Summer In The City Thursday, Aug 12 2010 

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Temple & Old City replica at the Israel Museum

Dear Into Israel Readers,

Now that my one-year anniversary has passed, I will still write to you from time to time, but I will be changing course a bit.  With this new direction, I hope to submit more photos to you of my life here in Israel.

Summer evenings in Jerusalem are gorgeous.  After the blazing sun goes down, the cool desert wind blows in, and everyone just wants to venture out and have fun; Israelis love to have a good time!

Soon enough will be the solemn days of the High Holidays. In the mornings now I hear shofars being practiced.  If my memory serves me correct from last year, we went straight from summer to cold, and oh, how I remember the cold so well in this town where my bare feet could never touch the frigid stone floors!

Yet now it’s all about having fun!  This past week were two major enjoyable events. The first was the Israel Wine Festival at the newly opened Israel Museum.  It had been closed for several years with a multi-million dollar makeover, and it is stunning.  The wine festival was outside, so when I return from the States, I plan to go back to tour the interior exhibits.  I went to this festival with three friends, one from England, one from the US, and one from Russia.  All three made Aliyah many years ago, so they are all fluent in Hebrew, and knew a lot of people at the Festival.  We had a blast!

The second event was the Jerusalem Arts & International Festival. This is a very-well attended event for the region.  It is like an annual mini World’s Fair, and people come to exhibit and sell their products from all over the world.  All the food is incredible, and yes, all Kosher!

I went to this festival with a friend visiting from the States for the summer who is based out of an apartment overlooking the Mediterranean.  When something is exciting in Jerusalem, she comes over for it.

The festival was just a few blocks from my apartment, and the backdrop was the Old City!  Each night they have a new musical performance.  We walked from one end of the festival to the other, but still on the way home we weren’t tired, so we stopped at the outdoor cafe at the King David Hotel that was made famous in the movie Exodus for a drink.

Next post, dear Into Israel readers, I will be visiting in Texas!  Have a cool one waiting for me, bevakasha!

Summer In The City—Lovin’ Spoonful

Shalom,

Barbara

 

PEACE שָׁלוֹם SHALOM Friday, Jul 30 2010 

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העיר העתיקה - Old City at Sunset

Dear Into Israel Readers,

It came, and it went.  My one-year anniversary of my Aliyah was yesterday, July 29th, and I chose to revisit my path of that first eventful day.  Well, sort of revisit; I made some changes!

I wish I could have an actual video recording of the two separate days, because what a contrast they would be.  The only thing that wasn’t changed was that I loved Israel deeply that first evening, and I still loved her deeply yesterday, even more so.

You can never live with your love always in Stage 1.  Sooner or later you must kick it up to Stage 2, and it is always in Stage 2 that literally sets the Stage for the rest of your relationship.  If the relationship has what it takes, then it ascends to Stage 3.  It appears rather complicated, and often can be, but in essence if both parties really are serious about wanting the relationship to work, then it will, but it does take both.

I left mid-afternoon down King David Street over to Mamilla Mall.  Before, a year ago, I had gotten lost and twisted in a myriad of streets as I tried to find my way to the Kotel.  Now, I easily know the path.  Before, I was wearing inappropriate shoes, stylish, but inappropriate, and that pair of shoes was quickly relegated to a back part of the closet.  Now, I was wearing stylish shoes with a durable non-slick surface.  I would be able to skip down the slippery steps in the Old City.  Before, I was carrying a gorgeous and new leather purse that didn’t have a long shoulder strap.  Now I wore a lightweight cotton bag bought in a London flea market for $1.00 that was swung over my shoulders to keep my arms free.  This bag & I have walked the streets of Jerusalem together this past year.  Before, I carried no water, and now I couldn’t even conceive of leaving my apartment further than a stone’s throw without my water.

Before, July 29th was actually Tisha b’Av so all the shops in Mamilla Mall were closed.  This year, it wasn’t Tisha b’Av so I left early to do some shopping which usually amounts to only books.  Books are my luxury.  I bought a Philip Roth novel on sale.  Then I proceeded to the Kotel.  It still amazes me how crowded the women’s section is compared to the men’s space.  It is just not right.  But these days there are so many things not right with the Kotel.  What a year this has been for our Kotel Ma’ariv.

For me, the Kotel is special, of course, because it is close to where our Temple(s) stood, but it is a wall, a retaining wall at that.  I feel that the Holiness we want to attach to it, and the feelings that accompany this attachment are misplaced.  We need to look inward for our Holiness, and not necessarily outward.

Before, my message was lengthy and in English, and now it was in Hebrew and short—to the point—Shalom.  I sometimes wonder what might occur if all of us everyday just entered Shalom as our message.  Everyday.  We both have to want it, remember, and we know The One wants it, so it is we that really have To Want it, not just talk about it, fundraise for it, wish for it, or the worst, just wait for it.  We have to want it now, not tomorrow, not next week, not next year, now.   Oh Lord, please, Now.

Later, after my visit to the Kotel, I returned to Mamilla Mall to meet a friend at a cafe and watch the sun set.  We went down to the German Colony and had pizza outside surrounded by French, English, Russian, and Spanish speakers who are all probably, too, in some varying stage of what I am going through, and then I went home and got into bed, listened to the nighttime sounds outside my bedroom window, and thanked God for being in Israel very much like I did a year ago.

My friends here, and I have been so fortunate to make some good ones, are rallying around me these days, because they know the signs.  They are aware of them, how to spot them, and know that at any moment they could come down with them too.  For you see, dear Into Israel readers, out of the blue as if right on cue, I came down with a huge case of missing my Loved Ones.

The Aliyah information preps you for this and makes you aware of this condition, but all the prepping in the world doesn’t help once you’ve succumbed to it.  It doesn’t matter if you come alone, or with a big family, if you are Orthodox or not, young or old.  It hits virtually every Oleh Hadash or Olah Hadasha.  On the day I was experiencing the worst bout of the blues, some friends took me out and I felt a bit better, and when I returned home in my email box was Rabbi Winston’s weekly Parsha that seemed as if was addressed to Dear Barbara!  God’s cues are everywhere in this World, and the only difference is that here in Eretz Yisrael they are heightened.

It is not that I have never missed before, because I have, and deeply I have missed in my life, deeply, deeply, deeply. I have just never missed this many people at one time!  Everyone I love is in the United States of America.  Since I had never experienced this magnitude before, I had no former frame of reference to know what would happen, and it hurts; it hurts like hell.  The rest of my life I will always be so empathetic to people who are lonely and/or homesick.

Focused on my Hebrew studies, I was rather thrown off course when my class ended, and then further I saw a lot of Americans going for a visit at the beginning of the summer break. My flight wasn’t till August, and quite suddenly from one day to the next I fell into being Homesick, except this is Home, and that is part of the problem, and also the fact that a lot people say your second year is your hardest, because you’ve entered Stage 2, and now you see the flaws of your loved one, and it doesn’t help that the International news media is further distorting these flaws.

The Stage is set for me; I love Israel, and for some unknown reason, and heaven knows I have tried this past year to explain it to you and myself, I feel my destiny is Here, but I also know that there will be rocky days, and perhaps even rocky years up ahead.

When that will occur, and it will, I will put on my hiking boots that, yes, I possess, and head out for this is a rocky country, and I will hike high up into the hills, and I will try with all my might to not look back for any length of time nor long for my days in Texas, but to embrace and breathe the air here, here where I belong.

I will freely cry up in the hills because to cry is to be human and to be human is to long and miss those we love, and to love, well, To Love, is what it is all about my dear lovely Into Israel readers.  Thank you so much for being a part of my journey and first year here in Israel.

Shalom,

Barbara

Minnie Riperton  -  The Edge of a Dream

 

One I Love Tuesday, Jul 20 2010 

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Kibbutz Tzuba

Dear Into Israel Readers,

By the Hebrew calendar, this is my one-year anniversary of my Aliyah.  It’s Tisha b’Av, and I arrived last year on erev Tisha b’Av.  Yet I also arrived on July 29th, and that anniversary is next week.  That’s all right; I’ll celebrate twice.

Jerusalem by dark is otherworldly.  A few nights ago I was coming over the hills from the Tomb of Samuel back into the city, and I was filled with an awe of the spellbinding beauty of Jerusalem that could only be described as love.  This intensity of emotion, this sensation of love both scares and excites me as it always has.

It is not the actual love that I am fearful of for the Love itself is pure and only encompasses goodness.  It’s all the commotion that accompanies it.  Everything in this world has the potential for good-tov or for bad-ra, and even in the blissful state of love, the ra enters curtain left to take its control over the love and the lovers.

Recently two very significant issues faced Israel and the Jewish people, and both I have touched on before.  Several readers wrote to me about these topics, and so I will write to you my thoughts after living in the land for a year now.  You might want to reach for a stiff drink.

The conversion bill has hit the Knesset floor again, and it has gone through so many changes that I am not exactly sure what this latest version states, but I am quite sure it doesn’t bode well for the Reform and Conservative movements of Judaism.  Then, there was the deeply troubling incident at the Kotel Ma’aravi, when a Torah scroll was forcibly taken out of a woman’s arms.  As a Reform Jew, it would seem plausible that I would form my allegiance to the Reform & Conservative movements in these causes, but I don’t, yet it is not that I suddenly throw my support to the Orthodox movement or Hasidic sects, because I don’t either.

Living in Israel, breathing the air and walking the streets has not altered my perspective, but only called and reached out to what was already inside of me.  When I examine my writings of seven and eight years ago, I can see that this indeed was previously present, but I was not in the place, quite literally, to express it.  But now, dear Into Israel readers, I am.

In essence, the rabbis of these movements are all fighting for control of the same thing, for their rabbinical interpretation of how we, as Jews, should live.  And pray.  And dress. And eat.  And marry.  And who is a Jew, and who is not a Jew. And who, where, why, when and what is Holy?

Let’s be clear about this; ultimately this is not about Reform versus Orthodox, conservative versus liberal, or American Jew versus Israeli.  For even if you take out of the equation the Reform and Conservative movements, there will still be fighting between the Orthodox and Hasidim.  Even if you take out the Orthodox, there will still be fighting amongst the different Hasidim sects!  You get the picture.

Where has all this fighting gotten us, and where do we go from here? Well, for the first part, we must accept that as Jews we have two enemies, the one beating on the door from the outside, and the one within.  It is this last one, the ra within, that is our greatest danger, the controlling one in the corner that turns us against each other.

The rabbis, regardless of whatever observance level they adhere to, along with the Oral Torah and Talmud, want to ensure their rightness from their corner, yet in another corner are those who only observe strict Torah in a Torah world where there are no rabbis nor Oral Torah nor Talmud, and thus they embrace Biblical passages that state they are the only authentic followers of God’s want of us.  Then, in the last corner is the one whose hands tightly cover their ears to block out the noise from the fighting, who rock back and forth to escape the anger, and who quietly have walked away from their corner, away from their Judaism, and away from God.  Still in the end, we know we are all Jews.  In a moments notice, we could easily find ourselves together on the same transport going to who knows where driven by the enemy outside that finally beats down the door. Again.

We, as Jews, need to be One.  God is One, and so must we be.  Yet, we’re so dissociated away from God, that the manifestation of this dissociation erupts in our anger to be right, and splits us apart.  Every one wants to be right in their observance level of Torah and God.  This desire for rightness, and I have no idea or desire to be right as this is only my opinion, is ironically ra.

So we’re on the same Torah page, I thus believe everyone has their unique path into their Judaism, and it is our Oneness—our faith in our One God, our Oneness with Israel, and our Oneness with each other that is our greatest strength, our greatest might.   So when you cry, I cry, when you smile, I smile, and when you kiss me, I kiss you, because you are the One, the Only One, the Only One I Love~

Shalom,

Barbara

COLDPLAY-ONE I LOVE

 

Road Trip Saturday, Jul 10 2010 

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Ben-Gurion National Park View

Dear Into Israel Readers,

I love Road Trips, especially in Israel, and recently I took one with my friend, Yonit, who made Aliyah from England where she was known as Jane.  Actually, most Olim do change to their Hebrew names, but I had chosen not to change to Bracha upon arrival, so now many friends have taken to calling me Bar that is a popular, modern Hebrew girl’s name.  Yonit and I set out early from Jerusalem, and arrived back at midnight.

It was wonderful to get away from the city in a car, and I was most impressed with the roads.  New paved surfaces greeted us at every turn.  Also, there were plentiful gas stations/convenience stores where you can sit outside and eat.  At these stops, people get ice cream or a cold drink and visit with each other all the while trying not to think about how much their fuel is costing.

Our first stop was Ben-Gurion National Park where both David and his wife, Paula, are buried.  It offers a quiet, sweeping vista to the beginning of the Negev.  We arrived at the park still early so it was vacant, and I found it peaceful.   I immensely enjoy nature days, and I long to sleep outside under the stars in Israel.

Path at the Park

The Negev is hot, the Israel hot I keep forgetting about while living high in the hills in Jerusalem.  Betty, the name I gave to Yonit’s car, had an ice chest plugged into the lighter, so we were good-to-go on both cold water and watermelon for the trip.  From the park we ventured over to Be’er Sheba to see Yonit’s daughter who lives there.  She and her boyfriend cooked up a delicious lunch for us—grilled chicken and rice with Israeli salad.

Yonit is thinking of possibly moving to Be’er Sheba, so we toured neighborhoods that are a contrast from Jerusalem’s neighborhoods.  Be’er Sheba is mentioned in the Bible so it has an old heart, but it is also a new growing city that has space where there are neighborhoods that are similar in style to American neighborhoods that have sprung up, literally out of the desert, and some of these expensive enclaves reminded me of Palm Springs!

Yonit made sure that Bar had a Beer Break!

Then we headed to Arad near the Dead Sea, and along the way we picked up a hitchhiker, Elana, a polite young woman that made Aliyah when she was seven years old with her parents from Russia.  Now, normally in the States, I would not even think for a second of picking up a hitchhiker, but here in Israel it is common and everyone does it; it’s part of the culture.

The first time I was with someone and we did it, I was nervous, but now I’m used to it.  My only request is that when I’m in the car, we pick up only girls, although I’ve never heard of any problem with the guys, many are soldiers just on their way home to see their family.

Elana was on her way to the Dead Sea, and since Yonit and I hadn’t scheduled any definite plans for the evening, we decided to go along to the Dead Sea, too!  Yet first we all stopped at a lovely boutique hotel in Arad, Yehelim, because Yonit knows the owners.

It was a perfect afternoon resting place to watch the afternoon light glide across the hills to sunset.  Yehelim is a gorgeous get-a-way, close enough to the Dead Sea, yet tucked away from the sea’s touristy pace.  The drive down from the hotel to the Dead Sea was my favorite part of the outing.

Boutique Hotel, Yehelim, in Arad

A fantastic conversationalist, Yonit is intelligent and witty, and all during our trip we had been discussing Torah.  She puts forth interesting analyses, and I try to uphold my end of the dialogue.  We don’t always agree, but we laugh a lot.  It might seem unusual to laugh when discussing Torah, yet Yonit has a way to do it with her British accent!

By now on this drive, all of us, including Elana, had become the best of friends, and our conversation turned mystical.  The road itself was mystical—empty, dark, and winding with mountain ranges on both sides.

As we twisted and descended towards the Dead Sea, here we were, three Jewish women all from different parts of the world, mystically sharing about life and love.  And Peace, always Peace.

I can’t rewrite the past, nor can I project the future, although at times I am tempted to do both.  I only know that for these days, these present days I am living, I am where I am supposed to Be.

Shalom,

Barbara

 

First & Last Days Friday, Jul 2 2010 

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Bat Yam Mediterranean View

Dear Into Israel Readers,

Wednesday was the last day of Alef Plus, my first Hebrew class.  Actually, I have previously studied Hebrew many years ago for my B’nai Mitzvah.  My teacher then, Rachel, was excellent and it was from that foundation that I ventured into my first Ulpan course.  So in essence, I have had two full years of Hebrew.  Add to those classes, Milingua, the on-line course I took during Ulpan to supplement my Hebrew study, and you would think that I would be speaking Hebrew—Ivrit fluently.

Well, think again!  Here’s the best way I can describe my level—I’m in good shape for the shape I’m in!  Following is the good and the bad about learning Hebrew from my Texas—English perspective.

I’ll begin with bad and get that out the way, because there is good.  Hebrew is a difficult language to learn, and most language experts list Hebrew near the top of the difficult list.  As I have written before, Hebrew uses a different Alphabet than English, goes in the opposite direction, and utilizes the feminine and the masculine in nouns, adjectives and verbs.  Vowels are not included in the written text, and it also has letters that have guttural sounds who for someone unaccustomed to them pose an extra task.

After much thought, pondering and deliberation over many cappuccinos, I can now see and understand where I hit a brick wall obtaining fluency in languages.  All the foreign languages I have studied—Spanish, French and now Hebrew employ the feminine and masculine in the majority of their words.

My reading is better than my speaking, because when I start talking my mind is clueing up ahead to the right word, and then it also has to make the adjustment for both the feminine and masculine and for the singular and plural.  For me, this is like a deal breaker since I am already dealing with sentence structure and those guttural letters.  My mind is thinking in English, “Please explain again just why we’re doing this, because you’re giving me a head-ache putting me through all kinds of gyrations that I’m not digging?”

Of course, this time it is different than when I studied French and Spanish.  Then I took the courses, passed the tests, and spoke a tiny bit here and there.  No big deal—adios and au revoir to any concerns.  Now, as if speaking to a child, I must gently yet firmly tell my brain, “You must do this, and you will be rewarded later,” i.e.—clean your room, and you then you can go outside and play.  All this internal self-talk leads me into the good part of learning Hebrew, and into why quite possibly I even made Aliyah.

It is only understandable that when you move to a country outside of the country of your birth, you would want to learn the language of that country.  Obviously it would aid your transition and adjustment, and with respect to Aliyah to Israel, that indeed is the case.  Yet being Jewish and learning Hebrew is not only about learning Modern Hebrew that I will speak when I walk the streets or sit in cafés, but it is also studying Biblical Hebrew that will guide me when I lie down or when I get up.

Do you remember how I mentioned near the start of Into Israel that I could list all the reasons I thought I was making Aliyah, but I knew instinctively even then that the true reason or reasons wouldn’t surface till later? Well I am just now on the verge of gaining insight that was unbeknownst to me.

Before when I studied Torah and my Tanakh, I would glance over to the Hebrew on the right side of the page occasionally.  I knew enough then to pick out a word or passage to tie it into my studies.  Yet now, the higher I go with my Hebrew studies, the greater the right side is awakening, and this is tov.

Though, with this goodness, I have questions and concerns about many of the English Tanakh translations that are, without a doubt, off.  I want to know just why this occurred, and the answers I am being given at present are not sufficient. All this studying, questioning and introspecting can sometimes lead to frustration.

When I sense being overwhelmed, I go out in the cool evening air and meet friends for dinner.  There, we can endlessly chatter on in English, and oh what a delight that is after hours of Hebrew study!  After visiting I return out into the even cooler air and starlit night towards home, feeling fortified for the days ahead, and knowing that I am living in this Awakening, the First Days of my Life.

Shalom,

Barbara

 

High Flight Sunday, Jun 20 2010 

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Bobby Smith Roth with his granddaughter, Lauren Rose Weinkrantz

Dear Into Israel Readers,

Happy Father’s Day to all Into Israel fathers, and a very special Happy Father’s Day to my dad, Bobby Smith Roth!  A few days ago we were on a Skype call, and he closed the call by telling me, “he felt thankful to be my father.”  I was extremely touched, and my heartstrings tugged at the thought that I would not be with him this Father’s Day.  As long and as far back as I can remember I have always been with my father on Father’s Day.

I also remember being 17 years old in a college dormitory hearing other girls talk about their fathers to become aware for the first time that a lot of young women, too many in my estimation, had difficulties with their fathers.  My dad has always been there for me, even supporting me in the life-changing decision to make Aliyah.

Patient, kind, and just, he loves and is loved by his family.  He has, though, had another great love in his life besides his family.  Flying.  My father loves to fly, and he still holds an active Pilot’s License!

When my father is up in the sky, he is a world away from all our earthly problems.  Happy and carefree, he is both thrilled and relaxed behind the wheel of his plane.

His favorite poem is High Flight, and I include it now both for you, and for him.

High Flight

By

Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee

No 412 squadron, RCAF

Killed 11 December 1941


Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds – and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there

I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air.

Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,

I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or even eagle flew -

And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod

The high untresspassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

I feel so thankful, so incredibly thankful to El, to live in a time where I am able to live and make my home in Eretz Yisrael, and also be able to get on an airplane, a flying mechanism that will lift me up, el al, and ferry me in a relatively short time to see my family, my friends, and my father.  Soon I will be upon my one-year anniversary of my Aliyah, and soon I will travel to Texas.

So, to you, my father, I close by saying how thankful I feel that I am your daughter.  You have guided me well, and my hope and my prayer is that I, too, have guided my own children as good.

I love you,

Barbara Permilla

 

PROOF Thursday, Jun 10 2010 

Israel intoisrael 10:10

Dear Into Israel Readers,

Kavanah, a Hebrew word, entered my consciousness.  I was dining with friends from Ulpan, and no one at the table had heard the word before, nor knew what it meant.

I knew I had not heard nor seen the word in Ulpan, nor on the street, nor in a brochure, but I knew the word was inside of me, and I must have learned it somewhere, because I could feel the word, but I could not express what it meant.  Remaining inside me the rest of the evening, I went directly to my dictionary upon arrival at home.

This pivotal word, regardless of what language you learn it in, is most needed at this pivotal time in history.  Kavanah’s English translation is intention whose definition is purpose, intent, or plan.  Yet, the Hebrew kavanah is more encompassing than mere intent.  One must have commitment, intensity, concentration and a “direction of one’s heart” with their intention.

We are required as Jews to have kavanah when we pray, not to just say the words in our prayers, but to utter them with conviction.  In essence, don’t just talk the talk, but also walk the walk; provide proof.

What a week for Israel; what a week for the Jewish people.  Demonstrations and inquisitions about Israel and the Gaza flotilla incident, and reprehensible rhetoric from the long-standing United States reporter, Helen Thomas, about the Jewish people headlined the news.

Every one runs to take their side in the debate.  Each side’s intention only demands to prove the other side wrong, and subsequently the discussion remains and stays virtually only about “the debate.”  There’s nothing inherently adverse about debate, but like everything in life, it is what the true end intention is meant for that matters.  Is it ultimately for good or for harm?  Too many don’t have a clue.

Thus, Peace, like the bride who waits on her beloved, is postponed.  Imagine, if only for a moment, what we as Individuals, or we as a Nation, or we as a World could accomplish if our kavanah was one of only Truth, of only Goodness.

Of course, it is difficult to stay at such a lofty level in this physical world with all its enticements!  And so we have Prayer itself, to assist us, to gently guide us back into the integrated spiritual world our soul desires. In the morning when I am saying the Modah and Shema Yisrael, I seek to say them until I can hear the echo in my own heart.  If I have to set aside a few minutes earlier to accomplish this, so be it, because what goodness may the day bring my kavanah without it?

Shabat Shalom,

Barbara

PROOF–COLDPLAY

 

THE HIGH ROAD Tuesday, Jun 1 2010 

Israel intoisrael 11:11

Carmiel

Dear Into Israel Readers,

Ever since I was a little girl, I have always loved the Texas Hill Country.  Born as a city girl, I longed to live the life in the country.  Summer camp outside of Welfare, Texas was a time of delight.  The stately Live Oak trees, big sky, wildflowers, and slower pace of life all beckoned me.  I viewed West Lake Hills in west Austin as a bridge between the two, and Bocachica where I lived before my Aliyah was an idyllic enclave.

There is a narrow road off Westlake Drive not far from Bocachica that travels high up into the hills with a beautiful view and its enchanting name is The High Road.  I once seriously thought about purchasing a small piece of property up on The High Road.

Coming home at night from the Austin JCC, I had to turn in the darkness onto The High Road, and I was always a bit apprehensive because the visibility was obscured due to the winding road, and there was no streetlight at the intersection.  I had mentioned my desire about buying on The High Road to an acquaintance, and she had told me her sister-in-law had died in a car accident up there and two small boys were left without a mother.  The High Road, dear Into Israel readers, can be treacherous.

This past week had me visiting Carmiel in the north, and I refer to this scenic area as the Israeli Hill Country.  I would move there tomorrow, but there is the question of safety as the vicinity was hit hard during the Lebanon War of 2006.  People fled to Tel Aviv and Jerusalem to stay with family or friends, although no place in Israel is shuttered safe from harm’s way.

This past week also had the whole country preparing for a crisis.  Once a year the sirens go off and then everyone goes immediately to the closest safe shelter.  I was at Ulpan at the time and the entire school and staff quickly walked down the stairs to the basement where there were a couple of large safe rooms.  I got separated from most of my class, but Chaya was there beside me.  Here, as we sat visiting with each other, I wondered what it must be like for this effervescent woman to begin her life in a concentration camp, and then to end it still in a place where they wanted to kill people because they are Jewish.

We stayed there for a few minutes, and then went back up to our class, where I learned from a friend who had waited to go down to the basement that she saw an office manager run outside to the park across the street to gather all the Israelis who had gone over there to smoke during the drill to force them over to the safe room.   I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of it.

I can laugh now as an adult at the absurdity of it all, the all of hate and vengeance, but as a child I couldn’t.  In elementary school we had to do similar drills during the Cuban Missile Crisis.  San Antonio with its five military installations was a red-hot target, so we remained on a razor thin edge.  During the drill the mothers drove over to the school and lined-up, and then the children walked out methodically to the cars and got into the next available one, and the mothers drove off north to the Hill Country.

Late at night tucked-in my bed, I would stare at the ceiling and pray to God for hope that I would be able to get in my mother’s car should the sirens go off.  But I worried about where my sisters would be, and my father, I worried so much about him at his office, and if he would be alive, and if we would ever see each other again.  Over and over I played out the scenario in my mind about whether our separated family would ever be together again.

All this brought on because of men gaining power to harm the world.  For Jews, the course of anti-Semitism has run relentless.  It’s insidious, and often surfaces where it is least expected.  Recently it came to my attention that a person close to my immediate family had written unflattering words about Jews in their public blog.  My first reaction was to take The High Road, and let it go, “Don’t go down to anyone’s level,” I rationalized.

Yet using that justification only harms me in more ways than one, for I am neither above nor beneath anyone else, regardless of how hurtful one’s words or actions may be.  Thus, taking The High Road puts me in a precarious way for it allows my self to think that I am better than someone else.  And I’m not.  Further this road also excuses me to dissociate away from the harmful inscriptions and not addressing them directly.

In Texas there is the saying that “Fences make good neighbors.”  Boundaries are often an important and necessary ingredient of life.  There are far too many people in this world that try to make their issues other peoples’ issues through intimidation and coercion.  Utilizing boundaries Protect.

When I love deeply, I love completely.  All my senses are effortlessly engaged.  And if they are not engaged, I’m off kilter.  When both the spiritual Barbara, seemingly quite content in the Texas Jewish community, and the physical Barbara touched the ground during my first trip to Israel at the airport, immediate upon contact, My Love for my God of Israel finally achieved its desired integration, in tune with my ultimate, but prior unaware, Oneness.  There’s no place like Home.

Home in Israel, with its drills and its walls to provide safety, is where I belong.  So for me, and for the girl who bronzes herself on the beach with her dangling Star of David around her neck, for the man who picks up my garbage in the early morning wearing his Kipa, for the pretty real-estate agent in Carmiel expecting her first child who touches every mezuzah while showing a house, for the Shoah survivors who shop at the Shuk to hand pick the fresh produce from the fields, for the mysterious man with dark eyes whose family fled country after country and who lost his best friend in a suicide attack, for the all the happy school children in their Purim costumes, and for the anashim davening at this very moment at the Kotel, the only high road we want to take, dear World, is The High Road to Hashem.

The High Road–Broken Bells

I had written my post prior to finding this new song!

Shalom,

Barbara

Dear Into Israel Readers,

The last 24 hours has been a little crazy.  I was preparing for this post to go out last night when my electricity shut down.  All is good to go now, but I was without power all day.  But I do want to write a few words to you about the Gaza flotilla incident, because it it news worthy to you and it ties into this post that I had already written.

All shipments for everyone must be cleared through the Haifa or Ashdod ports. My container from the States was in port for over a week till it was released.  This incident could have been averted, but the leaders of the Gaza flotilla refused to follow all the rules and regulations that they were quite aware of.

The memory of the forcible removal of the Jewish people from their homeland, and then the subsequent attacks from Gaza on Israel provokes an emotionally charged response from both religious and secular Israelis.  These attacks continue periodically to this day.  We only want to protect our people, our land and our boundaries.

 

Valor Thursday, May 20 2010 

Uncategorized , , , intoisrael 11:11

Dear Into Israel Readers,

On Shavuot we customarily read from the Book of Ruth, the ultimate Woman of Valor, Proverbs 31.  It appears on the surface that Ruth was faced with a clear choice at the crossroads, either to leave her mother-in-law, Naomi, or to go with her.

Yet there really didn’t exist a choice for Ruth.  The decision was already in place for her.  She loved her mother-in-law, and the God of Naomi had become an inseparable part of her, so in essence she had no choice.  Together “they set on the road back to the land of Judah.”

Drawing close to God and receiving God’s Torah is the significance of Shavuot.  This dimension of closeness can exist spiritually anywhere, but time and time again we are told in our Tanakh that our spirituality goes into a heightened level as we accept and integrate the physical dimension of it.  It’s akin to Falling in Love.  For the Jewish people, the physical form was given to us in the Land of Israel.

I left while it was still dark on Shavuot morning for the Kotel.  I made my pilgrimage to arrive there for sunrise, to witness the first rays of light break over the large, stone wall and fill the space.  I wished for my mind to be light and lucid to pray before the day of festivities with friends.

Deep in our soul, we each know the intrinsic value of life, yet it is more often than not, fleeting.  We use our days brewing up concoctions that help us to be happier, but they are ephemeral.  Most of us, regardless of our religious level, are rather lonely in spite of our outward smiles.

The Woman of Valor thought just of others, her husband, her children, and charity. Her business, and yes she had one, was only to provide for them.  Her happiness was derived from an ego transcended, and she exuded Peace that came from within.

Ruth left behind the only world and home she had ever known.  She embraced her Judaism, and followed her Heart.  Her legacy would be to become King David’s great-grandmother.

A time and a place, it is all written for all of us.

Shalom,

Barbara

The Calling, Our Lives

 

CLOSENESS Monday, May 10 2010 

Uncategorized , intoisrael 00:11

Dear Into Israel Readers,

One bright and early morning this week as Ulpan began, Tzuria and I were conversing in Hebrew, and I got stuck on a number.  In my head the numbers were all running together; I went blank and blurted out in English (which is forbidden), “Whoa, hold on, I need to warm up!”  The class erupted in laughter.

Numbers are important to us as Jews, they exist throughout the Tanakh, and each number has a special meaning.  We know that they do, but sometimes we are not quite sure just what the coded message is so we study, we seek out the Connection.

Yet a connection that we do know is the Counting of the Omer, Sefirat HaOmer, which we are reciting now for the 50 days between Pesach and Shavuot.  I’ve been Counting the Omer for many years, and the past few years it is has been made easier by the email notification from Torah.org.

Sefirat HaOmer is a spiritual time of anticipation in preparation for the receiving of the Torah, and the anticipation that with each evening, with each number we come closer to God.  Introspection becomes heightened.

I journeyed across town this past week, and upon return I decided to walk.  Aided by the incredible interactive Jerusalem Bus Map that interfaces with Google maps, I’ve developed a system by where I walk along my route till I tire, and then I can just hop on the bus at the next stop.

I usually set a destination goal, and this day it was for the Shuk.  I wanted to buy some fresh cherries since they are a custom for Shavuot.  I am planning to make individual cherry cobblers in ramekins topped with vanilla ice cream cut with pralines from a praline recipe I’ve been experimenting with.  You can easily see why I need to do all this walking.

About two miles into my three-mile walk, I stopped to rest.  I came upon a quiet bench under a large shade tree.  I sat watching people walk by talking on their cell phones wondering about cell phones and connections.  Sipping some water, I looked up surprised to see Tova, one of my best friends from Ulpan.  Even though we had just seen each other the day before, and would be seeing each other the very next day, we hugged each other like long-lost friends.

Astonished, I exclaimed to Tova, “I can’t believe I am running into you here so far from home, I could be having a clandestine rendezvous, and I would have been caught!”  Not that I would be engaged in a clandestine rendezvous, but still.

Tova’s reaction was the same reaction I’ve grown to love over these past several months getting to know her, “This is Jerusalem, Barbara!”  Energy exudes from Tova from her thankfulness of being here in Israel.  We made Aliyah from the States weeks of each other, and have a lot in common.  Tova declares of our friendship, “We were at Sinai together!”

When I got home, my cell phone was gone; it didn’t make the trip home with me.  Somewhere along our path we parted ways.  I went over to Rabbi Barry’s apartment, and called my number, but there was no answer.  I had it blocked, and now I’m waiting to see if it may turn up.  I’m not in a hurry.

Anyone that needs to reach me from the States or here in Israel can Skype, email, or ichat me.  One would really have to work hard at being lost and not found these days; unless you’re a phone, then it’s easy.    Already I do not possess a television, car, dishwasher, or washer-dryer, so I’ll simply add phone to the list!  Actually, all goes well.  I get my news and programs via video clips, walk or take the bus everywhere, hand-wash my dishes that have no spots, and there is a laundry right across the street that washes, dries and folds at a reasonable price.

Later that evening when I was studying Hebrew verbs, I found myself thinking about seeing Tova, and how there exists a sense of closeness here unique to Israel.  I also paused and tried to retrace my steps of earlier that day regarding my cell phone.  I recollected how I had been thinking of  how much people talk on their cell phones, and how I don’t, and then mine went missing.

Now, I can’t shake the feeling that someone is trying to reach me.  I thought about how I had left my bag unzipped and that was careless, so if it is you calling, please hold on, I’m going to get a new phone, and this time I promise to keep it safe.

I went back to studying and stared at the verb, To Hear, and scrolled the conjugations till my eyes stopped at the Imperative, Sh’ma.  I reached for my Tanakh.

שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ יְהוָה אֶחָד

The Sh’ma, the central prayer in Judaism calls out to us—

Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.

Happy and Blessed I feel to know that my Connection to Hear God doesn’t require a phone yet comes with a complete coverage plan that never drops the line, and that’s what HaOmer is all about.  And Happy and Blessed I feel, too, that at least I know with no hesitancy the most important number in Hebrew, the number One.  I have it on my spiritual speed-dial.

Shalom,

Barbara

 

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