Nothing like Purim to separate the early-risers from the late-bed goers from the up all night due to teething painers.
Wait, I think we were actually all three…
In many ways, Purim is more fun when you have an extra body to shove into a costume. But you kinda miss out on the party-parties. Still a fun set of days, though.
Chanukah is 7347593x better when there is a little one in your home. I’m sure it’s twice that when the little one is old enough to appreciate it better. But for now, this is pretty awesome too.
Happy Chanukah 5770!
Yesterday we participated in what must be the oldest Jewish ritual, decended straight from (poor) Abraham. I do not envy Sarah, by the way, who had to deal with the healing of not only an 8-day-old with a bruised penis, but a moody teenager and her senior-citizen husband.
Yes, the brit mila. Ritually slicing and dicing to bring your newborn into the covenant with God. The blood and gore didn’t really bother me though. It’s the sad, slow healing process that makes it hard. Although - and I don’t care how graphic it is - when it comes to sad, slow genital healing, I can certainly relate. He should know, he was there.
…And is it not a little strange that the mohel let us keep the knife?
“Ze petek hachlafa,” he said.
Guess where the best place to shop for a mohel is?
Yes, a brit mila.
We stopped by the brit of friends’ new boy this morning and as we walked out the mohel was leaving too. My baby daddy recognized him from another brit we went to at the beginning of my pregnancy.
The mohel saw us and wished my birth “bsha’a tova.”
My husband jokingly asked, “Hey - you have a business card?”
I guess that’s not much of a joke because he did, and why wouldn’t he? Anything baby-related in Jerusalem can be big business. Especially if you perform fundamental age-old Jewish rituals.
His card reads: “Recognized by the Health Ministry, Ministry of Religion and the Rabbanut of Israel.”
I can’t help but love that.
I’m the type to get excited by the rare traditions in Judiasm. The kind I never heard about in my two decades of formal Jewish education. So waking up at 5:45 this morning to join a minyan on a Tzur Hadassah roof top didn’t really bother me, even after a late night of cooking and a long week of running around.
Birkat HaChama is a bit controversial in regards to how necessary/important/accurate it is, but I still think it’s a pretty cool concept. My shul community in Tzur Hadassah made an impressive turnout as we joined together on our rabbi’s roof-level mirpeset to watch the sun rise over the Gush Etzion hills. We recited ‘oseh ma’ase bereshit’ and a few other graphs of mentioning the sun.
Sun’s first full peeking out over the hills past Tzur Hadassah.
Congregated to bless He who does the act of creation.
Next chance to participate is in Jewish year 5797 or secular year 2037; how much will have changed by then?
The past week and a half has been intense, painful, busy, impatient, energetic, emotional, nerve-wracking and exciting. And it’s not only for the reason you’re probably assuming. I haven’t been able to get all my thoughts out in an organized manner, so instead I’ll spew them in bullet form.
Like the water? Even on Sukkot?
No problem. You can build a giant sukka on a giant boat:
Big boat…
…big sukka.
Found on the Herziliya marina yesterday.
I had never seen it, and my dad is of the priestly persuasion, so the three of us went down to the kotel in the Old City yesterday to hear/see/be present at the ginormous Birkat Kohanim for chol hamoed Sukkot.
Birkat Kohanim - known as ‘duchaning’ in Ashkenaz circles - is like a representation of the old days, when the kohanim would bless the people of Israel. On the 3 regalim - Pessach, Shavuot and Sukkot - it got more intense, since those were pilgrimage holidays. Jews from all over Israel would travel to Jerusalem, to the Beit Hamikdash, to deliver their sacrifices and be blessed.
So this was a mini pilgrimage of sorts - a traveling to the Old City, which I very rarely do anymore.
It was bursting with people, and it was the first time I’ve ever gotten a sense for what it must have been like back in the old days, when Jews would pack themselves in to even smaller spaces. It felt crowded, it stank and it was incredible to behold.
Originally, when I was considering going, I thought I was going for the view - hundreds of Kohanim gathering under their tallitot at the front of the wall. But the scene wasn’t spectacular like I thought. It was actually what I heard - the sounds of the blessings, the voices of the Kohanim, the amens of the Jewish crowd.
Take a peek (or more, take a listen) of the service here.
And the diversity, of course, can always be described in the photos:
Because I already have posted my past homemade sukkot, New York and ghetto Israeli style, I figured I’d post my first own semi-respectable Tzur Hadassah sukka:
Spacious because we have a decent-sized mirpeset. Sturdy, because we have paychecks that can buy metal poles. And fun, because I did a search for ’sukkot’ on Google Images and got some pretty interesting results (which I hung up).
If you’re lost, perhaps you’d like to read up on the holiday from this old and inaccurate description from an early 20th century American newspaper article:
It’s been a long, meatless week. We are coming to the end of the ‘Nine Days’, the mournful count between Rosh Chodesh Av to the Ninth of Av, or as it is (affectionately?) known as Tisha B’Av. During the Nine Days, we refrain from meat, wine, fancy entertainment. You know the drill.
I’m tired of pasta. I’m tired of cheese. I’m tired of dreaming about steaks and wine. Even though Tisha B’Av is on Sunday, today is effectively the last day since tonight and tomorrow are Shabbat (a.k.a reprieve). What to snack on for my last forced dairy meal?
Hell, why not a blast from the past… now in Hebrew!
