Once again we are about to slide into Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. It’s a lovely, peaceful day, all local television and radio stations are off the air and everything just stops for about 30 hours. Its main feature is a 25-hour fast which is why it’s the most dreaded day of the year.
The logic for the fast is that it frees you to concentrate on spiritual matters, reflect on a yearful of misdeeds and consider atoning for them. Right. Except there’s a flaw in the argument: deny human beings food and water for more than, oh, I don’t know, 7 or 8 hours, 12 tops, and all they will be able to think about is food and water. It’s how we’re wired. Our animal needs have to be met first and then when we’re comfortable we can contemplate loftier subjects.
Rabbis are smart people. Very smart, and educated. So how they came up with this, I can’t imagine. And then, how did they convince an entire people to go along with it? Today if somebody got up and said, “Hey, let’s all fast for a day and pray about our sins,” a solid “Get lost” is probably the politest thing he would hear as he was pelted with apple cores. But somehow, long ago our forefathers thought it was a good idea, and now we’re stuck with it.
I won’t be fasting, I guess that’s pretty much clear. Most people on the kibbutz don’t.
I will enjoy the quiet day without the roar of traffic in the background. And just maybe I will reflect on matters of the spirit. But when I do, I will be well fed and hydrated, and comfortable.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Rosh Hashana Redux
The high holy days have come again. Rosh Hashana, a two-day festival of honey and apples, is well underway and rain has arrived on cue. Everything about it is entirely predictable which, after all, is how people like their holidays.
Rosh Hashana and Passover, not Hanukkah, are the gift-giving holidays in Israel. You get small gifts from your workplace and from the kibbutz. This year the kibbutz gave us a package containing a cookbook of recipes from kibbutz members – I’ll look at that later – a jar of honey, some chocolate, a calendar featuring pictures of factory departments – jeez, these people have got to get lives, this is Socialist Realism run amok – and a choice of potted plants.
I chose a pretty myrtle plant which had been trimmed into a topiary ball. Since I have absolutely zero experience with myrtle I’m just hoping I can keep it alive, unlike last Passover’s begonia. I thought I understood begonias. I kept it in the kitchen window and it thrived through April, May, and June. Then in July it started to contract. This is never good. Leaves started to wither, branches rot and fall over. By the end of August there was nothing to do but pull the sheet up over its head. I don’t understand what happened.
So, in the triumph of hope over experience, I have installed the myrtle in the begonia’s vacated place. What worries me is the carpet of little fallen leaves – all the myrtles on offer had this – at the base. Is it supposed to do this? It doesn’t seem very economical, botanically speaking. Still, it’s showing some signs of actual growth, so I’m hopeful. But then, I’m always hopeful.
Rosh Hashana and Passover, not Hanukkah, are the gift-giving holidays in Israel. You get small gifts from your workplace and from the kibbutz. This year the kibbutz gave us a package containing a cookbook of recipes from kibbutz members – I’ll look at that later – a jar of honey, some chocolate, a calendar featuring pictures of factory departments – jeez, these people have got to get lives, this is Socialist Realism run amok – and a choice of potted plants.
I chose a pretty myrtle plant which had been trimmed into a topiary ball. Since I have absolutely zero experience with myrtle I’m just hoping I can keep it alive, unlike last Passover’s begonia. I thought I understood begonias. I kept it in the kitchen window and it thrived through April, May, and June. Then in July it started to contract. This is never good. Leaves started to wither, branches rot and fall over. By the end of August there was nothing to do but pull the sheet up over its head. I don’t understand what happened.
So, in the triumph of hope over experience, I have installed the myrtle in the begonia’s vacated place. What worries me is the carpet of little fallen leaves – all the myrtles on offer had this – at the base. Is it supposed to do this? It doesn’t seem very economical, botanically speaking. Still, it’s showing some signs of actual growth, so I’m hopeful. But then, I’m always hopeful.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Saturday, September 5, 2009
First the Retail, Then the Therapy
When I first came to Israel I thought shopping here was a blood sport. You could walk into a department store, and despite the evidence of personnel milling around, you could not get one of them to wait on you and take your money. Sometimes you could throw an object – this is the blood sport part – and hit one of them hard enough to draw attention, then you’d get down on your knees and spread your money out before you and maybe, maybe you’d leave the store with the desired purchase.
After all that, heaven alone could help you if there was a problem with the object and you wanted to return it. Not only would the store not take it back and not give you your money, it would deny ever selling it to you. But I have a receipt! “Anybody can forge a piece of paper.”
The commercial culture did a 180 about a decade or so ago. Now you cannot walk from one end of a store to the other without having to stop every few yards to scrape off the accumulated sales clerks you have clinging to you. The cosmetics departments are the worst. If you’re caught giving even a passing glance at any of the displays, an eager Russian woman will tackle you to the floor and won’t let you up until you hear all the things that are on sale. “Buy one concealer, get 10 free!” I still have 10 from last year, I plead.
Of course, the modern world has provided the perfect solution when something really needs to be bought: online shopping. It’s hassle-free, or relatively so, your purchase arrives at your door and you don’t get battered in the process. The only thing you have to worry about is identity theft.
After all that, heaven alone could help you if there was a problem with the object and you wanted to return it. Not only would the store not take it back and not give you your money, it would deny ever selling it to you. But I have a receipt! “Anybody can forge a piece of paper.”
The commercial culture did a 180 about a decade or so ago. Now you cannot walk from one end of a store to the other without having to stop every few yards to scrape off the accumulated sales clerks you have clinging to you. The cosmetics departments are the worst. If you’re caught giving even a passing glance at any of the displays, an eager Russian woman will tackle you to the floor and won’t let you up until you hear all the things that are on sale. “Buy one concealer, get 10 free!” I still have 10 from last year, I plead.
Of course, the modern world has provided the perfect solution when something really needs to be bought: online shopping. It’s hassle-free, or relatively so, your purchase arrives at your door and you don’t get battered in the process. The only thing you have to worry about is identity theft.
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