Sunday, September 6, 2009
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Wednesday, September 2, 2009
A Problematic Blessing
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
The classroom I passed on the school terrace after dropping Coby off at gan this morning:
25 or 30 boys standing and chanting Birchot Hashachar (Blessings of the Morning) in a monotone Mizrachi (Eastern) nusach (melody). Tzitzit (ritual fringes on garment) swaying to and fro. Their teacher, a woman, at the front of the classroom, lightly directing the prayers like a conductor.
“Baruch ata adonai elohaynu melech ha’olam shelo asanee eesha.” (Blessed be the Lord, our God, King of the universe, who did not make me a woman).
It just does not make sense. THERE CAN BE NO EXCUSES FOR THIS “BLESSING.” NONE. Thank God Masorti (Conservative) Judaism has thrown the “blessing” into the dustbin of history, where it belongs. I would go as far as to say that is a chilul hashem (disgrace of God) to utter this “blessing,”
How do we teach our boys to respect girls, men to respect women, girls and women to respect themselves – when we say this abomination each morning?
And what do those boys in class think about their teacher, if happen to be thinking about the what they’re saying that morning?
The classroom I passed on the school terrace after dropping Coby off at gan this morning:
25 or 30 boys standing and chanting Birchot Hashachar (Blessings of the Morning) in a monotone Mizrachi (Eastern) nusach (melody). Tzitzit (ritual fringes on garment) swaying to and fro. Their teacher, a woman, at the front of the classroom, lightly directing the prayers like a conductor.
“Baruch ata adonai elohaynu melech ha’olam shelo asanee eesha.” (Blessed be the Lord, our God, King of the universe, who did not make me a woman).
It just does not make sense. THERE CAN BE NO EXCUSES FOR THIS “BLESSING.” NONE. Thank God Masorti (Conservative) Judaism has thrown the “blessing” into the dustbin of history, where it belongs. I would go as far as to say that is a chilul hashem (disgrace of God) to utter this “blessing,”
How do we teach our boys to respect girls, men to respect women, girls and women to respect themselves – when we say this abomination each morning?
And what do those boys in class think about their teacher, if happen to be thinking about the what they’re saying that morning?
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
September 1 -- Adina Meets the Prime Minister
Only in Israel.
Adina Noga Robbins. Olah of one month. First day of school. Prime Minister’s there to inaugurate the year. Adina in front row. Adina shakes the Prime Minister’s hand, exchanges “shalom” with him.
Only in Israel.
This girl of almost 7 has seen the Prime Minister live, up close, twice -- in the first month of her life in Israel. Now, she probably won’t see a Prime Minister again for a decade or so, but it does say something about the country – and its intimacy – that’s she’s already buddies with Bibi.
Today, my worst fears….were NOT realized. Ha-hefech (the opposite), in fact. Coby, who I had to carry literally kicking and screaming to a playdate yesterday, walked shyly into his gan, but then quickly settled down to play with new friends at a table nicely decorated with a Lego-type game. A truly universal language. Words not needed.
Coby’s ganenet (kindergarten teacher), Ofra, and her seeyat (assistant), Yardena, truly set him at ease. They clearly love young children, and (they probably say this about all the kids, but it’s wonderful to hear it about your child anyway, particularly in the beautiful Hebrew words) and said he was madheem (amazing) and makseem (no translation necessary!), blowing kisses via their fingers in a quintessential, endearing Israeli way. He had a great day, and walked confidently out of the school at 1:30. “This is my place.”
Adina is clearly thrilled to be at school, and absolutely exhilarated at the number of children, the Hebrew spoken, and her backpack full of grown-up first grade books. A particular child she is, wanting things just her way. That, I guess, doesn’t make her very particular as a young child!
It was a thrilling day for me too. This was the day that real life began for the Robbins in Israel. And it was good. Very good.
BTW, I lost my keys – car, home, everything – schlepping the kids all around town. Thank God my in-laws were driving with their rent-a-car. But truly small potatoes the deficit was. And typically, for this 6-footer, the keys rested on top of the kindergarten refrigerator between 8 am and the time I returned to pick up Coby 5 hours later. I leave everything everywhere – but up high, not low. Some things don’t change.
Adina Noga Robbins. Olah of one month. First day of school. Prime Minister’s there to inaugurate the year. Adina in front row. Adina shakes the Prime Minister’s hand, exchanges “shalom” with him.
Only in Israel.
This girl of almost 7 has seen the Prime Minister live, up close, twice -- in the first month of her life in Israel. Now, she probably won’t see a Prime Minister again for a decade or so, but it does say something about the country – and its intimacy – that’s she’s already buddies with Bibi.
Today, my worst fears….were NOT realized. Ha-hefech (the opposite), in fact. Coby, who I had to carry literally kicking and screaming to a playdate yesterday, walked shyly into his gan, but then quickly settled down to play with new friends at a table nicely decorated with a Lego-type game. A truly universal language. Words not needed.
Coby’s ganenet (kindergarten teacher), Ofra, and her seeyat (assistant), Yardena, truly set him at ease. They clearly love young children, and (they probably say this about all the kids, but it’s wonderful to hear it about your child anyway, particularly in the beautiful Hebrew words) and said he was madheem (amazing) and makseem (no translation necessary!), blowing kisses via their fingers in a quintessential, endearing Israeli way. He had a great day, and walked confidently out of the school at 1:30. “This is my place.”
Adina is clearly thrilled to be at school, and absolutely exhilarated at the number of children, the Hebrew spoken, and her backpack full of grown-up first grade books. A particular child she is, wanting things just her way. That, I guess, doesn’t make her very particular as a young child!
It was a thrilling day for me too. This was the day that real life began for the Robbins in Israel. And it was good. Very good.
BTW, I lost my keys – car, home, everything – schlepping the kids all around town. Thank God my in-laws were driving with their rent-a-car. But truly small potatoes the deficit was. And typically, for this 6-footer, the keys rested on top of the kindergarten refrigerator between 8 am and the time I returned to pick up Coby 5 hours later. I leave everything everywhere – but up high, not low. Some things don’t change.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Day 1 -- The Great Moment and the Luggage
Coby (Caleb), Adina and Aunty Sheila the night before aliyah
August 4, 2009 -- Day 112 hours on a plane with a 5 and 6 year old. Ratty, disheveled. In mind, in body, in sanity. I want my bags, a comfortable bed, a clean shower, and, exceeding them all, QUIET – right now.
Not really thinking about the big picture of aliyah the minute I get off the musty, crowded plane. Not really thinking about any big picture any time I get off a long plane ride, for that matter.
But this is to be different.
Because we’re being welcomed like returning heroes. Like the team that just won the championship.
A thousand people waving small flags deliriously. Not of the Red Sox. But of the State of Israel. Banners held high. “Welcome home.” Lollipops thrust into our children’s hands. Joyful music blaring. TV cameras, video cameras, every kind of camera – rolling. Even Minnie Mouse is caught on film. I just want to be interviewed about my pitching in the final, decisive game of the playoffs….
I know we’ve done something special. Something right. (The romantic vision realized -- thanks, Eric)
There, above, the crowd, stands Uncle Amiel. A spiritual sponsor of my aliyah. A Segal/sgan Levi returned home, this time not as an assistant to anyone, but rather as a lead doctor at Shaarei Tzedek. And Elyana, our cousin, possessing one of the most beautiful neshamot in the entire Jewish world. Both tearing. Simcha bubbling from every nook and cranny of their faces. Clearly thrilled that – 15 years later -- they’ve been followed.
I’m now caught between the absurb pulls of the great moment – baruch hashem-- and the demands of our luggage -- G-d forbid it be lost.
The moment stands suspended for a few hours, before the tug of the luggage really wins out. Nefesh b’Nefesh workers – the eagles wings on which thousands of American Jews now happily rest in their return to Israel – greet us at every step. The whole operation is out. All those we’ve spoken to, written to, purged for all the information they could ever provide us – are there to welcome us.
As is the Prime Minister. Up quite early, no makeup/looking tired, tie-less. Israel. A failed ex-Prime Minister. (A redundancy in Israel these days). Not my cup of tea politically. But our Prime Minister. A Jew leading us. And coming to welcome us. Giving us a pat on the back as North Americans, but not a massage, as we unfortunately think we merit. “You’re following the path of millions of olim from all over the world…. We need your professionalism, and your dislike for bureaucracy.” Message: Welcome, you’re Israelis now, make the special contribution you can, rejoice in no longer expecting the backrub of the tourist, at least beyond the first months.
Natan Sharansky. The paragon of aliyah of the last ½ century. A true hero. But somewhat passé too. Remarking to this overwhelmingly young group “how many of you were involved in the Soviet Jewry movement.” This could not happen pre or while in utero. But whatever.
Munching on Elyana’s delicious cupcakes. The kids feeling free – running all around old Ben Gurion Terminal #1. Playing on an idle conveyor belt. Would I ever let that happen in the States?
The great moment. And the luggage. The two poles of early life as olim.
Why We're Here -- An Anecdote
August 30, 2009
I may repeat this often, but tonight is why we made aliyah. It was the start of the year gathering for Adina’s school, Yachad, the closest thing to a pluralistic Jewish day school that Modiin has to offer. I tell you the truth that I have never seen more Jewish kids gathered together in one place in my life. 1100 students, grades K-10. And that does not even include younger siblings, parents, and passersby, numbering in the thousands.
Happily, here we are just a typical Jewish family looking for quality Jewish education for our kids. No bells, no whistles. No banging down our door to get us to come. No special scholarships offered. And no need for them. Normalcy. Fighting no tide.
Delicious.
I may repeat this often, but tonight is why we made aliyah. It was the start of the year gathering for Adina’s school, Yachad, the closest thing to a pluralistic Jewish day school that Modiin has to offer. I tell you the truth that I have never seen more Jewish kids gathered together in one place in my life. 1100 students, grades K-10. And that does not even include younger siblings, parents, and passersby, numbering in the thousands.
Happily, here we are just a typical Jewish family looking for quality Jewish education for our kids. No bells, no whistles. No banging down our door to get us to come. No special scholarships offered. And no need for them. Normalcy. Fighting no tide.
Delicious.
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