Seventh Day of Passover

Tonight we celebrate the Seventh Day of Passover, which is a holiday in its own right - the ending day of the holiday of Passover. I don't have much time to write now, so just a few short words about the whole holiday of Passover.

1. A true story: There is a big, successful, famous bakery in Israel, in the city of Jaffa near Tel Aviv, owned and managed by an Arab owner, Said Abulafia. Every year, they kept the bakery open during the seven days of the holiday of Passover, and sold Chametz (unleavened bread) to non-observant Jews. Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Stauber, who saw this, felt a lot of pain. He turned to the owner and told him that he will pay him the entire sum of money that the bakery makes during that week, if the owner promises to close the bakery during the whole week of Passover. The owner had nothing to lose from this deal, so he agreed. He closed the bakery for the whole week of Passover, and enjoyed some free time to do his own things and to do some renovations in the bakery. The same story repeated itself the following year. Rabbi Stauber paid for a whole week of revenues, and the bakery was closed during Passover. After a few years of doing this, Mr. Abulafia turned down the rabbi's offer. He said: "I do not need to take money away from you". "Why?", asked Rabbi Stauber, sure that the owner of the bakery wants to open it on Passover. But the answer shocked him - Mr. Abulafia told him that since they started with this deal, the revenues of the bakery throughout the year became so great, he felt the blessing of G-d, and he didn't need the money incentive from the Rabbi to close the bakery on Passover. It's wonderful. I checked it with them before posting it here, just to be sure I'm giving the correct information. And the pictures speak for themselves (see below). This is how peace will come to the world. On the outside of their bakery, during the week of Passover, there is the a sign (you can see in the picture), which tells the whole story and is written by the bakery owner. The message of this is: If you help the Jews fulfill their mission in the world - help them observe their G-d given commandments, G-d will bless you.

Rabbi Stauber with Mr. Abulafia

2. I was impressed to see that at the entrance to the Hadassah Hospital, the guard doesn't look only for weapons, but also for Chametz. All chametz products that he finds are kept outside of the hospital gates.

3. I visited an older lady who had a stroke. Because of her situation, she had to do the Seder night of Passover at the hospital. She said that religious volunteers came to the hospital, set the tables with white table clothes, brought Kosher food and led the Seder in such an impressive, festive way. I am so impressed. There are good things done in this country. 

Shabbat shalom, and Chag Sameach!

R.

Passover 5779

I finished reading the traumatic book, "PuppenHouse" ("House of Dolls") by Ka-Tzetnick 135633 (AKA. K. Tzetnick), a strange name for an author. This name actually means "A prisoner in concentration camp" (short for Konzentrationslager). He was a holocaust survivor, and survived the worst. His book describes some of the horrors he and others have been through. I'm still shaking and feeling a deep sense of revulsion, as if my body wishes to purge itself of all that I had read. It is a harsh reminder to the evil that still exists in the world, to the fact that cultured people, who have free choice, can choose to use all their high intelligence, all their creativity and sophistication, to inflict the worst kinds of suffering and humiliation upon other human beings like themselves. It is something that is hard to grasp, the heart refuses to believe it can be. Yet, we know it can be, unfortunately. People, who have been endowed with so many gifts - instead of using these gifts to make this world a better place for themselves and for others, use their gifts to degrade themselves by degrading others. It is unfathomable, but this book is a reminder that this kind of reality exists. The Germans, who are considered to be of the highest culture in terms of music, literature, art, made themselves into the worst satanic beasts the world has ever known, using all their talents to ruin the world and endless numbers of lives in it. I just can't understand it.
Yet, the wheels of justice keep rolling, and even if it sometimes takes time, justice is being done. It is no coincidence that recent historic events made it so that all the Muslim refugees flood into Europe. And - mostly to Germany. The beginning of the end has started for Europe, and for Germany most of all. Sad, but true.
Similarly, the Notre-Dam in Paris was the place in which some 700 years ago they burned all copies of the Talmud they could put their hands on. And now, 700 years later, the same thing happened to the structure itself. Sad, but true. G-d is a G-d of justice and His hand in History shows this. At least the Germans recognize their responsibility and guilt and some of them try to make it better by volunteering in hospitals here, etc.. It's one thing I give them. One other thing that I give them is a neighbor of mine - she is a tall, beautiful ultra-orthodox woman, a doctor. She was born to a non-Jewish German family. She met a secular Israeli man in Berlin, they fell in love and moved in together. One day, she asked him to take her to a synagogue, to see what it was like. He wasn't enthusiastic about it, but they went anyway. And from there started her love story with Judaism. She converted orthodox conversion, and her secular boyfriend became very religious following this, and now they are ultra-orthodox, living in a huge, beautiful villa down my new street, raising 6 beautiful religious children who are bilingual, and doing a lot of Kiddush HaShem (sanctifying G-d's name by their way of living). Their home is always open for guests, and they are just beautiful. If Germany can produce people like her, then maybe Germany has hope after all.
So I went to the library to return this book today, and took three other books. One of them is about a topic that I wanted to read about long ago - the Eichmann trial. I didn't plan to look for the book this time, but the book just found me. My eyes fell on it, "accidentally", and I took it. It's a book by Haim Guri, a famous Israeli poet who was a reporter in the trial back then. I had a few minutes before my class, so I sat there at the Bet HaAm library and started reading. First of all, my eyes fell on this sentence by Guri: "I know now that I will remember this day all the days of my life. I'm writing it in my notebook: April 17th, 1961". I shuddered. April 17th. It's today. What are the odds... And then I keep reading, and it says that the trial took place in Jerusalem at... not other than BET HAAM! Where I was just sitting and reading the book... What are the odds? Same place, same time, just 58 years later... I've been to Bet HaAm many times before. I've never known that the trial took place there! What are the odds of finding it out this way, as I was accidentally sitting and reading the book there, at this time, at this place? I feel it is meaningful and that I should really read the book. Don't know why, but perhaps I'll know when I finish it. One thing that struck me there was that Eichmann kept saying he was not guilty. He didn't deny what he did, he just attributed the guilt to his commanders. He was just an obedient clerk, he said. Since he was a child he was trained for obedience, and even if they had ordered him to shoot his own father to death, he would have done so. What a horrible thing for a human being to say! As if he has no free choice, no moral reasoning that can help him choose when to obey and when to disobey. As if obedience for the devil is as praiseworthy as obedience to G-d. Horrible. I thought to myself that perhaps it is good that the Torah was not given to the Germans, because they would have fulfilled it with obedience to the letter - but not for the right reasons, just for the sake of blind obedience. The Torah, instead, was given to a stiff-necked people - a nation that chooses to choose, that chooses to exercise its own free will, and when such a nation observes G-d's commandments, it's not out of blind obedience to whomever. It's because they want to obey G-d. I must admit that I have the deepest respect for those of the Germans who were righteous and did exercise their right to choose, and chose right by saving innocent lives, often at the risk of their own lives and that of their families. I admire them because I know it is probably harder for them to overcome their childhood indoctrination to blindly obey authority and power. And there were many like them. Yes, perhaps Germany does have hope, after all. Still, when I tried to learn their language after my military service, I stopped short. I couldn't stand hearing those sounds coming out of my own mouth. It was too chilling for me to bear. My neighbors next door are ultra-orthodox - they and their children speak Yiddish. It's a much softer version of German, and it doesn't make me feel bad at all. To the contrary.

Yesterday, after a whole day of working and studying, I went to the Hadassah hospital to visit Esther, the woman I wrote about at an earlier post, from the hospice. I didn't plan to go, but something inside me urged me to. When I got to her room, I saw that it was empty. I rushed up to ask the nurse to which room they moved her. The nurse asked me what I was for her. I told her that I was just an acquaintance. She asked me to sit and brought me a cup of water. She said she was sorry. I was so shocked to hear it. I wasn't prepared at all. I thought she had at least a few good months to live. I felt so bad, and sorry. Yes, I feel relief for her. She was under a lot of suffering. I wanted to tell her that there will be a Seder at the hospital, and that she could join it, but this year she will look at us from above and see the Seder from there, without doing it herself. I'm sad for her family. But I think she must feel relief. She is an example of someone who observed the Torah to the last moment, even under very strong pain, exercising her right to choose by choosing the right way.

Passover is just around the corner, and in it we will tell the story of another holocaust we had, the Egyptian one, in which all the baby boys were killed and our fathers were enslaved in Egyptian arbeitslager, work camps. How sweet it is to lift my eyes from the horrible holocaust stories, look around me and see Jerusalem all around me... to realize we are a free nation in Zion, in the Promised Land, in the Land of Israel. What a gift, what a blessing. Even though our troubles haven't ended yet, our situation now is better than any we have ever had as a nation - even better than in King David's and King Solomon's time, and I'm thankful to have been born at such a time in history, when all the promises of G-d are being fulfilled - on me, and on all my neighbors, colleagues, friends, family.

There are so many places I wanted to be this coming Passover, and so many things I wanted to do, but I promised my mother that I will go there and be with the family this year, and I cannot let her down. She is working hard to make the house glatt-Kosher for Passover, for me, as she says. All the guests will be instructed not to turn on the TV, not to talk on the phone, not to discuss politics, etc., just to give me the right holiday spirit. And still, I'm apprehensive, as I'm going to be the only religious person there. All the others, while they believe in G-d, are not very observant, and I'm afraid it would ruin the holiday atmosphere for me. But I feel it's important for me to be there - to give the next generation a proper holiday experience in the hope that it would inspire them when they grow up to live a more observant life. Amen. Last Shabbat was Shabbat HaGadol, the birthday of my father of blessed memory. I hope it would make him happy, wherever he is in heaven, that the whole family will do the Seder together this year.

Anyway, for those of you who celebrate a real Seder or a model seder of some sort - have a good Pesach and keep writing to me! Your emails keep this blog going!

R.

Weekly Torah Portion: Metzora

What a blessed day for the people of Israel. To wake up to such good news - the leadership of our country is given to parties that will not give away our sacred land to other nations, parties that will preserve the integrity of the land of Israel, parties that are for the People of Israel, the Torah of Israel and the Land of Israel. With all my sympathy and appreciation to Benny Gantz and his fellows on the political left (and I do have a lot of respect for them, personally) - I am so happy that it is not them who are going to be sitting in the coalition and leading us towards another Oslo disaster. Our prayers were answered, and a coalition made of parties who love the land and the people will be ruling once again. Hallelujah!
I must admit - I did not vote for Netanyahu, because he is not fully observant (an acquaintance of mine is a close friend of his wife, and she told me that he does try to observe Shabbat, but he is not yet really observant, and I do not want to vote for a non-observant person). However, I think that overall he is a good Prime Minister, he knows the job and he's doing a good job under the given circumstances, and it seems like G-d is behind him as well, for whatever reason. And as to all the claims against him by the left and the super-leftist media - I won't have an opinion, until things are clarified in court. The media gives him an unfair field-trial - when we do not know all the facts. I'm not suggesting he is righteous, but I'm not sure he is so corrupt as they try to make of him. Time will tell and we will all be wiser then.
Yesterday was a wonderful day, with great beautiful spring weather, and a festive atmosphere all around. I voted for the first time in my new neighborhood. Voting in Israel takes place mostly in schools, and I was impressed by the schools I saw in this neighborhood (I saw two of them, because I wasn't sure in which one I'm supposed to vote). A lot of light, colors, motivational messages on the walls, works of art by the students. So different than the urban school I went to for the second half of my school years (the first half was gorgeous, but it wasn't in a city).
After voting, I took a walk in Nahal Tzofim (The Tzofim Wadi) below the neighborhood of Ramat Eshkol. They made it into a park now, with a bicycle trail. There were not that many people there. The few whom I did see were all ultra-orthodox, Hassidish man, each on his own, each walking around alone in a different part of the park, between the trees, talking to G-d. In Hasidism it is called "Hitbodedut" - talking to G-d alone, in your own language, in your own words, usually in nature. From time to time you could hear a cry "Oy, Tate!" (Oh, Daddy!), when they call G-d and turn to Him as a father. I wish I had the courage to do that, but I do my own Hitbodedut at home, silently, spontaneously, every day. Thankfully, thanks to my ceiling window, I can also look to the skies while doing so. I spill my heart to Him, talk to Him like the best, most loyal, most faithful friend. He is a person's best friend - the only fully trusted friend from whom we do not have to hide anything.
When I saw those Hassidish guys, it reminded me of a popular TV drama in Israel (I do not have TV at home, but I watched it online for work - long story...): Shtisel. This TV series is about a Haredi family in Jerusalem. To watch it, I need subtitles, because half of it is not even in Hebrew, it's in Yiddish! The actors are completely secular, but with some of them, it is hard to believe that they are not Haredi-born. To train themselves for the job, they had to live for a few good weeks in the ultra-orthodox neighborhoods of Jerusalem, to learn how to behave, how to say the blessings, how to talk, how to walk, how to speak Yiddish with the proper pronunciation, etc. The father in the show, Shulem Shtisel (Dova'le Glickman), used to be a very popular comedian when I was a little girl, so it's quite astonishing to see him playing a serious Haredi man. And he does such a good job at it!! And to think that in real life he is a super secular. Unbelievable. In short, yesterday I felt I was witnessing a scene from Shtisel, and it was very nice! You can see a trailer for the show here: https://vimeo.com/105325576

This coming Shabbat in synagogues, after reading the weekly Torah Portion, we will read a part from the Prophets. Because this is the Shabbat just before Passover, a Shabbat we call Shabbat HaGadol ("The Great Shabbat"), there is a special part of the Prophets: Malachi 3: 4-24. One of my favorite verses in the whole Bible is there. It is a verse that ten years ago, when I was living in Tel Aviv but yearning to move to Jerusalem - when I was traveling in the morning to Jerusalem a few times - I saw this verse sprayed on one of the closed doors of one of the shops on King George street: "שובו אליי ואשובה אליכם" - return to Me, and I will return to you, says the Lord of hosts. Wow, what a powerful sentence. Back then, this verse gave me power to keep praying to move to Jerusalem - to find work and a place to live here, and I did manage to do that. I remember the hope and inspiration that I got from these words, and the motivation it gave me to keep praying.
Another favorite verse is there as well - when G-d tells us that we can test Him with only one thing: if we give tithes, He will open the treasures of heaven for us. "Bring the whole tithe into the store-house, that there may be food in My house, and try Me now with this, says the Lord of hosts, if I will not open for you the windows of heaven, and pour unto you a blessing with no ending". I love this, and I found it is true on my own flesh, in my own life! When I moved to Jerusalem, I didn't have a regular job, and my income was very very small, sometimes less than my rent. But I started giving tithes to the poor - trusting G-d to take care of me - and slowly, gradually, my situation got better - I found a stable job, with a salary that is enough to pay the rent and more, and to do other things that I want. Baruch HaShem! It is so good to be Jewish!
I love hearing stories of faith, and I love to tell of my own stories of faith. Such stories give us so much strength, hope and inspiration. They show us the way. In our lives we all face times of hunger, different kinds of hunger, different things we're missing - and faith is the only remedy, the only solution. I'm trying to post messages of hope and inspiration in my Facebook page, "Jewish Inspiration". Make sure you give it a Like and follow us daily: https://www.facebook.com/JewishInspiration5773/

12.4.19:
I wasn't near a big screen when the first Israeli spaceship, Bereshit ("In the beginning" or "Genesis"), made history and landed on the moon  (landed, just not in one piece 😅) . I was walking the long walk home from the city center to my new neighborhood, but I was listening to the live news from the event on my smartphone as I was walking home. I was so impressed with the vision of the young people who decided to start this project, and even more impressed with everyone's reactions to the 'failure': instead of lamenting and crying and feeling sad or disappointed, or worst - trying to find people to blame, everyone took it with a positive spirit and decided to emphasize the achievement part of it and to look for the future, saying: 'if we failed now, we will succeed next time'. The big donor for the project was present and already promised to undertake the next project of an Israeli spaceship. Such a positive spirit, of vision, of looking forward, of daring, of getting up after falling. Such a healthy, dynamic spirit!
The last time we had a connection with the spaceship was when it was 150 meters above the surface of the moon. Shortly before crashing, the spaceship managed to take two 'selfie' pictures of itself approaching the moon. On the spaceship there was a tiny sign in Hebrew: "עם ישראל חי" (The Nation of Israel is Alive), together with an English scripture: "Small Country, Big Dreams". So moving!
As I was walking and listening to the broadcast, I looked up to the sky, trying to find the shattered pieces of the spaceship Bereshit 😅   I didn't see them, but the moon was so beautiful!

One spiritual message we can learn from the spaceship Bereshit (except for the fact that it is OK to fail as long as you know to get up and try again) is the following: Each of us have a moon in our lives to which we are striving - a big, distant goal we want to reach. In order to do that, we have to keep our eyes on the goal, and keep moving, mentally and otherwise, in its direction. The spaceship Bereshit didn't go to the moon in one direct line. Rather, it had to get closer and closer, in orbits that were closer and closer to the moon, until eventually it crossed a critical point and was pulled by the moon's energy to its inner orbit. Similarly, if we invest spiritual effort (prayer, yearning, etc.) in trying to achieve our goals, in many cases we will reach a critical point in which reality will pull us in the desired direction. Not always - after all, G-d doesn't work for us and He is not obliged to give us all we want (some of the things we want are not even good for us) - but in many cases it would help take us in the desired direction. The important thing is to keep pushing forward, to do our own spiritual effort, let go of the past so that it won't pull us in the wrong direction, and hopefully we will be attracted by the inner orbit of our own personal moon. Letting go of the past can be very hard to do. It's like trying to disconnect from planet Earth, with its huge gravitational field, and breaking free from it. It's hard, but it's possible... It must be possible! Keep our eyes on our moon.



Thank you, and Shabbat Shalom!
R.

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.