So long for now, friends. L'hitraot!

Middlebury welcomes students to the Language Schools!

Hello! Or should I say, Shalom! From Middlebury, Vermont. The trip up was fun, and I'll have a video of it at some point, maybe, or the video-shooting might have been all for naught. Either way, it was a beautiful drive up and Tuvia has left me in beautiful, but sweltering Middlebury for seven weeks.

Tonight is our first meal, Hebrew games, and getting to know everyone. It's also Shabbos, and I met at least one other girl who is Shomer Shabbos like myself (why couldn't she have been my roommate? although, my roommate hasn't actually shown up yet), so we'll see how seven Shabboses can go in Middlebury. I met the director of the program, had a conversation, and was declared an "Advanced Novice." Next, I take the plunge, and hopefully in the end, I'll be at "Advanced Intermediate." Until then, I go with the flow. Tomorrow is a tour of campus and after Shabbos ends, a big Hebrew movie night. Sunday we take some written tests and find out where we're placed. And then? Then we take the language pledge. Somewhere around 8 something or other Sunday night, I'm speaking the Hebrew.

At last, when I tell people my name is Chaviva I'll be able to follow it up with a big blabbery helping of Hebrew since the name itself is very early Zionist in its etymology. People expect me to be fluent. I know, I could have picked Rachel or Leah or Tzipporah or something. Oh well, I'm difficult.

So this will be my last blog post in English (I think, unless I get the hinkling for a post-Shabbos ditty, that is), and henceforth you'll likely just be getting photos out of me. I don't want to try and write b'ivrit until I'm wholly comfortable with what I'm attempting to say. Call me crazy, but I'm a hardcore perfectionist who likes to be, well, perfect, in all things. It's damaging most of the time, but it gives me the oomph to achieve life's greatest goals.

I hope you all stick around, pop in every now and again to see if maybe I've written something. Otherwise, well, I guess I'll see you in about seven weeks, post-Hebrew immersion, with what hopefully will be lots of interesting stories and a whole lot of Hebrew learnin'.

Be well, l'hitraot, and Shabbat Shalom!

BEGIN HIATUS!

Taking a Mini-Break ... sort of.

It's a new month, and 2009 is nearly upon us. Thank G-d it's already 5769 and I don't really have to think about a new year! But I wanted to pop in to let everyone know that for the next week, perhaps two, I will be really MIA. I have a lot of things I want to write about -- keeping Shabbos over the past month with a significant other, hot water pots, already-on ovens, separating meat and dairy and the interesting conundrums it has presented, getting to shul, and more. But I have two term papers (one of which is presently 20 pages and the other of which is about 15 and growing) to work on and a few finals to focus my attentions toward. As such, I just can't be present on my blog in the way I'd like to be. So there will be short snippets of news stories and what have you, but nothing really that fascinating, and for this? I ask for your patience until I return fully and for your continued support! This blog is my world, and having so many readers means so much to me. I'll be back for about a week after my finals, and then, on December 17, I trek off to Israel for a life-altering experience on Birthright. I won't be live blogging, most likely, but I will be alive and well. If I can figure out how to text a post, I'll be sure to do it!

On a similar note, another reason I'm stepping away is because my energy level is at a bottom right now. I feel like the Freddy, the dog in this photo. I just want to sleep! As you all know, I was dealing with strep throat about three weeks ago. I took a 10-day dose of penicillin, and I was better for about four or five days, after which I started getting some similar symptoms. I couldn't swallow anything, not even water, without excruciating pain. I was exhausted, my glands were the size of baseballs, and there was a pressure in my head, nose, ears, and neck that I cannot even begin to put into words! Luckily, things only got really bad after Thanksgiving, so I was able to enjoy some time with the S.O.'s family. But on Friday morning, we had to drive about 45 minutes to the nearest urgent care/hospital in the middle-of-nowhere, Pennsylvania, so I could be diagnosed. The doctor immediately surmised it was mono (although he mentioned that since it had been 2.5 weeks, I likely was outside the window for showing positive for mono), took a swab test for strep (which I'm still waiting on) and sent me off to the hospital for blood tests. Later Friday, he called to tell me that he couldn't tell for sure whether it was NOT mono, but he did know that I had developed a bacterial infection. I was sent to the pharmacy just after the start of Shabbat (which bummed me out, but was necessary) for a prescription that was penicillin + more antibiotics to help fight the infection.

Needless to say, I'm feeling a lot better than I was Thursday night and Friday during the day, but I'm not even at 60 percent right now. I'm fatigued, my glands are still swollen, and my skin is more ghostly than normal! One friend quipped that I even looked like I had mono. Ach! So I'm going to be sleeping a lot, working on papers, and messing around with Hebrew while trying to get better.

And maybe ... just maybe ... I'll get around to reading the nearly 300 blog posts I'm behind on. You bloggers have been busy over the past six days. It's frustrating to be so behind. If you have a blog post that you think I should most certainly spend some time on -- email me or put the link in the comments below.

Until I return with stories of Shabbos and crazy racists in the Poconos ... be well!

It's snowing, but I have news!

First thing's first: The University of Connecticut accepted me to their master's program in Judaic studies! SCORE! This is exciting, as it begins the process of waiting to hear from the other three schools to which I applied. I haven't heard about financial aid yet, but I'm just stoked. Those who know me well know that I've been waiting to get back to school since graduating with a degree and taking a job I wasn't really that "into" any longer. Of course, there's a good chance I could fail miserably at grad school, and I'll realize what I really want to be is a journalist. We're blessed with the option to flip and flop and choose our paths all we want. Give me a fork in the road, darn't. SO ... YAHHHH SCHOOL!

Secondly, here's a post I put up over on Jewsbychoice.org today. I guess I'm the Torah-girl in residence of sorts. Anyhow, give it a read, folks.

This week’s Torah portion is T’rumah, which means gift or offering. This is the portion of Exodus where the instructions are given for the Tabernacle (Mishkan) and all Israelites whose hearts so moved them are instructed to round up the supplies for the construction of the structure, a "sanctuary" for G-d. And within this Tabernacle, G-d will dwell among the Israelites.

I wanted to write, just briefly, to take note of that last sentence. The portion says that the purpose of the construction of the Mishkan is so that G-d may dwell among the Israelites, and of course my initial worry about this and the portion as it is composed, is the idea of idolatry. The purpose, perhaps, of the construction of this structure, to be with the Israelites, is so that the feeling of G-d at Sinai can be with the Jews always, as we know that moments and instances of intensity are fleeting. What if we forget that feeling? The Tabernacle, thus, is a physical site to "represent the presence of G-d" in the midst of the community. It is to become a "sacred space." (These quoted words come from my reading of Etz Chayim, the Conservative chumash w/commentary.) My concern, of course, comes from the idea that an object can represent G-d, or at least do so in the eyes of the community. How does a community draw lines? How does a community — a new community like the Israelites — define the sacred space without allowing the sacred space to become that which is worshiped?

We see in many religions that symbols become almost worshiped items — figures of saints or holy places. The cross itself has become a worshiped symbol among Christian believers. I know some might take offense to that idea, but that is my opinion of the object. Many have said to me that Jews wearing the magen David is quite the same thing, taking a symbol and placing it forth as an idol of sorts. Of course, for those who know the story of the star of David, the idea that it is symbolic as an idol is preposterous. It is by no means a necessarily "holy" symbol so much as it is a representative symbol — but most definitely not worshiped.

But for believers — of all faiths — the struggle with the unknown in a place where everything is physical, immediate, and evident is difficult. You can see the computer in front of you, and you know precisely what it is. But for the religious, you do not know of G-d or the afterlife or anything beyond the immediately physical realm. Creating idols and symbols to worship makes sense out of that which we do not understand.

But the sages have said that the importance of sacred space was to remind us that G-d does not exist exclusively in the heavens, "remote from humanity" — or rather, that G-d has not forsaken us. Exodus 25:8, which says the structure is that so G-d may "dwell among them," is meant to serve as this reminder. The Tabernacle as such is not per se a sacred space of G-d’s dwelling, but rather a physical reminder of a non-physical presence.

Of course, on a related note, we know that with the destruction of the temples came Rabbinic Judaism and the permeation of the synagogue as the house of meeting for Jews. The synagogue (or shul or temple) serves as the modern-day Tabernacle with some more social features, perhaps than the former. The synagogue has many holy objects that remind us of the presence of G-d, and perhaps it can be said that the synagogue serves so much as a physical reminder of G-d’s presence, dwelling among us in modern times.

So my question, amid this little Torah spiel, to you all is to express what purpose the synagogue serves for you. To you, is it a place for G-d to "dwell among" us? Is it a house of prayer? Is it merely a structure within which we meet friends and family to represent like ideals? Is it, indeed, a sacred space that exists as a reminder of those feelings from the foot of Sinai?

Be well, friends. It’s time for me to go dig myself out of the snow!

Two things. That caught my eye.

Happy Thursday, and a few things. I've had a lot, we're talking OODLES of free time at work today. I managed to do up my dad's resume, compile a list of my boss's events for 2008, open bucketloads of mail, and many other important things. But among that, I've had lots of web time. I did the hop from one blog to the other to news sites thing and found a couple things worth mentioning. So here we are for the day.

+ Israel is absolutely near a final agreement to get Gilad Shalit, the Israeli soldier who has been held captive for more than a year by Palestinian militants, back into Israel. The catch? Well, they have to release 100 prisoners, some who are terrorists associated with Hamas, upon Shalit's being handed over to Egyptian security personnel ... not to mention the other 100 prisoners Israeli has to release after Shalit makes it back to Israel. That's 200 dangerous people who want Israel blown off the face of the planet, mind you. Now, I'd all but forgotten about Shalit, and I feel really bad about saying that, but it's one of those things that was horrible for the first six months and then became this ridiculous stand-off where you knew they weren't going to kill him. They'd hold him for a hundred years if they could, trying to get their dangerous criminals released. Also, this seems like the kind of thing that will happen, with frequency, for as long as there is no peace or at least an understanding between Israelis/Palestinians.

+ There was a little write-up over on Jewschool from Christmas Day about a conference ABOUT Reform Judaism. Recently, the Union for Reform Judaism threw a big bash out in San Diego and from what I hear, it went swimmingly. The writer on Jewschool, though, makes a point to express that this conference (held in Israel) was not hosted by the URJ, but rather by the Van Leer Institute. The slide posted along with that post has a professor at Brandeis asking one of her students why he/she is going on to rabbinical school to be a Reform rabbi. The answer is not only shocking, but deeply disturbing.

Well, I want to keep on learning more about Judaism. I want to study Jewish texts all the time, till I learn as much as I can. I want to explore Jewish rituals, to lead a committed Jewish life. I'm a committed Reform Jew, and I want study to be central to my life, but I sure don't want to be a rabbi. That's just the only way I can continue to study and stay in the Reform movement.

Say what? There are people going to rabbinical school who just want to be Reform Jews but think -- for some reason -- that they can't do so without hitting up rabbinical school? The professor said this response is the sentiment of many of her students, too. The only thing shocking than this response is the comments that follow the posting. It would appear that this is a common thing -- people going to rabbinical school to merely study Judaism, but with no intentions of becoming rabbis. Why do these people not pursue Master's or PhD's in Judaic studies? It just seems ... illogical to me. Or is this, perhaps, the sign that there is not enough Jewish education available for adults? Almost every shul I've gone to has had active Jewish Adult Education classes, but few people ever attended them, and most of those who did happened to be older, in their 50s and 60s. So what is the 20-something Jew to do to keep up on Jewish living?

Not go to rabbinical school for kicks and giggles, that's what.

Academics!

Two exhibits I happen to be stoked about and hope I can manage to step away from my desk for five seconds to look at are those below. These are both over at the library here on campus, which, it turns out, has this amazing collection of Judaica and Hebraica. I also just discovered RAMBI, the index for articles on Judaic studies.

Major SCORE!

THE SPIRIT OF THE ORIENT AND JUDAISM: FROM THE LUDWIG ROSENBERGER LIBRARY OF JUDAICA
An Exhibition in the Special Collections Research Center
Rosenberger Library of Judaica Gallery
October 10, 2007 - June 20, 2008
Western Jews have strong historical, cultural, and ethnic ties with the Orient; and at the same time form part of the broader European fascination with the East. This exhibition examines the ways that 19th- and 20th-century Jews shaped their own identities through real and imaginary encounters with the Orient. Works from the Ludwig Rosenberger Library of Judaica illustrate the various ways Western Jews embraced the Orient, including dressing up as "Orientals," valorizing "authentic" Eastern Jewish communities, romanticizing Jewish history under Islam during the Golden Age in Spain, building synagogues in the Moorish style, imagining Biblical patriarchs as Bedouins, becoming Zionists, and positioning themselves as cultural mediators between West and East.

IMAGES OF JEWISH PRAYER, POLITICS, AND EVERYDAY LIFE FROM THE BRANKA AND HARRY SONDHEIM JEWISH HERITAGE COLLECTION
An Exhibition in the Special Collections Research Center
Main Gallery
March 10, 2008 - July 6, 2008
Books, prints, and works of art in the Branka and Harry Sondheim Jewish Heritage Collection focus on visual representations of Jewish life and customs. Works on view by Johannes Buxtorf, Paul Kirchner, and Bernard Picart include images depicting scenes of daily life, cycles of birth and marriage, and holiday rituals. The exhibition also includes prints and illustrated books by the artists Alphonse Levy, Moritz Oppenheim, and Arthur Szyk; as well as illustrated Haggadah.

Some updates.

So here I am. I am alive! My first post on Jewsbychoice.org got a lot of responses, and I thank everyone who had kind words to say and personal stories to offer. The world is such a big place full of Jews here there and everywhere, and it's nice to at least make connections in the ways that we can.

And now the new stuff: I've moved.

I guess that's the only major change in my life, but it's an important change. I'm waiting to get my Internet set up at home (cheap-o AT&T!), and until them I'm lurking in coffee shops and the library around the corner. The moment I get Internet, I'm going to focus on two graduate school applications: University of Connecticut and University of Michigan, the latter which I was accepted to last year but neglected to defer (life changes quickly). Why, you ask, must I wait till I have web at home? Being out and about, there's a lot of distractions. People, drinks, things and stuff. In the comfort of my own home, I can spread out on my vintage table and really dig in to the applications and the essays.

Yes, I had spent a long time planning on doing Hebrew College online for graduate school, but what it comes down to is that I just flat don't want to. If I'm going to school, I'm going to school. I'm sitting in a classroom and raising my hand and harassing professors during office hours and really getting in the face time to make people say "damn, she'll do great things one day."

This means that when (or if) I get in, I'll be moving -- again. This time, elsewhere, and I'm completely stoked about it. I love Chicago, but when you gotta go, you gotta go. I've been here briefly, but you gotta do what you gotta do (cliche, cliche, cliche!).

So there's that. In addition to school and moving, I'm also a lot closer to my synagogue. This means going to Saturday morning Torah study (G-d willing!) and also to the Adult Ed classes on the weekend and the Tuesday night Jewish movie at temple, too. Talk about stoked. If I'm going to fill up my time, it better be with all the Jewish things that make my world go 'round.

So the world keeps spinning and I'm hopefully moving closer to goals of personal fulfillment. I'm 24 years old now, and it seems like everyone back in Nebraska who I knew in high school is married, and if not married, then engaged. I have a hard time with this because I'm only 24, it doesn't seem like there's a huge rush, but it's stressful. I'm not one to set myself up to those around me, but it's like watching your friends fall in combat (extreme comparison, but you can sense the idea of loneliness). It's definitely Midwestern ideology, but that's how it goes I guess. But I'm going to try to get everything else in order before I start REALLY wondering "when?"

In unrelated news, I picked up Maggie Anton's first book in the Rashi's Daughters series, this one about Jochaved. It's definitely a far cry from the fluid storytelling of Anita Diamant's "The Red Tent," but I can still appreciate the years and years of research and work that went into Anton's efforts. It feels forced at times (it's as much an entertaining read as it is a historical approach that attempts to educate the readers about Middle Ages Jewry and Jewish customs), such as when explaining certain aspects of Jewish life. But how does one really casually explain certain customs and practices of Jewry without feeling forced anyhow? Maggie Anton is speaking here at a congregant's house at the beginning of November, and I'm pretty stoked. If anything, it'll be interesting to see how she traced the genealogy and compacted all of the history and customs into the texts.

TORAH! And Work.

First, a quick read on this week's Torah, which allows us some of Moses's last days. Then, a bit about work and some thoughts I'm having.

+ The double portion this week -- Nitzavim-Vayelech -- expresses some of the most basic and fundamental tenets of Judaism. Its opening beckons all men, women, children and converts within the camp. This is the all-encompassing aspect of Judaism!

+ Deut. 29:14 -- "But not only with you am I making this covenant and this oath, but with ... those who are not here with us, this day." My first inclination was that this is speaking of future generations. I checked out Rashi's commentary and BAM! Same thing. This may seem like a "duh" thing, but that could be interpreted as those not present (idolators, people elsewhere, etc.), or future generations, or past generations.

+ Deut. 29:28 -- "The hidden things belong to the Lord, our G-d, but the revealed things apply to us and to our children forever: that we must fulfill all the words of this Torah." I had to read this sentence several times and do some web searching before I got the gist of it. Then I found this great explication over on the Edinburg (yes that Edingburg)Hebrew Congregation website. In sum: "Our verse, therefore, comes to tell us that we are only accountable for the ‘revealed things’: the way society acts and behaves; not the ‘hidden things’ of everyone’s private behaviour." It definitely emphasizes the importance of community!

+ Deut. 30:6 -- "And the Lord, your G-d, will circumcise your heart ..." Okay. On the surface, yes, this is the spiritual representation of the physical circumcision as ordered by G-d. During the wanderings, circumcision ceased temporarily, but now, as they enter the land, the Israelites are called to circumcise their hearts (this also appears in Deut. 10:12-16). I was sort of shocked that when I did searching on the web for this portion, most of the sites that came up were Christian sites, and the second top site was a Jews for Jesus article. They all say similar things ... and they're all pretty ... Jesus-y.

-----RANDOM NOTE: One of the Temple Sholom staff members, and my personal favorite -- Josie A.G. Shapiro -- is on Dinner: Impossible! WOW!!!! -----

+ Deut. 31:17-18 -- These must be what prompted so many to assume that after just about every major catastrophe (inquisition, pogroms, Holocaust) that surely G-d had turned away his face and that surely it was "because of all the evil they have committed." So many who called for Jews to convert after such travesties probably eyed these events and these verses. It also calls into attention the "why do bad things happen to good people" adage. It's why -- so often -- when someone dies or a tragedy happens, pundits and zealots automatically scream "YOU WERE BAD! YOU ARE BEING PUNISHED!" But there has to be more to this than what comes off the surface. G-d isn't just a punishing god, there's compassion in there. In all my bad moments, never once have I said "I have earned this, G-d has turned his face from me. I have been abandoned."

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Now for job stuff. Every morning on the #66 bus down Chicago Avenue, I ride past the nearly open Dominick's grocery store. It's going up right next to a McDonalds -- one of the few chain restaurants on my end of Chicago Avenue. The moment that the "Now Hiring" sign showed up outside the store a few weeks ago, I turned to Ian on the ride and said "Hah, maybe I should apply there!"

Now, I'm not presently searching for a new job. In the future, yes, I'll be looking for a new job that's a little more up my alley. But here's the thing.

I want a mindless job. I want a mindless job so that I can focus on the things that matter: reading, Torah, Hebrew, my studies.

Every morning I ride by that store and think that if only I didn't have bills and groceries to buy and things and stuff. I could get by on minimum wage with the minimum things, working a mindless job where I can disconnect myself when I leave. Where I can hop on the bus and be there two seconds later. Where I can spend my spare time thinking about literature and Rashi and things that mean something to me, instead of all the things that don't (ahem, those things at my present gig).

I don't hate my job. It's just completely not stimulating. It has nothing to do with anything that has to do with me. And if I'm going to work a job like that, I want it to at least be less all-consuming and something that doesn't cut into my after hours.

So maybe I will look into working some slum job like a grocery store or retail. It would kill my father and it would make me look like a complete shmuck. I went from a job hundreds and thousands would kill for (Washington Post) to another job dozens if not hundreds would kill for (working for a Nobel prize winning economist). So if I called it a day here and went downhill in order to go uphill to what I want to do ... wouldn't it be worth it?

So maybe. Just maybe I'll be bagging your groceries someday. I'm not so prideful that I wouldn't do that. I'm the girl who worked at McDonalds and Wal-Mart growing up. The end goal is being happy and doing something that I'm passionate about, so in any case, the means are not necessarily the most important thing on my mind.

Shebrews.

I got a call this morning while at work from the professor of Hebrew at Hebrew College. Yes, the professor called me. Not some shmo in advising, but THE professor. Can I be first to say how incredibly stellar that is? She wanted to discuss where I'm at, but I explained that I'm waiting to get the textbook to gauge where I stand. I figure I might take the Mekinah for kicks and giggles as a refresher course. If anything, I'll come out completely crisp and the price isn't that steep. But I'm still all dazzled that I got the call, and the encouragement to call back when I get the text to discuss where I should be placed.

On the upside, she said she's pretty sure the Mekinah has rolling enrollment since it's self-paced. So here's to hoping she was right on that note.

And that, folks, is all for now. Laila tov!

Okay, a few things.

Firstly, I'm going to wait to do the Hebrew courses until the Spring, considering the deadline for registration for the non-credit courses is, well, you know, THURSDAY. That's just too quick. Plus, I've got some hefty expenses otherwise that shall keep me from dishing out the grand or so for the Hebrew (you see, if I take it for non-credit, then pass the equivalence exam, then I don't have to pay for the courses as a part of my master's degree which would be three times the non-credit cost). As such, I'm going to pick up the Hebrew textbook they use, zip through the first seven units (aleph-bet, vowels, sounding out, etc.) so hopefully when I get to taking Hebrew I can skip the Mekhina course (the admissions gal said it sounds like I'm probably solid on skipping it anyhow). So for now, I study for the GRE (again) and work on my application. WOOOOO!

Secondly, for Ian's birthday (which is Monday) I was hoping to buy him some Omaha Steaks (which he loves) and take him to Chop House for dinner. The latter is still happening, but instead of my semi-selfish plot of buying steaks (since he does all the cooking), I've gone halfsies on a guitar that he so very much wanted. That beautiful baby over there helps make his collection complete for the time being (two guitars? why does a man need to guitars?). It's nice, considering he sold his stuff when he moved to Chicago (to be with me). So I feel like we're coming full circle.

Thirdly, I'm ready for winter. This heat and humidity is ridiculous to the umph degree.

And that, for now, is all. Shalom!

(Really Hugely Big) Life decisions.

I've decided ... I plan on attending Hebrew College in Newton, Mass. But, actually, via the Internet (and this is assuming I get in, too). Yes folks, I'm shooting for the Online Masters in Jewish Studies.

Last year after realizing how much I disliked my job, I sort of phoned it in, applied to the University of Michigan and the University of Chicago. Then I quit my job, moved to Chicago, and found out I'd gotten into Michigan, but not Chicago. Talk about the Edwards luck! So I've been plodding along doing my thing and spending my spare time watching TV or in transit between job and home. As such, I'm ready to fill that up, gall darn't. Everything good is HERE in Chicago, except the schools I want to attend. So if the U of C doesn't want me (I'm okay with that because truth be told, I prefer a little less pretension in my academic experience) and the other schools are too far away ... well, I'll bring school to me.

So my first plan of action is to enroll for Mekhina, or preparation, for Hebrew learning. I've sort of already been there and done that (I know my aleph-bet!), but it's required for advancing to other levels of Hebrew. I'm also going to do as much Hebrew for non-credit as I can, in order to save some shekels. The class starts Sept. 5 and goes through January.

Amid that, I'll be getting my application ready to apply for the Dec. 15 early-decision deadline. This might help me get some financial aid and need-based money. Here's to hoping ... I've reconciled the fact that student loans are probably the best debt there is to have (and by best I mean least stressful), so I don't so much mind having those. My only concern is the recommendations. I intend to tap my all-time favorite professor, Stephen Burnett at UNL, as well as the rabbi who converted me and knows my passions, Ilan Emanual, back in Lincoln. That third reference is going to be tough. I might wait a bit and attempt to get cozier with the folks at my shul in hopes of inspiring some good thoughts within them about me.

My ultimate goal? Well, I'm not really sure anymore. I want to teach, but I'm not sure along what avenue. College? Hebrew school? Adult education? I think I'm most interested in the education of fellow gerim, in addition to adults. I just want to learn and let learn. I miss writing papers and getting into discussions with like-minded people about the texts and such.

So here's to it. Here's to hoping this all works out well and that I can get back on track. I thrive so deeply in the classroom environment, but if I can't be in the classroom, then I must work around that hurdle. It's the American way, nu?

The Wandering Blog

I don't have much (if anything) to say expressly about Balak, this week's Torah portion. The only sort of thought-invoking bit of commentary in Etz Chayim is in regards to Balak's urging for the curse on the Israelites and Balaams persistent relaying of G-d's message that you cannot curse those who are blessed.

The text cites the Baal Shem Tov, who said "A Jew is never alone. G-d is always with every Jew." Then there is Abraham Joshua Heschel (not cited here, but all the same), who said "The Jew is never alone in the face of G-d; the Torah is always with him." Is G-d with us? Torah with us? Neither? Either? Both? Are they one in the same?

I was watching this episode of "Whose Wedding Is It Anyway?" on Style last night, and I was taken by one of the stories. It was a couple who had hastened their wedding vows after they'd started dating. Why? Well, she was diagnosed with an incredibly rare form of leukemia (.5-two people diagnosed each year worldwide) and given three-five years to live. She surpassed the time frame and six years after the diagnosis met the man. His story was that he'd been in a horrible car accident on an exit ramp on the freeway and had walked away. Less than a week later, because of a concussion and emotional trauma from the other accident, he rammed his car into the back of a city truck, completely decimating his vehicle and causing his near death. Then they met, realizing that they both were sort of knocking on heaven's door, fell in love, and got engaged. I don't consider it a miracle or necessarily a gift from G-d that either of them are bright, shining people who are giving back with a cancer scholarship and countless philanthropic activities -- they are the epitome of the perfect romance. However, I have to think that perhaps the everyday presence of G-d maintains some balance, some equilibrium. Then again, I don't even know if these two people were religious -- let alone Jewish (not that that matters).

If you Google "A Jew is never alone" ... you receive (at present) 76 entries (though only about 20 *really* show up). Many are variations on the Baal Shem Tov's famous words. Then there's random expressions of the Jew and his loneliness: "The Yarmulke is a constant reminder that a Jew is never alone. He walks with G-d. It is a feeling of assurance and comfort" (Jlaw.com).

It would seem that the Jew is never alone -- be it G-d or the yarmulke as a reminder of G-d or the mitzvot and laws of G-d in Torah. I imagine it is whether we accept or deny this as such. Does the denial of the constant presence make those moments in which we pray hard and fast for the protection of a sick relative or lover that much more effective and strong -- in OUR eyes? I often look at the religious Jew, he who is constantly swimming in Torah and wonder if -- when there are moments of desperation -- he feels as effective and firm and hopeful in his prayers as he who perhaps only calls on G-d in moments of crises. The constant presence may dull the effectiveness (in our minds, that is), nu? On the other hand, acknowledging the constant presence might allow us to take G-d for granted, to not appreciate the peace of mind.

Okay, so I lied. I had plenty to say about this tiny little quip of the Baal Shem Tov. I just didn't anticipate it.

I have quite a bit to say about the book I'm reading, Women and Jewish Law by Rachel Biale, but I'll save that for a little later this week or early next week. I have to say, though, that it's one of the most well-written Talmud-heavy texts I've read in a long time. Often I find such books hard to keep down, but Biale is BRILLIANT in her presentation of the texts. That is, she offers the Talmud text, then piece by piece explains in plain text (but not dumbing down) what exactly the sages were saying, then examines the evolution, importance, contradictions, and actual application of the laws. In the long run, I think this might help me if I decide to pursue/examine Rashi's daughters (or the women of Rashi's time/area in general) and the extent of his sentiments/interpretations of certain laws, including womens' study of the major texts.

Until then, shalom my friends. Stay cool in summer's heated breeze!

A poem.

I'm browsing scholarly journals looking for papers that thrill me or authors that might want to get to know me. In the shuffle, I came across this poem by Jehanne Dubrow. It's about where I got my undergrad, the place I garnered a minor in Judaic studies -- if only they had had a major option. But then again, I suppose this poem says it all. This is excerpted from a 2006 issue of Judaism.

Judaic Studies
University of Nebraska-Lincoln
The department doesn't even fill a floor
but one room at the university,
fluorescents dark behind a frosted door
which answers woodenly to every knock.
No secretary waiting there to call
me puppele, German for little doll,
or feed me raspberry-swirled rugelach,
the sweetness now an eaten memory.
On certain days, Nebraska could be Poland,
the same blond silences of plains, each field
a never-ending corridor of gold.
What happened to the open door? It's sealed,
with every light tumed off, and no one home
except the wind breathing alone, alone.

JEHANNE DUBROW received her MFA in poetry from the University of Maryland, College
Park. She is currently working toward a Ph.D. in creative writing at the University of
Nebraska-Lincoln where she also serves as the senior poetry reader of Prairie Schooner. Her
work has appeared in Poetry, The Hudson Review, Tikkun, Midstream and The New
England Review.

We're taking our time.

I haven't disappeared. I haven't stopped reading Torah or going to synagogue or being who I am.

I have many drafts written that haven't been posted. Many of them become outdated and sit in my blogger account. I had one about the parshah Emor and how if you flip the letters around you get Omer! How appropriate for Emor to be during the Omer. And other things. Important things. Pertinent things.

I find myself reading a lot more. I'm trying to get through Rashi by Maurice Liber. I've been reading a variety of articles and just finished one about the reception of Rashi's take on Adam having "intercourse" with all the beasts before the advent of Eve. I'm poking around at a paper about Maimonides and another about reading R. Gershom. The bonus to working at a university is the free access to billions of journals and texts online :) I'm horribly spoiled!

Ian and I are filling out the papers to join a temple here in Chicago. It will be my first "paid" membership to a synagogue. In Lincoln my membership to B'Nai Jeshurun (South Street Temple) was taken care of because I was (a) a student and (b) did the temple newsletter. It's strange to actually become a card carrying member of a synagogue, especially one that is so incredibly large. The sanctuary is THE most beautiful one I've ever been in. The building is built in the same style as B'Nai Jeshurun, which is a relief. I "grew up" in the byzantine style, which I find the most beautiful and Jewish. The temples that are built in the style of churches put me off, and this is the first place I've ever felt at home. The thing I'm looking most forward to? Volunteering! Adult education! Activities! Community!

So yes, things are starting to come together. Baruch HaShem!

Ki Tissa, just a few brief comments.

Sometimes when reading Torah and collecting the accompanying midrashim and commentary, I wonder how the great thinkers came up with some of the stuff they've derived from the parshah. An example from this week's portion is from Ex. 31:18, when G-d presents Moses with "two tablets of the Pact, stone tablets inscribed with the finger of G-d." The word for stone tablets, even, or aleph-bet-nun, is translated by one sage as av-ben, meaning "father to son." The translation caters to the idea that the commandments are to be passed from father to son and so on.

Now, call me crazy but I would never have gathered that. Then again, I'm not a life-dedicated Torah scholar (yet). The way the sage goes about coming to this conclusion is that bet can either be a b or a v, depending on whether a dagesh is present. The dagesh, of course, being a little dot that appears in letters like tet or pe or kaph. It alters the meaning of the letter, according to the letters around it, as well as the vowel sounds. The dagesh is a mighty little marker. Thus you can have aleph-bet (dagesh) and bet (no dagesh)-nun, if you were only so creative to notice such intricacies of the word.

Man. I hope I can rock that hard in my pursuits someday.

Likewise, backtracking a bit, this parshah begins with a donation of a half-shekel by every individual older than 20 (a common belief is that religion is not suited for children, only adults can understand the depth and magnitude of religion and Torah). The donation is cited as "each shall pay," which in the Hebrew is v'nat'nu, or vav-nun-taph-nun-vav. Holy Moses! A palindrome! And a mighty important one (yet something else I probably wouldn't have gathered all on my own, amazing sages). Some have said that this suggests that charity is a two-way street. The Vilna Gaon says that this reminds us "that one who gives today may have to receive tomorrow." How true!

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I have to admit that right now, my level of distraction is incredibly high. There's too much and too little going on at once, and I'm trying to find some balance. I will work the next seven days straight, the only brief excitement being visiting with and getting a drink with a friend visiting from Nebraska and another who recently moved here.

But between now and then and then and when Ian arrives and when I move to Chicago (March 16), is 9 days of tumult. I find it hard to focus at work, hard to focus at home, hard to focus at my coffee shop. I watch people. Gazing, skimming the thought of staring. It's a cascade, or at least it feels that way.

It always gets worse before it gets better, they say. And today was supposedly when the University of Chicago was sending out acceptance/denial letters for entrance into their graduate program. So here's to hoping.

Otherwise, well, hopefully I can re-center myself.

Back, back, back, back to school!

I have signed up for the GRE. Dec. 7 at 9 a.m.

I also have narrowed down the universities to which I will apply for Judaic/Jewish studies master's degree programs. They include, but are not limited to:
-University of Michigan
-University of Chicago
-Baltimore Hebrew University
-Brandeis University

And still in consideration are:
-University of Connecticut
-Gratz College

If anyone knows of the most stellar Jewish studies program (preferably for history/law/medieval Jewry), do let me know. I've been researching in haste to get this done. I've got three recommenders lined up and I'm set to go, I believe.

This is scary, and uplifting. But mostly scary.

Peshat: The literal (as opposed to figurative) meaning, as discussed by Rashi.

We see comments like she “always knew he was a fiction, but believed in him anyway” (15) and “This is love, she thought, isn’t it? When you notice someone’s absence and hate that absence more than anything? More, even, than you love his presence?” (121) and “It was not the Jew, of course, who invented the love poem, but the other way around” (197). It seems like all the characters are searching desperately for this thing they neither understand nor know where to find. It’s as if going through the motions is enough.

--Me, March 7, Response paper on "Everything is Illuminated" for Jewish-American Fiction

I miss school. I miss it a lot. Reading through old papers and simple responses I wrote on small stories and entire books makes me miss my literature course -- the only literature class I took and enjoyed. I'm trying really hard to get through the spaces I'm in so I can turn the other way and work on getting back to school. I really am most pleasant with my head in a book or when I'm working on a 10-page paper on the Catholic Church's "fatherland" approach to Jews in the Holocaust. I. Love. to. Learn.

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I've recently developed a 24/7 sour stomach and jaw pains. The jaw pains are a result of what has been said is TMJ by a doctor I visited up in Westminster. She suggested a dentist, and everyone I've told that to has suggested a chiropractor or sports physical therapist. I finally bought a mouthguard, which seems to have helped last night. The anti-inflammatories don't seem to be doing much, unfortunately. The earplugs I bought to drown out my roommates are sort of working. I'll get down on my knees in the morning and thank G-d when I live someplace that is devoid of creaky floors above my slumbering noggin.

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I recently realized my newspaper gets copies of MOMENT magazine (which I love, though wish they cared more about the editing that they fail to pay attention to), so I scooped up a copy and am stoked to read the new issue. And in other news, I found this stellar site: http://www.algemeiner.com/

Did I vanish?

No, I didn't vanish. I've been busy with work, Yom Kippur, being sick, getting well and analyzing my career/life path for the not-so-distant future. There's thoughts of grad school being tossed around this noggin (Baltimore Hebrew University, that is), in addition to all the other stuff that consumes me in all my free time. I figured it up that out of the 168 hours in the week, I have about 70 of those where I am neither sleeping nor working to just sit and be completely, absolutely worthless. So I purchased two books today.

1) Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer: I checked this book out from UNL's library shortly after it was released, but with all my reading and efforts to finish my senior thesis and graduate, I didn't have time to read it. Thus I didn't really enjoy it, especially after getting through Everything is Illuminated -- possibly one of the best books I have ever read. It was absolutely magnificent, so getting into ELIC was sort of hard. Summary: It's about a little boy whose father dies in the WTC during 9/11, complete with mini "flip book" of man falling from the WTC (sort of horrifying).
2) Fabulous Small Jews by Joseph Epstein: I believe I read a review of this in Commentary magazine. It was either that or in one of my other Jewish rags. Summary: It's a collection of short stories by a man who has written for the New Yorker, Harper's, Atlantic Monthly and has a NYT bestseller called Snobbery.

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Today was the start of Sukkot. I've decided that when I get married and have children I'll be building my own sukkah, no matter how wacky the neighbors think I am. Now what, you ask, is a sukkah? Well, this cute little Popsicle sukkah is the best example of a sukkah that I have for you. Sukkot means "booths" and is a festival of the booths in honor of the harvest. It's a four-sided little hut with three vertical walls and a ceiling that cannot be made solid, which means that you must be able to sit in the sukkah and peer into the heavens and see the stars. Some people use latticework to create the sukkah ceiling, then covering it with leaves. It's a 7 or 8 day holiday that includes lots of feasting and hanging out in the sukkah. I'm sort of glad I don't have a sukkah right now, though, as it's cold and rainy in D.C. -- definitely NOT sukkah weather unless you have a sukkah space heater and some umbrellas. The final day of sukkot is Shemini Atzeret and soon after is Simchat Torah -- a stellar holiday that finalizes the reading of the Torah for the year, which sends you back to Genesis to start all over again (Jews cycle through the whole Torah each year, though some Conservatives and Orthodox take 3 years to read the whole Torah -- that is, they read only PORTIONS of each Torah section and spend 3 years completely getting through the Torah, though they still celebrate the beginning-to-end of Simchat Torah).

Sukkot also includes the use of the Four Species -- lalav, hadass, etrog and araveh -- which are used during prayers and also adorn the sukkah (it's part of the whole harvest thing). Of course there's biblical precedence for this: "And you shall take for yourself on the first day the fruit of goodly (meaning of Hebrew uncertain, but modern Hebrew "citrus") trees, branches of palm trees, and boughs of thick trees, and willows of the brook" (Lev. 23:40).

Essentially the holiday is a reminder of the travails and travels in the desert (for 40 gall darn years) before entering the land. You eat in the sukkah, call it home and hang out in thanks for G-d's protection during the wandering. Who WOULDN'T want a sukkah, eh?