And, that's the newsRabbi Avraham Shapira (Z"L) has died in Jerusalem and was buried at Mount of Olives. (Dig one of his books here.) Here, a Baltimore woman reflects on the life of Marcel Marceau (b. Moishe Mangel), who was the son of a kosher butcher who was killed at Auschwitz. The Carolina Center for Jewish Studies got a million bucks from a few mensches. Russian town of Dzerzhinsk held its first-ever bris, Jewish soldiers in Iraq get their lulav and etrog going just in time, the EEOC is suing a Reno Chevy dealer, alleging whopper discrimination against Jewish employee Jack Adler, Israel's national water company has opened its doors to the public during Sukkot for tours, MOTs and evangelical Latinos get down in the Sukkah and a flamenco dance troupe is kickin' it Jew-style in LA, Serbia prohibits neo-Nazi march, the Days of Awe go over really well in Ho Chi Minh City, and, and, and Bob Dylan walked into a shul on Yom Kippur in Atlanta.

 

 

This Chanukah: Hook a soldier up.Connections Israel started nearly a decade ago to aid Jewish communities and schools worldwide in their support for Israel. Mostly, they focus on implementing educational programs to help support IDF soldiers with gift baskets and a sort of pen pal link-up. Mostly. But not entirely, by any means.

This Chanukah, for as little as $10, or as much as $120, you can help. Ten bucks gives a IDF soldier a gift basket, $36 donates a gift basket to either a Sderot family or a family victimized by terror and $120 sponsors an educational program for thirty students. Or, you can donate any amount and earmark if for any of Connections Israel's specific causes.

While you're hooking up our friends in the IDF, hit Pizza IDF, a website that allows you to donate anything from sufganyiot, pizza or burgers and sodas or hearty soups to soldiers from as little as three bucks! Or, check Dash Cham, an Israeli candymaker who will deliver treats to soldiers for ten bucks. Easy ways to bring a little light.

 

The Southern WallIn Europe you see 500 year-old shit. In Israel you see 2,000 year-old shit. Today we’re at such a spot: The Western Wall in Jerusalem. Our tour guide Offer calls it the place “closest to God on Earth” and “the holy of holies.” We visit the Southern Wall first, probably because it’s less crowded and allows us to have time to hold hands and sing, which Offer has us do while ascending the steps to the Southern Wall. I don’t sing because I don’t know these prayers, melodies, or any Hebrew. And I don’t even pretend or try to participate because I don’t see the point. So when prayers and singing happen, which are all in Hebrew, I zone out.

After we touch the Southern Wall, we write notes to put in the Western Wall. Offer tells us it should be our greatest wish in life. Now I don’t believe this is going to affect my life but I figure it can’t hurt so I jot something down. It goes something like:

Dear Wall:
My greatest wish is to be as happy as possible. I hope you’re feeling well with all these people feeling you up all day.
Best,
Amy

Yes, it’s business-like, but that’s what comes out without me thinking about it. I don’t believe in God and don’t know the wall personally so a colon seems most appropriate.

I do, finally, have one surreal moment standing at the Southern Wall. (The way people talk about Israel you expect to have surreal moments all day long, but this hasn’t been the case for me.) My surreal moment occurs while hearing the Muslim prayer call, which originates from somewhere right above our heads and echoes over the whole city. I’ve never heard anything like it, and it seems so mystically appropriate to my surroundings. Finally I feel like I’m in a very foreign land, standing on a 2,000 year old fortress (or at least, the reconstructed version of it).

The Western Wall: men on the left, women on the rightOffer explains the story behind the wall so nicely that I don’t even mind that I have to listen to it while standing in the rain all day. I hardly even mind that it’s biblical rather than historical, and am even thinking the pointless exercise of sticking my stupid note in the wall will be kind of fun.

My note is neatly folded in my hand as I approach the Holy of Holies, and suddenly I realize I’m up against a partition. Men are on the other side. Division of the sexes always pisses me off, but noticing how much larger the men’s side is infuriates me. I immediately exit to get a better view of this appalling relic of sexism. With my view of both sides, I easily see that the men enjoy about four times as much wall as the women. They can spread out comfortably. Little boys chase pigeons in big circles and kick shit around on the ground. Meanwhile, the women huddle seven deep against their wall section. They have no room to run. No gleeful children are visible.

All the other women in my group are fine with this. “That’s how it is,” they all agree. Right, that’s how it is. But it’s like that because y’all don’t give a shit, which is really sad and you should feel sorry for yourselves, I think. Religion is no excuse for sexism. This is 2008. Get with it.

When everyone finishes praying, or whatever it is you do at the wall, I ask Offer about the partition. He explains that men have more space because they daven three times a week—way more than women. I ask why. He says that women are supposed to be home doing other things. They don’t need to daven because they are considered to be innately pure. Men need to make themselves pure, so they need to pray more. OK. But why shouldn’t there be equal space? Aren’t most visitors to the wall tourists, anyway? If the men really needed the extra space, wouldn’t the women’s side be comparable in crowdedness rather than looking like a refugee camp?

No, these answers are not satisfying. They are bullshit.

I am more of a feminist than a Jew and refuse to approach the wall.

Previously: Day 2, or Is This Really My Homeland?

Next up: Day 4, Falling in Love with Israel at Masada

This day in 1974 marks the death of Oskar Schindler, who was honored with a tree planting in 1967 at the Yad Vashem memorial as a Righteous Among The Nations, an honor bestowed by Israel to non-Jews who worked to save Jewish lives during the Shoah at great personal risk. At last count, about a year ago, nearly 20,000 people have been given such an honor. Schindler was the only former Nazi party member to ever receive such a recognition at Yad Vashem. Um, duh.

Yad Vashem: Some righteous trees for some righteous folks.

Yad Vashem is an extremely worthwhile organization to support with significant genealogical research and memorial work being done, especially their searchable database. Really, if you have not ever, do take a moment and click through and search your surname, and other surnames in your family. Stunning. Chilling.

Yad Vashem, in addition to collecting donated personal artifacts and written and video testimony, has been working to develop The Lexicon of the Righteous Among The Nations, an encyclopedia to eventually include biographical stories of all persons deignated Righteous as well as Yad Vashem magazine. Also, Yad Vashem offers the International Institute for Holocaust Research, which often has an open call for papers to be presented at various conferences within the facility, and information on ongoing research projects.

So, until you find yourself in Israel next to pay a visit to Yad Vashem for yourself (if you have not already), stay in touch and check their on-line exhibitions page often for updates. And lastly, be sure to stop by the American and Canadian chapters of the Yad Vashem Society (or just about any country you happen to be living) to stay up-to-date on events and projects.

A Very Abridged List of Further Exploration: Yad Vashem: Moshe Safdie: The Architecture of Memory, The Children We Remember: Photographs from the Archives of Yad Vashem by Chana Byers Abells, Where Light and Shadows Meet: A Memoir by Schindler, Rosenberg & Koch, I Will Plant You A Lilac Tree: A Memior of a Schindler's List Survivor by Laura Hillman, and A Voice In The Chorus: Memories of a Teenager Saved By Schindler by Abraham Zuckerman.

 

Israeli Sex Trade: Hooters, teachers for brides-to-be, lesbian parents and, uh, vaginoplasty. Discuss.What about news of a Hooters in Israel? (I can't help but to wonder if there has ever been a battle of altering the uniform to conform to religious modesty mandates? I mean, if a woman is a qualified applicant, or say she is an employee who then decides to become more.. covered... wouldn't the company legally have to give her wiggle room? I wonder if that's ever come up for them? Sure, working at hooters probably wouldn't be on your list of things to do if you were concerned with such matters, but again, what if someone was already working at such a place and then decided...? yes, yes, modestly is more than just attire, it's situational and behavioral, too, but I just wonder. Anyway: Hooters. Covering. Discuss.) What are our thoughts on JOFA's class teaching teachers of brides-to-be about sex? Of course, you caught Knesset Committee for Immigration, Absorption and Diaspora Affairs chairman Michael Nudelman being called upon to do something for immigrants pushed into the sex trade, too. A lesbian couple is getting recognized as co-mama and co-mama, while the IDF Rabbi is pissed about women in combat. Uh, and some Israeli physicians are interested in bringing the labiaplasty and vaginoplasty to Eretz Yisroel. Ew, ouch and ew.

 

We talk a lot about tzedakah, naturally, and usually give links of places where you can donate. But, of course, we shouldn't overlook the many other, and just as important, ways to give that aren't necessarily just a matter of writing a check. Sometimes, giving can mean rolling up your sleeves and helping, being present, lending a hand, collecting and donating items, or just living simpler, more conscious lives.

Riders!: On your mark, get set... Enter Hazon (Hebrew for "vision"), an organization started in 1999 with this vision:

"Our vision is to create a healthier and more sustainable Jewish community-- as a step towards a healthier and more sustainable world for all. Our vision is of a renewed Jewish community: one that is rooted in Jewish tradition, engaged with the world around us, radically inclusive, passionate and creative... and that recognizes that there are shivim panim l'torah - seventy ways to understand the Torah... and ultimately to live Hazon's theme-quote: Torah is a commentary on the world and the world is a commentary on the Torah..."

How are they living this wonderful, but very ambitious ideal? Through programs such as different food/health programs to educate members of our community to make smarter, healthier food choices and to consider the benefits of local and organic food as well as bike rides to raise money for various project-causes such as Cycling for Peace and environmental bike rides in various cities. You sigh up, do a little fundraising and voila. Challenging yourself, improving your fitness, educating yourself and helping to heal the world with these events, some even with a zero-carbon footprint. Check out their "People of The Bike" the Jewish environmental bike ride in NY, the Arava/Hazon bike ride in Israel, and the many other ways on their website for you to do something very positive on two wheels.

Digging deeper into their website, you'll also notice their volunteer page, listing specific types of volunteers they could use a hand from. But, like any nonprofit, they can use our dollars, too.

 

 

 

My Adventure, My Birthright: and did i mention it's free? Tomorrow I’m embarking on my first trip to Israel, with 39 people I’ve never met. The only part of the trip I planned was my bus ride from Manhattan to Newark airport, which is about as exciting as watching two episodes of Columbo in a row. I will be unable to escape these people for ten days, and I must spend one night in a tent in the desert. But I’m okay with all of this because I'm not paying for any of it. They say the best things in life are free, right? So thank you, Birthright Israel.

I’ve always wanted to be religious but never have been. I just never felt connected to religion. I don't believe in God, I don’t believe in the Bible, and I live happily this way. Judaism is my ethnic identity, culture, and heritage—not my religion. As for Zionism: It doesn’t top my list of vital issues. Case in point: I will pick up the Times and turn straight to the Election '08 page, but I have never turned straight to the “Israel [Got] Bombed Again” page. I just don’t think about it much.

I signed up for this trip because I love to travel. I guess I also hope to figure out if I want religion to play a role in my life, but ultimately, I’m in this for a free trip to what I’ve heard is one of the coolest countries on Earth.

Headed For the Homeland Of course, I expect this experience to be rife with attempts at brainwashing. Normally, this would turn me off, but the fact that it’s free means nothing about this trip turns me off. Besides, my brain is safeguarded by an innate membrane of skepticism—a natural defense that will be reinforced by my in-flight reading of Foreskin's Lament (at least until the Ambien my friend gave me kicks in). If I do change my mind, I want it to be deliberate rather than involuntary.

Despite the knots in my stomach, my brain tells me that this trip will be fun. I love traveling, I love meeting new people, and I love not having to pay for stuff. Then again, I'm a bit of a girly diva and hope I’ll be able to handle feeling filthy for ten days (the provided packing list says “expect to be dirty”). Though I’m not open to religious propaganda, I am open to new secular experiences. If I do have to run around with greasy skin and mismatched clothes, I'll gladly let my inner-geek shine like the Hanukkah candles I thought really hard about buying this year.

Next up: Day 1, or Orthodox Hippies and Badass Babes

            As I discussed in my last post, there is a new movement afoot aiming to re-understand biblical agricultural laws and find their application for modern day Jews living outside the land of Israel.  Some of these laws like peah (leaving the corners of your field for the poor), shichechah (leaving sheathes forgotten during the harvest for poor) and leket (leaving dropped harvest for the poor) only make sense when one has poor neighbors who can glean from one’s harvest.  Others like shmittah (every seven years renouncing all debts and letting the land lie fallow) and yovel (redistributing land to all people every forty nine years) only apply in the land of Israel.  Modern North American Jews who live in a different social reality have a choice: they can either write off these laws as meaningless, or they can interpret them to mean something different from the original law.   

            Peah is one law agricultural law that has begun to be reclaimed by some Jewish groups in America.  Jewish farmers at Adamah leave one corner of their field ceremonially un-harvested and give a portion of their harvest to a local food pantry.  Others have taken the law and applied it to their salary, taking a portion of their income each month and donating it to fight hunger.  People have similarly understood the laws of leket, shichechah, and ma’aser, donating portions of their wages to relevant charitable causes.   One of my friends has found a very interesting way to connect with the laws concerning peah.    He has decided to grow out his peyos (chassidic looking side curls on the corners of his head) as a reminder that his thoughts should be directed to G!d’s service, just as the corners of one’s field are devoted to the poor.   All of these interpretations are interesting ways to find relevance in seemingly meaningless laws.

Continue reading...

Smoke and mirrors: The Mega Event stageIt’s day two and we’re at the “Mega Event,” which is a show and dance party held for every Birthright group currently in Israel. (They come from all over: Argentina, Brazil, Australia, the UK. Not every Birthright group attends a Mega Event, but we were one of the lucky ones to be in town for this one). It’s like the Jewish version of Jesus camp and it’s freaking the shit out of me.

The show itself is a mixture of propagandist speeches and wannabe Cirque du Soleil performers, like drum bangers and net crawlers. The singers are apparently famous Israelis. One looks like Fabio, and I can’t say I enjoy his Hebrew wailing. Emceed by an MTV Europe VJ, the entire show is an assault on the senses: Flashing, neon Stars of David illuminate the faces of Israeli stars as they lead the entire group in Hebrew songs. Innumerable Birthrighters follow along with the aid of transliterated captions projected onto huge screens, and everyone dances and cheers with a terrifying, ferocious passion for all things Jew.

Part of the crowd: What if you don't share the audience's enthusiasm?After a while, Israel’s Minister of the Interior speaks, and it feels like he’s trying to convince us all to move here. Afterwards, Lynne Schusterman takes the stage. She’s one of Birthright’s biggest donors, and she wants us to believe that Israel is our homeland. She tells us about bringing her kids here because she wanted them to feel connected to Israel in this very way. But the purpose of this can’t be that they want us to move here after the trip, right? I certainly don’t feel like this is my homeland. And I certainly don’t feel like I want to move here. In fact I feel no connection to this place at all. I feel more connected to London, simply because I so loved drinking Guinness at picnic tables at 11:30 a.m., and cheap shopping during July sale season. Israel doesn’t have beer or shopping like that, and it looks decrepit and third worldish.

The scary Hebrew variety show finally ends, and we’re invited to a dance party. Now, give me some flashing lights, good house music, a touch of video art, and a sea of hot foreign men and I’m a happy gal. We dance and mingle with aggressive, swarthy Jews for as long as we can bear, and the whole event lasts about two hours too long.

Finally: The speeches end and the party begins Truth be told, the dancing is a welcome distraction from how anxious and guilty the show made me feel. Two of my gal pals, Ashley and Lynn, tell me that the stage performance inspired them and that they were almost moved to tears by certain songs. The show reminded me that I’m supposed to be here to explore my Jewish identity, but that’s not why I came. I’m here simply because I love to travel and this is a free trip halfway around the world. Israeli tax dollars and money from rich people like Schusterman are being spent for me to do this, but their efforts and resources only make me feel more disconnected, because the whole religious element of this trip scares and turns me off so much. Maybe if they played hard to get I’d be more susceptible to their efforts.

I feel like a fraud.

Previously: Day 1, or Orthodox Hippies and Badass Babes

Next Up: The Wall Between Us

 

At a bris not long ago, a guest of a guest suspiciously eyed a bottle of kosher wine and asked me if it was "good". If you think grape jelly with the kickback of supermarket-brand vodka is "good" then, yeah, totally. (That said, there is something familiar and comforting about a sippy of Manischewitz on Shabbes.) She sipped, made a noise of approval and then declared it made her jones a bit for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Unfortunately, a lot of people have a bad taste in their mouths about kosher wine (sorry, that was a lame joke), but, really, there are some great kosher wines out there. Here are a few to try.

Kosher Wine: It's not all concord grape Manischewitz, yo.

Hagafen Cabernet Sauvignon, 2002, from Napa is a good, heavy red, which usually retails for around $40. I buy a lot of Yarden Merlot, 2002, from Israel, for about $25-$30 a bottle, which goes well with a wide variety of pastas and spicy foods (which I love). Arbanel Brut Cremant D'Alsace is a great light kosher sparkling white wine, which you can usually pick up for around twenty bucks. In fact, most of the Arbanel family of wines are pretty good. Try the pinot blanc, the reisling for a bit sweeter wine, or the pinot noir. Baron Herzog's Special Reserve Chardonnay, 2003, is another good one, that I usually serve with hummous, pita, babaganouj and the like. Recanti wines are pretty solid and reliably good, too. Try the Merlot or the Cabernet Sauvignon, my personal favorite of the two. New Zeland's Goose Bay Pinot Noir is not a bad choice, either, and it's usually only about $20 a bottle. For a real treat (and about $50 a bottle) give the Chateau Rollan de By Bourgeois a try. It's heavy and spicy and really quite good.

To stay in-the-know about what's what in kosher wines, check out The Kosher Wine Review, The Kosher Wine Guy, and Wine.com's Kosher wine section, including their informational section on meshuval and what makes a wine kosher. Some good reading on the subject can be found in Maurie Rosenberg's L'Chaim: Users Guide to Kosher Wine 1.0, and though it doesn't deal exclusively with kosher wines, Rogov's 2007 Guide to Israeli Wine is an interesting read. And, with all that information under your belt, you can even join the Kosher Wine Society. Mmm, and here are a few kosher goodies to pair with your new wine collection.

* Also in Jewcy: Sure, the Holy Land's got terror. But does it have terroir? Max Gross samples Israel's best wines.

Tomorrow is Hanukkah, and we’ll be doing all kinds of fun Hanukkah coverage this week, but I wanted to let people know about another important thing happening for Jews tomorrow:

There’s one place in the siddur where we go by the Gregorian calendar rather than the Jewish calendar, and it has to do with when we start praying for rain. If you open a siddur to the middle of the Amidah, you’ll notice that there’s one place with two options. Either v’ten tal umatar livracha (give us rain and dew for a blessing), or just vten bracha (give us a blessing). The longer option is a specific request for rain, and we say it starting on the evening of December 4th. But why December 4th and not shmini atzeret, which is when we go through a whole rigamarole at shul asking for rain?
The Autumnal Equinox: ruins everything
Basically, the Rabbis in the Talmud decided that rain should not be requested prior to the sixtieth day after the Autumnal Equinox. It’s not clear why they chose this day, but some scholars have suggested that for the Babylonian farmers rainfall was considered a nuisance before the conclusion of the date-harvest (there’s a joke here about my dating life, my name, and the phrase “date-harvest” but I can’t quite figure out what it would be). Whatever the reason, it’s clear that the equinox, as a phase in the cycle of the sun, is most conveniently calculated by the civil calendar, which is a solar one.

In the course of the Middle Ages the Babylonian practice came to be accepted--though not without a struggle--by all Jewish communities outside of Israel. Israel itself follows a different, earlier date, defined according to the Jewish calendar (the 7th of Heshvan).

Surprise! Once again, normative practice has rejected the more reasonable precedents of praying for rain either when it is beneficial for our own climate, or when it is required in the Israel--in favor of the unlikely option of linking it to the climate of Iraq (the current inhabitant of the land that was formerly called Babylonia, where the Talmud was written).

But there’s still a bit of a math problem to deal with: The Autumnal Equinox actually occurs on the 22nd of September, so that the sixtieth day following should come out on November 20, not December 4!

The discrepancy originates in the methods that we employ for calculating the solar year. The Talmud assumes that a year consists of precisely 365 1/4 days and halakhic practice bases its calculations on that premise.

The calculation is very close, but it's not fully accurate, since an astronomical year falls eleven minutes and fourteen seconds behind that estimate. The margin is admittedly a tiny one, but when stretched across the centuries of Jewish history the minutes begin to add up. Every 128 years the Jewish reckoning pulls a full day ahead of the astronomical equinox.

Anyway, though it seems crazy to pray for rain based primarily on bad math, bad astronomy, and what’s good for Iraq, it’s pretty much the norm, so starting tomorrow night I’ll be praying for rain.

And in case you were wondering, no, I don’t know this stuff just off the top of my head. For more info, check out this source sheet, and this overview.

Our Tour Guide Shows Us What Masada Used to Look LikeWe wake at 4:45 to climb Masada for sunrise. It’s a bit cloudy so the sun isn’t as spectacular as I'd hoped, but it's spectacular enough to inspire me to snap about 7,000 pictures of it. I’m supremely irked by the fact that our counselors choose the exact 30 minutes during which the sun slowly emerges into blazing glory as the perfect time to lead songs and prayers. I routinely tune them out and am one of two or three people who completely ignore their request to put cameras away at the start of the service. I just can’t help myself: Here I am, standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Dead Sea, the lowest point on Earth, and the Judean desert—the likes of which I’ve only seen in nature documentaries. The sunlight is coloring the cliff faces rich shades of red and orange, and I’m supposed to turn my back and listen to singing I don’t understand or give a shit about? I don’t think so.

We spend about three hours on top of Masada. Though I can’t adjust to the beauty of these surreal surroundings, it’s our tour guide Offer’s lecture that really makes my visit memorable. He tells us the story of Masada in cliff-hanging detail (no pun intended) as he leads us through the ruins. I'm surrounded by remnants of a fabulous palace inhabited by a group of Jews called the Zealots 2,000 years ago. Descending Into the Zealots Ancient Water SystemPositioned at the edge of a cliff in the middle of the desert, the palace offered views of approaching enemies, a sophisticated water system, glorious balconies, and even a sauna. Life was dandy here until the Romans came and set up twelve camps at the bottom of the cliff, surrounding the Zealots, ready to conquer. The Zealots could either fight or surrender. They talked it over and reasoned if they fought, they’d lose and die. If they surrendered, they’d watch their wives get raped, be enslaved, and die. Since death was inevitable, they decided to die with dignity by committing mass suicide. They killed the women first, since the worst thing for a woman is to watch her child die. Then they killed the children, and then the men killed each other.

The account is probably an inflated, idealized version of history, but I’m not really thinking about that, because it was a good-ass story and I’m in awe of it. I recognize that I will never forget Offer’s final point, partly because he asked us to remember, and partly because of the natural phenomenon he demonstrates at the last stop on the mountain. We’re overlooking the valley where many Zealots supposedly plunged to their death. We face a smooth cliffside that looks like a paintbrush has freshly streaked it with burnt oranges and grayish browns.

Echoing Cliffs Around Masada“I’m going to tell you a phrase in Hebrew I never want you to forget,” Offer says. He teaches us the phrase. “Now, we’re going to shout these words as loudly as we can over this valley.” We face out and shout with all our might. Even I join in. A few seconds later our words echo back per-fect-ly. It’s like a Bizarro Birthright group is shouting back at us. We do it again. And again. “It means: Masada shall never fall again,” Offer says. “I want you to remember it because it means let us never have to choose between death and death. Let Israel never have to choose between death and death.”

At the end of the day, I want this place to be my “homeland” because I’m so amazed by what I've seen. Though I can’t say I feel a connection yet, I can say I’m finally thrilled and delighted to be here.

Previously: Day 3, or Judaism Vs. Feminism At The Western Wall 

I was hoping to write about sex today, but then I read an Op-Ed from the Jewish Journal about why Jerusalem should be divided. Grow Up: And own up

An Orthodox rabbi's plea: consider a divided Jerusalem
By Rabbi Yosef Kanefsky

The question of whether we could bear a redivision of Jerusalem is a searing and painful one. The Orthodox Union, National Council of Young Israel and a variety of other organizations, including Christian Evangelical ones, are calling upon their constituencies to join them in urging the Israeli government to refrain from any negotiation concerning the status of Jerusalem at all, when and if the Annapolis conference occurs. And last week, as I read one e-mail dispatch after another from these organizations, I became more and more convinced that I could not join their call.

It's not that I would want to see Jerusalem divided. It's rather that the time has come for honesty. Their call to handcuff the government of Israel in this way, their call to deprive it of this negotiating option, reveals that these organizations are not being honest about the situation that we are in, and how it came about. And I cannot support them in this.

These are extremely difficult thoughts for me to share, both because they concern an issue that is emotionally charged, and because people whose friendship I treasure will disagree strongly with me. And also because I am breaking a taboo within my community, the Orthodox Zionist community. "Jerusalem: Israel's Eternally Undivided Capital" is a 40-year old slogan that my community treats with biblical reverence. It is an article of faith, a corollary of the belief in the coming of the Messiah. It is not questioned. But this final reason why it is difficult for me to share these thoughts is also the very reason that I have decided to do so. This is a conversation that desperately needs to begin.

No peace conference between Israel and the Palestinians will ever produce anything positive until both sides have decided to read the story of the last 40 years honestly. On our side, this means being honest about the story of how Israel came to settle civilians in the territories it conquered in 1967, and about the outcomes that this story has generated.

Later in the article Kanefsky writes

The Religious Zionist leadership (similar to today's Evangelical supporters of Israel) made a different judgment, namely that settling the Biblical heartland would further hasten the unfolding of the messianic age. Thus, the Arab population already there was not our problem. God would deal with it. This belief too -- reasonable though it may have seemed at the time -- has also turned out to be wrong. To tell the story honestly, this mistake too must be acknowledged.

(Emphasis mine)

Full story

I agree with Rabbi Kanefsky’s politics, and I think his writing is brave and important, but what really caught my eye was the part that I highlighted.

There’s a sense in a lot of Jewish communities that we can pretty much screw around as much as we want, and as long as we’ve got generally good intentions we can safely expect God to clean up our mess. We’ve written about repentance quite a bit on FaithHacker, but I just want to make it clear that there’s nothing in any Jewish theology that I’m aware of that would sanction someone screwing up with the understanding that God would fix it.

I seem to know a lot of people who operate under the assumption that they can just square things away with God later, or what God will just cover whatever their tab has become, and it makes me crazy. Those people are why atheists walk around talking about how God is for weak people. If you fuck something up, it’s your responsibility to deal with it. If you want to go to God for help that’s certainly fine, but to expect that going to God makes everything hunky dory is immature, and I’m so glad to see Kanefsky calling Religious Zionists and Evangelicals out on that.

AMIT: Helping to support some of Israel's most vulnerable children.Founded in 1925, AMIT works with many young Israelis that find themselves vulnerable educationally, psychologically, financially and/or socially, helping and supporting them "within a framework of academic excellence, religious values and Zionist ideals." AMIT works to nurture children from diverse backgrounds-- observant and secular, Ashkenazi and Sephardi, Israeli-born and immigrant, many of which have fallen victim to various forms of physical and psychological trauma.

So, to do their work, AMIT needs support, and there are several ways to support them. Of course you can donate, but there are a few different ways to donate. There's the Mother-In-Israel program to help fill-in the gaps and meet vary basic needs of schoolchildren such as bus fare and school supplies. Your donation can be earmarked for various programs like the Library Fund, the Harvey Goodstein Sports Complex at AMIT Kfar Batya, the Food for Thought program, similar to the mother-In-Israel program, helps ensure schoolchildren have access to food and school supplies. The Gift of Learning Initiative sponsors an entire day of learning at an AMIT school. Book family or B/nai Mitzvah travel through AMIT for a more meaningful trip to Israel. In connection with US Bank, AMIT is a listed charity when using the HAS Advantage card, with a percentage of your spending benefiting Israeli charities of your choice. Also, AMIT is the sole provider of "modern religious education in the Sderot and both of the city's high schools, the religious and the secular, are AMIT schools" and so fund can also be directed at their Campaign for Sderot. Finally, there's also an AMIT Boutique with cards and books for sale that benefit the organization.

But, I think my very favorite program through AMIT is the B'nai Mitzvah Twinning program-- in preparation for a Bar/Bat Mitzvah, AMIT pairs your child/niece/nephew with an underprivileged child in Israel, who is also preparing for his/her B'nai Mitzvah, for very a special tzedakah opportunity.

About a half hour ago, my e-alerts from seven different publications delivered this into my inbox. While the subject is a serious and important one, to be sure, there is something about an e-alert with wording to the effect of "Israel asks for US Boycott of Iranian Nuts" that will certainly catch your attention. Yeah, yeah, yuk it up, nuts, nuts, nuts. Okay, but it's a thing, let us not forget. In the mid 1990s, U.S. officials encouraged Israel to block the import of Iranian nuts coming through EU member states and winding up in Israel. Naturally, this is a far larger issue now that tensions have increased over Iran pursuing nuclear technology, and the UN being urged to levy new economic sanctions against Iran until the program is abandoned. Oy.

Just Like Agriculture Officials Always Say: Maybe, keep those Iranian nuts outcha mouth...?Anyway, I was writing a different post entirely when the nut-related e-alerts started coming in, so I shelved it for now and decided to bring you this, the full text of the article from the New York Times online, it being a gather-and-nosh weekend ahead:

Israel has asked for help from the United States in cracking down on illegal pistachio nut imports from Iran, an official said, after Washington warned that the trade was hurting efforts to curb Tehran’s nuclear program. Israel imports pistachios worth $26 million annually, mostly from Turkey. But Washington says nuts from Iran are mixed in with the shipments, undermining economic sanctions meant to force Tehran to stop developing its nuclear abilities. An Agriculture Ministry official said Israel was willing to help but, as in past attempts, the problem has been how to figure out the origin of the nuts.

No joke.  Simhon held a meeting recently with US agriculture officials to discuss using technology to determine pistachio origin such a soil composite testing. You see, as you can also read more about in this Haaretz article, pistachios are an issue, being that California is the second highest producer of pistachios, with Iran being the first. "This has to do with the sanctions but also with the competition between American farmers and Iranian farmers, and we are trying to deal with this," Simhon was quoted as saying to the Associated Press. 

Though they are small and perhaps easy to dismiss as insignificant, it's one of those things, like many other things that can fall under the realm of eco-kasher, that point of origin, growing/harvesting and processing conditions, as well as a whole slew of other things, including involved politics- all of it is up for consideration when determining acceptability, in determining where you want your dollars to go. 

I find a BFF at the airport, which is somewhat of a relief. Her name is Ashley, she’s from Louisiana, and she has an enviable southern lilt that makes all of her words sound like they end in “L.” She’s blond, perfectly made-up, and pretty like Britney Spears from her “Oops!... I did it Again” days. We have a lot in common: We’ve both dated Spaniards, come from cities with no discernible Jewish population, and are single but seeing guys we could take or leave. I zonk out on the plane thanks to the Ambien, and we arrive in Tel Aviv in what feels like no time. Home On The Road: way too much singing happened hereAfter boarding our bus (our second home for the next ten days), our Israeli tour guide introduces himself as Offer. He seems cool as fuck: A modern Orthodox guy in a knitted kipah, with a funky, spiritual thing going on. I've never encountered an Orthodox hippie like him, and I like it.
“Welcome home,” he says over the mic.
“Yeah right,” I think.
“This is not just something we say,” he explains, as though sensing my skepticism. “This is your home. By that I mean: I could not go live in the U.S. if I wanted to. You can come live here if you want to. I have to get a green card and it takes some months. Thank God I do not want to live in the U.S.”

Our first stop is Independence Hall. Before entering, we stand in a circle and play name games. I generally can’t stand this shit, but it's a good chance to get a better look at everyone in the group, which includes a married couple, three brother-sister pairs, one pair of cousins, a couple of friends, and a number of loners. There are also people—like Ashley—who had planned to come with friends who, in fear of bombs, ultimately backed out.

In Independence Hall—where Israel’s declaration of Independence was signed—we listen to a lecture about how Israel was born. The Zionist undercurrents of the trip are already proving to be intense as the Israeli lecturer takes his place before a painting of Theodore Herzl and an Israeli flag. He holds up a map of Israel. The Jewish areas are orange; the Arab areas are yellow.
“In some places, your country is seven miles wide,” he says. “It is not bad. You can come home and put on your jogging clothes and run across your whole country after work.”
He asks the audience—composed of two Birthright groups—how many Jews live in Israel. One guy offers an answer of 7 million. Nope! That’s how many total people live in Israel. Only 5.5 million Jews live here. The other 1.5 million are Arabs. The lecturer aims his pointer at the vast Negev.
“You see,” he says. “They gave us the desert. Great.”

View From Above: Tel Aviv from the roof of my hostel Having previously dated and fought Israelis off at nightclubs, I’ve found them to be aggressive and pompous. Offer and our Independence Hall lecturer have already helped me to understand why they’re like that. I mean, they all have to serve in the army, which is the ultimate anti-Candy Land existence of American youth. On top of that, they always have to be on bomb alert. Speaking of which: Birthright takes safety very seriously. We are not allowed to take public transportation, and we have an armed medic with us at all times. Her name is Tzipi and she always sports a rifle. I love that our armed guard is a woman. She makes the “tough Israeli” thing seem pretty badass.

I’m writing this from the top bunk in a hostel in Jaffa. In a way, I don’t feel like I’m here, although I’m happy to be. I like these people and I’m honestly looking forward to knowing them better.

Previously: The Best Things in Life are Free?

Next up: Day 2, or Is This Really My Homeland?

I just finished reading an article at Jpost about ‘The Conference on the Future of the Jewish People’ that took place in Jerusalem this week. Apparently the conference was opened with a speech about how “Young Jews don't identify with Jewish peoplehood and have no real sense of collective identity.” The woman who made that speech is getting her PhD at Brandeis, where, apparently, there aren’t any young Jews with a sense of peoplehood or collective identity.

First of all, peoplehood is not a word. Second of all, what the fuck?
Oh but wait, it gets worse:

Also on Tuesday, Prime Minister Ehud Olmert told the attendees of his vision of the Jewish world's future. He noted that not all Diaspora Jews intended to make aliya, and that Jewish identity within the State of Israel also needed to be strengthened.

Full Story

Great Scot! Not ALL Jews want to make aliyah? Why on earth not? I mean, okay, Israel does have a government that the World Bank calls “inefficient, with high levels of corruption and a low rate of law enforcement.” And yes, the highest religious authorities in Israel sometimes turn out to be into bribery and kidnapping. And yeah, there are riots breaking out in the ultra-Orthodox communities of Ramat Beit Shemesh Aleph and Bet because police removed signs requesting that all women in the area conform to certain standards of modest dress. And fine, yes, simply having a bank account in Israel is a huge pain in the ass, but really, it’s hard to understand why every diaspora Jew isn’t clamoring to get on a Nefesh b’Nefesh plane. And that’s not even considering the security situation/Palestinian conflict.
These are members of the peoplehood: I like to call them "Jews"
I love Israel. I really do. I’m a hardcore Zionist, I care deeply about “Jewish peoplehood” and I’m about as involved in the Jewish community as a person can be, but I’m totally uninterested in making aliyah anytime soon. There are, I guess, a lot of reasons for this, but mainly what prevents me from seriously considering life in Israel is the frustrating fact that in Israel, no matter where you go, you’re either a religious fanatic, or a complete heathen. It seems like the whole country is constantly positioning itself against whatever/whoever else happens to be present, and while I enjoy a contrary stance, it can be distracting and depressing to constantly have to identify oneself as not this, and not that. Whenever I’m in Israel, I feel like walking down the street in Jerusalem is just inviting the public to judge me, and inevitably everyone who walks by is either haredi, or secular enough that my covered shoulders indicate to them that I’m one of those obnoxious and weak religious people. And though I admit that there is a tangible spiritual intensity to being in Israel, I’m not sure it’s always a helpful or good thing. It makes people so much more combative and angry and convinced that God is absolutely on their side.

More and more young people are seeking out spirituality in their lives, and I’m confident that lots of them are looking into Judaism. They may not have a sense of “peoplehood” because they’ve been alienated by the non-religious community their whole lives. Maybe they’re “half-Jewish,” or maybe the only synagogue they ever went to was huge and impersonal and decorated in avocado and brown in 1976. And maybe they don’t want to move to Israel because their family and friends live in Wisconsin, and Israel’s political leader has an even lower approval rating that America’s political leader. I’m not sure we need to despair for those young people. There are a lot of problems to solve in the Jewish community, but a lack of “peoplehood” and a lack of unanimous desire to move to Israel are not even in my top ten.

I mentioned on Friday that there’s some major shit hitting the fan in Ramat Beit Shemesh Aleph and Bet. Basically, these are two communities of Haredim who’ve been hanging signs in their cities warning women to dress modestly. A few weeks ago the local police decided to begin enforcing a law that forbids municipalities from hanging unauthorized signs. When the removed the sign, they were harassed and beaten by crowds of angry Hasidim. Several riots have ensued, and people are describing the environment in RBS as verging on a “holy war.”
These Are the Rolling Stones: How awesome would it be if Haredim threw these guys at girls in short skirts? Everybody wins!
And you know what we do when there’s a holy war approaching? We throw things. The Jpost article I read about this quoted a member of the community who said:

Meanwhile, the haredim throw rocks and they spill oil in the road to cause cars to slide out of control. I saw them throw tomatoes at a female soldier who walked through the neighborhood in slacks. (Emphasis mine).

Full story

A previous Jpost article noted that in response to the arrest of the original angry Haredim, many others are gathering, and guess what they’re doing?

Twenty to 50 people congregate to chant, throw rocks and burn garbage, causing the closure of several roads and disturbing residents' sleep. They plan to continue protesting until the five men are released. (Emphasis mine).

Full Story

I’m sorry, but throwing rocks is simultaneously the most obnoxious and the most ridiculous form of protest. What does it accomplish? It is by definition a childish and immature way of responding to a situation. If you’re serious about something, you respond with serious weapons. Though big stones can create some serious damage, they are clearly not on the same level as guns.

I think modesty is important, too, and when people are in my house I’d prefer that they wear clothes. But if their fashion sense doesn’t coincide with mine, I’m not going to take out a meat cleaver and bash them over the head. Even if I find what they’re wearing offensive, pelting them with pebbles, or really throwing rocks is simply not the way to get what I want.

Ultimately, I think religion and spirituality are about maturity. Being religious means making sacrifices and difficult choices. It means dealing with situations that are not ideal (Jewish law even has a word for such situations: bdi’eved, meaning not preferable, but acceptable) and learning from our mistakes. It means being a grown-up, most of all. And grown ups, unless they are members of the WWF, don’t throw things at each other.

Yesterday I wrote about how I don’t connect with a sense of national exile, and last week I wrote about how some days I don’t really connect with Israel at all. I stand by those statements, but since today is tisha b’av I thought I’d write a little bit about my relationship to Jerusalem, and about how I juggle celebrating her, and mourning for her.

Here is what I’ve found: Falling in love in Jerusalem is like being punched in the face repeatedly. There is sudden pain, and then a deep throbbing ache wrapped in sweet wooziness. Then the sudden pain returns. It doesn’t sound like fun, and it isn’t, really, but everyone does it. If you can’t find a person, the city itself is enough to seduce you. Every day hundreds of thousands of people weave up and down her streets, hopelessly and totally in love, and Jerusalem responds explosively, without any hint of tenderness or benevolence. Visitors and locals unite in their heaping praise on Jerusalem. Jerusalem of Gold, they call her. Her air has the scent of wine, her breezes sing in the trees like bells. Jerusalem accepts the compliments you and I and everyone else heap upon her, and then, carefully, she spits in our eyes.

If I Forget Thee: (never gonna happen)
Jerusalem is how we learn to miss things that are right in front of us. We ride buses and jostle through metal detectors and endure the sweet rotting smell of the shuk because we’ve become addicted to hummus from a particular stand, or the delicate strawberries on sale in cardboard boxes. Occasionally we stand in front of a smooth stone wall and make ridiculous requests, or watch others, overcome with emotion, who weep theatrically into the crevices between the bricks.
The city is a jumble of mismatched architecture, dirty buildings with clothes flapping on lines where they’ve been left to dry, and garbage kicked around by the wind. There are days when it doesn’t seem particularly valuable, like a frustrating old computer to whom you’ve grown inexplicably loyal, and somehow can’t bring yourself to replace even though the screen shorts in an out, and it makes a loud humming noise. And there are days when it feels eerily familiar.
Most days I can’t imagine myself living in Israel, much less Jerusalem, home of the most judgmental people on the face of the earth. But sitting on the floor last night, reading Eicha and looking around the darkened room at more than a hundred other young people mourning the devastation of Zion, I briefly pictured myself at home amidst the sharp light that reflects off of Jerusalem’s solar panels, and the rough ache of Jerusalem’s embrace.

I’m not filled with hope every day, but on occasion it makes itself known.

This is my first post as Jewcy guest blogger and allow me to say how grateful I am to Jewcy's editors for allowing an obstinate Jewish progressive Zionist crank like me to speak my mind about a few of the big issues besetting Israel and the Jewish people over the coming week.

There is a rather vociferous group of Christian Zionist evangelicals calling themselves Christians United for Israel, who I call (with a nod to James Besser of Jewish Week) the "Not One Inch" crowd. These are the fanatics who support Israel to the hilt. They're opposed to giving back a single inch of land that God promised to the Jewish people in the Good Book. In truth, they don't so much support Israel, as support the agenda of the extreme fanatical settler movement.

The apogee of such evangelical fanaticism is Rev. John Hagee, who drew a standing ovation at AIPAC's last national conference when he called for Israel to start a pre-emptive war against Iran. There's a wee problem with the good Reverend's theology since he believes that in order for "Our Lord" to return there will be a massive world conflict in which fully one-third of the Jews will be killed. I assume the one-third includes most of the readers of Jewcy (unless of course you share a fundamentalist settler view of the Israeli-Arab conflict). I know it will include me.

But now you can rest easy knowing there are also evangelicals who don't want to see us fry in the End Times. They also support what I consider to be a far more reasonable, balanced approach to the Israeli-Palestinians conflict. Laurie Goodstein, the NY Times' excellent religion reporter, writes that:

...Conservative evangelicals who claim a Biblical mandate to protect Israel have built a bulwark of support for the Jewish nation — sending donations, denouncing its critics and urging it not to evacuate settlements or forfeit territory.

Now more than 30 evangelical leaders are stepping forward to say these efforts have given the wrong impression about the stance of many, if not most, American evangelicals.

On Friday, these leaders sent a letter to President Bush saying that both Israelis and Palestinians have “legitimate rights stretching back for millennia to the lands of Israel/Palestine,” and that they support the creation of a Palestinian state “that includes the vast majority of the West Bank.”

They say that being a friend to Jews and to Israel “does not mean withholding criticism when it is warranted.” The letter adds, “Both Israelis and Palestinians have committed violence and injustice against each other.”

The letter is signed by 34 evangelical leaders, many of whom lead denominations, Christian charities, ministry organizations, seminaries and universities.

Evangelicals for Social Action have, over the past year, broken from some of the most conservative social and political positions espoused by the likes of Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell. Goodstein reports that they've acknowledged, to the chagrin of the more radical members of the evangelical community, that global warming is a serious environmental issue. They've also denounced the use of torture in dealing with terror suspects.

You may read the letter they drafted for President Bush. It's the picture of moderation, something that cannot be said of Pastor Hagee's views:

As evangelical Christians, we embrace the biblical promise to Abraham: “I will bless those who bless you"...We know that blessing and loving people (including Jews and the present State of Israel) does not mean withholding criticism when it is warranted. Genuine love and genuine blessing means acting in ways that promote the genuine and long-term well being of our neighbors. Perhaps the best way we can bless Israel is to encourage her to remember, as she deals with her neighbor Palestinians, the profound teaching on justice that the Hebrew prophets proclaimed so forcefully as an inestimably precious gift to the whole world.

Historical honesty compels us to recognize that both Israelis and Palestinians have legitimate rights stretching back for millennia to the lands of Israel/Palestine. Both Israelis and Palestinians have committed violence and injustice against each other. The only way to bring the tragic cycle of violence to an end is for Israelis and Palestinians to negotiate a just, lasting agreement that guarantees both sides viable, independent, secure states. To achieve that goal, both sides must give up some of their competing, incompatible claims. Israelis and Palestinians must both accept each other’s right to exist. And to achieve that goal, the U.S. must provide robust leadership within the Quartet to reconstitute the Middle East roadmap, whose full implementation would guarantee the security of the State of Israel and the viability of a Palestinian State.

This development probably won't be music to AIPAC's ears since it prefers its evangelicals to be unquestioning boosters of Israel. But think of it--do we want evangelicals rooting for Israel to fight to the last drop of Israeli blood for a maximalist resolution of the conflict; or do we want evangelicals friends telling us what is truly in our long-term best interest even if it causes us momentary discomfort by forcing us to realize we may have to make compromises we'd prefer not to make?

I know which type of friend I'd prefer. The one who tells it like it is and not as I'd prefer it to be. The one who deals in reality rather than fantasy. The one who really cares for me on my terms instead of the one who sees me as a means to an end.

Any Jewish boy or girl who's ever attended Hebrew school knows about the blue Jewish National Fund (JNF) pushke (or charity box), into which parents and teachers encouraged us to throw our pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters. They taught us to perform a mitzvah by giving tzedakah to support the building of the Jewish homeland. Thus, the Jewish National Fund was the Red Cross of Jewish life, a "mom and apple pie" charity doing nothing but good for our people.

How times change! Last week, the Israeli Knesset passed, on first (of three) readings, the Jewish National Fund bill which allows the JNF, owning 13% of Israel's land, to refuse to lease to Arab citizens (and all non-Jews). Many American Jews and Israelis are incensed at what they perceive as the betrayal of Israel's democratic values and are hoping the Knesset buries the bill in committee or defeats it on next reading. A group of Israeli-American and American Jewish bloggers have created an online petition asking the Knesset to refuse to accede to such blatant discriminatory practices and embrace true democratic values. You may sign the petition here.

The JNF is a charity established in the early 20th century to raise funds to purchase land for Jewish settlement within Israel. As such, its land has historically been restricted to Jewish use. In 1950, Israel had a problem on its hands. 700,000 Israeli Arabs had fled during the War of Independence. The State had absorbed this land but was worried that the former owners might seek to reclaim it. The government came up with a legal sleight of hand: it transferred it to the JNF because it was a quasi-private charity which by charter could not transfer land to non-Jews. Presto-chango, problem solved--or so they thought.

But the Israeli supreme court, in a landmark ruling, said that the JNF can no longer discriminate against the non-Jews. The Court maintained that such a ban defies the norms of a democratic state and must be ended. This left the government in a new pickle. It wanted to restore the status quo which allowed the JNF to refuse access to Arabs. That's how the chief sponsor of the bill, a member of the ruling Kadima party, came up with this proposal.

And lest you think that such racism flourishes only in the dim, dark recesses of Israel, the bill passed 64-16 on first reading and was supported by a good number of Labor party MKs including Ami Ayalon, who ran for party leader last month has made a hallmark of working for Israeli-Palestinian peace.

The JNF has not distinguished itself in its response to the bill. In yesterday's Jerusalem Post, its U.S. director pooh-poohed the notion of Israel as a democratic state:

"For 2000 years, I don't remember that we were praying and dreaming that we can't wait to establish a democratic state in the Middle East, but we did say that we can't wait to reestablish a Jewish homeland."

The problem with this statement is that it flatly contradicts Israel's Declaration of Independence which states:

THE STATE OF ISRAEL will...foster the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; it will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex.

In truth, the notion of Israel as a Jewish homeland has always co-existed rather uncomfortably with the notion of Israel as a democracy. As the Jewish State, it currently discriminates in many ways in favour of its Jewish citizens. But as a democracy it includes a sizable minority of Arab citizens and accords them various rights and privileges (though they are generally inferior to Jewish ones). While polls of Israeli Jewish attitudes indicate a high level of prejudice against Israeli Arabs, social developments - which include the High Court ruling - have been very gradually eroding some of the more odious discriminatory regulations.

This legislative attempt to restore to the JNF its right to discriminate in favour of Jews may be seen as a rump effort by the Israeli right to take back its prerogatives and return to the era when Jews predominated and there was never a doubt that Arabs were second-class citizens. Is it too much to expect a majority of the Knesset to see this and put down this attempt to enshrine Jewish dominance into the law of a state otherwise proud to call itself a democracy?

I used to hang out with a bunch of slam poets. They were much much cooler than me, as indicated by their rockin’ hair (this was before the era of Tamar with purple hair) clothes with chains, and one of them had a really big wooden hand carved walking stick that he carried around with him everywhere. I know that makes them all sound like tools, but in 1999 I thought they fuckin’ ROCKED.

You Cannot Ignore: Slam poets. I decided that I couldn’t be a slam poet because I wasn’t angry enough. I mean, I’m angry, but I’m more funny than angry most of the time. Anyway, my favorite thing about the slam poets was how they could just stand up and whip out a proverbial soapbox and people actually listened. I mean, at the time I was writing all kinds of short stories, and I guess some of them had some kind of social commentary (if, “I wish I had a boyfriend” counts as social commentary) but mostly I was just blathering. But slam poets—they had shit to say, and they said it LOUD and with GESTURES and people literally stopped in their tracks to listen to this group of teenagers rant about everything from health care to public transit. It was amazing, and almost always spiritual in some way.

I bring it up because Jewlicious alerted me to this group called Sacred Slam Poetry, creators of the Middle East Poetry Project. Their mission, according to their website:

The Middle East Poetry Project is an artistic bridge made out of innovative technology and supported by the personal narrative and the aspiration to bear witness. Using video-conferencing technology, the Middle East Poetry Project will connect an American University to a Palestinian Cultural Center and an Israeli University. These connections will be the artistic bridges that carry real-time interactive poetic performances.

Our intention is to use poetic expression and celebration to:

• Raise awareness of interconnectedness on a personal (i.e., the relationship between thoughts, emotions and actions), inter-personal and global level

• Bear witness to the personal narrative

• Dispel fear and misunderstanding

• Realize the potential for reconciliation and peace

Pretty sweet, huh? Visit the Middle East Poetry Project website for info on where to donate, and how to bring it to your school or organization.

In honor of the great lefty Sandy Koufax and of great righty Hank Greenberg, I thought it would be fun today to give some shoutouts to some other Jewish athletes kicking it Greenberg-Koufax style, and a few other happenings in the