A little more theory of discourse, Part I: No saintly fools

A few years ago, when I began this blog, it was my intention to create a string of texts, in which I could use my rhetorical criticism and theory training to illuminate my experience of acculturating, as a New Worlder, to this Old World. In the intervening almost two hundred essays, this blog morphed.

I began to write about Israeli politics, about Israeli taxi drivers, and about other items tangential to, but not central to my personal process of becoming more fully Israeli. Also, I slacked off in terms of applying academic know-how to the commonplace events through which I traveled.

Dissatisfaction with synthetics

As I restored order to my closet, during the days following my family's massive, postholiday laundering (see: "Post Mo'ed Laundry: The Arrangement of Topics into Types," October 29, 2006), that is, as I again fold piles of shirts and of skirts, I consider the per cent of products, made in Israel, or for Israelis, that are synthetic. Despite the reality that, when I first made aliyah, I promised myself I would only invest in lasting purchases, I have found myself a witting consumer of inferior creations. I wonder why we Israelis are willing to make do with inferior goods at inflated prices.

Aliyah memories

Over the short span, during which my family and I, thus far,  have merited to live in this Holy Land, I have observed a variety of differences between this Old World, i.e. Eretz Yisrael, and that New World, i.e. Europe, North America, Oceania, etc., per discourse, specifically, and per culture, in general. Although my aliyah-enhanced personal modifications have caused me to loose some of my sensitivity to distinctions between New World and Old World attitudes and values, I remain convinced that such distinctions continue to exist. Sometimes such disparities are challenging. Almost always such disparities are amusing in that they are odd or unexpected.

Tzedukah, part III: Coming prepared

As mentioned in "Tzedukah, Part II: The Importance of Hands on Giving," we sometimes realize that unfortunate situations exist. At other times, when we are not sure whose plight requires our response, we can be proactive in our sharing of our resources. Specifically, we can make plans to give away some of our worldly treasures before we even encounter people in trouble.

Whereas it is meritorious to dedicate part of our earnings and part of our time to the needs of others, in general, it is also beneficial for us to dedicate part of the room in our suitcases to Israel's poor, specifically. Granted, it is required first to fund deprived members of our families and then to fund deprived members of our communities, but it is also the case that we are required to support Israel's disadvantaged.

Tzedukah, part II: The importance of hands on giving

It's a new year, but we, as a people, have established needs. One of those needs is to share our resources. Such behavior seems easier said than done. Consider the following, fairly sad tale, as a case in point.

On a sidewalk abutting a busy thoroughfare in Jerusalem, a man with sores, swellings, and other forms of visible suffering extended a cup that was partially full of coins. Next to him was a woman aged by a type of sickness known only to her and to our Creator. She, too, held out a miserably filled vessel.

Tzedukah Part I: The importance of a proper standpoint

Sometimes, I don't understand why we get bent out of shape about material goods. I make this claim not from an apex of wealth, but from a position somewhere south of the financial equator. Specifically, I mean that fiscal responsibility is not equivalent to affluence.

In fact, such an equation, which makes wealth equal to prosperity, is false, at best. We Jews were meant to enjoy "success," in its various manifestations, but we were never promised that we would be rolling in literal riches. Our treasures are not the world’s treasures in the sense that our values are not the world's values.

Parking tickets and other municipal matters

It's tough to function if you are not to be fluent in your society's native tongue. It's even more difficult for an individual, who lacks language prowess, to operate when the government takes notice of such a dearth. I lived these feelings, once more, when I was confronted with a broken parking pass machine.

It would have been nice to have had a better command of Ivrit, recently, when I was stuck with a broken parking pass dispenser. Though I was doing my best to avoid a parking ticket, my lack of vocabulary stymied my efforts.

Among the mothers’ generations

In every generation, there is wisdom to be gleaned and ordeals over which to prevail. The joyous holiday of Sukkot, accordingly, brings to the fore growth opportunities, especially for mothers.

Women from the generation preceding mine, for instance, endure certain tests indigenous to their stature as matrons. They necessarily have to endeavor to respond to Sukkot full of children and grandchildren with smiles and necessarily have to plug away at graciously embracing the cake crumbs discovered under their salon cushions, and their ever-growing piles of unwashed holiday laundry (contrast that beatific attitude with the attitude of many middle-aged mamas to the same. See: "Post Mo'ed Laundry: The Arrangement of Topics into Types," Oct. 29, 2006).

Yomim Noraim 5769: Civility

Rimmonim and Lulavim are among the many signs and symbols indigenous to this holiest of holiday periods. Also, white clothing, new jewelry, special prayer books, plus calls to loved ones, to ask for forgiveness, frequently mark this sacrosanct time.

Just weeks earlier, during Tisha B'Av, we were sitting on the floor imploring The Boss to bring Moshiach and to Grant us mercy. At present, we are still wailing, but now we are praying in a light, rather than in a dark, tone. Today's requests for life, for health, for parnassah, and for happiness are hopeful, plus expectant.

A return to the Kotel

On the Friday morning between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Computer Cowboy and I prayed at the Kotel. Baruch Hashem, since we live in the Holiest City, getting there, especially since now, long after the war, that special bit of real estate has been restored to its appointed guardians, is as easy as finding a bus, hailing a cab, or turning on the ignition (from where my family lives, walking is mostly the province of the young or of the otherwise spirited).

Although my husband and I have been Blessed to pray at The Wall far more often than when we lived outside of Jerusalem, we are inspired anew each time we tread on its pavilion's cobblestones. That morning, as other times, we felt gifted with revelation.