Na na naa naa. Na na naa naa. Hey hey, Peace, Hil’

Note: I think this post ties into what I mentioned the other day regarding public transportation, though you will certainly be at no loss without reading it…let this be a continuation, if you will.

Those of you who know me well enough are aware that throughout High School I was fortunate to be employed by a popular east coast Burrito chain, (no, not that burrito chain). Now that I am home from school for four months, I am indeed, though somewhat disconcertingly, back in the burrito business - this time as a shift supervisor.

Something which I have always enjoyed about my job, and continue to daily, is the ability I have to interact with the Latin-American community with whom I work: those whom I would, without this job, much more than likely never get to know. Verbal interactions are not forced - I could certainly cook, and generally work around them solely based on smiling and awkward attempts to transmit information non-verbally (though wouldn’t that also be a type of cultural interaction in itself?), but I was fortunate enough to learn a decent amount of Spanish in high school, in addition to speaking it with my mother.

My experiences throughout the past four years (it’s been quite some time now) never fully surprise me, because I firmly believe that any two people can find common denominators albeit very different backgrounds, but they always leave me refreshed and happy that I am able to have them. I’m not sure why. Once the language barrier has been broken - and I do try to do that rather quickly when I’m working, as it leads to a more productive restaurant - I am always surprised at how eager my co-workers are to know about my life: my schooling, my language, and almost always most enthusiastically my religion. I had a conversation today with a co-worker, who is 23, I believe, from El Salvador (most of them are) who was absolutely fascinated by Judaism and English - and though he knew very little, wanted me to make every effort in teaching him phrases, grammar, and verbs which Americans frequent (obscenities always make the list), in addition to the baselines of Jewish History and Theology (in Spanish, I have my work cut out for me). He was relentless, and I was more than thrilled to oblige, because I got such a rush out of interacting with someone whom my perception of societal norms (not necessarily the ones I prescribe to) say I have no place talking to.

We live two very different lives, he and I, so what place did we have interacting? He, a Hispanic working-class twenty-something trying to make money to send home, and I, a white middle-class twenty-something home from college - yes, paying for college, but in college.

A conversation I had with another co-worker today: this one a freshman in High School: quite white, and  quite privileged, who after hearing me speaking Spanish, inquired: “You know Spanish? And speak it here? Shouldn’t they just learn English? This is America.” And for a moment I shuddered, hating ever so much my generation and our all too frequent inability to accept, and God forbid embrace cultural differences.

Perhaps I’m the one in left-field, or am weird for the emotional surge I get when talking and developing relationships with those not like me. And perhaps I’m an unsympathetic ass for not understanding why people are so wary of reaching out to a different language or cultural identity. So be it.

I love cultural encounters, and so can you (really!). See you at work.

It’s always a culture shock coming back to Maryland from Indiana: the drivers, for one, are insane here, as opposed to the conversely passive drivers throughout the boondocks of the Midwest, God bless them.

Everything seems faster here; more important. People have work - big work - to goto, in Washington, D.C., of all places, so watch out! Blackberry’s are more commonly toted by business men and women who actually use them for business, rather than sorority girls in black spandex and loose shirts with sideways ponytails (honestly, who said that was fashionable? On the other hand, this author fully enjoys his Treo, so perhaps my bitching isn’t justified. I digress).

My family recently moved to a much more developed, urban suburb of Maryland (North Bethesda), putting us 5-10 minutes driving distance from two major smorgasbords of retail, dining and entertainment venues (Rockville; Bethesda). More importantly, though, I am now a five minute, charming walk from the Metro, granting me access to all this Nations capital and it’s suburbs have to offer. I had lunch with a wonderful friend this afternoon in Dupont Circle, and took full advantage of my new access to public transportation.

An admission: I love the Metro. It gets you places, for cheap. Especially given the $3.80/gallon gas prices our economy is burdened with these days. As of late, everyone is taking it - people who drove before are finally resorting to the transportation options which for so many years they have been too good for. It means less cars on the roads - which is dually positive for our environment, which, though screwed anyway, could use a bit less smog. NPR ran a report the other day covering public transportation use nationwide: they claim ridership on the rails and bus lines is up as much as 80% in some places. Hot damn!

So, certainly, I love the Metro as it is a tool for environmental progress, but particularly I admire the diversity within it’s ridership. In few other places do you find business elite; blue collar; working class; students; tourists; homeless; and any other aimless riders (me!), all utilizing the same service. It is a unique thing to see, and I certainly enjoy it each time I ride. Of course, this is also true of New Yorks subway, Chicago’s ‘L’, or, I’m sure, many other cities public transportation.

My mom, who grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, but frequently found herself on the ‘L,’ city bound, has always spoken fondly of her experiences with public transportation. And though my brother and I grew up on the outskirts of the Metro’s boundaries, it was few and far in between that we rode it’s rails - usually into Washington for a visit to a Museum. My mom always wished, and I now see why, that we had had the opportunities that she did to be immersed into public transit. In the suburbs which so many of us are cushioned and comforted by - and believe me, I still am - we are able to maintain that comfort zone within our cars. They become our portable houses, offering the entertainment and amenities of our homes, just with wheels. But they leave us devoid of any cultural interaction and lacking knowledge of our social surroundings - which I find so unfortunate.

So, my faceless, nameless readership, what is your take? Is public transportation available to you, and if so are you using it? If not, why? Save a buck, or hundreds, God forbid, and utilize what your taxes pay for anyway. Let someone else drive you around, while you catch up on your podcasts and iTunes, read the paper, take a nap, or, hopefully, observe those sitting next to you. It’s too good of an opportunity to miss.

I read a great article in this mornings Washington Post - written by Jeremy Ben-Ami: the man responsible for, and in charge of J-Street (which I am obsessed with, these days, more writing on them, later).

The article, which shares the same title as this post, attempts, successfully if you were asking me, to debunk some of the accepted norms in American Politics and society regarding who is, and is not, pro-Israel. I really am quite pleased that something like this has been written - finally - in a major publication. Though I’m sure many, if not all of these points and conclusions have been brought to the table before today in another venue, this is the first time I’m catching wind of them. So, hooray!

The first issue, or myth, is that of single-Issue American voters who support Political candidates solely based on that candidates Israel platform - usually voting Red/Right because of the GOP candidate’s perceived strength in Israel platform (Evangelical vote?). It’s something I’ve wondered about and struggled with for quite some time. I’ve never understood, as much as I do support Israel, how a voter could pick a candidate based on Israel alone. After reading this paragraph I was reminded of an experience I had nearly four years ago in which I found myself campaigning in Baltimore (a Jew-epicenter, and consequently Israel-support beacon, for those of you out of the loop) for then Presidential candidate Kerry. My kipa, outing me as the Jew I am, compelled a complete stranger to approach, and lecture me for not supporting the candidate (Bush) who was (in his eyes, and in retrospect, he was so wrong!) most pro-Israel. Whatever perception of the political arena I had as a sixteen year old, allowed me to remind this kind stranger that his argument was horse shit, and that voting based on one issue was, well, dumb.

Ben-Ami is, in a paragraph or so, able to break apart the one-Issue-voter much better than I could or can. Most Jewish voters, he explains, do indeed vote for a candidate based on a full assortment of issues, leading to some 80% of Jews voting for Kerry in 2004, according to exit polls.

Other issues which Ben-Ami discusses range from being harsh on Palestinians in order to seem supportive of Israel; the true deceptive motivations of Christian Zionists such as John Hagee; the notion that to discuss peace with your enemy is to appear weak; and my favorite, that Dubya has been Israel’s best friend for the last eight years.

So many of these misconceptions sway many American in the wrong directions come voting time. I’m really glad The Post put this out. Please do take the time to read it.

On another note, I also suggest this brief Q&A with troubled Prime Minister Olmert, also published in today’s Post. Shavua Tov.

Pesach seems to be a better time than ever to revamp my regular blogging…don’t ask me why.

Today, which marks the fifth day of the Omer, and consequently the sixth day of Pesach, puts us right in the middle of our Holiday (and at the very beginning of our seven-week-beard-fest). Of the eight days of Passover (in galut; seven in Israel), the first and last two days are designated as yom tov’s, or days of rest, where like Shabbat, all creative work is prohibited. The middle four days of the holiday, on the other hand, we refer to as chol hamoed, during which less stringent work is allowed, until sundown tonight, of course.

I always find myself re-energized as a Jew around Passover (which in retrospect answers this posts opening line). Our seders afford us opportunities to be around friends and family, recounting the exodus of our ancestors from mitzrayim into the desert. We eat Matzah to remember our haste, we count the omer and refrain from shaving, to recount the seven weeks in which the Jews walked towards Sinai.

It’s tough. Our digestion gets thrown out of whack. Challah will never be missed more than on this erev Shabbos.

But we learn, and are reminded, that Jews have never had it easy. We remain hungry - never quite filled by matzah - to remember the longing of the Jews, for physical, and religious sustenance. And so too, in the light of this holiday, must Jews always be longing for the redemptive qualities of our religion and faith.

Conversations I have had with a valued mentor, who also happens to be an Orthodox Rabbi, are beginning to click in my head these days: that what each of us longs for in a sense of God or Judaism is best met and achieved via prayer and observance. The Jews longed in the desert for fulfillment, and they received, after 49 days, the Torah from har Sinai. If ever we were looking for a justification, or an impetus to fulfill God’s commandments, then what better reason to start than the deliverance of those very mitzvot.

This is, I believe, truly what I needed. I haven’t, as of late, been feeling the call to Judaism I often felt in the past, and this has honestly left me disappointed. I have too often taken the easy road in calling myself a Jew - which is not to criticize others perceptions of their Judaism, but my own. I believe a persons image of their Judaism, in practice and thought, should be representative of the standards that person sets for themselves. My standards have not been high enough for the commitment I now feel so ready for, so I am raising the bar.

Just as God raised the bar - for the Jews: making us his chosen people, but also mandating that as the chosen, we live our lives by His set of rules. Judaism’s daily challenge is to uphold and connect with those rules, that we might find redemption at the end of Pesach not only through a return to carbohydrates, but also in the ultimate gift of Torah.

Today, being chol hamoed, this work can get started. Tonight, though, we rest. Welcoming into our homes and hearts the Sabbath bride, and ushering out, with her, another Pesach. These have been the way of the Jews for too many thousands of years to not uphold such traditions. This religion, and its customs, are our connections to the past, and to the future, and should be upheld and respected as such. It is my goal to do so - perhaps it would benefit you, too?

שַׁבָּת שָׁלוֹם

-Hamas’ Holocaust Museum — don’t get your hopes up…

-Girl Scouts: suffering same fate and issues as Jewish Organizations

This post comes to you from Highland Park, IL., where IU’s Jewish A Capella group, HooShir, is touring. We have been singing for schools of all ages, elderly homes, and Shuls - hopefully putting smiles onto faces and representing IU as only modern versions of Lecha Dodi and DF’s Lechi Lach (to name two…in alphabetical order) can do.

I regret not embracing my vocal potential growing up - which isn’t to say that I’m that great - but maybe I wish I had been in a few more choruses. I played in bands, it was my thing, I digress. I have been finding true joy in singing with this group, and really feel the power of performing for audiences.

Apologies that this post, or most posts of late, lacks introspection and real thought value. I assure you that said thought value still passes through my head, it just hasn’t made it to the pages of this blog - not quite yet. I’m tired - not of learning or of discussion or intellect, but just of this routine. I’m ready for summer, and to get back into the consistent swing of this blog.

Until next time, lilah tov.

I had a completely restless night, literally void of any sleep whatsoever.

I tossed and turned - at 4:30 a.m. I stooped to literally counting sheep - to no avail. Too many things were racing through my head all night - and I’m not sure why. Not huge issues, but things that one thinks about, ya dig?

By 6:30 I had decided attempting sleep was futile, and got some reading done. Productive. Nice.

But the most beautiful part of this morning is without a doubt the sunrise I just watched. Something, in retrospect, I had never seen happen in these Hoosier skies. I hope to change that.
I’m off to wrap myself in tradition: in dangly white strings attached to a familiar shawl, and in leather straps and boxes containing Judaisms tenants. After watching that sunrise, to enter this day via the prayers Jews have davened to for thousands of years seems more fitting than usual.

A connection develops and strengthens with Gd; with Judaism; within my Jewish identity. A perfect beginning to this day.  I just hope there is a nap waiting for me this afternoon.

Blessed are you Adonai, who removes sleep from the eyes and slumber from the eyelids

Yom Tov L’kulam

Hat tip to DJS for pointing this out…this is too funny

It’s officially been two weeks since my last post - such a shonda! I apologize: it is not for lack of want (of posting) or for lack of material, rather an insane schedule filled with tests, essays, and glorious traveling.

This week - IU’s spring break, combined with a free ticket from Southwest (accumulated miles, gotta love ‘em) - finds me soaking in beautiful 75 degree weather on our West Coast, somewhere I admittedly do not spend enough time, for obvious monetary reasons. Today a friend and I traveled to Santa Monica’s Venice Beach, with it’s unique compilation of colorful people, obsession with the hippie lifestyle (read: marijuana and headshops), amazing restaurants, shops, and of course the beach.

Taking a break from window-shopping, my friend and I walked along the beach - something I have not truly had the chance to do in several years (several years too many). The crashing waves and cool sand between my toes seemed to take a hold of me: imbuing within me a profound sense of appreciation for my surroundings. I was overwhelmingly calm.

In my moment of bliss I whispered to myself the blessing for observing natural beauty, which teaches us that everything beautiful is deemed an expression of God’s revelation to us:

Barukh atah Adonai eloheinu melekh ha-olam, shekakhah lo b’olamo.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, Master of the Universe, Who has things such in His world.

I said it because I don’t say it enough - most of us don’t. Throughout my childhood going to the beach was something I adored and looked forward to day in and day out. I cherish the time I spent buried in the sand or laying under the sun, because these times were void of peer pressures and the worries of a child. Today because they are free from technology, worries of world peace, and front pages strewn with presidential elections and Yeshiva massacres.

For quite some time I have been trying to find escape space - in which these concerns can be put into the back of my mind. I think I need to spend more time among nature, and the beautiful wonders Gd has put on His earth.

Though perhaps out of context, the famous words of the Israeli poet and hero Hannah Senesh also came to mind as I stood on the doorstep of the Pacific:

My God, My God: May these things never end: The sand and the sea

I recommend that each of you spend time on a beach, or sitting in a green field. Who knows how inspired or touched you may become!

Birthday wishes to Ariel Sharon (80), who, by the way, is still alive after his 2006 stroke.

Sharon’s aborted legacy leaves many wondering whether or not he would have achieved what no Israeli Prime Minister has. There are skeptics, and others who nievely reminisce with “what ifs.”

Yehudah Mirsky writes for MJL on the former PM’s life.