Hundreds of Miracles

B"H

Chanukah 5770
December 2009

Elul awakens us to the Yamim Norim with shofarot, Pesach has its cleaning frenzy then we count down to Shavout. Adar vivaciously announces Purim 14 days in advance. But Chanukah comes in softly. The first signs are the fluffy sufganiot, demurely appearing as the last lulav stands disappear. Tables full of round pillows, blanketed with white powder tempt us at the doorways of bakeries and sandwich shops. Even though I am a Krispy Kreme devotee, my mouth still waters a bit as I pass them by.

Soon enough, decorations follow. Hanging high on electric poles, identical menorahs lit in hundreds of orange bulbs line thoroughfares like Bar Ilan and Canfei Nesharim. Glittery globes and strings of light emerge around town; just enough to remind us that it’s the festival of lights but not enough to distract us from street vendors now selling bottles of essentials: assortments of wicks, oil and bowls for the lights. These are the necessary accessories that outfit homely plain menorahs which Israelis insert into glass boxes that stand outside just about every doorway in the Old City these Chanukah nights.

Except ours. We shunned the austerity of this approach and continued to light our beautiful silver menorah in a window which looks out into a private courtyard, no publicizing the miracle in that. So we had to contort ourselves to light in a tiny ill placed window with a street view in order to fulfill the mitzvah. Until this year, that is.

The transformation happened like this: Just after havdala on the 2nd night, singing and dancing broke out on a street nearby. I grabbed our guests and we ran up to see the sweetest sight. In front of of a three-family courtyard lit with a dozen or so menorahs, fathers and a myriad of little ones sang and danced in a circle, mothers nearby held babies, smiling as two of their yeshiva bachurs skipped around the corner and literally slid, coattails flying, into the circle. “MaOtzur” and other songs echoed in the chilly air of winding Old City streets, as some have the custom to remain outside and sing for a half hour as the flames flicker. Others gathered in warm homes to eat a melave malke of latkes and sour cream.

Still others from all over Israel have the custom to trek into the Old City of Jerusalem during Chanukah. The city supplies free guides to help navigate the confusing alleyways, but some rely on transplants from Atlanta to show them the way. They come in extended families: saftas with wrinkled skin that tells the story of generations in the Land, grand children in Gap jeans and fathers with bare heads wearing t-shirts despite the winter cold. Hundreds and hundreds come every night. They make a lot of noise, leave a lot of trash and we absolutely love them.

We smile and greet them warmly because we are genuinely happy they want to come here. Many Rova families set up tables and serve tea and cookies to the visitors. One woman invites 10 at a time into her home where she has set her dining room table with plates and places for her surprised guests. She gives them cake and talks with them--maybe about her life, maybe about the miracles that brought her to Jerusalem and the Rova. Some of her visitors return year after year.

We view their enchantment with the Rova as an open miracle. Most Israelis never even venture out of the Kotel plaza if they come to Jerusalem at all. Most don’t even know that the Rova is populated, let alone with hundreds of Jews in hundreds of families, let alone with religious people, with olim-- who are really nice.

Imagine their surprise when they ask directions of a resident wearing black and white who barely speaks Hebrew. Our guests want to know how to get to the Kotel, the restaurants, the Churva. They want to find Aish HaTorah’s rooftop Temple display where one can visualize, from this vantage-point overlooking the Temple mount, the Temple itself standing in its rightful place. They pass and gaze at the giant golden Menorah with 7 cups that waits impatiently on the Kotel stairs to assume its vital function in the Bais HaMikdash. All the while they seek out a simple pleasure, the glow of hundreds and hundreds of simple glass boxes holding a few bowls of light.

Now maybe you can understand why we got in a bus on Sunday afternoon to search out and buy one of the few remaining chanukia boxes and paraphernalia, hurrying to arrive home in time to light our own, just like the neighbors. Our chanukia is a little hard to find, we live under-ground and you have to be a bit of a scavenger hunter to find it. But I imagine the squeals of little Jewish children peering around the corner to see the unlikely light by our gate tonight.

I imagine too that it’s very unlikely we are even living here in the city of Yerushalayim behind that gate. And it’s also unlikely that Israeli tourists are drawn to our neighborhood to gaze into the flames of the menorah. Those lights, I am told, reveal miracles if we spend the time to look closely at them- and our lives. Then we begin to see that those things we call “unlikely” are actually the stuff of miracles.

Wishing you a Chanukah Sameyach~

Come home soon,
Renee and David ...

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 ...

Why Lori Palatnik Doesn't Live Here Anymore

Last summer an adorable Nevey Yerushalyim student from Kentucky spent a Shabbos with us here in the Old City. I cannot remember her name but I doubt I'll ever forget her story. Over the Friday night meal she told us that she was learning here because one evening she agreed to join her cousin at an Aish haTorah event. There she heard a speaker who provoked a question in this bright young woman. Could there be more to life than finishing college, graduating at the top of her class, and beginning a promising career? This question kept cycling through her mind. So, she made a bargain with herself. In the unlikely event that she could not land a position in her chosen field, well...she'd just go to Israel and learn there for a while.

You guessed it, after 32 resumes, countless follow up conversations and a only a few unmemorable interviews, she couldn't believe it, but she had not even the prospect of a job.

So, she kept that promise to herself and enrolled in a seminary in Israel. With tears in her eyes, the young woman told us how failing to land a job --in the field she had invested years of her life struggling for and working towards-- was the greatest kindness of Hashem. If she could only see Lori Palatnik, the speaker she held responsible for the bargain she made, and thank her....

Shabbos day our guest ventured out of the Old City to visit a relative in town. On the way back, she saw a familiar woman walk out of a hotel and head in her same direction, towards the ancient stone walls. First, she caught her breath; then she heard her own voice (as if it belonged to someone else she later told us), shaking but loud enough, say to the woman, "Excuse me, but are you Lori Palatnik?"

"Yes, I am," the woman replied and revealed her trademark, inviting smile.

Hashem, it seems, places His angels exactly where He needs them to be. This young woman and countless like her are why Lori Palatnik -and just a handful like her-needs to be in America today. Watch her 4 minute video as she so poignantly explains:


There are many legitimate reasons people cite for not living here in Israel. Most of these reasons do not involve mesiras nefesh, sacrifice, but Lori's reason certainly does. May she and her family redeem the merits they have most certainly accrued-and come home soon. ...

The Best Shabbos Ever

B”H

25 Tevet 5768
January 3, 2008

Dear Friends and Family,

Last Friday seemed like a typical frantic erev Shabbos in the winter when there is never enough day. I did not organize myself to cook efficiently on Thursday. To make matters worse, since I let my household chores slide so I that could enjoy the most wonderful visitors that we had here last week, the laundry competed for my attention when I needed to be in the kitchen. I was tired, and although I tried to pull myself out of the mire, I still sank deep into complaining mode. Unsuccessful were my efforts to censure the negative, worrisome thoughts that seeped in between the bright moments of anticipation for the relaxing and radiant Shabbos we had planned. Yet, the day sped on and finally the table was set, the house sparkling and an end was in sight. I just had to shower and dress, then I could sit for a bit before lighting the candles.

As I pulled the last two fragrant challos out of the oven and turned to put them on the counter to cool, I noticed a that a curious puddle of water was seeping into our entryway from under the door to our courtyard. “Uhhhh David, I think we have a problem.” David came into the room as the puddle spread itself past the staircase. All he had time to say before the mass of sludgy water lunged towards the kitchen was, “OH YES WE DO!” We rushed to open the door and find the source, where we saw that the drain, meant only to collect rainwater, was bubbling up raw sewage, and because of the construction of the entry, had only one way to go—inside our house!

You cannot even imagine how awful this was. We did not know when it would ever cease. I started grabbing towels to stop it from traveling down the hall into our bedroom. David grabbed a board to cover the drain and set a heavy piece of an old column (that we just happened to have lying around in our courtyard) on top of the board to hopefully keep the steady stinky flow in check. It sort of worked, but our house was still filling up like an overflowing toilet. I knew we needed a plumber but didn’t have the wits about me to make the call. I fled the house and ran to the door of a neighbor who had helped us out once before when we blew the electricity-also a couple of hours before Shabbos.

This neighbor, Yechezchel Cahan is gabbi at the Ramban Synagogue where David often goes to pray. He is a modest, serious and very kind man who is sort of the ambassador/mayor of the little street we live on. He knows everyone and their stories, not because he is nosy, but because he cares so much. Mr. Cahan’s English is not great, but it’s much better than my Hebrew. Since I was almost hysterical when he answered the door cellphone to his ear, he could not understand what in the world I was jabbering about. He briefly spoke in Hebrew to the person on the cellphone and then handed it to me with instructions that I tell the person on the other end what was wrong. I blurted that the sewer was overflowing into our home and we needed a plumber ASAP, then handed the cellphone back to Mr Cahan. “OK,” he calmly assured me after hearing from our translator, “I know what to do.”

I ran back to our apartment to find David squeegee-ing the mess out the door towards the drain, which by now had subsided in its overflow. It was a slow process, the stench was unbearable and we were so afraid it would start to back up again at any moment. Yechezchel Cahan came over and told us a plumber was on the way. Chezchi, as David calls him, spent quite an amount of time assuring me that this plumber was a good, honest, reliable man who had done a lot of work on his house, so I should not worry. At some point, I realized the reason he spent so much time praising the plumber, was that it was an Arab. After all, who else could come so close to Shabbos?

Within 20 minutes there was the plumber from Yericho and his young son working on the backup. Lo and behold, they had it cleared in about 15 minutes!

Now we had to contend with the clean up. We did not know when we’d be able to live in our house again, it seemed we’d have to call a professional cleaning company. It was an hour and a half until candle lighting; we were expecting 10 for dinner and another 10 for lunch, all out-of-towners who were counting on us to feed them. We had really been looking forward to these guests. Weeks ago, Dovid Solomon, an extraordinary tour guide and dear friend, asked us to host some of his tour group of American secular high school students. We love having kids like that here, kids who are getting their first taste of Shabbos and first exposure to the air of Yerushalyim. Ron, Yehuda Avraham, Max and Joel Ezoory were also joining us; Ron’s enthusiasm for Eretz Yisrael is always energizing. For lunch, I had been looking forward to visiting with Sydney Rubin Lewis, Rachael, Abby and Josh. Darling Fayge Grossblatt was coming with friends; I know they had to do some juggling to arrange to be with us for the meal. Where were they all going to go?

As David and I tried to decide what we should do about our guests, we poured disinfectant all over the floors, squeegee-ed it out the door and down the now accepting drain. Maybe we’d move the Friday night meal to our generous friends, the Millers’ since they offered. But lunch was going to be a problem. The Millers were having 12 men and yeshiva students and our ten would be just too much. Meanwhile, bad news from the plumber. He went into our neighbor’s courtyard and found their boor was about to overflow as well so he unclogged it. But the source of our clogs was a clog down the line. Way down, about 50 meters; and who knew exactly where, and who was responsible? Everyone (by now, several neighbors were heatedly discussing this, all in Hebrew, of course-and we had no clue...) decided it was the “Iriya’s” -the city’s-responsibility.

By this time the disinfectant bottle was empty, the windows were open and dehumidifiers at full blast. It was now an hour until candle lighting. The stench in the air was beginning to clear. I poured bottles of white and cider vinegar all over the floors, thinking that might help. We squeegeed it into every corner and crevice, and out the door into the drain.

The plumber left, convinced he could do nothing else. When David asked how much money he wanted, he gave the most unbelievable response: he said he could not charge us anything, not a shekel. He said since he did not fix the problem, he could not take money!! Mr. Cahan and David insisted he at least charge for his time and gas, and he only asked for 200 shekel, about $50.00. Amazing. A plumber comes in 20 minutes, works for an hour and refuses to take money.

Mr. Cahan called “the Iriya.” All of the drains in our line in the Old City were certainly going to back up in the next few hours, ours first, if they did not come to unclog the primary source of the problem. Would they come before Shabbos? David & I did not think that was probable.

Even after two liters of disinfectant and four liters of vinegar, we still felt we had to clean more. David said we should pour boiling water on the floors. So I boiled up some pots and made use of the kum-kum (hot pot). We poured many many bucketfuls of steaming water over every square centimeter of the floor, into every crevice, behind the washing machine, and under the refrigerator then squeegeed it out to the drain. Then we did it again. And again. I’d say we ended up kashering our floors about three times.

Still, we were worried that even with our boor and our neighbor’s also being clear, normal plumbing use could cause another overflow, so we resigned ourselves to the horror of a potential repeat, set up dams of towels and with less than an half an hour to Shabbos, we loaded our food into the bubby cart, grabbed some clothing and headed to the Millers. We did not know how we were going to host all our guests or where we were going to sleep, but we had to go into Shabbos b’simcha; that was the ONLY thing we were sure of.

At the Millers, we quickly showered (with lots of soap) and dressed. David ran out to minyan; in our rush he’d forgotten his hat, coat and siddur-and I ran upstairs just in time to light. A moment later we heard a knock at the door. It was Yechezchel Cahan on his way to mincha....with news that the Iriya had miraculously come and cleared the line!!

With trepidation I went home and peeked in the house. It had never sparkled more, it had never smelled cleaner. Our guests came to us after all, and never knew (until now) the utter chaos that had overrun our serene home just a few hours earlier.

That Shabbos turned out to be the best Shabbos ever.

In the city of Jerusalem it is clear that nothing happens without a reason. There is always something to learn from any “random” happenstance. What did I learn?

I cannot know the ways of Hashem, but certainly, He sent this as a test. I think we passed. We thanked Hashem as we poured disinfectant, vinegar, boiling water and squeegee-ed it all away. We said, “I’m so glad this did not happen last week,” (when our guests arrived at 2:00 PM to spend all of Shabbos with us). “It’s a good thing this did not happen when we were sleeping at night, or out for an hour, or away on a trip.” “What bracha that there was a squeegee we could borrow.” “The chesed of Hashem to have placed such a kind Yechezchel Cahan available to help on an erev Shabbos --and on the phone with an English speaker at the very moment I knocked on his door.” And more: how did I happen to purchase, during our first week here, a disinfectant that smelled so bad I almost threw it away several times, but thought...you never know? How did I make a mistake and end up with four bottles of vinegar-all of which we used on the floor? Who would have thought that an Arab and the Iriya would expend such effort? After all, neither are known for their willingness to help a few swamped Shabbos loving Jews.

As David & I worked together to rid our home of the grossest kind of physical impurity, I thought about the spiritual impurity I brought into our home that day. Instead of asking Hashem to carry my worries, I sank deeper into them. I allowed negative thoughts to bubble into my day and did not ask for the koach, the strength, to fight them. I complained under my breath—so that only Hashem could hear-- and did not praise Him: the One Who invited us to live here in Yerushalayim and be His neighbors, so near to His holy home. I did not have simcha, even though I certainly have every reason to overflow with it.

As I finish this letter, it is again a Thursday night, and I still have much to do to get ready. So I’d better go, because I have to prepare my home, and my thoughts, for the next best Shabbos ever.

Come Home Soon,
Rena & David ...

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 ...

7 Shvut, it's Home

B”H

25 Tammuz, 5767
July 11, 2007

Dear Family and Friends,

Finally, after 6 1/2 weeks of living out of suitcases and 7 different places to unpack them: one hotel, 5 gracious hosts in 5 different cities, and a clean and simple studio apartment for 10 days of the journey and long wait; finally... the lift arrived. The lift. That is the 20’ container and a few extra feet of palettes with almost all of our earthly belongings. On May 3 the items left our apartment in Atlanta and arrived completely intact in the Old City of Jerusalem on June 18. A miracle.

Lots of people have asked in detail about the logistics and pitfalls of this operation. So, I thought that is what I’d devote this update to. Maybe its a dry subject, but so many of you want to know...

The honest truth is that we expected disaster at every turn, but only had to endure some high stress moments and were surprised by a few miracles.

How did you choose a shipper?
Back in March, I started combing the Nefesh b’Nefesh yahoogroup for shipping agent recommendations. I made a chart, a pro and con list and decided to contact two agents. My first choice got back to me, but the second, even after I tried again, never called. Mike from .... Movers showed up exactly on time to give me an estimate. It seemed reasonable, given the vast amounts of information I’d culled. This undertaking of shipping precious items 7000 miles is awesome for one who does not do this everyday, and Mike was patient, thorough and confident. He explained that there are four companies involved it the project (in other words, making money off our move):
1-the moving company in Atlanta who are responsible for packing to take up the least amount of container space and getting the shipment to the port.
2-the shipping line who oversees everything from port to port
3-the movers in Israel who pick up the goods from the port, deliver and reassemble in our apartment in Israel
4-All this is coordinated by the shipping agent. The shipping agent gathers all the information, what is going, where it is picked up, decides which shipping line, which moving companies, coordinates insurance, and covers of all the logistics including customs -as they act as our agent at the port. We could also purchase 220v appliances through them in the U.S., have them placed on the lift and delivered to our apartment with our shipment. Our shipper’s office is in the Talpiot neighborhood of Jerusalem.

Is it better to buy appliances and furniture in the U.S. Or purchase it in Israel?
Honestly, I don’t know. We bought our refrigerator through the shipper because, after doing the math, it seemed like a wash and we wanted to have a fridge up and running the day we moved in. We purchased a dryer here in Israel because we did not know if the washer in the apartment was working and wanted to get the w/d at the same time if we had to. The washer is fine. I thought the dryer was a little pricey for a basic appliance, but it works great, the delivery guys were delightfully funny and prompt.

Did you hire packers or pack yourself? Why?
We packed all the unbreakable items, but the insurance would not cover any breakables that we packed. In addition to the estimate Mike gave me, we had to pay an extra $450 for which 4 women spent 8 hours and reams upon reams of newsprint packing our few precious heirlooms and many inexpensive drinking glasses in sturdy boxes.

Were you happy with your movers?
We were very happy with the crew that Peachtree Movers sent. They arrived at 8 am and by 11 pm, all of our furniture was dismantled and well wrapped, catalogued and numbered. We had about 160 boxes. Mike thought we’d fill a 20’ container and then some, he was right but I think it was quite a bit more than just “some.” The 20’ container costs about $7,000 and the “then some” 1.65 per cubic foot door to door.

That night, exhausted beyond belief, we bid goodbye to the crew, followed them across LaVista and down Sheffield. Ever so slowly and gently they drove, even over the speed bumps on Sheffield, giving us great security that our home would be in good hands, at least until the port.

The next day we had to deal with insuring all that stuff. It’s kind of a cart before the horse proposition. We had to list everything in all those boxes and every item of furniture with an estimated value customs and a replacement value for insurance with corresponding box numbers. We did not want to insure everything (i.e. boxes of office supplies, the kids’ stuffed animals and ceramics they made at camp) How do you list the box number before it is packed? This was a quandary because the shipping agent wanted the list before the movers took the load. I worked on it all moving day and got it in the next morning. Insurance costs 2% of covered items. In our case, $1500 that was not in the original estimate.

I should add here, that we were also charged an extra fee because the movers could not bring a container into the apartment complex. This meant they had to unload the truck they brought to us onto the container, entailing an extra move. I am not sure how much that was, because we were also charged a great amount because they could not bring a container into the Jewish Quarter to deliver. The total was another $1830 that was not in the original estimate.

That original estimate was beginning to seem not so reasonable.

Now begins the Suitcase Era. Or Eon. It was nice to be with our gracious hosts and we are just so grateful for their kindness and hospitality. But living in other peoples’ homes, our life in 6 oversized suitcases competing with us for space in guest rooms, became tiresome. And confusing. What bag was that skirt, important file, medicine, shoe in? Plus, I was really lonely for the familiar. Thank G-d for VOIP. The ability to make a “local call” during that time to continue keeping in touch with family and friends was more than miraculous to me. It was my lifeline.

What is VOIP, how does it work, how do you get it and does it really work?
Voice Over Internet Protocol works by connecting a box from the VOIP provider to any analog phone. We signed up with Broadvoice before we left. They sent the box to our address in Atlanta and we brought it to Israel. Our first day here, it was up and running. I spent several hours on the phone that day, I missed my friends so much! It usually sounds very clear, however, sometimes the call drops and sometimes it sounds garbled, but most of the time, it sounds like we are next door.

How did you find an apartment?
I am told that it was a miracle. We wanted to live in the Old City, so I contacted everyone I knew here, posted on yahoogroups for the Rova and yeshivot in the Rova, flathunting.com, luach.com and jangalo.com. I also emailed every agent I could find who had properties here. But it really was a miracle. One day, I saw the almost perfect place posted on luach.com. I talked to the agent, David “happened” to be here that week, took a look and knew it was for us. It has three bedrooms and a storage room, nice courtyard, a/c, renovated kitchen and bath...but only one bath. It has some problems, but that’s what’s nice about renting. They aren’t our problems. Number 7 Shvut is in a convenient, quiet part of the Rova and we really like it. Hope to have you as visitors soon!

Now comes the fun.

What happens when the ship arrives?
We were given an ETA of June 5 for the Zim Shangahi v17 to arrive at Ashdod. On June 4, I called the shipping agent to see that everything was in order. On June 6, they called needing documents -which we had already sent- and a signature on a document –which we had never received. And they needed it...yesterday, of course. The ship was not due in now until the 10th so we had time, but we still had to act fast.

June 7. Our documents did not arrive via the emails we sent yesterday to the shipping agent. We drop everything and take a cab with the documents they need to Talpiot where the shipping agent has an office in what was designed to be his living room. He had two employees there and at some point his daughter walked in from school. With a quick kiss for her dad she kicked off her little lavender crocs and crossed the office to go home. Very cute. The agent took a lot of time to quell David’s concerns. When will the move happen? Where is the truck parking? How are they going to deliver from there? What about the narrow stairway to our apartment? And did he mention the 90 degree turn in this narrow stairway? The shipper also expressed a concern. How are you going to make the final payment? Due before the move. Well, ok.

June 8: We took the cash to the shipper’s bank. It was open. (not always a given here) We stood in line a long time, got a teller who spoke no English, but we had the account number written down. She took the money, then surprisingly asked for more. The bank charged us 28 shekels for making a deposit!

June 9: Shabbos kodesh in Jerusalem. We have not a care in the world today.

June 10: no word.

June 11 Shipper: Where is the customs document? I need it NOW.
Us: We mailed it as per your instruction.
Shipper: We never got it. Who told you to mail it! I have to have it to get your lift released.
Us: Why didn’t you say something on Thursday?
We drop everything and cab it back to Talpiot. Sign the document.

June 12 Bad news. One in every 15 shipments is “randomly selected” by customs for a thorough examination. We are lucky number 15. We get to pay an extra $500 for this privilege.

June 13: We cleared customs without any taxes to pay. Now that, my friends is a true miracle. Not that we had anything to claim, but we have heard stories. Customs could have made us pay just about anything they wanted to charge us. They had all our money and all our stuff.

Now we hear our move will take place on Monday. But... there are more fees we have to pay. It seems there is a “congestion charge.” The day the ship arrived, the port was congested. It took more time to unload, and we get to pay for their inconvenience.

And um, also. There is a storage fee. It seems the ship really did arrive on the ETA of June 5 and not the 10, as we were told. And since we did not have our documents in...which we had mailed/emailed...which the shipping agent say did not arrive...we get to pay the rental on the storage for two weeks. Two weeks. We could have had our lift two weeks earlier and now we get to pay because no one told us it was here. See what fun? At least, after some tense haggling, the shipping agent agreed to split that charge with us.

June 14: Back to the bank to pay for the privilege of selection, congestion and storage in Israel. Another miracle, it was open again, and we were not charged for this deposit.

June 18: Moving day was sort of anticlimactic. It went without much of a hitch. We had to cajole the movers a bit to get the furniture into the proper rooms. There was a hamsin that week. So So HOT. Even the breeze was hot. The couch did not fit down the stairs, and the movers, hearing we were going to store it in a friend’s machsan, storage room, in Ramat Beit Shemesh, elected to leave about 20 of our boxes on the moving van rather than schlepping another load or two to our apartment. It was infinitely easier for them to pull the truck up to the machsan, unload the couch and “oops” look what we forgot. Now we have to figure out a way to get those boxes here ourselves.

June 19, 20, 21: I spent all day unpacking. Every box held a treasure. I have dreamed for so long of unpacking our belongings here, that I found myself savoring this chore. Each carefully wrapped heirloom and inexpensive drinking glass felt like a gift from Hashem- created, chosen and delivered especially for our home in Jerusalem.

June 22: Shabbat, our first night in our home in Yerushalyim. Now this is what I really call a miracle.

July 11: We’ve been here ar Sheva Shvut for about 2 1/2 weeks. We are developing a rhythm to our days again and learning how negotiate the necessities of life. Almost everything we need can be delivered to the Rova. I take the bus to the grocer, the butcher, the dry cleaners and they deliver for a few shekels. Fresh juice is dropped off once a week. And one of the highlights of my week is going to Machane Yehuda with my agala (cart) on Thursday morning to buy fresh produce and pastries for Shabbat. The summer visitors are dropping by, some for a short visit and a glass of lemonade, some for a liesurly summer meal. We truly hope you will be among them.

Come Home Soon,
Love,
Renee and David ...