One Of Us Is Clearly Wrong

Disclaimer: I might be wrong.

My husband recently encouraged me to gather a group of women together with whom I could talk about aliyah, moshiach and the impending geula. So I did. I found a handful of women and we had a very successful first meeting. We discovered that we are all very much resonating to the same spiritual strumming.

In some ways, the meeting churned up the heat on the issues for me. I am just about to boil over with anticipation. I feel like I am constantly sitting on the edge of my seat, on high alert.

One woman in our group directed us to a blog called Dreaming of Moshiach that she reads regularly. This blogger is either a spiritual powerhouse or a crazy person. Here are two of the more potent things she wrote:

1) In early October, President Bush will suspend the upcoming presidential elections indefinitely and that he will remain president. He will become known as the Biblical Gog (which sounds suspiciously like George).

2) All Jews in the Diaspora must make aliyah before Rosh Chodesh Sivan 5769. (May 23-24, 2009)

And here's another thing. Economists agree that almost every major financial crash has happened in September/October, which is always Elul/Tishrei - that is, Rosh Hashana time. The current economic crisis/meltdown facing us is no different. Is this a message from Gd?

One more thing to throw into the chulent pot. The Facilitated Communication messages from religious autistic people are speaking to us in very strong language. This transcript of a message from just last month speaks of the short amount of time left and how urgent it is to come Home.

So here's what we have. A major economic crisis with the possibility that it could get much, much worse. An impending nuclear attack, Gd-forbid. Frequent "natural" disasters of biblical proportions. Arguably the most unlikely presidential and vice-presidential candidates in US history.

Is it any wonder I'm churning?

In an attempt to figure out whether we can do something now to protect our finances, my husband and I met with a frum financial planner. I wanted to talk to someone who could advise us from a spiritual perspective rather than just a conventional financial planning perspective.

And do you know what this person said?

He recommended one possible tiny tweak in our accounts and then to just sit tight because he believes that the market will bounce back and we will eventually recoup our losses and continue to earn. He gave us the 99% pure conventional financial planning answer, based on the assumption that the future will look much like the past.

One of us is clearly wrong.

Why Can't I?

The fact is, I really can't move to Israel just now. If you know me, you probably already know the reason. If you don't know me, it doesn't matter. You'll just have to take it as a given.

So why might that be? I'm asking a spiritual question here, since the practical answer is already clear to me. What is the spiritual reason why my circumstances prevent me from making aliyah when I want so desperately to be part of the Jewish story at this stage of Jewish history?

I believe there is a spiritual reason why my circumstances are as they are. I don't believe the quality of being stuck-jammed-wedged-trapped into my life in America was randomly assigned to me. But since I'm neither a mekubal nor Gd Himself, I can only have theories.

Perhaps, in a previous life, I had the chance to live in Israel and I treated the opportunity with derision or simple indifference. Now, my tikkun is to long for what I treated cavalierly in a past life.

Perhaps Hashem is withholding the opportunity, as He withheld children from Sara Imenu, in order to force me to build a deeper, more faithful relationship with Him.

Perhaps I yet have work to do here, something specific to accomplish that I can only accomplish while living in America.

Perhaps Hashem is keeping me at a safe distance from some terrible tragedy that would otherwise befall me if I were to be living in Israel already.

It could be any of these, all of these or none of these. At this stage, the important factor is that I trust that there is a reason.

That helps me cope.

A Wail of a Time

When I gave birth (excuse this tangent so early in the post, but I've always loved that expression "giving birth") to my first child, the physical pain was beyond belief. A first birth, an excessively long labor, an inexperienced medical resident with an, ahem... unsophisticated bedside manner and insufficient drugs combined to create a nightmare of a delivery. So when this child left my body, it was painful.

But it was physical pain and I pretty much knew to expect that.

Yesterday, we sent that baby, now a sensitive and beautiful young woman, off to Israel to learn Torah for the year. Why don't parents tell each other how painful that separation is going to be? I was completely blind-sided by the intensity of the experience.



And, just like when we're in a cab traveling from our apartment to Ben Gurion airport because it's time to leave Israel yet again, I spent much emotional energy trying not to wail. The night before she left, her last night in our home, I didn't want her to hear me. In the airport, after my husband and I gave her a bracha and a final hug, I didn't want to embarrass myself (or her) in public. And last night, after we returned from the airport and I walked past the open door to her (now mostly empty) room, I didn't want our younger child to hear me.

I need an hour alone out in a forest somewhere.

Of course, there is much to be joyous about in this stage, and eventually, those things will rise to the surface. But for now, I'm grieving the end of an era, the end of actively parenting this child, of living with her on a daily basis.

If she loves Israel as much as I hope she will, any additional time she may spend under our American roof, she'll only be counting the days until she can get back Home.

Like mother, like daughter.

You Know Moshiach is Real When...

I consistently trade powerful words of Torah and chizuk with my spiritual sisters in Israel by email. Usually, we send each other inspiring articles, written by others. Occasionally, we inspire each other with our original thoughts.

I just got an email from one of my spiritual sisters who reports that her young son asked her, "If Moshiach comes today, can I stay home from Gan?"

There's no doubt that Moshiach is quite real in that household.

Great News for Prospective Olim From North America

CAN'T STOP... thinkin' about geula

I am obsessed with geula.

I get like this.

I've had many intellectual obsessions before, so I recognize the symptoms. I get an itch, an idea, and I spend hours, days, weeks, months, sometimes years, learning all I can about it. I've spent months reading one Holocaust memoir after another. I spent years trying to unravel why Judaism has such trouble with the whole gender thing. I know WAY more about Israel than I did just a few years ago.

You get the idea.

And now, I can't stop thinking about geula. Number 12 of Rambam's Thirteen Principles of Faith, is:

I believe with perfect faith in the coming of the Messiah. No matter how long it takes, I will await His coming every day.

I'm really, really, REALLY good with that one.

Here are some of the specific things I'm thinking about:

• Russia is the force behind Iran. Russia and Iran and their allies will invade Israel soon and America will not be able to stop it. Europe will be equally powerless or equally unwilling to get involved. God, on the other hand, will be on Israel's side and something very dramatic will happen to put an end to the enemies of Israel.
• There is no human way to solve the conflict with Muslim Arabs. There is absolutely no possibility of "peaceful coexistance". Their goal is to establish worldwide Islamic rule, both governmentally and religiously. Anyone who does not conform to their worldview is an infidel and must be killed. Only God can get us out of this one.
• The Chofetz Chaim zt"l recently appeared in a dream to his oldest living Talmid and told him that Moshiach is on his way. One version of the story I read claimed that Moshiach will arrive before Rosh Hashana. Assuming that means this Rosh Hashana, we're talking a matter of weeks. Even for the skeptics, it's mind-blowing to think that it could happen so suddenly... and so soon.
  
• Most people are planning for the future as if the current list of social problems - economic downturns, the high incidence of natural disasters, environmental crises, Islamic fanaticism, widespread health issues, the tragedy of the secular government in Israel, etc., are cyclical. What goes down must come up. Barack Obama will secure America at home and restore our reputation abroad. Blah, blah blah. But when Moshiach comes, these problems will be solved for us.
  
• Jews throughout history have been forced to leave their homes in the Diaspora at a moment's notice, with nothing more than whatever they could carry, but American Jews think we are immune from this sudden change in fortunes. Most of us didn't even notice that it just happened to Georgian Jews (there's that Russian aggression again) a few weeks ago.

No wonder I'm keeping such strange hours. Who can sleep while anticipating geula so relentlessly?

Hurtling Toward Geula

It's hit me. I'm back in galut a full week now, and a couple of days ago, the mourning period began. Once again, I'm grieving.

For someone as plugged in as I am to the virtual world, it's probably not surprising that so many of the things that pierce through me come in emails from friends in Israel. I know it's not deliberate. They're just reporting on their lives. This one is spending Shabbat in a city I in which would love to experience Shabbat. That one just made aliyah and is writing from her mirpeset, overlooking Yerushalayim. This one is back home, in Israel, after a business trip to the US. That one's daughter just got engaged to a yeshiva student. This one just went to the NBN Bloggers' Convention in Jerusalem. That one is moving into her new home. This one is celebrating an aliyah anniversary. That one just went out to dinner with this one. It's just life, happening in Israel.

The tears I didn't cry leaving Israel this time have bubbled up to the surface. I'm missing Israel, and missing my friends who see the world as I see it. In Israel, I desire metaphysical things - to feel God, to bring geula with rachamim, to see Moshiach, to be able to live where Jewish history happens.

Back here a week, I am overwhelmed with the vacuousness of materialism, which seems to attack me from all directions. There is no end to wanting. Today, I bought a platter decorated with cherries. It was 40% off. I was in some kind of fog when I bought it. "Oh, that's cute. And I can afford it!" echoed inside my head, but my brain was disengaged. I have no idea what I'm going to do with it now that I have it, but this materialism is SO seductive.

I desire to be less judgmental, but I don't know what to do with the feelings I have about religious Jews who are just oblivious. A friend gave me a copy of Pastor John Hagee's Jerusalem Countdown. The Jesus-talk aside, he sounds a lot like the Jewish voices that warn that Islamic Fundamentalism and Iran's increasing nuclear capabilities will bring us to the war of Gog and Magog. How does a Christian minister get it at the same time that so many, many religious Jews in America don't see what is right before their eyes?

The world is hurtling toward geula, and it could be, Gd-forbid, a brutal journey. The world is fundamentally different than it was just 7 years ago, but people act like it's business as usual; like there is all the time in the world.

If I speak my mind here in galut, people tell me to lighten up, that people need to live their lives. That it's not possible to sustain such intense focus on these issues. Or that I'm overreacting. How I love hearing that one.

I am woefully misplaced.

We Are Not Snakes: Parshat Eikev 5768

One way of understanding Jewish life is that the whole system, all the mitzvot, all the Torah, all the Jewish avenues for improving one’s character, everything, exists to help us establish and grow in our relationship with God.

Just as the ideal place to develop and strengthen our relationship with our spouse is in the privacy of our home, there is a physical location that is the ideal place to come close to God. There is one specific place where God has promised us, over and over again, that we can best nurture our relationship with Him. That place is the Land of Israel. It says in Parshat Eikev, the Land of Israel is: A Land that the Lord your God seeks out; the eyes of Hashem, your God, are always upon it, from the beginning of the year to year’s end (Deuteronomy 11:12)

God pays very close attention to the Land of Israel (the eyes of Hashem, your God, are always upon it, from the beginning of the year to year’s end) and, as a result, Israel has an indescribable spiritual quality that enables Jewish people to feel the presence of God more deeply. It’s as if Jerusalem is God’s living room. But if God wants the Jewish people to feel connected to Him in Israel, why does life there seem so much harder than it is in Baltimore?

In the story of Adam and Eve, all three players were punished. The snake was punished with the curse that, henceforth, his meals would consist of the dust of the earth. Considering how close a snake’s mouth is to the ground, this punishment seems hard to understand. After all, for the snake, everywhere he looks, there’s lunch! In what way is that a curse?

Imagine sending your daughter off to college in a distant state. Some parents might give her enough money at the start of the year to sustain her throughout the year. But wiser parents know that if they give their daughter expense money in smaller amounts, they can guarantee that they will hear from her periodically. And when she calls to ask for a cash infusion, there is an opportunity to talk about her life in college and to further build on the parent-child relationship.

If you consider the matter, you will see that the snake’s curse is the worst curse possible. God has, in effect, said to the snake, “Leave Me alone. I don’t want to hear from you. I’m going to give you whatever you need to sustain your life so that you won’t need to call upon Me.” Some people turn to God only in moments of crisis, in moments of lack. Since God wants to have a relationship with us, sometimes God sends us trials exactly so that we will turn to Him. But He wants no such relationship with the snake, so the snake feels no lack.

Similarly, everywhere else but the Land of Israel, things seem to proceed according to a natural order. You plant and you harvest. You work hard and you earn a respectable salary. It’s human nature, in such a world, to forget that all blessings come from God. Like the snake, like the middle-class American shopping at WalMart, we get what we need with relative ease, so we tend to forget about God. But we are not snakes. God wants to hear from us.

In Israel, life’s daily challenges force us to acknowledge that we are dependent on God for everything. It seems paradoxical that life is more challenging in the place God directs so much of His attention. But it is that way exactly because God wants us to ask Him for what we need. And He knows that, in Israel, this awareness is more easily achieved.

On Leaving Israel

Hashem put so many challenges in the way of my leaving Israel this time that it makes me wonder if He was purposefully distracting me so I wouldn’t have time to feel as sad as I usually do when leaving His Holy Home.

What I cherish most about this trip are the spiritual openings. Being in Israel provides me with the ideal environment to expand my spiritual vision. If the purpose of leading an observant Jewish life is to come to see Gd as present in more and more aspects of your life, the air in Israel excels in assisting with that quest.

Here’s an example. In Israel in August, I am especially careful to take a water bottle with me all the time. Last week, I took my water bottle, put it in an insulated holder, and went to the car. I forgot to pull the top of the water bottle holder closed and, as I bent to get in the car, my water bottle fell out and rolled away. I assumed that it had rolled under the next car so I waited on the other side for it to emerge as it continued its roll, but it never came back out. I assumed it was lost to me, stuck somewhere under someone else’s car.

Seeing Gd as the Cause of everything that happens to me, I accepted that the inconvenience of losing my water bottle was a potch, a minor punishment meant to keep me from having to face a larger punishment all at once. Although others may see the loss of the water bottle as a random irritation, I accepted that the loss of my water bottle came from Gd.

After our errands, my husband pulled the car back into the very same parking space we vacated hours earlier. From this angle, with the headlights shining in the dark, I could clearly see that the water bottle had gotten stuck under the tire of the next car. I walked around the tire and easily retrieved it. Having accepted that the loss came from Hashem, there was no reason to prolong the punishment and Hashem restored the water bottle to me.

Am I sure I’m right about my conclusion? I’m not sure. But I like this approach because it reads Gd into the story. Otherwise, it’s just a boring story about a small hassle of daily life.

Seeing Gd as present in more and more facets of my life, large and small, helps calm and center me. I spent hours trying to straighten out a booking error in our return flight. When we got to the airport, the error was still in our record, despite multiple assurances that it had been fixed. Since I believed that Gd sent this inconvenience, there was no point in getting upset. So I went through the stages of rectifying the error and, as I write this, EL AL has $100 more of my money, but I am on the flight.

Expanding my relationship with Gd is something that consistently happens during the time I am blessed to be in Israel.

I also consistently notice the profoundly Jewish things that make up every day life in Israel. As we were packing the car tonight, there was a man in the street, standing in front of the shul across from our apartment, shouting “Mincha! Mincha!” in an attempt to literally pull a minyan off the street. On Radio Kol Chai, there is a show where listeners call in and report acts of chesed they have witnessed. On a train between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, a group of, ahem… unaccompanied minors with a lot of energy ran through the train wishing their fellow passengers “nesiya tova!” – a good trip.

Jewish life is just SO INTENSE in the Holy Land.

Because my spiritual antennae are vibrating at such a high frequency when I’m in Israel, I was able to see a metaphor for geula in the escalator at the train station. The escalator in question was moving so slowly, it looked like it wasn’t moving at all. As I stepped closer in order to determine whether or not it was working, the escalator increased its speed gradually until it was at full speed.

Is this not an echo of the story of Nachshon ben Amidav, for whom the Yam Suf did not part until he actually stepped into the water? This is also a metaphor for geula. The escalator does not speed up until someone steps onto it. Similarly, geula will come more quickly if we take action, rather than passively wait for it.

Gd is so exceedingly real to me in Israel. A delightful clarity of spiritual vision is relatively easy for me to achieve and maintain when I’m breathing that air.

In America, the main thing that’s easy for me to achieve and maintain is a credit card balance.

Snapshots from the Holy Land

We went to a chad-pa'ami store, which basically sells upscale disposable tableware. The reason I wanted to go to this store was to stock up on unique items such as little plastic cups that say L'Chaim, napkins that say Shabbat Shalom (in Hebrew of course) and paper cups with the flag of Israel. Well, as my husband might joke, they don't say anything. You have to actually read the words.

As we were checking out, paying many shekels for our stash of Jewish chad pa'ami-wear, I noticed that there was an egg mold in the shape of a Jewish star. I don't really have a use for such a thing since I rarely make eggs, but I was struck by this thought:

In Israel, people speak my idiom.

In America, or in any host country, a Jew has to fit him or herself into the larger culture. Some Jews, many Jews, do this by assimilating. In essence, this means that, as a response to the discomfort of feeling different, the Jewish person eliminates from his or her life whatever distinguishes him or her as a Jew. Of course, Judaism teaches us that this is not possible. Not really, for the Jew is essentially always a Jew, regardless of how much or how little s/he identifies with the Jewish people. But assimilating is one solution to the dilemma of feeling different.

Another solution, found mostly in Orthodox communities in America, is isolation. These kinds of Jews who live outside of Israel (and I learned a great term for this - chutznikim - which means those who live in chutz l'aretz, outside the Land of Israel), these kind of chutznikim build parallel lives for themselves in America. Separate schools, separate restaurants, separate neighborhoods, separate stores. This is the kind of community I live in when I'm not privileged to be here. Admittedly, some communities in the NY area, such as Flatbush and Boro Park, have raised this isolationist approach to an absurdly high level. But it, like assimilation, is another solution to the dilemma of feeling different.

In Israel, people speak the Jewish idiom, so there is no need to assimilate or isolate. The chad-pa'ami store sells napkins printed with Shabbat Shalom. I don't have to cover my hair with a sheitel to fit in a professional setting here. The graffiti in Israel often includes Torah-based messages. Yesterday, I photographed a bit of graffiti stenciled on the side of a makolet (a small, local grocery store) that said, "The essence of Redemption is based on faith." (Of course, it sounds better in Hebrew).


Everywhere I go, my need to wash my hands before eating bread is understood and accommodated. The grocery store sells prayer books and other Jewish ritual needs, right there next to the toothpaste and laundry detergent.


The examples are endless, but the point is a strong one.

One way or another, chutznikim must adapt their Jewishness to survive in a host culture. Here, that is no longer necessary.

Shooting Ourselves in the Foot

Over Shabbat, I heard this story. It seems that, a few years ago, parents in a religious community in North America (not Baltimore, although it could have happened there) began to notice that their children were returning from their post-high school year in Israel all fired up about Shana Bet (returning to Israel for a second year of Torah study) and about aliyah. Anxious to put a stop to this behavior, these parents appealed to the administration of the local day school and to the local rabbis.

A community meeting was held where three or four speakers addressed the topic of how parents could deprogram their children. The goal was to get these young people to give up the idea of returning to Israel and "start their lives" by attending the colleges and universities the parents had picked out for them.

If I hadn't heard this from a parent who actually attended the meeting, I wouldn't have believed it. It's scary how profoundly we forget that we are in galus.

How Do You Suppose Gd Feels?

Bumping into people we know from America while strolling around Jerusalem



is kind of a common event around here, so it's no big surprise when it happens. Recently, just such a thing happened and we started talking, asking the usual questions. "What brings you here?" and "How long are you here for?" and, of course, my favorite, most intrusive question to ask people visiting from America is, "So, when are you making aliyah?"

Usually, people respond by talking about how much they wish they could, if only, if only. I'm kind of used to that. But this time, what I heard kind of knocked me for a loop.

"I could never live in Israel. I could never live in an apartment. What can I say? I'm spoiled. I need a house. And the people here are so rude. They bump into you on the sidewalk and don't even say excuse me. And the government! It's so corrupt. I could never live in Israel."

It's not that the person who said all this is the only one who feels this way. Of course, I know that some people, many people, are thinking these thoughts. And I recognize that it's a very, very early, unsophisticated response to the question I posed (some might say to the question with which I assaulted her). To be fair, these are religious American Jews on vacation, not people who have already signed up for their pilot trip, so to some extent, it's an unfair question to ask.

Eight years ago, I might have said something similar. Now, I noticed how much it hurt my heart to hear a religious Jew proffer such a vacuous answer.

And I wondered, how does Hashem feel when even a religious Jew from America so spurns Hashem's gift by clearly not having the least intention of even considering that Israel could be a place to call home?

While On The Plane

We just arrived in Israel yesterday morning, after 24-hours of relatively stress-free travel, thank Gd. On the plane, I realized that I was feeling some anxiety about coming back to Israel. In America, I so long for this place. But sometimes, memory can cloud reality. I was worried that, when I got here, I would be disappointed because it wouldn't be as meaningful to me to be here in reality as it is in my head, in my heart and in my soul when I am outside the Land.

I make myself laugh.

It's ten times more wonderful here than I remember. And I'm saying that even though pretty much all we did on Day One was unpack, nap (okay, it was for seven hours), grab some pizza and shop for groceries. We spent a few hours later in the day with my brother who lives just up the street. He has grown to a whole other level in his relationship with Hashem since we were here just a few months ago. Even his Hebrew is getting better.

My wonderful, supportive, loving husband stayed up with me until 2 AM watching the Nefesh b'Nefesh video of yesterday's Welcoming Ceremony.



We had friends on that flight but couldn't be there to welcome them because we were landing in Israel ourselves at the same time. Watching the video while tears ran down my cheeks, I felt so proud to be part of this people who come out by the hundreds to clap and cheer and wave flags and welcome their family Home. I mean, who else does that?!

The Power of Coming Home

Tamar Weissman and Chanina Rosenbaum from Baltimore made this film as a gift to Noah and Risa Lasson, who are making aliyah next week. It's a 22-minute long love letter about Israel and the power of Coming Home.

If you haven't got time to watch the whole thing, make sure to see the first few minutes and the last part where Chanina is speaking, first to Noah and Risa and then to the rest of us (this part starts 19 minutes in).

May we all merit to have people in our lives who care so much about us and about bringing the family (literally in Tamar's case) Home.

I'd Rather Wallow In It

Last week, I had a lengthy interview in a very, very non-Jewish environment. The position for which I was interviewing is an excellent one, well-suited for my professional skills and education.
Nevertheless, I felt incredibly sad to think that Hashem pulled me from a profoundly Jewish environment to the point where I am interviewing for jobs that are so, so far from the Jewish community.

This job search process has truly been an opportunity to develop emuna. I have no hard feelings towards my previous employer. They treated me as respectfully as possible under the circumstances and I recognize, with my newly developing sense of emuna, that they were shlichim for Hashem's intention that I move on.

Books (my favorite way of enhancing my spiritual growth) that strengthen my emuna muscles are suddenly "appearing" in my life. On my 16th day of unemployment, I have extra time to read and learn and find that the new ideas I am learning interlock.

Hashem runs the world. Hashem has the power to give us everything we need and prayer is the key to unlock Hashem's storehouse. If we pray for the things which we truly desire, Hashem has the capacity to provide them to us. What is withheld from us is withheld in order that we pray and ask Gd, to further demonstrate for us that Hashem runs the world.

Besides learning and strengthening my emuna, I also have time to have lunch with friends. I have a small collection of women friends with whom I can long for Israel. I realized, with some sense of irony, that all of them, all of us, are either ba'alot teshuva or converts. Not sure what that means, but I suspect that it's not coincidental.

The longing for Israel, and for geula, is intensifying as time goes on. As I build emuna, I try to find a way to understand why I have to stay in America for five more years. Obviously, I understand the pshat reason. But what is Gd's reason for keeping me here when so many around me are able to leave?

I sat in front of the computer this week, looking at the pictures Jacob Richman took of the arrival of the most recent aliyah flight, and tears rolled down my cheeks. Why them? Which really means, why not me? Why don't I get to go?

Am I contradicting myself? If I believe (and I really do) that Hashem runs the world and it is His will that I remain in America for now, am I allowed to feel sad that I have to look for yet another job in America? Does my belief that Hashem wants me here for now invalidate my right to cry because I cannot leave yet?

A man with whom I have a long-standing, close relationship told me recently that he deletes all the emails I send him about Israel. He also longs to be in Israel, but his family circumstances prevent him from making that move now. So he deletes my emails because it's too painful for him to face his longing.

Me?

I'd rather wallow in it.

What Yishai Fleisher Said

The Baltimore Chug Aliyah and the Israel Aliyah center sponsored a talk by Yishai Fleisher in Baltimore last night. It's a shame you weren't there, because what Yishai said was so close to my own thinking that it really resonated for me.

He talked about the four real reasons why Americans don't make aliyah: money, family, security and cultural differences. He talked about the two stages of aliyah from America - #1 - detaching from America and #2 - arriving in Israel. He gave people permission to love America while, at the same, understanding that America is not our home.

He talked about Jewish destiny and how it is completely connected to the Land of Israel. He characterized the modern State of Israel as a tool as opposed to an end in itself. . The job of the State is to get Jews to be able to live in Israel by building roads, providing electricity and bringing Jews home through the work of the Jewish Agency.

He also spoke about the fact that Americans who make aliyah should not be so worried about acculturating and "becoming Israeli". The fact that they are living in Israel is good enough and if they want to live among Americans, there is no harm in that. In fact, he said, there are many American ways of doing things that Israel can benefit from, not the least of which is learning how to form a line while waiting for a bus or for service :-)

And, in a brief discussion of demographics, he said something that is so powerful that I am going to try to capture it exactly. "Each Jew who makes aliyah counts twice. To make aliyah means that there is one more Jew in Israel, of course, but it also means that there is one less Jew in the diaspora."

Parshat Chukat 5768

This week, we read Numbers 19:1-22:1, known as Parshat Chukat. Torah portions almost always take their names from the first important word to appear in Hebrew. In Parshat Chukat, the first seven words are formulaic. The word chukat is the ninth word and refers to statutes of the Torah that God is explaining to Moshe (Moses) and Aaron with the goal of having Moshe and Aaron explain these statues to the rest of the Jewish people.

But the major thing for which Parshat Chukat is known is the incident referred to as Mei Merivah – The Waters of Strife, which is told in Numbers 20:2-13. Miriam, the only sister of Moshe and Aaron, has just died in the desert. The miraculous source of water, which was provided in her merit to the Jewish people since the Exodus from Egypt, dried up upon her death. The people demand that Moshe and Aaron provide a new source of water immediately.

In their panic over a lack of water, the people say hurtful, insulting things to Moshe and Aaron. God tells Moshe to gather the Jewish people around a certain rock. God instructs Moshe to speak to the rock in the sight of all of the people and water sufficient for all their needs will begin to flow from the rock. Instead of speaking to the rock, Moshe gathers everyone together and, in a fit of pique, smacks the rock with his rod. Water pours forth and the people and their animals drink their fill.

The punishment comes swiftly. In the very next verse, God informs Moshe and Aaron that they have lost the privilege of leading the people into the Land of Israel. Not only will they not lead the people into Israel, they will not have the privilege of entering the Land of Israel themselves. A natural question is, what did they do that was so wrong? Surely anyone can understand that Moshe smacked the rock out of anger, even righteous indignation.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888) provides us with a way to understand. At this point in the Biblical narrative, the Jewish people are about to enter the Promised Land. Much like today, life in the Promised Land was going to be a challenge. It was going to be much harder than life in the desert had been. God wants to strengthen the people’s faith. Even though their future life in the Land of Israel is filled with challenges, the same God who makes water flow from a rock will be with them, helping them face their uncertain future.

In that single moment of Godly theatre, Moshe was supposed to teach that one who has faith in God can flourish in Israel, despite the apparent challenges. By hitting the rock instead of speaking to it, Moshe lost the opportunity to make this clear to the Jewish people.

Today, when a family announces to friends and loved ones that they are making aliyah, that they are moving to Israel, they are often met with the question, “How can you even think about moving to such a country??” But those who have learned this story know that a good life is possible in Israel exactly because God offers the Jewish people closer, more personal supervision in the Land of Israel than anywhere else in the world.

A Deeper Shade of Galus

For quite a long time now, I have had the great privilege of working for the Jewish community. Officially. With a business card, a name tag and a paycheck. And a very, very integrated life. Now that's all going to change.

My position has been abolished, effective at the end of the month. And, anticipating the need to secure employment outside the Jewish community for the first time in 10 years, I find myself simultaneously anticipating a deep plunge into galus. No longer working in Jewish time. Working on the calendar of the host country. Having to negotiate for early Friday afternoons in the winter and time off for chagim, with enough time left in the year to get to Israel. Having to pack lunch every single day because there won't be kosher food close by. Working with colleagues from a diverse cross-section of America. Working on building someone else's dreams

How ironic that, as my future in Israel draws closer, my experience in America draws me deeper into galus.

When Rivkah Goes Away

I know I haven't written in more than a month, but that doesn't mean that I am not thinking Israel thoughts all the time. For now, I just saw something that I have to share. This is a video of Yishai Fleisher of Israel National Radio talking to a group of Christian Zionists. Notice how often they give him verbal approval. I wish I could speak this directly to American Jews.

When Political Correctness Goes Off The Deep End

JTA recently published an article about opposition to the prayer for the State of Israel among certain Jews in the United States.

Although I disagree with them theologically, I can almost understand the Haredim who object to the prayer on the basis of the fact that Moshiach has not yet arrived.

But the critiques coming from the left are pathetic.

The article summarizes a meeting of "20 members of the Altshul, a lay-led minyan in Brooklyn" by saying that, "Congregants at the meeting also challenged the prayer's conflation of religion and politics, its tone of Jewish triumphalism and exclusivity, and its seeming denigration of Diaspora Jewry."

I love that expression: "..it's seeming denigration of Diaspora Jewry." Yes, let's ignore the Torah and most of the prayers in our siddur and pretend that being a Jew in America is just as good as being a Jew in Israel.

But this comment really makes me nauseous. "...We wanted something a bit less militaristic and that prayed for peace for the Palestinians, too."

Let's all pray for the well-being of the souls of Haman, Chelmnicki, Hitler and the Hamasniks whose occupation and preoccupation was/is to kill Jews.

This sickness is what happens when political correctness goes off the deep end.

Integration and Impatience

Bibliotherapy. It describes something I have been doing intuitively most of my adult life. In the psychotherapeutic literature, bibliotherapy generally refers to reading books on a particular topic for the purpose of healing from some emotional problem. But I created a course of Israeli bibliotherapy as a way of feeding my obsession, without losing every friend I have.

Over the last few years, there were times that I would read several books a week on topics related to Israel. I thought (and probably spoke) of little else. I ticked off a lot of people.

I recently noticed that the amount of Israel talk coming out of my mouth lately is greatly diminished. That doesn't mean that my interest in Israel and my commitment to making aliyah have diminished. Quite the opposite.

It means that I have so integrated the idea that, with Gd's help, I will be able to move to Israel in five more years, that it is no longer a flaming issue. I know my place is in Israel. I know it in the deepest part of me. There is no longer a war going on within me.

When I get to Israel, I want to be able to use my skills to strengthen an aspect of Jewish life that calls to me. I want to contribute to the imperfect place that Israel is, understanding all the while that, imperfect though it may be, it's ours.

I am ready to go now. Truly ready. Sometimes, I grow impatient. But I know I have family issues that require that I spend more time in America.

Since the destruction of the Second Temple nearly two thousand years ago, Jews have yearned to return Home. In the last 60 years, many have been able to do so. It is not my time just yet. But my time is coming.

It surely is.

Hillel opens up to non-Jews

Without a doubt, the opening of Hillel to non-Jews is one of the saddest commentaries on Jewish life in America. Hillel: The Foundation for Campus Jewish Life is responding to a social reality. Jewish college students are not sufficiently interested in "doing Jewish with other Jews" - a previous mission of Hillel under the leadership of Richard Joel.

According to Ben Harris' JTA article, "But Hillel leaders say increasingly that to reach the majority who might view the organization with anything from disdain to indifference, it must actively counter the perception that its chapters are "Jews-only" venues.

As it attempts to do so, Hillel finds itself negotiating a tricky line between Jewish particularism and universality, between the twin imperatives of creating uniquely Jewish programming and protecting the fluidity of personal identities that today's college students see as their birthright."

What does all this mean? In a nutshell, it means that there are fewer young North American Jews who are comfortable to define themselves as Jews. They don't understand the power of Am Yisrael, of belonging to the most unique people in history. The trend is micro-reflected in the words of a young college student, a very close relative of mine. When asked to describe his religious views on his Faceboook profile, he posted, "I do not participate". Not surprisingly, despite growing up with two Jewish parents and a liberal Jewish education at least through Bar Mitzvah, he has a non-Jewish girlfriend and no feeling for being part of the Jewish people.

The ability to understand the relevance of Judaism is dying among college students. I don't blame Hillel. They are reflecting a trend rather than creating one. Reactive, not proactive. They are trying to stay alive in the face of diminishing influence on campus.

But oh! How it breaks my heart that so many Jews view not only Hillel, but their very Jewish identities, "with anything from disdain to indifference."

Just one more sign of the waning of Jewish life in America.

This One Really Hurts

Months, years even, of thousands of rockets fired into Sderot. I visit to see what it’s like to live with that strain on a regular basis. I see the extensive property damage with my own eyes. I talk to women on the street about their heightened sense of emunah, living in a place where you are desperately aware that every day, life is a crapshoot. I try to help in the way Diaspora Jews know best. I visit to see it firsthand. I leave money behind after my visit. I care, but I want to care more.

It’s less than 12 hours from the time of today’s terrorist attack in Jerusalem and my head is spinning more than usual.

This one really hurts. And I can’t identify why. Why does the death of 8 yeshiva students in Jerusalem hurt more than tens of thousands of lives destroyed in Sderot? Why does this pigua bring me to tears and the news report about Ashdod, several kilometers north of Ashkelon, preparing to be the next target, raise in me more a sense of living in Chelm where everyone is a little skewed?

I spend the day catching up with friends and acquaintances who have children studying or living in Jerusalem. Thank G-d, so far, all the children I know are safe and accounted for.

It brings me back July 31, 2002 and the terrorist bombing at Hebrew University. Nine dead, including a colleague whose known whereabouts put her on campus at the time of the bombing. It took hours and multiple phone calls to learn her fate. Janis Coulter, assistant director of Hebrew University’s program for overseas students had arrived in Jerusalem the day before the attack, escorting a group of American college students who had enrolled for their junior year abroad. Janis was eating lunch with them in the cafeteria when the bomb exploded and she lost her life. Just as suddenly, and pointlessly, as the yeshiva students today.

The symbolism of an attack at the Mercaz HaRav Yeshiva, the home of religious Zionism in the very center of Jerusalem, is not lost. There were bloodthirsty people behind this tragedy. But what is Hashem saying to us?

I sat in my office with a colleague immediately after hearing the news and said, “This is our fault. Hashem is angry that He has thrown open the gates of Israel and millions and millions of us have said, ‘Thanks but no thanks.’”

We are reliving the challenge in the time of Ezra. Roughly 70 years after the destruction of the First Temple, Ezra was given permission from Cyrus, King of Persia, to lead the Jews back to Judea (Israel) and rebuild the Temple. Of the tens of thousands of Jews who had been exiled to Bavel (Babylonia), only a very small number listened to Ezra and returned with him. Most preferred to stay in Bavel where they had carved out lives for themselves, thus creating the first community of “Diaspora Jews by Choice”.

Ironically, I taught this very lesson today in a Jewish history seminar.

Here’s one thing Hashem might be saying. “Look folks. In order to help you wake up and come Home, I’m going to show you what a people is willing to do when they want your Land more than you do.”

Hashem must be profoundly disgusted by our stubborn insistence on clinging to, even building enhancements to, our lives in America.

Do You Love America?

When we were in Israel this past visit, we went to visit Beit El, a religious settlement north of Jerusalem. Beit El also happens to be the home of Israel National Radio. While visiting the Israel National Radio studio, we had the chance to meet Yishai Fleisher, the one-man aliyah motivation machine and one of the major forces behind the potently inspiring Kumah website.

I watched Yishai have a conversation with a 12 year-old girl who was in our group. This particular girl has been living in Israel for about 7 years, having made aliyah with her family from America. Yishai asked her if she liked living in Israel and she responded with a comment about the things in America that she still misses.

I thought Yishai’s response to her was brilliant, and it speaks to the rest of us just as well. He told her that he also loves things about America. And that makes the mitzvah of living in Israel that much more powerful. If you hate everything about America and can’t wait to get out of the place already, that’s one level.

But if you like “fill-in-the-blank” about America (i.e. Broadway shows, Walmart/Target, your community, your job, the ability to speak the language fluently, easy access to English books, your friends and family, etc. etc.) and you move to Israel anyway, it becomes clear that your motive for doing so comes from wanting to serve Gd.

It’s the same principle I learned about keeping kosher. When offered a cheeseburger, don’t say, “No thanks. I don’t care for cheeseburgers.” Rather say, “I would love to eat a cheeseburger, but I refrain because Gd told me they are not appropriate for me.”

So don’t say, “I hate everything about America and I can’t wait to leave.” Rather say, “I love many aspects of my life in America. But Gd has a higher expectation for me and that can only be achieved in Israel.”

Books to Inspire You To Make Aliyah and Bring Geula

My new pet project: promoting English language books that teach about the relationship between aliyah and bringing geula. If lots of local Jewish bookstores established a "Moshiach section" - a selection of titles that inspire Jews to take a long view about the world we live in, perhaps it could help bring Moshiach.

Toward that end, here's an annotated bibliography that I've been working on. There are both "feel-good" books about life in Israel and serious Torah among these selections. Ask for them at a Jewish bookstore near you.

Aliyah Stories

Moving Up: An Aliyah Journal
by Laura Ben-David
Mazo Publishers
Moving Up is an easy-to-read, daily account of a family's first year in Israel, from the packing up of their American house to the birth of their first child in Israel a year later.

To Dwell In The Palace: Perspectives on Eretz Yisroel
by Tzvia Ehrlich-Klein
Feldheim Publishers
A thought-provoking collection of articles, addressed to religious Jews in the West concerning the mitzvah of aliyah. I first read To Dwell in the Palace when it was published in 1991 and I was still firmly enmeshed in my Diaspora Judaism. I've reread it many times since then, and it retains its power to move the soul. Do not miss the section called, "Things My Shaliach Never Told Me."

Aliya: Three Generations of American-Jewish Immigration to Israel
by Liel Leibovitz
St. Martin's Griffin
The 2,000 year-old yearning to live in Israel, as expressed in the social history of one Jewish family.

Home to Stay: One American Family's Chronicle of Miracles and Struggles in Contemporary Israel
by Daniel Gordis
Three Rivers Press
The paperback version of If a Place Can Make You Cry, the story of Daniel Gordis and his family's decision to make aliyah after a sabbatical year spent in Jerusalem.

101 Reasons to Visit Israel: And Perhaps Make Aliyah
by Estie Solomon
A lighthearted list of 101 pleasurable aspects of life in Israel, illustrated by full-color photos.

On Busdrivers, Dreidels and Orange Juice
On Cab Drivers, Shopkeepers and Strangers
On Bus Stops, Bakers, and Beggars
by Tzivia Ehrlich-Klein
Feldheim
Three volumes of brief and inspiring stories of everyday life in Israel.

Aliyah and Eretz Yisrael

Eretz Yisrael in the Parashah: The Centrality of the Land of Israel in the Torah
by Moshe D. Lichtman
Devora Publishing
Why do so many Jews still choose to live in the Diaspora? To answer this question, the author analyzes every reference to Eretz Yisrael in the 54 Torah portions, demonstrates the overriding importance of Eretz Yisrael and encourages Diaspora Jews to at least consider making aliyah.

Talking About Eretz Yisrael: The Profound And Essential Meaning Of Making Aliyah
by Rabbi Pinchas Winston
ShaarNun Productions
This book is a forthright argument meant to encourage Torah-observant Jews to urgently consider making aliyah today.

Eretz Yisrael: The Teachings of HaRav Avraham Yitzhak HaCohen Kook (Lights on OROT)
by Rabbi David Samson and Tzvi Fishman
Torat Eretz Yisrael Publications
The rabbinic name most associated with Religious Zionism is HaRav Avraham Yitzhak HaCohen Kook, better known as Rav Kook, who lived and taught in pre-State Palestine. This book is an accessible English commentary on Rav Kook's teachings about Eretz Yisrael.

Eim Habanim Semeichah: On Eretz Yisrael, Redemption, and Unity
by Yisachar Shlomo Teichtal
Urim Publications
Rabbi Yisachar Shlomo Teichtal was an Eastern European scholar living during the Holocaust. While hiding from the Nazis in Budapest in 1943, he wrote this lengthy argument on behalf of the establishment of Jewish dominion over Israel, a position that he had previously opposed.

A Question of Redemption: Can the Modern State of Israel be the Beginning of Redemption? Questions and Answers in Halachah
by Rabbi Ya'akov Moshe Bergman
Kol Mevaser
Can the State of Israel really be "The First Flowering of our Redemption"? This book presents the Religious Zionist viewpoint of the State of Israel and the ultimate redemption. I was not able to find this book online. Ask for it in a Jewish bookstore.

Moshiach and Geula

The Ishmaelite Exile
by Yechiel Weitzman
Jerusalem Publications/ Feldheim
This book focuses on Jewish prophecies as they relate to the difficult events facing Israel and the Jewish people in the days closest to geula. The author argues that everything that is playing out in today's headlines about the conflict in the Middle East was predicted by Jewish texts long ago.

Talking About The End of Days: View of Our Times Based on Revealed and Inner Teachings of Torah
by Rabbi Pinchas Winston
ShaarNun Productions
A guide to better understanding the stage of Jewish history in which we find ourselves.

Redemption Unfolding: The Last Exile of Israel, Chevlei Mashiach, the War of Gog & Magog and the Final Redemption
Alexander Aryeh Mandelbaum
Feldheim Publications
This book will help you understand current world events in their larger, Torah context.

As A New Day Breaks: A Contemporary View Of Mashiach And Israel's Redemption
by Rabbi Eliyahu Touger
Sichos in English/E.M.E.T

Sound the Great Shofar: Essays on the Imminence of the Redemption
by Rabbi Eliyahu Touger
Sichos in English
Based on the public addresses given by Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, this book offers answers to many of today's most frequently asked questions on the subject of geula.

Living With Moshiach: An Anthology of Brief Homilies and Insights on the Weekly Torah Readings and the Festivals
by Jacob Immanuel Schochet
Merkos L'Inyonei Chinuch
Observations on the redemption by parsha.

On Eagle's Wings: Moshiach, Redemption, And The World To Come
by Rabbi Herschel Brand
Feldheim Publishers
Awaiting the Moshiach is one of the underpinnings of Jewish belief, one of Maimonides's Thirteen Principles of Faith. The author gathers together the teachings of the Sages on this subject in an illuminating and thought-provoking question-and-answer format.

Mashiach: Principles of Moshiach and Messianic Era in Jewish Law
by Jacob I Schochet
Sichos in English

Mashiach: Who? What? Why? How? Where? and When?
by Chaim Kramer
Moznaim
Based on teachings about Mashiach in the Bible, Talmud, Midrash and Kabbalah, together with insights from the writings of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov.

Do We Know Who We Really Are?

While shopping for food for Shabbat at the mall in Ma’ale Adumim last week, I saw an unmistakable cross-shaped tattoo on the forehead of an Ethiopian woman who was otherwise dressed as an observant Jew. Then I started seeing it on the foreheads of lots of other Ethiopian women.

Apparently, tattooing crosses on the forehead, arm, neck or chest is very common among Ethiopian Christian women. So how did so many Ethiopian Jewish women end up with these same tattoos? Was it religious coercion? A way to hide their Jewish identity? Or some other motivation I’ll likely never understand?

We are all marked, impacted, by the experience of living in exile. For Ethiopian women, the mark is obvious to all who look at their faces. But a tattoo can often be removed.

The situation can be much more dire for North American Jews. The experience of living in exile in Brooklyn or Lakewood or Baltimore very often blinds us to the fact that we are living in, and building up, someone else’s land.

Where Do You Really Live?

DATELINE: Ma’ale Adumim

When Yosef was languishing in prison in Egypt, he began to interpret dreams. In the process of interpreting a dream for Paroh’s cupbearer, he described himself as a member of the Hebrew people. “For I was kidnapped from the land of the Hebrews” (Bereishit 40:15)." Because of his willingness to identify himself as a proper resident of Eretz Yisrael, he merited to be buried in Israel.

Moshe, on the other hand, did not protest when the daughters of Yisro referred to him as an Egyptian man (Shemot 2:19) and, as a result, he did not merit burial in Israel.

If we consider the matter further, we realize that Yosef was born in Israel, but Moshe actually was Egyptian by birth. It makes sense that Yosef would identify as an Israeli, but why punish Moshe for not doing so when he had never even been in Israel?

On this distinction, Rav Meir Yechiel of Ostrov teaches, "From this we learn that from the time Eretz Yisrael was promised to Avraham, every Jew must see himself as a citizen of Israel."

As Jews, we ought to see ourselves as citizens of Israel, regardless of where we actually live.

Although I can’t find the exact quote, I once read that, when asked where you are from, it is proper for a Jew living outside Israel to respond, “I am from the Land Of Israel but because of my many sins, I find myself living in galut.”

Yesterday, as we were leaving shul, we were engaged in conversation about how long our visit here will be and when we will come back to stay. A casual comment by neighbor totally changed the way I think.

"Don’t say, 'I live in Baltimore and I hope to make aliyah in X years,’ she suggested. "Rather, say, 'I live in Israel, but I am currently on shlichut in America.'"

Paradox

One of my favorite things to do in Israel is to listen to tales of people’s Jewish journeys. So many people with amazing Jewish stories end up in Israel. It’s so inspiring. I’ve noticed frequently that many of the most powerful stories come from people who were not born as Jews. Converts to Judaism seem to be able to see clearly that Jewish life in Israel is a natural extension of their Jewish journey. They keep growing and that growth leads them to a life in Israel.

It's a paradox that it can be so clear to some and so off-the-radar-screen for others.

How Soon Will The World Change?

About five years ago, I stumbled upon a new avenue of Jewish information that blew me away. It’s called Facilitated Communication and, at least in a Jewish context, it offers a way for the world to access spiritual information in a most unexpected way.

The process, at least for the layperson, is relatively simple. Profoundly physically handicapped, often autistic, children are given a means to communicate, either through an alphabet board, a computer keyboard or other instrument. With the physical support of a trained facilitator, these Jewish souls (for they are more soul than body at this stage) deliver messages from another, higher level of reality that most of us can’t access with our intact brains.

They “speak” of great changes coming to the world. They passionately urge all Jewish people to return to Gd. They excoriate the profound attachment even religious Jews, and especially religious Jews in America, have to the material world. They teach that the destruction of the World Trade Center was a lesson. The Twin Towers were the symbol of gashmiut, and, just as they were destroyed and ground to dust, soon, so will the rest of the materialism with which we fill our lives.

When I first started learning about this, I bought several books that published transcribed conversations, usually between an autistic child from a Jewish family and a parent, with the help of a trained facilitator. At first, the books scared me, because they revealed the actual presence of a world beyond our own. But after a time, I became comforted by the evidence in these books that a more spiritual level of reality actually exists, and that these souls, tortured in this world, have the ability to open limited access to other, more spiritual levels of existence.

I didn’t exactly forget about this whole avenue of Jewish information, and I reread the books a few times, but time passed and they lost their hold over me.

And then, a few months ago, someone sent me to a website with brand new facilitated communications. And just this week, while shopping for books about geula in a Jewish bookstore, I came across the new book that publishes much of the material on the website.

It is less than an hour before Shabbat in the part of the world in which I find myself. I just finished reading the first 65 pages of the book and, even though the book foretells that we are at the cusp of a very dark and difficult time, my soul leaps within me, because the messages also reminds us of the process of giving birth. As I can tell you from first-hand experience, in the last hours before birth, the pain is indescribable. It was as if my body was separate from the rest of me. And yet, eventually, the pain subsided and I had the simcha of a new, healthy baby.

This is the stage of the world we are in. We are as a woman in late stages of labor. There are dark and difficult times ahead, when the world will change in ways we can’t anticipate, but there is also Redemption following.

To this ultimate end, my soul leaps.

Even if you’re sure I’m wrong, or if you’re simply not sure what to think, look at this site. Read this book.

Because that way, you won't have to weep and say, "I didn't know. I didn't see it coming."

Staying Awake

Here’s how it feels to be me.

There’s an underlying disquiet that never really leaves me. I am, at all times, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It could be imminent. It could be years from now. It doesn’t feel like it’s going to happen to my family in particular, but that something will happen on a global scale that will affect my family. And my biggest concern now is staying awake, staying alert, making sure I do what I can to keep my family safe.

I have been teaching a Jewish history course for several months now. When you look at Jewish history globally, from Biblical times to the present, you have to be struck by how certain themes prevail.

There really are, perpetually, enemies that want to annihilate us. Jewish history truly does keep repeating itself.

And we never learn.

We cozy up, time and again, to our hosts in the Diaspora, and promptly experience group amnesia.

There’s a shul around the corner from my home that has tripled its building size in the last year. Building and building as if the next several decades of Orthodox life in America will be much like the previous ones. That’s group amnesia.

The feeling that something big is coming won’t leave me. So I wake up every day expecting it.

I often think of the Jews in Germany in the 1930s. Of the ones who said, “Something bad is coming,” and of the people in their lives who said, “Don’t be silly. This will all blow over.”

It’s not like I think another physical annihilation is headed our way, Gd-forbid. This time, I think it could come in another realm – an economic annihilation would be particularly fitting for the Jews of America. But if I tell people that I worry that I will awaken one day holding dollars that are worth 10% of what they were worth the night before, they look at me like I’m cracked. When I consider, despite the tax implications, that I should liquidate some of our retirement savings and pay off our Israeli mortgage, even I question whether I’ve taken this currency devaluation worry a bit too far.

But what if I’m right.

Major Paradigm Shift - Addendum

In my last post, I inadvertently left out an important aspect of the process.

There is a back door to avoiding, or at least diminishing, the negative impact of having the sar of the country in chutz l'aretz strengthen its dark side by taking a portion of the kedusha we've generated.

Here's how we can retain the kedusha generated by our mitzvot, even when they are done in chutz l'aretz.

If a mitzvah is completed outside of Israel, but the Jew who does the mitzvah really and truly yearns for geula and also yearns for Eretz Yisrael, the kedusha is able to retain its strength on its journey to Eretz Yisrael, thereby accomplishing something spiritually similar to what it would have accomplished if the mitzvah had actually been done in Israel.

So if you can't, for a halachically-valid reason, live in Israel right now... yearning for it, and longing for the Redemption, are your best spiritual defense.

There now. Isn't that better?

Major Paradigm Shift

Is the decision of whether to live in Jersey or Jerusalem, Baltimore or Beit Shemesh, Monsey or Modi’in one of personal choice? After all, in Teaneck, in Baltimore, in Monsey, all the necessities of Orthodox life can be found in abundance. Here in Baltimore, there are six restaurants where you can get a taste of kosher pizza (seven, if you count pizza bagels). The American cities where religious Jews tend to congregate are rich with resources – day schools, synagogues, mikvaot, chesed organizations, kosher groceries, eruvin, etc. etc.

It’s really a matter of where you feel the most comfortable. Where your family is. Where your parnassa is the most certain and secure. Most of us know, on some level, that Israel is a religious ideal. And maybe someday, we’ll get there. Or maybe our children. Or grandchildren. But we don’t speak the language and fear that we’ll never learn at our age. And it’s so hard to make a living there. And we just built an addition on our house. And our shul is in the process of expanding again. And the government in Israel is so anti-religious. At least in America, the government tolerates, and even protects, religious people.

Rabbi Pinchas Winston was here in Baltimore teaching last Sunday. He gave two sessions, both of which I was privileged to attend.

At the first session, he met with a small group of people, all religious women, and as he spoke, as I realized the significance of what he was saying, my head started to spin.

Here’s what he described, according to my understanding. The simplicity of the language is mine. His was much more scholarly.

Each nation, except Eretz Yisrael, has a sar, a representative angel which has the power to intercede on behalf of its nation. Eretz Yisrael is overseen directly by Gd. Tefillot (prayers) spoken in the Land of Israel go straight up to shamayim (the heavenly realm). Torah study and other mitzvot completed in the Land and the kedusha (holiness) they generate go straight up.

The kedusha of prayer, Torah study and mitzvot done in other lands takes a more circuitous route before it can get to shamayim. It must pass through the sar of other nations, and when it does, each sar, each representative angel, retains a portion.

Which means that every bit of kedusha generated outside of Israel feeds the koach, the strength, of other nations.

So, according to this paradigm, to be a Torah-observant Jew outside of Israel actually works to strengthen the host nation which may use (and often has used) that strength against the Jews in its midst. It also greatly diminishes the spiritual strength of the mitzvot done outside The Land.

If what he's teaching is really so, Jersey or Jerusalem, Baltimore or Beit Shemesh, Monsey or Modi'in is hardly a pareve choice anymore.

Doing Jewish Stuff in Israel

I'm a little behind in my reading of The International Jerusalem Post. So it's an interesting confluence that today, after I just wrote about how jarring it can be to really pay attention to all the ways we adapt our traditional Jewish ways to life in America, I see this article in the November 30-December 6, 2007 issue.

Herb Keinon writes about the exact corollary to my point:

ONE OF the things we take for granted here [in Israel] is that you can do all that Jewish stuff that looks extremely odd to the uninitiated without feeling overly self-conscious.

You can walk out of synagogue on a cloudless Saturday night once a month and pray while glancing at the moon [Kiddush Levana] without people thinking you a lunatic. You can use a cup to alternately pour water three times over each hand before eating bread without people thinking you obsessive-compulsive. And you can walk with tzitzit sticking inadvertently out of your pants without someone believing your undergarments are in disrepair.
Years ago, while a university student in Boulder, Colorado, a few tzitzit strands were sticking out of my pants as I traipsed across the campus. A fellow student, obviously thinking she was doing me a great kindness, stopped and said, "Sucker, yo' underwear be unraveling."

Not a Joke

Motzei Shabbos, we were driving around running errands while I talked to my endlessly patient husband about how, as observant American Jews, we don't even realize how much of our environment we censor out. Think of it: restaurants we can't eat in, clothes we can't buy or wear, holidays we don't celebrate, recipes we can't make, magazines we subscribe to whose content becomes irrelevant to us several times a year, fast food we can’t eat, month-long Christmas music festivals on radio stations we no longer feel comfortable listening to, etc. etc.

We are so used to automatically censoring our environment that we don’t even realize we do it.

Right now, there is a very popular YouTube music video called Chinese Food on Christmas, which bemoans the that fact that, for American Jews, there’s not much to do on Christmas day except eat Chinese food and go to see a movie.

It’s not a joke. We really do live in a Christian country.

Many of us like to see America as a place of liberty for all people. New York State Assemblyman Dov Hikind recently called on the US government to grant refugee status to European Jews who are victims of increasing acts of anti-Semitism.

Dov Hikind is an Orthodox Jew who wants America to absorb European Jews running from skyrocketing anti-Semitism in Europe.

Not in 1937.

Today.

If it weren't so scary that Hikind, an Orthodox Jew, doesn't see the irony of what he's proposing at this time in Jewish history, I would assume it was a joke.

Sadly, it's not a joke.

The Playground Too Few Play In

This past Friday night, we had wonderful Shabbos guests – smart, committed, articulate Jewish friends who appear to welcome engaging in discussions about Israel almost as much as I do. Or at least they have great patience with my obsession.

We were talking about how Gd might view the fact that some of us love Israel, really love Israel, from a distance, but aren’t planning to live there anytime soon. My husband, a master of analogies, responded with this:

Imagine you are a wealthy philanthropist. You endow a beautiful playground in a poor neighborhood in your city. Over time, you notice that, although the people of the neighborhood talk a lot about how much they love and appreciate the playground, virtually no children actually use it.

So you, as the wealthy philanthropist, warn the members of the neighborhood that you are going to have the playground dismantled because it is clearly under appreciated. “Oh please, no! Don’t take away our playground!” they plead. “We love it. It’s a highlight of our neighborhood.”

And what might you, the wealthy philanthropist say to those upon whom you’ve bestowed the gift of a lovely playground?

“If you really appreciate it,” you’d say, “don’t just give it lip service. Don’t just tell me how much you like it. Use it! Bring your children there to play. That’s how I will know that my gift is truly appreciated.”

How can our lip service possibly be enough? How can Gd appreciate Tehillim said in groups of 400 Jews who plan to visit Israel every other year, or even every year, but to live, raise their families, and die in Baltimore?

The secular State of Israel isn’t perfect so we prefer to stay in America where things are easier, all the while crying “Uvenei Yerushalayim ir hakodesh. birnheirah ve’yameinu” – rebuild Jerusalem The Holy City rapidly in our lifetimes!

Maybe we’re in jeopardy of having Jerusalem dismantled and given over to our enemies because Jerusalem is Gd’s playground.

Where too few of us want to play.