Musings #72
September 28, 2004
The 13th of Tishrei
A Few Thoughts
The Protection of the Succah
Traditionally the succah is not considered to be a protective structure. It’s the antithesis of materialism. Even if there’s a permanence to its walls, the roof, ceiling must be removable. The branches covering it must be detached from its tree. Almost everyone who builds them regularly has stories of “the year it blew away…” Sometimes just the schach, and sometimes the whole succah, or a wall or more. I remember rain so strong and heavy that decorations melted into the trash.
This year has been desert dry in the Samarian Mountains. It’s the first year I can remember that we felt the heat of the sun, inside the succah. For the past fifteen years or so, I’ve felt the succah to be a protecting place, regardless of the wisdom of the sages. It was about fifteen years ago, when we were on our then traditional, annual family trip to the kotel and the succah at the edge of the enormous plaza.
From the time I had been in Israel as a student, the year before I got married, I liked to eat in the succah near the kotel. It was always crowded with visitors from all over, all different costumes and customs. All different foods and serving methods. Having been raised with waxed paper sandwich bags, saranwrap and tin foil, I couldn’t understand how other mothers were schlepping pots of chicken and rice to such a crowded public place. They were also much more successful than I at grabbing and claiming the few tables and chairs for their families. My poor kids had to make due with wholewheat sandwiches and fruit, the five of them sharing a couple of chairs, or sitting on the food, strewn floor.
After almost twenty Succot in Israel, we had reached a rather boring routine, and then we heard it. It sounded like a battle. We had no idea what was going on. Then after finding cracks to peek through, we saw heavy stones, looking from our distance like tennis balls being tossed mechanically, like from the machines they had in my high school to occupy those of us deemed too inferior for proper tennis instruction. Arabs from our Har Habayit, Temple Mount, were attacking Jews praying at the kotel underneath. Why had G-d enabled us to liberate Jerusalem if we gave the Arabs the upper hand?
Our army was retaliating, by shooting “tear gas” at the attacking Arabs. In actuality, all that did was to further endanger the Jews, who had to cover their eyes as they then fled blindly. In the tzell , shade of the succah, we breathed clean air. No irritants, no tear gas in our eyes. The succah protected us. Then the soldiers came and ordered us out, ordered us to flee, ordered us to breathe the poisons, expose our eyes to danger.
“The King is in His Altogether” or
What Really Happened to That Little Boy
Everyone knows the story, “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” how the foolish emperor allowed himself to be convinced that he was dressed in magic clothes that could only be seen by the wise. He was too proud and embarrassed to admit that he couldn’t see them, so he pretended to see their magnificent colors, jewels, design. In his enthusiasm to show all his wisdom he paraded, so dressed, in front of all his subjects, who, also, insisted that they could see the magic fabric.
Then suddendly a little boy, too young, naïve, honest to realize that admitting that he couldn’t see any fabric would make him look “like an idiot” called out: “The emperor has no clothes!” or as Danny Kaye sang so cheerfully: “The King is in His Altogether!” The traditional story ends with the crowds admitting that the boy was right, and the emperor, very embarrassed, trying to re/cover his dignity.
But in real life, the little boy is accused of incitement. A criminal file is opened. Yes, that’s the truth. Just ask Nadia Matar.
Batya Medad
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
Friday, October 1, 2004
Monday, September 27, 2004
With the Wonder of a Child
Musings #71
September 23, 2004
The 8th of Tishrei
With the Wonder of a Child
Yesterday I took my granddaughter to get her first pair of real shoes. It was quite an event, our inaugural purchase in the new shopping mall in Pisgat Zeev (the first Jerusalem neighborhood we reach when travelling from Shiloh.) When I bought my own children’s “first shoes” they were all younger, and I don’t remember any of them reacting with the same joy and enthusiasm as Hallel.
First we showed her the display shoe of the style we had hoped would fit, and she grabbed it with a possessiveness, like she had been waiting her entire life for just that shoe. A few minutes later, with the proper size on her feet, we gently pried the shoe from hands and stood her up on the floor. Then she grabbed our hands and tried walking with the bright, red shoes on her feet. In less than a minute she let go and we followed.
It was thrilling watching the total happiness and amazement that radiated from her, as for the first time she could freely wander and such wonders she saw. Everything caught her attention, and when we took her into the large toy store, she wheeled around a variety of doll carriages and little wagons. Later we let her walk into the supermarket, where her enthusiasm over the different colored peppers on display was even more than she had shown over the balloons in the wide corridor. She tried to grab grapes and then was easily distracted when we showed her the colored containers of fabric softeners and detergents. Following Hallel, I, too began to see the supermarket as a beautiful mix of colors and treasures. By looking at the mall with Hallel’s eyes I, too, saw abundance and riches.
Yom Kippur
On Yom Kippur we fast and confess all possible sins to G-d. Then we are to be forgiven, and we become as “new.” Our slates are wiped clean, as clean as that of a child. We are supposed to be changed by the process of tshuva, repentance. What’s the purpose of these weeks of soul-searching, all of the hours of prayer, confession and twenty-five hours of fasting if we’re going to remain the same as before?
As new people we should be looking at the world with new eyes. We should be looking at the world, at G-d’s creations and abundance with the joy of a toddler. By cleaning ourselves of sin we should be washing away doubts and cynicism. We must purify our faith.
On Yom Kippur we imitate the angels, who have no bodily needs and thereby neither eat nor drink. We can handle it for a day at the most. G-d helps us by giving us prayers to say, more than on any other day. It’s like when Hallel needed our hands for her very first steps with her first shoes.
Our challenge is following G-d when he’s not holding our hands. Our challenge is seeing the beauty of His gifts. We must learn to see the world with the wonder of a child.
Chag Sameach and Gmar Chatima Tova to all of you.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
September 23, 2004
The 8th of Tishrei
With the Wonder of a Child
Yesterday I took my granddaughter to get her first pair of real shoes. It was quite an event, our inaugural purchase in the new shopping mall in Pisgat Zeev (the first Jerusalem neighborhood we reach when travelling from Shiloh.) When I bought my own children’s “first shoes” they were all younger, and I don’t remember any of them reacting with the same joy and enthusiasm as Hallel.
First we showed her the display shoe of the style we had hoped would fit, and she grabbed it with a possessiveness, like she had been waiting her entire life for just that shoe. A few minutes later, with the proper size on her feet, we gently pried the shoe from hands and stood her up on the floor. Then she grabbed our hands and tried walking with the bright, red shoes on her feet. In less than a minute she let go and we followed.
It was thrilling watching the total happiness and amazement that radiated from her, as for the first time she could freely wander and such wonders she saw. Everything caught her attention, and when we took her into the large toy store, she wheeled around a variety of doll carriages and little wagons. Later we let her walk into the supermarket, where her enthusiasm over the different colored peppers on display was even more than she had shown over the balloons in the wide corridor. She tried to grab grapes and then was easily distracted when we showed her the colored containers of fabric softeners and detergents. Following Hallel, I, too began to see the supermarket as a beautiful mix of colors and treasures. By looking at the mall with Hallel’s eyes I, too, saw abundance and riches.
Yom Kippur
On Yom Kippur we fast and confess all possible sins to G-d. Then we are to be forgiven, and we become as “new.” Our slates are wiped clean, as clean as that of a child. We are supposed to be changed by the process of tshuva, repentance. What’s the purpose of these weeks of soul-searching, all of the hours of prayer, confession and twenty-five hours of fasting if we’re going to remain the same as before?
As new people we should be looking at the world with new eyes. We should be looking at the world, at G-d’s creations and abundance with the joy of a toddler. By cleaning ourselves of sin we should be washing away doubts and cynicism. We must purify our faith.
On Yom Kippur we imitate the angels, who have no bodily needs and thereby neither eat nor drink. We can handle it for a day at the most. G-d helps us by giving us prayers to say, more than on any other day. It’s like when Hallel needed our hands for her very first steps with her first shoes.
Our challenge is following G-d when he’s not holding our hands. Our challenge is seeing the beauty of His gifts. We must learn to see the world with the wonder of a child.
Chag Sameach and Gmar Chatima Tova to all of you.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
Monday, September 20, 2004
None of My Business
Musings #70
September 20, 2004
The 5th of Tishrei
None of My Business
Even though I’m an American citizen, born in Brooklyn to parents, also, born in Brooklyn, I’ve never voted in American elections, and I have no plans to ever do so.
When I made aliyah, a few decades ago, the minimum age for voting in American elections was twenty-one, and I had just celebrated that birthday (and got married, too.) It was still summer when we boarded the boat, a few months before election day.
Recently, as the next American presidential elections have been “heating up,” there have been all sorts of notices being cyber-distributed urging all American citizens to take advantage of their legal right and vote in the elections. Some include dire warnings that Kerry’s a danger to Israel, while other claim that Bush is the danger, and others, non-partisan, say: “Just vote.”
Some American Israelis say that since we’re taxed, we must vote. Even that isn’t so simple, since very few of us, American Israelis, make the sort of income that is taxed from abroad, and we renew our American passports without any problems. Yes, I still hold an American passport, and when necessary I use it, and we registered all of our children, and they, too have American passports. I don’t see any contradiction in this; there is no law requiring Americans to vote. A sizable percentage of resident American citizens don’t vote, and they’re not breaking any law. Not voting is not a rejection of citizenship. Neither American Law, nor Israeli Law forbids dual citizenship.
My primary citizenship is Israeli, and I don’t feel a moral right to interfere with or influence American life. I don’t live in America and haven’t for over thirty years. In the same vein, I don’t think that those not living in Israel have any rights to interfere or influence Israeli life, and that includes politics. In addition, the top priority of American politicians should be what’s best for America, and therefore, any promises made concerning Israel are suspect. Even with the best of intentions, their job is to promote America and not Israel. We have enough trouble trusting our own politicians, who should be thinking: Israel first, not wondering what will please a bunch of foreigners.
America is not Israel’s savior. It doesn’t even treat us as a trusted and respected friend. The “financial aid” America gives Israel is nothing more than coupons to support/subsidize American industry, in the process weakening our own struggling economy. Even the so-called support for Israel’s establishment wasn’t simple. The story of Truman’s old Jewish friend struggling to get an appointment to beg (shades of Esther and Achashverosh) for his promise of support is no secret. Don’t forget how Kissinger encouraged Nixon to delay delivering military supplies during our most difficult days of the Yom Kippur War in 1973, when Israel’s survival was in doubt. America is not a trustworthy friend.
Whenever Israel does something to defend itself, America chastises us, telling us to do the Christian thing and turn the other cheek, even though they, themselves, have no compunctions when bombing those who may be supporting their enemies.
Jay Pollard wasn’t the only American defense employee* tempted to inform Israel of secret information it was supposed to have received according to various treaties. He is jailed in the most difficult of conditions for giving information to an ally, while enemy spies have been “lightly” punished or deported. Pollard’s punishment is without legal precedent and totally out of proportion to any other in American history.
The bottom line is that I don’t consider the American government my government. Any influence it may have on Israel comes from Israeli weakness. The Americans can only control us if we let them. I only vote in Israeli elections, and I search hard for candidates who are independent of foreign control.
Those Americans residing in America should vote, and Americans living abroad who feel that it’s important to vote, should vote, too. I am not writing this to convince anyone not to vote. I am just explaining why I’m not voting. If Americans elect a person of extremely, high moral character, it will be good for America and good for all the world, including Israel. The problem is finding a successful politician with that trait.
(*There are others who just didn’t inform Israel and therefore weren’t prosecuted and are unknown by the general public.)
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
September 20, 2004
The 5th of Tishrei
None of My Business
Even though I’m an American citizen, born in Brooklyn to parents, also, born in Brooklyn, I’ve never voted in American elections, and I have no plans to ever do so.
When I made aliyah, a few decades ago, the minimum age for voting in American elections was twenty-one, and I had just celebrated that birthday (and got married, too.) It was still summer when we boarded the boat, a few months before election day.
Recently, as the next American presidential elections have been “heating up,” there have been all sorts of notices being cyber-distributed urging all American citizens to take advantage of their legal right and vote in the elections. Some include dire warnings that Kerry’s a danger to Israel, while other claim that Bush is the danger, and others, non-partisan, say: “Just vote.”
Some American Israelis say that since we’re taxed, we must vote. Even that isn’t so simple, since very few of us, American Israelis, make the sort of income that is taxed from abroad, and we renew our American passports without any problems. Yes, I still hold an American passport, and when necessary I use it, and we registered all of our children, and they, too have American passports. I don’t see any contradiction in this; there is no law requiring Americans to vote. A sizable percentage of resident American citizens don’t vote, and they’re not breaking any law. Not voting is not a rejection of citizenship. Neither American Law, nor Israeli Law forbids dual citizenship.
My primary citizenship is Israeli, and I don’t feel a moral right to interfere with or influence American life. I don’t live in America and haven’t for over thirty years. In the same vein, I don’t think that those not living in Israel have any rights to interfere or influence Israeli life, and that includes politics. In addition, the top priority of American politicians should be what’s best for America, and therefore, any promises made concerning Israel are suspect. Even with the best of intentions, their job is to promote America and not Israel. We have enough trouble trusting our own politicians, who should be thinking: Israel first, not wondering what will please a bunch of foreigners.
America is not Israel’s savior. It doesn’t even treat us as a trusted and respected friend. The “financial aid” America gives Israel is nothing more than coupons to support/subsidize American industry, in the process weakening our own struggling economy. Even the so-called support for Israel’s establishment wasn’t simple. The story of Truman’s old Jewish friend struggling to get an appointment to beg (shades of Esther and Achashverosh) for his promise of support is no secret. Don’t forget how Kissinger encouraged Nixon to delay delivering military supplies during our most difficult days of the Yom Kippur War in 1973, when Israel’s survival was in doubt. America is not a trustworthy friend.
Whenever Israel does something to defend itself, America chastises us, telling us to do the Christian thing and turn the other cheek, even though they, themselves, have no compunctions when bombing those who may be supporting their enemies.
Jay Pollard wasn’t the only American defense employee* tempted to inform Israel of secret information it was supposed to have received according to various treaties. He is jailed in the most difficult of conditions for giving information to an ally, while enemy spies have been “lightly” punished or deported. Pollard’s punishment is without legal precedent and totally out of proportion to any other in American history.
The bottom line is that I don’t consider the American government my government. Any influence it may have on Israel comes from Israeli weakness. The Americans can only control us if we let them. I only vote in Israeli elections, and I search hard for candidates who are independent of foreign control.
Those Americans residing in America should vote, and Americans living abroad who feel that it’s important to vote, should vote, too. I am not writing this to convince anyone not to vote. I am just explaining why I’m not voting. If Americans elect a person of extremely, high moral character, it will be good for America and good for all the world, including Israel. The problem is finding a successful politician with that trait.
(*There are others who just didn’t inform Israel and therefore weren’t prosecuted and are unknown by the general public.)
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Rosh Hashannah Reflections
Musings #69
September 19, 2004
The 4th of Tishrei, Tzom Gedalia
Rosh Hashannah Reflections
Using all our senses…
“V’karev pizurainu mebain hagoyim… And (G-d,) gather our scattered remnants from (Exile) the nations…” This is one of the lines that’s repeated a number of times in the Rosh Hashannah prayers. To paraphrase and interpret, we are commanding G-d to return Jews, scattered all over the world, Home from the galut, exile. This Rosh Hashannah, as I heard and sang those familiar words, it hit me how easy it is to sense the progress of the return.
Let’s start with the sense of hearing. Just listening to the various accents leading the dovening, Birkat Kohanim and making the brachot during the Torah reading in our little shul, it was clear that in Shiloh we have immigrants from North America, North Africa, Europe and further. Smell and taste are sensed from the foods cooked and served for the holidays, and everyday. There was lots more than gefilte fish coming out of the local kitchens here. Culinary delicacies from Yemen, Morocco, Russia, France, New Zealand and more vied with modern Israeli specialties. Seeing all of my neighbors of various colors and features is an easy way of remembering that Shiloh is a magnet for “pizurainu,” “our scattered remnants.” And as for touch, it’s real, not an illusion; as my friends and greeted each other, we could feel the moshiach getting closer.
You and Us
This year, while I was dovening, I found myself noticing something in the language of the prayers. We pray directly to G-d, using the second person, as if we’re talking directly to a friend. It’s unlike many languages that dictate that when speaking to someone distinguished, one speaks in third person. This has me confused, as it is considered proper nowadays to use third person when speaking to a rabbi. I wonder when this third person to a rabbi talk began. It doesn’t seem Jewish. If we can speak directly to G-d, then we should speak directly to other men, even distinguished rabbis.
Judaism is klal, community. We doven in the plural linguistically and literally, as we’re supposed to doven in a minyon. In our prayers we ask G-d to help us, in the plural, not singular. The focus of Rosh Hashannah prayers is the People, the Nation, not the individual. We beseech Elokeinu, Avinu, Malkeinu, Our G-d, Our Father, Our King.
“Zachrainu l’chaim, Melech chafaitz b’chaim..” “Remember us for life, the King who desires life.” During the Ten Days of Repentance, from Rosh Hashannah to Yom Kippur, we add extra requests to the “Amidah—Shmoneh Esreh,” the “Prayer of the Eighteen Blessings” said three times a day on weekdays and a fourth on Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh and holidays. As the prayer opens we ask for Zachrainu l’chaim from the “Melech chafaitz b’chaim” Remember to give us, as a People, life, because You, G-d, are a King who desires life.
Towards the end of the prayer we add a strong request that summarizes the theme of the season, the theme of all of our Yomim Nora’im, Days of Awe prayers:
B’Sefer Chaim, In The Book of Life, bracha v’shalom, blessing and peace, u’parnasah tovah, and good livelihood, n’zachair, v’n’kataiv l’fanecha, may we be remembered and inscribed before/by you, Anachnu v’chal Amcha Beit Yisrael, We, All of Us, All of Your People, Family of Israel, l’chaim tovim, ul’shalom, for a good life and for peace.
We are praying not for ourselves, not for our private, personal desires, not even just for our family and close friends. We are praying for all of G-d’s people, all of the Jewish people. All are included in our prayers, even if they themselves aren’t praying. Anachnu amcha, we are your people G-d, and our prayers are joint prayers as a family, Beit Yisrael. L’chaim tovim, in Hebrew the word “chaim,” life is in the plural. Life is complicated and consists of many different aspects; they should all be good. Ul’shalom, peace, the true peace, not a false, artificial one, that isn’t peace at all.
For all this we pray directly to G-d.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
September 19, 2004
The 4th of Tishrei, Tzom Gedalia
Rosh Hashannah Reflections
Using all our senses…
“V’karev pizurainu mebain hagoyim… And (G-d,) gather our scattered remnants from (Exile) the nations…” This is one of the lines that’s repeated a number of times in the Rosh Hashannah prayers. To paraphrase and interpret, we are commanding G-d to return Jews, scattered all over the world, Home from the galut, exile. This Rosh Hashannah, as I heard and sang those familiar words, it hit me how easy it is to sense the progress of the return.
Let’s start with the sense of hearing. Just listening to the various accents leading the dovening, Birkat Kohanim and making the brachot during the Torah reading in our little shul, it was clear that in Shiloh we have immigrants from North America, North Africa, Europe and further. Smell and taste are sensed from the foods cooked and served for the holidays, and everyday. There was lots more than gefilte fish coming out of the local kitchens here. Culinary delicacies from Yemen, Morocco, Russia, France, New Zealand and more vied with modern Israeli specialties. Seeing all of my neighbors of various colors and features is an easy way of remembering that Shiloh is a magnet for “pizurainu,” “our scattered remnants.” And as for touch, it’s real, not an illusion; as my friends and greeted each other, we could feel the moshiach getting closer.
You and Us
This year, while I was dovening, I found myself noticing something in the language of the prayers. We pray directly to G-d, using the second person, as if we’re talking directly to a friend. It’s unlike many languages that dictate that when speaking to someone distinguished, one speaks in third person. This has me confused, as it is considered proper nowadays to use third person when speaking to a rabbi. I wonder when this third person to a rabbi talk began. It doesn’t seem Jewish. If we can speak directly to G-d, then we should speak directly to other men, even distinguished rabbis.
Judaism is klal, community. We doven in the plural linguistically and literally, as we’re supposed to doven in a minyon. In our prayers we ask G-d to help us, in the plural, not singular. The focus of Rosh Hashannah prayers is the People, the Nation, not the individual. We beseech Elokeinu, Avinu, Malkeinu, Our G-d, Our Father, Our King.
“Zachrainu l’chaim, Melech chafaitz b’chaim..” “Remember us for life, the King who desires life.” During the Ten Days of Repentance, from Rosh Hashannah to Yom Kippur, we add extra requests to the “Amidah—Shmoneh Esreh,” the “Prayer of the Eighteen Blessings” said three times a day on weekdays and a fourth on Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh and holidays. As the prayer opens we ask for Zachrainu l’chaim from the “Melech chafaitz b’chaim” Remember to give us, as a People, life, because You, G-d, are a King who desires life.
Towards the end of the prayer we add a strong request that summarizes the theme of the season, the theme of all of our Yomim Nora’im, Days of Awe prayers:
B’Sefer Chaim, In The Book of Life, bracha v’shalom, blessing and peace, u’parnasah tovah, and good livelihood, n’zachair, v’n’kataiv l’fanecha, may we be remembered and inscribed before/by you, Anachnu v’chal Amcha Beit Yisrael, We, All of Us, All of Your People, Family of Israel, l’chaim tovim, ul’shalom, for a good life and for peace.
We are praying not for ourselves, not for our private, personal desires, not even just for our family and close friends. We are praying for all of G-d’s people, all of the Jewish people. All are included in our prayers, even if they themselves aren’t praying. Anachnu amcha, we are your people G-d, and our prayers are joint prayers as a family, Beit Yisrael. L’chaim tovim, in Hebrew the word “chaim,” life is in the plural. Life is complicated and consists of many different aspects; they should all be good. Ul’shalom, peace, the true peace, not a false, artificial one, that isn’t peace at all.
For all this we pray directly to G-d.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
Saturday, September 18, 2004
Take the Hint
Musings #68
September 10, 2004
Take the Hint
Sometimes things are very obvious. This morning was a perfect example. It was freezing cold, even though the sun was bright. A brisk wind caused waves in the pool, so it looked more like a lake. I was the first swimmer at the pool this morning, even though it was almost a half hour after opening. The lifeguard, fully dressed, was shivering under her blanket-like towel. This year it was easy for us to take the hint and accept the the pool’s closing for the winter.
A year ago, when I realized that I’d be teaching fewer hours, I was able to quickly offer my daughter some of my newly freed time to help her with her baby, my first grandchild. I wasn’t looking to reduce my hours, but I quickly found something even better to do with my time, teach English to the cutest, sweetest and certainly smartest baby ever.
In the spring of 1967 when Israel found itself facing war, it had no plans of liberating (or conquering) any lands, Biblical or otherwise. It was facing the battle of survival. After six days* of fighting, when the war was over The Jewish State found itself possessing its Biblical homeland, Shechem, Shiloh, Beit Lechem and more. But instead of taking the hint and immediately returning to our ancient cities when the Arabs were accepting their fate and our rule, Israeli politicians were so “embarrassed” by our victory that they began to search for ways to give those gifts from G-d away. Actually, they had trouble finding a taker.
The only people in world history to have had been sovereign in Judea and Samaria were the Biblical Jews. The only other rulers were foreign imperialists, the last being Great Britain which handed it to Jordan in 1947/8. Jordan didn’t really want it and didn’t develop it at all. And I’m not going to elaborate on the fact that Jordan itself has no ancient national history. It was “invented” in the twentieth century when the British were enamored with Arab sheiks. I admit that it’s a simplification, but factual.
Throughout Judea and Samaria all of the modern infrastructure is Israeli, post 1967. Until well into the late 1970’s and early ‘80’s there were periodic announcements in The Jerusalem Post that (name) Arab village near Ramalla (for example) was just hooked up to for water or electricity or modern telephone service. Even when we moved to Shiloh in 1981, the nearby Arab villages still used generators, and the lights all went out by midnight. When Jews returned to Shiloh in 1978, the community was given a local (Arab) phone line. You had to speak to the operator in either Arabic or English; the connections were manual. It wasn’t until 1982 that modern phone lines were put in. Remember, that was the eve of the cell phone age. Under Jordanian rule, the Arabs in Judea and Samaria were living in conditions from the previous century.
Then, there wasn’t much opposition to Israeli rule; everyday life and the standard of living were improving rapidly. If the Israeli left hadn’t kept “hocking” everyone “a chinik” that Israel should let the Arabs rule, things would have settled down peacefully. All the Arabs needed to know was that we were here to stay, and things would have been very different.
We didn’t “take the hint.” We didn’t enthusiastically and quickly populate all the historic land G-d gave us. The agriculture business quickly realized the potential of the Jordan Valley and the Sinai for growing food for export and quickly began to establish farming communities. On the Golan Heights communities were established for the security of the kibbutzim in the valleys below and for their agricultural potential. Judea and Samaria were to be left “judenrein,” so it could be given as some sort of “compensation” to the Arabs.
*Six days, yes, like the six days of creation, followed by Shabbat, the days of the moshiach—the days to come, redemption. My neighbor, Rabbi Michael Brom, Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Hesder Shiloh, frequently mentions the signs posted all over Israel after the war: “Todah Rabah L’Tzahal,” “Thanks Very Much To the Israel Defense Forces.” We were supposed to thank G-d. Even the most committed atheiest admits that our victory in 1967 was a miracle; Tzahal was just a tool, the “hand” of G-d, doing G-d’s work. We sinned, because we didn’t thank G-d sufficiently.
Today we are suffering, not only because we didn’t thank G-d but because we didn’t use the gift G-d gave us. The process of establishing yishuvim always involved fighting the authorities, lots of pressure and procedures until permits were given. We failed; we sinned. We have to repent. We have to do more to settle all of the Land of Israel. G-d gave us a gift. We must recognize that G-d gives us the good, and we are responsible for the evil.
Shannah Tovah and Gmar Chatima Tovah,
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
September 10, 2004
Take the Hint
Sometimes things are very obvious. This morning was a perfect example. It was freezing cold, even though the sun was bright. A brisk wind caused waves in the pool, so it looked more like a lake. I was the first swimmer at the pool this morning, even though it was almost a half hour after opening. The lifeguard, fully dressed, was shivering under her blanket-like towel. This year it was easy for us to take the hint and accept the the pool’s closing for the winter.
A year ago, when I realized that I’d be teaching fewer hours, I was able to quickly offer my daughter some of my newly freed time to help her with her baby, my first grandchild. I wasn’t looking to reduce my hours, but I quickly found something even better to do with my time, teach English to the cutest, sweetest and certainly smartest baby ever.
In the spring of 1967 when Israel found itself facing war, it had no plans of liberating (or conquering) any lands, Biblical or otherwise. It was facing the battle of survival. After six days* of fighting, when the war was over The Jewish State found itself possessing its Biblical homeland, Shechem, Shiloh, Beit Lechem and more. But instead of taking the hint and immediately returning to our ancient cities when the Arabs were accepting their fate and our rule, Israeli politicians were so “embarrassed” by our victory that they began to search for ways to give those gifts from G-d away. Actually, they had trouble finding a taker.
The only people in world history to have had been sovereign in Judea and Samaria were the Biblical Jews. The only other rulers were foreign imperialists, the last being Great Britain which handed it to Jordan in 1947/8. Jordan didn’t really want it and didn’t develop it at all. And I’m not going to elaborate on the fact that Jordan itself has no ancient national history. It was “invented” in the twentieth century when the British were enamored with Arab sheiks. I admit that it’s a simplification, but factual.
Throughout Judea and Samaria all of the modern infrastructure is Israeli, post 1967. Until well into the late 1970’s and early ‘80’s there were periodic announcements in The Jerusalem Post that (name) Arab village near Ramalla (for example) was just hooked up to for water or electricity or modern telephone service. Even when we moved to Shiloh in 1981, the nearby Arab villages still used generators, and the lights all went out by midnight. When Jews returned to Shiloh in 1978, the community was given a local (Arab) phone line. You had to speak to the operator in either Arabic or English; the connections were manual. It wasn’t until 1982 that modern phone lines were put in. Remember, that was the eve of the cell phone age. Under Jordanian rule, the Arabs in Judea and Samaria were living in conditions from the previous century.
Then, there wasn’t much opposition to Israeli rule; everyday life and the standard of living were improving rapidly. If the Israeli left hadn’t kept “hocking” everyone “a chinik” that Israel should let the Arabs rule, things would have settled down peacefully. All the Arabs needed to know was that we were here to stay, and things would have been very different.
We didn’t “take the hint.” We didn’t enthusiastically and quickly populate all the historic land G-d gave us. The agriculture business quickly realized the potential of the Jordan Valley and the Sinai for growing food for export and quickly began to establish farming communities. On the Golan Heights communities were established for the security of the kibbutzim in the valleys below and for their agricultural potential. Judea and Samaria were to be left “judenrein,” so it could be given as some sort of “compensation” to the Arabs.
*Six days, yes, like the six days of creation, followed by Shabbat, the days of the moshiach—the days to come, redemption. My neighbor, Rabbi Michael Brom, Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Hesder Shiloh, frequently mentions the signs posted all over Israel after the war: “Todah Rabah L’Tzahal,” “Thanks Very Much To the Israel Defense Forces.” We were supposed to thank G-d. Even the most committed atheiest admits that our victory in 1967 was a miracle; Tzahal was just a tool, the “hand” of G-d, doing G-d’s work. We sinned, because we didn’t thank G-d sufficiently.
Today we are suffering, not only because we didn’t thank G-d but because we didn’t use the gift G-d gave us. The process of establishing yishuvim always involved fighting the authorities, lots of pressure and procedures until permits were given. We failed; we sinned. We have to repent. We have to do more to settle all of the Land of Israel. G-d gave us a gift. We must recognize that G-d gives us the good, and we are responsible for the evil.
Shannah Tovah and Gmar Chatima Tovah,
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
Tuesday, September 7, 2004
To Feel The Earth Under Our Feet
Musings #67
September 5, 2004
To Feel The Earth, Ha'Aretz Under Our Feet
Just a year ago, after our neighbor, Avihu Keinan, was killed in a badly planned army action, his father, Moshe, vowed to march to the Israeli President, Moshe Katzav in Jerusalem, and he did. Less than three weeks after Avihu was buried in the Shiloh Cemetery, Moshe, accompanied by hundreds of others, walked from Shiloh to The President’s Residence and set up a succah there. During Chol Hamoed Succot, many, many more people, ordinary Israelis, tourists and other bereaved parents came to encourage him and support his struggle to change the perverse morality that is endangering us all.
Avihu was killed, because the military operation was planned with priority on protecting Arab civilians, rather than enable our soldiers to fight the terrorists in the most effective ways possible. Avihu was an expert in hand-to-hand combat, but he wasn’t given a chance. A couple of weeks ago as I watched Israeli Judoist Arik Ze’evi use his superior physical and mental strength against his opponent, I couldn’t stop thinking of Avihu. Arik Ze’evi won a medal, because he was allowed to fight fairly. The perverse morality pervading our politicians and military prevented Avihu Keinan from fighting, from killing the terrorists, from staying alive.
Last year all who marched with Moshe agreed on one thing; we must make this march an annual event. The “Od Avihu Chai March on Jerusalem” will, G-d willing, take place on Tuesday, Chol Hamoed Succot, the 20th of Tishrei, 5-10-04, 8am from Shiloh.
In order to truly possess our land, we must walk it, feel it beneath our feet. Last year’s march was indescribably exhilarating, even for those who were only able to walk a small portion of the route, even for those who were busy setting up the water and nosh tables on the way and for those who stood on the roadside and sidewalks cheering and encouraging.
For the past few years “security considerations” have been keeping us in our ghettos and protected vehicles. Twenty years ago, we thought nothing of taking young children on hikes and marches throughout YESHA. It was safe; we felt comfortable and secure wherever we went. Today we’re always warning our children to stay inside the fences, and as a result we are losing our Land.
I remember the afternoon less than ten years ago, as my neighbors and I were turning into Beit El to go to the gas station. We saw some Israeli teenage boys on the main road waiting for rides. I was tempted to have the car stopped and yell at them to get into Beit El, which was safer. Minutes later, terrorists shot at them and one, David Boim, HaYa”D, was murdered. I was so upset with myself, why hadn’t I told them to get back in? They shouldn’t have been so “irresponsible.”
A few hours later, when the army finally allowed us to continue our journey home to Shiloh, I noticed a group of teenage boys playing soccer just outside of Beit El. They were Arab boys, the same ages as the Jewish ones who had just been shot at while innocently waiting for rides. Suddenly it hit me. Our boys, the Jewish ones, weren’t “bad” waiting out there on the road. We are the bad ones, so easily and quickly abandoning our Land.
There are people who claim that there’s apartheid here in Israel, that the Arabs suffer severe restrictions. They are half right. There is apartheid, but it’s the Jews who are discriminated against. We are the ones whose movements are restricted. Every time I go to Kever Rachel I’m especially reminded of it. Arabs, Moslems, Christians walk into Beit Lechem freely, and we sit imprisoned in an armored bus, waiting for a soldier weighted in bullet-proof apparel to escort us the few meters to the tomb. We are not “free in our own Land.” “…lihiyot chofshi b’artzeinu.”
Last year, when I was marching with Moshe, I had a taste of that freedom. I’m looking forward to doing it again, though I have no idea of how much of the route I’ll actually do by foot. I highly recommend that everyone join, even if it’s for a short distance, or helping set up rest stops, or just cheering on the roadside, or sponsoring the “rest stops.” For more information call the Shiloh office 02-940-1111 or 0545-649-140.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
September 5, 2004
To Feel The Earth, Ha'Aretz Under Our Feet
Just a year ago, after our neighbor, Avihu Keinan, was killed in a badly planned army action, his father, Moshe, vowed to march to the Israeli President, Moshe Katzav in Jerusalem, and he did. Less than three weeks after Avihu was buried in the Shiloh Cemetery, Moshe, accompanied by hundreds of others, walked from Shiloh to The President’s Residence and set up a succah there. During Chol Hamoed Succot, many, many more people, ordinary Israelis, tourists and other bereaved parents came to encourage him and support his struggle to change the perverse morality that is endangering us all.
Avihu was killed, because the military operation was planned with priority on protecting Arab civilians, rather than enable our soldiers to fight the terrorists in the most effective ways possible. Avihu was an expert in hand-to-hand combat, but he wasn’t given a chance. A couple of weeks ago as I watched Israeli Judoist Arik Ze’evi use his superior physical and mental strength against his opponent, I couldn’t stop thinking of Avihu. Arik Ze’evi won a medal, because he was allowed to fight fairly. The perverse morality pervading our politicians and military prevented Avihu Keinan from fighting, from killing the terrorists, from staying alive.
Last year all who marched with Moshe agreed on one thing; we must make this march an annual event. The “Od Avihu Chai March on Jerusalem” will, G-d willing, take place on Tuesday, Chol Hamoed Succot, the 20th of Tishrei, 5-10-04, 8am from Shiloh.
In order to truly possess our land, we must walk it, feel it beneath our feet. Last year’s march was indescribably exhilarating, even for those who were only able to walk a small portion of the route, even for those who were busy setting up the water and nosh tables on the way and for those who stood on the roadside and sidewalks cheering and encouraging.
For the past few years “security considerations” have been keeping us in our ghettos and protected vehicles. Twenty years ago, we thought nothing of taking young children on hikes and marches throughout YESHA. It was safe; we felt comfortable and secure wherever we went. Today we’re always warning our children to stay inside the fences, and as a result we are losing our Land.
I remember the afternoon less than ten years ago, as my neighbors and I were turning into Beit El to go to the gas station. We saw some Israeli teenage boys on the main road waiting for rides. I was tempted to have the car stopped and yell at them to get into Beit El, which was safer. Minutes later, terrorists shot at them and one, David Boim, HaYa”D, was murdered. I was so upset with myself, why hadn’t I told them to get back in? They shouldn’t have been so “irresponsible.”
A few hours later, when the army finally allowed us to continue our journey home to Shiloh, I noticed a group of teenage boys playing soccer just outside of Beit El. They were Arab boys, the same ages as the Jewish ones who had just been shot at while innocently waiting for rides. Suddenly it hit me. Our boys, the Jewish ones, weren’t “bad” waiting out there on the road. We are the bad ones, so easily and quickly abandoning our Land.
There are people who claim that there’s apartheid here in Israel, that the Arabs suffer severe restrictions. They are half right. There is apartheid, but it’s the Jews who are discriminated against. We are the ones whose movements are restricted. Every time I go to Kever Rachel I’m especially reminded of it. Arabs, Moslems, Christians walk into Beit Lechem freely, and we sit imprisoned in an armored bus, waiting for a soldier weighted in bullet-proof apparel to escort us the few meters to the tomb. We are not “free in our own Land.” “…lihiyot chofshi b’artzeinu.”
Last year, when I was marching with Moshe, I had a taste of that freedom. I’m looking forward to doing it again, though I have no idea of how much of the route I’ll actually do by foot. I highly recommend that everyone join, even if it’s for a short distance, or helping set up rest stops, or just cheering on the roadside, or sponsoring the “rest stops.” For more information call the Shiloh office 02-940-1111 or 0545-649-140.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
Monday, September 6, 2004
The Have’s and Have Not’s
Musings #66
September 3, 2004
The Have’s and Have Not’s
The world is divided between those online and those off. It seems like forever since, like just now, I sip my morning coffee while checking my email, writing these musings or tests for my students or just reading the news from the screen. Email has made it possible for me to establish, renew and strengthen relationships with relatives and friends far away, in different time zones and life styles. “Lists” and “groups” have introduced me to people I would have never known. And these “musings,” amazingly popular over the world, are rarely seen by those who don’t get them via the internet.
Though I’m generally one of the “have’s,” for a week I was a “have not.” Our computer was “in the shop” getting a “transplant” of sorts. I struggled against severe withdrawal symptoms, was almost oblivious of the news, worried that my close relatives far away would think I was the sick one and afraid that lost letters would cause people to think that I had snubbed them. All that was rivaled only my extreme anxiety of how I was going to cope with the hundreds of letters once the computer was back on. I’m embarrassed to admit that most of the six hundred plus (including the yahoo accounts) were probably deleted as my eyes crossed and closed uncontrollably and the “mouse,” so hyper-excited to be back at work, somehow deleted two per click.
Now our computer has a bigger memory, but it “forgot” all the addresses we had been collecting over the years. It’s missing the “spell check,” so don’t be surprised if there are some really dumb mistakes that can’t pass for innocent typos. I had gotten used to sloppy typing, knowing that the computer would signal my mistakes with a wavy red line. Now I have to be very careful, or you’ll discover the truth—my spelling’s atrocious!
I must admit that I was amazed at how easily I found other things to do during the too many daily hours I usually spend in front of the screen. Being a “have not,” even temporarily, is easy to get used to. It is amazing how easily I turned myself off from what’s going on. Even that horrific double terror attack in Beersheva seemed to just pass me by. All those innocent bus travelers murdered by self-propelled human murder weapons, and I was almost oblivious.
Israel is in danger! And most of us are just “fiddling,” like Nero as Rome burned. It’s amazing that as tiny a country as Israel is, most Israelis succeed in keeping themselves in small, defined areas and are oblivious to what’s happening just down the road. Almost everyone has “maps” indicating where they “go” and “don’t go.”
Even within the yishuvim, we survive emotionally by erecting walls to keep out fear. Just normal day-to-day life with our families, work and finances are all that many of us can handle. We’re just ordinary people. We “demonstrate” by keeping to regular routines of work, childcare, gardening, healthcare and all of the normal activities we would have to do if we lived in Tel Aviv, Paris or Toronto.
Now after a week’s “vacation,” I’m back on line. I’ve turned on the loudspeaker in order to broadcast again. We all have a job to do. We each must find a way to fight for Israel’s survival. Israel is being strangled by a high cement fence. That fence is not going to protect us.
Arabs will be allowed in to Israel for work, medical care and other reasons. The “world” is more concerned about inconveniencing the Arabs than protecting Jews. Mohatme Gandhi’s grandson was recently in Israel and condemned Israel for that “crime.” He didn’t condemn the Arabs for the terror attacks against us. That’s the way it is. We shouldn’t expect help from others only from ourselves, and that means you and me.
This week’s parsha Portion of the Week is Ki Tavo, “And it shall come to pass…” which includes a very graphic description of what will happen if we don’t obey G-d. It is so horrendous that the person who reads the Torah is supposed to lower his voice. If we follow G-d’s commandments we will be blessed, if not….. G-d forbid!
It’s up to us, our decisions and our actions.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
September 3, 2004
The Have’s and Have Not’s
The world is divided between those online and those off. It seems like forever since, like just now, I sip my morning coffee while checking my email, writing these musings or tests for my students or just reading the news from the screen. Email has made it possible for me to establish, renew and strengthen relationships with relatives and friends far away, in different time zones and life styles. “Lists” and “groups” have introduced me to people I would have never known. And these “musings,” amazingly popular over the world, are rarely seen by those who don’t get them via the internet.
Though I’m generally one of the “have’s,” for a week I was a “have not.” Our computer was “in the shop” getting a “transplant” of sorts. I struggled against severe withdrawal symptoms, was almost oblivious of the news, worried that my close relatives far away would think I was the sick one and afraid that lost letters would cause people to think that I had snubbed them. All that was rivaled only my extreme anxiety of how I was going to cope with the hundreds of letters once the computer was back on. I’m embarrassed to admit that most of the six hundred plus (including the yahoo accounts) were probably deleted as my eyes crossed and closed uncontrollably and the “mouse,” so hyper-excited to be back at work, somehow deleted two per click.
Now our computer has a bigger memory, but it “forgot” all the addresses we had been collecting over the years. It’s missing the “spell check,” so don’t be surprised if there are some really dumb mistakes that can’t pass for innocent typos. I had gotten used to sloppy typing, knowing that the computer would signal my mistakes with a wavy red line. Now I have to be very careful, or you’ll discover the truth—my spelling’s atrocious!
I must admit that I was amazed at how easily I found other things to do during the too many daily hours I usually spend in front of the screen. Being a “have not,” even temporarily, is easy to get used to. It is amazing how easily I turned myself off from what’s going on. Even that horrific double terror attack in Beersheva seemed to just pass me by. All those innocent bus travelers murdered by self-propelled human murder weapons, and I was almost oblivious.
Israel is in danger! And most of us are just “fiddling,” like Nero as Rome burned. It’s amazing that as tiny a country as Israel is, most Israelis succeed in keeping themselves in small, defined areas and are oblivious to what’s happening just down the road. Almost everyone has “maps” indicating where they “go” and “don’t go.”
Even within the yishuvim, we survive emotionally by erecting walls to keep out fear. Just normal day-to-day life with our families, work and finances are all that many of us can handle. We’re just ordinary people. We “demonstrate” by keeping to regular routines of work, childcare, gardening, healthcare and all of the normal activities we would have to do if we lived in Tel Aviv, Paris or Toronto.
Now after a week’s “vacation,” I’m back on line. I’ve turned on the loudspeaker in order to broadcast again. We all have a job to do. We each must find a way to fight for Israel’s survival. Israel is being strangled by a high cement fence. That fence is not going to protect us.
Arabs will be allowed in to Israel for work, medical care and other reasons. The “world” is more concerned about inconveniencing the Arabs than protecting Jews. Mohatme Gandhi’s grandson was recently in Israel and condemned Israel for that “crime.” He didn’t condemn the Arabs for the terror attacks against us. That’s the way it is. We shouldn’t expect help from others only from ourselves, and that means you and me.
This week’s parsha Portion of the Week is Ki Tavo, “And it shall come to pass…” which includes a very graphic description of what will happen if we don’t obey G-d. It is so horrendous that the person who reads the Torah is supposed to lower his voice. If we follow G-d’s commandments we will be blessed, if not….. G-d forbid!
It’s up to us, our decisions and our actions.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
Monday, August 16, 2004
The Good Old Days
Musings #64
August 16, 2004
The Good Old Days and
Chodesh Tov
I’m certainly old enough to mourn “the good old days” when things were “so much better.” Let’s start with dancing, and I’m not just talking about the hora. I’m referring to what was once known as “ballroom dancing.” That’s what we called it then, when people still danced as couples. Even in early “Rock ‘n’ Roll” couples were graceful, athletic and more alluring than anything seen today. I was around then, even on the dance floor, when dancers stopped holding hands and started to “twist.” And it’s no surprise that “The Twist” evolved into “The Jerk” with a serving of “Mashed Potatoes.” Now it’s much worse, “trance” when the individual dancers are oblivious to those around them, only entranced with themselves.
Jewish simcha, or wedding dances have also changed from comfortable reliably choreographed circles to each individual doing something that reminds me Martha Graham movements or the “improvisations” we did in the “Creative Modern Dance” I learned as a kid. Dancers seem to be meditating to their own tunes, rather than “l’same’ach chatan v’kallah,” “making it joyful for the bride and groom.”
Then, again, what can I expect from the products of modern education? Instead of learning to listen to the teacher and sitting facing the blackboard (ok, it’s generally green or white today) these kids sit around small tables in elementary school. They face each other with their backs to the teacher. The goal of these teaching methods is to provide individual attention, each child at his own pace. Yes, it does sound wonderful in theory, but… reading scores have been dropping ever since… and attention/concentration problems have been rising to epidemic proportions. The noise levels in those classrooms, as the pupils wait for the teacher, or ask their friends, or just play, makes concentrating worse than difficult.
The last straw, for me, was listening to one of Israel’s most veteran and professional choral groups on TV. After hearing them introduced, I looked forward to being serenaded by their well-known, beautiful harmonies. Maybe if I had been alert enough to notice that they were all clutching microphones, I wouldn’t have been so shocked. Instead of their unique, unified, blended sound being captured by a few well-placed microphones, the personal, handheld microphones amplified their individual imperfections. They sounded like a spontaneous shout-fest, rather than the well-trained and well-rehearsed group they have been for decades.
I have nothing against individualism, if it’s a personality trait, not an ideology. When people are educated to think of themselves first, the results are anarchy. When I was a gym teacher, I used to remind my students that when playing “catch,” the better one is the one who throws the ball in a way that the catcher can succeed in catching it. Ideally, the aim is to be sensitive to the abilities of others, to enable them to achieve their maximum potential.
In the days when dancing was together in a circle, the better dancers took the hands of the weaker and guided them. Today, those weaker dancers stand shyly on the sidelines, while the “stars” show off, oblivious to all others.
Jewish prayer is supposed to be in a group of at least ten men, a minyan. Individual meditation is not Jewish. We base our prayers on set texts. There is a leader who says the most important sections out loud. If someone cannot read it all, he or she can say: “Amen” following the leader’s prayer. The strong assists the weak. That is our religion, community, People.
Tonight begins the Jewish month of Elul, the month before Rosh Hashanah. This is the month in which we must prepare ourselves for G-d’s judgement. This is the time to take stock of our lives, to repent, since none of us are perfect. And those of us who are strong must help those who are weak.
Chodesh Tov,
Batya Medad
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
August 16, 2004
The Good Old Days and
Chodesh Tov
I’m certainly old enough to mourn “the good old days” when things were “so much better.” Let’s start with dancing, and I’m not just talking about the hora. I’m referring to what was once known as “ballroom dancing.” That’s what we called it then, when people still danced as couples. Even in early “Rock ‘n’ Roll” couples were graceful, athletic and more alluring than anything seen today. I was around then, even on the dance floor, when dancers stopped holding hands and started to “twist.” And it’s no surprise that “The Twist” evolved into “The Jerk” with a serving of “Mashed Potatoes.” Now it’s much worse, “trance” when the individual dancers are oblivious to those around them, only entranced with themselves.
Jewish simcha, or wedding dances have also changed from comfortable reliably choreographed circles to each individual doing something that reminds me Martha Graham movements or the “improvisations” we did in the “Creative Modern Dance” I learned as a kid. Dancers seem to be meditating to their own tunes, rather than “l’same’ach chatan v’kallah,” “making it joyful for the bride and groom.”
Then, again, what can I expect from the products of modern education? Instead of learning to listen to the teacher and sitting facing the blackboard (ok, it’s generally green or white today) these kids sit around small tables in elementary school. They face each other with their backs to the teacher. The goal of these teaching methods is to provide individual attention, each child at his own pace. Yes, it does sound wonderful in theory, but… reading scores have been dropping ever since… and attention/concentration problems have been rising to epidemic proportions. The noise levels in those classrooms, as the pupils wait for the teacher, or ask their friends, or just play, makes concentrating worse than difficult.
The last straw, for me, was listening to one of Israel’s most veteran and professional choral groups on TV. After hearing them introduced, I looked forward to being serenaded by their well-known, beautiful harmonies. Maybe if I had been alert enough to notice that they were all clutching microphones, I wouldn’t have been so shocked. Instead of their unique, unified, blended sound being captured by a few well-placed microphones, the personal, handheld microphones amplified their individual imperfections. They sounded like a spontaneous shout-fest, rather than the well-trained and well-rehearsed group they have been for decades.
I have nothing against individualism, if it’s a personality trait, not an ideology. When people are educated to think of themselves first, the results are anarchy. When I was a gym teacher, I used to remind my students that when playing “catch,” the better one is the one who throws the ball in a way that the catcher can succeed in catching it. Ideally, the aim is to be sensitive to the abilities of others, to enable them to achieve their maximum potential.
In the days when dancing was together in a circle, the better dancers took the hands of the weaker and guided them. Today, those weaker dancers stand shyly on the sidelines, while the “stars” show off, oblivious to all others.
Jewish prayer is supposed to be in a group of at least ten men, a minyan. Individual meditation is not Jewish. We base our prayers on set texts. There is a leader who says the most important sections out loud. If someone cannot read it all, he or she can say: “Amen” following the leader’s prayer. The strong assists the weak. That is our religion, community, People.
Tonight begins the Jewish month of Elul, the month before Rosh Hashanah. This is the month in which we must prepare ourselves for G-d’s judgement. This is the time to take stock of our lives, to repent, since none of us are perfect. And those of us who are strong must help those who are weak.
Chodesh Tov,
Batya Medad
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Post Tisha B’Av
Musings #63
August 3, 2004
Post Tisha B’Av
Among the “Minhagei Shiloh” (Shiloh customs) is gathering at the Tel of Ancient Shiloh to read Aicha (the Lamentations for the 9th of the Jewish month of Av) as the fast begins.
With that hard-boiled egg* sitting very uncomfortably in my stomach, I decided that walking a kilometer and a half (a mile) all the way down to Tel Shiloh would be a good idea. I gave myself plenty of time, especially since there really wasn’t anything to do after brushing my teeth.
The air was clean and cool, such a relief from the daytime heat. No cars passed until I was almost there, since those driving didn’t need to leave as early as I did. I live on the eastern slope of the highest hill in Shiloh. My living room is a “morning person’s dream,” with two large windows just perfect for watching the sun come up over Shvut Rachel. The Tel is geographically much lower and on the western side. So, on the Eve of Tisha B’Av I strolled westward, and the sun went down with me to the Tel.
Oranges, reds, pinks, silver and gold guided me. The rainbowed ribbon got thinner and thinner, and the silken sky got darker as I got closer to my destination. The rainbow and Shiloh, yes there’s a connection.
A rainbow appeared after the flood that G-d sent to destroy all but what Noah packed in his floating ark. The rainbow was to reaffirm what G-d commanded Noah “V’atem pru urvu shirtzu b’aretz urvu va” Bereishit, Genesis IX, 7. “And you, be fruitful and multiply, spread out in The Land, and multiply there.” With Noah, G-d had a new beginning, and from him descended Avraham and us.
Many, many generations later, after the exodus from Egypt and the death of the generation of slaves, the Jewish People had a new beginning in Shiloh. Joshua established Shiloh as the capital, religious and administrative center for Bnai Yisrael. For three hundred and sixty nine (369) years, while Bnai Yisrael “spread out,” settled the Land, the mishkan, the Ark of the Covenant rested here in Shiloh, and the Jewish People came here to worship.
Three hundred and sixty nine years is quite a long time. To get some idea, let’s compare. The United Nations is less than sixty years old. Many older people can remember its establishment. The United States is less than two hundred and thirty years old. Shiloh remained the capital over a hundred and thirty years longer. Even more amazing during those three hundred and sixty nine years, the twelve tribes continued with common traditions and educated their children in a common history. Consider that this was a time without easy communication, nor printing presses. Of course it wasn’t perfect. The time of the judges is known as one “when each man did what he thought best.” But delegations from the tribes still recognized Samuel, in Shiloh, as the person to request “a king.” Samuel ended up anointing the first two kings, Saul and David.
Preceding the nation’s transition from priests to kings, Shiloh was destroyed, burned, and the ark was captured. The devastation was legendary. Just over twenty years ago a layer of ash, the remains of that ancient fire was found at Tel Shiloh by a team of academic archeologists. It confirmed the destruction as described in the Bible.
Three thousand years after that destruction, we have returned.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
*It is traditional to end the pre-fast meal with a hard-boiled egg, like what is given to a mourner to eat immediately after the funeral.
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
August 3, 2004
Post Tisha B’Av
Among the “Minhagei Shiloh” (Shiloh customs) is gathering at the Tel of Ancient Shiloh to read Aicha (the Lamentations for the 9th of the Jewish month of Av) as the fast begins.
With that hard-boiled egg* sitting very uncomfortably in my stomach, I decided that walking a kilometer and a half (a mile) all the way down to Tel Shiloh would be a good idea. I gave myself plenty of time, especially since there really wasn’t anything to do after brushing my teeth.
The air was clean and cool, such a relief from the daytime heat. No cars passed until I was almost there, since those driving didn’t need to leave as early as I did. I live on the eastern slope of the highest hill in Shiloh. My living room is a “morning person’s dream,” with two large windows just perfect for watching the sun come up over Shvut Rachel. The Tel is geographically much lower and on the western side. So, on the Eve of Tisha B’Av I strolled westward, and the sun went down with me to the Tel.
Oranges, reds, pinks, silver and gold guided me. The rainbowed ribbon got thinner and thinner, and the silken sky got darker as I got closer to my destination. The rainbow and Shiloh, yes there’s a connection.
A rainbow appeared after the flood that G-d sent to destroy all but what Noah packed in his floating ark. The rainbow was to reaffirm what G-d commanded Noah “V’atem pru urvu shirtzu b’aretz urvu va” Bereishit, Genesis IX, 7. “And you, be fruitful and multiply, spread out in The Land, and multiply there.” With Noah, G-d had a new beginning, and from him descended Avraham and us.
Many, many generations later, after the exodus from Egypt and the death of the generation of slaves, the Jewish People had a new beginning in Shiloh. Joshua established Shiloh as the capital, religious and administrative center for Bnai Yisrael. For three hundred and sixty nine (369) years, while Bnai Yisrael “spread out,” settled the Land, the mishkan, the Ark of the Covenant rested here in Shiloh, and the Jewish People came here to worship.
Three hundred and sixty nine years is quite a long time. To get some idea, let’s compare. The United Nations is less than sixty years old. Many older people can remember its establishment. The United States is less than two hundred and thirty years old. Shiloh remained the capital over a hundred and thirty years longer. Even more amazing during those three hundred and sixty nine years, the twelve tribes continued with common traditions and educated their children in a common history. Consider that this was a time without easy communication, nor printing presses. Of course it wasn’t perfect. The time of the judges is known as one “when each man did what he thought best.” But delegations from the tribes still recognized Samuel, in Shiloh, as the person to request “a king.” Samuel ended up anointing the first two kings, Saul and David.
Preceding the nation’s transition from priests to kings, Shiloh was destroyed, burned, and the ark was captured. The devastation was legendary. Just over twenty years ago a layer of ash, the remains of that ancient fire was found at Tel Shiloh by a team of academic archeologists. It confirmed the destruction as described in the Bible.
Three thousand years after that destruction, we have returned.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
*It is traditional to end the pre-fast meal with a hard-boiled egg, like what is given to a mourner to eat immediately after the funeral.
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
Sunday, August 1, 2004
The Chain
Musings #62
July 26, 2004
The Chain
Yesterday I participated in the long chain of people stretching from The Temple Mount in the old, walled city of Jerusalem to Gush Katif. I stood with my friends and neighbors on the shoulder of a major Israeli highway. As far as I could see, in both directions, a colorful salad of people crowded together, spiced with lots of carrot-orange tee shirts and hats. This wasn’t a thinly, stretched out chain, people barely reaching the next closest. We were three, four, five thick frightening the police as we found ourselves spilling onto the road.
Ninety kilometers, sixty miles. That’s all the distance to Gush Katif from Jerusalem. Now is that far? Distance is one of the excuses given why we must abandon and destroy the Jewish communities of Gush Katif. In many parts of the world, such a distance is considered a reasonable commute to work.
Israel, even including all of Biblical Eretz Yisrael, is a very small country, but everything is here. You don’t have to travel far for a change in climate or topography. I remember our first winter in Shiloh, one rainy morning our daughter and her friends were waiting for the van to take them to school in Ofra, just 15 minutes south of us. It got later and later. There were no phones in our neighborhood; finally we managed to contact Ofra via a security communications device.
“Why hasn’t the van come to pick up the kids?”
“It can’t in this weather.”
“Why, not? Just a little rain.”
“What rain? There’s a snowstorm here!”
If you want warmer weather, just a couple of miles east is the Jordan Valley and completely different climate and color scheme. My husband and elder son went on a trip to Poland a few months ago; they couldn’t believe how boring the landscape was. The same topography and vegetation for hundreds of miles in all directions, nothing like home.
A number of years ago we had some very recent immigrants from Russia over for Shabbat. Friday night as we sat at the table, they looked out the window to the east and saw lights in the distance.
“What are those lights?” the old man asked?
“Some cities in Jordan,” my husband replied.
“Jordan, so close?”
“Don’t worry; it’s far, ten, maybe twenty kilometers.” My husband said reassuringly.
“In Russia, anything less than a thousand kilometers is considered close.” The old man explained.
Our whole country is smaller than what many international defense experts think is minimal for a security buffer zone.
Living in Shiloh, even just visiting, puts a very different perspective on everything. Shiloh is the center of the country. In a half hour or less, you can drive to Jerusalem or Petach Tikvah, much less to the Jordan Valley. When the media refer to “ merkaz ha’aretz” the “center of the Land” they’re actually referring to the coastal plain, which is the western strip, by the Mediterranean Sea, not any geographical center. It’s amazing how many people have no idea where Shiloh and other parts of YESHA are in relation to Tel Aviv, Beersheva and other major Israeli cities.
I have to admit that I was surprised that the chain from Jerusalem to Gush Katif was only ninety kilometers long. I had taken granted that it must be much, much more…at least a hundred and fifty. It was quite a lesson to me, too.
We have a very tiny country. Every inch, centimeter is precious. The Jewish pioneers in Gush Katif shouldn’t be ripped out of their homes. Their homes and businesses shouldn’t be destroyed. They’re no less Israeli than the kibbutzim in the Negev or the Galilee, or Tel Aviv or Rishon L’Tzion. We must be united to defend our right as Jews to all of our Land.
Our being here is part of a chain, the chain of Jewish history, from Avraham and Sarah, Moshe, Joshua, King David and thousands of years later to David Ben Gurion, Menachem Begin and all of us here today. Our links are strong; we’re not breaking.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
July 26, 2004
The Chain
Yesterday I participated in the long chain of people stretching from The Temple Mount in the old, walled city of Jerusalem to Gush Katif. I stood with my friends and neighbors on the shoulder of a major Israeli highway. As far as I could see, in both directions, a colorful salad of people crowded together, spiced with lots of carrot-orange tee shirts and hats. This wasn’t a thinly, stretched out chain, people barely reaching the next closest. We were three, four, five thick frightening the police as we found ourselves spilling onto the road.
Ninety kilometers, sixty miles. That’s all the distance to Gush Katif from Jerusalem. Now is that far? Distance is one of the excuses given why we must abandon and destroy the Jewish communities of Gush Katif. In many parts of the world, such a distance is considered a reasonable commute to work.
Israel, even including all of Biblical Eretz Yisrael, is a very small country, but everything is here. You don’t have to travel far for a change in climate or topography. I remember our first winter in Shiloh, one rainy morning our daughter and her friends were waiting for the van to take them to school in Ofra, just 15 minutes south of us. It got later and later. There were no phones in our neighborhood; finally we managed to contact Ofra via a security communications device.
“Why hasn’t the van come to pick up the kids?”
“It can’t in this weather.”
“Why, not? Just a little rain.”
“What rain? There’s a snowstorm here!”
If you want warmer weather, just a couple of miles east is the Jordan Valley and completely different climate and color scheme. My husband and elder son went on a trip to Poland a few months ago; they couldn’t believe how boring the landscape was. The same topography and vegetation for hundreds of miles in all directions, nothing like home.
A number of years ago we had some very recent immigrants from Russia over for Shabbat. Friday night as we sat at the table, they looked out the window to the east and saw lights in the distance.
“What are those lights?” the old man asked?
“Some cities in Jordan,” my husband replied.
“Jordan, so close?”
“Don’t worry; it’s far, ten, maybe twenty kilometers.” My husband said reassuringly.
“In Russia, anything less than a thousand kilometers is considered close.” The old man explained.
Our whole country is smaller than what many international defense experts think is minimal for a security buffer zone.
Living in Shiloh, even just visiting, puts a very different perspective on everything. Shiloh is the center of the country. In a half hour or less, you can drive to Jerusalem or Petach Tikvah, much less to the Jordan Valley. When the media refer to “ merkaz ha’aretz” the “center of the Land” they’re actually referring to the coastal plain, which is the western strip, by the Mediterranean Sea, not any geographical center. It’s amazing how many people have no idea where Shiloh and other parts of YESHA are in relation to Tel Aviv, Beersheva and other major Israeli cities.
I have to admit that I was surprised that the chain from Jerusalem to Gush Katif was only ninety kilometers long. I had taken granted that it must be much, much more…at least a hundred and fifty. It was quite a lesson to me, too.
We have a very tiny country. Every inch, centimeter is precious. The Jewish pioneers in Gush Katif shouldn’t be ripped out of their homes. Their homes and businesses shouldn’t be destroyed. They’re no less Israeli than the kibbutzim in the Negev or the Galilee, or Tel Aviv or Rishon L’Tzion. We must be united to defend our right as Jews to all of our Land.
Our being here is part of a chain, the chain of Jewish history, from Avraham and Sarah, Moshe, Joshua, King David and thousands of years later to David Ben Gurion, Menachem Begin and all of us here today. Our links are strong; we’re not breaking.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
Me, An Extremist?
Musings #61
July 21, 2004
Me, An Extremist?
Just yesterday, I saw an old friend, a frequent visitor to Israel, who claims to be proud of preserving friendships with people he doesn’t agree with, people whose politics is very different from his own. We carefully choreograph our conversations, tip-toeing over some topics, gracefully leaping over others and teasing each other like fencers who pretend that winning is effortless.
He always calls me an extremist and alleges that if I was to appear on a panel representing American Jews living in Israel, it would be hard to find enough people to balance my extreme opinions. I consider that a strange allegation, primarily because in reality I’m not an extremist. I would call myself a purist. I see things in clear, simple lines, like an engineer, not like the vague, indistinct dots of a Monet or Sisley painting.
Once I make a life-altering decision, I go forward and don’t look back. Once I understood that being Jewish and believing in G-d demanded following religious laws, mitzvot and halachot, I began doing my best to live in accordance. A natural, logical outgrowth was the realization that I must live in Israel, in the Land of Israel. All of the Land has equal importance, and the “green line” has none. For me, living in a place in which the Bible is set is most meaningful. Shiloh fits the bill.
As a religious, Torah, Orthodox Jew, I take my “orders” from G-d, not the US, UN or even Israeli politicians. It’s all very simple, though not quite simplistic. What confuses me, is that this very same old friend was so supportive and enthusiastic when he realized that I wanted to be religious, to keep Shabbat and kashrut. For me living in Eretz Yisrael is of the same importance. After just under forty years of living as a Torah Jew, I still can’t understand how some people can be so careful and conscientious about keeping Shabbat, kashrut, prayer, modesty, Taharat Hamishpacha, regular Torah learning and more, but they stubbornly stay in Chutz La’Aretz, far from Eretz Yisrael.
How does one pray three times a day to G-d, saying and comprehending the words, but refusing to live in our Land, G-d’s Land, which he gave to us and commanded us to live in? Most of the same people who taught me to follow the laws that G-d gave us live in Chutz La’Aretz. Everyone has their reasons, their excuses. Some friends feel eaten away by guilt, regret and longing that they’re not here, and that I can understand. Sometimes we lose control of our lives, and it’s very hard to grab the reins and lead ourselves in the direction we really want.
As I try to put a positive spin on what my old friend has said, I realize that it’s really a compliment. When he claims that it would be hard to find someone to counterbalance me, it’s not because I’m extreme or fanatic, it’s because, as a religious Jew, defending my life choices and positions is easier than defending his.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
July 21, 2004
Me, An Extremist?
Just yesterday, I saw an old friend, a frequent visitor to Israel, who claims to be proud of preserving friendships with people he doesn’t agree with, people whose politics is very different from his own. We carefully choreograph our conversations, tip-toeing over some topics, gracefully leaping over others and teasing each other like fencers who pretend that winning is effortless.
He always calls me an extremist and alleges that if I was to appear on a panel representing American Jews living in Israel, it would be hard to find enough people to balance my extreme opinions. I consider that a strange allegation, primarily because in reality I’m not an extremist. I would call myself a purist. I see things in clear, simple lines, like an engineer, not like the vague, indistinct dots of a Monet or Sisley painting.
Once I make a life-altering decision, I go forward and don’t look back. Once I understood that being Jewish and believing in G-d demanded following religious laws, mitzvot and halachot, I began doing my best to live in accordance. A natural, logical outgrowth was the realization that I must live in Israel, in the Land of Israel. All of the Land has equal importance, and the “green line” has none. For me, living in a place in which the Bible is set is most meaningful. Shiloh fits the bill.
As a religious, Torah, Orthodox Jew, I take my “orders” from G-d, not the US, UN or even Israeli politicians. It’s all very simple, though not quite simplistic. What confuses me, is that this very same old friend was so supportive and enthusiastic when he realized that I wanted to be religious, to keep Shabbat and kashrut. For me living in Eretz Yisrael is of the same importance. After just under forty years of living as a Torah Jew, I still can’t understand how some people can be so careful and conscientious about keeping Shabbat, kashrut, prayer, modesty, Taharat Hamishpacha, regular Torah learning and more, but they stubbornly stay in Chutz La’Aretz, far from Eretz Yisrael.
How does one pray three times a day to G-d, saying and comprehending the words, but refusing to live in our Land, G-d’s Land, which he gave to us and commanded us to live in? Most of the same people who taught me to follow the laws that G-d gave us live in Chutz La’Aretz. Everyone has their reasons, their excuses. Some friends feel eaten away by guilt, regret and longing that they’re not here, and that I can understand. Sometimes we lose control of our lives, and it’s very hard to grab the reins and lead ourselves in the direction we really want.
As I try to put a positive spin on what my old friend has said, I realize that it’s really a compliment. When he claims that it would be hard to find someone to counterbalance me, it’s not because I’m extreme or fanatic, it’s because, as a religious Jew, defending my life choices and positions is easier than defending his.
Batya Medad, Shiloh
Shilohmuse@yahoo.com
http://shilohmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.shilo.org.il
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