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October 23 The Temperature's Rising... There's a sharav wind blowing and here in Jerusalem, it's 34 degrees Celsius in the shade, but that's not the reason I've got smoke blowing out of my ears. For that you can thank Judge Richard Goldstone and his anti-Israel diatribe, otherwise known as "The Goldstone Report". Let's take a look at the mandate given by the UN to Goldstone's so-called "fact-finding mission". According to the official website of the UN Human Rights Council, the Commission was set up in order “to investigate all violations of international human rights
law and international humanitarian law that might have been committed
at any time in the context of the military operations that were
conducted in Gaza during the period from 27 December 2008 and 18
January 2009, whether before, during or after.” Pay attention to the words in italics, I shall be returning to them later. The HRC's official website further informs us that the appointment of the mission followed the adoption on 12 January 2009 of Resolution S-9/1 by the United Nations Human Rights Council at the end of its 9th Special Session. Let us therefore examine Resolution S-9/1. It's easy enough to do, just follow the link on the website. We thus discover that the subject of the resolution (proposed by the Arab, African and Islamic Bloc) is none other than "The grave violations of human rights in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, particularly due to the recent Israeli military attacks against the occupied Gaza Strip". At the end of the resolution, the UN Human Rights Council " Decides to dispatch an urgent, independent international fact-finding mission, to be appointed by the President of the Council, to investigate all violations of international human rights law and international humanitarian law by the occupying Power, Israel, against the Palestinian people throughout the Occupied Palestinian Territory, particularly in the occupied Gaza Strip, due to the current aggression, and calls upon Israel not to obstruct the process of investigation and to fully cooperate with the mission". We see, therefore, that the "fact-finding" commission set out with the intention of finding Israel guilty. Its mandate was to investigate violations of international human rights law by Israel, and by Israel alone, with no mention of the violations of human rights law carried out by the Hamas terrorists who used schools, hospitals and UN buildings as launch sites for their Kassam rockets, thus turning "Palestinian" civilians into human shields (a war crime, under international law) in order to fire missiles at Israeli civilian targets (another war crime, under international law). And while we're on the subject - what's all this about "the occupied Gaza Strip"? Occupied by who? Israel completely withdrew from the Gaza Strip in August 2005!!! So, who are the "occupiers" referred to in the Resolution? The only non-Palestinians there (I use the word "Palestinians" merely for the sake of convenience, as there is, in fact, no such nation and never has been) were the UN workers! Now let's take a look at the members of Judge Goldstone's "Fact" Finding Mission. Professor Christine Chinkin was one of the signatories to a letter published in the Sunday Times on January 11, 2009, condemning Israel and accusing her of war crimes. Two months later, she was drafted to the so-called "independent fact-finding mission". In any normal court of law, a judge who had voiced an opinion, in advance of the trial, as to the guilt or innocence of the defendant, would be expected to recuse him/herself. Prof. Chinkin, however, hadn't the integrity to do so. Nor had Judge Goldstone, as head of the mission, the integrity to disqualify her, or to refuse to lend his name to a "fact" finding mission in which at least one of the members had already judged the case! Ms. Hina Jilani is an advocate of the Supreme Court of Pakistan. Pakistan, on behalf of the Organization of the Islamic Conference, was one of the sponsors of the biased and one-sided resolution S-9/1. Now, while, admittedly, Ms. Jilani has not always seen eye to eye with the Pakistani Government, a representative from one of the countries which sponsored such a one-sided resolution (and that, on behalf of the Islamic Conference) is hardly a guarantee that justice will be done. I was always taught that "Justice must not only be done, it must be seen to be done." Furthermore, as early as October 11, 2005, Ms. Hini had already accused Israel of "depriving Palestinians of basic rights." Thus she too had already judged Israel guilty. Next, we come to Col. Desmond Travers, who together with Richard Goldstone himself had, as early as March 16, 2009, signed an open letter to UN Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon, stating that gross violations of international law had been committed (albeit by both sides). Thus we see that his mind was already made up that Israel had committed "gross violations of international law". In fact, the same can be said - and for the same reasons - about the Commission leader, Richard Goldstone, himself. Furthermore, Goldstone has since accused Israel of not being interested at all in peace talks. In short, he is now revealing his true colours. It is therefore painfully obvious that there was not one truly objective and unbiased member of the "Fact Finding Mission", not a single one of whom it could be said that he or she undertook the job with an open mind. Let us now examine the breakdown of votes in favour of, or opposing, the decision of the UN Human Rights Council to adopt the findings of the Mission: 25 in favour, 6 against, 11 abstentions, 2 delegations were absent and 2 more, Britain and France, refused to participate in the vote. (I would call that an abstention, but apparently, there is a difference. I'm not sure what it is though.) Of the 25 in favour of adopting the Report, 11 were Arab or Muslim countries, including the Palestinian Authority. I'm not sure how they got the right to vote, inasmuch as they are not a state, but even if they were - how come they get to vote on a subject in which they are a side to the conflict, while Israel does not??? Those countries supporting adoption of the Report included such beacons of human rights as Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, China, Cuba, Nigeria and Russia. The latter was the only European country (if you can call her that) to support the adoption of the Report. Even the Ukraine voted against (I am cynical enough to wonder if this was maybe because Russia voted in favour) - in company with Italy, the Netherlands, Hungary, Slovakia and, of course, the United States. So now, the Goldstone Report is to go before the Security Council of the United Nations, with the recommendation of the HRC that they too adopt the Report. Of course, in the Security Council, the US has a veto. I demand that they use it! Furthermore, I call upon France and Britain to add their own vetoes, Britain especially, in light of the declaration of Col. Richard Kemp CBE, former Commander of the British forces in Afghanistan, holder of the Queen's Commendation for Bravery, a man who has served in Northern Ireland and in Bosnia, who stated, at the 12th Special Session of the UN Human Rights Council last Friday, October 16th: "Mr. President, based on my knowledge and experience, I can say this: During Operation Cast Lead, the Israeli Defence Forces did more to safeguard the rights of civilians in a combat zone than any other army in the history of warfare." Israel did all this, while facing an enemy that deliberately positioned its military capability behind the human shield of the civilian population. In short, Israel had no choice. So, to Britain and to France, and to all those other countries who sat on the fence and abstained or, like the Cheshire Cat, disappeared and were absent at the moment of truth, I say this: If and when this iniquitous and biased Report comes before the UN Security Council, reject it. For once, do what is right, not what is expedient. Those of you who have been regular followers of this blog will observe that Col. Kemp is saying what I have held all along. But for those of you who may think that as an Israeli, I cannot be objective, I will leave you with Col. Kemp's own words. Remember them, for they are no more than the truth. During Operation Cast Lead, the Israeli Defence Forces did more to safeguard the rights of civilians in a combat zone than any other army in the history of warfare.  Download the latest version of Flash to view this content October 10 How the Norwegian Parliament Debased a Once-Noble PrizeWhen I heard the news that the 2009 Nobel Peace prize was to be awarded to US President Barack Hussein Obama, I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. When it became clear I was not, I had to look at the calendar to make sure it wasn't April 1st. No, it really was October 10th.
After finally coming to terms with the fact that I was not in the realm of Morpheus, nor was it April Fools' Day, I was uncertain whether to laugh or cry. Alfred Nobel must be turning in his grave! By the terms of his will, the Peace Prize is to be awarded to "the person who shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between nations, for the abolition or reduction of standing armies and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses." Does anyone seriously believe that Obama meets this requirement???
What has the man achieved other than shuttling around the world posing for the cameras at international conferences which have failed to achieve anything whatsoever, calling for "meaningful dialogue" (whatever that may be)?
Has he brought peace to even one area of conflict? Has he had even the smallest modicum of success in persuading the Iranians to abandon their nuclear programme?
On second thoughts - maybe we should just be grateful the woolly-headed Norwegian Nobel Committee didn't decide to award the prize to that noted humanitarian and lover of peace, Mahmoud Ahmedinajad. Oh well, there's always next year... October 08 Of Blood and Thunder and Ribosomes and MusicThose of you used to my political polemics are probably asking yourself where I have disappeared to over the last few weeks. After all, it isn't as if there hasn't been sufficient to arouse my ire lately, what with the vicious blood libel in the Swedish newspapers last month accusing Israeli soldiers of murdering Palestinians in order to sell their bodily organs on the black market, down to the latest bestselling work of fiction otherwise known as "The Goldstone Report", which accuses Israel of committing the most heinous war crimes during Operation Cast Lead, whilst ignoring the constant shelling of Israeli towns and villages by Hamas which led up to it, as well as the fact that the Hamas criminals deliberately sited their missile-launchers in civilian areas, in schools and hospitals and even in UN buildings (with or without the cooperation of the UN workers I shall leave you to judge for yourselves). By the way, the shelling of Israeli towns and villages from Gaza is still continuing and hasn't ceased for a moment since the end of Operation Cast Lead. Did any of you know that? Has the BBC, Sky News or CNN mentioned it?
This week, we (the Jewish world, that is) are celebrating Succot (Tabernacles). Succot, which, besides being a harvest festival, also commemorates the 40 years during which the Children of Israel wandered in the wilderness, until Joshua led them over the River Jordan and into the Promised Land, is one of the three traditional Festivals of Pilgrimage, during which Jews make the ascent to Jerusalem. In ancient times, when the Temple still stood, the pilgrimage would culminate in the offering of sacrifices in the Temple. In modern times, the Temple Mount being the site of the Dome of the Rock (sometimes mistakenly called the Mosque of Omar) and of the Al-Aqsa Mosque, it is customary to visit the Western (Wailing) Wall and this year, as every year, hundreds of thousands of pilgrims visited the Old City of Jerusalem and the Wall. However, for some people, Muslim fanatics such as Sheikh Ra'ed Salah, leader of the Northern Section of the Islamic Movement in Israel, this was an opportunity to stir up religious fanaticism and hatred. By means of the cynical abuse of Israeli democracy, manipulation of the masses and the repetition of the totally baseless charge that "Jewish settlers are coming to attack Al-Aqsa", this Hamas-funded demagogue (an Israeli citizen, who enjoys full legal, political. civil and religious rights in the Jewish State) has managed to stir up weeks of rioting in the Old City and in Arab neighbourhoods in Jerusalem (and not only in Jerusalem). In answer to his call, masked Arab youths have, since the beginning of the High Holy Days, been attacking Israeli security forces and civilians, hurling rocks from the Temple Mount onto worshippers at the Western Wall below, torching public property and, in general, engaging in acts of public disorder (that's the official definition - I would call this "Acts of War").
And yet, not all the news has been bad. The day before yesterday (Tuesday), I was visiting a haredi (ultra orthodox) family in the orthodox neighbourhood of Sanhedria. We were sitting in their beautifully decorated succah when suddenly, there was the sound of drumming on the roof. It was raining - no, it was pouring! We had to run for cover whilst the sons of the family rushed to unroll protective plastic sheeting to cover the roof and keep out the rain, otherwise all the lovely decorations would have been spoiled. It was a short, sharp cloudburst which didn't even affect all of Jerusalem's neighbourhoods, but together with the rainfall in the north of the country, it was yet another hopeful sign that the run of dry years has ended.
A propos decorations, I would strongly advise those assimilated Western Jews who like to have "Chanucah bushes" (that is to say, thinly disguised Christmas trees) on the pretext that it is unfair to deprive their children of the opportunity to decorate the tree like their Christian friends and neighbours, to go build a succah at Succot and decorate that instead. We have plenty of beautiful and enjoyable traditions of our own, without having to imitate anyone else's. What's more - you get to sit and eat and even sleep in the succah for a whole week.
Then yesterday, came the announcement that the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences had decided to award the Nobel Prize for Chemistry to three scientists for their work on ribosomes. One of the three is Professor Ada Yonath of the Weizmann Institute - the first Israeli woman to win a Nobel Prize and one far more worthy of fame than, say, the draft-dodger Bar Rafaeli, whose "contribution to humanity" seems to consist of posing in skimpy swimwear on the covers of such magazines as Sports Illustrated and whose main claim to celebrity status lies in having dated Leonardo diCaprio!
And finally, to my own personal little triumph! Twice a year, at Shavuot and at Succot, the Israeli Arab village of Abu Ghosh is host to the Abu Ghosh Vocal Music Festival. My choir, the Jerusalem Oratorio Chamber Choir, has performed there more than once and we appeared there yesterday in a programme of Peruvian music from the Baroque era, together with the Phoenix Early Music Ensemble, conducted by Dr Myrna Herzog. Myrna and the Phoenix Ensemble appeared with us in the concerts we did with David Shemer's Jerusalem Baroque Orchestra back in June this year (see previous blog). Appearing with us also were four extremely talented young soloists, (two sopranos, a counter-tenor and a baritone) at the start of their professional careers, all but one of whom have appeared with us before . However, one of the pieces performed, a Magnificat by Tomás de Torrejón y Velasco, for 15 voices, required not only a double choir but four soprano soloists. Thus it chanced that two soloists had to come from the ranks of the choir - and yes! Yours truly was one of them. I have to tell you, it wasn't easy because the line I was assigned was that of second soprano, a line more suited to a mezzo soprano, and the tessitura was low for me - the more so, because the instruments were tuned to Baroque pitch which is lower than modern pitch. Still, it was great to have an opportunity, at last, to prove myself. And especially so because my father, one of my sisters and my brother, who is here visiting from England, were all in the audience. I made sure my father brought his video camera and as soon as I can, I hope to post a video, at least of the Magnificat, on YouTube.
Best of all, of course, is the very fact that my brother is here, that we could all eat together in our very own succah, and that tomorrow evening, we will all be together again when we celebrate Simchat Torah. I hope also that we shall all go to synagogue together the following day. As my father always says: "The family that prays together, stays together".
September 27 Yom KippurJust a short blog this time, to wish all Beit Yisrael an easy fast. May you be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life.
צום קל וגמר חתימה טובה September 18 From One Year to the NextThis week, the last week of the year 5769 by the Jewish calendar, began well - or so it seemed. On Sunday morning, it rained. Everyone hoped that this would prove to be a sign of things to come, that the drought which has plagued us for the past three years and lowered the water level of the Kinneret (the Sea of Galilee) to below danger level, had finally come to an end and that a year of abundant rainfall was in store for us. By Sunday afternoon, however, it became clear that in fact, the angels in heaven were weeping, in the knowledge of what was yet to come. An Israel Air Force F-16 jet crashed while on a training exercise and its pilot was killed. Worse news was to follow. The pilot was none other than Assaf Ramon, son of Ilan Ramon, Israel's first astronaut, killed in the Columbia Space Shuttle tragedy six and a half years ago. Just 21 years old, only three months ago he had completed what is possibly the toughest and most prestigious course in the Israel Defence Forces, the pilots' training course, top of his class. I heard the news later on Sunday afternoon. I got back from court to my office and was bitching about some stupid little thing (I can't even remember what it was now), when one of my colleagues came in with the news and shut me up cold. I started to cry. All I could think - all I could say - was: How could G-d be so cruel? I can only imagine what his mother, Rona, Ilan's widow, must be going through. Can I imagine? Can any of us, who has not been through it? Alas, so many Israeli mothers (and fathers, sisters, brothers) have been through it. It is a tragic ending to the year.
Will this coming year be any better? Have I done anything, however small, however seemingly insignificant, to make it any better? I do know that the resolution I made last year, to guard my tongue from saying thoughtless hurtful things, has been too often broken. That is the fate of New Year's resolutions, it seems. How many of us can truly say we have kept ours? Every year, we start out with high hopes of doing better this year, only to fail - if not sooner then later. And yet, throughout the month of Ellul, which precedes the High Holy Days, Jews all over the world return to the synagogues to recite the selichot prayers, hoping desperately to make up for the year's backsliding. I read an article recently in which it was explained that we are like acrobats, crossing the chasm between two high points, on a very narrow tightrope. At first, when we are still near the starting point, the rope is high, but as we progress, and move away from the high point at which we started, the rope begins to sag until, halfway across, it is at its lowest point, nearest to the ground. But then, as the tightrope walker draws nearer to his destination, he finds himself climbing again, he makes one last supreme effort - and he has made it. So it is with us. We start out on Rosh Hashana with high hopes, bursting with good resolutions, but as the year wears on, we weaken, our resolution begins to falter until we reach our lowest point. But then we remember that in a few short months, it will once again be Rosh Hashana and we will again be judged. We try to pull ourselves together, to climb back to that high point on which we stood at the end of last Rosh Hashana, full of hope and determined to do better. We see the end of the tightrope ahead of us - so near and yet so far. We make that last desperate effort and somehow, we have made it to the finishing line. We have another chance.
We say in Hebrew כלתה שנה וקללותיה, תחל שנה וברכותיה - A year and its curses have passed, a year and its blessings will start.
May this be His will.
לשנה טובה תיכתינו ותיחתימו
May you be inscribed and sealed for a good year.
August 23 This Other EdenThere is a certain bench, under a certain weeping willow tree, beside the lake in the Rose Garden of the Regent's Park in London, which is my favourite spot on earth. There, where the green leaves are reflected in the rippling water and the waterfowl feed in the shelter of the overhanging boughs, is my "other Eden, demi-paradise". This is the first place I head for, every time I find myself in London, for this is the one place where I can truly detach myself from all the troubles of the world and find the perfect peace I am looking for when I go on holiday.
 Yes, I've just got back from my annual "jaunt" to England. Ten days in London, the city of my birth, avoiding (except for one day's necessary shopping) the madding crowd that throngs Oxford Street and positively enjoying the rain which makes England a green and pleasant land. Back home in Jerusalem, on the edge of the Judaean Desert, I can tell you - the British don't realise how lucky they are. In June, when I was planning my trip, my brother (who lives in the wilds of Surrey) informed me that the British Meteorological Office was predicting a scorching summer. However, by the time I got there, the "summer" had apparently been and gone. Almost every day there were forecasts of rain, with sunny spells - or sunshine with scattered showers. Weather forecasting in the UK seems to be rather a hit-and-miss affair. When rain was predicted for the morning it fell in the afternoon - and vice versa. As the forecaster put it: "If you can avoid the rain, you'll probably be able to catch some sunshine."
 In previous visits over the last decade, I had marvelled how the accuracy of the weather forecasts had seemed to improve - as had the weather - but of late, it seems that so far from being able to give an accurate long-range forecast, the Met Office is incapable of giving even an accurate 24 hour forecast. However, I learned (or rather, re-learned) to enjoy the uncertainty and to carry an umbrella at all times. The only trouble is, those little telescopic umbrellas turn inside-out at the first gust of wind. Frankly, they are often more trouble than they are worth. However, let us not complain. They do say, don't they, that rainwater is good for the skin and that the famous "English Rose" complexion is due, in no small part, to the abundance of rainfall in that Blessed Isle, do they not? (But that was before the advent of acid rain and all the other ills of a heavily industrialised society, surely?)The 18th Maccabiah Games having just ended, my fellow passengers on the flight out included many of the departing sportsmen and women, and especially the British Maccabi team, a number of whom were wearing their medals (in particular, the gold medallist football team). They were met at Heathrow by jubilant families and supporters and also the Press. (Oh! And there was I thinking that the photographers were waiting for me
!)Out of the ten days I spent in England, one day was devoted to a trip to Box Hill ( a famous beauty spot in the county of Surrey, well-known to readers of Jane Austen) with its magnificent views. I arose early, breakfasted betimes and after a mad dash across London, arrived at Victoria Station only to find a queue about a mile long at the ticket office. I was sure I was going to miss the 10:31 train, but made it with just one minute to spare. My brother bombarded me with text messages, as we had planned that he would come straight from home and board the train at Sutton, further along the line, after receiving confirmation that I was on board. Unfortunately, every time I tried to reply, I got a brief message to the effect that the message was undeliverable and would remain in my Outbox till it was possible to send it. By the time we reached Sutton, I was on tenterhooks as I could see no sign of David on the platform and wasn't sure if he had received my message. But a few minutes later, he turned up beside my seat and all was well. Almost. The weather was very capricious, so, instead of starting our climb, we sought refuge in the Vineyard. A vineyard? In England? Well, yes - and not just any vineyard. Denbies claims to be England's largest vineyard. (So that means there are others, right?)
 Besides the vineyards, there is a restaurant (two, in fact - a classy one where advance reservations are necessary, and a more "populist" one for the plebs) and a shop selling all kinds of beautiful things, from jewellery to household goods, from books to ceramics, and from toys to paintings. In the restaurant, there are facilities for heating baby food and we were amused by a sign which seemed to notify the public that the restaurant would accept civil liability for everything.
 Yes, it's all in the spelling. Someone ought to point out to them the difference between "accept" and "except". (That's the lawyer in me speaking
.)After lunch - and despite the threatening storm clouds - we resumed our climb. Every ten yards or so, we stopped for a rest - and to wonder if we shouldn't turn back - but we pushed on regardless, telling ourselves each time: "Just ten or fifteen yards more..."
In the end, it was worth it. The view was magnificent - and it did not rain!
The following day, we planned to visit the Regent's Park Zoo. While waiting for my brother on a bench near the bandstand (the bandstand where an IRA bomb wreaked such carnage back in 1982), I got into conversation with a charming old gentleman who told me that there would be a jazz concert later in the day. He also reminded me of the existence of "the Secret Garden" in the Inner Circle - the garden of St. John's Lodge. I remember a secret garden along the Inner Circle from my childhood and have been searching for it ever since, but I am still not sure that this was it. At any rate, we decided to skip the Zoo, have a late lunch in the Rose Garden Cafe and then search for the Secret Garden. I can't remember if it rained or not. I think it did. It was certainly very windy. But that didn't matter. We were so caught up in our childhood memories.
 That wasn't the only day we spent in Regent's Park. Two days later, we made another attempt to visit the Zoo but the queues were so long (this being the school holidays) that we gave up the attempt and instead, wandered all over the Park, visiting its lesser-known corners rather than our childhood haunts.
Another day was reserved for Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. That day, it really did pour, but we were safely esconced in window seats in the restaurant at the foot of the Serpentine, gazing out as sheets of rain almost hid the lake from view. Later in the day, we headed for the specially erected tent in Kensington Gardens and a performance of "Peter Pan", which we thoroughly enjoyed, even though, coming at the last minute, as we did, the only seats available were front-row seats with what the ticket-vendor described as a "severely restricted view". It wasn't all that bad a view, as it happened. If we had been children - or dwarves - the high stage would have made it very difficult for us, in our stage-side seats, to see much of the action, but as it turned out, for adults of normal height, this wasn't such a problem. And at least the tickets were (relatively) cheap.
After the show, we visited the Serpentine Gallery. I was rather hesitant, as the gallery specialises in contemporary art (and my regular readers know my opinions on contemporary art
 ) but David was interested so I let myself be persuaded and, in fact, rather enjoyed this particular exhibition - of Jeff Koons' Popeye Series. I was actually rather surprised by how much my brother enjoyed it. I have never known David to be an art fancier or to enjoy exhibitions!
This well-nigh perfect day ended with supper at the Lido Restaurant, as the sun slowly sank in the west (the clouds having mostly dissipated), wondering aloud, not for the first time, how much smaller the Lido seemed to be, compared with our childhood memories of one of London's earliest outdoor swimming pools.
 Most of the London parks hold memories for us, and I couldn't let a trip to London pass without taking in St. James' Park. When we were children and my father used to work nearby, in Lower Regent Street, my mother used to bring us up to town to meet him and go for a picnic lunch in St. James' Park. In those days, there used to be performances of military bands in the Park even on weekdays. The lake in St. James' Park has a magnificent waterfowl collection and from the bridge there, you can see the London Eye.
 We had planned to end the day with a trip to the theatre, but the weather was so good, it was hard to tear ourselves away from the park. However, I did manage, within the space of a week and a half, to cram in four visits to the theatre for which London is justly famous. All of the plays I saw were adapted from books - three of them from children's books. The fourth - "Oliver", based on the novel by Charles Dickens - was the only musical I saw this time. The two I have not yet mentioned both dealt, in one way or another, with war. "Carrie's War", based on the novel by Nina Bawden, told the story, in flashback, of a young girl evacuated with her brother to Wales, to avoid the World War Two bombing of London. This was the play where I most felt the magic of actually being in the theatre. David said he enjoyed this most of all the plays we saw. The fourth play (which was actually the first I went to, alone, because David wasn't interested) was, in my opinion, the best - "War Horse", adapted from the children's novel by Michael Morpurgo. This is the story of Joey, a colt raised by farm lad Albert Narracott to pull a plough, then sold by Albert's father to the army where he becomes a cavalry horse in World War One, serving first with the British Army and, after being captured, with his rider, also on the German side. The horses are portrayed by life-sized puppets, which are absolutely believable and the play is further enhanced by Adrian Sutton's music. The songs are by John Tams who wrote the songs for the BBC television series "Sharpe". I bought the disc with the soundtrack. Quite by chance, I went to see the show the day after the death was announced of the last surviving WW1 veteran and that evening, as the cast took their bows, they spoke in tribute to him and dedicated the last song to his memory and to the memory of his comrades. If I had to choose one play out of all those I saw, this would be it. If you live in London, or are planning a trip to the Metropolis, run - don't walk - to see "War Horse". And be sure to take with you a box of Kleenex
 .As is my almost invariable custom, I also managed to take in a couple of art exhibitions. I love Pre-Raphaelite art and the Royal Academy had a lovely exhibition of paintings by J.W. Waterhouse. Information about this exhibition was published in the London Planner but it was actually brought to my attention by the huge advertising posters on the Underground. When I go to London, many of the things I find to do are things I hadn't planned before my trip, but read about on the Tube. (For my transatlantic readers - that's the Subway
 .) I also dropped in on an exhibition of Landscape Painting - From Corot to Monet - at the National Gallery. As I already mentioned, one day of shopping could not be avoided - but even that was made amusing by the window display in Selfridges - a view of the future. This was no doubt inspired by the fact that Selfridges is this year celebrating the centenary of its establishment. How will shop windows look a hundred years hence? Here is an example of the display. The rest can be seen in my photo album London Summer 2009, which I will be posting some time in the next few days.
 My flight back was due to take off at 10:30 p.m. so I decided to spend my last day in London with my brother again in our favourite park - the Regent's Park. Fortunately, the weather favoured us. I went wild with my camera again. In general, I think I managed to get some really good shots this trip. I finally managed to do what I've been trying to do for years, even before acquiring a digital camera, namely, to capture stills shots of birds in flight.
 This was the most successful, in my humble opinion. The rest can be seen in my London Summer 2009 photo album, to be uploaded shortly, as promised above.
On this last day, most of our time was spent in Queen Mary's Garden - the Rose Garden. June is, of course, the best month for visiting the Rose Garden but even at the beginning of August, there were many varieties still in full bloom and the air was heady with the scent of the Queen of Flowers.
 One of the loveliest spots in this loveliest of all spots is the island in the middle of the Rose Garden lake, accessible by a wooden bridge.
 As a child, I always thought of it as a magic island. Criss-crossed with little paths, winding back and forth among beds of alpine plants, it was a perfect miniature kingdom for an enchanted princess. On a hot summer's afternoon, the air hummed with the sound of bees and every now and then, a large "plop" could be heard as a duck dived into the water. And ever-present would be the rushing sound of a waterfall. Now I could hardly bear to tear myself away as the sun sank low in the sky and it was time to return to my hotel and collect my luggage.
Then came the ever-painful parting from my brother - whom I hope to see at the end of September, when he comes to Israel for Succot - and the short train ride, via the exceedingly comfortable Heathrow Express, to the airport. A long wait in the check-in queue for the security checks, a very quick dash through the Duty Free to buy chocolates (because they announced the "Last Call" for my flight a full hour before it was due to take off, for no reason at all that I could see!!!) and then we were in the air and homeward bound.
One thing I would have changed. In future, I shall try to plan my holidays in such a way as to land at Ben Gurion Airport on a Thursday, thus leaving the whole weekend to "recover". It's good to be home - but very far from restful .July 22 Dear Mr. President: An Open Letter to Barack Hussein ObamaDear Mr. President,
For Zion's sake I will not keep silent, for Jerusalem's sake I will not remain quiet, until her righteousness shines out like the Morning Star and her salvation like a blazing torch.
You are probably unaware of this fact, but today is the first day of the month of Av. The Jewish world is currently in the midst of the Three Weeks - a period of mourning between the Fast of the 17th of Tammuz and the Fast of the 9th of Av. The first of these fasts commemorates the breach made in the defence wall surrounding Jerusalem and the second commemorates the conquest of the city three weeks later and the destruction of the Temple. Jewish tradition associates these dates with both the First and Second Temples - although we learn from II Kings, Chapter 25 that Nebuchadnezzar's armies breached the city wall on the 9th of Tammuz and burned the First Temple to the ground on the 7th of Av in the year 586 B.C.E. Jeremiah confirms the date of 9th Tammuz as the date of the breaching of the city walls by the Babylonians (Chap. 25, v.6-7) but gives the date of the Destruction of the First Temple as the 10th of Av. After the Second Temple was built, the fasts commemorating these tragedies were apparently abolished and were only re-introduced after the Destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans in the year 70 C.E. The Romano-Jewish historian Josephus tells us that the breach in the defence walls was made on the 17th of Tammuz and that from that day, it took the enemy three weeks until the city was reduced to final submission and the Temple was razed to the ground. It no doubt seemed unreasonable to revive a fast on the 9th of Tammuz and in addition, to introduce a fast on the 17th commemorating an identical event hundreds of years later, so the rabbis decreed that both events should be commemorated on the 17th of Tammuz. As far as the discrepancy in the dates given for the Destruction of the First and Second Temples goes, the Talmud suggests that the Babylonians entered the precincts of the Sanctuary on the 7th of Av, started the conflagration on the 9th and that the work of Destruction was completed on the 10th when the Temple actually burned down. Thus, the day when the flames started was chosen to commemorate the event, in fasting and prayer. When, 656 years later, the Second Temple was destroyed by the Roman Titus on the 10th of Av, it was decreed by the rabbis that both catastrophes should be commemorated on the original fast day, the 9th Av.
The Fast of the 9th of Av is the most solemn fast in the Jewish calendar after Yom Kippur. The Destruction of the Temple by the Romans effectively marked the end of independent Jewish statehood in the Land of Israel, which was not to be regained until the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948. The three week period between the two fasts is, as I already stated, a period of mourning known in Hebrew as בין המיצרים (Bein Hameitzarim), literally "between the straits", during which no festivities may be held, marriages may not be solemnised and orthodox Jews also refrain from wearing new clothes, cutting their hair, going to concerts and embrace various other personal restrictions.
Why am I telling you all this, Mr President? After all, I am sure you have no interest whatsoever in Jewish religious customs. You should, however, have an interest in Jewish history, as you presume to dictate the course of that history. You choose to "forget" that during the long Exile in Babylon, between the fall of the First Temple and the Return to Zion in the reign of King Cyrus, we Jews never ceased to mourn our lost city, we hung our harps on the willow trees beside the rivers of Babylon and wept, as we remembered Zion. You ignore (or are ignorant of) the fact that for almost two thousand years, since Titus and his Roman stormtroopers razed the Second Temple to the ground, ploughed over the ruins of Jerusalem, renamed it Aelia Capitolina and bestowed upon Judaea the name Palaestina, we Jews have kept faith with our city and marked the day of its destruction, year after year, with fasting, prayer and the reading of the Book of Lamentations. All this you forget, when you have the temerity to demand that Israel refrain from building in what you term "East" Jerusalem and that Jews be prohibited by the democratically elected government of the Jewish State from living in so-called "Palestinian" areas of our Eternal Capital.
For shame, Mr. President.
For shame. July 13 Who Knows Where the Time Goes - Part 3Well, now it's my turn. I, too, have a birthday - tomorrow, in fact. But I won't tell you how old I am. A lady never reveals her true age and I am nothing if not a lady.
 My Human says Breeding always shows and I have Breeding.
Would you not agree?
 I mean, look at that profile? Doesn't that tell you something?Besides which, if you look at my forehead, you can see the M which, as everyone knows, is the mark of a true Tigger Princess, as She is always telling me.
See?
 Now, to get back to the subject at hand, tomorrow, as I said, is my birthday. I have been given to understand that in France, they celebrate Mon Anniversaire with fireworks and street parties and even military parades. That is, of course, very right and proper although personally, I would prefer something quieter and more intimate, something en famille, as it were. My Human understands this. It took a few years to train her properly but the effort paid off in the end. At my age, (which, as I said, is classified information) you really start to appreciate the importance of the Family Circle. I don't want to go gadding about, nor do I want a big, expensive party with lots of guests I hardly know and don't care about. Just my Human and Possum and Moi.
What's that you say? Presents?
Well, of course, any little gift will be greatly appreciated
 .Party games? Of course.
I like to play "Catch" - as long as I'm "It".
See how fierce I can be...
 Well, I'm going to go to sleep now. Somehow, that always seems to make my birthday come more quickly. Besides which, I need to conserve my strength. Tomorrow, we're going to PARTY.
See you all domani, when I'll be - oops, almost let slip how old I am.
Good night. Bon nuit. לילה טוב.
 Princess PixieCato
July 04 Who Knows Where the Time Goes? - Part 2On Wednesday (July 1st) I attended my eldest nephew's high school graduation ceremony. I don't know what such ceremonies are like at other high schools - Eitan attends the Experimental High School, which has a very open and unstructured attitude to education - but this was a lovely ceremony, conducted, for the most part, by the graduating students themselves. Tables were set out in the school courtyard, refreshments (of a very high quality) were prepared by the parents and the students put on an artistic programme which started with a belly-dance performed by one of the girls (I jokingly remarked that her father must be having an apoplexy, but it was really all very innocent), progressed to songs performed by a student band and included (how not?) some wickedly funny impersonations of teachers and other staff members. There was also a sketch performed by some of the parents.
Since my sister (Eitan's Mum) has been holding Open House on the eve of Independence Day for Eitan and Tamir's classmates and their parents, for almost as far back as I can remember, you could say I've watched these kids grow up. How amazing then, to find I couldn't seem to recognise them. The boys in shirts and ties (in some cases, even in suits), the girls in makeup and clingy, revealing dresses - why, only yesterday it seemed they would, on principle, wear nothing but torn jeans and scruffy tee-shirts!
Where did eighteen years vanish so quickly? Last month, Eitan got his driving licence (at his first attempt too. Grrrr!) Later this summer, most of his classmates will be starting their military service. Eitan himself has volunteered for a year's National Service as a counsellor in his youth movement before going into the army - this, at a time when more and more young people are draft-dodging. I am so proud of him. We all are. But I feel, somehow, as if I've missed something. It's not that I wasn't there. It's just that I didn't savour each moment of his childhood and adolescence sufficiently. It's like the difference between hearing background music and actually sitting down and listening to, and appreciating, each rich level of harmony. And - I can't deny it - watching those kids on the threshold of their adult lives made me feel so - well, middle-aged.
I went home Wednesday night and cried.
Not for their vanished years.
For my own. Who Knows Where the Time Goes? - Part 1Okay, everybody. Paws up, who knows what day it is today?  That's right! It's the 4th of July!
And who can tell me what is the significance of that momentous date? Right again! It's My Birthday!
 Yes! Today, I am fourteen years old. How Time flies!
My Human saw fit to mark The Event by waking me before 8 o'clock in the morning to sing to me "Happy Birthday To You".
Don't get me wrong. She has quite a nice voice - for a Human, (actually, she has a very nice voice, but it wouldn't do for me to let her get too puffed up in her own esteem by telling her that) - but at my age, one doesn't want to be woken up at such an ungodly hour on a Saturday morning to be sung to. And then, to make matters worse, Pixie was sick on the bed. It's lucky our Human witnessed that, she usually attributes all the vomiting in inconvenient places to Yours Truly.
However, she made up for her faux pas (the Human, I mean) by letting me choose my own breakfast. There was quite a dizzying array of delicacies to choose from. She set out all the tins in a row and asked me which I preferred. How was I to decide? Should I go for the salmon and shrimp? Or maybe the rabbit and turkey? Then, again, would not liver and duck make a suitable Birthday Breakfast? But that would mean foregoing the chicken and turkey... Oh dear, it was enough to make a poor kitty's head spin! In the end, I went for the tuna and cod. I'm not sure that was the best choice and given a little longer, I might have plumped for something else, but as soon as she saw me go back three times to the same tin, she concluded that I had made my choice.
Well, I had, of course...
After breakfast, I curled up next to her, while she stroked and petted me and told me what a beautiful pussycat I am.
She's right.
Looking in that silver glass thingy that stretches from wall to wall in her bedroom, I have to admit, I am a Fine Figure of a Cat. However, when you get to be my age, it's nice to be reassured about that sometimes. And to know that She still loves me, as much as I love her and that in her eyes, I am - and always will be -
Possum the MagnifiCat.
PS. To my millions of friends and admirers in the United States who are celebrating My Birthday with me, I want to say Thank You and have a wonderful day yourselves. I understand you also have something to celebrate. June 13 The Hour of the MusesOkay, I did more or less hint that my next blog entry would be about the Obama visit, the so-called "Roadmap to Peace", the Arab-Israel Conflict, etc. but you know what? My blood pressure needs a break and if I start on that subject now, the readings will shoot off the scale
 ! Besides which, I need to do some more research, so as to be sure of all my facts before I go sounding off. And finally - I have much pleasanter things to write about this week, so I'm going to chicken out (only temporarily) and tell you all, instead, about the exceedingly cultural week I have been having. Well, actually, it's been a bit more than a week, because it started last Thursday (June 4th) with a trip to the opera. As some of you may know, I have a subscription to the Israeli Opera in Tel Aviv, that takes me to Israel's second-largest city (which is this year celebrating its 100th anniversary) about once every six weeks during the Season. Last week, we greatly enjoyed Bizet's Carmen - a New York Metropolitan production, staged by Franco Zeffirelli. This was, of course, by no means the first time we have seen Carmen. However, whereas the last time, we were "treated" to a ghastly, modern staging, which presented the eponymous heroine more or less as a common prostitute, and culminated in her murder by Micaela rather than by Don José (!!!), Zeffirelli gave us a lovely, traditional staging, with colourful costumes, realistic sets and (mercifully) an unchanged ending. The only disappointment was that, as often happens to the subscribers of the Thursday series, we didn't get to see the "first string" cast - Neil Shicoff and our very own Rinat Shaham. However, Tea Demurashvilly filled the shoes of the fiery gypsy heroine admirably, with a rich, dramatic mezzo voice.Taking pictures during the performance is, of course, not permitted but I snatched a shot at the end, during the prolonged curtain calls.
 The following day, Friday, was the day of our first rehearsal with David Shemer's Jerusalem Baroque Orchestra, and Dr Myrna Herzog's Phoenix Early Music Ensemble, for the two concerts planned for this week. I always enjoy first rehearsals with an orchestra, because that's when everything starts to come together. The previous rehearsals had all been only with piano accompaniment. Of course, one also had to get used to David Shemer's conducting - especially since we are used to a conductor who conducts from the podium. With the Jerusalem Baroque Orchestra, however, as with many early music ensembles, David conducts from the keyboard - like Ton Koopman and Emmanuelle Haim.
 As I remarked to my fellow soprano, Noga, this is how I like to spend my Friday mornings - rather than cleaning and cooking.
The programme was entitled "War and Peace - Music in the Wake of the Thirty Years War" and comprised two of the Symphoniae Sacrae by Heinrich Schütz (1585 - 1672), a couple of instrumental pieces by Johann Rosenmüller (1619 - 1684), Nisi Dominus by Franz Tunder (1614 - 1667) - of whom I had never heard before (one of the things I love about choir is that I'm always discovering something new) and a motet by Dietrich Buxtehude (1637 - 1707). Have I mentioned before - I adore Baroque music.
The following Sunday and Tuesday evenings were also given over to rehearsals and, since I like to come relaxed to our concerts and I have a great deal of accumulated leave, I took Wednesday and Thursday off work, so as to be able to immerse myself completely in the music (bliss).
Wednesday's concert took place in the auditorium of Jerusalem's International YMCA, a lovely, richly-decorated hall of eclectic style, with marvellous acoustics for the audience, but very dry acoustics for the performers on stage. In addition, the stage is relatively small, so, what with the choir and the instrumentalists, it was rather cramped. A lot of the pre-concert rehearsal time was wasted on trying to figure out where to place the choir and soloists so all could be heard to best advantage. The concert went well, although I felt, personally, that the choir's first entrance was rather hesitant.
Thursday's concert was in the auditorium of the Tel Aviv Museum of the Arts, right next door to the Tel Aviv Performing Arts Centre (home of the Israeli Opera, where we have also performed in the past). I always enjoy the drive from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, because the scenery is so spectacular and I can never resist the temptation to whip out my mobile phone and take a few pictures.
  The museum auditorium was much larger than I expected although I have a feeling we have appeared there before (fellow choir-members assure me I am mistaken). At any rate, this time, there was plenty of room for choir, orchestra and soloists, so the pre-concert rehearsal could be devoted to ironing-out musical problems and correcting any shortcomings that had revealed themselves the previous evening. I even managed to take a few pictures as the orchestra was tuning up.
   Here too, the concert went well, and we returned home, tired but happy (I was, anyway), and ready to start on our next project, another Baroque programme, this time with Myrna Herzog and the Phoenix Early Music Ensemble at the Abu Ghosh Vocal Music Festival in October. This time, it's to be a programme of South American Baroque music. Our next rehearsal won't be till Thursday. Haggi says we have worked hard on this project, so we can rest this Sunday, instead of having our usual rehearsal. On Thursday, we shall receive the music for the new project. I always feel a special kind of excitement when receiving new music. It's like a new adventure in the offing - all those little black notes on the stave, struggling to get off the page, needing our voices to give them life and let them soar. It's much akin to the feeling I get when I open a new book, bursting with new characters and stories, waiting to transport me to new worlds.
And while we're on the subject of books, Wednesday saw the start of the annual Hebrew Book Week, which takes place every year in June, after Shavuot and which sees hundreds of thousands visiting a nationwide trade fair with a difference. Yes, despite the recession, despite the rival claims of television, despite the frequently-heard complaint that kids today prefer computer games to reading, "the People of the Book", both young and old, still flock to the open air stands and bookshops all over the country to celebrate the written word.
And that's another reason why I'm proud to be Israeli.
June 05 A Series of Unfortunate EventsWell, Shavuot came and went, and I survived - just about. I had invited all the family round for a buffet lunch on Shavuot - twelve people in all, including yours truly. Living in a small flat, I don't go in for entertaining much, but I really wanted to repay the hospitality of the rest of the clan, as both my sisters and my father and stepmother frequently host big family gatherings. Dad had remarked in the past that I'm not very adventurous in the kitchen, and I was determined to prove him wrong. So I had a complete menu planned - some of it shop-bought, such as the bourekas and mini-pizzas (for my little nieces, who practically don't eat anything else, at least when they eat "out"), but mostly prepared and cooked by me - a couple of quiches, baked salmon, served chilled with potato salad, coleslaw, garden vegetable salad, avocado salad, pasta salad and, for desert, cheesecake (baked to my mother's recipe) and (a last-minute brainwave!), apricots in apricot jelly (yes, I admit it, the jelly was from a packet
 ).I did most of my shopping at the beginning of the week, so that on Thursday morning, the eve of Shavuot, all I had to do was nip down to the corner grocery to buy a few last minute items. On my return, I had just opened the door of the refrigerator in order to store my purchases, when my ears caught an ominous bubbling sound. I looked up and to my horror, saw my sink filling up with murky black water, welling up from the plughole.
Have you ever tried getting a plumber on the eve of Shabbat or a festival? My usual plumber wasn't available. Both his regular phone and his mobile phone seemed to be disconnected. I called Arye, my Jack-of-all-trades, who promised to send me someone, an Arab (who, presumably, wouldn't mind coming out to deal with an emergency on the eve of a festival). Minutes later, one of the neighbours informed me that the chairman of the Residents' Committee (I live in a condo) had resigned, following a stroke, and dumped everything on his (silent) partner, so that if the problem turned out to be in the main pipe of the building, there would be no-one from whom to claim the money back. Of course, it did turn out to be in the main pipe. The cost - 500 shekels. Fortunately, I owed 360 shekels to the Residents' Committee, so I offset the one against the other. Now they owe me money and I'm unlikely to see a single shekel of it.
The blocked pipe having been fixed, I did a speedy (and rather haphazard) cleaning job and began cooking, two hours behind schedule. I had already decided that, time being so short, I would make only one quiche. I was just preparing the pastry when, lo and behold, black water again swirled up and filled my nice clean sink. In fact, it was even higher than before. Back came Salah, the plumber and this time, attacked the blockage from the main manhole, down in the garden. He was apparently more successful this time because, so far, the problem has not returned (touch wood).
Meanwhile, I had come to the realisation that the baking dish I had intended to use (which I last used about a year ago, or more) was smaller than I remembered so, as soon as Salah had finished, I dashed down once again to the grocery store to buy a disposable baking dish. Unfortunately, it turned out that this one was rather too large. I didn't feel like preparing any more ingredients, so the pastry and filling were spread rather thinly. I thought it looked rather more like a pizza than a quiche - had I invented a quizza? Or possibly a piche
 ?While the quiche/pizza was cooking, it was time to prepare the pasta salad. I had just tipped a packet of fusilli into a saucepan of boiling water and was about to throw away the packet when I noticed that it was past its expiry date - by about six years!!! Okay, a month or two I'm ready to risk, but six years?
Scrap the pasta salad...
By now, I was beginning to feel like the heroine of "Pieces of April ". However, the salmon at least, presented no special problems, except for the fact that I had to use separate baking dishes, as the fish were too large to get two in one dish, but, in the end, this proved to be an advantage, as I was able to prepare each one differently and serve one hot (for my nephews, who don't like cold fish) and one chilled, as planned.
The cheesecake turned out just perfect - exactly as I like it. Which is to say, "like mother used to make". Just as well, because the surprise dessert failed to materialise on time. The jelly, which I prepared the next day, just wouldn't gel, probably because I had added too much liquid. (Actually, by the evening, it had finally "jellified" but that was too late, of course.)
So, how did my rare attempt at large-scale entertaining turn out in the end? Believe it or not, it was a resounding success. I won an (unsollicited) encomium from my nephews (18 and 15) for the salmon, praise from my sisters for the quiche (pizza?) and (as usually happens after such gatherings, because we are all afflicted with the "Jewish Mother Syndrome" and prepare twice as much food as necessary), there was plenty of food left over so I didn't have to cook for the next three or four days,
So, I have proved I can do it. I can be an adventurous cook, I can cope with large-scale entertaining and - I can survive...
Maybe, after all, I should have given this blog entry a different title: That which does not destroy me, makes me stronger.
May 27 ShavuotThe festival of Shavuot (Pentecost) starts tomorrow evening. Unlike all the other festivals mentioned in the Torah, the date of Shavuot is not specified. Instead, the Children of Israel were commanded to count a period of seven weeks from the day following the Pessach (Passover) festival (hence the name Shavuot,meaning "weeks"). Like Pessach, Shavuot is a harvest festival. Thus, it is also known as Chag Hakatzir ("The Festival of the Harvest") and as Yom Habikkurim ("The Day of the First Ripe Fruits"), when it was customary to bring a thanksgiving offering to G-d for His bounty. But most importantly, Shavuot is Zman Matan Torateinu ("The Season of the Giving of our Torah").
Pessach is a spring festival, marked by the blossoming of flowers, but while the flowers are beautiful, it is only when the fruits ripen that they have a use and a purpose beyond mere beauty. In the same way, the Exodus from Egypt brought freedom to the Children of Israel, but it was a freedom without use or purpose - anarchy, in fact. Only when the Children of Israel accepted the Torah, and adopted a set of rules and a morality by which to live, did the flowers of freedom ripen into the fruits of nationhood.
You might ask yourself, why is Shavuot called "The Season of the Giving of our Torah" rather than "The Season of the Receiving of our Torah". The reason for this is that whereas we make the decision, daily, to accept the Torah and live by it (or not, as is, unfortunately, too often the case) the Torah was given by G-d once, and once only, on Mount Sinai, on the 6th day of the month of Sivan - a specific time and place.
In the Book of Exodus, Chapter 19, we read how the Children of Israel prepared to receive the Torah by purifying themselves for three days. Since then, it is the custom to spend the eve of Shavuot in all-night prayer and study - Tikkun Leil Shavuot. In modern Israel, outside ultra-orthodox circles, this often takes the form of lectures and symposia on the application of Torah and Halakha (Jewish Law) to topical questions arising from the problems presented by modern lifestyles and technology. For example, I noticed that tomorrow night, Jerusalem's Yeshurun Synagogue will host a number of lectures on subjects ranging from how to determine the moment of death according to Halakha (vitally important in an age when organ transplants are an accepted fact of life) to the Halakhic aspects of Operation Cast Lead.
Shavuot is when we read the Book of Ruth, the story of the most famous convert to Judaism in history. Her story takes place round about the time of the wheat harvest. We read about her gathering corn in the field of Boaz - for in Jewish law, the corners of the field, the fallen and forgotten sheaves, the gleanings, were to be left for the poor. Ruth, as we know, was the great-grandmother of King David. Thus, a foreign woman, a convert, was the ancestress of the most famous of the kings of Israel, the mother of the line from whom the Messiah will one day come. Furthermore, Shavuot, according to Jewish tradition, is the birthday of King David. It is also the day of his death.
One of the most beautiful of Shavuot customs is that of decorating the synagogue with flowers. In our synagogue in London, if my memory doesn't deceive me, they were always white flowers - lilies and so on. Here in Israel, I have seen this custom extended even to the extent that the supermarket was decorated with flowers and ears of wheat!
As with any Jewish festival worthy of the name
, Shavuot too has its special foods. There doesn't seem to be any single authorised reason for the tradition of eating dairy foods on Shavuot but just as Purim wouldn't be Purim without Hamantaschen, Shavuot wouldn't be the same without cheesecake. Some claim that it is because light, dairy foods are more suited to the hot weather usual at the time of this early summer festival. Another explanation is that until the Torah was given, the Children of Israel did not have to abide by any special dietary laws. They did not, in short, have to "keep kosher" and so they ate meat even of animals which were later deemed "unclean". In consequence, their meat dishes were unfit, not kosher. Therefore, from the moment the Torah was given, they could no longer use those utensils until they had been ritually purified. But this they could not do on Shabbat or on a festival, so they had to make do with eating only dairy products until the festival ended. Whatever the reason - I just love cheesecake .When I was a child, I was entranced by an ancient Jewish legend, according to which, at midnight on the eve of Shavuot, the heavens split wide open and one may see the Almighty and all the heavenly host. At that moment, any wish one makes will be granted. Year after year, I struggled to keep awake, in vain. When I grew older, staying awake was no longer a problem, but I still never saw anything but a black night sky. In cloudy, rainy England, I couldn't even see stars. I realised then that to see this miracle, one had to be in Israel. But alas, when I came to Israel, I was again disappointed. Each year at Shavuot, midnight came and went - and still, nothing. I understood then that this vision was only given to those who spent the night studying and praying. Year after year, I have tried to approach midnight on Shavuot able to say, honestly, that I have been studying Torah, even if it's just a few verses.
I still haven't seen the heavens split open.
I don't despair.
Maybe this year... May 22 If I Forget Thee, O JerusalemYesterday we celebrated Yom Yerushalayim, Jerusalem Liberation Day, the anniversary of the Liberation and Reunification of the Holy City by the Israel Defence Forces in the 1967 Six Day War. According to the Jewish (lunar) calendar, the actual day of the Reunification falls on the 28th day of the month of Iyar (today, in fact) but when that date falls on a Friday, as it does this year, the celebrations are brought forward to Thursday, as they continue into the night, with fireworks and other activities which are forbidden on the Sabbath. Therefore, so as not to curtail the festivities (as well as to allow observant Jews to prepare for Shabbat), the festivities take place a day earlier. However, since it was actually 42 years ago today that the whole of Jerusalem was reunited under Jewish sovereignty for the first time in almost 2000 years, I bring you a gift in honour of the festival - a performance by the Jerusalem Oratorio Chamber Choir of Zvi Avni's setting of Psalm 48, verses 2-4: "Beautiful of vista, the joy of all the earth, is Mount Zion".
Enjoy!
Shabbat Shalom and a pleasant weekend to you all.
May 20 The Call of the SouthYesterday (Tuesday) I returned to Jerusalem from a three-day trip to Eilat with "the Gang" from work - our annual outing, designed to enhance social bonding within the Department. As I mentioned in a previous blog, we alternate between trips to the north (to a variety of destinations) and trips to Eilat, Israel's southernmost town,on the Red Sea. Eilat enjoys (if that's the right word), very hot, dry weather, even in winter
 , while as for the summer, it can often reach the mid 40s (Celsius) in the shade. On Sunday, when we travelled down there, it was 28 degrees in Jerusalem, 38 degrees in Eilat. We were supposed to set out at 7.30 AM, but, as usual, when you tell our lot to be there and ready to leave at 7.30 AM, they view that as a suggestion only  . In fact, it was almost 8.15 AM before we hit the road. In years gone by, before the first intifada, and long before the establishment of the Palestinian Authority, we used to stop off for brunch in Jericho, but that, alas, is no longer possible. In the event, we had a late (and pretty substantial) breakfast in Moshav Hatzeva in the Arava. The moshav specialises in desert agriculture and we were treated to a banquet of fresh, locally produced vegetables, cheeses, omelettes, cakes and - I'm getting hungry just writing about it
!The original plan had actually included a guided tour of the moshav, but the sweltering heat made that impractical so we returned to our air-conditioned bus and pressed on to Eilat, which we reached by about 2 pm (an hour later than planned). Unfortunately, we had to wait almost an hour and a half for our rooms - half the country having seemingly descended on Eilat in general and on our hotel in particular! That left just about enough time for a shower and a rest before supper, at seven, followed by an evening of drinks, snacks and party games (social bonding, remember?), rounded off with a traditional Israeli singalong to the accompaniment of Yair on the guitar and Miriam on the flute.
By the following day, it was 43 degrees in the shade and we were all set for a day at the beach. Foolhardy, some might say, but the beaches in Eilat are well equipped with sunshades and straw-topped booths (public toilets are a much rarer commodity!), and by dint of slathering on suntan lotion with a Sun Protection Factor of 30, I managed to avoid both UVA and UVB rays so successfully that not only did I escape sunburn, I didn't even tan!!! The day was given over to water sports - pedal boats, kayaks, "banana boats" (to be avoided like the plague in my opinion) and outboard motor boats. The latter I did enjoy. Though the motorboats are designed for 6 passengers, we were only three. A few hundred metres from the shore, we formed a circle with the other boats and some intrepid members of our gallant band decided to dive in for a swim. On the way back, my two companions suggested I take the wheel. Mindful of my brush with near disaster at the Go-Karting track last year, I ventured to suggest that this might not be quite the best idea. However, my friends would not take no for an answer so I gave it a try. I did suspect that my steering left something to be desired but apart from helpfully pointing out that I seemed to be headed in the direction of Aqaba, on the Jordanian side of the bay, they left me to my own devices, until it was time to dock.
In the evening, after supper, I went to Eilat's biggest shopping mall. Eilat, you see, is a Tax Free Zone and therefore, many upmarket retail chains have branches there, where one can purchase the latest fashions, swimwear, sports gear, shoes and jewellery, for far less than in the rest of Israel. Earlier in the day, I had spotted a few items that I fancied but couldn't try on, as I was wearing a wet swimsuit under my clothes, so now , I returned, to see if they looked as good on me as they did on the hangers. Alas. The black trousers by Zara I had thought would be great for courtroom appearances, or even for concerts with the choir, looked really odd on me and of the two dresses that had caught my eye, finding one in my size proved harder than I had expected. The salesgirl thought (as I did!) that Medium would be right for me (I take a UK size 12/14, and a continental 40/42) , but evidently Zara's sizes are on the small side. I needed Extra Large!!! The only dress of the two I had liked available in that size was in a red I could not possibly wear. I gave up and proceeded to Renuar. There, I found another red dress (in a more flattering shade) and in the right size but - it made me look fat! (Considering the lavish supper I had consumed, this was, perhaps, not so surprising after all...)
Empty handed, I walked back along the seashore promenade, with its booths and stands selling all the rather tacky paraphernalia of a seaside holiday (of the sort I remember from childhood vacations in Bournemouth and Brighton), and then along the Lagoon (in reality, a man-made Marina) to the hotel. Some of the others had gone to a club specialising in eastern-style music. From what I heard at breakfast the following morning, most of them hadn't enjoyed it much except for what one of them described as "the anthropological research". In short, I think I had a lucky escape...
At breakfast, too, it was suddenly decided to set out for home at 11.30 AM instead of at 1 PM, as called for in the original programme. Dutifully, I presented myself in the lobby at the appointed hour. I found precisely two of my workmates there. As you have probably guessed, we didn't actually leave till 12.15. You see, nobody had thought to inform the bus driver of the change in plan.
Today, it was back to the grindstone once more. This is unusual, as we generally take our annual trip during the second half of the week, from Tuesday to Thursday which, I think, is preferable, as we can then benefit from the extended absence from work to wind down from the long and rather tiring bus journey home. Still, we are not yet completely back to normality (whatever that may be) as tomorrow, we celebrate Jerusalem Liberation Day - 42 years since the liberation and reunification of Jerusalem in the Six Day War.
But that, my friends, is another story... May 16 There Must Be Another WayIn my last blog, I more or less promised to write about the role of the Roman Catholic Church in promoting antisemitism, and this would probably have been an appropriate time to do it, in the wake of the Pope's visit to Israel earlier this week. However, I don't feel in the mood for polemics at the moment, so instead, I would like to bring you Israel's entry for the Eurovision Song Contest which takes place in Moscow tonight, together with a translation of the words. The song Your Eyes (There Must be Another Way) is performed by Achinoam Nini, (better known in Europe as Noa), who is of Yemenite Jewish origin and Mira Awad, an Israeli Arab who enjoys huge success in Israel on stage and on TV (she played Eliza Doolittle in the recent Israeli production of "My Fair Lady").
Oddly enough, despite the song's message of peace, the duo have come under fire both from the Israeli Left and from Palestinian supporters in Europe, who claim they are covering up Israeli "atrocities" in Gaza.
There's no satisfying some people, it seems. The song, which was chosen by an open poll of TV viewers, days after the end of Operation Cast Lead, is sung in Hebrew, Arabic and English. The translation below is a literal one, and therefore does not rhyme. I ask you, how can anyone interpret this as anything but a heartfelt prayer for peace?
There must be another way!
Your eyes, sister, say all that my heart asks for.
We have come such a long, hard way together, hand in hand.
And the tears fall and flow in vain, a nameless pain.
We are only waiting for the day after.
There must be another way!
Your eyes say, a day will come
When all the fear vanishes.
In your eyes there is a determination
That it is possible to continue the road,
However long it may take,
Because Sorrow has no single address.
I cry to the wide spaces, to the stubborn skies -
There must be another way!
It's a long road we will travel,
Such a hard road, together, to the Light.
Your eyes say, all the fear will vanish.
And when I cry, I cry for both of us.
My pain has no name.
And when I cry, I cry to the merciless sky and say:
There must be another way.
There must be another way!
Your eyes, sister, say all that my heart asks for.
We have come such a long, hard way together, hand in hand.
And the tears fall and flow in vain, a nameless pain.
We are only waiting for the day after.
There must be another way!
Truly, for all our sakes, there MUST be another way!
April 19 A Hatred As Old As TimeSixty-six years ago today, on April 19, 1943, the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising began. Coincidentally, that year, April 19 was the eve of Pessach (Passover).
Three weeks separate the start of Pessach and Israel's Independence Day. Three weeks between the festival that marks our emergence on the stage of History as a people rather than as a desert tribe, and the festival that marks our renaissance, after two millenia of exile, as a sovereign nation in our own land. Between them, eight days before Independence Day, we commemorate one of the most traumatic events in a history replete with traumatic events - Holocaust and Heroism Remembrance Day, which falls this year on Tuesday, April 21.
The rest of the world commemorates the Holocaust on January 27, the day of the liberation of Auschwitz, but this commemoration has in many places been watered-down by turning it into a commemoration of other acts of genocide - or so-called genocide - thus downplaying the uniqueness of the Jewish experience.
The symbolic connection between the Holocaust and Israel's rebirth might be obvious to some. Indeed, Israel has frequently been accused of exploiting European guilt feelings about the Holocaust, first, to garner support for the establishment of the Jewish State and thereafter, to stifle criticism of Israel. Less obvious, perhaps, is the connection between Pessach and the Holocaust. Yet, to my mind, the connection between these last two is clear. In the Haggadah, which we read at the eve of Pessach meal, the Seder, we are told how Pharaoh planned the extermination of the Children of Israel. Quoting from the Book of Exodus, chapter I, the Haggadah tells us how a new Pharaoh arose "who knew not Joseph", who tried first to suppress the growth of the Children of Israel by enslavement and forced labour, and the breaking of family ties and then, when that failed, by ordering the destruction of all newborn male babies among the Hebrews. Thus, the story of Pessach incorporates the first recorded case in history of attempted genocide. Then, as so many times thereafter, it was directed at the Jews.
Why?
If we look for a reason for the deep-rooted antisemitism in Europe, which was the breeding-ground for the Holocaust, we can see that the doctrine of the Roman Catholic and Russian Orthodox Churches and later, of Martin Luther, according to which the Jews were collectively guilty of the murder of Jesus, proved to be fertile soil for this most ancient hatred. I could (and probably shall) write a whole blog about this alone, but it does not wholly answer the question. As we have seen, hatred of the Jews (or, as they were then known, the Children of Israel or the Hebrews) predates Christianity by almost fifteen centuries. It is the oldest recorded form of racism - and the most persistent. It sheds its form and takes on new guises with each generation. Since the end of World War II, with the revulsion against Nazi atrocities, it has become "politically incorrect" to be antisemitic, so now, our detractors claim to be anti-Zionist rather than anti-Jewish. Hatred of the Jewish State has "replaced" hatred of the Jewish People, but in most cases, if you scratch the surface, dig a little deeper and engage in Socratic dialogue with the "anti-Zionists", they will soon show their true colours.
Another form of antisemitism can be seen in the attempt to deny the very existence of a Jewish People. "You are not true descendants of the Children of Israel", it is claimed. "You are Khazars, with no claim whatsoever to the land you have stolen from the Palestinians." Thus, having failed physically to eradicate us, they attempt to negate our very being as Jews, by the revision of history. If we are Khazars ( a Central Asian people who more or less disappeared as a separate national and cultural entity in the 10th century C.E.), then the Jews don't exist any more and "the Jewish Problem" is solved. This too is a subject for an entire blog and I shall no doubt return to it in the not-too-distant future.
My friends - I don't have an answer to the age-old question "Why us?". In my forthcoming blogs, I shall endeavour to explore further some of the points I have raised, in the hope of provoking (civilised) discussion. Your comments (as long as they are polite) will be welcome. As they say on the talkback shows - "The lines are now open". Feel free to respond. April 11 For behold, the winter is past......the rain is over and gone.
Well, not exactly. It was hardly there to begin with and we are, in fact, facing a severe drought. However, as it is traditional at Pessach to read the Song of Songs and since, for the past few days, as I walk around the neighbourhood and see flowers peeping out from almost every crack in the pavement (not to mention in gardens and window-boxes), I've been whipping out my camera phone and snapping away at the least provocation, I thought I'd add a photo album to show my readers what spring is like in Jerusalem. I've given captions to all the photos but I find that Live Spaces has a mind of its own and, once the photos are uploaded, changes the order so that the captions don't really make sense. In order to view the photos in the order in which I intended, please click on "Slideshow". Otherwise, the captions will make no sense, especially as there aren't any pictures of fig trees or turtle doves (though I may add some later, if I get lucky with my camera
 ).Meanwhile, enjoy!
חג שמח April 07 SunriseTomorrow will witness an event which, according to Jewish tradition, occurs only once every 28 years. At sunrise, the earth, the sun and the moon will be aligned in exactly the same places they were on the day they came into being, on the fourth day of Creation. Please note: tomorrow is Wednesday - the fourth day of the week. Hundreds of thousands of worshippers are expected to rise before dawn, to witness the sunrise and say special prayers, for tomorrow marks Birkat Ha'Hama - "The Blessing of the Sun" - marking the end of a 28 year solar cycle and the start of a new cycle. Even rarer, the event will take place on the eve of Pessach, in the middle of the lunar month, when the rising sun and the setting moon are both clearly and completely visible in the morning sky. In a way - and this is the way it has been explained to Jewish children for countless generations - one could say that tomorrow is the sun's birthday.
So I'd better go and get a good night's sleep now - I need to be up early tomorrow  .April 03 The Face of the BeastI had intended to devote this week's blog to my choir's concerts last week and again, the day before yesterday. That was before yesterday's cowardly terrorist attack on the children of Bat Ayin, in the West Bank.
Yesterday (April 2nd) at noon, a Palestinian terrorist (believed to have been acting alone) entered the Jewish settlement of Bat Ayin, armed with an axe, with which he proceeded to attack a group of children playing in the centre of the village. His first victim, 13-year-old Shlomo Nativ, received a fatal wound to the neck as the terrorist scumbag tried to behead him. Mortally wounded, and bleeding, he managed to stagger to his home nearby, where he collapsed and died in his mother's arms.
The next victim was 7-year-old Yair Gamliel, who sustained severe wounds to the head and is now in hospital. Yair's 8-year-old brother, Yosef, who was playing with the other children, miraculously escaped injury after the ball with which they were playing had just fallen, some distance away, and he had run to fetch it.
Who knows what might have happened had not one of the adult residents happened along and tackled the murderer? He managed to disarm him, but the scumbag escaped and is even now being hunted by the Israel Defence Forces. When they find him, I hope and pray they do not take him alive, only to have his freedom added to the already exhorbitant list of demands Hamas is making for the release of kidnapped Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit (who may, or may not, be alive). I hope, instead, that the Beast may be killed while trying to escape capture.
I would happily put a bullet through his black heart myself.
Wouldn't you? |
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