Thursday, October 18, 2007
I Feel Like I've Been Waiting For It My Entire Life...
...the first Jerusalem rain of the season. I was working at Crossroads (more on that later) all evening, and at around 7pm I started hearing loud thunder and seeing bright flashes of lightening. And then the rains came. I was so incredibly excited that I bounded down 2 flights of stairs and went outside and just stood in the rain. I called Rachel who was with some classmates having coffee and she too was ecstatic. On day 70 of being in Jerusalem I posted a blog about how sick I was of the bright, sunny and blue skied days. Well, 51 days later, I can happily say that the rainy season has arrived. It was very cloudy and dreary all day, so I'm not surprised that it ended up raining. I kept saying to people "Do you know how happy this makes me?!?!?" Rain is a regular part of the areas I have lived in the States, so it feels ever so familiar to stand outside in Jerusalem and get wet from falling rain. When I walked home from Crossroads it was still raining, and people were dressed as if it were a snowstorm which made me laugh. Fleece jackets, scarves, hats. I was ecstatic to be walking around town in a t-shirt and jeans and not be sweating for a change! But the happiness of a week or so ago of praying for rain and "miraculously" getting it was quickly dampened as my feet almost went out from under me and I almost busted my butt 3 times as I walked home. That damn Jerusalem stone is so slick when it is wet. So here's to the beginning of a season filled with people wiping out and getting large, strange looking bruises on their backsides.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Hello to Freedom and New Perspectives
The first of three HUC tiyulim (trips) took us to the North to learn more about the “New Jew” – emigrants from the first and second aliyah period before the founding of the modern state of
Monday, September 24, 2007
It's So Beautiful When Things Make Sense
I saw my acupuncturist today. For those of you who don't know, I acquired an e-coli type bacteria about 6 weeks ago, went on antibiotics but apparently wasn't on them long enough because the bug came back. So now I'm taking antibios for 10 days and am feeling under the weather again. Cross your fingers that it works this time. Cipro kills anthrax but can't conquer Amy's GI bugs??? Let's hope it does this time. Anyway....
Several things happened during my treatment today that just blew me away and made me even more of a believer in the power of acupuncture. First she looked at my tongue closely as she always does. It was dry and a bit yellow, indicative of GI problems. I have had a really bad headache that won't go away for about 4 days now. I told her about it and that it is in my forehead. Some of the points in the forehead are related to GI problems, thus the headache (which by the way is so much better since my treatment). Then when she took the needles out of my forehead there was the slightest bit of blood coming from those teeny tiny needles. She wasn't surprised as GI troubles should cause heat in the forehead, thus the needles acted like teeny tiny leeches in that they were drawing heat to the surface (for those who are afraid of acupuncture, I just want to say that even with blood and needles involved, it really does not hurt and is so worth it).
Okay, so I admittedly butchered the language and descriptions of acupuncture in the above paragraph. The art of eastern medicine is not easy to learn and master, so that was laywoman's language at the very most. But you get the drift. Every pulse she took and point she treated and conclusion she made, made perfect sense. How many times are we blessed in our lives to be privy to perfect sense. For me, very few, but hopefully that will continue to change throughout my life. I laid on her table, feeling sick and tired and frustrated, and between her knowledge and expertise and my body's ability to communicate with her, just for about 30 minutes, it all made sense. How beautiful is that?
Several things happened during my treatment today that just blew me away and made me even more of a believer in the power of acupuncture. First she looked at my tongue closely as she always does. It was dry and a bit yellow, indicative of GI problems. I have had a really bad headache that won't go away for about 4 days now. I told her about it and that it is in my forehead. Some of the points in the forehead are related to GI problems, thus the headache (which by the way is so much better since my treatment). Then when she took the needles out of my forehead there was the slightest bit of blood coming from those teeny tiny needles. She wasn't surprised as GI troubles should cause heat in the forehead, thus the needles acted like teeny tiny leeches in that they were drawing heat to the surface (for those who are afraid of acupuncture, I just want to say that even with blood and needles involved, it really does not hurt and is so worth it).
Okay, so I admittedly butchered the language and descriptions of acupuncture in the above paragraph. The art of eastern medicine is not easy to learn and master, so that was laywoman's language at the very most. But you get the drift. Every pulse she took and point she treated and conclusion she made, made perfect sense. How many times are we blessed in our lives to be privy to perfect sense. For me, very few, but hopefully that will continue to change throughout my life. I laid on her table, feeling sick and tired and frustrated, and between her knowledge and expertise and my body's ability to communicate with her, just for about 30 minutes, it all made sense. How beautiful is that?
Language Schmanguage
*As I sit down to write this I fully acknowledge that if I would just get my butt into ulpan these things probably wouldn't happen*
Grocery Store
I had an appointment with my acupuncturist today, in Talpiot, an area where there are far more Hebrew speakers who don't speak English than in other parts of J'lem. I have never had difficulty at the grocery store there, Super Sol Deal, but I have never had my groceries delivered to my apartment from there. I had gotten big items that I really couldn't carry on my own such as cases of soda, a big bag of laundry detergent and a big container of fabric softener. It's hard to carry more than one or two 1.5 liter bottles of soda from the grocery store and up 4 flights of stairs. I got other random food items, some of which were cold or frozen that I took with me in my own bag.
When I got to the checkout lady I said "delivery" in Hebrew -- my acupuncturist had written how to say it phonetically correct before I left for the store. I had no idea if I was supposed to put food in the delivery box myself or if someone who works there does it for me. So I started loading the cases of soda and putting the food items in the box, and then the cashier started talking a mile a minute to me in Hebrew -- it appeared she wasn't happy about something. The only thing I could understand was that she was telling me they wouldn't deliver my groceries. Now it took me asking several people when I got there if they speak English whether or not delivery is an option and if I have to spend a certain amount to qualify for delivery (like it is with another grocery store) -- I got an affirmative answer so I knew this woman was confused. We then proceeded to have a bit of a standoff --this was something neither of us wanted -- we just had no choice but to speak to each other in our native language and not understand what the other was saying. So it may have looked standoffish, but I was being as kind and polite as possible. After all, I am in a foreign country where I do not know the language, and I always feel a little guilty for not speaking Hebrew, especially in a situation like the grocery store.
Thankfully there was a very kind Israeli woman behind me in line who ended up being our translator, helped at times by other store employees who thought they spoke English but didn't really do so. So the cashier was told that I want delivery and that seemed to make her happy for a while. I was shown by our translator how to pack the delivery boxes, and meanwhile the cashier was keeping busy with paperwork. I had a few bags of food that didn't fit into the box, so the cashier's response to me was again that my food can't be delivered. My niceness was wearing thin at this point and I asked the translator to tell the cashier that I cannot take all of this food home and that I'll have to waste everyone's time refunding everything. Apparently Israeli's aren't patient, well, we knew that already, because when they asked me if I could wait a few moments until an empty delivery box turned up, I said yes, and they seemed shocked by this. I was just happy that the delivery process was continuing. When it came time to get my name, address and phone number, craziness emerged again. Translator wrote it down in Hebrew for the cashier and delivery guys, but the problem came when they asked me to explain exactly where I live. Imagine explaining the following in English to people who only speak a little English: our address is 22 Jabotinsky, but there is no entrance there; pretend that you're standing on Jabotinsky in front of 22, and notice that there is no entrance or any doors; so now imagine that you have to go to the back door, at which point you start going down M'ndele, the street that our entrance is actually on; now walk under the apartment building that is in front of you to the courtyard, where you have to look really hard for the hidden walkway to Entrance 10, our entrance, and then walk to the top floor and you will find our apartment. They always demand our address, and I always say that it is not helpful and is quite confusing, but they always demand it in the end. As I sit here and write this I am dreading when my cell phone starts ringing because the delivery guys can't find my apartment and are speaking to me in Hebrew while I speak back in English. Translator wasn't helpful at this point but only because she was trapped behind my shopping cart and couldn't engage in said conversation. Things finally seemed in order but was asked one last time for my contact information. The man said they would call if they get lost, and I smiled nicely and said I'll be waiting. I lurked for a moment while some poor man who only was buying a bottle of soda and had probably been waiting for too long checked out because I wanted to thank the translator. The cashier was looking nervously at me out of the corner of her eyes, but all I wanted to do was thank the translator and apologize for keeping her held up. She was very nice in return.
Taxi Cab
I wish I had brought translator with me on the cab ride home. I took a cab out to Talpiot earlier for my appointment and the cab driver suggested 20 shekel as a fair price. Seeing as how I was totally and knowingly, but in too much of a hurry to care, ripped off the day before when I paid 20 shekel to go half as far, I happily agreed and all was good. When I left the grocery store, there was a cab right there and the driver told me he could give me a ride. I hopped in, he started driving, he suggested 35 shekel and I said nope, that I had paid 20 earlier, he said 30, I said nope, that I had paid 20 earlier, and he stopped the cab and told me to get out. Fine. I was really growing frustrated at this point. I decided that because the area I was in, right around the Hadar Mall, is always so congested with cars and people that I would walk a ways up Pierre Koenig until things thinned out and grab a cab then. I did just that and got a cab right away. I got in and he immediately turned on the meter (this was good), and he asked me where I'm going. When I said 22 Jabotinsky he said that he doesn't speak any English, what is it in Hebrew. Um, Jabotinsky is how it is said regardless of the language -- it's just spelled a lot different. He asks me to write it down, so I did, "22 Jabotinsky," and showed him and he again said in Hebrew. I just kept saying Jabotinsky, confused as to how he doesn't understand my saying the word and by he not knowing a major street in J'lem and be a cab driver. He called a friend on his cell phone, said something and handed it to me. I assumed his friend spoke English -- wouldn't you? I said hello and he asked where I'm going, I said Jabotinsky, he says he doesn't speak English. Tell me why the cab driver would call someone to talk to me who doesn't speak English. At this point we are getting closer to the major intersection and he calls another friend who again was no help at all. Out of desperation I started saying major street names that are near where I live, and he recognizes those of course, but not mine, and then proceeds to drive up one of them. Only then does he say he knows Jabotinsky which is of course now very difficult to get to. I immediately told him I would only pay him 20 shekel as I looked at the meter that was almost to 20. He starts getting really angry and muttering under his breath about money, money, money, as though he doesn't care about it himself. We drove towards and ended up near Ben Yehuda, a good 15-20 minute walk from my apartment before circling around and coming back down. He was so angry and at this point I was right there with him. He is yelling at me and asking how I don't know Hebrew. I responded that if you are a cab driver in J'lem you should know basic English and how the heck do you not know Jabotinsky!!! He was driving far too fast for this particular street, and I told him to turn on the street that is parallel to mine, I was just going to get out and walk the rest of the way. He went around a little park and then got on the wrong street which caused me to yell a little. He then went off in Hebrew, I said to him that I don't understand him but God does, and demanded he stop the car which he did at a screeching halt. I threw my money at him, said "todah robah expletive expletive (thanks a lot expletive expletive)" and got out of the car and slammed the door as hard as I could. He literally peeled out and what I found hilarous was that by driving straight for about a block he would run into Jabotinsky. I had to walk about 5 minutes and was so angry that even with my being sick and tired I made it up our 4 flights super easy.
4 guys literally just got here with my groceries 5 minutes ago as I write this. I was surprised that I never got a call, so I asked the guy who I knew spoke some English from the store if he had any problems and he said yes. Big surprise. I asked what was confusing and he said that it was because our entrance is not on Jabotinsky and instead off a side street. Didn't I try to tell him that at the store? And he of course acted like it was my fault. Ugh...Israelis.
Is there a moral to this long story? Of course! Amy needs to learn some Hebrew. Or, better yet, Amy needs to find "the translator" and hire her for 10 hours a week. That's plenty of time to get all of my errands done :)
Grocery Store
I had an appointment with my acupuncturist today, in Talpiot, an area where there are far more Hebrew speakers who don't speak English than in other parts of J'lem. I have never had difficulty at the grocery store there, Super Sol Deal, but I have never had my groceries delivered to my apartment from there. I had gotten big items that I really couldn't carry on my own such as cases of soda, a big bag of laundry detergent and a big container of fabric softener. It's hard to carry more than one or two 1.5 liter bottles of soda from the grocery store and up 4 flights of stairs. I got other random food items, some of which were cold or frozen that I took with me in my own bag.
When I got to the checkout lady I said "delivery" in Hebrew -- my acupuncturist had written how to say it phonetically correct before I left for the store. I had no idea if I was supposed to put food in the delivery box myself or if someone who works there does it for me. So I started loading the cases of soda and putting the food items in the box, and then the cashier started talking a mile a minute to me in Hebrew -- it appeared she wasn't happy about something. The only thing I could understand was that she was telling me they wouldn't deliver my groceries. Now it took me asking several people when I got there if they speak English whether or not delivery is an option and if I have to spend a certain amount to qualify for delivery (like it is with another grocery store) -- I got an affirmative answer so I knew this woman was confused. We then proceeded to have a bit of a standoff --this was something neither of us wanted -- we just had no choice but to speak to each other in our native language and not understand what the other was saying. So it may have looked standoffish, but I was being as kind and polite as possible. After all, I am in a foreign country where I do not know the language, and I always feel a little guilty for not speaking Hebrew, especially in a situation like the grocery store.
Thankfully there was a very kind Israeli woman behind me in line who ended up being our translator, helped at times by other store employees who thought they spoke English but didn't really do so. So the cashier was told that I want delivery and that seemed to make her happy for a while. I was shown by our translator how to pack the delivery boxes, and meanwhile the cashier was keeping busy with paperwork. I had a few bags of food that didn't fit into the box, so the cashier's response to me was again that my food can't be delivered. My niceness was wearing thin at this point and I asked the translator to tell the cashier that I cannot take all of this food home and that I'll have to waste everyone's time refunding everything. Apparently Israeli's aren't patient, well, we knew that already, because when they asked me if I could wait a few moments until an empty delivery box turned up, I said yes, and they seemed shocked by this. I was just happy that the delivery process was continuing. When it came time to get my name, address and phone number, craziness emerged again. Translator wrote it down in Hebrew for the cashier and delivery guys, but the problem came when they asked me to explain exactly where I live. Imagine explaining the following in English to people who only speak a little English: our address is 22 Jabotinsky, but there is no entrance there; pretend that you're standing on Jabotinsky in front of 22, and notice that there is no entrance or any doors; so now imagine that you have to go to the back door, at which point you start going down M'ndele, the street that our entrance is actually on; now walk under the apartment building that is in front of you to the courtyard, where you have to look really hard for the hidden walkway to Entrance 10, our entrance, and then walk to the top floor and you will find our apartment. They always demand our address, and I always say that it is not helpful and is quite confusing, but they always demand it in the end. As I sit here and write this I am dreading when my cell phone starts ringing because the delivery guys can't find my apartment and are speaking to me in Hebrew while I speak back in English. Translator wasn't helpful at this point but only because she was trapped behind my shopping cart and couldn't engage in said conversation. Things finally seemed in order but was asked one last time for my contact information. The man said they would call if they get lost, and I smiled nicely and said I'll be waiting. I lurked for a moment while some poor man who only was buying a bottle of soda and had probably been waiting for too long checked out because I wanted to thank the translator. The cashier was looking nervously at me out of the corner of her eyes, but all I wanted to do was thank the translator and apologize for keeping her held up. She was very nice in return.
Taxi Cab
I wish I had brought translator with me on the cab ride home. I took a cab out to Talpiot earlier for my appointment and the cab driver suggested 20 shekel as a fair price. Seeing as how I was totally and knowingly, but in too much of a hurry to care, ripped off the day before when I paid 20 shekel to go half as far, I happily agreed and all was good. When I left the grocery store, there was a cab right there and the driver told me he could give me a ride. I hopped in, he started driving, he suggested 35 shekel and I said nope, that I had paid 20 earlier, he said 30, I said nope, that I had paid 20 earlier, and he stopped the cab and told me to get out. Fine. I was really growing frustrated at this point. I decided that because the area I was in, right around the Hadar Mall, is always so congested with cars and people that I would walk a ways up Pierre Koenig until things thinned out and grab a cab then. I did just that and got a cab right away. I got in and he immediately turned on the meter (this was good), and he asked me where I'm going. When I said 22 Jabotinsky he said that he doesn't speak any English, what is it in Hebrew. Um, Jabotinsky is how it is said regardless of the language -- it's just spelled a lot different. He asks me to write it down, so I did, "22 Jabotinsky," and showed him and he again said in Hebrew. I just kept saying Jabotinsky, confused as to how he doesn't understand my saying the word and by he not knowing a major street in J'lem and be a cab driver. He called a friend on his cell phone, said something and handed it to me. I assumed his friend spoke English -- wouldn't you? I said hello and he asked where I'm going, I said Jabotinsky, he says he doesn't speak English. Tell me why the cab driver would call someone to talk to me who doesn't speak English. At this point we are getting closer to the major intersection and he calls another friend who again was no help at all. Out of desperation I started saying major street names that are near where I live, and he recognizes those of course, but not mine, and then proceeds to drive up one of them. Only then does he say he knows Jabotinsky which is of course now very difficult to get to. I immediately told him I would only pay him 20 shekel as I looked at the meter that was almost to 20. He starts getting really angry and muttering under his breath about money, money, money, as though he doesn't care about it himself. We drove towards and ended up near Ben Yehuda, a good 15-20 minute walk from my apartment before circling around and coming back down. He was so angry and at this point I was right there with him. He is yelling at me and asking how I don't know Hebrew. I responded that if you are a cab driver in J'lem you should know basic English and how the heck do you not know Jabotinsky!!! He was driving far too fast for this particular street, and I told him to turn on the street that is parallel to mine, I was just going to get out and walk the rest of the way. He went around a little park and then got on the wrong street which caused me to yell a little. He then went off in Hebrew, I said to him that I don't understand him but God does, and demanded he stop the car which he did at a screeching halt. I threw my money at him, said "todah robah expletive expletive (thanks a lot expletive expletive)" and got out of the car and slammed the door as hard as I could. He literally peeled out and what I found hilarous was that by driving straight for about a block he would run into Jabotinsky. I had to walk about 5 minutes and was so angry that even with my being sick and tired I made it up our 4 flights super easy.
4 guys literally just got here with my groceries 5 minutes ago as I write this. I was surprised that I never got a call, so I asked the guy who I knew spoke some English from the store if he had any problems and he said yes. Big surprise. I asked what was confusing and he said that it was because our entrance is not on Jabotinsky and instead off a side street. Didn't I try to tell him that at the store? And he of course acted like it was my fault. Ugh...Israelis.
Is there a moral to this long story? Of course! Amy needs to learn some Hebrew. Or, better yet, Amy needs to find "the translator" and hire her for 10 hours a week. That's plenty of time to get all of my errands done :)
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Kaparot
So someone came across my post about Kaparot and gave me the link to his post about Kaparot which is very, very, very different from mine. I'm posting the link below.
PLEASE KNOW THAT THE PHOTOS INCLUDED IN HIS POST ARE VERY, VERY, VERY DISTURBING. This isn't just sensitive ole Amy talking -- I looked at them quickly and was truly appalled. It's not going to make you vomit but it will almost certainly make you shudder and question the ways of the ultra-religious. The writing on the blog is interesting too. Viewing the photos might help you see that in yesterday's blog post I wasn't speaking from pure irrational emotion -- it really is a pointless and disgusting religious practice. Plus, it truly gives you a very good idea of what happens during Kaparot if that is something you want to know. AGAIN, THE CONTENTS OF THE LINK BELOW ARE HIGHLY DISTURBING.
http://niralon.wordpress.com/2007/09/18/send-the-sinful-chicken-to-hell-take-ii/
PLEASE KNOW THAT THE PHOTOS INCLUDED IN HIS POST ARE VERY, VERY, VERY DISTURBING. This isn't just sensitive ole Amy talking -- I looked at them quickly and was truly appalled. It's not going to make you vomit but it will almost certainly make you shudder and question the ways of the ultra-religious. The writing on the blog is interesting too. Viewing the photos might help you see that in yesterday's blog post I wasn't speaking from pure irrational emotion -- it really is a pointless and disgusting religious practice. Plus, it truly gives you a very good idea of what happens during Kaparot if that is something you want to know. AGAIN, THE CONTENTS OF THE LINK BELOW ARE HIGHLY DISTURBING.
http://niralon.wordpress.com/2007/09/18/send-the-sinful-chicken-to-hell-take-ii/
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Desperately Trying For A Creative Title But Coming Up Empty
Hopefully the Cipro isn't depleting important brain matter....
I did not make it out of the apartment today, just didn't feel well enough. It was interesting to be here with all of the windows open all day and hearing all of the sounds of the people strolling up and down Jabotinsky rather than the loud cars I am used to. I periodically went to the window to look out -- in broad day light it was not quite as interesting as what I wrote in the blog post about last night.
I kept myself busy today praying, not something I really planned on doing, it just happened and I'm glad I did. First I did a little Shabbat specific praying by going through the Shabbat service Rachel and I created for the Shabbat service we hosted the weekend of my conversion. I hadn't looked through that in quite some time -- I was looking in my original tallis bag and found it -- and it really felt good to become familiar with it again. I actually found myself thinking that right now in my life I don't feel the need to become Bat Mitzvah, that in many ways my conversion experience and the before mentioned service was kind of like a Bat Mitzvah -- I was called to the Torah in that I gave a D'var Torah on that week's portion and brought together many family and friends to pray with Rachel and I and to celebrate my becoming Jewish. Who knows what time will bring, and I'll go with the flow. I then read the entirety of the morning, afternoon, memorial and concluding services since I was missing all of it. I know that a big part of prayer is that it is something done within a larger community, but I kind of liked being alone today -- I felt better able to really read, understand and reflect on the liturgy. Turns out I'm glad I read the prayerbook cover to cover as Rachel reminded me that the URJ is releasing a new prayerbook next year. I had post-it notes with me and marked some places where the liturgy really struck me or where I had questions and wanted to ask Rachel for some insight when she got home -- what can I say, I keep her on her toes.
I was still praying when sunset came and went. At 5:57pm I heard the first car drive past me on Jabotinsky. At 6:07pm I heard a second car. Then at 6:13pm a third car went by and the floodgates were opened. Within 20 minutes it sounded like just another day in Jerusalem -- car after car, scooter after scooter went by, and just like it was 24 hours ago, the horns they were a' blowin'. The unique and special experience I witnessed, the quiet and calm, the innocence and quiet of Yom Kippur disappeared quickly and it became just another night on the streets of J'lem -- loud and annoying. I quickly got up and shut the windows, trying to hold on to that peaceful quiet a little longer but resigned to the fact that not even closed windows can keep the world from spinning onwards. Time, it moves forward, whether we like it or not.
I did not make it out of the apartment today, just didn't feel well enough. It was interesting to be here with all of the windows open all day and hearing all of the sounds of the people strolling up and down Jabotinsky rather than the loud cars I am used to. I periodically went to the window to look out -- in broad day light it was not quite as interesting as what I wrote in the blog post about last night.
I kept myself busy today praying, not something I really planned on doing, it just happened and I'm glad I did. First I did a little Shabbat specific praying by going through the Shabbat service Rachel and I created for the Shabbat service we hosted the weekend of my conversion. I hadn't looked through that in quite some time -- I was looking in my original tallis bag and found it -- and it really felt good to become familiar with it again. I actually found myself thinking that right now in my life I don't feel the need to become Bat Mitzvah, that in many ways my conversion experience and the before mentioned service was kind of like a Bat Mitzvah -- I was called to the Torah in that I gave a D'var Torah on that week's portion and brought together many family and friends to pray with Rachel and I and to celebrate my becoming Jewish. Who knows what time will bring, and I'll go with the flow. I then read the entirety of the morning, afternoon, memorial and concluding services since I was missing all of it. I know that a big part of prayer is that it is something done within a larger community, but I kind of liked being alone today -- I felt better able to really read, understand and reflect on the liturgy. Turns out I'm glad I read the prayerbook cover to cover as Rachel reminded me that the URJ is releasing a new prayerbook next year. I had post-it notes with me and marked some places where the liturgy really struck me or where I had questions and wanted to ask Rachel for some insight when she got home -- what can I say, I keep her on her toes.
I was still praying when sunset came and went. At 5:57pm I heard the first car drive past me on Jabotinsky. At 6:07pm I heard a second car. Then at 6:13pm a third car went by and the floodgates were opened. Within 20 minutes it sounded like just another day in Jerusalem -- car after car, scooter after scooter went by, and just like it was 24 hours ago, the horns they were a' blowin'. The unique and special experience I witnessed, the quiet and calm, the innocence and quiet of Yom Kippur disappeared quickly and it became just another night on the streets of J'lem -- loud and annoying. I quickly got up and shut the windows, trying to hold on to that peaceful quiet a little longer but resigned to the fact that not even closed windows can keep the world from spinning onwards. Time, it moves forward, whether we like it or not.
Yom Kippur -- And Amy's Sick Again
Yup, the funky nasty bacteria I had 5 weeks ago is back with a vengeance, which means the Cipro I took that is quite good at killing anthrax didn't do the job for me. So I'm back on Cipro and probably will be for 10 days total to make sure it's all gone this time. I hate to think of what else will be wiped out as well. I've basically been sick since I got here so I'm anxiously awaiting sustained health!!!
Not only have I not been able to attend Yom Kippur services -- if you could see me right now I'm not exactly crying about it :) -- but I cannot go on the HUC tiyul (trip) to the Golan Heights and the Galilee. Between my foot that hurts so bad at times that it is difficult to walk and my unpredictable GI tract, along with a slew of other smaller, related problems, it just isn't going to happen. It won't be good for me and it won't be good for the group, but that doesn't erase the disappoint both Rachel and I feel about me not sharing this interesting experience with her. But who knows, maybe we will have a chance to take a few days and go north and she can show me all of the cool stuff that she sees on the trip. She leaves early Sunday morning and will be back late Tuesday evening. I just keep telling myself that the rest will really be good for me in a lot of ways and worth it in the end.
I slept in on Friday while Rachel went with a friend to the shuk to pick up some last minute necessities and to see the Kaparot near the shuk. A brief description of what Kaparot is reads as follows from a random website: [The original form of the kaparot ceremony involves taking a chicken (a white rooster for a male, hen for a female) and waving it over one’s head while reciting this prayer: "This is my exchange, this is my substitute, this is my atonement. This chicken will go to its death while I will enter and proceed to a good long life, and peace." Then the chicken is slaughtered and it (or its cash value) is given to the poor.]
Okay, so I would not have gone even if I was feeling perfect as I am too sensitive to the pain and suffering of all living creatures. That being said, I think people who participate in this are lying to themselves. It is not a "ritual." It is a sacrifice, in my oh so humble opinion, something that has supposedly been abandoned since the destruction of the 2nd temple. How can a person "exchange, substitute, atone" for their own sins by tormenting, torturing and slaughtering a live, innocent chicken which I'm sure if you asked if that is what it wanted it would most certainly say no. I mean, come on, how would you like for someone to grab and squeeze your arms together and swing you hard and fast over their head, probably breaking shoulder bones in the process and then pulling your head back and slitting your throat. Then they would throw you in some watery stuff that drains your blood while your killer throws sawdust on your blood to "make it all go away." Personally, if I were the Creator upstairs, I'd kind of laugh at the folks who really believe that they can exchange all sins and transgressions for a chicken. If it were that easy, chickens would be an overproduced and overpriced bird as people stupidly believed that they could do whatever they wanted as long as they had a chicken to absolve all of their sins. If there is a redeeming factor it is that the chicken or the monetary equivalent is given to the poor. Or else the chicken ends up in the shuk and is sold to people like me -- talk about funky nasty bacteria!!! If Rachel has a chance, she might be able to elaborate on Kapparot in a less emotional and more intellectual way as I clearly am quite biased. As I write all of this I acknowledge that I eat meat that I'm sure comes from inhumane slaughter -- although not so much here I guess since kosher meat is supposedly slaughtered humanely and it's really hard to find non-kosher meat -- but in the states this is not so. Rachel and I have been talking a lot lately about slowly bringing the ideas behind ethical kashrut into our daily lives, so I am happy to say that we are trying to start living by our words and will be moving to a city and state that makes it easy to be ethical and environmentally friendly in terms of foods.
I didn't make it to dinner at our friend's apartment with Rachel, not that I could have eaten anything, but I did manage to shower and meet her so we could walk to HUC for Kol Nidre. What we had heard about YK in J'lem is most certainly true. By 5pm all of the traffic lights were blinking yellow and the walk signals were blinking red. There were almost no cars left on the roads at that point. We met some friends and walked to the sanctuary together. My prediction turned out to be correct -- there were no seats and people were bringing in plastic chairs. We luckily got some of the first plastic chairs and sat down for the service. I went specifically for Kol Nidre and didn't make it much past that before leaving to go back home. Rachel had told me that it is customary for people from all over to meet on Emek Refaim and walk down the street after Kol Nidre. I obviously wasn't doing this, and when I left HUC there were officially no cars on the streets, so I joined others in walking down the middle of typically very busy and congested streets the whole way home (King David and Keren Ya Hasod specifically).
Once inside, I turned on the TV to see what on earth is playing on Yom Kippur in Jerusalem. Well, absolutely nothing. All of the cable channels but one random channel said that broadcasting would resume at 20:00 the following day. There were also some random news channels on, mostly different BBC channels but no Israeli news channels. I actually read through the evening service in our prayer book at home and then spent a lot of time watching people walking up and down Jabotinsky, yet another normally busy street. It being night and very dark outside made it seem very fictional. If there was no noise I envisioned a scene from a horror movie or something, like all of these zombies walking around in their white clothes. And it seemed so nonsensical to see all of these people on Jabotinsky that I again fictionalized it and thought of a good ole end of the world Hollywood flick where the only thing people knew to do was to wander the streets. Rachel pointed out that this is kind of weird while I call it imaginative and creative. The one thing that really stuck out was the 4 teenage girls, walking, holding hands and singing beautifully, wearing white robe type things. I immediately thought of the film O Brother Where Art Thou when the 3 men come across the 3 women singing on the river's banks. It's interesting how universal religious connotations can end up being.
Not only have I not been able to attend Yom Kippur services -- if you could see me right now I'm not exactly crying about it :) -- but I cannot go on the HUC tiyul (trip) to the Golan Heights and the Galilee. Between my foot that hurts so bad at times that it is difficult to walk and my unpredictable GI tract, along with a slew of other smaller, related problems, it just isn't going to happen. It won't be good for me and it won't be good for the group, but that doesn't erase the disappoint both Rachel and I feel about me not sharing this interesting experience with her. But who knows, maybe we will have a chance to take a few days and go north and she can show me all of the cool stuff that she sees on the trip. She leaves early Sunday morning and will be back late Tuesday evening. I just keep telling myself that the rest will really be good for me in a lot of ways and worth it in the end.
I slept in on Friday while Rachel went with a friend to the shuk to pick up some last minute necessities and to see the Kaparot near the shuk. A brief description of what Kaparot is reads as follows from a random website: [The original form of the kaparot ceremony involves taking a chicken (a white rooster for a male, hen for a female) and waving it over one’s head while reciting this prayer: "This is my exchange, this is my substitute, this is my atonement. This chicken will go to its death while I will enter and proceed to a good long life, and peace." Then the chicken is slaughtered and it (or its cash value) is given to the poor.]
Okay, so I would not have gone even if I was feeling perfect as I am too sensitive to the pain and suffering of all living creatures. That being said, I think people who participate in this are lying to themselves. It is not a "ritual." It is a sacrifice, in my oh so humble opinion, something that has supposedly been abandoned since the destruction of the 2nd temple. How can a person "exchange, substitute, atone" for their own sins by tormenting, torturing and slaughtering a live, innocent chicken which I'm sure if you asked if that is what it wanted it would most certainly say no. I mean, come on, how would you like for someone to grab and squeeze your arms together and swing you hard and fast over their head, probably breaking shoulder bones in the process and then pulling your head back and slitting your throat. Then they would throw you in some watery stuff that drains your blood while your killer throws sawdust on your blood to "make it all go away." Personally, if I were the Creator upstairs, I'd kind of laugh at the folks who really believe that they can exchange all sins and transgressions for a chicken. If it were that easy, chickens would be an overproduced and overpriced bird as people stupidly believed that they could do whatever they wanted as long as they had a chicken to absolve all of their sins. If there is a redeeming factor it is that the chicken or the monetary equivalent is given to the poor. Or else the chicken ends up in the shuk and is sold to people like me -- talk about funky nasty bacteria!!! If Rachel has a chance, she might be able to elaborate on Kapparot in a less emotional and more intellectual way as I clearly am quite biased. As I write all of this I acknowledge that I eat meat that I'm sure comes from inhumane slaughter -- although not so much here I guess since kosher meat is supposedly slaughtered humanely and it's really hard to find non-kosher meat -- but in the states this is not so. Rachel and I have been talking a lot lately about slowly bringing the ideas behind ethical kashrut into our daily lives, so I am happy to say that we are trying to start living by our words and will be moving to a city and state that makes it easy to be ethical and environmentally friendly in terms of foods.
I didn't make it to dinner at our friend's apartment with Rachel, not that I could have eaten anything, but I did manage to shower and meet her so we could walk to HUC for Kol Nidre. What we had heard about YK in J'lem is most certainly true. By 5pm all of the traffic lights were blinking yellow and the walk signals were blinking red. There were almost no cars left on the roads at that point. We met some friends and walked to the sanctuary together. My prediction turned out to be correct -- there were no seats and people were bringing in plastic chairs. We luckily got some of the first plastic chairs and sat down for the service. I went specifically for Kol Nidre and didn't make it much past that before leaving to go back home. Rachel had told me that it is customary for people from all over to meet on Emek Refaim and walk down the street after Kol Nidre. I obviously wasn't doing this, and when I left HUC there were officially no cars on the streets, so I joined others in walking down the middle of typically very busy and congested streets the whole way home (King David and Keren Ya Hasod specifically).
Once inside, I turned on the TV to see what on earth is playing on Yom Kippur in Jerusalem. Well, absolutely nothing. All of the cable channels but one random channel said that broadcasting would resume at 20:00 the following day. There were also some random news channels on, mostly different BBC channels but no Israeli news channels. I actually read through the evening service in our prayer book at home and then spent a lot of time watching people walking up and down Jabotinsky, yet another normally busy street. It being night and very dark outside made it seem very fictional. If there was no noise I envisioned a scene from a horror movie or something, like all of these zombies walking around in their white clothes. And it seemed so nonsensical to see all of these people on Jabotinsky that I again fictionalized it and thought of a good ole end of the world Hollywood flick where the only thing people knew to do was to wander the streets. Rachel pointed out that this is kind of weird while I call it imaginative and creative. The one thing that really stuck out was the 4 teenage girls, walking, holding hands and singing beautifully, wearing white robe type things. I immediately thought of the film O Brother Where Art Thou when the 3 men come across the 3 women singing on the river's banks. It's interesting how universal religious connotations can end up being.
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