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
...
Showing posts with label Elul. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Elul. Show all posts
Making a Living, Making a Life
B"H
3 Tishre 5769
Tzom Gedalia
October 2, 2008
Dear friends and family,
Often a letter (remember those?) or more contemporarily, a blog will begin with "Sorry, I haven't written in a while, but…."
Well, if you read my missives, then you know I've not written since July –and some have emailed in complaints, which I took as a compliment, you can be sure. But that doesn't mean that I have not been writing. I have been writing for m-o-n-e-y! Yes, publications have actually been paying me a pittance for the words I string into ideas that hopefully make their readers smile, cry, think or (hopefully not) skim and skip.
It's certainly not enough to support my husband in learning—yet. But that is among the many things I prayed for yesterday. And now it has been decided.
In the aftermath of all that davening, in the fog of this fast of Gedalia, I have been thinking: since our income is predetermined for the year, why do we even bother to work at all?
This question came up in a recent discussion I had with some visiting seminary students who are in the midst of deciding what they will study next year. With their teachers, they are exploring this idea of why we must find a parnassa. They learned that when Hashem told Adam that his livelihood would come "by the sweat of your brow," He was saying: our relationship has changed. I will no longer openly provide for all your needs. Now you must go to work. Only after Adam made the effort, would Hashem provide the food and shelter they needed.
Work is the vessel into which Hashem's material blessings flow.
Our need for food, clothing and shelter are a constant distraction from the real meaning of our lives. Sometimes we forget what our purpose is. Then comes Rosh Hashanah to remind us that we are only here to be emissaries of the King, and He will give us everything necessary to support us in that mission. And we are supposed to feel secure. But we do not.
Earning a living is hard. Effort is not always commensurate with reward. In the economic debacle we witnessed this Elul, we found out that financial security is often an illusion.
Nowhere is this more clear than in trying to support a family in Israel. The most common question I heard on my recent trip to America was, "Is it really possible to make a living there?" The answer is "Of course it is."
Then of course, David and I haven't completely figured that out yet. While we, like many, came with a job, a high percentage of those first oleh jobs do not hold for the long term. We count among that group. But a new, exciting position was not long in coming and Hashem once again proved to be the holder of the keys to success. While opportunity abounded last spring, Rabbi Berel Wein's organization, which depends on fundraising efforts in America for the bulk of its projects, is now suffering along with its benefactors. Hishtadlus, effort, is still necessary, but in the light of the economy, success is clearly and undeniably dependent upon His will.
Living here allows us to be defined by how we serve Hashem. We take our kochos, G-d given strengths and talents, and use them to do mitzvos-which includes providing for our families. Our job or career is not an expression of who we are, but rather, a utensil, if you will. It is the container for the physical means that helps us rise to the challenge of becoming a mighty soul.
You might say this idea is not really so different than the way it goes in America. It's true. But the difference is that in chutz l'aretz, hishtadlus and success are more relational. Effort seems to have a more direct effect on achievement. Here, you really need a deeper sense of bitachon. More often than not, we do not see a reciprocal cause and effect between the direction of our effort and the source of our reward. Help usually comes from an unexpected place-- often one that defies logic.
But there is also something else. It's how we live. It's a simpler life. And therefore, there is less pressure on the budget. Clothing, food, utilities may be more costly, but our closets, desires and homes are smaller so it takes much less to fill their demands.
Sometimes income can be measured in what we do not spend. If a family has a car, they usually have just one. And they walk to the makolet, bank, gan whenever they can. The children take the bus to school and run outside every afternoon to play. Their tuition, our doctors and prescriptions are miniscule in comparison to what we paid in the US. Entertainment comes in taking a walk on holy soil, bumping into neighbors, going out for a Fro-Yo, lingering over a "café auh-fuh" (upside down coffee), sitting on a bench and watching the children play, tourists walk by, the cloud formations, the stars.
It's not an American life, it's a simple life and it's a Jewish life.
And that, my friends, is what it is like to live in Israel …. A land that HaShem your G-d cares for constantly…(His) eye is on it from the beginning of the year and until the end of the year"
Our parnassa was decided yesterday. Now, our job is to creatively and energetically address the opportunities that Hashem sends our way, and the result we entrust to Him.
May you be blessed with "parnassa kalla v'nikiya" (an easy and clean- so you don't have to sweat too much- livelihood) in the new year. In any effort you expend, may you merit to see Hashem's hand in the reward. And of course, may you all come home soon.
Love,
Renee and David
9 Recommendations for Making a Living in Israel
1-Get a Degree
In Israel they like degrees-if you are a college graduate, in almost any area-jobs are here. If you are young enough, you can attend university for free.
The younger you are, the easier it is to snag those jobs. Over 40, it's more difficult. However, the entrepreneurial spirit is alive and well here, and expertise is valued, especially in new companies.
2-Teach
English teachers are in high demand http://www.eslemployment.com/esl-articles/english-teaching-in-israel.htm
Teachers in the school system are required to get an Israeli teaching certificate. To get a certificate requires a 1-2 year program of courses and apprenticeship.
3-Professions
Accountants can provide local financial services or international financial services. To provide local services they must get local certification.
Lawyers who wish to practice Israeli law in Israel must also receive local certification. You must have a reasonable level of Hebrew proficiency and perform an apprentice program with a local lawyer and pass the Israeli bar. Many Israeli companies require the services of American and European lawyers for doing business internationally. They do not need Israeli certification.
Medical professionals must receive Israeli certification. The certification process requires validation of credentials, a reasonable level of Hebrew proficiency and passing Israeli licensing exams (in Hebrew). Nefesh b'Nefesh has an incentive package for doctors that you should check out. http://www.nbn.org.il/news_2008/_january/01.14.08.ynet.htm
4-Sell Abroad
-To sell anything to Israelis requires an excellent understanding of Israeli culture. Don't plan on making a living in sales here.
-However, Israeli entrepreneurs are in need of experienced people to sell their products abroad. If you have expertise and contacts in any area, especially hi tech and medical, there are companies that need your services.
5-Construction, Renovation
Construction in Israel is booming. The workers get paid poorly and are usually either foreigners or Arabs and the business end requires many inside contacts to tread through tricky bureaucracy. Therefore, it's important to have an Israeli partner with protexia.
There is a need for those who can do "shiputzim," small to medium renovation work at American standards, even better if using only Jewish labor. This is a good starter business; plus with your truck, and a few strong men, you could be a mover (always needed) on the side.
6-Hi-Tech
Programmers, web specialists, electrical engineers are in demand. Experienced applicants can receive salaries in the top 15% of the country. Even applicants right out of college can receive in the top 40% of the country. Weekly newsletter with computer jobs:
7-A new career
Consider re-training, it's subsidized for olim.
http://www.esek.com/jobsii.html
http://www.aliyahjobcenter.org/index.php
8-Network
the OU is having a Job Fair in November: click here
Join yahoo groups in the areas you are considering living. You'll see job postings regularly. I can give you those links if you want.
9-Good to know:
-Learn Hebrew as soon as you get here.
-Do research in your field before you come, but don't expect to find a job while you are still in America. When employers are hiring, they usually needed you yesterday.
(We did neither.)
-Salaries are considerably less, which can be shocking at first. We discovered that a top, top salary is $50,000-$60,0000. Unless you are supporting kids in America, (traveling there a lot or maintaining an American lifestyle here) you can really make it just fine on less than that.
-Now that there is tax relief for 10 years on income earned in America, and in the light of the projected long term downturn there, the economic barriers to aliya are diminishing.
We have seen time and again that the only way to make it-- is through honest, well planned hishtadlus plus a heavy dose of bitachon, trust that the Almighty, who created the world and can do anything He wants-will be the source of our help. ...
3 Tishre 5769
Tzom Gedalia
October 2, 2008
Dear friends and family,
Often a letter (remember those?) or more contemporarily, a blog will begin with "Sorry, I haven't written in a while, but…."
Well, if you read my missives, then you know I've not written since July –and some have emailed in complaints, which I took as a compliment, you can be sure. But that doesn't mean that I have not been writing. I have been writing for m-o-n-e-y! Yes, publications have actually been paying me a pittance for the words I string into ideas that hopefully make their readers smile, cry, think or (hopefully not) skim and skip.
It's certainly not enough to support my husband in learning—yet. But that is among the many things I prayed for yesterday. And now it has been decided.
In the aftermath of all that davening, in the fog of this fast of Gedalia, I have been thinking: since our income is predetermined for the year, why do we even bother to work at all?
This question came up in a recent discussion I had with some visiting seminary students who are in the midst of deciding what they will study next year. With their teachers, they are exploring this idea of why we must find a parnassa. They learned that when Hashem told Adam that his livelihood would come "by the sweat of your brow," He was saying: our relationship has changed. I will no longer openly provide for all your needs. Now you must go to work. Only after Adam made the effort, would Hashem provide the food and shelter they needed.
Work is the vessel into which Hashem's material blessings flow.
Our need for food, clothing and shelter are a constant distraction from the real meaning of our lives. Sometimes we forget what our purpose is. Then comes Rosh Hashanah to remind us that we are only here to be emissaries of the King, and He will give us everything necessary to support us in that mission. And we are supposed to feel secure. But we do not.
Earning a living is hard. Effort is not always commensurate with reward. In the economic debacle we witnessed this Elul, we found out that financial security is often an illusion.
Nowhere is this more clear than in trying to support a family in Israel. The most common question I heard on my recent trip to America was, "Is it really possible to make a living there?" The answer is "Of course it is."
Then of course, David and I haven't completely figured that out yet. While we, like many, came with a job, a high percentage of those first oleh jobs do not hold for the long term. We count among that group. But a new, exciting position was not long in coming and Hashem once again proved to be the holder of the keys to success. While opportunity abounded last spring, Rabbi Berel Wein's organization, which depends on fundraising efforts in America for the bulk of its projects, is now suffering along with its benefactors. Hishtadlus, effort, is still necessary, but in the light of the economy, success is clearly and undeniably dependent upon His will.
Living here allows us to be defined by how we serve Hashem. We take our kochos, G-d given strengths and talents, and use them to do mitzvos-which includes providing for our families. Our job or career is not an expression of who we are, but rather, a utensil, if you will. It is the container for the physical means that helps us rise to the challenge of becoming a mighty soul.
You might say this idea is not really so different than the way it goes in America. It's true. But the difference is that in chutz l'aretz, hishtadlus and success are more relational. Effort seems to have a more direct effect on achievement. Here, you really need a deeper sense of bitachon. More often than not, we do not see a reciprocal cause and effect between the direction of our effort and the source of our reward. Help usually comes from an unexpected place-- often one that defies logic.
But there is also something else. It's how we live. It's a simpler life. And therefore, there is less pressure on the budget. Clothing, food, utilities may be more costly, but our closets, desires and homes are smaller so it takes much less to fill their demands.
Sometimes income can be measured in what we do not spend. If a family has a car, they usually have just one. And they walk to the makolet, bank, gan whenever they can. The children take the bus to school and run outside every afternoon to play. Their tuition, our doctors and prescriptions are miniscule in comparison to what we paid in the US. Entertainment comes in taking a walk on holy soil, bumping into neighbors, going out for a Fro-Yo, lingering over a "café auh-fuh" (upside down coffee), sitting on a bench and watching the children play, tourists walk by, the cloud formations, the stars.
It's not an American life, it's a simple life and it's a Jewish life.
And that, my friends, is what it is like to live in Israel …. A land that HaShem your G-d cares for constantly…(His) eye is on it from the beginning of the year and until the end of the year"
Our parnassa was decided yesterday. Now, our job is to creatively and energetically address the opportunities that Hashem sends our way, and the result we entrust to Him.
May you be blessed with "parnassa kalla v'nikiya" (an easy and clean- so you don't have to sweat too much- livelihood) in the new year. In any effort you expend, may you merit to see Hashem's hand in the reward. And of course, may you all come home soon.
Love,
Renee and David
9 Recommendations for Making a Living in Israel
1-Get a Degree
In Israel they like degrees-if you are a college graduate, in almost any area-jobs are here. If you are young enough, you can attend university for free.
The younger you are, the easier it is to snag those jobs. Over 40, it's more difficult. However, the entrepreneurial spirit is alive and well here, and expertise is valued, especially in new companies.
2-Teach
English teachers are in high demand http://www.eslemployment.com/esl-articles/english-teaching-in-israel.htm
Teachers in the school system are required to get an Israeli teaching certificate. To get a certificate requires a 1-2 year program of courses and apprenticeship.
3-Professions
Accountants can provide local financial services or international financial services. To provide local services they must get local certification.
Lawyers who wish to practice Israeli law in Israel must also receive local certification. You must have a reasonable level of Hebrew proficiency and perform an apprentice program with a local lawyer and pass the Israeli bar. Many Israeli companies require the services of American and European lawyers for doing business internationally. They do not need Israeli certification.
Medical professionals must receive Israeli certification. The certification process requires validation of credentials, a reasonable level of Hebrew proficiency and passing Israeli licensing exams (in Hebrew). Nefesh b'Nefesh has an incentive package for doctors that you should check out. http://www.nbn.org.il/news_2008/_january/01.14.08.ynet.htm
4-Sell Abroad
-To sell anything to Israelis requires an excellent understanding of Israeli culture. Don't plan on making a living in sales here.
-However, Israeli entrepreneurs are in need of experienced people to sell their products abroad. If you have expertise and contacts in any area, especially hi tech and medical, there are companies that need your services.
5-Construction, Renovation
Construction in Israel is booming. The workers get paid poorly and are usually either foreigners or Arabs and the business end requires many inside contacts to tread through tricky bureaucracy. Therefore, it's important to have an Israeli partner with protexia.
There is a need for those who can do "shiputzim," small to medium renovation work at American standards, even better if using only Jewish labor. This is a good starter business; plus with your truck, and a few strong men, you could be a mover (always needed) on the side.
6-Hi-Tech
Programmers, web specialists, electrical engineers are in demand. Experienced applicants can receive salaries in the top 15% of the country. Even applicants right out of college can receive in the top 40% of the country. Weekly newsletter with computer jobs:
7-A new career
Consider re-training, it's subsidized for olim.
http://www.esek.com/jobsii.html
http://www.aliyahjobcenter.org/index.php
8-Network
the OU is having a Job Fair in November: click here
Join yahoo groups in the areas you are considering living. You'll see job postings regularly. I can give you those links if you want.
9-Good to know:
-Learn Hebrew as soon as you get here.
-Do research in your field before you come, but don't expect to find a job while you are still in America. When employers are hiring, they usually needed you yesterday.
(We did neither.)
-Salaries are considerably less, which can be shocking at first. We discovered that a top, top salary is $50,000-$60,0000. Unless you are supporting kids in America, (traveling there a lot or maintaining an American lifestyle here) you can really make it just fine on less than that.
-Now that there is tax relief for 10 years on income earned in America, and in the light of the projected long term downturn there, the economic barriers to aliya are diminishing.
We have seen time and again that the only way to make it-- is through honest, well planned hishtadlus plus a heavy dose of bitachon, trust that the Almighty, who created the world and can do anything He wants-will be the source of our help. ...
Smitten With Shmitta
B"H
18 Iyar 5768
Lag b'Omer
May 23, 2008
Dear Friends and Family,
One never knows what the day will hold around here. Just before the official Pesach holiday season ended, we joined our friends the Millers on a spontaneous trip to the North. Up Highway 90 to the western shore of the Kineret, we picnicked by the water's edge then wound our way into mountainous vistas and past Tsefat. The drive itself was stunning but our destination was to a beautiful tzimmer near the kever of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai.
A tzimmer, Yiddish for "room," is actually a 1-2 room cabin with kitchenette and always, always, a jacuzzi (sometimes in the living room!). They dot the country on moshavim and farms where each usually provides a unique amenity. These particular tzimmerim are nestled on the side of a hill on a family farm with a wonderful view of the valleys below. Originally owned by a real Israeli pioneer and bequeathed to his four sons, the farm is flourishing with orchards, vineyards, cattle and a new winery. Each brother contributes his own area of expertise in the running of the farm.
The four tzimmerim are run by Hillel, the only son we've met, and his wife, Elana. Hillel's brother built them, and the furniture, inside with interestingly hewn wood. A talented ironworker, too, he appointed the doors with ha
nd forged handles, framed the mirrors, and fashioned iron furniture. Another brother is the vintner and yet another cares for the cattle. Hillel oversees the orchards.
Besides vineyards for their winery, they have pear, apple, nectarine, apricot, olive and cherry trees. The morning of our visit, the cherries were anxious to be picked. That day in the orchard overlooking a valley of trees still promising fruit, I discovered what the color "cherry red" really is. Bright jewels hanging on branch after branch, tree after tree, their leaves whispered in the warm breeze, enticing us. Hillel encouraged us to pick as many as we wanted. And so we did.
But first, we tasted: We said the bracha with so much more awareness than usual, "pri ha etz" —yes, right off an etz in Israel! And the Shechechiyanu that encapsulated more than our gratitude to taste a season's new fruit: this new experience, fruit of the Land eaten on the Land, fruit with kedusha. This was shmitta fruit; it has an inherent holiness. We had to treat the entire cherry properly according to the halacha. But oops, after relishing a half a dozen warm sweet cherries, what where we supposed to do with the stems and little pits collecting in our hands?
Back in Elul, tshuva was in the air but shmitta was on everyone's tongue. Tshuva is a private process, but shmitta…well, once in seven years many experts arise, qualified or not, invited or not, to answer our questions. And provoke more questions. Restaurants, caterers, florists and gardeners make their stand on observance known to their customers. Classes abounded, books and articles circulated and were discussed. I learned many new terms such as kedusha sh'vis and sefichim. I was told how the Bais Yosef and the Chazon Ish rule on buying fruit of arab owned land within the borders of Israel, and what the minhag in Jerusalem is. Do we buy Otzar Beis Din? Heter Mechira? Nochri?
What I really wanted to know was, could I continue to nurture my baby houseplant, bought in July just to liven up the place a bit? (yes) And can I water the large outdoor potted plants and pick David's peppers growing in the courtyard? (yes and yes, with rules) Besides that, just tell me where to shop and I'll be fine. But it was not so simple. After being here four months, I was finally forced to become fluent in the various Hechsherim-a daunting task.
Produce planted and cultivated in Israel on land belonging to a Jew during the seventh year is not kosher. And produce not cultivated on the Land during the shmitta year, but harvested according to halacha, has kedusha. Not only did I have to figure out where and what to buy, but I had to figure out what could have its peel and core discarded in the trash and what I needed to dispose organically. Once I figured out which shops in the shuk I could patronize, the bananas came in season and threw me for a loop.
During the shmitta year, the landowner lets his fields lie fallow. He also unlocks his gates and allows anyone to enter, relinquishing his ownership to the One Above who really owns everything we "have." Those of us who are not farmers can also observe this long-desired mitzvah. Many of us have flowers, fruit trees and peppers that we cannot fertilize or prune to encourage growth; we post signs allowing entry to our property for anyone to come and pick (but we can specify hours and ban anyone who abuses the system). It seems like we are loosing, but truly, we gain so much.
It's awe-inspiring to be living here in a shmitta year. So many people: farmers, restaurateurs and vegetable stand owners simply volunteer to take a potential financial loss to observe this Sabbath for the Land. Consumers, too. Our selection is limited, food costs more and the quality is markedly diminished. Among those intent on observing shmitta properly, there is a shared sense of sacrifice for this mitzvah. A shared love of Torah, a shared surrender to Hashem.
Especially for the farmers. Stories of Shmitta miracles abound. One banana farmer had fields, adjacent to non-shmitta observing banana farms, which were the only ones in the area undamaged after a hard freeze last January. While 80% of this year's potato crop was wiped out due to the freeze, most shmitta farmers, who planted their potatoes earlier than usual in order to get them in before Rosh Hashanna, had heartier, more mature plants that were able to survive the cold. Another farmer observes shmitta for the first time this year after his crop was wiped out with a rare disease 7 years ago, when he refused to refrain from planting. But the farmers do not do this counting on miracles.
They walk away from export contracts, pay their released workers a stipend, and honor their debts on farming equipment. This is huge. For farmers like Hillel, profit margins are small. Their work is fixed in time: sow and plant, pray and irrigate, spray and cultivate. Harvest. Shmitta. As connected as Hillel is to his father's land, he is connected first to the Borei Olam. You see it in his very countenance, in his intelligent and humble smile. Farming his Land is how he serves Hashem. Not observing Shmitta is no more of an option for him than not observing Shabbat.
The holiness of Shmitta, like the holiness of Shabbat, is fixed in time whether we tap into it or not.
I read this majestic thought from the 16th century Torah sage Rabbi Moshe Alshich, who said that Shmitta is a time when "holiness is reflected like a light from Above and settles in the ground. It is the strength of this holiness that produces the fruit and not the natural energy of the ground. Therefore you are not the owner of the fruit. It belongs to all of Israel, since they all share equally this Heavenly Holiness."
We brought those precious cherries home with us and served them at our Shabbos table for dessert. They became a source of extra brachos and fed a lively discussion. Having food with kedusha shviis for Shabbos added to the kedusha of the table.
Several months ago, I harvested David's peppers and stashed them in the freezer, too awed with the responsibility of their kedusha to make zchug as I would usually have. Now that I feel initiated, I'm excited about the prospect.
So, once again I am off to the shuk to get some cilantro and garlic for zchug along with the rest of the vegetables for Shabbos. It's a beautiful morning, who knows what will happen.
Come home soon,
Renee and David ...
18 Iyar 5768
Lag b'Omer
May 23, 2008
Dear Friends and Family,
One never knows what the day will hold around here. Just before the official Pesach holiday season ended, we joined our friends the Millers on a spontaneous trip to the North. Up Highway 90 to the western shore of the Kineret, we picnicked by the water's edge then wound our way into mountainous vistas and past Tsefat. The drive itself was stunning but our destination was to a beautiful tzimmer near the kever of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai.
A tzimmer, Yiddish for "room," is actually a 1-2 room cabin with kitchenette and always, always, a jacuzzi (sometimes in the living room!). They dot the country on moshavim and farms where each usually provides a unique amenity. These particular tzimmerim are nestled on the side of a hill on a family farm with a wonderful view of the valleys below. Originally owned by a real Israeli pioneer and bequeathed to his four sons, the farm is flourishing with orchards, vineyards, cattle and a new winery. Each brother contributes his own area of expertise in the running of the farm.The four tzimmerim are run by Hillel, the only son we've met, and his wife, Elana. Hillel's brother built them, and the furniture, inside with interestingly hewn wood. A talented ironworker, too, he appointed the doors with ha
nd forged handles, framed the mirrors, and fashioned iron furniture. Another brother is the vintner and yet another cares for the cattle. Hillel oversees the orchards.Besides vineyards for their winery, they have pear, apple, nectarine, apricot, olive and cherry trees. The morning of our visit, the cherries were anxious to be picked. That day in the orchard overlooking a valley of trees still promising fruit, I discovered what the color "cherry red" really is. Bright jewels hanging on branch after branch, tree after tree, their leaves whispered in the warm breeze, enticing us. Hillel encouraged us to pick as many as we wanted. And so we did.
But first, we tasted: We said the bracha with so much more awareness than usual, "pri ha etz" —yes, right off an etz in Israel! And the Shechechiyanu that encapsulated more than our gratitude to taste a season's new fruit: this new experience, fruit of the Land eaten on the Land, fruit with kedusha. This was shmitta fruit; it has an inherent holiness. We had to treat the entire cherry properly according to the halacha. But oops, after relishing a half a dozen warm sweet cherries, what where we supposed to do with the stems and little pits collecting in our hands?
Back in Elul, tshuva was in the air but shmitta was on everyone's tongue. Tshuva is a private process, but shmitta…well, once in seven years many experts arise, qualified or not, invited or not, to answer our questions. And provoke more questions. Restaurants, caterers, florists and gardeners make their stand on observance known to their customers. Classes abounded, books and articles circulated and were discussed. I learned many new terms such as kedusha sh'vis and sefichim. I was told how the Bais Yosef and the Chazon Ish rule on buying fruit of arab owned land within the borders of Israel, and what the minhag in Jerusalem is. Do we buy Otzar Beis Din? Heter Mechira? Nochri?
What I really wanted to know was, could I continue to nurture my baby houseplant, bought in July just to liven up the place a bit? (yes) And can I water the large outdoor potted plants and pick David's peppers growing in the courtyard? (yes and yes, with rules) Besides that, just tell me where to shop and I'll be fine. But it was not so simple. After being here four months, I was finally forced to become fluent in the various Hechsherim-a daunting task.
Produce planted and cultivated in Israel on land belonging to a Jew during the seventh year is not kosher. And produce not cultivated on the Land during the shmitta year, but harvested according to halacha, has kedusha. Not only did I have to figure out where and what to buy, but I had to figure out what could have its peel and core discarded in the trash and what I needed to dispose organically. Once I figured out which shops in the shuk I could patronize, the bananas came in season and threw me for a loop.
During the shmitta year, the landowner lets his fields lie fallow. He also unlocks his gates and allows anyone to enter, relinquishing his ownership to the One Above who really owns everything we "have." Those of us who are not farmers can also observe this long-desired mitzvah. Many of us have flowers, fruit trees and peppers that we cannot fertilize or prune to encourage growth; we post signs allowing entry to our property for anyone to come and pick (but we can specify hours and ban anyone who abuses the system). It seems like we are loosing, but truly, we gain so much.
It's awe-inspiring to be living here in a shmitta year. So many people: farmers, restaurateurs and vegetable stand owners simply volunteer to take a potential financial loss to observe this Sabbath for the Land. Consumers, too. Our selection is limited, food costs more and the quality is markedly diminished. Among those intent on observing shmitta properly, there is a shared sense of sacrifice for this mitzvah. A shared love of Torah, a shared surrender to Hashem.
Especially for the farmers. Stories of Shmitta miracles abound. One banana farmer had fields, adjacent to non-shmitta observing banana farms, which were the only ones in the area undamaged after a hard freeze last January. While 80% of this year's potato crop was wiped out due to the freeze, most shmitta farmers, who planted their potatoes earlier than usual in order to get them in before Rosh Hashanna, had heartier, more mature plants that were able to survive the cold. Another farmer observes shmitta for the first time this year after his crop was wiped out with a rare disease 7 years ago, when he refused to refrain from planting. But the farmers do not do this counting on miracles.
They walk away from export contracts, pay their released workers a stipend, and honor their debts on farming equipment. This is huge. For farmers like Hillel, profit margins are small. Their work is fixed in time: sow and plant, pray and irrigate, spray and cultivate. Harvest. Shmitta. As connected as Hillel is to his father's land, he is connected first to the Borei Olam. You see it in his very countenance, in his intelligent and humble smile. Farming his Land is how he serves Hashem. Not observing Shmitta is no more of an option for him than not observing Shabbat.
The holiness of Shmitta, like the holiness of Shabbat, is fixed in time whether we tap into it or not.
I read this majestic thought from the 16th century Torah sage Rabbi Moshe Alshich, who said that Shmitta is a time when "holiness is reflected like a light from Above and settles in the ground. It is the strength of this holiness that produces the fruit and not the natural energy of the ground. Therefore you are not the owner of the fruit. It belongs to all of Israel, since they all share equally this Heavenly Holiness."
This is our home. And the Jew is its fruit.
We brought those precious cherries home with us and served them at our Shabbos table for dessert. They became a source of extra brachos and fed a lively discussion. Having food with kedusha shviis for Shabbos added to the kedusha of the table.
Several months ago, I harvested David's peppers and stashed them in the freezer, too awed with the responsibility of their kedusha to make zchug as I would usually have. Now that I feel initiated, I'm excited about the prospect.
So, once again I am off to the shuk to get some cilantro and garlic for zchug along with the rest of the vegetables for Shabbos. It's a beautiful morning, who knows what will happen.
Come home soon,
Renee and 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 ...
21 Elul 5767
B"H
21 Elul 5767
As I type 5767 for one of the last times (7 days to go), I am really sad. "5767" has been my shibboleth, a sign to remind me of our goal. Three years ago, in the fall of 5764, we set our aliya date. It seemed so very far away then, and now...5767 is almost gone.
For nearly three years I included "5767" on things mundane, as in many of my website passwords. I found myself doodling it in the margins of notes I took in classes whenever "Eretz Yisrael" was mentioned. Sometimes I was sure that we would make it, and sometimes, well sometimes, I did not know how we ever could.
5767, my shibboleth, has served me well.
5767 has been as sweet as we had hoped. It has also held tremendous disappointment.
Yesterday, we buried Jerry Grossblatt, a"h, here in Eretz Yisrael.
He was a tzaddik.
Our hearts were ripped apart to see his holy widow and much too young, youngest child, sit in utter bewilderment on the first row of the room where the hespedim, speeches were given.
This room was folorn of comfort. Walls of stone, floors of cold marble. A low table-like an alter- where they lay the kadosh Jerry, wrapped in the same tallis he wore every morning as he greeted the One who bequeathed him with yet another day of life; and on this past Yom Rishon, took it away.
But there was comfort. 15- 20 wooden pews overflowed on each the men's and women's sides. All Atlanta-connected Jews who love the Grossblatts. We knew them for a few years, many decades, and some, for lifetimes. The walls were lined with our teenagers who are here in Israel beginning their year: discovering the unique contributions they have to offer Hashem and k'lal Yisrael. Yesterday, they discovered first hand, that the end for all of us is exactly the same.
The word spread in Yerushalyim all day Monday. Our phone which rarely rings, was my close companion, with people calling late into the night. So many wanted the details, what time?, where do we go?, how do we get there? They arranged tenders, offered rides, rented cars and came in taxis to Eretz HaChaim, several miles off Highway 1 on route 38, the way to Beit Shemesh.
They all came: relatives --don't we all feel related to them?, old friends--did they ever have a new friend?, Ruby's students--aren't we all Ruby and Jerry's students? We wanted to come because we all love Jerry and Ruby.
After painful, emotional, admiring, loving, honest hespedim were spoken, we slowly escorted our friend down an asphalt road, lined on either side with raised stretches of rocky ground, resting places for those who came before us. The beige-ness was stark in contrast to the treed and greened cemeteries we have been to too many times in the US. The barrenness was fitting, as it mirrored our feeling- It seems like less of a world, less colorful, less comforting— than the world that no longer bears the living neshama of Jerry Grossblatt.
The Chevra Kadisha escorted Jerry like the royalty he was. Once at his graveside, they circled his mes seven times, all the while reciting pesukim, verses from lofty sources. Finally, he was laid in the ground by Jews who knew their work was holy and covered with the earth of Eretz Yisrael by those who learned with him, ate with him, prayed with him.
And then, we all laid stones by him.
It was 21 Elul 5767 that we said goodbye to our beloved Yaakov Tzvi-- who was a tzaddik.
May we all be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life, for a sweet year: 5768.
Love,
Rena and David ...
21 Elul 5767
As I type 5767 for one of the last times (7 days to go), I am really sad. "5767" has been my shibboleth, a sign to remind me of our goal. Three years ago, in the fall of 5764, we set our aliya date. It seemed so very far away then, and now...5767 is almost gone.
For nearly three years I included "5767" on things mundane, as in many of my website passwords. I found myself doodling it in the margins of notes I took in classes whenever "Eretz Yisrael" was mentioned. Sometimes I was sure that we would make it, and sometimes, well sometimes, I did not know how we ever could.
5767, my shibboleth, has served me well.
5767 has been as sweet as we had hoped. It has also held tremendous disappointment.
Yesterday, we buried Jerry Grossblatt, a"h, here in Eretz Yisrael.
He was a tzaddik.
Our hearts were ripped apart to see his holy widow and much too young, youngest child, sit in utter bewilderment on the first row of the room where the hespedim, speeches were given.
This room was folorn of comfort. Walls of stone, floors of cold marble. A low table-like an alter- where they lay the kadosh Jerry, wrapped in the same tallis he wore every morning as he greeted the One who bequeathed him with yet another day of life; and on this past Yom Rishon, took it away.
But there was comfort. 15- 20 wooden pews overflowed on each the men's and women's sides. All Atlanta-connected Jews who love the Grossblatts. We knew them for a few years, many decades, and some, for lifetimes. The walls were lined with our teenagers who are here in Israel beginning their year: discovering the unique contributions they have to offer Hashem and k'lal Yisrael. Yesterday, they discovered first hand, that the end for all of us is exactly the same.
The word spread in Yerushalyim all day Monday. Our phone which rarely rings, was my close companion, with people calling late into the night. So many wanted the details, what time?, where do we go?, how do we get there? They arranged tenders, offered rides, rented cars and came in taxis to Eretz HaChaim, several miles off Highway 1 on route 38, the way to Beit Shemesh.
They all came: relatives --don't we all feel related to them?, old friends--did they ever have a new friend?, Ruby's students--aren't we all Ruby and Jerry's students? We wanted to come because we all love Jerry and Ruby.
After painful, emotional, admiring, loving, honest hespedim were spoken, we slowly escorted our friend down an asphalt road, lined on either side with raised stretches of rocky ground, resting places for those who came before us. The beige-ness was stark in contrast to the treed and greened cemeteries we have been to too many times in the US. The barrenness was fitting, as it mirrored our feeling- It seems like less of a world, less colorful, less comforting— than the world that no longer bears the living neshama of Jerry Grossblatt.
The Chevra Kadisha escorted Jerry like the royalty he was. Once at his graveside, they circled his mes seven times, all the while reciting pesukim, verses from lofty sources. Finally, he was laid in the ground by Jews who knew their work was holy and covered with the earth of Eretz Yisrael by those who learned with him, ate with him, prayed with him.
And then, we all laid stones by him.
It was 21 Elul 5767 that we said goodbye to our beloved Yaakov Tzvi-- who was a tzaddik.
May we all be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life, for a sweet year: 5768.
Love,
Rena and David ...
Rose Colored Glasses
B”H
Rosh Chodesh Elul
30 Av 5767
August 14, 2007
Dear Family and Friends,
I admit it. I came to Israel wearing rose colored glasses. When someone tells me their “issues” with Israel, I just don’t get it. So, when I hear things like beggars probably make fortunes, and people complain that everything is so expensive here, and the warning I recently read that pickpockets stroll the shuk at Machene Yehuda, I just don’t agree. In fact, I just heard someone say that we should all be as persistent in our goals as the people jingling their cups. And yes, American goods and meat are very expensive, but Israeli goods and produce are reasonably priced, especially if you know where to shop. Like the shuk, where I have never had a bad experience.
A few weeks ago, I met up with 10 year aliya veteran, Star Miller and soon to be olah, Leslie Lowenstien, for an outing to one of my favorite Jerusalem excursions: the shuk. This is an amazing place on a Thursday morning. The aisles are jammed with shoppers of every stripe pulling bubbe carts, old men collecting tzedeka, suppliers yelling as they navigate pallets on wheels trying to fill up the vegetable stands as fast as customers can load up with tomatoes, peppers of every color, eggplant, cucumbers, zucchini, melons, squashes, onions, garlic, red and white potatoes, crimson beets,
enormous grapes, nuts and dates, luscious figs, overflowing herbs, pillars of aromatic spices, fish, pickles, olives, cheeses...and this is just the main aisle. Jostling is the norm, and forget about shomer negiah-shoving and shuffling men and women bump together as we move in and out of minuscule booths and delight in the cheapest prices on the freshest fruits and vegies.
The three of us entered the shuk and ogled the scene, discussing what we were cooking for Shabbos. I headed for the first place that looked enticing. Within about 7 minutes I had filled up and paid the proprietor for the overflowing contents of my cart: the makings of so many salads and side dishes-recipes that would keep me on my feet in the kitchen for several hours, but I couldn’t resist. It all just looked so good. The best food starts with the best ingredients. And this farmers’ market of the holy city is the source for the best beginnings I have ever encountered.
I met Leslie just out side the booth as Star eyed some exquisite tomatoes across the aisle. Leslie commented that she couldn’t find her American Express card this morning, no matter they don’t take credit here anyway-this is cash commerce only. But, she wondered, maybe she should cancel it. Star went for the tomatoes, they had golden-yellow ones, too-when she tried to buy a few figs from a basket, the salesperson scolded her and said she’d have to take the whole basket or nothing. Forget that. We bumped down the aisle together when a tzedeka collector approached. I always set aside a few coins every day because this is inevitable. Once I have given those 6-8 shekels,
I can say “no” to the others this time and perhaps catch them the next time. Its a strategy I learned from Rebbetzin Tzipporah Heller: decide what to give ahead of time and give it graciously.
So, I reached in my open pouch for the smaller purse containing my money..which was not there! I left Leslie standing with the beggar and my vegetables to weave and push my way against traffic to the stand where I had just made my purchase. I asked the proprietor if I left my purse there. He only spoke Hebrew...so I looked frantically at all the bins, and then under them. No purse. Meanwhile, Star and Leslie were going through my cart and all the bags inside. No purse.
I went back to the shopkeeper and tried again. “Did you see my wallet? I just paid here!” Did I expect that he would magically have learned even a smattering of English in 3 minutes? Thankfully, There were two sturdy Chassidic women-wearing sensible shoes, dark suits, and shaitels with little black hats on top; one waiting in line and one paying. They translated for me-well, mis-translated. The owner thought I did not have my wallet and could not pay. He told me, via the two ladies, --something that can only happen here-- that I could take whatever I wanted and come back to pay him later. Well, I guess they do take credit here.
As kind as that was, it did not help. He did not have my purse. It was beginning to dawn on me that I had been pick pocketed. But just of my money and credit cards. Not my rose colored glasses.
Star suggested I say the prayer for finding a lost object. Since none of us knew it, we called her daughter, Rivka, who had me repeat after her and then told me to give tzedeka. Ironic, isn’t it? Trying to give tzedeka was just how I discovered my loss...and of course, now I had no money. So, Star gave me 20 shekels and, since I decided to go home and call the credit card companies, bus fare, too. As I was saying good-bye to my friends, we spotted a pretty bedraggled, lethargic man shuffling past us holding an old plastic cup containing only a few agarot (less than a shekel). From behind, I dropped the 20 shekel bill in his cup. He stopped in his tracks to stare at it, then look around in disbelief. Maybe his day was beginning to go better than mine.
I found my rose colored glasses and went out into the sun. The bus stop was all downhill and the way was shady. I passed one of the Chassidic translators on the way and she wished me bracha and hatzlacha (blessing and that things should go well). The 38 bus to the Rova pulled up as soon as I got to the stand. The bus driver looked confused when I paid for my fare. He recognized me, knew I had a chofshi, monthly bus pass, and looked mildly sympathetic when I told him what happened. That was the most emotion I had ever seen from him. Can you imagine driving the same 30 minute route through some of the most congested traffic in the world for 8 hours a day? But the zechus of driving all day in Jerusalem, Ir haKodesh!
Canceling credit cards is a breeze with internet and a VOIP line. I had already spent a lot of the cash in the purse for the vegetables I needed. I did loose my chofshi for July and had to buy a punch card called cartisia. May the loss be for a kappara. The new credit cards came in the mail to our US address and kind people will bring them when they come. It was a inconvenience, and it was annoying. But I was careless. I was warned that pickpockets stroll the shuk ,and I wore a bag that was a temptation to someone so inclined.
Israel is what it is, the good and the not so good. But there is so much good. Our cup is not just half full, it overflows with the bracha that our generation is zoche, merits, to be the one in which Jews can come home to Yerushalyim.
Today is Rosh Chodesh Elul and the streets overflow with Jews coming to pray at the Kotel as they begin to do tshuva in anticipation of the coming Days of Awe. K’lal Yisrael overflows with so many good people who care about each other, that we-as Rabbi Kalman Rosenbaum says-”can’t let the perfect ruin the good.”
So, come home soon. And we will meet you in Yerushalyim with a dozen rose-colored glasses. You are going to need them.
Love,
David & Renee ...
Rosh Chodesh Elul
30 Av 5767
August 14, 2007
Dear Family and Friends,
I admit it. I came to Israel wearing rose colored glasses. When someone tells me their “issues” with Israel, I just don’t get it. So, when I hear things like beggars probably make fortunes, and people complain that everything is so expensive here, and the warning I recently read that pickpockets stroll the shuk at Machene Yehuda, I just don’t agree. In fact, I just heard someone say that we should all be as persistent in our goals as the people jingling their cups. And yes, American goods and meat are very expensive, but Israeli goods and produce are reasonably priced, especially if you know where to shop. Like the shuk, where I have never had a bad experience.
A few weeks ago, I met up with 10 year aliya veteran, Star Miller and soon to be olah, Leslie Lowenstien, for an outing to one of my favorite Jerusalem excursions: the shuk. This is an amazing place on a Thursday morning. The aisles are jammed with shoppers of every stripe pulling bubbe carts, old men collecting tzedeka, suppliers yelling as they navigate pallets on wheels trying to fill up the vegetable stands as fast as customers can load up with tomatoes, peppers of every color, eggplant, cucumbers, zucchini, melons, squashes, onions, garlic, red and white potatoes, crimson beets,
enormous grapes, nuts and dates, luscious figs, overflowing herbs, pillars of aromatic spices, fish, pickles, olives, cheeses...and this is just the main aisle. Jostling is the norm, and forget about shomer negiah-shoving and shuffling men and women bump together as we move in and out of minuscule booths and delight in the cheapest prices on the freshest fruits and vegies.The three of us entered the shuk and ogled the scene, discussing what we were cooking for Shabbos. I headed for the first place that looked enticing. Within about 7 minutes I had filled up and paid the proprietor for the overflowing contents of my cart: the makings of so many salads and side dishes-recipes that would keep me on my feet in the kitchen for several hours, but I couldn’t resist. It all just looked so good. The best food starts with the best ingredients. And this farmers’ market of the holy city is the source for the best beginnings I have ever encountered.
I met Leslie just out side the booth as Star eyed some exquisite tomatoes across the aisle. Leslie commented that she couldn’t find her American Express card this morning, no matter they don’t take credit here anyway-this is cash commerce only. But, she wondered, maybe she should cancel it. Star went for the tomatoes, they had golden-yellow ones, too-when she tried to buy a few figs from a basket, the salesperson scolded her and said she’d have to take the whole basket or nothing. Forget that. We bumped down the aisle together when a tzedeka collector approached. I always set aside a few coins every day because this is inevitable. Once I have given those 6-8 shekels,
I can say “no” to the others this time and perhaps catch them the next time. Its a strategy I learned from Rebbetzin Tzipporah Heller: decide what to give ahead of time and give it graciously.So, I reached in my open pouch for the smaller purse containing my money..which was not there! I left Leslie standing with the beggar and my vegetables to weave and push my way against traffic to the stand where I had just made my purchase. I asked the proprietor if I left my purse there. He only spoke Hebrew...so I looked frantically at all the bins, and then under them. No purse. Meanwhile, Star and Leslie were going through my cart and all the bags inside. No purse.
I went back to the shopkeeper and tried again. “Did you see my wallet? I just paid here!” Did I expect that he would magically have learned even a smattering of English in 3 minutes? Thankfully, There were two sturdy Chassidic women-wearing sensible shoes, dark suits, and shaitels with little black hats on top; one waiting in line and one paying. They translated for me-well, mis-translated. The owner thought I did not have my wallet and could not pay. He told me, via the two ladies, --something that can only happen here-- that I could take whatever I wanted and come back to pay him later. Well, I guess they do take credit here.
As kind as that was, it did not help. He did not have my purse. It was beginning to dawn on me that I had been pick pocketed. But just of my money and credit cards. Not my rose colored glasses.
Star suggested I say the prayer for finding a lost object. Since none of us knew it, we called her daughter, Rivka, who had me repeat after her and then told me to give tzedeka. Ironic, isn’t it? Trying to give tzedeka was just how I discovered my loss...and of course, now I had no money. So, Star gave me 20 shekels and, since I decided to go home and call the credit card companies, bus fare, too. As I was saying good-bye to my friends, we spotted a pretty bedraggled, lethargic man shuffling past us holding an old plastic cup containing only a few agarot (less than a shekel). From behind, I dropped the 20 shekel bill in his cup. He stopped in his tracks to stare at it, then look around in disbelief. Maybe his day was beginning to go better than mine.
I found my rose colored glasses and went out into the sun. The bus stop was all downhill and the way was shady. I passed one of the Chassidic translators on the way and she wished me bracha and hatzlacha (blessing and that things should go well). The 38 bus to the Rova pulled up as soon as I got to the stand. The bus driver looked confused when I paid for my fare. He recognized me, knew I had a chofshi, monthly bus pass, and looked mildly sympathetic when I told him what happened. That was the most emotion I had ever seen from him. Can you imagine driving the same 30 minute route through some of the most congested traffic in the world for 8 hours a day? But the zechus of driving all day in Jerusalem, Ir haKodesh!
Canceling credit cards is a breeze with internet and a VOIP line. I had already spent a lot of the cash in the purse for the vegetables I needed. I did loose my chofshi for July and had to buy a punch card called cartisia. May the loss be for a kappara. The new credit cards came in the mail to our US address and kind people will bring them when they come. It was a inconvenience, and it was annoying. But I was careless. I was warned that pickpockets stroll the shuk ,and I wore a bag that was a temptation to someone so inclined.
Israel is what it is, the good and the not so good. But there is so much good. Our cup is not just half full, it overflows with the bracha that our generation is zoche, merits, to be the one in which Jews can come home to Yerushalyim.
Today is Rosh Chodesh Elul and the streets overflow with Jews coming to pray at the Kotel as they begin to do tshuva in anticipation of the coming Days of Awe. K’lal Yisrael overflows with so many good people who care about each other, that we-as Rabbi Kalman Rosenbaum says-”can’t let the perfect ruin the good.”So, come home soon. And we will meet you in Yerushalyim with a dozen rose-colored glasses. You are going to need them.
Love,
David & Renee ...
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