A few thoughts on my last full day (6) of Shiva.
I want to start by stating that I have a lot of respect for our tradition. I've often said that our mourning rituals are actually one of the few traditions that are rational, reasonable, psychologically effective and even logical. To move through a succession of states of grief where first all responsibilities other than burying the dead are suspended, then a week of intense grieving where (in an ideal or normal) situation the mourner intensively and immersively grieves without even leaving the house (more on that to come), then a slightly less intense period of another 23 days to ease your re-entry into community outside of your home and finally, for a parent, 10 more months of daily recognition that someone elemental to you, accounting for 50% of your DNA (and in my case, my freckles) is gone.
I am a serious, conservative Jew. I observe Shabbat and holidays, and kashrut. I go to synagogue nearly every shabbat (as I get older I take the occasional week off and sometimes allow the weather to dictate my attendance). I usually enjoy praying. I study and teach Torah. The unofficial motto of our movement is Tradition and Change; that's in part where I find comfort, and yes, some wiggle room, to modify tradition and try to observe those things in spirit that I cannot observe to the letter.
My shiva has had, by necessity, to be adaptive. I did not have Judy's logistical expertise to arrange things in the house or Abby and Michelle and Mat's insights and observations on my complicated Mother - Son relationship and how I did or didn't navigate it effectively. My rabbi has been available by phone as have many other rabbis (including, during the JNF seminar my new friend Moshe Schwartz, who really was a comfort). I did not have my B'nai Israel community to fill my home and my life with their presence (though they have done a great job digitally to stay in touch). I did not have my colleagues from JEA (except for Teri Hochberg, who gives great hugs) or my DC hevra of colleagues to accompany me on this journey, I did not have my CIE family here. Thankfully, I was not buried under an avalanche of food, I have only 2 siblings, but as best as I can can figure out, there have been at least 3 locations for shiva in the US. But I've more or less figured out a shiva that has respect for tradition and flexibility to deal with my unique problem of being away.
I am fortunate to know my way around Israel and have pockets of friends and support around the country. I was able to find a morning minyan at at reasonable hour (0700) at a shul I had visited before with friendly people in Pardes Hanna, only 10 minutes from where I am staying in Binyamina, so I have left the house every day to attend minyan. Evening minyan has been more of a problem. Starting Monday I will be in Aviezer, and I understand that there is minyan at 0530 in the moshav. At least I'll have an early start to the day.
A few brave souls have managed to come and sit with me, and it's been great. More of you have called on WhatsApp or FaceTime, I zoomed with some of you, and have read hundreds of Facebook Messages and comments on my posts, emails. There may be some merit to social media, the interwebs and digital communication if a person can be comforted by their use while sitting shiva - that has certainly been my experience. I will think about this more, and I may even write some of this up, for the CIE blog or eJP or some other publication where I can share with the right kind of audience.
By the way, two Israelis, close, long time friends who have been spending large chunks of time outside of Israel have been in touch about my last blog post to say I'm wrong about the rudeness (but one is Canadian-by-birth so he may be ultra sensitive since they're all so nice up there) issues, and that its evident when you spend a lot of time outside of Israel, you really see the contrast and how rude Israelis are. I'm just saying, this trip, I'm seeing it differently, but I am willing to admit I have a small sample size and could just be lucky. I'll take it.
So, a little less than 24 hours of shiva remain - then on with my travels, hopefully to include some wine research and some work on the elections. As my dear teacher in many things but particularly in the art of grieving a mother, my rabbi Jenna Turow said so well last week, I won't move on, but I will move forward with my grief, hoping that it gets lighter as time passes, as I declutter the needless stuff that surrounds my relationships and I get used to my status as a public mourner and my place in my community and the world.
Wednesday, July 31, 2019
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
Israel - Observations and maybe even some myth busting.
As I've mentioned, I'm here in Israel fairly frequently. I've taken tours, been part of workshops and missions, taken university courses at both campus' of Hebrew University. I've stayed in hotels, hostels, caravans, apartments and houses. I've stayed in cities (primarily Jerusalem, where I feel I know the center really well and some suburbs/neighborhoods not at all), towns, villages, moshavim and kibbutzim.
I've prayed with almost every kind of Jew (except the very Hareidi (ultra Orthodox or Hassidic)) and prayed from dozens of versions of the prayer book. If you've just come on an organized trip for two weeks, you probably saw a lot more of the country than the average resident sees in 6 months, but you saw a different Israel than the one they see every day. Staying in residential neighborhoods, both alone and with friends, I want to share a few observations about what other parts of Israel you may not see from the lobby of your hotel or the window of your bus.
Israeli rudeness: I think it may be waning (but I'm sitting shiva so I may be inclined to make allowances for people). Last night I was walking home from trying to see if there was a minyan at the local synagogue to see if there was a minyan (another example of my innovative mobile shiva). There wasn't. Behind me on the sidewalk there were two boys on bicycles (no helmets: really?) about 12-13 years old - they rang their bells, I moved over, and as they passed, they each said, Todah (thanks). That hasn't always happened here. I have a theory that maybe as security improves, at least away from the borders, that people feel less anxiety and they take the effort to be more polite. I still see people over 60 pushing to get in line, pushing to get on the bus, the way they always have. The younger generation may be just a little more chill.
Religion/Prayer: There are a lot of religious people here. If you go to Jerusalem or Beit Shemesh or a religious community like Beitar Ilit you will say, wow, there are a lot of religious Jews here. There are about 6.5 million Jews in Israel, maybe a million more than in the USA. The ultra orthodox percentage of the population is growing, because they have a much higher than average birth rate, but still its likely in the 18-22% range of the population. Right now I'm not in a religious area, I'm near the coast, north of Hadera and south of Zichron Yaakov. I am driving 10 minutes south to join a morning minyan and I'm still looking for an evening minyan (it's a matter of availability for a car because there isn't one within a 30 minute walk of where I am). Just because the media likes labels and stereotypes and likes to take photos of the ultra orthodox because they are immediately identifiable as Jews in a photo, don't think they are everywhere or that there is a synagogue on every corner. Even if there is, don't think of it as a 7 day a week operation - it's just as likely as not to have services only on Shabbat.
Transportation: In the early austere days of the State of Israel, the economy suffered, Israel struggled as she absorbed Jews from all over the world, doubling its population during its first 3 years of existence and then again by around 1956, growing from 600,000 to 2.5 million in the first 8 years of Statehood. Privately owned cars were a rarity. As late as the mid 1970's, I knew one person with a car here and that was provided by his employer. Everyone else used public transportation.
The network of buses and trains here is exceptional, its relatively inexpensive (a bus ride in Jerusalem is around $2; intercity maybe $5-6). When you consider that gas here is around $7 a gallon (give or take, based on about 6.8 shekels a litre, 4 litres to a gallon and 3.5 shekels - feel free to check my math - I'm estimating). In Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, you're much better off on foot, in a bus or a train than driving. The roads are packed and parking is a hassle. Outside of the big cities having a car is a plus for things like winery visits or seeing national parks. They keep building transportation infrastructure, a light rail in J-lem, building a light rail in Tel Aviv - bike and scooter sharing (and electric bikes) are also popular options here. NOBODY BUT A FEW SHOWY BEDOUIN RIDE CAMELS.
Food: Those hotel buffets are not how regular people eat here. Portions at older more established restaurants are indeed huge. Even informal dining places in malls will give you 4-8 different types of salads or spreads to eat while waiting for your main course, even it its only a skewer or two of protein or a sandwich. Generally though, people follow a pretty classic Mediterranean diet. Many employers provide lunch, so that tends to be the largest meal of the day with a protein, side dishes (vegetable and carbohydrate - so much rice!) salad and fruit. People at home often eat an egg or salad for dinner - no Brady Bunch/Ozzie and Harriet three course meals unless you are eating in a restaurant, it Shabbat or a holiday. Last night I had a carrot, a couple of crackers and butter for dinner after having had a piece of chicken for lunch (my current hosts don't eat any grains or flour or most carbs, even fruit. I bought some fruit for myself). People often splurge on Friday Brunch since that's the closest thing to their Sunday.
So that's it for now - you'll have to wait for next week for the wine portion of the trip (for me it's part of my work, so I will try to make a few winery visits. More to follow,
Monday, July 29, 2019
Bubbe - Refusal to Adapt - Cultural Relic and Master Technophobe
At my father's funeral I read a very meaningful Hebrew poem by the Israeli poet, Zelda, Every person has a Name:
Zelda
Everyone Has a Name
Everyone has a name
given to him by God and given to him by his parents
Everyone has a name
given to him by his stature and the way he smiles and given to him by his clothing
Everyone has a name
given to him by the mountains and given to him by his walls
Everyone has a name
given to him by the stars and given to him by his neighbors
Everyone has a name
given to him by his sins and given to him by his longing
Everyone has a name
given to him by his enemies and given to him by his love
Everyone has a name
given to him by his feasts and given to him by his work
Everyone has a name
given to him by the seasons and given to him by his blindness
Everyone has a name
given to him by the sea and given to him by his death.
(Translated from Hebrew by Marcia Falk, quoted from "Generations of the Holocaust" by Bergmann and Jugovy)
Like Madonna, Cher and Prince, for the last 30 or so years, my mother was known by one name: Bubbe.
I stopped calling her mom and called her Bubbe, my friends and my kids' friends knew her as Bubbe, and while many people knew her as Ruth or Ruthie, for me, it was always Bub or Bubbe.
Like Jeff Foxworthy's definition of a Redneck, my mother lived her life in with a delightful and amusing lack of sophistication regarding all things technological. As if society stopped all forms of creation and innovation after about 1956. It's not that my mother was ignorant of technology - she both denied and refused to be bothered by any tool other than a television with a screen, and certainly nothing with a keypad or touch pad.
This led to many situations and stories about my mother's interaction with both technology and the people who use it. While my friends' parents were using smartphones, and Kindles and joining Facebook to keep up with the lives of their children and grandchildren, my mother wanted letters mailed with printed photos inside, and always wanted to know how we each knew what our siblings, nieces and nephews were doing if she hadn't told us yet.
I'm not sure how far back I want to go - sometime in the early-to-mid-eighties we bought my parents an all-in-one stereo with phonograph, cassette and AM/FM Stereo Radio (it was new then, but everyone under 30 is thinking, "WTF, did Steve deliver it to them in his Model T?"). I showed Bubbe how to use it maybe 10 times. She could play records on it, but nothing else (her parents had a hand cranked Victrola - my Aunt Wilma may still have it). Every once in a while, when they were still in Silver Spring I would go over so she could listen to newer music on a cassette; that's just to warm you up.
In the 80's, we got our first computer with a dial up modem, and since Judy was expected to log on from home, we decided to get a second telephone landline (again, WTF Steve, did the installer come over on his dinosaur like the Flintstones?). We bought a couple of two line phones in our house (yes, we can and did put people on hold, and yes we did swap out the computer with a fax machine every so often).
With two phone lines it was easy to do three way calling. I don't remember what the issues was, but one day I was speaking with my sister and we decided to conference in Bubbe - I was in Maryland, Debbie was in New York and I guess my mother was in Wilmington. You've never heard such a confused person in your whole life. "Steve where are you?"
"At home in Maryland."
"And Debbie's in Maryland?"
"No, She's in New York."
"So if Debbie is in New York, how is she on the phone in Maryland?"
"Debbie's not on the phone in Maryland, she's on the phone in NY. I called Debbie on one line, and then I called you on the other, and the phone can put the two calls together into one call."
"I don't understand, I'm hanging up." as if we were involved in some kind of sorcery or devil worship, and she wanted no part of it. If only my mother didn't understand three way calling, Dayenu.
My paternal grandparents lived in North Miami Beach, and they died about 11 weeks apart. My father, an only child, went down to clean out the condo and consign the furniture, etc. He came home with a few pieces of silver and my grandparents' various televisions in my Grandfather's 2nd hand 1974 Plymouth Fury (think about a car that would need one of those OVERSIZED LOAD signs on the highway). As my father carried the TV's into their house in Wilmington, my mother, who could be critical of an angel of God, said with derision, "Bob, why did you bring those televisions here? They only get Florida stations!" meaning when she went to watch her shows while visiting in Florida, nothing was ever on the "right" channel. That was Bubbe.
My mother and I went to college at about the same time and we finished with our respective graduate degrees (My JD and her MSW) at just about the same time. By my count, she spent a total of about 10 years between her AA, BSW and MSW while I did my BA and JD in about 8 (I worked for a year in between). She finished at age 51. We had a lot of time to talk about papers and reading. Thankfully, she had an MSW/LCSW (my dad) in the house as her private tutor. But in college she learned to "like the gays" as she would say and at least had to appear to have a pretense of being tolerant of people who were different from her (which was a real effort for her). She did like hanging out with her younger classmates, though I don't recall her staying in touch with any.
So what's in a name? When I think of Bubbe, these are the stories that make me smile.
|
זלדה
לכל איש יש שם
לכל איש יש שם
שנתן לו אלוהים ונתנו לו אביו ואמו
לכל איש יש שם
שנתנו לו קומתו ואופן חיוכו ונתן לו האריג
לכל איש יש שם
שנתנו לו ההרים ונתנו לו כתליו
לכל איש יש שם שנתנו לו המזלות
ונתנו לו שכניו
לכל איש יש שם
שנתנו לו חטאיו ונתנה לו כמיהתו
לכל איש יש שם
שנתנו לו שונאיו ונתנה לו אהבתו
לכל איש יש שם
שנתנו לו חגיו ונתנה לו מלאכתו
לכל איש יש שם
שנתנו לו עונות השנה ונתן לו עיוורונו
לכל איש יש שם
שנתן לו הים ונתן לו מותו. |
Not the trip I was expecting to take - An Israel innovation and more
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Hi blog readers, friends, framily and family. This is a pretty long post - turn around don't drown if you don't have a few minutes.
Blessed is the true judge.
I've honestly lost count of my Israel trips. At first it was easy: 1975 Israel Study Tour at age 14, post bar exam trip with Judy in the summer of 1986 (which included my first winery visits here), 1995 with my teacher Dr. Elliot Prager and the faculty of CES-JDS to study teaching Hebrew as a second language and the Joseph narrative of Genesis with Nechama Leibovitz. Then I started coming almost every year for one thing or another, occasionally twice a year. I don't know if I've been here 20 times or 25. I came on the first NACIE (later renamed MAKOM) Educators mission in 2001 or so and studied with the outstanding Rabbi Alan Odess from AMHSI. - Between 2006 and 2012 I think I spent 7 consecutive summers helping Danny Siegel with US groups and making distributions for our own small Mitzvah Heroes Fund that we ran from 2008-2012. We were here as a family for Pesach in 2006 and 2010. 2013 I was here with Judy, and Abby and Michelle tag teamed their time with us. I was here in 2017 to see friends and drink wine, research from history for CIE and do some advance work for the JEA conference in the winter of 2018, which Judy also shared with me. For a north american, I'm in Israel a lot. Every trip is unique. That being said, this is a very different time in Israel, and not the trip I was expecting.
This is a small tangent from where I was planning to go (my students know tangents are a specialty of mine). I don't think it's a secret that I always hoped to live here. Many Israeli friends have said to me, "Steve, if only you would move here, you wouldn't have to spend all your vacations here." I know that that is true. I think it's possible that the market for Jewish educators here is kind of saturated, so I have never been sure how I would make a living here. I have not sufficiently professionalized or monetized my wine knowledge to earn a living in the wine industry ( somehow loving and tasting wine isn't something you can make a living with). None of us knows the future. Judy and I have certainly talked about it, and I'm happy to say we've never fought about it. If you have heard or seen me teach in the last 20 years it's probably very clear how much I love Israel, with all its love and beauty, and with all its trash and faults. I'm not perfect, the US is not perfect and Israel is not perfect. I can see myself here, but I know my family feels its love for Israel differently than I do. I suppose I've become ok with that.
Back to my trip - my plans (my theology doesn't include the whole "man plans, God laughs" thread) to get here included joining a JNF Educators mission. I have enjoyed a very good relationship with JNF (and now that it also includes Alexander Muss High School in Israel of which I'm a big supporter) over the years, primarily through JEA and I'm hoping to create strong connections between JNF and my Israel Education work with the Center for Israel Education, which is why I chose to join this seminar. I was not their target audience, and I knew they were making an exception of sorts to take me. I expressed my gratitude to them then and now. It was an outstanding experience.
For me to come to Israel and do things I haven't done before - especially as a part of a group is pretty special, and yet that's exactly what happened. I spent time learning about Kibbutz Harduf and their holistic model (kind of a Waldorf model for you Education theory people) for including people of varying abilities, skills and challenges in their community. I got to know Acco, about the amuta (NGO) Lotem and Nahal HaShofet, I got reacquainted with Harel Stanton and he taught us to capture better images and stories with our phones. I took my first jeep ride through the Hula valley and saw a Jungle Cat at Hula Lake at sunset. I got to Katzrin for the first time in years and visited the Talmudic Park (for a comparable educational experience, think Williamsburg, Virginia but 1400 hundred years earlier). I learned about a new model for afterschool STEAM education in Nof HaGalil at the KKL Center for Excellence - I don't think there is anything like it, at least not in the Greater DC area - think about a Boys and Girls club for High School Students merged into a High Tech Start up and you can start to imagine it. I met Jerusalem Mayor Moshe Leon by happenstance in shul on Shabbat and heard his beautiful voice as he was ba'al maftir and led Musaf. I conducted a Shabbat afternoon wine tasting in the park at Yemin Moshe for 50 of my fellow travelers.
But that's not what wasn't expected - on the third day of the workshop, between the Jeep ride in the Hula Valley and the trip up the mountain ridge to Katzrin in the Golan Heights, I learned than my mother had died, peacefully, in her sleep sometime Tuesday night or Wednesday morning in Cincinnati. My mother and I had a relationship that can best be described as challenging; as I posted on facebook on Thursday, I’ve learned that being hard on each other is a fairly normal condition between mothers and sons, and while I’m certain I was rarely the son my mother wanted me to be, I’m equally certain that I was usually the best son I had the ability to be. I think that’s all any one of us can do.
I could have, and some will probably say should have decided to try to return to the US, and bury my mother. I trusted my brother and sister to fulfill that responsibility, and maybe it's wrong that I didn't come to help. But I chose to stay in Israel. I told a couple of people close to me what had happened, I called my rabbi, Mickey Safra and let him know how I was thinking of handling things, and I started navigating the rather murky Jewish tradition of mourning while all the time adapting the tradition to my personal needs and situation. While very aware of what halacha more or less required me to do, I gave myself the room to make some less than halachic decisions to try and match my situation to what I believe would both honor my mother and honor our tradition.
I remember my mother being surprised that I got up at 6:15 every weekday morning to go to minyan for a year (and longer) after my father died (cynically, I don't think he could have tolerated shul enough to do it for me - but then there isn't such a clear cut commandment about honoring children as there is about honoring parents). So I don't know what my mother would have wanted me to do, though she likely would have liked to think that I would drop everything for her, and then she would share with everyone her disappointment that I didn't. While my community here is different, I do have a community here, and I feel, in the spirit of Israel innovation, I have created the new permutation of Mobile Shiva.
I was traveling. With a group. The funeral would start in Cincinnati as I was preparing for Shabbat in Jerusalem. I delayed Kri'ah (tearing of my clothes as a symbol of grief and the person "torn" away from you) and went to shul for my first kaddish of the year. We started Kabbalat Shabbat with 7, by Lecha Dodi an 8th arrived, and the 9th not until the Ma'ariv amidah. I was very anxious that I would be denied my first kaddish of shiva. I am not exaggerating - someone, probably Elijah the prophet, walked into the synagogue at yigdal the closing hymn) and I was able to say Kaddish - you can't make this shit up.
Shabbat morning I got up early and went to the Turkish synagogue in Yemin Moshe (very close to the hotel - I wasn't in the mood for a lot of singing or crowds) and it turns out it was packed for a bar mitzvah, and the Mayor of Jerusalem, Moshe Leon, was a guest of the family. Apparently Mr. Leon trained as a Hazzan - he has a beautiful clear voice which I found very comforting (and I'm not a huge fan of hazzanut) and he chanted the maftir and led musaf. We finished at about 10:10 (Oh B'nai Israel, if only ...).
By Shabbat, more of our group of 80 knew of my situation. I got hugs and warm wishes, appropriate for a mourner you've only just met the previous Monday (even if the 5 days seemed like 2 weeks because KKL crammed 2 weeks of programming into 5 days). I said Maariv with the French participants and other Aidot HaMizrach (Jews from Arab countries) in the basement synagogue of the hotel and made havdalah with some of the participants. I skipped going to the sound and light show at David's Citadel and going out Saturday. It was the first time I truly felt like a mourner.
I did kri'ah Sunday morning, and at our first stop of the day, the JNF River Park, Anne Greenspoon (a long time friend but also my parents' rebbetzin in Pittsfield Mass 15 years ago) arranged with JNF USA Tour Director Shahar Heremelin for me to plant a tree in my mother's memory near the amphitheater in the park (for those of you with us at JEA 2018, on the opposite side of the theater where we planted trees for Larry Brandspeigel's father and Rabbi Barb Moscow, z"l). That physical act of burying something that will grow and live was very cathartic for me, and for those who know how weepy I can get at such moments, I kept it together and read the eulogy Abby wrote for my mother's funeral to our group.
My mobile shiva continued throughout the day as we went on to Sderot (a favorite destination of mine here) and then on the the Diaspora Museum (rebranded as the Museum of the Jewish People in Tel Aviv). From there I made my way by train to Binyamina where I will continue my (slightly less) mobile shiva with my dear friends Yossi and Dina David. I am davening shacharit at the small shul on Achuza St in Pardes Hanna that I have visited many times in the past. I have a few hours still to figure out Ma'ariv.
So that's the update of where things are. Next I will share some Bubbe stories. They will not all be appropriate, but then I'm not writing this for children. Since most of you are not here, you will have to imagine my voice as I tell theses stories. Or maybe I'll learn how to make a podcast. But telling stories about the person who died is one of the things we're supposed to do during Shiva, and we threatened my mother with these stories for the last 40 years. Payback can be hell.
Hi blog readers, friends, framily and family. This is a pretty long post - turn around don't drown if you don't have a few minutes.
Blessed is the true judge.
I've honestly lost count of my Israel trips. At first it was easy: 1975 Israel Study Tour at age 14, post bar exam trip with Judy in the summer of 1986 (which included my first winery visits here), 1995 with my teacher Dr. Elliot Prager and the faculty of CES-JDS to study teaching Hebrew as a second language and the Joseph narrative of Genesis with Nechama Leibovitz. Then I started coming almost every year for one thing or another, occasionally twice a year. I don't know if I've been here 20 times or 25. I came on the first NACIE (later renamed MAKOM) Educators mission in 2001 or so and studied with the outstanding Rabbi Alan Odess from AMHSI. - Between 2006 and 2012 I think I spent 7 consecutive summers helping Danny Siegel with US groups and making distributions for our own small Mitzvah Heroes Fund that we ran from 2008-2012. We were here as a family for Pesach in 2006 and 2010. 2013 I was here with Judy, and Abby and Michelle tag teamed their time with us. I was here in 2017 to see friends and drink wine, research from history for CIE and do some advance work for the JEA conference in the winter of 2018, which Judy also shared with me. For a north american, I'm in Israel a lot. Every trip is unique. That being said, this is a very different time in Israel, and not the trip I was expecting.
This is a small tangent from where I was planning to go (my students know tangents are a specialty of mine). I don't think it's a secret that I always hoped to live here. Many Israeli friends have said to me, "Steve, if only you would move here, you wouldn't have to spend all your vacations here." I know that that is true. I think it's possible that the market for Jewish educators here is kind of saturated, so I have never been sure how I would make a living here. I have not sufficiently professionalized or monetized my wine knowledge to earn a living in the wine industry ( somehow loving and tasting wine isn't something you can make a living with). None of us knows the future. Judy and I have certainly talked about it, and I'm happy to say we've never fought about it. If you have heard or seen me teach in the last 20 years it's probably very clear how much I love Israel, with all its love and beauty, and with all its trash and faults. I'm not perfect, the US is not perfect and Israel is not perfect. I can see myself here, but I know my family feels its love for Israel differently than I do. I suppose I've become ok with that.
Back to my trip - my plans (my theology doesn't include the whole "man plans, God laughs" thread) to get here included joining a JNF Educators mission. I have enjoyed a very good relationship with JNF (and now that it also includes Alexander Muss High School in Israel of which I'm a big supporter) over the years, primarily through JEA and I'm hoping to create strong connections between JNF and my Israel Education work with the Center for Israel Education, which is why I chose to join this seminar. I was not their target audience, and I knew they were making an exception of sorts to take me. I expressed my gratitude to them then and now. It was an outstanding experience.
For me to come to Israel and do things I haven't done before - especially as a part of a group is pretty special, and yet that's exactly what happened. I spent time learning about Kibbutz Harduf and their holistic model (kind of a Waldorf model for you Education theory people) for including people of varying abilities, skills and challenges in their community. I got to know Acco, about the amuta (NGO) Lotem and Nahal HaShofet, I got reacquainted with Harel Stanton and he taught us to capture better images and stories with our phones. I took my first jeep ride through the Hula valley and saw a Jungle Cat at Hula Lake at sunset. I got to Katzrin for the first time in years and visited the Talmudic Park (for a comparable educational experience, think Williamsburg, Virginia but 1400 hundred years earlier). I learned about a new model for afterschool STEAM education in Nof HaGalil at the KKL Center for Excellence - I don't think there is anything like it, at least not in the Greater DC area - think about a Boys and Girls club for High School Students merged into a High Tech Start up and you can start to imagine it. I met Jerusalem Mayor Moshe Leon by happenstance in shul on Shabbat and heard his beautiful voice as he was ba'al maftir and led Musaf. I conducted a Shabbat afternoon wine tasting in the park at Yemin Moshe for 50 of my fellow travelers.
But that's not what wasn't expected - on the third day of the workshop, between the Jeep ride in the Hula Valley and the trip up the mountain ridge to Katzrin in the Golan Heights, I learned than my mother had died, peacefully, in her sleep sometime Tuesday night or Wednesday morning in Cincinnati. My mother and I had a relationship that can best be described as challenging; as I posted on facebook on Thursday, I’ve learned that being hard on each other is a fairly normal condition between mothers and sons, and while I’m certain I was rarely the son my mother wanted me to be, I’m equally certain that I was usually the best son I had the ability to be. I think that’s all any one of us can do.
I could have, and some will probably say should have decided to try to return to the US, and bury my mother. I trusted my brother and sister to fulfill that responsibility, and maybe it's wrong that I didn't come to help. But I chose to stay in Israel. I told a couple of people close to me what had happened, I called my rabbi, Mickey Safra and let him know how I was thinking of handling things, and I started navigating the rather murky Jewish tradition of mourning while all the time adapting the tradition to my personal needs and situation. While very aware of what halacha more or less required me to do, I gave myself the room to make some less than halachic decisions to try and match my situation to what I believe would both honor my mother and honor our tradition.
I remember my mother being surprised that I got up at 6:15 every weekday morning to go to minyan for a year (and longer) after my father died (cynically, I don't think he could have tolerated shul enough to do it for me - but then there isn't such a clear cut commandment about honoring children as there is about honoring parents). So I don't know what my mother would have wanted me to do, though she likely would have liked to think that I would drop everything for her, and then she would share with everyone her disappointment that I didn't. While my community here is different, I do have a community here, and I feel, in the spirit of Israel innovation, I have created the new permutation of Mobile Shiva.
I was traveling. With a group. The funeral would start in Cincinnati as I was preparing for Shabbat in Jerusalem. I delayed Kri'ah (tearing of my clothes as a symbol of grief and the person "torn" away from you) and went to shul for my first kaddish of the year. We started Kabbalat Shabbat with 7, by Lecha Dodi an 8th arrived, and the 9th not until the Ma'ariv amidah. I was very anxious that I would be denied my first kaddish of shiva. I am not exaggerating - someone, probably Elijah the prophet, walked into the synagogue at yigdal the closing hymn) and I was able to say Kaddish - you can't make this shit up.
Shabbat morning I got up early and went to the Turkish synagogue in Yemin Moshe (very close to the hotel - I wasn't in the mood for a lot of singing or crowds) and it turns out it was packed for a bar mitzvah, and the Mayor of Jerusalem, Moshe Leon, was a guest of the family. Apparently Mr. Leon trained as a Hazzan - he has a beautiful clear voice which I found very comforting (and I'm not a huge fan of hazzanut) and he chanted the maftir and led musaf. We finished at about 10:10 (Oh B'nai Israel, if only ...).
By Shabbat, more of our group of 80 knew of my situation. I got hugs and warm wishes, appropriate for a mourner you've only just met the previous Monday (even if the 5 days seemed like 2 weeks because KKL crammed 2 weeks of programming into 5 days). I said Maariv with the French participants and other Aidot HaMizrach (Jews from Arab countries) in the basement synagogue of the hotel and made havdalah with some of the participants. I skipped going to the sound and light show at David's Citadel and going out Saturday. It was the first time I truly felt like a mourner.
I did kri'ah Sunday morning, and at our first stop of the day, the JNF River Park, Anne Greenspoon (a long time friend but also my parents' rebbetzin in Pittsfield Mass 15 years ago) arranged with JNF USA Tour Director Shahar Heremelin for me to plant a tree in my mother's memory near the amphitheater in the park (for those of you with us at JEA 2018, on the opposite side of the theater where we planted trees for Larry Brandspeigel's father and Rabbi Barb Moscow, z"l). That physical act of burying something that will grow and live was very cathartic for me, and for those who know how weepy I can get at such moments, I kept it together and read the eulogy Abby wrote for my mother's funeral to our group.
My mobile shiva continued throughout the day as we went on to Sderot (a favorite destination of mine here) and then on the the Diaspora Museum (rebranded as the Museum of the Jewish People in Tel Aviv). From there I made my way by train to Binyamina where I will continue my (slightly less) mobile shiva with my dear friends Yossi and Dina David. I am davening shacharit at the small shul on Achuza St in Pardes Hanna that I have visited many times in the past. I have a few hours still to figure out Ma'ariv.
So that's the update of where things are. Next I will share some Bubbe stories. They will not all be appropriate, but then I'm not writing this for children. Since most of you are not here, you will have to imagine my voice as I tell theses stories. Or maybe I'll learn how to make a podcast. But telling stories about the person who died is one of the things we're supposed to do during Shiva, and we threatened my mother with these stories for the last 40 years. Payback can be hell.
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