The Eve of Shabbat, and Pre-Eve of Passover

Pesach (Passover) is the Festival of Freedom. It is commanded to us by G-d that we celebrate this every year, and it's specifically written that the holiday must take place in the spring. The term Passover has to do with the Angel of Death "passing over" the homes of the Jews in Egypt while G-d "smote" (love this word) the firstborn of the Egyptians. (If they'd have just let us go after any of the first NINE plagues, they could have saved themselves this problem, but no...)

Supposedly, we left so quickly that we didn't have time for the bread to rise, so we ran with what we had (and the pots we'd "borrowed" from the Egyptians...), which was flat bread. (Which I'm sure bore no actual resemblence to the cardboard we eat nowadays.)

Interestingly, the first Passover seder was held BEFORE we left Egypt, when we were actually still slaves. Hmm. But the festival itself is about us becoming free.

This year, Pesach will begin on Saturday evening... I still haven't quite figured it out, but basically it means that Shabbat is not over yet when Passover begins.

It means a whole different level of preparation when this happens, because instead of being able to wait until the very last night before the holiday for having the house cleaned, it has to be done two nights ahead of time.

The house can always be cleaned to a new level, so it's literally a process that begins whenever someone begins it, but it's a rare person who truly feels done and finished before the deadline. According to Jewish law, the rule is that a Jew may not own any leavened products, or products that are derived from grains that *could* become leavened, during the week of Pesach (plus an extra day for people who live outside Israel, but that's a whole 'nother story).

So on the surface, no big deal, right? You brush the crumbs out of the cabinet, wipe down the inside of the fridge and voila! You're done.

Uhm, not exactly.

To make sure that there is not even a trace of chametz (these leavenable products) in our homes, we go to any of many different levels of cleaning and checking, depending on where we hold religously, and how much time and energy we have.

Some people use it as an opportunity for "spring cleaning," as well. (I have good intentions every year of doing that, but it seems that I'm working on getting rid of the chametz and miss the walls and windows most years.)

At the halakhic (Jewish law) level, dust is not chametz. We can clear the major stuff and then make a legally-binding declaration that any chametz left over simply does not belong to us. But if we find some later, it's psychologically jarring, because we obviously missed a spot somewhere.

Of course, this is all dealing with our physical surroundings.

At the same time, however, we have a huge opportunity to get free emotionally, mentally and spiritually.

See, freedom isn't what we sometimes think of it as nowadays. "Freedom of speech." "Freedom of religion."

Freedom is also being free to actually connect with G-d on a higher level. And one of the ways to connect with G-d at a higher level is to become a better person -- more like the person He/She/It would want us to be.

So while we're doing our physical cleaning and looking in all the nooks and crannies in our homes and offices, we can also take that time to look in the nooks and crannies within ourselves. What's holding me back? What's keeping me from being the most righteous person I can be, from living up to my Potential (still hate that word) as a human being and a "servant" of G-d?

Pride's a big one for most of us -- it inflates us and sometimes prevents us from remembering that our accomplishments wouldn't be possible without help from the Big Guy. It's not that we can't take credit where credit is due -- absolutely, we can and should -- but not beyond where we truly deserve credit for it. In fact, chametz, leavening, is absolutely symbolic of that false pride. Chametz is puffed up, just like we can get sometimes.

There are other things that hold us back... phobias that are absolutely real to us... smaller fears that we let control bits and pieces of our lives... traits about ourselves that we don't like, yet don't fix... etc.

So leading up to Seder Night and Pesach, while cleaning the clutter and chametz out of our homes, it's this amazing and fantastic opportunity to break free and stop being slaves to the clutter and chametz in our minds and souls.

And just like with our homes and offices, the cleaning could go on forever... but the trick is to figure out the most important stuff and work on that first. If there's time for smaller stuff, great... if not now, there will be later.

I'm exhausted at this point physically... but mentally and spiritually, I am totally psyched for this opportunity to connect with G-d at a higher level, and break free from my self-imposed slavery.

But right this minute, I need to go shopping, so freedom's gonna have to wait a little while longer.

War Games

I live in a country that is constantly being attacked by its enemies. It's a fact. We are under rocket attack on a daily basis. We live with the threat of suicide bombers, suicide shooters, etc.

And we know that our enemies would love nothing more than to provoke us into a more bloody and devastating war.

So this week, starting this past Sunday, our Homefront Command, army, police, emergency medical personal, and pretty much everyone else are involved in war drills.

Until just a few minutes ago, it didn't really hit home what this whole thing means.

We've been hearing about it for weeks. We've known for days that there would be nation-wide air raid sirens going off at 10:00 this morning. We were warned in every branch of the press, so that we wouldn't think it was "real."

We have nation-wide sirens three times a year -- once on Holocaust Remembrance Day and twice on Memorial Day.

On that theoretical level, I knew that the sound would be slightly different. The ceremonial sirens are single-pitch sirens. The sound goes up to a certain level and remains steady for the duration of the siren. I knew this one would be different.

And of course I had forgotten all about it, until it started.

So I was standing in my living room, folding laundry (I'm off work today), and the sound caught my ear.

I stood still for a few seconds while my brain wrapped around what I was hearing. The pitch changed, going up and down like I've heard in movies about the U.S. in the 40's and 50's, when there were air raid drills fairly regularly.

I walked over and opened the window, so I could hear it clearly. And for a couple of seconds, a chill ran down my spine and goosebumps came up on my arms.

At any minute, literally, I could hear that siren for real. The tyrant ruling Iran could decide to fire missiles at us... or it could come from any one of our surrounding enemy countries. The missiles might have chemical warheads, or even nuclear capabilities.

Most people who do not live here could not possibly understand the implications this life has on us. Israelis value life to the utmost. Children come first. Can you imagine most bosses in America allowing their employees to leave early five or 10 times a year because one of the kids has a party in daycare or school? Can you imagine falling down in the street and having 10 people rush over to check to make sure you're okay and pick up your scattered belongings? Can you imagine your police or SWAT teams literally putting themselves in the line of fire to protect civilians?

I don't even know where I'm going with all this... except that all these thoughts were running through my mind during the two-minute siren.

Because while to the rest of the world, the events that are going on in my country this week are "drills," or "war games." But to the people who live here -- they're a likely reality.

Yet I still cannot imagine wanting to live anywhere else.

Fitna - The Controversial Short Film About Radical Islam

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCrCsTMokTU

I watched it yesterday after work.

Very disturbing.

Some of it seemed contrived and theatrical, but most of it was simply footage taken from terrorists own propaganda footage or videos of imams preaching hatred.

VERY disturbing.

Parts of it were extraordinarily reminiscent of footage taken by nazis during the Shoah.

I am now considering it recommended viewing for all adults.

Six Days Later

My race recovery complete, I am finally (as evidenced by the post below) getting around to updating again.

Thursday afternoon I ended up going shopping for some of the hippie clothes that I've been desperately wanting. I figured it was incentive to make sure that even though the half marathon was over, I would keep working on staying in shape.

I then went and bought a pizza -- mushrooms and onions -- and proceeded to bring it home and eat the entire thing. I think it's about the size of an American "small" pizza, maybe a "medium." I think it was eight slices. And it was freakin' awesome.

Until that night, when my stomach was UN-thrilled about processing it. I ended up waking up several times during the night to use the restroom -- but I wasn't getting any rest. :(

(I still say the pizza was worth it.)

Between walking to and from the race, running the race itself, and all the walking around I did afterward, I think I ended up actually walking/running about 35 kilometers on Thursday. (20ish miles)

Friday I needed to hit the Jewish bookstore and pick up a couple of books, and buy eggs, and then I could come home and focus on recovering and getting ready for Shabbat.

By Sunday, all the soreness was gone. I was going to try and run Sunday night, but when a friend of mine declined to go with me, I couldn't make myself step outside the house. I did, however, wake up early and go run 5k on the dreadmill at the gym on Monday.

And today being Wednesday, I am planning on hitting the gym at the end of the work day today.

Thank G-d for such a wonderfully easy recovery. I'm still gonna lose at least one toenail, but that toe's used to it by now :)

Running Through the Hills of Jerusalem - written on Thursday, 27 March

I finally ran a race in Israel. I'm not sure I was the smartest in picking one, but I figure it actually picked me, so I'm not taking any responsibility for the bad parts... only the good.

Way back in November, I was still planning on running this race today, but then I let myself get out of training mode, and I gave up on the idea.

One day, about four weeks ago, I was running on the dreadmill at work next to a work friend of mine. Afterward, she mentioned she was training for the Jerusalem Half Marathon. I was worried for her, as it didn't seem that she'd be trained in time for it. On the way home that night, my mind couldn't stop calculating.

Could I do it? Could I train safely, without worrying that I was going to injure myself? It's not a good idea to increase mileage more than 10%/week, but when I did the math, I realized it was theoretically possible.

To test my ability to go from dreadmill to blacktop, I ran outside that week for my long run. Sure enough, I was able to do it.

When I wasn't more sore than usual two days later, I registered for the race. To make it even more fun, I decided to raise awareness and money on behalf of the heroic residents of Sderot - those people who live constantly under the fire of rockets.I couldn't participate in the group runs for the charity, because they started before I even finished work... but when I was putting in my mileage, I had the team and the heroes in my mind when things got tough.

I practiced hills -- or so I thought -- on my Friday morning long runs.I'm thinking it's not actually possible to practice these kinds of hills enough to be truly prepared.

They were vicious.

There were looooooong downhills, and then, of course, the uphills seemed three or four times as long as the downs.

But wow. What an amazing, inspiring, and yes, exhausting, day.At the start, I was with my friend. We looked around and were awed by the fact that there were representatives of every kind of Jew, and we were all going to run this race together.

Shortly after the start, my friend took off at her own pace, and I settled into my groove.

The path took us near the Knesset, the Supreme Court, and headed out toward areas I hadn't run before.

As I am not a fast runner, I seemingly had the course to myself for long stretches of time.On one of those stretches, about 1/3 of the way along, I found myself running downhill through the Jerusalem Forest. It was an easy slope, and the view was incredible. There were trees and parks, and I could see the residential areas not far away.

And it suddenly hit me that I was running a race in Eretz Yisrael. I was running on land that G-d gave my people thousands of years ago.

My run took on a serious spiritual aspect at that point. I looked around and was incredibly grateful to Hashem for bringing me to this place, at this time.

I was, to be perfectly honest, a little less grateful when the run started going up hill... and up hill... and up hill... and just when I was thinking it couldn't possibly go up hill any more, I saw words chalked in Hebrew on the road: "Warning: More uphill to come."

Oy.

Step by step, breath by breath, I moved forward. And as I plodded along, wondering about the lack of wisdom I had in deciding to do this silly race, I looked up and realized I was right beneath Yad Vashem.

Yad Vashem - our national museum dedicated to remembering the Shoah (Holocaust) in which more than 6,000,000 of our people were brutally murdered by the Amalek of the time.

And I was upset about running up hills for a little while?

Gee, G-d, nothing like a subtle reminder of the blessings I have, eh?

From that area, the race path started heading through residential areas to the southern end of the city.

The race volunteers and police were AMAZING about stopping traffic for us. Not once did I have to slow down my pace to wait for traffic to stop.There were hundreds, if not thousands, of people whose daily commutes were messed up because of the race. Buses were stopped for long periods of time. People gave up on waiting inside their cars and got out. Some people, understandably, were pretty ticked off at having their schedules thrown off.

Others, amazingly enough, were incredibly supportive. I must have had 100 people, at least, shouting encouragement my way, smiling and cheering me on.

As I was walking along at one point eating my gummies and chocolate, someone I had passed caught up with me and asked if I had extra -- of course I had extra! I gave her some lite salt, too (for the sodium and potassium), and as she was out of water, I gave her the bottle I was carrying (I had another in my fanny pack).

She was really struggling at that point, but within a couple of minutes she took off ahead of me.

The southern end of Jerusalem is where our big mall is, along with our train station.

Once again, I found myself thinking about what a miracle this country is. We're this teensy, tinsy little sliver of land, surrounded by armed enemies... and we have a big o'l, American-style mall in our holiest city.

By this time, I was around 3/4 of the way done with the race physically, and mentally I was 150% done.

I came across the runner I'd given candy to a few kilometers back, and she looked through... done... kaput. I was torn between wanting to stop and walk with her, and needing to keep going so as not to lose my entire rhythm.I admit, I took the low road on that one and just tried to give her a few words of encouragement before going on ahead.

Eventually, I found myself in a familiar area, and I knew I was nearly done. I was hot. I was tired. I was sore. And I was grateful.

I was grateful for having had the courage to do this. I was grateful for my friend mentioning it at just the right time, when I could still decide to do the race. I was grateful to Hashem for allowing me to first visit Israel seven years ago and fall in love with this country. I was grateful to Hashem for surrounding me with family and friends who encouraged me along the way. I was grateful to be running in the holiest city on the planet.

Mostly, though, I was grateful to be almost done. Heh.The sadistic race planners chose a path that was UP HILL for oh, the last mile and a half or so. Even the track itself wasn't flat.

I couldn't summon enough extra energy to sprint the last bit in, but I squared my shoulders, put a smile on my face, and finished at a strong, steady pace.

Then I immediately slowed to a barely-moving-forward walk and tried to get my lungs functioning normally again.

I found my friend -- she'd finished five minutes ahead of me -- and eventually the woman I'd run into on the path wandered over as she finished the race.Somewhere in there, I took the timing chip off my shoe and went to get my medal -- which is on a keychain. Guess which keychain I'll be using from now on?

And after stretching some, and drinking some water, we finally headed for home. I walked slowly, limping occasionally, and I enjoyed the looks I got from people who saw my race number pinned to my shirt.

I think around 10 people finished the race after me, according to the official results. But I was still ahead of the hundreds of thousands of people in Jerusalem who didn't participate at all, so I figure I finished in the top 1%.

It was a very long day... incredibly challenging... incredibly inspiring... but very long.

Yet I'm sort of sad it's almost over.

Thank G-d tomorrow's Shabbos. :)