Must be something in the air

Deep thoughts going around here in the holy land. Divrei Moshe weighs in on emotional pain among bloggers, his personal value to the world, Jewish outreach, and Michael Jackson.

I happen to know Divrei Moshe personally. As indicated in his sidebar, his grammar and editing skills are not nearly as strong as his excellent character. He is a great guy. Do not judge a book by its cover, nor a man by his spelling.

My response to the NY Times article by Wendy Shalit

. . . can be found in the comments section of this post by Allison.

The upshot: I agree with her (Shalit's) overall point, but think that the examples she gives undermine her argument.

This is a tough post to write, because as I just noted in the previous post below, I don't have a lot of time. I also should warn you that I don't really have a "point" here; I'm just letting you know what's going on in the Chayyei of Sarah.

In response to many of the discussions going on lately in the blogosphere and the "real" world, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about what do I really believe, religiously. Thinking, and writing on my computer. And more thinking, and more writing. A writing instructor once told me that "writing is a process through which you discover what you believe," and it's really true. Maybe some of the writing will eventually appear on this blog.

The thinking part I've done all the time. One of the reasons I'm as religiously "strong" as I am (to the extent that I am, which is sometimes stronger and sometimes less) is that I'm constantly "checking in" with myself, and often go through "re-evaluation" stages. Only once, when I was 20, did a "re-evaluation" lead to a major crisis and what was, to me, a big change in outlook. Usually it's little microscopic steps, in different directions.

So I've been writing (privately) lately about all sorts of questions running in my head:

Do I judge Judaism by its own merits, or by the Jews? (The answer that is emerging for me: It's own merits, mostly.)

Who were the major influences, throughout my life, on my religious thought?

Besides my school, youth movements, parents, etc, what other forces have informed my world outlook? How much of the way I perceive Judaism is more about my character, my personality, the extent to which I see the world as a glass half full or half empty?

How did I come to believe what I now believe?

How much, or how often, do I really believe it?

And do I believe it because I really do, or because believing it makes me happy? Does it matter to me?

How did I come to not believe the things I don't believe?

Why is it that there seems to be an ever-decreasing circle of people who believe roughly as I do, who see Judaism the way I do?

Deep and troubling question because of the nature of its practical implications: All other things being attractive and wonderful, how similar to me, in religious thought and deed, does a man have to be in order for me to be willing to raise children with him? Or, put another way, how much of what I believe do I believe so strongly that I'd rather not date someone - and, not being 21 any more, risk not having children at all - than raise them in the absence of that belief? How much of what I do not believe do I not believe so strongly that I couldn't be happy raising children with someone who does believe it?

Who are my religious role models right now, and who do I consider to be "my" rabbis, and why did I choose them?

What would happen to my beliefs if one of those role models turned out to be engaging in behavior that is morally repugnant or grossly hypocritical or just not nice? Back to the first question then: Judaism on its own merits? Or based on the Jews?

It's a lot. Very intense, to be thinking so much about these things, while the blogs I read, meanwhile, are roiling with Modern Orthodox, Ultra-Orthodox, previously-Orthodox-and-now-not-so-sure, and never-were-Orthodox-and-never-want-to-be-and-here's-why Jews are hashing it out with each other over book bannings, materialism, the Silence of the Lamms, the halachic process, close-mindedness, vacuousness, "authenticity," women in Orthodoxy, the Taliban, mixed swimming, gedolim, the Israeli Rabbinate . . .

I need some quiet, so I can think.

Giving Peace a Chance

I want to thank everyone who voted for me in the preliminary round of the Jewish-Israelly Blogger Awards. Thanks to all of you, Chayyei Sarah had a great showing, and I'm really grateful to everyone who made the time to vote every day. I hope soon to write a whole post listing (and linking to) some of my "competitors," many of whom do great work. I think before the final rounds it's worthwhile to check out all the other blogs, if you haven't already. I'm in really great company, up here at the TOP!

(SUPERSTAR!!!!!)

Things My Shaliach Never Told Me: Lunch in Paradise

So, my sleep cycle is totally messed up. On Thursday night, I was up until 3 or 4 am, exchanging emails and phone calls with a copy editor in America. Then, Friday night I fell asleep at like 1 am, and then woke up at 5:15. It was dark outside and for a few minutes I didn't know whether it was 5:15 in the morning on Saturday before dawn, or 5:15 in the evening, and I'd slept through the entire Shabbat. Finally I got up and looked at the 24-hour timer on my water boiler, which said it was "5" and not "17," so I knew I hadn't kept my lunch hosts waiting. I went back to bed, woke up again at 11:45, and got to my noon lunch (a 20-minute walk from me) only half an hour late. Yeah, I'm doin' real well, here.

Anyhow, I had lunch at the home of Rachel and Esti (and Gila, who unfortunately was not there for Shabbat). I like these gals a whole lot. They are fun, frum, smart, and very "real." Good peoples!

When I left my apartment, I turned around to go back in and leave my jacket behind. It was HOT outside. I was wearing a suit and stockings and it was HOT outside. I got to Rachel and Esti's -- they live in a beautiful apartment from which one enjoys a gorgeous expansive view-- and the first thing Rachel said was "Good news! We are eating outside!"

So, while my friends in the USA were buried in snow, the three of us sat on the canopied porch, the sun shining warmly on us, and enjoyed cold soup, kabobs, chocolate-covered shortbread and other fine delicacies. They gave me a short-sleeved shirt to change into, and we all went barefoot because it was too hot to wear any clothes that weren't absolutely necessary. We just sat around talking and enjoying the sun and fresh, warm air.

Gorgeous view, good friends, and kabobs. Lunch outside in January, barefoot. Today was a good day to live here in PARADISE!

Shavua Tov

A new week. A new chance (the last one!) to vote (for me) at the Jewish-Israeli Blog Awards.

"A Vote for Chayyei Sarah is a Vote for World Peace"

Imagine

It's 3:40 in the morning, and I've got this song running through my head.

I remember learning that a principal difference between Judaism and Christianity is that while Christians believe that humans are born sinful and must be redeemed, Jews believe that humans are born with a pure soul, and it is only as we go through life sometimes making bad choices that we cover up (not ruin, just cover up) our goodness with other junk. But fundamentally, everyone has a good neshama (soul), if we could just get past the layers of whatever unhealthy baggage we've each picked up over the years (some more than others).

Wouldn't it be nice if everyone saw the good in each other? Not just "some good," but the good. In their crazy family members, their bosses, their students, their roommates, their children whom they don't understand . . . . If we'd look at each other -- really look into each other's eyes-- until we could honestly say "You are beautiful. You are whole. You are perfect."

I know a lot of people who think they are less than beautiful. They think they are less than whole. The world told them so and they believed it. Some became sad, and some became angry (anger is my personal favorite). It's hard not to believe it when people tell you, sometimes without words, that you are not enough.

I wish they could see what I see. That they are perfect, just the way they are.

And maybe I should learn to see that in myself, too.

And maybe I should go to sleep now.

Chayyei Sarah: Friend of Micronesia

In the "Best New Blog (Group B)" contest, I'm running neck-and-neck with (worthy opponent) Friends of Micronesia, who could certainly win an award for clever name/concept for a blog. For those not in the loop, the Federated States of Micronesia is the only country, other than the US, that has consistently supported Israel in the United Nations. This is because of a favor that Israel did for Micronesia many moons ago - I do not remember the details - for which the Micronesians have been grateful ever since. If you follow the links on the Micronesia blog, I'm sure you can learn more about that.

Anyway, just this past Saturday, I was telling Daphna, one of my loyal readers and hostess for lunch, that I think we Israelis should make a concerted effort to spend our vacation dollars, uh, shekels not on places like India and Costa Rica, but on Micronesia. You know, return the favor.

So in the last couple of days I've done some poking around on the internet, to learn more about tourism to Micronesia and how much money I should save up for the trip. You know, the trip I'll take someday. When I have money for such a luxury. Some . . . day . . .

Turns out that Micronesia is gorgeous, and the people speak English, and if I learn to scuba dive in Eilat before going, it could be the most amazing adventure trip of all time. I'd even be willing to survive on canned tuna, crackers, and peanut butter for a week or two. Micronesia has plenty of bananas. I'd be fine. Especially if, by the time I had saved up all the money for this wonderful dream trip, I had, uh, a certain other person, preferably male, who would want to come with me. In my life. Some . . . day . . .

But there are a couple of snags, here. One is that the only way to fly to the Federated States of Micronesia is via Guam or Hawaii on Continental Airlines, and according to the Continental site, the round-trip fare from Tel Aviv to the FSM is over $4300. And involves flying not as the birds do to Micronesia -- which would take me over Asia and into the Pacific Islands-- but rather over America. That is, it involves flying two-thirds of the way around the world. According to the internet search I did, if you leave Tel Aviv on a Sunday you arrive on the islands of Micronesia on Wednesday. Interestingly, when I went back to the Continental site just half an hour later to poke around some more, it was telling me that I couldn't search for those destinations and would have to create an itinerary by calling them on the phone. OK. When I have several thousand dollars to spend on a gratitude-motivated scuba-diving trip to tropical islands, I'll get back to them.

The other snag is that I don't know anyone else (yet) who would want to spend over 4 thousand dollars to go to Micronesia with me, even if I knew anyone in Israel who has 4 thousand dollars, rather than a 4 thousand dollar overdraft. And in the time it would take me to save that money, anything could happen. Of course, the good news is, in the time it would take me to save that money, anything could happen, if you catch my drift.

So, we all have to pray for Chayyei Sarah that she gets lots of lucrative freelancing deals and finds a (preferably male) travel partner who also happens to have a few thousand dollars burning a hole in his pocket, so that someday she can fly . . . and fly . . . and fly . . . and say "thank you" to the Micronesians in person.

"A Vote for Chayyei Sarah is a Vote for World Peace."

Things My Shaliach Never Told Me: Aliyah La'Regel

You may recall that, inspired by Sarah Smile, I was searching for something "different and special" to do on Shabbat. I loved everyone's suggestions. In the end -- this was so bashert -- I was talking to someone on Thursday and he mentioned that he and his wife live right outside the Old City, and anytime I want to come for a Shabbat meal to just call . . . so I told him about the "different and special" challenge, and got a Shabbat meal invitation literally across the street from the Old City! Bishvili nivra ha-olam, indeed.

Friday night, just as Shabbat was starting, I headed out for my personal "Aliyah La'Regel" to the Western Wall. I took Emek Refaim Street all the way up, and then walked under the footbridge that goes over Hevron Street . . . and there it was, the Old City, rising up like a Phoenix from the ashes, on a hill over yonder. Between me and the ancient wall of the Old City of Jerusalem, Hevron Street wound around, with parks on my left and a yawning valley on my right. The street was busy with cars going very fast. I got a weird feeling, almost like vertigo, being the only pedestrian in this panorama-- it was like a picture postcard of "Jerusalem at night"-- the cars and the electric lights and the City of David ahead of me. Somewhat surreal, except that it is real. I was practically dizzy from the juxtaposition of the Old and the New, and from my proximity to this, the holiest place on the planet. The epicenter. Biblical and spiritual Ground Zero.

I walked up Hevron Street and then to Chativat Yerushalayim Street, taking some comfort from the presence of a few yeshiva students walking in the same direction - at least I wasn't alone on this uphill climb, this street that hugs the millenia-old center of the center of the center on the right, but has speeding cars missing me by just a few feet on the left.

Through the Jaffa Gate, and from there I found my way easily to the Kotel, despite my usual disorientation in the Old City; I just followed the foot traffic of all the religious Jews who were going the same place I was. They took me through the Arab marketplace for the first time in my life (note for my parents: The Arab marketplace runs between the Christian and Armenian Quarters, not through the Muslim Quarter, and it was full of Jews going to and from the Western Wall). I noted the stores that were still open selling beautiful scarves and dishware, making a mental note to return some time to go shopping.

The Kotel on Friday night is just as spectacular as readers had told me. I missed a lot of the "action," I think, because I wasn't there when Shabbat started. But it was just incredible, being there, and realizing that for my hosts and so many others, the Western Wall is their synagogue. Even for me, it's only a 45-50 minute walk. Why don't I go more often?

[I should also note here that yes, I bumped into someone I know. Remember Andrea F, the reader from Baltimore who took me to a dinner and gave me magazines and an Enya tape? Well, she was there. I promised to mention her on the blog so her husband could shep nachas.]

The prayer experience wasn't as moving for me as it usually is, because I was late (of course) and didn't want to keep my hosts waiting. But I said a prayer for my friend who recently had a mastectomy, and for a lot of other people and things, too. I kept thinking when you live in Jerusalem, the Kotel can be your shule. Incredible.

I met with my hosts -- a young couple and 2 children in a double stroller-- at a pre-arranged spot amid the crowd, along with 6 other guests, a few of whom they'd "picked up at the Kotel." They live between the New Gate and the Shechem Gate, and took us on a walk through the Muslim Quarter on the way home, which made me nervous and was rather unpleasant. (I later asked the wife whether it doesn't make her nervous too, and she said it does, but that her husband insists on it -- I didn't ask why -- and it's one of the compromises she's made for him. She added that it was also a lot easier than going "up the steps" through the Jewish Quarter, with the stroller. Note to potential suitors: Sorry, I'm not willing to put myself in physical danger for you, no matter how much I might potentially love you. But, um, I won't nag you if you leave the cap off the toothpaste, OK?)

Dinner was very nice and, for me, entertaining. A real "kiruv" experience, with 4 boys who had been at Aish Hatorah for 4 months trying to convince 2 young tourists from Australia to come to Israel and learn in yeshiva. They spoke with so much passion that I practically wanted to enroll myself. But whenever I thought they were going a little overboard, I served as the voice of "spiritualism and idealism tempered by reason." The two children were adorable. I got to hold the baby and he was awesome. My new little friend.

I ended up walking home by myself. Once again I took a busy street that hugs the Old City walls (Hatzanchanim Street). The sidewalks were deserted. It was just me, the fast-moving cars, and the ancient wall. At that moment I totally understood why people get "Jerusalem Syndrome"-- the phenomenon of people coming to Jerusalem and losing their minds. The so old juxtaposed intimately with the so new . . . it was too much. [Later, I asked a friend whether she'd experienced the same feeling when she visited Athens. She said that it was almost as incredible . . . but since the ruins in Athens are kept more as museums, it doesn't feel as bizarre. Apparently there you don't have cars and streetlights and people living normal lives with cable TV and the internet, right next to the ancient buildings and artifacts.]

It took me 45 minutes to walk home. It was downhill all the way, literally, which is appropriate since I was also coming down from the holiness and the vertigo. I took a different route that I knew would have more pedestrians: King Solomon Street to King David Street, and then I said goodbye to the Biblical sites and Biblical street names, and walked through the German Colony on to home. My home. In Jerusalem.