Crazy Girl Throws Temper Tantrum in Public

I had an emotional breakdown in public today. I don’t even have those in private. But first let me give this some context…

Last night I rented “The Pianist,” starring Adrien Brody. It was extremely difficult to watch. Draining. The attention to detail is superb, and it is perhaps one of the most historically and emotionally aware/accurate films I’ve ever seen. It is set in Warsaw during the invasion of Poland in 1939, and follows one man – Władysław Szpilman – throughout his experience inside and outside the ghetto walls.

While watching this film, I was thinking about the research paper I am in the process of writing. It addresses this question: “Could America/Great Britain have done more to save Jewish lives during the Holocaust?” The answer is most certainly YES; but that is not what I want to focus on. Rather, I want to know: 1) where was the outrage AND 2) Why aren’t more people concerned about dispelling the ignorant beliefs that foster anti-Semitic attitudes? Do people even know what needs to be dispelled?

As I was watching “The Pianist,” with other historical events in mind, my frustration grew. The compliance of the general populace with the atrocities being committed made me want to pull my hair out. However, I was even more on edge because of the large and looming anti-Israel bias that is prevalent today… even after all this history.

Are anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism the same thing? Many would say no. However, there is a very observable correlation that cannot be ignored. According to recent research – not to mention my personal, nonchalant observations – anti-Semitism is on the rise. In fact, more global anti-Semitic incidents were reported in 2009 than any year since WWII. Much of this growing anti-Semitism is fueled by increasing anti-Israel beliefs and attitudes. It’s a dangerous situation with ingredients just waiting to be stirred. Ironically, this week’s “What Would You Do?” episode featured anti-Semitism. The results, while somewhat encouraging, were also tainted by the fact that you don’t have to go far to find historically ignorant and hateful people.

This morning I decided to visit Michigan Avenue (Chicago, IL) and see which new books were out at Borders. I had no goal in mind, but ending up purchasing “The Case For Israel” by Alan Dershowitz. I’ve done my own in-depth personal studies on this matter, starting my freshman year in high school when I gained an interest in Israel’s modern history. However, Dershowitz presents the arguments in such a clean, convincing manner that I decided it would be a much-used, helpful reference. I walked out of Borders feeling very adamant, mulling over arguments I’ve had with former friends and acquaintances regarding Israel, and whether or not the Jewish people have the right to their own nation (which is, by the way, the size of New Jersey).

As I was contemplating these things, book in hand, I cut through the Water Tower plaza area. The crowd changed. I came to the realization that I was surrounded by a line of people, on either side of myself, holding up signs. Mildly confused for a moment, I soon realized what was going on. A pamphlet was shoved in my face: “End the Siege on Gaza. Stop Atrocious Israeli War Crimes.” Another one said something about one Jew’s life not being worth the Palestinian nation. There were pictures lined all along the plaza of bloody Palestinian children – apparently mutilated by malicious Israeli soldiers. A man started yelling “we just want Salaam!” Another picture was shoved in my face. I shoved it away with an angry, “NO.” I stopped and turned around, standing in the middle of the crowd, wanting to yell something. But I couldn’t. All I could say was, “Stupid.” I was so frustrated my eyes were welling up with tears and my face was already bright red. The protesters noticed. Three men stopped their conversations and turned toward me with curious expressions. I just turned around and walked away, tears in eyes. I’ve encountered anti-Israel protesters many times before, but this was different. I was unprepared and emotionally primed. The timing was too perfect. I thought of all the ignorant shoppers, and how easily they could be convinced by the out of context facts, figures and pictures. Propaganda that could be likened to Hitler’s clever campaign.

Killing was justified in Europe because people believed the Jews were the cause of their financial troubles, etc. Strong religious anti-Semitic beliefs also ran deep, and it did not take much to bring them to life. Today people see Israel as an annoyance. There have been scads of books and articles written on how the Holocaust needs to stop being used as an excuse for the Jewish nation, Israel.

This is deeply troubling. I’m not saying the glass is half-empty or anything, because that would imply a misguided psychological interpretation of the situation. I’m simply saying this is how it is. These are the facts. This is what is happening. It’s unacceptable. No matter how scarce or prevalent.

A blind boy feels a relief of a map of Israel.
Photo by David Rubinger, “Witness to An Era.”

‘In This Twilight How Dare You Speak of Grace’

I am in the process of finishing “East of Eden” by Steinbeck, and have been thinking about “timshel” (תמשול) lately. If you’re unfamiliar with the background, take a brief gander at this explanation and/or the excerpt from the book.

Very provocative story, inspired by Biblical themes. Read it.

Anyway, I attended a concert last night. I’m not big on the whole “fan-dome” thing, but I do admire Mumford & Sons at times. Mostly I respect them because of their brutally honest lyrics and passionate performances. They played their newest unreleased song, “Broken Crown,” and it floored me. I feel compelled to share the performance as it is quite relevant to “timshel” (among other things), and fills this concept with palpable emotion. Please pardon the minor use of expressive language.

Watch first, then read the rest:

Broken Crown

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…and to add even more background/food for thought to the topic at hand:

Yechezkel (Ezekiel) 28:13-18 [Click for Hebrew translation]

“In Eden, the garden of God you were; every precious stone was [set in] your covering; ruby, topaz, diamond, chrysolite, onyx, and jasper, sapphire, carbuncle, and crystal and gold; the work of your drums and your orifices is in you; on the day of your creation they were established. You were a cherub of great measure, that covers, and I gave that to you; you were on the mount of the sanctuary of God: you walked among stones of fire. You were perfect in your ways from the day you were created until wrongdoing was found in you. Because of the multitude of your commerce, they filled you with violence and you sinned, and I shall cast you as profane from the mountain of God, and I shall destroy you, O covering cherub, from among the stones of fire. Your heart became haughty because of your beauty; you destroyed your wisdom with your brightness; I have cast you upon the ground; I have set you before kings to gaze upon you. Because of the multitude of your iniquities, with the wrongdoing of your commerce, you profaned your sanctity, and I shall bring forth fire out of your midst-it will consume you, and I shall make you ashes on the ground before the eyes of all who see you. All who know you among the peoples will wonder over you; you shall be a terror, and you shall be no more, ever.”

Do our choices seal our fate? What are the implications of the cherub’s fall for mankind, and how does it relate to the serpent in Genesis 3:14-15 (think Eden)? What kind of commentary is “Broken Crown” making on such themes? These are questions to which the illuminations are woven throughout the Tanach. However, I believe it is vital to assess and trace this text for oneself for it to be truly impacting.

This deserves discussion and analysis. Thoughts? Observations?

Brief Thoughts on Sleep and the Interruption of It

I’m back in my dorm, attempting to survive the last year-and-some of formal education left on my “life agenda.” Really, it’s not that bad. I only make it that way because I feel like I’ve “been there, done that,” and have no desire to re-live the bonding, peppy years of early college-hood. As a thrice-transfer student I’m just ready to be independent of the floor activities, schedules, dorm life and various social and financial obligations that I find to be pointless and irksome. I also don’t feel like pretending to get excited about annoying music and dance parties (one of which just sprung to life in the lounge at this very moment). Katy Perry? Someone put me out of my misery.

Maybe I’ve always been a stick in the mud, though. Yep. It’s probably true.

But that is beside the point, and is not what I want to talk about this lovely evening. I want to talk about sleep and the sacredness of it – and how mad I get when someone carelessly rips that sacred and basic human right from me.

It happened last night. Again.

There have been times I can recall when I’ve wished for an aviation headset to wear to bed. Really. I have actually desperately longed for this “conventional” item in the early AM hours. Rescue. Something to put me out of my misery. I would do almost anything to have that clunky thing getting in the way of a truly comfortable sleep just to rest in blissful silence. I wished for this again briefly last night when the piercing, echo-locative shrieks of girls getting back from wherever-they-were ripped me from the reverie I had FINALLY drifted into. However, that longing quickly transformed into a more ragged emotion. Rage. When the shrill noises and carelessly loud conversation reached my eardrums, it didn’t take long. I became a roused mother bear who, in her delirium, just realized some stupid campers were ogling her baby cub. It didn’t matter that the campers meant my cub no harm. The point IS it’s NOT their cub. It’s mine. And I’m going to kill you. I mean, just let me sleep, darn it, or I will rip you in two.

That is a brief, tamed summary of what goes through my head at 2 AM, and the ensuing hours, when I am unable to fall back asleep. I know I’m not the only one who has such violent urges and thoughts. Don’t even try lying to yourself. I might be a jerk, but I do know when I’m mildly justified in my irritation.

Oy Vey

I saw Avatar in 3d with my family over winter break. Loved the imagery and other-world concept – very cool. However, the not-so-subliminal stereotypical, moral message was a tad annoying. “Overkill” and “ridiculous” are the words that come to mind. The bad guys are really bad, and don’t blink an eye when it comes to plowing over the indigenous peoples (or, “Na’vi) for oil… I mean, natural resources. Pretty original, right?

Bil’in, a Palestinian village, decided to reenact Avatar on Friday in attempt to symbolize their “united resistance to imperialism of all kinds.” The outcome, like the movie, is predictable. The Bil’in demonstrators march up to the security wall, accompanied by cameramen (ready for the show?!) already wearing gas masks, and proceed to capitalize on the drama that is created. What ensues is choppy footage of Israelis throwing teargas at the innocent “Na’vi”-Palestinians.

Like I asked James Cameron after watching Avatar: “Really?”

The Rats in Our Cellar

“I have sulked or snapped or sneered or snubbed or stormed. And the excuse that immediately springs to my mind is that the provocation was so sudden and unexpected: I was caught off my guard, I had not time to collect myself. Now that may be an extenuating circumstance as regards those particular acts: they would obviously be worse if they had been deliberate and premeditated. On the other hand, surely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of man he is? Surely what pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth? If there are rats in a cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats: it only prevents them from hiding. In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make me an ill-tempered man: it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am. The rats are always there in the cellar, but if you go in shouting and noisily they will have take cover before you switch on the light.”
- C.S. Lewis [Mere Christianity]

This depiction of man’s nasty-first-instincts called to mind a certain situation I found myself in last semester. I was walking the streets with a friend when two student-aged males approached us. One immediately blocked my path, shoved a paper in my face, and demanded me to “save a starving child!” Irritated by his abrasive method, I attempted to go around him, but he just moved in my way again and grabbed my arm. I then found myself physically pushing him out of my path. This did not deter him. What ensued was a heated ten-minute debate about whether or not he was “justified” in physically stopping me, and following me down the street, in order to save a child’s life (as he reasoned). I assured him that he was not, and made sure to inform him that his methods were deplorable, offensive, and extremely lacking in tact. He then accused me of being a cold-hearted, selfish human being who needed to be more sacrificial of her time and money. The truth is, if I had been approached in a more polite matter, I would have reacted an entirely different way. Even if I did not want to donate my money to the cause, I would have been much more graceful in the way in which I explained myself. However, that was not the case. I was so shocked by this guy’s forward behavior, that I didn’t even bother masking my irritation. Instead I proceeded to get into a circular fight with a stranger in which we both aggressively justified ourselves. The rat illustration made me wonder how much of my life consisted of me wearing a mask and hiding my initial reactions to things. This example may be a little bit extreme, but it certainly was a situation in which I found myself fully expressing my unpleasant feelings in a way I haven’t done in a looong time. On a side note: Who the heck thinks aggressively chasing people down the street is the way to get them to give to charity? I’d definitely like to meet this man again and give him some advice.

‘I’m Empty and Aching and I Don’t Know Why’

In two months it will be a year since I last set foot in Israel. I impetuously took a semester off college so I could live in the north, participating in a five month ulpan program. It turned out to be more of a giant party than anything. A party with loose guidelines: work, study Hebrew for a few hours, live like there’s no tomorrow, crash, repeat. As long as you made it to work and class on time (and didn’t trash any rooms in a drunken, drugged rage) you were golden. Put a group of free-spirited, college-aged students from all over the world together (in close living quarters) and you have one eclectic mess. I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. I definitely saw a different side of Israel. The side that tourists aren’t exposed to, and religious groups stay away from. The “in-transit” side, I like to call it. Aimless young adults find meaning and purpose in The Land. They choose to make aliyah and join the army. Many learn for the first time what “Zionism” is, and become part of the glue that holds Israel together.

I made connections with a few families outside of Haifa, and this allowed me to escape the bubble of kibbutz life now and then. Although I must say, I envy those who experienced their childhood on a kibbutz. The creative juices seem to flow much deeper in the kibbutznik youth. I watched as children ran around, climbed on top of bomb shelters (that double as playgrounds), and played hide and seek with their friends long past dark. In a Land that is under constant threat and perpetual conflict, I experienced more freedom and camaraderie than I’d ever experienced in my life.

During the last month of my stay, I went on a short trip with a couple of people. We traveled to a moshav in the Golan Heights where one of my friends was from. I felt like I was in a dream. The weather was beautiful, just starting to get a little cooler, and the hills were so empty and quiet. We went to a closed portion of the Kinneret and spent the day there, only briefly interrupted once by a jeep full of soldiers looking for their base.

We had taken off early in the morning after a delicious breakfast of crepes. Our first ride (to the Kinneret) didn’t talk much, but Eddie Veder’s “Hard Sun” came on as we wound down the hills to the Lake. I found this ironic as I had played that song over and over after watching “Into the Wild.” Something about it always tugged at my heartstrings. And now I was hitchhiking for the first time, listening to that very song as I stared out the window at the splendor that is Israel. Couldn’t get any better. At the close of the day we managed to snag a ride down the mountain and back into the city. Not many people were on the roads, so we took what we got: a young guy with so much mud on his tires they wouldn’t even spin. After about fifteen minutes of attempting to scrape the mud off, he left us sitting at a bus stop while he sputtered home to get more help. Problem solved, he returned, and we made our way south again and listened to “America” by Simon & Garfunkel on the CD he had burned.

A week later I left the kibbutz and returned to the Tel-Aviv area with a family friend. I spent my last few days in Israel walking around, drinking lots of “cafeh,” and soaking up as much of the atmosphere as I could. I departed from Ben-Gurion airport before the sun rose. I flew to Amsterdam, ran to my connecting flight, and endured the final stretch back to cloudy, snowy Detroit. It was over and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had just recently been accepted to a school in Chicago, and it started up in a month. That’s where I find myself today. Now all I do is reminisce and think about all the things I wish I had done differently. I know I’ll go back eventually. I’m not really sure what the point of this blog post is. It’s been forever since I’ve written anything, and I am an epic failure at organizing my thoughts in any coherent manner as of late. I’m at that awkward phase of life again. The “in-transit” phase. I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going. But I have to do something. So I do.

More to come. I think?

Old Discovery, Revisited

Ten years ago I was digging around in a dirt pile… because that was what I did for fun, I guess. This pile of “dirt” consisted of mostly large, layered sandstone-like rocks. Living in Jackson, MI didn’t provide many outdoorsy experiences, but I found refuge in a more secluded area of the neighborhood which contained said pile of dirt. One day, while rummaging around, I happened upon this:

Throughout the rest of the time my family lived there, I found countless more of these strange fossils. There were huge layered boulders full of them. After moving we tossed the majority. But I kept a few. Now, eight years later, I’m in Jackson again. I decided to go back to my old neighborhood and see if the rock hill was still there. Sure enough, the area is as abandoned as ever and the pile of rocks remains. It’s harder to find the fossils now as a lot of them have been washed down the hill or crushed. It turns out these fossils are a type of straight-shelled nautiloid. According to my dictionary nautiloids are “a mollusk of a group of mainly extinct marine mollusks.” Basically little squid-like creatures.

The scads of crappy little fossils I found apparently swam in the sea “millions of years ago.” I think it would be interesting to dig up that plot of land and see what else are in those layered boulders. If I’m ever extremely desperate for money, fine specimens of nautiloid fossils can sell online anywhere from twenty to a hundred bucks. Yes, I looked it up. So… who has a good shovel?