A Video to Share, and a Call for Persistence!

I performed this on 13 December, at the Ulpan Gordon Hanukkah Show.  I wanted to share it here, (apart from my ego demanding it!) because the song speaks to me so clearly.  

If you remember, the original Louis Armstrong version became especially well known after its use in the movie Good Morning, Vietnam; Adrian Cronauer, the main character (and the real-life person upon whose memories and experiences of Vietnam the film is loosely based), plays the song on his morning radio show on (US) Armed Forces Radio, and the sounds of the song are juxtaposed on screen with the image of a column of troops marching somewhere, looking battle-weary.  The song in its English form has become a sort of anthem to the notion that, whatever misery any one of us might be buried in at any given time, the world is still wonderful.  And Armstrong gives examples of phenomena in the world that should remind us of that fact.

This is, of course an important message for each one of us.  But I thought that it would particularly resonate with my fellow students in ulpan, most of whom are going through all kinds of difficulties stemming from their moving to the State of Israel.  Yes, living in Israel is the Zionist Dream, but that doesn't mean it's easy!  Not everyone in class has a nice US military pension and considerable savings from which to live; they are younger, and must prepare themselves for a career in Israel, to raise children there, and in some cases to serve in the army.  And yet...it's a wonderful world, and I hope that my gift to them, to remind them of this fact, added to their resolve to work through all the difficulties and find their happiness in the Jewish State. 

Shabbat (The Sabbath) in Israel

Ask any Jewish immigrant to Israel what he likes best about life here, and unless he is a determined secularist, he's mostly to answer "Shabbat and holidays."

Friday evening in Jerusalem - no need for caution when
walking on tram tracks!

(By the way, the idea of a determined secularist 'making Aliyah' is not so outlandish as you might think.  Many Jews who move here specifically to escape persecution or insecurities in their countries of origin - for example, those arriving from Russia, Ukraine, France, South Africa - might not be religiously inclined at all.  My ulpan class is a good example; many of my classmates have little to no religious reference for moving, and living here.)

There is just something magical about the way that the country starts slowing down around mid-afternoon Friday, as Shabbat approaches.  As I write this, it is about 2.30PM Friday and I feel it.  No, things are not completely quiet.  Friday afternoon is a popular time for teenage boys to scream around the neighborhood on anything propelled by an internal combustion engine; right now, quad ATV's seem to be all the rage, and the more ineffective the muffler, the better.  So, it's not as if the air becomes more still.  In fact there's a bustle about Fridays as people who are Sabbath-observant rush around to make preparations.  Friday mornings are not a good time to have to do any shopping, because everybody seems to be in a rush and a crush to get things done.  But once the noon hour passes, you can feel the change.  Traffic on the streets, heavy on Friday mornings, starts to thin out.  The smells of cooking are everywhere.  Coming home from the bakery to buy my loaves of challah and a cake for Shabbat, I joyously breathed in the savory aromas of cooking that seemed to emanate from every apartment as I walked home. (My own included, as Clara was cooking up a storm.)  Any other time of the week, when concluding a transaction in a shop you might get a yom tov (good day) from the clerk or salesperson.  But on Fridays (really, it starts Thursdays, because the assumption is that they won't see you again before the Sabbath) you get a Shabbat shalom.  

Even in decidedly-secular Tel Aviv, one feels the
change as Shabbat falls.

As the afternoon starts fading into the twilight, you see the religious people starting to come out of their homes and walking to the many synagogues.  Israel is a casual country, and nobody will get any flack from the guy in the next row if they come into the synagogue in everyday clothes (although a woman might get stares if she comes in with bare shoulders and arms), but you see many people walking to prayers in their best clothes.  In certain circles, it is customary for both men and women to dress completely in white in Friday evening, but others wear more formal jackets and even ties.  Hariedi men mostly wear black, and those of certain hasidic sects wear silk robes and shtreml fur hats. 

Even among the non-religious, it is common for a family to gather for a big dinner on Friday evening.  The kids in the army are often home on leave, and the kids beyond army age who have gone off to start lives of their own often still come home to their parents' homes to share the Friday evening meal.

On Saturday morning, the religious are of course back at synagogue for the morning prayers and Torah reading.  The non-religious, if they aren't relaxing at home, are outside, walking, running, going to the beach, gathering in a park.  Because the weather is good almost any day of the year here (right now in Ashqelon it is 26 Celsius, down from today's high of 28...and it's the 22nd of December), people tend to go outside a lot.  But the main thing is that, on Shabbat, few people are going to work or rushing around.  It's as if the entire country 'takes a chill pill.'

To me, that's a big draw to life in Israel; the sense of shared slowing-down that happens once a week and on other occasions when holidays occur.  Whether one observes these days in a religious or secular fashion, they still happen - and they influence how the entire country behaves.
     

International Day of Persons with Disabilities...

Wheelchair Obstacle Course at International Day of
Persons with Disabilities, in Ashqelon 

...was Friday last week.  I have a friend whom I usually meet for a walk and coffee on Friday mornings when we're both available, who it happens is legally blind.  As I had received a text message from the Ashqelon Municipal Department of Retiree Activities the day before, that there would be a special observance down at the marina on Friday morning, I suggested to my friend that we walk down to the marina to see what's on.

It was timely, because I had just read in the newspaper earlier in the week, that a recent poll of Israelis showed a startling lack of understanding of disabilities.  According to the survey, 60 percent of all Israelis think the disabled to be mentally incompetent.  The survey question did not differentiate between the specific types of disabilities; in other words, 60 percent of Israelis seem to think that any disabled person (blind, deaf, mobility impaired,,,) is also mentally incompetent.

One thing that I like about living in Israel is that, when a legitimate societal issue is raised, it is then usually addressed by various governmental bodies in a way that is hoped to be helpful.  In that regard, I thought the activities set up in Ashqelon friday were  brilliant.

The theme was to teach young people - before they develop attitudes that are difficult to change - what the disabled face in their everyday lives.  The marina was full of high school students, who were offered the morning off if they attended the event.

Deafness Station

A number of stations were set up, to enable the kids to sample what it is like to be disabled.  There was a wheelchair obstacle course, to show the obstacles that wheelchair users face everyday just in trying to get around.  And there was also a wheelchair basketball station, to show athletic young people (and basketball is probably the most popular sport here) just how hard it is for the mobility-impaired to realize their athletic dreams.

Blindness Station

There was a blindness station, where the kids wore eye shades and were introduced the reality of having to visualize things through descriptions.  And there was a deafness station, where kids wearing ear protectors had to try to communicate with one another.


In addition to all these exhibits to help the non-disability community better appreciate the challenges facing the disabled, there were also stations where a number of governmental and non-government organizations could pass out helpful information and address the concerns of the disabled in making sure they get all the benefits, to which they're entitled.

All this comes after a period - during the last three months - when the disabled have been holding public protests, including blocking traffic on major arteries, to raise awareness of their plight.  For what it's worth, it appears that someone has been listening.

So How's That Workin' Out For Ya?

Palestinian Protest near Bethlehem, Thursday, 7 December 2017

In my post last week, I praised President Trump for taking the momentous step of declaring the United States' recognition of Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, and signing the order for the State Department to begin the groundwork for moving our embassy there.  And of course, if you're following the issue, you know that our Palestinian neighbors have spent the past few days showing their displeasure in their favorite manner - with violent demonstrations and attacks on Jews.  And you also likely know that there have been violent attacks on Jews and Jewish institutions in various places in the world:  in particular, against the main synagogue in Stockholm, Sweden and a kosher restaurant in Amsterdam, the Netherlands.  So, you could be forgiven if you'd like to ask me the question that is the title of this post.  And I'm happy to answer that question.

But first, let me give you some personal background - state my bonafides, I guess.  I have a son serving in the Israeli army, in the Tank Corps.  He's not in 'the Territories' - Judea and Samaria, or the West Bank if you prefer - right now.  He has under his belt two deployments there:  one in the Tulkarem area, and one in Gush Etzion.  Right now, he's on early warning watch in a bunker complex facing Kuneitra, Syria - in the Golan Heights.  Because he's a combat medic, this deployment has a large humanitarian element - providing medical aid to refugees and anti-government fighters fleeing oppression by Syrian President Assad's troops.  His next deployment is slated for the Gaza border.  I'm really proud of him for his service.  Although he's not in the Territories this week, he saw plenty of action when he was.  So, as the concerned parent of an IDF soldier - not to mention as someone living in Southern Israel within easy range of Hamas' vast inventory of inexpensive rockets - I'm not being cavalier about the violence.  (It happens that there have been several rocket warnings here in Ashqelon since last Wednesday.  It's just part of life here.) 

I would have been happy to tell President Trump, had I had the means, to not bother with the recognition and moving the embassy if it would have kept him, and other Israelis, safe from thuggery and terror.  But - and you can see where this is going - Trump's yielding to concerns about renewed violence and not taking the step he did last week, would not have made Israel, or Jews around the world, one iota safer over the long run.  The thuggery and terror of the Palestinians and elements in the the greater Arab/Islamic world have been close to continuous over the 69 years of the life of the Israeli state, and for many decades beforehand.  In other words, the violence isn't because of Jerusalem, or the lack of a Palestinian state, or the Jewish 'settlements' in the West Bank, or anything President Trump has said or done.  If Abu Mazen's threat, of a new Intifada because of this most recent event, come true, then last week's event would be nothing more than the ostensible trigger.  Trump or not, it was going to come - more likely sooner than later.  Every time the Palestinians don't get their way on something, they threaten a new round of violence.  And they almost always follow through on those threats.  They truly mean what they say, at least as regards violence against Israel.

And Hamas?  Supposedly, Al Fatah (the faction of Abu Mazen anf the late Yassir Arafat) and Hamas have come to some kind of accommodation in the Gaza Strip.  Ismail Haniyeh - the leader of Hamas - hasn't been sounding too different from Abu Mazen.  And Hamas isn't engaging in empty words either; just today, the IDF destroyed yet another Hamas-built terror tunnel stretching under the Gaza Strip border into Southern Israel.  That tunnel, whose purpose would have been to insert guerrilla squads into Israel to kidnap IDF soldiers and force them into Gaza to use as bargaining chips for Hamas prisoners in Israeli jails, was not built after Trump's press conference on Wednesday last week.  Sooo...

Even after a few days of very unfortunate violence in Israel and the Jewish world, 'triggered' by President Trump's brave recognition of Jerusalem as Israel's capital and reiteration of his promise to move the US embassy from Tel Aviv, I'm still a fan.


       

He Did It!

Was your response to the subject, Who did what?  If so, then I will answer with a question:  What rock have you been hiding under for the last week or so?

The Knesset, seat of Israel's parliamentary democracy, in Jerusalem

Of course, the who is President Trump.  And the what is, he officially recognized Jerusalem as Israel's capital city, and is directing the State Department to begin the background work to move the US embassy in Israel to Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, since an embassy's rightful place is in its host nation's capital city.

The announcement was not unexpected; the Washington and Middle East Leak Machine has been hard at work ensuring that we would know the essence of the announcement long before it was made.  Still, since President Trump likes to keep people and other nations guessing, one can never be entirely certain until he announces in an official manner,  And announce in an official manner he did:  not a Tweet, but a forceful speech from the State Department's Foggy Bottom headquarters.

The speech was in Trump's  typical, somewhat-inarticulate yet from-the-heart style.  He made two main points:

1.  The recognition of, and moving the embassy to, Jerusalem is US law, passed overwhelmingly by Congress and signed into law by President Clinton in 1995, yet not acted upon by Clinton nor by his successors George W Bush and Barack Obama who used a loophole in the law which enables the sitting president to apply for successive waivers of six months to delay its implementation.  The three presidents kept claiming the waiver, on the basis that its implementation would inflame tensions and make it more difficult for Israel and the Palestinians to reach a peace agreement.  Yet that peace agreement has not been forthcoming, and Trump does not believe - and I think he's correct - that its implementation now will prejudice the chances of an agreement.  I think he believes - although he did not state as much in his speech today - that his order to implement the agreement might actually spur the Palestinians to return to the table since they're no longer going to get this 'free ride' from Washington.

2.  Every state on earth has the right to decide which city is its capital. (The Israelis decided this question in 1980, when the Knesset passed the Jerusalem Law.)  And in no case - other than Israel - does the United States de-legitimize that state's decision.  Since Jerusalem has been Israel's capital in every way that that distinction matters, for almost 70 years, it is time for the US to recognize that fact and locate its embassy where it has best access to the various functions of the host nation government.

If there is opposition to this move among not only Arab and Islamic states but also several Western nations, that's okay.  It is not unanimously supported in Israel itself, where most of the opposition is pragmatic.  And if several senior officials of the Palestinian Authority - including Chairman Abu Mazen as well as Saed Erekat and Hanan Ashrawi - have threatened a new round of violent uprisings, that's regrettably okay - since the next round has always been a foregone conclusion, only its timing and the ostensible trigger being unknown.

Since Trump has waited the better part of a year after taking office to make this announcement, and does so only after considerable attempts to renew peace talks, it is clear that he has been making no progress with the Palestinians and therefore felt he had no choice but to fulfill this campaign promise he'd made.

It's interesting that a number of voices who cannot by a stretch be characterized as pro-Israel hawks - among them Tom Friedman of the New York Times and Judith Miller late of the Times and now a correspondent for Fox News - have long counselled that one cannot draw the Palestinians into negotiations by handing them un-earned concessions.  And yet, successive US presidents - not to mention Israeli leaders - have held to the principle that such unilateral concessions will result in a movement toward an agreement by the Palestinians.  Deep disagreement on this point made relations between President Obama and Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu problematic almost from the day Obama took office.  Clearly, with Netanyahu still in office and a new administration in Washington, this disagreement no longer exists.  Seeing the bold move made by Trump today is heartening.  Will it help the Peace Process?  We cannot know, but since the latter has been in a virtual deep freeze for years, there is probably little risk of exacerbating it.

Getting Around Israel by Train

Since I mentioned in my last post that I’m travelling to Tel Aviv four times a week, perhaps a post on the excellent public transport system in Israel would be in order.

There's no joy for drivers in Tel Aviv.  Some other Israeli cities
are just as bad.

Most Israelis own and drive private automobiles, and even the two-car family has become quite commonplace here.  This is sign of increasing prosperity; 25 years ago, the family with one car was doing better-than-average.  Now, with a population that is growing about 2% per year and a mushrooming car ownership rate, the country’s roads are considerably congested.  It is said that Israel has the most cars per kilometer of road of any country in the world, except Singapore.  The problem of traffic density is exacerbated by the smallness of the country, which makes families reluctant to move house when a breadwinner takes a job in another city.  Since most Israeli cities are within commuting distance of one another, most will just plan to commute and stay put.  Because Israelis treasure personal mobility as much as any other people, this means there are a lot of cars on the road on any given weekday.

In another, future post I’ll deal with the realities of driving in Israel.  For now, suffice it to say that it can be a frustrating, as well as expensive, proposition.

Israel Railways' Ashqelon Station at dawn.

Thank goodness there is an excellent public transport network consisting of countrywide ‘heavy’ rail as well as light rail within Jerusalem (and soon, Tel Aviv), plus a number of intercity bus companies as well as local bus lines in every city and many towns.  Except on the Sabbath and religious festivals, it is possible to travel just about anywhere in the country via public transport.  For door-to-door service, there are legions of taxis.  No Uber though:  the ride-sharing company was just getting started in Tel Aviv, but the government has made their service illegal.  There is an app-based ride hailing service called ‘GETT,’ but its vehicles are regular licensed taxis.

Most of Israel's rail lines run down the center of highways.

Newcomers to Israel frequently find themselves frustrated by the casual, ‘it’ll start when it starts’ attitude toward timeliness.  I certain do, especially given my military background!  But one thing that seems to operate with almost German-like precision, is the train network.  I can’t say as much about the buses, simply because they have to cope with the same traffic congestion that every driver must endure, so bus travel is usually fraught with delays.

The entrance-exit turn-styles in the busy Tel Aviv Center
Station

So, I’ve been taking the train every morning – four days a week – to Tel Aviv.  It’s about an hour’s ride, and the trains mostly do run on schedule.  The train cars on the main north-south coastal routes, are double-decker with lounge-type seating that is reasonably comfortable for trips that are seldom over two hours.  A standard consist seems to five cars, pulled or pushed by a single diesel locomotive.  Several of the lines that run inland, use single-level cars that are self-propelled (diesel).  A contract was recently signed to purchase electric trains from the German company Siemens, to replace the diesels as the various lines are electrified.  The Israeli trains are not high-speed a la the Bullet Train, but I have clocked trains running at over 100 KM/H where the tracks parallel a highway as they do over most of the network.  There is a ‘high speed’ track under construction on the Tel Aviv-Jerusalem corridor that will cut the time of the trip down to something like half an hour when it opens.  

Whimsical touches abound.  Every train station has a piano
for whoever wants to sit down and play.  I've heard some
really good music when passing through the stations.

The trains are very inexpensive to ride; my daily round trip fare from Ashqelon to Tel Aviv would be NIS 22 (US $6.27 at today’s exchange rate), or NIS 27 (US $7.70) including the bus trip within the Tel Aviv area.  But I buy a monthly pass which includes the buses at either end, with unlimited use during the month for NIS 423 (US $120.00).  In addition to the unlimited aspect of this pass, an additional benefit is that I can breeze right into the station and through the turn-style, without needing to buy a ticket from one of the vending machines of the live cashier each day.  And on the buses, I just hold my chip card against the fare machine for a second until it registers.  It’s a very easy way to get around.

The new Tel Aviv-Jerusalem high speed rail line is an
engineering marvel and will make travel between Israeli's
two largest cities much faster.

In addition to having small tables for getting work done or holding drinks, the trains usually have 220V A/C plugs at the seats, for powering/recharging electronic devices.  The cars also have free WiFi for underway surfing.  There are restrooms in every car.  Finally, there are limited spaces for bicycles, and bicycles (including electric bikes) are carried free.  During rush hours, you’re only supposed to bring folding bikes aboard, but this is a rule generally ignored.  There are no other services on board, though; one must buy food or drink to be consumed on the way, before boarding.

A familiar sight on Israel Railways, is that of soldiers travelling
with full kit.  Even when in combat readiness, they usually go
home on leave every second weekend.

Rush hour trains can be standing room only, but I go to Tel Aviv before the morning rush and come home before the afternoon rush, so the trains are never so crowded.  When I arrive in Tel Aviv, I never have to wait more than a few minutes for the bus that takes me to a block-and-a-half from Ulpan Gordon, and the ride takes perhaps 20 minutes.

If I chose to travel by car to Tel Aviv, there would always be danger of traffic bottlenecks, not to mention the problem of finding parking in Tel Aviv.

Buses as Ashqelon's Central Station

I have also traveled between cities by bus, generally when I go to Jerusalem as there is a direct bus from Ashqelon but going by rail would require two train changes and considerably more time.  Except for being subject to traffic congestion, bus travel is also pleasant enough; the buses are comfortable and run often, the fares are cheap like the train fares, and the buses have USB power at each seat and free WiFi.  From Ashqelon to Jerusalem, the bus takes about 90 minutes.

I have to say that I find getting around in Israel by public transport, easier and cheaper than anywhere else I’ve lived (including Germany).  While there are aspects of life in Israel that can make you want to tear the hair out of your head in frustration, getting around is generally not one of them!

I'm Baaaack! About Ulpan...

Ulpan Gordon, in Tel Aviv

I know this space has been strangely quiet for a while.  Sorry about the Silence of the Blogger!  I’ve had a few very busy months.  I started studying in ulpan, a full-time Hebrew course that lasts five months.  At the same time, I’ve been abroad twice, once on ‘business’ – to celebrate the High Holy Days in Boulder, Colorado – and once on pleasure – to go boat-shopping in England.  Between all that, Clara and I bought and moved into an apartment, and I’ve been through a bout of sinus congestion that took me a long time to kick – I’m still not completely over it – which sapped my strength for several weeks.

Okay, enough excuses!  I’m touched that several of my readers have inquiries as to when I would resume blogging, so I’m here to tell you that…the resumption is now.  But I’m going to change my focus.  I’m going to move away from the weekly Torah portion, on which I’ve been blogging for a number of years.  My dear friend Paul in Australia suggested that I offer some insights on life in Israel, so I’ll move in that direction for now.

Classroom in Ulpan Gordon.  Makes one feel as if one has returned to
high school, but what can you do?

Since I mentioned that I’m currently enrolled in ulpan, I’ll tell you a bit about that.  Ulpan is, for most olim, or immigrants to Israel, an unavoidable part of the process of klita, or absorption.  Many immigrants come with zero Hebrew language, many with minimal proficiency.  My Hebrew upon arrival was, I’m given to understand, higher than than most.  Nevertheless, in my initial interview with the counselor at my local office of the Ministry of Aliyah and Absorption, one question she asked was whether I was going to go to ulpan.  I told her I wanted to improve my Hebrew from the level I then held, and asked for advice.  She sent me to the local Merkaz Klita, Absorption Center, where there is an ulpan, even though it only offer a basic level course, as the staff there might be able to advise me on where I might find an course at the level appropriate for me.

Students at Ulpan Gordon enjoying the mid-morning break

I did go down to Beit Canada, the absorption center in Ashqelon, and the director was helpful, but it turned out I would have to travel to another city – Beersheva, Tel Aviv or Jerusalem – for a course that would work for me.  At about the same time, I was looking into some employment and educational opportunities and thought I might just skip the ulpan, and let my Hebrew improve through constant use.  But after a few months of going back and forth, I finally decided to enroll.  Since attending in Beersheva or Tel Aviv would require a somewhat similar commute, I decided to go to Tel Aviv figuring that I would be able to enjoy some free hours after class, enjoying the seafront or the shopping there.  I took the placement exam at Ulpan Gordon, was told that I belonged in Kita Dalet, the highest level for the immigrants’ ulpan, and I enrolled.  The course started in September.

The Ulpan Gordon is a private school, but immigrants who choose to attend there are given a voucher by the Ministry of Absorption to pay for the course.  I have to pay my own transportation costs.  (I’ll write about public transport in Israel in a later post.)  The class meets four days a week, Sunday through Wednesday, from 8.15AM to 12.50PM.  There is homework most days, especially over the break from Wednesday afternoon to Sunday morning.  Most of the homework is easy, consisting of fill-in sheets, but it does reinforce what we learned in class.  The teacher also assigns us to write compositions, and these require more effort...but being an aspiring writer I enjoy the exercise.  The teacher was shocked when I turned in my first composition, word-processed and printed on my HP inkjet printer.  The norm is hand-written pages.  Because of my work in the rabbinate, I learned to type in Hebrew a long time ago and can do so with a reasonable proficiency.  Which is a good thing, since my longhand - Hebrew or English - is difficult to decipher!

Because this is Kita Dalet, for students who already have considerable proficiency in the language, we did not have to learn how to write, nor did we have to start out by doing the verb conjugation drills that discourage so many students of Hebrew.  We focus on learning how the exceptional verbs are conjugated, and on vocabulary acquisition.  We read a lot of article on interesting subjects, some from the daily newspaper.

My class has about 25 students, far too many, but since some of them are already employed, or have young children, it seems that attendance can be spotty.  There are three major ‘blocks’ of students in the class – I jokingly refer to them as ‘mafias.’  The largest is the Russian Mafia, which seems to consist only of women.  Then there’s the French Mafia, mostly women.  Then the South American Mafia, mostly men.  There are a few oddballs:  a Hungarian woman, a Turkish man, and then the very small Anglophone Mafia:  a South African, an Australian, and me representing the good ‘ole USA.

Despite the lack of conjugation drills – which I really don’t mind, truth be told – the course can be knock-your-head-against-the-wall frustrating.  But it’s a rite of passage, and in the end I’m glad I decided to endure it.  It will not make me fluent in Hebrew; I’m afraid that only years of living here, and constantly working at it, will be the only way to achieve that level of proficiency.  Still, as inadequate as ulpan might be, it speaks volumes about the desire of the state of take immigrants from all over the world and turn them into Israelis, that the course is offered. 

On Separating the Rational from the Irrational

Israel under the leadership of Joshua bin Nun, repels the
attack of the Amalekites

I’ve long wondered why the Torah counsels compassion towards the Egyptian on one hand, and “never forget” with regard to the Amalekites.  The former, of course, enslaved the people Israel, attempted genocide against them, and pursued them as they were fleeing.  The latter?  When the wandering Israelites crossed their land, they attacked them from the rear.  A one-time offense which, while cowardly, did not deter the people Israel from realizing their destiny.  And yet, we’re supposed to forgive the Egyptian people while holding a perpetual grudge against Amalek.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks offers an explanation in his d’var Torah this week.  The Egyptians’ fear of the Israelites, while unjustified, was rational.  It could therefore be argued against, and ultimately be proven as wrong-headed and…abandoned by the Egyptians.  The Amalekites’ fear of the Israelites, on the other hand, was completely irrational and therefore could not be reasoned with.  Many times throughout history, Rabbi Sacks argues, peoples have harbored rational – if mistaken – fears towards other groups, which (since they were ultimately rational) disappeared when proven wrong.  And therefore, the hate based upon that fear, disappeared as well.  But irrational fears don’t – again, according to Rabbi Sacks’ logic – disappear because, based on nothing real, they cannot be reasoned away.

Using this logic, Rabbi Sacks reasons that distrust of immigrant groups, at least sometimes, can be considered ‘rational’ – if unjustified – and will pass away as the immigrant group targeted, assimilates and becomes part of the national fabric.  But certain irrational forms of hate – Rabbi Sacks unsurprisingly uses antisemitism as his example – should be opposed in the strongest terms because, being irrational, will never pass away on their own, unopposed.

You can read Rabbi Sacks’ essay here: http://mailchi.mp/rabbisacks/ki-teitse-5777-243365?e=cd4185fd58

Although I mostly appreciate Rabbi Sacks’ eminent wisdom and am usually very happy to learn from him, this explanation of his leaves me feeling somewhat empty.  The reason is that it has become virtually impossible to discern which fears are rational and which, irrational.  Part of that is due to language.  The word ‘phobia,’ borrowed from Greek, originally meant ‘irrational fear.’ Thus, ‘agoraphobia’ denotes an irrational fear of crowded places – irrational, because there is not inherent danger in crowded places. (‘Agora’ in Greek, means ‘public marketplace,’ like the Turkish word ‘pazar/bazaar’ or the Arabic ‘souk.’)  Rabbi Sacks uses the term ‘phobia’ as meaning ‘fear,’ period; he refers to ‘rational phobias.’  This is not a complaint against evolution in language; I’m not the kind who believes language should be ossified for all time.  I don’t miss using the term ‘forsooth,’ for example! 

But perhaps the transition in the meaning of ‘phobia’ from ‘irrational fear’ to ‘fear,’ period, indicates that rationality, and therefore irrationality, has become subjective.  For example, in our time there are many rational reasons to avoid crowds.  Crowds invite real dangers – crime, terrorism – that cannot be written off as irrational.  I’m not suggesting that we should all walk away as soon as we find ourselves in a crowd.  But to dismiss concern about crowds as irrational, represents a denial of facts.

The term ‘islamophobia’ has become popular, and is often applied to any tendency to fear Muslims.  Is ‘islamophobia’ irrational?  The reality is that in Israel, in Europe…really, just about anyplace in the world, there are Islamists who will use violence and terror to attack and weaken the resolve of the West, their goal being the establishment of a worldwide caliphate.  If one reads their literature and listens to their broadcasts, one can see that this fear is far from irrational.  And yet, an indiscriminate lashing out towards Muslims in our midst, who very well may not be of that mindset but rather wanting the same things in life that you and I want, would be unjustified.  Just as Rabbi Sacks asserts that the ancient Egyptians may have had a rational fear of the Israelites, yet that fear resulted in unjustified actions.

So today, even when nobody is seriously suggesting a mass deportation of Muslims (or anything even approaching that) from our various Western lands, one gets labeled an ‘islamophobe’ for suggesting that a stronger process of vetting Muslims wanting to enter our countries from certain countries.  Countries where there is no functional, cooperating local government apparatus to assist immigration authorities at the other end that the person wanting to cross the border is safe, and without the associations and history that might indicate they wanted to enter the West in order to commit violence.  If ‘islamophobe’ simply means someone who fears some Muslims, than I don’t mind being called that.  But if it means someone who irrationally fears Muslims, then the term should disappear or become less common, because some fear of Muslims is clearly not irrational.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that, even if some people today use the term ‘-phobe’ simply to mean ‘one who fears,’ and not ‘one who fears irrationally,’ it is commonly used in the latter meaning, as a way of negatively labeling, and discouraging the fear indicated.  We also use ‘phobia’ in cases that have nothing to do with fear, at all.  For example, if I publicly state that I’m against state sanction of same-sex marriage, I’m labeled a ‘homophobe,’ that is, one who has a(n irrational) fear of homosexual people.  Why?  After thousands of years of religious teaching that homosexuality is wrong and should receive no sanction, to oppose the modern state being used as an apparatus for ‘normalizing’ homosexuality, means that one harbors an (irrational) fear of homosexuals?

Irrational fear is not a good thing, and it should be challenged.  The problem is – in today’s hyper-charged environment – separating the irrational from the rational.  Instead of having an honest and respectful conversation to hash out what might be rational and what irrational, we have a tendency to shout at one another and throw out designations – such as homophobe or islamophobe – that are calculated to de-legitimize the one, with whom one disagrees.  Regrettably, our conversations today have become so irrational, that we are barely able to discern between the rational and the irrational.  And if so, then we cannot even begin to have a real conversation where we rationally make a case for whatever it is that we believe.  And that is extremely unfortunate.

On New Moons and Justice

It is said that the only folks who are constantly aware of the phases of the moon are farmers, sailors, and observant Jews.  The first two, because of the moon’s effect on weather patterns which effect their livelihood and, for the sailor, his very life.  The Jew, because the Jewish calendar is lunar-based and all the important days are dependent upon the appearance of the new moon.

Well, the New Moon of Elul appeared yesterday.  Every month on the Jewish calendar has its special days and days of obligation.  In Elul, it’s the month itself – the entire month – that is special.

For Elul is the month leading up to the High Holy Days:  Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  Once Elul starts, we should be starting the soul-searching that will lead to repentance.  To the decisions that will lead to a better life in the next year.  Yeah, New Year’s Resolutions:  we Jews do that, except not at the same time of year that the rest of the world does them.

I’m in Greece for a few days right now, but I can guarantee that, once I’m back in Israel, I’ll hear the Shofar sounded every morning at the end of the Shacharit prayer.  It’s a custom, a sort of advanced wake-up call, a warning that the Days of Repentance are approaching, and it’s time to set accounts aright.

This week’s Torah reading is the portion known as Shoftim, judges, for it opens:  Appoint for yourself judges and officials for your tribes, in all the settlements that the Lord your G-d is giving you, and make sure that they administer honest judgement for the people.  It is not only important to appoint judges and officials, but also to hold them to the highest standards. 

Do not bend justice and do not give special consideration [to anyone].  Everybody gets the same consideration, not based on their rank or social position.

Do not take bribes, as bribery blinds the eyes of the wise and perverts the words of the righteous.  Of all the transgressions a public official, especially one occupied in the administration of justice, can commit, taking bribes is probably the worst.  This is one of the biggest temptations a public official faces.  Many will accept gifts, and insist that they’re not bribes, that they were received with no expectation of favor.  But most of the public know differently, and see an official who accepts gifts from someone who might be in the position of asking a special favor, as having accepted a bribe.  This has been many public officials’ undoing.

Justice, justice shall you pursue, so that you may live and occupy the land that the Lord your G-d is giving you.  The repeated word tsedek – justice – is said to indicate that one must pursue justice, justly.  The end does not necessarily justify the means.  Another opinion on the doubled word, is that it means pursue justice with all zeal.  Whatever Hashem may have meant in repeating the word, it catches one’s attention and focuses one’s thoughts on the idea of pursuing justice.

Of Curses and Thrills

Abuse of mind-altering drugs; probably the most extreme
example of seeking a novel, thrilling experience without
regard for the consequences.

This week’s Torah portion begins with a simple equation.  Look here!  I place before you today a blessing and a curse.  The look here – re’eh in Hebrew – is the classic attention-getter.  Likewise, the binary choice, which is then explained.  The blessing [will come] if you obey the commandments that I place before you today.  The curse [will come] if you do not follow the commandments of the Lord your G-d, and you go astray from the path that I am prescribing for you today.

This is a theme that permeates the Book of Devarim, or Deuteronomy; in seminary the professor called it ‘the Deuteronomistic theology’ because it first finds its full expression in this, the fifth book of the Torah.  Follow G-d’s law, and you will be blessed; don’t follow it, and you will be cursed.  The premise of the equation, is that because Israel has been chosen as G-d’s vessel for propagating His message and law to humanity, the good that happens to them is not accidental.  Rather, it is by G-d’s design.  BUT…if Israel falls away from G-d’s design, then curse will follow.  Bad consequences.  And exactly what does G-d have in mind as the symptom of ‘going astray’ that would trigger the threatened curse?  The third verse continues to spell it out precisely:  following other gods which you have not known.  One translation illuminatingly translates which you have not known – asher lo yedatem – as ‘in order to have a novel spiritual experience.’

Many of us spend our lives searching out novel experiences, in order to spice up our lives.  I know that I do.  Earlier this summer, I went for a week’s cruise aboard a sailing yacht as a way of searching out a new and pleasant experience.  People travel to places they’ve never been – the more ‘exotic’ the better.  Or they try new thrills, such as bungie-jumping or whitewater rafting. (Done the latter, not interested in the former…)  For some, their thrill-seeking of choice involves introducing mind-altering chemical substances into their bodies and brains.  All these experiences can be described, on some level, as ‘spiritual’; they induce a heightened sense of one’s self that makes the experience something greater, more transformative than one would expect.  But are these the kind of experiences that the Torah is warning us against?

Perhaps the last in the list:  the use of mind-altering drugs.  We tend to associate such practice with the decade of the 1960’s when the practice of taking illegal and dangerous drugs first became widespread enough as to characterize, in many people’s minds, a generation.  But in truth, the use of such drugs predates the 1960’s by a few thousand years.  They were part and parcel of the sacred practices of a number of pagan cults in antiquity, cults that the Torah with its prescriptions and proscriptions must be seen as a complaint against.

If I’m correct about this, G-d is not here telling us that we must live boring, predictable lives free of excitement.  Rather, He is saying that we must not enshrine the sensory overload associated with thrills, to the level of a spiritual purpose for living.  Specifically, it can be seen as a caution against the kind of sense-heightening that comes from mind-altering substances and experiences.  But why should such practice be singled out among all others?

In short, such thrills feed the soul’s desire for more and more, imprisoning the individual to continue seeking such thrills to the point of not tending to the ‘mundane’ details of life.  And if the Torah has a message for us, it is that we must remain grounded and always tend to exactly those sorts of things.  Both in the realm of the physical – taking care of ourselves, our families, and our neighbors.  And the spiritual – offering regular sacrifices (now, the ‘sacrifice’ of prayer) to G-d and studying the Torah in order to discern what our duties are.  

Descending into the mind-prison of drug abuse, is probably the ultimate antithesis of living the Torah.  And perhaps, the current explosion in use and abuse of mind-altering drugs, is a symptom of how far away from G-d's Law we have descended.  We have definitely brought on whatever bad consequences - 'curses' in the Torah's language - that beset us.

The Original Cause and Effect: a Thought for Parashat Ekev

Every weekly portion of the Torah offers us multiple lessons for living.  Sometimes, to see them requires that we look considerably beneath the surface.  But sometimes, the lesson is out there in the open, for all to see the second they glance at the page of the text.

This week’s Torah reading provides such a lesson, in the very opening words of the portion.  It is perhaps the Original statement of cause and effect, the epitome of the If, Then statement.  If you heed these rules and observe them carefully, then the Lord your G-d will faithfully keep the covenant He made on oath with your ancestors.

All our lives we are aware of the centrality of the if, then proposition.  The concept is so powerful, because it applies to just about everything in life.  Although we have a tendency to think of much of our lives as being out of our control, the truth is that we have an incredible power to determine our own destinies as we remember, and practice, the principle of cause and effect.  We understand that every action has its consequences, so we decide and act in such as way as to influence the consequences.

This is a powerful concept:  one that, at its heart, most of us would rather see go away.  Today, we have a tendency to attribute consequences to just about everything other than how we have acted.  It’s not my fault!  We blame things on others, and those things that we can’t blame on others, we blame on our sicknesses and conditions…which are not our fault!  In a sense, it is much easier to attribute some failing or shortcoming on external factors.  The child in us, is always in search of the unconditional.  But a big part of growing up, is accepting responsibility, and acting with the knowledge that we are, in fact, responsible for our fate.

Our Torah reading is telling us about cause and effect in a specific instance, that of what it will require if we are to not abrogate the covenant that G-d made with the people Israel in ancient times.  But in reality, it is a lesson that can be applied to just about anything and everything.  Shabbat shalom.   

On Ancient Walls and Lamentations

Jews affiliated with Masorti Judaism gather at the temporary
prayer platform in Robinson's Arch archaeological park, for a
service that will start after sunset. 

Last night, Clara and I joined a small group from our congregation, which in turn joined with Jews affiliated with Masorti (Conservative) congregations from around Israel, for a gathering at the Western Wall in Jerusalem.

As you may remember from my writing about it a few weeks back, or from other sources, there has been a controversy surrounding a compromise hammered out between the Netanyahu government, the Rabbinate, the non-Orthodox movements, the Jewish Agency and representatives of diaspora Jewry, to build a permanent prayer pavilion at the southeast corner of the Western Wall, in the archaeological park known as Robinson's Arch, for prayer services that don't meet the Orthodox rabbinate's parameters:  mixed male-female groups, or women wanting to wear tefillin (phylacteries) and read Torah.  All three practices are proscribed in Orthodox Judaism.  Non-Orthodox have been defying the rabbinate in holding non-conforming services at the main Western Wall plaza for years, on the basis that the Wall belongs to all Jewry - not just the Orthodox.  These service usually take place on Rosh Hodesh, and result in violence and arrests.  The compromise was to designate an area in the vicinity of Robinson's Arch for the non-conforming prayer, and to build a permanent prayer pavilion, or platform.  A temporary platform has been built and is in use, but it is not suitable because it is not handicapped-accessible.

As night falls, a crowd of 300-400 has gathered for the non-
Orthodox service including the chanting of the Book of
Lamentations.

The non-Orthodox movements, and a number of allies such as Natan Scharanskiy (currently head of the Jewish Agency) and members of the government, were up in arms, and there were a number of demonstrations against the government.  I did not participate, because I'm not one for demonstrations.  And this is just not a hot-button issue for me, although I don't appreciate the government changing its mind and going back on its word, apparently because the Hareidi parties had threatened to bolt the coalition which would force new elections.

But this felt right to me, to 'demonstrate' by asserting our rights by being at the wall on this most somber of occasions.  So Clara and I joined the group, and we're glad we did.

There's something beyond apprehension about the stones of Jerusalem, something mystical that one cannot quite quantify.  So so sit on the stones that the Romans tossed down from the Temple Mount so many centuries ago, to chant the Book of Lamentations, just felt more emotional, more moving than doing it in the synagogue.

Our group numbered several hundred, but it was clear that there were thousands of Jews in the Western Wall Plaza just north of where we were.  When we finished and began to disperse, there was an incredible traffic jam getting away from the Old City.

Interestingly, as our service ended a number of Orthodox Jews (so surmised from their dress) entered our part of the wall.  This was not to interfere with what we were doing, but to gain free entry to the archaeological site, where one normally has to pay an admission fee.  As few noticed that there was an 'alternative' reading of Lamentations and dirges just ending, and several seemed to ask respectfully why what we were doing was different.  Of course, the answer was that it wasn't particularly different, except for the mingling of men and women during the service, and the inclusion of women's voices among the readers.

Surely, just as there was a 'political' dimension to our presence at Robinson's Arch, there was also a political overtone to the large Jewish presence at the Wall last night.  This was after all the tensions over the past two weeks over who controls security on the Temple Mount.  Interesting that there were a number of Muslims in the crowd at the Western Wall.  I wonder why it was not intrusive that they had to pass through metal detectors - as did everybody else - to get in?

It was interesting that, just as the chanting of Lamentations was underway and strong, it was time for the final evening Muslim prayer; the sound of the Muezzin's call to prayer blended with the voice of the reader leading the chanting.  And for some reason, it didn't sound like a clash!  Rather, the voices and their minor-key wails seemed to blend nicely.  Too bad it wasn't Sunday; we might have heard the bells of the Christian basilica join in the chorus.  At such moments, when you're not watching the nightly TV news, it is possible to envision a future when the various religions can share the Holy City.  That that has not yet happened, much less the sense that all Jews can equally share their own portion of it, is reason enough for lamentation.  

Symbols on the Chart: a Thought for the Three Weeks and Parashat Devarim

Jews gather on the evening of the Ninth of Av, to read the Book
of Lamentations, and to chant dirges

Nowadays, when we think of the word ‘maps’ we tend to think of the digital variety.  As in:  I’ll look that up in Google Maps.  Or:  I’ll put the address in Waze and I’ll find it.  We don’t think much of the paper kind of map, the kind you spread out on the table and study to find the places that matter to you.

Well, I’m studying for a skipper’s license here in Israel.  And one of the tests that the Ministry of Transport insists that candidates pass, is a test in chart navigation. (In the maritime world, maps are referred to as ‘charts.’)  So, the other night, I came home from class with a rolled-up chart of the Israeli coast and spread it out on the dining room table.  And Clara watched me, and asked:  What’s that??!  (Okay, I’m kidding…she knows what a map is!  But she was surprised to see it, and said:  What, you can’t use GPS??!)

Well, no; we can’t!  We have to learn the conventional way of finding our way in coastal waters.  We’re studying bearings and courses and winds and currents, and especially how to read all the symbols on a chart that show you where you are.  Someday, you’ll be out there on the water, and the GPS will fail.  So you have to learn to use a nautical chart, the seaman’s version of a road map, to find your way.

It reminds me of how we ‘find our way’ in Jewish terms.  In a sense, we have a road map:  Torah.  And I use here the word ‘Torah’ in its broadest sense:  the totality of the Jewish tradition, including the Holy Scriptures, the prescriptions of the Rabbis, and the many layers of exculpatory commentary on the whole thing.  It all, collectively, serves to enable us to find our way in our ongoing encounter with the Holy One.

And just as we have a set of symbols on a map or a nautical chart, which helps us to understand the information presented therein, Torah provides a rich menu of symbols that help us to understand the information contained therein.  And important among those symbols, is the annual cycles of calendar observances that help us to understand and contextualize the lessons that Torah has to teach us.

It is important to be regularly reminded of important facts and wisdom that we’ve already been taught.  That’s the whole purpose behind the book of Deuteronomy, Devarim, which we begin reading this Shabbat in the Jewish world.  As you probably know, the Written Torah consists of five books, thus the sobriquet Five Books of Moses, or Humash in Hebrew.  Well, guess what?  The fifth of the five books, Deuteronomy, is basically a repetition of what the previous four books taught us.  Its form is a series of valedictory sermons that Moses, Moshe Rabbeinu, delivered to the People Israel as he prepared to hand over the mantle of leadership to Joshua Bin Nun, before Moses’ own death.  The name Deuteronomy, is Greek for ‘second telling.’  The Torah has its own way of showing us that it is not enough to learn something once.  It must be repeated, in different terms that help us to ‘get’ it.

These Three Weeks of Preparation, which began with the fast of 17 Tammuz (2 weeks ago) and end with the fast of the Ninth of Av (next week) are a way for us to remember, and learn from, the experience of the ancient Israelites.  It’s not just that first the Babylonians, and later the Romans, destroyed the Holy Temple on the Ninth of Av in two widely separated years of history.  Rather, the aligning of these events challenges us to understand why these destructions, and other disasters in Jewish history, happened.  And a contributing factor – a major contributing factor – in each event, was disunity among the Jewish people.  When I say ‘disunity,’ I don’t mean simple disagreement.  Rather, I mean the kind of deep and complete fealty to doctrine over brotherhood, that causes one Jew to think of another Jew as The Other, as an enemy of the Jewish people.  Unfortunately, one sees more than hints of this mindset even today among Jews, in particularly during the last few weeks as the Rabbinate here in Israel has sought to narrow the definition of who is a Jew and whose concerns are legitimate.  It is perhaps for just such a time, that we find ourselves once more confronted with the Three Weeks and the lesson of the danger of Jewish disunity.