The Spies Among Us say: "The Land is very, very good."

BS"D

Erev Shabbat Parsha Shelach Lecha 5770
June 3. 2010

Last week we asked you to spy out the Land and return with a good report. (here's that post) I am happy to say the vote this time is united: The Land is indeed very, very good! You can still send us the results of your intelligence; we'll be happy to include it.

Now...for the Spies' Report:


When I think of Israel, I am reminded of so many friends who had the courage to pick up everything and leave the familiar surrounding of America and go home to a place that really feels like home...The common thread all these friends share, aside from living in Israel, is that they are content. When [one dear friend] moved, she was 100% confident that she would love her home - not just her house, but her home. When I speak with her now, she agrees that she is content. There is no other place she'd rather be.

I echo the sentiments of those who feel a connection to the earth of the Eretz. It is holy dirt, earth that our ancestors trod, dust that covers my shoes covered their shoes. The pride and unconditional love I feel for the land comes from knowing I carry on a tradition handed down from HaKadosh Baruch Hu to us, his children, to visit historical places in Jewish history, unearth Jewish antiquities and preserve them and keep His Torah alive. You cannot do all this anywhere else but Israel.

Here's my 12 reasons to love Israel:

1. What a pleasure it is to be majority religion.
2. What a pleasure it is for things to close down Friday afternoon and reopen Sunday morning, not Sunday at 12.
3. What a pleasure for place of business to be open Christmas day and be closed on Rosh Hashana.
4. What a pleasure it is be able to eat in any restaurant because the food is kosher.
5. What a pleasure it is to find so many hat shops!
6. What a pleasure it is to find modest clothing in women's clothing stores.
7. What a pleasure it is to be able to find a small shteibel on virtually every corner.
8. What a pleasure it is to see all walks of women (orthodox and non-orthodox) using the same mikvah.
9. What a pleasure it is to touch the smooth stones of the Kotel, knowing the tens of thousands of fingers have touched them for the same reasons you touch them - to get a millimeter closer to HaShem.
10. What a pleasure it is to feel so safe and protected in a place where many would argue is extremely unsafe.
11. What a pleasure it is to hear your neighbors singing the same Shabbos songs you're singing, every single week.
12. What pleasure I take in knowing that one day, Please G-d, I, too, will be able to live in Israel.

Love,
Pam

----

What a wonderful thought. Here is my list.
1) I find inner peace when I am in Israel and it gives me strength to
return to my life here in Canada to enjoy my friends and family.

2) I now have relatives living in Israel.

Regards
Marsha Krakowsky

---

I loved feeling that, no matter where I went in Israel, I felt I belonged, that I was home.
Judy

---

Hi, what a great idea! I can think of lots of things I loved about being in Israel. . .

I loved feeling like every minute I was accomplishing something, just because I was in Israel. If I rode the bus, it was major, just because I was in Israel. If I went to the grocery store, it was a big deal, just because I was in Israel. Nothing I could do felt like a waste of time.

And, of course I loved the sharing of taxis. Two people standing somewhere, maybe you were going in the same direction? From taxi rides, I received Shabbos invites and made new friends. I tried this in New York once. . . just didn’t' have the same feel.

Oh yes, and even the most secular of Israelis believes in G-d. “Baruch Hashem,” you hear people saying. Here, in America, it often feels like we intellectually believe in G-d, but we don't really. We don't feel it. We just rationalized it/justified it/logic-ed it out. But there -- you FEEL G-d.

There is a sense that we are all one big family, that G-d is with us, and there is meaning to every minute of our lives. Not a day passes that I don't think of moving back. . .

---

-Every family needs a home, and living in Eretz Yisroel is living in our family's true home.
-Every few steps we walk we are fulfilling the Mitzvah of Sechar Halicha
-Being around other Jews, you always have someone to learn from
-The history of our people is around every corner here
-The land is beautiful and Jerusalem in particular is Yafefiah - very beautiful.

---

Walking through the Machane Yehuda shuk you have a plethora of delicious fruits and vegetables, most were grown keeping laws of Truma, Maaser, Orlah, and Shmittah, that can only be done here!!!

On Shavuos, regardless of cultural differences, 100's of 1000's of Jews gather at the Kotel, where Hashem's Shechina is most revealed, and daven together.

When you donate blood here, you are giving directly to your brother.

The bus driver says, "Shalom."

You can buy food for years at the local grocery without having to pay your bill; isn't that a ridiculously high level of trust?

When you take a loan from the bank, they provide the Heter Iska! (a halachic contract for business transaction between lender and debtor)

There are no cars on the highway on Yom Kippur, so the very secular make bike races on that day - because even they won't drive a car on Yom Kippur!

---

From Faith Cohen
I always say that my role as madrica on these Birthright trips is just a facilitator. The real tour guide is the Almighty— and the land really inspires, captivates and leads the group. My job is to bring them safely to different locations, and let the majesty of the land and the kedusha of the air take over.

1. A silent night stroll in the desert under the stars creates a noise that is as loud as thunder when it reverberates with the soul. During the "Bedouin Experience" portion of the trips, we take the group for a quiet walk through the desert. It is on these walks and afterwards through reflection that participants realize that they are an integral part of the Jewish people. They look at the numerous stars in the sky, and learn that they too are a link and a part of the promise given to Avraham Avinu. Perhaps they would feel this anywhere in the world when faced with a sky lit up as bright as day with hundreds of sparkling stars, but when paired with the experience of meeting our homeland and learning about our heritage, and tracing the footsteps of our ancestors, they are awoken in a way that is indescribable.

2. Meeting a soldier who is your age, and realizing that you have more in common than you thought. "Mifgashim" is a part of the Birthright trips— where soldiers come to join the group as participants. Often, the American participants think they'll have nothing in common with the soldiers. That is until they meet them and realize that these soldiers are their age, their peer group, and support the weight of the state of Israel on their shoulders. The amount of love and support shown to the soldiers by the end of the trip is awesome. They become a part of the group, and the participants can really see and feel that these individuals are sacrificing not just for Jews in Israel, but for all of klal yisroel.

3. Seeing the Kotel for the first time, and crying even through you don't know why. There is something about Yerushalyim, and the Kotel in particular that really strikes a chord inside someone's soul. When I see those tears, I know that it is coming from deep within them— and something subconsciously draws them to the wall. There really is no other way to describe it. Ultimately, their neshamos are a part of something much larger, and just that atmosphere of kedusha at the Kotel brings them back to that realization.

---

I miss "crying" as an acceptable social activity. If you go to Kotel, kever Rachel, any of the graves of tzadikim, it's perfectly acceptable -- praiseworthy -- to cry out in pain, anguish, need of a refuah! In America, life must always be perfect -- "have a nice day" is a platitude that no one really means, and if anyone asks, "how are you" they really don't care. If I wanted hang out with a girlfriend and of these locales, where we would inevitably end up crying, would be an activity. A meaningful, worthwhile activity.

And, I miss feeling like you can get on a bus, and know "generally' where you're going, with full faith that someone on the bus will help you find exactly where you need to be. And where hitchhiking is an acceptable -- and safe -- form of transportation.

And of course the Kotel. Not just for the crying. But the feeling like there really is a center of the universe.
The positive aspects of this land are to numerous to even try to list. The sky is bluer, the air fresher, sweeter, the food tastier the people more real and alive. The day-to-day existence is so filled with reality that one comes to understand what is real and meaningful, and it’s not what you'd expect.

---

1. To be able to daven at the Kosel
2. To be among our own people, everywhere i.e. shopping, buses, just walking around
3. The siren on Erev Shabbos- no cars on Shabbos in the old city
4. To be able to daven at so many mekomos hakedoshim
5. To be in the land Hashem promised us

---

I never lived in Israel, but have dreamed about it since my 1st visit in 1968. My second visit was in 1988 and I felt my heart sink seeing the Old City for the first time in 20 years, realizing I wasn’t a part of the rebuilding by living there. So, in my 8 subsequent visits, I’ve only imagined what it would be like to live every day in Eretz Yisrael.

Here’s what I think the best part of living in Israel would be: I would feel a sense of gratitude every day for where I live instead of a deep seated longing that goes unfulfilled. I would breathe the holy air of the holy land every day. Remember that Hashem made each of us in His holy Image to choose wisely what we do with our lives and where we spend our time.

That’s my 2 cents for today.

Judi Kirk

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The best for me is that everyone is Jewish and you don't feel different. Although my relatives there are 2nd and 3rd cousins, they feel much closer. We feel like one of them. Once I was very sick in Israel and wound up in the old hospital in Safed. Although scared, I felt that I was in good hands. When my doctor came in with a Kippah, I felt safe and it would be okay. The best is that feeling of being home.

---

Thanks for the invitation to contribute. Some things quickly came to mind. You should not attribute me: I do not wish to blow my cover since I may wish to spy for you in the future, too.
1) Living as an observant Jew in a pastoral setting (small town, village, farming community)
2) Being able to observe shmitta in all its manifestations
3) Living among Jews of all stripes and flavors, within a generation or two of arrival from >100 countries
4) Walking where my ancestors walked thousands of years ago
5) That radio program discussing this week's haftora, immediately following a pop hit by Lady GaGa... and targeted the same audience
6) The group (somewhat immodestly dressed) teens in a food court during Pesach, squinting as they read a ketchup package to see if it contained chometz
7) Not having to explain why you feel as you do....
8) Is it reishit tzmichat geulateinu (the first flowering of our Redemption) or not? Even if we do not know, living in Israel surely can’t hurt...

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I've only been to Israel twice in my life: once when I was 18 with my parents and siblings, and right before I met my bashert; and the other time with my bashert and our four sons. I was conservative observant at age 18, and more orthodox observant when I went to Israel the second time. Both times, I had the same feelings when we arrived in Israel and when we left Israel. I was overcome with joy of returning home, and overcome with sadness of leaving Israel, our true home. A friend of ours calls Israel the "heart of the world.” It tears at our heartstrings when we are away from it.

Pam Williams

---

Thank you for this wonderful challenge - wonderful to think about all the things I love about living in Israel; challenging, because I have to pick and choose the one(s) most appropriate for this project. Feel free to visit my blog and take anything you like out of there. Here's my attempt at summing it all up:

Living in Israel means living MY calendar. My holidays are the country's holidays. My days off from work are my employer's days off from work, etc. This weekend is Memorial Day here in the U.S. It means little more to me than a bar-b-q. Ditto for Independence Day (July 4). New Year's Day (January 1) is when I start dating my checks with a new digit or two at the end. In Israel, I cry on Memorial Day, jump for joy on Independence Day and on Rosh Hashanah I stand before the King of Kings "ba'Makome asher yivchar" (in the place that He has chosen). Take me Home!

Yashar Koach on throwing the ball in our court, Rena. Can't wait to see what you compile.

Love, S.
http://www.rememberjerusalem.blogspot.com/

---

SO here are 12 things I love
1-The children are very self reliant on the one hand, and maintain their childishness too
2-The school and work calendar is built around the Jewish calendar -- no need to take vacation days for chaggim
3-Fresh bread is dropped off outside the local store in the morning, if the store is not yet open; I can take a loaf of bread and pay for it later
4-We are all family -- a deliveryman can yell you at one moment and be giving you brachot the next
5-Buying tzitzit and bedikat cloths at the grocery store
6-On erev Shabbat and erev Chag, the streets are lined with vendors selling flowers and fruit for Shabbat
7-The grocery clerks wishes you a Shabbat shalom and chag sameach
8-The tent in the parking lot sells Purim costumes
9-The pool has separate hours for men and women
10-It's more common to find big families in small homes than small families in big homes
11-Yom Hazikaron is truly a day to remember those that paid the ultimate sacrifice for this land
12-You can travel a short distance and be in a place relevant to Tanach
c

---

For us, now being back in America, we can see that during our time in Israel, although there were the gashmius "difficulties" and "adjustments" the spiritual clarity and day-to-day ruchnius was ever-present.

Of course now in America, and worldwide, most people are experiencing the gashmius "difficulties" and "adjustments" AND are TOTALLY lacking spiritual clarity and daily, or even monthly, ruchnius. So I guess that makes a very strong case for where we need to be...

Jennifer

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Shopping in Machane Yehuda Thursday nights and Friday mornings to
prepare for Shabbos. it is great fun buying rugelach, salads, and
cheeses with thousands of other Jews, while eating a falafel and
shlepping all of your bags.

Celebrating Purim all week long. The stores are all loaded with silly
costumes, and shaloch manos baskets galore. The streets are filled with
happy children dressed up in costumes singing age-old Purim songs. the
joy lasts for days even when the parade is over.

Living in the old city and celebrating Yom Yerushalim with loads of other Jews while listening to a concert and watching fireworks.

Going cherry picking on a local kibbutz and being able to learn how to take your own truma and maaser on your fresh picked cherries.

Staying up all night on Shavuos hopping from one class to another, or one cheesecake party to another and meeting thousands of other Jews down at the Kotel for sunrise Shacharis.

Watching the yeshiva HaKotel boys dance and sing their way down to the Kotel for Kabbalat Shabbat.

This is a small sampling from josh and Jodi

---
& here's a final note from an insightful woman in America who, like many of you, is strengthening K'lal Yisrael in her own special way:

Things could change. At this time in our life, I feel we will be better off here (we are very blessed in so many ways).

As I walk in the neighborhood I say Berachas for all the people I see and all the homes we pass. Does I help them? I do not know but it helps me.

We are grateful you and David are happy living there and my constant prayer is for a political change, for a better world absorbed in study of Torah.

---

Well, I am crying, how about you??

Reading your reports really made me think about what it will take for everyone to see how amazingly good the Land is. Besides seeing the good and speak positively, I wonder... if we are also being negative (sad, complaining, jealous), are we dulling the good we've put out there? For example, I just don't understand when I hear my fellow olim say, "It's too hot to...(fill in the blank)," "I can't find decent mustard (...soy sauce, dry cleaners...) anywhere in this country," or " What's with all the sick cats?"

The sin of the spies was one of Loshen Hara, hearing and believing slander, true or not. We correct that damaging trait with an "ayin tova" focusing on the good in The Land of Israel.

B"H it's hot, that means fields and fields of sunflowers! The mustard is just fine here, maybe having 17 choices is not so important, anyway. And remember, you can now find decent tunafish and Heinz ketchup pretty much about anywhere. About the cats...we have virtually no rats, case closed.

And it's not only the Land, as our final spy reported. It's even more important, I think, when it comes to each other. Let's not talk about "them" : the groups of Jews we don't "get.” Let's not be distracted by our friend's/family member's/co-worker's shortcomings; we all have them, after all. Let's see the tzelem Elokim (the G-dliness) in every Jew!

With our "ayin tova" we can eradicate Loshen Hara and truly build each other up. Then we might actually see a K'lal Yisrael settled in Eretz Yisrael the way it's supposed to be, because Eretz Yisrael will only flourish with her People.

Thank you, all you spies among us. Like Calev and Yehoshua, the two spies who returned to the Land in the merit of their positive report, we hope that you continue seeing everything with your ayin tova and may Hashem bless you all to come home soon.

Love,
Renee and David


~Baruch haBah to our newest olim from Atlanta, Rabbi Kalman and Mrs. Malka Rosenbaum, who instilled in our children, and in everyone they meet, that each of us is a tzelem Elokim. Your arrival touches us all, may we merit to hear bsoros tovos together soon.~


...

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 ...

Birkat haChama in Yerushalayim

BS”D

Erev Pesach 5769

The excitement built all day yesterday in Jerusalem...”where will you be tomorrow?” “do you know of a good rooftop?” “ I heard Rabbi Eliyashav, shilta, will be at the Kotel.” “ 28 years ago I was.../I heard.../I couldn’t imagine ever being this old....” “What time are you getting up?” “I hope it won’t be cloudy.”

Birchat haChama. It brought a smile of anticipation and gratitude to all our faces.

Late last night kids began arriving at our apartment to sleep so that they could get up early and be at the Kotel for the first in their lifetime (and may there be several more) opportunity for this mitzvah. At 5 a.m. we gathered in the kitchen for coffee before joining the streams of fellow Jews softly filling the Jewish Quarter streets-sharing excitement, yet each going our separate ways to find our own perfect place from where we would eventually all praise our Creator in the best possible way we could-together.

By the time I joined my friend Star on her rooftop in the chilly dark morning, the davening had begun. We said “amen” and “y’hey..” to the minyan on a balcony behind us and to the loudspeaker from the Kotel in front of us. To the right Rabbi Aaron of Israelight led his services and guitars strummed sweetly. Above on the left several minyanim stood and swayed, some Breslovers danced a few steps down as they prayed.

The skies lightened, becoming a golden rose. ~Shema~ The cold stones responded with a warm glow. ~Shemona Esrei~ And our hearts rose with the sun ~Kedusha~as she peered from her hiding place behind Har haZeytzim –lining up with the exact same Yom Revii of five thousand seven hundred and sixty nine years ago—the very first morning. Ever.

Loudly, clearly from behind and before us: ~Baruch ata...osay maasay bereshit (s) ;)~


I prayed a fervent prayer that on the next Birkat HaChama we will-every single one of us-say it from Jerusalem’s rooftops, stairways and balconies and from her hilltops, valleys and fields. From Haifa, Sederot and Neve Dekalim. From our kibbutzim, moshavim and our cities. Each from our own perfect place, here in our own Land where we will praise our Creator in the best possible way-together.

We wish you all a wonderful Pesach, a Chag kasher v’samayech.
Let this be the last time we say “Next year in Yerushalayim.”(translation: Come home soon)

Love,
David and Rena ...

Unburying and Rebuilding

B”H

15 Av, 5767
July 30, 2007

Intense. Gentle. That is my Israel.
I feel like I fit into living here when I balance myself somewhere in between the intense and the gentle.

The bare headed driver may not speak at all or he may yell, but I am not surprised when he wishes me a warm and gentle Shabbat Shalom as I leave the cab.

The crowds impatiently push from behind and rudely cut in front of me, then one or another will stop to help someone struggling with their bags; to gently comfort a lost child and wait until aba or ima comes to claim him; or to give tzedeka to one (or all) of the dozens of collectors holding out a weary hand, whom we pass by every day.

This seems contradictory to the western mind. But, maybe it is we who have it wrong. Maybe this is what achdus is. Realizing-despite my drive to have it my way, get things done, judge the situation-there is something greater than me: We all struggle with our baggage and need help carrying our burdens, we are all lost children, needing someone to hold on to while we wait for our Father’s answer, we are all dependent on kindness, mercy, acknowledgement-we all have our hand out for something.

Living here means: peeling back my western facade, unburying my Jewish soul, digging deep and getting dirty, sifting through and making discoveries about myself, the Jewish people and our role here on this earth.

There is lots of inspiration for this self excavation: the unburying process is in action all around. My route to the Kotel takes me past a huge project at the back of the plaza where a Roman era road with stalls and arches has been uncovered. A jackhammer pounding at the Mugrahbi Gate excavation clashes with the sound of the sephardi women’s jubilant “yodel” on the women’s side every Bar Mitzvah morning. Ir David, just outside the Dung Gate, reveals a city once alive with the holy purpose of providing shelter and livelihood to residents of Yerushalayim. This unburying all dates back to one day in our history-Tisha B’Av.

The 9th of Av here is not gentle. It entered with heavy trepidation. On the afternoon before, everyone on the bus, in the café, makolet, on the street was subdued, all of us aware of its impending entry.

At the Kotel for mincha, Tisha b’Av loomed large above the few of us there, like the sense of impending doom. Even the birds were still. The air actually felt “empty.” Empty of that sweetness I always notice the moment I step outside. Empty of the joy that accompanies prayer and empty of the shmira, protection, we count on from our loving Father. Empty of the Bait HaMikdash that should be crowning the Har HaBayit just above our heads.

Evening descended, the air cooled, but remained still. It was eerily quiet walking back from Eicha on the Old City streets. I could actually hear the anguished screams of agony from our people who lost everything that day, on the very paths and in the remains of homes that lay below our feet.

One of those homes, the Burnt House, was open on Tisha b’Av afternoon. Down many meters of stairs one may enter the scene of a grand home in Jerusalem where a family of Kohanim lived until the time of the churban. Although only part of walls of the basement area still stand, archeologists found the remains of a kitchen, work rooms, and a mikveh buried under a layer of ash and soot, indicating that the house had been burned down at that horrific time.

A short movie set the scene of how integral the Beit HaMikdash was to us, told the story of the brutality of the Roman conquerors and left us wondering: what is it that we still need to do, Hashem? What is it can we not see about ourselves? What is it that we have not been able to change in ourselves in all the centuries that have passed?

On my first Tisha B’Av living in Jerusalem, I felt more in galus than ever. Surrounded by the potential to be present in the glory of a rebuilt Yerushalayim, we stand face to face with our failure.

But it is only the failure to see what greatness lies within us.

That is what we have to build upon. The greatness-the holiness we find in one another will bring the geula. The greatness-the holiness we yearn for in Eretz Yisrael-will bring the geula. This is how the Beit HaMikdash will be rebuilt, I am sure of it.

Rebuilding the Jewish people can happen one cab ride at a time. The driver’s essence is the “shalom,” in his “Shabbat Shalom.” One pushy person may be running late because he stopped to help someone with their bags. If she rudely cuts in line, remember she will probably loose her turn if she can help a crying child. It is not for us to judge the one with his hand out-we all have ours out, too.

Rebuilding also means helping Jews find their way out of the ashes of Rome. Western values meters thick obliterate still today-how great it is to be a Jew. We can help Jews who never knew a warm Shabbos table and a loving G-d who takes an interest in every nuance of His world. Rebuilding them rebuilds the Beit HaMikdash.

There is lots of inspiration for rebuilding going on here. As I walk out of Jaffa Gate towards Rechov Yaffo, I turn count maybe 15 cranes, their long arms stretching to erect new apartments for the streams of people making Jerusalem home. Schools for their children, buildings for them to pray in, work in, shop in. Roads, parks, tunnels. In our own “front Yard,” the magnificent Churva Synagogue-destroyed by the Jordanians in 1948, has reclaimed its place in the skyline, as it rises once again above the Rova Square.

All this in preparation, I am sure, for the return of the true Glory of Yerushalayim, may we all merit to see it soon.

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