27 March 2007

On the way to school this morning, two buses from my line came arrived at the same time -- a common occurence, as time-keeping is an abstract concept here for those who are expected. Gunning it down the narrow streets of the ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods all bus lines are obliged to cross, the driver spots a huge backup of cars at the next turn. He simply yells out in Hebrew "Traffic Jam!" and proceeds to make a detour around the street, missing two bus stops along the way which no one needed. Perhaps because we're so starved of strategic quick-thinking leadership here, I certainly felt more at ease with the driver (better than the situation the other day, when the driver started screaming at a woman who entered the bus through the wrong doors with a large suitcase and didn't understand the driver's insistence for her to get off. Everyone was holding their breaths).
As if there wasn't anough corruption going on here, now we have a Finance Minister accussed of embezzling funds from an NGO and a newly appointed Justice Minister who appointed 12 ultra-Orthodox rabbis to 15 rabbinic court positions who have the power to rule on conversions, marriages and divorces. At least there's a pending petition to annul the appointments.

I'm getting ready to leave the country for a bit, the first time as an Israeli citizen and traveling on two passports. People have asked me if I'm excited to go home. I tell them I'm excited, but the word "home" gets tricky. Granted, many of my English-speaking friends here are not immigrants themselves, so I don't necessarily expect them to instinctively think about the choice of words. If I had to explain it in detail, there's home and Home -- the former being where family and friends are, and the latter being where one's dreams and ideals are. For me, it's Israel, just as for some it's on a tropical island or in the house they grew up in. There's so much potential to come from this country in which I can have a direct part for it not to be the place of dreams and ideals for me.
There's a radio ad campaign on the Army-run stations with popular entertainers doing the voice-over. The script is more or less the same:
Celebrity:"You know all the trails in South America. You've hiked all over India and Thailand. But when was the last time you hiked a trail in Israel?"
Announcer:"Getting connected with Israel. Because Israel is us."
The Diaspora Israel activist in me loves this ad, agreeing that there's so much to discover and appreciate in this small country. The Israeli inside me says "chool" (an acronym for "out of the country/land") is the place to recharge one's batteries. I'm not sure if either side is totally convincing but just in case I'm bringing last week's extended weekend section of Yediot Ahronot to read in the airport with it's "51 Reasons to Live in Israel" guest column (I'm slowly witching back to the Hebrew newspapers, which are much more interesting and entertaining than the overtly pretensious English ones). I'm looking forward to the comfort and challenge of being back in the States, not to mention my 6-hour layover in Madrid to rev up my Spanish.

Ahead of Passover, the Yahoo! frontpage ran this AP article about a bus turned into an oven for baking matzah. Notwithstanding the fact that they spelled the plural of matzah "matzos," the combination of the words "bus" and "oven" resurfaced all the Holocaust jokes in my head. It's gross to be sure, but a sign nonetheless of my new Israeli identity -- laughing at the horror of it all.

A woman the other day in the supermarket was shopping for Kosher for Passover products. As I was picking up a few things, her fingernails-on-a-chalkboard American voice announced to the entire store "I hate this country, everything's got Kitniyot in it!" Had I felt better I would have retorted with something witty in Arabic or even Yiddish, as her attitude was not only offensive to those who do eat Kitniyot during Passover, but goes to prove the anachronistic nature of a Tradition that only causes more grief during an otherwise joyous holiday.
For those who don't know what I'm talking about: "Kitniyot" are legumes/beans/rice/corn/soy/etc., that were unfamiliar to Jews living in the shtetls of Europe several hundreds of years ago. While totally unrelated to the five grains mentioned in the Bible as prohibited from being leavened ("hametz") during the holiday, Ashkenazim nonetheless decided to ban the consumption of kitniyot during the holiday, lest they be confused with the real deal.
While there is a notion that one follows the traditions and customs of one's father, there's also a Rabbinic decree that "the law of the land is the law" applying to the potential conflict between Rabbinic law and non-Rabbinic law. If the US government demands all foods to be labeled with a list of ingredients, isn't that enough to prove that the contents don't have hametz and are thus K for P?
My Rabbinic rulings have a lot of sway, so don't be surprised to see them plastered up in large black print on the walls of your local neighborhood (as is done in this country).
Whatever, bring on the hummus and soy milk this Passover!

A long post indeed -- if you made it this far, a fantastic video from Passover 2006 as a reward.
Have a Happy and Meaningful Feast of Freedom!