More signs that your son is an IDF soldier

As you may (or may not) recall, a few weeks ago, I posted a list of the top 10 signs that your son is an IDF soldier.

But in the wake of recent events, I think it’s time to update the list.

Thus, the Our Shiputzim Editorial Board proudly presents:

Five MORE Signs That Your Son* Is an IDF Soldier

(*Or Daughter)

1) Your son spent the week of Operation Pillar of Defense hanging out along the Gaza border.

2) You spent the week of Operation Pillar of Defense being, well, very much aware that your son was hanging out along the Gaza border and the week after Operation Pillar of Defense comparing notes with parents of other IDF soldiers who had been hanging out along the Gaza border.

3) Although ultimately, you’re just as unimpressed by the current ceasefire as you were by the ceasefire that ended Operation Cast Lead, you notice that your views and opinions are more nuanced and less black and white than they were four years ago.

4) Your son reports that during the war, not only did the rations include the requisite canned corn, tunafish, chumus, and MREs (i.e. cham-gashiyot for the Hebraically-oriented amongst you) with schnitzel, but there also seemed to be plenty of Crembos to go around…

5) While doing the aforementioned hanging out, your son bumped into numerous friends, neighbors, former classmates, and assorted acquaintances. (In other words, he got a lot of points.) Clearly, the Gaza border was THE place to see and be seen…

P.S. In case you missed it, here’s the original top 10 list.

Déjà vu?

From the moment the IDF launched Operation Pillar of Defense, the pundits have been comparing it to 2009’s Operation Cast Lead.

And to a certain extent, one can see where they’re coming from.

After all, once again, Israel faces the same cruel, merciless enemy.

Once again, the casus belli is the enemy’s vicious and relentless targeting of innocent Israeli civilians, while using their own civilians as so-called human shields (i.e. a double war crime).

Once again, Israeli men, women, and children are forced to cower in stairwells, bomb shelters, and security rooms.

Once again, an ever-growing number of beloved Israeli fathers, sons, and brothers are being called up to defend the country.

Once again, Israelis have opened their hearts and homes to our beleaguered brethren in the line of fire and are collecting desperately-needed supplies and treats for the soldiers on the front lines.

Once again, much of the world is rushing to condemn Israel for fictitious atrocities and promoting an obscene moral “equivalence” between sadistic terrorists and the IDF, who is – by every objective standard – the most moral and ethical army on the entire planet.

Once again, Israelis are walking around with the same fortitude and grim determination to get the job done.

Yet, as far as we’re concerned here in TRLEOOB (=the real life equivalent of our blog), there are several major differences between this week and four years ago.

It’s that the enemy is now firing missiles with longer ranges and that sirens and booms are now being heard in a much larger section of the country (including the area where our favorite bat sherut now finds herself).

It’s that this time around, we are B”H blessed with a very different government and prime minister, and that hopefully, HaKadosh Baruch Hu will grant them the strength and the courage to stay the course.

And it’s that after being told to keep his phone on over Shabbat, OS (=Our Soldier) finally got the call a few hours after Havdalah, and since then, he has been spending his days somewhere along the Gaza border.

May Hashem watch over and protect him and all our courageous men and women in uniform and keep them all safe and sound!

מִי שֶׁבֵּרַךְ אֲבוֹתֵינוּ אַבְרָהָם יִצְחָק וְיַעֲקֹב הוּא יְבָרֵךְ אֶת חַיָּלֵי צְבָא הֲגַנָּה לְיִשְׂרָאֵל, הָעוֹמְדִים עַל מִשְׁמַר אַרְצֵנוּ וְעָרֵי אֱלקינוּ מִגְּבוּל הַלְּבָנוֹן וְעַד מִדְבַּר מִצְרַיִם וּמִן הַיָּם הַגָּדוֹל עַד לְבוֹא הָעֲרָבָה בַּיַּבָּשָׁה בָּאֲוִיר וּבַיָּם. יִתֵּן ה' אֶת אוֹיְבֵינוּ הַקָּמִים עָלֵינוּ נִגָּפִים לִפְנֵיהֶם. הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא יִשְׁמֹר וְיַצִּיל אֶת חַיָלֵינוּ מִכָּל צָרָה וְצוּקָה וּמִכָּל נֶגַע וּמַחְלָה וְיִשְׁלַח בְּרָכָה וְהַצְלָחָה בְּכָל מַעֲשֵׂה יְדֵיהֶם. יַדְבֵּר שׂוֹנְאֵינוּ תַּחְתֵּיהֶם וִיעַטְרֵם בְּכֶתֶר יְשׁוּעָה וּבְעֲטֶרֶת נִצָּחוֹן. וִיקֻיַּם בָּהֶם הַכָּתוּב: כִּי ה' אֱלֹקיכֶם הַהֹלֵךְ עִמָּכֶם לְהִלָּחֵם לָכֶם עִם איבֵיכֶם לְהוֹשִׁיעַ אֶתְכֶם, וְנאמַר אָמֵן.

Euphonic Friday: HaMilchamah HaAchronah Edition

Oddly enough, the list of the most popular search terms leading to this blog includes assorted variations of “HaMilchamah HaAchronah” (literally, “The Last War”) – i.e. Yehoram Gaon’s haunting Yom Kippur War song.

These searches generally lead to a post I wrote over three years ago, during Operation Cast Lead.

Then – as now - our beleaguered brothers and sisters in the South were (and once again are!) forced to spend their days and nights cowering in bomb shelters and security rooms, and so I thought it would be appropriate to post this poignant song here today:

The Hebrew lyrics are available here, and an English translation can be found here.

And on a related note, Ruti, Treppenwitz, and Jameel powerfully, succinctly, and beautifully express what many of us here in Israel have been thinking and feeling.

May we soon be privileged to enjoy besurot tovot, yeshu’ot v’nechamot (good tidings, salvation, and consolation).

!שבת שלום ומבורך

He’s in the army now

Guest blogger Malke (who previously discussed her son’s experiences in Sderot during Operation Cast Lead) graciously offered to write the first post in my series on the post-high-school stage*:

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My Son, the Soldier

A Guest Post by Malke

Warning: This post is in excess of the daily recommended allowance of sentimentality. For lighter fare, might I recommend one of Mrs. S’s famous Heblish posts.

My oldest son started his army service today, in a combat engineering unit. Every little boy’s dream - to blow things up.

You raise them for 18, 19, 20 years, and then suddenly, they “belong” to someone else. I guess it’s good practice for when they get married, except hopefully their wives are nicer to them than their officers.

You know how every new mother thinks she’s the first one in the world to give birth? That's how I feel… like I am the first mother to ever send her son off to the army. Proud, scared, emotional, probably boring everyone silly with all my talking about it. Without the background of a husband, father or brother who already did this, it’s all so new and unknown, which somewhat adds to the stress.

Luckily, though, I have the support of my Israeli friends and colleagues. Yeah, like the guy from my work who said to me, “Don’t worry, Malke. They don’t die in combat engineering; they just lose an arm or a leg here and there.”

Before they left, the yeshivat hesder where he learns made the boys a party. On the invitation was written: שהחינו וקיימנו והגיענו לזמן הזה [“He Who has given us life and sustained us and brought us to this hour” – from the Shehechiyanu blessing]. It seemed such an odd phrase for this occasion. And yet, in a way, it is true. My son has the incredible privilege of being able to serve his country and his people.

And yet, I’m such a big shot with all my Zionist ideals. Last night it hit me all of a sudden that this is real - and can be dangerous.

This morning was rather anti-climactic. You bring them to the gate, and then you have to leave. It feels like dropping them off to go to camp or something. Now, I guess, it’s all about waiting - to hear from them, to see them - none of which I have too much control over.

May Hashem keep him and all the other new and old recruits safe.

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Amen, and thanks, Malke, for your beautiful post! May you and all our readers have a wonderful new month.

!חודש טוב

“In Nissan they were redeemed, and in Nissan, they are destined to be redeemed.” (BT Rosh Hashanah 11b)

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*If you’d like to write a guest post about the post-high-school stage, please contact me via the email address listed towards the top of the sidebar at the right.

Olim blog about Operation Cast Lead

West Bank Mama has an excellent roundup of war-time posts written by new and veteran olim. Check it out here.

Special thanks to her for including my “Ani mavtiach lach, yaldah sheli ketanah” post. The title is a reference to Yehoram Gaon’s poignant song from the Yom Kippur War, “HaMilchamah HaAchronah”. The words of the heartrending chorus are:

,אני מבטיח לך, ילדה שלי קטנה”

“…שזאת תהיה המלחמה האחרונה

“I promise you, my little girl,

That this will be the last war…”

Pop goes the story

The CTO just finished telling me how his Ra”M wasn’t there today, and so instead, one of the other Rabbeim came and spoke to them about the Rachel Imeinu story that’s been making the rounds. (IIRC, I think I first saw it here.)

Basically, the Rav said that although there’s definitely a precedence for having someone come back to life – he cited some sources in the Gemara as well as a story involving R’ Chaim Volozhin – he doesn’t think that this story happened. (He admitted that he isn’t quite sure what to make of the Rav Mordechai Eliyahu incident.)

Coincidentally, just last night, TSG was talking about this story as well. She said that each girl in her class had a slightly different version, but the teacher assured them that they were all referring to the same story.

My favorite part was listening to TSG recount how the woman warned the soldiers away from the building, “because it was going to pop.”

To pop: Hebrew source – להתפוצץ. English definition – To explode. Sample usage – See above.

Turning back into a pumpkin

Unless you’ve been avoiding the J-Blogosphere over the past week and a half, you’re probably aware that I posted an incredible story about an IDF chaplain.

Why am I mentioning this now, you ask?

Good question.

You see, super-blogger Jameel generously placed a link to my post on his blog; a number of other bloggers soon picked up the story; and the rest, as they say, was history.

(Question – Who are “they”, and when have they ever said this? Inquiring minds want to know.)

But I digress.

My point is that my blog stats suddenly soared. Just to give you a basis for comparison, note that at the beginning of that week, I received a mere 28-37 hits a day. However, in the two hours following Jameel’s post, my SiteMeter recorded a total of 264 hits! The following day, I received 500 hits, and the momentum continued on into the next week.

Thus, for one brief shining moment - {cue: music from Camelot} - I could pretend that I was one of the big bloggers. Visions of ad revenue danced in my head.

But then came the blogging equivalent of the clock striking midnight: I went back to my standard blogging fare, and all those new readers started returning to wherever it was that they came from.

Commenter “Be All You Can Be” – who, in his capacity of official Our Shiputzim military advisor, knows a thing or two about strategy and tactics – told me that I should be working on retaining these readers. According to him, the idea is to stick with what works. In my case, he claims, that would of course be… roof views.

And so, new readers, before you move on to other venues, please take a moment to check out the “Roof” label on the right. You may find something there that interests you.

Or, maybe not…

The joys of politics-free blogging

Fortunately, this is a politics-free blog.

Why is that fortunate?

Because otherwise, I’d have to rage against the ridiculous travesty known as the “cease fire”. (As many others have said, “we cease; they fire”…)

But, since I don’t do politics, I can keep my opinions to myself and avoid disagreeable and depressing topics.

Instead, I can talk about pleasant things, like:

YAT’s bar mitzvah – B”H we had a wonderful time. The kids enjoyed playing with their cousins; YAT did a great job; and YAT’s parents went out of their way to ensure their guests’ comfort. And the best part is that I not only came up with some more material for my next Heblish post, but I began negotiations for an upcoming guest post from a very unexpected source. (Watch this space for further details.)

A blogging honor – Thank you to my friend Leora for giving me a very special award. It’s called the Prémio Dardos Award, and according to the description, “The Prémio Dardos is given for recognition of cultural, ethical, literary, and personal values transmitted in the form of creative and original writing. These stamps were created with the intention of promoting fraternization between bloggers, a way of showing affection and gratitude for work that adds value to the Web”. I’m truly honored to have received this blogging nod from Leora, whose blog represents all the award’s underlying ideas.

Have a good week!

Our Shiputzim: YOUR source for OUR literary compositions

To help the girls deal with their fears and concerns about the war, TSG’s teacher had the class write stories.

When TSG showed me her story – with its charming spelling mistakes – she asked if I could please post it on the blog.

[Brief digression: As you may have noticed, all of our kids are intrigued by this blog – albeit in different ways. Some of them find it amusing; others wonder why I bother; and still others are always asking me to post things about them. TSG, clearly, falls into the latter category…]

Anyway, I told her that I would post the story, but it had to be translated into English. Here, then, is her translation, which she dictated to me:

The Kassams in Sderot: A Work of Fiction by TSG

One day, I went to visit my friend Temima. We went to the park. We went on the swings. We played, and we had fun.

All of the sudden, I heard “tzeva adom,” and I was very scared. Then I almost fell, and Temima told me, “Run to our miklat (bomb shelter)!”

“Why?”

“I will tell you on the way… There’s [sic] Kassams in Sderot, Ashdod, Nitzan, and a lot more places.”

When we got to the miklat, I looked out the window, and I saw a mouse. Temima said to me, “Close the window! The Kassam will come into our house!”

“Wait! First, I need to bring the mouse in.” So, I ran fast out of the house, and I brought him inside. Then we closed the window.

When they told them to go out of the miklat, we played next to the house, and I told Temima, “I hope there won’t be any more Kassams in Sderot and in all of Am Yisrael.”

And I went home.

The End

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P.S. Exercise for the reader: See how many Heblish-isms you can spot in the above story.

P.S.S. In case you were wondering (and I can only assume that you were), TSG informs me that she got the name “Temima” from Shifra Glick’s Shikufitzky books.

Timeout for trivialities

Someone from our neighborhood launched a new project, pairing families from our community with families from Ashkelon. We’re waiting to receive the specifics of our “adopted family”. However, the organizers did tell us that the idea is to maintain daily contact – phone calls, emails, visits – and to let the Ashkelonites know that we care.

In the meantime, with your permission, I feel like I must take a break from serious war-related posts. But first, a pro forma warning:

WARNING: This is an inane post filled with trivial musings. Readers will walk away neither moved nor inspired. If this bothers you, feel free to click away.

Last week, YZG, MAG and I attended a bar mitzvah. Here are several related blogbits:

0 for 2 If you’re looking for someone who can foresee the future, don’t come to us. On the way to the bar mitzvah, YZG and I assumed that there wouldn’t be seating cards. But as it turned out, we were wrong. And then, YZG asked me if I thought there would be fireworks. (After all, in certain circles, having the bar mitzvah boy march out accompanied by fireworks is quite de rigueur.) I thought the room seemed relatively small, and so I told YZG that I believed that they would somehow make do without. But once again, I misjudged our hosts. You will no doubt be glad to learn that there were four large floor-to-ceiling sparklers…

No, pie are round; CORNBREAD are square As anyone who has been to an Israeli catered affair any time over the past five years knows, square plates are apparently all the rage. However, as everyone also knows, square plates* are quite annoying. They may be aesthetically pleasing – although that point is highly debatable – but they’re far from functional. And so, I beseech all the plate manufacturers who happen to be Our Shiputzim readers: Please go back to making round plates, as nature intended. Thank you.

From the “my husband is so cool” department On the way home, we gave rides (i.e. trempim, for the Hebraically-oriented among you) to two guys from our neighborhood. A few minutes into the ride, one of them noticed that YZG – who had not consulted a map – was leaving the city where the bar mitzvah was held via a back exit. “I was born here,” the man exclaimed, obviously very impressed by YZG’s navigational skills, “and it never would’ve occurred to me to use this route. I would’ve gone all the way around, but this way saved so much time!” (P.S. Special thanks to our so-called “anonymous” Swedish-speaking commenter for suggesting that specific route to YZG a few days earlier…)

We now return you back to your regularly scheduled serious wartime blog.

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* Yes, I admit that the caterer used square plates on Motza”Sh of MAG’s bar mitzvah – as you can see here - but at least we had round plates over Shabbat, for the meals I did myself.

Kiddush Hashem – English translation

Here is an English translation of YAR’s beautiful letter. As I noted previously, he and his brother are our relatives, and I thank him for allowing me to post his letter here on Our Shiputzim.

Kiddush Hashem

by YAR

(Sunday, January 4, 2009) This evening, my brother, who serves as a career military rabbi, told me the following story, which took place this past Shabbat, when the IDF entered Gaza.

He was one of three rabbis who spent Shabbat on a base not too far away from the border, together with a few hundred soldiers who were preparing for the ground incursion. After spending the day delivering shiurim and motivational speeches, the rabbis wondered if they should perhaps travel with the soldiers from the base to the staging location, in order to boost the soldiers’ morale.

They deliberated and finally decided – with some hesitation – to go along with the soldiers.

Hoping to arrange a minchah prayer service, the rabbis took a Sefer Torah with them. When it was time to get off the bus, my brother asked someone to pass the Torah to him (in order to mitigate the halachic issue of bringing something into a karmelit). However, when he got off the bus, the Torah stayed behind. He looked back into the bus and saw that the soldiers were passing the Torah from hand to hand. Each soldier took the opportunity to embrace it tightly.

Afterwards, a group of soldiers approached two of the rabbis. (The bearded rabbis stood out; one was holding the Sefer Torah, and the other was wearing his talit.) The soldiers asked the rabbis for a blessing. Since giving blessings isn’t included in a military rabbi’s standard job description, my brother told the soldiers that he would recite the blessing he uses for his sons on Leil Shabbat. To his amazement, more and more soldiers began approaching him. (According to him, most of them were traditional – i.e. not outwardly observant. The bnei yeshivot seemed less interested in receiving a blessing from the rabbis.) Soon, so many soldiers had amassed that the rabbis could no longer give personal blessings.

Instead, they spread out a talit over the crowd’s heads – as is customary on Simchat Torah – and blessed everyone in unison.

With great emotion, several soldiers exclaimed that the rabbis’ presence gave them strength and boosted their spirits. One soldier even added that the rabbis’ blessing was more significant and meaningful for him than all the training sessions he had heard in the period leading up to the operation.

As the sun began to set, the long infantry columns set out towards the Strip. Meanwhile, the rabbis stood near the crossing with the Sefer Torah in their hands and called out words of encouragement and blessing to the soldiers. (“May Hashem be with you,” “may Hashem bless you,” and other phrases inspired by the Rambam’s writings on fear during a battle.) The soldiers, in turn, kissed the Sefer Torah as they marched along.

Ashreichem Yisrael! (How fortunate are you, O Israel!)

My brother wanted to hear what I thought about the story, in terms of the Shabbat laws. He and his colleagues had been reprimanded by the brigade rabbi for permitting themselves to take the Sefer Torah with them. In fact, he claimed that the entire trip was problematic. (For instance, he rejected their argument that they were in a similar position to a husband who travels with his wife to the hospital on Shabbat when she is about to give birth, in order to give her emotional support.)

The commanding rabbi’s words caused my brother to second guess himself. Although he was confident that he had acted in accordance with the worldview of IDF Chief Rabbi Rav Ronsky, he wasn’t sure if he had acted properly.

I immediately assured him that in my opinion, his behavior constitutes an incredible Kiddush Hashem (sanctification of Hashem’s Name).

How could anyone disagree?

Kiddush Hashem

The following incredible letter has been making the rounds of the Internet. As it so happens, we are related to the author, who was kind enough to let me post it here on Our Shiputzim.

Here is the Hebrew original. I hope to have an English translation up shortly.

רב צבאי ככהן משוח מלחמה

מאת י.א.ר

הנה סיפור משבת האחרונה עם כניסת החיילים לעזה שסיפר לי הערב אחי שמשרת כרב צבאי בקבע:

לאחר שבמשך יום השבת שהו קבוצת רבנים (כשלושה במספר), בבסיס מרוחק מה מהגבול, יחד עם מספר מאות חיילים שעמדו לקראת הכניסה הקרקעית, והעבירו את היום בשיעורים ושיחות חיזוק ועידוד, התלבטו הרבנים עם עליהם להצטרף לנסיעת החיילים מהבסיס אל החניון בו עמדו הכלים בשביל לעודד את רוחם עם היציאה.

לאחר התדינות ביניהם הוחלט - בהססנות מה - להצטרף.

הרבנים הביאו עמם ספר תורה מתוך כוונה לארגן תפילת מנחה, וכאשר רצו לרדת מהאוטובוס, אחי ביקש ממאן דהו להעביר אליו את הספר (כדי להקליש את בעיית ההעברה לתוך כרמלית), ואולם לאחר שירד מהאוטובוס וחכה למטה זמן מה והספר בושש לבוא, הסתכל חזרה פנימה וראה כי החיילים מעבירים את הספר מיד ליד מתחבקים עמו ואינם מרפים.

לאחר מכן, עמדו יחד שניים מהרבנים, כאשר קבוצת חיילים ניגשת אליהם (הם בלטו בשטח כרבנים מזוקנים האחד אוחז ספר תורה בידו, והשני עטור בטלית) ובקשו לקבל מהם ברכה. היות וחלוקת ברכות אינה חלק רגיל משגרת יומו, סיפרו לחיילים כי יברך אותם בברכה אותה הוא מברך את בניו כל ליל שבת. לתדהמתו התחילו לגשת אליו כעוד ועוד חיילים, עד שהכמות היתה גדולה כל כך (לדבריו ברובם חבר'ה מסורתיים, הביינישים שבין החיילים פחות התענינו בברכתם), ולא יכלו יותר לתת ברכות אישיות. פרשו את הטלית, כבשמחת תורה, מעל ראש הנאספים ובירכו את הציבור בבת אחת.

כמה מהלוחמים נגשו אליהם ואמרו להם בהתרגשות כי נוכחותם הרבנית במקום מחזקת אותם ונותנת להם כוח, ואחד אף הוסיף כי ברכתם חשובה ומשמעותית עבורו יותר מכל השיחות המקצועיות ששמעו לקראת ההכנה למבצע.

עם השקיעה, כאשר התחילו טורי החיילים לצעוד בשיירה רגלית אל תוך הרצועה, נעמדו הרבנים ליד נקודת היציאה עם ספר התורה בידם, וזעקו לעבר החיילים העוברים לידם מילות עידוד וברכה (ה' עמכם, יברככם ה', ודברים נוספים בהשראת דברי הרמב"ם על הפחד במלחמה), החיילים מצדם חלפו על פניהם ונשקו לספר התורה שבידם.

אשריכם ישראל!

אחי בקש לשמוע את דעתי על הסיפור מבחינת הלכות שבת, שכן היום הם קיבלו נזיפה מהרב החטיבתי על כך שהורו לעצמם היתר להביא עמם ספר תורה לנסיעה שכל כולה בעייתית בעיניו מהחל ועד כלה (הוא לא קיבל, למשל, את טענתם כי יש להשוות את נסיעתם להצטרפותו של הבעל ליולדת הנוסעת בשבת לבית החולים).

לאור דברי הרב הפיקודי אחי הרגיש נקיפות מצפון, שכן על אף שידע בבירור כי נהג בהתאם להשקפתו של הרב הצבאי הראשי הרב רונצקי,לא היה בטוח שנהג כשורה.

חיזקתי את ידיו ואמרתי לו בלי לגמגם שלדעתי הסיפור כולו מרגש והינו בעיני
קידוש ה' גדול.

האם מישהו סבור אחרת?

“Ani mavtiach lach, yaldah sheli ketanah…”

As some of you probably know, the title comes from Yehoram Gaon’s haunting Yom Kippur War song, “HaMilchamah HaAchronah.”

(An English translation of the lyrics is available at: "http://www.hebrewsongs.com/song-hamilchamaha". )

This song came to mind this morning.

You see, late last night, yet another family friend was called up. This prompted a whole barrage (bad choice of words, I know) of questions from TSG: Why was he called up? Why now? Why does the army need more soldiers? Aren’t there enough soldiers already? How come some people don’t need to go to miluim? How come in America people don’t go to the army?

I tried to field her questions as best as I could.

But then came the clincher.

“But will [the CTO] need to go to the army?” she inquired.

“Yes,” I replied, without mentioning his tzav rishon.

She thought about this for a minute.

“Right it’s a little bit scary?” she asked, somewhat rhetorically.

I nodded.

“Three Jewish chayalim were in a house, and there were Arabs shooting rockets, and the Jewish chayalim died,” she reported.

“It’s very sad,” I told her.

I wondered how she knew this bit of information.

“[My teacher] tells us stories about the war every morning,” she explained. “Sometimes, we don’t start davening for a while, because she’s so busy telling us stories.”

TSG, may your teacher soon be able to go back to telling you happier stories, and may Hashem protect and watch over all our chayalim and over all of Am Yisrael.

ופרוש עלינו סכת שלומך ותקננו בעצה טובה מלפניך והושיענו למען שמך והגן בעדנו והסר מעלינו אויב דבר וחרב ורעב ויגון והסר שטן מלפנינו ומאחורינו ובצל כנפיך תסתירינו

(From the weekday maariv prayer)

Guest blogger: MB

My RL friend MB graciously agreed to write about her recent experiences.

MB, you’re on. Enjoy your 15 minutes of fame!

A Guest Post

by MB

Unaccustomed as I am to guest blogging, I have no catchy titles to start my post. Anyway, I am too overwhelmed by the events of the last few days to be creative.

Wars in Israel were always something for the history book. The first one I ever really experienced here was the Second Lebanon War, and even that seemed far away. This time it feels that much closer.

The first reason is that my son, 18, started his first year of hesder this year. That means next year he will be in the army. Now I know this is hardly an earth-shattering occurrence in these parts, but for me it is. When we made aliya, he was 5 years old and the army was the furthest thing from my mind. Now I think about those soldiers going, and each one seems like my son. I know how those mothers are feeling in a way I didn’t before.

But just not to let things get too dull before the army, the yeshivat hesder he attends is in Sderot. That means he spends his time between the yeshiva, his dorm, and the bomb shelter. Unless you count the times he's up on the roof of his dorm watching Tzahal bomb Gaza. (Although, as my sister so wisely put it: I'm not sure that's the best place to be, in case Gaza decides to bomb back). My mother, of course, has called several times from the US to register her disapproval that we let him go back after Chanukah. But he feels that the best thing he could be doing now is to be learning Torah there, and we are really proud of him. We have also heard that the yeshiva's presence gives a lot of chizuk to the residents of Sderot.

Yesterday the "matzav" hit closest to home. (Mom-you don't read this blog, right?) There was yet another tzeva adom; the boys entered the shelter and came out after hearing the explosion. It seems, however, that the explosion was from our side, and the Kassam had not yet fallen-and it proceeded to do so 10 seconds later, about 20 meters from where they were standing.

And still, I'd rather be living here in Israel than anywhere else. ------ “MB”

Thanks, MB, and I hope you and all our readers have an easy and meaningful fast.

בתפילה לשלום חיילינו ואחינו בדרום

Blogging the home front

A number of readers have observed that posting has been a bit sparse lately.

It’s not that I don’t have anything to blog about. Quite the opposite, in fact.

For instance, I have several recipes to post. Also, our neighbors made an afternoon brit (i.e. a bris, for those of you in the Old Country), and I want to write an amusing comparison between the typical Israeli brit and the typical American bris. Finally, I’d like to introduce you to the Great Shiputzim Family Birthday Cake Debate (also known as “The Resident Ulpanistit v. Her Father and Brothers”).

In other words, standard Our Shiputzim blog fare: lighthearted, whimsical, and funny.

However, now really isn’t the time for these types of posts. After all, there’s nothing remotely lighthearted, whimsical, or funny about the fact that:

• The IDF is fighting for its life against murderous terrorists.
• A significant percentage of Israel’s population has to spend their days and nights cowering in bomb shelters and security rooms.
• TSG and ENG now have a number of “new kids” in their class and gan (respectively). These kids come from families who chose to leave their homes and enjoy a brief respite from the rockets. Note that many of these same families stayed in our neighborhood once before – when they were expelled from their homes in Gush Katif.
• A few days ago, TSG – whose teacher’s son was called back to his unit on the first Shabbat of the war – wondered, “Why do the Arabs keep shooting missiles?” An excellent question, but the answer - “because they hate us,” – is one that even the adults can’t understand. How is one supposed to explain this to a little girl?!
• One of the Resident Ulpanistit’s friends sent an email to our local email list that she is available for babysitting, “even in the morning.” I was momentarily surprised that a high school girl would have time to babysit in the morning. But then I remembered that a number of rockets have fallen near this particular girl’s school and that her school is now closed for the duration.
• We keep hearing about more sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers who have headed out to war.

In short, although life B”H goes on, the war is never far from our thoughts. We pray. We recite Tehillim. We discuss. We analyze. We wonder. We worry. We hope…

So, tell me please, dear readers, what would you like me to blog about?

יהי רצון מלפניך ה' אלוקינו ואלוקי אבותינו שתהא השעה הזאת עת רצון לפניך ושתשמע את תפילתנו ובקשותינו

Tefilah

Shavua tov.

B”H Shabbat was quiet here in TRLEOOB, but a number of our good friends and neighbors have sons who are now fighting in Gaza.

Our Rav noted that one should recite Tehillim and include the following in one’s prayers:

אחינו כל בית ישראל הנתונים בצרה ובשביה העומדים בין בים ובין ביבשה המקום ירחם עליהם ויצאם מצרה לרוחה ומאפלה לאורה ומשעבוד לגאולה השתא בעגלא ובזמן קריב ונאמר אמן

(Translation available upon request.)

Our prayers are for the safety and well being of all our brave soldiers as well as our beleaguered brothers and sisters in the South. May the coming week be one of besurot tovot, yeshu’ot, and nechamot (good tidings, salvation, and consolation).

Welcome to 2007

No, that isn’t a typo. I’m well aware that the calendar indicates that today is the first day of 2009.

It’s just that – as some of you know – YZG and I joined Facebook last night… only two years behind the rest of the world!

Anyway, since some of you were surprised that YZG and I took this rather uncharacteristic step, allow me to present:

The Official Our Shiputzim Facebook FAQ

Why did you join Facebook? Mainly, because both YCT (of the nameless and long-neglected blog) and RCT have been telling us that we really should. Also, like Mount Everest, Facebook was there…

But why now? I don’t know. Maybe we needed a frivolous escape from the war. Or maybe I needed some more blog fodder. (Speaking of which, in case you missed it, you might want to check out my Heblish III post from last week.)

Are you going to be spending your days on Facebook at the expense of this blog? I wouldn’t start worrying quite yet. I admit that I’m enjoying catching up with friends from way back and also getting to know some of my blogging friends a little bit better. But I’m not sure that I really understand the Facebook phenomenon.

Can I be your friend? Sure. If you don’t know my real name, please send me an email at OurShiputzim at gmail dot com.

Do your kids now think that you’re really cool? No, that would be too much to ask. But at least they don’t think that having parents on Facebook is a total fadichah either…

הקב”ה ישמור ויציל את חיילנו מכל צרה וצוקה ומכל נגע ומחלה וישלח ברכה והצלחה בכל מעשה ידיהם

Blogging the war

Although I’ve alluded to the war, I haven’t actually blogged about it outright.

Why?

The main reason is that I have nothing to add. Other bloggers are saying it better than I ever could.

But also, B”H, life goes on. I think this is very difficult to explain to someone who isn’t here.

On one hand, we are at war. This is a tiny, interconnected country, and no matter where one goes or lives, the war isn’t very far away – neither geographically nor emotionally. I’d rather not go into details which would jeopardize my semi-anonymous status, but I will say that TRLEOOB (like much of Israel) is relatively close to at least some of the places which have been mentioned in the news over the past few days.

Meanwhile, we know some people - including one of ESG’s teachers – who have received Tzavei Shmoneh (emergency call-ups), and many of our neighbors are once again opening their homes to strangers (as they first did during the Expulsion from Gush Katif and then again during the Second Lebanon War).

Yet, on the other hand, we continue with much of our mundane daily routines. For example, ASG started driving lessons this week; AMG is writing an English book report on “From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler”; MAG had an orthodontist appointment today; and so on.

How do I write about this dichotomy? I don’t want to sound callous and indifferent. But at the same time, I don’t want to suggest that we are chas v’shalom enduring anything resembling that which the beleaguered residents of an ever-growing swath of the country are suffering.

Your thoughts?

יה”ר שיצליח ה’ את תפילתנו ויחזק את ידי מגיני ארץ קדשינו

TSG, public speaker par excellence

Recently, some of TSG’s older siblings observed that she rarely appears in the blog.

Fortunately, recent events provided me with a perfect opportunity to remedy the situation.

A few days before our wonderful visit to Achziv, the official Dvar Torah Committee requested that two members of the Shiputzim family speak over Shabbat.

So, I informed the older Shiputzim children that two of them would have to volunteer.

The first volunteer was the Resident Ulpanistit, who delivered a beautiful dvar Torah. She asked that I not embarrass her with maternal accolades, and therefore, I’ll simply say that she did a great job.

But we still needed a second volunteer. However, before another member of the older set could offer their services, TSG asked if she could speak.

And speak she did.

BA”H, although there were nearly 40 people there over Shabbat, TSG wasn’t flustered. Instead, she spoke loudly and with much poise and self-confidence. Afterwards, she asked me to post her speech to the blog.

Here, then, is her dvar Torah (an English translation is available upon request):

אני מקדישה את דבר התורה שלי לעילוי נשמת הרב יהושע פסח בן הרב חיים יעקב אברהם ז”ל

בפרשת מקץ, מסופר שיעקב אבינו אמר לבניו ללכת למצרים לקנות אוכל מפני שהיה רעב בארץ ישראל. אחר כך, בפרק מ"ב, פסוק ג', כתוב, "וַיֵּרְדוּ אֲחֵי-יוֹסֵף, עֲשָׂרָה, לִשְׁבֹּר בָּר, מִמִּצְרָיִם." יש לי שתי שאלות על הפסוק הזה

א. למה כתוב " וַיֵּרְדוּ" במקום וילכו

ב. למה כתוב " אֲחֵי-יוֹסֵף" במקום בני יעקב? הרי, יוסף לא היה שם בכלל

לפי רש"י, התשובה לשאלה השנייה היא שהאחים התחרטו על מכירת יוסף. הם רצו עכשיו להתנהג אליו עם אחווה – כמו אחים – והיו מוכנים לפדות אותו אפילו בהרבה כסף

והתשובה לשאלה הראשונה היא שארץ ישראל היא ארץ הקודש. ולכן, מי שבא לארץ ישראל נקרא "עולה". ומי שיוצא מארץ ישראל נקרא "יורד". ברוך ה' זכינו לגור כאן בארץ ישראל – ארץ הקודש. שבת שלום

May TSG – and all of us – continue to appreciate that it is indeed a privilege to live here in Israel, in both times of peace and times of war.

שנשמע בשורות טובות

Zot Chanukah

In honor of Zot Chanukah, here are pictures of our chanukiyot from the sixth night – which we lit in Achziv on Erev Shabbat.

Some family members lit inside the shul:

And everyone else lit just outside the shul:

Here’s the inside of the shul:

(As you can guess from the size of the Aron Kodesh, there was only one Sefer Torah. But, BA”H, the CTO’s laining was excellent – as always – even though one Sefer Torah on Shabbat-Rosh Chodesh-Chanukah meant that there was a considerable amount of rolling involved…)

May we soon be privileged to once again enjoy Zot Chanukah’s original triumphs – both the military victory as well as the miracle in the Beit HaMikdash.