Vayeishev

Our parasha, Vayeishev, concludes this week with Yosef sitting in the prison of Pharaoh. Yosef has just concluded interpreting the dreams of his fellow prisoners, the cupbearer and the baker, both of whom had committed relatively minor crimes in the eyes of Pharoah. Why would Yosef care about the dreams of anybody? Remember, Yosef has been thrown into a pit, sold to traders, and wrongfully imprisoned. He has every reason to ignore or be fearful of any stranger who enters his world, after all he was betrayed by his own brothers. However, he does not go in that direction. Instead, he notices the fury burning in the faces of Pharaoh’s inmates, asks about their well-being, and even interprets their dreams. After his apparent unconditional kindness the cupbearer forgot about Yosef.

Our tradition takes advantage of countless opportunities to inform us of the importance of unconditional love and kindness. Notably, Vayikra 19:18 states, “you should love your neighbor as yourself.” Additionally, two mishnayot in Pirkei Avot (Chapters of the Fathers) come to mind. Mishna 1:2 states that the world stands on three things. Torah, Avoda (service of Gd), and gemilut chasidim (loving kindness). Later in the same chapter, mishna 15, we are taught that we must greet every person with a pleasant countenance. In the negative formulation, sinat chinam (baseless hatred) was the cause of previous downfalls, according to traditional interpretations. The imperative for kindness clearly has roots throughout our texts, undoubtedly there are other examples. This still does not show the either the extent or the reasoning for Yosef’s behavior.

Breshit 39:21 tells us that Yosef had a Gd given chesed within him. Rashi explains, using a mishna from Ketubot that the chesed caused his face to radiate similar to the face of a beautiful bride. Aside from the divine inspiration, there was simply no reason for Yosef’s demeanor, as we mentioned, Yosef had every reason to have his suspicions, especially of those with whom he was sharing a cell. What makes Yosef’s actions even more remarkable to me is that the ferocity that he saw in the faces of the baker and cupbearer did not deter him from inquiring about their wellbeing. Chapter 40:6 uses the word zoafim which from Kings 1 20:43 and Micha we know means a certain type of fury. It seems like we now have a better idea of the extent of Yosef’s actions, approaching two fiercely angry men in prison at a time when he himself should be looking over his shoulder.

Thus, Yosef should be our model to unconditionally ask, listen, and interpret.

Close your eyes and imagine it is just after five, classes have concluded, or the office has just closed, the day has been a disaster. Your gemara reading was off, the boss pointed out every mistake, lunch was cold, the big merger fell through, you cried in class, the computer crashed. We have all been in situations like this, frustrated, angry, or a handful of other unpleasant emotions.

Imagine, somebody unconditionally notices your dilemma, asks, listens, and interprets.

A New Greenback

Nope, not about freshly printed U.S. dollars, but it got your attention!

A little over two weeks ago we began adding the request for rain to our daily prayers. Within hours, there was a torrential downpour, with a brilliant lightning display and booming thunder. This grand display of the awesome power of nature was certainly awe inspiring. I would have been even more amazed by the driving rain and reverberating thunder had I not been walking home during a lightning storm. Then again, as I walked, the water penetrated my layers of clothing, leaving me to feel as if I was a part of the earth, yearning for water to nourish me, although I’m not sure that I was necessarily yearning to be soaked.

Upon arriving home, I hung my clothes up to dry and then went to sleep. Before I left my apartment the next morning, I checked my clothes, only to find them to still be retaining water. I hung them outside on the drying line, then walked to the bus stop to catch the bus on my way downtown. On the way, I passed the brown dried grasses and weeds that are behind my house.

Some days later, I noticed that the brown earth was not exclusively brown. The supple shoots of new leaves and green grass were pushing through, as I wrote in a post earlier this year, it’s a new and different kind of green than I am accustomed to, having grown up in a place where rain is generally plentiful, and where the first green makes its appearance in late March or early April. Here’s to more rain, more growth, and more green!

Secular Sukkah

Sukkot has been over for a week and a half, but there is one more element that I observed and would like to share. The secular sukkah. It was not surprising to find sukkot in areas like the ultra-Orthodox Mea She'arim, or even in the more Modern Orthodox/Dati neighborhoods, like the one where I live. What is much more surprising is to find secular Israelis with sukkot of their own. Keep in mind, there is a significant between the religious and secular communities, and building a sukkah is a nod to some sort of religious buy-in. This is not to say that all secular Israelis built a sukkah, but when the schach (roof materials) vendors showed up on street corners, a large percentage of their customers looked to be secular. Sukkot is truly a national celebration in Israel, spanning the spectrum of this diverse country.

On Simchat Torah, I walked past a neighbors home on my way to a meal. He was taking down his sukkah. Obviously a secular Israeli, he also was playing contemporary Israeli music loud enough to be heard through the open windows. While he definitely fulfilled the mitzva of the sukkah from a halachic standpoint, it appeared to me as if he was equally ready to dispense of it once it was no longer necessary, lest he appear "too religious." Anyway, just another one of the nuances that makes this country what it is, ones that are easy to miss, but highly appreciated by former sociology majors such as myself.

Uniforms

I would venture a guess that the majority of jobs throughout the world have some sort of uniform. Whether said uniform is mandated by the employer, it is simply practical, or it becomes a matter of identity, the fact is that such a uniform exists in most cases. Israel is no different in this regard; however the Israeli uniforms can often identify religious affiliation or lack thereof.

For example, the Hasidim wear a long coat, identifying the sect of Hasidut to which the individual belongs. Knickers, white socks, black socks, and the variety of hat also provide identifying information. For women, the wardrobe is dark colors and very simple. Most of these women do not wear a colorful head covering.

The “regular” Orthodox are best identified with their black fedora, often a dark suit, white shirt, and tie. Women might wear more fashionable items, perhaps with more color and variety. The kippot of the Orthodox and Hasidim are typically black velvet.

The “modern orthodox” or “dati leumi” wear khakis and button down, or polo, best identified by the knit kippah that often sits slightly to the side on top of the head. Women in this group like layers and more colors. The “settlers” might dress similarly, however their kippot often cover more of the head, and they may be dressed more casually.

There are several other uniforms amongst those whose Judaism is central, I am acknowledging them but I will not go into detail. The final profile: the non-religious. There are variants here too. Many tight tee-shirts, skinny jeans, European style shoes. The women are less concerned with modesty, and their dress reflects that.

Please make no mistake, this list is not meant to be a value judgment on any group, nor is it meant to be exhaustive. Instead, I just wanted to point out the diversity in religious expression, as well as the relative ease by which people can be identified simply by their clothing. Yes, there are plenty of exceptions, but the fact that all these uniforms can exist here is certainly a testament. To what? not sure. As long as nobody is wearing a belt with suspenders and a bowtie, or a patterned shirt with a patterned tie, the dress should not matter, what should matter is continuing to build a unified State even as we wear different uniforms.

Sukkot

Immediately following Yom Kippur, the hammer blows could be heard echoing behind my building. I was mightily surprised when I heard those construction noises following a fast, "who could be working now?" I thought, before realizing we had begun the transition to Sukkot.

All over town sukkot of all varieties began popping up on sidewalks, balconies, backyards, courtyards, even on the back of a truck. The ongoing physical labor was light-hearted, a stark contrast to the serious internal labor of the previous ten days. For me, it's wonderful to see people rejoicing with a bounty of food while spending time with friends and family. Special thank yous to my hosts from yesterday who were just so gracious in opening and sharing their homes.

This sukkot will be one of lasting memory for the Schalit family, as they prepare to welcome home their son Gilad after five years as a captive of Hamas. While you'd be hard-pressed to find somebody who was not elated about Gilad Schalit's return, questions are being asked about the cost. Redeeming captives is a mitzva, but at what point does the cloudy future that results from doing said mitzva mean that the mitzva should be pushed off? At this juncture, I am not presenting my view, just asking a question for discussion, one that will be debated around Shabbat tables and in sukkot all over the Jewish world.

Moadim l'simcha, Shabbat shalom.

School Shopping

Late last month I realized that I needed to purchase some basic school supplies. In the States, I imagine that CVS (among other stores) are still loaded with all sorts of back to school supplies, deals, tchochkies, lunch boxes, etc… Of course in CVS the back to school displays begin on July 5th and once school starts it will be time for Halloween, which isn’t for six weeks, but I digress.

I headed up to the Hadar mall where I knew I could find the old reliable Office Depot. I was looking for the following items: a multi-subject notebook, new pencils, and a couple new pens, not a very long list. I was greeted in the store with huge displays of notebooks, knickknacks, and sales. The store was mobbed with children dragging their parents from display to display, loading their carts with all sorts of new gear. For a moment, I was transported back to the late summer and early fall evenings when my sister and I dragged one of our parents to the Staples in an attempt to rid them of any retirement funds. Multiple children were also expressing their desire to get new clothing, shoes were popular. The Israeli children are just as whiny and kvetchy as we were, not that I’m necessarily surprised, just an interested observer.

So there you have it, the back-to-school mania is universal, and a perfect opportunity for capitalism to reign.

Driving Lessons

Since arriving in Israel last July, I have repeated numerous times the phrase, "The only thing worse than an Israeli driver is an Israeli driver in training." They fly or creep down my street with the big lamed on top of the car. Sometimes multiple students are in the back seat. The instructor often has a scowl on his face and a cigarette precariously wedged between two fingers as his arm hangs out the window. Perhaps even more amusing are the bus drivers in training who drive large buses with an equally large lamed gracing the side of the bus. Whether buses or cars, they practice stopping, nearly sending their instructors through the windscreen. They practice the dreaded parallel parking maneuver, often bumping hubcaps, bumpers, and the sides of tires against the curb, other vehicles, and the like. Lest you think that I'm picking on Israelis, this is no doubt a world wide experience. However, the lamed somehow seems more infantalizing than "student driver."

On a serious note, today I saw a driving lesson that gave me hope. A very religious Jewish man was tutoring a car full of young Arab girls. There they were, representatives of two very different, and often at odds peoples, working together. If only fixing everything else in this region of the world was as easy as a driving lesson.

Hebrew word of the day; Nahag(et) Hadash(a) (New driver)

Observations

A few years ago, I had the privilege and the pleasure of living in Manhattan while I was learning at Yeshivat Hadar. New York is well known as a center of culture, arts, business, and the like. There is also a significant population of weirdos in New York, as in any city. I developed two theories about weird, eccentric, off-beat people, or whatever label you’d prefer. The first is that there is a certain percentage of people in the world who the majority would classify as “weird,” and because of New York’s population and population density, the weird folk are more visible. The alternate theory states that because of New York’s reputation as a cultural center, people are more "tolerant", and therefore being weird is more permissible. I am not sure to which theory I subscribe.

Now, you’re probably asking what does this have anything to do with my life in Jerusalem? Sorry if you like suspense, because here’s the reason. It is not uncommon to see things here that make you think, or say, “only in Jerusalem.” Usually such happenings are related to some aspect of Jewish life, Israelis, or Arabs. Recently however I saw two unexpected sites. The first was a well-dressed young man walking down the street brushing his teeth, totally unconcerned about the lack of a sink, toothpaste, or any of the typical teeth brushing materials. The second site, a group of older men clad in plaid flannel pajamas boarding a bus. It’s very uncommon to see people covered up, for religious reasons, even during the heat of the day. I am unaware of any religion that wears flannel plaid pajamas in public, in the summer. If you find one, let me know.

Hebrew word of the day: mivreshet shinayim (Tooth brush)

Skyttiquite

When living far from loved ones in a distant land, Skype becomes a helpful tool for remaining in touch, and seeing the faces of friends and family. However, I would propose several rules of public skype ettiquite, for most a more positive skyping experience for you and those seated near you. In no particular order.

1) Wear a shirt that makes it clear you're wearing a shirt. Nobody sitting nearby wants to wonder why you're having naked skype in public.
2) Look at the other person's video feed, not your own. Why would you look at your own picture? For that just go to the bathroom mirror.
3) Please, don't type while you skype. You think you're multi-tasking, really its like beating a snare drum in the ears of your skype partner.
4) Stay in range. There's nothing worse than having a conversation with somebody who sounds like they're sitting on a turntable or merry-go-round.
5) Headphones, not everybody wants to hear both sides of the conversation.
6) Avoid the bathroom. You might be able to get away with a phone call, but remember, you're on video now.

Obviously, these only apply to public skyping. So if you'd like to take your shirt off, sit on a rolling chair, type, and spend some time in a private restroom while staring at yourself in the mirror, by all means. If you've got other ideas, feel free to post.

The Gever

In Israel, one social role is occupied by the gever. The gever (literally, man), is a mythical man who exudes machismo and confidence. A man who wears sunglasses indoors and/or at night, who unbuttons at least two buttons on his shirt. A gever shows very little emotion, and can usually not be bothered with others. He will use any and all ways to prove his gever status over other rival gvarim. Today after my arrival in Israel, I had three gever encounters before putting my head on the pillow for the first time.

The first: My sherut driver could not have cared less about his passengers, their luggage, or the fact that many of them were arriving on international flights that were longer than 8000KM. I never expect patience in Israel, but I do expect mild assistance from a service industry like the nesher (super shuttle equivalent, although much more of an adventure). Of course, I was the last customer to be dropped off. The second to last, a young Israeli woman engaged the driver/gever in an argument about why he didn't help people with their luggage out of the back of the van. She says, we're paying 60 shekel, you could at least help. He says, they're heavy suitcases and I don't want to help. By the way, he had the requisite amount of unbuttoned shirt.

The second: I needed to grab a quick bite to eat. So went to one of the old stand-by schwarma places. The gever in front of me was sure to ask for extra spicy and double meat on his schwarma. He let out a laugh. Then proceeded to order two more of the same, one for his son, and two for him. The employee said, you're a big man to eat so much spicy (loosely translated from the Hebrew). He patted his son on the back and handed him one of the three schwarmas. Gever in training. I wanted to laugh, but I dared not.

The third: Shortly after, the gever from above moved on to eat his doubly meaty doubly spicy food, it was my turn to order. My voice is still a bit raspy and not so strong after my recent and ongoing encounter with strep, as well as the 11 hour trip breathing bone dry airplane air. The man (not a gever) behind the counter told me to be a man and speak up.

There you have it, three gever stories before the day was out. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

A House Divided

Later this afternoon and evening I will have the pleasure of travelling to Philadelphia where I will board a flight bound for Tel Aviv. In many ways I am going home, and in many ways I am leaving home.

Since returning to the States from Israel in June, I have felt as though I was a guest in a country that is not really mine. But then why did I celebrate the Fourth of July? I obviously have some connection to this land and these places, albeit a different connection that the one I have to Israel, her land, and her places.
I am not a full Israeli either. I have not served in the army, my Hebrew is not fluent, and I am in the country on a student visa, not a teudat zehoot (identity card). It's a very strange feeling to have two homes, to be leaving one and entering another.

Check back soon for updates from the beginning of my second year in Israel.

The Price

Israel bears an incredible cost for its existence. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the numbers of Israelis whose lives have been lost to war and terrorism is staggering, relative to the size of the country.

This past Sunday, I had the opportunity to go to Har Herzel, one of Israel's military cemeteries, the final resting spot for former heads of state and Herzel himself. As the tour, guided by Pardes Dean David Bernstein, progressed, I couldn't help but feel a greater and great sense of gratitude for those who were entombed around me. As they rest there between the tall pines of the cemetery, Israel continues, striving to build the nation to which their lives were sacrificed.

As we came to the area of the cemetery where more recent fallen are interred, I couldn't help but see myself in their places. I was living in comfort in the United States, playing baseball, going to college, making my own schedule, and preparing for life. These young men and women were taking grenades, rockets, and machine gun fire.

This weekend is memorial day in the United States. For those reading who are living there, please take time to remember and appreciate the fallen. Memorial Day should not be a day of BBQs, parties, and sales. Instead, take a page out of Israel's book and really stop to remember.

Modern Days

The time between Pesach and Shavuot is marked in Israel with four modern holidays. Yom Hashoa, Yom Hazikaron, Yom Haatzmaut, and Yom Yerushalayim. Colloquially, this time of year is called y’mei yamim. The days of days. It has been an incredible experience to watch Israel move from Pesach into these modern celebrations. Israeli flags adorn backpacks, balconies, cars, restaurants, hotels, public buildings, private buildings, and Facebook pages.

Israel has a knack for marking events that are significant in Jewish religious history, and in the modern history of the State. For example, streets are named after important dates and historical figures, from antiquity to modernity. In modernity, the days listed above all recall a watershed event. On both yom Hashoa and yom Hazikaron (twice), the siren is sounded and the country comes to a complete stand-still in order to remember. The chronology of these days is not by accident, culminating in the euphoric celebrations of independence and the realization of a 2000 year dream.

As I was around town Monday night, and again on Tuesday, I couldn’t help but feel an incredible sense of hope. For a day, all of Israel’s problems, internal and external, melted away. None of it mattered. People were genuinely happy and thankful that Israel is surviving as a vibrant and independent Jewish State.

Universal Liberation or Universal Cleaning?

Passover is rapidly approaching. Next Monday, across the world Jews of all denominations and traditions will sit down to festive seder meals. In only one country, however, is Passover cleaning a universal activity. Yes, there are plenty of secular Israelis who do not take their toothbrushes to the grout between their kitchen tiles. Cleaning products are flying out of the supermarkets. New sets of dishes are available on street corners, and huge vats for kashering cookware and flatware are not difficult to locate. The smell of strong cleaning chemicals is unmistakable. In some cases, soap suds run out of open kitchen doors and into the street.

So just as we all celebrate liberation during Pesach, Israel first celebrates a universally unique brand of cleaning.

(More Than) A Week Later

Over a week ago, Jerusalem was struck with the blight of terrorism once again. I am not going to spend time or words rehashing the events, as they are no doubt well known by now. However, in the nine days since the most recent act of terror perpetrated against Israel, we have continued to live our lives.

On the evening following the attack, buses were crowded, and lines to the most popular restaurants were out the door. Vigilance is significantly higher, but life has gone on as normal. Last Friday, huge swathes of the city were shut down because of the first ever Jerusalem Marathon. Teens mobbed Ben Yehuda street last Saturday night, enjoying the evening with friends. As the weather warms, cafes are seating customers outdoors. All this week, the first annual Taste of the Old City (above) was held. Food, music, live music, and happiness was abound. Security was tight, and very visible, but people moved about undeterred.

Israel has weathered last week's attack. Over the past week, I can't help but say with relative confidence that terrorism will not solve any of the region's problems, nor will it ultimately win.

Waking Up

It is well documented that on Friday afternoons in Jerusalem, and other cities throughout Israel, the country begins to slow down, and in some cases shut down for Shabbat. Walking through the open air markets on a dark Shabbat evening is quite strange. Hours earlier vendors were hawking their wares, bellowing at the top of their lungs. But then, quiet.

Shabbat passes and another week begins.

The cities must now begin to awaken. Slowly the buses return to the streets. The taxis, which make themselves scarce on Shabbat are now readily available. Schwarma stands hang fresh spits of meat and lay out the salatim for the evening's customers. Yeshiva students, both men and women, scurry into or out of town, back to their places of learning, where they will be expected on Sunday morning. Restaurant hostesses are on the sidewalks, beckoning customers. Soon the streets are filled with cars and people out for a night of entertainment. However, some vestiges remain. Not all businesses open, not all restaurant kitchens hum with activity. Even the supermarkets are barely staffed. What's the point? Even in a modern, largely secular society, Shabbat leaves it's mark on the days preceding and the days following. So too, Shabbat should be upon us.

A Different Green

Green! United States' currency and Ireland might come to mind. I have a new green I'd like to propose, the green of the Golan Heights, where I was last week on a three day tiyul with pardes. At this time of year, after some of the much needed rainfall has fallen, the Golan is absolutely beautiful. There are wild flowers, high grasses, and a general feeling of natural life being reborn. The heat of the summer fries the vegetation, and the ongoing drought doesn't do much to alleviate the brown of the scorched earth. But now, the rich black volcanic soil is hardly visible below the flowers and grasses. It's the kind of green that happens when green does not exist for twelve months. It's the kind of green that the desert experiences after a rainfall, a lush life affirming green.

Yield

As was indicated in my basil story, the Land of Israel yields all sorts of delicious and marvelous things. When I was in the Arava earlier this year, we were staying on a moshav where 60% of Israel's peppers were produced. Driving throughout the northern third of the country, all sorts of greenhouses and fields are visible from the highways. Bananas, dates, oranges, olives, grapes, figs, are easy to spot. If you have the opportunity to go to Katzrin, you can find a good sampling of the fruits of Israel. Within a very short distance you can find olive oil, wine, chocolate, and beer factories, offering the products of Israel to locals and tourists alike. To say nothing of the intellectual and technological contributions of Israel, I am continually awed by the amount of produce that grows throughout Israel. The desert offers peppers, the mountains provide fine wines, all while the country is preoccupied with assuring its continued existence. Incredible yield.

Sharing

This post is long overdue, I apologize for the lengthy interlude between posts.

Earlier this month, I was fortunate to receive a two-week visit from my parents. Since my arrival in Israel, I have been planning their arrival. We arranged a guide for a few days in the North of Israel, after which I would bring them back to Jerusalem for just over a week, allowing them to see the tourist sights as well as experience a taste of my life in Israel. In a sense, sharing with them the world as it currently looks to me, in an almost reversal of what did for me years ago.

One of the most memorable experiences we had was our encounter with a farmer in the Jordan Valley. The farmer, a friend of our guide from the reserves, produces herbs for export to Europe, and smaller quantities to the United States. We were welcomed with fresh mint tea. Not soon after, we were touring Yair's greenhouses. The first greenhouse door swung open, and the aroma of fresh basil smacked us in our collective face. The basil was thigh-high and had just a delightful aroma. Yair begins picking basil, and upon leaving this greenhouse, he hands me the massive bundle and instructs in Hebrew, "for Shabbat."

Two days later, that basil was turned into stuffing for Shabbat chicken. So, just as this is the beginning of my sharing the experiences of our trip with you, the Land of Israel shared its bounty, straight from the farm, to my Shabbat table.

Insulation, please.

Israel has been fortunate to be the beneficiary as well as the creator of a number of technological advances. Whether it's cell phone technology, revolutionary care techniques for trauma victims, computer science advances, pick your area, and Israel is likely involved to some extent. Given the above achievements, why are Israeli homes and buildings insulated so poorly?

The summers can be unbearably hot, and the winters are not freezing, but cool enough to require the use of heat inside one's home. If you are fortunate enough to have both air conditioning and heating in your home, why wouldn't you want to insulate in order to keep the heat in/out or the cold in/out. Seems like common sense. Fiberglass insulation that allows for efficient heating and cooling would save all sorts of money and cause less of a strain on the electrical grid.

Then there's the matter of windows. Weatherstripping is cheap and effective. Please Israel, use it! I know that windows and doors are one of the most difficult areas to insulate, but if you can feel a draft, it probably wouldn't hurt to use some caulk or weatherstripping. I don't get cold very easily, but when I can feel a draft, something should be done. We're talking the opposite of nuclear science, it really doesn't take much!

Hebrew phrase of the day; Kar li! "I'm cold"

Word Recall?

Quick story. This morning I boarded the bus bound for the shuk. I was startled to find that the cost of a cartisia (multi-ride bus ticket) had increased since my last purpose. While discussing this with the driver, all of the Hebrew that I have accumulated vanished from my brain, leaving me stumbling for words, and sounding like a small child.

I learned this week, that the story I mentioned in my last post is quite famous. In fact, it is featured in a collection of t'shuvot (halakhic answers to specific questions), whose name I do not recall, that emerged out of the destruction of the Shoah.

Shabbat shalom.

Intersection

Last week I had the opportunity to visit Yad Vashem, Israel's Holocaust Museum with fellow Pardes students. I had never been to Yad Vashem at night before, but I was surprised to find that the lack of natural light emphasized the murder of the Shoah. As I worked my way through the permanent exhibit, I encountered two instances where my current learning intersected with stories of the Holocaust.

The first, a man was recounting a story of another gentlemen who went to a rabbi with a question about his son. The questioner wanted to know if it was possible to save his son from an impossible situation that would surely result in the son's death, knowing that saving one child would inevitably cause the death of another. The rabbi was unable to give psak (a Halakhic ruling), because in Jewish law capital cases require a court of 23. At Pardes we are leaning sections of Tractate Sanhedrin which deals with the court system and the different requirements for the courts that hear capital cases.

The second, inside one of the many display cases was a get (Jewish bill of divorce). Upon closer examination, I realized that it was a get al t'nai (conditional get). Conditional gets are used to protect the woman in event of the disappearance of a husband. In this case, the gets was being used so that the woman could remarry if the husband could not be located. As part of my night seder learning this year, in Tractate Kiddushin, the gemara introduces texts that address get al t'nai.

These two intersections brought me to the brink of tears. More interestingly, however, is the fact that the realization that I, holocaust victims, and holocaust survivors were learning and living by the same texts. If that's not an intersection with both the horrors of the Shoah and the beauty of the tradition, I'm not sure what is.