Praying for Rain

B”H

13 Tishre 5770

October 1, 2009

Dear Friends and Family,

This Yom Tov season marks our third in Eretz Yisrael. At the end of this third year, we will no longer be “olim chadashim,” new immigrants. Our benefits will be mostly over and we will be counted among the “vatikim,” or old-timers. They say that you are ready to be vatikim when you can help the olim chadashim become more settled. This summer we had the awesome opportunity to see 500 families make aliya and help just a few of them.

As we begin this third time around the cycle of Holidays here, we notice that we no longer have to make mistakes in order to figure out the nuances of what to do, and what to avoid at this time of year. Three times in Judaism means a “chazaka,” a strengthening, or an acceptance of the status quo. Our roots are taking hold and we do feel stronger. We are finally beginning to feel that life here is normal; we are feeling settled. And that in and of itself, is a bit unsettling.

It’s been a long time since we have had this settled feeling so it’s a strange one for us.

Six years ago we set/announced our aliya date and change became our constant buddy. Changes in ourselves and changes in others. After the initial flurry of excitement from our friends and premature requests for lift space, the weight of the decision altered the way we perceived just about everything.

We stopped buying anything we could not use up or bring to Israel. Dry clean clothing was no longer attractive, electronics would need adapters before their usefulness was up, decorative items were surplus, and useful items were ones that served more than one purpose. We hung on to our cars way past their prime. And we hung on to our dearest friends for their support and love as we felt ourselves move from the center of community life.

Our move from Breezy Lane involved divestiture of massive amounts of the familiar items from decades of our shared lives: dishes, plants, art, books, tools, toys, clothes, furniture, knick-knaks, memorabilia, private letters, notes, preschooler drawings and other treasures.

It was traumatic to rid ourselves of the perceived permanence of our lives. And that is exactly why feeling settled again feels so unsettling.

All those “things” we got rid of do not mean a thing when we look up at the crystal blue sky on a weekday morning or watch it turn a majestic sapphire as the Shabbos melts away at dusk. We feel very small, and yet because we sit on a bench in Jerusalem in the year 5770, somehow we also feel mightily significant in the eternal play of history.

It is not that we are living in the most disputed piece of real estate on the planet or that constant awareness of the hovering threat of our decimation by Iran. Most of us are more concerned that we will have rain this year. With good reason. We need an substantial rainy season that will put an end to the drought we are suffering.

Now that Sukkos is knocking at the door to our safe, protected homes, we’ll move out under that crystal sky. When we leave the sukkah, we’ll pray for the rain to fall at the most beneficial times. And in the most beneficial places. And in the most beneficial amounts.

Geshem, rain, means the physical world, the “things” that make us feel safe and secure. We need these things in order to eat, dress, sleep and live in dignity. But sometimes, when things fool us into believing the status quo will endure, it can be too much. Like too much rain, we drown in our stuff.

Last week the news, facebook and twitter-talk was all of ark-building, newly acquired basement swimming pools and impromptu dangerous dips in neighborhood creeks. There were terrible tragedies, too. Unsettling to say the least. Ruby arrived home on Wednesday via Atlanta and gave us a first hand report of the muddy roof-high water she saw flying over the city we called home for 30 years.

Now, our home in Jerusalem is a comfortable rented apartment with a few water problems that our landlords work diligently to protect us from. We recently signed our lease for a third year which again includes a “Moshiach Clause.” This means we’ll iy”H soon be reclaiming a Jewish home in the newly abandoned Muslim Quarter as the owners of our apartment will surely want to settle into their home as our people’s destiny unfolds here.

This clause keeps us from feeling fooled into believing the status quo will endure. And it keeps us aware that it’s not yet time for a Jew to feel settled.

I think living in a sukkah is a bit like living in Israel. Small space, delicious, simple foods, useful furniture, less dependence on material things and much, much more on the benevolence of Hashem. Like the sukkah, none of us will remain in our homes forever, but we can look forward to joining together in the great sukkah when our Moshiach Clause takes effect.

This year you can think of moving into your sukkah as a virtual aliya. Throughout the world, we Jews will all be in our sukkahs, but because we are one people--we’ll be together. And when we move back into our storm-worthy houses, please pray for rain. The good kind, the kind that will make us all able to come home soon.

Love,

David and Renee

...

12 Invitations

B”H

26 Sivan 5769
June 18, 2009

Dear Friends and Family,

It’s that time again, for the annual “12 to 12.” Nefesh B'Nefesh requested that every Oleh compose a list of 12 things we appreciate and love about living in Israel and email our message to 12 friends abroad. It’s a tikkun for the sin of the spies we read in Parsha Shelach. In the past, we sent out “12+1” and “12 to 120” and this year, “12 Invitations.” Let’s make an extra effort this week not to say anything that could possibly be construed as negative about the Land. (there’s a lot of Hebrew in this one, so I put a glossary at the end)

In Israel, we read parsha Shelach last Shabbos because your 2nd day Shavous was a “regular” Shabbos for us. Which of course brings me to one of the nicest things people tout for living here:

1) No 2-day Yom tov. I had no idea how special that could be until


we lived it. All the energy of the yom tov condensed and distilled into one 25-hour oasis, crystallizes the magnificence of the holy day.

And so it is with all the holidays-
2) The entire country regardless of custom or level of observance shares the chag. For secular Israelis Shavuos may be a day off --for basking in the sun, and for Chassidim a day on-- for dressing in the most regal of clothing and basking in the countenance of their Rebbe. For those in our realm, it’s like Shabbos with a different aroma. I don’t mean cheese and butter; there is richness to the very air. We hear singing all day in the Old City alleyways. The yeshivas are spending their last chag together; the boys hang on to every sweet morsel of the experience. The seminary girls who come to us in droves, B”H talk about all they learned and David and I comment on how they have matured into fine young women ready to begin a new generation of Kl’al Yisrael, b’esras Hashem. We bless them that the will return soon with their husbands and establish their homes here. (amen)


3) Tourist Season. The kids are mostly gone now, and every week in the summer months friends and acquaintances from Atlanta and kiruv group participants are booked for meals at our Shabbos table. It’s really something to look forward to as these visitors always energize us. They readily share their week of life changing experiences and insights over the meal. It’s delicious.


4) Days of simcha and days of mourning express themselves fully here. Beginning soon with the fast of the 17th of Tammuz, the Jerusalem air each day will feel emptier and emptier until by the 9th of Av there will seem be no air at all to breathe. The stones seem harder, the sun harsher, the loss even greater.

And then-- it is Shabbos Nachamu- last year at the Kotel on Shabbos Nachamu morning just after the Torah reading, I heard the voice of a frightened little boy. He pierced the cool morning air with a longing wail, “ aba-aba!” I turned to see the almost 3-year-old in his tiny vest and Shabbos pants, shiny shoes and un-cut hair tied into a flowing pony tail, looking utterly lost and alone. Just then, his mother scooped him into her arms and held him close until his sobbing subsided. And the haftorah began: Nachamu, nachamu ami----

5) Then, the country goes on vacation together and there is an astounding abundance of natural beauty to visit during the weeks of comfort called “chufsha, ” “bein hazmanim,” a.k.a., vacation. Israelis go to zimmers (cottages) in the cool mountains and valleys of the North, camping along the sapphire Mediterranean and on tiyuim (trips) to the craters in the sparse dessert or to lush wineries throughout the country, or on adventures like caving, rappelling, biking, rafting and hiking. Yeshivas close, run a less rigorous program and some move out of the city for a refreshing change of pace in preparation for Elul.

6) Elul is very, very serious here. Shiurim take on an urgent tone and pop up everywhere, every day, every night. We work in earnest to prepare for the awesome days soon upon us. Slichos begins at dawn for Sephardim and the shofar blows all morning throughout the Land. Buses to Rachel’s Tomb and Hevron are full, we give tzedeka to the collectors a bit more freely and we bite our tongue a bit more often. It’s also a sweet time. The kids are back. Israeli teachers fill the Kotel Elul mornings with hundreds of young students in identical pastel shirts and dark pleated skirts, or children capped in brightly colored kippot, wearing shorts and flying tzitzit. Yeshiva boys announce themselves in great song on Friday nights. Throughout the week, new American seminary students giggle in groups in the plaza in and shed sincere tears in solitary prayer at the wall.

7) Even the gashmius side of life here takes on a yom tov aura. In America, Labor day sales are emptying the stores of summer clothing, but in Israel we will wear white into October. Hat store windows display 17 different styles; only white in Elul. All along Jaffa Road you can buy flowing skirts and men’s three piece suits in pure white. Deep into usually “black” Geula, women shop for tailored outfits and children’s dresses as white as clouds.

And on the streets and in the malls and at the shuk you have no doubt that any yom tov is on her way. Sefarim stores fill their shelves with recent publications and reliable classics written to inspire deeper insights into the holiday at hand. Relevant machzorim pile on tables in front of the stores on crowded sidewalks. In Elul, honey bottles, bears and jars are everywhere. Tablecloths fly out the doors of linen shops. The silver stores clean their windows--just as we work to clean our souls, so their polished wares gleam in the sun.

8) Every Jew directs their prayer towards Israel and Jerusalem.
When the Awesome Days finally arrive, we find ourselves standing on the front lines of prayer. Do we feel fully worthy? Not at all. However, we know that we are backed by you, holy Jews around the globe begging for mercy, heeding the shofar, honoring the King, longing to come home.

9) The Yom Kippur fast ends early and the hammering begins…
Our fast is over somewhere around 6:30 and immediately after a light meal, we begin to hear hammer on nails, planks banging and metal bars clanging. Store fronts turn into lulav and esrog stands overnight, sidewalks and mall kiosks overflow with sukkah decorations and Simchas Torah flags. Before we know it we’ve moved outside for a week of delight in the cool fall air, sleeping near our snoring neighbors under a blanket of Jerusalem stars.

10) With the chill of winter comes donut season! Beginning on the 1st of Cheshvan, it lasts all the way until the 8th night of Chanukah. After that, you’ll rarely see (or want to see) another fried pastry until the next Cheshvan. During Chanukah schools get off early and work understands that you’ll be leaving by 3. Everyone, and I mean everyone, lights menorahs. We walk around different neighborhoods to enjoy the simple flames outside the doors or twinkling in the windows in every apartment on every story. Everywhere.

11) The almond trees blossom to announce that Tu b’Shevat is here-- and then on 1 Adar Purim “begins.” Kids pile off the buses in costume and hamentashen pop up in places which just a few months ago hawked varieties of doughnuts, and before that sold esrogim and lulavim. The Breslovers drive around in Adar with huge speakers attached to the roofs of cars with bungee cords. You just can’t help but smile and put a little bounce in your step when you hear their music and see their joy. This national simcha escalates for 2 weeks and then, the party begins! And for those who didn’t get enough to drink on Purim day-you can always head to Jerusalem for Shushan Purim. Now that’s a 2-day holiday many people go for!

12) Pesach: While it’s great that entire stores go kosher for Passover, it’s even better that any number of rabbis are available 24/7 for the multitude of shailas that come up several times each day. We love how once it is Chol Hamoed, everyone is finally relaxed and ready for the concerts each evening and fireworks after sunset. Every town and moshav has its festival, some with magicians, musicians or clowns or balloon sculptors, maybe art displays, special tours and tiyulim.

But I think the very best part of Pesach is that one pure Seder. The one that ends just like yours does: “Next year in Yerushalayim.”

So come home soon.

Love,
David & Rena

We are so excited IY”H to welcome our dear friends, Moshe, Caryn, Tova, Chaim, Yael, Shira, Shalom Tzvi and Gila Oberman as olim chadashim (new arrivals on aliya) next week! May they have only an ayin tova (see good) about the Land and may their yishuv (settling in) be easy.

Aba-father
b’esras Hashem, G-d willing
chag, yom tov-holiday
Chol Hamoed- interim days of Passover and Sukkos
Gashmius-material
Haftorah-a section of the Book of Prophets read after the Torah portion on Shabbos
Kiruv-outreach
Kl’al Yisrael-the Jewish people
Lulav, esrog, sukkah-used on the holiday of Sukkos
Machzorim-holiday prayer books
Moshav-village
Parsha-Torah portion
Sefarim-books
Sephardim-Jews of Middle Eastern and Spanish descent
Shiurim-Torah classes
Shabbos Nachamu-the Sabbath of comfort following our day of national mourning
Shailas-questions about Jewish law
Shushan Purim-the day Purim is observed in walled cities such as Jerusalem
Simcha-happiness
Simchas Torah-last day of Sukkos
Slichos-prayers of repentance
Tammuz, Av, Elul, Cheshvan, Shevat, Adar-Hebrew Months
Tikkun-rectification
Tzedeka-charity
Yeshiva-boys’ school ...

A Very Different Sukkos

B”H

Cheshvan 2, 5768
October 14, 2007

Dear Family and Friends,

By Friday afternoon, Isru Chag, our scach ws neatly rolled, the decorations boxed away until next year and the sukkah walls and poles stacked and wrapped in a corner of our same courtyard where they stood linked together, for one majestic week.

Our sukkah arrived on the lift with just about everything else we own. It’s one of those interlocking metal bar and canvas types that have been so popular for their ease. Easy to erect, easy to store. Each year, that sukkah that has given us headaches: first, the parts were not all there. Then, after a very rainy Sukkos, we decided the grass was too messy so the next year David designed and built a wood floor--rendering ease of erection and storage benefits meaningless. Ever try to store a 10’ x12’ floor? Another time, the main beam broke, pressured by the weight of rain from a sudden downpour that settled on the tarp we put up to protect the scach. Three years, three trials. Honestly, the girls and I simply dreaded the day each year one of us would have to help David with this chore.

But, we brought the sukkah anyway. Change of place, change of mazel—maybe. But I think this was not the same sukkah.. Same frame and fabric, same scach and decoration. However, it was an entirely different sukkah.

This year our sukkah went up with barely a glitch in an hour or two with the assistance of a helpful aish student from Australia whom we have handily adopted. Already we had a hint that something was different.

Then, we literally moved in: our coffee table which raises to dining height to seat eight for the meals, also lowers to create the ambiance of our living room with the addition of a couple of comfortable chairs. Lamps, the portable phone, a vase of flowers and it was home for the week.

We don’t worry too much about leaving furniture in the sukkah all week because we don’t expect rain here on Sukkos. There is a bit of emuna that goes into it, as for a few days we saw something strange in the sky: clouds. But they soon made way for the familiar endless sapphire mantle that thrills us each time we raise our eyes heavenward.

From the kitchen where I, like almost every other woman I know, spent most of the chag, I could see right in our sukkah’s door and feel connected to whatever was going in there. David ate there, learned there and brought the laptop out to surf a bit. Visitors stopped by our sukkah, because everyone we know is also enjoying the holiday. I took a break now and again for snacks and chats and cozy chol hamoed meals.

Each evening, David did something he has felt comfortable doing only once or twice in our 15 years of sukkah dwelling. He slept in the sukkah, among our snoring neighbors. Other than an occasional rousing to shush yeshiva bochurs hanging out on the quiet streets at 2 am, or to shoo away a cat trying to get into the courtyard, he slept peacefully under a blanket of Jerusalem stars.

This was certainly a different sukkah. And a different Sukkos.

Sukkos here is a holiday for the entire country. Many people simply close their stores all week. Yeshivos and schools let out, offices and government services give time off and the country goes into vacation mode. Families go on tiyul; nature hikes and zoo outings are most popular. Many take day trips to lovely towns like Tzefat or Zichron Yaakov, with its charming shops and marvelous view of the Mediterranean.

Jerusalem, of course, is one of the main attractions. And everyone who comes to Jerusalem, comes to our neighborhood. We had plenty of opportunities to play Old City ambassadors, exercising our pure bred Southern hospitality in a land hardly known for being genteel. Imagine us-two recent Georgia transplants, helping third-generation Israelis of every dress code navigate their way through our crowded streets toward the place they all wanted to go. The Kotel, the object of every Jew’s heart--whether they know it or not.

The Kotel is like Hashem’s “homing device,” drawing these souls to the center of His universe—home to our Father.

And home to our sukkos, where we intimately enjoy His closeness.

The air in the sukkah, hovering in the Clouds of Glory, always feels different. But it was more so for us this year. We wanted to be inside it every moment, under its shadow, under that blue, blue sky. It was as if the astounding clarity of Jerusalem’s air and light was distilled within those same canvas walls, the same walls we arduously assembled in each of the previous years.

Erecting and living in our sukkah this year was infinitely easier. Life here in many was is also easier. The future is still scattered with roadblocks and stumbling blocks. But there are bridges, too.

We have been traveling from Elul to Simchas Torah under the shadow of the Har haBayit--days and weeks saturated with mercy, elevated with encouragement and potent with opportunity. Linked together, they brought us over expanses we could not have traversed had Hashem not been drawing us closer.

To a different sukkah, a different Sukkos and a different us.

None of us are the same people as when we began this journey over 50 days ago. Now, what choice do we have?-- other than to kiss the sukkah walls and say good bye. And where do we go from here? Most certainly, each of us will be led in the way in which our heart yearns to go. May it be with bracha.

Come home soon.
Rena & David ...

Missed You on the Holidays

B”H

11 Tishre 5768
September 23, 2007

Dear Friends and Family,

It’s a beautiful evening and our windows are open to a sweet sounding symphony. We broke our Yom Kippur fast just two hours ago and already, we hear the sound of sukkah building: the clang of nails and bang of wood amid singing men, recently fed; and playing children, relieved of being so quiet all day--reverberating through the streets of the Rova tonight.

Yom Kippur began and ended early here, because the clocks were set back just after Rosh Hashanah to make the fast a little easier. And, since we “davened neitz,” the earliest time for prayer in which Shemona Esrei begins exactly at sunrise, we were leaving for shul this morning at 4:15, about the same time our friends in the States were arriving home after Kol Nidre!

For both Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah we prayed at Birchas HaTorah, a yeshiva here in the Old City. David saw his first Gemara there, and over the last 14 years we have developed a relationship with the kehilla, community. But it is not Beth Jacob. No Rabbi Deutsch’s sweet Shacharis, nor Rabbi Silverman’s soul stirring shofar. We missed Rabbi Yaakov Cohen, our sincere advocate, and his familiar tunes that uplift our davening and unite us in melody. And our yommim tovvim were incomplete without Rabbi Feldman, who knows his congregation so well and what we all can be; who provokes us and inspires us to “martyrdom moments,” to cross the line over who we were in order to be who Hashem designed us to be. Yes, we really missed all of that, and we really missed all of you.

But, Yeshivas Birchas HaTorah was not without its ability to move us. Rabbi Shimon Green’s focused talks, not really sermons, slice though fluff and push his talmidim, students, toward change. Each shmuz moved me deeper in prayer. Yesterday, just before Neila, the Rosh HaYeshiva said in order to move forward, we have to be willing to die. The axiom, “A coward dies a thousand deaths, and a hero but one,” Rabbi Green said, is backwards. A coward never lets go of who he is, as the Rabbi clung to his shtender and rattled and shook it as one who refuses to release a hold on something wrenching itself away. A coward will always cling to the old ways. A hero, he said, dies a thousand deaths in life; he wills the old self into oblivion, and is born to a new imperative each time. Our Neila, we said goodbye to the old self, and now anticipate, as new creations, whatever imperative the Almighty has in store.

Birchas HaTorah also gave us something familiar. Ron Wittenstein, of Huntsville, Atlanta and Har Nof leined the Torah so lucidly; every letter a precious diamond to him. Rabbi Green’s voice is familiar through his CD’s that have played a hundred times in our home, making his Musaf very personal. And Rabbi Shalom Gold blew the shofar, his imposing figure housing an angel’s heart which, I am sure, pierced the heavens and conspired to awaken the innermost crevices of our neshmos.

Rosh Hashanah morning also began at neitz. After services on the second day, we were treated to Kiddush (at 11 AM!) and a most rare occurrence; Rabbi Gold’s grandson’s bris. The unusual part is that Rabbi Gold was the mohel for both his son and now, his grandson. The Rabbi said he was more nervous for this baby than his own, but it went perfectly and he was deeply honored that Rabbi Nebenzahl, Rav of the Old City and his Rosh Yeshiva, Diaspora Yeshiva, Rabbi Goldstein, were in attendance among other Old City dignitaries. After the Kiddush where his Rebbetzin served well over 100 people, we went to their home for a seudas mitzvah where she served another 30-plus! The Golds radiated happiness and gratitude to the King of the World on this Rosh Hashanah, the day of the creation of man and the bris of their precious grandson in the holiest city; their simcha reflected in all of us who merited to be present with them on that day.

Rabbi Gold is Rosh HaYeshiva of Yeshivas Rabbi Akiva (http://www.rabbiakiva.com/). David is learning most days there, he says it is perfect place for him. It is for the “mature and motivated.” Now, that can mean many things. In this case, “mature” means an average age hovering around 63 and “motivated” means each talmid takes only one catnap per session! Most men are there and learning because of the miracle of modern medicine. David is one of the few who does not have a heart stent. Bli ayin hara, may he continue to hold that position. It is truly a wonderful place for those who only began learning well into life. They have just begun a Daf HaYomi shiur, one page a day for 7 years until the entire Talmud is learned in overview. And, since they were recently profiled in Mishpacha magazine, the yeshiva usually has a minyan for Mincha. Mature, motivated and growing. If you fit the profile, you are invited to join them!

Sukkos is coming and we are inviting guests from the new friends we are gradually getting to know here. We met several lovely couples through the yeshivas and some are neighbors. Although we miss our community in Toco Hills, especially on the holidays, I cannot tell you how thrilling it is to be in our new neighborhood, especially on the holidays! Never a day goes by that I do not turn a corner and see something that simply takes my breath away. Never a day goes by that we do not thank the One who invited us here to witness the great events He has in store.

Come home soon,
Moedim l’simcha!
Love, Renee and David ...