Poland Day 1 - Arrival

May 25, 2008
כ אייר תשס"ח

I don’t want to be awake at this hour. In fact, I don’t want to be going to my destination at all. It is 1:45 am I am overtired and I don’t want to go. But I am going because that is what we do. Baruch and I stand on the corner waiting for our Nesher to pick us up. Our professor calls and says the driver doesn't see us. "Look for the two Jews standing on the corner at the stoplight with the suitcases," I reply...

I wake up with a start as the plane does not really touch down in Warsaw as much as pounds down on the tarmac at Frederick Chopin International Airport. Brand new, or very recently renovated, Chopin is not a warm place – it is grey and glass and cold – or perhaps that is just how I feel on this morning. Despite my reluctance, we are off to Warsaw.

I have not seen a park like this in a very long time. Everything is so green and lush, with a lot of old growth. Around a small, man-made lake, people sit politely, waiting for a concert of piano pieces by Chopin. Perhaps I would feel differently were I not wearing a kippah, but I feel so very out of place, as though the entire park is looking at the back of my head trying to figure out what in the world I am doing there…what we are doing there.

At some point, we check into our hotel and then go to dinner at a restaurant that defrosts the kosher food sent for us from Israel. Walking back through downtown Warsaw, I again feel very self-conscious. For years, I refrained from wearing my kippah in Europe. On this trip, however, I insist on wearing it sans baseball cap, proudly and openly. In any event, I look at the grim faces looking at us. I don’t feel so safe outside, but the kippah stays on. Some members of our group choose to go out to pubs. I just want to get back to the room. My pace gets faster as I walk through the pedestrian tunnel.

I enter the hotel and suddenly feel safe. The lobby is filled with police officers dressed in light blue shirts and dark blue pants like police officers from anywhere in the world. These police officers, however, speak Hebrew. They are mishteret Yisrael – the Israeli Police – here on a memorial mission just as we are. I am among my own. I am not powerless. I am safe.

Parashat Shlah Lekha 2008

Last Sunday, I had the pleasure of attending the wedding of our dear friend, Rabbi Aaron Alexander and his fiancé, Peninah Podwol. I also had the privilege of standing under the chuppah with Peninah’s father, also a rabbi, and mother, and participating in the ceremony. With friends and family beaming with joy, the couple made their way down the stairs of the outdoor patio at the American Jewish University just before the sun started its descent. If the spot where the Milken School sits were replaced with the Temple Mount, this could just as easily been the Maiersdorf Plaza at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

It is a rarity for me to co-officiate at a wedding and I usually only do so at the weddings of people that I know well. Under the chuppah, you are privy to the entire ritual, to the looks of the bride and groom, to have the opportunity to share thoughts, hopes, prayers, and advice at the very moment boyfriend and girlfriend, fiancée and affianced, become chattan and kallah – bride and groom. Since it was Sunday, I based my remarks on this week’s parashah, Shlah Lekha. Since I almost never write down my remarks at a wedding so I can spend the time looking directly into the eyes of the bride and groom, here is a summary, to the best of my recollection, of my words to Aaron and Peninah:

“You know that I like to think and speak in threes (chuckles from the Ramah Darom chevre present) and so I am going to focus on two words at the beginning of the parashah and then one paragraph at the end. Our parashah opens with the story of the m’raglim – the spies – that Moshe sends to check out the land of Israel. Aaron, we first met because while I thought I was on a recruitment mission to the University of Florida, I think your mother, Linda, had me sent on a spy mission to make sure that you were well. Peninah, when I met Aaron at the Swamp at UF, I knew immediately that he would be a fantastic madrich (counselor). I didn’t know that he would become a talmid (student), a chaver (a dear friend), a teacher, a confidant, and a brother.

Aaron, it is because of another word in the parashah that I know Peninah’s family. Moshe instructs the spies to go and check out the land. Do they live in wooded areas or barren lands? Do they reside in fortresses or in machanayim, which shares the same root as machaneh, which of course, as most of us know, means camp? In fact, fifteen years ago, one of my first recruitment trips for Camp Ramah in Wisconsin was to the South suburbs of Chicago, where I met Peninah’s father at the home of Sarah Graff. So in a sense, I know both of you because of the camps Ramah.

Peninah, Aaron, I want to turn to the end of our parashah because there is crucial advice for you as you begin your married life together. Here, we read the paragraph that tells us of the mitzvah of tzitzit, the command to place fringes on the corners of all four cornered garments. The purpose of tzitzit, we are taught, is to remind us, to remind us of the Commandments and to do them, to remember them, and to refrain from pursuing those things that draw our attention away from our fidelity to our covenanted relationship with God.

Today, Aaron and Peninah, you place rings on your fingers, wedding rings, which serve a similar purpose to tzitzit. They are the outward expression of an internal fidelity, a commitment to one another that you are more important, unique, kadosh, than any other human relationship in the world; that you make promises to one another, commitments. You will both be very successful in your careers. You will be pursued by others who want you to give just one more class, one more lecture, to attend just one more meeting for the good of the Jewish people. And because you are both so committed to the Avodat Kodesh – the Sacred Work – that you do, you too will want to give just one more class, one more lecture, touch one more set of lives. You will pursue those interests with gusto. These rings remind you that before you can be excellent servants of the community and the Kadosh Baruch Hu, you must be excellent partners to one another. Remember that whenever you look at the wedding rings on your fingers.

Aaron, Peninah, Rebecca and I wish you unlimited happiness in this ultimate relationship and look forward to decades of continued friendship. Mazal Tov!”

After reciting the Sheva Berachot, together with Matthew Alexander who has an incredible voice, the glass was broken, a cheer went up and the new husband and wife were escorted to a few minutes of privacy. When they emerged at the reception, the dancing went on for a very long time and it was wonderful to see so many people surrounding the chattan and kallah in joy and love.

Mazal Tov!

Shabbat Shalom!

Notes:

To those coming to Israel on Ramah Israel Seminar, I look forward to seeing you very soon. If you are coming from Poland, I will see you at the Hava and not at the airport. If you are coming the day after on the regular Seminar, I will see you at the group area at Ben Gurion! I can’t wait to welcome you to מדינת ישראל !

Mazal Tov to our friend Marc Silberstein on his recent engagement!

Mazal Tov to our friend Anna Stern on her recent engagement!

Mazal Tov to Vicki and Jason on their pending move to Chattanooga, TN (which is about 3 hours closer to us in Atlanta)!

Yasher Koah to my colleagues at the Melton Senior Educator Program on the completion of the Program.

Starting on Motzei Shabbat, I will be posting journal entries from my recent trip to Poland and Hungary both to the google group and to my blog at www.hamirpesetsheli.blogspot.com . The blog site will include photos from the trip. Please note that this was an intense and difficult trip for me and the entries will communicate that very clearly.

Parashat Bekhukotai - Elan's Words

This week, read Bekhukotai which usually comes together with parashat Bahar, which we read last week. In that they USUALLY appear together, I am taking advantage of the split to share with you Elan's words of Torah from last week, his Bar Mitzvah:

Sometimes, I have something I call an “Israel Moment.” It is usually when I see or do something that doesn’t happen in Marietta, Georgia. Once, Mira, Amalya, my Dad and I were walking around downtown and a girl in front of us just walked up to a fig tree and climbed up into it. She started picking figs and eating them. When we walked by, she offered us figs and we happily accepted. Definitely not a Marietta, Georgia moment.

Another Israel moment – I was walking home one day and when I got to Derech Chevron there was a guy on a horse crossing the street, cutting off impatient pedestrians and drivers, who were yelling at the horse and rider. Not a “Roswell Road Moment” - an “Israel Moment.”
One of my favorite Israel moments was seeing Gan HaPa’amon on Yom Ha’Atzma’ut, where people were staking out places for their evening barbecue very early in the afternoon. It was insane. People were trying to get the best spots. Just seeing so many people celebrating in a small place was definitely an Israel moment.

All year, I had great Israel moments and they make me feel much more connected to eretz Yisrael and Medinat Yisrael.

The Tefillin I am wearing today are very special to me. I made them myself. A few years ago, my Dad was sitting with our friend, Noah Greenberg in Tsfat. My Dad saw some paper boxes on his desk and ask Noah what they were. Noah told him that one day, he had a question: How did Moshe make his tefillin, without today’s hydraulic presses and other such modern equipment? Noah came up with the idea to try and make tefillin out of klaf, parchment just like what we use to write a Torah or a mezuzah’s scrolls, that Moshe would have been able to use.

Noah started folding and shaping and eventually found a way to make tefillin. He went to his rabbi and asked if they were kosher tefillin. His rabbi said they were kosher. Noah thought that if kids made their own tefillin, they might use them regularly. So Noah came to camp to test out the idea. Several other campers and I got to test the project out first hand. We started by creasing and cutting the parchment. Then we had to paint it all completely black with paint pens. Once that was done, we started folding the batim, precisely as we were shown, so that they would for the right shape. When they were half folded, we had to take the scrolls, fold them, and tie them up with “gid” or sinew. We put the scrolls inside and then we finished by folding up the bottoms and sewing them shut. After that was done, we lacquered the Shin on the Shel Rosh to give it a shine. When that was done, all that was left to do was to tie the knots on the straps and, then, we had made our own tefillin!

While we were working on our tefillin, we would sometimes become distracted and start talking about other things. Each time, Noah would have us say that “Everything we do today is l’shem Kedushat Tefillin” and we would all refocus. After a day or two, some of the campers would remind the others about our purpose, l’shem kedushat tefillin, without being told by Noah to do it. Even though it meant not going to sports and swimming for a few days, I was amazed and excited to participate in this new project and am very proud to have made this pair of tefillin.

On Chol HaMoed Sukkot, my family came with the Schorsch – Moses family to Neot Qedumim. It was our first visit. Simcha Leibovic took us on a tour of all the different kinds of Sukkot mentioned in the Mishnah. It was amazing to see all the plants and the view, and it gave me an idea of what biblical Israel might have looked like. We saw etrogim the size of watermelons, an Archimedes screw, and other fascinating things. It really gave me an idea of why the Israelites wanted to here so badly and why we kept remembering this place for thousands of years.

These may seem like random things: Israel moments, a tefillin project, Neot Kedumim, and some special people but there is a connection between them and my bar mitzvah. Bar Mitzvah is about my relationship, and my obligations, to Elohei Yisrael, following the mitzvoth that are part of our brit with God. Bar Mitzvah is about our Torah and doing things like learning about tefillin, making tefillin, and now wearing tefillin. Bar Mitzvah is about having a relationship with people, the people of Israel, and it is about having a connection and responsibility to Eretz Yisrael, the land and the State of Israel, which is a lot of what Shemittah is about. Thank you all of coming to join me as I take on these obligations and to celebrate with me as I become Bar Mitzvah.

May we all go from strength to strength and may we all stand together this Shabbat and proclaim:

Be Strong, Be Strong and We Shall be Stengthened.
חזק חזק ונתחזק

Parashat Behar - Elan's Bar Mitzvah

It has been several weeks since I wrote last. The end of each week has been crazy and I have either not had time to write or have not had what to write. This week, however, is different and special. Somehow or another, Becca and I now have a son that is becoming Bar Mitzvah. Elan led tefillot this morning at Neot Kedumim. Tomorrow, he will read Torah and Haftarah at Shira Chadashah. If you are in Jerusalem, services start at 8:30 am and Torah reading is around 9:15 am and kiddush, well, you will just have to show up to find out. The following are the words of Torah I will share tomorrow with Elan and with the kehillah.

Shabbat Shalom,

We were not originally supposed to be here this Shabbat. For many years, we planned to have Elan’s bar mitzvah at Camp Ramah Darom, where I had the privilege of serving as the founding director for eleven years. Were we there, I would have spent the past few weeks trying to make some kind of connection between the specifics of the laws of shemittah, the year of release for the land, and Camp Ramah. Not a simple task. But we are not at camp. We are in Yerushalayim where we have been living this year. The fact that your bar mitzvah fell on Shabbat Behar which deals with Shabbaton, with the land of Israel, must have been a foreshadowing of our being in Israel. It was bashert.

The classic question about our parashah is asked in Torat Cohanim and repeated by several of the meforshim:

מה ענין שמיטה אצל הר סיני. והלא כל המצות נאמרו מסיני?

In other words, what is it about shemittah, letting the land rest, that is so important that the Torah begins the parashah with:

וידבר יקוק אל משה בהר סיני לאמר:

“And The Lord spoke to Moses at Mt. Sinai, saying,”

Why does it take us back all the way to Sinai?

Many of the commentators focus on the question from a temporal standpoint. That is, they are bothered that this appears at the end of theSefer Vayikra, Leviticus, after Matan Torah, the Giving of Torah, and after hakamat hamishkan, the construction of the portable Tabernacle. Others consider the severity of the punishment connected to failing to observe Shemittah. From Rashi, restating Torat Cohanim, we learn that the connection between shemittah and Sinai is here to teach us that while the general rules of shemittah were mentioned in Exodus, we should not think that what is taught here was taught at a later moment in history in a different place; rather, these mitzvoth were taught at Sinai in detail and are simply restated in their specifics here. Similarly, Ibn Ezra reminds us that there is no earlier or later in the Torah and that this parashah is taught prior to the beginning of Vayikra but appears here nonetheless.

אין מוקדם ומאוחר בתורה. וזו הפרשה קודם ויקרא,

Implicit in the responses of the commentators is the understanding that there is something special, something unusual about this parashah.

In looking at the structure of our parashah, I see the following pattern:

Our parashah begins with God:

וידבר יקוק

“And God Spoke…”

And it ends with God:

אני יקוק

“I Am God.”

Our parashah begins with sacred land, space, where we encounter God:

ויקרא פרק כה

כי תבאו אל הארץ אשר אני נתן לכם

“When you come into the Land that I give to you…”

And it ends with sacred spaces where we encounter God:

ויקרא פרק כו

ומקדשי תיראו

“Revere My Sanctuaries...”

Our Parashah begins with Shabbat for the land, Shemittah:

ויקרא פרק כה

ושבתה הארץ שבת ליקוק

“…the land will observe a Sabbath of the Lord.”

And it ends with Shabbat for those who work it:

ויקרא פרק כו

את שבתתי תשמרו

“You shall keep My Sabbaths…”

The central sections of our parashah deal with how we relate to our fellow Jews, both in the ethics of our business conduct and at times that they are in trouble, in difficulty. Furthermore, it gives us difficult questions with which to deal, not just theoretical questions but real, everyday life questions like how we relate to the “Other.”

The parashah puts front and center

Elohei Yisrael – The God of Israel
Eretz Yisrael – The Land of Israel
Shabbat Yisrael – Sacred time to Meet God;
andAm Yisrael - The People of Israel

By referring us back to Sinai, the moment of Revelation, our parashah brings us full circle to

Torat Yisrael.

By taking us back to the powerful moment of Standing at Sinai, Parashat Bahar comes to teach us that even in a portion that deals with the micro-details of land transactions and agricultural practice we are able to find the central values of Jewish Peoplehood. In a parashah like Kedoshim, it is easy to see the values. The opening chapter deals with how we relate to God and how we relate to people. Behar comes to teach us that how we relate to the land is also important. That the way we relate to our inheritance demonstrates our sacred relationship with God and the sacred role we are commanded to play in the world.

Elan, I hope that as you grow, the values that we have tried to instill in you and that are so clearly present in your parashah:

Elohei Yisrael – a special relationship with The God of Israel;
Eretz Yisrael – a special, treasure connection to The Land of Israel;
Mitzvot Yisrael – living a meaningful life organized by the covenant between us and God;
Shabbat Yisrael – taking time weekly to break from mastering time to Meet God ;
Am Yisrael – a sense of collective responsibility to Jews in the world;
and to Torat Yisrael – to learning and living our Torah, in all of its broadest definitions

Serve as your guideposts, are the organizing principles of your life and of your menshlichkeit, as they are for ours.

Yesterday, we went to Neot Kedumim to begin celebrating your bar mitzvah. After tefillot and brunch, we went to the area dedicated to Shemittah. We planted acorns from Israeli oak trees in small cups. The staff will tend them as they become saplings and after the Shemittah year is over, they will plant them throughout the preserve.

As we were planting, afterwards as I was looking out over the beautiful vistas and fields of Neot Kedumim, and as I was smiling with great pride at what a mentsh you are, I couldn’t help but think a bit about today’s haftarah. Jeremiah is told that his cousin, Hanamel, will come and tell him to buy his field in Anatot. Jeremiah is commanded to keep an achuza, a possession in the land, even though he is soon to depart into exile. The command to acquire an achuza is an investment in a future return. We hope, Mom and me, that this year has been one of acquiring a possession, a love of the Land, the People, and the State of Israel, and one of gaining a sense of being part of a collective, to Clal Yisrael, for which you have a responsibility. We hope that you, as we also wish for ourselves, will return here soon, to reacquire that achuza, the possession, not temporarily but permanently.

We are so very proud of you and love you very much.

Shabbat Shalom.

Parashat Tazria – Shabbat HaChodesh - Shabbat Mevarchim

Walking around Jerusalem, you can smell spring in the air. The trees, plants, bushes are all in bloom creating an intoxicating blend of aromas. The bees hover around the endless groups of rosemary bushes bathing in the pollen, ignoring people as they brush their hands over needles to enjoy the smell. The sun shines, washing over me with warmth. It is the season of birth and rebirth here in eretz hakodesh.

As Pesach approaches, we open our windows, throw out the winter and welcome in the New Year, with all of its possibilities and opportunities. Cleaning for Pesach, which here is a combination of kashering and spring cleaning, is winding into high gear. We use up our old chametz, and get rid of that which remains, clearing out the cabinets in preparation for the new, special foods, that will fill them in the week to come. And as we clear out our houses and cabinets, we clear out our hearts and souls, ridding them of the shmutz that gathers in the winter, opening the chambers of our hearts, and inhaling the new along with the smells of the season.

Even our parashah, Tazria, which focuses on states of ritual purity and impurity, opens with a focus on new life, on birth, on brit, and on the purity of the soul. In cases where sources of impurity would appear, we would turn to the Cohen, the priest, to recognize the nature of the impurity, to determine when it was gone, and to purify the setting. As we clear out our souls, it is now to us to recognize that which creates impurity – jealousy, hatred, anger – to remove it, creating space for goodness, hope, and joy.

Tomorrow, we focus on three new beginnings: the beginning of life in Tazria, the proclaiming of the new month, Nissan, which we will announce and bless, and the arrival of Pesach and the Exodus, when our family became a nation. As we listen, announce, and read, I pray that we all take time to insure that the windows of our soul are open wide, that we are clearing them out and making room for good at this, the springtime of our People.

Shabbat Shalom.

Parashat Vayikra

In some ways, it was a brief conversation like any other at Hebrew University. Walking down the hall with my friend Zehava, a woman in a long skirt and head covering smiled and said hello. Zehava smiled and said hello right back. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that the long skirt and head covering were not the ultra-Orthodox but the Arab flavor. We kept walking and then I just had to stop and reflect. It was a beautiful moment, actually, one that is all too rare these days.

Last week, there were protests at The Hebrew University led by Israeli Arab students demonstrating against Israeli actions in the Gaza Strip. They were free to exercise what Americans call their “First Amendment Right to Free Speech.” While they were separated from Israeli Jewish students who were also protesting that which was being shot from Gaza, they were nonetheless able to protest freely and safely. They made the news, just as the protesting Arab Israeli citizens in Um-el-Fahem did. And while some Israeli Arab groups were making their voices heard collectively, other individual Israeli Arab citizen students freely walked through the hallowed halls of The Hebrew University happily going to classes, learning, growing.

This is Israeli Democracy at its very best. Students with completely different views in the same school, in the same classes, receive the same degrees, and express positions on each extreme freely and honestly. While I am not a citizen, I cannot help but be proud of the democratic country I am living in right now. For those screaming and yelling all over the world that Israel is not a democracy, let them come and stand in the hallways of Hebrew University, let them watch the ballot box on election day, let them come and see the composition of the Knesset.

After they are done with that tour, they should go to Bir Zeit or Al Quds University. There too, they will see protests and demonstrations. They will see Palestinian students standing and protesting Israeli actions in the Gaza strip. But they won’t see any other perspectives because they are not allowed – not from Israeli Jews nor from Palestinians with a different perspective. There are no Jewish Israeli students at Al Quds or Bir Zeit, at least not as far as I can tell and if there are Arab students expressing moderate or conciliatory opinions about Israel, they certainly don’t make their voices heard because such a choice leads to beatings, threats and murder…

STOP.

The above four paragraphs were written a week ago Thursday night before I got an SMS to turn on the television, which is never a good sign in this country: A terrorist attack in Jerusalem on a yeshiva high school. The first major attack on Jerusalem in a long time, this one was perpetrated against children, adolescents. Not soldiers, not the police, not anyone armed (not to say that those would be any more acceptable) but kids studying Torah and getting ready for the month of Adar, a joyous time on our calendar, shot to death by a terrorist. I stopped writing. I just sat in front of the television, watched and wept.

The beautiful moment in the Hebrew University hallway was long forgotten. All that was left was sadness, anger and questions:

Sadness – Sadness over eight lives snuffed out too soon; sadness for the families, for the Yeshiva community, and for the entire Jewish People. How can you not be devastated whether or not you knew the students or their families?

Sadness – Sadness that the promise of Peace, the talk earlier in the year, delusional of course, that a final Peace agreement could be reached by the end of the year, is just that – delusional.

Anger – Boundless anger, rage, the kind of ferocity I am uncomfortable with. It is raw. It shows its ugly face in little ways, like the extra emphasis I find myself placing on phrases like “Blessed are You, Who destroys enemies…” in the silent Amidah, or other places where our liturgy speaks of Revenge and Divine Retribution.

Anger – Anger at the Terrorist and those who funded, supported, and encouraged him. Anger that he held an Israeli citizenship card, a real one not a forgery, and thus a person who enjoys the benefits of living in a democracy, not a perfect democracy, but a democracy nonetheless, where he can vote, make his voice heard, and get the benefits of being a citizen.

Anger – Anger at a world that screams in protest against Israeli “overreaction,” but sits silently when young Jewish Israeli kids are intentionally targeted and slaughtered by terrorists.

Questions:

Are there limits to Democracy? If so, what are they and how can they be applied here of all places?

Does a dead terrorist deserve a funeral paid for by the State, a benefit afforded other citizens?

If terrorists now come from Jabel Mukhaber (Ja-bel Mu-kA-bear), a neighborhood in South Jerusalem, is it possible to still be a liberal and not consider the Israeli Arab minority a “Fifth Column”?

And what is worse, if they are, if the majority of the Israeli Arab population is part of a fifth column, what does Israel do about it? Which brings me back to the Democracy question…

In the midst of the never ending violence here, we are also on the cusp of never ending renewal, the ending of one book and the immediate beginning of the next book of Torah. Last week, we finished Exodus. This week, we start Leviticus. Last week, we read the last verse of the Exodus and proclaimed, “Hazak Hazak V’Nithazek” “Be Strong, Be Strong and We Will Be Strengthened.” The words meant something different to me last week. There were two different “strengths” in my head – the strength of liberal democracy and the strength of The Jewish People. At the end of the day, all of the awful things that I imagine needing to happen to bring this conflict to an end, at the angriest of moments, are always overtaken by the dual values of democracy and the ethics and laws of our Torah. Taken together, we are strengthened to overcome the anger, to avoid extremism, and to look forward…

This Shabbat, I hope and pray that until there is Peace here that the voices of democracy and Torah always triumph over the voices of extremism and fascism. The other option is too frightening to consider, even in the angriest, deepest recess of my heart.

Shabbat Shalom.

Ashkelon - A Friend's Personal Story

The situation in the areas near, and now farther from, Gaza is worsening. The following is from a friend of ours, Maxine Dorot, mother of our friend and former Shaliah, Tal Dorot. It is a first person description of what it is like to live in Ashkelon right now, which is being heavily targeted by Hamas Grad Missiles from Gaza:



It's 11:54. Monday, the 3rd of march. At 8:44 exactly, without warning, a massive explosion shook the quiet morning. Seconds after, there was one more. Once again, my area did not hear the warning of "tseva adom". Probably just as well. with 15 seconds to find shelter, i probably wouldn't have made it...well, maybe just.

i was sitting at the computer writing to my sister. The windows, as is the norm now, are open. Doesn't matter if it's cold out or not, they're opened, except for a few that remain "protected" by the shutters. Those are the windows directly over the beds. Wouldn't want glass shattering on you, now would you? (Like the shutters are really going to help but maybe a little).

This the first time a missile fell while elementary and high schools were in session. My cleaning lady is here. She arrived late because her 8 year old son was afraid to walk to school alone. Since last week, he has been escorted by someone in the family; he always used to go alone.

When the first missile went off, Malka didn't know what to do...phone the school? Go there? I calmed her down and we waited. The 2nd one went off very soon after. She called the school but after a missile attack, cell phones don't work. "Network busy" reads the screen. She used the house phone to reach the school but of course, the lines were busy. So we waited and soon, her son called her. "Take me home," he asked. He wasn't crying but his voice was very small.

When he walked into the house, he seemed fine. I asked him to tell me what had happened. They didn't hear the alert but the principal, whose office is next door, ran in and told the kids to get under their desks, hands over their heads. The girl next to Gal was singing the whole time, I guess to keep herself calm. Since they've been practicing for this for weeks, they were all fine....no one in the 3rd grade class panicked until it was over. Then the girl who had been singing began to cry. Most of the kids wanted "Ema". Those who wanted to go home were dismissed when an adult came for them. Some of the kids wanted to stay.

It's hard to describe these "booms". Depending on how close you are to them, they have a reverberating deep sound. Then there's like an echo that reverberates for a few seconds. If you're close enough to a house or a building that 's been hit, you hear the sound of rubble falling. Then you listen for sirens to judge how close it is to you. Within a minute, your house phone starts ringing...people checking on you and yours and then speculating as to where the rockets fell. Somehow, Tal finds out pretty fast where it is. He took a bus to school today (yesterday, Sderot was hit by almost 50 rockets) because they learn in a protected room and then are going to a seminar in Tel Aviv. He won't take his car there anymore and doesn't plan to go back for a while after today. However, all the students are worrying about their studies. Yesterday, in "my" college here in Ashkelon, less than 1/3rd of the students showed. I bet there are even less today.

There was not one room booked in the hotel last night. We are usually 35-40% full during the winter weeks but I think we're going to be in for a rough time now. All the hotels here will be.

Living from missile to missile is nuts. I woke up at 6:30 this morning playing "tseva adom" in my head. Checked the news and then forced myself back to sleep til 8 but it's just nuts. Took a shower and washed my hair. While still in my pajamas I washed my hair over the sink, then ran into the shower and was out in less than 4 minutes, dried and dressed in another 3. A record for me!! Dried my hair in front of the open window so I would hear anything fall, just in case.

Shani woke up from the grads, checked that we were all okay and then muttered, "this is crazy" and went back to sleep. Today she works from 4 to 10 but she and another girl from Ashkelon decided to go in earlier. The office is in Kiryat Malachi, 20 minutes from here and way out of missile range.

I don't teach on Mondays and have to do some errands. Am not too crazy about going out but will not stop my life, at least not yet. If we get to the point that we have to live in our shelters, Shani and I and the dogs are out of here, but I hope we never get to that. Rafi has a business to run but we'll see.

Will take a deep breath and go outside. Knowing me, I'll take a detour to see where the grads fell today. Feel free to pass this on to anyone who might be interested.

Maxine, Ashkelon



While the IDF conducted a brief, two day mission to slow the launching of rockets toward Sderot and Ashkelon, and other places, Hamas "celebrated" their survival despite the fact that over 100 terrorists were killed over the two days. Sadly, civilians in Gaza were killed also, some by errant missiles launched by Hamas that fell short of their targets and others who were killed as bystanders during Israeli action. More to be said later. For now, let us hope that there will be a quiet night for everyone.