Bagels and Lox! Bagels and Lox!

Am I a bad Jew? I had bagels and lox -- for the FIRST TIME -- last night at Eleven City Diner here in Chicago. And I don't know if it's an acquired taste ... but ... I didn't particularly enjoy it! Ian and I spent some time discussing the finer Jewish foods. There aren't many that I am not a fan of. I live gefilte fish, kugel, hamantaschen, charoset ... you name it ... I love it. But bagels and lox -- what Ian calls the "Jewish sushi" -- definitely didn't win me over. But here are some fun photos of the experience anyway!

Eleven City Diner is now my favorite Jew restaurant ... where the meals have names like "The Schwartzy" and "The Moshe," the pickles are homemade, the bar is full of Manischewitz and the jazz and blues are always playing. Amen!

The Dad Files: I

I've decided to start a new little blog series about my father. My family doesn't read my blog, so far as I know, and if they do, well, we'll just hope that nothing I say is offensive! I want to blog about my dad in a particular way, and that is through a typical package I receive from my dad: An envelope with clipped coupons.

My connection with coupons and my father began many moons ago when I was in the 9th grade. I had to make a collage about "me" for an English class and dad had recently done his coupon clipping thing. He found a coupon that said "Expiration 9-31-1998." Of course, there IS NO September 31, we know. Dad gave it to me and I put it on the collage and for many moons after that kept it on my various bulletin boards as I moved from dorm to apartment and on.

Since I moved out of my parents house, my dad has been clipping coupons and either giving or sending to me. It's just a small white envelope with my name scribbled on front in my dad's boxy, legible-only-to-the-familiar manner. Inside is a myriad of coupons clipped from the Sunday ads -- all shapes and sizes meticulously chopped from shiny paper sheets. Napkins, deodorant, cereal ... you name it, it's in there. I've been getting these coupons for five or more years, and with each envelope I sit down with my little coupon folder and sort through the ones I'll keep and the ones that are either, well, not usable or outside of my typical shopping list. But in every envelope I receive there have been many that just make me snicker, giggle, shake my head or say "Oh, dad ... sigh."

The most common one is when I get Playtex or Always coupons. I know I'm a grown woman and that I shouldn't be "weirded" out by my father sending me feminine product coupons, but there really *is* something strange about it. It's just one of those things. Then there's those like the one's below ...If you can't tell, that's a coupon for Van Camp's Pork and Beans. It's to save 40 cents on four cans, which, truth be told, even if I ate pork and beans, I don't know why I'd need four cans at once. Secondly, as I was sifting through the most recent coupon delivery, I pulled this out and said to Ian, "You've got to be kidding me ... it's PORK ... seriously?" To which Ian replied, "Oh! I bet he sent that for me, we had a conversation about pork and beans." Strange? Yes. Ian eats pork, yes, but I sure don't, and i told them that we definitely don't keep pork in the house ...

And then there's the Hebrew National coupons. I ALWAYS get these from dad. Since years ago when I started exploring Judaism before my conversion more than a year ago, dad was giving me the Hebrew National coupons. I typically don't purchase the Hebrew National dogs, and try to go for turkey dogs, but thanks, dad :)

And here's a Schlotsky's coupon. Seemingly there's nothing wrong with this one. It's a kind gesture -- I love sandwiches! But then there's a tiny, tiny detail ...

Yes, folks. Good only in Omaha and Lincoln! I live in Chicago :)

Then finally, there's the following coupon. I live with a self-made chef, who specializes in the Italian cuisine. I love my dad to pieces, but Ian and I don't eat out all the time, and when we do, we eat local, ALWAYS local. We're not chain restaurant kind of people, especially with Ian being the self-made chef that he is!

Every month I get the special coupon delivery, as well as mail that shows up at the house for me. But I look forward to the coupons. Only recently have I really begun to appreciate that my dad takes the time to send them to me. I started thinking, Someday, these coupons will stop coming. And that made me incredibly melancholy. So I'm documenting the humor that couples these coupons. Cheers to pop!

A little of this, a little of that.

+ "My Holocaust" has me in a trance. I should be done with it by now, but transferring from bus to El to work to home to coffee shop just creates so many breaks in the flow. It is captivating in it's absolute crude and blunt approach to the Holocaust "industry," but there's also an honesty to it. I also appreciate that several characters from Mara have appeared in this book! I enjoy the flow and continuity it creates (reminds me of good ole Salinger).

+ "The Con" -- Tegan and Sara's new album -- is pretty flippin' amazing. "Are You Ten Years Ago" makes me want to just move ... I think it's the raw nature of their voices that just gets to me. I have yet to hear a T&S song I don't love. That doesn't make me want to claw at my skin and scream and just feel alive. Check it out. If you don't know their stuff? Check it out anyway. It's on the iTunes! Free previews are a girl's (or mensch's) best friend!

+ Rilo Kiley's new album is coming out next month. I'm not going to lie ... I'm not looking forward to it. I feel about it as I did about Weezer's last album. Fearful. Full of dread. The album is "Under the Blacklight" and they have their single, "Moneymaker" on iTunes. It seems really divergent from the RK I know. I approve of evolution, all great bands evolve, but it doesn't even FEEL like Jenny Lewis. The other single out for a listen can be found here, and it's "Silver Lining." It's more bearable, and has a definite retro feel with sort of a gospely roller-disco quality. But it just feels overdone, excessive, disappointing. I'll buy the album anyway, but I might regret it ... EDIT: Okay, the more I listen to it the more I dig it. It's just so different!

+ I didn't get to Torah tonight, and I might not. After fasting for Tisha B'av and staying home from work, I had so much to do today that it was non-stop. I didn't get to hit my regular work-trafficked websites (Yelp, facebook, COG, cnn.com, etc.). So I've spent my regular Wednesday night coffee/tea shop time mulling about the web, playing catchup. Doing my facebook scrabble games, etc.

+ Ian and I finalized our hotel/flight plans to Italy for the end of September/early October. How amazing to travel the world on someone else's dime. Oh academia, I love thee so. I do need to start working on preparing the paper though ... turning a PowerPoint presentation about a topic I'm not completely familiar with into a paper should prove to be quite the challenge, I think. But I'm a writer/editor. It should be sort of easy to pull off, nu?

It's a business.

Firstly, tonight begins Tisha B'av, a fasting "holiday" of mourning over the fall of the Temples, not to mention countless other tragedies over the past several thousand years. As such, I'm really stoked that my synagogue is actually HAVING something for the holiday. However, I'm not exactly sure I agree with the text of the spiel about what it will entail:

Today, we have a modern Jewish state in the Land of Israel. So, why on Tisha B'Av do we mourn the destruction of the Temple and a way of life we no longer want? Join us for a thoughtful and lively discussion as we use excerpts from Rabbi Irving Greenberg's controversial article in The Jewish Way along with traditional texts to try to answer: Should Reform Jews commemorate Tisha B'Av?

More specifically, I don't know that it isn't a life we don't "want" so much as a life that we have evolved from and grown from as society and culture have expanded. If the Temple still stood today, I imagine that animal sacrifices would not be standard, regardless of the Temple laws and Temple Judaism. Anyhow, I'm intrigued and am looking forward to the discussion. I just hope people actually show for it! I, for one, will be fasting, refraining from work, and will spend most of tomorrow resting and examining Lamentations, in the same way I have the past few years.

Secondly, I'm knee-deep in "My Holocaust" by Tova Reich. I still am not over Friday's encounter with Hitler man on the street. The book is definitely tough, and it isn't as smooth as "Mara," though I feel connected to my previous read, as there are overlapping characters, which I admire. I imagine I'll succeed in passing through it this week. I was forced to buy the hardcover, as that's all the Borders had.

Nothing like spending $80 on books :) Of course, part of that was guidebooks for Venice, where I will be traveling in September over my birthday weekend! It's an "academic" trip in part for the professor I work for, and the honeymoon we'll never be able to afford in the other part. It's my first international trip, and I couldn't be more excited. I'll be spreading U.S. academic glory with early childhood education as I enjoy the sites and sounds of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. My first stop in Venice? The Jewish ghetto!

A "I can't believe this just happened to me" Moment

Place: Chicago, IL; Addison Red Line Stop
Time: 6:08 p.m.
Scene: Reading "My Holocaust" by Tova Reich outside the station while waiting for Ian to arrive so we can go to shul. I have just taken my head phones out in anticipation of Ian's arrival. I return to reading "My Holocaust," which I had just purchased and was very involved in. A man, smoking a cigarette, wearing an old cap, a screen-printed T-shirt and jeans, looking very ... well ... not Chicago, walks near me, crosses to the other side, and gazes at the book I am reading.

You read that stuff, eh?
Yes ...?
Ever read the 'Third Reich'?

I stare blankly at the man. With a slight, irritated grin ...

I assume it's about Hitler, yes?
Sure is (he says with a large, toothy, satisfied grin).

A long pause. I fiddle with my necklace, a star of David.

I'm Jewish.

He looks at the book again, tilts his head ever so slightly and takes a puff off his cigarette.

Oh!!! It says ... what's that ... Jo ... Jova Reich?
It's Tova Reich. She's a Jewish author.

Ian walks up.

Hey, how's it going?

The man, who must be in his mid-20s, takes one look at Ian and stops speaking and walks away. I am in dismay. Irritated, frustrated, appalled. It was brief, disturbing, altering. This man visibly digs Hitler. This man visibly thought I, too, dug Hitler. He wanted to share his shit literature with me, because I guess I looked like someone ... someone who would cut a crown out of construction paper just to place it on the fully-haired head of a tyrant of modern times and indescribable proportions.

What the hell?

Random Jewish Stuff ...

So I've decided I just can't do the Solonica book right now. It's sort of schizophrenically written, and it's absolutely difficult to read right now. So while running out the door this morning I grabbed Yiddishe Mamas: The Truth About the Jewish Mother by Marnie Winston-Macauley, which Ian picked up for me at his last job. It's incredibly quirky and amusing. Here's to hoping I zip right through it. I'm trying to work up the strength to buy and read My Holocaust: A Novel by Tova Reich. From what I can tell, it isn't for the faint of heart or the easily offended. Essentially it's a book about marketing the Holocaust (by Jews!). She's written several other books that are considered pretty heavy, but I have yet to delve into her books or to take on her style of writing. That's for (not so far away) future times.

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Here at work, while the big man is gone, I've been taking the time to be leisurely ... and in the process have been examining the various podcasts iTunes has to offer. Additionally, I've perused the web for some, and came across Israel National Radio (sort of like NPR). I was listening to today's podcast and it was a conversation between the host and Shmuel Sackett about the upcoming Likud election (sort of like the primaries, I guess) for the prime minister of Israel. Shmuel was talking on behalf of Moshe Feiglin, the favored candidate (from what I can tell) among the Likud party. Something that caught my attention was that Shmuel was talking about how Moshe wants to build a stronger Jewish Israel, but that they don't want to become the "Jewish Taliban" by using religion ... rather the intent is to approach and work with all Jews, no matter the affiliation or practice. Interesting ... but probably just words! They're big move is to turn the State of the Jews into the Jewish State ... returning the state to its true Jewishness. They claim to not want to turn it into a "halakic state," but ...?

He also cited this week's parshah (Ma'sai) and talked about the initial, biblical promise of the boundaries of Israel. As it turns out, it's about four times larger than the current state. Then came the shocking statement ... he basically said that under Moshe, they want to settle Jews wherever they can in that original, biblical land area. Curious and a little ambitious, I think. Probably too ambitious.

Just some interesting thoughts anyhow. And I'm bored at work. So there we are.

Vayedaber Adonay el-Moshe lemor...

I'm not going to lie. My love affair with this website is deep, passionate and full of all sorts of educational enlightenment. It not only offers Torah, the transliteration and the translation, but also sound clips of the portion! Did I mention that the Hebrew appears both WITH and WITHOUT vowels? Talk about brilliant. There's a wealth of knowledge here beyond this, though. Within the translation of the text, there are words that are linked to mini-commentary/details at the bottom of the page. Just click and bam, you get some nice tidbit. I suppose I should also mention that the site *is* a bar/bat mitzvah tutor, which is probably why it's full of all sorts of genealogical, reference and help material! The genealogical portion of the site is pretty snazzy ... you can find out the immediate "relatives" of any of the names in Torah! How cool!?!?!?!?!? Now the commentary isn't as detailed or extensive as my Etz Chayim, but it's a pretty stellar way to get the parshah done.

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This week is a combo of Mattot and Ma'sai, which finish up Numbers. The first portion is dedicated to the "holy war" of sorts on the Midianites in order to "avenge" G-d after the events at Baal-peor. The second portion is mostly a recap of the years wandering; that is, where we camped out and what happened.

Though there wasn't a lot in the portions that struck me as intellectually divisive, there was one bit that struck me as relevant. In Ma'sai, there's a portion (Num. 33:53) that reads Vehorashtem et-ha'arets vishavtem-bah ki lachem natati et-ha'arets lareshet otah. In translation this basically is saying that we must clear out the land that G-d has given to us, because, well, G-d gave it to us. I think this is interesting, and the comment points out that this is often cited as evidence that the whole of the land is ours, and probably is where radical Jews get their view for much of the tussle over who Israel truly belongs to, and why some will stop at *nothing* to return the land fully and completely to the tribe.

The other thing I found interesting actually has me backtracking to Mattot. While in the heat of battle, the heads return to Moses and he's all up in arms because the fighters neglected to kill all of the women of sexual maturity when it was they who had seduced the Israelites (Num. 31:14-17). As such, Moses has them return to kill all of them women who were sexually mature (i.e. not virgins). What I'm wondering is how the troops knew who was sexually mature and who wasn't ... what type of test do you formulate to acquire such knowledge of a woman's sexual experiences? I imagine this is something in the Midrash, and perhaps I'll get to looking someday. It seems curious, though, that such large numbers of people would have to be examined in some way to deduce sexual maturity ...

And finally, as I pondered perhaps the difficulty Moses might have had in the demolition of the Midianites because his wife, Tziporah was a Midianite, and after doing some looking and examining, I'm drawn curiously to the long-standing discussion about Tziporah and whether she was a Midianite or a Cushite. I guess that makes me wonder whether Moses would have been upset about it at all, seeing as how it's undecided whether there were two different women, who was a concubine, what Tzippy was, etc. The reason this struck me is because the commentary in Etz Chayim Numbers 31 cites that Moses might not have participated in the physical killing because of his sympathy and concern due to Tzippy's being a Midianite and all. Puzzling!

Books! Oh books, how I love thee.

So I finished Rachel Biale's book on women in Jewish law. I can safely say that it is probably one of THE most well-written books I have read to date. This can be summed up simply by saying that she takes often complicated or convoluted text entries (beyond Torah into Talmud) and decipher them in a way that makes the text accessible, but not dumbed down. Her detailed explanations translated and explicated the precise words of sages throughout the centuries. Biale allows the reader to actually understand and feel a part of Talmud! It makes me want to truly throw myself into study, but I know that not all texts are as accessible as Biale has made them.

Perhaps the most touching point of her book came in the epilogue. There were many interesting discussions of abortion, contraception, marriage, the duties of men and women and more ... but in the epilogue Biale discusses the importance of understanding and developing Halakah. Though I don't have the book in front of me, her basic sense is that by leaving and diverging from Halakah, Jews (the secular, reform, etc.) are not *helping* Judaism, but are in fact hurting it. You cannot develop, effect change, explore, and grow Halakah if you merely deny it. Instead, the study of Halakah means room for discussion and the chance for considering an evolutionary process. She emphasizes the importance of understanding Halakah in order to evolve it. Her point is absolutely on point. Jews who deny or speak against Halakah do little to effect change. It's like making a pot of soup and insisting that there is not enough salt, but instead of adding more salt, you merely cast the entire pot aside.

This might make me a hypocrite. I, myself, do not adhere strictly to the Halakah, of course. I identify with Reform Judaism and although I attend shul each week, avoid shellfish, pork and mixing beef with dairy, and do weekly Torah study on my own ... these are but a mere few -- and not even strict adherences -- to Halakah. I do not, however, deny the importance of so many of the mitzvot. Additionally, I think it safe to say that many are uneducated about so much of the Halakah that it's hard to accept or reconcile something you know little about.

Regardless, if anything, Biale's message is pertinent and worth considering. Ignorance is bliss is the popular saying, but that ignorance often results in the loss of something beautiful and worth investigating and developing.

The next book in my hands: Solonica, City of Ghosts: Muslims and Jews 1430-1950 by Mark Mazower.

Here are a few photos from Fourth of July/Baby Reilly festivities in Oak Park at one of the bandmate's house. It was a stellar time. So here's some of the baby photos! Hoo-rah!

This is baby Reilly.

Me with baby!

Ian with baby! But it's going to be six to eight for us :)

And finally, a hilarious commercial that I'm going to send to one of my rabbis because his sermon two weeks ago was all related on the iPhone. SCORE!

It's a holiday!

Happy Fourth of July, friends and readers! Feel free to get a little meshuggah! (But play it safe, all the same.)

Anti-Semitic? I sure as hell think so.

Okay, so I knew Kirk Cameron had gone all Jesusy and had his own ministry going on. But while watching an old, old episode of Full House, I decided to look at his website to see what he's up to (he was guesting on the show, that is). On his ministry's website, there is a detailed description of answers to 100 common questions. Among them is "How Should I Witness to a Jew?" The answer? Well, by golly, be prepared for those stubborn, unsavory, non-religious heathens!

Sadly, many of today’s Jews profess godliness but don’t embrace the Scriptures as we presume they do. Therefore, it is often difficult to reason with them about Jesus being the Messiah. This is why it is imperative to ask a Jew if he has kept the Law of Moses—to "shut" him up under the Law (Galatians 3:23) and strip him of his self- righteousness. The Law will show him his need of a Savior and become a "schoolmaster" to bring him to Christ (Galatians 3:24), as happened to Paul, Nicodemus, and Nathaniel. It was the Law that brought 3,000 Jews to the foot of the cross on the Day of Pentecost. Without it they would not have known that they had sinned (Romans 7:7), and therefore would not have seen their need of the Savior. See Luke 18:20 footnote for how to use the Law in evangelism.

Seriously. This incenses me. It often is "difficult to reason with them" ... well geepers! Sorry we made it so *hard* for you to convert us all into the truth and light of Christianity. Then they say you should ask the Jew whether he's devout, "to 'shut' him up under the Law and strip him of his self-righteousness." UGH. Seriously. WTF? I can't even create coherent thoughts, because this is downright offensive. For more fun go here: Way of the Master.

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!

Welcome back, Chavi.

Ian has started school, and that gives me two nights out of the week to devote to Torah. Because of my sad dedication to Fox's "Hell's Kitchen," that knocks Monday night out. So Wednesday is now Torah Thyme (his slogan, not mine!). In the past three months I've neglected to read 3 or 4 of the parshah, which has given me this gigantic guilt complex. I loathe going to shul on Friday and not being previously knowledgeable on the topic at hand. I prefer to be prepared!

This week's Torah portion is Chukkat (חקת), and includes the dreaded moment when G-d tells Moses and Aaron that they won't enter the land, following the water/rock fiasco. I found a couple of interesting points and commentaries in Etz Chayim this week, including what could be construed as an allusion or validation of Christ in Christianity. But first, I have to mention an article I read in "Reform Judaism," the URJ's publication, regarding kashrut and an interesting take on the text.

In the summer issue, in "The Civilized Diet" -- a conversation with Rabbi Simeon Maslin -- the origins of kashrut are discussed and the text is addressed in a most interesting way. According to Rabbi Maslin, the instances of the law to "not boil a kid in its mother's milk" appear in relation to pagan sacrificial rituals, suggesting that such acts were forbidden to Israel so as to avoid practicing pagan rituals. He points out that the three times it appears in Torah, not once does it appear within the exhaustive list of dietary laws in Leviticus 11. The article is mostly dedicated to the idea of eco-Kosher, or "keeping with the spirit and intent of Torah." Eating, as it were, is an act that should receive much more attention than it does (i.e. appreciate and understand what you are eating prior to consuming it, appreciate the animal that died and where it derived). But his point about the appearance of this key component of kashrut is particularly interesting. He says he appreciates that many avoid mixing milk and meat as a respect for thousands of years of history or the idea of avoiding the food of persecution (pork, for example, because it was an identifier of Jews during the Inquisition), but for him the milk/meat "law has nothing to do with the prohibition against eating." There are a few thoughts here. In fact, Maimonides also suggested that in biblical times there were pagan cult rituals which involved the cooking of a kid in its mother's milk (Guide of the Perplexed, III-48).

On to Chukkat! I have just a few things I'd like to mention and a few questions I'd like to pose.

+ There are plenty, PLENTY of citations of ways to become unclean in the Torah. One, cited in this parshah, is dealing with corpses. Torah cites that one is unclean for seven days upon touch a corpse, but what I wonder is whether ... and perhaps this is a stupid question ... the number of days one remains unclean varies by the number of corpses one touches ...?

+ In Num 20:1-13 is the explanation of using the ashes of a brown (red) cow to atone for sins. The comments listed in Etz Chayim says something interesting: "Just as the ashes of the brown cow atone for sin, the death of a righteous person does the same (BT MK 28a)." The first thing I thought of when I read that was the concept of Christ and the basis for Christianity. I think it's interesting that the Talmud says such a thing about the death of a righteous person being akin to atoning for sin ... am I crazy here? Or could this be a valid citation for a Christian theologian to say "See! See! The Talmud says so!!! Jews for Jesus!"

+ I had another query, but then I Googled it and "Judaism 101" (JewFaq.org) had the answer! I think it's quite interesting, and I hadn't a clue. Num. 20:29 has a notation that although the mourning period of losing a parent is 12 months, Kaddish is only recited for 11 months. I thought this was a *little* strange, but alas! Here's the explanation from the Web site:

According to Jewish tradition, the soul must spend some time purifying itself before it can enter the World to Come. The maximum time required for purification is 12 months, for the most evil person. To recite Kaddish for 12 months would imply that the parent was the type who needed 12 months of purification! To avoid this implication, the Sages decreed that a son should recite Kaddish for only eleven months.

Brilliant! Thanks Judaism 101!

+ I have to make a note about this appearance of "Oi!" in this parshah. I don't know if I've missed it before, but this is the first time I've seen it in Torah. In Num. 21:29, there's sort of a "woe unto you" spiel that says: "Woe unto you, O Moab!" and in Hebrew is אוי לך מואב! or "Oi-l'cha Moab!" Beautiful, nu?

And that's it for this week. I'm trying to get better about my studies, so here's to hoping for more regular posting, more Torah thought, and more Judaism, darn't! On that note, Ian and I are officially becoming members of Temple Sholom here in Chicago. It's the first time in my life I've paid "dues" to be a part of a religious organization (in Lincoln my monthly bulletin duties and the fact that I was a poor student got me by for temple dues). In the coming months, hopefully I'll be able to plan on participating in many of the synagogue's committees, activities, and perhaps what I'm most excited about -- Adult Education courses! Hoorah!

Here's to the weekend, and a relaxing Shabbos to my friends and readers!

Books! Books!

I became a member of the Seminary Co-Op, which entitles me to 10 percent off all purchases. It isn't much, but it's something. I promptly purchased two books: "Women and Jewish Law" and "Salonica," which I had wanted since last summer when I saw it at Kramerbooks in Washington. Here's to new books!

On a side note: The past three nights I have slept, solidly and soundly, throughout the night. This is abnormal (for those of you who know me), because getting even four good hours of sleep a night is rare for me. Amen for the sleep, though I think it might be related to either the antibiotics or allergy pills I'm taking. If that's the case, though, I suppose I should welcome it ... nu?

Jedwabne, where they killed their neighbors.

I finished Jan Gross's "Neighbors" this morning on the ride in and then while in the office. It's an incredibly quick read and doesn't strike me as harrowing as the short version that appeared in a magazine, which is what I read while taking an Ethnic Conflict course in college. What is striking, though, is the bounty of testimony from individuals about what went on and the words written in pleas for clemency by those who perpetrated the murder of (the estimated) 1,600 Jews of Jedwabne in Poland. It was not the Germans who committed the killing and torture, but the neighbors of the Jews, their Polish neighbors and -- at one time -- friends. The tragedy of the event, though, is that so few survived to tell the story and because of the tense nature of Jewish/Polish relations (even to this day), few speak about it or cite the truth of the incident as opposed to citing myths or false explanations/excuses for the death of nearly all of the hamlet's Jews.

As I finished up the book, I began to wonder about the Polish/Russian relationship, as so many of the excuses cited regard the Russians as the faulters, mostly because the Jews "supported" the Russians and the Polish were at complete odds with the Russians during the occupation. It was a question of the lesser of two evils, but part of me wonders whether the Polish still hold resentment against the Russians for the pain and anguish during the war. But this is for another time.

A few websites worth examining if you know nothing or are curious about the Jedwabne massacre, or the others like it in Poland during the occupation:

-- Articles about the controversy surrounding Gross's book and the massacre here. The controversy surrounding the book comes largely from deniers and unbelievers.
-- The Jedwabne memory book online is here.
-- And of course, there's always good ole Wikipedia clickin' here.

Next on the list is a book, "Solinca," about the disappeared Jews of Greece. I'm not on a Holocaust kick by any means, but the vanished presence of Jews in the tiny and great places in the world is fascinating. What's more so, is the idea of neighbors breaking down the doors of those they shared water wells and dreams with, only to strike them down because of ages-old myths and legends, jealousy, spite or for the sake of conformity. Explain that to me, neighbor.

To be or not to be ... a rabbi?

Ian and I went to shul last night, not sure what to expect as it was the "going away" service for one of the rabbis, who is moving to a temple up in Skokie that is much, MUCH smaller and where she will be the only rabbi. Our shul has three rabbis (the leaving rabbi is being replaced by another female rabbi), a cantor, and about a bajillion members. It's location south of Evanston and north of downtown is convenient, if only we didn't live so far away. But we're joining and I'm sort of ... well ... glad the rabbi is leaving. Does that make me horrible? I blogged about her before here, and I don't know what to expect from the new rabbi, but I'm eager to see if she's a little more accessible. The service wasn't overly long, but included what the shul likes to call "Friday Night Live." We also weren't sure what to expect with this, but it turned out to be pretty sweet. There was a mini "band" that included a violinist, bongo drummer, clarinet player and pianist. The songs had a klezmer/middle eastern flare and it made the service incredibly lively. It also was held in the sanctuary, which I find much, much more inviting than the chapel, but that's me. The rabbi gave a speech about Shalom/Sholom and its various meanings ... and my conclusion afterward was that "every rabbi needs an editor."

But I think I have a negative predisposition for female rabbis.

When I first started my journey to Judaism, I was put in touch with the rabbi of the local reform synagogue, of which became my home, which I miss so dearly. The rabbi was a woman, and we sat down for coffee after I got up the nerve to make a meeting. The thing is, I'd read just about every conversion book on the planet and had gotten the spiel about being turned away, but I wasn't worried about that. What I was worried about was feeling warm and welcome. What I didn't feel immediately was just that -- warm and welcome. The people at the temple were the most inviting individuals I'd ever met, but the rabbi didn't seem to match that. I couldn't find that connection, and the coldness left a sour taste in my mouth ... so when she left and the current rabbi arrived, I felt so blessed. I was his first convert and our connection was immediate. Since then, I think I've had a predisposition to dislike female rabbis. The most interesting bit about this is that the rabbi I converted through used to -- and continues to -- joke about me going to rabbinical school. It's something I've thought of many, many times, but I always come back to my sentiments.

I know that it's more than just having a cold female rabbi, there's other issues there. I'm just still trying to figure out precisely what they are. In some ways I'm sure it's connected to my exploration of the roles of men and women in the synagogue, and I blogged on some of that in my entry about the mechitzah here. I think theologically I'm more on a conservative end. I ebb and flow, though. But I know that it has something to do with why I have hangups about female rabbis. There's a lot at work there, and I suppose I should spend some time figuring out what the heck it is.

Luckily, I've discovered the campus bookstore and it'll be a lot easier to do that now :) Maybe I'll start with Pamela Nadell's "Women Who Would Be Rabbis: A History of Women’s Ordination 1889-1985," though I might start with Ilana Bluberg's "Houses of Study: A Jewish Woman among Books." The avenues are endless ...

Cheers.

A few notes before I scoot out of work for home.

A grave in Southern Ukraine has been discovered. G-d knows this will carry on for years and years, and probably for even longer in Africa among Sudan and Rwanda ...

KIEV, Ukraine - A mass grave holding the remains of thousands of Jews killed by the Nazis has been found in southern Ukraine near the site of what was once a concentration camp, a Jewish community representative said Tuesday.

The grave was found by chance last month when workers were preparing to lay gas pipelines in the village of Gvozdavka-1, near Odessa, said Roman Shvartsman, a spokesman for the regional Jewish community.

The Nazis established two ghettos during World War II near the village and brought Jews there from what is now Moldova as well as Ukrainian regions, Shvartsman said. In November 1941, they set up a concentration camp and killed about 5,000 Jews, he said.

The second is more humorous and I'm going to buy one in about two seconds. Come on, who wouldn't want to own one of these?

Interesting. Very very intersting.

Now this is interactive art: http://wafaabilal.com/

Thunder and lightning.

So I have a problem. It could be worse, of course. I could be addicted to meth or speed or Doritos, but it's something less costly and more, well, intellectual.

I am addicted to buying books.

Now, I'm not up into the hundreds and hundreds like my friend Kat (cheers to packing 800 books, doll), but it's a lot. Or maybe it feels like a lot because when I go to the Borders in the Loop to the Judaic studies section I can find only a few books that I don't own (and they're mostly the ones on Kaballah/Jewish mysticism). But this overwhelming feeling has ended, as Kat introduced me to the Seminary Co-Op here at the University of Chicago. It is ... beautiful. There is a Jewish studies section, plenty of books and dictionaries on Hebrew, and more texts and Chumash in the religious studies section.

Simply put, it is a paradise where NPR is always on and the chairs are ready to be filled. I imagine days during the summer where the office grows old and I can wander on over and sit down with something new, just to tease myself.

So Kat and I went yesterday and I saw 20, 30, maybe 100 books I want. This is dangerous, of course, as there are more important things for my hard-earned (ha ha) money, such as credit card bills and student loan payments, not to mention the day to day needs. But books. My G-d, books. My own slice of heaven.

For the 20 percent off sale (thanks, Kat), I purchased a Hebrew-English dictionary (more than 18,000 words!) that is a little more handy for toting around than the one I got a few months ago (that is falling apart, btw). I also picked up a book in the Teach Yourself series. I'm a child of Seow's biblical Hebrew text, but I thought I'd branch out and see what the TY series has to offer (and it turns out they have just about every language on the planet, including Urdu and Zulu).

And finally, I picked up "Neighbors" by Jan Gross. I read a portion of it while in an Ethnic Conflict (aka the Genocide) class in college. That was the same class that my obsession and dissection of Ulysses S. Grant and his Orders No. 11 grew out of. "Neighbors" is a pretty must horrific story that, after reading, is hard to reconcile. It's merely a morsel of the never-to-be reconciled history of the Polish/Jewish people.

So here I am with some delicious gems. And in the future? There will be more and more and more. Feeding the addiction is what I can do. Amen.

Like an old shoe.

They say you can never go home. And they lie.

I'm back in Nebraska for the weekend. My college friend Patrick married his Husker sweetheart, Amanda, last night in a short, but kind wedding at St. Paul's in downtown Lincoln. Aside from a lot of Christy-talk, it was a nice ceremony. The song was strange, as it was about the "beauty of Christ's body." Being me, it made me squirm a little in my seat. I guess there's nothing beautiful about a crucified body, in my opinion. Though I imagine it was metaphorical, I don't get that kind of stuff. The reception that followed was small, beautiful and what I'd hope mine could be. It wasn't ritzy (the steak was delicious, though), but had a flare of class. The music options (some Sinatra, and other big band tunes) were astounding, not to mention that the cake was moist as anything I've ever had. The best part? The jellybeans on the tables. Kudos, my man. Kudos. The bride and groom were dashing, and I nearly cried after finishing my dollar dance with Patrick. There's something about seeing a good friend happy, glowing in what they really deserved that makes you want to cry for them. In happiness, of course. Mazel tov, my friends.

The trip has gone quite well so far.

We went to South Street temple on Friday night, and I can't even begin to describe how fulfilling it was. If there's one thing I miss most in my life, the one thing that if I could top it all off right now and be completely happy, it would be to be able to be with my synagogue family again. It's been more than a year since last I went to temple there, but I fell right back in. Rabbi Emanuel welcomed me to read a bit from the siddur (which was so nice, considering it will be eons before I'm asked to read at our new synagogue in Chicago) and there was a baby name ceremony, so myriad people were there. All of the old friends -- Barb, Deb, the Zlotskys, the rabbi and his family, Sara and her husband -- everyone was there. It seems I've missed a lot in the past year. Babies, engagements, catastrophe at the Conservative synagogue in town (which I INTEND on finding all about, of course). I miss my friends there. I miss the Torah studies and conversation. It's so hard to get to the new temple on Saturdays for Torah study, when it takes an hour and a half by transit to make it there. But it was reassuring, reaffirming, and uplifting to be there again. The place where I kindled my faith and found a home and a family among all the world's Israelites. It will always be my home, and each time I come back is a reminder that no matter how lost and far away I feel, I always have somewhere to go back to.

We hit the Starlite Lounge Friday night, where we ran into Johnny and other old Daily Nebraskan chums. I fell in love with the Tom Collins and relished in the hipness of the place I used to go every Thursday for free appetizers and cheaply priced faux martinis. There was Bison Witches yesterday afternoon for lunch, which I was happy that Ian loved. If I could franchise a restaurant, that might be it. We visited Target and went to the wedding, topping the night off with some Runza to fill our stomachs. If you've never had a Runza burger, then you're missing out. It's another restaurant I'd like to franchise -- if only so I could eat the burgers and fries for the rest of my days. Even Ian, a burger/food connoseur and the toughest critic I know, said it was the best fast food burger he'd ever had (topping Inn-N-Out, among others). Today it was Frenchees and the Coffee House, the latter being a staple of the College Years for me.

Either way, every place felt like home. It's quiet, being summertime with classes out. The college kids make up a big chunk of the heart of this city, which is why when many graduate they move on to Omaha -- it keeps that umph that many miss from college around these parts. But it's flat, and the buildings are low. I took Ian out to my "spot" -- Alvo Road at 14th Street -- where you can see every star in the sky, no matter what type of night it is. Big Dipper, Cassiopia, you name it, it's there. It's a gravel road that leads somewhere, though I'm not sure where. I've always just pulled right in, turned off the engine and killed the lights. It's the kind of place where you can just hold your breath and hear all the sounds of the world. There are few places left like that, and definitely none in Chicago.

When they say you can never go home, they lie. I'm back where I used to be and I feel as though I've never left. I settled right in at synagogue and Bison Witches and among the streets of Lincoln. There are new roads, new people, new restaurants and structures, but it's all the same old shoe. It's comforting and I couldn't be happier to be back. So now I know that the myth is a lie, and I couldn't be happier.