.תהא שנת עליה וגאולה
May 5776 be a year of aliyah and redemption.
As you may recall, every year my mother prepares a very special family calendar. Here is a certain Shiputzim daughter’s beautiful contribution to the 5776 edition:
(Roughly corresponding to Shvat-Adar I 5776)
לשנה טובה תכתבו ותחתמו לאלתר לחיים טובים ולשלום!
May you and your families have a wonderful, happy, healthy, prosperous, and sweet new year!
I realize that posting has been fairly sparse in recent weeks.
But I’m sure you’ll forgive me when you consider all the, ahem, important and meaningful things we’ve been doing here in TRLEOOB (=the real life equivalent of our blog).
For instance, this past Shabbat, we were extremely busy coming up with a list of acronyms for תשע”ה – 5775 – the upcoming new year:
.תהא שנת עליה הביתה
May this be a year of aliyah to our homeland.
.תחל שמיטה על הארץ
Let shmitah begin in the Land of Israel.
.תהא שנת ערבות הדדית
May this be a year of mutual responsibility.
.תשכון שכינתך על המקדש
May Your Divine Presence dwell in the Mikdash.
.תהא שנת עידן המשיח
May this year mark the onset of the Messianic Era.
.תשים שלום על הבריות
Bestow peace upon mankind.
.תביא ששון על הארץ
Bring joy to the land.
.‘תהא שנת עבודת ה
May this be a year of serving Hashem.
.תבוא שלום עוד השנה
May peace arrive this very year.
.תהא שנת עליית הרגל
May this be a year of going up to Yerushalayim on the festivals.
.תהא שנת עירך הבנויה
May this be the year of Your rebuilt city.
Please feel free to add your own suggestions in the comment section.
Yitzchak Meir and Udi Davidi sing “Ochila LaKel.” (Full disclosure: Last year, on Rosh Hashanah 5774, we had the privilege of davening in the shul where Yitzchak Meir was the ba’al tefilah.)
לשנה טובה תכתבו ותחתמו לאלתר לחיים טובים ולשלום!
May you and your families have a wonderful, happy, healthy, prosperous, and sweet new year!
The Our Shiputzim Editorial Board proudly presents:
The Top 10 Signs That Your Son* Is an IDF Soldier
(*Or Daughter)
10) His speech is liberally peppered with acronyms (i.e. roshei teivot for the Hebraically-oriented amongst you).
9) Not only have you started to recognize some of those acronyms, but you even know what a handful of them mean.
8) You’ve considered adding a new skill to your LinkedIn profile: washing army uniforms.
7) You’ve convinced yourself that there’s no need to iron those uniforms.
6) Mathematicians may insist that the shortest route between any two given points is a straight line, but you’ve learned that in the army, traveling home from one’s base involves zigzagging across the country and changing buses at countless obscure junctions and intersections.
5) You’ve long since ceased to be surprised that the army functions in a seemingly-constant state of balagan (loosely, disorganization)…
4) Somehow, you’ve suddenly been transformed into the stereotypical Jewish mother (aka an imma Polaniyah – a Polish mother – in the local vernacular). Whenever you speak to your son, you find yourself asking, “But are you SURE you’re getting enough to eat?” (Although to be perfectly fair, a certain hesdernik of my acquaintance is actually eating better now in the army than he did when he was in his yeshiva. Of course, that’s not really saying much… :-))
3) Many of the country’s burning political issues have become far less academic and theoretical and far more personal and relevant. (More on this, perhaps, in a future post.)
2) You finally feel like a “real” Israeli.
1) Every time your son walks through the front door, you’re once again amazed and filled with tremendous gratitude to HaKadosh Baruch Hu that the tall, handsome (BA”H) soldier standing before you is the same tiny baby boy you held in your arms all those years ago.
May Hashem watch over and protect all our soldiers and keep them all safe and sound.
_____________
P.S. Looking for “the Israeli view of yesterday’s US elections?” Here’s my take:
”.על מי לנו להשען? על אבינו שבשמים”
“On Whom can we rely? On our Father in Heaven.” (BT Sotah 49a)
As you will no doubt recall, last year, the Our Shiputzim R&D Department released a critically-acclaimed program which could accurately guess a reader’s age group.
Go ahead and try it out for yourself.
Now, according to the development team’s long-term strategic goals, the plan was to issue a brand new release in honor of this year’s Chodesh Irgun.
No one anticipated any problems, and in fact, the developers were certain that the new release would merely involve some minor tweaking to last year’s version.
After all, their inside source to the hadrachah world had told them the new shevet’s name on the Sunday before Shabbat Irgun. (Pretty cool, no? :-))
Note: The new name is Lehavah – להב”ה – literally, flame, but also an acronym for “L’Ma’an Shmo B’Ahavah” (Bnei Akiva’s theme this year) and “L’Shanah Haba’ah B’Yerushalayim HaBenuyah” (“Next year in rebuilt Yerushalayim.”) </Note>
Unfortunately, however, due to circumstances beyond their control, the developers had to settle for a mere upgrade – i.e. Generation Gap 1.5 (rather than Generation Gap 2.0).
What happened?
Well, after they were burnt last year, the older generation (i.e. 30+) was decidedly noncommittal:
“Lehavah? Hmmm. I’d better ask my kids what *they* think…”
But the only thing their kids would say was:
“At least it’s not HaGevurah…”
P.S. According to a popular joke currently making the rounds, Lehavah stands for Lo HaGevurah, Baruch Hashem…
As promised, here are two more secrets from the glamorous world of hadrachah:
1) Yashvatz (ישב”ץ) stands for yeshivat tzevet (ישיבת צוות) – literally, “staff meeting”. (Yes, this yet another one of those odd, unintuitive acronyms…)
Naturally, being a madrich/madrichah means attending many yashvatzim – especially during Chodesh Irgun, when there’s a yashvatz practically every. single. night.
But lest you feel sorry for the, ahem, “poor, overworked” madrichim, let me assure you that these are not your father’s staff meetings.
Don’t believe me?
Well, take a look at a recent yashvatz. There were neither conference tables, dull PowerPoint presentations, nor uninspiring speakers.
No, this so-called “staff meeting” involved a treasure hunt at a mall followed by pizza.
I rest my case….
(Hat tip: Baila)
2) Tchupar (צ’ופר) is usually translated as a bonus or an added benefit.
But as far as I’m concerned, tchuparim are the reason why I would’ve made a terrible madrichah.
Because in all my many years as a youth group leader and a camp counselor, I never had to prepare cute, little handmade prizes – aka tchuparim - for all my campers.
However, according to the Oral Law of Hadrachah, tchuparim are to be distributed at a number of pre-designated occasions – including after the Shabbat Irgun hofa’ot (performances).
Here’s a picture of what a certain madrichah gave out to all her chanichot (charges) at her peulat petichah (opening event):
Other instances where tchuparim are de rigueur are at the machaneh, on various trips and hikes, and, of course, at the yashvatz…
Kids staying out late every night? Check.
Homework being ignored? Check.
Paint-spattered clothing? Check.
{nods} Yup. Tis the season.
As bemused, exasperated, but ultimately resigned parents across the country are well aware, Chodesh Irgun has arrived. (Which means that the ooltra is surely on its way...)
With most (but not all*) of the Shiputzim children being dedicated and active youth group members, we’ve seen this movie many times before.
But this year, there’s a significant difference.
You see, a few weeks ago, ACIT (a certain Israeli teenager) became the first member of the Shiputzim family to “go into hadrachah” (to use the Heblish term) – i.e. to become a madrich/madrichah (a youth group counselor).
Which means that I’ve been privileged to get a glimpse at some of hadrachah’s more esoteric aspects.
For instance, I now know that while chevrayah bet (i.e. the older division) is referred to by the acronym חב”ב (pronounced chaBAB), one never, ever says חב”א (i.e. chaBA) when discussing chevrayah aleph (the younger kids).
Also, I recently discovered that the Hebrew word for co-counselor is madash/madashit – מד”ש/מד”שית. (Madash is masculine, and madashit is feminine.)
Apparently, madash/madashit is an acronym for madrich/madrichah she’iti - מדריך\מדריכה שאיתי – literally, “counselor who is with me”.
Here’s how one would use madash/madashit in a sentence:
.המד”שית שלי נוסעת לשבת – Hamadashit sheli nosa’at l’Shabbat. - My madashit is going away for Shabbat.
And if we expand the acronym in the above example, we get the following:
.המדריכה שאיתי שלי נוסעת לשבת – Hamadrichah she’iti sheli nosa’at l’Shabbat. – My counselor who is with me is going away for Shabbat.
As to be expected, ACIT didn’t see why this amuses me. (“What? Madash is now a regular word…”)
But I suspect that some of you might appreciate the humor.
And as an extra side benefit, now that you’ve learned about madashim, perhaps you’ll be able to decode a bit more of your Israeli teenagers’ Facebook statuses…
_______________
*As I noted in this post: The other Shiputzim children are adherents of what is euphemistically known as “Iyov” (איוב – an acronym for אשרי יושבי ביתך – Ashrei yoshvei veitecha - “Praiseworthy are those who dwell in Your House”) – i.e. they prefer to stay home…
Parents around the world have discovered that joining Facebook is an excellent way to keep tabs on their kids.
However, if – like me - you’re the Anglo parent of Israeli teenagers, you’re out of luck.
I should begin by noting that the quality of your Hebrew is irrelevant.
You might be perfectly fluent. You might have been first in your ulpan class. You might spend your days lecturing and communicating in Hebrew. Your accent might be impeccable, and people might sometimes mistake you for a native-born Israeli.
In fact, you might even BE a native-born Israeli.
But none of this matters.
You’re STILL not going to be able to understand your Israeli teenager’s Facebook statuses.
First of all, these statuses are filled with made-up words. For instance, Israeli kids write “חחחח” in lieu of LOL and tav-apostrophe instead of the preposition “את”.
Then there are all the deliberately misspelled words. (At least, one HOPES that the spelling mistakes are intentional…) Specifically, teenagers like to add an extra aleph here or there in order to stress the wrong syllables – as in שאווה (SHA-veh), which really should be שווה (sha-VEH - “worth it”).
Roshei teivot (acronyms) also figure prominently, but the catch is that they’re not necessarily based on the first letter of each word. A typical example would be the ubiquitous חבל”ז, which stands for “חבל על הזמן” (literally, “it’s a waste of time” – but frequently used to describe something in a positive light).
Finally, there are all the “blended” words, including kacholavan and classics such as יומולדת (i.e. יום הולדת – birthday).
And, so, dear readers, as you can see, Anglo parents don’t stand a chance against their Israeli kids.
It’s almost as if they speak a foreign language…
Hat tip: Jameel
________________
P.S. Be sure to check out my follow-up to this post here.
All kidding about this week’s unprecedented home front drill aside, emergency preparedness is a serious matter. Hoping to raise consciousness, Mimi over at Israeli Kitchen is compiling a collection of relevant posts and encouraged me to write the following:
The way I see it, the drill is meant to inject a dose of hard, cold reality into our everyday state of denial.
For instance, under normal circumstances, one can blithely pretend that one’s guest room, children’s bedroom, study, playroom, family room, computer room, den, or office is no more and no less than its name implies.
A simple room.
But this drill should serve as a reminder that the room in question is really a mamad.
Mamad – ממ”ד – is an acronym for merchav mugan dirati – loosely, “residential protected space”.
According to Israeli building codes, every home built after the First Gulf War is required to have a so-called security or safe room with extra thick, reinforced steel and concrete walls; a specially-designed window with a steel cover; a steel-plated door; and several other features.
The idea is that the mamad is conveniently located inside one’s home, and one is permitted to consider it as normal living space.
Indeed, realtors and builders market the room as a regular bedroom. Thus, for example, what’s known as a 4-room apartment has three bedrooms, where one of them is the mamad.
Of course, initially, one is quite aware of the mamad’s unique status. After all, there are several technical decisions to be made, including:
But once these choices have been made, most of us simply ignore or forget about the room’s alternate, more unpleasant purpose.
Hence, the drill forces us to confront this type of complacency.
Yet where does one draw the line between paranoia (ala those who planned for a Y2K-doomsday) and a reasonable level of preparedness?
Similarly, how does one find a balance between using the mamad as a room and turning it into a full-fledged bomb shelter?
Should the mamad be stuffed with gallons of water, stacks of canned goods, radios, flashlights, batteries, and other emergency supplies?
Or can one leave space for all the trappings of ordinary life?
Obviously, there are no easy answers to these questions, but ideally, we’ll all use this occasion to start thinking about some of these issues.
May we never experience anything more serious than a countrywide drill, and may we enjoy besurot tovot, yeshu’ot, and nechamot (good tidings, salvation, and consolation).
Shavua tov!
Yes, I’m still here. It’s just that the bar mitzvah is this coming Shabbat IY”H, and so things are understandably busy here in TRLEOOB.
And on a related note, I would like to take this opportunity to thank my real-life friend and commenter MB and her family for hosting us for the now-traditional Meal on the Shabbat Before the Simcha (or, in Our Shiputzim-speak, the MOTSBTS). May our families continue to share many, many future smachot!
As some of you know, the Shiputzim children are members of Ariel* – rather than Bnei Akiva. (Ariel uses the same names as Bnei Akiva does – hence, last week’s HaGevurah post.)
Anyway, this Shabbat was Shabbat Irgun for the girls. (This coming Shabbat – yes, the Shabbat of the bar mitzvah! – will IY”H be the boys’ Shabbat Irgun.)
The reason I mention this is to reassure our loyal readers that yes, there was an ooltra. And the truth is that – all kidding aside – the dances were, as always, quite beautiful.
In fact, the girls introduced a new twist to the ooltra dance. Usually, such a dance is done to fast, up-beat music. However, this time, they did something completely different.
This shevet’s (age group) theme was “Captives and MIAs”. After showing a short slide show about the Israeli MIAs, the girls did a slow ooltra to Boaz Sharabi’s haunting “K’she’tavo”, a song about Ron Arad. The entire audience agreed that dancing in the dark was a moving and fitting tribute to the MIAs.
And in conclusion, mazal tov to our resident HaGevurah member on the new name. (Admit it – the name is starting to grow on you, isn’t it? 
)
_______
* That is – some of the Shiputzim children are Ariel members. Others are adherents of what is euphemistically known as “Iyov” (aleph,yud,vav,vet – an acronym for אשרי יושבי ביתך – literally, “Praiseworthy are those who dwell in Your House”) – i.e. they prefer to stay home.
