5769- Siman Tov

Shanah tovah to all of you!

May the gates of shamayim be open to your tefillot and may Hashem shower you and yours with a year full of brachot, holiness, health, happiness, and success.

Mizrach, but Mostly Upward

I want to live in Israel.
I want to live in Yerushalayim.
I want to live in the Ir Ha'atikah.
I want to be surrounded by Jerusalem stone.
I want to stand pressed to the Kotel.
I want the Beit Hamikdash to be there.
I want to deserve it.

Script-Touchers Anonymous

I'm taking a Latin American history course this quarter. I'm not looking forward to it much. There is the part that I hardly have any interest in the subject, and then there's also the part that even if I did care for it, the professor pronounces Spanish words with an incredibly heavy accent that I'm incapable of picking up.

Just as I sat back in my chair resigned to abhor the course, however, the professor presented a glimmer of hope with something exciting: Trip to the bottom floor of our research library. Do you know what's on that bottom floor!? Neither did I... until I found out we have our very own "special collection" museum! I love museums. Wait, that's not all... In this museum, we're allowed to touch things! Without gloves! (She mentioned something about the gloves interfering with our manual dexterity and about how our hands carry "natural oils" that would handle the script with more care than gloves.)

They led us into a small room where they had set out some historical manuscripts pertaining to what we were going to learn and they actually allowed us to touch them! That, dear readers, was when I chose to join the small group of history-loving dweebs as we huddled around the table fondling the old scripts.

Maybe I'll survive the course.

Non-trivial Trivia

There are 105 different names and descriptions for Yerushalayim throughout Tanach. 97 of them are in Aramaic, and at least 8 are in Arabic. One of the Arabic terms translates to "Beit Hamikdash,"* showing that they did once have a level of respect for G-d's dwelling. (Forward to today....)

* I read this in a 2004 Olameinu issue I found in shul today. The exact Arabic term they stated escapes my mind, but I found the following on Wikipedia which strikes a similar resemblance: "Bayt al-Maqdis or Bayt al-Muqaddas is a (nowadays less common) Arabic name for Jerusalem."

Balagan

I didn't post for a week and still have nothing to write about. "Things" did happen, though. Here they are- considerably abridged and presented to you in all their chaotic glory:

1. Khaf Gimmel Elul.

2. "Palestinians" are naturally buttheaded barbarians: Acid and BMW. I'm sure you know the rest.

3. Mosh Ben Ari and Mashina and Meir Ariel and Chabad. (I was gonna leave it at Mosh. But why not throw in Mashina and Meir Ariel for alliteration and just plain euphonic good-ness? As for Chabad...*shrug*.... you know you like Hop Cossack, especially when combined with that iTunes ad, especially at 00:11 seconds with those all-too-familiar dancing girls- hehe. And if you didn't, you do now. *Nod your head in agreement*)

Note: The parenthetic comment above is cringe-inducingly poorly structured. Refer to post title for my excuse.

4. Sobering. Thoughts from too much time spent in front of my biochem. notebook: We know the cause of so many freakin' diseases. Where's the cure? (Ahem. Here's Your cue to redeem us and return us East.)

5. Shevah brachot... in a bar. Ya.

6. Lessons of life: When tutoring a younger sibling in math- ha! - and you are presented with a question you prove incapable of answering, feel free to respond as follows: "It's math, you're not supposed to understand it." Your student will surely, with a most matter-of-fact countenance and nod, accept this as a valid response.

Also, make sure to note that according to math jargon, a "plane" does not refer to the shape of an "airplane"- such a mistake could lead to much confusion when referencing the number of points on this plane.

7. First day of classes tomorrow... woot!

The Source of Science

I think science is the atheists' form of connecting to G-d. That sounds contradictory, but nod and pretend you get it.

I have taken a semi-reasonable amount of science courses throughout my undergrad studies to grant myself the right to draw my own conclusions about the science professors' psyche. It doesn't cease to amaze me that while their brains contain knowledge of some of the most mind-boggling discoveries of the world, they're simultaneously so lacking. Molecular wonders stare them straight in the face, and yet they can't attribute it to a higher Source. Somehow it seems sensible to them to give credit to Nature for overcoming the laws of probability. Feh! It's so cold to strip the world of spirituality and explain everything by the raw physical.

Today I had a 2.5 hour biochemistry lecture and a subsequent four hour lab (... and let me note that this is all before the Fall semester begins for me). The structure of proteins. Lovely subject, really. As the professor clicked away at the overhead projector she couldn't help but continuously exclaim "Beautiful!" by examples of wonderfully symmetrical complex folding patterns of certain proteins. "Beautiful!... It's amazing that Nature could do that." She had me at "beautiful," but the latter part left me a bit incredulous. Do you really think those amino acids have such a high level of intellect that they were able to so magnificently sequence themselves in that pattern and fold into that complex form on their own?

But, hey, they probably slide me under the category of "insane peoples of the world" because of my religious beliefs, so far be it for me to tell them what to think..... I do, however, reserve judgment to point out the irony of how they so lifelessly study (what else is the name for a world stripped of spirituality?) the "study of life" (= biology).

I had a bio. professor who dared call us the cousins of a certain blobby-worm-like creature. (I apologize for my colloquial nomenclature of said bug and for stripping it of any scientific integrity as the name slips my mind at the moment.) We could view that as a form of science or I can just permit myself to excuse her rude connection as a result of her own lack of self-esteem.

Jokes aside, I can't imagine anyone truly stripping life of any and all spirituality. Sometimes you just don't know the words for what it is you're seeing. It's like a quote I just read (and I'm not sure if I'm allowed to be paraphrasing it here, but "eh"...) about a person who asks a fish if he believes in water. The fish answers that his grandfather was religious- he believed in water- "but I'm not so sure myself." He knows he lives in some liquid substance, he just doesn't understand the name of it- "water." Same with these scientists: They devote their lives and careers to examining the holiness of creation without realizing that it has a Source, that there is a name for it.

Perhaps when they remark "it's beautiful!" it's their own way of saying thank You for what is.

Chakh-Chakh and Vouz-Vouz

I'm not sure how comfortable I am posting this, but here it is-- Thoughts not yet fully developed in my mind, but I thought I would jot them down anyway for the record:

One of the soldiers I had met in Israel was in town for a few days, so I spent some time playing the part of tour-guide (and tourist). But the touring isn't what this post is about.

Last night he revealed he was "smolani"- left wing. I can't say that didn't lead to a few deep gasps of shock and a request for an oxygen mask. (Okay, so the actual scene was sans drama and I'm not sure I would agree to call myself "right wing," anyway.)

Discussions abound. He was in favor of disengagement at the time it occurred. (Thankfully, he had no hand in it, however.) I still have my orange ribbon hanging in my room. He says he sees that a mass withdrawal from the land didn't fix anything (in fact, I think we could safely say it messed things up more), but he still shrugs "why not?" at giving away land. - "Anything for peace."

And that's okay. Well, not really- I hate those ideas- but his opinions stem from the same place mine do: trying to find the right solution for our Land. However, the part I found unbearable was the hopeless fatigue he represented as he searched to escape the problems by moving to North America. In my mind, he could leave for any other reason, but hopelessness was an inexcusable reason. You yourself fought for all of that, we shed so much blood for it, and you're willing to throw in the towel now?

His ideas sort of reverberated some perspectives I had picked up during my stay in Israel. While patriotism does very much exist, it seems like more than a handful of Israel's youth don't feel that same incredible attachment to the Land. They want to explore outside of their borders. And it's understandable. I'm not waving around a blue and white flag while trying to convince the Jews of the world that it is an absolute must to move to Israel either. Nor do I identify with Herzl or his form of Zionism. But I still feel an overwhelming amount of love for the Land, dream relentlessly of being there, and hope to physically live there someday.*

I guess it's one of those things that you could only truly appreciate if you've been distanced from it long enough.

I'm not so sure if I'm really getting out my thoughts as I mean for them to appear, but I'm falling asleep in front of the screen and I just want to get this thought out there for now. So for now this is what it is. Perhaps I'll expound on it later. Or not.


* Not too long ago I was at a dinner party in which all the older folk felt the need to discuss the wonder of my "Israel fever"- their words- as though I was a supreme curiosity. Hehe.

Tikkun Khatzot

I once woke up late at night to pray Tikkun Khatzot. That was before I found out it was a no-no for women.* In any case, it was an unbelievably out-of-this-world soulful experience. Something about the midnight silence. The world is still. It's just you and Him. Him and you. Those words of profound depth. You whispering- your soul screaming- to Him, Abba. It's as if your supplications suddenly take a leap from monologue to touching dialogue with Him. And you feel Him there, listening.

Try it... if you're a guy, that is.

Eons ago, in high school, I read Rebbetzin Esther Jungreis' book, "The Committed Life." It may have been the first time I really learned of Tikkun Khatzot, but I recall sitting in bed late at night reading this passage which left me in tear-filled awe:

"There is a tradition that David, King of Israel, would place his harp on his terrace, and at midnight, as the winds of Jerusalem blew, they would caress the strings and the harp would begin to play, beckoning the king to write his immortal, beautiful psalms. David's harp may have disappeared in the sands of time, but the winds of Jerusalem continued to blow, and if you know how to concentrate, if you know how to listen with your heart, at midnight at the Wall you can still hear the sweet music of David's harp.

"At this magic hour, there are certain regulars who can be found at the Wall. I guess they can best be described as the guardians of this holy place- among them, a Sephardic Jew, who in an eerie but powerful voice cries out, 'Shema Yisrael - Hear, oh Israel, the L-rd our G-d, the L-rd is One.' He draws out each and every syllable of each and every word until it penetrates your soul. And then there is an old man dressed in white, who sits on the floor in mourning. He weeps and prays the entire night for our Holy Temple which is no more. His cries pierce the very heavens, and listening to him, you feel very grateful that he is there, for you realize that your prayers might just ascend to the Heavenly Gates on the wings of his supplications. Just being in the presence of such sanctity is so all-powerful that it can infuse you with a surge of spirituality and the ability to pray."

I want to feel that too.

I Just Really Want to tell the Story of Beetle

I'm making an effort to report here news of incredible importance, as equivalent to that reported by the evening news stations. Today's happenings in the life of Rachel:

1. If any of you are aware of a certain definition the term "Khara" may hold, I'm sure you will agree with me that it's not a proper name for a person. Yet I will assure you that there is indeed a girl in this world named Khara. I just encountered it ("it"- as in "the name." I didn't meet her personally) moments ago.

2. During the summer season there is an horrendous black beetle that invades my side of town. I write that in the singular as: a) I have never seen more than one at a time (that would probably result in a coronary), and b) I'm sure whatever breeds such a monster requires a terrific amount of effort, so that creating two of its kind would be near impossible.

Black Beetle terrorizes the neighborhood with a buzzing sound reminiscent of an electricity plant, and thus announces its own arrival before anybody could even spot it. When it is spotted, people tend to run with childish fright, leaving their dignity behind along with their picnic baskets. (In fact, just yesterday, it buzzed by my ear at a whopping 50 mph. By the time I turned to look to see what it was, it was already over the neighbor's yard. I was near tears at the thought of it having skimmed by my head!)

What does this have to do with today's happenings, you ask?
Black Beetle was found dead in the yard today. After the initial shock of seeing the corpse of the devil with those inch-thick legs jutting heavenward, I approached it with caution (it could have been playing momentary possum, as it waited to attack me as prey) and discovered it had a shiny lime green underbelly. Ichs!

Approximately a quarter of an hour after discovering the dead beetle body, I returned to the yard only to discover the body was no longer there. ::cue tune from Psycho::

... Then I found out someone had just kicked it to the side. The end.

More on Schedule and Class

My professor just bailed out on me (...but points for him for doing so in a genuinely kind manner). I have a few weeks left until classes begin, and he only just now emails me to let me know that he had to move the class period to another day and time of week because he had some scheduling conflicts. The problem is that he moved the class to the precise time I have my obligatory course on Middle Eastern history. Sadfhi askldjf!! (read: "Oh man!") I was looking forward to his class. In any case, he asked me to get in touch with him regarding his other graduate courses in the spring.... I can't be sure that it will work out, but for now: hurray for pisher undergrads invading graduate courses!

The syllabus for the Mid. Eastern history class was just posted up, and as much as I am hesitant about having to take another class with Mr. GagMe I. Stink (I mentioned him here before), I am fist-in-air excited. In case your geek-tracking radar just went off: No, I didn't literally pump my fist in the air. Oh, and can you say Mamluk?

On Soul and Stone

You pass through the security check eagerly anticipating what awaits you on the other side. The young guard gives you a nod and you walk past him, only to see another path ahead- you figure you still have a ways to go.

So you walk. Past the motley groups and diverse faces, past family.

Then you make a sharp turn to the right, and it takes you unexpected- that Wall of stone.

The world stops turning. Time stops. The crowd freezes in still silence. And it’s only you. You and It.

You and It. You and the Stone. You and Him.

Walk. Forward. Awe. You approach the Kotel after years. Years. Trembling body. Teary faced.

And there, by Wall, you stand pressed to Stone for eternity.

… Until the person responsible for gathering the fallen notes from the ground gets tired of waiting for you to move. Oversized broom sweeps around your feet- and you return from that physical prod. You look down and see a few notes remain around your feet; you smile at their good fortune. You look up, and a dove sits nestled in hyssop and wild caper.

They call you to leave. And you can’t leave. Because if you leave- walking backward, faced to Wall- you will keep moving further and further away. Until two days later you face Wall from thousands of miles away.

Quick Notes on Weekend

- If ever there was a person who could make it an easy matter to sit next to a Rosh Yeshiva from Yerushalayim and chat about non-Torah matters it would be- ::raise a guilty hand:: - me. Hehe.

- When you have a Hakhnasat Sefer Torah in Yerushalayim, it is out of this world amazing. (Anything that consists of a float, besides parades, is amazing.)

- I’m happy to report that I dream of Kotel. Literally.

Roomy and I have this little game of engaging one another in conversation if and when one of us sleep talks. Last week I was the sleep talker. Roomy reports the conversation went like so:

Me: “Look we’re at the Kotel!”
Roomy: “No we’re not.”
Me: “Yes, look! Right here! In front of us.”
Roomy: “Nope.”
Me: “Shut up!” (… I s’ppose I have a bit of an attitude problem in my dreams.)

Something New

I did it. I got up at five a.m for slichot. Points for me.