One Account of the Jerusalem Violence

Israel deathThe murders in Jerusalem were, I believe, the first time terrorists had struck inside a synagogue.  The story is terrible; what follows is a truncated account sent to friends of a woman in the neighborhood.  I know some of the word are unfamiliar (I have explained a couple) and the names are unfamiliar sounding. I hope you can get past them and, whatever your politics, try to imagine this happening in the neighborhood where you live.

Dear friends,

Yesterday at about 7am my daughter Miri called. “Mordechai just came home from shul    (synagogue) . He said that Arabs came in and are shooting, and that a man with an axe is hitting everyone. Some of the people threw chairs at them, but it didn’t help”. The twelve year old had hit the floor along with everyone else when the bullets began to fly. He was fully aware of what was going on, and what it meant. He somehow found the courage to let go of his father’s hand, crawl towards the exit and break into a run.

Mordechai is blonde, freckled, and a soft spoken somewhat introverted and studious boy, much like his father, Shmuli. He is not Huck Finn, and the courage he found at those moments were a gift straight from G-d. By the time he finished telling Miri what happened, sirens from Hatzalah ambulances, police cars, and Magen David could be heard telling her that there were casualties.

“Where’s Shmuli” was the thought that entered her mind again and again as the seconds which felt like hours began to tick. She called me and said, “Say Tehillim (NOTE that’s Psalms –  often read as a prayer in such circumstances.) There is shooting in Bnei Torah”. I began to say the ancient prayers, knocked on my neighbor’s door and told her to do the same. Chani called and told me to look at the news to see what was really happening. Nothing was reported as yet. Of course not. It was only 7:10.

I realized that the whether or not the attack was over, that no one as yet knew whether the murderers escaped. I called again, asking that everything be done to see that no one leaves the campus, and then called Miri. Thank G-d she had the sense to stay indoors and not run to the besieged synagogue. When Mordechai came home, the shooting was still happening. By 7:20 we both realized that if she didn’t hear from Shmuli, something was very wrong. The police and other services had no information as yet to give to the public, but a family friend who had seen the terror with his own eyes, said that Shmuli had been taken to Haddassah EIn Karem. When Mordechai let go of his hand, he instinctively ran after the child placing himself in the sight of the terrorists. One of them attacked him with his axe, hitting him on the left side of his head, his back and his arm. Somehow he made it to the door. Josh White, a student of Machon Shlomo was riding down Agassi on his bike. He noticed what he described later as “a lot of confusion” in front of Bnei Torah, asked someone what was going on, and the man answered him in Hebrew.

In the midst of what to him was gibberish, he picked up the word Aravim (Arabs) and immediately grasped what was happening. He approached the shul and saw Shmuli who was still aware. The Machon student took of his shirt and stopped the bleeding, a move which may have saved Shmuli’s life. The shooting was still happening inside. It was about 7:15! The emergency crew drew back, but because SHmuli was already outside, they evacuated him thus making him the first of the wounded to be taken to Hadassah, another factor in his survival. Before collapsing, he asked where Mordechai was, and when he was told that the boy ran away from the carnage, he said, “Baruch Hashem”. Inside, the terrorists were continuing their “work”.

When they entered they turned to their left, and immediately cut down Rabbi Twerski and Rav Kalman Levine who were standing in the corner. Reb Kalman was the husband of Chaya, formally Markowitz who was a student and later a madrichah at Neve. Her husband was not a regular attendee of Bnei Torah. He would generally daven (pray) in the earliest possible minyan so he could get in a couple of hours of learning before beginning his day. Yesterday he had a question about something he had learned and had gone after davening to Bnei Torah to put the question to its erudite rav, Rabbi Rubin. The question will now only be resolved in the Heavenly Acadamy. Rev Avraham Goldberg, the third man to be killed is Breina Goldberg’s husband. Many of you know Breina as the warm caring efficient secretary cum mother figure at the front desk in the afternoon. I don’t as yet know how her husband, or Reb Kupinski the fourth victim met their deaths. The only thing that I know, is that it was brutal and swift.

The first policemen to enter were traffic cops who knew what they were facing, and also knew that they were not wearing protective gear. They entered anyway and together with the forces that came afterwards ended the bloodbath. By 7:30 the murderers were apprehended.

Miri, my daughter Guli, and her husband were in Hadassah. Miri’s other kids were watched by relatives and friends for the day. Mordechai was urged to speak about what he saw again and again in order to diminish the damage of the trauma he had undergone. The rest of the family flowed in, saying Tehillim and waiting for updates. The hospital social worker, Aviva, who is blessed with the rare gift of being empathic without being overbearing, and the women of Ezer Mitzion (a volunteer organization) kept us well supplied with food, calming conversation and practical advice. We were allowed to see Shmuli who was put under anesthesia. We don’t know if he heard us or not, but we were talking to him stressing that Mordechai was fine. In the hours before the surgery was done, we found ourselves with Risa Rotman. Her husband, Chaim Yechiel ben Malka, was also attacked, and the extent of his wounds are very serious. Some of you may know Risa (who if I am not mistaken also is an OBG) and those of you whose husbands learned in Ohr Sameach or who recall Reb Meir Shuster who he helped unstintingly for years, may know him as Howie. The policeman who entered first, passed away. May Hashem (God) avenge his blood.
Please please continue saying Tehillim (praying) for Shmuel Yerucham ben Baila and the other victims. Daven that Hashem give strength to the five new widows and 24 new orphans.

NOTE: Some of what I removed is about news coverage, which was not exemplary.   Some other material of a personal nature and I felt that I did not have the right to post it.

 

Introducing Tuesday Tours: Random Worthy Blog Posts

Tourist with suitcases
Welcome to Tuesday Tours.  There's so much good stuff out in the Blog Universe; we all have our blog readers filled with those we love.  It's tough to keep up though, so until further notice, I'll be offering Tuesday tours of some of my own frequent favorites.

One of my favorite bloggers, Pundit Mom, offers posts at two ends of the spectrum as the week begins.  Both are worth reading.  The first:  advice to the Obamas about the neighborhood around Sidwell Friends School.  It's just fun.  The second is a serious post with a serious question:  When is it right to tell an airline official that a passenger is making you nervous

Concerned about what's going on in Israel?  Check back daily at Writes Like She Talks, where Jill Zimon has her finger on what's up all over the Web.  Here's a sample.

The wise Maria Niles is looking to figure out all those generation labels like X and Boomer and Millennial — and what they mean (and what the heck her own is.)

Also "generationally speaking," you know that all last year I wrote comparing 1968 and 2008.  Well,  Time Goes By columnist Saul Friedman has done me one (actually two) better, writing of lessons from his own iconic president, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and Obama's point of reference, Abraham Lincoln. 

Beth Kanter is a legend.  Rightfully so.  So when she offers 52 ways for Non-profits to use social media efficiently as a New Year's gift to her readers, I'm figuring that at least some of them can help the rest of us too.

Two of my favorite moms have something special too:  I'm late on this one, but Her Bad Mother's description of a willful three-year-old (it's long so wait until you have time) is priceless.  Some kids are just strong strong little people.

Also, Woulda Coulda Shoulda's Mir Kamin celebrated her son's last single-digit birthday with a wonderful hymn to a newly-nine-year-old.  She never misses, that one.

Finally, this one – because the happy family in the photo is mine.

Visit This Jewish Blog Carnival – It’s Interesting

HaveilHavalim This carnival is fascinating – many sides of issues relating to Judaism, observant or secular Jewish life and, of course, Israel.  It's pretty diverse, take a look and see what you think.  Full disclosure: a post of mine is included.

IN JERUSALEM: A CHILD AT THE WALL AND OTHERS IN SCHOOL

Yehuda_wall_1
We leave Jerusalem for the airport in two hours and I don’t even know if it’s worth going to sleep.  It’s almost midnight here and and cab is coming at 2 AM.  So much has happened that I’ve been too tired to write most of it down.  I guess I’d better chronicle it somehow though. 

This was one of my favorite moments of our trip.  It’s almost dawn at the  Kotel (Western Wall of the old Temple) and a young boy and his father prepare for morning prayers.  This day is the first that he will "lay tefillin "– wear the special prayer objects on his arm and forehead to follow the commandments by placing reminders on the arm and "between thine eyes" – on his forehead.  They’ve chosen to celebrate this very significant pre-Bar Mitzvah moment in the early morning – a sunrise service where the Amidah – a critical prayer – is recited just as the dawn arrives.  A loving and very impressive family of four girls, two boys and two remarkable parents, they all joined to offer moral support and presence to someone they love as he takes this first step to what I guess you’d call "religious adulthood." 

I know the photo is blurry but I don’t like to show faces of other people’s families — they deserve their privacy.  I just want you to know how lovely it was.  An animated and intelligent young man, his father at his side – his sisters, mom, cousins, friend – and a couple of us — watching him make his way.  I told his mom, whom I very much admire, that it was a privilege to be there.  Probably sounds like hogwash but it isn’t – watching all this take place as the sun rose to illuminate us all was a true blessing. 

Of course we couldn’t watch everything because much of the ceremony took place on the "men’s side" of the mehitza (divider between men and women) where we weren’t allowed to be.   We peeked through fence dividers though, so we did get to see a bit.  I’ve been living a fairly observant, Orthodox life for a couple of years now, moving forward month by month, holiday by holiday, and I continue to be amazed at the levels of intolerance I manifested before I learned about observant life from the inside.  Days like this one remind me of how much of the world we can’t judge without living it – or at least being willing to come along as others do.  This day was a perfect example of that.   

Reshit_cropped_nursery_school_with_
That same day, a cousin of the family at the Kotel invited me to visit the school her kids attend – K-8 – near the town of Efrat, on the grounds of a kibbutz called Rosh Tzurim.   
Founded by an amazing woman named Noah Mandelbaum, it began as an effort to accommodate a single Downs child by mainstreaming him, along with a special teacher, in a "regular" classroom.  It was so successful that within months she had 4, then 6, then finally, so many  kids that she launched a school where such mainstreaming would be policy.  This photo shows the school in action.  There are many classrooms for Downs, autistic and other developmentally affected kids study alongside the rest of the class.  I didn’t want to take photos there and distract them.  In this nursery class is another phase of the program.  The young woman whose back is to us is fairly seriously compromised but she is permanent staff in the classroom and is learning to be a preschool aide able to get a job and work outside the school.  That smiling girl in the blue sweater is today’s "guest" – another child with serious developmental issues who will work in the classroom for the day.  The program helps these young people find a place of their own in the world – and teach all the kids at Reshit School the value of every human person.

Reshit_school_noah_mandelbaum
This is Noah, the school’s founder.  Surrounding her is part of the farm where every child – "normal" and otherwise, works each day – together.  You can see the colors, the free-form murals – all the stuff that reminds me of schools we all dreamed of in the 60s.  In many ways the tone of this school is similar – but this is a real "put your money where your mouth is" environment.  Parents have to believe that the things their kids learn here are more important than super-competitive environments where the only standard is how far their children are from the next step on the ladder.  Learning to be moral, caring human beings is an actual mission here.

The kids are pretty free (it’s kind of Summerhillish), across ability spectrum, and the curriculum is designed to allow each to learn in her own style at her own speed.  When I asked Noah about kids like mine, who had needed and appreciated structure, knowing what was going to come next, her reply was startling in its good sense.  Basically – and I’m paraphrasing here – the idea is that "for some kids, especially more intelligent ones, that may be true.  But for kids with less ability it is especially important that they learn to live without an institutional structure every minute because the world doesn’t have that kind of structure – and the world is where they will have to live." By the way, after years of fighting with the educational establishment, Reshit has been designated a model and its efforts to mainstream all kinds of kids will be emulated in schools throughout the country.

I have more to write – about exploring ancient tunnels under old Jerusalem and more – but this is enough for now.  I’ll try to have the rest in a day or two.

SHABBAT IN JERUSALEM – HATS – AND SHABBAT SHALOM

Ruthie_and_naomi_tightThese two lovelies, Ruthie (R) and Naomi (L), run a wonderful hat shop on King George St. in Jerusalem (#14  if you want to stop by…)  I met them last year and loved both the hats (if you live an observant life you wear a hat to services and many women wear them all or almost all the time) and the two of them.  A women-owned, sister-run company, their shop is my favorite – partly because Ruthie works on the hats right there in front of us – but also because they are such a great story. 

What better day than Shabbat to think about two wonderful women making us happy to wear our hats to shul?  I took two friends with me when I went there this time and among us I think we bought five hats!  Here’s mine:

Le_hat
A little stardust never hurt anyone, right?  I really love it and am now going to have to demonstrate enormous discipline by waiting until spring to wear it.  Let’s hear it for the girls, right?  And Shabbat Shalom. 

NOTE: this post was created Thursday night and set to be posted on Saturday morning.  NO WORK on it was done on Shabbat.

MOVIES, AIRPLANES AND (ALMOST NOT) ARRIVING IN ISRAEL

Ffurt_aiport_3 Never a dull moment. After a relatively uneventful flight from Dulles to Frankfurt – even two movies I wanted to see (Michael Clayton and Gone Baby, Gone) we went to the Lufthansa desk to pick up our boarding passes for the Frankfurt-Tel Aviv leg of our trip. The airport was teeming despite the fact tat it was only 7AM. This is such a big transit point that flights come in from all over the world and you think nothing of passing women in abayas, Africans in full regalia, European speaking every language in the EU and of course Americans of every conceivable type. Even though the airport is in one of, if not THE major commercial cities of Europe, the variety is such that you don’t really think of yourself as being in Germany but sort of floating in some netherworld.

After waiting in a very long line, we finally reached the ticket agent, who took quite some time to pull up our information. This is very unusual in a German institution, especially Lufthansa, which is always completely efficient. Then we found our why. Rick’s passport expires August 11th. Today is February 18th – a week short of six months. Israeli security requires that a passport be valid for at east six months after scheduled arrival in Israel. He’s a week shy of that and we spent an anxious couple of hours in the Lufthansa business class lounge waiting to see what would happen. But when the flight was finally called, (and after we went through Secrurity causing a ruckus as my Macbook Air emerged to flounce its way through the Xray machine) we waltzed onto the plane with nary a question. Much ado about nothing — but given the German penchant for regulations and the Israeli attitude toward accommodation, it could have been otherwise.

Nina_room_1_9Nina_room_2Now we’re in Tel Aviv – back at the wonderful Nina Suites in the arty neighborhood of Neve Tzedek, and enjoying what I”m pretty sure is a nice funky neighborhood about to turn into the unaffordable Soho of Tel Aviv.

But we’re jet lagged and grubby and so now we’re going to sleep. But I’m leaving you with one extra photo – te kind you show to your kids in the “gee wiz” years They were de-icing the wing right outside our window as we waited to leave Frankfurt.

Deicing_in_frankfurt_2COOL, HUH?

LEAVIN’ ON A JET PLANE – ISRAEL AGAIN

Dscn0452Tomorrow – Sunday afternoon – we leave again for Israel.  I’m amazed that we’re returning so soon and will be curious to see how it feels to be with a group instead of just the two of us. Last time was so perfect;  that always makes me nervous – it’s not good to try to recreate perfection so we have to just allow this trip to evolve as its own.

We’re staying in a beautiful apartment in a great neighborhood and have great plans – I promise to keep you posted here.

IF I KNEW THE WAY, I WOULD TAKE YOU HOME: TEL AVIV TO FRANKFURT AND THEN SOME

Bye_bye_israelWhen you arrive in Israel this ramp is the entrance to your visit — the gateway to Ben Gurion Airport.  When you leave, it’s the way out, too.  It’s as good a spot as any to start this final travel post.  Just a few last looks around.

VatThis is VAT, where you get refunds on Israeli sales taxes if you live outside the country.  Some line, huh?

Euro1Our trip went through Frankfurt and we had a long layover – so why now lunch downtown?  It’s a quick trip from the airport on the train – for five bucks.  Which is relevant – because, right in the center of the first square past the station is this statue of — a EURO!!!  There was a sculpture of one, too, further down the street. 

Ffurt_cranesThe city is growing, too.  I love this picture — new being built around the old.  Right in the middle of town…

Stasi_frankfurtThis is the last picture.  When I was in Berlin I went to the Stasi Museum, built in the old headquarters of the Stasi secret police in East Germany.  It’s a hated memory across the country, so this political poster stuck on a mailbox just seemed a way to tie up this trip too.  In Europe and here – and probably most other places, the ghosts of past horrors are how we interpret the present. 

That’s why it’s so great to travel — and so great to come home, bearing our lessons with us.

JERUSALEM DIARY 2.0: DAY TWELVE TEL AVIV DAY TWO

Tav_breakfast_cafe_4
Breakfast in our little cafe surrounded by locals with dogs and newspapers.  This is a wonderful neighborhood – the kind people move into until those who created it have to go someplace else because it’s become too expensive.  You can see it happening all around us.  But it’s fun for now and the Mediterranean is literally five or six blocks away. 

On our way out we passed this noodle stand  — I guess these people want fresh ones for Shabbat soupNoodles_for_shabbat_vertical

Recruiting_organ_donorsThese kids in the Carmel Market are canvassing to get people to sign up as organ donors.  In Israel it is still difficult to convince people to participate because of Halachic rules about burial.  Much has been done to change the rules, but the squeamishness has not abated.  They were charming kids, and very committed to this issue –  and they had quite a stack of cards of new registrants to the organ bank here.

It’s almost Shabbat so my post for tomorrow is written and ready; this is the last one from here.  I’m hoping we can go tonight to the beach for the drums that welcome Shabbat then to our friends for Shabbat dinner.