Israel Catch Up

Afternoon Reflections in the Dead Sea

Shalom from Arad,

“Please tell me why you are hanging on the clothesline like a bat,” our editor asked, not unreasonably we thought. “I hope this is not a new form of pondering.”
“We need to dry off before shul; this is the only thing that seems to work in the heat. Maybe our kids are right—we ought to ‘hang-out’ more often. By the way, wasn’t it you who said things will cool off after Rosh Hashana.” Well, that did not go over too well with the boss as we returned from up North to Netanya for Yom Kippur. Now we are feeling a little infantile. At least, there is still Ellie to ‘hang-out’ with when we return.

Maybe being in Israel is having an effect. I suppose the language is proving to be a problem. Wherever we go—Netanya, Tiberias, Arad—, we struggle to make ourselves understood. We try hard to fathom what people say. Before we arrived, we studied Hebrew conversation using our old tape recordings. Alas, it just has not worked as we envisioned. Hebrew is the language of the synagogue. In the streets, you have to speak Russian. Who would have thought? America won the cold war; the Russians got some capitalism; Israel, many Russians.

We have been driving all over Israel these last seven or eight days. It is an experience. We think we could walk around proudly with a t-shirt that exclaims—We Drove Israel—(and hopefully, survived). We have never held out to be people with a sense of direction. In fact, our record attests to that. On the way to Tiberias, we came to a T-junction. We were traveling on highway 65, which according to the map, would lead directly to our destination. ‘Which way?’ we implored our editor who also fulfills the important role of navigator. We think when some ‘smart Alec’ spoke of ‘the blind leading the blind’, he or she had us in mind. ‘Stay on the 65,’ was the reply. ‘But,’ we answered, ‘the 65 just ended. It is now the 60, north or south.’ ‘Well, 60 is a close enough number to 65, so maybe that’s what they meant.’ Sometimes it isn’t our fault.

Yom Kippur in MacDonald Shul was a wonderful experience. Nora asked about the derivation of MacDonald. In fact, he was the first US Ambassador to Israel—Grover McDonald. There are some interesting facts about this man who was a strong supporter of Jews and the newly formed State. On a lighter vein, we spelt the name in one missive with an ‘a’ as in ‘Mac’. Upon turning the corner into MacDonald Street, we looked up to see the name without the ‘a’. Another error on our part. The following day, we arrived at shul from the opposite direction—(versatile rather than lost.) On the reverse of the same sign, the ‘Mc’ had an ‘a’. The Israelis are very forgiving. On checking, we notice it is without an ‘a’. Maybe tomorrow it will change.

The format in shul was exactly as expected. The theme set by the Rabbi included the ‘sin of the Golden Calf’, Hashem’s forgiveness, the covenant with the Jews, purity of the day and of course, to make the message practical. A difference was that we commenced at 7:30 am but at 13:40, stopped for…a break. Without being ‘subversive’, the gap was for a period of, 80 minutes less one deep breath, longer than that of Adat Yeshurun’s. Following services, in what would appear to be a sign of extreme observance, we only sat down to eat two hours after the fast ended. There was a mix-up in our breaking-of-the-fast arrangements and so we waited until the restaurants opened. First one to offer service was Pizza Hut—LeHaMadrin. We enjoyed caviar, washing it down with numerous cold glasses of Vodka. It felt good to be in Israel.

Perhaps the highlight, after the Shofar blowing and the completion of Kaddish, (a very moving moment as always), was gathering around the bimah and singing ‘Next year in Yerushalayim’. It was a great moment. I also wondered why the members of the shul don’t consider driving up more often or even take the train. Why wait? We intend to be there for Succot.