For All We Do

For all we do, for all we say,

A price is surely to be paid.

A humble servant of man’s fate,

That is not me,

I’ve come too late.

 

Look here,

I’m not special, different, better than anybody else,

I’m simply me,

At any rate,

I’d like you, if it’s possible, to relate,

To my life’s journey,

A work of passion, loss, adjustment, disarray,

A cycle with an end,

A trendy way of living-with no real trend.

 

Brought here on a mission,

Clear that height!

I see my elders take to flight,

They do not know, do not see,

The person buried deep in me.

 

Felt hardships, done what’s wrong,

I know this,

The notes to a different song,

Will express my thanks,

To those who’ve believed and never shouted,

To those who’ve helped and never doubted.

 

I will escape,

Tear down the iron gates,

I will be free one day,

I will enjoy my life,

Is what you too should say.

 

Listen, fellow sufferers,

Hearken to my words,

Believe me, I have been hurt as well.

Two things that you must never lose, lest you lose yourselves:

Your hope, your resolve to make it no matter what the odds,

And your sense of humor, your smile,

What you do from here isn’t up to me,

Keep working always,

You too will go free.

Dedicated to all those trying so hard to get out of whatever predicament they've found themselves in for their own good and the good of the world.

A Day in the Muslim Quarter

I recently had an opportunity to take a walk in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem. Before going there, I’d always been a little apprehensive about showing up—especially with my kippa and tzitzit (the traditional Jewish garb). It took some courage and the friendly smile of a close friend who made Aliya about a year ago to persuade me to venture out of my familiar comfort zone into a hereto unknown reality.

We entered the Old City, a place holy to the world’s three great faiths, perhaps the most hotly contested area in the world through the Yaffo Gate. I asked my friend if she was up for some coffee (the cold weather was beginning to be felt in Jerusalem). She gladly accepted my offer.

As we sat there watching passerby’s, we noticed people of a variety of backgrounds that’s difficult to spot just about anywhere else. Both of us are Russian-speakers, so I pointed out a group of Russian tourists taking in the beauty of the Old City. They spoke in the traditional jargon that I simply couldn’t resist ignoring them. It was like being back in Moscow again. Some kind of dejavu…

Avraham: the 1st Zionist

This week's parsha, Lech Lecha, describes the life and trevails of our forefather Avraham, how he was commanded by G-d to leave his "land, (his) home, and (his) father's house," and travel to a distant, unknown land, a land "flowing with milk and honey."

Avraham leaves Charan at the old age of 75. By then, he's already established himself as a leader and a visionary. He goes on to live a life of righteousness, of arrousing curiosity for the Jewish faith amongst the people of the world, and of settling the Land of Canaan.

Avraham was for all intents and purposes, the first Zionist. The first settlers in Palestine who came here with the dream of building a "perfect" society based on socialist ideals were following in Avraham's footsteps. Perhaps, they were misguided in thinking that the new state would be based on socialism, but they weren't far from the truth.

Why is it that it took a secular movement--as opposed to the Charedi community of Eastern Europe to realize that the Jewish people's future lay in Israel and that the correct--and only thing to do was to pack up their bags and travel to a land deserted by its inhabitants; a land that lay desolate and barren?