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Although I have already written about our Yom HaZikaron (Memorial Day) experiences last week, my sister related a story about my nephew to me late last week that I want to share.
As you know, my nephew Yonatan is currently in the middle of his military service. Although his assignments change regularly, he is currently stationed either in Gaza or at the Gaza border, and you can understand that his parents and family are quite concerned for his well-being.
He comes home for Shabbat every few weeks and is occasionally given a couple of days off during the week as well. As it happened, he came home for an overnight visit the night of Yom HaZikaron and then had to leave quite early the next morning to what my sister thought was a routine company memorial assembly. It was only days later that he told her where he had gone.
Each year on Yom HaZikaron, the active members of the unit are assigned (in pairs) to visit the graves of the soldiers from that division who had been killed in action. They are given a biography of the soldier as well as family member information so that they can greet the family members (who almost always visit the graves on Yom HaZikaron) and offer their personal support or condolences.
I think the soldier whose grave they were assigned had been killed in the Yom Kippur war. That means that every year for 35+ years, two (different) soldiers have visited the grave to support and comfort the family. I do not know whether this policy holds true for every company in every division of our military or only for the company in which my soldier serves, but it says something about the value we place upon our servicemen and women and the sacrifice that some of them make.
Later in the week I got a copy of an e-mail that was sent by one of my relatives to his parents in the USA. He has been on his “gap year” in a yeshiva and had decided (with his parents approval) to stay for a second year as well. However, he does not feel that even this second year will be enough to quench the thirst within him, and he sent them the following e-mail:
Being a Jew, a son of the Avos and Imahos, one carries responsibility and the history of his nation with him. Being the Am Segulah (Chosen Nation) entails many things, one of which is that from the beginning of time till the end of time we will always be around.
We have seen Pharaohs come and go, Bavel come and go, Greece and the Romans come and go, Persia come and go. We have withstood the Crusades, blood libels, pogroms, and myriads of massacres. We have seen the sheker of Christianity, since its origin, lead to untold deaths of our people and of course the most recent, the terrors of the Shoah.
Yet throughout all these catastrophes, the horror of each of which it is impossible to relate to, there is one common denominator—“Am Yisrael Chai.”
Yes, of course on the individual level hundreds of thousands of millions of Jews died, but nationally we are here and flourishing.
For over 2,000 years since the Churban Bayis Sheini the Jews have been ripping their hearts apart in tears to return to Eretz Yisrael. Every single day a Jew prays to return to Israel, to rebuild Yerushalayim, and for Kibutz Galuyos—at least three times a day. Those 2,000 years of prayers started to be openly answered in 1948.
In 1948, the geulah started to openly unfold. The people exiled for 2,000 years returned to their homeland. What an unbelievable event. One can’t put into words the awesomeness of that event.
The world watched the Jew wander the earth for centuries. The Jew was beaten many times along the away, was near death at points, but the Jew never forgot where he was going. The Jew was walking with a “guide” (G-d) who promised him that he will make it back to his homeland against all odds. The Jew made many stops along the way, but whenever he got too settled and comfortable in one area, the Guide would remind him, at a cost, that he must not forget where he came from and to where he is going.
In 1948 the Jew made it home, and in 1948 the history of the Jew and the history of the world started wrapping itself up. In 2009, sixty-one years later, we can see history wrapping itself up and we hear the footsteps of Moshiach.
From the prophecies to the midrashim we can see their fulfillment in front of our eyes. I walk in the Rova and see the fulfillment of Zechariah’s vision of children playing in the streets of Yerushalayim.
I see the fulfillment of what the navi said, that when the Jews are exiled Israel will not bear its fruit; all one has to do now is to open the window of his home in Israel to see the beautiful forests and gardens.
With all the midrashim about B’nei Yishmael and other hundreds of sources, could it be more obvious that we are only moments away from the ultimate Geulah?
That being said, one must ask himself: “What role do I want to take in this wrapping up of history?” A Jew can no longer only think individually. He must think for the K’lal, for Am Yisrael. Now more than ever, one must gear his life on the question of: “What could I do for K’lal Yisrael now?”
A Jew can’t be self-centered and just care about what is best for him. That’s not the way a Jew thinks. At a time when there is the opportunity to live in Israel again, when there is more Torah learning in Israel than ever, where there is a Jewish army for the first time since Bayis Sheini, individuals must start thinking as one united nation. There is no space for the selfish in the Jewish Nation.
It is mind boggling that Hashem gave us Eretz Yisrael and there are still millions of Jews in the galus. What do they think about when they say the words “U’veneih Yerushalayim” in davening three times a day, or sing “L’shanah haba’ah” at the Seder?
“Next year in Yerushalayim—as long as we could stay comfortable and get rid of those rude Israelis.”
“We are too comfortable here in galus; it’s too hard to move to Israel.”
What small thinking. In Jewish history, have the Jews ever stayed in one place for too long? A true Jew, by definition, yearns to live in Eretz Yisrael. People in the galus are too comfortable for geulah.
What a z’chus to live during such a time. The questions I ask myself are: “What role do I want to play in the geulah?” “What have I done for K’lal Yisrael?”
The answer for that is—nothing yet. Yes, of course I am at a young age where there is only so much one can do for a nation, but I am at a pivotal point in my life where I can choose the path I take for the rest of my life, until my death.
So here is the question: “What will I do for K’lal Yisrael?” Hopefully many things bs”d, but one thing I can do now (as in the next few years) is join the Jewish army.
I want to take part in protecting and fighting for Am Yisrael, the same way Yehoshua’s army and the Chashmonaim did in our past. I wish with all my being to join Tzahal. I yearn with every inch of my body to fight for my country, my people, and my heritage.
What’s the difference between me and a Dudik Perez from Haifa? Is my blood any redder? I desire with my whole heart to join my brothers and fight right beside them. I feel it is my duty. They are Jewish and so am I.
What a great message and an inspiration. I do not know that this young man will end up following this dream and serving in the army; this decision is more than a year away. However, I do know that his sentiment and his emotion represent what I believe that we need more of.
This past Shabbat we had the privilege of joining our dear friends and former neighbors Gabe and Anat Levi for the celebration of the Bar Mitzvah of their son David in Yerushalayim. We are always thrilled to join our friends for their smachot here.
This simcha was additionally special. Gabe and Anat went out of their way repeatedly during Goldie’s illness to give us guidance, comfort, and support. They would kill me if I went into further detail, but I am grateful to have the opportunity to publicly thank Gabe and Anat for their kindness and support and wish them and their family a huge Mazal Tov.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Showing Our True Colors (Article# 115) 5/7/2009
Getting back to normal life is always a bit of a change. When Pesach vacation ends, the kids have been off for more than two weeks and the schools generally wind down their activities in the last couple of months of the year here anyway. It is strange actually. Serious learning is mostly done “between the holidays,” with the time before Sukkot and after Pesach seemingly run at something like two-thirds or half speed. Yet, even with a shorter time period of more intensive learning than we had in the USA, they cover the Judaic subjects and even some secular subjects (specifically math) so much more comprehensively.
I think it all stems from less time being focused on the Judaic subjects. Hebrew is natural, so they spend less time translating and can cover a lot more ground in less time, freeing time for other subjects. I also think it is an outgrowth of the way (at least in our children's schools) many of the “home room” teachers stay with their class for two-year stretches (Mordechai’s morah has seen him through both first and second grades) and their familiarity with the students (and vice versa) make the second year much more productive. Of course, that is only my opinion and by many means of measurement we (as a country) are woefully behind, so…
In any case, as opposed to the frustrations of the pre-chagim fall term when no learning is done, this is a very busy time of year for the kids. Packed into these few weeks are sefirat ha’omer, several national holidays, and then finally Shavuot—so there is a lot for them to do, even if it means less focus on core subjects.
Yom HaShoah is the beginning of a week of special days, ending with Yom HaAtzma’ut, for the entire country. In anticipation of the festive week, Goldie and I went out and bought a couple of huge Israeli flags to display outside our house (we also bought four flags to fly outside our car windows). It is the season for such things, and our old flag was kind of tattered, so we knew we needed a replacement.
Last year one of our community representatives got a call from our across-the-street neighbors instructing us to take down the flags, which were offensive to them. This year, knowing we needed to replace our existing flag, I bought two seven-by-five flags and prominently displayed them. I also took orders for some of my neighbors, and we all were quite happy to hang the flags as visibly as possible.
Our kids asked us why we bought four flags for the car when we only displayed two of them. Unfortunately, that night they got their answer. (Warning: Rabbi Ginzberg should kindly skip ahead to the paragraph beginning “As I noted…”)
Mordechai had stabbed himself in the hand with a knife while cutting an orange, and I took him to the local night clinic belonging to our health plan, which is situated in Ramat Bet Shemesh Bet (a.k.a. Chareidi-land) to be checked by the on-call pediatrician. We were there for no more than 15 minutes and returned to the car to find that both of our flags had been broken off the windows, with just the plastic bases remaining.
Boy was I angry!
After quite vocally shouting that somebody owed me ten shekels for my stolen property, I got into the car and began to back out of my parking spot to leave when I was suddenly inspired. I slammed on my brakes and jumped out of the driver’s seat. Reaching into the back seat, I grabbed my two spare flags and proceeded to quite loudly inform the (very few) people watching that I WIN—and that I will ALWAYS display the flag, no matter how much they hate it.
I still have one of the plastic bases in the car window. I keep it there as a badge of honor. I want everyone to know what the hoodlums do and to be reminded that we do not give in to thuggery.
Of course, this year brought a new twist to the disgusting displays of our anti-Israeli brethren: black flags. Put up as an obvious rebuke of our Israeli flags, they are an obnoxious statement by people who clearly have no hakarat ha’tov. Thankfully, I only saw three of them this year (although one was directly across the street from our house).
As I noted last year, I personally feel that the close proximity of both Yom HaShoah and Yom HaZikaron to Yom HaAtzma’ut adds to the celebration and is incredibly meaningful, especially for the children. Even the littlest of them are taught to respect the memories of the fallen on both memorial days; and understanding the Shoah’s role in leading to the creation of the State of Israel is a major part of the spring curriculum here. In fact, an overwhelming majority of the 12th-grade students here have a trip to Poland (similar to the “March of the Living”) as their school-sponsored class trip.
A week later, on Yom HaZikaron, I took Batya (10) and Mordechai (8) to the Bet Shemesh municipal memorial service for the residents of Bet Shemesh who perished either in service to the country or in terrorist attacks. It was an incredibly moving ceremony and I never cease to be amazed at the tremendous respect that servicemen and servicewomen get in this country.
The memorial opened with the sounding of the air-raid sirens. Even though I knew it would happen, the sudden silence as a few thousand people stood in unison for the siren was breathtaking. The MC truly captured the essence of the day in his opening remarks, as he spoke about the losses the families and the country as a whole have suffered: Children and grandchildren never to be born. Husbands and wives never to meet. Generations of people taken away in the ultimate sacrifice to the safety and security of our country and our people.
After his brief remarks, they presented a slide show on large screens erected for the day. Every person’s picture was displayed as a narrator informed us of their birth dates and death dates as well as the war or terrorist attack in which the person perished. I didn’t think the kids were paying attention until both kids commented together, “Abba, a lot of people died in the Six Day War.”
After the slide show, a memorial torch (similar to an eternal flame) was lit adjacent to the permanent war memorial we had assembled in front of. A “Keil Malei Rachamim” was sung and then all the male relatives of the victims came up to the stage to recite Kaddish in unison in memory of their loved ones.
We left toward the end (the kids were getting antsy) after the singing of HaTikvah. I can honestly say that I really felt a part of Bet Shemesh that night. This city is so cosmopolitan, and we (admittedly) live in a very insular Anglo neighborhood. Even though some of our other neighbors (the ones I don’t like—you know who they are) hung up their black flags and totally disrespected the sacrifices of those who risk everything for the protection of every Israeli, everyone else united in a very positive way, and it was awesome!
In Batya’s school, the fourth grade puts on the Yom HaZikaron presentation for the entire school, and Goldie and I attended. I thought it would be sappy, but was again impressed by the serious tone and approach the girls took in putting on the dramatic performance.
That afternoon we went as a family to a local shul’s memorial assembly and transition into Yom HaAtzma’ut. They had a special Maariv davening, and when we finished we capped off the night by walking down to the local amphitheater to enjoy the municipal fireworks.
The next day we had a Katz family extravaganza. My sister (who decided to be a homebody) didn’t come, but everyone else went for a hike through the mountains here to a cave known as the Batcave (insert joke here) and a natural rock slide (the kids loved it). After the hike we were all joined by Bubbee and Zaidy at our house for a special Yom HaAtzma’ut BBQ.
It is truly a great time of year to be an Israeli and to live here in our land. As time goes by and we become more familiar with the language and the practices of our adopted country, we feel more and more comfortable in calling this place home. It is an amazing place of contradictions and dispute—but it is still the only place for Jews like you and me to live.
A special Mazal Tov to our good friends and fellow olim Dani and Tzippy Lieberman (who have appeared in these pages before) on the bar mitzvah of Avrumi, their bechor (firstborn). As Avrumi’s bar mitzvah teacher, I was especially pleased to participate in the celebration, and we look forward to sharing many more s’machot together.
I think it all stems from less time being focused on the Judaic subjects. Hebrew is natural, so they spend less time translating and can cover a lot more ground in less time, freeing time for other subjects. I also think it is an outgrowth of the way (at least in our children's schools) many of the “home room” teachers stay with their class for two-year stretches (Mordechai’s morah has seen him through both first and second grades) and their familiarity with the students (and vice versa) make the second year much more productive. Of course, that is only my opinion and by many means of measurement we (as a country) are woefully behind, so…
In any case, as opposed to the frustrations of the pre-chagim fall term when no learning is done, this is a very busy time of year for the kids. Packed into these few weeks are sefirat ha’omer, several national holidays, and then finally Shavuot—so there is a lot for them to do, even if it means less focus on core subjects.
Yom HaShoah is the beginning of a week of special days, ending with Yom HaAtzma’ut, for the entire country. In anticipation of the festive week, Goldie and I went out and bought a couple of huge Israeli flags to display outside our house (we also bought four flags to fly outside our car windows). It is the season for such things, and our old flag was kind of tattered, so we knew we needed a replacement.
Last year one of our community representatives got a call from our across-the-street neighbors instructing us to take down the flags, which were offensive to them. This year, knowing we needed to replace our existing flag, I bought two seven-by-five flags and prominently displayed them. I also took orders for some of my neighbors, and we all were quite happy to hang the flags as visibly as possible.
Our kids asked us why we bought four flags for the car when we only displayed two of them. Unfortunately, that night they got their answer. (Warning: Rabbi Ginzberg should kindly skip ahead to the paragraph beginning “As I noted…”)
Mordechai had stabbed himself in the hand with a knife while cutting an orange, and I took him to the local night clinic belonging to our health plan, which is situated in Ramat Bet Shemesh Bet (a.k.a. Chareidi-land) to be checked by the on-call pediatrician. We were there for no more than 15 minutes and returned to the car to find that both of our flags had been broken off the windows, with just the plastic bases remaining.
Boy was I angry!
After quite vocally shouting that somebody owed me ten shekels for my stolen property, I got into the car and began to back out of my parking spot to leave when I was suddenly inspired. I slammed on my brakes and jumped out of the driver’s seat. Reaching into the back seat, I grabbed my two spare flags and proceeded to quite loudly inform the (very few) people watching that I WIN—and that I will ALWAYS display the flag, no matter how much they hate it.
I still have one of the plastic bases in the car window. I keep it there as a badge of honor. I want everyone to know what the hoodlums do and to be reminded that we do not give in to thuggery.
Of course, this year brought a new twist to the disgusting displays of our anti-Israeli brethren: black flags. Put up as an obvious rebuke of our Israeli flags, they are an obnoxious statement by people who clearly have no hakarat ha’tov. Thankfully, I only saw three of them this year (although one was directly across the street from our house).
As I noted last year, I personally feel that the close proximity of both Yom HaShoah and Yom HaZikaron to Yom HaAtzma’ut adds to the celebration and is incredibly meaningful, especially for the children. Even the littlest of them are taught to respect the memories of the fallen on both memorial days; and understanding the Shoah’s role in leading to the creation of the State of Israel is a major part of the spring curriculum here. In fact, an overwhelming majority of the 12th-grade students here have a trip to Poland (similar to the “March of the Living”) as their school-sponsored class trip.
A week later, on Yom HaZikaron, I took Batya (10) and Mordechai (8) to the Bet Shemesh municipal memorial service for the residents of Bet Shemesh who perished either in service to the country or in terrorist attacks. It was an incredibly moving ceremony and I never cease to be amazed at the tremendous respect that servicemen and servicewomen get in this country.
The memorial opened with the sounding of the air-raid sirens. Even though I knew it would happen, the sudden silence as a few thousand people stood in unison for the siren was breathtaking. The MC truly captured the essence of the day in his opening remarks, as he spoke about the losses the families and the country as a whole have suffered: Children and grandchildren never to be born. Husbands and wives never to meet. Generations of people taken away in the ultimate sacrifice to the safety and security of our country and our people.
After his brief remarks, they presented a slide show on large screens erected for the day. Every person’s picture was displayed as a narrator informed us of their birth dates and death dates as well as the war or terrorist attack in which the person perished. I didn’t think the kids were paying attention until both kids commented together, “Abba, a lot of people died in the Six Day War.”
After the slide show, a memorial torch (similar to an eternal flame) was lit adjacent to the permanent war memorial we had assembled in front of. A “Keil Malei Rachamim” was sung and then all the male relatives of the victims came up to the stage to recite Kaddish in unison in memory of their loved ones.
We left toward the end (the kids were getting antsy) after the singing of HaTikvah. I can honestly say that I really felt a part of Bet Shemesh that night. This city is so cosmopolitan, and we (admittedly) live in a very insular Anglo neighborhood. Even though some of our other neighbors (the ones I don’t like—you know who they are) hung up their black flags and totally disrespected the sacrifices of those who risk everything for the protection of every Israeli, everyone else united in a very positive way, and it was awesome!
In Batya’s school, the fourth grade puts on the Yom HaZikaron presentation for the entire school, and Goldie and I attended. I thought it would be sappy, but was again impressed by the serious tone and approach the girls took in putting on the dramatic performance.
That afternoon we went as a family to a local shul’s memorial assembly and transition into Yom HaAtzma’ut. They had a special Maariv davening, and when we finished we capped off the night by walking down to the local amphitheater to enjoy the municipal fireworks.
The next day we had a Katz family extravaganza. My sister (who decided to be a homebody) didn’t come, but everyone else went for a hike through the mountains here to a cave known as the Batcave (insert joke here) and a natural rock slide (the kids loved it). After the hike we were all joined by Bubbee and Zaidy at our house for a special Yom HaAtzma’ut BBQ.
It is truly a great time of year to be an Israeli and to live here in our land. As time goes by and we become more familiar with the language and the practices of our adopted country, we feel more and more comfortable in calling this place home. It is an amazing place of contradictions and dispute—but it is still the only place for Jews like you and me to live.
A special Mazal Tov to our good friends and fellow olim Dani and Tzippy Lieberman (who have appeared in these pages before) on the bar mitzvah of Avrumi, their bechor (firstborn). As Avrumi’s bar mitzvah teacher, I was especially pleased to participate in the celebration, and we look forward to sharing many more s’machot together.
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!
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!
Matzot, Matzot Everywhere (Article# 113) 4/7/2009
Welcome to the annual [spring] Pesach cleaning frenzy! As I am sure happens in most Jewish households, sometime around Chanukah Goldie looked up and exclaimed, “Pesach is only three and a half months away!” And thus began the countdown.
I have to give her credit. She has mellowed the past couple of years and has really been quite relaxed about a process that used to drive her nuts each and every year. Yes, she still obsesses, but with older kids to help and a simpler life here (and I really believe that is a factor—smaller houses and less storage space makes the cleanup a lot easier), she is very calm about it. Of course, the single-day Yom Tov and lone Seder also help.
I was actually speaking to a friend of mine, a former Chicagoan who has lived here many years and is very “Israeli” in attitude, earlier today. She commented to me that her husband had requested that they switch their kitchen to Pesach a day early this year so that he could cook for the Seder two days before Pesach and not on Erev Pesach as they usually do. She added that she was confused why Goldie and I had gone Pesach shopping two full weeks before Pesach—why the rush?
I guess we still have some America in us.
This is why we still do most of our shopping in an Anglo-friendly store (as my sister-in-law found out after she bought the kitniyot mayonnaise—“Kosher L’Pesach” on the label in Israel does not quite mean what it does in the USA); and why we over-obsess about buying wine, matzot, and other items; and why we plan our Chol Ha’moed activities as far in advance as possible (another no-no for the Israeli-born).
Another part of our new Pesach preparation schedule is the baking of our own handmade matzot. Our kids enjoy it, and this year I put together the entire chaburah, so it was almost all friends of ours (and my brother), which added to the enjoyment and general atmosphere. Our mashgiach commented that it was a pleasure for him to work with us, because we had “character.” I didn’t ask.
I graduated this year from putting the matzot into the oven to taking them out. This is much harder than it appears. If you leave them in too long, they burn and everyone complains that they are very burnt-looking (and -tasting—although they taste so bad that I don’t quite understand the taste complaints). If you take them out too quick, they look nice, but are doughy and chametz. I discovered that by slightly lowering the oven temperature I could get them fully baked inside without burning the outside (yes, I asked the mashgiach first; it was more his suggestion).
When all was said and done, we ended up with over 200 kosher matzot (I checked last year’s column and was quite amused to read how “proud” I was then to have gotten 160+). Of course, there was a scramble in dividing them over who would get which ones—but I let Goldie and the kids handle it.
I am simply excited (and looking forward) to have matzot at the Seder that we all had a hand in baking. We will make berachot on them and it is just a very powerful addition to the experience, at least for me. Even if they taste like cardboard and are nowhere near what the matzot in Egypt were like (they were probably more like pita than anything else).
As we approach another major chag, I would like to extend best wishes to all our friends worldwide and to you, dear reader, for a chag kasher v’sameiach and a truly wonderful and meaningful Seder. Hopefully it will be together as one nation in Yerushalayim—eating the Korban Pesach we will have offered in the rebuilt Beit HaMikdash. If not, L’shanah ha’baah biYerushalayim ha’b’nuyah!
I have to give her credit. She has mellowed the past couple of years and has really been quite relaxed about a process that used to drive her nuts each and every year. Yes, she still obsesses, but with older kids to help and a simpler life here (and I really believe that is a factor—smaller houses and less storage space makes the cleanup a lot easier), she is very calm about it. Of course, the single-day Yom Tov and lone Seder also help.
I was actually speaking to a friend of mine, a former Chicagoan who has lived here many years and is very “Israeli” in attitude, earlier today. She commented to me that her husband had requested that they switch their kitchen to Pesach a day early this year so that he could cook for the Seder two days before Pesach and not on Erev Pesach as they usually do. She added that she was confused why Goldie and I had gone Pesach shopping two full weeks before Pesach—why the rush?
I guess we still have some America in us.
This is why we still do most of our shopping in an Anglo-friendly store (as my sister-in-law found out after she bought the kitniyot mayonnaise—“Kosher L’Pesach” on the label in Israel does not quite mean what it does in the USA); and why we over-obsess about buying wine, matzot, and other items; and why we plan our Chol Ha’moed activities as far in advance as possible (another no-no for the Israeli-born).
Another part of our new Pesach preparation schedule is the baking of our own handmade matzot. Our kids enjoy it, and this year I put together the entire chaburah, so it was almost all friends of ours (and my brother), which added to the enjoyment and general atmosphere. Our mashgiach commented that it was a pleasure for him to work with us, because we had “character.” I didn’t ask.
I graduated this year from putting the matzot into the oven to taking them out. This is much harder than it appears. If you leave them in too long, they burn and everyone complains that they are very burnt-looking (and -tasting—although they taste so bad that I don’t quite understand the taste complaints). If you take them out too quick, they look nice, but are doughy and chametz. I discovered that by slightly lowering the oven temperature I could get them fully baked inside without burning the outside (yes, I asked the mashgiach first; it was more his suggestion).
When all was said and done, we ended up with over 200 kosher matzot (I checked last year’s column and was quite amused to read how “proud” I was then to have gotten 160+). Of course, there was a scramble in dividing them over who would get which ones—but I let Goldie and the kids handle it.
I am simply excited (and looking forward) to have matzot at the Seder that we all had a hand in baking. We will make berachot on them and it is just a very powerful addition to the experience, at least for me. Even if they taste like cardboard and are nowhere near what the matzot in Egypt were like (they were probably more like pita than anything else).
As we approach another major chag, I would like to extend best wishes to all our friends worldwide and to you, dear reader, for a chag kasher v’sameiach and a truly wonderful and meaningful Seder. Hopefully it will be together as one nation in Yerushalayim—eating the Korban Pesach we will have offered in the rebuilt Beit HaMikdash. If not, L’shanah ha’baah biYerushalayim ha’b’nuyah!
Back to Politics (Article# 112) 4/2/2009
As I write this, the new government is (finally) preparing itself to be sworn in. It will be called a “centrist” government by some, a “traitorous” government by others. And almost everyone will be unhappy with it in some shape or form.
The Right will be infuriated that Bibi chose Labor to be a part of the government and that he “suddenly” flip-flopped on the two-state solution. The Left will be aghast at the “defection” of Barak and his “desire” for power (remaining as defense minister) after committing to be a part of the opposition almost immediately after the balloting closed. And those somewhere in between will simply be upset.
I see things a bit differently.
As I have said in the past, we have to look through the same window that each of these people is looking through in order to understand their motives. We also have to understand that the prime motivating factor for each of these people is their desire to be the Prime Minister of the State of Israel.
Yes, they want to serve their country. Yes, they want their party to lead. Yes, they believe in the platform of their party. But those are only secondary concerns. The politicians have shown time and again that they will do anything they can to be “the guy” (or “the gal”). And they do.
Start with Tzipi Livni. Her party won more seats than any other in the Knesset, yet she is relegated to second-tier status in the race for the ultimate prize. However, she has seen how successfully Bibi Netanyahu ran the opposition the past several years, seizing every opportunity to say “See? I told you so!” without actually having to govern. She understands that her best bet at power comes not by being a part of the current government (no matter if that would be best for Israel or not—a point I am not currently debating), but by being a vocal member of the opposition and hoping that in the next election the disaffected voters—those who vote against the status quo no matter what—will flock to her banner.
Then comes Ehud Barak. When it initially looked like Kadima would try to make a power-sharing agreement, he was overjoyed to be in the opposition. Instead of Livni, he would be the vocal head of the opposition, leading all the disenfranchised to the Labor Party. Having lost their voters to the currently popular Kadima, this was the best way for Barak to rebuild his party to be a factor in the next elections.
Yet it was not to be. Livni and Kadima’s refusal to be a part of the government made Labor and Barak the midgets of the opposition. He/they would not be the leader of the opposition, and any “I told you so” moment would go to the credit of Kadima and not Labor. Many pundits were predicting that this might actually be the end of the Labor Party for this very reason, and Barak, both personally and as leader of the party, could not allow this to happen.
It was therefore inevitable that he would make a deal with Likud. Although it is not nearly as effective as being the leader of the opposition, there is still the opportunity for him to claim an “elder statesman” title, simply by inferring that they are truly the princes of the Left because “We did what we did for the sake of the country” in an effort to (i) moderate the voice of the government, (ii) serve the country, and (iii) further the peace process and at the same time make Kadima look as if they are solely interested in petty politics.
Of course, Kadima will spin this as the ultimate act of betrayal by Barak and Labor. In fact, the (incredibly Left-leaning) media has had an immediate and nonstop paroxysm of rage at this betrayal, acting as if this doesn’t happen all the time. (Interestingly, I read a fascinating article about the media’s adoration of Sharon’s betrayal of the Right in the Gush Katif pullout and the formation of Kadima, and how the media portrayed that group of betrayers as heroes and visionaries for doing almost exactly what Barak is doing.)
Finally, we get to Bibi Netanyahu. Through various miscues and the nearness of the Gaza war to the elections, both Yisrael Beiteinu and Kadima picked up seats at Likud’s expense. He ended up as the leader of the second-largest party, yet the only party leader who had a reasonable chance at actually forming a government. He also has a memory.
In his last incarnation as prime minister, and leader of the largest party, he was too arrogant in setting his policies and ignoring the opposition/minority partners in his government. His single-minded focus on doing things as he saw fit and his decision to give away large swaths of the West Bank are a big part of what led his backers to abandon him and both dissolve his government and later vote his party out of power.
He understands that his best chance at continuing his reign at the head of the government is to try to make the government one of all the people—at least as many of them as he can. He also understands that by aligning himself with a Leftist party, he will blunt some of the criticism that would normally come from that end of the spectrum. He was dying to make a deal with someone from the Left in order to portray himself as a bridge builder and consensus maker.
I have no idea what kind of leader Ehud Barak was as prime minister. I do know that the war he ran in Gaza as defense minister appeared to be totally different from the one that Peretz ran in Lebanon against Hezbollah. It appeared to be more focused, with attainable goals (whether or not we attained them is again a different discussion), and was fiercely supported by a majority of the country. And the body count was low (thank G-d). This certainly makes him an attractive addition to the government.
So whose gambles will pay off and whose are more risky? Well, Livni’s gamble to be part of the opposition will work if Bibi falters. So she is putting her fate in his hands, hoping that he will fail. If he is successful, she is sunk—as will be her party. They, who have very little social platform other than as claimants to the political middle, will have been exposed to the public as the party whose policies were simply wrong (and I certainly pray for that day).
Barak’s gamble is much more risky than Livni’s and also has a much greater payoff. If Netanyahu is a failure and Livni rises to power, he is done. He threw his lot in with Likud while at the same time betraying the Left, and I cannot imagine how he and Labor can show themselves to be the heroes of the Left in such a situation.
If, however, Bibi is successful in running the government and Barak can be credited for helping “moderate” the voice and approach of the government, then he can try to lay claim to a role as a responsible and patriotic member of the Left who did what he needed to do in a time of crisis and is the best choice to lead the Left out of the doldrums. He may not win the majority of seats in a subsequent election, but having gotten out of the shadow of Kadima and Livni, he and Labor at least have a shot at becoming the leaders of the Left again—if everything falls into place perfectly.
At this point, though, the big winner is Bibi. He can work both sides of the aisle now with Labor in his pocket, and no matter what happens he can certainly claim that he is the man who put together a more wide-ranging coalition than anyone else in the Knesset could possibly have. He can blame failures on the far Right and the Left and, should he fail, he still has a chance to ask the voters to give him a clear mandate so that he does not have to be beholden to the smaller parties and their interest groups in order to govern.
Bibi is a smart guy (hey—they all have to have some brains in order to have gotten where they are). After all the Kadima posturing, he was able to appear willing to meet with them and partner with them without really having to worry about their joining him, since he knew they couldn’t sign on the dotted line. He was able to moderate the power of the Right a bit with bringing in Labor, and he got Ehud Barak as defense minister, which he clearly seems to be thrilled with.
While the outcomes of, and apparent differences between, the two wars we have lived through may have been circumstantial, I personally believe that Barak is a better option as defense minister than most, and that he will actually lead the military well. I also think that having Livni outside the government is the biggest gain we have had in this entire election, so I am not terribly disappointed on those counts.
My disappointments? The biggest one is Bibi’s concession to consider the two-state plan. However, I am also a big enough boy to understand David Rotem’s (MK of Yisrael Beiteinu—see last week’s column) point that a two-state solution is almost inevitable now, and that we have to figure some way of it not being the end of our part of it. But I am not in favor of the two-state solution!
I know that many people will find the prior two statements to be impossible to reconcile. I really am not in favor of this solution. I will demonstrate against it, rally against it—whatever I can possibly do (within halachah) to stop it from happening. Yet, I recognize that these efforts are most likely going to be futile. It kills me, but it is sadly true.
So whom do I want to be in charge of either trying to get out of such a solution or at the very least trying to protect my country’s safety and security in the face of such a disaster? Tzipi Livni? Are you joking?
She (and the Left) want to give away the store—anything and everything—just to have the world like us and treat us as moral and humane members of the world society. Their blind desire for any deal at all is reckless and irresponsible, and there is no way I would want to see them in charge.
Am I thrilled with the back-and-forth Bibi and what will be his inevitable capitulation to the peaceniks in order to extricate himself from what he perceives as the death grip of the fanatical far-right-wing parties? Would I prefer that he stick to what got him here? Yes. But it will not be.
We have instead a government of compromise. A government that will be afraid to give away both too much and too little. A government that came to power because of the failure of the Gaza-style diplomacy of unilateral withdrawal, and that I really hope understands that safety and security are not purchased through gestures, but rather through responsible planning and responsible actions.
Yes, I know I ignored Yisrael Beiteinu. They got a lot of what they wanted, and it is hard to tell if they will continue to be major players or if, like Meretz, they will end up returning to minor-party status in the future.
Of course, I have lived here all of two years and nine months. I readily admit that my understanding is very likely to be limited and there is a strong likelihood that I am so totally misreading things that it is scary. Only time will tell. On all counts.
After rising 5 centimeters this week, the Kineret Lake is at –213.41, 41 centimeters below the lower red line. There is no rain in the forecast, and I am afraid we might have reached the end of the rain for this year. Hopefully, as the snow in the northern mountains melts, we will at least pass the lower red line. It will certainly be close.
The Right will be infuriated that Bibi chose Labor to be a part of the government and that he “suddenly” flip-flopped on the two-state solution. The Left will be aghast at the “defection” of Barak and his “desire” for power (remaining as defense minister) after committing to be a part of the opposition almost immediately after the balloting closed. And those somewhere in between will simply be upset.
I see things a bit differently.
As I have said in the past, we have to look through the same window that each of these people is looking through in order to understand their motives. We also have to understand that the prime motivating factor for each of these people is their desire to be the Prime Minister of the State of Israel.
Yes, they want to serve their country. Yes, they want their party to lead. Yes, they believe in the platform of their party. But those are only secondary concerns. The politicians have shown time and again that they will do anything they can to be “the guy” (or “the gal”). And they do.
Start with Tzipi Livni. Her party won more seats than any other in the Knesset, yet she is relegated to second-tier status in the race for the ultimate prize. However, she has seen how successfully Bibi Netanyahu ran the opposition the past several years, seizing every opportunity to say “See? I told you so!” without actually having to govern. She understands that her best bet at power comes not by being a part of the current government (no matter if that would be best for Israel or not—a point I am not currently debating), but by being a vocal member of the opposition and hoping that in the next election the disaffected voters—those who vote against the status quo no matter what—will flock to her banner.
Then comes Ehud Barak. When it initially looked like Kadima would try to make a power-sharing agreement, he was overjoyed to be in the opposition. Instead of Livni, he would be the vocal head of the opposition, leading all the disenfranchised to the Labor Party. Having lost their voters to the currently popular Kadima, this was the best way for Barak to rebuild his party to be a factor in the next elections.
Yet it was not to be. Livni and Kadima’s refusal to be a part of the government made Labor and Barak the midgets of the opposition. He/they would not be the leader of the opposition, and any “I told you so” moment would go to the credit of Kadima and not Labor. Many pundits were predicting that this might actually be the end of the Labor Party for this very reason, and Barak, both personally and as leader of the party, could not allow this to happen.
It was therefore inevitable that he would make a deal with Likud. Although it is not nearly as effective as being the leader of the opposition, there is still the opportunity for him to claim an “elder statesman” title, simply by inferring that they are truly the princes of the Left because “We did what we did for the sake of the country” in an effort to (i) moderate the voice of the government, (ii) serve the country, and (iii) further the peace process and at the same time make Kadima look as if they are solely interested in petty politics.
Of course, Kadima will spin this as the ultimate act of betrayal by Barak and Labor. In fact, the (incredibly Left-leaning) media has had an immediate and nonstop paroxysm of rage at this betrayal, acting as if this doesn’t happen all the time. (Interestingly, I read a fascinating article about the media’s adoration of Sharon’s betrayal of the Right in the Gush Katif pullout and the formation of Kadima, and how the media portrayed that group of betrayers as heroes and visionaries for doing almost exactly what Barak is doing.)
Finally, we get to Bibi Netanyahu. Through various miscues and the nearness of the Gaza war to the elections, both Yisrael Beiteinu and Kadima picked up seats at Likud’s expense. He ended up as the leader of the second-largest party, yet the only party leader who had a reasonable chance at actually forming a government. He also has a memory.
In his last incarnation as prime minister, and leader of the largest party, he was too arrogant in setting his policies and ignoring the opposition/minority partners in his government. His single-minded focus on doing things as he saw fit and his decision to give away large swaths of the West Bank are a big part of what led his backers to abandon him and both dissolve his government and later vote his party out of power.
He understands that his best chance at continuing his reign at the head of the government is to try to make the government one of all the people—at least as many of them as he can. He also understands that by aligning himself with a Leftist party, he will blunt some of the criticism that would normally come from that end of the spectrum. He was dying to make a deal with someone from the Left in order to portray himself as a bridge builder and consensus maker.
I have no idea what kind of leader Ehud Barak was as prime minister. I do know that the war he ran in Gaza as defense minister appeared to be totally different from the one that Peretz ran in Lebanon against Hezbollah. It appeared to be more focused, with attainable goals (whether or not we attained them is again a different discussion), and was fiercely supported by a majority of the country. And the body count was low (thank G-d). This certainly makes him an attractive addition to the government.
So whose gambles will pay off and whose are more risky? Well, Livni’s gamble to be part of the opposition will work if Bibi falters. So she is putting her fate in his hands, hoping that he will fail. If he is successful, she is sunk—as will be her party. They, who have very little social platform other than as claimants to the political middle, will have been exposed to the public as the party whose policies were simply wrong (and I certainly pray for that day).
Barak’s gamble is much more risky than Livni’s and also has a much greater payoff. If Netanyahu is a failure and Livni rises to power, he is done. He threw his lot in with Likud while at the same time betraying the Left, and I cannot imagine how he and Labor can show themselves to be the heroes of the Left in such a situation.
If, however, Bibi is successful in running the government and Barak can be credited for helping “moderate” the voice and approach of the government, then he can try to lay claim to a role as a responsible and patriotic member of the Left who did what he needed to do in a time of crisis and is the best choice to lead the Left out of the doldrums. He may not win the majority of seats in a subsequent election, but having gotten out of the shadow of Kadima and Livni, he and Labor at least have a shot at becoming the leaders of the Left again—if everything falls into place perfectly.
At this point, though, the big winner is Bibi. He can work both sides of the aisle now with Labor in his pocket, and no matter what happens he can certainly claim that he is the man who put together a more wide-ranging coalition than anyone else in the Knesset could possibly have. He can blame failures on the far Right and the Left and, should he fail, he still has a chance to ask the voters to give him a clear mandate so that he does not have to be beholden to the smaller parties and their interest groups in order to govern.
Bibi is a smart guy (hey—they all have to have some brains in order to have gotten where they are). After all the Kadima posturing, he was able to appear willing to meet with them and partner with them without really having to worry about their joining him, since he knew they couldn’t sign on the dotted line. He was able to moderate the power of the Right a bit with bringing in Labor, and he got Ehud Barak as defense minister, which he clearly seems to be thrilled with.
While the outcomes of, and apparent differences between, the two wars we have lived through may have been circumstantial, I personally believe that Barak is a better option as defense minister than most, and that he will actually lead the military well. I also think that having Livni outside the government is the biggest gain we have had in this entire election, so I am not terribly disappointed on those counts.
My disappointments? The biggest one is Bibi’s concession to consider the two-state plan. However, I am also a big enough boy to understand David Rotem’s (MK of Yisrael Beiteinu—see last week’s column) point that a two-state solution is almost inevitable now, and that we have to figure some way of it not being the end of our part of it. But I am not in favor of the two-state solution!
I know that many people will find the prior two statements to be impossible to reconcile. I really am not in favor of this solution. I will demonstrate against it, rally against it—whatever I can possibly do (within halachah) to stop it from happening. Yet, I recognize that these efforts are most likely going to be futile. It kills me, but it is sadly true.
So whom do I want to be in charge of either trying to get out of such a solution or at the very least trying to protect my country’s safety and security in the face of such a disaster? Tzipi Livni? Are you joking?
She (and the Left) want to give away the store—anything and everything—just to have the world like us and treat us as moral and humane members of the world society. Their blind desire for any deal at all is reckless and irresponsible, and there is no way I would want to see them in charge.
Am I thrilled with the back-and-forth Bibi and what will be his inevitable capitulation to the peaceniks in order to extricate himself from what he perceives as the death grip of the fanatical far-right-wing parties? Would I prefer that he stick to what got him here? Yes. But it will not be.
We have instead a government of compromise. A government that will be afraid to give away both too much and too little. A government that came to power because of the failure of the Gaza-style diplomacy of unilateral withdrawal, and that I really hope understands that safety and security are not purchased through gestures, but rather through responsible planning and responsible actions.
Yes, I know I ignored Yisrael Beiteinu. They got a lot of what they wanted, and it is hard to tell if they will continue to be major players or if, like Meretz, they will end up returning to minor-party status in the future.
Of course, I have lived here all of two years and nine months. I readily admit that my understanding is very likely to be limited and there is a strong likelihood that I am so totally misreading things that it is scary. Only time will tell. On all counts.
After rising 5 centimeters this week, the Kineret Lake is at –213.41, 41 centimeters below the lower red line. There is no rain in the forecast, and I am afraid we might have reached the end of the rain for this year. Hopefully, as the snow in the northern mountains melts, we will at least pass the lower red line. It will certainly be close.
Thank You, MK Rotem (Article# 111) 3/26/2009
I had a unique experience last week. As part of our curriculum, the yeshiva normally spends a day touring both the Knesset and the Supreme Court buildings, learning about Israel’s governmental process and legal system. After the first couple of times, the novelty of the tour has run out—but it is interesting to hear the questions posed by our students and gain some insight into their perception of Israeli life.
Each year, we try to schedule a meeting with members of the Knesset, but for various reasons we had been unable to coordinate a personal visit in prior years. This year, Rav Yehuda Susman, our Rosh Yeshiva, spoke to the “candyman” in his shul in Efrat, who is also known as MK David Rotem of the Yisrael Beteinu party and is a current member of Knesset, and Rav Susman arranged for us to have a meeting with him.
I have to admit that I was fascinated. Although I did not vote for them, the enthusiasm and momentum that Yisrael Beteinu built through the elections was palpable, and I was incredibly curious to meet a religious MK from that faction. After all, a major spin of the party is that it represents the non-religious, specifically Russian immigrants (many of whom may not even be Jewish).
Because of time considerations, we did not get the chance to tour the Knesset as we normally do. Instead, we went to the Knesset’s Jerusalem Conference Room (I hope I remember the name correctly) where MK Rotem was waiting for us. The Jerusalem Room is a very large room, with a circular set of tables. Mr. Rotem sat at the head of the table with a microphone, and our students sat around the table and in folding chairs set up for the overflow.
Mr. Rotem opened the meeting by offering us a choice: we could hear him lecture about his party, his opinions, and the running of the Knesset (of which he has been a member for a bit over two years) or he would open the floor to questions. We chose the Q-and-A session.
First, I must state that I may err in my recollection of his answers, and I apologize to him (and his party) in advance for any such errors.
I also must admit that I found MK Rotem to be very engaging and persuasive. At least in my eyes, there is no question that he is an Israeli patriot and believes (passionately) in his party and its platform, and that their platform truly is the best long-term solution for Israel. He was thoughtful and took great care in formulating his responses to make sure that he wasn’t misunderstood (although he is Israeli born, he speaks excellent English—he has to; he lives in Efrat).
I would also add that while I definitely disagree with some of their platform, a lot of what he said made sense to me and should not be discarded as radical lunacy. Take the “oath of loyalty” that Yisrael Beteinu wants to require of all Israeli citizens (it was the first question asked of him). Although it is portrayed as an anti-Arab measure, he was adamant that it was an extension of a principal that is applied even in the USA. After all, the final step of the naturalization of a new U.S. citizen is the administration of an oath of loyalty to the United States. If the USA can require such an oath, why shouldn’t Israel be able to?
Yes, this is an oversimplification and an extension of the principal beyond what is required by the USA, (after all, none of us had to swear such an oath, and we are still American citizens) but the basic idea exists.
Furthermore, Israel is a country that is in a state of war with several neighbors (even if there is no active fighting at the current time) and has been in direct conflict twice with Arab militant groups in the last two and a half years. During one of those conflicts, Israeli Arab citizens actively aided the enemy. (According to MK Rotem, an Arab MK used his cellphone to call targeting information to Hezbollah terrorist rocket launching squads.)
American citizens doing such acts would be jailed. Could you imagine the outcry if it was discovered that a U.S. Senator or Congressman had aided Al-Qaeda in the 9/11 attacks? He/she would be tried for treason!
What Yisrael Beteinu is advocating is that such people be denied the benefits of Israeli citizenship and that the oath of loyalty is the litmus test. And they do not stop with requiring it of the Arabs. Any person wanting to benefit from the Jewish State would be required to take the oath, including all the Jews.
While this would be fine with me (I’d probably do it twice just to enjoy the experience a second time), many of my neighbors (ie: chareidim) would be less than thrilled. Swear loyalty to the Zionist State? Ha! But they would have to, in order to continue to benefit from the vast social services network which certainly pays them out much more than they (as a single group) pay in. And that is something that I definitely agree with.
Along with this oath is a requirement for National Service. Also a good idea. Chareidim are so active in chesed that they could easily satisfy this obligation with existing projects (although they would definitely be expanded) and the Arabs would have thousands of their youth putting active effort into building up their communities and benefiting the social welfare of their communities. Who wouldn’t be in favor of that?
He answered questions about the two-state solution, of which he is definitely not in favor, but understands that it is the most likely outcome and therefore wants to work to structure it to be something that can be successful for Israel’s safety and security. Other questions covered many topics, such as his feelings as an Orthodox Jew in a party advocating civil marriages and the opening of our markets to non-kosher foods; he patiently answered each one (he even admitted that he could not answer a question about our water crisis as it is an issue that he is not familiar with).
Perhaps the most astonishing of his answers was to a question about how he could reconcile living in Efrat with being a member of a party whose platform for an eventual two-state solution includes both population and land exchanges. He responded that he understood that it may cost him his home, but that he feels that such a land/population exchange would provide for defensible borders and an opportunity for coexistence. I was impressed by such honesty and forthrightness.
We had to cut the meeting short because we had to head to the Supreme Court to continue our day. Mr. Rotem was prepared to sit with us as long as we liked and was extremely accommodating. We appreciated it.
We will hopefully have a government within the next couple of weeks, and then it will be up to all the MKs involved to see that they move forward in maintaining our safety and security and the well-being of our homeland.
Mazal tov to former Five Towners and current neighbors Penina and Mutty Eichler on the birth of Yisrael Avishai and to former Five Towners and current neighbors Mark and Yosefa Krauss on the marriage of Gavriel to Kayla Kowal of Yad Binyamin.
The Kineret Lake is at –213.46, 46 cm below the lower red line. It is currently raining, and we hope and pray for lots more.
Each year, we try to schedule a meeting with members of the Knesset, but for various reasons we had been unable to coordinate a personal visit in prior years. This year, Rav Yehuda Susman, our Rosh Yeshiva, spoke to the “candyman” in his shul in Efrat, who is also known as MK David Rotem of the Yisrael Beteinu party and is a current member of Knesset, and Rav Susman arranged for us to have a meeting with him.
I have to admit that I was fascinated. Although I did not vote for them, the enthusiasm and momentum that Yisrael Beteinu built through the elections was palpable, and I was incredibly curious to meet a religious MK from that faction. After all, a major spin of the party is that it represents the non-religious, specifically Russian immigrants (many of whom may not even be Jewish).
Because of time considerations, we did not get the chance to tour the Knesset as we normally do. Instead, we went to the Knesset’s Jerusalem Conference Room (I hope I remember the name correctly) where MK Rotem was waiting for us. The Jerusalem Room is a very large room, with a circular set of tables. Mr. Rotem sat at the head of the table with a microphone, and our students sat around the table and in folding chairs set up for the overflow.
Mr. Rotem opened the meeting by offering us a choice: we could hear him lecture about his party, his opinions, and the running of the Knesset (of which he has been a member for a bit over two years) or he would open the floor to questions. We chose the Q-and-A session.
First, I must state that I may err in my recollection of his answers, and I apologize to him (and his party) in advance for any such errors.
I also must admit that I found MK Rotem to be very engaging and persuasive. At least in my eyes, there is no question that he is an Israeli patriot and believes (passionately) in his party and its platform, and that their platform truly is the best long-term solution for Israel. He was thoughtful and took great care in formulating his responses to make sure that he wasn’t misunderstood (although he is Israeli born, he speaks excellent English—he has to; he lives in Efrat).
I would also add that while I definitely disagree with some of their platform, a lot of what he said made sense to me and should not be discarded as radical lunacy. Take the “oath of loyalty” that Yisrael Beteinu wants to require of all Israeli citizens (it was the first question asked of him). Although it is portrayed as an anti-Arab measure, he was adamant that it was an extension of a principal that is applied even in the USA. After all, the final step of the naturalization of a new U.S. citizen is the administration of an oath of loyalty to the United States. If the USA can require such an oath, why shouldn’t Israel be able to?
Yes, this is an oversimplification and an extension of the principal beyond what is required by the USA, (after all, none of us had to swear such an oath, and we are still American citizens) but the basic idea exists.
Furthermore, Israel is a country that is in a state of war with several neighbors (even if there is no active fighting at the current time) and has been in direct conflict twice with Arab militant groups in the last two and a half years. During one of those conflicts, Israeli Arab citizens actively aided the enemy. (According to MK Rotem, an Arab MK used his cellphone to call targeting information to Hezbollah terrorist rocket launching squads.)
American citizens doing such acts would be jailed. Could you imagine the outcry if it was discovered that a U.S. Senator or Congressman had aided Al-Qaeda in the 9/11 attacks? He/she would be tried for treason!
What Yisrael Beteinu is advocating is that such people be denied the benefits of Israeli citizenship and that the oath of loyalty is the litmus test. And they do not stop with requiring it of the Arabs. Any person wanting to benefit from the Jewish State would be required to take the oath, including all the Jews.
While this would be fine with me (I’d probably do it twice just to enjoy the experience a second time), many of my neighbors (ie: chareidim) would be less than thrilled. Swear loyalty to the Zionist State? Ha! But they would have to, in order to continue to benefit from the vast social services network which certainly pays them out much more than they (as a single group) pay in. And that is something that I definitely agree with.
Along with this oath is a requirement for National Service. Also a good idea. Chareidim are so active in chesed that they could easily satisfy this obligation with existing projects (although they would definitely be expanded) and the Arabs would have thousands of their youth putting active effort into building up their communities and benefiting the social welfare of their communities. Who wouldn’t be in favor of that?
He answered questions about the two-state solution, of which he is definitely not in favor, but understands that it is the most likely outcome and therefore wants to work to structure it to be something that can be successful for Israel’s safety and security. Other questions covered many topics, such as his feelings as an Orthodox Jew in a party advocating civil marriages and the opening of our markets to non-kosher foods; he patiently answered each one (he even admitted that he could not answer a question about our water crisis as it is an issue that he is not familiar with).
Perhaps the most astonishing of his answers was to a question about how he could reconcile living in Efrat with being a member of a party whose platform for an eventual two-state solution includes both population and land exchanges. He responded that he understood that it may cost him his home, but that he feels that such a land/population exchange would provide for defensible borders and an opportunity for coexistence. I was impressed by such honesty and forthrightness.
We had to cut the meeting short because we had to head to the Supreme Court to continue our day. Mr. Rotem was prepared to sit with us as long as we liked and was extremely accommodating. We appreciated it.
We will hopefully have a government within the next couple of weeks, and then it will be up to all the MKs involved to see that they move forward in maintaining our safety and security and the well-being of our homeland.
Mazal tov to former Five Towners and current neighbors Penina and Mutty Eichler on the birth of Yisrael Avishai and to former Five Towners and current neighbors Mark and Yosefa Krauss on the marriage of Gavriel to Kayla Kowal of Yad Binyamin.
The Kineret Lake is at –213.46, 46 cm below the lower red line. It is currently raining, and we hope and pray for lots more.
Water, Water Everywhere (Article# 110) 3/19/2009
Purim was, as usual, quite awesome here. It might have been a bit chilly with temps in the 60s or so, but that certainly beats the frigid weather we used to face in the U.S. In Israel, even the secular celebrate Purim in some form, so you get to see a lot of people/kids in costume.
Several years ago I had designed a Fred Flintstone costume (sewn for me quite professionally by Bina Zaiman) that was really cool. Unfortunately it was stained with motor oil one year and inadvertently discarded. I loved that costume and decided that this year I would revive it (thanks to third cousin Shulamit Felsenthal for sewing it at the last minute).
Chaya decided that she wanted to be a box of popcorn and created her entire costume almost on her own (I sewed the popcorn necklace) and designed a mishloach manot to match. Aliza had planned to be a terrorist, but in a moment of teen indifference decided to skip the entire costume thing this year. Batya was Minnie Mouse, Mordechai a Power Ranger, and Moshe was an incredibly muscular Spiderman (all the superhero costumes here seemed to have padded muscles in them resulting in some incredibly sculpted little kids running around).
Chaim has been way too cool to put on a costume the past few years (see Aliza above), but at the last minute he decided to be a golfer. He grabbed my clubs and really put together a nice look. (I miss golf—there is only one very expensive course here that I am aware of and I haven’t played in almost three years)
The approach to mishloach manot is much different here. We belong to two shuls. Both of them have “community” mishloach manot programs and it is understood that with the exception of the four or five families that you are closest to, participation in the shul mishloach manot really does count (in Woodmere we had a huge list of people we delivered to each year, no matter what).
The focus here (at least in our part of Bet Shemesh) is on the kids. They throw themselves wholeheartedly into the celebration. Our kids packed their packages several days before Purim and had their lists all drawn up for me to prepare. I think that between the six kids they delivered around 130–140 mishloach manot bags. Yeah, I did spend the day in the car.
We had former Five Towners Chanoch (formerly Alan) and Naomi Schwartz and their family as well as our steady Friday double date couple Dani and Tzippy Lieberman and their family for the seudah. With a house packed full of little kids (ours and the Liebermans’) and teenagers (ours and the Schwartzes’), the atmosphere was definitely festive and fun. The only downer was my having to run out to the yeshiva for Shushan Purim at the end (try celebrating both regular and Shushan Purim—it is exhausting).
At the seudah, Goldie mentioned that she was glad that it hadn’t rained that day; there had been a 40% chance of rain predicted for Purim morning. I disagreed. Even though we stopped adding the special tefillah for rain in Shemoneh Esreih (and I have no idea why), we are in real trouble here. A few wet kids would definitely have been worth it.
Over the past month I have become more and more engrossed in the saga that is Israel’s water system. The ecological balance of the system is incredibly precarious and allows for very little error. Throw in a few years of low rainfall and disaster is sure to occur (as it is about to).
The best indicator of the current crisis is the Kinneret Lake. It supplies around 40% of the country’s water. Since the other 60% of the water comes from similar sources (aquifers, reservoirs, etc.) the Kinneret level pretty accurately reflects the level of those sources as well.
All of these sources are considered “renewable,” meaning that they are continually replenished by the rain that falls each year. Unfortunately, these resources are also finite and our consumption level is more that 95% of the amount of rain we get in a normal year. When rainfall is below normal, the reserve levels of these water sources are used. Unfortunately, this has happened for several years in a row and we are now in serious trouble here. Or will be soon.
The media here is covering the story regularly and the water authority’s conservation push is also making people aware of the crisis. I myself track the information via the water authority’s website (as I wrote a couple of weeks ago) and post the results on my Facebook profile in order to increase awareness of the situation.
My sister dropped me a note that she just saw that we are less than two meters above the Black Line—a Kinneret level she had never heard of before. She asked what that meant, and wondered why we are so focused on the Red Line?
There are several “lines” in the Kinneret. There is the full line/Upper Red Line, the Lower Red Line, and there is the new Black Line which was only defined last year.
The Upper Red Line equals 208 meters and 80 centimeters below sea level (–208.80). This is what the Kinneret has measured when full to capacity—before flooding. At this level, they open the Deganya Dam and allow the overflow to drain into the Jordan River to prevent flooding.
The Lower Red Line is –213.00. When the water level is below this line, the water is considered to have higher than desired amounts of contaminants and pollutants in it. This is not good! This level is also two meters above the Black Line.
The Black Line is –215.00. When the water level goes down to this level, the water pumps that the national water authority uses to pump water are exposed. If the water is below the pump level, they obviously cannot pump water. Assuming the other water sources are similarly low (having experienced the same drought that currently plagues the Kinneret), the loss of the Kinneret’s 40% contribution to the water reserves will quickly overburden the system and the country will be effectively dry. Also not such a good thing.
So why all the focus on the Lower Red Line? Well, aside from the health issues involved with drinking water having abnormally high levels of contaminants and pollutants in it, it is a key marker for how close we will get to the Black Line during the summer/fall, before the next rainy season kicks in.
Traditionally, the Kinneret loses about one and a half meters in height each dry season, but it is supposed to recover during the rainy season. However, the past several years have seen less than average rainfall and the levels never recovered. Each year’s high level was lower than the prior year’s high.
Last year, the Kinneret lost two meters from its high point of the year to the low point of the year. Yes, it was abnormal—most years are only one and a half, but it does makes sense. After all, as the water level lowers, the lake itself narrows. A narrower lake means that there is less cubic meters of water per centimeter of lake height than normal, resulting in more dramatic changes in height than in normal years.
If we were to duplicate last year’s drop of close to two meters of height from the Kinneret during the dry season, in order to ensure that we do not reach the black line, the Kinneret needs to be at least two meters above the black line at its high point (sometime in April/May). The Lower Red Line is two meters above the Black Line. The bottom of the Kinneret is something like –254, so this is not a significant factor.
It ain’t going dry—we are!
Several years ago I had designed a Fred Flintstone costume (sewn for me quite professionally by Bina Zaiman) that was really cool. Unfortunately it was stained with motor oil one year and inadvertently discarded. I loved that costume and decided that this year I would revive it (thanks to third cousin Shulamit Felsenthal for sewing it at the last minute).
Chaya decided that she wanted to be a box of popcorn and created her entire costume almost on her own (I sewed the popcorn necklace) and designed a mishloach manot to match. Aliza had planned to be a terrorist, but in a moment of teen indifference decided to skip the entire costume thing this year. Batya was Minnie Mouse, Mordechai a Power Ranger, and Moshe was an incredibly muscular Spiderman (all the superhero costumes here seemed to have padded muscles in them resulting in some incredibly sculpted little kids running around).
Chaim has been way too cool to put on a costume the past few years (see Aliza above), but at the last minute he decided to be a golfer. He grabbed my clubs and really put together a nice look. (I miss golf—there is only one very expensive course here that I am aware of and I haven’t played in almost three years)
The approach to mishloach manot is much different here. We belong to two shuls. Both of them have “community” mishloach manot programs and it is understood that with the exception of the four or five families that you are closest to, participation in the shul mishloach manot really does count (in Woodmere we had a huge list of people we delivered to each year, no matter what).
The focus here (at least in our part of Bet Shemesh) is on the kids. They throw themselves wholeheartedly into the celebration. Our kids packed their packages several days before Purim and had their lists all drawn up for me to prepare. I think that between the six kids they delivered around 130–140 mishloach manot bags. Yeah, I did spend the day in the car.
We had former Five Towners Chanoch (formerly Alan) and Naomi Schwartz and their family as well as our steady Friday double date couple Dani and Tzippy Lieberman and their family for the seudah. With a house packed full of little kids (ours and the Liebermans’) and teenagers (ours and the Schwartzes’), the atmosphere was definitely festive and fun. The only downer was my having to run out to the yeshiva for Shushan Purim at the end (try celebrating both regular and Shushan Purim—it is exhausting).
At the seudah, Goldie mentioned that she was glad that it hadn’t rained that day; there had been a 40% chance of rain predicted for Purim morning. I disagreed. Even though we stopped adding the special tefillah for rain in Shemoneh Esreih (and I have no idea why), we are in real trouble here. A few wet kids would definitely have been worth it.
Over the past month I have become more and more engrossed in the saga that is Israel’s water system. The ecological balance of the system is incredibly precarious and allows for very little error. Throw in a few years of low rainfall and disaster is sure to occur (as it is about to).
The best indicator of the current crisis is the Kinneret Lake. It supplies around 40% of the country’s water. Since the other 60% of the water comes from similar sources (aquifers, reservoirs, etc.) the Kinneret level pretty accurately reflects the level of those sources as well.
All of these sources are considered “renewable,” meaning that they are continually replenished by the rain that falls each year. Unfortunately, these resources are also finite and our consumption level is more that 95% of the amount of rain we get in a normal year. When rainfall is below normal, the reserve levels of these water sources are used. Unfortunately, this has happened for several years in a row and we are now in serious trouble here. Or will be soon.
The media here is covering the story regularly and the water authority’s conservation push is also making people aware of the crisis. I myself track the information via the water authority’s website (as I wrote a couple of weeks ago) and post the results on my Facebook profile in order to increase awareness of the situation.
My sister dropped me a note that she just saw that we are less than two meters above the Black Line—a Kinneret level she had never heard of before. She asked what that meant, and wondered why we are so focused on the Red Line?
There are several “lines” in the Kinneret. There is the full line/Upper Red Line, the Lower Red Line, and there is the new Black Line which was only defined last year.
The Upper Red Line equals 208 meters and 80 centimeters below sea level (–208.80). This is what the Kinneret has measured when full to capacity—before flooding. At this level, they open the Deganya Dam and allow the overflow to drain into the Jordan River to prevent flooding.
The Lower Red Line is –213.00. When the water level is below this line, the water is considered to have higher than desired amounts of contaminants and pollutants in it. This is not good! This level is also two meters above the Black Line.
The Black Line is –215.00. When the water level goes down to this level, the water pumps that the national water authority uses to pump water are exposed. If the water is below the pump level, they obviously cannot pump water. Assuming the other water sources are similarly low (having experienced the same drought that currently plagues the Kinneret), the loss of the Kinneret’s 40% contribution to the water reserves will quickly overburden the system and the country will be effectively dry. Also not such a good thing.
So why all the focus on the Lower Red Line? Well, aside from the health issues involved with drinking water having abnormally high levels of contaminants and pollutants in it, it is a key marker for how close we will get to the Black Line during the summer/fall, before the next rainy season kicks in.
Traditionally, the Kinneret loses about one and a half meters in height each dry season, but it is supposed to recover during the rainy season. However, the past several years have seen less than average rainfall and the levels never recovered. Each year’s high level was lower than the prior year’s high.
Last year, the Kinneret lost two meters from its high point of the year to the low point of the year. Yes, it was abnormal—most years are only one and a half, but it does makes sense. After all, as the water level lowers, the lake itself narrows. A narrower lake means that there is less cubic meters of water per centimeter of lake height than normal, resulting in more dramatic changes in height than in normal years.
If we were to duplicate last year’s drop of close to two meters of height from the Kinneret during the dry season, in order to ensure that we do not reach the black line, the Kinneret needs to be at least two meters above the black line at its high point (sometime in April/May). The Lower Red Line is two meters above the Black Line. The bottom of the Kinneret is something like –254, so this is not a significant factor.
It ain’t going dry—we are!
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