Confessions of a Bad Driver

I have to confess--I'm a bad driver. Bad driver, as in the kind that you see on the road and wonder how he/she ever received his/her license. But then you remember the Licenses for Bribes scandal in our fine state, and it all starts to make sense.

Alright, perhaps I'm exagerrating a tad.

Maybe I'm not really that bad of a driver, but I'm definitely not a good one. I've been in my fair share of near accidents (thank G-d, I've never actually been in a collision); I've dinged up the family mini-van a couple of times (the turn at the Baskin-Robbins drive-thru is hard to maneuver in the dark--seriously); I've locked myself out of the car and then repeated the experience, but with the gas still running. Maybe the last incident has more to do with forgetfulness than with bad driving skills, but the idea is that my motor vehicle track record is pretty lousy.

But the thing that I find most challenging about driving (besides for making a left out of the 7-11 parking lot against oncoming traffic) is parallel parking. Before I learned to drive, I heard so many people complain about parallel parking, I figured that all the drama just had to be hype. It's not. I have literally broken a sweat parallel parking.

I live on a residential street, so, theoretically, finding parking shouldn't be too difficult. However, my family's parking situation is complicated by the fact that our house is located within close proximity of a very large shul. Frequently, it's impossible (near impossible for most people; impossible for drivers of my caliber) to find parking when bar mitzvah celebrations and weddings are held at the shul. So I was really surprised when yesterday I succeeded in parallel parking my car directly in front of my house at the same time as a wedding was held around the block. I didn't break a sweat, I didn't bump the enormous Cadillac behind my spot, I didn't hit the curb. Never before have I so gracefully parallel parked.

Yay!

Campers Say the Funniest/Strangest Things

Working at a kids' camp provides hour upon hour of potential conversation time with eight year-olds. Here are some of the highlights of my past two days at camp.

***

Today, one of my campers asked me while pointing to a man who works at the camp, "Does he have sisters here?"

I replied, "He works here. He's not a camper."

She's like, "I know, but does he have sisters?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Well, if he does, he's very lucky, because sisters know everything!"

"Are you the only girl in your family?" I asked.

"Yeah."

Figures.

***

Yesterday, I received a lot of compliments on the earrings I was wearing. One camper came up to me and said, "I like your earrings. Are they Michal Negrin?"

I answered, "No. I bought them years ago."

She's like, "Oh, that's too bad."

A Great Halacha Sefer

Back in high school, I tried to institute a textual source-based Halacha class. Alas, my efforts failed. Now, I understand why, at the time, we were taught Halacha in a lecture-style class. The point was for us to learn Halacha l'maaseh in the most efficient way possible. Equipping students with as much usable Halachic guidance as possible requires cutting out the lengthy, multi-millennial discourse that produced the "end product."

Now, baruch Hashem, I have the opportunity to devote more time to learning Halacha-- both the practical information that I need to know in order to keep the Torah's precepts to their fullest and the history and actual process by which Halacha is decided. For me, learning the Halachic process has made Halacha more meaningful. Understanding the connection between Har Sinai (Torah Sheh'bichtav) and Halacha l'maaseh (arrived at via Torah Sheh'bi'al Peh) has allowed me to appreciate my own Halacha observance to a much greater degree.

So when I recently started reading Rabbi Getsel Ellinson's three volume work, Woman and the Mitzvot, I felt like I had been transported back to my favorite shiur. R' Ellinson presents the Rabbinic sources on Halachot that specifically regard women, including the relevant Mishnayos and Gemaras (in original Hebrew and/or Aramaic and in English translation) and Rishonim and Achronim's opinions (in English translation only). He also includes his own footnotes, which provide further explanation of the sources. Although I'm not learning Halacha l'maaseh from these seforim, R' Ellinson's inclusion of the differing Halachic opinions provides the reader with a unique experience: to learn the reasons for differing practices in the Orthodox community (and there are real reasons!) as well as to understand the hashkafic and Halachic reasons for one's own practices.

I highly recommend this set of seforim for anyone looking for an excellent resource on Halacha as it pertains to women.

Achdus?

On the rare occasions that I've visited a play or opera or symphony, I've noticed that I am a member of an ill-represented constituency at these sorts of events: the under-60 set. Tonight, I found myself in a similar situation.

A shul in my city hosted an event devoted to the issue of achdus in the Jewish community. Of the approximately 270,000 Jews who live in the city, about 25 showed up for the pretty well-publicized event. Of the 25 who attended, only three of us hadn't yet hit, or very nearly hit, our 50th birthday. (More on that later.) I understand that people are busy and that, baruch Hashem, there are many important lectures, events, etc. to attend, but I was slightly surprised that so few people came out for this particular event. Are people unconcerned about the issue of unity in a community that, in my opinion, has its fair share of conflicts? Perhaps the small turnout was due to the fact that one of the speakers is the rabbi of a very modern shul and the other is a woman. But does a person's discomfort with hearing thoughts from those he considers different from himself already indicate a problem? Should we be willing to listen to people who are different, especially on the topic of achdus?

How open-minded should we be? I say "we" in the very generic, royal sense--not referring to any specific group of people. I've heard the joke that it's good to be open-minded, but not so open that your brain falls out. How accepting we, as a community, should be was, in fact, part of the topic of discussion.

Achdus amongst different sects of Orthodox Jews. Achdus amongst Orthodox Jews and Conservative, Reconstructionist, Reform, and unaffiliated Jews. Achdus amongst Jews and intermarried Jews. Achdus amongst Jews and homosexual Jews. To what extent and in what ways should we be united? Should there be limits to Jewish unity? How and by whom should those limits be defined?

Tonight, I walked away from the discussion with very little clear in my mind, except one thing--I have to respect each person as an individual, regardless of his/her label, beliefs, or practices. Oh, and one more thing: the yad ha'yamin hamekareves is the tool of choice in relating to others.

But my question is this: what more is there to do as an individual, and what more is there to do as a community, to promote achdus and ahavas chinam?

Especially the underrepresented under-50 set, what do you think?

Remembering

I have a tendency to forget things. Things like my lunch (hence the Post-It note stuck to a kitchen cabinet begging me to take my lunch from the fridge), locking up at night, directions (apparently North Ave is south of Belmont. Whoops.) But I forget more important things too. Like the factors that motivated me to choose to attend a specific seminary versus a different one--I'm really not sure of why/how I made that particular decision. Or why I used to be convinced that women should not learn Torah Sheh'bi'al Peh--ever since actually learning Torah Sheh'bi'al Peh and appreciating it, it's been hard for me to remember well the arguments against the practice, arguments that used to have me convinced.

A couple of months ago, while perusing Joan Didion's Slouching Towards Bethlehem, I read an essay on the topic of remembering. In her essay entitled "On Keeping a Notebook," she makes a subtle distinction between keeping a notebook and writing in a journal or diary, a distinction which I'm still kind of hazy on. But the basic point she makes is that her experience of writing in a notebook allows her to revisit her younger self, a person who she regards as separate from her present self; in fact, she imagines that her notebook is "about other people" entirely (Didion 135). Recording fact--describing her actions or thoughts at a particular time--is "an instinct for reality which I sometimes envy but do not possess" (133). Her main goal is to "Remember what is was to be me" (136).

Blogging is kind of like keeping a notebook. Years from now, I hope I can look back on this blog and get a feel for who I was back then, back now. A feel for the liberal, slightly cynical, very hopeful, religious person I am now. I could just keep a notebook, like Didion and like everyone else who kept a notebook before the blogosphere was discovered and like everyone who still keeps a notebook after its advent, but blogging adds another dimension to the experience.

Here's my first conscious attempt on my blog to make sure I remember something: I'm recording my current suspicions regarding Harry Potter Book #7 so that in a week or so from now when I finally learn what happens, I'll know whether I correctly suspected the ending all along. This may seem silly, but hindsight bias is a power to be reckoned with :)

My predictions:
1. Harry will survive the book.
2. Snape is evil.
3. Either Ron, Hermione, or Ginny will die.
4. If, for some reason, Harry does die, his death will be due to his being one of Voldemort's horcruxes, which would make his death necessary to ensure Voldemort's death as well, i.e. Harry is a martyr.

Readers, if you exist, feel free to share your predictions, but if you wish to comment after 7/21/07, please do not post any spoilers.

A Modern-Day Baal Shem Tov Story

The Baal Shem Tov's kind of on my mind.

Earlier today, I read Chana's post about the Baal Shem Tov. Later, I attended the shloshim of a young woman who lived in my community. She had a brain tumor, which ultimately killed her. At the shloshim, one of the speakers began by recounting a story about the Baal Shem Tov, a story which he was sure the young woman being remembered had never heard. The following is the anecdote as I found it at http://www.meaningfullife.com/personal/pain/A_Matter_of_Perspective.php:

A man once came to Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov with a question: “The Talmud tells us that one is to ‘bless G-d for the bad just as he blesses Him for the good.’ How is this humanly possible? Had our sages said that one must accept without complaint or bitterness whatever is ordained from Heaven - this I can understand. I can even accept that, ultimately, everything is for the good, and that we are to bless and thank G-d also for the seemingly negative developments in our lives. But how can a human being possibly react to what he experiences as bad in exactly the same way he responds to the perceptibly good? How can a person be as grateful for his troubles as he is for his joys?''

The Baal Shem Tov replied: “To find an answer to your question, you must go see my disciple, Reb Zusha of Anipoli. Only he can help you in this matter.”

Reb Zusha received his guest warmly, and invited him to make himself at home. The visitor decided to observe Reb Zusha's conduct before posing his question, and before long concluded that his host truly exemplified the talmudic dictum which so puzzled him. He couldn't think of anyone who suffered more hardship in his life than did Reb Zusha. A frightful pauper, there was never enough to eat in Reb Zusha's home, and his family was beset with all sorts of afflictions and illnesses. Yet the man was forever good-humored and cheerful, and constantly expressing his gratitude to the Almighty for all His kindness.

But what was is his secret? How does he do it? The visitor finally decided to pose his question.

So one day, he said to his host: “I wish to ask you something. In fact, this is the purpose of my visit to you - our Rebbe advised me that you can provide me with the answer.”

“What is your question?” asked Reb Zusha.

The visitor repeated what he had asked of the Baal Shem Tov. “You know,” said Reb Zusha, “come to think of it, you raise a good point. But why did the Rebbe send you to me? How would I know? He should have sent you to someone who has experienced suffering...”

That's the end of the story, or so I thought. It's inspirational and touching in its own right, but then the speaker went on to explain the personal significance of the anecdote. He described how he had visited this young woman when she had been sick, and since he works with kids who have cancer, he asked her if she had any advice or hope to share with people who are faced with adversity. Her response was, "Really, I don't. I've never had a bad day. Even having my brain tumor is an opportunity to grow."

Tehei nishmata tzerura bitzror hachaim.

Kol Hatchalot Kashot

All beginnings are difficult, and since this is my first time posting on my first blog, I'm sipping a cold, freshly-opened can of Diet Dr. Pepper, trying to garner some inspiration. Unfortunately, the drink (which faithfully accompanied me through months of day-long paper-writing attempts and 2 A.M. study sessions) isn't providing much help at the moment. But really, who can blame it? It's just a highly-carbonated, deliciously-flavored, superbly-concocted soft drink. It has its limitations.

As you may know, or as you may have deduced, I am a big fan of Diet Dr. Pepper. A couple of weeks ago, I called up the manufacturer (Cadbury Schweppes) to find out if they sell Dr. Pepper in Israel. Since I'm going to be spending ten months in the country, G-d willing, I figured I may as well do some prepatory research. I hadn't remembered seeing the brand for sale my last time in Israel, so I was concerned. I can last a couple of months without the beverage--I think--but I decided to check ahead. To make a long story short, after spending a couple of minutes on hold while a customer service rep investigated the company's international operations, I learned that Cadbury Schweppes does not distribute Dr. Pepper, nor the diet variety, in Israel or the Palestinian Territories. Actually, I'm just guessing that Dr. Pepper is not sold in the Palestinian Territories. If it is, then I have a great excuse to visit Gaza. (Just kidding, Dad.)

If anyone has suggestions for suitable soft drink alternatives that I can purchase in Israel, I would be most appreciative. Since I'm on the topic of suggestions, I've been meaning to ask friends to recommend off-the-beaten-track places to see/things to do while in Israel. I hope to do all of the beaten-track things too, since, amazingly, the beaten track in Israel is pretty unbelievable. In any case, I'm interested in all of your tips.