Weekly Torah Portion: Tazri'a (Leviticus 12:1 - 13:59)

I was supposed to go to a special Hebron tour this Friday morning, but had to cancel, since I developed a cold. Earlier this week I started feeling off, with a congested throat and chills of cold all over my body. I hoped it would be better by today, but it is actually getting worse, so I decided to cancel and stay home. So the good news is that now I have time to sit here and write.

This week I saw the nation of Israel in its greatness. There were two occasions that made me feel this way.

Alex Sasaki Z"L

One, Alex Sasaki, a young new Oleh (new Jewish immigrant) who served in the IDF as a lone soldier (a soldier whose family lives abroad) died last week. His bereaved parents came from the USA to Israel for the funeral of their son, who was buried on Mt. Herzl. They stayed at the Crown Plaza hotel and sat "Shiv'ah" there (Shiv'ah means the customary seven days of mourning, in which the bereaved family of a deceased person sits and mourns, and friends and neighbors come to comfort them). They do not know anyone here, but during the seven days of the Shiv'ah, their room was filled with people. People of all walks of life came to visit them, to hear from them about Alex, to be there for them, to comfort them. It was SO moving to see. Someone placed an empty notebook there, and people were writing messages of consolation to the family, in English, in Hebrew. I saw there religious people, from all the variety that exists - from the ultra-orthodox to the "religious-lite" as we say, and then secular people, traditional people, everyone, of every age. They all came to be with the family, without knowing them, without having known their son. I must admit I was so impressed with the parents. In the face of this tragedy, they didn't stop smiling, talking with people, expressing their feelings, being strong and positive. Alex's father said that he has faith, and that he knows that Alex's life had meaning in Israel, and that he was supposed to be here, despite the bitter end. I was so encouraged to hear him talk like this. I sat there for an hour or so, but really wanted to stay much longer, but people kept streaming in and I had to go and teach. It was very moving to be there. I don't know of any other place on earth in which something like this could happen this way . I think the parents feel now that they have a big warm family in Israel - the people of Israel.
The second moving thing was that Zecharia Baumel - a name I remember since I was a little child as a synonym for someone who went to battle and never returned - was finally brought to his final place of rest and merited to have a Jewish burial in Israel, in Jerusalem, on Mt. Herzl. I couldn't believe it when I heard that - they found Zecharia Baumel's body and it is being brought back to Israel! I was so impressed and proud of the whole nation - of our leaders for actually managing to do this, and of the rest of us - that we haven't forgotten Zecharia, even though it's been 37 years since he was gone, and that we didn't give up hope. Zecharia's father, Yonah, did everything in his power to find his son and waited for him for 27 years, but passed away some ten years ago without meriting to see his son's body being brought to burial in Israel. Zecharia's other family members were there at the funeral, as well as our Prime Minister and other top officials in Israel. What a nation!

Yonah Z"L and Miriam Baumel, holding the picture of their missing son, Zecharia.

This Shabbat is special - it is both a Shabbat and a Rosh Chodesh (the first day of the new month of Nissan), and since it's Nissan, everybody is starting to get ready for Passover: cleaning the houses more meticulously than usual, getting rid of unneeded clothes and items in the house, finishing all the pasta and other foods that are Chametz (unleavened bread) and therefore are not Kosher for eating (or even keeping at home) during Passover.

The Torah Portion of this week is that of Tazria (Leviticus 12:1 - 13:59). It talks about laws of purity for women after birth (laws that don't apply today because the Temple is not in place), and about the laws of Tzara'at, a mysterious skin disease (that can also affect house walls and clothes), and that is diagnosed not by a doctor, but by a Kohen, a Jewish priest from the descendants of Aaron (Moses' brother). The fact that it is diagnosed by a Kohen shows us that it has a spiritual origin, not a medical one. The connection between mind and body is stressed here with this form of mysterious disease. It is translated as Leprosy in English, but it is not the Leprosy we know from recent centuries, it is another form of disease that we are not familiar with today. The cure for this disease is for the affected person to sit in isolation outside the camp, not to come in contact with people for seven days, and after a week - the disease is cured.

Every week, after reading from the Torah (five books of Moses) we also read a portion from the Prophets and Scriptures. This week we read from II Kings 4:42 - 5:19 - the story about Na'aman, the Syrian (Aramean general who had this Tzara'at disease). A little Israeli girl, who was a captive at his home, said that he should go to the Land of Israel and meet the prophet, the man of G-d there, so that he would be cured of his disease. The general listened to her advice and went. He did as the prophet told him, and was cured. He then exclaimed: "Behold now, I know there is no G-d in all the earth, but in Israel." Of course, we know that G-d is everywhere - not just here - and He is the G-d of all people and of all nations, but this exclamation means, I think, that there is a special connection to G-d here, and within this people, and this connection nourishes and strengthens the connection of the whole world to G-d. 

The portion doesn't explicitly specify what causes this disease, but elsewhere in the Torah it is mentioned in relation to Miriam, sister of Moses and Aaron, when she spoke not-nicely about Moses and his wife, and was punished for it with this disease, and in order to be cured from it she was asked to sit outside the camp in isolation (Book of Numbers, chapter 12). From this, our sages infer that the cause for this disease is bad use of language, or simply: evil tongue. The evil tongue includes a few categories of immoral use of speech, but they all come down to saying bad things about other people behind their backs: disgracing others, putting them down, mentioning their flaws, exposing things that violate their privacy (and privacy is sacred!), telling lies about them and also telling bad things that are true about them. Some think that if we say bad things about someone, but those bad things are true, then it's OK for us to tell these things. But this kind of gossip is forbidden and can cause a lot of harm to three parties: to the speaker, to the one spoken about and to the listener. It diminishes the level of love in society and the social glue that keeps people together and causes disdain towards the person spoken about and a feeling of superiority for the speaker and the listener. There won't be love there the next time they see this person. This is the reason why the cure for the Tzara'at disease is to sit in isolation outside the camp: it's like saying - if you want to weaken the social glue between people in your community, if you want to make someone else be treated with disdain, you should taste your own medicine (literally) and be isolated (and put to shame) yourself. It is no big honor to sit outside the camp alone for a week because of this spiritual-physical disease. 

Only in specific cases is one allowed (and even encouraged) to say bad things that are true about another person (for example: if you know that Dana is going to marry or get into business with Danny, who is a dishonest person, you must warn her, but make sure your motives are to help her, not to bite Danny). 

Words can heal and words can kill. Speech is what distinguishes us humans from other animals, and it is such a lofty gift we humans got, that we just must use it responsibly and with discretion. With speech we can change someone's world, or even change the world (and there have been quite a few examples for this in human history). A tender word for someone in distress can sometimes save their lives, and a bitter word said to someone or about someone behind their back can ruin their lives.

Words have power, and every word we say leaves an impression in this world. We can truly heal the world with positive speech (and also positive inner speech, directed towards ourselves!). And it costs us nothing. It is a free gift we got, and we can give good words to others and lift them up without any cost to us at all. 

So this Shabbat (and this month, and just generally), let us find ways to use our speech in a constructive way towards ourselves and towards others and truthfully make this world a better place.

Shabbat Shalom and Chodesh Tov! 

Revital

Purim 5779 - at Hadassah Mt. Scopus

Purim this year was spent partly at the hospital, and partly at my old neighborhood.
The more meaningful part for me was, of course, at the hospital, even though it was NOT easy, I must admit. It started when Thursday day time, which was Purim all over Israel except in Jerusalem, I took my little recorder and went to visit a few patients who already know me. I played some soothing music without any other players with me, and was surprised how much they liked it. In one of the rooms, I visited an older woman, who used to be a tough bus driver. Her bed was hidden by a curtain, but she welcomed me in happily. We talked for a long while, and then I took my recorder and played. At that moment, a woman in the nearby bed asked who is playing, and asked for permission to open the curtain, to be part of this too. We opened the curtain, and she listened with a smile on her face. I didn't know if this had any meaningful effect or not, but when I finished the first song, she showered me with good words and told me that it lifted her up. I suggested that she "order" songs, if there are any songs she likes. She asked me to play Eli Eli by Hannah Senesh. When I did, she closed her eyes, and when I finished, she told me that it was like a prayer for her. She is secular, so hearing these words from her had an added meaning for me. I then played my favorite Jerusalem song: "From the top of Mt. Scopus, Shalom to you, Jerusalem". It is doubly moving to play it and for the patients to hear it, from the Mt. Scopus hospital.
I bought a few "Mishlochei Manot" (bags with candies that we give each other on Purim) and gave it to some of them. I was sorry that I didn't have more, because there was a nurse who wanted one too. It was so cute. I'll go and give her next week. I stayed at the hospital until night, and brought certain patients to the hospital synagogue, to hear the reading of the Book of Esther. It was good - but emotionally tough. After I finished the day, I felt that I needed a break from visiting the hospital for at least one week, to regain my emotional strength, but Saturday night I felt an urge to go again, to visit one specific patient who is in the hospice.
A hospice, for those of you who do not know, is the place to which patients are sent to end their lives peacefully. It is the most beautiful part of the hospital, but also the toughest of them all. Terminally ill patients, who have no hope of recovering (according to the doctors), are sent there to spend the last days of their lives there. Very ironically, it is situated right in front of the delivery rooms - so in one end of the corridor people are being born, and on the other end of it, people die. Very symbolic - a closing of a circle.
A few weeks ago I met a middle-aged woman there, who suffers from cancer. Her belly is very big, and not because of fat... It is very hard to see, and when I visit her, I try hard not to see it. She is constantly crying and feeling sorry for herself, and it is not easy to be around her. Saturday night I felt that I had to go visit her. When I arrived, after she stopped crying, she told me that she felt so alone and prayed to G-d to send someone to visit her, and very shortly after that, I arrived. I did feel as if G-d sent me. I didn't plan to go to the hospital for another week, but something inside urged me to go, specifically to see her. I spent three hours with her, and it calmed her down, but I know that it's not much, because it won't have a lasting effect on her. Soon she will start crying again and feeling sorry for herself again.
I told her that there are no mistakes in G-d's plans, and that if this is the experience that He gives her now, then it means she has a mission to accomplish in this specific situation. First and foremost, when her secular family hears her talking about G-d even though she is in such a situation, it gives more validity to her faith in G-d. It is very easy to talk about G-d when everything is good. But when you do that when things are not good and there is no medical hope, it gives your faith in G-d more value in the eyes of others. At that moment, I told myself that it's probably very easy to say, and very hard to do, but my answer to myself was that G-d forbid, if I'm ever in that situation, I will truly think this way and try to accomplish this mission rather than feel sorry for myself. The question should always be What can I give rather than Why don't I get what I want. Second, her family comes to visit her sometimes for parts of the Shabbat. Not every week. But when her sister comes, for example, both of them go down to have a festive Shabbat meal with other patients and their family members. Her sister told me that she hasn't experienced a real Shabbat meal in her life and that she so enjoys it, so this is her chance of experiencing some Jewish life, hear words of Torah on the table and sing Shabbat songs.
There is a generous donor who gives a lot of money every Shabbat to allow big, festive Shabbat meals, with salads, fish, meat, desserts - what not. Every week. He does this anonymously, no one knows who he is, but it allows patients and their families to enjoy Shabbat together. It is so amazing. The hospital gives a special hall for this purpose, and there are volunteers who serve the food. Those patients who cannot go down to the hall and eat there, can enjoy packed Shabbat food in their beds. Their family members can go down and take a nice Shabbat meal and give them. It is so nice. I have never seen anything like this anywhere in the world except here. Very moving. The first time I saw it, I couldn't believe it. It was so nice and generous and the atmosphere was so good and festive. I don't eat there (I did it twice when I spent a whole Shabbat at the hospital for bed-ridden patients who needed someone to be with them). But just knowing that something like this happens here - warms my heart.
In short, I'm grateful for having moved here and that now I can walk to the hospital and give something to the patients, give them strength and alleviate their suffering a bit. Baruch HaShem.

Weekly Torah Portion - VaYikra (Leviticus 1:1 - 5:26)

This coming Shabbat, Jews all over the world will read in synagogue the VaYikra Torah portion (Leviticus 1:1-5:26). This is the first portion of the book of Leviticus - the third book out of the five books of Moses, and a book with a lot of technical details about the service of the Jewish Priests (Levites: people from the tribe of Levy; and Kohanites: Aaron and his children). But in the Torah, even in the most technical portions, there are always deep ethical, philosophical and psychological lessons and messages for all of humanity to learn and for all generations. Let's try to delve in. If you have any ideas of your own that you would like to share with me, I would love to hear them. Knut - thank you for commenting, it's nice to know you're reading this! Comments from other people are welcome as well! 

Our portion starts with the Hebrew word VaYikra (ויקרא), meaning: "and (G-d) called..." G-d calls Moses, and only then He speaks to him. G-d calls man and seeks him out actively. He doesn't just let us be or speaks vaguely in the hope that we will hear Him. He calls to us and seeks us out actively, and we in return have to try to heed the call, each of us with our own calling, and engage in a life sustaining dialogue with G-d.

If you look closely at the Hebrew text, the word ויקרא is spelled with a smaller "Aleph" (א), as follows: ויקרא. Aleph is the first letter of the Hebrew Alphabet, and also the first letter in G-d's name: אלקים. Our sages teach that in His calling to us, humans, G-d has somewhat shrunk Himself, so to speak, made Himself smaller, in order to "make room" for us to act, to manifest our talents and gifts, to utilize our G-d given gifts (which each of us is endowed with) to benefit our fellow men and the entire world. In G-d's calling to Moses (and to all of us), G-d is asking that we act to the best of our ability using whatever we have to benefit the world and beautify it, to make it a better, more goodly place to live in - each of us to the best of our abilities, in our own small corner of the world.
To be happy people we have to believe that we have an intrinsic value, that we didn't come to the world for nothing - that we have something that is uniquely ours to do here, to give to the world, and only we can find out what it is and do it. If we lose this sense of self worth, we won't do anything and we will sink into melancholy and depression. The way to prevent it (and to spring out of it if we had already sunk in it) is to realize what we can do for others, and to actually do it. Some of us are gifted artistically, some of us have charisma and magnetic power, some of us are gifted musically or linguistically - each of us should take whatever talent we have, and make use of it to make the world a better place.  

This week's portion deals with five kinds of offerings that people can bring to atone for their sins: burnt offering, cereal offering, peace offering, purification offering, reparation offering. Each offering has its own set of rules and instructions for bringing it. Reading about such offerings in our day and age, when the Tabernacle and the Temple are no longer in place and haven't been for more than 2000 years now, makes us, modern readers, feel alienated: what value is there for us in such teachings? What can we learn from them? And why did people in ancient times have to sacrifice those poor animals? Does G-d really want such offerings? 

First, let's consider the Hebrew word for offering: Korban (קורבן). This word has an additional meaning: sacrifice. When we look at its root letters,  ק.ר.ב, we can see that these are the same root letters of the Hebrew word Karov (קרוב), which means "close" (as in closeness). So there is a semantic connection between the words offering/sacrifice and the word for closeness. The idea in bringing offerings is to give up something big in order to get closer to G-d. In ancient time, people's wealth was measured in terms of how much cattle they had, how many cows, sheep, goats, and how many fields and produce they had. A bull was a very expensive piece of property, perhaps like a Mercedes in our time. Giving up a bull, bringing it to the priests and seeing this expensive property being burnt on the altar and then eaten, was not an easy thing to do. People did it usually in order to show how deeply sorry they felt about certain sins that they have committed. By giving up a very expensive piece of property (and seeing it killed and burnt in front of one's very eyes), the sinner tried to ask for G-d's forgiveness and in the process become closer to G-d after feeling alienated from Him because of sin. A poor person, who did not own bulls, could bring a vegetarian offering or a pigeon instead. The important thing is that the offering would be something that is very expensive for that person's means.

Today, when the Temple is no longer in place (its giant stones can be seen scattered around the place where the Temple used to stand, next to the Western Wall), and no one knows where the Holy Ark is (probably buried somewhere below the Al-Aqsa mosque in the Temple Mount in Jerusalem), we don't have the custom to bring offerings. Our modern day sensibilities makes most of us shudder to the thought of slaughtering animals and dealing with their blood. This job is spared today to people who work in slaughter houses. The rest of us buy clean, nicely packed meat in the supermarket and don't have to deal with blood. How can we understand the relevance of sacrificing to our own lives today?

The great rabbi, Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook of blessed memory said that when the Temple will be (peacefully) rebuilt in the future, all the offerings will be vegetarian, for the consumption of the Kohanites. 

So, does G-d really need our offerings? In contrast to idol-worshiping cultures, in which their idols are believed to be "eating" the offerings, in Judaism the sacrifice is meant as an act with a psychological impact on the individual, something that helps man attain forgiveness by showing one's true sorrow for one's sins and by showing one's readiness to pay heavily for one's sins. G-d does not need our offerings. We need our offerings to be and feel clean of sin and therefore worthy of being close to G-d. 

What do we do now, when there are no offerings instituted? We can still implement the same principle and translate it to our world view. We can give something expensive that we own (doesn't have to be our Mercedes) in favor of a cause that serves to make up for our sins. It can come in the form of a generous donation to a cause we believe in and want to strengthen, or giving some money to a less fortunate individual who can really use some extra funds. It can come in the form of investing a portion of our time and energy in acting to promote a cause we believe in or in helping an individual in need, any kind of need. We can give of our time to the needy - visiting lonely elderly people at their homes or visiting the sick at hospital, giving of our time to help young mothers who have many kids, anything that would benefit someone else and would make this world a better place.The important thing is that once we sacrifice something of our own, it has to be something big enough for us to feel it's meaningful. 

The leaders of the nation - the president of each tribe - are also to bring their own offerings to G-d, to show their submission to the one Leader that is above the rest of us. If sacrifices were instituted today, we would have expected to see PM Netanyahu walking the relatively short walk from his official residence to the Temple and sacrificing his own offerings.

This Shabbat is called Shabbat Zachor (the Shabbat just before Purim). So we will also read the Zachor portion ("remember what Amalek did to you..."; Deuteronomy 25:17-19). Halacha (Jewish Law) requires each Jew to hear the reading of that portion. Amalek symbolizes the world view in which there is no G-d, and everything that happens in the world is just the result of coincidence. Judaism stands in total opposition to this world view. In Jewish thought and belief, everything is meaningful, and nothing is left to chance, because G-d is one, an omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent G-d. To attest for this, there is a special meaning in reading and hearing the Zachor portion. Amalek attacked us in the desert just when we started losing faith. To eradicate Amalek and the amalekite world view, all we have to do is strengthen our faith in G-d.

Shabbat Shalom to you all! 

With love from Jerusalem,

Revital

Weekly Torah Portion - Pkudei (EXODUS 38:21 - 40:38)

Today is the first day of the Hebrew month of Adar. It is the month in which, according to our tradition, Moses was born and died. It is the month in which we celebrate the holiday of Purim to celebrate the salvation that we have attained from the Persian Hitler Haman many hundreds of years ago (see the Book of Esther for details, and I'll try to write a special post about it). Unlike the international calendar, in which you get a 29th day of February every few years, in the Hebrew calendar we have something different: every few years we get another month! We call a year with an extra month a "pregnant year". So this year is a "pregnant" year. The first Adar has ended, and yesterday started the second month of Adar.
Jews all over the world will read tomorrow, Shabbat, in synagogue the "Pkudei" Torah Portion (Exodus  38:21 - 40:38). This is the last portion in the book of Exodus, and starting next week we will read the Portions from the book of Leviticus. The book of Exodus tells the story of the slavery and exodus from Egypt and the first few months in the desert. It ends with a few Portions concerning the Mishkan (tabernacle; sanctuary; portable Temple), in which the instructions to build the Mishkan are given in detail.
The word Mishkan (משכן) shares the same root as the word Shkhina (holy spirit; שכינה). So the Mishkan is the focus point of G-d's holy spirit. Why do we need a physical place for the Shkhina to dwell in? If we read back, we realize that G-d commanded us to build the Mishkan only after we sinned by making for ourselves a golden calf, a foreign idol, to worship. It could be that G-d wanted to channel our need for a physical item to focus our spiritual energies on in a proper way. Instead of worshiping golden calves, we will have a sanctuary to commune with G-d.
The Mishkan is a place of sanctity. The Shabbat day is a time of sanctity. Since the commandment to observe Shabbat appears twice during the episodes of the Mishkan, we understand that the Shabbat's importance is much greater than that of the Mishkan. On Shabbat we are commanded to stop from making any kind of work, even from building the Mishkan.

This week's portion starts with a list of all the expensive materials that were used to build the Mishkan. Our rabbis teach that a person's true richness and assets are only those things that he gave to others. If you have $1,000,000 in your physical bank account but gave very little to others, you are considered poor, poor in the only currency that matters: poor in good deeds. If you have very little money in your bank account, but you gave a lot to people in real need, then you are considered rich: rich in good deeds. Good deeds are the only currency that matters - in this world and in the next. People don't take their material riches with them to the grave or to the next world. But their good deeds will always have a ripple effect.

Readers who read the portion superficially might think that it is just a technical description of architecture and items of service. But the Torah ALWAYS conveys a deeper meaning. Beyond the surface level there are always deeper levels of meaning that can teach us moral, psychological and philosophical lessons that we can learn from in our day and age as well.

The description of the Mishkan and all the vessels in it is repeated again and again for about 15 chapters! First, the details appear in G-d's instructions to Moses, then they appear in Moses' instructions to the people, then they appear again in the performance of the job, then they appear in the conclusion of the job, and then they appear again when G-d instructs Moses what to do with those items. Why all the repetition? Why all the technicalities? When someone repeats the same details again and again in speech or writing, we know that those details are important to him. When someone says the same things again and again, it shows that he wants the listeners to really hear and internalize what he is saying and not take it lightly. In fact, there are people, Torah scholars, who sit and study these details of the Mishkan and its vessels in depth in order to construct the exact same vessels to be used in the Holy Temple, when it will be peacefully built in the future.

One more repetition that calls our attention is the fact that every time that an instruction was performed in our portion, the phrase: "...as G-d commanded Moses" appears. Again and again. If you count these repetitions, you find that this phrase appears 18 times in the story of the Mishkan. Eighteen is a number with a special meaning in Judaism. If we convert its digits to letters, we get the word חי (chai, or: alive) in Hebrew. So the number 18 symbolizes life. For example, when Jews give money to charity, they like to give money in multiples of 18 (180 sheqels, 360 dollars, 540 euros, etc). And hence the important lesson: if we really want a life that is good and meaningful, we have to do things as G-d commanded Moses... The Torah is our guide book to life. In it you can find values and morals that are eternal and good. If you read a verse in it and it looks outdated and irrelevant for us today, it is because you stay on the surface level. A good advice would be to read deep commentaries about it by our Sages, explaining how things are truly eternal and meaningful for all ages.
Each of us should build a Mishkan, a tabernacle, within our hearts. We should do it by adhering to divine morality, by thinking of G-d's commandments and follow them even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard. Wherever there is hardship, there is also a tremendous gift to glean from it. Hardships are what makes us close to G-d, because it's usually when we are down that we look up and seek Him, and in the process we become much better people.

The person in charge of the construction of the Mishkan was Bezalel. In Hebrew, his name means: "in the shade of the Lord". Bezalel is the prototype of an especially gifted artist. It is no coincidence that his name means "in the shade of the Lord". Every true and honest artist (unlike many so-called artists today) is truly in the shade of the Lord, receiving inspiration from the master of the universe, Who is truly the greatest artist of all.

The book of Exodus ends with this verse: "... the cloud of the Lord was upon the tabernacle by day, and there was fire therein by night, in the sight of all the house of Israel, throughout all their journeys". I like this verse a lot, because it shows how even when everything in our lives is clouded and dark and we see no way out, the fire of G-d is bound to appear and show us the way to our promised land. If we only open our eyes and see it.

Shabbat Shalom!
Revital

Weekly Torah Portion: VaYakhel 5779 (Exodus 35:1- 38:20)

We experience a BIG storm today: lots of rain, wind, and hail. It started yesterday. It was so nice to go to bed and hear the hail on my ceiling windows. When I woke up this morning, I could not only hear it, but also see it - it was magical!
The Jerusalem neighborhood in which I live now is full of almond trees and lemon trees. Until this week, the almond trees were in full bloom, and reminded me a lot of the Japanese cherry blossom. It was just so beautiful! My new apartment has some nice, big windows, and it is nice to look out of them and see blossoming almond trees, and lemon trees full of ripe, yellow lemons. What a blessing!
I've been wanting to write here for so long, but got caught with other things. So if any of you out there read this, it would be nice if you make yourselves felt a bit, it will give me the energy to continue.

I'm so happy with the move. I like my new apartment, and I like the change in mindset that it brings with it. I've declined many new Hebrew students who were referred to me by other students recently, because I want to focus more on my professional career as a neurotherapist, and less on Hebrew teaching. Baruch HaShem, just after the move, I started treating two different women for depression and anxiety. Both of them come here, so I don't have to go out to them like I do with my Hebrew students. All of my students meet me in the city center, and it's sometimes tiring to go there every day, and run from place to place to meet them while I'm there. I'd like to gradually bring more of my business closer to home - to treat children and women in my place. I figured that if I move again, I will try to think of having an extra room that would serve as my clinic. We'll see. Big dreams, and I'm just starting, doing the first few steps. I've done this as an employee before, but now it's my first time as a self-employed therapist.
Moving here gave me courage and strengthened my faith. I've realized that I am not attached to my place of living - I will be fine anywhere, as long as I walk with G-d. And I know His plans for me are good.

Something sweet happened recently, and made me smile, even laugh. Three or so weeks ago I walked from my area the long walk to Rechavia, my old neighborhood, to have a Shabbat meal with my old friends in the neighborhood. I prayed at the Great Synagogue. It was so nice being there again, feeling like I'm home again, and it made me sad for a split of a second. I thought to myself: "Did I do the right thing leaving? I could have stayed in this area". Just as I was thinking this, the cantor (a young one, not the regular, fabulous Cantor Adler), who was reciting Psalm 98 (which is part of the Shabbat evening services), changed his tune for only one of the verses in the Psalm, verse 6: "With trumpets and sound of the horn shout ye before the King, the LORD". He sang this verse with the tune of the BEAUTIFUL Hebrew song titled "From the summit of Mt. Scopus, Shalom to you, oh Jerusalem". It made me shudder, and then laugh. This was such a clear, beautiful, symbolic message for me. Just earlier that week I was at the hospital of Hassasah Mt. Scopus, playing music to sick people there. My partners in playing suddenly played that song, which I hadn't heard in a long long time, and it was so moving to hear it, and play it, in that special place. I joined them with my recorder. Then, on Shabbat at the Great Synagogue, the verse that talks about serving G-d with wind instruments was suddenly (and for the first time ever in my experience) sang with that tune, I felt it was as if HaShem was telling me: "I need you there, close to the Hospital, to serve me there by brightening the days of sick people." I was moved. And whenever I feel like it's too much for me to travel to the city center without having a place of my own there, and run from place to place to meet my students, I remember this episode, and I smile. I know I'm in the right place and HaShem wants me here. The fact that He gave me two patients to treat here, and another student who lives in my neighborhood, says a lot too. I'm very happy and content. And grateful.

One more thing which made me feel encouraged to continue my volunteering at the hospital was this: I happened to see in a local library a book titled "Dream New Dreams" by a woman named Jai Pausch. I took it and read it in one breath. The book is the story of how she and her beloved husband, Prof. Randy Pausch, lived through the hardest times in their lives, when Randy was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It was a very honest book, and an important reading for everyone who once in a while works with sick people or their families. The only thing I didn't like about the book is that the word "G-d" appeared in it only once, and that too not in a form of prayer or acknowledgement. But later, when I saw an interview with Jai and her husband online, and they were asked about faith, they said it's private and they didn't want to talk about it. They did go to church, so I'm sure they had faith. Towards the end of the book, Jai told the following anecdote, which made me realize how much visiting the sick in hospitals is important: when she and her husband used to wait in line to see a doctor or for chemotherapy or whatever, in hospitals, some volunteers used to come and offer them coffee and snacks, and a smile. She said it was such a bright point of the day, that when her husband died, she decided she would volunteer doing the same thing. It was another reinforcement for my decision to dedicate more of my time for such activities. Living a walking distance from the hospital on Mt. Scopus makes is easier, and I think this is the main reason why G-d wanted me to move here.

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And now I want to say a few words about this week's Torah Portion (Exodus 35:1 - 38:20). This is just one of many Portions and many chapters in the Torah that are dedicated to the building of the Mishkan (Tabernacle). The Portion and chapters describe in the most minutest details the commandment to build a Mishkan, with the precise instructions as how to do everything, including everything - the structure, the utensils, the materials, everything, and then the actual building of it. It makes one wonder - why does the Torah, which is usually so succinct and (like a poem) uses very few words to describe much deeper and more complex layers of meaning - why does it "waste" so much "real estate area", so many words, chapters and Portions, on something so technical, when the Creation of the whole world is described in less than 30 verses? And - even more perplexing -  why does it "waste" so many words on something that WE WOULD NEVER BUILD AGAIN?! After all, the Mishkan was a once in a life time occurrence. We are not planning to build it again. We do hope (and plan!) to build the Mikdash (the Holy Temple), but not the Mishkan!  The answer is that below the surface meaning of these verses lies another, deeper, symbolic meaning. Our Sages along the centuries researched hard, using special words in the text to find parallels in other parts of the Torah, to uncover some of these secret, encoded messages. I encourage you to try to read about it yourselves. My own interpretation is that the Mishkan is an allegory to the human mind, the human heart. Elsewhere in the Torah G-d says: "And let them make Me a sanctuary, that I may dwell within them". G-d doesn't say that they should make a sanctuary so that He would dwell within IT, but rather, that He should dwell within THEM - within the people. I think this is a big clue that can help us understand the hidden meaning of the detailed description of the building of the Mishkan.

The Mishkan is to be built from the BEST, most expensive materials such as gold, copper, leather, etc. But this is not the most important things. It is to be built from materials that the people DONATED from the generosity of their heart. The root letters of generosity, נ.ד.ב. appear a few times (at least five) in our Portion as a lead word. We build a Mishkan to G-d in our hearts and minds by the things we are willing to GIVE: our charitable acts, our monetary donations, our efforts at building our personalities to be holier people. And we are to give of our very best, and of our own will. It is a free choice that we are given, and if we choose to give, and give of our best, not just materially, but in any other way as well, we will build a beautiful Mishkan within us, and it would be a proper place for G-d to "dwell" in.
Israel is probably the place with the most charity organizations per-capita ever, and within Israel - Jerusalem is the city with the most charity organizations, formal and non-formal, with lots and lots of people being busy doing good in the world. It is true that many other people from other cities in Israel and from other countries do amazing, beautiful things - but I've never known any other city like Jerusalem. It is exponentially more charitable and holy than any other city in the world, and I think that for this reason, it is a good place for G-d to dwell in. So many charitable projects are taking place here, and people are constantly helping each other and helping total strangers. It's so beautiful to see, and I wish this model of a Mishkan-like city will spread to the rest of the world in much greater intensities, so that the light and goodness of Jerusalem will encompass the whole world. Speedily in our days. Amen!

Ori Ansbacher Z"L

Shabbat started with the horrible news about the murder of a beautiful, young, innocent Jewish girl at the outskirts of Jerusalem. Signs of horrible violence were seen on her body. When Shabbat ended we heard the news that the perpetrator was found - a Palestinian man from Hebron, who left his home with a knife that day, saw Ori Ansbacher HY"D in a forest near a place in which she volunteered, and murdered her. His family is now going to receive from the so-called Palestinian Authority a MONTHLY SALARY of around 5,500 US Dollars for the rest of their lives, as a prize for this murder. How horrible and twisted. It just strengthens the forces of evil in this world. It is truly, indeed, the war of the children of darkness against the children of light. The heart is full of pain for the brutal loss of such young, good, beautiful life. May HaShem avenge her blood by eradicating all evil from people's hearts and from this world, speedily in our days, AMEN.

Her family, acquaintances and friends said that Ori was a rare soul, constantly giving to others and trying to make the world a better place. Since Ori died as a martyr, on the sanctification of the name of G-d, I'm sure that her soul sits highly close to G-d's throne, praying for us and serving as a sacrifice for the rest of us: "But he was wounded because of our transgressions, he was crushed because of our iniquities: the chastisement of our welfare was upon him, and with his stripes we were healed." (Isaiah 53:5)

It is upon every person in this world who loves G-d, who loves goodness, to do everything they can to fight against the darkness by increasing light in the world, by doing good deeds to the best of our ability, to not be afraid to say speak out against evil deeds and evil people. Politically Correctness can be a very dangerous disease. If you are afraid to fight against evil because it is not P.C., you're helping the forces of evil in our world. P.C. is the disease that is now slowly killing Europe. Think about it.

So sad.

And I ask you, readers of this blog, did the media in your country report about this? Let me guess - it didn't, right? Jewish blood that is spilled is not a 'story'. Europe is giving so much money to the Palestinian Authority - do they care that this is what their money is being used for?

Dear, sweet, beautiful Ori, may you rest in peace in your resting place above, and may your soul be blessed forever for the huge sacrifice that you have made for us.

Some positive directions

My new life is slowly taking shape, and I'm happy with it. The very intensive time that I had around the move is more or less over, thank G-d, and I can breathe, and look around, and start to enjoy my new environment and my new life here. I go to the university often, instead of working alone from home, and it's nice to be around people, and educated people at that. I have special sentiments to this campus. It has always felt like home to me, somehow. Also, this area of Jerusalem, Mt. Scopus and the French Hill, have always felt like home to me. I'm not sure why. I like being here.
Before I moved, I looked around my things and got rid of many things that I hadn't touched in years. I found among my folders some books, booklets and folders with piano music, from the time that I studies piano in Japan. Since I haven't played after I left, I decided to give them away, and I did. Then I came across my folder from Japan with guitar chords. I have an old guitar at home, that someone gave me when I was a student in Jerusalem - a friend of a friend of mine from Japan. I still have this guitar. I looked at the guitar and thought to myself - maybe it's time for it to go as well? Maybe I should give it away? I was that close to giving it away, but then a thought entered my mind. What if I resume playing it, and play some music to sick people at hospitals? I decided to keep the guitar, and to keep my folders with the chords. I have visited people at hospitals in the past few years, and I was hoping to find some regular volunteering at Hadassah of Mt. Scopus for a long time now, but the thought of playing music to them never entered my mind, until this move. So I moved, and the music came with me. I've been here for two weeks, forgot about that thought, and only thought about visiting the sick, without the music. Until today. I use a smartphone application called WhatsApp - everybody here uses it. It's for free calls and texting, and you can be a member of groups and send group-texts. So today, after work, I got this message in one of the WhatsApp groups I'm a member of. It's a general Jerusalem group, not specific to my new area. I've been a member of this group for a long time now. The text that was sent was an urgent request for people who are not far from the Mt. Scopus Hadassah hospital to go there with musical instruments, to the Hospice on the third floor, and to play some music to a young woman who is dying, and this could be her last hour of life. I didn't take my guitar, because I haven't played it in a long time and I need to relearn how to play it. I took my recorder and ran, literally, from my home to the hospital. I got there on time. There were a lot of family and friends around her, but no one with music. They saw me with the recorder, nodded and ushered me in. I played some calm, soothing pieces to her. She was unconscious. She lost consciousness earlier that morning, I was told. She looked weak and pale. When I played, she uttered some sounds that sounded like coughs, but they were not coughs. She somehow reacted to the music. When I stopped, the strange sounds stopped, and when I resumed playing, she resumed making those sounds. It was moving. I've visited sick people at hospitals before, even people who died later on, but this was the first time I stood next to the deathbed of someone. I've never seen anyone in the process of dying before. Efrat. That was her name. At a certain point, after playing a few song, I felt I should leave her alone with her family. I went to play in another room, since I was already there and I realized it was that easy - you go in, ask permission of the patient or their family, and play. Then, out of nowhere came this young lady with a flute and joined me. Then another young lady with a small drum, and then another young man with a guitar. We improvised some music together to different sick people at different rooms in the hospice. It turns out that they belong to a charity organization that does such things regularly - twice a month. Somehow today was one of those times. They took my number, and they will be in touch when they go there again to play.
I was starving when we were done, so I went down to buy something to eat. As I finished eating my toast and blessing over the food (Birkat HaMazon), I saw two older men go into the hospital, one with a guitar, and the other with a clarinet. I've visited this hospital before, but I've never seen people with instruments there before - how amazing it is that on that day that I responded the call to go and play, I saw people who go to play. I asked them if they go to the hospice, because I wanted to warn them that the family wants to be alone with the girl right now. They had no idea what I was talking about. They didn't come because of a WhatsApp message - it is something that they do every Wednesday anyway. I asked if they needed a third person with a recorder to join them - they said yes. We were slowly walking in a raw, one behind the other, and playing music as we were walking through the hospital. People were looking at us, nodding and smiling, some singing along. We got to one of the departments during dinner, and played there in a central area. Sick people and their family started pouring to the area from different rooms, smiling, thanking us, nodding to us, singing along, asking for specific songs. The man with the guitar (our 'leader') took out a tambourine and other percussion instruments and gave them to the sick people so that they can join and play with us. It was beautiful to see their smiles. It's amazing how complete strangers can play together without planning anything, in beautiful harmony. We played there for two whole hours. It was so nice. Then the 'leader' of our small group started walking out, we followed, playing music all along, and we found ourselves back at the entrance to the hospital. A man with retardation came and told us that we play so nicely and asked for specific religious songs. We played. He asked each of us for our names, and we said our names. This is the first introduction I had to them and they had to me by name. Quite amazing - after playing so nicely together for two whole hours. Then the 'leader' asked me if I needed a ride back home. I said I don't need one, but it can help. We left the hospital, walking slowly to the parking lot while playing music all along. They asked me again for my name and took my number - they want me to join them from now on. The person who played the clarinet gave me a lot of compliments on my recorder playing, which made me happy. I hope I can join them every week for this musical volunteering from now on.

And now I want to connect the dots - isn't it amazing? As I was preparing to move and started packing, I had this thought, this desire for the first time in my life to play music to sick people. Regardless, I've been wanting a regular volunteering opportunity at Haddassah of Mt. Scopus. And today, two weeks after I moved, the opportunity came knocking on my door. I wouldn't have known how to find it on my own. I wouldn't have gone alone and played music to people. If not for that WhatsApp message today - first of its kind in my life - it wouldn't have happened. And to think that it happened DAVKA on a Wednesday, when the two older men go there to play anyway, and DAVKA on one of the two times a month that the younger people go there to play - isn't it obvious that G-d is behind this? Quite amazing, and I am so thankful.

Sadly, I have to say that as we were walking in the corridors of the hospital, playing, one of the male nurses from the hospice saw me and recognized me. He asked us not to go to the Hospice, because the girl died, and many people are mourning and crying there. She died at such a young age - very very sad. But in her death, she gave a gift to me - and to sick people who can enjoy this music from now on.

G-d's plans are great and amazing. I'm also thinking - if I had been living in Rechavia, it would have taken me at least 45 minutes by public transportation to get to the hospital, and I wonder if I would have gone. I believe I would have anyway, even though they said she has only one hour to live. But living here made it much faster for me to go there, and then through being there I merited to meet those other musicians who go there routinely and regularly, and not because of any WhatsApp message. Great and wonder-filled are G-d's ways.

One more new thing in my life - I've been wanting to study computer programming for the past year or so, because I feel that I need to have this knowledge in my work. I'm working with programmers and it is very hard to do so without knowing anything about programming. I asked around about programming courses but they were all so expensive, so I gave up. But G-d has His ways of making wishes come true. In one of my visits to the Hebrew University, I saw a poster about a free programming course for women only. I applied. And then today I got a very happy email - I got accepted to the programming course for women, free of charge, in Jerusalem. The organization that holds these courses is called She Codes; and you can find it in other countries as well. I already gave up on my chances of being accepted - but today I got the message that they found a place for me and that I can start Feb. 3rd. Quite amazing - thank you, G-d!
Also, yesterday I started learning Python on my own through a link that one of my Hebrew students sent me - I didn't know that this student knew anything about programming, but he did, and he was another messenger of the Almighty to grant me my wish. He sent me this link: www.codecademy.com and I started learning. So far it is so easy, and I'm happy!

I feel so grateful, I feel that my moving here was important for HaShem, and slowly and gradually I am starting to discover why.

Thank You, thank You, thank You, G-d! I love You, HaShem!

Moved

I'm sitting now in the library, at the Hebrew University campus on Mt. Scopus, which is now a walking distance from where I live. I work from here - rather than working alone from home. 
I went to the gorgeous synagogue on campus today to pray the Mincha prayer. It is such a beautiful place, perhaps my favorite ever. I sat there alone for a moment, and then another woman came. When I looked at her a few minutes later, I saw that she was Asian, not sure if Chinese or Korean, but it was nice to see her sitting there, trying to connect to spirituality in my favorite place. Then, little by little, men came into the prayer hall and soon they started the service with the Ashrei prayer. How beautiful, I thought to myself - students, professors, cleaning workers - they all come in together for a short while to stand in front of G-d together, none of them is above the other, each of them is equal to each and every one of the others. Someone led the service. I don't know who he was, but he could have been a professor, or a cleaning worker, and it doesn't matter. In front of G-d there are no such statuses. Everyone is equal. To be able to say the Kaddish prayer or read from the Torah, Jews need a Minyan (a quorum of 10 men). Every men above 13 can complete a minyan, and it doesn't matter what his place is in the social hierarchy. Just a very human, innocent moment, a sweet moment that I thought I should record in writing here.

So I moved, finally. The neighborhood I live in is beautiful, and gladly, there are a lot of steps and stairs, and distances to walk (which I didn't have when I lived in Rechavia). I'm happy with it, because I need the chance to be physically active and I cherish it. I missed that in the old apartment and neighborhood.
My apartment is nice, but small, and not new, and I'm thinking that if (when) I move again, I wish myself to live in a newer place, one in which you don't easily see the signs of time and use by previous tenants. I already unpacked and organized almost everything. Little by little I'm getting rid of things that no longer serve me and that I haven't used in a long time. Today I brought to the university a few booklets that I no longer need, as well as some CDs, and I plan to keep on doing so.
I live in the top floor in a villa. My ceilings are sloped, and there are windows in them. It is great, because when I go to bed, or when I sit on my sofa to read or reflect, I look up and I see the moon, the stars, or a beautiful blue sky with white clouds floating by during day time. It hailed a few days ago, and snowed a bit, and it was great to see and hear it all happening through my windows, above my head.
I already visited a few synagogues in my neighborhood for Shabbat, and I found one that I really like. There are a few more that I want to visit, though, to see how I feel there. The neighborhood is a lot more religious than it used to be when I lived there. But secular people can also be spotted here and there.
Going to the same supermarket that used to be mine so many years ago. Except for the people, nothing changed. 

Look forward.

Very stressful two weeks are ending now. It was close to impossible. Packing my things, finishing a very important project at work - which hasn't really ended yet, having people come to see my old apartment - constant phone calls about the apartment from interested people, calls from the landlord, and what not. I hardly had time for myself. I was in a constant rush. I felt I just couldn't take it anymore - but throughout all of this, I didn't forget G-d. I didn't forget for a moment that it is all HIM who does this to me, who puts me on a test, to see how I cope and how I do not lose my temper or start being not-nice to others. I think that overall I passed the test with a good grade - I hope. And I also learned some very important lesson, one that HaShem was trying for a long time to teach me, and only now I realized that it was a lesson and that I should change something in my behavior. I realized what it was - it was something related to my boss at work. She told me that and I realized she was right. I took responsibility and took upon myself to be aware of this and not to repeat it.  It is not easy to find that you were wrong, but it is good to learn this and to change. I think I will be a better person from now on thanks to this lesson.

I'm moving Tuesday. A week later than I was supposed to. I'm already paying rent in the new place. But it is all worth it, since I got to see what I need to improve, and I took upon myself to improve it. All in all, it is not easy. I'm so in need of a home, of a true home, of warmth, of light, of happiness, of belongingness, of understanding. Home - the ingredient I'm missing most in my life. 

Change

Leaving the apartment I have been renting for the past 9 years, the neighborhood which has been almost like a home to me for so long. The landlord raised the rent considerably, and coupled with my own inner feeling of a few months ago that it is time to make a change, I've decided to answer the call and do what I feel G-d wants me to do - change and move on. It is so hard to live on rent, to not own an apartment of my own. But for someone like me it is practically impossible to buy an apartment - I need to have 30% of the apartment total cost before I can take mortgage and I'm not even remotely close to this. I teach private lessons in Hebrew to supplement my salary, to be able to save as much as I can, but it would never be enough to save that initial sum. Anyway, I'm greatly thankful for what I have - for my health, for my work, for the classes I teach as well, for the food I eat, for my friends and acquaintances, for meriting to live in Jerusalem, even if alone, for meriting to witness the Redemption of Israel, and for everything I have within my mind and in my life, which is a lot.

I have so many mixed feelings - expectations for the future together with fears of loneliness in a different neighborhood, far away from my own. In a way, it's like going back home, because I'm moving to a neighborhood in which I used to live when I was a university student. But I hardly know anyone there, and I so need a home, not just a house or an apartment...

But what makes me feel good about this move is that I feel like HaShem is trying to "tell" me in every possible way that I should move, now, and to that specific area. Not sure why, but I trust Him. I also merited to do an act of kindness by deciding on this move - the previous tenant left it after four and a half years in the middle of his yearly contract, and couldn't find anyone to replace him. He was paying without living there. The fact that I go in to live there is a big help for him. Amazingly, it was the first apartment I looked at and liked it, and even when I looked at other apartments later for comparison, I couldn't find anything else at all. So despite the natural fears and mixed feeling, I place my trust in G-d and let Him lead me. We'll see what He plans. A friend of mine told me that He sends me there for a mission, and that I'll find out what that mission is when I'm there. I liked it. I definitely feel that my life here in Rechavia was like this - many, many good things started and came into the world thanks to me being here and meeting the beautiful people that I got to meet. I believe that if HaShem sends me to Giv'at HaMivtar/Ramat Eshkol, then He probably has a plan for me there. We'll see. I allow myself to cry to release some tension. The packing is emotionally taxing - coming in touch with all those memories, getting rid of things that were mine for years, deciding what to give away and what to leave for myself, etc. I wish I could travel light - just my clothes and some books, but there are other things that I cannot throw away. I've learned that the method of buying books no longer serves me. I have so many, and without a permanent apartment of my own, it's just not fun to have so many. I went back recently to borrowing books in a library. 

I miss home.

Hanukkah

I'm just back from a beautiful Hanukkah tour in Jerusalem, in the streets of the exquisite neighborhood of Nahla'ot. When Shabbat was over tonight, I made Havdalah (a ceremony over wine, fire and fragrant spices which we do to separate the holy Shabbat from the regular week days). I then lit my Hanukkiyah (Hanukkah menorah) at my window, lighting 7 candles plus one (the extra one is called Shamash - helper candle - and it can be used to light the other candles). I said the blessings and after enjoying the light of my menorah for a while, I left in the pouring rain to meet with the group near Nahla'ot. It was raining so hard, and I kept thanking G-d in my heart and thinking 'what a blessing!'. We need every drop of this rain, and if it means that I need to walk around and get wet all over, then so be it! The Mishnah (Torah commentary, the Oral Torah) says that HaShem does not listen to the prayers of people who walk on the streets when they ask that it shouldn't be raining, because everyone walks out from time to time, and if He listened to all of them, it would never rain. I kind of prayed that it would keep raining down on me, feeling that every drop of rain showers me with blessings.
Very few people were on the streets except for us, a group of about 30 people. We had a wonderful tour guide, someone from Sepharadi descent (she said she is a descendant of the Babylonian Jews). She spoke so eloquently, and I enjoyed hearing the gutteral sounds coming out of her throat (the ח and ע were softly, beautifully pronounced by her, and it made listening to her a delight for all of us). She knew so much - history, traditions, customs, places, people. It was wonderful to listen to her.
We saw many Hanukkiyah's with 7+1 candles. Most candles were actually glass cups filled with olive oil, and encased in a small glass case to shield them from the wind and rain. And as we were satiating our eyes with this heart-warming sight, we listened to her fascinated as she was telling us stories about the neighborhood and its people.
It so happened that just as we walked through R' Aryeh Levin Street (Aryeh Levin was a very pious, righteous Rabbi, who made a huge difference in so many people's lives. He passed away many years ago) - just as we were walking past the door of his house, a young family came out of the house and prepared to light their Hanukkiyah. Our guide asked for permission for us to watch as they did, and they agreed with a wide smile. It turns out that they are Rabbi Levin's family - his great-grandchildren. What an honor! The husband recited the blessings, and all of us, a big crowd, answered a resounding Amen to each of them. Then we sang in a group some beautiful Hanukkah songs that we all learned in kindergarten.
We continued walking, and as the rain started to pour down too strongly, our tour guide suggested that we'll find shelter at a nearby Japanese culture center. I've never known about this place. I was surprised to hear there was even one. We followed her into a high-ceiling stone house, and a young lady welcomed us in. It had nothing to do with Hanukkah, but it was beautiful to hear her speak about the miracles that G-d does for her in her life, and how He directed her/helped her find her way to Jerusalem. She said she started out in the south somewhere, and when it was time for her to go back to Japan, she realized that without living in Jerusalem, she wouldn't be able to tell people back home about Israel at all. So she found this place (this place found her, as she puts it), and decided to invest all the money she made the previous year in the south renting this place. She made for herself there a nice coffee-shop, and she runs different workshops, etc. I didn't introduce myself or anything. I don't think I'll frequent the place, but it was a nice break from the tour, and a nice surprise.
Then we went to the local culture center to listen to a most fascinating lecture by a young Israeli lady about the Hasmonean Dynasty. She told us things from the Talmud and the historian Yosephus Flavius that I've never heard before. She kept referring to what we were told about Hanukkah as children in kindergarten, and how much more complex reality was. I admit that my Hanukkah education was just a bit more than what my kindergarten teacher told me when I was 5. I did read and I did learn some more history independently, but not at such depth. All in all, despite the rain, it was a welcome break from the normal routine - I enjoyed every moment of this educational tour. I hope to be able to tour Nahla'ot even more from now on.
As I was going there and back, I did what I often do - I have this habit of trying to make the most of every moment, even when I walk. So I use my phone to listen to lectures, Torah classes, etc. I listened to some lectures (yes, in the pouring rain, hiding the phone in my coat's sleeve and bringing the sleeve close to my ear). It was another Hanukkah miracle that even though the phone got wet, nothing happened to it, and I got to enjoy Torah learning on the way there and back.
And one last thing, some funny thought I heard from someone about smartphones and Hanukkah: the Hanukkah miracle we celebrate mostly is the fact that one little jar of pure olive oil that was found in the defiled Temple, a jar that was supposed to last for one day (which is not enough because they needed at least 8 days to purify the Temple, if I remember correctly what my kindergarten teacher taught me...) - that little jar lasted for 8 whole days, enough time to purify the Temple and rededicate it. This is why we celebrate Hanukkah for 8 days, and in the 8th day we light 8 candles. Someone said, to help us realize the greatness of this miracle - 'just imagine that your smartphone battery is so low that it has only one bar, but your phone lasts with this battery for full 8 days...'. Nothing like modern day technological concepts to bring the message home :-)

Anyway, Hanukkah Sameach to whoever reads this - tomorrow is the last day...

Shavua tov and Chodesh tov!
R.

snippets

I know I probably should be writing, there is so much to say about the Genesis portions, but something holds me back. Not sure what.

Instead of writing long essays, I think I'll write from time to time short insights and experiences. 

I'll start with a dream I had last night. I was in the stomach of a huge, huge whale - very very long beast, black with white stripes. I don't know how I survived there, but it then just let me go. I don't remember the feeling of being inside of it, I just remember the feeling of being released from it. I found myself at the bottom of the ocean, looking up, seeing that huge-huge beast floating on, from left to right, and leaving the scene, endless blue water above my head. I was about 50 or 100 meters deep into the ocean, and I was breathing peacefully, freely, wondering what had happened, and why. When I woke up and realized it was a dream, I tried to think of its meaning. Not sure yet what it is. Of course, you would think about the prophet Jonah and a similar thing that happened to him. Interestingly enough, my surname is identical to the prophet's first name. But I'm not sure this is the connection. The dream is still with me. I felt fear, and relief, and then astonishment (in the dream) that I can be so deep in the bottom of the ocean yet breathe freely (not the first time I dream about breathing freely and serenely in the ocean). 

Water has many associations: emotions, feelings, Torah and spirituality. Deep water - maybe deep insights? Maybe I'm supposed to share my insights with the world and I'm not doing it, like Jonah? 

Not sure. 

I'm grateful for being able to dream. I'm grateful for being able to sleep well every night. I'm grateful for having the basic physical needs in life - an apartment I can rent, a bed, some bed sheets and covers, all the utilities at home like electricity, running water, food and a place to eat my food, etc. I saw the other day a woman sitting at night on a bench in my neighborhood. She seemed intelligent and 'normal'. All of her belongings were around her. I tried to approach her, to see if I could help in any way, but she just said "BYE!". I left her alone, knowing that had I been in her place, I would have probably done the same, not allowing anyone near me. But she didn't leave me - she didn't leave my thoughts. How easily it could have been me sitting there, G-d forbid. Longing for home, not having one. Truthfully, it could have been any person in the world, there are no guarantees. So grateful to have walls and ceilings around me, to give me shelter from the cold, from people's eyes, to give me the privacy I need to just be, to work, to 'meet' G-d, to talk to Him, to confess my heart's contents to Him, to tell Him how much I love Him. He is the only true friend a person could ever have. 

Yom Kippur, Rosh HaShana, and more... 2018

I haven't written in almost a month. Sorry about that. Yom kippur is just over - ended a few hours ago, so the fast is behind me now. I ate, and drank, and feel cleansed - I feel like it's a clean new slate that is given to me, and I can use my power of choice in order to direct myself to a much better year. I hope this refreshed feeling will stay with me throughout the year - the ability to believe in new beginnings, in a better future.

This year my neighbor in the neighborhood of Rechavia, PM Netanyahu, prayed in the synagogue where I used to pray until recently. I wasn't there because I no longer pray there and especially on Yom Kippur I like to go to other places. But on my way back and on his way back, I saw him walking on my street, next to my building, with his wife and two sons, and a big entourage of security men in the front, in the back and on the sides. It's the first time I see him in real life. He is a bit shorter than I thought, and his wife is really petite. As they were walking, passers-by smiled when they realized they were seeing the PM walking near by, and some of them wished him "Shana Tova, Bibi!" It was funny. I didn't say anything, of course. I think that overall he is doing a good job, but I'm not a big fan of him, anyway.
It was nice - there is even a blessing in Judaism that is supposed to be recited when we see kings and heads of states, but since I wasn't prepared that I was going to see him, it completely slipped my mind. Only later I recalled. But anyway, it didn't move me much. He is just a human being. I feel like he is chosen by G-d to lead us in this crucial period of time, I'm not sure why, and because he has been in power for such a long time now, it feels almost as if he is a king, but he is not the Messiah that every one is waiting for. The Lubavitcher Rebbe once said to him, about 20 years ago, when he was a foreign minister or something like this, that one day he will be a prime minister for many years, and then he will hand out the keys to the Messiah. Funny. It might be so, who knows.
Here is a link to a funny Rosh Hashana video that Bibi released, in Hebrew - if it interests you enough to know what's being said, write to me and I'll tell you:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-9v5fgdx9mY

And just by the way - Messiah for us Jews is another Moshe, another David - not a "god"; He is someone who is from the seed of David.
But even when this spiritual leader is not yet in power, our redemption takes place just the same. Look at what is happening in Israel - the Jewish people has never been in a better situation. Jerusalem has never been so big. When I walk in the streets of my neighborhood, I feel that I'm so privileged to do that, because Jerusalem, even in King David's times and even in King Solomon's times, was tiny. Nothing so big. I don't think that there were any houses in my area back then. Jerusalem is huge now, and when you walk the streets you hear Italian, English, French, Yiddish - all the languages of the diaspora, as Jews return to their ancient home land, and then most of them learn to speak Hebrew. This is such a magical phenomenon, and there hasn't been in the history of the world anything like this. There could never be, because this is completely super-natural, completely divine. And it all is in line with the promises that G-d promised to us in the Bible. And this is the reason why, when I was in Norway, I told my friends there that I don't like the term "Old" Testament. There is nothing old about it - it is eternal, and the fulfillment of the prophecies is a proof to that. All the miracles that happen to us happen to a nation that hasn't embraced any other religion and stayed lovingly faithful to G-d, the one and only G-d, and to His Torah. We live a Torah way of life - we observe Shabbat, we keep Kosher, we keep our biblical holidays - we keep our part in the covenant, and in return, G-d keeps His part of the covenant. Things are not yet perfect, but are getting there in dazzling speed. The glorious State of Israel has been in the world for only 70 years now, and look at its success: in medicine, in technology, in agriculture, in science, there are numerous Yeshivahs (religious institutions in which men just sit and learn Torah) - this is not thanks to the efforts of the Jewish people. It can't be anything that humans can do. There is something divine in all of this. Our success is not thanks to our physical efforts, but thanks to the fact that we adhere to G-d's covenant (many of us, though not everyone), and He in return adheres to us. It's amazing to see all the non-Jewish tourists who come here from every corner of the world, and admire what they see. They come here to learn about the secret of our success, but the secret is simple - G-d, and only Him.

The miracles that are happening with Israel now are the biggest ones the world has ever known - bigger even than our Exodus from Egypt! The Exodus was huge, really, but what is happening now is so much bigger, so much more complex, so much more impressive - thank G-d!!

The Israeli Bureau of Statistics published some amazing numbers about the year that passed: 89% of the citizens of Israel say they are happy - they are happy with the place they live, happy with their job, happy with their country. Tourism is flourishing -  3.9 tourists came to Israel last year and left here around 21 billion shekels. Israel's economy is doing great at a time that many places in the world experience economical crisis: there have been around 7 million flights this year of Israelis flying abroad (some people flew more than once, so the total number of their flights are counted). 7,460 Hebrew books were published here this year. It's about 20 new books per DAY, for such a small country... It makes one think about our name among the nations: The People of the Book... Again, it is nothing we can take credit for - this is G-d's doing, and we are the recipients. After almost 2000 years of bitter exile, of persecutions, of humiliation - the Jewish nation is finally back home and experiences an amazing blessing. We do not only survive here, in the midst of millions of hostile Arabs all around us, many of whom vow to annihilate us - we actually thrive, prosper and flourish here in a way that is not humanly possible. It's all G-d's doing, and we are the recipients, because we keep His Torah, and because He wants to show the world that His words are true, that His promises and prophecies are true, that His covenant with us is not "old". Everyone who comes here is shocked to see how beautiful and advanced this country is, and everyone wants to stay here, even those who can't, because there is something special here that is hard to define, but people feel it - it's the presence of G-d. And it is a proof that G-d exists, because this land has been in such a desolation for almost 2000 years, and now it is blossoming beyond imagination.

The Biblical prophecies are coming true, and it causes people who grew up like me in the secular education system to open their eyes and realize that we are part of something HUGE! We are part of the most exciting story of human history. It causes this feeling not just to us, secular Jews, but also to many people from almost every nation of the world, who find out that something really BIG is happening.

I got a text message a few days ago from a non-Jewish friend of mine who lives abroad. She always had an interest in Judaism, a big love for Israel and a strong connection to G-d. She told me that her country is going through some difficult times, and that it makes her think. She wonders, is G-d trying to tell her people something? Do they have to repent? I'm thinking of all the countries in the world that go through troubles - the USA and Japan with crazy, dangerous weather, Venezuela with poverty and so many people running away from the country, Syria with that endless war, Yemen with that endless war, etc. 

I told her that the way I see it, this is perhaps G-d’s way of calling out to her nation – to the nation as a whole and to every individual in it - to return to Him, to do Teshuvah (repentance), to believe in G-d and to develop a personal relationship with Him. To think about the meaning of life. Why are we here in this world? Why are we here for such a short time? Why is there so much suffering? What is my role and mission in this world?

Each person was sent here, to this world, with their own unique role and mission, with their own set of unique talents and capabilities with which they can benefit the world. Man’s purpose is not to just make more money and then spend it ‘having fun’: traveling, shopping, going to the most luxurious hotels, buying the most expensive cars, etc. Such material life is tantamount to death. People who live this way feel dead inside, completely disconnected from their inner, spiritual core, from their soul. Man’s role in life is to know G-d in every thing that he does and to benefit people around him to the best of his abilities. The secret formula to happiness is not just more ‘fun’, it’s more giving, being more useful to others, being kinder to people, doing more good in this world and making this world a better place, with everything that we have – with our hearts, with our hands, with our money, with our talents, with our words. 

Each of us in this world, no matter from which culture, has a pure, spiritual soul that is dressed in a physical body. Through our soul, we can connect to G-d, and when we do not connect to G-d, we feel this dark emptiness inside, we feel hunger and thirst for something that we do not know. And it leads many of us to try to seek fulfillment in drinking, eating, abusing other people in different ways, shopping, making more and more money and not sharing any of it with anyone outside the immediate family. The harder we try to fill ourselves with these external things, the more famished our souls becomes.

No one is here in this world by mistake. We are all here to fulfill a mission, a mission that G-d endowed us with, and for which He gave us our own unique set of strengths and personality traits. A person who ignores this truth doesn’t really live their life. We all have an inner voice inside us, that guides us in every decision in life, in every junction in life. We are not always tuned to it, we do not always trust it or rely on it, and sometimes we distort it with our own fears and misconceptions. But we are all surrounded by G-d’s love, and He is guiding us - no matter from which country or nation we are. A material culture in which inner spirit has no value or meaning makes its members depressed and full of despair. No wonder that then suicide rates soar high. Human beings need G-d.

This friend also asked me if I, as a Jew, can pray for her country, if I can pray for people who are not Jewish. I answered that one of our roles as Jews is to pray for the whole world. During the holiday of Rosh HaShana our tradition holds that not only us, but the entire world, are judged by G-d, to see whether we lived up to our potential as human beings, as spiritual beings who have free choice. Of course I pray, I must pray, and I often do, for the whole world – for all the nations to discard their idols, their false gods, and to return to the ONE G-d, the G-d whose miracles in Israel are so obvious to everyone in the world. I pray for the all the peoples of the world that they would return to G-d and see His big miracles in their lives. 

The next question she asked me was how should she, as a non-Jew, pray to G-d. Does she have to convert to Judaism or can she worship Him through any religion? She had some experience with another religion, but didn’t feel it was the truth. I told her that of course she can convert to Judaism, if she wants, but she doesn’t have to. She just has to pray to G-d as the ONE G-d, and to fulfill the Seven Noahide Laws (7 commandments, that are really more than just seven, that non-Jews should observe to do their part in the scheme of redemption). I sent her this link, with a prayer book compiled by an orthodox Jewish Rabbi especially for Noahides, non-Jews who want to follow the G-d of Israel and observe 7 of His commandments without becoming Jews. Here is the prayer book for non-Jews, for those of you who are interested, it's very close to the Jewish Siddur, and it follows the holidays, and all the other interesting things – you can print it and pray from it whenever you want:

http://noahideworldcenter.org/wp_en/brit-olam-prayer-book-for-noahides/

Thank you and Shana Tova!

R.