Chagim U'zmanim L'sasson (Article# 114) 4/23/2009

I hope you enjoyed your Pesach. I know that in some places it was quite cold leading into the chag, and I do not know what possesses you to remain in the frozen galut when you can enjoy the beautiful sunny spring and summer here in Israel.

Some terrific things about preparing for Pesach in Israel as opposed to other places: The vendors in Machane Yehuda telling me not to buy one of their products because it is kitniyot and therefore not for me; no price gouging (many items are cheaper or in larger-size packages than normal in anticipation of the Pesach buying frenzy); almost every brand of soda pop is available kosher-for-Pesach; and the list goes on.

I think one of the best benefits is that all the major supermarkets in Bet Shemesh (think Foodtown or A&P) sell their chametz and cover the shelves of chametzdik products, so you can shop almost anywhere here without concern, both during and after Pesach.

One thing that I found to be strangely missing…free Haggadot. We used to get a couple of them free with grocery orders every year, and they were perfect for sending with the kids to school so that they could mark them up and make notes in them. Yet, there were none this year, and we ran out of the ones we had kept in storage from prior years. We might even have to buy a couple of extras next year.

As with most of you, our celebration started a bit early, with birkat ha’chamah. With myriad shiurim and handouts, there was plenty of opportunity to learn about this mitzvah and how we have come to calculate the proper time for its recitation. I personally have some chavrutot with some of our alumni in the USA (online via Skype) and used Mordechai’s second-grade handout as a terrific source for them; it was written in simple Hebrew and covered the material comprehensively.

Our celebration in Bet Shemesh actually began a bit earlier that we had originally planned. The chareidi neighborhoods had erected a large grandstand with a sound system, and they ran a sound check (with music) at 10:30 p.m. the night before (Tuesday). Since we were davening at 6 a.m. the next morning, most of the neighborhood was already in bed trying to sleep, and this was a bit disturbing. Or at least so we thought…up until 5:30 a.m. Wednesday morning.

Apparently, one of the people running the chareidi mass gathering decided that too many people did not own their own alarm clocks and that it was his job to wake up the neighborhood. Which he did. Quite loudly. We were waking up then anyway, but I am sure that anyone who had planned on sleeping in and coming to the berachah and then going to daven afterward was not so thrilled.

I have to give the chareidim credit. Our neighborhood’s shuls all posted their own davening and birkat ha’chamah times and invited “the community” to join with each shul and say the berachah as a large group. None of them actually made an effort to join together. In contrast, the chareidi mass gathering was just that—thousands of people all together in one spot. (I understand that there were large gatherings at the Kotel and in multiple sites around the country that were very inspiring as well.)

If we could somehow get a bit of their achdut in that type of thing and give them a bit of our achdut in other areas, wouldn’t the world be a much better place?

We had originally scheduled our birkat ha’chamah to be at 6:45 a.m., but the sun had not yet come out from behind the mountains to our east by then, so we had a siyum bechorim and then went outside to birkat ha’chamah. It was really very beautiful. The families of our shul, headed by people mostly in their thirties and forties, have a lot of young children.

Inspired by a local fellow who had made an audiotape of himself at the last birkat ha’chamah (among other things on the tape, we hear his mother predicting that she would be dancing at the next birkat ha’chamah; sadly, she passed away five years ago), I decided to make a video of the entire thing. As I shot it, I could not help but wonder who among those in attendance will not be with us to make the berachah the next time around. Who will lose parents, spouses, or even children (we do live in a country where our youth are unfortunate victims of violent wars)? I know that this wasn’t the intent of the rabbis when they instituted this berachah, but I felt very much as if we were saying U’Netaneh Tokef instead of birkat ha’chamah and that it was Yom Kippur instead of Erev Pesach.

As I have mentioned many times, Goldie is incredibly organized, and we had almost nothing to do on Erev Pesach when we got home. We seized the opportunity to get in some pre-Seder naps for everyone, which would be helpful in an average year, and certainly one in which we woke up for 6 a.m. davening.

With 17 at our Seder, we had a packed house. Having one Seder means that there is just one chance for all of the kids to share whatever divrei Torah they have prepared, so the Seder can run a bit slowly. (On the flip side, it also means that there is only one day of Yom Tov, with much less cooking required.)

We enjoy the Seder every year, no matter the speed. Each year also brings a new revelation of some growth for one or another of the kids. This year it was Mordechai (age 8, grade 2) who made a major transition from last year, a transition that was totally enabled by the fact that we live in Israel.

In the past, he followed the story of the Seder and was definitely a participant. However, this year he read the entire Haggadah with us, word for word. The best part? He understands it—it is almost all in Hebrew, a language that is first nature to him (he prefers reading Hebrew over English). When I realized what was happening, I made sure to read the Haggadah slower than normal and found myself inflecting as I read the words. (Apparently, my Hebrew is better as well, and I too gained a new understanding of what I had read by rote for so many years.) He was so excited to “get it” and also to finally stay awake through the end of the Seder for the singing of Nirtzah songs, which he had learned in school. The littler kids were also a part of the singing, but it was clear that they were totally exhausted and out of it, while he essentially had his first “complete” Seder experience (the naps sure helped).

Interestingly, Pesach morning was cloudy and even rainy at times. Although it is a bit late in the year to be thinking of rain, it rained several times over Pesach, mostly in the very early morning, which was very nice. We were apparently very lucky with the weather we had on Erev Yom Tov, since it allowed us to say birkat ha’chamah on time.

We shared the chag with both sets of grandparents once again, which always enhances any celebration for the children. (My parents will be here for three months and are renting an apartment two blocks from us, while Goldie’s parents will leave a few days after Pesach.) Being away from the larger family-oriented events and celebrations is the major downside of being here, so we try to maximize each visit.

Day two of Pesach was Erev Shabbat (and still yom tov for my parents, who keep two days of chag) so we did not have enough time to really do a major tiyul. We were invited to join our neighbors the Greenzweigs (originally from Fair Lawn, N.J.—SECOND aliyah in 2006) on a hike in the mountains around Bet Shemesh, something we normally do not do. Since it was a short day, we split into two groups.

The first group (Goldie, her parents, and Aliza) went shopping in the Modiin mall. The second group (Chaya, Batya, Mordechai, Moshe, and I) joined David Greenzweig and their son Itamar (age 5, and Moshe’s good buddy) for a hike down Nachal Dolev (no, not the street—the actual valley). Chaim made his own group and dumped us all to go play paintball.

Goldie dropped us off at the top of a mountain and we actually did the hike in reverse. Much better than the normal way, which is practically all uphill. With all the kids (and me, who am not much of a hiker), we didn’t think we would make it uphill as a group.

Although hikes are not a normal part of our Israeli experience, it is a major part of Israeli life and something we definitely miss out on. The kids’ major class trips are generally hikes up some mountain or another, and vacation times find many, many, many Israelis camping and hiking throughout Israel. It is a cheap and time-exhaustive way of spending the day—and the scenery isn’t bad, either.

Our hike was very nice. The kids all got into the spirit, and even little Moshe didn’t complain too much about having to walk almost four miles through the mountains. The highlight for the kids was trying to find the trail markers as we went along and singing their Pesach songs (a great way to distract a four-year-old). I could get used to an occasional family hike, but I doubt Goldie will agree (not her thing).

Shabbat chol ha’moed saw the beginning of some real heat (it continued to heat up each day, reaching the 90s on the last day of chol ha’moed before cooling off to the 60s the last day of Pesach). We had some yeshiva guys over, one who kept two days and three who kept one day. I feel bad for all the two-day people. Not only did they have to sit around, basically alone (my sister drove in from Ramat Gan to visit with my parents that morning) for the second day, but they had a three-day yom tov (something incredibly rare for Israelis, although it will happen this Rosh Hashanah).

On Sunday we went to the Bullet Museum, located beneath a kibbutz near Rechovot, where the Haganah secretly manufactured over two million bullets in preparation for the War of Independence. We were astounded by the incredible planning and commitment of the people involved. We then went to a local mall for some bowling to complete the day.

The next day we went to Tel Aviv. I took Moshe to the park while the rest of the family enjoyed the Palma”ch Museum (I wrote about this museum a few weeks ago) and they joined us at Park HaYarkon, Israel’s largest park, for a few hours in the sun. We had lunch in the park and the kids played in some of the many playgrounds there. A good time was had by all.

The rest of Pesach was uneventful. With only one day of chag at the end, we were done on Wednesday night and the only major decision was: do we continue the after-Pesach conversion to chametz pizza run, or not? (We did, and got the fourth and fifth pies they made.)

Thankfully, this late in the year rain is continuing, with several post-Pesach days of rain in Teveria—exactly where we need it most. The Kineret is now at –213.29, only 29 cm below the lower red line. If the weather holds and Somebody Upstairs is kind to us, the conservation efforts already in place (two weeks ago, the Water Authority banned all watering of grass for the entire summer) will keep us from reaching the dreaded black line, and we can all pray that next year’s rainy season begins early, is very heavy, and brings an end to the current water crisis.

As I was preparing to send this column, I noticed a comment on the 5TJT website on my pre-Pesach column about baking our own Ashkenazi shemurah matzot in which I said that the matzot we had baked were nowhere near what the matzot were like in Egypt…

“Thought you’d be interested in hearing about the matzah shemurah that we eat at our Seder. It is special ‘Sephardic’ matzah: very thick and has a soggy cardboard texture (and taste). Apparently, this is closer to what our ancestors actually ate when fleeing from Egypt—it has a lot more water in it than the “regular” Ashkenaz kind, and a lot less flour/wheat. It tastes awful and is very hard to chew (kinda’ like gnawing on the sole of your shoe). Would you like me to send you some?”—Anonymous

Dear Anonymous: No thanks!