A German-Trained American Rabbi in Yorkshire

(Photo note: Perspective is always good—this was one of our “guides” on my first tour of the Old City with HU students. This would be the last trip I went on in a group—not because I objected to the guard—on the contrary! The majority of students at Ulpan are in the 19-21 year old range, a war was going on, and HU’s liability must be very high. This was my last group trip simply because I like my little feet to take me where they want to go, wherever that may be.) And actually, it won’t be my final post from this trip. I have been working on about five other longer posts over the course of my time here, and will continue posting until all has been said that I can say this time without wearing out my fingers or boring you to tears. It is about two hours before I head back down to HUC for Kol Nidre and the beginning of the 25 hours of Yom Kippur . For my last post while I am here, I am simply going to throw out a couple or so (mostly random) thoughts and observations, some of...

Happy New Year from Jerusalem! ( Photo -- Moishe blowing a little Shofar in Jerusalem, or, as we say where I come from, Sho-far, Sho-good. I am sorry. I apologize. Really.) I am shocked that this time is nearly over. Only two weeks before I am back in Seattle, hardly more than one of my winter business trips where I get stuck in Chicago after O'Hare closes down. Beginning my preparations to leave is certainly bittersweet. On one side, I miss Sandra desperately and will call it a beautiful day when I am back with her. On the other side, however, there is not a whole lot to compare to living in Jerusalem. I feel that I have become a part of this place, and without a doubt this city is deep inside of me. As fast as this time has passed, I have lived a lifetime of experience, met a score of people that I love as brothers and sisters, and have discovered a deepening in my own Judaism -- not through some call to frommigkeit, but rather through connecting to the land that is its ...

Some people call them happy accidents. I like to say that the dice are rolling. Let me first say that I am in RA purgatory. For my international readers, in college I was employed in the dormitories as a “Resident Assistant,” which at my University meant that my cohorts and I were expected to be Counselor, Police Officer, Father Confessor, Parent, Court Jester, and Ah—yes—babysitter. So I must have been a rotten RA, or at least built some really nasty Karma, as the dorm experience here has gone from bad to intolerable, and I apparently don’t have a whole lot of choices in the matter. Well, last night I had my “encounter” with the, uh, gentlemen and their lady friends from my dorm: the first at midnight when a group of them decided to bring a hookah out into the common area and fill my room up with clouds of reek, the second at 4:14 am when they returned from wherever to continue the fun, including opening up all their doors and blasting their music at 5 pm levels. ...

Or should I say, “Vive La Jerusalem!”? As it turns out, although I am studying tons of Hebrew, the survival language I am being forced to use is French. It seems that in someone’s infinite wisdom, I have been placed in a dorm of 100% native French speakers, (er, um, with an average age of 19—use your imagination regarding chaos levels) and when I say that my spoken French is better than their spoken English, that is not actually saying anything good about my French. Let’s just say that if I was an RA responsible for this floor, I would have probably already quit. But enough of that—who really needs to study or sleep? Lots of Miscellaneous Thoughts . . . So we have a fragile cease fire, and for this I and many others are saying “Baruch HaShem.” The general feeling here seems to be one of collective “we’ll see,” and the Israeli saying of “Better a critical editorial than a praiseworthy obituary” contains much truth and perspective. How does anyone weigh defense...