Thursday, June 30, 2011

Swirling Thoughts #204 - you say forests are for camping. i say forests are for spas.

If you see dinnertime is an opportunity to counterbalance the effects of a day of sugary and salty snacks (staples of the “I’ll pack it myself, Mom!” school lunch), you’ll find the last two weeks of school to be of dubious nutritional intake.

First there is the week in which each class celebrates the culmination of its learning with an evening of song and coordinated dancing. Whether in Hevron (potato borekas), at the school itself (candy, potato chips, hot dogs), or in the old city of Jerusalem (rumors of pizza), the performances and ensuing nachas offer sufficient sustenance to the parent-only audiences.




By the second week, in which each after school activity enjoys a night in the spotlight (guitar, taekwondo, gymnastics) the siblings (who are now encouraged to join the audience) are getting a little antsy. And so we bring dinner along. With proper planning, that could be noodles, fish sticks, cheese borekas, freezer pizza squares. Poor planning could yield the dinner we had last Wednesday night. A shared bag of Bissli followed by ice cream for everyone.

Bob returned from two back-to-back trips to America, delirious from jet lag. He missed all the school celebrations but was just in time for our anniversary getaway. Which I planned because I wanted luxury. Bob wanted camping.

As my kids enjoyed their last few moments of school, Bob and I snuck off to the Carmel Spa for pampering and (more than) our fill of legendary healthy cuisine.
Are you sure you don’t want to go camping?
Please get directions to the spa.

When you look up Carmel Spa, it shows up as being in Haifa. And so we got on our favorite road, Kveesh Shesh (the pay road, for which we finally figured out how to pay), and drove to Haifa. On our way, Bob was most certain he saw a tehine tanker.
Did you see that tehine truck?
That’s an oil tanker!
But it said Tehine on the side.
Do you seriously think there’s an oil tanker filled with tehine driving around Israel?
Yes. Yes I do.

We continued on and I spotted a red velvet couch. In the middle of an olive grove. I’m not delirious from jet lag, either.
Did you see that couch?
No, where?
In that olive grove, next to the plush green office chair. It was red velvet!

As we approached Haifa we drove through an Experimental Area.
What do you think an Experimental Area is?
I had no witty reply for this and in fact, I just now looked it up on-line.
Seems the Iranians (who’ve been accusing Israel of stealing their rain clouds) are following the experimental work of Israeli scientists who are trying to turn desert dust into rain clouds. Or something like that. In Experimental Areas in the North and in the South.

We arrived in Haifa and started our ascent up toward the Carmel, as per every sign we saw. When we weren’t sure we asked the locals.
Carmel?
Lamala!
(Up!)
And so comes the cruel punch line.

The Carmel Spa, Haifa is neither in Haifa nor in the Carmel. I know I’ve said it before but it bears repeating. Israel truly is an insiders club.




Evidence in support of my claim
* The vowels, yes, we know.
There are none. To read Hebrew you must already know the words.
* The Carmel
Spa. It’s listed in Haifa. Why on earth would you then not go to Haifa. Why on
earth is there a place in Haifa called Carmel that is not the location of the
Carmel Spa. And if this is a 5-star destination of tourists, why is getting
there shrouded in secrecy (our story was matched by at least 4 other couples
once we arrived).
* The maps. Better yet, Google maps. Overloading you with
undeserved confidence in how to drive from door to door, Google maps relies on
good old fashioned street names. OF WHICH ISRAEL HAS NONE.

Conclusion: You must know the language, know that names
of places are not necessarily the names of places, and know the names of streets
which appear to be nameless. An insider’s club? For certain!


And so, after a scenic two hour tour of Haifa, we made our way to the Carmel Forest Spa, located deep in the Carmel Forest. But not before we happened upon these guys.

The drive in was eery.


Do you think it’s strange one of Israel’s top luxury spas is flanked by prisons on both sides?
Maybe.


There were charred trees all around us. Just as I wondered if a particular spot was where the prison guards had been caught in the fire, just six months ago, we passed a makeshift memorial urging us to remember the fallen guards.

My babysitter had told us about new growth in the forest. I shifted my attention to the new growth.

We arrived, more than ready to commence relaxation and pampering. My cell phone rang as we were checking in and a slight woman, not taller than myself, bum-rushed me out the front door, all the while pointing to signs prohibiting cell phone use in the hotel’s public areas.


For the rest of our visit we kept an eye on this woman (who turned up everywhere) keeping an eye on all of us. The first night at dinner, she was at the next table.
Bob was excited to try the food.
Let’s go check out the salad bar.
I’ll wait here until you come back.
The kids are not here. We can go to the salad bar together!
But your phone is here. I’m worried about… you know, the cell phone police.


We loved the food. But Bob was suspicious of the corn chowder. How could it be so thick, so creamy, so satisfying, and yet healthy? He posited a theory.
I think the food here is made to be delicious and they make it seem healthy but in reality it is NOT.
That’s a pretty bold statement.

He pointed to the corn chowder as evidence.
Tomorrow I will call their healthy food bluff.
Please don’t.


The spa was filled with detail people. Towel folders, chair pusher-inners, candle blower-outers. My friend told me when she was there she noticed a guy whose sole task was shpritzing bottles of the signature Carmel Spa scent all around the hotel.

The trip was indulgence defined. Lazy swims, fuzzy robes, treatments, relaxing in the garden, and 3 delicious meals daily. We had a great time and a ton of laughs. Bob enjoyed himself, even as he poked fun.
What’s people’s fascination with walking around all day in a robe? And getting rubbed?
But I got him to join the hotel “club” so we can enjoy discounts in the future.
Will you agree to come back?
Can we go camping in between?
Once I give birth? Absolutely.
Then, yes. We can come back.


And so we returned home, rejuvenated, pampered, refreshed, to a bunch of missed cell phone calls and, more importantly, to a bunch of kids who were all too happy to eat Bissli, instant soup and pizza in our absence.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Swirling Thoughts #203 - the yoman reshet has made its impact!

Somebody’s been paying attention
I’ve been asking these questions since I got here. Did Israelis never need a svetshirt, eat a sanvich or a mahfin, go on a dayt, or be in shok before Anglos showed up? Of course they did! And now the Misrad ha Chinuch (the people who invented school, according to Asher), have implemented a campaign throughout our Anglo community to let us know that in Israel, we speak Hebrew.


There are signs hanging all over Efrat, each with a word that has been adapted from the English (such as shampu, deesk, trampolina, teeshu & veeroos), followed by the official Hebrew word (for shampoo, disk, trampoline, tissue and virus).

I’ve been busy compiling my photo mi-lone (dictionary). The highlights, so far…





AHN-LIYN (mekuvan)


GPS (navtan)


and my favorite,






BLOG (yoman reshet).

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Swirling Thoughts #202 – a mixed bag

I got a call today from Asher
Mom, we have a substitute teacher for math today and he doesn’t want me to wear my hat. He said to go the mazkiroot (secretary's office) for a yarmulke but I don’t want to do that because, you know...LICE! And I can’t tell the teacher that! So can you please bring me my yarmulke from home?

Otiot
Rosie was talking about otiot (letters) on Shabbat. So Bob asked her,
What are otiot in English?
Pause.
Aye-bees!

I’m losing sight of the weirdness!
It seemed so totally natural for the Teva Outlet at Kfar Etzion to be selling cherries today – after all, cherry season is only exactly one month long and most of the cherry trees in Gush Etzion seem to be concentrated right around Kfar Etzion. Asher was excited to see I had picked up cherries.
Where’d you get the cherries, Mom?
At the shoe store!
Mom! Cherries at the shoe store?
I guess that is kind of weird.

When spiritual nourishment is not enough
Becky has her end of the year siyum/mesibah/celebration-thing this Tuesday in the Old City of Jerusalem. There’s actually a grainy map of the Old City that came with the invitation pointing to the specific location. I can’t make heads or tails of the map so I’m excited to see where I end up. I’ve heard about this siyum/mesibah/celebration-thing. I’ve heard it is really special, meaningful, amazing and 3 hours long at dinner time with absolutely no dinner served. So I am getting ready. Grainy map, check. Camera, check. Potato chips, granola bars, water bottles, check.

When enough is enough!
Rosie was talking about how her swim teachers keep rotating in a degem (pattern). Before I could coax the meaning of degem out of her, Becky interrupted.
Rosie, can you please speak in ENGLISH?

Monday, June 6, 2011

Swirling Thoughts #201 – spring cleaning

Seven weeks and a few sandstorms since Pesach, Shavuot is upon us and another round of pre-holiday cleaning begun. Not the kind of pre-Pesach cleaning that causes an entire country to run short on paper towels, but more the, ‘oh, it’s been almost two months since I moved my Mai Eden machine’ kind of cleaning.

And for me, some switch has been tripped in my brain (I wish I knew how to trip that switch on purpose) which has caused me to do things like sift through the ‘TO DO’ list on my Blackberry. The TO DO list which, until yesterday, still contained such tasks as ‘Register Rosie for Gan’ and ‘Rosh Hashanah Menu’.

There were some tasks I didn’t recognize
For example:
Seven Wagon With Stove
I’m not sure if this is a car reference or a camping concept.

Others I recognized and was ready to delete
For example:
Beytza Reka
I kept this for a really long time, thinking it would help me order a soft-boiled egg. Until I actually tried to order a soft-boiled egg.

When you go into an Israeli restaurant (or anywhere in Israel), you have to accept that there will be something you want and someone to tell you that you really don’t want that thing.
For example:
I’d like some ice for my drink.
Your drink is cold enough.
Can I get ice?
We are out of ice.

Ani rotza lehazmin beytza reka. (I would like to order a soft-boiled egg.)
Ayin Hafook? (Over Easy?)
Lo! Beytza Reka! (No! Soft Boiled egg!)
Beytza b’mayim? (Egg cooked in water?)
Hmmm. Sort of.
Im haklifa. (With the shell.)
Lo. Blee haklifa. (No. Without the shell.)
Bob interrupted.
I think they mean poached egg.
Mevushal b’mayim im haklifa l’meshek shalosh dakot! (Boil in water with the shell for three minutes!)
Ani tzareeka livdok. (I must to check).
We were in the CafĂ© in Wolfson Tower – a residence popular among American retirees. I wondered to Bob how a restaurant catering mainly to a 70+ population could not know about soft-boiled eggs. The waitress returned.
Hem lo maskimim. (They do not agree.)
Hem lo yecholim la’asot et zeh? (They can’t do it?)
Yecholim aval lo maskimim. Ein efsheroot. (They can but they do not agree. There is no possibility.)
I actually went through this routine in a few restaurants before I just gave up and started ordering my eggs poached.

There were tasks I have yet to accomplish
For example:
Ani Ohev Song
This one I actually remember – there was a cute song on the radio with a guy (or girl?) singing about how they love this and they love that. I want to find it and buy it but I don’t know how to find and buy music in Israel. So for now, it stays on my TO DO list.

Hagiga B’Snuker
This is an Israeli movie my friend Yigal told me to watch. I actually know where to find it – there’s a movie guy in the shuk – I just have to remember to go there when I’m in the shuk! Somehow between buying lettuce, halva, meat and pickles, it never occurs to me to go looking for movies. Still on the list.

Hayiti B’Shok!
This is an expression in Hebrew that means (you’ll never believe it), I was in shock. This was on my task list to remind me that one day I want to post about all the English words that have made their way into the Hebrew. Apparently before the Anglo influence, Israeli’s did not go on dates (dayt), have perspective (perspectiva), or be specific (spetzifi). What surprises me more are the words that DO NOT mean what they sound like in English. For example, yeediot is not idiot and ananas is not bananas.

www.cho.co.il
On our brief Netanya get-away (to the prison/hotel with soft robes but no pool access) we were given the most delicious chocolate rations. I have big plans to procure more of this chocolate some day.

And then there were the tidbits which were intended for blogging but just never made it
Like the Cellcom conversation.
Once a week I have this conversation (in Hebrew) with Cellcom (the Israeli cell phone service provider we chose one fateful day…)
Hi, this is Cellcom. Can I speak with Robert.
Robert cannot speak but I am his wife. I will speak for him.
We want to *something something something*.
Can you say it again? Slowly?
We want to *something something something* monthly bill.
Is there a problem?
No! No problem!
Are you offering me gifts?
Yes! Gifts!
Robert does not want gifts.
What are you talking about???
No gifts!
Are you sure?
I am sure!
Okay.

I stopped asking them to stop calling. Apparently there is no ‘do not call list’ in Israel. I look at it as an opportunity to practice my Hebrew. Each week I get further and further into the conversation before I stop it cold with the “Problem or gifts?” question.

I guess I can take Cellcom conversation off my TO DO list now.



Oh, yeah. And this guy. Eggplant Gumby. I've been meaning to post him for a while. He's just been sitting on my Blackberry waiting.




Hag Sameah!

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Swirling Thoughts #200 – BBQs, bonfires, and family visits. the Omer in Israel.

A thick cloud of bar-b-q smoke hung low over Jerusalem Tuesday morning when I picked up my parents for what has become their annual ‘Yom Hatzmaut through Lag B’Omer’ visit. As they left this past Sunday night, the smoke was just clearing from a night of bon-firing that, in my totally-prude-about-fire opinion, bordered on the obscene.

To give you a flavor, in Brooklyn we used to drive around Mill Basin to see the over-the-top Christmas decorations – each house out-doing the next. When I picked up Barbara from her Lag B’Omer bonfire (yes, it is normal for children to have their own bonfire), we drove around Efrat looking at one bonfire bigger and higher than the next, some of them as tall as those Mill Basin houses.

As always, the visit was fun but too short. This time we had the added bonus of my brother and sister in law joining us so that it became a holy land family reunion. Complete with camel rides, Dead Sea floating, old city touring and lots of (you guessed it) Israeli breakfasting.

Cultural differences that I’ve gotten so used to I hardly notice were brought back to my awareness as my brother and his wife had the oh-so-familiar experience of wanting to buy something and the clerk refusing to sell it to them.
Mark: We like this shirt for Sarah.
Clerk: It is too big.
Sarah: Um, I like it.
Mark: Me too. I like it on her.
Clerk, decisively: No. It is too big.
Shirt is taken away.

Also I was reminded of the lack of formal definitions in this country. For example, wheelchair accessible.
Bob: I’m taking your parents to Gavna for lunch.
Me: But what about all those stairs?
Bob: I called. The guy said there’s a way to get a wheelchair to the upstairs.
Me: Wow. I had no idea Gavna was wheelchair accessible!
Later…
Me: How was Gavna?
Bob: Great!
Me: How did you get to the upstairs area?
Bob: We went up the stairs.
Me: But what about the wheelchair?
Bob: Yeah. The guy came to help carry the wheelchair up the staircase.

And then there’s the formidable sign prohibiting entry to everyone except for authorized vehicles. What exactly is an authorized vehicle? What constitutes authorization? Is there authorization after the fact?

Anyone who has been to the Kotel (Western Wall) in the Old City of Jerusalem has either been dropped off at the exact entrance by a taxi or tour bus or walked through the cobblestone alleyways of the Old City. Either way, you cannot help but notice the cars mysteriously parked right there at the Kotel entrance. How did they get there? Who authorized them to park there? In that ultimate dream parking lot.

I wanted to drive to the entrance of the Kotel. It’s been a while and I sort of forgot how. I drove toward Zion Gate. When faced with huge DO NOT ENTER signs, I realized that the route I wanted to take was one way. The wrong way. I pulled into the Zion Gate parking lot to recalculate my route. I asked a tour bus driver what to do.
I have my dad with a wheelchair and I want to drop him off at the Kotel entrance. How should I go?
You should drive in through Jaffa Gate.
Drive through the Old City?
Yes.
It’s allowed?
NO! It is prohibited!
Um….
But it’s the best way to go. It’s how I would go.
Okay…

And so we made our way to Jaffa Gate. Past signs in Hebrew and in English reading:
Entry for Authorized Vehicles ONLY
I figured I could get some ad-hoc authorization from whomever would dare stop me. I then drove in with so much confidence, no one would dare stop me.

We wound through the Old City on the road built in 1898 for Kaiser Wilhelm II. The Kaiser, of course, traveling by horse back, and not by Mitsubishi Grandis. We all sucked in our breath. As if that would make our car thinner.

And sure as can be, we arrived, without incident, at the Kotel entrance. The car in front of me was involved in a shouting match with one of the police officers guarding the entrance.
Meleh! Ein macomb! (Full! No room!)
He wasn’t buying it and he wasn’t budging.
Ein! Ein macomb! (None! No room!)
I was holding up a line of (authorized) taxis who were starting to beep but I could go no where because of this guy. I was sure the police would be annoyed and frazzled by the time they got to me but no, the same police officer came to my window with a very patient, “ma?” (what?)
I started to explain.
My father cannot walk so well to the Kotel and so we have a wheelchair-
Lehikaness!
(enter!)
I was confused. I had listened to this same officer shouting ‘no room!’ for about five minutes.
Should I drop him off or park?
Park!
He motioned me to go around the car of the guy in front of me. He was still not budging.
And so it was. We were authorized.

POSTSCRIPT
* the fish pond is well on its way to full rehabilitation. picture of our new fish (and the 3 survivors from the original crew) to follow.
* paper towels are back in town
* my transplanted (from the drain) lentil plant is thriving in a genie bottle in my garden

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Swirling Thoughts #199 - the one before 200

Things I never knew

Rosie would fail a simple zoo trip in English.
Rosie and Bob saw a beautiful colorful bird outside my window this past Shabbat.
Look, Aba! A tookie!
Um, Rosie, what’s a tookie?
That bird, Aba! It’s a tookie.
Do you know what a tookie is called in English, Rosie?
Silence.
It’s a parrot.
A carrot?
Parrot!
Look, Aba! A carrot!

Living here matters. But not in that lofty spiritual way.
Ani gara po b’aretz! (I live here, in the land).
I never said that when booking a Florida hotel for Winter Break. What a weird reaction I would have gotten! But I sure did say it today when booking a Dead Sea hotel. I saw those internet rates in dollars. Ouch! Yes, it seems Israeli’s get different rates on Israeli hotel rooms than Americans. Better ones. But then they pay the VAT tax so maybe it’s a wash. Maybe. But can you imagine hotels in Manhattan charging different rates for Americans vs. foreign tourists?

Medicine is medicine. And as such, it is never full price.
The big bottle of Advil costs 85 shekels. I was ready to pay. They asked for my cartis.
Huh?
My Kupat Cholim card.
Um, okay.
Suddenly the price was 40 shekels. Half-priced Advil – an unexpected perk of socialized medicine.

They say Gd protects children and stupid people. Where do fish fit in?
When I called the electrician the first time, Bob was shouting in the background.
Tell him it’s a matter of life and death.
Of course he was referring to the fish, dying at an alarming rate (we went from 10 to 3) in our fishpond, now overgrown with algae since our pump stopped pumping, due to some unidentified electrical problem. Hence the call to the electrician.
I said no such thing and just asked when he’d be coming.
Tomorrow, ma’am.
He did not show up tomorrow and so then Bob called himself.
It’s a matter of life and death.
The electrician was here the same afternoon.
He apologized to me for not coming right away.
Huh? Oh, because the husband called you with the life and death thing you thought the wife was freaking out about some electrical problem. Of course! Not!
No, no, it’s Bob’s fish. They are dying. It’s real life and death. Not sarcastic life and death!
Relief, mixed with panic. The fish!
A plan was formulated. That was 5 days ago.
I was not involved in the plan but I think Bob needs to go the fish farm store to replace the pump before the electrician can work his electrical magic. In any case, the broken pump is still sitting on the side of the algae-ridden fish pond. Bob is close to 6000 miles away. I peek in on the remaining three fish each day wondering if they know their redemption, while on hold, is at hand. They are oblivious. And alive.

I thought paper towels were among the random household supplies that could appear to be seasonal (like 409, trash bags, & toilet wipes). Now I know the truth (they really ARE).
I went to the makolet yesterday with a short list which included paper towels. The makolet had none. I asked.
Nigmaru.
Literally, 'they finished on us'.
I went back today. Still no paper towels. I asked again.
This time, a woman who seemed really interested in helping me.
Haser kol ha’aretz. All the land is missing them.
Kol ha’aretz? All the land?
With a totally straight face she answered me.
Yes. After the Passover holiday, you know…
Wow. All that Passover cleaning takes its toll. The run on paper towels really is a nation-wide seasonal phenomenon.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Swirling Thoughts #198 - Kever Yosef. Then, Then, and Now.

During Sukkot (2010) Bob and I visited Kever Yosef in Shchem. We did so in the middle of the night with a military transport. 1000 people went in that night, in three shifts of about 350 people each. We met at the Inbal Hotel in Jerusalem at 10pm. We boarded a bus with people from all over – Israel, England, America – and made our way to Elon Moreh Yeshivah, near Shchem.

We were greeted by the Rosh Yeshivah, HaRav Elkayim Levanon, who offered us a heart-wrenching account of the events of 2000. Up until Rosh Hashanah of 2000, talmidim from the Hesder Yeshivah in Elon Moreh (as well as talmidim from Od Yosef Chai) would come daily to pray at Kever Yosef. That Erev Rosh Hashanah, Palestinian “policemen” turned them away. By Shabbat Tshuva the IDF had given over control of Kever Yosef to the Palestinian Authority.

Upon hearing of the abandonment of Kever Yosef, Rabbi Hillel Lieberman, z”l, walked toward Kever Yosef that Shabbat morning with the intention of saving the holy Torah scrolls and sifrei kodesh. Rabbi Lieberman was gunned down by bloodthirsty Arabs who followed up by attacking his funeral procession. He left behind a wife and seven children. Thousands of holy books were burned as the Kever itself was looted, desecrated and destroyed by local mobs, as the Palestinian Authority did nothing.

We allowed ourselves to be inspired that night by the very recent event of the restoration of the tombstone to the kever, just a few days before. Just as Moshe Rabeinu personally set about collecting the bones of Yosef Ha Tzadik from Mitzrayim in order to bring them to his family’s land in Shchem for proper burial, Jewish workers carefully attended to the restoration of the tombstone.

That night in Kever Yosef was nothing like I anticipated. I fully expected to tiptoe into the kever but was instead greeted by the joyous sounds of song and as I quickly figured out the configuration of the site (one room houses the kever, at first women were allowed in to pray while the men waited in the other, empty room), I understood the men waiting were overcome with joy at the very prospect of returning to this holy site. Many of them were Breslever Hasidim – a group that never severed its connection with this holy site – regularly making their way to the kever to pray, both with and without military protection, always with fervent faith and joy.

The experience was brief but powerful. I shared it with my children as well as my hope that soon they would be able to visit this holy site without relying on the cover of darkness and a military escort.

Fast forward to Pesah of 2011.
While four of my children hiked on a hol hamoed tiyul with their Aba, four other children laid their Aba to rest.

A Breslever Hasid from Elon Moreh, a father of four, part of a group of 15 men who regularly visit Kever Yosef to pray, was shot at close range by Palestinian “policemen” for the unspeakable crime of praying when it wasn’t time to pray.

Even though I spent most of the day reading, thinking and crying about the morning’s events and the ensuing nonsensical explanations offered by everyone from the IDF to the Palestinian Authority to the media (does it really make sense to any of them that the penalty for prayer without permission is death?), it took me by surprise when my Becky came home from her friend’s house and explained to me about the boy that was killed today in Shchem when he went there to pray with the army. I had to correct much of her information – it was a man, not a boy.
What do you mean, a man?
An Aba.
Her eyes got wide.
With four children.
She wanted to hear every detail all over again.
The Aba was part of a group of men that prayed at Kever Yosef every week.
Did they go with the army?
No they did not. They went every week to pray, but not always with the army. And today the Arab police shot at them.
I cringed as I said the word police.
But they’re not really police, you know.
I know
, she said. Instinctively sensing that real police do not shoot at people’s Abas who have come to pray. Even if they have come to pray at “not the right time”.

Ironic how the most touching piece I read about Rabbi Lieberman, z"l, was penned by Noam Livnat, father of Ben Yosef Livnat, z"l. As we mourn the death of this young hasid we mourn all over again the death of Rabbi Lieberman, z"l, and the tragic abandonment of Yosef Ha Tzadik.

Saintly in life and holy in death
In Memory of Hillel Lieberman
by Noam Livnat, friend and companion of the martyred saint Hillel
October, 2000
Hillel, Hillel....Hillel, Hillel....Humble, innocent, with shining countenance...principled, upright and faithful...soul-searching, modest, ever working on his character, A true servant of G-d. Your image is so alive that I am incapable of relating to you as to someone no longer here. We shall relate the same way to the bet midrash "Od Yosef Chai" which was and is no more, and to Joseph's Tomb in Shechem, where -- make no mistake -- it seems we will not be returning for a very long time... All the same, all three live on through us, and they are with us constantly. Their vitality continue forever.Joseph himself was the same way: After all, Jacob, his mourning father, never let the memory of his beloved son fade. "Joseph lives on..." (Genesis 45:28).Yes. Joseph lives on. Not here, but in another place, as when Joseph was found to be "ruling over all of Egypt" (Genesis 45:26). Hillel Eliyahu, son of Rabbi Zevulun and Bracha Lieberman. A young man arrived from New York with a shepherd's staff in hand. He "encountered the place and spent the night there" (Genesis 28:11), and in the morning he was a different person... Hillel "traveled through the land as far as Shechem, coming to Elon Moreh, and the Canaanites were then in the Land" (Genesis 12:6). Henceforth, over the course of fifteen years, Hillel held to Shechem with powerful yearning.The Talmud teaches that when Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish passed away, Rabbi Yochanan, his study partner of many years, lost his mind. The Rabbis asked G-d's mercy and Rabbi Yochanan left this world. The question is widely asked: Why didn't the sages pray for G-d to cure him? The answer they give is that no benefit would have derived from this. Had Rabbi Yochanan regained his sanity, he would once more have seen that Resh Lakish was no more and would again have lost his mind... It was the same with our Hillel. He could not bear Joseph's once more being disgraced and abandoned, his brothers' betrayal, the degradation of "Joseph's house going up in flames" (Ovadiah v. 18)... Apparently he had only one means of rectifying his situation -- to be joined with Joseph, and with Shlomo and Harel... Sometimes the departed are eulogized along the lines of "Acharei Mot-Kedoshim-Emor" [After they die, say they are holy], even when in life they were not known for being saintly. Not so with Hillel. Already in life, he was recognized as being unique. His sterling traits were without parallel. I will not talk about Hillel the family man, Hillel who honored his father and mother, Hillel who scrupulously observed the mitzvot, Hillel who loved the Torah, who generously gave to charity, who was active in the community and on behalf of the whole Jewish People -- Hillel, the lover of all Israel. Although he was unique in all of these areas, head and shoulders above everyone else, this would not have been enough to place him in a different class. However... Who else composed poems to the Holy City of Shechem? He wrote: "Let me go and see the city of Shechem, crown of the Torah..." Who else was as careful as he not to let even one day pass without prostrating himself at Joseph's tomb? Who was as happy as Hillel was every time he went to the yeshiva, to the gravesite of the tzaddik, to his beloved Shechem? Who worked harder than Hillel did to see that Scriptural megilot were completed for the Aron Kodesh in Shechem? Moreover, when it was time to acquire festive white coverings for the four Torah scrolls in the Shechem compound, to be used on the High Holy Days, it was Hillel who saw this project through to completion. And it was Hillel, himself, who managed to dress the four Torahs in these scrolls on Erev Rosh Hashanah. Just one week later, on Shabbat Shuvah, these same Torahs were smuggled out of Shechem in the middle of the night -- a terrible desecration of G-d's name. How like shrouds these coverings became! Would anyone among us besides Hillel recite Tikun Chatzot, the prayers recited in the middle of the night? Hillel would do this, sitting on the floor crying bitter tears, weeping over the exile of the divine presence and the destruction of Jerusalem. Whenever we heard of any Jew suffering a martyr's death, who but Hillel would decree upon himself a week's abstinence from meat? When Jews were prevented from entering Joseph's Tomb, would anyone besides Hillel sleep on the floor?...Hillel would always go to hospitals to visit those wounded in terrorist attacks, people whom he did not know. He would remember to be thankful for every small kindness done for him, and he would continue to feel obliged even years later... Due to his love for Eretz Yisrael, he would do his utmost to avoid eating produce from abroad... To be like Yosef who "at seventeen shepherded his father's sheep" (Genesis 37:2), and to emulate G-d, the "Shepherd of Israel who leads Joseph like a flock" (Psalm 80:2), Hillel established a sheep pen in his backyard...Hillel, more than anyone else, tied himself to Joseph, to Joseph's traits, to Joseph's Tomb and to the city of Shechem... He knew how to find in every single portion of the Torah the aspect relating to Joseph, and to prove by all sorts of wondrous means that that part was the main one... He delved into every source in the Written and Oral Torah having to do with Joseph and Shechem, and he searched far and wide for midrashim in this regard that had been lost. Moreover, he knew how to explain, even to those far removed, the special significance of these matters to our time... Hillel Eliyahu. Hillel -- and EliyahuHe was as far from anger, and as bright of countenance, as Hillel the Elder. He related gently to all people. He hated controversy and fled from it. No one showed as much appreciation for rabbis as Hillel did. He would attach himself to every saint and to every Torah scholar and gain something from them. He would guard his tongue out of the love of Israel in him. With his every action, he fulfilled Psalm 34:15: "Do good!" Through his humility he would fulfill Hillel's dictum, "If I am only for myself, then what am I?" (Avot 1:14), and through his alacrity to perform every mitzvah he would fulfill, "and if not now, when?" Ultimately, when Shechem was abandoned and Joseph was sold to the Ishmaelites, he fulfilled with his own body, "And if I am not for myself, then who will be for me?"... Yet he was also a man of principles like Eliyahu -- a zealot for his people and for his G-d, and for his land. He would forcefully protest the desecration of G-d's name. When such things happened -- and only then! -- he would refuse to show honor to those more prominent and more powerful than he. He saw himself, as long as he lived, as a student of Rabbi Meir Kahana. Hillel was a person who asked someone to pray for him at our forefathers' grave-site, the Tomb of the Patriarchs in Chevron, that he should merit "devotion and a true connection to G-d" (!!). Like Eliyahu, he concealed himself in a cave, and like Eliyahu as well, he ascended heavenward in a storm, wrapped in his Tallit. Hillel, dearest of people, beloved by all, whose smile lit up the world -- may your memory be blessed, and may your soul be bound up in the bond of everlasting life! And may you be an advocate on behalf of us, who are weaker than you, and who have remained behind...And may G-d, before our eyes and through our agency, exact our great vengeance, the revenge over your spilt blood.