Mount Grizim

Yesterday was Pesach sheni, one month after Passover when someone who had missed Passover could celebrate it. However, for the Samaritans, שומרונים it was Pesach!

The Samaritans believe in the Torah, but not in any of the other Biblical books, nor do they accept the Talmud or other rabbinic writings. Since modern Judaism is a product of rabbinic interpretation which they don’t accept, their religion differs in major ways from normative Judaism.

Yesterday a bus of Modi’in residents made its way to Mount Grizim to watch the Passover festivities nd to learn about the Samaritans.

All told, there are about 700 Samaritans in the world and all are living either in Holon, Israel, or on Mount Grizim which is located in Samaria (what some people call “the West Bank”). For the Passover observance, all Samaritans must come to Mount Grizim and participate. Busloads of curious Israelis and tourists arrived to watch the festivities.

On a fairly warm day, the mountain was cold and windy. As we walked toward the location of the ceremonies, we saw some sheep grazing. They looked so peaceful and I couldn’t help but feel sad for what was to happen to them.

Sheep on Mount Grizim

Sheep on Mount Grizim

We went to the museum which was small, but well kept and we were lucky enough to have one of the Cohanim talk to us and tell us about their beliefs and observances. I found it fascinating that they take the same basic laws from the torah as we do and observe them differently. For example, on Yom Kippur, among the Samaritans, everyone fasts, even babies. The only exception is for those babies who are still nursing.

The Cohen, Yefet, with a sefer torah behind him

The Cohen, Yefet, with a sefer torah behind him

Yesterday, we were instructed not to bring with us anything that would be considered chametz, not kosher for Passover. We came to see the ritual slaughter of the paschal sacrifice, the lambs.

Lambs being brought to the ceremony

Lambs being brought to the ceremony

Passing by us on the street

Passing by us on the street

In addition to the Samaritans, there were hundreds of people who had come to watch the ceremony as well as dignitaries from the Palestinian Authority with whom they also have cordial relations. There also were almost as many professional photographers as there were sheep.

People crowded around the enclosed area where only the participants, dignitaries, photographers and some very persuasive visitors were allowed to be. We occupied a grandstand, a hillside all of the areas around the fences, and areas overlooking the site including roofs of buildings. It was very difficult to see and even more difficult to photograph as the people in front of us kept swaying and blocking our views and never thought of saying “why don’t you take a couple of pictures standing in my place and then switch back with me.” It was cold and windy and pretty frustrating to be standing on my feet for about 2 hours and not seeing much.

What we did see were many men approaching the ceremony. Most were dressed in white, however it appeared that the men of higher stature wore green robes. All of the elders some robes and each had a staff that he walked with.

Approaching the ceremony

Approaching the ceremony

Lambs in the pen, unaware

Lambs in the pen, unaware

As we stood and watched, we heard chanting. The leader would begin the chanting and then all of the men would chant. The words were not intelligible to us because they speak a different dialect. The chanting was not unpleasant, but the noise and commotion of all of the onlookers and of the non-participants made it difficult to appreciate. We saw some dignitaries, cohanim/priests, I suppose, on the podium and then there were two long lines of men. also dressed in white, many of them wearing boots, facing each other on either side of a long trench. A glimpse of two of the men showed them each holding a lamb between their legs.

At a certain point, a word was shouted and then in a couple of seconds there was cheering and shouting and people kissing each other. Although we had seen nothing, we guessed that at that point, the lambs were slaughtered. We later found out that we were right. There was such joy and elation among the participants that I found it incomprehensible.

While we were not looking the animals were skinned and gutted and later we saw a few put on huge skewers being readied to be thrown into the deep, round pits that had been burning for hours.

We were told that at that point, the people would go home and only return around midnight to claim their lamb that would be eaten with the people they were close to.

A few commments:

1. I am glad that I went. It certainly was an experience unlike any other I have had. that said, I wish they could have kept their ceremony purer– with less noise and fuss and extraneous noises and people and bustle. It didn’t have a spiritual quality that I could grasp.

2. I am still feeling very sorry for all of the lambs, and especially so when I think of the joy that slaughtering them brought to the people who did it. I never imagined that animal sacrifice could be anything but deeply solemn and deeply moving.

3. I am pretty sure that I heard our neighbor’s cat praying this morning saying “…שלא עשני כבס”

(If you don’t know Hebrew, it probably isn’t worth explaining it…)

Pre-Pesach musings

Last time I wrote a serious post, it was about not taking what people say seriously when they are not being rational (throwing a tantrum). This time I want to talk about taking people seriously, because, in fact, most people do.

Sometimes, we take people too seriously. We allow the nasty comment of a stranger ruin our day. We allow the unfeeling statement of a friend or acquaintance to hurt us.

My mother used to say, “consider the source,” meaning that if the person said something nasty or cruel, chances are he/she wasn’t such a nice person to begin with.

On the other hand, we should pay attention to those who are kind and helpful and to people who we can trust.

Many years ago, my dear friend Susan said only a few words to me that changed (for the better, of course) my whole life. From time to time, I run into people I have had as clients and other acquaintances and they tell me that something that I had told them in the past really helped them.

In Pirke Avot, wise people are instructed to be careful with their words– and even those of us who are not wise, should be careful. Words can hurt and words can heal.

And here is the real challenge that we live with: people listen when we speak. When we say something that helps or hurts them, they remember what we’ve said far longer than we do. A word said in anger can ruin a relationship. A kind word can save a life.

So maybe when we’re thinking of cleaning for Passover, when we rid ourselves of even the tiniest crumbs of what is unfit, it’s a good time to think of the impact of what we say and to realize that even the smallest negative remark can hurt someone a very long time and the smallest expression of support can change someone’s life.

Funniest Experiences

Funniest experiences

Rules: Fill in the following. Tag 4 friends to do the same.

  • My funniest dream
    I try really hard not to remember my dreams because in them frequently I find myself in public places having forgotten to put on my clothes.
  • My funniest experience with a pet
    At the time I didn’t think it was funny, but my daughter thought that heating up a piece of chicken for the dog was a bit over the top. I like it warm… I thought he would too.
  • My funniest experience at a job interview
    I applied for a job working with a population that I really didn’t know and the interviewer wanted so badly to hire me that she supplied the answers to the questions she asked me.
  • My funniest purchase
    I’m sure there are funnier ones, but recently on a rainy day I purchased a meter of plastic tablecloth material to cover my shopping cart that was full of purchases and likely to drown in the downpour we were having.
  • My funniest experience in high school
    High school was not funny.
  • My funniest cooking experience
    The first year I was married I made bread pudding with rye bread. Not recommended.
  • The funniest thing I ever said to anyone
    “When you’re a daddy, you get to eat all the ice cream” It wasn’t funny then, but the story evolved.
Everyone tagged

My family and friends are invited to add in the comments any answers that they think I should have given.
fill in this meme

Sleeqo

A Fictional Tale

Remember all those word problems we had to figure out in school? John is twice as old as his sister Mary will be when John’s younger brother, Christopher has his bar mitzvah- how old is his mother? OK, John and Mary are not likely to have a brother who is having a a bar mitzvah, much less “Christopher” but that’s beside the point. It’s also a lot easier than the word problem I’ve been trying to solve in the last 24 hours.

Let’s say a fictional woman has 5 fictional children. Two of them live within walking distance and the others live less than an hour’s drive away. (I’m giving you irrelevant information, akin to the names above, but you have to figure out which information *is* relevant– you will be tested on this.) Now let’s say that there’s a fictional holiday coming up at the beginning of next week (end of this week for John, Mary, and Christopher). For this fictional holiday, this fictional woman has been inviting all of her fictional children and her fictional grandchildren (an ever-increasing number) for the last, let’s see, maybe 10 years. At first, they would meet in the morning to hear the (fictional) megilla. Then, after a few years (maybe 7 or so), they would meet in the evening. Bagels and lox would have been a component of this fictional adventure. OK, so now you have the fictional history up to a couple of weeks ago.

At that time the fictional woman wrote an email to all five of the children suggesting they meet in the morning since the evening was after shabbat and therefore it would of necessity start late and the grandchildren would be tired etc. No one seemed to object. Let’s call the fictional children living close by the fictional woman A, B, & C (yes, I am aware I had said two lived close by; A, B, & C are the names of all three of the two of them, but that’s another story). A,B, & C all were fine with the plan. Let’s call the three who live within an hour’s driving distance X, Y, & Z (this fictional woman was not very creative at name-giving. Poor children… imagine the looks they got in school when they introduced themselves. I’ll bet though, no teacher asked them what they were called “for short.”)

The first sign of trouble was when X said, “Remember, we must leave by 9:30 a.m.” Not that it was trouble, but combined with the next statement, it presented problems. It was when Y said “It’s unrealistic to think that we can get there before 9:30 a.m.” What to do? One is arriving when the other is leaving and the whole point is for everyone to be there at the same time. It became a problem especially since the fictional woman does not want to upset or hurt any of her fictional children and pretty much is waiting with bated breath to see all of her totally adorable fictional grandchildren in their fabulous (fictional) costumes.

The fictional woman consulted with A,B,C, & Z. There were a number of suggestions including Skyping the X family in, meeting on Monday, buying Y a new alarm clock (threw that one in to fool you– no one actually (or fictionally) said that), etc. The fictional woman tried several different tactics from “Work it out yourselves” to “Let the disinterested parties work it out and we’ll abide by their decision” to “Let’s talk about interests rather than solutions.” At one point X suggested that X & Y work it out over a steak. The fictional woman was pretty sure who would be called upon to pay for the steaks.

No fewer than 32 emails were sent and several telephone calls were made. In the end, the X family sent its chief negotiator to settle the matter, more or less to everyone’s satisfaction.

Stay tuned for the fictional pictures sometime next week.

Taking a deep breath

Who said that when you get old you slow down? Well, maybe there are days when I am not physically running around, but ohmigosh… busy!! I have to say, though, I do love it! It’s great to have my children and grandchildren nearby and it’s great to have other interests as well.

Right now we are working on learning everything we can about our new travel destinations. We also are trying to learn survival Spanish. There are enough cognates of French and English that we often are able to read captions and descriptions, but passive vocabulary won’t get you 4 more tablespoons or enough bread to make sandwiches for 36 people. So it’s a wild and woolly time here cramming for a test of our Spanish that’s coming in only a few months and that we must pass.

To say that the tour to Ecuador, the Galapagos Islands, and Peru was fantastic, is such an understatement. Imagine for a moment that you were able to be present on earth on the 5th day of creation. There are the creeping things and the fish and the birds and all of the plant life, and the sea. Imagine all of it living together in harmony. Imagine how beautiful it would be. How pure. How utterly precious.

That is what you find when you step onto most of the Galapagos Islands.

There are no words.

But there are pictures. You can see them here.

Here’s a preview:

A blue-footed boobie

A blue-footed boobie

Feeling grumpy!

I am slowly recovering from my jet lag. We left Lima, Peru, at about 9 on Sunday night (Lima time), arrived in Madrid about 2 in the afternoon Monday (Madrid time) and took off again at about 11:50 pm, landing in Israel about 4:30 am on Tuesday– spending two nights on planes. So, I am a bit grumpy. And here’s what’s been really irking me:

Why is it that the woman in front of me on the last plane (the one that took off from Madrid at about midnight) who got onto the plane with her husband had to put on not only her own reading light, but the one beside her ALL NIGHT and proceed to blab with the 60 year old hippie guy with the earrings who stood in the aisle much of the trip talking to her and sounding like nothing so much as an overconfident teenager?

OK, I know there’s no good answer, but really people, isn’t it time that we grew up and started thinking about others? I mean, I understand that people want to do what they want to do, but at the expense of others? I mean I wouldn’t go and stand outside her window in the middle of the night and have a loud conversation. I wouldn’t take a flashlight and shine it in her face. Yes, I could. Yes, there’s no law against it. But is that the world you’d want to live in?

And while I’m grumping… Is it really necessary to push in front of everyone in order to get onto a plane? I seem to recall this thing called assigned seats. Best I can tell, if you have a boarding pass, chances are pretty good you’ve also got a seat. The first people onto the plane are not going to get to the destination any faster than the last ones.

And also, lines. People! Unless you’re having a health crisis, it probably isn’t going to kill you to wait your turn.

Yes, grumpy.

Catching up

If you read parts 1,2, & 3 of the adventure and wonder why I stopped writing, it’s because I have relocated the saga to the travel blog and added pictures when relevant. Chapter 5 in written and 6 is on its way. For anyone wondering about this question… It was a fantastic trip and even with all of the unscheduled adventures, our travelers had a great time, virtually untouched by tension and so did we (although not untouched by tension.) By the time I was home for 2 weeks, I was ready to go back and do it again– that’s how much fun it was… and you only can truly understand if you come along with me next time (hint, hint).

But now here we are in the little town of Modi’in (population >70K) for Hanuka and today we are anticipating the gathering of most of the clan– some members are not feeling well and some are away. Today is also an awful day in terms of air pollution and people have been urged to stay inside.

I have a lot of art supplies, a Hanuka video (“Lights”) and a few dozen latkes. Mostly, I am hoping that the little people get to spend time with their cousins and aunts and uncles.

Across from our house as you look to the right is a hill that some believe was the ancient city of Modi’in. It has artifacts from back to the Stone Age and ruins from several eras in between. At the top of the mountain is a water tower that has a series of columns that look like torches around it. For the last couple of years, they have lit the tower at holiday times with pastel lights. This year, nine of the columns have large lights on them that are lit according to the night of Hanuka. It’s quite impressive!

I wish all of you a wonderful bright Hanuka– and as a gift to yourself, a trip to China or Vietnam/Cambodia in 2010 is a pretty good idea!

Lesson learned

In the past, when something I was ashamed or embarrassed of happened, I would pretty much feel bad. Now I say to myself: how wonderful! more material for the blog!

So today I was at the pool. After I had finished swimming as much as I wanted to, I went to the jacuzzi and just sat in the warm water. Along came a young man (probably in his mid 20s) with a book. A book and a jacuzzi? Not your best combination. But who was I to say anything? So he pulled over a chair, ostensibly so he could sit with his feet in the jacuzzi. However, sitting on the chair made his feet unable to reach the jacuzzi, so he decided to sit at the edge of the jacuzzi. Yes, with the book. The wet book.

I decided to leave the jacuzzi at that point since I was a bit concerned that whatever was wrong with him might be contagious (and it was time to leave anyway).

I showered, dressed, and then, before blow drying my hair, went to put on makeup. You see, not only is my skin naturally very red, but showering reddens it to the point that people who see me after a shower normally say “Have you been crying?” Makeup is a must. As I looked in the mirror I could see where the antibiotic my grandson had spit out in the morning was adorning my silk blouse.

I had forgotten that the makeup was almost gone and when I pushed down on the little plunger, nothing came out. I unscrewed the top, added a little water, shook, and applied some to the sponge. It was only when I did that the second time that the plunger worked a little too well. The makeup sprayed onto the front of my blouse.

Now if you don’t use makeup or if you are a man (who I hope doesn’t use makeup, but who knows these days?) you may not know that makeup does not easily come out of fabric. I immediately took my towel out, wet it, and began frantically wiping the front of my blouse. As much as I tried to get it clean, it wasn’t working. So, I decided to add some liquid hand soap to the wet towel and rub very hard. It appeared that the makeup was actually starting to come out, but while rubbing the blouse very hard, I had actually pulled off a button that closed a strategic area. I knelt on the floor and found the button, put it in my cosmetic bag and then contemplated my next move. I now had a blouse that was wet on most of the front with no button to close where a button should be. I had no safety pin. Instead, I dug back into the gym bag and got out the long wide piece of fabric (a pareo) that I put over myself on the way to and from the shower. It became a very large scarf that I put over my shoulders and tied in a large tie across my chest.

So here is the lesson I learned: You may think that it was not to judge Mr. Book-in-the-jacuzzi, but alas, that was not the real lesson, although I do understand that now. In fact, it was to understand that what an almost one year old can do to my blouse is nothing compared to what I can do to it.

Yes, still here, still opinionated

No, I have not fallen off the face of the earth. No, I have not been roaming around the world (as much as I would have liked to.) I simply have been preoccupied by preparations for our next trip– the tour we are leading to Vietnam and Cambodia. Since we have people coming from 4 different countries with different connecting flights and since we can’t always get the internal flights at the times we would prefer, we’ve had to do a lot of planning trouble-shooting, rescheduling and renegotiation with the local providers. Everything has been settled to my satisfaction– and I am a tough one to satisfy– but it has taken a lot of energy to say nothing of stress.

Now, add to that a cough I developed about 4 weeks ago that until about two days ago was getting worse and worse and you have the recipe for no blog posts.

But I have not been idle in my thoughts. I share with my friend Alissa the thought that we have been hearing entirely too much about the Fort Hood murderer and not nearly enough about the innocent people whose lives he took. I offer my deepest condolences to the families of those who were murdered and my prayers for full recovery for those who were injured. As I has suspected, these people were the victims of political correctness. All of the signs of a radical Islamist were there and no one was willing to pay attention enough to prevent this massacre.

My husband and I raised our children on Army posts in the US and in Germany. The posts we lived on were beautiful. The grass was trimmed, he trees were stately, and it was the finest America had to offer. We always felt safe. Nothing bad happened on Army posts. Our children could play outside and no one would bully them or hurt them. Even the people driving cars through the housing areas obeyed the speed laws that limited them to 15 MPH. It was idyllic America. If the safest place in the world is no longer safe, it is a very dark and sad time.

I think we need to stop thinking of all philosophies and belief systems as being morally equivalent. How many times have I heard people say that all religions are good. I am sorry. That is simply not so. A religion that encourages people to kill those who believe differently is NOT good. It is NOT acceptable that radical Muslims call for Jihad when that means killing people. It is NOT OK that their murderers are celebrated as heroes– having streets and sports fields named after them. The world needs to wake up and recognize this. We should not be afraid to say that radical Islam is destructive and must be stopped. That is a very different thing from condemning all Muslims. If we cannot make this moral distinction, our future is in jeopardy.

I was surprised to find this article in the New York Times , one of the champions of political correctness, this morning.

And in our neighborhood, we have Iran whose leader shares the murderous intentions of the Jihadists and he is developing nuclear capability. It is time to stop waiting to see what he will do. He has made his intentions perfectly clear and I am in his gun sight.

A Matter of Size — Movie Review

Last night my husband and I and a friend of ours went to see A Matter of Size –in Hebrew סיפור גדול. It is an Israeli film. It was billed as a comedy, but it was so much more!

Herzl, a overweight man who lives in Ramla (a city about 20 minutes from where I live) is a member of a group that meets on a regular basis for the purpose of losing weight. Unfortunately, he is not very successful in this endeavor and suffers humiliation in that setting just as he has all his life. When he begins working at a Japanese restaurant, he notices that the Japanese workers are fascinated by Sumo wrestling and begins to think that perhaps rather than battling his weight on an ongoing basis, he could use it to his advantage as a Sumo wrestler.

The story is at once funny, touching, and bittersweet. One comes to love the characters– his friends, his mother, and the Sumo master– who act as an ensemble cast, seeming to posses real affection for each other. One imagines a cast party as a very happy, good-natured event. There are moments of laughter and moments of empathy for several of the characters. The story is well written with interesting foreshadowing. It is full of surprises.

My companions and I give it three thumbs up and recommend it to everyone, You will enjoy it!