Sukkah!

Robin helped me put up my sukkah today. It’s completely different than last year’s, though equally ghetto-tastic.

If you’re in the neighbourhood, drop on by!

Christmas in Israel!

It’s that magical time of the year, yeledim, when we trim the trees and assemble the 3.5 walls. Yes, it’s Sukkot (almost; Wednesday at sunset). Here in Israel, Sukkot has taken on a look that, weere it North America, would most aptly be described as Christmas.

Lights and ornaments have been strung, a five pointed tinsel-y foil star thing has been hung (which the wait-staff at Coffee Shop have called מסלטו (”mis-EL-toe”) as they wave towards Robin and I, then point to its location near us), and poles have been wrapped in tinsel. It’s craziness.

But we’ve got to ask, was Sukkot always the Christmasy holiday here in Israel? And if so, are presents given? (Who would bring those presents? Sukkah stork? Booth Bunny? Farmer fairy?) Instead of leaving milk and cookies out for Santa, does the stork/bunny/fairy eat the fruit and veggies hanging from the walls and roof of the sukkah? Do little Israeli children dream of dried figs instead of sugar plums? What are the Sukkot carols? O Sukkah Hut, The Seven Species of Sukkot, Harv’sting in a Desert Wonderland?

Please note: at this point in the blog writing, a mere 30 minutes since we arrived for coffee and breakfast, the Coffee Shop has completely been transformed from regular building to sukkah. (Says Robin, “We’ve been sukkahed.”) The roof has been retracted, revealing bamboo mats covering the roof (through which, were it night, we could see the stars), the decorations are up, and it looks like they’re hanging up sheets to make new temporary walls too (possibly to make multiple smaller sukkot inside). AMAZING.)

Once we leave, Robin will be joining me at my apartment to help me put up my own sukkah. Maybe we’ll have to go find a dollar store and buy our own Christmas Sukkot decorations too.

A merry Sukkot to all, and to all, a good night.

Oh, crap.

Israel declared the Gaza Strip an “enemy entity” and prepared to impose economic sanctions on the territory.

Convening Wednesday to decide on a response to Palestinian rocket fire from Gaza, Prime Minister Ehud Olmert’s Security Cabinet voted unanimously to brand the territory, which has been under full Hamas rule since June, an “enemy entity”.

The designation could allow Israel to argue that it owes Gazans no support in terms of allowing movement of goods and people across the shared border.

The Security Cabinet further agreed to restrict imports to Gaza as well as Israeli supplies of fuel and electricity, though implementation of the sanctions was delayed pending consulations with experts on humanitarian law.

Hamas, which has either ignored or abetted the rocket salvoes, denounced the Israeli decision as a “declaration of war”.
From JTA

Crap. Also, oh #%*$!! Who the heck thought it would be a good idea to declare the Gaza an “enemy entity”?! Who the heck thought this wouldn’t escalate and/or be seen by Hamas as a “declaration of war”?

The BBC’s article on the same new piece claims that

“Additional restrictions will be imposed on the Hamas regime, limiting the transfer of goods to the Gaza Strip, cutting back fuel and electricity, and restricting the movement of people to and from the strip,” [an Israeli statement form the Prime Minister's office] said.The sanctions will be implemented “following a legal review” to examine the legal and humanitarian consequences, the statement added.

Israeli officials reportedly hope the new measures will put pressure on Hamas, which ousted its rivals Fatah to seize control of Gaza in June, to halt rocket attacks on southern Israel.

Ok, so it they actually follow through with this study, and realise that, for example, cutting off the water supply to the Gaza is inhumane and would have serious consequences, they’re not going to impose sanctions? Does anyone actually believe that? (Oh look, a flying pig!) And even if the Israeli government kept its word, would Hamas be willing to appreciate the lack of sanctions and not increase their warfare against Israel?

This does not bode well.

Hamas and Syria and Iran, oh my!

Hatred in the City of Peace

I have never taken for granted the fact that I was raised in Canada, in the big cities, to liberal parents. Some of my earliest memories involve one of m parents’ gay friends who helped my nanny take care of me when my parents were on vacation in Europe: he picked me up, on a weekend morning, and took me to my pottery lessons. After my class, before returning me to my home, he bought me ice cream. This was a huge deal: it was not yet noon, and I had not yet had lunch. In my family, dessert was for special occasions, and we certainly weren’t allowed sweets before lunch! At the ripe old age of 4, I didn’t know what “gay” meant, but I knew that adults used that word when referring to this family friend and his housemates (I later clued in that they were two gay couples sharing a house). So in my young mind, I equated “gay” with “sweet before lunch” which meant “cool.” A formative experience, to be sure. I went on to attend both elementary school and high school, in different cities, with queer teachers of different genders, and at least twice had students in my class whose gender – to this day – remains unknown. All of this was fully accepted, encouraged, and supported. It wasn’t a big deal when I came out; the first pride parade I marched in was captured on film by my math teacher and her partner, who cheered as I walked by with an LGBTQ youth group.

Which isn’t to say that my life has been untouched by homophobia. I was once attacked by a group of guys, who shouted homophobic slurs as they took their swings and kicks. I lived in a small town where homophobia was as “natural” as drinking beer. Once while sucking a popsicle in my car, another driver shouted “faggot” at he passed me by (okay, that one might have been called for!).

But I’ve written those off as isolated incidents that were few and far between. I was able to balance them with the activism and volunteer work I was doing to educate my communities on issues relating to homophobia, heterosexism, heterocentrism, transphobia, and more. Work I’ve been doing for more than half my life.

Living in Jerusalem, however, I’m having a hard time compartmentalizing, pushing down, the rampant homophobia. It started my first day in Jerusalem, walking from Rehavia to Mahane Yehuda. Scribbled on a paper recycling bin was “homo = ill,” “homo = filthy,” and “homo = dog.” I was shocked. In a city where destruction (or amelioration) of public property, through graffiti and stencil art, for political statement or “just” art, was the norm, I couldn’t believe that no one had challenged this message. As I continued my exploration of the city, I found that this message was repeated on paper recycling bins, electricity boxes, telephone poles, walls, gas metre boxes, and other public places, not just in Rehavia, but in Baka, Nachlot, Katamon, Germany Colony, city centre and Ben Yehuda, and more. I was able to determine that the hatred was all being written by the same hand.

I quickly devised a plan, supported by friends, to correct the graffiti. We started carrying permanent markers with us and changing the message from “homo = ill” to “homophobia = ill.” But the more we changed, the more we had to change. On streets where I had corrected every then-marked-up spot, a second walk a few days later would reveal new, bolder, places where the hatred was being displayed. And tonight I noticed that some of my corrections had been amended. “Homo very dangerous for children.”

I feel like I’m loosing this fight. I could keep writing messages back, correcting what has now been written to counter my anti-homophobia corrections, but it’s becoming overwhelming. This individual clearly has a lot of time on his/her hands, and I almost feel like I’m being watched or followed as I walk around making these corrections.

If you’re in Jerusalem, I implore you to take a sharpie in hand and correct them as you see them (or just cross them out). It’s exhausting living in a city where messages of hate are scribbled everywhere I look, and even more exhausting feeling like no difference is being made. If things don’t turn around soon, I think I’ll be taking this story to the press.

V’ahavta l’re’echa kamocha…

Here's to 5768!

So welcome to 5768, “Shmitty’s year.”* In which this is the 7th or sabbatical year, which means there’s a whole lot of agricultural laws to follow or at least argue about; Purim will be three days long in Jerusalem (and other walled cities); February has 29 days, and there’s an extra month of Adar; no double parshas (weekly Torah readings) on Shabbat (which is the last time it’ll happen for 44 years for communities that follow 2-day holidays and 8 years for 1-day holidays); Passover will start on Saturday night (which always leads to craziness and weird procedures like flushing crumbs down the toilet because you can’t burn anything due to Shabbat); Cyprus and Malta are adopting the Euro; it’ll be the earliest Easter since 1913; and the change of the clocks in Israel meant that we fasted for Tzom Gedaliah an hour less today - or something.

*So named by yours truly because the Hebrew term is שמטה (sh’mitah) (the seventh year in a seven-year cycle during which land in Israel must lie fallow and debts are canceled) and there’s so much going on this year that I thought it would be exhausting. Thus sh’mitah because an old, friendly but exhausted, man named Shmitty.

* * * * *
The hag (holiday) lasted two days, or three days, depending on your calendar. Rosh Hashanah is a 48-hour day, and Shabbat is a normal-length day. Which meant that Wednesday late-afternoon through Saturday night was filled with davening (at 5 different minyans; only one of which was the minyan belonging to the synagogue we were in), good food, great people, a cold with lingering cough, a hitbodedut walk at night which was quite helpful for me, singing, conversations, simanim, and naps.

* * * * *
A year ago, I was in New York for the haggim, with some of the same people. Which only helps to highlight how much things can change in a year, yet still feel familiar.

* * * * *
It’s clearly autumn here, or something resembling autumn. The nights are crisper, dropping to a “cool” 15C/60F; the wind has picked up; and unlike the first two weeks I was here, there are now clouds in the skies. Another end of summer is the end of Summer Clock (what Israel calls daylight savings time). The clocks went back an hour last night, making the time difference between here and home either 9 (Vancouver, Seattle) or 6 (Montreal) hours, until North America changes their clocks in November. (I would say more on this topic, but it looks like BZ already has.)

* * * * *
And I’m still house hunting. I have a few more options now: el-cheapo apartment for one; cheap roommate situation; or a 2+ bedroom apartment to share with Mr. and Mrs. LastTrumpet. So if you know of any great, furnished apartments, let me know.

שנה טובה

שנת שלום ואהאבה

Other tidbits

A few other things to keep you appeased:

• As BZ pointed out, שופרסל is pronounced “shufersal.” It would make more sense for it to be “supersal” or even “shopper-sal”. But no. My theory is that the owners were drunk when ordering their first million business cards, confused the “p” with the “f” (it’s the same letter in Hebrew, just pronounced differently - pey or fey), and realised they were stuck with the “f.”
• I was rammed with a dead cow. I had dead cow on my leg.
• I think the thing that I killed in the bedroom was a scorpion.
• It’s hard to convince the pizza guy to put more than one topping on your pizza.

Images of Elul

With so much to report on - the possible war with Syria, the peace talks, proposed changes to the law of return - or thoughts to share - on t’shuva, slichot, and payot - I’m feeling a little overwhelmed, and cloudy-brained. So while I clear my head and try to jot down my thoughts in a comprehensive manner, I’ll offer up some photos.

Haifa:

Jerusalem:

Mehane Yehuda (the shuk - outdoor market):


Shakshuka!