How to treif your Seder

Hi again,
I still owe you an email about our McFelafel, but it involves pix and I can't find a cord that will hook my phone to the computer.  In the meantime, you'll have to settle for our very exciting seder adventures.
For those of you who have been paying attention, you will recall that we had a seder here, with our good friends the Wines and the Richters.  We were a total of 7 adults and 11 children.  Our friends from across the way lent us their apt for some of our friends to sleep, and the rest were here.  
Seder preparations were fun.  The kids were really eager to have a car door, which has been our tradition since Ross brought a car door back from the dump a few years ago, to display in our living room ("so that if we get hot in the desert we can roll down the window...").  We told them in no uncertain terms that we were not going to bring a car door into our little apt, but tradition is tradition, so Abaye made one out of this big spongy gray foam thing.  It was better than having the really thing!  (Literally!) 
Once in the past we had bought a pinata for  seder (to smash the idols...).  We decided we would do that this year again.  The problem was, we couldn't find one for sale anywhere.  So I thought I would make one.  Now, the traditional way to make a pinata would be to cook up a flour and water paste for paper mache.  But the thought of cooking this up as I was cleaning the house from chametz seemed most unattractive, not to mention the question of having dried chametz fall all over the floor when we broke the thing, so I found a recipe that involved a lo-ho-hot of glue (so much that I had to send Ross out a second time for 2 more huge bottles).  Two nights before the seder I stayed up late glueing strips of newspaper to a balloon, while listening to late night radio with a psychaitrist interviewing a famous musician about why he doesn't have any friends.  The next day, the thing was still wet with glue, and the newspaper was cracking off the balloon.  I looked on line and discovered that I was supposed to actually dilute the glue, and then dip the newspaper into it (unlike what the lady in the store told me).  I piled layers upon layers, and left it to dry, not feeling too confident.  The next day it was still wet on the inside, but very firm on the outside.  We baked it all day in the sun, and it came out perfectly.  Rivital designed it into an adorable snail (I was going for a lamb or something when I arranged the smaller and larger balloons together, but she was totally right that it looked like a snail...).  She also stuffed it with candy and toys in a way that, as she explained to everyone, made sure each kid would get an exact even amount of everything.  Which did not at all inhibit their ability to scream and fight and grab for the booty....
The story telling part of the seder was great.  The kids were all so excited to participate.  They had words of Torah to share on different things they had learned, and they even listened respectfully to each other.  The highlight of the afikomen hunt was when someone hid the afikomen in the actual matza bag.  That was totally unfair.  And brilliant....
Dinner was delicious.  The highlight was the matza ball soup.  People couldn't get over how much it tasted like real chicken soup.  They wanted to know my secret, and I said it had to do with the very diverse and plentiful veggies (augmented by a bit of soup powder).  The soup was followed by what has become our traditional eggplant parmesan and mashed potatoes.
The next day people were still talking about the soup, and the kids were begging me to make some for lunch.  The pot was full of cooked veggies, but there was hardly any broth, so I figured I would just add some more soup powder and water to replenish it.  I pulled out the powder and noticed for the first time that it said across the front in the most enormous letters ever, in a size you could have read from across a highway, "REAL CHICKEN SOUP POWDER."  Oops.  Thank G-d we were with friends!!  After we finished throwing away the soup and all our dishes and pumping our stomachs, we had a delicious lunch of creamy orange soup and spinach patties (ala Debby-- you know Debby and her spinach!) and quinoa and fish ala the Richters.  And it was all kosher, as far as I know. 
Okay, okay.  We didn't really pump our stomachs, and it turns out that most of the dishes ended up being either fine or kasherable.  IN the end, I think all we really lost was a ladel, and trust in our friend Emily.  OK, okay, just the ladel.  I guess everyone still trusted me since they ate here again the next day (well, what choice did they have, the suckers?) and the Richters are letting us bring food to them tomorrow (mwa ha ha...)  
[Don't worry Camille-- I am not making fish.]
So that was exciting, and we get a breather for the next couple of years, as we will go the the Richters and then the Wines for seder.  And they won't ask me to bring the soup....
Now a little vacation update:
The day after the seder (count 'em-- ONE seder), we all (Wines, Richters and us) went to Rosh Hanikra.  The original plan was to buy a group ticket to three sites in the area, but in the end it is quite miraculous that we managed the one.  Next year we will be following the lead of our friends the Slotnicks, kashering our house early, and doing our vacation BEFORE the holiday starts (In Israel you get a week off before Passover for cleaning, etc).  The Slotnicks were there the week before, breezing through everywhere.  We spent half the day waiting on line for Space Mountain.  Er.... Rosh Hanikra.  It felt the same while we were on line for over two hours.  The only difference is there were no helpful guides in Disney suits to keep people from cutting in line, and if I were there by myself I would still be waiting in line as everyone would be pushing past me.  
The line was for a cable car that took us down (eventually) to one of the most stunning natural sites.  You walk into tunnels, and see more tunnels that have been carved over the millenia by the combination of water and salt in the white and blue crashing waves, creating the most beautiful rock formations.  Unfortunately, seeing the site on Passover is not enough different than going to the Museum of Natural History on winter break, and being swept by the crowd from one exhibit behind a rope to another.   Roni, who is an amateur photographer, was enjoying the scenes and capturing them with her phone camera (which is unfortunately all she had with her).  For me, I think to personally really enjoy the site I would need time to be alone with the scenes, and surrounded by the sounds of the waves instead of the sounds of the tourists.  But the kids were enjoying running from scene to scene, and that definitely made it worth it.
Unfortunately, Ross wasn't feeling great, and he stayed back at the car, but when we were came out, he was starting to feel better,  We decided to try to find a place to eat in Neharia (not simple on Passover).
As we were driving into the city, we saw the ocean, and the kids starting begging to go into the water.  My kids were somewhat prepared with changes of clothes (just because I always try to travel with changes of clothes), and the other guys all had their whole weekend's luggage with them, including bedding, and even a couple of towels.  So we let the kids go in, and they had the most thrilling unadulterated fun-- the kind you can't plan for because a plan would have involved 11 kids arguing about what they want to do, but this was just the spontaneous exhiliration of doing something unplanned, that felt maybe even a little wrong (indeed, some parents tried to forbid the kids going in past their knees in their clothes, but in the end everyone was soaking wet anyway), and would be highly inconvenient for the grownups (getting everyone dried up and dressed for dinner)..  It was just awesome!
As the kids were drying off and changing, we were asking all passersby if anyone knew of a place to get a kosher for Passover dinner.  We wanted a "shipudia" (a place where you choose what kind of meet you want grilled on a skewer, served with millions of beautiful salads).  We were not having much luck with finding any restaurant at all, and some guys were going to go to the supermarket to find something they could put on matza, when somehow I found someone who gave us great directions to an actual shipudia!!!  When we got there, we told the waitress we were 15 (a few had dropped out and gone home), and she ushered us straight into the back, where we had an enormous party room to ourselves.  The little guys could run around like crazy without bothering anyone, and we could have a nice hot and unbelievable delicious meal. 
 Halfway through dinner, the waitress came out with little toy trumpets which she proceeded to hand out to all the kids.  The kids started blasting the trupets, as Roni and Ross looked at each other and said in unison "There goes her tip!", but in fact, the trupets blasts were ever worth it, and we tipped them the great tip they deserved for being exactly what we needed, and for being really amazing hosts
If you still have patience for a bit more, I'll add that the next day, just our family went to a small hike down to a waterfall in the Golan.  It was stunningly beautiful, perfectly challenging, and we were amazed by many things.  First of all, it was just amazing how many families were out hiking.  Second, I love the hiking culture here.  In stark contrast to our wait in line for Space Mountain Rosh Hanikra, here, when we got to the hard part of the hike, when you had to climb down a particularly steep part by holding onto handles that had been put into the rocks, the people formed a line and everyone waited patiently.  Someone took it upon himself at the bottom of the line to help little guys down, and at the top someone was offering a hand to help people up.  One guy tried to push ahead of the line, and everyone appropriately rebuked him as he took his place and waited in line with everyone else.
The other amazing thing was that EVERYONE was eating matza.  I mean EVERYONE.  That goes for Rosh Hanikra and the waterfall.  In fact, it was really interesting to watch people comparing the different things they had prepared special for Passover.  One guy had corn and chumus, and another guy had rice, and this started them all on a discussion of where they were from.  
There were yeshiva guys swimming and singing with their tzitzit flowing in the water, and there were women in bikinis (though not at the same time), and everyone was out hiking on Passover.  And everyone was eating matza.  So cool!
Tomorrow we are off to spend the last day with the Richters (and to reunite with Rivital, who went home with Adiel on Thursday).  Hopefully we'll find some fun thing to do on the way.  Stay tuned!
Happy Holiday!!!
Love,
Em  

Pesach Sameach

Hey gang, There are so many things I have been meaning to write about, and each one deserves its own entry.  I don't know how you anglos are feeling, but I was talking to someone in the playground on Shabbat, and she told me that she read my blog entry from Purim (I sent a link to it on the Maale Gilboa listserv because I thought people here might enjoy it).  She told me that she enjoyed it so much and that it was a great way for her to find out what happened here on Purim (they were away), as I really covered everything, but then she remarked that it was so long, and do people really read such long entries?  She is not at all a native English speaker, so I'm just going to chalk it up to that, and presume that I am not at all long-winded.... But even if I am long winded, I can't really do justice to this last week if I include the mundane things that happened before it, so I will try to come back to the saga of our electric grill and our adventures getting a "McFelafel" at McDonalds (complete with pix when I figure out how to add them). In the meantime, I want to tell you about what I learned about our kibbutz community through a heartbreaking tragedy and a most heartwarming celebration.  Our kibbutz is an unusual community, having been first a kibbutz, then privatizing, and than re-kibbutzifying in a way that it is still not clear to us exactly what makes it a kibbutz.  When we ask, we receive different responses from different people.  It is clearly more privatized that what is usually thought of as a kibbutz.  There is no dining hall.  Most people work off the kibbutz, and salaries are not pooled (there is some sort of taxing on salaries, but not the sort of thing where you have the same as everyone regardless of what you earn, and there are definitely no meetings about who can go to college and who can go on vacation.  In fact, most of the people who live here are not members!  We have friends who live as residents on another kibbutz who describe that there is some tension around people living there who are not becoming members, and therefore having different status and benefits, but we have never seen anything like that here.  In fact, it is hard to know who here are the members and who aren't, unless they tell you.  Everyone is invited to meetings to discuss and make decisions about the future of the community.  In fact, Ross was surprised when he discovered that the head of the membership committee has lived here for over a decade but is not a member!  The other day one of the kids complained that on kibbutz "everyone knows everything about everybody (which has not been my experience.  I don't even know everyone's name!).  But we saw the other side of that this week, when a baby of one of the families (who happens to not be "members") died in his crib. I heard the awful news when I was out for a walk.  As I was getting close to my return home, I was walking by the park where Shmuel and Abaye were having an activity with the kids house (Building benches out of mud).  As I approached, the kids came running up to me to ask what happened..  They didn't know, but they saw several ambulances and police cars pouring into the kibbutz, so of course they were concerned.  One of the mothers who knew what was going on told them that the news wasn't yet public, but tried to give them a sense of the nature of the tragedy, and assured them that it didn't affect any of them directly.  She saw their concern and agreed to sit with them until the news could be shared.  I decided to sit with them, and shortly after, she sat them all down and had a long talk about what had happened, She took all of their questions and then made sure everyone had a home to go to where there would be a grown up to be with them.  The news didn't affect any of those kids directly because the family only has younger kids, but it happened to be the baby brother of a good friend of Adin's.  We talked to Adin about what happened that night, and then they talked about it again at gan the next day, with the big brother.  Of course the kids took in what they could understand (Adin came home from gan insisting that he had to go over to the boys house to make his baby alive again).  Anyway, the whole week, a heavy sadness fell over the whole kibbutz.  The funeral was massive-- it seemed like everyone from the community was there, along with a lot of their extended family and friends.  We gathered for some words of eulogy (the grandfather spoke about how G-d seals the book of life on Yom Kippur, but clearly there had been some sort of a typo, because how could this baby have been inscribed to die?  SO heartbreaking...), and then we drove two minutes down the road to the tiny cemetery that serves our kibbutz and the kibbutz next to us.  I think there are fewer than 10 stones.  It was insanely windy and it was hard to hear what people were saying, but all around us, everyone was bawling.  Everyone seemed to be really present and focused on being with them.  When we returned to the kibbutz, the rabbi's wife immediately arranged for minyans, meals, and helpers (to clean and just be with the family around the clock).  I was asked to take Adin's friend home with us after gan the next day, but he didn't want to come.  He wanted to go home.  Since then, however, I have seen them (him and his little brother) around the kibbutz with lots of different friends and family.  A couple of days later, when the kibbutz made their own matza factory (which was just awesome!), the gan teacher had picked up the two boys, and brought them to bake matzas.  They seemed to have a great time. When Shabbat came, it had been almost a week since the tragedy.  In the meantime, a few days before, a baby had been born, and the bris was scheduled for right after Shabbat services.  The place was tense with the sadness of the one event and the joy of the other.  The baby's father was out of the house for probably the first time all week.  The rabbi who gave the d'var Torah spoke very briefly, and only about the recent events.  He talked about the difficulty of living in the tension of such sadness and such joy.  He talked mostly about the big hug and the love that we all are giving the grieving family (the dad was in shul).  He ended with saying there aren't words, but that we are there with them with love and with hugs.  After services, they began the bris.  Irregardless of recent events, it was by far the most moving bris I had ever attended.  Ross said exactly the same thing right afterward.  They brought this baby into the covenant with a endless string of songs and lullabyes.  People were singing and dancing, and again, a sea of tears.  Tears of joy, tears of sadness, and I am sure for many, like for me and Ross, sobs that gave voice to the powerful tension of the two. Shabbat afternoon I attended the woman's class, and still the sadness and the joy and the tension were first and foremost on everyone's mind.  The woman who taught the class (who happened to be the mom who sat with the kids that morning as they waited to hear the news), taught about a few interesting customs related to the seder and the hagaddah.  She ended by talking about the idea that everyone goes through what she called "their personal Exodus from Egypt."  Women shared how sometimes the most horrible events help to make us stronger, while sometimes the most irrelevant and mundane things can knock us down.  The teacher concluded with a beautiful poem about how everyone needs an "Egypt."  I can't possibly do it justice in my feeble attempt at a translation (if you can check it out in Hebrew, it's by Amnon Divek (?) and it's called "Everyone needs Egypt.", but towards the end it says something like Everyone needs some sort of Egypt To redeem himself from it, from the house of slavery To go out in the middle of the night to the desert of fears To march straight into the waters To see them open before him to the sides. Everyone needs a shoulder.... The reason I attempt to translate for you despite the inadequacy is because amazingly, just now I opened my email and found that the parents of the baby had just sent out an email thanking everyone for their help and support.  They said that they were overwhelmed and comforted by it, and that they felt very both hugged and loved.  They concluded the email with the above excerpt of that same poem.  I could feel all week that this was indeed a huge part of what made us the community that we are.  We are so blessed to live in a community of unbelievably creative, talented, intelligent, thoughtful and loving people who have very independent lives, but who also want to be part of something bigger.  I cannot think of a place on earth where I would rather live.  This week has got me doing a lot of thinking about seeing my life's challenges as opportunities to grow.  It has also to me thinking that I still have a lot of names to learn and I lot of people I want to get to know better. I wish everyone a holiday of growth, strength, health and joy.  I look forward to sharing with you about our seder (which promises to be exciting, with the Wines AND the Richters!!), as well as our McFelafel and our grill.  And I would love to hear about yours!!! Love, Emily

Purim

Hey gang,   It's been an exciting few weeks, latov v'lara (for good and for bad).  To hear our thoughts about all the events in Japan and Itamar, check out the article Ross posted on the yeshiva student blog entitled Japan, Itamar and Amalek Meet at a Check Point(ymgstudentjournal.blogspot.com).  We didn't write it-- it was a blog posting from one of the American students at the yeshiva-- but it perfectly expresses our thoughts, and it is beautifully written.  The Encounter program with Palestinians that he mentions in the article is the same one that Ross did last summer.    Our excitement started a few weeks ago on Shabbat, when we had a little security scare on the kibbutz.  I hesitated for a long time to write about it, as I didn't want to upset anyone (like my mom and Ross' mom-- hi guys!), but looking back, I think the story attests to how relatively safe we are.  And of course the recent events in Japan remind us how uncertain life is anywhere.    What happened was a Palestinian broke through the border fence, which is not too far from our kibbutz (though we are also situated way on top of a big mountain).  The event was so rare that the kibbutz warning system was not really prepared for it.  I was walking to synagogue, and my son's 8 year old friend came up to me and told me we are supposed to make sure all kids are indoors.  I was skeptical, thinking I would have heard such a warning from a grown up or a siren or something.  But to be safe, I went home and made sure everyone was inside.  At some point it seemed obvious the "scare" was over, and life went back to normal.  It turns out that the guy was caught before he got anywhere, because the fence has a whole alarm system, and we live 2 minutes from an army base.  A couple of soldiers went and caught the guy right away.  So that's reassuring.  It turns out that one of the soldiers was eating Shabbat lunch with us the following week, so we got the whole story first hand.  After Shabbat, there was a whole committee to analyze the kibbutz response, and we were assured that the next time anything like that happens, we can expect to hear a siren and instructions.  There was also more coordination in terms of more people having phones on Shabbat to spread news faster.   We didn't have to worry for long about whether or not the system would be effective.  The following week, it was tested by another scare (not on Shabbat).  There was a loud siren, followed by instruction to go into our houses and lock the doors.  This was more alarming (though much better coordinated).  Fortunately, we were all at home, along with 2 friends of Adin.  I locked the door, and started to set up a movie for the kids so they wouldn't be scared.  By the time I was ready to start the movie, there was another siren with an announcement that everything was fine.  This was followed by an SMS that they had thought someone got in, but it was just a Thai worker from the kibbutz going for a walk.  Whew.  When the moms of Adin's friends came to pick up their kids, I asked what I should do in case this happens again (like do we wait under tables or anything).  They both told me that nothing like this had happened in all their time living here.    A few days later, there happened to be a national school bomb drill.  This is apparently very routine-- each year they drill a different disaster: fire, earthquake, etc., and this year was bombs.  They did it in every school in the country, including Adin's gan.  It was routine, but the timing was not great in terms of the kids feeling safe here (though I tried to talk to them about it, and no one seemed worried).  And of course, that was followed by Japan and Itamar, between which it is really say which is more frightening or horrific (clearly the scope of the Japan disaster way exceeded the Itamar one, but the Itamar massacre was so much more disturbing in its demonstration of the capacity of evil...).    So just as the kids must be wondering why the heck we brought them to this crazy place (and I begin to ask myself the same question), along comes Purim!  I'm not saying a fun holiday justifies living in constant danger, but we're not really living in constant danger (at least not more than everybody else),and it definitely did help put things in perspective.    Purim was awesome!!!  Even way better than anticipated!  First of all, the time leading up to Purim here is slightly reminiscent of the time in America before Chrismas.  Purim spirit is everywhere.  The stores and sidewalks are lined with costumes and mishloach manot.  All the kids are talking about what they will wear.  Everyone is warning me that we have to do our costume shopping early or there won't be anything left.  We were fine, though.  There were two families that got together and did a mitzvah project to make money for a family that needs it by borrowing old costumes from everyone and then renting them out for 15 shekels.  This is how Adin got his great Pikatchu costume.  He loved it so much that he put it on when he got home, and we had to peel it off of him a week later when Purim was over.    Eek!!!!!  Guilt attack!!!!  I totally forgot to take pictures!!!!  How did I do that?!  Sorry Elaine!  Sorry Grandma and Nana!!!  Oy!!!  I could dress them up again, but we are not doing the yellow face paint again.  It took us hours of scrubbing to get it off!  While soap no longer makes Adin gag, he still hates it and says that it smells "ichs."  We may have to wait till next year.   Anyway, so before Purim, someone from the kibbutz asked me if I can chant megillah.  I told him sure, and he asked if I would help him out and read with him for a secular kibbutz nearby, where he does programming for them sometimes.  I said sure.  I had never really read more than a chapter or two at a time (did I do 3 in Vancouver?), but it worked out great.  Rivital volunteered to read some, so I read chapters 6 (which I have done for the past few years so I know it really well), 7 and 8, and Tali did 9 and 10.  That took half the burden off the guy who asked me, though I don't think he needed the help.  I think it's more like he thought it would be nicer for the people coming to have it split up, and also to have a woman sharing the reading.  I did my "famous" reading with voice parts.  I was busy reading and I couldn't tell the reactions, but Tali said that the kids loved it, and they were elbowing each other each time I started a new voice.  Apparently the wife of the guy who asked me to read also liked it, because the next morning she suggested that the rabbi's wife ask me and Tali to read our parts at the woman's reading on our kibbutz.  That also seemed to be a big hit.  Rivital didn't do voices, but she read magnificently.  It was a major kvelling moment-- both how beautifully she read, and her eagerness to participate!!   The rest of the family stayed back on our kibbutz for the megillah reading, which they said was amazing.  After the readings, we regrouped at home, and there was a party for grownups at 9:30 PM.  They have everything perfectly planned for everyone to enjoy everything.  They had sent out an email offering for the youth to babysit so parents could go to the party.  Unfortunately, I misunderstood and messed this part up, but I will know better for next year.  When it said babysitting, I assumed they had a babysitting space somewhere else where we could bring them.  I didn't want to shlep them out after their bedtime, so I didn't sign up.  But it turns out that the offer was for them to send babysitters to our houses!  Meanwhile, they assigned Tali to another family!!!  I actually thought it would be OK to leave the boys at home together (we were literally a two minute walk from home with our cell phones, and I left them exhausted in front of a movie), but Abaye freaked out and called us, and I went home and stayed with them.    So I missed most of the party, but I heard it was unbelieveable.  First of all, for the whole holiday, they asked each family to volunteer to help out with one thing, so for our part we baked one thing (spinach cheese bake, to be precise, which to give credit where credit is due, as I always like to, I got from LAURA SHAW FRANK... Does this make up for forgetting to give you credit in my cookbook, Laura?), and our Friends Morey and Alissa, who were visiting from out of town, baked another (exceedingly yummy onion quiche!!!!).  There were also soups and salads, all homemade.  That's the part I can report about.  Unfortunately, the best part came after I left.  I can tell you that they had a huge Purim shpiel that was apparently incredibly well organized and hilariously funny in the form of a mock news show that made fun of all kinds of things about the kibbutz.  Actually, there is one part I was there for.  In the invitation, we were told to bring small change.  When we arrived, there were a few people walking around asking for donations.  The kibbutz was (maybe still is?) undergoing a huge debate about whether to raise fees or cut programming from all kinds of areas, so they had people who were in charge of the different branches (the gardener, the education person, etc) dressed as poor street people asking for change for their underfunded programs.  Then in the news show I missed, they apparently made fun of the whole dog debate (there was a huge back and forth on the email list about whether or not dogs need to be confined), and tons of other stuff, some of which Ross didn't get, but all of which was apparently hilarious.  Then they had a trivia game where they asked things like how many times the kibbutz was founded (3!) and whose house numbers and phone numbers were the numbers they read (which is funny to me because no one ever uses house numbers here to help you find where they live, though they are painted in huge numbers on every house.  In fact, someone once invited us for dinner and I asked what their number is and she didn't know!)  People here are so creative, and they put so much work into these things!!  For more info, maybe Ross can give you more details (or maybe even Morey and Alissa), but I think you get the idea....   The next morning, there was a women's reading at 7:20.  I already told you a bit about that.  Just tonight I was saying how amazing it is here that of course there is a women's megillah reading and a women's Torah reading on Simchat Torah and that women give divrei Torah from the bimah.  A friend gave me an very animated expression and said that it wasn't always like that, in a way that made me really glad I wasn't here during that process.  Been there and done that!  But it is like that now!    Then there was a general megillah reading that was so much fun (I wasn't there...) that I think I'll go to both next time.  Apparently there was a group of guys that instead of booing Haman's name every time, instead they broke out in song.    After that was a huge breakfast with carnival games for the kids.  The place was modeled after an Israeli hotel breakfast.  There were people making personal pancakes and omeletes for people.  One of the yeshiva rabbis dressed up as Haman's wife and gave a "dvar Torah" from her perspective.  It was brilliant!   After those festivities, we went with a small group to Beit Alpha, which is at the bottom of the mountain, and which houses an absorption center for new Ethiopian immigrants.  We delivered big food packages to all of the families.  People were so happy to see us.  At one point, Abaye and Adin were wiped out, so we were sitting on a bench, and one immigrant sat down and talked with us.  He said he has been here for half a year.  He told us in his very limited Hebrew and English that he hates it here.  He said that the land is good but all the people are very bad.  He didn't have the language to really articulate why.  I wondered if he had just gotten back from the post office.  In the meantime, the boys were kvetching that they were thirsty, so I asked the guy where his room was, and if he might be able to give them some water.  He got very excited and started to lead the way.  The boys were falling apart, and suddenly he turned to me and said, you need cold water!  (not that articulately, but...) and he insisted on us waiting at the bench while he biked to the market for some cold water.  I didn't want to put him out and I didn't want him to spend his money on us, but I couldn't change his mind.  So we sat and waited.  He came back awhile later with 3 cold fresh bottles of water.  He was so excited to give them to us, and the boys were so excited to get them.    When we got back to the kibbutz, I could have just gone to sleep (2:00) PM and woken up the next morning, but instead we put together mishloach manot, and went to, could you believe it-- a Purim party!!!    First of all, the mishloach manot.  I was nervous, because when I had volunteered on kibbutz over 20 years ago, everyone gave to everybody.  I remember my kibbutz family had their dining room table sprawled with unimaginable amounts of candy and all sorts of junk food.  They were putting together packages from all the stuff on the table.  People would bring to them, and they would dump the new booty on top of the rest, and start repackaging it for more people.  You could easily receive your own goodies back several times over the course of the day.  But here they are much smarter.  They do a hagrala (the only way I can think to translate it is a "secret Santa") where you pick two names and you prepare only for them.  Then each family receives two nice baskets of food instead of a million bags of junk.  We sent samosentaschen (for those who have never been to us for Purim, that's samosas in the shape of hamantaschen), rice, curry (chickpea spinach, for those who care, like Jodi...), wine, chocolate, and a peanut butter banana bread.  In return, we recieved a fresh cheesecake (which went into the freezer for Shabbat), fancy nuts, wine, pancakes rolled with sweet cheese, and some other really beautiful things (I can't quite remember because we did still receive from a few other people-- but it was nothing like the insanity we have received years past).  Two of the kids also had "Secret Santas."  (Shall we call them secret Hamans?  Secret Mordechais? Secret Esthers?  Secret Patshegens?  Shall we take a vote?)  So that worked out well.  Shai and Abaye made their own for all their friends, but that was fine too.  They loved it.    That just leaves the seudah.  After we sent out all our mishloach manot, we were invited to friends for the customary Purim party (to keep the day from being boring...).  We had intended to do our own and invite all our Vancouver friends who are in Israel (because we always had such great Purims there!!), but the Jerusalem folks couldn't come because they had to celebrate Shushan Purim (people in Jerusalem celebrate a day later-- long story...), and others couldn't make it.  Only Morey and Alissa said yes, but then it turned out that Morey had to work Purim day, so they decided to come for Shabbat instead.  I invited these friends of ours for Shabbat lunch who have had us over at their house a quadrillion times, partly because they always insist on taking care of us when Ross is away, and I wanted to have them to us for a change.  She asked if I am sure I have time for that so close to Purim.  I explained that I don't have to prepare for a seudah anymore because no one's coming, after which she insisted we come to theirs.  I complained that if we did that, our having them on Shabbat wouldn't help even the score of hospitality.  She told me that it doesn't matter because she is terrible at math.  We agreed to go, because they are awesome and we love being with them.  It turned out to be a good call, because we had so much fun.   So that's about it.  We came home and collapsed, and spent the next 24 hours cleaning.  I am almost caught up on laundry.    So how was YOUR Purim?   Love,   Em

P

Another One Bites the Dust, Beni Baradio, and The Job Search Begins

Hey gang! Back by popular demand (Rose asked me...), here's my next update! First of all, just to let you know before the moment is gone and things return to normal, Shmuel (aka Shai) just announced that he has become a vegetarian!  I asked what prompted this change, and he said that it just suddenly seemed really wierd and gross to eat meat.  Well, he comes by it honestly!  That's what happened to me almost 25 years ago!  Abaye responded immediately with "Me too!"  Then he qualified that he is "pesky" by which he means pescitarian (fish-eating).  He goes back and forth every now and then, so this is not as shocking as Mr. "Shmuel "Shai" Yaakov My favorite foods are hot dogs and David Chu's sesame chicken Singer."  He said he may compromise when we are at David Chu's this summer.  Then he was thinking about becoming a weekday vegetarian like his dad.  Either way, it's a big day for the cows!  It will definitely mean a lot less meat consumption (especially now that Shai is a rapidly growing boy who can eat an entire enormous bagette stuffed with 3 hot dogs and pounds (or "kilos") of french fries all by himself).  Next, a quick radio update.  For those of you regular readers, you will recall (or maybe not) the radio show Beni Baradio (Benny on the radio).  There are so many things I love about this show.  Some of them it's hard to put in writing (like when he invites someone to call in and hum with him.  And he is not exceedingly musical...).  But I mentioned last time that he has his "chush hanichush," in which halfway through the show he sings a song silently in his head, and at the end he takes callers who try to guess what he is singing.  It's the same song each time.  The kids are begging me to call in and guess John Cage's piece 4'33" (four minutes and thirty three seconds), which is four minutes and thirty three seconds of an orchestra sitting and playing no music.  If you have never seen it performed, it is worth youtubing.  We saw a performance in which the conductor faithfully kept time, pausing between the 3 movements to wipe his brow.  We saw another guy playing it all solo on a keyboard.  He was "playing" and "playing" until he accidentally hit a key with his hand, and said, "Sorry, that was a mistake."  Anyway, so the kids really want me to call in, but I'd like to think I have better things to do with my life.  Even if I don't. New on Beni is the part where he asks people whose favorite song is "The Final Countdown" to call in and tell him what is, in their opinion, the greatest song of all times.  When they call and say they believe the greatest song of all times is the Final Countdown, he proceeds to be surprised.  His latest commercial is the following clip from an interview: Beni: So how do you like your showers? Other guy: Oh, I do a very quick shower.  A scrub, a rinse, and I'm out of there. Beni:  Ah.  Very practical. So raise your hands if youthink I should stop listening to Beni and get a day job.  But wait!  Before you judge him too harshly, his latest shtick is the best.  He has decided to try to get all the members of Parliament to agree to give each other a hug.  He invites them on the show one at a time, interviews them, and asks them if they would be willing to praticipate.  Presumably when he gets them all to sign on, he'll arrange for the hug.  He had about 16 or so the last time I heard.  One woman kept insisting that it would never happen and all the reasons why (Jews with Arabs, left wingers with right wingers, and religious men with women.  How could it possible work?)  But after insisting that he was going to work on it one member at a time and that he was optimistic, the person reluctantly agreed.  I hope they're real Parliament members and he's not just making them up.  It's very cute. But speaking of a day job, I have begun the process of thinking about it.  So a couple of weeks ago I went to meet with the woman in charge of English teachers in the North (apparently there is a serious need, so it seemed like a good niche to try to fill).  We had a nice meeting where she answered most of my questions and told me how I should proceed.  She then mentioned that there is a school in xxxx that will be looking for someone starting in April.  There is a woman who xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx, and they will be desperate.  This seemed it could be a way to get a foot in the door (since I am not entirely qualified for the field just yet).  She asked if I might be interested.  I told her I might. So last Sunday, I went in to observe the department head teach her classes.  It was exactly as I pictured inner city Israeli classrooms--  stuffed with up to 40 kids with multiple learning and behavior issues.  Most of the kids were actually very sweet, but they went from class to class as though there was no reason to be in any of them other than to socialize with their classmates.  It took forever for the teacher to quiet them down, which eventually she did by yelling at them, insulting them, and threatening them with idle threats ("If you don't stop that I'm going to call your mother!  OK-- I'm writing your name down!  The NEXT time you talk I'm writing your name down!  Now I am REALLY going to call your mother!  OK, if you will be good for the rest of class, then maybe I won't call your mother...).  Many kids were unprepared.  She acted surprised each time she discovered this, and yelled at them that this wasn't OK, though she didn't seem to have a systematic way of checking or of delivering consequences.  There were kids who didn't bring their materials, so they had nothing to do all of class but to disrupt everybody.  I don't fault her.  I am sure I couldn't have done better.  It would have taken the whole class to check 40 assignments, and by then she would have lost everyone's attention completely.  Eventually somehow she got them all quiet enough to teach them something (though she was still yelling over some who were not paying attention), and then she gave them an assignment, which they sat and did (though there was massive confusion about the instructions since they never all paid attention at the same time).  Two classes went on like this, and then she had a class that had only 19 kids!  She still used her same tough guy strategy to control the class, but she got done so much more with them and with very little insulting.  After the class I asked how they determined to make one class 39 kids and one class 19.  She said it was budgetary issues.  I asked if the stronger kids got smaller class sizes, but she just said it was random.  She said it's not ideal, but you have to wrok with what you got.  This woman clearly loves her job.  Aside from all the yelling and insulting, she is very friendly with the kids, and they seem to like her.  Kids come running up to her in the halls to say hi or to share something with her.  When they were able to settle down, many would even do what she asked.  She asked me to come again on Wednesday to teach a model lesson.  I came early to observe her again for a couple of classes.  In one of the classes, 3/4 of the kids weren't there.  The kids were insisting they shouldn't have to do anything because how could she teach to such a small class?  She spent the first 2/3 of the class yelling, insulting and threatening.  This was the lowest level ninth grade class-- the toughest one in the school.  She tried to control them in the classroom, but eventually she resorted to kicking people out, until finally she was down to about seven students.  At that point, she was really able to teach.  Everyone opened their book (eventually), and she walked around helping them one at a time-- sitting with them and saying encouraging words about their work.  It was a nice 10 minutes of education. She had asked to me to prepare to teach a "musical class" I had observed the first day.  The school is some sort of a special school (maybe some sort of a technical school, but with music as one of the possible concentrations), so I figured I would teach a song.  I had seen her teaching past progressive verbs (I think that's what they're called-- like "I was eating" or "they were running"), and she said they had a test the next week, so I tried to find a song with that verb form.  It was really hard.  I went through all the Beatles and couln't find anything,  I googled songs with the words was and were, but nothing.  Finally I somehow remembered about one of Rivital's favorite Taylor Swift songs-- A Love Story, about Romeo and Juliet.  Rivital thought some of them should know the song.  It seemed perfect.  When I mentioned to the teacher that I had found a song with that verb form in it to help them prepare for their test, she said oh no-- don't worry about the grammar.  That's just something she was doing with them, but she would never put grammar on a test.  As it turns out, it was still the perfect song. When she originally asked me to teach, she said the class is at noon.  I said I'd come early to do some more observing.  I had to xerox and borrow a CD player, so I wanted to make sure to get there in time for the 10:00 break. I observed her class before, and then we sat and talked during the break, after which I was supposed to go to her next class with her, and then I would teach.  As the bell rang, she was still finishing eating (that's past progressive, right?).  She pulled out a clementine and asked herself out loud if she had time to eat it.  Then she proceeded to eat it and was washing up and waving me to come.  I followed her, as she disciplined kids along the way.  She was like a discipline tornado.  One kid was sitting in the hallway with his feet up on a chair.  Where did he get the idea that it was OK to put his feet on a chair?-- she screamed.  Then we walked past a classroom where there was a big hub bub, because it seems someone had set off some kind of stink bomb or something, and there was no teacher around.  She pulled some kids aside to try to get to the bottom of what happened.  Then she spoke harshly with one kid, and then waved me to come along to her class which was next door.  She peeked in, realized it was the wrong class, and then declared that she had made a mistake with the schedule.  It turns out I would be teaching now.  We walked across to another part of the school, and when we got to the class, of course the kids were bouncing off the walls.  I plugged in the CD player.  One girl came up to me and asked if she could help.  I started to say no, since I just needed to put it on song number 3 and press play, but then I thought she might like to help, so I asked her to do that for me, as I started to write vocab words on the board.  Halfway through writing, the kids were still roaring, and I suddenly realized there was no music.  The girl had apparently given up and taken her seat without starting it.  I put on the music, and as they began to quiet down, I pointed out that there was an assignment on the board for them to do-- to write 5 sentences using the words (the instructions were clearly written).  When I finished writing the words and the song was finished playing, I asked if anyone wanted to share a sentence.  No one had done anything.  They had no idea what to do.  I explained the instructions.  Kids had a million questions.  I answered a few, but there was a lot of noise, so I thought I would wait patiently for quiet.  I went around subtly shushing people, but of course as soon as I would take my attention off one area of the room, the people I left would start talking again.  Some kids were screaming questions at me, and I said I can't hear them because there is too much talking.  I said I'd have to wait for quiet.  Finally the vice principal, who had come to observe, got up from her seat and started yelling at them.  What was wrong with them?  What kind of animals were they?  After eight years in the education system they didn't know how to show respect for a teacher?  And to raise their hand to talk?  How did they expect to get anywhere in life if they didn't try to learn anything and they didn't even know how to behave?!  She finally got them quieter.  The teacher also put in a few words, and then it was pretty much quiet enough to teach.  That is to say, in America I would never have started to teach with the level of noise and distraction that was still going on, but I was sure it wasn't going to get any better.  The kids were actually great at reading and translating the song.  We talked about the original story of Romeo and Juliet, and compared it to her version.  Halfway through the lesson, I had to ask when the period was over (this was not at all the period I was expecting to teach!).  It seemed I still had plenty of time!  After we read through the first few verses, I asked them to identify some past and present tense verbs in the song.  I offered a bonus for command forms.  Kids were very excited to share these.  This went great, though only half the class was really trying.  The rest were actually reasonably quiet, relatively speaking.  I asked them to read the second to last paragraph to themselves or with the person next to them, and to tell me what happens between the beginning and the end of the paragraph (she is sure he is gone, but then in the last line he kneels and takes out a ring-- they totally got what happened despite the hard vocabulary...).  Kids were dying to share their answers.  We concluded with a little discussion about how that compares to the original story ending, and I played the song for them one last time.  Lots of the kids were singing.  The teacher was especially enamored with the song.  As we left the class, a bunch of kids were gathered around their copies singing the song by themselves.  Rivital would be so proud of how I was spreading the good word of Taylor Swift! After the class, the teacher wanted to meet with me about how it went.  We sat in a conference room, and she went over the good and bad points of my lesson.  Her main positive feedback was that my choice of song was unbelievable.  She had never heard it, and it was just the greatest song ever!  She was disappointed that I didn't do more with the literary structure of it or the deep and profound meaning.  I was honestly amazed that they even understood it.  I was trying to imagine if an eighth grade class at BT would have known so much Hebrew.  Maybe.  And I was amazed that I got through the lesson with some kids following and no one hurting anybody!  She asked me what I felt I had taught them.  It turns out she didn't really think I taught them anything.  Under the circumstances, I thought just the fact that they enjoyed reading and singing a song in English and that they were able to discuss it was pretty amazing.  I didn't teach them how to write sentences or to identify verb forms, but I got them to practice those skills.  I thought that was something-- especially considering that I had no idea what they already knew.  I told her that my biggest concern was that I didn't know that I would be able to control the classes well enough to teach anything,  She told me that that is the most important thing.  She had told me that many times before-- the most importing thing is having control over your class..  She said to me, "I know what you're thinking-- I make it look easy in there!  But it is not as easy as it looks!  It helps that I was an army general!  You have to have complete control over them!  I have perfected this only after many years! The position that is opening is not her classes anyway.  It would be to take over from a teacher who is taking early retirement, due to illness.  As it is, she is dragging herself in every day so she can make it through the end of the month so she will get all her benefits.  This woman refuses to let me observe her classes.  This means I couldn't take the next month to get to know them before starting.  And no one will tell me what the salary would be (because it is based on ministry standards that would depend upon all kinds of things...), but I am sure it is pathetic.  So of course I am thinking that it was a nice idea but I will have to find something else more suitable. Then as I am leaving the meeting with her, this group of girls come running after me screaming "Emily!  Emily!"  (teachers are called by their first names here.  That's apparently part of their whole strict disciplinary policy...).  I turn, and it is kids from my model lesson saying, "We loved your lesson so much!  You're such a great teacher!!  Please come teach us!!!."  So I went home and watched clips from Stand and Deliver, and I am thinking-- I could totally do that!!! There is more to write about the job search, but I am getting sick of writing and you, my friends, are getting sick of reading, so I'll save it for next time.  Stay tuned.... : ) Em

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Emily's Derashah Shabbat Pekudei

Today we read the conclusion of the book of Shemot.  In Sefer Bereishit, we read the story of our development as a family—the family of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.  Sefer Shemot tells the story of our development as a nation—Am Yisrael.  
The book begins with the story of how we went down to Egypt as a family of 70 people.  We grew and expanded so much that already in the first chapter, Pharaoh identifies us as “Am Yisrael rav v-atzum.”
The first third of the book describes us as a nation of slaves, united in our suffering and in our redemption, as Hashem takes us out of Egypt.
In the second third of the book, we become a nation with a purpose, as Hashem tells Moshe to tell Bnei  Yisrael why Hashem saved them.  
19:4:


We say “Naaseh V’Nishma” and we become a people united by our commitment to the Torah.  Hashem explains to us what this means.  He starts in Parashat Yitro with the 10 Commandments: We will need to honor Hashem and to honor each other.  We need to act justly.  
Then in Parashat Mishpatim, we get a lot more details about how we need to treat slaves and poor people and widows and strangers.
22:20-21


This would have been a nice place to end the sefer.  
But instead we get five parshiot about the building of the mishkan, it’s keilim, and the clothing of the kohanim, ending in our parasha with an emphasis on all the expense that went into the project.
Is this what we are about as a nation?  Golden furniture and jeweled clothing?  What was all the ceremony (Pomp?  Hoopla?) about?

Bnei Yisrael were not materialistic people.  They had been slaves for hundreds of years.  They suddenly had expensive things because Hashem instructed them to take them from the Egyptians before they left Egypt.  They could have hoarded it all for themselves, but all they ever wanted to do was to give it to Hashem.
When Moshe went up the mountain to get the luchot habrit, and the people thought he wasn’t coming back, they asked Aaron to make an “Elohim asher yeilchu lifaneinu,” and Aaron asked for the nizmei zahav asher b’oznei n’sheichem uv’noteichem.  According to Rashi, “Amar Aaron b’libo: Hanashim v’hayeladim chasim al tachshiteihen,” so they won’t agree and he can stall them.  But everyone rushed at the chance to donate their gold.  It seems they believed they could buy protection from G-d, and that’s how they wanted to spend their gold.  
When Hashem asked the people “K’chu m’itchem trumah Lashem kol nediv libo”, everyone again rushed to bring all their most precious medals and materials and stones, and people came to help with the work to make everything, until there was too much, and Moshe had to tell the people to stop.
Why was Hashem encouraging them to bring all their wealth?  Why wasn’t Hashem teaching them to save it for the poor and the needy?

In truth, there is some importance to appreciating nice and precious things.  Hashem created us to appreciate beautiful things, nice smells, delicious tastes, and beautiful music.  These are among Hashem’s gifts to us.  We read in the Talmud  about Rabbi who used to always carry money with him in case he would come across some sort of delicacy, so he would be able to appreciate all of G-d’s gifts.  But is this Hashem’s central message for sefer Shemot?  That we are a nation united by this beautiful structure we built?

In the community where we were living in America, we were part of a large and pretty wealthy shul, with a big, beautiful school.  I was a teacher in the school.  I remember a few years ago, when the economy     was starting to go bad, the head of schools, at the teacher’s meeting in the beginning of the year,  read us a beautiful letter written by two girls who were leaving the school because their parents could no longer afford to send them.  The girls wrote about how they are so grateful for their years in the school, and how they had gotten so much out of them.  They said that if their parents could find the money to pay for just one kid to go, neither of them would ask to go, but instead they would want to send their little sister, who had never had the amazing experience of studying there.  
That same year, the school built a new building for the lower school.  It was a beautiful building with all the most modern facilities.  The new school had these special  floors that had a big yellow swoop of blue and yellow down the middle—the school colors.  The floors looked so amazing they decided to redo the floors of the other branches of the school to match.  

As I sat in that staff meeting and listened to the head of school read that letter by the two girls, and everyone was crying, I was thinking to myself cynically, couldn’t they have left the old floors and paid to keep these girls in the school? After the meeting I said this to someone, and they pointed out that things don’t work that way.  The person who donated the money for the floors wanted the floors, and would not have necessarily agreed to donate instead for the scholarships.

 

And anyway, the people who pay $15,000 dollars per kid per year want the place to be beautiful.  There were many families whose children were receiving a Jewish  education in part because of the money spent to make it one of the best schools in the area, with all the best facilities.  

Also with the mishkan, the people were impressed and drawn in by the beauty and intricate detail of the structure.  They were also excited to be a part of making it happen.
So what did Hashem do?  Hashem honored their desire to create something magnificent for Hashem., but to do it in a way that would teach them the ultimate message.

The mishkan was designed to invite people in.  The outer courtyard was made with beautiful curtains and bronze.  This courtyard led to the inner courtyard, with more beautiful curtains, and more things from silver.  This led to the inner sanctuary, which most people would never see, but they knew it was covered in gold.  
The people had thought the gold would attract Hashem, but Hashem knew that the gold would attract the people and bring them near, where they could imagine what was inside.  Inside was the ark, made of gold, and inside the ark, in the very most inner part of the structure, the holiest, most valuable thing, was— Hashem’s laws—luchot habrit.  Two stone tablets, made of the cheapest material, containing G-d’s most precious gift. Of all G-d’s gifts, the greatest gift is that which G-d demands of us.  

The ark and the mishkan and the Temple will come and go, bit when Am Yisrael wants to find G-d, we just need to follow G-d’s laws—to act with  justice, to help the poor, widow and orphan, and to be kind to the stranger because we were strangers in Egypt.  When we do this, G-d will dwell among us, and this is, it seems to me, who we are as a people, and the culminating message of the book of Shemot.  

Ki Tissa