Wahat al-Salam - Oasis of Peace

Neve Shalom ~ Wahat al-Salam (in English, Oasis of Peace) made headlines last year when former Pink Floyd frontman Roger Waters performed there. This unique cooperative village was founded jointly by Jewish and Arab Israelis in an attempt to show that the two peoples can live side by side peacefully, as well as to conduct educational work for peace, equality and understanding between the two peoples. The community was founded on land that was originally leased from the adjacent Latrun Monastery, mid-way between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, and there are currently more than 50 families living in Neve Shalom ~ Wahat al-Salam, with an equal number of Arabs and Jews. Many more families from both groups are on the waiting list to join this very special place.

Neve Shalom ~ Wahat al-Salam's school system was the first bilingual, bi-national Jewish-Palestinian educational facility in the country, and the Jewish and Palestinian teachers each speak exclusively in their own languages to all the students, creating an atmosphere that allows the students to explore their own identities as well as gain appreciation for another culture.




As you can see in the above video clip, the people of Neve Shalom ~ Wahat al-Salam – those who live there, those who work and volunteer there, and those who choose to benefit from the wide variety of services and resources provided – are committed to dialog and co-existence.


So, here's your chance to check out a four-time nominee for the Nobel Peace Prize up close and personal. If you're going to be in the area (and it's a beautiful region, so I highly recommend it – don't forget to pick up a few bottles of wine made onsite at the Latrun Monastery), pop in and say "shalom" or "salam" and I'm sure they'll be happy to have you.

Cows and cheesecake

I was lactose-intolerant for approximately ten years, from shortly after moving to Israel until I was pregnant with the Little One. As anyone who lives in Israel knows, the sheer quantity and variety of dairy products here is simply unparalleled, and I frequently found myself skipping over entire menu sections, constantly having to ask whether or not certain dishes contained dairy products and whether or not these dishes could be altered to accommodate my needs. Before becoming pregnant, I had read an article that some lactose-intolerant women become tolerant while pregnant, and that some women maintain that tolerance after giving birth. I decided to test this theory, since I was at home due to the high risk nature of the pregnancy, and very, very bored. Much to my surprise, I discovered that I was indeed tolerant (though a cruel twist of fate meant that I had gestational diabetes, so there were still many forbidden foods).

I hungrily consumed dairy products for the duration of my pregnancy, all the time pondering what would happen once I gave birth. The tolerance stayed with me, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was due to the fact that I was nursing, which played a small role in the fact that we nursed until the Little One was one month shy of his second birthday (with me pumping twice during the workday in order to keep up the supply, until he was 11 months-old), as I didn't want to revert to my former intolerant self. The Little One is nearly three years old, and I'm still eating dairy. I've discovered a whole world of ice cream, yogurt, pasta dishes with cream sauce, cheeses, and of course, my beloved latte. And finally, after many years of suffering and dread, I have been able to embrace the holiday of Shavuot, where tradition dictates that we eat copious amounts of dairy foods, and not eating at least some cheesecake is akin to sacrilege.

During Shavuot, agriculture is king, and in Israel, we celebrate with a veritable plethora of farm activities, whether they be tractor demonstrations, hay rides, and trips to various working farms around the country. We took the opportunity to visit friends on a moshav, as the friends have cows and tractors, and we were anxious to show the Little One where milk comes from. We strolled through the barn, discussing the bovine activities that we were witnessing and playing on the many tractors in the yard. As luck would have it, we were there for milking time, and the Husband brought the Little One into the center of the milking apparatus so that he could watch the cows line up on either side and get hooked up to the milking machine. He enjoyed the experience, though I think he was a bit unnerved by being surrounded by so many cows.

I stood on the side, watching my son as he witnessed in wonder. And as I watched each udder hooked up to the pump and observed the milk begin to flow, all I could think of was, "I know what that feels like!" Indeed, I am a sad cow...

In case you were wondering, the cheesecake was excellent...

A prayer for a child

As a parent, my greatest fear is not having the opportunity to watch my son grow up, for something to happen to him or to me that would deny me the chance of seeing the person he will eventually become. I wish I could say that I can't imagine how great the pain must be to lose one's child, but sadly, I have been there, and I know that there is no greater pain, no feelings of greater helplessness than watching one's child grow sicker and sicker, knowing that nothing can be done, and that the only thing you can do is hope and pray for a miracle.

I admit that I am not religious, nor do I believe in God. I do, however, respect those who do, and at times I even wish that I could share in their belief that there is an entity out there who controls, who makes things happen, who grants wishes and miracles. I imagine that it must be a comfort to know that such an entity exists, somewhere to lay your trust, some sort of being to pray to in times of dire need, and hope that your prayers will be answered.

This is one of those times. Without divulging any identifying details, I have been profoundly saddened to hear about a little boy (the son of a friend of a friend) who is very, very sick. A sweet, innocent little boy who should be experiencing the joys of first grade, who should be outside playing with his friends, who should be making all of the mischief that one expects from sweet little boys. Instead, he is fighting for his life, and the prognosis isn't good. His parents are bringing him home from the hospital, and we have reason to believe that this isn't a good sign.

The family is devastated, as are all those who know them and those who simply know their tragic story. I have been where they are, and it is a situation that I wouldn't wish on anyone. I think about what they are going through, and I can feel my body go numb as the tears well up in my eyes. I don't know them personally, and do not wish to intrude on their private hell. All I can do to help is to write. So, I am humbly asking all who read this, please pray, or do whatever it is that you do when you desperately need a miracle. Maybe together, we can all make a difference. Thank you.

Respect, man! It's all about respect!

Is it just me, or does the world truly seem to be falling apart? Society, already frayed at the edges, is unraveling at an alarming rate, and instead of celebrating and learning from our differences, we are allowing them to suck us in and destroy us. I am, of course, referring to a certain series of cartoons, originally published several months ago in Denmark, and the chain of horrific reactions that has followed in their wake.

We all speak about freedom of speech, freedom of the press, etc. What form should this freedom take? Are there lines that should not be crossed - lines of good taste, lines of respect, lines of sensitivity? Does freedom of speech mean that it is acceptable to lampoon the holiest aspects of religion? And, let us suppose that it is legally acceptable to cross these lines. Is it morally acceptable? Are we not to expect that such actions will spark some sort of reaction, or are we to believe that those whose sensibilities were offended will quietly sit back and choose not to respond?

I cannot imagine that the newspaper editors in Denmark actually expected that the Muslim world would not react when the cartoon series was published. There is no doubt that the cartoons were intended to be provocative; it is one thing to poke fun at a nation’s politicians, but quite another to poke fun at a religion’s holiest icons or play up its stereotypes. Don’t we Jews become incensed by any television show, political cartoon or newspaper article that even hints at anti-Semitism? Have we not mounted massive campaigns in protest to the governments of Arab and Muslim countries that have deigned to portray Jews in the worst possible light, playing up all the usual stereotypes? Thankfully, those who resort to violence in response are few and far between. Most of us would never dream of holding an entire country accountable for the acts of one newspaper or any other media outlet, simply because it is irrational, and because we realize that the governments in most Western countries do not control the media.

And this brings me to my next point. The fury. The unbelievable, white-hot fury that has been unleashed and threatens to engulf us all. It has snowballed out of control, with property damages, injury and death, spreading from country to country, territory to territory. My question to these Muslims who are waging these battles is this – how is what one Danish newspaper (and subsequently other publications) “did” to you any different from what the Arab media “does” to Jews on a daily basis? Is your outrage more valid than ours? Are attacks on Jews acceptable, while attacks on Muslims are not? Is the chasm between Muslims and other religions so great that you cannot respect us, cannot accept our existence as equals? Can you not accept that all societies are not like your own, and that you cannot and should not try to control them? What purpose will be served by vilifying the entire nation of Denmark (not to mention Norway and a host of other countries)? Most Danes played no role in the publication of the cartoons. Why blame them? I never imagined that Denmark would become the new Israel.

This whole situation is disturbing on so many different levels that I am having trouble defining my own thoughts. What is right? What is wrong? Even if it is right on one level, is it wrong on another? And what about the repercussions? Do we show sympathy if it is not reciprocated in similar instances? I can’t decide. The only words I can say with conviction are that the violence is utterly deplorable, beyond all proportion, and serves no purpose other than to feed into the stereotypes portrayed in the cartoons. Whether people like it or not, we are all here on this earth, and nobody is going anywhere. We are a mishmash of religions and cultures that must learn to coexist and respect each other. One cannot just use violence against those with whom one does not agree, and demonizing or vilifying an entire nation or religion for any reason is just stupid. If the mob mentality wins, we will all lose. Live and let live, and for God's sake, respect your neighbors!

Who decides who is a Jew, or, when is a Jew not a Jew?

I recently met up with my friend Helen, who was here visiting family in Israel. Helen currently finds herself in a rather strange – and very stressful – situation. When she is in Israel, she is an accepted member of the Jewish faith. When she is in her native England, she is not.

Quite a number of years ago, Helen converted to Judaism in Israel, a conversion that was accepted without question by the Israeli rabbinate. She married an Israeli and they lived together in Israel with two of their young sons (a third has since been born) for more than six years. Just over three years ago, Helen and her family relocated to England, and have been living there ever since, making annual trips to Israel to see family and friends and helping their sons to stay connected to their Israeli roots.

When Helen and her husband wanted to enroll their eldest son in the prestigious JFS school in London, the problems began. Her son was denied entry to the school because, they claimed, he wasn’t Jewish. Despite Helen’s successful conversion in Israel many years previously, London’s Chief Rabbi decided that Helen’s conversion was not acceptable, therefore rendering her sons gentiles. The family was shocked by the decision, especially as it seems to have been based on Helen’s Jewish practices since the conversion. Apparently, the rabbinate in Britain has decided that it’s simply not enough that the family only celebrates Jewish holidays and festivals, based on the traditions that they brought with them from Israel. Essentially these power-wielding, rabbinical pen-pushers have arbitrarily determined that an individual who chooses to convert to Judaism must be more religious than those who were born into the religion, otherwise, the conversion is deemed unkosher and invalid. How fortunate that those of us “lucky” enough to have been born Jewish are not subjected to the same assessments, as most Israelis would suddenly find themselves stripped of their Jewish identity, in much the same way as the unfortunate Sagal family, who must either continue their public battle to be recognized as Jews, or somehow try to explain to their young sons (one of whom was born during this whole ordeal, whose birth was the impetus for trying to resolve the issue as quickly as possible in order to determine whether or not he would be Jewish and allowing them to perform the brit milah (ritual circumcision).

If Helen had been converted in some vague, third-world country, perhaps I could understand the British Chief Rabbi’s reluctance to accept the conversion. I would even understand if it had been a Reform or Conservative conversion (though this would have angered me greatly, but discrimination against these popular streams of Judaism by the Orthodox is accepted in some circles, especially in Israel). What it comes down to, though, is that Rabbi Sacks has decided that an Orthodox conversion performed in Israel and approved by the Israeli rabbinate is not good enough for the British rabbinate, which is a very dangerous precedent indeed. As Helen responded when the man himself offered to personally oversee and guide her through a new conversion, “what if, following the conversion in England, she were to move to the US? What if the rabbinate in the US decided that the conversion performed by the British rabbinate wasn’t good enough for them? Would she have to convert yet again?” Helen tells me that the chief rabbi became quite indignant, unable to imagine that his conversion would not be acceptable elsewhere.

What makes this case even more disturbing is that approximately twelve years ago, when Helen's oldest son was born in London, this very same rabbinate that has now chosen to deny their Jewishness, authorized his brit milah, essentially accepting him into the Jewish faith, based on the fact that his mother was Jewish. This alarming discrepancy makes me highly suspicious, makes me wonder why they changed their minds nearly twelve years later. It also makes me think of a question with even farther-reaching connotations. Now that the rabbinate has decided that Helen isn't Jewish, does this mean that their marriage, performed by an Orthodox rabbi in Israel, is no longer valid in the eyes of the British rabbinate? As far as I am aware, Orthodox rabbis do not condone "intermarriage", let alone perform such unions, so it would be most interesting to hear the rabbinate's opinion on the status of Helen's marriage, performed in accordance with Orthodox traditions.

It doesn't come as a surprise that some people become so fed up with organized religion. When power plays between different religious bodies become personal, when arbitrary, highly suspect decisions play with the lives of others, when a young boy is suddenly forced to redefine his entire identity based on these events, it is no wonder that we become so disappointed, so disgusted, that the very thought of building a stronger connection is simply anathema.

Oh, and here's one last question, that I believe Helen has asked as well. If she is Jewish in Israel, but not Jewish in England, at what point during the journey does the transformation take place? Does it gradually begin once the plane has entered international air space, meaning that the transformation is not complete until the plane lands at its final destination, or is there one particular spot over which the transformation happens suddenly, sort of like passing over the international dateline or the equator? So, Rabbi Sacks, what's your take on this issue, hmmm?

Happy Festivus to all, and to all a good night...

I feel very fortunate to have grown up in a multicultural society. My friends were Jews and non-Jews, Asian, South American, Greek, and so on. You get the picture. A veritable United Nations. Growing up in such an environment allows you to be exposed to so many different and exciting things, whether it be foods, customs, holidays, etc. It was a wonderful experience. Of course, living in Israel has exposed me to many different kinds of Jews, but in some ways, it’s just not the same. I mean sure, the Persians, the Moroccans and the Iraqis each have their own customs, their own ways of celebrating the Jewish holidays, and sure, it’s interesting, but when it comes down to it, I mean, when it really comes down to it, what do I miss? Christmas.

Yep, I miss Christmas. I miss the lights dancing in the trees and bushes, seeing the Christmas trees through the living room windows (and you shouldn’t infer that I’m a peeping tom, I’m referring to those trees that can be seen from the street), I miss the music, I miss the festive feeling in the air. I suppose that some aspects would be similar to the feelings that we get here in the period leading up to holidays like Rosh Hashanah, but it’s not quite the same. Of course, I didn’t actually celebrate Christmas in the truest sense. I mean, it’s not like we had a Christmas tree or anything. I miss the feeling of Christmas. The excitement of Christmas. I miss going to the neighbors’ Christmas parties. I miss eggnog. I miss watching “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” I miss going out for Chinese food and a movie with all the other Jews (when one of my Israeli friends relocated to the US a few years ago, I explained the Jewish traditions vis a vis Christmas and he thought I was kidding. Later on, when I asked him what he’d be doing over the Christmas holiday, surprise, take-out Chinese food, and renting movies with friends, or perhaps some skiing, the other favorite Jewish pastime on Christmas. He even went so far as to admit that he hadn’t believed me, until he actually witnessed it with his own eyes.).

My fondest Christmas memories were created with my best friend and her family. For years I would go to her house in the days and weeks before the holiday, helping her family to decorate the tree, while lovely Christmassy music played in the background (care to remind me what the music was, my dear?). To this day, whenever I drink Chamomile tea, its taste comforts me, taking me back to those tree decorating days, when we’d all sit around the living room, drinking tea and admiring our work. There were even years when they would schedule the decorating so that it coincided with my trips home from university (thanks for that, guys!), or at least leaving it up after the holiday long enough for me to see it, if I hadn’t been able to make the decorating session.

Being the inquisitive lass that I was, I even went with my friend to Midnight Mass one year, just to see what it was like. Well, it was beautiful. A church full of happy people dressed in their holiday clothes, celebrating the birth of Jesus. I enjoyed the singing, the spirituality of the evening. I enjoyed watching (and participating) as everyone offered good wishes to those around them, as part of the service. And, for those of you who are worried, you needn’t be. You’ll be pleased to know that when the time came to take communion, I decided against it (visions of the church falling down around me while being repeatedly struck by lightning if I did so was the primary deciding factor).

Now here I am, living in Israel. The Holy Land. The land where it all began. Christmas is distant, and it just feels wrong. Needless to say, there’s no snow on the ground, only big dirty puddles. No Christmas lights so blinding that you’re not even sure if there are bushes underneath. No overdone Christmas/Nativity scenes. Call me crazy (go on, most of you do anyway!), but I miss it all (well, not all. I can certainly do without the “mall” music). A large chunk of the world is building up a feverish holiday frenzy, and here in Israel, we go about our daily business as if nothing is happening (same thing happens with New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, but that’s for another blog entry). To keep myself entertained, I periodically play a selection of Christmas songs on my computer, running the gamut from the original Band Aid tune to various Muppet Christmas ditties, and needless to say, a punchbowl full of eggnog certainly wouldn’t hurt.

In any event, us folks over here at something something wish all of our readers who choose to celebrate a Merry Christmas. And, given that Chanukah begins on Christmas day (how terribly convenient!), Happy Chanukah to all of our Chanukah-celebrating readers! Or perhaps we should just wish you all a Happy Festivus…

Let the synagogues go with dignity

I've just read that the government voted 14-2 against demolishing the synagogues in Gaza, and to be quite honest, I cannot understand why. On the one hand, I can of course understand the not wanting to destroy the synagogues; under the best of circumstances it would be very painful to witness, and this is certainly not the best of circumstances.

If we allow the synagogues to remain standing, how long will it take before they are desecrated and destroyed by Palestinians, whose track record with regard to protecting Jewish holy sites is remarkably less than stellar? What would be more unbearable to watch - Israeli soldiers demolishing the synagogues with the dignity and solemnity required of such a task, or to see these buildings gleefully vandalized and desecrated on purpose - a sort of spiritual pigua (terror attack), if you will?

Unfortunately, I do not see a situation where these synagogues will remain standing under the protection of the Palestinians, given the lawlessness that currently reigns in Gaza. The Palestinian Authority, with all due respect, cannot control its citizens, nor does it really seem to want to do so. Under these circumstances, do we really want to entrust them with our holy sites if we have another choice? Two painful choices to choose from. There is no third choice. The synagogues must die. Do we allow them to die with quiet dignity, or do we knowingly subject them to a painful, undignified death?

And, before people start to attack me for wanting to destroy synagogues, well, that just isn't the case. Secular as I am, it is troubling to see any house of worship destroyed. Sometimes, it must be done though. Like now. If we do not, the Palestinians will. It's as simple as that. I expect our government to act responsibly on such an issue. The outcome of this vote serves no one but those Palestinians who are undoubtedly already making plans for desecration parties, and woe be the people who try to stop them.

Update: Well, as predicted, the Palestinians have set fire to four synagogues in Gaza, and are currently knocking them down. Are any of us really surprised? Apparently, some folks in the PMO expected a different result...

The Prime Minister's Office said Monday that the PA must act to prevent the "acts of arson." "Israel expects the Palestinian Authority to maintain the dignity of the structures of the synagogues," said David Baker, an official in the PMO. "Unfortunately, that has not occurred, and the PA is expected to take the necessary steps to prevent these acts of arson."

How pathetic... How sadly predictable...