Of broken noses and appreciating Israeli medical care

So what if we plan? We're not in control of the universe, nor will we ever be. In fact, we never had that power.

For some reason, nevertheless, I had figured that when Computer Cowboy returned to Israel, last week, after a much too exciting trip to India (see: Appreciating Husbands who Travel to India, Dec. 07, 2008), life would quiet in my home. Consider that in spite of everything, the children are learning to take turns having crises. Instead, my plans for serenity were tossed when Boy-Getting-Taller broke his nose.

In Israel (see: "Urgent Care," Feb. 27, 2007), medicine is a means to an ends. Doctoring, here, is always about healing and is sometimes about prevention. Rarely, in this Old World, are the bodily arts about avoiding litigation.

The path of Torah is the path of the Feminist

In a recent edition of The Jerusalem Post, two remarkable pieces were presented; an op-ed essay/book self-promotion piece entitled "Why a Women's Torah Commentary" and a Jewish News piece entitled "First guide for inclusive Prayer prayer services published." Both of those items shared the thesis that shifting Jewish women from their halachic role necessarily can unify Klal Yisrael, in general, as well as necessarily can better the lives of Jewish women, specifically. I will attempt the beginning of a refutation to those notions.

In the words of Yael Weil, in "You've Come a Long Way Baby," published in L. Schreiber's, Hide and Seek: Jewish Women and Hair Covering; "[t]rue self-confidence can only be attained by ... the one who does not need fame, honor, recognition, or approval of others because inside, he or she ultimately cares about the only opinion that really counts (Weil, 2003, p. 38)."

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A bat bayit's aliyah, part I

Sometimes I don't mind living vicariously. When a much loved bat bayit made aliyah last week, I had no compunction feeling joy and gratitude through her transformation. In fact, I feel grateful to be part of her estimable life.

Before I was able to feel my most recent rush of gratitude, however, I had had to deal with pragmatics. Specifically, Missy Youngest and I woke up at dark to catch a ride to the center of town, from where we took a Nefesh Bnefesh-sponsored hasaha to Ben Gurion Airport. We packed potato chips for Missy Youngest and goat yogurt for me, a Sefer Tehillim and a siddur, welcome signs for our new olah, and a few items that our beloved immigrant had requested.

Baruch Hashem, because my family has merited knowing many of this year's new citizens, even the cab driver who we called before 5 am was familiar with our routine; cab to city center, hasaha to airport, hasaha back to Jerusalem and then local buses to school and to home. When he picked us up, he didn't ask where we were going, but how many olim we were meeting.

Anti-status: Part I

Toilet paper is so much more chic to use for emptying the contents of one's nose, in Israel, than are tissues. In the New World, using toilet paper for one's nose is a sign of unnecessary crudeness. In the Old World, the opposite is true; using tissues to expedite the cleaning of nostrils is considered unnecessary consumerism.

In this Holy Land, where tanks are jump-started as much by ingenuity as by brute force, though rarely by the proper tools, where newcomers learn Hebrew by osmosis because they have to, where professionals work two or three jobs just to pay for modest digs, it is unseemly to be materially wasteful. In fact, in most circles, excessive attachment to possessions is stigmatized.

It is not merely that Israel is a land of much valor, but of few trees, or that local salaries are microscopic. It is not just that in this Torah-influenced nation that the emphasis is put on spiritual highs rather than on late model cars. Rather, it is that Israelis, daily, face such big issues of life and death that fleeting, superficial joys are not valued here in the same manner in which they are valued in much of the rest of the world.