This weekend I’m going to a singles’ Shabbaton. I don’t know why I bother. I can stay home and be alone and have it come to nothing, or I can spend 200 shekels, get my hopes up, and have it come to nothing. Worse than nothing, because I’ll have made myself vulnerable and been disappointed. And I’ll be out 200 shekels.

There are two kinds of singles’ Shabbatons. There are the ones where the men are so not for me that I just have to laugh. At such a Shabbaton I relax and have a great time meeting the other women, people-watching, and in this case perhaps, improving my Hebrew. I’m not sure this type of Shabbaton is worth the time and expense, but at least I come home with my dignity intact, since I didn’t want any of the men anyhow. I chalk it up to “an experience,” glad that I met new people for the sake of meeting them, and move on.

The bad Shabbatons are the ones where theoretically some of the guys there could be for me, but they don’t ask me out. I spend the whole Shabbat trying to mask my disappointment with a sparkling smile and disarming laugh. This takes a lot of effort. I’ll put on my prettiest Shabbat outfit, my favorite lipstick, and a big smile, and force myself to get out there and talk to new people and be charming, and it will come to nothing. I’m posting this so that in a few days, when I post that it came to nothing, you’ll have proof of my prophetic powers.

There are 3 kinds of women at singles’ Shabbatons:

1. The Veela. These are the 3 or 4 stunningly attractive women who, starting on Friday night, become the object of pursuit for every man at the Shabbaton, who spend the next 25 hours competing with each other for the Veela’s attention. Being a Veela is actually not so great, because the Veela don’t get asked out much. Oh, the men flirt with them. A lot. But then they chicken out about actually asking for phone numbers, because they are afraid of being rejected. And none of the other women want to hang out with them, either; sitting next to a Veela is depressing.

2. The Winners Circle. These are the 4 or 5 women, out of about 30, who will actually get a date as a result of the Shabbaton. Some might be Veela, some might be Wallpapers whose efforts at sparkling and disarming actually worked. Unfortunately there is no way to know whether you are in this category until several days after the Shabbaton is over, though if you are never, by far, going to get in the Circle, you can usually tell by Shabbat morning. By the end of lunch, it’s Game Over. At that point you may as well go home, but you are trapped in a community in the middle of nowhere until after havdala.

3. The Wallpaper. These are the women – most of the female attendees—who are neither pursued during the Shabbaton nor asked out afterward. In an attempt to gain a spot in the Circle, most of them act the good sports, participating in the activities and, unless they are very shy, talking charmingly with the men when the men aren’t busy with the Veela. They may also spend time avoiding the shlumpily-dressed man who is obviously a good 10 years older than the age limit set by the organizers, and who has an IQ of 80. By seudat shelishit, most of Wallpapers have mentally given up on all the effort and are focusing more on getting to know the other women. For 200 shekels one should at least make a new friend.

So today I found out that if you ever need an ego boost about your Hebrew skills, you should hang out in an Ulpan.

I visited Milah, a school in Jerusalem's "city center" area that gives intensive Hebrew courses for immigrants. I wanted to sign up for their Level-4 morning class, which meets only twice per week and therefore fits nicely with my work schedule. I knew that Level 5 might be a better fit, but it's only offered in the evenings and conflicts with my weekly meeting with my editor.

I'd told them on the phone that according to the government's post-Ulpan exam, I'm a "high Level 4, for all intents and purposes Level 5," but they said "no, no, we have our own exam which you'll have to take." So today I took it.

According to Milah, I'm in Level 5 bordering on Level 6. That's cool! The lady who graded my exam, who I suppose is used to dealing with people who speak no Hebrew at all, kind of gave me a very impressed look and asked "where did you learn Hebrew?" I said in the States, and in Ulpan Etzion, and she said "which class were you in? The highest one, right? Why do you want more Ulpan?" So I told her that I want to improve more and gain more confidence in speaking, since my comprehension is much better than my spoken Hebrew. I also told her that the only class that fits in my schedule is Level 4. "Your test was great and I can hear that you speak Hebrew very well," she said. "Don't bother taking the Level 4 course. You should take the Short Stories course or the Business Writing course."

In the end I signed up for Short Stories, which meets every other Sunday morning (if enough people sign up) for 6 sessions, at the cost of about $50. Sounds nice.

All I can say is, if this lady thinks my Hebrew is so good, it proves only that she's used to people coming in and not knowing how to say "Ani rotzah Ulpan." Because my Hebrew leaves a lot to be desired. As the secretary said, "You did well on the test so I can explain the registration procedure in easy Hebrew, right?" -- ie in Hebrew, but not with any hard words. Nothing too complicated. The questions at the end of the test, which I got wrong, were pretty much on a 7th-grade reading level.

Still, it's nice to know that someone out there thinks my Hebrew is impressive. I'll take my pats on the back where I can get them.

So I was just poking around on a site with a bulletin board on which some mega, MEGA Harry Potter fans had shot trivia questions at each other. It was pretty frightening, the details these people remember about Harry Potter. Of course, I'm the one who throws Star Wars parties just to have worthy opponents in Star Wars Trivial Pursuit, so I can't call the kettle black.

One fascinating thing came up, though. It seems that in book 2, Nearly Headless Nick is celebrating his 500th deathday party, and he mentions at some point that he died in 1492. Which means that book 2 takes place in 1992. Which means that Harry was born in 1980. Which means that this July 31st, Harry Potter turns 24 years old! Whoa! Wait! Where is he? Did he become an Auror after all? Is he married to Ginny Weasley? How'd he kill Voldemort?

Oh, man, I gotta get some sleep.

A friendly reminder to all Americans living abroad (like, in Israel, for example):

Remember to call your Dad today; it's Father's Day in America.

Last week I went with Natalee and Shuli to see "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" on the big screen.

One of the things I like about Israel is that when you buy a ticket to a movie, your seat number is printed on your ticket. The earlier you buy the ticket, the better your seat (they start with middles of rows in the center of the theater, and work outward from there). Since Shuli had ordered the tickets over the phone that morning, we had wonderful seats, and we didn't have to rush into the theater to claim them. We met in front of the theater 15 minutes before showtime, took our sweet time ordering (kosher!) popcorn, and sauntered in to our two-thirds-of-the-way-back, middle-of-the-row seats. I love that.

As for the film, here are my thoughts (no spoilers, don't worry):

* If you didn't read the book, you will still be able to follow the basic plot outline of the film, but you will miss a lot. Many important plot points or explanations happen so quickly that if you blink you miss them. Still, it is scary and funny in all the right places, and visually appealing.

* As always, the book is better than the film, if only because there is much that the movie, by necessity, leaves out. The film leaves out the explanation of who made the Marauder's Map! Perhaps more astoundingly, it completely leaves out an explanation of why Harry's patronus looks like a stag, which makes certain elements of the climactic scene a bit confusing for anyone who hasn't read the book.

* I really like the new actor who has taken over the role of Dumbledore from Richard Harris, zichrono livracha. Truthfully, Harris never exactly fit my image of Dumbledore -- the voice was all wrong-- and the new guy fits my mental picture much better.

* The "you should have quit while you were ahead" award goes to Rupert Grint, who once again has but one facial expression in this film, which serves for "Oh, no, I'm very scared" as well as "I'm bored," and "I'm confused," and "I'm attracted to Hermione but won't admit it."

* Daniel Radcliffe comes in second for the same award, having 2 facial expressions: One for "Yay! I'm on a broom or other magical thing that flies really fast!" and another for "Oh, no, I'm very scared/bored/confused/ not attracted to Hermione but the director wants some dramatic tension so we're going to make it seem like I am attracted to her, to keep the audience guessing about what will happen."

* Emma Watson, as Hermione, is terrific.

* All three of the main cast members look a little too old for their parts. They are supposed to be 13, but look 15, which makes sense because that's what they are.

OK, I gotta go work. Bye!

Noa Hirsch emailed to me this American legal perspective on the Heart of the Ocean question, which I'm posting here with her permission:

Okay--I'm no halachic expert, but the first brief I ever wrote in law school was on more or less a very similar topic.

According to the Heart Balm Act of 1935 (not sure if this was a Pennsylvania only law, but I know it applies in New York too) a gift given "in contemplation of marriage" only vests when the marriage is complete. So, the bling-bling was NOT rose's from the "engagement", as it never turned into a marriage. (The same would hold true for an engagement ring given, where the fiance, say, cheated on his fiancee and then asked for the ring back. Legally, she'd have to return it)

Now, 1935 is well after the Titanic's unfortunate sinking, and case law from before the Heart Balm Act, shows that it was on a case-by-case basis. Doesn't seem like Rose would get to keep the diamond since she broke the engagement.

From a jurisdictional standpoint, the case occurred in international waters, so it would sort of depend where the Titanic was registered, to determine which law applies.

When Cal gave the coat to Rose, he did not intend to give her the diamond. And although we often say possession is 9/10 of the law, where intent is lacking, it seems likely that the diamond would belong to Cal.

Since Cal cashed in his insurance policy on the diamond, the diamond seems that it would belong to the insurance company, though one might argue that the premiums Jack paid over the years were the cost the insurance company received in exchange for the premium payout.

A very weighty legal conundrum indeed. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

So, what we have so far is that it would seem that halachically there is a strong case that the diamond belongs to Rose, but according to Pennsylvania/New York law it would belong to Cal.

I'm wondering how much halachic weight is attributed to Cal's having "lost hope" of finding the diamond. First, because from Rose's perspective . . . well, she knows exactly to whom it belongs. Furthermore, it's a very distinctive diamond; any random person could have found out who its owner is without too much research. But Rose for sure!

My question is: If I were to find an object that I knew for a fact belonged to a specific person -- I wouldn't have to do any research to find out to whom it belongs, because I already know it for certain-- and I also know for a fact that that person has lost hope of finding it, do I have a halachic obligation to return it?

Ethically I would imagine that I do.

Via My Urban Kvetch, here's an insufferable article about Madonna.

You know, I'm happy that Madonna has found some spirituality and that she has changed and grown. Really, I am. But the concept of her, for example, taking on the Hebrew name "Esther" so that she'll have the "energy" of another name, while not dissimilar from ideas in mainstream Judaism, sounds, from her, so plastic and new-agey that it could only have come out of Los Angeles.

Besides her calling Kabbalah "incredibly punk rock" and suggesting that by believing in it, one can achieve immortality (there was an article about this somewhere . . . about how the Kabbalah Center is telling people that if they follow Kabbalah they can live forever . . . does anyone remember where that was?), and besides her having the presumption to give characters in her books typical Orthodox names like Binah and Yakov, there is this horrible, horrible line, which may be the fault of the copy editor:

I pray every day and I believe that it is a very powerful way to communicate, to heal, to affect change.

Aaaaaaaagh!

Effect change! E-ffect.

***UPDATE***
Check it out! I post something about Madonna and Kabbalah and within hours the New York Times posts this article on their website. As Keanu Reeves would say, "Whoa." It must be . . . uh . . . karma!

So tonight I watched Titanic on my new VCR. God, that movie makes me cry every time!

Here's something I like to think about to take my mind off the horrible tragedy of Titanic, and the contemporary tragedy that I'm still single and have never experienced anything remotely close to the relationship between Rose and Jack (not that I'm expecting a relationship so dramatic, or one that becomes so intense in only 4 days, or which somehow inspires me to completely overhaul my entire lifestyle, or which ends in a luxury liner sinking into freezing water, but you know what I mean).

The question is this: From a halachic perspective, to whom does the Heart of the Ocean belong?

Step 1: Calvin Hockley purchases the diamond and buys a large insurance policy for it.

Step 2: He gives it to Rose as an early engagement present. I'm not sure how important the intentions are here; often in halacha they are important. On one hand, he gives it to her as a gift. On the other hand, there is a clear understanding between them that the diamond is part of an arrangement: She will marry him, and he will continue to ply her with riches. In this sense, the diamond can be seen as the price of "purchasing" the bride. It's clear to both of them that by accepting the gift, she is also accepting a future with him.

Step 3: Rose has an affair with Jack, and tells Jack that when the boat docks, she's getting off with him. At this moment, Rose has reneged on her part of the "deal" with Hockley. She no longer has any intention of marrying him.

Step 4: Rose goes off to save Jack from the bottom of the Titanic, and Hockley says something like "What? You're going to be a whore to that gutterscum?" to which Rose replies "I'd rather be his whore than your wife," spits in his face, and walks away. So now Hockley has been notified that the engagement is officially off.

Step 5: After almost drowning together, Rose and Jack return to the ship's deck. Hockley finds them and gives his coat to Rose. He has forgotten that the diamond is in the coat pocket. He did not intend to give Rose possession of the diamond, but now she in fact has possession of it.

Step 6: Hockley, believing that his former fiancee, his coat, and the valuable diamond have all sunk to the bottom of the sea, loses hope of ever finding it and files an insurance claim for it.

Step 7: An insurance company gives Hockley a lot of money to cover the loss of the diamond.

Step 8: Rose finds the diamond in the coat pocket, but keeps the fact that she has survived a secret. She never informs anyone from her "old" life that she is alive, and goes off to live a life of freedom and adventure - "making it count," as Jack would have wanted her to. She keeps the diamond in her underwear drawer or something for the next 84 years.

Now, we all know what Rose does with the necklace after those 84 years. And from a practical standpoint, it was probably the best idea. If she'd died and left it to be found by someone else, a court circus would have ensued and no one would have been happy, really.

But what was she obligated to do according to the strict letter of halacha? And for those who don't know enough about halacha to answer this, then what about ethically? Should she have given the diamond to the insurance company? To Hockley's heirs? To her own heirs?

This keeps me up at night. I'm not kidding.

Every so often when I stop at blogger.com, I check out the "featured blogs." It's a way to be exposed to lives of people totally outside the realm of my life, to see how other people live differently from the way I do. Anyhow, today I randomly went to "Life at TJ's," which turned out to be the blog of a guy who works at a strip club in the Midwest. The first thing that amazed me about this blog is that it is well-written. The second is that his coworkers -- all these bouncers and waitresses and strippers-- turn out to be real people with real lives and feelings. It's fascinating.

But then what amazed me -- this is for the "sad but true" category -- is that the discourse in the comments on that blog are more civil than the ones at Protocols these days. What a chillul Hashem that site has become. I could write more but I think the site speaks for itself.

This past weekend some friends of mine, who moved here from Columbus, Ohio, showed me last month's issue of the New Standard, Columbus' new Jewish newspaper. There was a fascinating article about Agudas Achim, a heretofore OU-affiliated synagogue which was undergoing something of an identity crisis, and deciding whether to remain in the OU or join the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism. (The article is not posted online, unfortunately.)

The reason I find it interesting is that it raises some questions about the consistency of the Orthodox Union in enforcing their bylaws.

Here's the story, combining what I read in the paper with commentary from my friends who are from Columbus:

Since moving into their current building in 1951, Agudas Achim has had three seating sections in the main sanctuary: women-only, men-only, and a "mixed" section in the middle. All these years the synagogue was part of the Orthodox Union. Well, one of the synagogue's rabbis inspired a large portion of the congregants to greater observance, and a "mechitza minyan" was created in the basement. A few years ago, the basement minyan split off and created the Main Street Synagogue, which has completely separate seating. Agudas Achim liked their "neither here nor there" seating arrangement and hired an Orthodox-ordained rabbi who would allow them to keep things the way they are.

Well, lately, the OU woke up to the fact that one of their member shules has mixed seating (more about this later), and gave Agudas Achim an ultimatum: If you want to remain in the OU, you have to have completely separate seating.

The thrust of the New Standard article was that reps from both the OU and the USCJ had visited Agudas Achim to address the congregants about what each organization expects from their member synagogues, the stance of their respective movements about various social and congregational issues, etc. The congregation was then going to vote about whether to remain under Orthodox auspices and get rid of their mixed section, or join the USCJ. The vote was scheduled for yesterday.

One of the factors here is that Columbus already has several Orthodox and Reform places of worship, but only one Conservative synagogue.

My friend tells me that she called someone in Columbus yesterday who told her that Agudas Achim had voted to become Conservative.

What interests me in all of this is why the OU allowed Agudas Achim to maintain their membership for all these years, ignoring the shule's mixed-seating section. My Columbus connections tell me that a member of the highly wealthy, highly philanthropic Schottenstein family had been a member of Agudas Achim, but left to form the Main Street Synagogue. It was after he left that the OU decided to give an ultimatum to Agudas Achim.

Coincidence? I think not.