My First Time

Despite the ongoing Operation (or can we call it a war now?) in Gaza, Shabbat started as normal in Jerusalem. I took my four year old son to synagogue, while my wife stayed with our two year old and her 90 year old grandmother, a Holocaust survivor. While my son started eating parts of the candy collection he had accrued (one of the major benefits of being the only child in the synagogue!) , I started praying. We finished Mincha (afternoon service) and started the opening services of Shabbat. As we started Ba’me madlikin, a siren started.

For more, click here for my latest piece in the Times of Israel.
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Denane

On the way to gan today with Nissim, I saw an old Ethiopian man walking along slowly.  As we approached him, I asked Nissim, “Can you say denane (how are you in Amharic)?”  Nissim happily repeated the word.  As we got closer to the man, I told Nissim, “When we pass the old man, tell him denane, ok?”  Nissim nodded and as we passed him, he looked up at him, smiled and said, “denane.”  The old man’s face lit up, and he said, “Boker Tov!”  After a short conversation with Nissim, we continued on our trek to gan.

One of the things I love most about Israel is how many different cultures we have here.  When things seem dark – as it does currently with our country being bombarded by rocket fire in the South yet again, and 6 incidents in the last 10 days on the Syrian border – it’s nice to focus on this beauty, or use it to teach your son how to be respectful to elders. 

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