Hosha-na-na

From the sacred Hoshanas of Hoshana Raba:

A voice - Saviors shall ascend upon Mount Zion, for Zion has delivered and given birth - heralds and proclaims.
A voice - It is heard within all your boundaries, "Expand the area of your tents!" - heralds and proclaims.
A voice - Set up your dwellings until Damasek, receive your sons and your daughters - heralds and proclaims.
A voice - Be joyous, O rose of Sharon, for those sleeping in Hebron have arisen - heralds and proclaims.

Chag sameach!

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Yom HaZikaron, Golan Style

I'll admit it, I'm a crier. It's in my DNA. My mother is a crier. My Grandmother is a crier. I'm a crier. Lot's of things can set me off. Certainly saying goodbye to my crying grandmother, not knowing when I'll see her again makes me cry. A "realistic" Holocaust film portraying the Selection often makes me cry. Avinu Malkeinu during the Neilah service of Yom Kippur is one of the most powerful moments of the year for me. As I watch the Gates of Heaven closing for the last time of the year my heart is wrent in two as I beseech, beg really, Hashem for an ounce of His endless mercy to keep me and protect me one more year. I'm usually pretty certain He'll oblige, but the Grandness of the moment always overtakes me and leaves me sobbing in my Talit.

Yom HaZikaron can have the same effect on me. Last night's ceremony on Moshav Yonatan was one of the most moving Yom HaZikaron ceremonies I've been to since making Aliyah. Moshav Yonatan is named for Yonatan Rozenman, z"l who was killed on the Golan Heights in the Yom Kippur War and is the brother of one of the founders. The ceremony, like all Yom HaZikaron ceremonies began with the shrill siren, like a mechanical, monotone shofar. After a beautiful slide show of all the family and friends killed serving our country my son got a little tired, so I picked him up and held him the rest of the ceremony. Next everyone sang the seemingly simple request from Psalms: May there be peace within your wall, serenity within your palaces. That's when I lost it. A seemingly simple request, yet we're so far from it. As I sang that Psalm and nuzzled my nose into the sweet, musky, sweaty peyot of my three and a half year old boy, it finally hit home how badly we want peace within our wall and serenity within our palaces, but what it takes to achieve it. I felt pride at one day seeing my boy defend our Homeland but immediately was struck with the horrific, unspeakable sacrifice that could entail. I began sobbing into his little sweaty head. He let me sob for a few minutes, then took my wet cheeks in his little hands, kissed my lips, said, "Daddy, I love you" and put his head back on my shoulder.

After that it was difficult to regain composure, but I tried. We then sang one of Rambam's Thirteen Priciples of Faith: I believe with complete faith in the coming of the Mashiach, and even though eh may delay, nevertheless I anticipate every day that he will come. Here is a community that does believe with complete faith in our final Redemption, but that inevitability hasn't left them paralyzed in the Diaspora. In fact, it is the opposite; this is their, our, my, true inspiration that motivates us every second of the day to make this Home of ours better, holier and ever more prepared for our destiny.

There is no doubt the future is uncertain, but the memory of my boy taking my wet cheeks, kissing me and telling me that he loves me as I cry for our difficult past and dangerous future on Yom Hazikaron 5767 will be with me eternally.

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Got the Post TU B'Shvat Greens

There is something extra powerful about the winter prayer for rain that comes from the mouths of farmers. Since moving to Moshav Yonatan in the Golan Heights just one month ago, I've tried to do my part as well, joining my prayers for rain with those of these men of the Land. We've gotten a few sprinkles here and there, but nothing like the downpour beginning last night and continuing all day today.

The rolling hills and mountains are lush with exploding greenery and the waterfalls are gushing liquid gold straight to the Kinneret. Check out this picture of the Ayit waterfull in the central Golan. Intense.

Here in the Golan, especially in the moshavim and kibbutzim, you get a constant reminder of what it means to live close to the Land. Just this past Saturday night there was a moshav sponsored Tu B'Shvat party in the brand new lul, chicken coop, that the agricultural collective here just added to their many endeavors. The party was the moshav's way of dedicating this new state of the art, massive facility, which will eventually hold up to 25,000 chickens at a time for 3-4 month cycles. Our rabbi spoke about the connection between the last week's Torah portion, the new lul and Tu B'Shvat.

He described how it was that even after Am Yisrael witnessed the miracle of the Exodus from Egypt and the splitting of the Red Sea they still complained about not having the quantity or variety of foods they had in Egypt. In other words, you can take the slave out of Egypt, but it's tough to take the slave out of the Israelite. Part of being a slave is that although life is hard and portions might be meager, at least you know where your next pot of meat is coming from. So Hashem tides them over with the manna to show that ultimately sustenance comes from Above. But it would be a tough lesson because in the Land of Israel they had to work by the sweat of their brow to produce food. This still holds true today. And it is the working of the Land, he said, that solidifies the Jews' connection to our home. This connection is weakening throughout the population, he worries, and is leading to results like the Disengagement. That said, it is because of strongholds of Jewish agriculture, like our collective, that this connection is kept alive by sowing the seeds and deepening the roots (Tu B'shvat connection) of our future here on the Land.

Speaking of Jewish agriculture, there was a powerful write up about Shai Dromi in the local Golan paper. I'll save that for a future blog.

In the meantime, suffice it to say, I'm blessed to live in a place where the water runs fast, the rabbis speak the truth and the parties are held in chicken coops.

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