Instead, the boys found other ways to bother him. This week they were stealing his lunch. When Mason told the lunch teacher, the man had fingered the Palestinian flag pin on his shirt. “Toughen up. Boys will be boys.”

“Earth to Mason,” said Dad. “You lighting your menorah?”

Mason sighed, took one of the long Shabbat matches, lit his candles and said the blessings.

“What’s wrong?” Dad put his arm around Mason and led him to the sofa.

Mason recounted the week’s events. “What can I do? There are four of them, and they’re big sixth graders.”

“You have to fight smarter,” said Dad. “Did you hear about the beeper attack that Israel used against Hezbollah during the Hamas war?”

“Beeper?”

“Yes, like doctors wear. It’s much smaller than a smartphone. Someone calls it and it beeps. Its little screen shows the name or number of the caller. The owner of the beeper knows who needs them, and calls back.

“Hezbollah is a terror group in Lebanon. During the recent Hamas war in Israel, it sent countless rockets into northern Israel. Thousands of Israelis—Jews and Arabs alike—became refugees in their own country to escape the attacks.

“Israel named its army Israel Defense Force because it is a defensive army: it does not attack first. Its only purpose is to defend Israel. Most of the soldiers are reservists. That means they are former soldiers, up to around 45 years old, who serve in active duty when needed. The IDF is smaller and, if you count only full-time manpower, weaker than Hezbollah.

“The IDF wins by fighting smarter. It planned the beeper attack carefully. Somehow it sold beepers to Hezbollah —beepers that worked just fine. But they were programmed to explode when the right message was sent. One day, at the exact same time, all the beepers exploded. Between 12 and 45 people were killed and about 3,000 were injured, many seriously. Hezbollah was greatly weakened by this. Maybe more importantly, it scared other Arab soldiers and leaders.”

Mason scrunched up his face in thought, then shook his head..“I like that, it’s really smart. But what does it have to do with the Macabees?”

“The Macabees had only a small number of fighters with poor weapons when compared to the Syrian-Greek army. The enemy had a large army and plenty of weapons. They even had a bunch of elephants that they used in battle. But the Macabees had two secret weapons. Can you guess what they were?”

“Hmmm.” Mason looked toward the ceiling as though the answer was written there. Then he said, “God was on their side, like in the Chanukah song Maoz Tzur.”

“Right,” said Dad. “The second is that they fought smart. They looked at what they could do, not what they couldn’t. They used the advantages of being small.

“The Macabees had an important secret weapon. They knew that they had to win. They were fighting for the right to practice Judaism and to return the Temple in Jerusalem to their hands. They knew they were fighting for God, and that He would help them. They were united and determined. But they also fought smart.

“First, they were local. They knew the land well. The army they were fighting didn’t. This gave them several advantages. I remember when I visited Israel, how close together the hills are. Some of the hills are very, very steep. Elephants can’t be used in these places.

“Because they fought in small groups, they didn’t need much food or supplies. A large army needs a lot of food and weapons. Because the Macabees knew the land, they were able to ambush both the fighters and the supply convoys. They knew where they could hide before the attack and then disappear after it. They could do sneak attacks at night, too. All these things made their victory over the larger, powerful Syrian-Greek army possible.”

“Latkes are served,” called Mom from the kitchen, ending the conversation. Dad and Mason joined the family at the table. Mom brought over a big platter of hot, crispy latkes and sat down.

Dad said the blessing over food and everyone began to eat. Dad swallowed and put his fork down. “Ummm, did you forget something?”

Mom swallowed, then slapped her cheek lightly.. “Oh no! I forgot to add salt and pepper! Mason, could you get them?”

Mason pushed away from the table and went to the counter. “Mom, the pepper shaker is empty,” he called.

“Just bring the can of black pepper from the spice shelf instead.”

Mason looked at the spice shelf. A jar of brown powder next to the large can of black pepper caught his eye. “Cayenne,” said the label. “Is cayenne a kind of pepper?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Mom. “It’s very hot. Why do you ask?”

Mason looked at Dad and then at Mom. “Those boys found a new way to bother me at school,” he said. “They stole my lunch every day this week. I was thinking about the Macabees fighting smarter.”

He brought both peppers over to the table and sat down.

“I want to make chocolate chip cookies,” he began slowly.

“Cookies! Cookies!” shouted little Naomi.

“We made cookie dough after school,” said Aviva. “The dough has to be cold before we can cut out the cookies. Can we finish them tonight?”

“Sure, as soon as we clean the kitchen from dinner.” Mom stood up and started clearing the table. “They won’t be chocolate chip, but we can decorate them so they’re really pretty.” She scrunched her forehead. “But why did you suddenly decide you wanted to make cookies?”

“I want to put the hot pepper in the stars of David.”

The finished cookies were great, Mason thought. All eight blue Star of David cookies were spiked with hot cayenne pepper. Mason had tasted a crumb. It made his mouth burn. He grinned what he hoped was an evil grin. “This should stop them!”

The next day, every class seemed twice as long as normal. Mason squirmed, doodled, and pushed his pencil around all morning. Finally the lunch bell rang. Mason hurried to the lunchroom and set his lunch bag down on the table. He turned to talk to another kid—slowly, to give the bullies time to act. When he turned back, his lunch was gone. The ringleader, Liam carried the bag, and the others swaggered towards the other end of the lunchroom. Liam turned back, looked at Mason, and wiggled his fingers in a sort of “hi there” motion.

Mason reached into his jacket pocket and took out a sandwich. Out of the other pocket he took a packet of the regular Chanukah cookies. Then he waited.

In just a few minutes, Liam and Amir jumped to their feet. “Ah, ah, ah,” they screamed, waving at their mouths.

Then Patrick stood up “Mason! What did you do? You poisoned them!” Moh joined in. “Mason’s a poisoner! Mason’s a poisoner!” The lunchroom erupted with noise.

The lunch teacher ran to Liam and spoke with him and Amir. Mason saw him break a piece off one of the cookies and taste it. Then the teacher strode over to Mason. “Why did you give them cookies with hot pepper in them?”

“Me?” Mason struggled to look surprised. “I didn’t give them the cookies. They stole them. Serves them right for stealing, if you ask me.”

The next day was Friday. It passed without any problems for Mason. All Shabbat and Sunday he worried about what the bullies would do next. He tried to think of other ways to stop them. But Monday he learned that Liam, Patrick and the other two boys had been suspended. Mr. Prather, the principal, called Mason into the office. “I cannot condone your prank. Someone could have had a real problem with that hot pepper. But since then we have had complaints from several other families about those boys. I have one question: where did you get the idea?”

“It was the Macabees,” Mason smiled. “They are the heroes of the Chanukah story. They won an important war against a much bigger, better trained army with lots more weapons and even some elephants. They won by fighting smarter. And of course, having God on their side didn’t hurt.”

For Parents, Teachers, and Others

Here are some interesting background articles.

Chanukah

https://www.chabad.org/holidays/chanukah/article_cdo/aid/102911/jewish/What-Is-Hanukkah.htm

https://warhistory.org/@msw/article/revolt-of-the-maccabees-168-143-b-c-e

Pagers

https://lieber.westpoint.edu/well-it-depends-explosive-pagers-attack-revisited/

https://www.timesofisrael.com/several-killed-thousands-hurt-as-wave-of-pager-explosions-strikes-hezbollah/

Other Chanukah Stories and Articles on TanteHannaWrites.com

Note: All stories are free and may be copied and reprinted, as long as attribution is given (© Hanna Geshelin, www.TanteHannaWrites.com). I have focused my efforts on Chanukah stories for older kids because there are many printed books about Chanukah written for younger ones.

https://www.tantehannawrites.com/p/hanukkah-then-and-now - for adults

https://www.tantehannawrites.com/p/a-maccabee-in-iowa - for kids 9-14

https://www.tantehannawrites.com/p/mercys-hanukkah-visit - for kids 9-12

https://www.tantehannawrites.com/p/menorah-lights - for kids 8-12

A cheshbon is a bill. At a restaurant, when you’ve finished eating, the server brings the חשבון. It lists everything you ordered, the price, tax, and final amount you owe (usually not including a tip). When you pay, you receive a קבלה, a receipt that shows how much you paid.

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How do these words apply to your soul?

The cheshbon is a list of the good and bad things you did during the last year. Some people write this list down. For others, it’s a list that they keep in their heads.

But I don’t like thinking about what I’ve done wrong.

When we do things we know we shouldn’t, sometimes we feel great: I showed him! Or Now she knows how she made me feel! Or even Serves him right!

But later, we often feel bad.

• I shouldn’t have done that!

• I wish I hadn’t gotten so angry!

• I wish I hadn’t hurt her.

• Now I have an enemy. That wasn’t what I wanted.

• I shouldn’t have lied about that. When Dad found out I lied, he was madder than if I had just told him I messed up.

Things we should have done but didn’t also can make us feel bad:

• I should have sent a thank-you email to Grandma and Grandpa for my birthday gift.

• After I ruined the sweater I borrowed from my friend, Mom paid for it. But I should have told my friend I was sorry.

When we do a cheshbon ha-nefesh we think about those things we did, the things we wish we hadn’t done, and the things we didn’t do but wish we had. Then… (drum roll)

...because we admitted to ourselves (and to God) what we did wrong, we can plan to do better in the future. The truth is, until we admit we make mistakes, and think about what those mistakes were, we can’t really change.

Many of our mistakes are habits: Getting angry when Dad tells you how to do something. Leaving your underwear on the bedroom floor. Continuing to read, text your friend, or play a video game after your mother calls you to help her, which makes her mad at you so you speak to her disrespectfully. “Identifying and understanding your bad habits is the first step toward positive change,” according to How to Stop Bad Habits, an article from powerofpositivity.com.ⁱ Cheshbon ha-nefesh is the ancient Jewish way of doing something that’s become popular in today’s culture.

What do I do after I remember stuff I did wrong?

First, the Jewish thing to do is speak directly to the person involved and tell them you’re sorry. Ask them to forgive you. But an apology isn’t just about you. “[An apology] is about the person you hurt. You don’t apologize just to absolve yourself from guilt, but to acknowledge that you are the cause of someone else’s pain, and to take responsibility for your role in that.”ⁱⁱ Judaism teaches that God will not forgive you on Yom Kippur until you’ve said you’re sorry and have asked forgiveness from the person you wronged. And you have to really mean it—God can tell, and the person you speak to usually can, too.

This can feel weird to you, especially if you did the wrong thing months ago. In fact, the longer you go without saying “I’m sorry,” the harder those two magic words are. But Elul gives us an excuse. You can say, “Before Yom Kippur I’ve been thinking of mistakes I’ve made and stupid things I’ve done. I remember that I xxx. I’m really sorry that I hurt you. Please forgive me.”

If the person you hurt isn’t Jewish, you can say something like, “Before our holy Day of Atonement next month it’s a Jewish custom to apologize to people we’ve wronged, and ask them to forgive us. You might have forgotten, but I xxx. It’s been bothering me since I did it and it might still be bothering you. I realized that until I tell you I’m sorry, it will continue to bother me. I really am sorry, it was a dumb/hurtful/stupid thing to do. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. Please forgive me.”

Besides apologizing, promise yourself that you will learn from what you did wrong so that you do not repeat it. A wise person once said that the real mistake is not learning from your mistakes.

What if they don’t accept my apology?

Judaism teaches that we are only in control of our own behaviors. By apologizing you are doing your part to correct the situation. If they don’t accept your apology, go back to them again in a few days and ask again. Ask a third time if they still don’t accept the apology. If they refuse to accept a third sincere apology, the weight of the sin transfers to them, because it’s wrong to hold a grudge after someone sincerely says they’re sorry.

What if I didn’t do what they think I did?

What matters is how the person felt about the situation, not what you actually did or meant to do. This means that sometimes we have to apologize for things we didn’t do, or things that were misunderstood.

Before I moved to Israel I owned a sewing school and fixed clothing for people. Once someone told me something. They wanted sympathy,ⁱⁱⁱ but I responded as a tailoring professional. While from my perspective this was the right way to respond, he and his wife took it as an insult. I had a very, very difficult relationship with them until I learned why they were so upset with me. Then I explained why I had said what I did and assured them that I absolutely did not mean to call him a slob. I took full responsibility for the misunderstanding, and said that this situation taught me to be more careful in how I spoke because I didn’t want to insult anyone else. At last he and his wife forgave me.

Before I learned the Jewish attitude towards apologies and forgiveness, I would not have taken responsibility for something I didn’t mean to do. All it cost me was a little embarrassment, but it removed a burden from the couple I had accidentally insulted. I knew then that this is an important part of apologizing and being forgiven.

So, what should I do now?

During the weeks before Yom Kippur, do your own cheshbon ha-nefesh, counting your sins and the hurts and wrongs you did to other people (and to God). Apologize for your actions. Admit to them that you hurt them, and that you’re sorry about that. Ask them to forgive you.

If they don’t forgive, ask them two more times—gently and kindly. If they still don’t accept the apology, the sin becomes their problem. Judaism teaches that after three attempts to apologize, a sin transfers to the person who won’t forgive. God accepts your apology.

It’s also a great idea to make a new habit. Start doing something new and positive. Choose something small that you can actually do every day or every week, not a huge, vague plan like “work for world peace.” Some suggestions:

• Send your grandparents an email or FaceTime them once a week.

• Read something from the Book of Psalms every day. English (or any other language, if you don’t read Hebrew) is fine.

  • Psalm 119 has 8 sentences for each letter of the Hebrew alphabet. You could choose a different letter each day and say the 8 sentences for it.

  • Say the psalm for the year of your next birthday. If you are 14 years old, read Psalm 15 every day.

• Put your dirty laundry in the hamper and clean clothes back in the closet or drawer every night.

• If you bring dishes into your room for snacks, take them back to the kitchen every night, rinse them out, and if the dishwasher has dirty dishes in it, add yours. (Careful—don’t put dirty dishes in a dishwasher of clean ones!!)

And remember: besides sins against other people, your cheshbon ha-nefesh should include sins against God: things you did wrong that didn’t hurt other people, but that broke God’s commandments. Ask God to forgive you for them, and try hard not to do the same things again.

i How To Stop Bad Habits: 12 Proven Strategies for Lasting Change, Nov. 10, 2024, https://www.powerofpositivity.com/stop-bad-habits/,

ii Moss, Rabbi A., “My Wife Won’t Speak to Me!” Chabad.org, https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/3469546/jewish/My-Wife-Wont-Speak-to-Me.htm

iii When the man mentioned that he didn’t get repeat business, I interpreted it as a question about why. He had recently lost a lot of weight and had not had his clothes altered to fit his new shape. Because my business was fixing clothes that didn’t fit, I noticed this and thought people coming to his business might wonder if he were as careless professionally as his ill-fitting clothes suggested. So I recommended he have his pants shortened and taken in to fit better. He really had not meant to ask for help, he wanted commiseration and was insulted that I thought he looked like a slob.

Mom put down the pot she was washing and went to the back door. "Sharona, get in here right now. Alana, time for you to go home. I'll tell your mother you're coming," said Mom as she picked up her phone.

Dragging her feet, Sharona went inside.

"You cannot call anyone poopy head," said Mom. "It's not a nice name."

"But Alana didn't play nice." Sharona stamped her foot.

"We do not have to like everyone. We can get angry at them. But we cannot call them names." Mom took Sharona's hand and went into the living room. "Let me tell you a story." She sat down and pulled Sharona onto the sofa next to her.

"A story about you?" asked Sharona hopefully.

"No, a story that happened a long, long time ago." Mom turned and pointed at a wall quilt hanging above Dad’s chair. "What's that building?" she asked.

"That's the Temple in Jerusalem," said Sharona.

"Right," said Mom. "And what's that photograph next to it?"

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Sharona bounced up and down. "That's the picture Daddy took when we were walking to that wall in Israel," she said.

"Right," said Mom. "What’s that wall, do you remember?"

Sharona bit her lip, thinking hard. "I don't remember," she said slowly. "But it’s important."

Mom nodded slowly. "It's all that's left of the Temple in Jerusalem."

"All that's left is one wall?" Sharona opened her eyes wide. "What about that beautiful building? Isn't it there?"

“My wall quilt is what many people think the building looked like," said Mom. "That wall and some pillars are what is left. The rest was destroyed long, long ago."

"Why?" asked Sharona.

"Because people said bad things about each other," said Mom. "That's the story I am going to tell you."

A long, long time ago there were two men whose names were almost the same. One was Kamtza, one was Bar Kamtza. Kamtza and his friends were not friendly with Bar Kamtza. They didn't have a good reason, they just didn't like him. One day, one of Kamtza's friends was having a party. He invited all his friends. But his servant made a mistake. He invited Bar Kamtza instead of Kamtza.ⁱ

Bar Kamtza came to the party. Maybe he thought that the friend was sorry that they had been enemies. We don't know. But he came to the party.

When he came, the man having the party got mad. He told Bar Kamtza to leave. Bar Kamtza said, "I'm here now, please let me stay." He begged and begged, but the man having the party said no.

Everyone at the party heard the argument. No one said, "Come on, Joe, let Bar Kamtza stay!" Not even the important rabbis, leaders of the city.

Bar Kamtza's feelings were hurt. He was embarrassed in front of the most important people! So he went to the government--the Romans--and lied to them. They got mad at the Jews and destroyed the Temple. Thousands of Jews were killed and most of the other Jews of Jerusalem were made slaves and taken to Rome. Jerusalem was destroyed." Mom was silent.

Sharona bit her lip.

"Why was Jerusalem destroyed?" asked Mom.ⁱⁱ

"Because that man lied?" asked Sharona.

"Well, yes," said Mom. "But that wasn't the first reason."

"Because that man didn't just go home?"

"Before that."

Sharona thought hard.

"Because that man went to the party?"

"Even before that."

Sharona scratched a mosquito bite on her leg and thought some more. She thought about playing with Alana and calling her names.

In a very little voice she asked, "Because the men called each other bad names?"

"Excellent!" exclaimed Mom. "We don't have to be friends with everyone, but we need to treat everyone with respect. We don't have to be friends. We can get angry at people. But we should never call them bad names and we should never be mean to them. Even bad people like robbers who need to go to jail. They need to be punished, but the punishment is enough. We don't have to be extra mean to them.

"Even good people make mistakes. I do, Dad does. We can tell people, 'I don't like what you did.' But Hillel said we shouldn't do things or say things to people that we don't want them to do to us."ⁱⁱⁱ

"So the party man should have invited that man?" asked Sharona.

"No, he didn't have to invite him. But when that man came, the party man should not have embarrassed him. He should have invited him in and treated him okay. Bar Kamtza made an honest mistake. He was invited by mistake, but he did not know that.

"And when the party man started to get mad, some of the other people should have said, 'Hey, Joe, cool down, let him stay!'"

Sharona drew fingernail circles around her bug bite. "And then Bar Kam... then he wouldn't have lied and the Temple would still be there?"

Mom nodded.

They were quiet a long time.

"Can I go next door and tell Alana I'm sorry I called her a bad name?" Sharona whispered her question.

"Good idea! Let's take a plate of cookies," said Mom. "Sometimes a little gift makes it easier to say 'I'm sorry.'"

For Parents, Teachers, and Others

Tisha B'Av, the ninth day of the month of Av, the date that the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed twice, has been a day that our enemies have used to torment us throughout the generations.^iv Seven major incidents affecting the Jewish People occurred on this day. The first was the Biblical incident of the spies that Moses sent out to report back on the land. They gave a bad report that showed little or no faith in the God that had just opened the Red Sea to let the Jews cross. The most recent was the beginning of World War I, which unleashed unprecedented destruction on Europe culminating in the Holocaust, when one-third of all Jews in the world were killed.

Three weeks before Tisha B'Av, the 17th of the month of Tammuz, was the day that the Romans breached the walls of Jerusalem in the year 70. This marked the beginning of the destruction of the Second Temple, which fell on the 9th of Av. Five calamities befell the Jewish people on this day as well.^v

The 17th of Tammuz is a partial fast: from shortly before sun-up until shortly after dark, observant Jews neither eat nor drink. Special prayers are said. Observant Jews observe some of the practices of mourning the death of a loved one.

From the first of the month of Av, additional mourning practices are followed. The 9th of Av itself is a full fast. That is, from before sundown on the 8th of Av until shortly after sundown on the 9th of Av, no food or drink passes the lips of most observant Jews. (Jewish days are counted from nightfall until nightfall rather than midnight to midnight as westerners do today.)

Many people make a special effort to avoid speaking badly of others during this period because causeless hatred began the spiral of events culminating in the destruction of the Second Temple.

Relevant Stories and Articles

Last year I published several articles about Tisha B'Av and its role in Judaism as well as two stories for older children.

Why Remember the Past​? is about Judaism's emphasis on remembering our history. For adults.

Baseless Hatred: What It Is, How It Hurts discusses several causes of hatred and the Jewish response to each. For adults.

The Catholic Jew, based on a family story that I heard when I worked in a Jewish nursing home, deals with baseless hatred and how it can sometimes come back to bite the hater. For teens.

Jerusalem Tunnel is reprinted from Ghosts and Golems, Jewish Publication Society, 2001, (c) Hanna Bandes Geshelin. It is a time-travel story set on Tisha B'Av, 70 CE. For kids 9-14.

Notes

i Kamtza and Bar Kamtza: The Story of Tisha B'Av. https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/404863/jewish/Kamtza-and-Bar-Kamtza.htm

ii At this point, the reader can stop reading and ask the listener(s) the questions.

iii Nightengale, T., Whatever is hateful to you, donot do to your fellow man. https://aish.com/judaisms-golden-rule/

iv What Happened on the Ninth of Av, https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/946703/jewish/What-Happened-on-the-Ninth-of-Av.htm

v Simmons, Rabbi S., 17th of Tammuz, https://aish.com/48943446/

You are very lucky you are visiting your grandparents in Miami, and not home here in northern Israel. You completely missed the last war.

I know, the October 7 war was bad, and it isn't over. It is just over here in the north, but in Gaza it is still going on, and our hostages are not being returned.

But this Iran war was different. We had a lot of attacks, but we also had warnings. The missiles from Hezbollah during the first months were small. They could damage homes and cars, but we were safe in "safe spaces," not just extra-strong safe rooms and shelters.

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The two-week war with Iran was different. First, we had warnings. It took an hour for the missiles to reach us, not just the 5 seconds when Hezzy sent them. But also, they were huge. I mean, HUGE! When they hit the ground or whatever, this sent off shock waves. I don't understand, but I know that everyone nearby felt like a mini-earthquake.

One missile landed in a parking lot near my grandma's apartment. All her windows blew out, and most of the glass in her apartment broke. Dishes, glass in picture frames, all shattered. The missile didn't even touch her building! It took hours to clean up the glass. My parents went to help her and her neighbors. A lot of people went to help, but they didn't let kids go near. Even so, Imma said one man got a bad cut on his hand from the broken glass. She said, though, that it was another miracle that there wasn't more damage or more injuries.

The parking lot where the missile hit was the private lot of an office building. Because of the war, the offices were closed and so was the parking lot. There weren't even any cars in the lot! Now the lot needs to be mended--it has a huge hole in it. But no people and no buildings were hurt. That is, except everything needs to have windows replaced.

As you know, we don't have a safe room, our building is too old. So we stayed with my aunt and uncle in Nahariya. They have three children. My uncle Soli and his wife and their baby twins were also there. All together we were fourteen people in the little apartment. Soli, Batya and their twins slept in the safe room. The rest of us children slept on the living room floor in sleeping bags, and the grownups had the bedrooms.

Many of the warnings came in the middle of the night. The warnings woke up the grownups, who came and got us when the attack siren began. Then we piled into the safe room. We sat on the beds and on the floor. Our missile defense system worked well, but the missiles were so high that it took a long time for the pieces to fall to ground. Remember with Hezbollah's missiles, we had to wait ten minutes after the attack for the pieces to fall? With the Iranian missiles, we had to wait until the Civil Defense announced it was safe to leave. A few times we were ready to leave, or just left, and we had another attack.

Abba said that most of the people who were hurt or worse were either running to the shelters and fell, or left their safe rooms too early and were hit by falling pieces.

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My big cousins--the two who live in Nahariya and are in high school--went out a lot to see their friends. And the grownups left sometimes to go shopping. But I didn't go outside, and neither did the other younger children. Aunt Batya taught me how to crochet. I learned three stitches. Now that the war is over, Imma bought me enough yarn to make a scarf for winter. My yarn is shades of purple and white. It will look great with my white winter jacket.

The missile attacks were scary, but after almost every one we heard about miracles, like the one near my grandma's, where the missile hit an empty parking lot. One missile hit a hospital in Beersheba. But it was an old building, and a few hours earlier the building was evacuated. That means they took all the patients and all the equipment they could, and moved them to the basement of another building. The first building was destroyed, but it was empty. Not one person was in it.

A day care center was destroyed by another missile, but it was empty. A lot of the missiles that got through ended in empty streets or parks or parking lots. Abba said that the missile defense system destroyed about 80-90% of the missiles that could have hit. He said that the USA helped shoot down the missiles and that helped prevent bigger problems. But mostly, he said, God directed the missiles to places where there were no people.

The day after the ceasefire, we were back in school. We had only a week and a half of school until the end of the year, but a lot of that time was exams. Now we're on vacation again, so I have time to write.

Are you still staying in the USA all summer? It will be boring without you. I am not sure what I'll do. I think I'll mostly stay close to home. When I finish the scarf I am crocheting, maybe I'll start a bigger project, or maybe I'll make more scarfs to give away. Anyway, enjoy your vacation. Send me some pictures, too!

Your friend,

Shuli

For Parents, Teachers and Others

We Israelis are very conscious of the incredible miracles that kept the death toll from the recent Iran Missile War with Israel relatively low. The IDF intercepted 86% of the missiles and 99% of the unmanned ariel vehicles (UAVs—attack drones) sent, according to the Israeli news. I have not seen a definitive number of missiles fired at us, but it is probably in the thousands.

Each attack except the last, which was sent several hours after the cease-fire was supposed to take effect, included up to hundreds of missiles. (That last barrage, which Iran denied sending, reportedly included only one missile.) Thus the whole country was issued a warning that the attack was coming, to give people time to get to safety. Then, when the missiles were close enough that their trajectories could be measured, those communities in the direct paths of incoming missiles (and UAVs) received attack alerts, at which time there was only a moment or two to enter the safe room and secure the door.

Warnings came through the civil defense and other apps on smartphones (even many very religious Jews who do not use the internet and generally use flip phones have one smartphone that they carry for civil defense emergencies, to contact banks, etc.) and then attack sirens were sounded in targeted communities. There is a known problem about notifying deaf people.

Many times the booms from interceptions could be heard from inside the safe room where I was. Luckily for me, no missiles reached my area.

Moving Forward

How will this affect us going forward?

First, we are all still jumpy. Sudden noises, whines, children’s video game soundtracks, and more make us adults stop momentarily, maybe even check our phones, before we resume our activities. Concentration is still difficult. Some days we awaken and have trouble focusing—part of the brain is still processing whether this awakening is because of trouble, or just normal.

I lived in the USA during the Scuds War, and I heard stories of miracles occuring in Israel. I didn’t believe them: I thought they were exaggerations or complete fabrications. But this is a very small country, and with that reputed “6 degrees of separation” we are all connected. We know people who experienced these miracles of near-misses, or who are just one degree of separation from them.

My friend in Beersheba, for example, knows people who worked in the hospital building that was evacuated, and has a neighbor whose child attended the daycare center that was hit at a time it was empty.

Only 14% of the sent missile landed, and of those, the vast majority landed in empty buildings or on empty land. This is a densely populated country. That Artscroll has recently released a book documenting many of the miracles from the Oct. 7 war. There will certainly be another on the miracles of the Iran War.

Because so many people have felt God’s power, or have been moved by stories from the released hostages who felt God’s protection, the number of formerly completely secular Jews lighting Sabbath candles and doing other mitzvot has skyrocketed.

Searching for Honest News about Israel

Interestingly, every time I google a question positive toward Israel, the search has been turned upside down. For example, I asked how many Israelis returned to Israel since Oct. 7—a vast number of people with student, tourist, and permanent resident status abroad chose to return. But google only found me the number of people who have left Israel since then.

The same thing when I searched for the number of missiles Iran sent: I only got results on the number of missiles Iran has left, and how Israel will not be able to defend itself from these.

Be warned: google is extremely biased against Israel, and you will have to dig deeply to find positive articles.

Yossi nodded. "I saw a nest yesterday in that big tree in the field. Maybe there will be feathers there. I'll look."

"Thanks!" Rivka turned back to the laundry she was hanging out to dry. Just then, Yossi's friend Dani came over.

"Yossi, let's go play!"

"I told my sister I'd look for some feathers for her. I saw a bird's nest in the big tree in the field. Let's go climb it and look in the nest." The two boys ran off.

But they couldn't climb the tree. The big branch nearest the ground...lay on the ground. During the storm last night, it had fallen. The next branch was too high. The two boys stared at the tree. How could they climb it?

"I know!" Yossi danced from one foot to the other. "Abba has a pile of wood he's saving to bring to the Temple in Jerusalem on Shavuoth, in just a couple of weeks."

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"Isn't it so the priests can burn your family's offering?" asked Dani.

"Sure," said Yossi. "But I think the lengths are good for a ladder. Abba's at the market today. We can take care of this before he gets back. He'll never know."

Dani scrunched his forehead in thought. "How could we make a ladder out of it, one that can be taken apart and burned? You can't carry a ladder all the way to Jerusalem!"

"I watched Tzion the Woodcarver make a ladder once," Yossi said. "It's how I got interested in woodcarving. He carved out notches that just fit the ends of other pieces." Taking a stick, he drew in the still-damp ground. "Like this. The pieces fit together."

Dani bit his lower lip. "Can we carve that well? Do you have tools?"

"Yes," said Yossi, "Tzion's teaching me, remember?" The boys ran to the shed, took tools and wood, and started carving. Dani, tongue between his teeth, did the first, rough shaping. Yossi, his forehead furrowed in concentration, made the pieces fit together. He labeled them with small letters so the boys would know how to fit them together.

By evening, they had a ladder that was long enough. They started to the field. They didn't hear the donkey clip-clopping or the gal-gal-gal of the wooden cart wheels on the dirt road.

"Yossi!" Abba sounded annoyed. "Where are you going? Did you finish your evening chores already?"

Dani looked at Yossi, then at the sky. "It's getting late, I better get home," he called as he ran off.

Yossi kicked the dirt with his sandal. "I'll do my chores when I get back. We were going to look at the bird's nest in the big tree in the field," he said. "Rivka asked me for feathers. She is decorating her new tamborine and needed more."

Abba sighed. "This is not a good time for ladders and feathers, or for tamborines. I heard bad news from Jerusalem." He looked around, finally noticing that Dani had gone. "Why did Dani leave his ladder?" he asked.

Yossi sighed. "It's not Dani's. We made it."

Abba shook his head. "I can't worry about that right now. Put it in the wagon." As Abba and Yossi walked alongside the wagon, Abba sighed again. "It's the Syrian-Greeks," Abba finally said. "They're always tryin to make it hard for us to serve Hashem. Now they say that no one is allowed to bring firewood to Jerusalem. Only little pieces of wood for cooking fires are allowed. If firewood is not permitted, how can the priests burn the offerings to Hashem?"

"Does this mean we won't go to Jerusalem for the holy day?" Yossi asked.

"I don't know," said Abba. "I just don't know."

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Yossi kicked a stone in the path. "This was my first year to go," he said. "You always told me that I would go with you in the year before I become a bar mitzvah, before my 13th birthday when I have to start keeping the commandments. You said this year would teach me what I need to know so that next year I won't feel like a stupid beginner."

Abba's lip curled into a tiny smile. "I didn't say stupid." he said. "Everyone makes mistakes when they begin, and often at other times, too. No one is perfect." They had reached the yard. Abba and Yossi began unloading the wagon.

"Now, where does this wood go?" asked Abba.

Yossi paled. He had to be honest, but it would hurt. "It's the wood you were saving to take to Jerusalem," he whispered. "The wood we can't take now."

Abba turned and looked into the distance. He turned slowly back. "Yesterday I would have been angry. Furious. But today...we can't use it for firewood. Our foreign rulers won't let us bring it to Jerusalem, to the Temple. It doesn't matter now." Head bent, he walked slowly to the house.

Abba was very quiet for the next days. Imma was quiet, too. Usually, this close to a pilgrimage holiday, when the Jews brought offerings for God to the Temple in Jerusalem, the house was a whirlwind of preparations. This year...nothing.

Yossi did all his chores without being reminded. He even started looking around for other ways he could help. He felt badly about having used the special wood, but he felt worse about the situation. Stories kept coming up from the city, brought by travelers. The Syrian-Greeks were punishing everyone who they caught breaking their rules. And those rules were meant to keep the Jews from worshiping God.

One day, looking around to find some new way to help his parents, he noticed that a spider had spun a web over the pile of special wood. He took a broom and started to sweep it clean. Suddenly he stopped and stared.

"Abba! Abba!" he called, running to where his father worked in the field. "I have an idea! If wood can become a ladder, a ladder can become wood."

Abba blinked a few times. "Huh?"

"We can bring a ladder to Jerusalem, right?" he asked. "It's not firewood. Maybe your brother in Jerusalem…"
"I don't have a brother in Jerusalem," Abba interrupted.

"I know, but the Syrian-Greeks don't. Listen!" Yossi danced from foot to foot. "We can take the ladder when we go to the city for Shavuot. We would have to go early, so it doesn't look like we're making a pilgrimage. If we are stopped, we can say you got word that your brother in Jerusalem, the one with lots of dovecotes, needed a new ladder. So you're bringing it as a gift for him. Then, once we're there, we can take it apart and give it to the priests so they can burn our offering."

"How do we explain the sheep we'll bring?"
"Another gift for your brother. Maybe bring all the family, and say it's for a special family event."

Abba was silent for a long moment. "You know, that just might work. I'll discuss it with Imma." He clapped Yossi's shoulder. "Let's go and tell her your idea."

Imma, Rivka, Yossi and Abba talked and talked, turning Yossi's idea over and over until they had a real plan. Abba set off to ask a neighbor to keep an eye on their home while they were gone.

Meanwhile, Imma and Rivka started preparing food for the trip. As she worked Imma said to Yossi, "You know, God always has a plan. Everything happens for a reason. You took wood you shouldn't have touched and made something specific, a ladder, out of it. But you were very sorry you disobeyed, right?" Yossi nodded.

Imma continued, "Abba and I didn't say anything, but we noticed how hard you have been working. We know it has been your way of saying you regret your actions. I think you learned a lesson.

"To me, it looks like God used that wood for two purposes: to teach you something about obeying--a lesson everyone especially needs to know with the Syrian-Greeks in charge. And also so you would come up with a way for us to still go to the Temple to serve Him." She nodded as she patted out the dough that would become crackers to take on the trip.

"Now," she said to Yossi, "Go start packing. We leave in the morning."

This story is based on a story I wrote that was published in Olomeinu in May, 2000.

Passover is seven days long in Israel and eight days long in the rest of the world. (Like other major holidays, an extra day is celebrated outside of Israel.ⁱ) The first and last days of Pesach are like the Sabbath in that we have special synagogue services. We also avoid certain activities. The middle days are considered half-holidays. In Israel, schools are closed for all or part of the time and many people take vacation. The last day (2 days outside of Israel) is another full holiday.

The first day celebrates the escape of the Jewish people from slavery in Egypt to freedom. The middle days remind the Jews of wandering in the desert on their way to the home of their ancestors in Israel. The last day commemorates the miracle of the Red Sea. With the Egyptian army chasing them, the Jews found their escape was blocked by the Red Sea. Miraculously it opened up so that the Jewish people could cross it. Then the sea closed and drowned the enemy army.

Shavuoth celebrates when God gave the Ten Commandments and His Law to the Jewish people at Mount Sinai. The tradition says that was the length of time it took for the Jews to travel from the Red Sea to Mt. Sinai.

The Law that God gave to the Jews on Mt. Sinai told them how to build their society when they got to their ancestral homeland. These laws form the basis of the civilization of the western world.

On the 33rd day after the first day of Passover is another very special day. This day is not directly related to Pesach and Shavuoth. Called Lag B'Omer, its name is written in Hebrew with the letters lamed and gimel. Each letter of the Hebrew alphabet represents a number.ⁱⁱ Lamed is 30 and gimel, the 3rd letter of the alef-bet, is 3, so ל + ג = 33 . Omer is the name of this 50-day period. The two little marks between the letters separate them so the reader knows these are numbers and not a word spelled לג.

Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai

This day is special because it is the date of the death of one of the greatest Jewish scholars of all time, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai.^iii,iv My story for young children, Hotdogs and Memories, explains about the yartzeit or anniversary of a death.

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Jews believe that recognizing and appreciating the life of someone who has passed away helps his or her soul in eternity. On Rabbi Shimon's yartzeit, big celebrations are held. Bonfires are lit in honor of his great work, the Zohar. In this work he revealed many mystical secrets. The Zohar is the primary text of Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism. The ideas in the Zohar bring light to the world, so we have bonfires in honor of these ideas and Rabbi Shimon's role in teaching them.

On most years, thousands of Jews visit Mt. Meron in Israel. They pray at Rabbi Shimon's grave there, study the Zohar, dance, and have a bonfires. This year, 2025 (5785 on the Jewish calendar), we had a dry winter, so the forests are drier than normal. Just a few weeks ago, thousands of acres of Israeli forests were burned by Palestinian terrorists. Because of these two factors, bonfires will only be permitted in very safe places, and then only if they are carefully supervised. Both types of fires pictured here are outlawed this year.

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There will be other celebrations instead of fires. Many communities, synagogues, or other groups will hold barbecues. There will probably be live music and dancing at some. Plays about Rabbi Shimon and dance recitals will be put on by schools. In Israel, it is common for children to write the songs and plays that they produce for special days like this. People will still celebrate, just not in the same way.

Why the Zohar is Important

Judaism teaches that God wants people to live in safe, orderly communities. He knows people are not perfect.^v Large numbers of people cannot live together comfortably without laws. The Torah and Talmud focus on how God wants society to be organized. It tells us how to live: in other words, what we should and should not do.

The Zohar teaches why we do the things we do. These are mystical or spiritual meanings behind our laws and customs. Rabbi Shimon taught that everything we do has an effect much larger than just us doing the thing. They affect other people. They also affect the Next World, the spiritual world of God that we cannot see. The Zohar explains the effects when we do (or don't do) certain things, both good and bad. Many of the customs mentioned in my stories have their roots in the Zohar.

Teachings of Rabbi Shimon bar-Yochai

Here are a few of the things that this great rabbi taught:

• Everything in existence is interconnected, and everything reflects the unity of God.^vi

• Torah study and doing the mitzvot (commandments) help a person's soul to grow and lifts him or her spiritually.

• Suffering is a way in which we are purified and grow spiritually. That is, when bad things happen we can find a lesson that will help us. This concept has helped countless people handle troubles with grace and growth.

  Some of the Israelis who were kidnapped and hidden in tunnels in Gaza for over a year found out this truth. After they were freed, they said that they had not been religious before they were kidnapped. However, they felt God protecting them during their captivity. This gave them strength to survive. They say it changed them. It will also help them live normal lives in spite of their terrible ordeal.

• We should serve God with joy. Happiness strengthens our spiritual connection with God.

• Words have immense spiritual power, so they should be used wisely. For example, gossip is wrong--it is like opening a feather pillow on a windy day. The feathers fly around and cannot all be put back in the pillowcase. In the same way, hurtful words about another spread uncontrollably. Even if we learn later that the words we spread were lies and we apologize, the damage has been done.

• Righteous people are able to bring divine blessings down into this world through their good deeds.

One lesson from Rabbi Shimon that everyone can do is to make a new habit that will help others, such as giving charity, visiting the sick or elderly, volunteering at a food kitchen, or even not fighting with a sibling. When we make a new, good habit, we are doing a little something to make the world a better place.

For Parents, Teachers and Others

Judaism as a Way of Life

Judaism is not a religion in the same way that Christianity is: it is a way of life. Our laws define our civilization, our societies in this world. Religious Jews prefer living in communities where our laws and customs are followed. Many liberal Jews believe that the Torah laws are no longer relevant. They do not believe in a God who cares about them. However, they still are Jews, and many of them still follow the moral and ethical laws.

Our desire to live in our own communities is one reason we are seen as "clannish." This word is also used negatively; people think religious Jews like to be separate because we believe we are better than others. This is not true; it is not an issue of "better" or "worse."

The Chosen People

Remember, God created everyone and like a good parent, He loves all His children. Judaism teaches that God took His Law around the world and asked the different peoples if they wanted it. When they found out that it contained laws about behavior, they declined. The Jewish people chose to accept the Law without worrying about what it contained. We said, "We will do and we will hear." This is how we obtained the Torah. But with the Torah comes obligation: the obligation to fulfill the commandments. We became God's favored children because we chose to live according to His Law, not because we are intrinsically better.

In the Bible story of the Tower of Babel, the people got the idea that they could build a tower tall enough to reach Heaven. They were getting very arrogant, and God didn't like that. As a result, He divided them into 70 nations, each with its own language. Many Jews believe that He gave each group its own special gift. Some of those still exist. They are considered functions of culture. People do not realize that these traits are gifts God gave to their people, just as He gave His Law to the Jews.

These traits are also called stereotypes because they suggest that everyone in a group has this trait. This is not true; people are individuals with their own strengths and weaknesses. But some things are true in general: they apply to many in the society. The music of Black Africa has rich harmonies and gorgeous melodies, and many Black people have wonderful singing voices. Just think of how the proportion of Black musical artists compared to white in the USA is far higher than the proportion of Blacks to whites in American society in general. Germans excel at organization. Many Irish can spin tales like none other. Japanese have a singular and outstanding sense of beauty. People go to France to see cathedrals, Austria to see castles, and Italy to see religious paintings.

We were once all one people with all these different talents and skills. Now, even though we are divided, we still need all the parts. The world is a much richer place when we share our talents and skills. (This philosophy contrasts with the sick modern-day belief of cultural appropriation, which says that it is wrong to use what developed in a different culture. But somehow pizza and Chinese take-out are exceptions and can be shared. Go figure.)

Jewish Law

Christianity, a religion in the true sense of the word, has as its primary focuses first, the worship of God and second, the individual and his salvation. Judaism, on the other hand, focuses on building a kind, just, peaceful society in this world through following God's laws.

Some Christians call Judaism "legalistic," as though that was a bad thing. It is very true that we have a lot of laws, but we also have a society that has a far lower crime rate than most other societies. (Unfortunately a few non-religious Jews like Jeffrey Epstein and Bernie Madoff turn to nonviolent crime^vii and excel at it, but they are the exception.) A large percentage of crime in modern Israel is committed by the non-Jewish minority--people whose basic cultures are different, with different attitudes towards life, violence, and theft.

The Ten Commandments are the basic laws of society. The Five Books of Moses are a history book covering the period from the creation of the world until the freed slaves enter the Promised Land, the land where their ancestors lived.

The Five Books of Moses are called by Jews the Written Law. We believe Moses wrote them down during the 40 days he stayed on Mt. Sinai. We consider it the Cliff's Notes of the word of God--notes he took as God dictated to him.

The Talmud, called the Oral Law, is considered the complete text that God related to Moses. We believe that during the 40 years the Jews were in the desert (according to Jewish tradition, for 38 of those years they were camped), Moses taught that law to the Jews. Then it was passed down orally until the early years of the common era (called by Christians A.D.). At that time it was organized and written down. It contains the explanations and details of the laws given in the Five Books of Moses--how these laws are to be carried out. Its laws form the basis of Christianity and European/American civilization, covering such topics as:

• tort law: money awarded by a court for harm done to another, but not by criminal means, such as paying expenses that someone had to pay because someone hurt him (but not in a criminal way), through carelessness, from assault (behaving in a threatening way), battery (touching another in a threatening or hurtful way), being on or using someone else's property, or being damaged by something that someone else told you was safe.

• criminal law: laws about an act or failure to do something that breaks a law

• inheritance

• marriage and other family issues

• business laws and laws dealing with money

This list just scratches the surface of what the Talmud deals with. It is huge and complex, and people can and do spend a lifetime studying it.

I have heard Christian leaders say that Jesus brought love and kindness into the world. He certainly spread those concepts, along with other concepts from Judaism. But Christian leaders forget that Jesus was a Jewish scholar and as such had spent many years learning the Oral Law. Almost everything taught in the New Testament and ascribed to Jesus can be found in the Jewish tradition. It was so obvious to Moses, however, that he did not write it in his notes when God was teaching him, so it doesn't appear in the Jewish Bible itself.

i Golding, N., Shurpin, Y., Why Do We Still Celebrate Holidays for Two Days in the Diaspora? Chabad.org, https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/527614/jewish/Why-Do-We-Still-Celebrate-Holidays-for-Two-Days-in-the-Diaspora.htm , accessed May 12, 2025.

ii Hare, J.A., Hebrew Letters for Numbers, The Hebrew Cafe, Dec. 5, 2020, https://www.thehebrewcafe.com/uploads/pdf/letter_values.pdf , accessed May 11, 2025

iii https://www.britannica.com/biography/Shimon-bar-Yochai,

iv https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/112515/jewish/Rabbi-Shimon-Bar-Yochai.htm

v https://mechon-mamre.org/jewfaq/human.htm, https://aish.com/48939737/

vi Unlike Christianity, Judaism does not teach that there is a separate, powerful force of evil in the world. Rather, as our most important prayer says, God is One and his name is One. There is nothing else but God. We believe that God wanted people to have free will--the ability to choose what we do--and so He created the evil inclination. This is the desire to do the wrong thing. One of the chief jobs of our lives is to subdue the evil inclination. Some people, such as Stalin, Pol Pot, and Hitler, instead seem to have subdued their inclination to do good, and reveled in doing evil. This was their choice, and they were punished in the afterlife for it.

vii Epstein's crimes really were not nonviolent; people were certainly hurt by them. But he did not commit what are commonly called “violent crimes.”

Until just before Passover, a few weeks ago her parents, she and her little brother had lived in the United States. All the rest of the family--on Abba's side as well as Imma's--lived in Israel. Now that Ruthie and her family lived in Israel too, she was getting to know all of them. For the first time, she was curious about them. This very old woman could probably help her learn.

Safta-Rabba Chana smiled. "I could tell you many old family stories," she said. "But I will tell you one. What holiday are we celebrating this week?"

Ruthie grinned. She knew that! "Independence Day, Yom Ha-Atz-ma-ut"

"That's right," said Safta-Rabba Chana. "A few years ago I went with your Uncle Danny and his family to a festival at the town's pavilion. Just outside the pavilion were stands selling noisemakers, cotton candy, and other snacks.

"Like most festivals, the music was very loud. It needed to be--lots of children were running all around eating snacks and chasing each other. I was listening to the songs and watching the children.

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“Suddenly someone whispered in my ear. I gasped and grabbed my chest. I knew that voice! But the last time I'd heard it was more than 50 years ago, just before I left for the airport to make aliyah—to move from the USA to Israel.

"It was my grandmother, my father's mother. Of course she wasn't really there, but her voice was clearer than the telephone. She said, 'Look at this: the music, the crowds, the children running around having such a good time. All we wanted to do was save the children, and look at this place now.'

"I could hardly breathe," said Safta-Rabba Chana. "I knew what she was talking about. That last day, the last time I spoke to her, we really talked. I asked her to tell me stories, the way you are asking me. And one of the stories was about the beginning of the Hadassah organization.

"Today the Hadassah organization does many things. But when it started, it had one focus: saving lives in this land. Today the Hadassah Hospital is one of the largest in the Middle East. It treats people from all over the world. All religions, all races. There are Muslim doctors, men and women. Christian doctors. All kinds of doctors and all kinds of patients. And your great-great-great grandmother was one of the earliest supporters.

"This was more than 110 years ago. The land was called Palestine then. This was the name the Romans gave to Judea when they conquered the land, destroyed the Second Temple, and took most of the Jews as slaves to Rome.

"This land in 1912 was ruled by Turkey. Back then they were called Ottomans. They had ruled the country since the 1500s, but they didn't do much except ruin the land. They were the worst kinds of colonial rulers: they took whatever would make their country rich and left the land in terrible condition.

"They cut down most of the trees and used the wood to build railroads and to run the railroads. Back then, trains burned wood to create steam. This made the energy to move the trains.

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“Without tree roots holding the dirt, the rains eroded the steep mountains in the north. The dirt ran down the mountains along with branches, leaves and other junk. It all blocked up the rivers. This flooded the flat land, creating swamps. And what critter loves swamps?"

Ruthie scrunched her forehead. "Bugs?" she guessed.

"Yes! Mosquitoes. And these mosquitoes carried a terrible disease called malaria," said Safta-Rabba Chana. It killed many people. There were other diseases, too. One, trachoma, caused people to become blind.

"The land was not a good place to live. It was a hard place to farm. Farming land had become swamps, and the mountains are too steep and rocky for farming. They're even too steep for raising most animals. Most of the Muslims, who had invaded about 1300 years earlier, returned to their homeland of Saudi Arabia or went to Syria or Egypt. But tucked in quiet corners of the land there were still Jewish villages. Their residents had always lived there. Most of them stayed because it was their homeland, even though they were very, very poor.

"In the late 1800s, many Russian and Ukrainian Jews moved in. They left their homes because of pogroms, massacres of the Jews. They decided to drain the swamps so they would have farmland again. But many of them got sick with malaria and died. Others became blind from trachoma. Babies and children especially were sick and dying.

"American Jewish women who were living much more comfortable lives wanted to help. Your great-great-great-grandmother was one of those people. She joined a brand-new women's club called Hadassah. She and the other members worked hard to raise money to help.

"First, Hadassah sent two nurses. Soon they sent more nurses. For the first time there was real health care. But the nurses didn't just provide health care. They also provided health education. As people got healthier, they began to do business. Many Muslims came from Saudi Arabia, Syria, Egypt, and other Muslim countries because now the health was better than in their home countries. Business was better, too. The land became a much better place to live.

"That day at the concert, I knew my grandma's spirit was whispering to me. She was very, very glad to see happy, healthy children eating snacks and running around in the sun while the parents relaxed on blankets on the grass, listening to Hebrew songs. The women in her organization had spent countless hours raising money to save children living in terrible conditions. And now, in little more than 100 years, Israel had become a vibrant place full of happy Jewish life."

Ruthie was silent. She tipped her head to the side and bit her lower lip. "Some of the girls in my new school have bragged about how long their families have been in Israel. They said I will never be as Israeli as they are." She straightened up and sat tall. "Now I can tell them that one reason we have a good life here is because of my great-great-great-grandmother's hard work."

"That's right," said Safta-Rabba Chana. "You are a newcomer, but you have long, strong roots here. Never forget that all Jews have long roots here, whether they live here or still live in galut, in one of the countries where we have lived for the long, long time since the Romans took us out of our land. This land belongs to all of us. It was given to us ages ago. Our ancestors are the only residents of this land who have ever ruled it. Everyone else--the Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Crusaders, Ottoman Turks and a few others--have all be invaders. They came for what they could take, not to make their lives here, not to make this a good place to live. Only we have done that, because it is our homeland.

"Israel is ours, now and forever," Safta-Rabba Chana finished. "Thank you for asking me. It's good to remember. Now, though, I need a little rest. I know many other true stories to tell you, so ask me another time."

For Parents, Teachers and Others

The history of Israel is being rewritten these days by the true colonialists: the Muslims. Within 50 years of Mohammad in the mid-600s, Islam had taken over lands from Saudi Arabia, where it began, to the Atlantic Ocean. They accomplished this by slaughtering everyone who did not convert. For the true history, read Jewish sources or books and articles written before 1960.

Independence Day in Israel follows immediately after the second of the country’s two memorial days. The first is a week prior: Yom HaShoah v’Gvurah, the day we remember the Holocaust, both the victims and the heroes. This second Memorial Day is to remember the soldiers and victims of terror—those who died here in this land because they were Jews.

I always attend religious services at a synagogue that was built more than 100 years ago on a site that has been a synagogue since the time of the Second Temple. The caretaker is Margalit, a woman in her 90’s whose family has always lived in that community, Pikiin. The cave of Bar Kochba is in this town. These days, the town’s population are mostly Druze.

This year, tomorrow (on Yom HaAtzma’ut itself) I will be going with friends on a hike around the ruin of the Montfort fortress, a Crusader fort, not far from here. Afterwards we will have a cookout. This is a fairly typical way of celebrating. This year, fireworks are prohibited. Most of us do not want to hear or see fireworks; we had enough of the true “bombs bursting in air” during the worst of this war.

Bibliography

Interactive Encyclopedia of the Palestine Question, Ottoman Rule, 1516-1917, https://www.palquest.org/en/highlight/31097/i-ottoman-rule

Emerson PM, Bailey RL. Trachoma and fly control. Community Eye Health. 1999;12(32):57. PMID: 17492008; PMCID: PMC1706026.

Anthonj, C., Rechenburg A., et al, Contracting Infectious Diseases in Sub-Saharan African Wetlands: A question of use? A review. October 2017, International Journal of Hygiene and Environmental Health.

How was your seder? Mine was... I guess you would say interesting. You know I worried about it.

I keep thinking about the video at Imma's wedding to Shai. I already wrote you about the video, but here it is again, in case you forgot. There were lots of pictures of Shai and his kids with his first wife, their mother. She was so skinny and pale before she died! Then the pictures of my family. The last pictures of my Abba on October 8 made me cry. He was in his uniform, ready to go and fight for our country. He never came back.

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We all know sadness. Now we're supposed to become one big, happy family.

When Imma told us she was getting married again she said, "It's a a year and a half. It's time to move on." She and Shai look really happy now. So do all the little kids. His are already calling my mother Imma, and my little sister is calling Shai Abba. Our families have spent a lot of time together. I still was feeling really weird about being one big, happy family, though.

So, the seder. We were almost 30 people. A bunch of tables were pushed together in a big square. Imma and me and my brother and sister were there, of course. Everyone else was from Shai's family. By "everyone" I mean everyone. Not just Shai's kids. His parents, brothers, and their families. There were also people from Shai's first wife's family. Cousins, aunts, and uncles. I didn't really know them, but they're part of this new family. My Saba and Savta, Abba's parents, will always be my grandparents, and all those cousins will always be my cousins. I guess there will be times they're together with us, with Shai and all his kids.

Shai's father led the seder. He did things differently than my Saba and Abba. My little sister and our youngest stepbrother said the Four Questions together. Racheli doesn't remember Abba, and Yitzi doesn't remember his Imma. They're just the same age--just two weeks apart. Someone said they were like twins, so all night they ran around saying, "We're twins! We're twins!" They were really cute.

The meal was really different. Women in Shai's family did the cooking. They said Imma was just married and just moved us all to the new house, so she shouldn't cook. The food was okay, but it just wasn't like Imma's.

But the hard part of the meal was that everyone seemed uncomfortable. Everyone was trying to be friendly, but it was like being at a cousin's party when you didn't know any of her friends.

Then Shai's grandmother, Savta Nili, stood up to speak.

She's 80 years old and was born here in Israel, before it was its own country. Her parents came from Germany just before Hitler. That was before the British put a limit on how many Jews could enter the country every month.

Savta Nili said that this seder reminded her of seders when she was a child. That was when Israel was very, very new. She said Israel became an independent country in 1948, two years after Hitler's war ended. Between the end of the war and when Israel became a free country, most of the Jews who were still alive in Europe lived in camps. They weren't nice, but they weren't killing camps like under Hitler. England ruled Israel, and they only let 1,000 Jews enter the country each month. There were hundreds of thousands of survivors, though, and most of them wanted to come to Israel. Palestine, it was called then, the Roman name for the land.

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When Israel became a country, the survivors came as fast as they could. They were mostly brand-new couples. Like Imma and Shai, they had first families and married because their first husbands and wives were killed. Savta Nili said almost all the children at the seders were very young because they were born after the war.

These people had no other families. No parents, no grandparents, no aunts, uncles or cousins. Everyone else had been killed by Hitler or died because of the war. Savta Nili said that she didn't have relatives, either. Only her parents left Europe before the war. Everyone else stayed behind. Poof. Gone.

So her parents invited their neighbors to their seders. She said her Abba would say, "The Haggadah tells how we left Egypt and slavery. In the desert we became a free people, Am Yisrael, the people of Israel. And now we have left the death and destruction of Europe and are free people here in Israel. Just like the Jews in the desert became one people, we are part of a new people, citizens of the free country of Israel.”

"But more than that," Savta Nili said, "Abba said that now we had to be family for each other. We should care about each other, even when we disagreed and fought, because that's what families do. We needed to help each other and celebrate with each other, as well as be sad for each other. And that," she said, "Is what we did. We became a big, close neighborhood of family even though we had once been strangers."

Savta Nili looked around the table then. "Two years ago, our families didn't know each other. We each had a very big loss. But Shai and Miriam knew that life goes on. They found each other. Like my childhood neighbors who became our family, Shai and Miriam are making a new family. We are all part of it. May we all grow together in love, joy and kindness."

When she finished speaking there was a moment of total silence. Even Yitzi and Racheli, the youngest at the table, were quiet. But after that, the table felt different. It felt friendlier. I don't think it was just me. I think everyone felt different.

We build joy on top of sadness. Imma had tried to tell me that, but I was still thinking of Abba and how much I miss him.

Savta Nili's story made me understand something. You can miss someone, you can wish things were different, but they aren't different. They are how they are. We can stay miserable, or we can choose to be happy. Imma and Shai decided to be happy together, and now we have a huge family: all of Imma's family, and all of Abba's family, and all of Shai's family, and even Shai's first wife's family, and Abba's family. They are the blood family of some of us children. And hopefully they will be family by love, too, one day.

This will be a new world for us. I was worried about it. But Savta Nili's story showed me that while it's a new world for us, it's not a new world for Am Yisrael. It's how we as Jews have survived for so many generations and so much trouble. We don't forget, but as the saying goes, we make lemonade out of our lemons.

So that's what's new with me. Please email me back and tell me what's new with you.

Your friend,

Yocheved

For Parents, Teachers and Others

This story is based on two true experiences. A very good friend who was widowed early in the October 7 war was married just before Passover to a widower whose wife had died from cancer a few years earlier. They are blending two families: her three and his four children.

Savta Nili's story is true and was told at the seder I was at. Nili (her real name), my friend's mother, is almost exactly one year older than I am. She is full of interesting stories about Israel's early days; she was three when the country became independent. I hope to collect many more of her tales.

Feel free to comment if you have any questions, I’ll do my best to answer them.

Recipe

Best Passover Brownies - Gluten Free (from The New Kosher for Passover Cookbook, Revised and Expanded. Feldheim Publishers, 1978-1998.

• 1-2 Tbsp. potato starch to "flour" the pan

• 2 large eggs

• 3/4 cup sugar

• 1/4 cup cocoa

• 1/4 cup potato starch

• 1/2 cup oil

• 1/4 cup walnuts, chopped

• 1/2 tsp. vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 C). Prepare a 5x7 inch baking pan by oiling it lightly and putting a thin layer of starch all over the oil to prevent sticking. Set aside.

Beat the eggs and sugar very, very well. Sift the starch and cocoa over the sugar-egg mixture and mix. Add everything else and mix well. Pour into the prepared baking dish. Bake for 35-40 minutes or until a toothpick stuck into the center comes out clean.

Cool before cutting.

Tova sat on the floor. "I have cleaned Sammy's and my toy crates They were lots of crumbs," she said. She stood up and brushed off her skirt.

Mom swept the floor. She dumped crumbs, dirt and junk into a big, black plastic bag.

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"I can clean Mazal's crate quickly," Tova said. She dumped out all the toys and shook out the crumbs and bits of junk. Then she took her damp cloth. She wiped each toy with the cloth and put it back in the crate.

Mom swept the floor one last time. "I hope you don't find more chometz!"

Tova finished putting Mazal's toys back in its crate. She took the first crate and put it on the shelf. Then she took the second crate and put it on the shelf, too.

She picked up the third crate. "Oh no!" she cried.

"What happened?" Mom rushed in.

"We didn't pull the bookcase out," Tova said.

"No," said Mom. "But I swept underneath it. We're okay." She went back to the kitchen.

Tova slowly put the third crate on the shelf. Something bothered her. What was it? She sat back down on the rug and stared at the shelf. She crawled in front to see underneath. There wasn't anything there, not even dust. She returned to the rug and stared some more.

Something was wrong. She just knew it! She took each crate off the shelf and then put it back. Something bothered her, something about chametz. But she didn't know what.

She went into the kitchen, dragging her feet.

"Here," said Mom, handing her a plastic bag with some carrot sticks. "Don't worry."

Tova took the bag and went back into the playroom. She took out three carrot sticks. She put the bag on top of the shelf. Then she took a book and sat down. She chewed the carrots and opened her book. But she didn’t start to read.

Suddenly she jumped up. "I know what it is!" she said. "We cleaned everything on the shelves and we cleaned under the bookcase. But we didn't clean behind it!"

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She ran to the kitchen. "Mom, I think there's a bag of cookies behind the bookshelf! I remember putting them there. Then I forgot them. I think the bag fell behind the shelf!"

Mom took the broom, dustpan and brush and went back to the playroom. She pulled the bookcase away from the wall.

"Look!" she said. She bent over and picked up a book. "It's the library book that was lost. The library said we had to pay for it by the end of this month. Now we can return it!" She handed the book to Tova. Then she picked up a pink sock with lace trim. "And here's Mazal's lost sock! She will be so happy to have these socks for Seder night. They will look perfect with her new dress." Mom handed the sock to Tova.

"And yes! Here are your cookies!" Mom handed them to Tova. Then she swept behind the bookcase. They pushed the bookcase back.

Tova looked at the old cookies. She wrinkled her nose and tossed the cookies into the black trash bag. Then she put the books and the three crates of toys back on the shelves.

"What if we had not found the cookies?" she asked.

Mom said, "Good question! The morning before Passover begins we make a special bracha. We ask God to forgive us if we didn't find all the chametz and to consider any chametz left as though we had gotten rid of it. He knows we are not perfect. He does not expect us to be perfect. He just expects us to try. In fact, in Pirke Avot1 Rabbi Tarfon says, "It is not your responsibility to complete the task, but you have to work on it."

Tova smiled. "I like that. I like that God doesn't expect us to be perfect."

"Yes," said Mom. "He just expects us not to be lazy. And you are not lazy. Look at you, you thought and thought about the problem until you remembered. We got an extra reward because you weren't lazy: we found the library book and Mazal will have her pretty pink socks for the seder. I think this deserves a little ice cream, don't you? We have just a little bit of cookie crumb ice cream left. It's chametz, too, so now is a great time to finish it."

Leaving the perfectly imperfect room, the two of them went to the kitchen for their treat.

For Parents, Teachers and Others

Cleaning for Passover

We are forbidden to own chametz (pronounced ha'-metz) over Passover. Chametz is "any food product made from wheat, barley, rye, oats or spelt that has come into contact with water and been allowed to ferment and "rise."2 In order to ensure that we rid ourselves of chametz, we give our homes a thorough cleaning. This is especially onerous if we have small children, who carry food wherever they go. In many homes, an incredibly thorough cleaning is done, from washing windows and drapes to opening each book and shaking it out for crumbs. The critical part of the cleaning is places where food and ingredients are likely to have been.

What about me? I am very sensitive to gluten. The only chametz I have are gluten-free oats and anything related to them. I also live alone and eat only in the open kitchen-living room area. My Passover cleaning, then, is much simpler. My two cats are on special grain-free food all year round because one has health issues. When my dog was alive, I had to be careful about his food and treats.

When there was a serious economic downturn in the Massachusetts economy many years ago, I spent a year cleaning houses. I remember one home that had a marble pedestal dining table. When I was cleaning for Passover, I pushed the table aside. Underneath was a saltine, which of course I threw out. When the homeowner came home she asked if I had found any chometz. I said, "Just a saltine." She turned pale and said, "I have not had saltines in this house in at least three years. Where was the cracker?"

"Under the table." Turned out she had never moved the table because it was heavy. "Thank God for the blessing cancelling all our chametz," she said to me as her color slowly returned. "I never really understood why that prayer was necessary if we did a complete Passover cleaning. I guess we just can't be sure we are cleaning as thoroughly as we would like to think."

What is Pirke Avot?

Pirke Avot, or Ethics of the Fathers, is an ancient but still important book of Torah wisdom and ethical teachings. It is common for people to read a chapter of the book each Sabbath between Passover in the spring and Rosh Hashana in the fall. The teachings stand alone, but there are many commentaries that give deeper insights into these important lessons. Some sources for more information are:

Chabad.org

My Jewish Learning

Recipe

Best Passover Brownies (Excellent year-round for gluten-free families)

Based on a recipe from New Kosher for Passover Cookbook, Revised & Expanded, Feldheim Co.

• 2 Tbs. potato starch to "flour" the pan

• 2 large or 3 medium eggs

• 3/4 cup sugar

• 1/4 cup cocoa or kosher-for-Passover carob powder

• 1/4 cup potato starch

• 1/2 cup oil

• 1/4 cup walnuts, chopped

• 1/2 tsp. vanilla

1. Lightly oil an 8x7 or 8x8 baking dish. Put a thin layer of starch all over the oil to prevent sticking.

2. Beat the eggs and sugar very well. The longer you beat them, the lighter the brownies will be.

3. Sift the starch and cocoa or carob powder over the sugar-egg mixture.

4. Add everything else.

5. Mix well. Pour into a prepared baking dish. Bake at 350 deg. F (175 deg. C) for 35-40 minutes.

I found that these were less successful if I lined the baking pan with parchment (baking) paper.

Judaism has special blessings we use to say "thank you" to God. He made this amazing world. He wants us to notice good and pretty things and to thank Him for them. We can just say, "Thanks, God!" We can also use special blessings. I like to say the ones that Jews have said for a very, very long time.

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From my window I saw that the gray branches of a tree began to look kind of pink. The pink was from tiny flowers. Two weeks later the tree turned yellow-green. The yellow was pollen from the flowers. The green was baby leaves. Pollen blew around like yellow dust. It turned the stones of my walk yellow. It also made many people sneeze.

On Shabbat I saw that my neighbor's cherry tree suddenly had lovely white flowers. Downstairs in my neighbor's garden, her peach trees were full of pink blossoms. The boring brownish-gray branches of winter are now covered with beauty. I said "Thank you, God!" using one of those very old blessings.

Like many other blessing, this begins with the words, Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe:

Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, whose world doesn't lack anything, oh God who made amazing creatures and beautiful trees for people to enjoy.

Enjoy The World God Created

We say this blessing once a year, the first time we see fruit trees in bloom. This blessing reminds us to notice all beauty in nature, not just the fruit trees. The blessing says, "amazing creatures." This reminds us that God created animals for us to enjoy while they are alive. We have other blessings for when we use plants and animals for food.

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Years ago a mama possum lived in my yard. Almost every morning she walked across the top of my fence. One day I realized that possum keep their babies in a pouch, like kangaroos. The tiny hands of the possum babies poked out at mama possum’s tummy. They waved in the air. Mama Possum ate my garden plants, but it was still fun watching her!

God could have created the world in black and white, but He made it with beautiful colors. Watching birds is an easy way to see colorful creatures. From the bench by my door I see big black-and-gray hooded crows, bright green ring-necked parakeets, tiny, shiny blue-black sunbirds, and others.

God also created lovely smells. We use one blessing during Havdalah, when we end the Sabbath and begin the new week. That blessing is:

Blessed are you, Lord or God, King of the Universe, who created many lovely fragrances.

We also say this blessing at other times when we smell lovely things in nature.

In that blessing, "fragrances" is plural: it means more than one lovely smell. Because of this, many Jews have both cloves and cinnamon in our spice boxes. In Israel, many Jews use sweet-smelling branches or leaves from their gardens.

What if you don't know the blessing?

Many years ago, before I knew all this, I traveled by bus from Tel Aviv to Haifa in early spring. Today there's a wide highway with buildings on both sides. But back then, the road was narrow. Orchards stood on both sides of it. The smell of sweet orange blossoms filled the bus. I remember thinking, "Heaven must smell like this!"

When I learned about the blessing over things that smell nice, I thought, "I should have made a blessing on those blossoms!" Then a rabbi told me that if we don't know a blessing, we should just say, "Thank you, God, for making this!"

There are many more “blessings of appreciation,” special ways to thank God for things that we enjoy. There are also blessings for things we experience but don’t like so much, like thunder and lightning. They all remind us that God made our amazing world. They also remind us that it is always good to say “Thank you.”

Learning the traditional blessings is good. But when we are young and haven’t learn them, if we forget them, or if we never learn them, we can just use our own words. What's important is that we look at the world and really see it. We should notice the colors, shapes, sounds, textures, and smells, and thank God for this beautiful world.

For Parents, Teachers and Others

Nature and Judaism is such a huge subject that it can only be explained by a huge textbook or, as I am doing here, little by little. Israel, where I now live, is an amazing country geographically. I live in a small city in the mountains of Galilee, and the beauty of this place reminds me constantly of God’s magnificent creation.

When I lived in the USA, I found that many Jews thought that Judaism is not concerned about the environment. This is false, but its focus is different. One important difference is that at its foundation, the modern movement is based on the concept that humans have destroyed nature and that nature is as important, or more important, than people. Judaism teaches the opposite. As Genesis explains, God created the world, then at the end of Creation He made people to take care of the world. The problem has been that by and large, people ignore (if they ever heard of) God’s laws about the environment.1

The Talmud is full of instructions on how we are to treat nature and take care of it. The laws are very complete and include many laws that sound very modern. But when the Torah and Talmud were written, there were far fewer people in the world and they lived extremely simply in comparison with today. The world was, to those people without any modern conveniences, vast, and they were small upon it. Today, many of us are so crowded into small areas, and we can do so much damage just by our huge numbers, that we forget that we aren’t all-powerful. But the Talmudic laws are still relevant.

What is the difference between a blessing and a prayer?

Blessings are a special kind of prayer. They serve three purposes:

• They are the thank-yous that we give to God, the words with which we express appreciation to Him.

• They are also praise to God,

• They ask God to bring His blessings to the world.2

The morning service is the longest. The weekday service includes three sections:

• Praise recognizing God as Creator and his love for us

• Recognition of who God is and what He expects from us

• Petitionary prayer in which we ask for blessings and protections as a community, that is, for all Jews as a family, not for us individually.

Other prayers are included at different times. For a deeper look, see The Synagogue Prayer Services.

The Jewish liturgy includes blessings, psalms, other poems, selections from the Torah and ancient Rabbinic writings, and more. Free-form, personal petition is not part of a traditional religious service. It is not discouraged—it is just personal.

A Spring Recipe

This is my version of a popular Israeli recipe. I don’t like lettuce salads in the winter, but come spring I want greens. This is one of my favorites.

Parsley, Cilantro and Cranberry Salad

Salad

• 25 mint leaves

• Parsley, a bunch with stems removed

• Cilantro, a bunch

• 5 green onions

• jalapeno or other green chili pepper, finely cut (to taste)

• 1/3 cup of dried unsweetened cranberries or raisins

• 1/3 cup chopped, toasted almonds

• shell-less pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, and/or other seeds, optional

Dressing

• 3-4 Tbsp. olive oil

• 1 Tbsp. maple syrup, silan (date syrup), or honey

• Juice of one lemon

• salt

  ---

Directions

Chop all the vegetables into small pieces. Add the fruit and nuts. Mix the salad dressing, being sure to dissolve the sweetener. Mix the dressing and salad.

Coming Soon

You might notice a new tab on the TanteHannaWrites homepage, Collections. In this tab I will be putting easy-to-copy texts (without the pictures) that can be used in lessons as well as just for fun.

She shoved it back, but it slid sideways. Pressing her lips together tightly—she WAS NOT going to complain to Imma—she grabbed it. I can balance a jug of water just fine, she thought. And sheaves of straw. They’re stiff, and they stay put. I love this yarn, but carrying it is a real pain!

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Bending forward, she let the pack drop into her arms. She slung it over her shoulder, keeping tight hold of its knot. Now she’d have to walk with her arm up, holding the knot. Her arms got tired of that position.

Making it worse: she didn’t have any girlfriends to complain to. At least in Egypt she had her friends. Carrying straw and water, the two tasks that kept her busy every day, was boring, but she and the other girls chatted and joked as they worked. She was lonely now.

Sarah shifted the pack to her other shoulder and thought of the yarn inside. Their Egyptian neighbor, Meryptah, had spun it. The yarn was gorgeous: turquoise, a gorgeous red, bright orange, and purple. Meryptah spun and dyed the finest, most beautiful yarns Sarah had ever seen. Of course, she admitted to herself, she hadn’t seen much fine yarn, just the roughly spun and quickly woven fabrics that the slaves could afford.

Once she had watched Meryptah weave a picture with yarn. Meryptah had noticed, and called her over. She had shown Sarah how she made the picture. She even let Sarah put in a bit of turquoise yarn. Sarah said she hoped she would be able to learn to make pictures like that someday, but in her heart she had known she wouldn’t because slaves didn’t weave.

Then Pharoah had told the Israelites to leave.

The night before they left Egypt, Imma asked Meryptah for gifts that she could give to God. The Egyptian woman took a piece of strong cloth, piled it full of her beautiful yarn, and tied the corners together to make a sack. “Half of this is for Sarah. If you are ever free, maybe Sarah can learn to weave,” she said, handing the sack to Imma.

Imma took the sack and said thank you. But to Sarah she had said, “Half of this is for you, but you have to carry it. If you complain, you will leave it on the path.”

If this was freedom, Sarah didn’t like it. Scary things kept happening, too many to count. And then at Mt. Sinai, a huge, scary voice told them he was God, and He gave them a new bunch of rules.

Sarah chewed her lower lip. Now they were slaves of this scary God, and all this God seemed to want was for them to keep trudging through the endless desert.

Sarah had never felt so alone. Sure, she was with Imma, Abba, and her brother Yitzi. They were surrounded by all the other Israelites. Every day they walked in the same order, with the same people near them. None of the people nearby were friends. She didn’t even know where her friends were.

Mostly the crowd walked in silence. Imma and Abba didn’t speak much now, even in the evenings when they camped. They made Sarah and Yitzi stay very close. The crowd was so big that Imma was afraid they’d get lost. And Abba said it was possible her best friend wasn’t even here. Many of the Israelites stayed in Egypt. They thought Moshe was crazy. No one spoke to God except Father Abraham, and that was long, long ago—before the Israelites had even gone to Egypt!

Sarah followed the others, picking her way carefully through a rocky pass. The path curved going lower and lower. Then suddenly, not too far below, she saw a large plain. There were even some scrubby trees. People were setting up camp here. Maybe they would stay for awhile.

That evening there was a meeting for the men. After, Abba told Imma, Yitzi and Sarah about it. “Moshe appointed Betzalel ben Uri of the tribe of Judah, and Oholiab ben Ahisamach of the tribe of Dan to build a Tent of Meeting.”

“What’s that?” asked Yitzi.

Abba shrugged. “It’s some kind of a home for God. The Tablets that Moshe brought down from Mt. Sinai will go there, and other special things that we will use to worship God. Moshe said God told him to do it. I guess we’ll find out what it’s like.”

Imma pursed her lips and shook her head. “It’s being built by two men from different tribes? They’ll spend all their time arguing! And what about our tribe? It will belong to those two tribes, and we will be out. I don’t like this idea at all.”

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“There’s more. Moses asked us to give him any jewelry, gems, or other things that they can use to make it beautiful,” said Abba. “Did you get anything from our neighbors before we left?”

Imma dug around in her pack and pulled out a small bag. “One of the women nearby, I never knew her name, gave me this.” Spreading out her robe, she poured the contents of the bag onto her lap. Colorful stones sparkled in the firelight. “Maybe they can use these. I certainly don’t know what else they’re good for!”

Sarah sat on her bag of yarn and was silent, thinking of things to say if anyone suggested she give the beautiful yarn away. It was for after they found a new home and she grew up. It wasn’t for any weird Tent of Meeting that wouldn’t even belong to their tribe.

Over the next weeks, many of the Israelites helped work on the Tent. Sarah took half of the yarn out of the sack and wrapped the rest back up to save for her future. Imma brought Sarah when she went with other women to give the yarn and sparkly gems to Oholiab. The woman who camped nearest to them carried a sack of gold jewelry. She showed some of the pieces to Imma. “Can you imagine wearing these?” she asked. “I can’t! I’m glad to give it to this Tent. I will know that I’ve helped build it.”

Imma raised her eyebrows. She tipped her head forward. “I never thought of that,” she said slowly. “I didn’t know what to do with those gems, but I never thought that when they are used, I will also have a part in the Tent.”

On the way back, a group of women—some from other tribes—all chatted about the Tent. “Something for all of us,” one woman said. “We’ll be able to tell our grandchildren that we donated our best things for it.”

“We all have part of building it!” said another.

“It will belong to all of us!” said a third.

As the women strolled slowly back to their camps, Sarah and a group of girls her age started talking. Two girls were camped near Sarah’s family. By the time they got back to their camps, she knew they’d be friends.

Sarah took her sack and turned away from her family so she could look at it alone. Opening it, she stroked the gorgeous yarn. Meryptah had given it to her for her to use when she grew up. But what would she do with fine, fine yarn in these beautiful colors? She thought of the woman with the jewelry who couldn’t imagine wearing any of it.

Sarah bit her lip. Would she ever have a colorful picture hanging in her house? She couldn’t imagine that!

Maybe, though, Oholiab could use it for the Tent of Meeting. If he did, then every time she went into the Tent of Meeting, or one of the priests wore something woven from the yarn, she would know that her very own gift went into it. That would make it partly hers. It wouldn’t be like selling it or giving it to a stranger, or—horrible thought—leaving it on the side of the trail because she was too tired to carry it further.

She took the half-empty sack in her arms. “Imma,” she said, “Let’s go back and give Oholiab the rest of this yarn. I think it should belong to the Tent of Meeting too.”

“It’s for you when you grow up,” Imma said.

“I know. But if it is used for the Tent of Meeting, it will still be for me—for when I go into it, or see it, or even think about it. But it will be for everyone else, too.”

Later, Abba said, “I told Oholiab that my grandfather taught me to carve wood. He gave me a knife and a scrap of wood, and I carved a bird. A crowd watched, so I explained what I was doing. Oholiab told me to teach carving. Betzalel will direct us, and then metalworkers can pound gold and silver over our carvings.”

Imma’s forehead wrinkled. “I am worried about strangers!”

“I don’t think anyone thought about tribes. I know I didn’t. Everyone just wants to help,” said Abba.

“Maybe tribes don’t matter here in the desert,” said Yitzi. “We all own almost nothing, and God is giving us food and taking care of us. Here, I think we’re all the same.”

Sarah nodded. “Tomorrow I’m taking my pack of yarn from Meryptah to Oholiab. I bet he will use it for something everyone, even God, will enjoy.”

She stood up and stretched. “It’s not like back in Egypt. Here, everyone is talking to everyone else. Everyone’s talking about what they donated and what they will donate. All the gifts the Egyptians gave us will go to God’s new home. We give gifts, and the Tent of Meeting is giving back.”

“What is that?” asked Imma.

“It is giving us oneness. God led us out of Egypt, small families and large tribes. But here, we all, together, will have one Tent of Meeting. We are becoming one big family. I dreamt of weaving, and a girl I met named Ruti, from the tribe of Issachar, dreamt of making new jewelry with the silver that their neighbors gave, and another girl, Bassi, gave a bag of fine, creamy linen yarn that she had wanted to knit into lace for a fine robe. But now we have a new dream: a dream of sharing all the beautiful things we have with everyone else to make a beautiful home for God. We are becoming one big family. At least, that’s how it feels to me.” Sarah straightened.

Imma nodded slowly. “What you are saying makes sense, Sarah. That woman who walks near us spoke to me today. She seems very nice. I don’t know why I was afraid to talk to her before. And I met other nice people. We too all wanted to help make this home for God. It will be something for all of us to share.”

Abba spoke at last. “Tonight, Moshe said that we are no longer Israelites, held together just because our tribes come from brothers. Now we are Jews, held together because we told God we would do what He says and listen to what is taught in His name.”

Sarah turned in a circle, hands outstretched. “We are Jews now. We are also the People of Israel. We come from Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and we each have a tribe. But now we’re connected, like years ago, before the brothers became separate tribes. We are one big family, with one God and one Tent of Meeting.”

Imma pulled out tambourines. She and Sarah had used them when they danced in thanksgiving after the Red Sea had opened to let them escape the Egyptian army. Now she handed one to Sarah. Their neighbors heard them and came out. One asked what they were celebrating. When Imma repeated what Sarah had said, the neighbor women ran to their camps and brought back their tambourines, too. Soon the girls and women danced in a circle as the men and boys clapped and sang, “We are all family, we are one big family.” And Sarah danced most of all.

*Frocks in Stock is a website providing free Jewish photos and more, representing Torah-true Judaism. They are always looking for more photos that show Torah-true living, and also offer classes for graphic designers.

For Parents, Teachers and Others

This story is based on descriptions of the building of the Mishkan—the Tent of Meeting that was built in the desert, carried throughout the 40 years that the Jews wandered in the desert and was then set up more permanently once the Jews reached the Promised Land.

Not much is written about the role of children or the daily lives of the Jews during those desert years, except what is written in the biblical book of Exodus. The rabbi I consulted, Rabbi Yosef Erlich, told me that this gave my imagination a clean slate.

The Torah, known to Christians as the Old Testament, is the notes that Moses took while God gave him the Law. Like Spark Notes, the text is just the highlights designed to spark the memory of the note-taker. Judaism teaches that Moses spent the rest of the 40 years that the Jews were in the desert teaching God’s Law to the people. The words that were taught beyond what is written in the Torah are know as the Oral Law. They were codified in the early centuries of the Common Era in the work known as the Talmud. We still learn other ancient texts as well, such as the Midrash.

We learn from these works that the Israelites in Egypt were demoralized by slavery. They were very tribal, but more than that they were turned into themselves and did not have a sense of peoplehood. However, everyone participated in the building of the Mishkan, either by donating the valuables that the Egyptians had given them before they left Egypt (Exodus 11:2-3) or by working on it, or both.

In the desert this rough group of former slaves became one people. They heard God at Sinai and agreed to serve Him as one people with one heart. By donating everything beautiful that they had been given to a common purpose, the Mishkan became something that they all had a stake in. Sharing ownership of God’s Home on earth was an important step in our history. This unity has stayed with us to this day; we are Am Yisrael, the People of Israel, wherever we live.

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“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” said Imma. This time when Halleli pulled her head out from the covers, sunlight flowed through the window like melted butter on a hot pancake.

Halleli said Modah Ani, the waking-up prayer. Then Imma helped her pour water over her hands, right-left, right-left, right-left, and say the washing prayer.

“Water is a blessing,” said Imma. “It washes away things we don’t want, and it gives life. Nothing grows without rain. I am very happy it rained during the night! Today is Tu b’Shevat, the New Year of trees. Yesterday the earth was hard and dry. Now it is soft from the rain.

“We will dig two holes and plant two trees. This lovely wet earth is a good beginning that will help the trees grow big and strong. In a few years we will have fruit, lemons in winter and peaches in summer.”

Out in the garden, the air smelled sweet and fresh. “Look!” cried Halleli. “The almond tree!”

“Oh my,” said Imma. “Every year around Tu b’Shevat the almond tree blooms. I hope we have many almonds to pick this fall.”

“Are blooms and planting why Tu b’Shevat is the New Year of trees?” asked Halleli.

“No,” said Imma. “Something we usually don’t see is the reason. Do you remember our trip to America, and the special things Grandpa Harry showed us on his farm in Vermont?”

Halleli bit her lip. The question made her think of sun pouring through windows like yellow butter on hot pancakes. Why?

Then Halleli jumped up and down. “I remember! Grandpa was making maple syrup!”

“Yes indeed,” said Imma.

“But what does maple syrup have to do with Tu b’Shevat?” Halleli frowned.

“Do you remember he took us into the woods and showed us how he tapped pegs into trees and hung buckets on the pegs? We watched sap from the trees drip-drip-drip into the buckets.

“Sap from most trees doesn’t have flavor the way maple sap does. Even maple sap right from the tree doesn’t have much taste, but when it is boiled and boiled until nearly all the water is gone, the flavor remains in that little bit of liquid. Then it is delicious syrup.

“All trees have sap, liquid that rises from the roots in the spring. It’d like a tree’s blood, bringing vitamins and minerals to the branches making the tree strong and helping the leaves, blossoms, and fruit grow.”

Imma took her spade and started digging a hole by the stake that Abba had put in the ground.

“Tu b’Shevat marks when the sap starts to rise in the trees here in Israel,” she said. “Winter is ending, spring is coming. When the sap starts to rise, the trees start to grow for the new season.”

“Oh!” Halleli did a little skip-hop. “Because the trees are starting to grow, it is the start of a new year for them. A new year of growing!”

“Right! said Imma.

Halleli took her spade and started to dig next to the second stake that Abba had pounded into the ground. “We are planting our new trees in nice, damp soil so the sap in them will rise, and they will start to grow.”

She dug up some dirt and tossed it aside. “But why does it matter when the sap starts?” Halleli leaned on her spade and looked at Imma, her head tipped to one side.

“You know how we take terumah and maaser from our fruits and vegetables. When our Temple stood in Jerusalem, our ancestors took fruits and vegetables there as offerings for God. They gave them to the Kohanim--the priests, to the Levites, who also worked in the Temple, and to poor people.”

Imma started digging again. “We have to know when the fruit started growing so we can do these offerings properly. And for that, we need a New Year to count from.”

“But we don’t have a Temple in Jerusalem, do we?”

“No, but we still follow this plan. Someday, when we have a Temple again, we will bring our offerings to the priests, the Levites and the poor,” said Imma. We keep these laws because the Torah tells us they are important. We don’t know when a new Temple will be built or if Mashiach will come tomorrow. But when it happens, we will be ready.”

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Imma set the lemon tree in its hole and pressed earth around it. She helped Halleli dig the second hole. When it was big enough, they put the peach tree in it and tamped down the earth. Then they poured more water around both trees, just to be sure.

“Now,” said Imma as they started back the the house, “how about pancakes and maple syrup for lunch, and for dessert, fruits and nuts that are named in the Bible, in honor of Tu b’Shevat?”

“Yumm!” said Halleli. She put her spade by the door, then ran inside.

For Parents, Teachers and Others

First, apologies for publishing this after Tu b’Shevat.

Glossary

It is followed by ritual handwashing, said with the blessing, “Blessed art Thou, Lord our God, who commanded us to do the ritual of the washing of the hands.”

For more information

Modeh Ani Prayer

The Modeh Ani prayer is said immediately upon awakening, as soon as one sits up. The translation is, “I offer thanks to You, living and eternal King, for You have mercifully restored my soul within me; Your faithfulness is great.”

Ritual Hand Washing

The ritual hand-washing, by most Orthodox done before one has walked “4 amot,” about 6 feet; the Chabad movement says to do it before leaving the bed. It is said with the blessing, “Blessed art Thou, Lord our God, who commanded us to do the ritual of the washing of the hands.”

Terumah and Maaser

https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/5633917/jewish/How-to-Take-Teruma-and-Maaser.htm – a simple explanation of a complicated practice

https://oukosher.org/blog/consumer-kosher/separating-terumah-and-maaser/ a more technical explanation, written primarily for the food industry

https://en.toraland.org.il/beit-midrash/halachic-guides/mitzvot-of-the-land/terumot-and-ma-aserot-101-a-halachic-guide/ A scholarly and highly technical explanation from an organization dedicated to “research, public education, and the application of contemporary halachic [concerning Jewish law] issues that come to the fore in the special bond between Torah and the Land of Israel in our day and age.” (https://en.toraland.org.il/services/)

Tu b’Shevat

https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/tu-bishvat-ideas-beliefs/, written for non-Orthodox Jews looking to learn more about Jewish traditions and beliefs.

https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/3264/jewish/15-Shevat-2025.htm . A gateway article with links to many additional articles about this holiday.

https://aish.com/abcs-of-tu-bshvat/ . An article about the holiday written for all readers.

Recipes

Homemade “Maple Syrup”

Maple syrup is very, very expensive in Israel. I make my own using a recipe based on one I found online at www.melskitchencafe.com . I use Frontier Co-op Maple Flavor, which I buy online.

• 2 cups granulated sugar

• ¼ cup packed brown sugar (light or dark)

• 1/8 cup silan (date syrup); the original calls for honey

• 1 cup water

• ½ tsp. maple flavor/extract

• ½ tsp. vanilla flavor

Combine the sugar, date syrup or honey, and water in a deep pot. Bring to a boil and reduce to low. Cover the pan and simmer it for 15 minutes.

Remove from heat and let it cool for 20 minutes before adding the maple and vanilla flavor.

Let it cool for another 40 minutes or so, stirring occasionally. Store in the refrigerator; it will keep about two months.

Date-Nut-Fruit Balls for Tu b’Shevat

• ½ cup almonds raw, with skin removed*

• ½ cup walnuts

• 1 cup pitted dates**—Medjool are best

• 1 cup assorted other dried fruit, to taste (apricots, raisins, prunes, cherries, or whatever you prefer)

• 1 Tbsp. honey or silan (date syrup)

• ½ to 1 Tbsp of orange or apple juice if using very dry fruit; not necessary if the fruit is still soft

• unsweetened coconut flakes (for topping only)

Add all ingredients except coconut to a food processor. Pulse until finely chopped.

Roll into ping-pong-sized balls. Roll the finished balls in unsweetened coconut.

*To remove skins from whole almonds, blanch for a few moments in boiling water. When the skins shrivel a bit they are loose. Dump into cold water for a few moments to cool and slip the skins off.

**If you cannot find kosher pitted dates and want these to be kosher, open each date and inspect it; dates sometimes have tiny bugs (they look like mustard seeds) around the pit and those dates must be discarded for kosher use.

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As they entered the classroom, she glanced around, biting her lip. The girls were wearing jeans or shorts and skinny Ts. She was wearing a flared green skirt and a blouse with pale green and yellow flowers. Mom was right: it was a pretty outfit. But Mom was also wrong: no one else was wearing anything like it. And chances of Mom letting her wear jeans and a skinny T were about as good as having Eliahu HaNavi—Elijah the Prophet—appear at the front of the classroom.

As the secretary spoke to the teacher, a pretty girl with long blonde curls leaned across the aisle and whisper to her friend. Both girls stared at Shari for a moment. Then they put their heads together again and tittered. I guess I know who the mean girls are, Shari thought. This was her third school in five years, so she knew what to expect: trouble. Even if Mom thought she was exaggerating.

The morning went as she expected. She was ahead of the class in math and English, but behind in U.S. History. She had never heard of field hockey, the game they played in P.E. The teacher had put her on a team anyway. And of course no one ate lunch with her, but she expected that. She had brought a kosher sack lunch from home. The school’s food wasn’t kosher so she couldn’t eat it, but almost everyone else went through the cafeteria line. Then, just after she unwrapped the three cookies Mom had tucked into her lunch, Blondie—Shari thought her name was Harrison—and her pal—Morgan?-- walked past. With a quick flick of her hand, Blondie sent the cookies flying to the floor. Then she stepped on them and crushed them with her heel. “Ooh, sorry!” she said in a fake voice. She and her friend laughed and sauntered off. Shari sat and looked at the crumbs on the floor. This is going to be a great year.

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The next day, again she was the only girl wearing a skirt. Harrison and Morgan cornered her at recess. “Ooh, are you going to a party?” asked Harrison in that fakey-fake voice. “Wearing a skirt? Or do you just think you’re better than us?” Shari looked at Harrison’s tight shirt that ended above her belly, so her belly-button ring showed. At least I respect my body more than you do, Shari thought. But she didn’t say anything, so finally the other girls walked off.

Shari remembered that Mrs. Shapiro, who taught Midos (proper Jewish behavior) at her old school explained that God lends us a body for our own use. Showing off that body is disrespectful to God, like sharing a family secret is disrespectful to the family. And a belly-button ring? Tattoos and all piercings except earrings mess up the body that we use, but which belongs to God. It is like spraying graffiti on someone else’s property. And worse: dressing like that, flaunting one’s body, attracts the interest of animal souls.

This didn’t mean that showing off your body made lions and bears come to you. It was because each person had two souls. The animal soul was concerned with things that people share with animals, like being hungry, going to the bathroom, and spending hours at a gym to have a beautiful body. The godly soul was all about loving one’s family, being grateful for all the good things God gave, learning God’s ways and trying to be like Him. Being generous and patient and kind.

Last year, after awhile Shari thought she could see the difference between kids whose lives were about their animal souls, and those who focused on their godly souls. The first followed the crowd and were often selfish and sometimes mean. The second tried to do the right thing even if it wasn’t easy. But now she wondered if it was really that easy to tell the two apart. At first, it looked to Shari as though most of the girls were stuck in animal-soul mode. Now she wasn’t so sure. Some of the kids dressed like everyone else but still seemed to be nice, good people, even though they weren’t friendly to her. Mom had said to be careful choosing her friends. But it was hard. She wasn’t sure how to begin.

Her first month passed, then her second. Now it was March, the start of a beautiful spring. She still hadn’t made a single friend. Three days a week she learned Jewish studies by zoom, and she often texted and talked with her old friends. But their lives were very different than hers now, and she was lonely.

Today she was taking a new route to the library, walking along a street she didn’t know. Suddenly she heard a scream. It was coming from a side street. Shari ran toward the noise. Maybe someone tripped and fell, or was attacked by a dog!

A gray van pulled out of the side street going too fast. It careened around the corner, scaring Shari. Then she heard crying. Maybe the van had hit someone! She dashed up the side street as fast as she could. Coming to a construction site, she saw something behind a dumpster. The crying was coming from there.

Looking around, she didn’t see anyone. Carefully she approached the dumpster. Behind it, huddled on the ground, was Harrison. Her hands covered her face and her long, bare legs were scraped. That’s what happens when you wear short-shorts and fall, thought Shari. But Harrison was hurt. She needs help. That’s more important than how I feel about her.

She squatted down and lightly touched Harrison’s shoulder. “What happened? Can I help?” she asked.

Harrison took her hands away from her face. On the left side was a big, red mark, the size of a fist. She hadn’t fallen—she had been punched! “Shari?” she whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t you hurt me too!”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Shari said. “But someone did. Maybe I can help.”

Harrison straightened slowly. “Why would you help me?”

“Because you’re a person and you’re hurt,” said Shari. “Can I call someone for you? Where’s your phone?”

“The big boy took it.” Harrison sniffed back her tears. “The one who grabbed me and tried to get me into his van. But my dad couldn’t come anyway.”

“That gray van that sped away? He was in a real hurry,” Shari said.

“Yeah,” said Harrison. “He grabbed me and said he would give me a good time. I told him I had to get home, I need to take care of my grandma. Her care-giver leaves before school gets out and she shouldn’t be alone. I kicked him and screamed. He punched me so hard I fell.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know his name, but I’ve seen him around. I think he’s in high school.”

Shari looked at Harrison: her short-shorts looked like denim underwear, and her tight T-shirt showed off her belly-button ring. I think this is what Mrs. Shapiro means about animal souls attracting other animal souls, she thought.

“I don’t have a cellphone,” Shari said. “But I can walk you to wherever you’re going.” She shifted her backpack. Then she picked up the books that Harrison had dropped. “Can you stand up?” She reached out her free hand and helped the other girl stand.

Harrison took her books, then looked at Shari. “I still don’t understand why you’re helping me.”

“If I were hurt you’d help me,” Shari said.

Harrison shook her head. “No, I think I’d lau…” her voice trailed off. “I, I think I would have laughed and walked away. But now...now I don’t know.”

They walked in silence for a few moments. “I’m sorry,” Harrison finally said. “I treated you bad. I don’t deserve you being nice to me. But you dress so strange. Why do you always wear skirts and long-sleeved blouses instead of pants and cute tops?”

Shari wondered what to say. Then she decided honesty was best. “I’m Jewish,” she began. “Orthodox. That means we follow our tradition.”

“So what?” asked Harrison.

“Well, we believe that our bodies are private. They are the part of us that is like other animals. My teacher at my old school said they want to eat and sleep and do all the animal things. By keeping them covered, we protect them from other animals.”

She took a breath, and Harrison broke in. “What do you mean, ‘protect them from other animals?’ There aren’t any wild animals here in town.”

“I think that doesn’t really mean bears and stuff,” said Shari. “I think it means people who do whatever their animal souls want. Like that creep that attacked you. He wasn’t thinking with his godly soul, because the godly soul wouldn’t ever want to hurt another person or make them do something they don’t want to do. Unless, of course, they had a good reason, like when your mom makes you clean your room because you have to learn to take care of yourself.”

“Huh,” said Harrison. They walked silently a few more moments. “Tell me more about this. We haven’t gone to church since my mom died when I was in third grade. All I know about the soul is that if I don’t accept Jesus I’ll go to Hell.”

“Jews don’t believe that,” said Shari.

“That’s good. I don’t want to go to Hell.” She sighed. “But tell me more about these two souls.”

“Outside of hands and faces, our bodies are ruled by our animal soul, and we keep them private. Our hands and our faces are different, though, which is why we don’t cover them. Hands and faces can reflect our Godly souls. Our hands can do bad things, but they also do things that are like God. That's stuff like helping others and giving charity. Our faces show who we are deep inside. Mrs. Shapiro says that inside is where the godly soul is, even in people who don’t know they have one. That soul can feel shame or joy, depending on which soul we focus on.”

“You know a lot about this,” Harrison said. “Are you planning to be a nun or something?”

“No, but I learned a lot about it for my bat mitzvah last year.”

They turned onto another street. Shari looked around. The houses here were small and badly kept. She had thought Harrison must live in a big, fancy house, but it looked like that wasn’t true. Her life wasn’t so great: her mom was dead and she had to take care of her grandmother after school. And clearly her dad didn’t have a great job.

Harrison stopped in front of a house that was a little nicer than the others. At least, the yard was mowed. A ramp went from the front step to the path. “I’m not allowed to have friends over, they scare my grandma,” she said. “Thank you for being a friend even though I wasn’t one to you. I think maybe my animal soul needs to be housebroken.”

“Well,” said Shari with a smile, “We weren’t friends before, but I think we’re friends now. Put some ice on your cheek, it will help. And wash those scrapes well with soap and hot water, then put some alcohol or antiseptic cream on them.”

Harrison laughed. “Are you a doctor, too?”

“No,” said Shari, “but I’ve fallen and gotten scraped. You’ll be fine in a few days. See you tomorrow.” She turned and started off. At the corner she stopped and looked back. Harrison still stood on the doorstep and raised her hand. Shari smiled and waved. Harrison waved back, then turned and went inside.

For Parents, Teachers and Others

I believe that the concept of two souls—one earthly and one heavenly—explains many things about human behavior. As long as it does not conflict with non-Jewish dogmas, then it can be helpful to non-Jews as well as Jews.

When I first heard the concept of people having two souls—a godly soul and an animal soul— it pulled together a whole lot of experiences and ideas that had puzzled me. This kabbalistic concept permeates traditional Judaism, but I never heard it spelled out clearly until I began studying Chabad Hasidism. The concept is explained in depth in Tanya, a work by the first Lubavitcher Rebbe, Shneur Zalman of Liadi, published originally in 1796.

This article, Nefesh HaBahamis (Animal Soul) Nefesh HoElokis (G-dly Soul) explains it. Here’s another article about it: 16 Facts You Should Know about the Tanya.

This article explains the Jewish view of modesty very clearly: Uncovering the Mystery of Modesty.

He worried about Abba. For a very long time Abba had not stood in front of his classroom. He had not taught Torah to the boys in Rafi’s school. He had not been home to play with Rafi’s little sisters or to kick a soccer ball with Rafi and his younger brother, Shuki.

Instead, he wore a uniform and carried a gun. And far away in the south, he fought the bad guys who had attacked their country.

After many weeks, Abba had been home for Shabbat—just Shabbat, yesterday. Imma always finished her chores early on Fridays, but Abba had come home very late, close to when Shabbat began. Imma put his laundry in the washing machine as soon as he got home, but there wasn’t time for it to dry completely before Shabbat began. Even after Shabbat came in, Rafi could hear the clothes dryer turning, turning, turning.

This morning he had taken the earliest train to return to the army so he could fight to protect Israel.

Boom, boom-boom-boom. Rafi looked up to the sky when he heard the distant booms. He knew that the booms meant their army was protecting them. Abba had said not to worry unless there was a siren. But even so, Rafi shrank down, pulling his shoulders up as close to his ears as possible. Then he glanced over his shoulder. Could he run to the shelter quickly enough if the siren shrieked that a missile was coming? But this time there was no siren.

Rafi shook his shoulders out and took three deep, slow breaths, the way his teacher had showed them. He kicked the wall and thought about socks. Abba said that the soldiers needed lots of warm socks. When it rained, their feet got wet. It took a long time for socks to dry in the cold tents where they slept.

What could Rafi do? His elbows rested on his knees. His chin was in his hands as he thought and thought. Abba said it was the job of grownups to protect the people. He was only eight years old. What could a kid do to help?

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“Rafi?”

Rafi looked up. Itay, who sat beside him in class, held out a half-empty bag of fruity candies. “You okay? Take one,” he said.

Rafi took a gummy banana. Chewing slowly, he enjoyed the sweet, fruity taste.

Suddenly he had an idea.

“Itay, your uncle is in the army now, like Abba, right?”

Itay nodded.

“Do you ever want to do something to help him and the other soldiers?”

Itay tipped his head and wrinkled his forehead. Then he straightened. “Do you think we could?”

“I didn’t think so. But the candy gave me an idea. You know the place by the supermarket where big boys sell stuff before the holidays? Right by the temporary bomb shelter? We could put a table there and sell candy. Then we can use the money we earn to buy lots of socks. Grown-up socks, for my father, your uncle, and the other soldiers. The next time your uncle or my father comes home on leave, we will have a big box for them to take back. The socks will make the soldiers happy. Maybe that will help them win this war faster and come home sooner.”

Itay’s eyes got big. He nodded slowly, then faster. “My big sister makes cards for her friends, and my little sisters like to help. They could make thank-you cards that we can include!”

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Rafi jumped up and high-fived his friend. “Let’s do it!”

But then Itay bit his lip. “But how will we buy candy to sell?”

Rafi scratched his head, then straightened his yarmulke. “Umm—I guess we could save the treats that our mothers pack in our lunches.”

Itay thought another moment. He bit his lip. “That means we don’t eat them.” His sigh then was so big, Rafi saw his shoulders go way up, then down. Then Itay nodded. “I can’t think of anything else. Let’s.”

“I got this table from my big sister’s room,” Itay told Rafi the next week. “It’s low, but we can’t carry a big table down there.”

“It will work,” Rafi agreed. Itay tucked the table under his arm while his sack of candy swung from his other arm.

“I’m coming too,” said Shuki. He swung his sack of candy. “I want to help.”

As Shuki and Itay set up the table, Rafi approached a friendly-looking woman. “Do you want to buy some candy?” he asked with a smile.

“I don’t eat candy,” she said sadly, shaking her head.

“Will you contribute instead?” Rafi tipped his head and looked as sweet as he could—the smile that always worked on his grandma.

“Contribute to what?” she asked.

Rafi straightened up, as tall as he could. “We are selling candy to raise money to buy socks for the soldiers.”

“Why do they need socks?” asked the woman.

“Their socks get wet in the rain, and they don’t dry quickly in their tents. So they need extras,” piped up Itay.

Shuki nodded. “My Abba says that cold, wet feet make everything hard.”

The lady nodded. “I can see that.” She opened her purse and took out a 5-shekel coin. “You’re sure you won’t spend this on more candy?”

“We might use it to buy more candy,” said Itay. “My Abba says it takes money to make money. But you mean will we really buy socks with the money? Yes indeed!”

“My father and his uncle are in the Reserves. They only come home once in a while. We need to help them win the war. Then they can come home and stay home,” added Rafi.

As soon as the lady handed them the coin and walked away, two of the biggest boys from their school came over. Shuki looked quickly from them to Rafi and Itay. Were

“We heard you,” said the bigger boy. “Are you really raising money for socks for the soldiers?”

Rafi took a deep breath. What could they possibly want? “Yes,” he said.

“We think we should make this a school project,” said the second boy. “We should all help. My big brother is stationed up in the north. He complained to our mother about his feet. He said he needed extra socks, too.” He looked down and twisted his own foot on the pavement. “It didn’t even occur to me to help.” Then he looked at his friend. “We’ll go to the head of the school and talk to him. Meanwhile, good luck!”

The big boys ran off, and Rafi approached another person. Their plan was going to work, even better than they had expected. Even though they were not even bar mitzvah age,1 they could still help the soldiers fight and win the war.

For Parents, Teachers, and Others

Outside of Israel’s War for Independence, which lasted 598 days, the current Hamas war is the longest, at this writing on January 13, 2025, 464 days long. Everyone has been affected. Israel’s army has been called a “citizen’s army” because the vast majority of soldiers are men and women who completed their regular army service and returned to daily life. They are sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, and even some grandparents. They have ordinary jobs as factory and farm workers, shopkeepers, insurance agents, government workers, and lawyers, Many doctors have been drafted into the medical corps and, while still completing their normal hospital work, must also be available day and night for emergencies.

With so many people doing active service, businesses and especially farms, dependent as they are on help at very specific times, have suffered. Now that there is a ceasefire in the north, many soldiers have been sent home. Last week it was announced that for the first time in almost 1.5 years, Israel is selling local tomatoes rather than having to import them.

Until now, the majority of our local produce has been harvested by volunteers, including some from overseas. But farms are not the only place volunteers have been active. Surveys have shown that the vast majority of Israelis have been doing some form of volunteer work. In my community, until the ceasefire in late November we provided up to 1200 kosher Sabbath meals for the soldiers stationed in the north. Even children have been involved in helping. Elementary school teachers from across the nation have had their students write letters to the soldiers which they have sent us, and which have been included in the boxes of food that we sent on Friday mornings.

Local children as young as eight have helped sort the food—rice here, potatoes there, chicken and fish in other places—and then put the food in cartons. Husbands on their way to work have dropped off carefully wrapped disposable pans holding the food. Many people who cannot volunteer cooking have provided funds so that everyone who wanted could afford to provide tasty food ready to be reheated: I received 9 kilos (close to 20 pounds) of raw, cut-up chicken every week to cook. Since many of you enjoy my recipes, I’ve included my chicken recipe here.

This story is based on an interaction I had last week as I was approaching the supermarket where I do most of my shopping. It is fiction—much of it is imaginary—but the core is true. The children did not want me to photograph them until I promised to blur their faces.

Although even before the war we lived with the constant threat of terror, Israel is very safe: outside of big cities we have very little street crime. Children are given much more freedom, and much more responsibility, than kids in the USA. Young children bring even younger siblings to daycare, pushing strollers several blocks, crossing busy streets, and even managing the strollers up into buses. It was not clear to me that the parents of the boys who were collecting money and selling candy were aware of their efforts; there is a good chance they were not because collecting for the needy is often a spontaneous activity of children.

If you are interested in contributing, there are still needs although the war is winding down. Tax-deductible contributions can be made at:

https://www.jgive.com/new/en/usd/collect/donation-targets/71522/amount Be sure to select the option for Maalot Chesed.

Soldiers’ Chicken

3-4 pounds of cut-up chicken, bone-in and skin-on; or just leg and thigh parts

½ tsp salt, or to taste

½ tsp. sweet paprika

½ tsp. smoked paprika

½ tsp. garlic powder or granulated garlic

½ tsp. onion powder

1 tsp. dried thyme

1 tsp. dried oregano

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375 deg. F (190 deg. C).

Take chicken out of the fridge 20 minutes before you’re ready to cook.

Pat the chicken pieces dry.

In a small mixing bowl combine salt, pepper, paprika, garlic powder, onions powder, thyme, and oregano; mix to combine.

Sprinkle chicken pieces with the prepared seasoning; rub it all around. Transfer chicken to baking dish and arrange them chicken skin-side up. It is okay if the pieces are crowded together.

Cover tightly. Cook for an hour or until internal temperature of the chicken registers at 165˚F. (If you are in a hurry you can cook less time, but in my experience the chicken becomes more tender with the longer cooking time.)

If you’d like a crispy browned skin, place chicken under the broiler for 3 to 5 minutes.

Remove from oven. Transfer chicken pieces to a serving plate. Tent a piece of foil over the chicken and let rest for 8 to 10 minutes before cutting.

Garnish with chopped parsley and serve. The pan juice is great on mashed potatoes or rice.

Note: A missile generally has a payload such as explosives whereas a rocket does not; there are also other technical differences. Both missiles and rockets are used against Israeli civilians.

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She took a deep breath, then looked at Mandy’s forehead. “I’ve never done anything to you. Stop bothering me! Leave me alone!”

“You’re a servant of the Devil!” Mandy almost spat the words.

“What??” In the three months she had been in this school, these two girls had been bullying her, always when no teacher was near. They always had something nasty to say. Usually it was about what she didn’t know or didn’t do well. This was new.

Parker nodded. Then she spoke really slowly, the way you’d talk to a four-year-old. “You don’t believe in Jesus Christ. That means you are a servant of the Devil. You are pure evil. You just won’t admit it.”

Just then the second bell began to ring, the one that meant that if you weren’t in your classroom by the time it stopped, you were late. Mandy and Parker ducked into the room across the hall. The door shut behind them before the bell stopped.

Aviva would have to walk clear to the other end of the school for her class. She was going to be late—again.

I hate it here, Aviva thought. She dragged her feet on the way to the school bus later that day. I wish we could go home to Israel now. But her mother’s sabbatical was not over at the end of December. It went until the end of the school year in May.

Mom had looked forward to this sabbatical for a very long time. Tyler-Frinkyn College was very small, but its geography program was number one in the USA. The college trained teachers who won all kinds of awards, too. Mom came to study their methods so that she could teach them at her college in Israel.

In September, Aviva and her mother arrived in the USA. A few weeks later, terrorists from Gaza started a war in Israel. Overnight, professors and students started bullying her mother. Mom looked into ending the sabbatical right then, but she had signed a contract. The college said if she left, they would sue her. She couldn’t leave. The college wouldn’t let her work. They said it would cause problems.

Meanwhile, children in Aviva’s school were bullying her, and the bullying was getting worse. Aviva didn’t want to complain because her mom was already worried. She didn’t know what to do.

That night, after her mother thought she was asleep, Aviva made a video call to her best friend, Smadar, back home in Israel.

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Before Aviva could say anything beyond Hello, Smadar started to talk. “My play won the contest! The fourth and fifth grades will put on my play about the Maccabees! They said I had a new approach!”

Aviva had been planning to complain to her friend. But she swallowed the whine. Instead she asked, “What does that mean?”

“Morah Inbar said that everyone else just retold the Chanukah story.”

“Weeeel, sure.” Aviva’s words stretched out. “What else is there to say?”

“I thought about things you’ve said about America. Suppose people talked about those kinds of things back in the Maccabees’ time? That’s what I wrote.”

“What kinds of things?” Aviva couldn’t think of anything that happened in Downette, Iowa that was like the Maccabees.

“Well, the war was because so many Jews didn’t want to live like the Syrian-Greeks. Think about sports teams. You said that sports are really important in your school. Since you didn’t play soccer the kids called you a loser. And you said when you first got there, one of the girls invited you to go to a high school football game on Friday night. Your mom made you stay home because it’s Shabbat, right?”

“What does that have to do with the Maccabees?” Aviva shook her head slowly. She didn’t see the connection.

“They have a different culture there, silly,” Smadar said. “They do things we don’t do, and we do things they don’t. Their things seem silly to you, and your things sound stupid to them. That’s just like the Syrian-Greeks! They worshiped lots of gods, we worship only one God who has just one name. They built huge arenas for sports. We build libraries and schools. They wanted everything to be beautiful, the Jews didn’t care. Don’t you remember that museum we went to in Ramat Aviv? The Israelite ceramics were much plainer than the Greek ones. My dad explained that our most important people have always been teachers, scholars, and students, not artists and athletes.”

Aviva nodded. “Yes, I remember. But what…” Her words drifted off as her eyes opened wide. “You’re right! The American culture is a lot like the Syrian-Greek culture! The girls think I’m crazy because I’d rather read or study than go to the mall. I think looking at clothes in shops is boring. They think school is boring.”

Just then Aviva’s mother opened the bedroom door. “Are you on the phone again? It’s late.”

Aviva turned the phone to her mom. “Say hi to Smadar,” she said.

“Hi Smadar. Say hi to your mother for me,” said Aviva’s mom. “Aviva has to go now, it’s late here.”

The girls said goodnight, and Aviva shut off her phone. It took her a long time to go to sleep. Smadar’s words kept going through her head. By morning, she had a plan.

That day she made sure to be at her locker early. Usually Mandy and Parker bothered her after gym class, when she was at the locker. They knew that her next class was on the other side of the building and theirs was just across the hall. They could make her late without being late themselves. Today would be different. Yes, there they were, coming toward her.

“You really miffed that easy ball today in gym,” Mandy began.

“Yes,” Parker followed up. “And…”

Aviva took a deep breath. Holding her books in front of her, she turned and faced them with a smile on her face. The smile was difficult and her hands were shaking, but she did her best to look confident. “You know, your comments always bothered me, but I never explained anything to you.” She spoke in a rush, not letting the others speak. “First, yesterday you said I was a servant of the devil because I don’t believe in Jesus. So was Jesus a servant of the devil? He was Jewish like me. And of course I’m different from you. Israel has a very different culture. We have lots of real different groups: Druze, Muslim, Christian, and others in addition to Jews. In my town, every school has a uniform, so clothes aren’t so important. Anyway, outside of school each group has its own style. And we have lots of big families, so..,”

Mandy interrupted. “You don’t have a father, right? I bet that’s because you were a terrible baby. I bet he left because you cried all the time.”

“Yeah,” piped up Parker.

Aviva took a deep breath. “No, my dad was killed by a terrorist when I was a baby.”

“Oh.” Biting her lip, Parker looked at Mandy, then back at Aviva. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” said Aviva. “It was long ago, and I don’t remember him. But I also wanted to explain that I’m bad at sports they’re new for me. We do exercises in gym, we don’t play sports so much. In my country, in our teams we learn to work together.”

Parker wrinkled her forehead. “What do you mean?”

“Well, working together and helping each other are really important. Everything isn't about winning, the way it is here. My cousin David plays trumpet in a group from school. They sometimes play at the old folks’ center. Last year in my cousin Leah’s youth group, each level wrote new words to tunes everyone knows. Then each group made up a dance to go with their song. They had a big program where we got to see all the dances. It was really fun. No one won or lost. No one felt badly because they messed up and made their team lose.”

She glanced at the clock at the end of the hall. Before the bullies could say anything else, she said, “Look, if you want to learn more about my culture, I’d be happy to tell you, but if I don’t run I’m going to be late to class. See you.”

She took off, leaving Parker and Mandy standing in the hall, staring at each other.

She reached her seat before the late bell rang. “I see you’re on time today, Miss BenAmi,” her teacher said.

“Yes,” she said. “And I think I’ve solved my problem. I think I’ll be on time from now on.” She smiled, opened her notebook, and got out her pencil. She would be a Maccabee, standing up for her people, her religion and her culture from now on. She’d already won her first battle, and it felt great.

For Parents, Teachers, and Others

Last week, in my essay Hanukkah, Then and Now, I went into more detail about the cultural issues that were central in the Maccabean War. The differences between traditional Jewish culture and the Syrian-Greek culture were profound. As that article points out, modern American culture is much more similar to the Syrian-Greek than to the traditional Jewish culture.

Here’s a puzzle that is designed to help children understand the similarities and differences of the cultures. Without explaining to them that the American is similar in many ways to the Syrian-Greek culture, let them try to assemble the puzzle. With a little thought, they can figure this out for themselves. I have used this puzzle with religious school kids in the USA with profound results.

Thinking Puzzle On Hanukkah

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Print the puzzle out (card stock is best) and cut it apart. As always, you can make as many copies as you want at no charge. A color printer is not necessary. The object is to arrange the pieces in the most sensible way. Give kids absolutely no other instructions; with thought they will figure it out.

If you disagree with your child, ask why he or she arranged a piece as s/he did. Sometimes this is due to a misunderstanding. However, often a child has excellent, valid reasons for arranging them differently than you would. But if they have not understood, simply give them more information and let them figure it out for themselves.

I learned about this kind of puzzle from The Workshop Way, www.workshopway.org. Their educational system is outstanding. It was designed by nuns; the principles work with anyone. The system is worth investigating.

Happy Hanukkah!

Winter

The rainy season, which begins in October and goes through early May, starts and ends slowly, with the heaviest rains usually from December through February. At least in the northwestern part of Israel, the strongest winds are in the winter.

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Israel does not have hurricanes, tornadoes, blizzards or the violent storms of the Pacific Ocean, typhoons. This does not mean that it only has pleasant weather. In the mountains near Lebanon, cloudy weather interrupted by short but intense rain can last for weeks. While Israelis are glad to see the rain, we get very tired of not seeing the sun, and we complain about the clouds.

Many trees in Israel keep their leaves year round. While some trees lose their leaves, very few turn color the way many American trees do. But the rains also bring new growth.

Thunderstorms are common, and in my northern mountain region they often include hail. Hail can be dangerous, even the small, pea-sized hail we usually get. Two years ago we had one hailstorm that lasted so long that the ground was completely covered. However, it can be dangerous because it makes sidewalks and roads very slippery. Some places put handrails along steep paths. By holding onto them, walkers can keep from slipping on the ice.

When a bad storm hits, it often causes flooding, both in low-lying valleys and along the coast. Since much of Israel is built on the coastal plain, flooding is a real problem during a rainy winter. In 2020, very heavy rainfall in November caused serious flooding all up and down Israel’s coast.1

One city that was hard hit was the beach-front city of Nahariya.2 The Gaaton River, which flows from the northern mountains to the sea through down-town Nahariya, surged over its banks, doing millions of shekels of damage to a shopping mall. The river flows down a channel in the middle of the city’s main street in a lovely tree-lined promenade. It also flooded there. Shops along the street were damaged and lost thousands of shekels of merchandise. So much destruction occurred that the city had to deepen the river’s channel, completely redesign the central promenade, and replace the sidewalks.

But winter in Israel can also be lovely. With the end of hot, dry weather, hillsides turn from dusty brown to bright green. The rain washes dust out of the sky so that the air is clean and the sky very blue. Some days, everything sparkles in the sun. In rural areas the air smell sweetly of growing things.

Often, especially in central and southern Israel, the temperatures often reach the 60’s (16-20oC) even during rainy weather. People often stroll on city streets with umbrellas when temperatures are high and rain is gentle. It is a lovely change from the hot, dry summers!

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Growing Season

Most fruits and vegetables sold in Israel are grown here, so many foods are seasonal. That is, they are best when the fruits or vegetables are ready to be harvested. When it is not the season, they might be very expensive, not very nice, or not available at all. These same fruits and vegetables will be plentiful, lovely, and not expensive in when they are in season.

In summer and early autumn, many fruits are beautiful, plentiful, and less expensive than in the winter or spring. One example is bananas. They are always available in the USA. But in Israel, they are hard to find or not very nice in late summer and early fall. During the same season, avocados are terrible and very expensive. Now—late November—wonderful avocados, bananas, pineapples and other fruits are available at a great price.

Rain in the Deserts

The deserts in southern Israel can be very, very hot in the summer. Not many people want to hike or camp during those days. In the winter, though, the deserts rarely get rain and are warmer than in the north. Because of this, many people like winter hiking and camping.

One reason some people hike in the winter is to see the flowers. You might think, “Flowers in a desert?” When the rains come, flowers pop out of the bare, brown ground. Different flowers bloom at different times during the winter, and in different places. The desert might be carpeted with yellow crocuses (narkis), white and pink or purple cyclamen (rakefet), small, bright red anemone poppies (kalanit) or other flowers.3

Rain from mountains near the desert, such as the Hebron mountains, can flow into the desert, causing flooding. Sometimes rain in the desert itself causes flooding. These are usually flash floods, when water rushes like a fire hydrant that is suddenly opened. The water picks up rocks, sand and debris and pushes it along, causing destruction in its path.

Flash floods do not last a long time, but they are very dangerous. In fact, they are so dangerous that the government sometimes prohibits hiking and camping in some places when storms are expected. Weather reports announce that flash flooding may occur, and that campers and hikers need to stay out of places that flood. Sometimes, though, people do not hear the warnings, or they ignore them. It seems like every winter a few people are killed by the floods.

Wind

Windy days happen all year, but very high winds are more common in the winter. Fierce storms with rain and wind occur during the winter. Sometimes wind storms happen without rain.

One problem with very windy weather is that debris flies around. Many homes in Israel have flat roofs. Solar water heaters and television/internet satellite dishes, as well as compressors for air conditioners, are installed on roofs. When equipment needs to be replaced or repaired, the old is often left there by lazy workmen. A heavy wind will pick up debris and blow it away. Often that “away” is someone else’s roof.

Photos, L-R: messy roof, roof with wind-carried debris, solar water heater.

Strong winds can also damage trees. Eucalyptus,4 trees from Australia that can grow in poor soil and help dry up swampy lands, were planted in Israel years ago. However, sometimes large, heavy limbs suddenly fall.5 This can happen when a tree doesn’t get enough water. Another reason is that sometimes a fungus infects the roots or tops of the trees. This fungus rots the tree from the inside and can cause an infected limb to fall off. A very strong wind can cause a rotted limb to fall off sooner than it would have. How dangerous are these trees? At least three Israelis were killed by falling eucalyptus branches or trees between 2001 and 2014.6

Jewish Beliefs About Rain and Wind

In Deuteronomy 11:13-21, God tells the Jewish people that he will bring the right amount of rain at the right time of year if they obey His commandments with love and will serve Him with their full hearts and souls. This means that if they do not, He might stop the rains, or bring too much.

Not enough rain means drought. Even today, in very poor countries and places where people depend on things they grow themselves, drought can mean there is not enough food. When there is too much rain, or rain at the wrong time, it might be impossible for farmers to plant at the right time, and seeds or roots might rot in the fields. Hail, which often goes along with rain, can destroy crops, especially if it happens close to harvest. Rain can destroy harvests, too; grains need to dry out after they are cut, and this is usually done in the fields.

The sages (the rabbis who are mentioned in the Talmud and other great thinkers) taught that God does not withhold wind when people behave badly, so it doesn’t need any special prayers.

This does not mean wind isn’t important! As mentioned in Part 1, wind is included in the special line that is added to the Shemona Esreh (Amidah) prayer, “…who causes the wind to blow and the rain to fall.” In the summer, this blessing is replaced by one for dew. In it, wind is not mentioned.

We are taught that wind “is sought in the rainy season only, to dry the abundant moisture of the earth.”7 We learn that this is an important function of wind from the second parsha (section) of the Torah, Parshat Noah. Genesis 8:1 says, “And God made a wind to pass over the earth, and the water subsided.”

Part 3 will appear in January. December’s essays and stories will be about Chanukah, and I will be taking the week of Chanukah off so there will be no essay then.

The Jewish religion and monotheism—the belief in only one god—began in Israel about 3,300 years ago. Religions are ways people relate to what they consider holy.1 Judaism is more than a religion. It is very concerned with God and holy things. But it is also concerned with how people live: how they interact with other people, animals, and things.

The earliest Jews were shepherds. The Torah, the first part of the Tanakh2 or Jewish Bible, talks about Jacob, who was a shepherd for his father-in-law, Laban. Moses was also a shepherd—first of his father-in-law Yitro’s (Jethro’s) flocks and then of the Jewish people as he led them out of slavery in Egypt. In later generations, farming became important.

Many laws and lessons in the Tanakh are concerned with the things that affect shepherds and farmers, among others. This includes the weather.

This is the first of a series of articles about weather in Israel and how it relates to Judaism.

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Nature and the Jewish Religion

Israel has two seasons, sunny (summer) and rainy (winter). Spring and fall are not even mentioned in the Tanakh because they really do not exist. In the Tanakh, “Aviv,” the word for spring used in modern Israel, means the month when barley ripens. This is the Hebrew month of Nissan, when Passover occurs, late March or April.

Spring and fall were added later because of the influence from two conquerors from north, Rome (Italy) and Greece. Those countries have four different seasons. In Israel today, “spring” and “fall” are used because they are used in most of the world. But they only last a few weeks, not a full “season.”

Rain in Israel

Israel is a very small country, but it has several different climates. One thing is true for the whole country: rain only falls in the winter.

More than 50% of Israel is arid or semi-arid: it has very little water or rainfall. The average annual rainfall (what falls in one year) ranges from less than two inches (50 mm) in some places to around 10 inches (250 mm) in others.

This chart shows the average annual precipitation (rain plus melted snow) in several places around the world. The chart is in inches, but if you use metric you can still understand.

Today, Israel depends on three sources for water:

• fresh, natural water that is pure enough for drinking;

• wastewater produced by treating sewage. It can be used for irrigation or can be flowed into streams;

• sea water that has the salt removed to make drinking water.

These three sources give Israel enough water. As recently as 60 years ago, however, water was precious and very expensive. An advertising slogan was, “Be careful of every drop.” And thousands of years ago, when Judaism began, it was even more precious.

The Bible talks about two important droughts (times when there wasn’t enough rain for crops to grow). Abraham and Sarah went down to Egypt because of a drought, and Jacob sent his sons down to Egypt because of another drought. (Egypt gets its water from the Nile River, not from rain. Even when there wasn’t enough rain to grow crops in the Holy Land, there was food in Egypt.)

Praying for Rain

Shemini Atzeret/Simchat Torah is the very last day of the three-week High Holiday period in Israel. Outside of Israel, these fall on two days. On Shemini Atzeret, a special prayer for rain is said. In Ashkenazi3 synagogues, Tefillat Geshem, is said after the Torah reading in the morning prayers. The prayer mentions ways water was used to serve God by our patriarchs and leaders. The prayer ends by asking God to bring rain

For a blessing and not a curse,

For life and not for death,

For plenty and not for scarcity.

Jews from North Africa and Asia, and others who use the slightly different Eidat ha-Mizrach prayers,4 recite Tikkun Hageshem. Like Ashkenazim, they recite it at or just before the last section of morning prayers. The prayerbooks of different communities use slightly different versions, but the purpose is the same: to ask God to give us the wind and rain that we need—not too much and not too little.

Besides these special, once-a-year prayers, we also have phrases that we say every time we recite the Shemonah Esrei. This prayer, also called the Amidah, is one of the most important daily prayers. Beginning with the Musaf 5 service on Shemini Atzeret and ending with Shacharit on the first day of Passover we say,

          He causes the wind to blow and the rain to fall.      משיב הרוח ומוריד הגשם                                                                                                    

Starting with Musaf on the first day of Passover and ending with the Shacharit service on Shemini Atzeret we say,

                           He causes the dew to descend.            מוריד הטל

Living with the Rain

We in Israel are always glad to see rain. Here, people almost never complain about it. After a couple of weeks of solid rain, we might complain about not seeing the sun. But we greet rain with a smile.

After every big storm the news reports the rise in water level of the Kinneret, the big lake at the northeast of Israel, also called the Sea of Galilee. The Kinneret is a major source of water for the country.

This year, two days after we began saying “He causes the wind to blow,” the wind started wailing around my living room window. All summer we had breezes, but not a really strong wind like that one.

This past Sunday we had the first real rain of this winter. It started with a lot of thunder, rolling booms very close together. Here in the north of Israel near Lebanon, at first we did not know what we heard. Was it thunder or the sound of our Iron Dome destroying Hezbollah missiles? Then we started to see lightning.

I stepped outside to say the blessing over lightning,

                                 בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלֹקֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, עוֹשֶׂה מַעֲשֵׂה בְרֵאשִׁית

                            Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe, 
                                        Who performs the work of creation.

And then on thunder,

                               בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלֹקֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, שֶׁכֹּחוֹ וּגְבוּרָתוֹ מָלֵא עוֹלָם

                          Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, 
                                   Whose power and might fill the world.

These blessings remind us of God’s power. He created and controls all of nature, from the smallest drop of water to huge forces like lightning.

In a moment the rain started. At first it was just a sprinkle. Then it got a little harder, and the air started to smell fresher. I could almost see my pots of plants perk up. Then the rain became heavy, so I ran back inside.

A pounding on the plastic roof over my entry had me stepping outside again. Hail, as big as marbles, was falling. Usually our hail is about the size of a pencil’s eraser. This hail only lasted a couple of minutes. Then the rain came down hard. In about fifteen minutes, the storm was over.

The Hebrew months move back and forth through the secular months, but the weather follows the Hebrew ones. Whether Shemini Atzeret falls in late September or late October, the winds and rains start almost immediately after.

Rain is Important in Judaism

The Jewish religion began in Israel. It has always been more than just worship of God who created the world. And unlike other major religions, it does not focus on what happens after people die. Judaism is concerned with living: how we each live our lives, and how we live together in society. If we do our imperfect best and follow a few simple rules, our souls will return to the next world. Judaism teaches that this is true for all people, not just Jews.6

Part of this is the understanding that everything we have comes from God. Even nature is God’s creation. (“Mother Nature” comes from the Greek and Roman belief in many gods and goddesses.) Judaism teaches us to say “Thank you” for things we get, both from people and from God.

Rain is one of the many blessings that comes from God. God tells us,

“If you listen to my commandments that I command you today—to love G d, your G d, and serve Him with all of your heart and with all your soul, then I will give you rain for your land in its proper time, the early and the late rains.”7

This tells us that rain does not just happen to fall. God brings the rain when we love Him and serve Him. “Serving” Him does not just mean prayers and sacrifices. It also means following the laws He gave us for living together peaceably. When we disobey His laws, He either stops the rain or brings destructive floods.

Water as a Symbol

The Talmud teaches us, “The day when rain falls is as great as the day on which heaven and earth were created.”8 It also compares water to Torah. Jews need Torah just as humans need water.9

The proper balance of rain and sun are both needed for life. Rain reminds us that in the same way, we need balance between our spiritual and physical lives.10

Conclusion

Next time there’s a thunderstorm, thank God for creating the world and everything in it, including thunder and lightning. If you don’t know the traditional blessing, that’s okay; you can still thank Him. When it rains, remember how the world needs rain. And do your best to live a good and grateful life—even your little prayer will help God know that the world still deserves His help.

2

The Torah, or Five Books of Moses, are part of the Tanakh, the Jewish Bible. Christians call the Tanakh the “Old Testament.” Here’s a listing of the books of the Tanakh.

Books Of The Hebrew Bible

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“What should I do? This Corona has ruined my life. I don’t even have school! Ever since…”

“It ruined my life, too, and it really ruined Dad’s life. It ended it. You don’t have to remind me!” Mom’s stone-hard voice was new. Danny looked down. He shouldn’t have argued. Then softening, Mom added, “We will survive, and eventually life will feel good again. My nana used to say Gam zu le tov,” even this is for good. Even if we don’t feel it. But now I need your help.”

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Danny rose slowly, a scowl crossing his face. “Oooo-kay.”

Mom handed him some money. Her hand hovered, as though she was thinking about patting him on the head, as if he was a baby. He took a step back and the hardness returned to her voice. “Go to the market and pick up two loaves of bread, whatever kinds you and Aaron like. The office is opening at 1 pm. Please hurry so I can make us all lunch before I leave for work. But be careful, there’s storm debris everywhere.”

Rolling his eyes, Danny tucked the money in his pocket. “I’ll be careful.” He grabbed his jacket and practically ran out of the apartment.

As he walked, he kicked at the storm debris. Before Passover, before Corona, before Dad died, Mom hadn’t had a job. She smiled a lot, baked cookies, and always had a soft word for him and for Aaron. In their big house, he and Aaron had each had their own large bedroom. The house had a big family room with a sink, a refrigerator and a wide-screen TV in the basement, a backyard with climbing trees and a basketball hoop, and a garage with hooks on the wall for their bicycles. Everything had been fine.

But now, nothing was fine. Dad had come home from a business trip to China with a little cough just before Passover, went to the hospital on the third day of the holiday, and had died of Covid-19 just two weeks later. Over the summer Mom sold the house and most of the furniture. And at the start of September they had moved into a tiny, dark apartment in the city.

Okay, they weren’t homeless, Danny told himself as he kicked at a shingle that lay in his path. But school was closed because of the virus, and although he had lessons on the computer, he hadn’t met any boys in person yet. There was no one to play with except Aaron, and all Aaron wanted to do was read. But Mom? She hadn’t made friends at work, the synagogues were still closed, and her friends from before were too busy to chat on the phone. Danny heard her crying at night, and he heard her ask God to give her strength. When was life going to get better? When would life go back to normal? When would the city start to feel like home?

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And Sukkot! It had always been Danny’s favorite holiday. Dad always built a sukkah on the driveway, and neighbors would stop by. On Sukkot, it didn’t matter what synagogue or temple you went to, or even if you were Jewish. If you heard people in a sukkah, you’d stick your head in the door and say hello. Often you’d be invited to sit down and have a drink of juice or soda and a snack. Visiting like this, everyone got acquainted with everyone else. It made that neighborhood one of the friendliest in their town.

But this was the city, and they didn’t have a driveway. When he had asked Mom where they would put their sukkah she had sighed. Putting a hand on his shoulder she had said, “Danny, I sold the sukkah. We don’t have a place for one here.” He thought he saw a tear in her eye, so he changed the subject.

Not having a sukkah meant not really celebrating. It was something else that the virus had taken from him. From them. Danny kicked at a stone as he started home from the supermarket.

Then, when he was nearly home, the hair on the back of his neck rose. Someone was watching him. Turning, he saw a group of bigger boys who laughed and pointed at him. His heart pounded. Mom had warned him to look out for trouble. Was this it? Turning at the next corner, he began to run. When he came to an alley, he ducked into it.

It was his first-ever time in an alley and he stared around. He was on a narrow pavement. On one side were houses with backyards; on the other side were apartment buildings like theirs. All the yards had fences and gates. The alley was a real mess. Leaves, branches, and trash were piled around. Some piles looked like they had been laying there for ages, but most of the rubbish was from the hurricane. Danny saw some Hebrew lettering on a ruined poster. Kicking aside leaves, he bent to investigate. It was one of the posters some of their Orthodox neighbors had put in their sukkahs with pictures of the Patriarchs and other ancestors. They had explained that each night they invited a different ancient guest into the sukkah. His buddies had made fun of this custom, but Danny secretly liked the thought.

As Danny bent over the poster, a gate opened and an old man started out, pulling a bamboo mat. “Is that the roof of your sukkah?” he asked.

“Yes,” said the old man with a sigh. “Now it has a big hole in it so I can’t use it.”

Danny hung the grocery bag over a fence post and ran to take the back end of the mat. “I can help,” he said.

 Together they dropped it on a pile of rubbish. The old man straightened, groaning as he pressed his hands against the small of his back. Then he waved his hand toward the mess. “The trash truck will take it all away.”

“Do you have more trash in your yard?” asked Danny, wiping his hands on the back of his pants.

“Yes, of course.” The man sighed. “I don’t know how much more energy I have to clean up. It’s so discouraging!”

“We’re going to eat as soon as I get back with the bread. But after lunch I’ll come back and help,” said Danny.

“Oh,” said the man as he rubbed his hip, “That would be wonderful. But don’t you have your own mess to clean up?”

“No, we live in an apartment and we don’t have a sukkah,” said Danny as he took the grocery bag off the fence.

In a little while he was back, Aaron tagging after him. Before long the yard was cleaned. The old man put his hands on his hips, surveyed his yard, and beamed. “You boys were a huge help,” he said. “I’ll go pick up more schach now, and tomorrow I’ll rebuild the sukkah.”

At Danny’s puzzled expression the old man said, “Schach, a new bamboo mat. Now, how much do I owe you for your help?”

“Oh no,” said Danny, glancing at Aaron. “We were happy to help.” Aaron nodded.

“Well, thanks again. It was a big mitzvah,” said the man, shaking their hands.

“This was really fun! It’s the first time…” Aaron stopped.

“Yeah, the first time since Dad died that we’ve…” said Danny. “Everyone helped us after…” his voice died. Then with strength he finished, “Let’s look for more people to help!”

“Yeah!” Aaron pumped his hand into the air. “Yeah!” They hurried to the next block and entered that alley.

Sure enough, besides piles of branches, leaves, and roofing shingles they saw lots of rubbish from sukkahs: soaked posters, soggy piles of colorful pulp that had once been carefully made paper chains, schach, and more.

Wherever they heard people working in yards, Danny and Aaron called over the fence offering to help. They cleaned yards all afternoon and all the next day. It felt good to be out of the house and busy, even though they didn’t know the people they were helping.

But the following day would be erev Sukkot, the first night of the holiday, and Danny’s sadness crept back. Dad, Danny thought, You’d have been really proud of how hard Aaron and I worked, and for strangers too. But oh, how I miss you!

That evening after supper there was a knock at the door. When Mom answered, she found a bearded, black-hatted stranger standing there. “Are you the mother of Danny and Aaron?” the man asked.

Mom bit her lip. “Did…did they do something wrong?”

“No, they did plenty right,” said the man. “I am Rabbi Levovitz. Several of the men from minyan told me that two angels appeared to help them clean up from the storm and get ready for the holiday, but they didn’t know who they were or where they lived. All they knew were their first names. So I asked around, and your downstairs neighbor said that your boys fit my description. Were they helping others?”

“I…I don’t know,” said Mom. “I work all day, and when I got home they were here like always. They haven’t said anything to me.”

“Where is their father?” asked the rabbi.

Mom sighed and her eyes filled. “He died from the virus right after Passover,” she said. “I had to sell our house in the suburbs. We moved here a few weeks ago.”

“Ah,” said the rabbi, “That’s why no one knows your family. Well, people want to know you now. Can I give your name and phone number to the people they helped?

Mom thought about it. “I guess that would be okay,” she said slowly, “As long as you know they’re good people.”

“The best,” said the rabbi. He typed her information into his phone, shook hands with the boys, and left.

When the phone rang a few moments later, Aaron grabbed his mother’s phone from the table and answered it. “Mom, it’s Mrs. Rosenzweig. She wants us to come for dinner the first night of Sukkot!”

“Mrs. Who?” asked Mom. “What?”

“She says she wants to thank us for cleaning her yard,” reported Aaron. “Do we have paper and a pencil? I’ll write down her name and address”.

By bedtime, so many people had called that the paper was filled with names, addresses, phone numbers, and meals. And the next morning, Mom almost tripped over a lulav and etrog that someone had left by the door along with a note that just said, “Thanks!”

When Mom finished Havdolah at the end of the holiday, Danny said, “I thought this would be the worst Sukkot ever. But because of the hurricane, it turned into a great holiday!”

Mom shook her head, a big smile on her face. “Not because of the hurricane. Because you and Aaron helped so many strangers, now we have friends here.”

“Yes,” said Danny. “This place is different, but it is starting to feel like home.

For Parents, Teachers and Others

The Sukkot Holiday

Sukkot, known in English as the Feast of Booths, is a joyful one-week holiday that ends with Simchat Torah, Rejoicing in the Torah, on the seventh day in Israel or the eighth day outside of Israel.

On Sukkot we build little huts that have very porous roofs, and we eat in them. In decent weather we sleep in them as well. These huts represent God’s protection of us during our 40 years of wandering in the desert. They are flimsy and can be blown over, but they can easily be rebuilt. This fact leads to symbolism: we Jewish people can be knocked down, but we rise again.

When the Temple stood in Jerusalem, the priests made sacrifices for all the 70 nations of the known world, asking God to give everyone enough food, rain, sun, good health and peace. This is one of the Jewish pilgrimage holidays when, in Temple times, many if not most people went to Jerusalem to celebrate.

Simchat Torah, which ends the holiday, is the day on which we complete our weekly reading of the Five Books of Moses and begin again—that’s right, we end and begin immediately. There is great singing and dancing in synagogues. Each man (including boys who are bar mitzvah—have had their 13^th birthday—gets the honor of being called up to the reading table and saying the blessings before and after the reader chants a small section of either the last or first Torah portion.

Last year, Simchat Torah was the day that Hamas terrorists broke through the fence between Gaza and Israel, murdering, kidnapping, and doing unspeakable things to over 1200 Israelis. We have also lost almost 750 soldiers during this war, have lost civilians, and have many wounded still in hospitals. Additionally, we still have many hostages in Gaza whose fates are unknown. We have mixed feelings about celebrating right now, but we will do our best.

This Story

In the United States, where I lived most of my life, Sukkot often falls during bad weather. I remember one year when late October was so cold that my hosts for the first night of Sukkot had put electric heaters on timers in his Sukkah. Even so, we ate in boots, hats, and coats.

Another year, a hurricane struck the day before Sukkot. I had been invited to share the holiday evening meal with friends. They had a small backyard and their home was separated from the neighbors by a driveway barely wide enough for a car. When I got to their house, I found a tree, uprooted by the storm, had fallen between the car and fence; neither was damaged, but the car was boxed in by branches. The family had hacked away branches to make a path to the yard, where the sukkah was. We felt we were witnesses to a minor miracle: neither the house, car, fence, nor sukkah were damaged; the tree had fallen into the only clear three-foot-wide strip, with the branchy part toward the front of the driveway, out of the way of car, back stairs, and fence. What could have been a disaster was, in fact, a demonstration of God’s kindness.

This year, just a few short weeks after one of the worst hurricanes in modern history struck the USA with a second storm barely a week later, I remembered this story and felt it was particularly relevant this year.

Covid 19

I don’t know what children who were younger than eight in 2020 remember about “the Corona,” as we call it in Israel. However, it is a serious bit of the world’s history, and certainly impacted anyone who could remember those days. I thought about rewriting this for today but felt children in the upper age of this story’s target readership would have many memories, so I left the story as originally written back in 2021.

Glossary

Mitzvah – technically, a behavior Jewish law requires to be done or to be avoided; generally used to mean a good deed.

Chesed (pronounced heh’-sed) – a kindness done for another person, alive or dead. On my way down steps with a heavy grocery cart, a man coming up the stairs offered to carry the cart down for me. He offered to do me a chesed.

Lulav and etrog – two of the “four species” that are used ritually during Sukkot: palm, which has no scent but its fruit has taste (dates, here in the Middle East); citron, a citrus fruit that has both scent and taste; willow, which has neither scent nor taste, and myrtle, which has scent but no taste. All four items are needed for the ritual. These four species are interpreted many ways. My favorite way is that they represent people: those who are both spiritually and economically gifted; those who are spiritual but economically not successful; those who are economically successful but not at all spiritual; and those who are neither spiritual nor economically successful. Without all four kinds of people, humanity is lacking. All of us, regardless of our talents and abilities, are needed; if not, God would not have created us.

Havdolah - a brief ceremony that marks the ending of the Sabbath and holidays.

The sea of strange faces still haunted him. How would Abba ever find him? Would he be lost forever? The old terror gripped him; he could hardly breathe. Then he remembered that he wasn’t 6 years old. He was a bar mitzvah, a young man past his 13^th birthday, with many of the responsibilities of an adult. He took slow breaths the way his father had taught him. Slowly his heart calmed to its normal beat.

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 Light began to creep around the edge of the door, chasing away the dark. He pushed up until he rested his back against the wall, knowing he was done with sleep. This very day he was going to begin the long journey to Jerusalem with his father.

The two of them, along with his uncle and cousins, would leave soon after the sun was full up. The produce from their herd of sheep--cheeses his aunt made and the fine, smooth yarn his mother and sisters spun—earned better prices in the big city of Jerusalem than in their village, where most people raised sheep, spun wool and made cheese. In the city, they would also serve God in the Temple.

The plan was to arrive before Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, and attend the special Temple service that day. They would stay in Jerusalem for the Sukkot pilgrimage holiday, too.

He knew that near the capital city the crowds would increase. His father had said, “You are tall, and your help to me on the farm has made you strong. Uncle Shamma and your cousins will be with us. Shomer has come twice, but this is Heber’s first time too. You have nothing to fear.” But that scared little 6-year-old still lurked in Ishvi’s heart.

After morning prayers and breakfast, Abba, Uncle Shamma, Ishvi and his cousins checked that all their bundles were safely packed on donkeys. At last they started off.

The road twisted across the mountains, up to villages on bare mountain tops and down into the shade again. It avoided the bottoms of the deep, narrow valleys that were filled with snakes, wild boars, and other beasts.

From the forested hills of home they soon came to those covered with grasses and low plants. Ishvi turned his head from side to side, amazed at the beauty all around. At noon they stopped at a tiny village where they traded a few skeins of yarn for a wonderful dinner. Then they lay down in the shade and napped.

Exhausted from his sleepless night and the long walk, Ishvi fell into a deep sleep. But his nightmare struck again. In the dream he kicked at the stranger who was lifting him high. Even though he was sleeping, his foot jerked and hit Heber.

His cousin punched him. “Why did you kick me?” he whispered.

“I - I didn’t mean to. I was dreaming,” Ishvi answered.

“Are you still having that baby dream from that time you got scared at the market? Didn’t you have your bar mitzvah? Or are you still a baby?”

The taunt from his cousin wasn’t new. Heber was almost a year older than Ishvi, but Ishvi was a better student and a better worker than the bigger boy. For years Heber had controlled Ishvi by unkind teasing about that dream and about any other thing he could think of. This time, Ishvi didn’t answer. He rolled over on the other side so he faced away from his cousin and pretended to fall back asleep.

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The sun was moving toward the western sea when Abba woke them all up. They stretched, checked their bundles and their donkeys, then took off again.

The hills were lower here and the road easier. Before dark they were at a larger town. They found the small bet knesset, the prayer house. After prayers they were invited for the evening meal. “I have a large barn,” the man said. “There’s plenty of room for you to pen your donkeys and still have room to sleep.”

This time Ishvi made sure to sleep far from Heber.

By the end of the second day, Ishvi knew they were nearing the city. The road they followed was wider here and filled with travelers. Carts and donkeys traveled up and down along with more people than Ishvi was used to seeing in a whole day. His knuckles were white from gripping the donkey’s lead so tightly.

Heber shoved at the donkey that Ishvi was leading, making the animal take a few dancing steps. “Leave my donkey alone!” Ishvi snapped.

His uncle turned around. “Ishvi, behave,” he said.

Ishvi bit his lip. Arguing with an older relative was not respectful. And anyway, Uncle Shamma always took his son’s side, and Abba usually followed his big brother’s lead.

Ishvi worried what would happen when they reached the busy capital city. Would Heber make real trouble for him, not just these little nudges?

That night, he remembered that his peace-loving mother had told him that if he stopped responding, Heber would stop teasing him. So after saying his goodnight prayer, Ishvi prayed that God would give him courage and the ability to let Heber’s taunts go. Maybe because of this extra prayer, or maybe just because he was so tired from two long days of travel, Ishvi slept soundly through the night.

Early the next afternoon, the little family group reached Jerusalem. Ishvi stared at the wall surrounding the city. Inside that wall were thousands of people. Again his heart started to pound. He felt the sweat break out on his forehead and he knew it was from fear. Getting lost here would be much worse than getting lost in the market of a small town.

Heber elbowed him. “Getting crowded, isn’t it?” he whispered. Ishvi made a fist and pulled his arm back, ready to punch his cousin. But they were about to enter the city where the holy Temple was. The city that held the home of God on earth. He took a deep breath, opened his hand, and let his shoulder drop.

After they reached the inn where his father and uncle always stayed, Uncle Shamma, Heber and Shomer went off to visit an old friend. As Ishvi and Abba ate supper at the inn, Ishvi asked what would happen at the Yom Kippur service in the Temple. Abba described the beautiful robes of the priests. He told how the Kohen Gadol—the high priest—would enter the Holy of Holies several times, changing his clothes each time before he entered and after he came out.

Ishvi listened, his forehead furrowed. “But what does it feel like?” he asked.

Abba gestured with his hands as he tried to describe the feeling of awe at being in God’s holiest place on earth. Ishvi shook his head and bit his lip. Finally he asked, “Is it crowded?”

Abba put his arm around Ishvi. “Are you still worried about crowds? We will stand together. It’s crowded, but people stand pretty still. And remember, back when you were young you were so small that you could just see feet and the robes covering legs. Now you are tall. You can see better. Don’t worry.”

But Ishvi worried. He worried so much he hardly slept that night, and most of the next day.

The afternoon before Yom Kippur, they all bathed and put on their best clothes. But he could hardly swallow a bite of the seudat mafseket–the last meal before the fast--in the inn. Then, just before sunset, they went to the Temple.

The road that that morning had been empty was now crowded with people moving toward the Temple. Abba was right: Ishvi could see over most of the shoulders. Abba was tall, too; it would be hard for them to lose sight of each other even in the crowd.

Once inside the huge courtyard, Ishvi stared at everything. Even when the Temple service began, he couldn’t concentrate. Everything was so new! He tried to remember everything. Men wore intricately woven robes, colorful belts and more that his sisters would want to hear about, and his mother would want to know about the songs that the Leviim sang.

The next day, the crowd was even larger. The men were packed together, shoulders and hips bumping. Ishvi stood between his father and uncle, as far from Heber as he could. He rolled his shoulders and breathed deeply, trying to relax so he could pay attention to the priests.

Then, hours after the service began but long before the ending, his father whispered to him, “Now comes the Aleinu prayer. Instead of bowing the way we normally do, we prostrate ourselves: we kneel down and put our foreheads on the ground.”

Ishvi’s mouth dropped open. How was it possible? The men were packed together shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, with no space between. How would there be room for everyone if they had to do that? He bit his lip and blinked fast as the old terror roared through him.

Just then, at the right place in the prayer, everyone knelt, then bowed forward until their foreheads touched the ground. Abba put his hand on Ishvi’s shoulder and pushed gently. Eyes huge, biting his lower lip, Ishvi lowered himself.

To his astonishment, he had plenty of room to bow down! In fact, there was room for every person. For the first time since entering Jerusalem, he breathed freely as the men knelt down. They stretched out their backs until their foreheads touched the pavement. Together they recited the familiar prayer:

And we bend our knees,
and bow down,
and give thanks before the Ruler,
the Ruler of Rulers, the Holy One, Blessed is God.
The One who spread out the heavens,
and made the foundations of the Earth,
and whose precious dwelling is in the heavens
above, and whose powerful
Presence is in the highest heights.
Adonai is our God, there is none else.**

As he lay there, flat on the pavement with his eyes closed, a feeling of joy and wholeness dropped gently over him, like his mother shaking a warm blanket over him on a cold night. But it was so much more than a woolen blanket! His heart seemed to open as love filled him: love for God, love for his father, mother and sisters, and even love for Heber.

Behind his closed eyes he could almost see God’s mercy, love and concern settling over the huge crowd. He understood that all am Yisrael, the whole Jewish people, were one family cuddling together beneath God’s care.

The moment was short; all too soon the crowd rose and continued the prayer. Again they were shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. But the other people were no longer scary strangers. They had become part of Ishvi’s larger family, the Jewish people.

With his heart swelling with love and joy, he peeked behind his uncle. Heber stared at him, biting his lip. Ishvi knew there was no reason for him to fear his cousin. It would be easy, now, to ignore his cousin’s teasing.

Then Heber shook his head and gestured to his heart. Ishvi grinned back. His cousin was apologizing, and Ishvi understood that Heber had also felt God’s love.

Later that night, after the family had broken their fast with the other men at the inn, he remembered how at one moment the Temple courtyard had been crowded, and then suddenly it grew so that there was plenty of room for everyone to lie down. And when they stood again, it had returned to its original size. It had been a clear miracle, proof of God’s presence.

But Ishvi didn’t need that proof. The feeling of love and unity among the horde of men, and between him and his cousin, was enough.

*Jodi Sugar’s 16-month 2024-2025 (Hebrew year 5785) calendar is still available at https://www.jodisugar.com/israel-calendar .

**Translation of the traditional Aleinu prayer from www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/aleinu .

For Parents, Teachers, and Others

The message of Yom Kippur is not easy to teach children, but in my story at the beginning of Elul, Blaming Alex, I gave a hint. For this story, I wanted something different.

At the time I am writing about in this story—sometime during the existence of the First Temple—as in Orthodox synagogues to this day, men and women were separated in worship. So this is a story focused on males.

According to Pirke Avot, Ethics of the Fathers, 5:8, says: “Ten miracles were wrought for our fathers in the Temple.” One of the miracles is Though the people stood closely pressed together, they found ample space to prostrate themselves.1 The explanation for this is that the Temple miraculously grew to accommodate all the people, and then returned to its original size.

The first few years after I became religiously observant I found the custom of prostrating during the Aleinu on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur outlandish, but after I became accustomed to it, I started to feel a strange connection with my ancestors. Over the years, it has become for me a treasured moment of the synagogue service. If in recreating this custom I feel something extraordinary, what must the men in the Temple have felt? Probably the Talmud explains this in detail, but I am writing here purely from my imagination.

If you normally look for my posts early Tuesday morning, my apologies for being a day late. Due to the Hezbollah war I spent the Monday after Rosh Hashana in the “safe room” (reinforced home bomb shelter) of a friend, without access to my computer, so I did not finish in time. My old apartment does not have a safe room.

My plan now is to buy a good laptop and get rid of my antique desk-top computer so that I will not be caught like this again. You can help prevent this inconvenience by becoming a paid subscriber, thus helping me with this purchase.

of vacation days

at the Jewish Senior Apartments

where her mom works.

One by one,

ancient women shuffle in,

buy a little food,

and sit alone.

Only the radio

whispers in the room.

Mom says

the women come from many countries

and don’t share a language.

Raizy crosses her arms and shakes her head.

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One morning she says “Good morning”

to a friendly-looking woman.

The woman smiles. “Dobre utra,

That good morning in Russian.”

“Dobre utra,” repeats Raizy.

The woman takes her muffin and coffee

and sits.

Raizy goes over to another table. “Dobre utra.”

The woman makes a face. “I from Lithuania.

I no like Russians. We say Labas rylas.”

She struggles to her feet, pushes her unfinished muffin away,

and stomps out.

Tears fill Raizy’s eyes.

Why did the woman get mad?

Mom shrugs.

“In a long life there’s lots of time

for bad things to happen.”

Thinking, Raizy munches on a hot-from-the-oven

oatmeal cookie.

Then she goes over to another woman

and says, “Dobre utra. Or labas rylas. Good morning.”

This woman laughs. “I am from Iran. We say subh bakheer.”

”Subh bakheer,” repeats Raizy.

“Good morning to you, too,” says the woman.

Raizy goes from table to table,

greeting everyone.

Mrs. Cohen tells her that Hello is sabah-al-khayer in Arabic, bonjour in French and boker tov in Hebrew.

She adds that she spoke Arabic and French as a child in Morocco,

and Hebrew after her family went to Israel

after they were forced out of Morocco when she was seven,

and now English since moving to be near grandchildren.

Mrs. Binder says, “We said buna dimineata when I was young in Romania, before World War II.”

“In Ethiopia we said, milikami idili,” says Mrs. Kabede.

Raizy narrows her eyes and looks around. 

She remembers the first day of kindergarten,

when everyone was strange

and they were afraid of each other.

She thinks, Maybe they’re just shy too!

That night, she tells Mom her idea.

Next day Mom pushes all the little tables together

and Raizy slides chairs around.

Mom puts out a tray of muffins

and jugs of coffee and tea

with a sign: Free.

Each old lady comes in,

looks around,

and sits, staring at her food.

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No one speaks,

until Raizy says,

“Subh bakheer, sabah-al-khayer, labas rylas, dobre utra, buna dimineata, milikami idili.”

Each lady looks up when she hears her language.

“Tell me about when you were little like me.”

The ladies look at each other

and fumble with their cups.

“Please!” Raizy smiles into each person’s eyes.

One by one the old ladies speak

in halting English

and strong accents.

Other ladies come in and sit down.

Mom brings more muffins and drinks.

Now the café is noisy

with old, cracked voices

and laughter

as the ladies

share their stories.

Raizy sits with them

and listens

as they all learn

they are more alike

than different.