Sunday, June 08, 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Haveil Havalim- The Almost Purim Edition is live
Haveil Havalim- The Almost Purim Edition is live. Come check it out here!
Monday, March 10, 2008
Haveil Havalim Is Coming
This is just your friendly reminder that I (Jack) am hosting the next edition of Haveil Havalim at my blog.
Submit your blog article to the next edition of Haveil Havalim using our carnival submission form. Past posts and future hosts can be found on our blog carnival index page.
Submit your blog article to the next edition of Haveil Havalim using our carnival submission form. Past posts and future hosts can be found on our blog carnival index page.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Haveil Havalim #157
Haveil Havalim #157 is ready for your consumption and consideration.
Submit your blog article to the next edition of Haveil Havalim using our carnival submission form. Past posts and future hosts can be found on our blog carnival index page.
Submit your blog article to the next edition of Haveil Havalim using our carnival submission form. Past posts and future hosts can be found on our blog carnival index page.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
HH #155- The Falling Asleep At My Computer Edition
HH #155- The Falling Asleep At My Computer Edition is now live. Click on down the road and check it out.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Painting a Life
Sometime in the middle of eighth grade, I switched allegiance from Bnei Akiva to Ezra. I don't remember why, but I must have had some compelling reason, because Bnei Akiva met right up the block, on Pisgah Street in Bayit V'gan, and Ezra met miles and miles away, somewhere in Rechavia.
So on Shabbat afternoon, I walked up the stone stairway with my friend Esther and waved to Shifra. Shifra lived not in a stone building like ours but in a small wooden house. The house was full of red-headed children, one of them a tall girl who ran breathlessly to meet us.
Now we were walking across a field dotted with wild red poppies. It was hot afternoon, the springtime sun beating down on us. We wore long sleeved cotton blouses and long blue skirts. We also wore pantyhose, covering our legs. But as we climbed up a rocky ledge, Esther suddenly turned around. "Hide me," she said. She ducked down and when she stood back up, the stockings were in her hand instead of on her legs. She unceremoniously dumped them in a trash can by a bus stop.
"That feels much better," she said. Shifra and I stared at her bare legs. My legs were itchy from the hose. I should have just worn knee socks, but on Shabbat I always wore hose. I didn't take them off. We were almost there anyway, I reasoned. Shifra was mad at Esther and scolded her in rapid Hebrew that neither of us understood. Americayit, said Shifra. And not in a good way.
I liked Ezra. I liked the songs. I liked the little building where we met. The girls in one room, the boys in another. Later, we were together for Havdalah and then a campfire. Pulling potatoes from the campfire and drinking black coffee. Strange and wonderful to me. Then walking through the streets of Jerusalem, singing our songs. Sometimes we walked to the Kotel for Ma'ariv. I don't remember everything: it was thirty years ago and sometimes seems like a dream.
Sometimes, when I was young, when I was with someone I cared for, I tried to explain what I wanted life to be. How I thought it should have colors like a painting and different textures. How certain moments glow. But I found myself among rationalists. It was a long time before I met a fellow dreamer who knew the importance of a rich and fully realized, deeply felt life.
When I think about being Jewish, I think about all those things. I think also about the past, not my own but that of my parents and grandparents. I think about how each letter in a Torah scroll must be perfect, the lessons of scribes handed down through generations. I remember a Lower East side store where beautiful cloth in every color and pattern filled shelves and covered tables. These were scarves for covering a woman's hair. In another store, in another country, at the corner of Ben Yehuda street and King George, was a store where we bought our thread to crochet kippot. All the colors were there too. And we used the same thread to decorate the blouses we wore in a parade in Jerusalem.
None of these are reasons to be Jewish, but they are the things that transport me. Like walking to the Kotel at sunset, like the sounds of the songs in the old shul, which were nothing near harmonious, but the voices were both old and young and always real.
So on Shabbat afternoon, I walked up the stone stairway with my friend Esther and waved to Shifra. Shifra lived not in a stone building like ours but in a small wooden house. The house was full of red-headed children, one of them a tall girl who ran breathlessly to meet us.
Now we were walking across a field dotted with wild red poppies. It was hot afternoon, the springtime sun beating down on us. We wore long sleeved cotton blouses and long blue skirts. We also wore pantyhose, covering our legs. But as we climbed up a rocky ledge, Esther suddenly turned around. "Hide me," she said. She ducked down and when she stood back up, the stockings were in her hand instead of on her legs. She unceremoniously dumped them in a trash can by a bus stop.
"That feels much better," she said. Shifra and I stared at her bare legs. My legs were itchy from the hose. I should have just worn knee socks, but on Shabbat I always wore hose. I didn't take them off. We were almost there anyway, I reasoned. Shifra was mad at Esther and scolded her in rapid Hebrew that neither of us understood. Americayit, said Shifra. And not in a good way.
I liked Ezra. I liked the songs. I liked the little building where we met. The girls in one room, the boys in another. Later, we were together for Havdalah and then a campfire. Pulling potatoes from the campfire and drinking black coffee. Strange and wonderful to me. Then walking through the streets of Jerusalem, singing our songs. Sometimes we walked to the Kotel for Ma'ariv. I don't remember everything: it was thirty years ago and sometimes seems like a dream.
Sometimes, when I was young, when I was with someone I cared for, I tried to explain what I wanted life to be. How I thought it should have colors like a painting and different textures. How certain moments glow. But I found myself among rationalists. It was a long time before I met a fellow dreamer who knew the importance of a rich and fully realized, deeply felt life.When I think about being Jewish, I think about all those things. I think also about the past, not my own but that of my parents and grandparents. I think about how each letter in a Torah scroll must be perfect, the lessons of scribes handed down through generations. I remember a Lower East side store where beautiful cloth in every color and pattern filled shelves and covered tables. These were scarves for covering a woman's hair. In another store, in another country, at the corner of Ben Yehuda street and King George, was a store where we bought our thread to crochet kippot. All the colors were there too. And we used the same thread to decorate the blouses we wore in a parade in Jerusalem.
None of these are reasons to be Jewish, but they are the things that transport me. Like walking to the Kotel at sunset, like the sounds of the songs in the old shul, which were nothing near harmonious, but the voices were both old and young and always real.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Haveil Havalim #151- The P.S.D. Edition
Come on by and review Haveil Havalim #151- The P.S.D. Edition. Try it, you'll like it.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Oy Veh!
It's been so long since we've written here... But I got an email that let me know people are still reading the older, archived posts. Maybe we should rejuvenate this blog? ("Rejewvenate"?)
Just to kick-start it a little: Here an interesting tid-bit I learned this morning. I was looking up information on Jews from Galitzia (Galitzianers) and in Wikipedia read this:
1. The Jews were the third largest religious group in the region,
2. The Jews living in Galitzia were mostly religious Jews observing rabbinical Judaism,
3. Life must have been terribly hard, with an average life span of 27-28 years.
Is it significant that the Orthodox Jewish way of life may have taken form at a time when people had a drastically shorter lifespan? If you had only 28 years to live, certainly that would affect your approach to religion, to marriage and family, to education.
That average life span noted in Wikipedia is the average for all people of the region. Did Jews live longer due to better health habits (eating Kosher, washing hands, etc.)? I wonder. There must be some records that still exist. It would be an interesting area for research.
While poking around on the Internet, I found this moving and disturbing, detailed book on Jewish life in Korczyna, Poland. Sigh. These stories all end the same way, and that's the sad thing. But at least we are here today to look back.
************
P.S. I notice that comments are not working on this blog. I will contact Chaim about that.
P.S.S. With Chaim's approval, I updated this blog to Blogger II. Changed the template but kept the beautiful header. Comments are working now. It's a new year!
Just to kick-start it a little: Here an interesting tid-bit I learned this morning. I was looking up information on Jews from Galitzia (Galitzianers) and in Wikipedia read this:
In 1773, Galicia had about 2.6 million inhabitants in 280 cities and market towns and approx. 5 500 villages...So, several interesting things here:No country of the Austrian monarchy had such a varied ethnic mix as Galicia: Poles, Ukrainians, Jews, Germans, Armenians, Czechs, Slovaks, Hungarians, Roma, etc.
The Jews of Galicia had immigrated in the Middle Ages from Germany...
Poles were Roman Catholic, the Ruthenians (or Rusyn, now mostly calling themselves Ukrainians) belonged to Byzantine-Slavonic Greek Catholic Church. The Jews represented the third largest religious group, who kept mostly strictly their rabbinical faith.
The average life expectancy was 27 years for men and 28.5 years for women....
1. The Jews were the third largest religious group in the region,
2. The Jews living in Galitzia were mostly religious Jews observing rabbinical Judaism,
3. Life must have been terribly hard, with an average life span of 27-28 years.
Is it significant that the Orthodox Jewish way of life may have taken form at a time when people had a drastically shorter lifespan? If you had only 28 years to live, certainly that would affect your approach to religion, to marriage and family, to education.
That average life span noted in Wikipedia is the average for all people of the region. Did Jews live longer due to better health habits (eating Kosher, washing hands, etc.)? I wonder. There must be some records that still exist. It would be an interesting area for research.
While poking around on the Internet, I found this moving and disturbing, detailed book on Jewish life in Korczyna, Poland. Sigh. These stories all end the same way, and that's the sad thing. But at least we are here today to look back.
************
P.S. I notice that comments are not working on this blog. I will contact Chaim about that.
P.S.S. With Chaim's approval, I updated this blog to Blogger II. Changed the template but kept the beautiful header. Comments are working now. It's a new year!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Haveil Havalim- A New Sheriff In Town
That is right folks, there is a new sheriff in town and his name is Jack. In the coming weeks I am going to take over the administrative responsiblities for Haveil Havalim.
I strongly urge anyone who reads this blog to participate in it. If you have any questions hop over to my blog and I'll fill you in on the details.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Hello G-d? It's Me, Chaim.
Wow, this place has cobwebs all over it. This blog needs a digital dusting! I haven't written a post here in ages. My bad. This in concept is one of my favorite blog ideas. But it's just faded. I big thanks goes to Jack for coming in, making sure the lights still work every once in a while.
Anyway, I was just checking my old e-mail and saw that someone asked me to feature their blog on this website. So I said what the hey, nothing else is happening. I checked out the blog, it was very cool.
Check out Hassidic Rambler. Extra points for being a song title from one of my favorite CD's, 8th Day.
... and who knows, maybe I'll find some inspiration to write something worth while on this blog.
If ANYONE ELSE wants to write something for the blog e-mail me!
Anyway, I was just checking my old e-mail and saw that someone asked me to feature their blog on this website. So I said what the hey, nothing else is happening. I checked out the blog, it was very cool.
Check out Hassidic Rambler. Extra points for being a song title from one of my favorite CD's, 8th Day.
... and who knows, maybe I'll find some inspiration to write something worth while on this blog.
If ANYONE ELSE wants to write something for the blog e-mail me!
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Friday, January 12, 2007
Why The Baal Teshuva World Irritates Me
I am not FFB, but I have a number of friends who are. I am not BT and not real likely to go that route. I have watched many friends go down that path and haven't had the most pleasant reaction to what I have seen.
The internal struggle that many of them has gone through has created so many tumultuous situations. Time after time I have witnessed terrible fighting with their relatives and the complete severance of decade long friendships.
I understand and appreciate that they have found a spiritual calling. I can respect that. I don't have any problem with people choosing to find the derech. But I cannot condone the bridge burning that many of their supporters encourage them to do.
When the only way that you can find security in your new place is to rid yourself of all of your old world ties there is a problem. It comes off as being cultlike and I think that it is sad.
Not all of my friends growth resembled Sherman's march through Atlanta. Some of them found a path that allowed them to do what they had to do without badmouthing their friends and relatives. Some of them were secure enough to accept that not everyone was going to be like them.
And some understood that you attract more flies with honey. They recognized that patronizing comments were unwarranted and that building bridges made more sense.
I suppose that part of what bothers me about this stems from their refusal to accept that there are those of us who have chosen to maintain our level of observance. Just as they feel like they have come to a place of spiritual growth so have we.
I recall one friend who grew up in a completely secular home trying to teach me how I could be more observant and become a better Jew. The former three day a year Jew thinking that 18 months of learning meant that he knew more than 25 years of practicing Judaism.
Why? Because the people he was surrounded by taught him that any Judaism that was different from their own wasn't real. Quite shameful and quite sad. A real chillul Hashem.
I don't want to belabor the point. I don't have a problem with BTs in general and applaud their decision. All I expect is that they open their eyes and look around. In spite of what some say, it is a big world and there is no one singular path to Hashem.
Just as they say they'll daven for me, I daven for them.
(Originally posted here)
The internal struggle that many of them has gone through has created so many tumultuous situations. Time after time I have witnessed terrible fighting with their relatives and the complete severance of decade long friendships.
I understand and appreciate that they have found a spiritual calling. I can respect that. I don't have any problem with people choosing to find the derech. But I cannot condone the bridge burning that many of their supporters encourage them to do.
When the only way that you can find security in your new place is to rid yourself of all of your old world ties there is a problem. It comes off as being cultlike and I think that it is sad.
Not all of my friends growth resembled Sherman's march through Atlanta. Some of them found a path that allowed them to do what they had to do without badmouthing their friends and relatives. Some of them were secure enough to accept that not everyone was going to be like them.
And some understood that you attract more flies with honey. They recognized that patronizing comments were unwarranted and that building bridges made more sense.
I suppose that part of what bothers me about this stems from their refusal to accept that there are those of us who have chosen to maintain our level of observance. Just as they feel like they have come to a place of spiritual growth so have we.
I recall one friend who grew up in a completely secular home trying to teach me how I could be more observant and become a better Jew. The former three day a year Jew thinking that 18 months of learning meant that he knew more than 25 years of practicing Judaism.
Why? Because the people he was surrounded by taught him that any Judaism that was different from their own wasn't real. Quite shameful and quite sad. A real chillul Hashem.
I don't want to belabor the point. I don't have a problem with BTs in general and applaud their decision. All I expect is that they open their eyes and look around. In spite of what some say, it is a big world and there is no one singular path to Hashem.
Just as they say they'll daven for me, I daven for them.
(Originally posted here)
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