What Do We Bless When We Whisper?

A few months ago, it struck me that the Shema is an odd prayer. It doesn't seem to be addressed to God. It’s statement of faith made to other Jews, not to God. In the Torah, the words are spoken by the sons of Jacob to their father, affirming their commitment to his God. But, while it was originally God-focused, now it feels people-focused: we are declaring our unity and expressing a sense that something binds us together.

Until the other night, though, I hadn’t thought much about the line we say quietly just after Shema: “Blessed be the name of His glorious kingdom for all time.” What exactly are we blessing? Are we blessing Israel, the “kingdom of priests” that we’re commanded to become? Are we God’s kingdom? Or are we joining the angels in their eternal praise of God, HaMakom? (And what is כבוד? In Hebrew, the word is often translated as “glorious” but also suggests weight, substance, or significance...)

I was taught that we whisper these words because they are the words angels chant endlessly around the throne of God—and because the words break the flow between words of Torah, Shema (Deut 6:4) and V’ahavta (Deut 6:5-9). But I’ve begun to wonder: what does it mean to bless the name of God’s kingdom? Is this an act of humility, as if to say, we don’t speak with the voices of angels? Or are we quietly blessing... ourselves?

I've written to the Chabad rabbi in San Marcos and, if he doesn't think I've missed the point entirely, I hope to have some insights that I can share.

A Foundation I Didn’t Know I Was Building

I pulled two cards the other day, asking what I most needed to know right now. They seemed to contradict each other. The first was Desolation. The second, The Star.

At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of that pairing, but then I realized it perfectly mirrors the threshold I’m crossing.

Card 35, Desolation, may reflect my recognition that it was time to leave Israel. I had the chance to go a few years ago, but the thought of giving up on making a life there made me cry. I stayed. I struggled. I nearly didn’t make it through. After surviving a "dark night of the soul," I managed to pull myself together, but eventually, the signs became too clear to ignore. It was time to go.

Now I’ve been back in the United States for ten days. Despite the difficulties I anticipate lie ahead of me, I feel something stirring again, something I didn’t expect to find so soon: hope. That soft flame links directly to the second card I pulled, card 17, The Star. I sense that I’ve come back stronger, with a clearer view of the world. I’m more confident than I used to be. Less afraid of people. Less afraid of life.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira connects Desolation with the Rider-Waite-Smith Nine of Wands, a figure who’s survived battles and still stands strong. My own keywords for the Nine of Wands are: stamina, prepared, firmly established, knowing whom to trust. That rings true. I’ve landed in a place where people care about me and have already done so much to help me begin again.

My keywords for The Star are gentler: hope, gratitude, clarity, grace, finding joy in the present, healing, inspiration, guiding others. It’s astonishing that hope is still part of my vocabulary, but it is.

Visually, the card Desolation shows a woman mourning. Her blue and white dress and bowed posture mirror the figure in card 67, Veneration. She covers her eyes with one hand while reaching forward with the other. Kaplan says she is mourning the death of her husband. In the upper part of the cartouche are the hieroglyph for “gate” and the Hebrew letter peh (פ). Saturn, the planet of boundaries and discipline, marks the title field. Below is the Eye of Horus, symbol of protection, vision, and renewal.

The gate may symbolize a threshold between what was and what could be. The letter peh, meaning “mouth,” suggests speaking one's truth after recognizing it through silence and sorrow. And Saturn, the planet of time, limits, and maturity, indicates growth through discipline and endurance.

The lower part of the cartouche shows the Eye of Horus, symbol of protection, vision, and renewal.

The Star includes some of the same symbols: the gate, peh, and Saturn. But the feeling is entirely different. The woman in this image is naked, kneeling on calm waters. Her black wig echoes the mourning figure in Desolation, but her posture is more open; she is vulnerable, yet grounded. (For me, water is grounding. Even sitting beside a quiet swimming pool can calm my emotions and clear my thoughts. Life began in water—being near it returns us to our source.) She pours water from two small vessels into the pool beneath her. Behind her, the waters are rough; before her, they are still.

In 17 The Star, the gate hieroglyph does not suggeste grief, but possibility. Peh becomes not the silence of sorrow but the beginning of authentic speech. And Saturn is not just a burden, but a guide, marking the slow, steady path of hope earned through experience.

An eight-pointed star glows above, perhaps Sirius, whose heliacal rising signaled the flooding of the Nile and the renewal of life. In the lower cartouche, a diamond half-yellow and half-black evokes harmony, wholeness, and the balance of opposites—like Yin and Yang or the Star of David.

Both women suggest ritual. Both suggest devotion. But one mourns what has passed, while the other opens herself to what may come.

In Kaplan’s brief descriptions, the contrast sharpens:

• Desolation: ruin, pain, sadness, mental anguish, disappointment, sorrow.
• The Star: hope, faith, inspiration, insight, bright prospects, fulfillment, and the balance of hope with effort.

Together, these two cards seem to say: one way of life is ending, and a gate is opening to the unfolding of something new.

Being back in the U.S., I find myself in a familiar environment where I speak the language, understand the social cues, and don’t have to constantly prove that I belong. That competence alone has given me a quiet confidence I haven’t felt in many years.

I once thought that leaving Israel would make me want to become more observant again-- that, like many Jews in the diaspora, I would feel the need to cling more tightly to ritual and practice in order to stay connected. But that hasn’t happened. Perhaps it’s because something in me has changed. I no longer feel that need because I’ve already absorbed an Israeli sense of what it means to be Jewish, something lived, something internal, something not measured by observance alone. It’s as though I’ve carried the Land with me, and now I’m learning how to stand on that foundation in a new way.

I hadn’t realized I was building a foundation during those difficult years, but somehow, I was. And now it remains steady beneath my feet. I left the Land, but I didn’t leave behind what I learned there.

I don’t need to return to strict observance to feel connected. My Jewishness a deeper part of me now, the people, the rhythm, the struggle to stay human in a harsh world. And something else, too: faith.

Not always religious, but real. 

Since October 7, I’ve seen secular Israelis carry themselves and each other with quiet spiritual courage, a trust in life, in God, in community, and in the meaning of what they endure. That kind of faith has left its mark on me.

It’s what gives shape to my voice now. Like the Hebrew letter peh, I’m learning to speak again, not just with words, but with the way I live, love, and return to myself.

This isn’t exile. It’s integration.

Reflections on Parashat Terumah: Making Space for God and Hope

Each year, when I read Parashat Terumah, I struggle to visualize the details of the Mishkan, the tabernacle we were instructed to build in the wilderness. This year, the meticulous descriptions of gold clasps, acacia wood, and embroidered curtains left me bored. But as I sat with the text, three other thoughts emerged.

1. Creation and the Tabernacle

Commentators often compare the construction of the Mishkan to the creation of the world. This year, I finally compared the two texts myself. The contrast is striking: God’s creation of the world is described in one parasha. The instructions for building the Mishkan span many chapters. Why does it take so much effort for us to make space for God, when it took much less for God to make space for us?

Perhaps the answer lies in love. God’s creation of the world was effortless; but our building of sacred space requires effort, generosity, and precision. Parashat Terumah tells us that donations for the Mishkan should come from the heart. Maybe that is the dwelling place that God desires, not a physical structure, but the space we conscientiously carve out in ourselves through effort and intention. It may even be that the labor itself makes room in our hearts

2. The Curtain Between the Holy and the Most Holy

The Mishkan is a place of order and separation, much like the laws of kashrut or Shabbat, which divide the sacred from the profane. But the Mishkan doesn’t just divide between holy and secular; it distinguishes between holy and most holy. The innermost chamber, the Holy of Holies, is concealed behind a curtain, as the summit of Har Sinai was hidden by cloud. Holiness is not a simple binary. We might want the world to be black and white, but reality is multi-layered and complex and worthy of contemplation.

3. Hope in the Midst of Darkness

The most powerful idea in this parasha for me this year comes from a legend that the wood used to build the Mishkan came from trees that Jacob had brought to Egypt generations earlier. Over the generations, those trees stood as a silent promise. Whenever the enslaved Israelites looked at them, they felt hope that redemption would come.

Not the most compelling of Jewish legends, but it made me reflect, as I often have the last few weeks, on the hope and resilience shown by the recently released hostages who, despite the horrors of their captivity and the grief that awaited them at home, have still found a way to lift up and display their hope for all of us to see. Each and every one of them has been a radiant exemplar of the best quality of Israelis: resilience.

At the funeral of his wife and two children, for whom he had sacrificed himself, only to learn they had perished while he was in captivity, Yarden Bibas said, “Shiri, guard me so I don’t sink into darkness.” He still sees light! He still has hope. I don't know how that is possible.

An Australian news station desribed the day of the funeral as a dark day for Israel. And yet, for the first time in months, I saw light— not because of my own worldview, but because Yarden Bibas, of all people, could still find words of hope.

The Israelites carried Jacob’s trees with them into the wilderness, using them to build the Mishkan. Perhaps we, too, carry some unseen reserve of strength and resilience that allows us to build light even in the darkest places.

Dream Doorway

Last night, I dreamed I was standing in a threshold—stuck there. My feet wouldn’t move and I was unable to step forward. When I woke up, the feeling lingered.

I’ve thought about leaving Israel countless times, even come close, yet here I am still here. Still hovering in that in-between space. The dream felt like a message, but I needed more clarity. So I turned to my tarot deck.

I drew the Five of Cups reversed, Eight of Pentacles reversed, and the Tower reversed.

Even before analyzing the cards, I could see how they mirrored my situation. Dreaming of being stuck in a doorway captures everything: neither fully in nor out, caught in the space between staying and leaving.

The Cards:

Five of Cups Reversed – This card is about moving past grief, regret, or disappointment. Maybe I am letting go of something—past hopes, past pain, past beliefs about what living here was supposed to be? But if I’ve begun to let go, why am I not moving forward?

Eight of Pentacles Reversed – Stagnation. Lack of progress. Fear. I recognize that I haven't and may never integrate into Israeli life, and yet I can't commit to giving up either. Am I holding myself back because I doubt my ability to start over somewhere new?

The Tower Reversed – Resistance to change. Trying to avoid upheaval. The Tower reversed doesn’t bring sudden devastation but rather a slow, creeping realization that a change must happen. I’ve known for a long time that my values and preferences don’t fully align with Israeli society, and it has become clear that my current life here isn’t sustainable. But knowing isn’t the same as acting. And acting means accepting that there’s no going back!

The Message

I’m ready to move on, but fear is causing me to hesitate. Fear of upheaval. Fear of failure. Fear of letting go of the place that has shaped me.

But the dream and the reading both make something clear: I am still standing in the doorwayand if I don’t step forward, I will remain stuck between two worlds, belonging to neither. It’s time to decide.

The Flowering of an Indigenous Culture

An interview with a survivor, Deborah Tzarfaty. (Maya Milova)

Once upon a time—before 1967—Arabs in Israel, Judah, Samaria, and Gaza did not call themselves Palestinians; they were Arabs. Back then, if you said "Palestinian," everyone assumed you meant a Jew. For example, The Palestinian Post, founded in 1932, was a Jewish paper. (The local Arab paper was called Al-Jami'a Al-'Arabiya.)

Then, in the 1960s, came Yasser Arafat, an Egyptian born in 1929, who-- with a little help from the Soviet Union-- rebranded the Muslim Arabs of the region. Suddenly, they were "Palestinians" and claimed a deep, ancient connection to the Land. Along the way, they also borrowed the keffiyeh from Iraqi Arabs, because nothing says "indigenous" like a headscarf from another country.

To this day, Palestinian identity remains a patchwork. Culturally, they are not a single people. Palestinian Muslim women don’t even share a common style of modest dress—some are covered head-to-toe in black, others wear tight jeans and revealing tops but cover their hair, while some opt for long raincoats year-round. The only common thread in Palestinian dress? That borrowed keffiyeh.

Their actual roots? A mix of 19th and 20th-century immigrants from Egypt, Syria, and Lebanon. A few were in the land before the 19th century and some of those families may have been Jewish before the Muslim conquest of the Land in the 7th century.

Meanwhile, according to the UN’s own definition of indigeneity—having historical continuity with pre-invasion societies and maintaining a distinct culture—Jews are, without question, the indigenous people of Israel. Our culture was born here, shaped here, and we maintained a presence here through multiple colonial empires: Assyrian, Babylonian, Greek, Roman, Arab Muslim, Byzantine, and British, to name a few. Coins minted by many of these empires acknowledged the Jewish connection to the Land by featuring Jewish symbols, such as a menorah or the Hebrew words ארץ ישראל (Land of Israel).

Palestinian culture also meets one requirement for indigeneity: its current culture developed in this Land (during the last 70 years). However, this culture does not spring from a connection to the Land or a people, but from a single, unifying obsession: hating and killing Jews.

The flowering of this culture occurred on October 7, 2023, which tells you everything you need to know.

The Magic in Our Tradition

On Monday, we will gather around our tables with friends and family with the opportunity and duty to perform the mitzvah of retelling the story of our ancient redemption.

How can we recall four-thousand-year-old miracle stories now? While 134 of us are held in brutal captivity! While nine young women, if they are still alive, may be almost seven months pregnant from rape! While war is knocking on our door daily! While the world world seems to be howling its hatred of us!

How can we transition from our current reality to our traditional celebration? Where can we find words to plead for our deliverance?

Instead of words, we could turn our focus to the fifteen silent ritual actions performed during the seder meal, hoping that these rituals will move G-d to protect and preserve us.

- What will it signify when we lift our glasses of wine but refrain from drinking?
- This year, what will it mean to dip the green vegetable in salt water?
- As our leader breaks the middle matza, what else will we hope or fear may be broken?
- Why will we cover the matza whenever we lift our cups of wine?
- As we diminish our joy by removing drops of wine from our full glasses, what losses will we mourn?
- What will we understand when the leader lifts the full round seder plate and the matzot?
- Will our search for the Afikomen be a prayer for the redemption of our hostages still captive in Gaza?
- And what will we see when open the door for Elijah the Prophet?

May the mute gestures of this seder stir our hearts and reach the heavens, so that G-d will again protect and preserve all of us.

And as for words... that one passage we always skip? This year I will shout it out with tears in my eyes.

My thanks to Bob Silber, a fellow English speaker in Eilat, whose profound insights into this year's seder, inspired my reflections.

"The Mute Book," a chapter from
Ira Steingroot's book, Keeping Passover

In Sync with Our Land and the Cosmos: Calendar and Culture

INTRODUCTION
The Jewish calendar is an ancient and complex system reflecting both the lunar months and solar years as well as the seasons and crop growth in the Land of Israel. It guides us through the cycles of the year, and also aids our recollection of significant historical moments in our history. So, for example, during Pesach we may watch the wheat ripen and also recall that God redeemed us from slavery in this season.

Zionist pioneers, who were largely secular, noted that the Jewish religious calendar reflected the climate of our ancient homeland and used this calendar for agriculture. They may not have recognized that this calendar, which they embraced for practical purposes, was an indispensable thread weaving through the tapestry of our identity and heritage. Today it is both the civil and religious calendar in Israel, alongside the Gregorian calendar.

DAYS
The Jewish day begins at sunset per the account of creation in Breisheet. “There was setting, there was dawning, day one.” Holidays last from evening to evening. The days of the week are numbered: First Day (א) being Sunday and Seventh Day being Saturday, or Shabbat.

The length of the days and the hours vary by season. Days are longer in summer and shorter in the winter, so the hours of each day vary accordingly. In determining the times of prayer, an hour is one-twelfth of the time between sunrise and sunset.

A new day starts after sunset or when three stars are visible in the sky. (This would have occurred earlier in ancient times, when there was no light pollution obscuring our view of the heavens.) Twilight, the liminal time between the moment the sun disappears below the horizon and the moment three stars are visible in the sky, is called, בֵּין הַשְׁמָשׁוֹת, meaning ‘between the two suns.’ Shabbat is observed from before dark on Friday until after dark on Saturday to ensure that we do not unintentionally violate its proscriptions.

WEEKS
The seven-day cycle of weeks continues regardless of months, seasons, or years, and every seventh day is a Sabbath of rest, during which we emulate God by refraining from creative work.

Every seventh year is considered a Sabbatical year, and today, some farms in modern Israel observe both Sabbatical and Jubilee years even though Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook ruled that this is no longer required.

MONTHS
The months are determined by the new moons and the years are dictated by the position of the earth relative to the sun. Since there are twelve months in the Jewish year, but a lunar month is less than thirty days, the twelve months do not add up to a solar year of three hundred and sixty five days. To ensure it is in sync with both the sun and the moon, some years have an additional month inserted into them, and two particular months may vary between twenty nine or thirty days.

Months begin when the first sliver of the new moon is visible, around sunset. The moon waxes for about two weeks until it is full. After it is full, the moon wanes for about two more weeks until it becomes invisible for approximately two days. Then the next new lunar crescent appears.

In ancient times, the Sanhedrin would declare a new month after two eyewitnesses had seen the lunar crescent between midday and midnight. Although members of the Sanhedrin were well versed in astronomy and had mathematical models to correctly predict when the new moon would appear, the verse in Shemot, “This month shall be unto you the beginning of months,” was understood to mean people were responsible for witnessing and consecrating the new moon. Witnesses would appear in pairs and be questioned individually. If their testimony was accepted, the new month was declared. Specific questions were asked to verify their testimony.

The decision to add a leap month was based on observation of natural agriculture-related events. The earliest known calculation for determining when to add a leap month was introduced around 358 CE, but was revised in the 10th century after a debate between the rabbis of the Holy Land and Babylon.

The synodic month is 29½ days. So, to ensure the calendar remains in sync with the actual phase of the moon, a calendar month is sometimes twenty-nine days long and sometimes thirty. The first day of the month and the thirtieth day of a full or malei month, are called Rosh Chodesh, the “Head of the Month,” and are a semi-festal.

There are twelve lunar months, alternating between 29 and 30 days. The first month, Nisan, has 30 days and the next month, Iyyar, has 29. The number of days alternates between 30 and 29 each month throughout the year, until Cheshvan or Kislev. Following those two months, Tevet always has 29, Shevat 30, and Adar 29.

Nisan 30 days
Iyyar 29 days
Sivan 30 days
Tammuz 29 days
Av 30 days
Elul 29 days
Tishrei (New Year) 30 days
Cheshvan 29 or 30
Kislev 29 or 30
Tevet 29 days
Shevat 30 days
(Adar Alef 30 days)
Adar/AdarBet 29 days

An extra day may be added to Cheshvan or removed from Kislev to prevent Yom Kippur from falling on a Friday or Sunday or to prevent Hoshannah Rabbah from falling on Shabbat. Both months can be 29 days, both can be 30 days, but if Cheshvan has 29 days, then Kislev must have 30. (Yom Kippur cannot fall on a Friday or Sunday, or there would be two consecutive days when preparing food and burying the dead are prohibited, Hoshana Rabbah cannot occur on Shabbat, or we could not carry a lulav on the holiday.)

The new moon of Tishrei is significant because it is the primary determiner of the date of Rosh HaShanah, the new year. Rosh HaShannah begins on the first day of Tishrei. On the evening following 29 Elul, the court would sanctify the day as the first of Tishrei. If witnesses appeared the next day, the day could be retroactively established as Rosh HaShannah. If witnesses did not appear, then the following day would be Rosh HaShannah and retroactively, the previous evening would be a regular weekday. To prevent people from treating the first day lightly, it was decided that Rosh Hashannah would always be celebrated as a two-day holiday.

Each Rosh Chodesh (new moon) is a holiday for women because oral tradition says that when the Israelites who had just left Egypt created a golden calf to worship during Moses’s absence, the Israelite women refused to participate in its creation or worship. In ancient times, women rested from work during the new moon.

Most Jewish festivals begin during the full moon, the fifteenth day of the month. At this time, the moon is at its brightest and rises at sunset.

Originally, we named the months as we do the days of the week: first month, second month, and so on, starting with Nisan, the month God redeemed us from Egypt. After we returned from the Babylonian captivity, we adopted Babylonian names for the months to remind us that God redeemed us a second time.

LEAP MONTHS
As mentioned earlier, a year of 12 lunar months is shorter than a solar year, it is 354 days rather than 365. To ensure that Pesach is observed in the springtime near the equinox, a leap month is added seven times every 19 years. (Every 19 years, the phases of the moon recur on the same day of the year.)

In ancient times, Adar Bet was added to a year based on astronomical events and observation of the ripening barley and fruit on trees. If spring had not arrived, a second Adar was added. Since today’s calendar is based on mathematical calculations, Adar Alef is now considered the extra month.

SEASONS
The autumn and winter months (Elul through Shevat) are called the Days of Rain. The spring and summer months (Adar through Av) are called the Days of Sun. Prayers for rain are included in the liturgy beginning at the end of Sukkot. The three pilgrimage festivals of Sukkot, Pesach, and Shavuot occur during spring, summer, and autumn.

YEARS
There are four new years in the Hebrew calendar: the first of Nisan, for measuring a king’s reign and marking the beginning of pilgrimages, the First of Elul, for the tithing of animals, the First of Tishrei, the birthday of the world, and Tu B’Shevat, for measuring the age of trees.

YEAR AND EPOCH
In the Middle Ages, Maimonides codified earlier calendrical calculations. He also changed the naming of the epoch. No longer do we date events “since the Destruction of the Temple.” Now the epoch is “since the Creation of the world.” (Anno Mundi 1 is the year before creation.)

HOLY DAYS
Following is a list of the holidays on the Hebrew calendar. With the exception of Chanukah and modern Israeli holidays, most these days are described in The Torah.

The month of Tishrei, The Tribe of Efraim (Libra)
1-2 Rosh HaShannah
3 Tzom Gedaliah
Shabbat Shuvah
10 Yom Kippur
15 Festival of Sukkot (Gate of Earth)
21 Hoshana Raba
22 Sh’mini Atzeret and Simchat Torah

The month of Cheshvan, The Tribe of Menasheh (Scorpio)
7 Yom HaAliyah
11 Rachel’s Yahrtzeit
29 Sigd - the Ethiopian Jewish community hopes all Israelis will adopt this holiday (and what could be better than hiking in the desert hills?)

The month of Kislev, The Tribe of Binyamin (Sagitarius)
24-2 Chanukkah

The month of Tevet, Tribe of Dan (Capricorn)
10 Asara B’Tevet

The month of Shevat, The Tribe of Asher (Aqaurius)
Shabbat Shirah
15 Tu B’Shevat

The month of Adar Alef, The Tribe of Levi
(Leap month)

The month of Adar/Adar Bet, The Tribe of Naftali (Pisces)
Shabbat Shekalim
Shabbat Zachor
13 Taanit Ester
14 Purim
Shabbat Parah
Shabbat HaChodesh

The month of Nisan, The Tribe of Yehuda (Aries)
Days of Sun begin!
Shabbat HaGadol
14 Taanit Bechorot
15-21 Festival of Pesach (Gate of Sea)
16 Begin Omer count
22 Mimouna
27 Yom HaShoah

The month of Iyyar, The Tribe of Yissachar (Taurus)
Continue Omer count
3 Yom HaZikaron
4 Yom HaAtzmaut
15 Pesach Sheini
18 Lag B’Omer
29 Yom Yerushalayim

The month of Sivan, The Tribe of Zevulun (Gemini)
6 Festival of Shavuot (Gate of Sky)

The month of Tamuz, The Tribe of Reuven (Cancer)
17 Tzom Tammuz

The month of Av, The Tribe of Shimon (Leo)
Shabbat Chazon
9 Tisha B’Av
Shabbat Nachamu
15 Tu B’Av

The month of Elul, The Tribe of Gad (Virgo)
Days of Rain begin!
20 Leil Selichot

MODERN HOLY DAYS
After the festival of Pesach, three holy days cascade over us in rapid succession: Holocaust Remembrance Day, Memorial Day for Fallen Soldiers and Victims of Terror, and Israel’s Independence Day. These new observances were declared after the creation of the modern state of Israel. Their observance would be moved if their dates fell on or adjacent to Shabbat.

Another modern observance occurs shortly after those. Yom Yerushalayim celebrates Israel’s regaining control over Jerusalem nineteen years after Jordan conquered the city, expelled all Jews, and destroyed the Jewish Quarter.

CELESTIAL EVENTS
Cross Quarter Day (Lughnasad)     Av (or Elul) near Tu B’av
Autumn Equinox                             Tishrei (or Elul) near New Moon of Tishrei
Cross Quarter Day (Samhain)         Cheshvan (or Kislev) near Rachel’s Yahrzeit
Winter Solstice                                Tevet (or Kislev) near New Moon of Tevet
Cross Quarter Day (Imbolc)            Shevat (or Adar Alef) near Tu B’Shevat
Vernal Equinox                                Adar (or Nisan) near New Moon of Nisan
Cross Quarter Day (Beltaine)          Iyyar (or Nisan) near Lag B’Omer
Summer Solstice                              Sivan (or Tammuz) near New Moon of Tammuz

THE ZODIAC AND THE TWELVE TRIBES
Ancient astronomers divided the sky (and the year) into twelve equal sections. Later, the Israelites associated these twelve regions with the twelve tribes of Israel.

The Twelve Tribes of Israel originated with the thirteen children of the Four Holy Mothers: Bilhah, Rachel, Zilpah, and Leah (ברז׳׳ל). Bilhah was the mother of Dan and Naftali. Rachel was the mother of Yosef and Binyamin. Zilpah was the mother of Gad and Asher. Leah was the mother of six sons and one daughter: Reuven, Shimon, Levi, Yehudah, Issachar, Zevulun, and Dinah.

The half-tribes of Efraim and Menasheh were descended from the two children of Yosef. (Isaac never stopped playing favorites.) Yosef’s wife, Asnat, may have been the daughter of Dinah, making these tribes descendants of both Leah and Rachel.

The Levites were appointed priests and given no portion in the Land.

The Twelve Tribes lived in the following regions of the Land:

Gad - East bank of the Jordan River  
Efraim - Center
Menasheh - Both sides of the Jordan River
Binyamin - Southern center
Dan - Coastal center
Asher - Coastal north
Levi (no portion in the Land)
Naftali - North
Yehuda - South
Yissachar - Northern center
Zevulun - North
Reuven - East bank of the Jordan River
Shimon - South, within the portion of Judah

THE "SEVEN SPECIES" OF THE LAND
The Hebrew calendar was an agricultural calendar. Holidays, especially the pilgrimage festivals, were determined by agricultural cycles. Seven crops were particularly valued by the ancient Israelites and Judeans:

Grapes, harvested in Elul and Tishrei
Figs, harvested in Elul and Tishrei
Olives, harvested in Cheshvan
Barley, harvested in Nisan and Iyyar
Wheat, harvested in Sivan
Pomegranates, harvested in Tammuz and Av
Dates, harvested in Av, Elul, and Tishrei

CONCLUSION
The Hebrew calendar and the Hebrew language, as much as the knowledge of our sacred texts, are essential for us to live as a people in our Land. It is a cornerstone of Jewish identity and heritage, connecting Jews across generations.

The Hebrew calendar weaves together threads of history, faith, community, and life in the Land. It reminds us of our shared history, guiding us through the cycle of the year, its produce, holy days, and modern commemorations. It provides a roadmap to our future, anchoring our aspirations within a traditional framework.

As early Zionist pioneers discovered almost 200 years ago, the Hebrew calendar is essential for living in the Land. It is second only in importance to the revival of the Hebrew language. The Hebrew language, along with the Hebrew calendar and the Torah and Talmud, form the bedrock of Jewish culture, enabling us to preserve, transmit, and transform our beliefs, values, and customs from one generation to the next. Without this calendar, our connection to our history, our faith, and our Land would be greatly diminished.

The Hebrew calendar and the Hebrew language are unifying forces, sources of strength and unity that reinforce our sense of purpose as a people. Whether it’s the the reading of the weekly Torah parasha on Shabbat, the bicycle riding of Yom Kippur, the joyous observance of the Passover seder, or the grief and pride of Yom HaZikaron, or the quiet joy of watching twinkling Chanukkah lights, the Hebrew calendar keeps us rooted in our Land, offering us a sense of belonging and continuity. The calendar doesn’t just mark time. It marks the heartbeat of the Jewish people and guides us into the future.

Body Camera Footage from 7 October

I’m wondering whether or not to support the public release of the October 7 body cam footage recorded by the murderers, rapists, torturers, and kidnappers who have been captured or killed.

The intention behind releasing it would be to shed light on the necessity for Israel to defend itself from future atrocities.

On the other hand, showing the footage would be disrespectful to the victims. Judaism has very specific rules to ensure the respectful care for dead bodies because they once housed human souls. Showing this footage would violate those rules. Nonetheless, if releasing additional the footage would save more lives, I think we would be morally required to release it.

So, the question is: would showing even more horrifying footage truly change people's perspectives? For the most part, I don’t think so. Some of the horrors have already been viewed by the world, and anyone with a soul has recognized that the attacks were inhumane, immoral, barbaric… no words suffice to describe them.

Anti-Semites around the world could respond to this footage to celebrate and mock the deaths of these people. I cannot bear the thought of subjecting them or their grieving families to such contempt.

What are your perspectives and your opinion about showing the body cam footage?

Israeli Ambassador to the UN Gilad Erdan hosted a special screening of the documentation for senior ambassadors and diplomats. The Foreign Ministry and the IDF are gradually showing the atrocities at all the major embassies around the world. Before the screening, they have the viewers sign a document prohibiting them from distributing the footage and take away their phones. - YNetNews, Itamar Eichner & Yoav Zitun, 6 Nov 2023 

Who was asleep at the switch?

The news is becoming increasingly distressing. It all began yesterday morning, during Shabbat and Simchat Torah.

According to an expert interviewed on i24, Hamas had a four-stage plan. First, the terrorist organization initiated rocket attacks to divert attention from their initial border incursion. Following this, a wave of terrorists kidnapped people, hijacked cars, and transported them to Gaza in order to motivate other groups. A second wave included two distinct groups: one tasked with killing or capturing Israeli civilians, and the other lying in wait until people believed it was safe again.

An attempted sea assault failed.

This surprise attack should not have been a surprise-- or even possible. Even more shocking was that the army didn't arrive for almost nine hours! People found themselves defenseless without guns, relying solely on bomb shelters. And while every home and building has a bomb shelter, not every bomb shelter can be securely locked.

In seven cities, fighting continues, 36 hours after the initial attack, with people still hiding in their bomb shelters. In other cities, tragic scenes are unfolding as the bodies of those slaughtered in their homes are found. Sometimes, even after soldiers believe an area is clear, sleeper groups emerge and start firing.

So far, 600 bodies have been discovered. On Shabbat, an outdoor festival turned into a nightmare, with many people shot and others kidnapped and taken to Gaza.

I haven't watched Hamas's videos, but reports suggest they are so horrifying that Arabs in other countries are condemning Hammas and uncharacteristically expressing support for Israel.

Israelis living near Gaza are being evacuated. In response to two rockets from Lebanon this morning, one citizens group is advising and organizing a preemptive evacuation of people living near the border with Lebanon. Israeli Arabs are not heeding Hamas's calls to join in the violence. Syria remains uninvolved. Eilat, although wedged between Egypt and Jordan is expected to remain peaceful (knock on wood).

Various Israeli spokespeople appear to believe that global support will continue. I predict it will not.

EDIT: Times of Israel article from 9 October, Hamas carried out years-long campaign to fool Israel before attack, source says

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Some Suggestions for Teachers in Ulpan Alef

Suggestion 1 - Use dialogues.

Remember the dialogues in high school French? Dialogues in Hebrew would be a useful exercise. I left Ulpan Alef not knowing how to say, “My name is Hannah.”

Pat: Bonjour.
Sylvie: Comment ça va?
Pat: Ça va très bien, merci. Et vous?
Sylvie: Ça va, merci. Comment vous appelez-vous?
Pat: Je m'appelle Pat:, et vous ? Comment vous appelez-vous?
Sylvie: Je m'appelle Sylvie.
Pat: Enchanté(e), Sylvie.
Sylvie: Enchanté(e), Pat.
Pat: Et vous venez d'où, Sylvie?
Sylvie: Je viens de France. Je suis français(e).
Pat: Ah, vous êtes français(e). Je suis américain(e).
Sylvie: Ah, vous êtes américain(e). Vous venez d'où exactement?
Pat: Je viens de Boston. Je suis étudiant(e).
Sylvie: Ah, vous êtes étudiant(e). Moi, je suis professeur, professeur d'anglais.
Pat: Ah, vous êtes professeur d'anglais? Vous parlez anglai?
Sylvie: Oui. Et vous parlez français?
Pat: Oui. Un petit peu.
Sylvie: OK. Je vais chez moi maintenant.
Pat: OK. Moi aussi. Au revoir. Bonne journée.
Sylvie: Au revoir. Bonne journée.

It took me almost two years to be able to have a similar conversation in Hebrew. I did not learn it in Ulpan Alef.

Suggestion 2 – Assume students will need to communicate with Israelis.

Ulpan Alef got one thing right: repetition is important. But drilling verb conjugations is not helpful. Verbs belong in sentences, not on verb tables!

We drilled nearly 250 verbs over five months in Ulpan Alef, but we never spoke them in sentences. By Thursday, quite a few of us had to struggle to remember the verbs we had learned on Sunday and Monday, let alone the previous week.

If you’re talking to two women about something they may do in the future, you don’t have fifteen or twenty seconds to go through most of a verb's possible conjugations to find the right word. Students need to learn commonly used verbs and how they behave in sentences.

It was also infuriating that none of our five teachers would the answer the question, “How can you tell what binyan an infinitive belongs to?” (There is an answer. It's not "Listen to the musika.")

Suggestion 3 – Teach students commonly used phrases and have students speak them frequently.

There are a limited number of things store clerks and pharmacists might want to say to a customer. Hebrew students need to learn common phrases and common responses to those phrases. And we need to learn how to converse with Israelis so we’ll have an opportunity to learn more even more Hebrew.

I did learn a handful of phrases in Ulpan Alef. But frankly, I have never had an occasion to say, “Line five passed five minutes ago.” (However, I have learned what "אל תדאג" really means... we're ignoring you.)

Start with useful phrases and build more vocabulary on that foundation.

Suggestion 4  – A textbook

Could it hurt to have one?

Suggestion 5  – Numbers

I asked one of our ulpan teachers to go over the numbers with us. She said the school didn't do that because numbers are too difficult. Difficult? That's a good reason to teach them!

Suggestion 6 – Give students basic vocabulary and grammar so they have a foundation to learn more after ulpan ends.

I don’t know what those tools might be, but here’s my list of what does not help:

לַעֲזוֹב ,לְהוֹסִיף ,לְהִתְקַדֵּם ,לְהַסְכִּים ,לְהַרְשׁוֹת ,לַעֲנוֹת ,לְהִתְנַצֵּל ,לְהוֹפִיעַ ,לְהַעֲרִיךְ ,לְסַדֵּר ,לְהַגִּיעַ ,לַעֲלוֹת ,לִשְׁאוֹל ,לְצָרֵף ,לְהִתְפַּנּוֹת ,לִהְיוֹת ,לוּכַל ,לְהִתְקַבֵּל ,לְהַכִּיר ,לִפְחוֹד ,לְהִישָּׁאֵל ,לְהִיווָּלֵד ,בֻּטַּל ,לְהִתְבַּטֵּל ,לְהִיבָּדֵק ,לְהִיסָּגֵר ,לְהִתְבַּשֵּׁל ,לְהִסְתַּייֵּם ,לְהַרְגִּישׁ ,לְהִיגָּמֵר ,לְהִיסָּלֵחַ ,לְהִימָּצֵא ,לִשְׂמוֹחַ ,לְהִישָּׁמֵעַ ,לְהִשְׁתַּפֵּר ,שֻׁפַּר ,הֻזְמַן ,לְאַחֵר ,לְהִיפָּתֵחַ ,סֻדַּר ,שֻׁלַּם ,לְהִשְׁתַּלֵּם ,לְהֵירָשֵׁם ,לְהִתְבַּקֵּשׁ ,לְהִיפָּתֵר ,לְהִצְטַעֵר ,לְהִתְפַּלֵּא ,הוּבַן ,לִטְעוֹת ,לְהַאֲמִין ,לִשְׁבּוֹר ,לְהָבִיא ,לִבְנוֹת ,לִקְנוֹת ,לְבַטֵּל ,לִתְפּוֹשׂ ,לַחְגֹּג ,לְהִשְׁתַּנּוֹת ,לְשַׁנּוֹת ,לִבְדּוֹק ,לִבְחוֹר ,לְבָרֵר ,לִסְגּוֹר ,לָבוֹא ,לְהַשְׁלִים ,לְחַבֵּר ,לְהַמְשִׁיךְ ,לְבַשֵּׁל ,לִסְפּוֹר ,לְהַחְלִיט ,לִדְרוֹשׁ ,לָרֶדֶת ,לָמוּת ,לְהֵיעָלֵם ,לָדוּן ,לְהַפְרִיעַ ,לְהִשְׁתַּדֵּל ,לַעֲשׂוֹת ,לַחֲלוֹם ,לִשְׁתּוֹת ,לָגוּר ,לְהַרְווִיחַ ,לְהִשְׂתַּכֵּר ,לֶאֱכוֹל ,לֵיהָנוֹת ,לְהִיכָּנֵס ,לִבְרוֹחַ ,לְהָקִים ,לְהַחֲלִיף ,לְקַייֵּם ,לָצֵאת ,לְהַסְבִּיר ,לְהַרְגִּישׁ ,לִלְחוֹם ,לְמַלֵּא ,לִמְצוֹא ,לִגְמוֹר ,לְסַייֵּם ,לְתַקֵּן ,לָטוּס ,לִשְׁכּוֹחַ ,לִסְלוֹחַ ,לְהִתְחַתֵּן ,לָקוּם ,לְהִתְרַגֵּל ,לָתֵת ,לָלֶכֶת ,לִקְרוֹת ,לִשְׁמוֹעַ ,לַעֲזוֹר ,לְהַחְזִיק ,לְקַוּוֹת ,לִכְאוֹב ,לִפְגּוֹעַ ,לְשַׁפֵּר ,לְהַשְׁפִּיעַ ,לְהוֹדִיעַ ,לְהִתְכַּווֵּן ,לְהַזְמִין ,לְהִצְטָרֵף ,לְדַלֵּג ,לַהֲרוֹג ,לָדַעַת ,לִצְחוֹק ,לְהַשְׁאִיר ,לְשַׁקֵּר ,לֶאֱהוֹב ,לְהַקְשִׁיב ,לִחְיוֹת ,לְהִסְתַּכֵּל ,לְהַסְפִּיק ,לְהִסְתַּדֵּר ,לָמוֹד ,לְהִיפָּגֵשׁ ,לְפַסְפֵס ,לְהִתְגַּעֲגֵעַ ,לְהִצְטָרֵךְ ,לִפְתּוֹחַ ,לְהִשְׁתַּתֵּף ,לִפְסוֹחַ ,לַעֲבוֹר ,לְשַׁלֵּם ,לְשַׂחֵק ,לְנַגֵּן ,לִדְחוֹת ,לְהַעֲדִיף ,לְהָכִין ,לִלְחוֹץ ,לְהַבְטִיחַ ,לְפַרְסֵם ,לְהַכְנִיס ,לָשִׂים ,לִקְרוֹא ,לְהִיזָּכֵר ,לְקַבֵּל ,לְהַמְלִיץ ,לִרְשׁוֹם ,לְהֵירָשֵׁם ,לִזְכּוֹר ,לְהַזְכִּיר ,לִשְׂכּוֹר ,לְבַקֵּשׁ ,לָנוּחַ ,לַחֲזוֹר ,לְהַחֲזִיר ,לַחֲזוֹר ,לְצַלְצֵל ,לְקַלְקֵל ,לָרוּץ ,לַחֲסוֹךְ ,לִקְבּוֹעַ ,לִרְאוֹת ,לְהִתְרָאוֹת ,לִמְכּוֹר ,לִשְׁלוֹחַ ,לִצְעוֹק ,לְהַרְאוֹת ,לַחְתּוֹם ,לָשִׁיר ,לָשֶׁבֶת ,לִישׁוֹן ,לְעַשֵּׁן ,לִפְתּוֹר ,לְדַבֵּר ,לְהוֹצִיא ,לְפַנֵּק ,לַעֲמוֹד ,לְהַתְחִיל ,לְהַפְסִיק ,לַעֲצוֹר ,לִלְמוֹד ,לְהַצְלִיחַ ,לִסְבּוֹל ,לְהַצִּיעַ ,לְהַתְאִים ,לָקַחַת ,לְטַפֵּל ,לְהוֹרִיד ,לְהִתְקַייֵּם ,לְלַמֵּד ,לְהִתְקַשֵּׁר ,לְסַפֵּר ,לְהַגִּיד ,לוֹמַר ,לְהוֹדוֹת ,לַחְשׁוֹב ,לְהַעֲבִיר ,לְתַרְגֵּם ,לִנְסוֹעַ ,לְטַייֵּל ,לִסְמוֹךְ ,לְנַסּוֹת ,לִפְנוֹת ,לְהַדְלִיק ,לְהָבִין ,לְעַדְכֵּן ,לְהִשְׁתַּמֵּשׁ ,לְבַקֵּר ,לְחַכּוֹת ,לְהִתְעוֹרֵר ,לִרְצוֹת ,לְבַזְבֵּז לִשְׁקוֹל ,לִזְכּוֹת ,לְאַחֵל ,לַעֲבוֹד ,לִדְאוֹג ,לִכְתּוֹב

At least I'm not an abomination

The statement “A woman wearing a tallis and wrapping tefillin is an anathema to Orthodox women” was a response I encountered during a Facebook discussion on Ryan Bellerose's page. It is frustrating to witness Jewish women cursing fellow Jewish women who choose to observe the mitzvot, the commandments of our Torah, particularly when Israel is under serious threat from Christian missionaries and Islamic terrorists.

Living in Israel, I have experienced the unfortunate reality that I cannot freely pray at the Kotel while wearing my tallit, unless I am prepared to risking being spat on or subjected to physical violence.

I struggle to comprehend why Orthodox women feel compelled to dictate whether other Jewish women should wear tallitot or wrap tefillin. Why should the practice of another person or another community interest them?
The Rabbis stated that women are not obligated to observe time-bound mitzvot (with the ironic exceptions of lighting Shabbat candles, immersing in the mikveh, and taking challah, which are all required of women and are definitely time-bound). However, the Rabbis never prohibited women from observing other commandments. In fact, the Talmud even mentions women who observed the mitzvot and it regards such actions positively. The daughters of Rashi, a renowned medieval commentator on the Talmud, wrapped tefillin. Were they considered anathemas? Certainly not!

Ryan has deleted all comments to this pos

Ryan's underlying concern is the prohibition on Jews praying on the Temple Mount, which is indeed a significant issue. However, it is important to acknowledge that we cannot democratically change this reality. In 1967, Israel regained control of Jerusalem, which had been conquered and occupied by Jordan in 1949. As part of a diplomatic resolution, Israel entrusted Jordanian Islamic authorities with control over the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa mosque. Prayer at the Western Wall, which is located below the Temple Mount, falls within the purview of Israeli democracy.

There is no valid reason for Damon Rosen to falsely claim that everything is perfectly satisfactory at the Kotel nor should he denigrate non-Orthodox Jews by referring to them as 'Jewish-in-quotes.’

Our sages, Chazal, asserted that the destruction of the Temple was a consequence of baseless hatred among Jews, and sadly, such hatred exists today. Damon's words only fuel the fires of animosity.

During the High Holy Days, while I was in the United States, I was free to wear my tallit in public as I prayed as a Jew. It was a personal and meaningful experience that did not harm anyone and felt right. However, living in Israel, I will not be able dance with a Torah scroll on Simchat Torah this year, a holiday that signifies our joy in receiving the Torah. This limitation is due to the influence of right-wing Orthodoxy on practices and norms here.

In all other areas of Israeli life, diversity is accepted and we celebrate our shared heritage. Divisions that affect our spiritual lives are a real anathema.

Looking over the mehitza, stealing a siddur, and desecrating it!

Maale Adumim

I've spent almost a week in a town over the Green Line called Maale Adumim. It's a city really, but so much quieter and cleaner than Jerusalem, with many more trees and views of undeveloped valleys and of Jerusalem. The air is clean and there's so little traffic that you can hear the birds sing. I felt my heart open up the first time I came here to visit with Maya and Ivan.

The commute via bus and train to Jerusalem is inconvenient, but seeing bare earth rejuvenates my soul, which I did not even realize needed rejuvenating.

The commute has its up side. One day, when traffic was particularly bad and I was beginning to be annoyed, the bus crested a hill and a view of the Old City appeared before us. Amazing!

Last week, Maya and Ivan helped me schlep my three small bags and drum on public transport and then Ivan helped me track down the home I'd be staying in. (Never would have found it without him!) Then we walked to their home. I spent some time with them before taking a short walk, buying a few groceries at a tiny, Ethiopian makolet, and enjoying the view of a forested valley in front of Dennis's and Batyah's home.

I should have taken pictures, but I was so caught up in looking that it never occurred to me.

Friday was great! I've been wondering about the rhythm of the week here. In the States, Shabbat begins right at the end of the work week, so you have to spend a little time every day preparing for Shabbat, and then, after enjoying Shabbat, you have Sunday to either rest some more or run errands. Here it often feels that we don't have a weekend at all. You spend Friday morning rushing to do errands or see sites before everything shuts down in the early afternoon.

I think this past Friday are what Fridays in Israel are supposed to feel like, a gentle movement toward Shabbat. I took a very early morning walk, then went back to bed, did my laundry, and helped a tiny bit with Shabbos cleaning. The art museum was closed and so was the archaeological site, so then I walked past stunning views to the kanyon (K.N.H. - shoresh for buying) and wrote a little bit.

Maya had started a new job my first day there and was also very, very sick, so I hadn't see much of her, which was one of the main reasons I came out here for the week. On Friday, she dragged herself out to spend time with me. We sat on the grass near some olive trees in front of the town's knesset, enjoying the warm sun watching a black and tan raven and talking about Tolkien and aliyah. Maya really should have been in bed resting, but I was so glad we had that time together.

She took me to a grocery store and showed me how to "rent" a shopping cart. I  managed some short, Hebrew conversations in the grocery store (Yes, I can save your place... Sorry, sir, there's one person ahead of you...) before heading back to Dennis's and Batyah's home.  I admired the view, their son showed me how to set a table, and then I began reading the weekly parasha.

To my surprise, Dennis asked if I'd like to walk to shul with him. It was kind of him, but I didn't want to sit alone in the girl's section and try to remember my way around the prayer book, so I stayed to finish reading the parasha and to light candles with Batyah.

Just three months of intensive Hebrew has transformed how I read the parasha! I could locate words and phrases more easily, knew what to look up, and wondered at past tense verbs that shouldn't have been in the past tense. It was the most fun I've ever had reading the parasha alone. Just think what a few more years of study could do for me!

I had interacted with Dennis and his children just a little and had barely seen Batyah before the weekend, so I wondered what Shabbat dinner would be like. Fabulous! Dutch melodies are different, but they asked me what my favorite song was and Dennis (for obvious reasons) knew the Sephardic tune that I love. And discussion of the parasha was relaxed and inquisitive. Dennis also explained the "tense changing vav" to me.

Woke early again, Shabbat morning. The sun was warm and I listened to birds singing and gazed at the trees. This is the kind of place I need to live in. I feel human again.

My day was very Jewish, if unobservant. It was Tisha B'av and I listened to an online meditation and a lecture by Jill Hammer about the evolution of Tisha B'av observance. Then I walked some more and took a Shabbos nap. I was reading when Batyah invited me to join them for havdallah. How nice of them! It's one of my favorite rituals.

My time here was wonderful, but I won't stay any longer. The local aliyah rep would help me find an apartment in Maale Adumim, but it's not the town for me. I think I'd be too alone. Dennis doesn't think a single woman could find community. I don't think I'd see much of Ivan and Maya, and besides, they will be moving away at the end of the summer. It's a shame, because I like Maale Adumim so much more than Jerusalem.)

Desperately seeking an author

Justice Requires Truth

Colonialism is a bad word. So let's call Israel colonial. Even though it's not.

A recent post at Gods&Radicals quoted a book that referred to "Israeli colonialism." Does the author of the book or the person who posted the review of it know what colonialism is? Do either of them know the history of Jewish immigration to Israel or that there has been a continuous presence in the Land for 3,000 years? [Edit: The reviewer removed that quote from his post… so maybe he knows better now.]

Capitalism is a bad word. So let's point out that Israel is (partly) a capitalist country. So are many other countries.

Kibbutzim were the ideal for many decades. The ideal didn't work out ideally, so many kibbutzim have changed their social and economic structures.

Apartheid is a bad word. So let's call Israel an apartheid state. Even though it's not.

Can there be peace if people are not honest 

about their grievances and hopes? 

Can you honestly say that you hope for peace throughout the world if you are contributing to lies that promote hate and violence?

See all posts labeled 'Lies About Israel'

or follow RM Bellerose for Truth About Israel 

A Black South African on Israel and Apartheid

I recently received this comment on another blog, after someone read a post of mine:

This blog post you link to is just a tirade that says if you stand in solidarity with Palestinians you are an anti-Semite. Because you say so. There is no real explanation, just that opposing the systems of occupation and apartheid somehow equates opposing the Jewish people. Is this the best you can do to justify the horrible acts of a capitalist racist state?

There's no way to communicate with someone who wants to believe things that aren't true.

However, since he brought it up, I thought I'd share this video. Kenneth Meshoe, a South African politician, argues that the allegation that Israel is an apartheid state "is so inaccurate it betrays the memory of those who suffered through a real apartheid."

See all posts labeled 'Lies About Israel'

or follow RM Bellerose for Truth About Israel 

Two Capitols for Two States

Years ago, I had a bumper sticker on my car that read “Two Capitals for Two States.” Because if everyone would just share, then there would be peace, right?

Then, in 2000, Palestinian leaders turned down the opportunity to create a state with its capital in Jerusalem and 98% of the land they had claimed they wanted.

It was the first time that Israel had offered to divide its capital. But, I learned, it was the third time that Palestinian Arab leaders had refused to create a state.

So I finally started making an effort to learn about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, rather than just accepting the popular narrative. I realized that I’d accepted falsehoods without thinking, I was ashamed of myself.

And I ripped that bumper sticker off my car.

About that time, one of the tales Palestinian Arabs often recited was about the Arab town of Jenin. The narrative was that the Israeli Defense Forces had entered Jenin, slaughtered all the Arabs there, and buried them all—men, women, and children—in a mass grave. I learned that this was an invention repudiated even by the U.N., and when I visited Israel ten years later, the town of Jenin was still there and populated by Arabs.

The image I’d had of evil Israeli occupiers was a fiction. I had felt obliged, as a Jew, to do something about the supposed crimes of my people, so I had participated in organizations such as The Jewish Voice for Peace. Why hadn't I felt obliged, as a Jew, to determine that what I’d heard was true?

I was angry that no one at my synagogue had tried to set me straight. No one had even expressed offense that a JVP bumper sticker was in the shul’s parking lot two or more times each week.

I was angrier with Palestinians. How could I make sense of the conflict when I couldn’t trust them to be truthful? How can people achieve peace if they don't honestly discuss their grievances?

Clearly there was (and still is) injustice: children taught to blow themselves up in order to kill Israelis, conflicts resulting in the deaths of Arabs and Israelis, and nothing done to prevent hatred and fear from growing.

With a fictional narrative promoted even by the “balanced and unbiased media,” where can we learn the truth? Why did the Palestinian Arabs turn down opportunities to create a state in 1937, 1947, 1948, 1967, 2000, and 2008?

If you’ve only listened to the popular narrative, don't be afraid to read pro-Israel information for a change. All of us should try to learn facts from the perspective of both sides. How else can we find a route to peace?

Unfortunately, I'm still wondering where to find truth from the Arab perspective. Arabs say they want land and peace, but Israel's “land for peace” policy has not been successful. After its neighbors attacked Israel (three times) and lost, Israel gained land that it offered to return in exchange for treaties. Only Egypt regained land, the Sinai, by simply acknowledging that Israel exists. Simple.

Yet world opinion still vilifies Israel and Israel alone.

While visiting Olympia, Washington recently, I saw a mural on Capitol Way that includes the images of two women. The word “Peace” is painted next to the woman in red, green, and black. The other woman, in blue and white, is tattooed with the words, “I will not occupy.” The mural not-so-subtly puts all the blame for the conflict on Israelis.

What is it that’s occupied? Gaza? Judah? Samaria? Arab towns in Israel? The Golan?

There are no troops in Gaza. (Hence, rockets being fired on Israel.) When Jewish settlers began to build-- legally-- in Judah and Samaria during peace negotiations, the IDF demolished their buildings. And the few times I traveled through Arab-Israeli towns, I saw no Israeli soldiers or even road blocks.

How about the Golan Heights? Israel acquired that land defending itself from Syria and offered to return it in exchange for a peace treaty. Unlike Egypt, Syria refused to sign a peace treaty. It was years before Israel accepted that it would have to administer the area. The Golan Heights represents Syrian intransigence. Some people call it “occupied territory.” I call it northern Israel. 

Judah and Samaria, renamed "The West Bank" when Jordan conquered the territory in 1948, are the Jewish heartland, but Arabs live there. 

The political spectrum in Israel is enormous, but there seem to be cycles of hope and cynicism among all Israelis. One famous singer, who had been a peace activist in the 1970s, said, “There is no one to make peace with.” Arafat had killed the moderate Palestinian Arabs who had been willing to make peace. Today, Hamas uses violence to keep Palestinians in line; it randomly accuses people of aiding Israel and executes them publicly.

Irshad Manji once noted that while she knows Israelis who argue for the Palestinians, she has never met a Palestinian who argues for Israelis. She describes the disappointment she felt when visiting a Palestinian writer who dared not express himself frankly about peace while in the same room as Palestinian leaders.

It might be possible to validly criticize Israelis and Palestinians. Unfortunately, you’ll only hear criticisms of Israel and they are often false. You have to know who is speaking and what his agenda is. Opposition to Israel is rarely about peace; it is mostly inspired by the hatred of Jews, not by facts.

That may be one reason why peace initiatives have not succeeded. There can be no peace without truth.

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עולה חדשה

Eliana Rudee is blogging about being a new immigrant to Israel! 

In Israel, more than anywhere else in the world, I am filled with a sense of wonder, community, and purpose. That pure bliss you feel when you learn something amazing, fall in love, or accomplish something of significance is how I often feel in Israel. It’s a natural high, and it feels right. Perhaps everyone has a place like that, and I know that for many Jews like myself, that place is Israel.

Click here to read her post.

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Nothing to Hide – Airport Security

The last time I left Israel, guards at Ben Gurion Airport stopped me. Familiar with U.S. airport security, my heart instantly started racing.

I had waited in line to check in for my flight while young women, looking delicate and harmless despite their military uniforms, politely questioned passengers with almost Japanese sweetness. When I had reached the front of the line, I put my suitcase in a large, inelegant machine that looked like it belonged in a 1950s movie. As luggage moved along the short conveyor belt, it was scanned for explosives.

When my suitcase came out of the machine, a security guard claimed it and directed me to follow him to a nearby table. I was very nervous, but another young woman in an IDF uniform quickly put me at ease. She asked me if I spoke English and joked with me when I answered in Hebrew. Then she asked, “Do you have honey in your suitcase?” I did. She watched my face carefully when I told her where I purchased the honey and that I had packed my suitcase myself. Then she simply handed me my suitcase and I walked to the ticket booth to check in for my flight.

It had never happened before, but on this occasion, a woman, not in uniform, stopped me just before I boarded the plane. She was matter-of-fact when she stated that she needed to pat me down. It was quick and inoffensive, unlike the pat downs I've received from Homeland Security officers.

After I arrived in the U.S. and was waiting in the “Holders of U.S. Passports” line, I could see a Homeland Security official opening his booth for the “holders of foreign passports.” A young woman, perhaps of Indian descent, approached the booth. The official was immediately aggressive. He took her passport and she nervously answered the questions he barked.

Hoping not to gain the attention of anyone in Homeland Security, I cautiously looked at another American in line next to me. I caught her eye and then moved my chin slightly to indicate the scene.

“She looks really nervous,” the woman whispered.

“I would be, too,” I murmured, trying not to move my lips.

“Well, if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to worry about,” she replied sanctimoniously.

The official continued his interrogation. Then he had the young woman put her eyes up to an impressively modern machine so her irises could be scanned. I could see her legs trembling. The official returned her passport and she walked into the baggage claim area.

After my passport had been stamped, I hurried on, hoping for a chance to speak with the young visitor to my country. She was just picking up her bag. I apologized for what had happened. She was still upset and we spoke for a little while. She was meeting a college friend for dinner in the airport before catching a connecting flight to visit some of her relatives.

I claimed my bag and then waited in another security line. The sanctimonious woman I’d spoken with earlier was ahead of me in the line. When her bags went through the x-ray machine, they attracted the attention of security. She was pulled aside and a guard began unwrapping all the gifts that had been in her suitcase. She was shaking.

Our eyes met and I hoped she could read my mind, “If you’ve got nothing to hide...”

* * *

I was unhappy with U.S. airport security, its tone and its effectiveness.

At Ben Gurion, the young, female guards had obviously been trained in “good manners” and in searching facial expressions for lies. They didn’t resort to intimidation. (Two Europeans who were in line near me at Ben Gurion had acted suspiciously. Red flags were raised even for me, but the IDF girls never raised their voices. Eventually, the two passengers admitted to being a couple and to speaking one of the languages that the guards spoke. I was curious about why they had behaved so strangely, but when Israeli security let them on the plane, I wasn’t worried.) The guards had been polite but persistent.

U.S. Security is harsh and, I worry, less effective. Once years ago, after being pulled aside, searched, frightened, and then released, I realized that that the U.S. security guards had not confiscated my bottle of water. Despite their show of testosterone, they’d let me pick up and openly carry a potentially lethal weapon.

I have less experience with Israeli airport security guards, but they seem more interested in catching terrorists than in bullying innocent travelers.

No news... good news?

As of today, Jerusalem is under attack, too.

None of the websites I just checked, CNN, NPR, USA Today, or the Wall Street Journal, mention it.

Between my tears, all I can say is, "I want to go home, I want to go home."

I wrote to one of my friends there, "Be safe and be brave. I love you for having the courage to be an Israeli and a soldier."

Pray for peace.