Lag B'Omer and Shavuot

For those of you who don't know, Lag B'Omer was my birthday, celebrated in Israel with large dangerous bonfires being set hapahazardly close to grassy areas. In my own neighborhood, a man was employed with a fire hose to extinguish those fires (read, most) that got out of hand. I myself told my own neighbor about the three little boys trying to make a bonfire directly in front of my building, next to his car. After all, they didn't know how to build it properly, and they might have needed help, no?

Anyway, my workplace celebrated my birthday as well- going to special efforts to obtain a kosher cake for me, and wished me a happy year filled with blessing. So, how's that for a birthday?

Yet, between Lag B'Omer and Shavuot, people's heads turn to thoughts of: cheesecake. Yes, there is Kabalat HaTorah, yes, the men learn all night, and my friend visiting from the US is planning to hike to the Kotel at dawn, but for me- I've got to figure out cheesecake. I've decided this year to do like last year, and make a delicious and delectable pareve cheesecake, rather than make a milchig one. That way, it can be eaten at more meals- some of which will be fleshig for those lactose intolerant people in my family and who are invited.
So does pareve cheesecake still count as cheesecake?

Any other random thoughts floating through my head?

Not really. But I have a more serious post coming up soon, so stay tuned.
Oh, and Chag Sameach!

Starbucks?

Anyone know if there is a Starbucks cafe in Israel? Or are we just Aroma/Cafe Hillel/Coffee Bean friendly?
Thanks!

Integration

No, not calculus. Integrating as a new olah into Israeli society.

That was the topic of a lecture I heard on the subject by a renowned educator, on how to help your children integrate into the Israeli school system. One of the major components that was stressed was the problems facing children who do not have the opportunity to learn Hebrew before entering the primary grades. Without a solid language base, these children have a tendency to turn off, to be misdiagnosed with attention problems, and to be correctly diagnosed with behavioral and social problems that result from the simple fact of a lack of understanding.

For American families, this provides a path that they must follow, if they want their children to swim with the rest of the fish. Consequently, chief among the worries of the parents attending this lecture was the fact that they did not wish their children to forget their English- to be able to communicate fluently with relatives, grandparents, and frankly, their own parents.

That is a major point- but as I continued to think about it, I realized the educators were right. It can only hurt a child to place them in a situation where they don't understand, or they have minimal understanding, in the language that is spoken by most of the country.

Seeing my work mates flow freely between Hebrew and English- even though they aren't American born, gives me hope that my future children will still have the English language skills needed to succeed in certain professions here in Israel, as well as just for me. So if I ask questions in English, and they answer in Hebrew- they will still be okay- with extra tutoring in reading and writing.

One family in the lecture piped up that they read two storybooks to their children every night- one in Hebrew, and one in English. That way, everyone wins.
As the educator ended off- he has never seen any child have problems going from the Israeli school system to the American one- besides for some small reading and writing issues, that are resolved rapidly.

So, integration isn't so bad after all (despite what I remember from calculus class). It may be the chance my future children need to help them succeed.

Mazel Tov!

Just wishing a quick Mazel Tov to my dear friend Chana, on her engagement!

OII #20- Buses Yet Again

Yet another OII happened to me today. I was on a busy bus, standing with my book bag on my shoulder and cellphone in other hand, while trying to cling to a bus pole so I wouldn't fall down. (That has happened to me on buses before)When I reached the busy Bar Ilan intersection, a woman with a baby in a stroller got on. Someone got up for her (which is nothing new, but still very nice), and she sat down as the bus continued on its way.

I then felt a tap on my shoulder. Someone behind me was waving a bus ticket in my face. "L'vir et zeh l'nahag. Paam Achat." I didn't understand the rapidly mumbled Hebrew, so I asked him to repeat himself. "Pass this up to the bus driver. One time (punch)." I looked in front of me- but there was no way I was getting through the mass of humanity in front of me just to get a punch for this man. I looked back, and he pointed to the woman with the baby. "Rak L'vir et zeh." "Just pass it on." And so I did.

Her nearly full bus card was passed from passenger to passenger, duly punched by the driver, and handed safely back to the mom.

I guess I can't imagine this happening anywhere else but Israel.

Yom HaShoah, Yom HaZikaron, Yom HaAtzmaut

This is my first year being in Israel as an Olah, and as such, these 'national' holidays somehow take on more significance. I had a draft on Yom HaShoah, but as it has gone by, and we are on to the next national holiday, I figured my thoughts could go all together.

Yom HaShoah per say is one of those holidays that the religious public and the secular tend to disagree on. Rabbis have ruled that mourning is not such a good thing during the time of Nissan, and as such, we should have mourning for those victims of the Holocaust during other days set aside for mourning already, like the 10th of Tevet, and Tisha B'Av. There are Kinos and other liturgies written specifically commemorating those Kedoshim to be said on those days.

None the less, I still had something very positive to say on Yom HaShoah. In my workplace, they
had a gathering for all the students and employees, and presented a presentation on the Holocaust and its victims. Now, usually, these presentations take on a very secular perspective, as that is what resonates with most- not the religious stories most who live in the charedi world grow up hearing.

But the one thing that really did resonate with me was that despite being in an entirely secular environment, the first thing they did after the siren and moments of silence, was to read a Yizkor memorial prayer, commemorating those who died Al Kiddush Hashem, and to hope that their neshamos have an aliyah.

Now, that was something special that I noticed- an entirely secular group of people, recognizing that those who died because they were Jews died Al Kiddush Hashem- they actually mentioned G-d. And G-d in the Jewish sense- unlike many American gatherings where other religions might play a role, or no religion at all. Many Holocaust gatherings in America stress the genocide aspect, the killing of many different people, such as gypsies or the handicapped. Very few secular gatherings in America take any time to mention G-d at all, or that the souls of these people have not died in vain, for we remember them, and say a prayer for their memory.

When I came home, and remarked as such to Mr. NMF- he reminded me that the Teshuva movement in Israel is always growing. He believes it is much more prevalent than it was in times gone by.

As for Yom HaZikaron, another sad day here in Israel- I actually did not have a memorial service to attend, but most of my workplace did. I looked up how Yom HaZikaron started, and I found out that originally, the politicians (typically Jewish) couldn't agree on a date, so they lumped it together with Yom HaAtzmaut- which was hard for the people actually mourning to concentrate on the happiness of Independence. So, they moved it to one day earlier, the reason being to remind us all what the cost of independence truly is. Somber thought, but something worth remembering.

And today? I'm celebrating the independence day by being off from work, and enjoying the day with my daughter. That's true independence for me.

Shidduchim: A Kapara For Klal

At a recent simcha, I came across a lovely woman, with several children, who is moving back to America after her recent sojourn in Israel since she got married. We schmoozed, and eventually played Jewish geography. People from my hometown came up, including a certain woman who is still looking for her shidduch. She is a wonderful person, sweet, smart, charming, kind; in short, all the good qualities one would look for in a shidduch. Yet she hasn't met her match yet. The woman across from me remarked, "Maybe it’s a Kapara (atonement) for Klal Yisroel (the Jewish people)."

I was a bit taken aback by this statement. Then the woman next to me commented that she believes that there are two types of older singles out there. There are those who are being reasonably too picky, as they might be looking for something they can't get, or is exceedingly hard to get. The other, simply, hasn't met the right one yet. And those are, in her words, a Kapara for the entire Jewish nation.

Again, my brain started working overtime. You mean to tell me that there are women and men out there in this world who are waiting to meet their match, through no fault of their own, but as a general atonement for the world?

It came as a sort of shock to me, so I headed home to ask Mr. NMF about it. He remarked that he doesn't know too much about it- as atonement, as a general rule, is Kabbalistic in nature. But, one thing he does know, is that a person doesn't go through suffering only for the nation as a whole, but also for themselves- for some trait/action of their own. In addition, he threw in the Gemara that states that the death of the righteous (not to compare the lack of a shidduch to death of course, just for comparison's sake) does atone. Therefore, one person does have the capability to atone for the Klal.

So what do you think? Are there those out there who are waiting for their match due to a Divine decree, not specifically against them, but for the nation as a whole?

Pesach Part 2

Life seems to be flying ahead of me so fast that I have at least 10 blog posts just waiting to be put up.

Here's the second Pesach part that I meant to put up earlier.

Pesach brings with it many things, mostly the domains of families. Many take trips, head out to wild, exotic places, just to see the sites and report back. Children in these families take great pride in reporting where they just came from, what they saw, and what they did. They brag about their latest exploits to their neighbors, friends, and classmates- and woe to those children who didn't do anything at all.

This past Pesach, the neighbor of mine who has 7 children delivered her eighth, a boy. And so, I and Mr. NMF volunteered to take the young ones on a trip to the zoo. Nothing major, but anything with 7 children becomes something major, of course. An enjoyable time was had by all, viewing the elephants and the vultures, just waiting to swoop down on my unsuspecting NBD, who laughed the whole time.

But the best part was, that now they had something to 'talk' about- that they did something on Chol HaMoed.

Compare that to my new neighbor, who also has 7 children, and is also a Ganenet. (I seem to attract these type of families as neighbors.) She confided in me that for her family, a Chol HaMoed activity is spending time with everyone- just hanging out together, small art projects, new games at home, or heading to a large park or picnic with extended family. In a way, I like this style some what better- as it promotes values that one doesn't really need to do something flashy or overdone in order to have a wonderful lasting time, that makes for good memories.

Either way, Chol Hamoed becomes the time to spend time with family. I hope all succeeded in doing that this Pesach.

Pesach Part 1

I'm busier than ever these days, especially with the inevitable Pesach cleaning. I'm also insanely jealous. Why?

Well, I'm making Pesach- the seders, the cooking, the cleaning- you name it, I'm doing it. And throughout the last couple of weeks, the common refrain from the young couples in the neighborhood has been something like this.

Me: How are you doing?
Neighbor: I'm busy packing. Gosh, it takes a long time.
Me: Really? Going to the US for Yom Tov?
Neighbor: Yes, and you wouldn't believe how much work it is. Packing, then taking a __ hour flight- it's just too much. You're so lucky you get to stay here.
Me: _______

If they think a 15 hour flight is hard, even with several children, try making Pesach anytime.
But anyway, enough with the griping. (Sorry! It's practically Erev Pesach! Hard to remain cheerful.)
Good news is that I get the amazing experience of being here in Israel for Pesach. Last year I got the pleasure of hosting a 2nd Seder, even though we had already moved here permenantly, and so I got to take pictures, relax, and enjoy the Seder in an entirely different way than I normally do. This year I plan to do the same, with even more guests.

It's a totally different feeling to know that you aren't obligated to start measuring your matzah out- and instead, you can just focus on the meaning of the Seder, the Divrei Torah, the essence of real freedom. I think it would be fun to continue hosting a second Seder, for fun, even when I don't have guests from America.

And now, for your viewing enjoyment, a short clip from the Robotics team in Rishon L'Tzion.



More on Pesach will be coming later. Stay tuned!

Doctors and Research

Two articles caught my eye this week- neither really has to do with Israel- which is what this blog was originally about- but they are fairly interesting, and have a lot to do with science and medicine.

So, if you are interested- here they are from Aish.com- Is Stem Cell Research Ethical? and Doctors: A Second Opinion.

The first article is on research, something I'm involved in right now, and I thought it was quite thorough, albeit from more of a lay perspective.

The second article is something that's been quoted to me many times, and is why I originally wanted to go into medicine. Doctors take a hard rap for people who don't have enough compassion in them, who get too haughty and ignore the true feelings of their patients, who see them as just statistics. I wanted to change all that- to become a doctor who cared for their patients' needs, and yet was still able to help them.

This is a hard path to follow. Med school teaches a person to be objective, to not have other factors clouding their judgement. This in turn becomes a lack of compassion, of basic kindness. Some of the best diagnosticians have the worst bedside manner. Sometimes a doctor has both, but it is rare. Does that make them a bad doctor? No. But it does make for bad doctor/patient relationships.

I have found that those doctors that are religious in any way, are more likely to have a sense of kindness and compassion- but that is not always true as well. For some doctors, simply having a sense of ethics and morals allows them to be excellent doctors and kind people as well.

I was once treated by a doctor, a head of a department with students crowded around him, who made me feel like a piece of meat, rather than a human being. I felt trapped, unable to protest, and when I did- the response from one of the 'groupies' was, "But he's the head of ______!"

Good doctor- possibly. Bad patient connection- most definitely. I still have nightmares about dealing with him.

Yet, some of the kindest people I know are doctors. They have compassion, care, concern, and all other things. They influenced me to go into research (albeit not medicine, but something akin) and taught me how a person could act. After all, a doctor has power in his hands (invested by G-d, but still in a human's hands). How he uses it is an expression of his character traits.

As the prayer of the Rambam- Maimonides, states:

"Do not allow thirst for profit, ambition for renown and admiration, to interfere with my profession, for these are the enemies of truth and of love for mankind and they can lead astray in the great task of attending to the welfare of Thy creatures. Preserve the strength of my body and of my soul that they ever be ready to cheerfully help and support rich and poor, good and bad, enemy as well as friend. In the sufferer let me see only the human being. "