A new yahoo email list was started recently that sends a "daily boost of positive sayings, ideas, quotes, thoughts, verses etc about being in, living in, experiencing Israel, the honor of living in Israel and the uniqueness of the Land, People and Torah."
You can sign up for this daily email by sending an email to
livingandlovingisrael-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
or by visiting the group's homepage at
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/livingandlovingisrael
Friday, May 21, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Video: Everything Stops for Yom Hazikaron Siren (2010)
This video was taken on Yom Hazikaron, 2010, at the moment the siren blew. It is striking how everyone stands still, paying respect to those who sacrificed their lives so that Israel can exist.
(Video Source: Jewlicious)
Halachic Implications of Yom Ha'atzmaut
The Gush Yeshiva wrote a wonderful essay summarizing the different opinions conerning these issues. Here is a short summary of the essay:
Is It Bal Tosef To Create a New Holiday?
There are many sources to support creating a personal or communal commemoration of a miraculous event (R. Moshe Alshakar in Teshuvot Maharam Alshakar, cited by the Magen Avraham (686), the Chatam Sofer, R. Ovadiah Hadayah, Yehudah Dovid Eisenstein, the Chayei Adam). This was quite common in Europe.
However, at least one source (R. Chezekiah da Silva's perush to Shulchan Arukh (Orach Chaim 696)) says that we many no longer establish a new holiday after the second temple. Others argue that instituting a festive day for the entire Jewish People to celebrate, even those who did not personally experience the miraculous events, constitutes a violation of the Biblical injunction of "bal tosef" (Devarim 4:2) based on the Ramban Devarim 4:2) who implies that this injunction may also include adding a new holiday.
R. Hadaya (Yaskil Avdi 8, hashmatot 4) and R. Meshulam Roth, a member of the Israeli Chief Rabbinic Council, argued strongly in favor of establishing a festive day in commemoration of the establishment of the State of Israel.
Is Hallel Appropriate For Yom Ha'atzmaut?
A number of Rishonim derive from Pesachim (117) that if the entire nation is saved from danger, they may recite Hallel. They disagree as to whether this applies to individuals as well and whether this Hallel should be recited with a blessing.
R' Hadaya rules that Hallel should be recited without a blessing on Yom Ha-Atzmaut. R. Meshulem Roth (in the responsum cited above) argues that Yom Ha-Atzmaut should be observed as a festive day, and that naturally one should recite Hallel as well.
Rav Soloveitchik is cited in Nefesh Ha-Rav (pg. 97) as objecting to saying Hallel on Yom Ha'atzmaut, as he objected to any other change of the liturgy. He sanctioned, however, reciting half-Hallel, without a blessing, at the end of Shacharit, as this does not constitute a major change in the liturgy.
Can The Mourning of Sefirat Ha'Omer Be Suspended for Yom Ha'atzmaut
Yom Ha-Atzmaut comes out during Sefirat Ha'Omer, which a customary period of mourning. R. Yitzchak Nissim (1896-1981), former Sephardic chief rabbi of Israel (1955-1972), ruled that one may hold weddings and take haircuts on Yom Ha-Atzmaut (Sinai, April-May, 1958).
R. Hadaya (Yaskil Avdi 6:10) rejects this and rules that one should continue his observance of the mourning practices of the omer.
R. Soloveitchik also maintained that the mourning practices of the omer should not be suspended in order to celebrate Yom Ha-Atzmaut.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Yom HaZikaron: Story of Dvir Emanuelof, a Kadosh Soldier Killed During Operation Cast Lead
The following story was written by Daniel Gordis and published on chabad.org's website.
The story is truly amazing (and true). Please read it until the end.
Daniel Gordis is the author of numerous books on Jewish thought and currents in Israel. His most recent book is Saving Israel: How the Jewish State Can Win a War That May Never End. A man who sits next to me in shul has been raving about this book all year long, so it's probably a good read. Gordis made aliyah in 1998.
A Hug from Heaven
By Daniel Gordis
It's been almost a year since St.-Sgt. Dvir Emanuelof became the first casualty of Operation Cast Lead, losing his life to Hamas mortar fire just as he entered Gaza early in the offensive. But sitting with his mother, Dalia, in her living room last week, I was struck not by loss, but by life. And not by grief, but by fervent belief. And by a more recent story about Dvir that simply needs to be told.
This past summer, Dalia and some friends planned to go to Hutzot Hayotzer, the artists' colony constructed each summer outside Jerusalem's Old City walls. But Dalia's young daughter objected; she wanted to go a week later, so she could hear Meir Banai in concert.
Stunned, Dalia turned around and saw the father holding a babyDalia consented. And so, a week later, she found herself in the bleachers, waiting with her daughter for the performance to begin. Suddenly, Dalia felt someone touch her shoulder. When she turned around, she saw a little boy, handsome, with blond hair and blue eyes. A kindergarten teacher by profession, Dalia was immediately drawn to the boy, and as they began to speak, she asked him if he'd like to sit next to her.
By now, though, the boy's father had seen what was unfolding, and called over to him, "Eshel, why don't you come back and sit next to me and Dvir?" Stunned, Dalia turned around and saw the father holding a baby. "What did you say his name is?" she asked the father.
"Dvir," responded Benny.
"How old is he?" Dalia asked.
"Six months," was the reply.
"Forgive my asking," she continued, "was he born after Cast Lead, or before?"
"After."
Whereupon Dalia continued, "Please forgive my pressing, but can I ask why you named him Dvir?"
"Because," Benny explained to her, "the first soldier killed in Cast Lead was named Dvir. His story touched us, and we decided to name our son after him."
Almost unable to speak, Dalia paused, and said, "I'm that Dvir's mother."
Shiri, the baby's mother, had overheard the conversation, and wasn't certain that she believed her ears. "That can't be."
"It's true."
"What's your last name?"
"Emanuelof."
"Where do you live?"
"Givat Ze'ev."
"It is you," Shiri said. "We meant to invite you to the brit milah, the circumcision, but we couldn't."
"It doesn't matter," Dalia assured her, "You see, I came anyway."
And then, Dalia told me, Shiri said something to her that she'll never forget - "Dvir is sending you a hug, through us."
Shiri felt as though she were looking at an angelAt that point in our conversation, Shiri told me her story. She'd been pregnant, she said, in her 33rd or 34th week, and during an ultrasound test, a potentially serious problem with the baby was discovered. After consultations with medical experts, she was told that there was nothing to do. The baby would have to be born, and then the doctors would see what they could do. A day or two later, she was at home, alone, anxious and worried. She lit Chanukah candles, and turned on the news. The story was about Dvir Emanuelof, the first soldier killed in the operation. She saw, she said, the extraordinarily handsome young man, with his now famous smile, and she felt as though she were looking at an angel.
A short while later, Benny came home, and Shiri said to him, "Come sit next to me." When he'd seated himself down next to her, Shiri said to Benny, "A soldier was killed today."
"I heard," he said.
"What do you say we name our baby after him?" Shiri asked.
"Okay," was Benny's reply.
They told no one about the name, and had planned to call Dalia once the baby was born, to invite her to the brit milah. But when Dvir was born, Shiri and Benny were busy with medical appointments, and it wasn't even clear when they would be able to have the brit. By the time the doctor gave them the okay to have the brit, it was no longer respectful to invite Dalia on such short notice, Shiri told me. So they didn't call her. Not then, and not the day after. Life took its course and they told no one about the origin of Dvir's name, for they hadn't yet asked Dalia's permission.
So no one knew, until that moment when a little blond-haired, blue-eyed boy - whom Dalia now calls "the messenger" - decided to tap Dalia on the shoulder. "Someone's looking out for us up there," Shiri said quietly, wiping a tear from her eye, "and this no doubt brings Him joy."
It was now quiet in Dalia's living room, the three of us pondering this extraordinary sequence of events, wondering what to make of it. I was struck by the extraordinary bond between these two women, one religious and one traditional but not religious in the classic sense, one who's now lost a husband and a son and one who's busy raising two sons.
Unconnected in any way just a year ago, their lives are now inextricably interwoven. And I said to them both, almost whispering, "This is an Israeli story, par excellence."
As if they'd rehearsed the response, they responded in virtual unison, "No, it's a Jewish story."
It is a story of shared destiniesThey're right, of course. It is the quintessential Jewish story. It is a story of unspoken and inexplicable bonds. It is a story of shared destinies.
These are not easy times. These are days when we really could use a miracle or two. So perhaps it really is no accident that now, when we need it most, Dvir is sending us all a hug from heaven above.
The story is truly amazing (and true). Please read it until the end.
Daniel Gordis is the author of numerous books on Jewish thought and currents in Israel. His most recent book is Saving Israel: How the Jewish State Can Win a War That May Never End. A man who sits next to me in shul has been raving about this book all year long, so it's probably a good read. Gordis made aliyah in 1998.
A Hug from Heaven
It's been almost a year since St.-Sgt. Dvir Emanuelof became the first casualty of Operation Cast Lead, losing his life to Hamas mortar fire just as he entered Gaza early in the offensive. But sitting with his mother, Dalia, in her living room last week, I was struck not by loss, but by life. And not by grief, but by fervent belief. And by a more recent story about Dvir that simply needs to be told.
This past summer, Dalia and some friends planned to go to Hutzot Hayotzer, the artists' colony constructed each summer outside Jerusalem's Old City walls. But Dalia's young daughter objected; she wanted to go a week later, so she could hear Meir Banai in concert.
Stunned, Dalia turned around and saw the father holding a babyDalia consented. And so, a week later, she found herself in the bleachers, waiting with her daughter for the performance to begin. Suddenly, Dalia felt someone touch her shoulder. When she turned around, she saw a little boy, handsome, with blond hair and blue eyes. A kindergarten teacher by profession, Dalia was immediately drawn to the boy, and as they began to speak, she asked him if he'd like to sit next to her.
By now, though, the boy's father had seen what was unfolding, and called over to him, "Eshel, why don't you come back and sit next to me and Dvir?" Stunned, Dalia turned around and saw the father holding a baby. "What did you say his name is?" she asked the father.
"Dvir," responded Benny.
"How old is he?" Dalia asked.
"Six months," was the reply.
"Forgive my asking," she continued, "was he born after Cast Lead, or before?"
"After."
Whereupon Dalia continued, "Please forgive my pressing, but can I ask why you named him Dvir?"
"Because," Benny explained to her, "the first soldier killed in Cast Lead was named Dvir. His story touched us, and we decided to name our son after him."
Almost unable to speak, Dalia paused, and said, "I'm that Dvir's mother."
Shiri, the baby's mother, had overheard the conversation, and wasn't certain that she believed her ears. "That can't be."
"It's true."
"What's your last name?"
"Emanuelof."
"Where do you live?"
"Givat Ze'ev."
"It is you," Shiri said. "We meant to invite you to the brit milah, the circumcision, but we couldn't."
"It doesn't matter," Dalia assured her, "You see, I came anyway."
And then, Dalia told me, Shiri said something to her that she'll never forget - "Dvir is sending you a hug, through us."
Shiri felt as though she were looking at an angelAt that point in our conversation, Shiri told me her story. She'd been pregnant, she said, in her 33rd or 34th week, and during an ultrasound test, a potentially serious problem with the baby was discovered. After consultations with medical experts, she was told that there was nothing to do. The baby would have to be born, and then the doctors would see what they could do. A day or two later, she was at home, alone, anxious and worried. She lit Chanukah candles, and turned on the news. The story was about Dvir Emanuelof, the first soldier killed in the operation. She saw, she said, the extraordinarily handsome young man, with his now famous smile, and she felt as though she were looking at an angel.
A short while later, Benny came home, and Shiri said to him, "Come sit next to me." When he'd seated himself down next to her, Shiri said to Benny, "A soldier was killed today."
"I heard," he said.
"What do you say we name our baby after him?" Shiri asked.
"Okay," was Benny's reply.
They told no one about the name, and had planned to call Dalia once the baby was born, to invite her to the brit milah. But when Dvir was born, Shiri and Benny were busy with medical appointments, and it wasn't even clear when they would be able to have the brit. By the time the doctor gave them the okay to have the brit, it was no longer respectful to invite Dalia on such short notice, Shiri told me. So they didn't call her. Not then, and not the day after. Life took its course and they told no one about the origin of Dvir's name, for they hadn't yet asked Dalia's permission.
So no one knew, until that moment when a little blond-haired, blue-eyed boy - whom Dalia now calls "the messenger" - decided to tap Dalia on the shoulder. "Someone's looking out for us up there," Shiri said quietly, wiping a tear from her eye, "and this no doubt brings Him joy."
It was now quiet in Dalia's living room, the three of us pondering this extraordinary sequence of events, wondering what to make of it. I was struck by the extraordinary bond between these two women, one religious and one traditional but not religious in the classic sense, one who's now lost a husband and a son and one who's busy raising two sons.
Unconnected in any way just a year ago, their lives are now inextricably interwoven. And I said to them both, almost whispering, "This is an Israeli story, par excellence."
As if they'd rehearsed the response, they responded in virtual unison, "No, it's a Jewish story."
It is a story of shared destiniesThey're right, of course. It is the quintessential Jewish story. It is a story of unspoken and inexplicable bonds. It is a story of shared destinies.
These are not easy times. These are days when we really could use a miracle or two. So perhaps it really is no accident that now, when we need it most, Dvir is sending us all a hug from heaven above.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Roundup of Israel Blogs Issue #2
Here is the weekly thursday roundup of different blogs coming from Israel or about Israel. Please contact me if you would like your blog to be included in this list.
*A Mother In Israel discusses Israeli baby names.
*A Soldier's Mother posts a message to Anat Kam, an Israeli soldier who stole classified documents.
*Bat Aliyah talks about what to say to her friends that want to make aliyah but aren't able to yet.
*Rav Reuven Spolter notes some observations about the yishuv Otniel. The picture to the right is the famous hesder yeshiva in Otniel.
*Esser Agaroth blogs about eating locuts. The picture to the left is a locust from the 1915 locust plague in Israel.
*Rav Zev Shandalov writes personal reflections following Yom Hashoa in Israel.
*Deena writes at Habitza about why people bring challenges into their lives.
*Igoogledisrael comments how March was a record breaker for Israel's tourism.
*Ruti Mizrachi at Ki Yachol Nuchal! blogs about children collecting wood for Lag B'omer.
*Yisroel Medad at My Right Word shares some pictures from the top of the Hurva synagogue.
*One Tired Ema has a call for help. She is looking for advice on how to get her friend's children registered in Maamad Israeli schools.
*Miriam Woelke shares some positive thinking for Rosh Chodesh Iyar.
*Batya Medad tells us why she is different than everyone else in her generation.
*Molly at The Big Falafel tell us why she loves her 5 shekel ice coffee.*Benji Levitt blogs from Ben Gurion airport.
*The Muqata points us to this ridiculous newpaper article from Britain. The article does not believe Israeli tourism brochures should include pictures of the Kotel.
*Brian at This Norman Life was irked about the Simpson's episode in Israel.
Thanks for reading this roundup!
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