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Musings and insights as I travel with my son (and in-laws!) in Eretz Yisrael
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bs"dWe are getting close to the end of our time here in Israel... for now!MondayIn shul this morning (Pe'er Yerushalayim), I was sitting next to an elderly Sefardi fellow, very close to the door. (I have sat next to him several times.) He is quite old, and very hunched over, unable to stand up straight. I watched this morning as several people, as they passed him to leave the shul, stopped, took his hand and kissed it, after which he placed his hand on their heads and blessed them. Wow, I thought, I may be sitting next to a tzaddik! After davening, as we were getting ready to leave, I subtly motioned to him that I wanted to take his hand. As I did, I leaned over and kissed it. He then placed his hand on my head and gave me a lengthy bracha. The experience was so moving, it brought tears to my eyes.
I took a bus across town to Rechov Strauss to pick up the new talis katan (tzitzis) that I ordered last week. Learning through this week's parsha, I saw that it contains the mitzvah of making tzitzis, and as it turns out, I had to have these tzitzis specially made. Hashgacha pratis (Divine providence) somehow seems more revealed in Eretz Yisrael...
On the bus I noticed a small sign above one of the seats at the front; "Mipnay sayva takum" (Stand up before an elderly person). This, of course, is a mitzvah directly from the Torah. How poignant, I thought, that something as simple as a sign asking people to please vacate their seat if an elderly person needs it, takes on the importance of a mitzvas aseh, a positive mitzvah, when done in Eretz Yisrael.
Of course, one can give up one's seat in New York, have this kavannah (intention) in mind, and still fulfill the mitzvah. But to have it posted in the bus as official policy makes it that much more immediate and real. I feel the same way when I see bank tellers and policeman wearing kippot. Everyone here seems to be connected to their Judaism to some degree, in one way or another. Rav Kook saw the non-religious pioneers who built this land as involved in and doing holy work, even if they themselves didn't recognize it.
Living in Eretz Yisrael itself is a great mitzvah, and all of the many mitzvot and minhagim (customs) being performed serve also as reminders, to reinforce the point that this is a Jewish state, the only place in the world where Jews can truly let their essence express itself in such a way.
It reminds me of the mitzvah of sukkah. In a sukkah, everything one does becomes a mitzvah. Sukkah is a makif-dikka mitzvah; it surrounds and encompasses you, and turns everything you do in it into a mitzvah. Simply eating and sleeping, when done in a sukkah, become mitzvot. Eretz Yisrael surrounds one in a similar way. It is like an organic, living, breathing sukkah. However, whereas the mitzvah of sukkah is a mitzvah for only one week, the mitzvah to live in Eretz Yisrael is ongoing, transcending time and place. And during Sukkot in Israel, one can be encompassed by the sukkah, while being encompassed by the land of Israel at the same time! There is a concept explained in Chassidic thought, that there are two types of makkif (the aspect of being encompassed); makkif haKarov, and makkif haRachok, a closer aspect of being encompassed, and a farther aspect of being encompassed. That is the theory. Eretz Yisrael is the practice.
In my morning travels, I then continued on to an excellent sefer (book) shop that I have visited in the past, also on Rechov Strauss. I found a few seforim that I have been looking for, and left very excited about my finds. If I got the same seforim from my usual sources in chutz l'aretz (outside Israel), I would have paid double. Besides, buying seforim in Eretz Yisrael always seems more special, somehow. For those who cannot write a Sefer Torah (which is most people), buying seforim is considered, by some opinions, as one way to fulfill this mitzvah. And what better place to fulfill it? (Although I am a Sofer STaM, a scribe, and could theoretically write my own Sefer Torah, I have not yet had the opportunity to do so.)
For lunch, I had an excellent falafel and pita right on Rechov Strauss, from a place called Moshe Falafel. The owner was very nice, and we chatted briefly. When I took out my camera to take a few shots, he offered to take a few of me sitting at the table. I told him that we have a lot of Israelis back in Boston, and also our share of falafel. He said, "But is it this good?" What could I say? Yes? "Of course not!," I said. His falafel was indeed metzuyan (excellent) but even if it weren't, there is nothing like sitting in the middle of Jerusalem and eating falafel. Bentching afterwards, and mentioning Jerusalem, always takes on special import here and elevates the whole experience. It is a profound experience to sit in the center of Jerusalem, and thank HaShem for the good land he has given us.
I then walked over to Ben Yehuda Street, got a cafe barad (iced coffee), and got ready for the long walk...
...towards Yemin Moshe, where I was planning to meet my son. I had time, so I first went into the YMCA buliding, across from the King George hotel. This building was designed by the same architect that designed the Empire State Building. The guard asked me the question they ask everyone here; "Do you have any weapons?"
"Lo, lo!" I answered. It is so interesting that they ask, almost casually, and then let you pass when you say no. I am sure they are looking for subtle signs of trouble as they listen and look while you answer, and I don't exactly look like a troublemaker . But only in Israel.
I sat in the YMCA lobby reciting my daily Tehillim, until my son was dropped off across the street at the King David Hotel. We ended up getting a ride to the Old City, and scrapped our plans to see Yemin Moshe. Although it is one of my very favorite places in the city, when traveling with a 13-year-old, one must take into account food possibilities. And the Rova (Jewish Quarter) has more of those.
After he ate, I took the opportunity to do something that I have wanted to do for a while. Namely, to tour the four Sefardi shuls of the Jewish Quarter. They used to be separate buildings, we learned, but after they were destroyed, they were rebuilt as one large complex. The shuls were particularly striking, as all Sefardi shuls seem to be. We also walked over to the nearby Sefardi Educational Center (www.secjerusalem.org), which used to be the center of Sefardi life in the Old City, and includes a water cistern in the center, a communal oven, and many rooms. It now serves the community with a guest house, classrooms, and other functions.
We then took the #18 bus home. Another day under our belts.
Tuesday
We drove to visit Leket Israel, a large organization that collects unharvested food from farmers, and leftovers and unused food from restaurants and hotels, and distributes it to needy familes around the country. We spent about an hour in the hot sun picking tomatoes in their field. These will soon be used in salads, etc., in the homes of those in need. They will probably be eaten before we get on the plane to go home. It was a nice way to begin our last full day here. On the way there, while looking at the parsha, I noticed right away that today's aliyah begins with a discussion of certain laws of agriculture and farming.
We will see what tomorrow brings, as we do have most of the day before we have to catch a midnight plane back to Philly, and then on to Boston. I hope to spend a little more time exploring the city.
How do I feel about leaving? I know my family is eager to see me. And I am eager to see them. In the past, when I have left Israel, I have had the distinct feeling that I was leaving home, and returning to a foreign place. I suppose I will feel the same way tomorrow, and it will take me a while after I get back to come to grips with the reality: that I have left Israel, to go back to my life in America.
But is that reality? There is a verse in Tehillim, where we say that after Moshiach comes, in looking back on life in exile, we will have been like dreamers. Perhaps the same applies here. Living in America is like living in a dream. Being in Israel is like waking up from a dream. Perhaps waking up to another dream. Being in Israel is like one extended lucid dream.
Nevertheless, the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, who visited Israel, as I have writtten about, writes, in his collected talks, that it is easier to be Jew in exile in America, than to be in exile in Israel. In Israel, he writes, the soul is in exile, while it is the body that is in exile in America. And, the Rebbe says, he can even see see why some would prefer to live in America. Very strong words, and not easy to understand on the surface level. (I am also writing from memory.) Perhaps things have changed since he wrote those words. What do you think?
It is hard to think about leaving. Of course, some (small) part of me looks forward to getting back to my routine. Traveling, as Rashi explains, is very hard, and takes its toll. And I am a homebody by nature. But, then, I am home now!
This too-brief time in Eretz Yisrael has been so very elevating. I don't recall ever experiencing feelings like the ones I have felt over the past two weeks.
The challenge now will be to maintain the enthusiasm, the passion, and the intensity that I have felt here, and to utilize it when I get back. To inform my davening and Torah learning, for sure, but especially to become more of an advocate for Eretz Yisrael. A tall order, but one I hope I can live up to. Do I even have a choice? I'm not so sure.
As one Chabad Rebbe told a chassid who wanted to move to Israel, "Mach da Eretz Yisroel." Create Eretz Yisrael where you are. That will have to do, I suppose, until I can call this my permanent home.
Wednesday
I ran into an Israeli friend from back home. He happened to come into shul this morning. We all went over to his mother's house for tea, biscuits, and fruits. It was wonderful to meet his mother, and some of his family, hear his amazing story, and get a glimpse into his life. He grew up here in Emek Refaim/Baka.
Last night I met one of our wonderful Room613 members who lives here in Israel, and and we discussed various issues in homeschooling, and more.
It's time to pack now, and get ready to head back.
If I forget thee, Jerusalem...
Yosef Resnick
bs'dJust got back from the north of Israel, where we spent Shabbos in Tsfat. As I have written previously, my wife and I lived in Tsfat for about five months after we got married, while we both studied in yeshivas. So, I feel a particularly special connection to this very holy, mystical city. It is often called the birthplace of Kabbalah, and unless you have been there, and really tried to absorb some of the special kedusha there, it is almost impossible to imagine.
Some highlights; we davened at the big Breslov shul, where I ran into an old friend. The shul is like a palace. The aron kodesh, made of carved wood, is magnificent. The davening was so special, so moving. It transported me back to my old days there, when I also spent a lot of time davening with Breslov. It was hard to keep from tearing up, partly due to the reawakening of old memories, and partly due to the sheer intensity, and the overwhelming emes (truth) of it all.
In the morning, we davened at the beautiful "Abuhav" Sefardi shul. The shul is decorated with murals, and many beautiful paintings. The davening resounded with authentic Sefardi melodies, whose modes and scales seem particularly suited to bringing one closer to HaShem. It is a magical place to daven.
We ended up back at Breslov for mincha/maariv. There was a very complete seudah shlishis (third Shabbos meal), with chassidim bringing out plate after plate of very good food. This was interspersed with heart-rending niggunim, and then Rav Kennig, the leader of Breslov, giving over chassidus from Likkutei Halachos. All together, it effectively transported me straight to the upper worlds. It was unforgettable.
Today, we went to Bat Ya'ar, not far from Tsfat, where my son and I went horseback riding! It was a small group, and we rode through the woods, along the mountainside, both walking and running, for about an hour. I actually had the opportunity to make a bracha sitting on the back of a horse! The views of Rosh Pina, and Amuka, and environs, were simply stunning.
As I rode, I thought of the words of Rav Kook, that describe so poetically how Eretz Yisrael is such an intimate and essential part of the Jewish people. As we rode over the terrain of Eretz Yisrael, I felt my neshama "melting" and becoming one with the land, and klal Yisrael, as I closed my eyes and let my mind wander. It is hard to describe in words, but it was a very moving experience, a spiritual experience—and a fitting way, I felt, to wind up our visit to the North.
The holinesss of Eretz Yisrael has really struck me on this trip, perhaps more so than any other time I have been here. I truly felt the kedusha; it seemed tangible as I stood on my balcony at the hotel in Tsfat this morning, overlooking the mountains of Meron, and recited the morning brochos. As I said "she'asah li kol tzarki" (HaShem takes care of all my needs), I felt as if HaShem's providence and presence were surrounding me and enveloping me in a very immediate way.
In Orot, chapter one, Rav Kook writes, "Eretz Yisrael is an independent unit, bound with a living attachment with the nation, bound with inner segulot with the national existence."
It often seems very difficult, or impossible, for those of us living in chutz l'Aretz (outside of Israel) to sense or appreciate the holiness of Israel, or at least to maintain that special feeling and inspiration, if we do feel it, for any length of time.
To conclude, for now, I leave you with these words of Rav Kook; "The concept of Judaism in the Diaspora will only find true strength through the depth of its involvement in Eretz Yisrael."
MondayWhat a day we had!It started with two cups of gourmet coffee at my new favorite coffee shop next door to where we are staying. We then headed to the Old City. I ducked into the Ramban synagogue to learn several precious lines of Chassidus for a few minutes, and recite some Tehillim. Minyanim were going on in every room. (The Ramban—Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, also known as Nachmanides—apparently single-handedly revitalized the Jewish community when he came to Jerusalem in the mid-1200s.)
We then took a tour of the newly rebuilt Churva Synagogue. The history is fascinating, and our guide gave a real glimpse into the story of the Jewish presence in the Old City. Ashkenazic Jews had borrowed money from local Arabs, and when they had trouble repaying the loans, the Arabs destroyed their shul. The odd thing is, they also burned 40 Torah scrolls in the process. They easily could have gotten their money back if they sold some of the scrolls, had their concern been truly a financial one. The whole story is heartbreaking. And it becomes so real when you are standing on the ground where it all happened. (The sefardim seemed to escape much of this persecution, and apparently had better relations with the Arabs.)
The tour of the Churva involves climbing some very high and winding staircases on the outside of the building, which leave you extremely high up on the ramparts of the synagogue. The view was stunning, but dizzying.
We later walked down to the Kotel. The heat, as I have written, is blazing, and the white Jerusalem stone has the effect of reflecting and intensifying the sunlight, making it quite blinding for anyone with even moderately sensitive eyes.
Standing right up against the Kotel, I placed my hand on the stone, and reflected on the idea that the Shechina (Divine Presence) never departs from the Kotel. I tried to tune into that layer of reality.
Thousands and thousands of tiny notes are pressed into the cracks, filled with the hopes and dreams of Jews, and non-Jews, from around the world. The sight is awesome, and the place is beyond description. We then forayed into the tunnel to the left of the plaza, which houses a few shuls, and where many people sit and learn Torah, recite Tehillim, etc.
Our next journey was outside the walls of the Old City, down the street, for a tour of the City of David (Dovid haMelech, King David). The three-hour experience was fascinating. The high point was entering the tunnel that was once used to bring water to the Jews in the Old City. One enters the tunnel with a small flashlight, as there are no lights inside. The guide first warns that anyone who does not like small spaces should not go in, as there is no turning back, and it is a 30-minute walk! There is another tunnel that is well-lit and dry, for those who don't want to get wet.
And wet it is! There is water flowing the entire time, sometimes reaching up to one's thigh. We all quickly changed our shoes, rolled up our pant legs, and entered, with some trepidation. It was an incredible experienece, with the water flowing non-stop, and the light from the flashlights illuminating the same small cracks, crevices, and hiding places that Jews created and gazed upon several thousand years ago.
As someone who doesn't care for either high places, or narrow places, I felt that I had done pretty well that day!
We drove to Tzipori today. A small town that is mentioned in several places in Tanach and the Mishna and Talmud, it is now the ruins of a city where Romans lived side by side, peacefully, with Jews, including Yehuda haNasi, who compiled the Mishna. So it is fascinating for that reason alone. We saw the remains of one shul.
Our tour guide was a secular Israeli from a nearby kibbutz. So, his explanations during the entire tour were filtered through his very secular lenses. It provided an interesting contrast to the other guides we have had on this trip, but also proved a bit frustrating. We had to explain several times the difference between B.C. and B.C.E. (Before the Common Era), and ask that he please use B.C.E.
The yahrtzeit of Rav Kook is this coming Thursday night and Friday. There are various activites going on in the city, including a concert we are hoping to attend in Gush Etzion. Rav Kook was the first Chief Rabbi of Israel, before it was a state. He wrote very deep and eloquent poetry and, more importantly, Torah insights. This will be his 75th yahrtzeit, so it has particular import.
Rav Kook wrote:
"The holy connection between the nation of Israel and its holy land does not resemble connections which exist in the natural world." (Olat Re'eyah, pg, 205)
I have been comtemplating what it means to be here in Israel, especially at this time of the year, the onset of the month of Elul. So many of our prayers focus on Israel. Standing in Jerusalem, and imploring, "Rebuild Jerusalem, amen," takes on a whole new meaning when you are standing in the city it is talking about. Imagine if the name of the city you live in were codified in the siddur by the greatest sages and prophets who ever lived. It would put some fire into your prayers!
And I have faced at least three different directions for Shmoneh Esrai since I have been here. The general rule is to face east, but ultimately we face toward the Holy of Holies. And when you are in Jerusalem, that can change depending which part of the city you are in! Davening in this city is like no other experience.
I found a stunningly beautiful Sefardi shul to daven in (several, actually!), right here in the heart of the hippest neighborhood in Jerusalem. I went tonight for mincha/maariv. Being that it is Rosh Chodesh Elul, everything in the city vibrates with a certain intensity that you don't always feel. Tonight's shul experience was quite special, the kind of thing you don't soon forget.
We davened mincha, and then the gabbai brought out several bottles of drinks (including a bottle of Arak), nuts, and different types of mezonos. Everyone took various foods and drinks, and took turns making brachos, loudly, so everyone else could easily answer amen. It was a transcendent moment in some ways, with a feeling of brotherliness and ahavas Yisrael amongst a group of Jews, some of whom had never met before.
The Baal Shem Tov taught that G-d is revealed in this world through a chapter of Tehillim and a bracha. If so, there was a great revelation of G-dliness going on there, and I tried hard to absorb it as it was happening!
The Rebbe Reshab writes that when one is searching for HaShem, to come closer to HaShem, the desire to come close is itself an expression of closeness. Too often we forget this, or never realize it to begin with, that if we truly desire to come closer to HaShem, we are already indeed close. That is such a pivotal thing to bear in mind, and may be one of the keys to acheiving some degree of spiritual growth and satisfaction.
We are headed to Tsfat for Shabbos. That happens to be my favorite city in Israel. My wife and I spent five months there learning Torah when we first got married. Did I ever tell you that we got one-way tickets to Israel when we got married, and set out without really knowing where we were going, deciding to leave it mostly up to hashgacha pratis? Those were the days!
Tsfat is the home of kabbalah (Jewish mysticism), and its cobblestone streets and walls still ring with the sweet sound of the deepest secrets of the Torah. And those secrets are there for anyone who cares to partake. But I am getting ahead of myself. Tomorrow is only Wednesday!
And what a banner day I had! I spent the day walking aorund the holy city of Jerusalem. First, I went to the Museum of Tehillim off of Zion Square. I met the artist, and spent a while trying to absorb the incredible artwork he has created. He told me that it took him 22 years to do all the paintings that he has done, after he got a blessing from the Rebbe of Lubavitch to do this work. The colors and themes are incredible. He has several books that feature his work. Highly recommended.
Afterwards, I headed right next door to the Rav Kook House. Tomorrow night is his yahrtzeit, as I mentioned, and I wanted to spend some time in the "daled amos" (vicinity, literally "four cubits") of this great tzaddik. I was the only one there, so quiet time I did have. I spent a lot of time there, and sat in the room that was his original beis midrash, where I recited Tehillim. (The yeshiva later moved, and was in the news not long ago when an Arab terrorist burst into the library and killed eight (I believe) Jewish students before he himself was killed. Ad masai!)
After the Rav Kook House, I had lunch at the Village Green. I then walked to Rechov Strauss, and continued into the neighborhood of Geulah. Then I headed down to Meah She'arim. I stopped in many shops along the way.
I headed back towards Ben Yehudah Street, and walked all the way down toward the Prime Minister's residence. When my wife and I were first in Israel 17 years ago, we rented an apartment right next to the Prime Minster's residence. We used to see the guns and legs of soldiers partrolling around our house on Shabbos. (Our apartment was below ground level.) We would sit at our Shabbos table, and periodically see the guns and legs go by.
I wanted to walk by our old apartment, so I headed over there. There is much more security now, and it seems that cars do not use the street. I walked down, after asking a soldier for permission, and put my bag down on the wall in front of the building we used to live in. How exciting! Then I took out my camera. And a soldier summarily came over to me.
"What are you doing?" he asked me.
"I used to live here, and I was hoping to take a picture of the apartment," I said.
He got on his walkie-talkie, and spoke with someone.
He then proceeded to ask for my passport, which I didn't have, as who carries their passport around with them? All I had was my Massachusetts driver's license. He was quite nice, and was about to let me take the picture, when another guard came over. All of a sudden, it was good cop, bad cop.
Staring at me, without removing his sunglasses, he asked me for my ID number.
"I don't have one," I said.
"You don't have one!" He seemed agitated.
"I'm here for two weeks, and my passport is in my room in Emek Refaim." This was getting ridiculous. I tried to act relaxed.
After consulting with each other, and more walkie-talkie conversations, they allowed me to take one photo of the front of the house.
I then asked them, "Can I take a picture of both of you?" I didn't think they would say yes, but if they did, it would make nice memento. They smiled and said no. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I took the picture of the front of the house and went on my way.
I also visited a favorite shul in Katamon, and then walked home. I may have walked 5 miles today. Sure felt like it.
By the way, that favorite coffee shop I mentioned at the beginning of this blog, I sadly realized, is too expensive to continue to be my favorite coffee shop.
More to come...
bs'dSo I remembered the (full) story about the eyes...A rebbe once asked his son: Tell me, what is the difference between the letter shin, and the letter sin?
The son replied: The letter shin has a dot on the right, and the letter sin has a dot on the left.
Exactly, the rebbe responded. This serves to remind us that we have a right eye, and a left eye, and they must be used in the proper ways. One must look at things like candy and toys, for example, with the left eye (with scrutiny and disdain). But when it comes to matters of holiness, Torah, and your fellow Jew, once must use the right eye (to look with favor and love).
My eyes are healing, thank G-d. I have been thinking about the significance of being forced to use my right eye exclusively, for a day, and relying on it more than the left since I took the patch off - while I am spending time here in the holiest city in the world. The musar haskel (moral lesson) may be obvious, or perhaps it is not. In any case, I will leave that up to your imagination.
Our first Shabbos in Yerushalayim has come to an end. But let's go back to Erev Shabbos. My son and I spent the day around the neighborhood (Emek Refaim), getting things for Shabbos.
Shopping in a supermarket in Israel on Erev Shabbos is always an interesting experience. The aisles are packed and practically impossible to navigate. Nevertheless, we ended up there three times on Friday! Some restaurants set up a special area with food to take home for Shabbos (they use the British "take away" here, not take out), and you can go in and get large amounts of freshly cooked, gourmet food, for a very reasonable amount. We did just that.
Friday evening, the four of us took a cab to Rechavia. We first went to a beautiful Syrian shul (called "Ades"). The davening was, as you might imagine, beautiful, and also very long. Sefardim seem to have stumbled upon the perfect combination of melody, feeling, kavannah, and more. The overall experience has the effect of quickly transporting one to the upper worlds.
After davening, we made our way through some back alleys (which, too, can transport one to the mystical upper worlds when done in Jerusalem) to the apartment of a certain American-born Breslov chassid, a popular teacher, who hosted us for the evening seudah. There were other guests as well. They all happened to be from the same city we are from (Boston) and we even knew them. One of them was a homeschooler, who said she had rasied four (I think) children, and homeschooled all of them. But her feeling was, now that she was done with that phase of her life, she didn't even like to discuss homeschooling. There was lots of singing, conversation, etc.
When we finally finished, aorund 12:00, we headed out to begin the 2.5-mile walk back to our neighborhood. This took a good 45 minutes. But again, walking through the streets of Jerusalem on Shabbos night... what could be more pleasurable?
One thing that is troubling is the sight of many dumpsters spilling their contents out onto the sidewalks. Jerusalem is the holiest city in the world, and it should also be the cleanest. I tried to focus on the positive, and enjoy the late night tiyul (trip).
Anyone who knows me knows that I am stickler for seder - for schedule and order - and it bothers me greatly when I am thrown off. This Shabbos was Shabbos Mevorchim, when we bless the new month of Elul. The custom of Chabad is to get up early and recite the entire book of Tehillim before Shacharis. I had set my alarm for an early hour... but we went to sleep late. Suffice it to say that by the time we got up, it was 11:15 A.M.! I was (briefly) thrown into a panic. The Chabad minyan began at 10:30. We might miss the whole thing - krias haTorah, everything. When you only have two Shabbosim to spend in Eretz Yisrael, every moment is precious. Oy, was I frustrated.
I tried to remind myself that everything happens for a reason, especially here in the center of Yerushalayim, where haShem's hashgacha (supervision) extends in a particularly profound and tangible way. To make an already long story short, we walked (ran) to shul, just in time to hear the entire Torah reading. On the walk home, my son and I reflected that the timing actually worked out for the best. For one thing, there was no air conditioning in shul, so we minimized our time there. It has been close to 100 degrees here.
We spent the rest of Shabbos exploring other shuls, and found an absolutely stunning Sefardi shul, where we davened Maariv. Many Sefardi shuls hand out fresh besamim (spices) for havdalah, and the scent is other-worldly.
In my last post I wrote about the inner struggle I went through on the plane here, regarding whether to eat breakfast first, and thereby limit my davening time, or to daven, and skip breakfast. I left it up to you to figure out which option I chose. But I will now divulge to you that I chose the latter option. And to be completely honest - after all, I am amongst friends - I felt a sense of joy and satisfaction in making that choice. It was a struggle, and I felt as if I had won that battle. While sitting in the Sefardi shul Friday night, I picked up a newsletter with words of Torah from the holy Ben Ish Chai, the Sefardi kabbalist and gaon, whose torahs I happen to be very fond of. I read a story there that really hit home, and seems related to what happened to me on the plane.
Rabbi Dovid Lelov was once fasting from Shabbos to Shabbos. Toward the end of the week, he was walking, and a great thirst overcame him. He happened to walk past a stream, and his thirst became even stronger. He stopped for a moment, and considered taking a drink. But then he realized that the desire to drink (and thereby break his fast) came from his yetzer hara, the inclination to do that which is contrary to Torah. He summoned all his strength, and kept walking, his thirst having subsided somewhat. In reflecting on what he had just gone through, he felt an inner joy, due to his overcoming his physical desire to break his fast. In thinking about this feeling of inner joy, however, he realized that the feeling itself was coming from the yetzer hara, and was related to gaavah, pride, and ego. And with that recognition, he turned back, and went back to the stream... where he stopped and drank, breaking his fast!
More to come this week!
bs"d
Wednesday night
We finally arrived in Eretz Yisrael. One thing I have learned from my few prior visits here is that at least one way of the trip (and maybe both) is going to be very difficult. But then, who said going to Eretz Yisrael should be easy? Look what the dor de'ah went through. Forty rough years in the desert...
We flew to Philly, and then, after a wait, left for Israel. When we got on the plane, I was dismayed to see that my seat - as well as my son's, and my in-laws' - was right in the middle of a center row. I plunked myself down, and tried not to let my claustrophobic side get the best of me. How on earth am I going to sit here for 11 hours, I wondered? And how am I going to put on tallis and tefillin and daven in the morning? Several of us switched seats, to make it possible for several married couples to sit together, as it seemed that nobody had seats next to each other. Although my in-laws got one precious aisle seat, alas, we remained in the middle. For 11 hours.
As vegetarians, kosher food on a plane is always interesting. The kosher food option always seems to be a meat choice, while the vegetarian option is not kosher. Why not offer a vegetarian kosher option? (Also, if someone just had dairy, it seems to be somehat of a michshol to serve meat.)
And then there was the baby whose parents seemed determined to let him "cry it out." In the middle of the night, no less...
I had lofty plans to read a book, and get some work done on my laptop, but a very uncomfortable feeling in my left eye, probably symptomatic of an abrasion on my cornea, kept me from doing any reading. (I'll know more tomorrow when I go the health clinic. More to come.)
But, please don't mistake this for complaints. I am just trying to paint a picture. There were some very high points. Soaring next to, and through, the clouds, and getting a close-up view of the absolutely amazing wonders that haShem has created (that we have gotten so used to that we even have a name for it... nature). And despite the cramped quarters, davening on a plane can be quite uplifting (no pun intended). At one point, I was faced with a classic choice of G-dly soul vs. animal soul. Should I wait to daven until after breakfast was served, thereby severely limiting my davening time, or should I dispense with breakfast, and give myself more time to daven? (I'll leave it up your imagination to guess what the outcome was.)
Landing in Eretz Yisrael is always heartwarming. The plane shuddered, the engines raced, and everyone applauded as we touched down on the tarmac of the Holy Land, I imagined what it would be like to be a new oleh, landing in Eretz Yisrael, beginning the exciting journey of making a new home in Israel.
As soon as we walked out of the airport, we were hit in the face by the incredible heat. But even the heat in Israel is somehow more tolerable. We got our tiny rental car (the air conditioner only works when we are accelerating!), packed our bags into it (barely), and drove towards Yerushalayim, to try to locate the two small studio apartments we are renting. We got just a little lost. But really, who can complain about being lost in Jerusalem? It is almost a contradiction in terms. How can one get lost at home?
Thursday night
I'm now writing at the end of our first full day here. We did some amazing things today, including sifting through dirt that used to cover the ground of the Temple Mount. We found some real treasures; pottery shards, animal bones—possibly from korbanos (offerings)—and more. Also strolled through the Old City. More to come about all this, including pictures.
To get back to what I mentioned earlier. I did made it to an eye doctor today, after several false starts. Although the Israeli medical system seems to leave a lot to be desired, my faith in it was restored after meeting with an absolutely wonderful eye doctor. As I suspected, I have corneal abrasions. It's a long story, but suffice it to say that I am on the road to healing, thank G-d. So, although on one hand, I am viewing Israel with only one eye, until tomorrow morning when I can remove the patch the good doctor put over my left eye, in reflecting on this, it occurred to me that perhaps I had to come all the way to Eretz Yisrael to be healed. There is a chassidic story about always looking at everything with the "right eye" (meaning favorably). I guess that's the (doctor's) order of the day.
Tomorrow is Friday, and it will be time to get ready for Shabbos.
More to come!
