic as tyesterday's attacks in Northern Israel were, we live in a era where we have a very strong, secure country where Jews can live without the fear of large scale tragedies, as our grandparents, and generations before them were used to.
I wish everyone who is fasting an easy fast.
Best,
Michael
[Update: I take back not knowing anyone directly affected by this. An old friend of mine, Bezalel Friedman (on active duty as a paratrooper) is being sent to the front.]
While I am sure the American media has made the proverbial "mountain out of molehill" out of what is happening here, the situation on the ground for an American tourist (like myself) in-and-around Jerusalem is not so severe. Honestly, I have the same feeling I had during the Hurrican Katrina disaster: the events taking place are so horrible and so close, yet strangley removed from actually affecting me. As much as we are praying for all of the families who lost a loved one, as well as for the captured soldier's safe return, I do not know anyone who is involved in what is going on, since most people I deal with here are American.
Anyway, today is the fast day of the 17th of Tammuz. It is remembered as the day that the Babylonians breached the walls of Jerusalem, which began the three-week seige of the city that eventually led to its destruction (on the 9th of Av). It also commemorates the day when Moses came down from Mount Sinai, saw the golden calf, and broke the two tablets. Really, the Jewish people could probably pick any day of the year, and find some terrible event that occurred on that day, and have a fast.
On the other hand, it's amazing to think that, as tragic as tyesterday's attacks in Northern Israel were, we live in a era where we have a very strong, secure country where Jews can live without the fear of large scale tragedies, as our grandparents, and generations before them were used to.
I wish everyone who is fasting an easy fast.
Best,
Michael
[Update: I take back not knowing anyone directly affected by this. An old friend of mine, Bezalel Friedman (on active duty as a paratrooper) is being sent to the front.]
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