Originally from the UK, we made aliyah 2006. Having made the move to a new country we soon embarked on many more 'news' too - new baby, new professions; new life.
We have changed our location, language, culture, work and family life. Every aspect of our lives is different here. It felt like throwing the pieces of our old life up in the air and re-assembling them as they fell.
See how life is treating us by reading my occasional blog.
Showing posts with label Jewish festivals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jewish festivals. Show all posts
Nearly there…. oven scrubbed, fridge dismantled, defrosted and de-chametzed, house starting to take shape.The pesach cleaning seems to be on schedule and, as fatigue starts to kick in, the end, thankfully appears to be in sight.
I’m looking forward sitting in my clean house without noticing a cobweb, some crumbs, some net curtains that need a clean.It will be nice to be able to sit down without subconsciously making a mental checklist of all those things still left to do.
Whilst my head has been full of the bigger picture it was interesting to find out via an email group posting, the answer to one of pesach’s timeless quandaries.
Rosh Hashannah.It came… it went.We prayed… we ate.
We have now started the crazy season.Jewish holiday after Jewish holiday.You just get geared up and prepared for one and then another one is around the corner.Perhaps they are on special offer – buy one, get one free?!
But each one has a different character, meaning and role in our lives.Each one merits contemplation and reflection. Every holiday can teach us something about our past, which in turn can help shape our future.
Towards the end of the second day; having prayed, entertained and eaten, I took the little one out for a walk.We ended up at the park and as she worked her way enthusiastically around the swings, slide and other rides, I took in the wonderful view of the Shomron Hills. It is a view I always appreciate; hill after hill, cascading over each other as far as the eye can see.It was the afternoon and the low sun and drifting clouds spread lazy shadows over the land.The grass tones darkened in the shadows and the shades of green seemed to alter in front of my eyes as the clouds moved gently across the sky.
The infectious laughter of my daughter, delighted by her swift descents from the slide provided intermittent interruptions to the peace and quiet around me.
I thought about the recent articles in the paper; this land again appears to be on the chopping block – up for grabs, to be given away cheaply on the whim of a weak and misguided Government.Usually, at Passover, we say, ‘Next year in Jerusalem’;a 2,000 year old yearning that was finally realized with the creation of the State of Israel. This New Year, I had my own silent prayer, ‘Next year, and the year after, and the year after… may we still be living in this beautiful place; somewhere our forefathers settled; somewhere our patriarchs are buried; somewhere our future generations deserve to inherit.’
I don’t think I have ever appreciated living anywhere as much as I do living here.
I don’t think I have ever felt such gnawing fear that the place where I live, somewhere as precious as this, could be so easily discarded.
During this holiday period we consider our past and prepare for our future.We do this on an individual basis.It seems to me though, that we could do with doing this collectively.
Where are we going as a people?
How do we reconcile our own internal differences and integrate as one people?
How do we live in peace and protect our children without the need to chop more and more land away from our already tiny homeland?
And so as my daughter threw her head back in innocent glee, I said my silent prayer, hoping that faith and appreciation would in some way hold sway. Hoping that I could pause time, capture the moment, preserve our life here on this land of our forefathers; hoping , beyond hope, that it will be the land of our descendants too.
Tisha B’Av – the anniversary of the destruction of both Temples; the date of multiple expulsions of the Jews and a date to mark the rise of our most recent modern tormentor.
Tisha B’Av, an ominous and important day in the Jewish calendar and yet... a strange kind of a day too.We can drive, watch tv, use the computer – in some ways it feels like a normal day.Yet it is undeniably somber.There does not seem to be a uniform way to mark it, other than fasting and reading the Book of Lamentations.
This year my older kids both had friends around, so the house was busy.I decided to read to them about Anne Frank.We sat down together and learned about a sad episode of our history.They did what kids do; asked questions, came up with ideas as to what they might have done and got enthused about keeping a diary.
My ten year old fasted for the first time.I was so proud of him and he was really pleased with himself too.My eight year old just had a few snacks but also went without for most of the day.
It is hard to fast with a busy house and a little one to amuse but I got through and hastily made myself a nice cup of tea to break the fast with.As they say, you can take the girl out of England but you can’t take England out of the girl!
The Remembrance Day for Israel’s soldiers started last night.The television screened footage documenting the all too short lives of many fallen heroes. We hear their families, friends and army colleagues describe them, bringing alive the video snippets and photos that we see on the screen.They talk about the special qualities and achievements of their loved ones, tears rolling down their cheeks.
We see vivacious, carefree teenagers and young people celebrating with friends and family at weddings, bar mitzvahs and on holiday. They paid the ultimate price to keep Israel safe.
They all died too young, denied further friendships, experiences, successes, children; denied a future, whatever that may have brought.Watching the footage and listening to the personal stories of one family after another is heartbreaking.
The scale of death from war after war can sometimes be hard to comprehend.Like the Holocaust, an enormity sometimes just too immense to fathom, the telling of individual stories is an effective way for us to be able to effectively mourn those who gave their lives so that we and our children can live in Israel today.
The sirens sound and we think of these brave young men and women. We say a prayer for them and hope, beyond hope, that our own children will have a future of peace and security.
