A little nostalgia; a taste of Armageddon

I only moved here 3 months ago, so I don't have much to compare it to-- is this place always crazy?!?!

 

With everything else we are dealing with here, whodda thunk we'd experience the most massive forest fire in the country's history?  And whodda thunk that Rav Ovadia Yosef would attribute it to people not lighting Shabbat candles?  (OK, maybe that one could have been predicted...)  Then we get a warning of a massive storm (A "sufa," which I know from my college Hebrew production of The Wizard of Oz means a tornado, but it turns out that it can just mean a very windy storm), so we prepare the balcony and unplug the computers (as advised), but last night, it literally felt like Armageddon.  Not that Armageddon would wake me (anyone out there remember when I was fired from my volunteer duty as fire captain of my suite in college because the fire alarms never woke me?), but it woke my daughter, apparently because the light went out in her room, so we were without power at I have no idea what hour in the morning (it was after 3:00, because our dishwasher, which was set to go off at 1:00, ran properly-- our little "Shabbes miracle") and we lay there listening to the howling outside and waiting for the roof to blow off or the whole house to get thrown.  It was SOOOO LOUD!!!  I stepped outside to see what it felt like.  It wasn't cold and there was no rain.  I don't even think the sky was particularly cloudy.  But I came back in for fear of being blown away (it was mostly Tali's fear.  I actually loved the feel of it).  At some point Tali was so hysterical that Ross woke enough to point out the thing about it not being a tornado. 

 

We woke up without power, to discover that we were the only house on the kibbutz who lost it (our downstairs neighbors lost it too).  Then today was howling winds and intermittent downpours.  I could say that that made me nostalgic about Vancouver, but I hadn't thought of that until friends pointed it out-- the friends who let us heat our food on their warming tray.  The nostalgia was more about the power loss.  In Baltimore, we would lose power whenever someone sneezed too hard.  And of course there was the unforgettable night when our whole little BT ghetto (the 4 BT houses at the end of the block) lost power in the second massive snow storm in a row and we gathered in the Dennens kitchen because she was the one with the gas stove (we have a gas stove now!!!).  And Brandon, a maintenance guy who they asked to sleep overnight at the school in  case a pipe broke like it had in the last storm, knowing that the news was predicting that the city would be immomilized by the morning and he would be trapped, joined us for soup, fried potatoes and monopoly.  We had that same feeling of, this time the power will go out and no one will be able to get here to fix it.  Indeed, we had no idea how it works here.  Would we call an electric company who would drive all the way up the mountain?  Would they do that in the storm?  And we still had Shabbat to get through first.  But just before Shabbat was over, I ran into the guy who does electric stuff here (like he installed our A/C and fixed our Shababt clock) told us he would take care of it, but he said it with a shrug, saying that of course he couldn't climb the pole in the storm.  And the storm is supposed to last till Monday!!!  So we went to shul for Havdallah, came home, I started heating soup on our GAS STOVE, and before it was warm, the lights came on.  Bless that guy's heart!

 

Things had been so politically and religiously volatile since we got here, but suddenly it was all very visceral.  In uncertain times such as these, they say we are supposed to look inward (do heshbon nefesh), but the Rabbinic establishment is saying the problem is that people aren't lighting Shabbat candles, and the other rabbis are saying it's because the Rabbinic establishment is so obsessed with Shabbat candles, and more to the point, with deligitimating conversions and failing to solve the agunah crisis and declaring it's forbidden to sell homes to non-Jews.   Rav Yoel Bin-Nun just wrote a scathing article against the Rabbis, starting with attacking them for not taking a more proactive role regarding the fire, but moving on to slam their for their inability to handle the conversion crisis or to solve the agunah crisis (pointing out that Rav Ovadia Yosef was able to halachically "free" the wives of a whole submarine-ful of people (the Dakkar) who sunk and whose deaths couldn't be confirmed).  He claimed that the Rabbis have been irrelevant to the people since they failed to council people to get out of Europe as fast as possible before the Holocaust.  He praised Netanyahu for his handling of the fire crisis, and his mobilizing of the international community, and said that we must make our decisions with the democratic people, because the rabbis have proven themselves untrustworthy and ineffectual.  (If I misrepresented any of what he said, please feel free to correct me and I'll pass it along to the group, but I'm pretty sure that's the gist.  I do wish everyone would stop writing everything in Hebrew around here, though...).  Is the Rabbinic establishment going to collapse?  I mean, I can't see how it could go on much longer like this, but it feels like it's around the corner.  But I suppose it may have felt this way years ago with other issues.  What do I know?

 

In other news, I went with Adin to his little parasha (Torah) class for 5-6 year olds this morning, and the dad (it rotates people's houses) was reviewing with them the story of Joseph, and he got to the part where they throw him in a pit, and one girl called out "but he didn't die!" and the father pedagogically repeated her statement back, "Really?  He didn't die?" and she responded, "At least not in the movie!"

 

With that little word of Torah, I will conclude here, and wish everyone a terrific week, full of health, happiness, and meaning.

 

Love,

 

Em

Hanukah Tiyul

Hi again,

As we were preparing Sunday for our 2 day trip to the Negev with friends (the Richters), the fire was blazing in the Carmel, and there were reports of rain on Monday. I was cleaning off the balcony in anticipation of the rain. There was some laundry that was still damp. I was faced with a philosophical dilemma-- do I make sure to bring everything in to show, like Honi HaMeagel, that I have faith that the rain will come, and be substantial enough that my laundry could get ruined, or do I leave some out, to show my understanding of Murphy's Law, that it will rain if (and only if) there is laundry out to get ruined. This would of course result in moldy laundry, but for the greater good of rain in the region. Already feeling guilty for my part in the fire (I had told you guys that rain is not as serious an issue today as it once was, and the next day the fire broke out. It would not have happened, or would not have spread as quickly and devastatingly as it did if there had been rain), I decided to leave out the laundry, and off we went. (Does anyone think I am a little narcissistic here, taking personal credit and responsibility for the climate of the region?)

We slept Sunday night at the Richters (they live near Jerusalem) so we could get an early start down south the next morning. When we woke up, there were reports of heavy rain in the north and center of the country, and the sky was covered with clouds and the air around thick with fog. It felf like the fog itself could put out fires. In the meantime, we were packing up the cars for the trip. We were headed south, where no rain was predicted. The Richters had a full car, and needed to tie three duffels onto their roof. We were worried they would get soaked, but Tzvi thought (hoped) that if we got started early enough, we could get out before the rain, and make it in time to dry territory. As they were busy strapping the bags "securely" (more on that later) to the roof, the heavens opened up, angels started singing, and rain gushed down on the duffels. Undeterred, we hopped in our cars, and drove to a hardware store, where we bought a tarp to keep the rest of the bags dry (or perhaps more accurately, to seal in the moisture from the rain, but we didn't know that then, and we were hoping...).

We followed them down south, for an anticipated hour and a quarter drive to Beer Sheva, stopping periodically to "resecure" the bags that kept slipping off the roof. Along the way, I said to Ross, "Do you really think the weather will be so different only an hour and a quarter from here?" He said that oh yes, it is a totally different terrain and climate. This is the mountains, and that will be desert. I asked again when we were ten minutes from our destination, and not yet dry. Sure enough, the rain had reached Beer Sheva (though it stopped amazingly for us to get out and tour a really amazing memorial site




and the Air Force Museum). The museum has a collection of many of the planes used by the airforce over the years. Some of them are set up so you can climb inside. They have a little "cadets course) for the kids, where they go through training, such as learning the Air Force chant. I had a hard time picturing real 18-22 year old men flapping their arms in the air as they screamed their chant about flying for the Air Force, but I'm sure that is how they really do it. They wouldn't make stuff up for the 5 year olds, would they? Adin loved it!

The highlight of the museum for the kids was a room where they had playstation flight simulators. There was a game you could play in which you were presumably trying to shoot down an enemy plane. The kids were glued to the game for an hour, until we had to rip them away, despite the fact that no one had the foggiest idea how to play (except maybe Ross, who had what I would call a very foggy idea of how to play). It was amazing to me how the kids were so excited to sit in front of a screen and push buttons and maneuver joysticks, even if they had no idea what they were supposed to with them. We could barely remove the 6 year olds from the screen, even though all they were doing was smashing plane after plane head first into the ground. (Is this our future?)

Anyway, that night we went camping in a Beduin tent. That was an amazing experience. When we got there the owner had started a fire and prepared for us a delicious sweet sage tea that the kids loved. He showed us some of his camels, and told us about the amazing healing properties of camel milk (which unfortunately is not kosher). Apparently, it contains insulin, which is good for diabetics, and something else against cancer. He told us about the lives of the Beduins, who he said are very different than our other Arab neighbors. He explained that they are not interested in government or leadership or autonomy. They just want the freedom to live their lives peacefully and run their businesses (which for him is camel milk, as well as this tent thing). He himself served 10 years in the Israeli army, and he said that one of his brothers was the first Beduin to serve in the paratroopers (the most elite unit of the army). He was married, and had 8 sons in nine years (or his wife did...). They were exceedingly cute.

The tent was enormous, and full of mattresses and pillows. The kids had a blast setting up their sleeping space, as Tzvi made a great barbecue for us, topped off with smores. We lit Hanuka candles, ate, and got ready for bed. We had a furry little feline visitor who tried to partake of our barbecue. We tried shoeing it away a million times, before we took the if you can't beat em let em join you approach, and fed it leftover hotdogs way outside of the tent. One of the kids said, "Won't that just make him come back for more?" which was astoute thinking, except for the fact that we clearly were not getting rid of it anyway.

Sleep was challenging-- between the kids who needed to read and the kids who needed darkness (and were bothered by flashlights) and the cat (who kept returning) and the cars that, when they drove by (which wasn't often) sounded like they were headed straight for the tent, and the guy (probably a family member) who moseyed in looking for a light for his cigarette, and then, suddenly the dogs (Oh the dogs!!!) who were barking and barking like mad throughout the night, followed, eventually, by the roosters and the Muslim call to prayer. But nevertheless, it was tremendous fun, and everyone insisted we go back again for another night (though we didn't). In the morning, when we woke up, the kids were all gathered around Ross (who was sleeping), because the cat had decided to crawl up with him for the night, and they had all made great friends. The kids kept asking if we could keep it (we didn't).

The next day we went for a long and arduous and beautiful and exhilarating hike in the Negev, through a water-carved crater. It was a very challenging hike that I would not have chosen if I were planning it (due to its length an difficulty), but I am so glad we did it. Everyone was amazing!!!! And so proud of themselves afterwards!! We went for a great dinner in Dimona, and drove home exhausted.

That's all I can think to tell you for now, though I feel there must be more. I hope you are all having a terrific holiday!!

All the best,

Emily

Devar Torah Vayechi

Happy Chanukah!!!

Hey there,

 

I feel like it has been awhile since I have written, and it's time for an update.  Usually I get inspired by something I particularly want to report about that happened, but that hasn't happened for awhile, as things are settling into everyday life.  But I thought of you guys yesterday, when I was getting ready for Hanuka. 

 

The kids came home so excited for Hanuka.  We were having company for dinner, and there was going to be a big communal candlelighting at the shul.  I was trying to figure out how I could have everything ready in order to go with the kids.  Then I realized that I could just send them to meet Ross there, so I sent them off, and I had the house to myself for an hour.  I turned on the radio, and there was non-stop Hanuka music.  When we first moved here I was worried that I would miss Christmas time.   I really love the music and the holiday spirit of that time of year in America.  I used to love walking downtown in NY and seeing all the store windows and Christmas decorations.  Anyway, here I was listening to the radio,and it was even more amazing.  There were so many songs I didn't know-- first the pioneer songs that I LOVE (Ross makes fun of me, but I love all that early Israeli music), and then the Hassidic songs, and of course the children's songs, but they were all remixed for adult ears (I was listentening to Galei Tzahal, the army radio station, which is one of the only ones we get up here, and anyway I love it).  In between songs, lots of hoilday cheer.  They even apologized for interrupting with the news (like-- we have to take a short break from all this beautiful music to hear real quickly what's going on-- or something like that).  I got to make latkes without anyone in the way.  That's always fun until I remember that no one in my family really likes them so much, so now I have like 30 latkes in the fridge going begging, but oh well).  There are some potato, and some potato, sweet potato and zucchini.  Wanna come?  Adin tried one, but he didn't like it.  He asked if there are any without vegetables.  I gave him a plain potato one and he tore it apart, looking for the part with no vegetables.  It turns out he thinks potatoes are a vegetable.  I guess they are.  But a latke without potatoes or vegetables just somehow isn't the same....

 

After dinner, the kids got together and fought about what dreidel game to play until we had to take away the chocolate gelt.  Just like old times....

 

The weather is starting to get nippy in the mornings.  This morning I wore a sweatshirt to bring Adin to gan, and I kept my hands in the pockets the whole way there (7:45 AM).  Though by the time I was heading home (7:55?), it was already too hot for it, and we are back to short sleeves.  It is crazy!  It's December, right?  People here are worried about the rain.  A couple of weeks ago the kids came home from school informing us that the next day was a fast day.  We asked what they are talking about, and they said that a fast day has been declared to help bring rain.  (The Israeli Rabbinate can't solve the problem of agunot or deal with the current conversion crisis, but they can pull themselves together for this!  Ah-- my tax dollars at work...).  Sure enough, it says in the Mishna that if the rains don't start by a certain date, you are supposed to fast.  Ross was skeptical, and he asked Rav Gilead.  Rav Gilead said he hadn't heard about it, and that he thought it was premature.  He said that those fasts were meant for times of crisis and famine, and in today's world, lack of water doesn't create a famine.  It just makes things more expensive.  SO that was that.  Though what a great educational tool it was for the kids at school.  Anyway, I really don't have much of a sense of how serious the water shortage is here.  I mean, I know it's a problem in the long run, but I sure don't feel it in the day to day.  Though my skin is really dry.  Will rain help that?

 

So at the beginning of this week, still no rain.  The kibbutz decided to have a special prayer service for rain outside in the courtyard.  (We can handle the prayer service.  The fasts are much more incapacitating).  Ross went to the service (I stayed home with kvetchy kids).  One guy laughed, saying we are the opposite of Honi HaMeagel-- the guy who demanded rain from G-d by drawing a circle and saying he was going to stand in it until it rained.  He had no doubt that his prayer would be heard.  At the kibbutz thing, this guy pointed out, everyone arrived in sandals and T-shirts.  They prayed and went home.  Maybe if they would have brought umbrellas?  Then again, it is when I bring an umbrella that it doesn't rain.  So the sandals may have been the right way to go.  Apparently, right after the service, the sprinklers opened up and watering the grass everywhere.  Everyone was laughing about that at the parent meeting that night (see below)

 

The highlight of my week/month/three months since we have been here, has got to have been last Sunday night.  It was Rivital's first parent-teacher conferences.  Oh my gosh, do her teachers love her!!!!  She is doing so amazing in every possible way (except perhaps her handwriting, but I have just about given up on that one at this point.  I'm guessing it means she will be a doctor...).  Getting to the teachers was an ordeal with all the figuring out where to go and who everybody is (there was an enormous dining hall full of teachers at every table, and of course most people know the teachers by sight), but once I would find a teacher, they had so many amazing things to say about her-- Her Hebrew is so amazing; she is fitting in so well and so quickly; so smart and so humble; thoughtful and insightful; participates great; creative, etc etc.  Math and Talmud and Halacha are way too easy for her.  There is a thing where in each class they get a mark at the end if they have been outstanding during that class (participation and tha sort of thing).  She showed me that Rivital has over 30 of these.  Then she randomly flipped through others just to point out that most kids have fewer than half of this.   It was such a pleasure!!! 

While I was there I ran into Abaye's teacher (who has a kid in middle school), and she also told me amazing things about him.  He was having a hard time, but I really think things are turning around for him.  He was very excited to get his first A on a test back, and he took another one which he also thinks he aced, and was feeling great about.  He loves his Hebrew tutor (which they finally got for him), and he loves his special class for English speakers (which is him, Shai, and a few other kids).  He also loves his regular English class, where they let him sit and read.  He just reread Hugo Cabret for the billionth time (thanks Becky and Jacob!!), and now he has decided to reread it AGAIN for the billion and first time!!!  (BTW-- we were visiting friends, and they have it in Hebrew!!!  It is such a beautiful book!).  And then there is this guy who does gardening with kids, and Abaye goes out to him once or twice a week to work on the landscaping.  He seems to be really enoying things a lot more (phew phew phew...). 

 

Adin also seems to be enjoying much more.  This morning, his teacher told me that they were learning about bees, and he didn't ask to leave (which he often does when there is a lot of Hebrew talking), and he got so excited and had to tell everyone something and he jumped up and talked and talked and all the kids listened excitedly.  I asked what he said, and she said she has no idea.  She didn't want to interfere-- he was so excited!  I asked him what he said, but he doens't remember.

 

Shai seems well to, though I have nothing to report.  He's been pretty quiet about school and friends, though when asked he says school is great, and he has a couple of good friends there.  I met one when I went in for the special rain ceremony, and he seemed really sweet and was very excited to meet me.  He is from Ethiopia.  Mostly, Shai's life has been on hold as he is plowing through Harry Potter.  He is on the seventh book, and we have seen the first 5 movies (thanks Rav Elisha and Uriah!!).  I am hoping he won't finish it until the movie comes out in DVD (Rav Elisha and Uriah-- when do you think you'll have it for us to borrow?  : )   Going to movies here is expensive!!) 

 

 I feel like there is more I want to say about our Shabbatot in Modiin and Elezar, but they seem like such a long time ago, I can't remember what was so amazing about them (Other than seeing Debby and Joel and Alissa and Morey-- You guys look GREAT!  And of course the ole Richters!!!!!)  The Richters threw not one but two birthday celebrations!  One for Adin' (whose birthday it was), and one for Abaye because Tzvi had promised him a birthday celebration ever since he failed to get the NBN pilot to change the date of our Aliyah flight in order to coincide with his birthday (though he offered the pilot candy...).  Next week we are going camping in the Negev in a Bedoin tent with those guys!  I'll try to write about that after it happens and before I forget).

 

Oh, I know what I am forgetting -- Adin's birthday party!!!  His gan did SUCH a beautiful job!!!  Very Israeli-- low budget and adorable.  All the kids sat in a circle and sang songs played little games like where a kid hides his eyes and 5 kids hide under a blanket and the kid has to figure out who is under there (by process of elimination.  Not by stepping on them and trying to recognize their screams... though that's a good idea-- I wonder if anyone's tried that before!)  He had the special birthday crown for his head.  The only thing they didn't do that I love is that thing where everyone goes around and gives him a blessing.  But I don't know that so many 4-6 year olds could have sat still for that much longer.  Anyway, it was fabulous!!!  I brought an ice cream cake, which they served in little muffin cups-- like they had never seen ice cream cake before.  By the time we distributed 30 pieces, you can imagine the mess.  But it's not like they were so clean to start with.  The cake had a big pink Elmo.  I couldn't get food coloring, so I colored it with beet juice.  No one minded. 

 

A couple of nights ago we went to a meeting about an Ulpena (a religious school for girls) they are thinking of opening here.  It actually seemed pretty close to a done deal.  They said "we" have to make a decsion by right after Hanuka if we want to open it (the choices are that they open it as part of our school's campus or we don't and someone else will...).  After we decide, we will see what it will actually look like.  She mentioned something about the school wanting "Educational autonomy".  This is not a very American approach to consumerism (though it was actually VERY reminiscent to me of when they brought the Hafetz Haim yeshiva to Vancouver-- remember how they said it was so important for the community, which maybe it was, but it also split the already tiny population of religious kids in Vancouver, making the previous educational structure much weaker).  The woman presenting was quite adamant that we had to either do it or it would destroy our school.  Then all these parents and teachers spoke up about how they fear it will undermine the school as it is now.  It is one of the few Orthodox schools with mixed classes (though most of the learning is indeed separate, kid have some specials together and can socialize outside of the classroom).  The ulpena would probably mean separating the campuses.  Kibbutzniks are very proud of their more open, tolerant, mixed approach to education-- especially those that graduated the school.  It was a shame, because we were very excited about the school going into the meeting.  It is supposed to specialize in arts, which Rivital wants desperately.  We also thought that being more religious, it would be more educationally intensive.  But (correct me if I'm wrong, all you ulpena graduates and other Israelis in the know), as it turns out, the school has the same hours and the same instruction time.  NO extra Judaic studies.  AND girls would probably not be taught Talmud (though as I mentioned, details are to follow).  When we asked what is so great about the school, this one mom and teacher who went to one said it's the "Hoo wah!"  Apparently, they are a lot of fun, and encourage lots of excitement.  The woman who said this said she loved her ulpena and is not sorry she went, but that she really believes in the philosophy of the school as it is now, and that they also have their share of fun and great projects.  Another teacher (who is Rivital's Talmud teacher and wife of one of the yeshiva rabbis) is worried that they won't be encouraged to think critical.  She seemed pretty worried about the whole thing.  It will be tough, because after the meeting, Ross and I agreed we'd rather keep the school as it is, but if they open the ulpena, I fear that all the religious and more serious students may leave the school for it, and then we would probably send Tali as well (Which is probably what we would have done with our boys in Vancouver as well if we would have stayed).  Oh well.  We'll see.  I am really open to input from others who have thoughts --especially who know about these schools.  But it was all very interesting anyway. 

 

I must be forgetting other things, but this has gone on quite long already.  Hopefully I'll write again after our trip south....

 

Love,

 

Em

 

PS I am trying to attach pictures.  I was going to have kids in the pictures, but they're not here now.  Maybe I'l throw in some separate pix of them too....

 

 

 

I know.  I know.  I was adding pix and I realized that most of you are not interested if there are no kids in them.  And anyway, when I show you the boys' furniture, there is a very special treat (and an opportunity for extra credit-- stay tuned...) but alas, all that will have to wait until they get home from school.  In the meantime, though, I have been promising Jodi pix of the couches (which I designed-- they separate and have extra pillows, to be used as benches at the dining room table when we have a lot of company).  I took the last picture with a dining room chair next to the couch so you can see that the chairs have been recoved to match them (and to be wipe-clean friendly...)  This may be only interesting to Jodi, but just in case any others are interested here they are.  I threw in some pix from Adin's birthday to keep your attention, though they didn't some out so great.  There is a video from that somewhere, but I don't know how to find it.  There is also a picture of the penisula in the kitchen (also designed by moi), and in the back corner you can see Kojak, the bald dishwasher (that's for you, Joann!).  You can sort of make out how it is covered by a big piece of cardboard, and then held down by several cookbooks so it doesn't tip over when we open the drawers.  It is also covered in food, which will go in the cabinet that will be installed above it when the guy comes, which, according to him, will definitely be by two weeks ago, so not to worry!

 

Hope you enjoy (or that you can easily find the delete button or your browser)!!

 

Em

PPS.  Hi again!

 

Did you miss me?  After receiving a resonse from a friend here pointing out that the lack of rain is a VERY big deal, I wanted to just clarify my thoughts about that.  I am also hoping to protect the good name of one of our favorite rabbis, whom I may have misrepresented, but with that I have to add the caviat that I may still be misrepresenting him, so please don't judge him based on what I say he said.  I have a terrible memory for details.  Anyway, I just cut and pasted it from my response to my friend.  Hope you don't mind.  I've been emailing all morning, and am still hoping to see the light of a beautiful day....

 

 

Thanks so much for your thoughts.  As I read what you said about the water shortage being a REALLY BIG DEAL, I realized that I left something out that is important (in Rav Gilead's name I should really correct it-- I'll try to do that after), though it may not cause you to agree with him.  He made the point that there are other means available to us to deal with a water crisis (buying water, desalinating the Dead Sea, etc) that doesn't mean we have no water crisis, but not comparable to praying for our lives, as people were doing in the times of the Torah.  To get the difference, I am reminded of the unbelievably amazing book (in my opinion) about the African boy who created a wind mill and thus brought electricity to his village.  It's called, um...  The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind, I think.  It's a true story (autobigraphical) about a kid whose family could no longer afford to send him to school so in his spare time he found a really old physics book in a little local library and taught himself to make a windmill (it'a a little more complicated than that, but that's the idea).  When it didn't rain enough in his village, people didn't have enough food, and they suffered and died in large numbers as a result.  There was one year when they had just planted their crops and the rain came too hard and destroyed everything.  It was gruelling to read about the year that followed, when their was no food to be found anywhere.  I am trying to remember if prayer was a big thing for them.  I can't even remember.  but with his technology (eventually he was sent abroad and studied and was able to create something quite sophisticated), they were able to irrigate the fields from a river or something (I forget the details), but the point is they were able to add a whole second harvest season every year, and it virtually eliminated the phenomen of never knowing from year to year if they would have enough food to make it to another year, and being totally dependent on the weather for their fate.  I know rain is still really important, and it's not that we don't pray for it, as I am sure does Rav Gilead.  But you are totally right that it is a big problem, and especially right that some heshbon hanefesh is a great idea!  Definitely, as you mentioned, we can start with not calling  foreign workers parasites (like our interior minister did)!!  I'll stop if you think it will help : )  Your being good to strangers idea is good too.  Did you actually count how many times it says that in the Torah, or have you heard Israel Campbell's shtick about how we read so many subtleties into the Torah (like don't cook a kid in it's mother's milk surely means to keep separate dishes), but when we get to "Be kind to the stranger" we are baffled: "What could that mean?  There it is again.  It says it 48 (or however many) times, but what could that mean?  What are we supposed to actually do?"

 

Anyway, please don't misunderstant me, and most importantly-- please don't stop praying for rain!!!  (or please start....)  And a little heshbon hanefesh (s"oul searching?") would be great too. 

 

 

THanks,

 

Em

On The First Night of Chanukah...