My usual way of resolving grammatical uncertainties is to plug the two options into Google and see which comes up with more hints. But what do you do when the options have the exact same number of hits? And seriously, what are the chances of that happening?
UPDATE: the first time I tried it, I got the same number of hits for both; now the number is slightly different.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Random mikdash-related thoughts
1. In Divrei Hayamim Alef 23-26 we read that King David assigned the tribe of Levi to tasks in the new (not-yet-built) Temple, particularly singing songs, and serving as guards. Why were these additional tasks necessary, and why specifically at this moment?
From Bamidbar 4 it is clear that the Levites' only task was to carry parts of the Mishkan. This task made lots of sense in the desert, when Israel was wandering and the Mishkan was carried wherever they went. It was less necessary after entering Eretz Yisrael, when the Mishkan was mostly settled in one place, but still could theoretically be moved; on several occasions it was in fact moved. But when David declared that Jerusalem would be the site of a permanent unmovable Temple, he permanently prevented the Levites from doing the only work which had ever been required of them. So as to keep them as a separate tribe actually filling some functional purpose, David had to find new things for them to do. Because the Temple was going to be bigger and cooler that the Mishkan, there was a functional need for new workers (guards). Also, David's own background as a religious musician made him the right person to introduce music into the service (at least more formally than had been the case previously).
2. Question: did the kohanim in the Mishkan and Temple wear tefillin (and/or tzitzit)? The Rambam says yes (Hilchot Klei Hamikdash 10:2). But do you ever see tefillin being worn in the beit hamikdash picture books? I don't think so. (Perhaps other authorities disagree with the Rambam, I haven't checked.)
From a philosophical perspective, what is the purpose of tefillin/tzitzit? What is the purpose of the Temple garments? Do the answers to these two questions influence our opinion on whether both were to be worn simultaneously? Does the halacha of priests wearing tefillin affect our understanding of the purposes of tefillin and Temple garments? I have no conclusions. Just food for thought.
From Bamidbar 4 it is clear that the Levites' only task was to carry parts of the Mishkan. This task made lots of sense in the desert, when Israel was wandering and the Mishkan was carried wherever they went. It was less necessary after entering Eretz Yisrael, when the Mishkan was mostly settled in one place, but still could theoretically be moved; on several occasions it was in fact moved. But when David declared that Jerusalem would be the site of a permanent unmovable Temple, he permanently prevented the Levites from doing the only work which had ever been required of them. So as to keep them as a separate tribe actually filling some functional purpose, David had to find new things for them to do. Because the Temple was going to be bigger and cooler that the Mishkan, there was a functional need for new workers (guards). Also, David's own background as a religious musician made him the right person to introduce music into the service (at least more formally than had been the case previously).
2. Question: did the kohanim in the Mishkan and Temple wear tefillin (and/or tzitzit)? The Rambam says yes (Hilchot Klei Hamikdash 10:2). But do you ever see tefillin being worn in the beit hamikdash picture books? I don't think so. (Perhaps other authorities disagree with the Rambam, I haven't checked.)
From a philosophical perspective, what is the purpose of tefillin/tzitzit? What is the purpose of the Temple garments? Do the answers to these two questions influence our opinion on whether both were to be worn simultaneously? Does the halacha of priests wearing tefillin affect our understanding of the purposes of tefillin and Temple garments? I have no conclusions. Just food for thought.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Thoughts on Vayechi
Vayechi is the only parsha in the Torah which starts in the middle of a line and not at a parshiyah break. This is understandable because the only nearby parshiyah break is pretty depressing and not something you would want to focus on, but it obscures what is going on in the parshiyah. So it's useful to ignore the parsha break and dissect the parshiyah on its own merits. Here are the parshiyah's sections as I see them:
It is clear that the parshiyah covers a long time (close to 17 years) and thus is diverse in terms of the stories covered. However, I think it can be divided among two distinct themes. Thematically they perhaps belong in separate parshiyot, but because they are chronologically interwoven they are presented together. The themes are:
Sefer Breishit has several main "theses" which are emphasized in story after story. These are: God's authority over the world; the existence of reward and punishment; God's fulfillment of promises, and how and why the Jewish people came to exist (and to be in Egypt). The first three theses are evident in the story of Egypt's poverty and Yaakov's family's wealth. And all four them are evident in the satisfaction Yaakov receives at the end of his life. The common element of the stories of Yaakov in Egypt is that all of them help prove that Yaakov was rewarded in the end. This conclusion, which attests to three of the theses of Sefer Breishit, is sufficient reason for the various stories to be presented in one parshiyah.
There is one loose end to this understanding. The rewards pictured in Sefer Breishit, and certainly the promises and covenants God made, are implicitly set in Eretz Yisrael. But Yaakov and his family, who we are now supposed to picture as being rewarded, have been exiled to Egypt. Their story reminds us of Yishmael, who was exiled from Eretz Yisrael and married an Egyptian woman. Has Yaakov in fact been excluded from Jewish destiny as Yishmael was?
The last section of the parshiyah comes to answer this question. Yaakov is rich and successful in Egypt. But he has not cut off his connections with his ancestors or with Eretz Yisrael, and in his final moments he acts to ensure his return to both of them. This is an important correction to the personal story of Yaakov, so it belongs in this parshiyah, and not with the other stories of his death in the chapters that follow.
When Yosef saw that his father was laying his right hand on the head of Ephraim, it displeased him. He raised his father's hand, to move it from Ephraim's head to Menashe's head. Yosef said to his father: "Not so, my father, for this is the first-born; put your right hand upon his head." (48:17-18)
This scene is very reminiscent of Breishit chapter 27, when Yaakov took Esav's blessing. In both cases the aging patriarch, near death and unable to see, wants to bless his descendants. In both, there is debate over whether the older or younger son should receive the primary blessing. And in both, a parent of the two kids tries to maneuver this blessing to the "right" son when the patriarch seems to be getting it "wrong".
But at the same time, the manner of the blessing is very different, and so are its results. It is hard not to see this blessing as a "tikkun" or reparation for the deception regarding Yitzchak's blessing, and also for the favoritism Yaakov had shown to Yosef before his kidnapping. The mistakes which had been made in the previous two generations, leading to bitter and violent conflict between Yaakov and Yosef and their respective brothers, are repaired in the blessing of Yosef's sons. Here both brothers get the same blessing, and only in passing does Yaakov mention that Efraim's blessing is more substantive. Also, in contrast to the exclusion of Rivka and Yaakov's wives from the blessing process, here Yosef is present and can argue the details of the blessings until he is convinced that they are acceptable. And perhaps most importantly, both brothers are present when each other's blessings are given. This seems like a minor point, but I think it leads to a degree of understanding and acceptance which was sadly missing among the previous sets of siblings.
In later Jewish history we find many conflicts between Israel and Edom, and between various alignments of the tribes of Israel. But there was never a tradition of conflict between the tribes of Efraim and Menashe, despite their proximity and power. The thoughtfulness of Yaakov's final blessing may be one reason why.
They sent a message to Yosef, saying: "Your father did command before he died, saying: 'Say thus to Yosef: Please forgive your brothers' transgression, and their sin, in that they did evil to you.' And now, please forgive the transgression of the servants of your father's God."
And Yosef wept when they spoke to him.
And his brethren went and fell down before his face, and said: "Behold, we are your slaves." (50:16-50:18)
I have two questions here, which I think are related. First, why does Yosef cry in the middle of the brothers' plea for forgiveness, making it seem like the end of the plea - where they put themselves at his mercy - would not induce him to cry? Secondly, if Yaakov wanted to ask Yosef to forgive the brothers, wouldn't he have asked Yosef directly, instead of having the brothers quote his words? Yaakov and Yosef certainly had plenty of opportunity to talk before Yaakov's death!
I suspect that the brother's quoting Yaakov is a bad lie - Yaakov never actually said what the brothers quote him as saying - and Yosef knows it. Our story has an interesting parallel in the previous generation, when Esav postpones his plan to murder Yaakov until after their father dies. It seems the brothers assume Yosef will do the same, and the only way to save themselves is to invent a story which makes Yaakov's opinion relevant after he is physically gone. As unlikely as it is that Yaakov would have made the statement to the brothers and not to Yosef, the brothers are so desperate that they feel forced to tell this particular lie. Yosef is shocked to learn that they are so terrified of his imagined vengeance and will go to such extremes to try to escape it. There is a gigantic gap between their conception of him and his real intentions, and Yosef cries upon learning that the divide between them is so deep. He learns of this gap not from their request for forgiveness, which he could reasonably have expected from them, but from the lie which they felt forced to tell and which he detects.
UPDATE: Two insightful articles.
- 1. Yaakov arrives
- 2. Yaakov sees Yosef, says he can now die
- 3. Sons presented to Pharoah
- 4. Yaakov presented to Pharoah
- 5. Yaakov etc. sustained with best of land
- 6. The Egyptians are hungry; they sell everything to Yosef for food. All of them except the priests are subjugated to Pharoah
- 7. Yaakov lives richly in Egypt
- 8. Yaakov is close to death, has Yosef swear to bury him in Hevron (this last section is the only one in parshat Vayechi)
It is clear that the parshiyah covers a long time (close to 17 years) and thus is diverse in terms of the stories covered. However, I think it can be divided among two distinct themes. Thematically they perhaps belong in separate parshiyot, but because they are chronologically interwoven they are presented together. The themes are:
- (5, 6, 7) The juxtaposition of Egypt descending into poverty and subjugation with the prosperity of the priests, of Yosef (who was part of a priestly family), and of Yaakov. On one hand this is a natural result and reflects God's protection of Yaakov's family. On the other hand its morality is dubious and it is a clear motivation for the Jewish enslavement which follows. Therefore, it sheds light on what comes both before and after it.
- (1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8) The personal story of Yaakov coming to Egypt. He has had a very difficult life; this is evident from previous stories but is reemphasized here in section 2 and 4. But finally, this parshiyah tells us, the story ends happily and Yaakov gets to live comfortably with his entire family. (Sections 3 and 4, where Yaakov's sons and then Yaakov are presented to Pharoah, are slightly weird. Perhaps section 3 is just there to provide context for section 4, which is obviously relevant to Yaakov's story.)
Sefer Breishit has several main "theses" which are emphasized in story after story. These are: God's authority over the world; the existence of reward and punishment; God's fulfillment of promises, and how and why the Jewish people came to exist (and to be in Egypt). The first three theses are evident in the story of Egypt's poverty and Yaakov's family's wealth. And all four them are evident in the satisfaction Yaakov receives at the end of his life. The common element of the stories of Yaakov in Egypt is that all of them help prove that Yaakov was rewarded in the end. This conclusion, which attests to three of the theses of Sefer Breishit, is sufficient reason for the various stories to be presented in one parshiyah.
There is one loose end to this understanding. The rewards pictured in Sefer Breishit, and certainly the promises and covenants God made, are implicitly set in Eretz Yisrael. But Yaakov and his family, who we are now supposed to picture as being rewarded, have been exiled to Egypt. Their story reminds us of Yishmael, who was exiled from Eretz Yisrael and married an Egyptian woman. Has Yaakov in fact been excluded from Jewish destiny as Yishmael was?
The last section of the parshiyah comes to answer this question. Yaakov is rich and successful in Egypt. But he has not cut off his connections with his ancestors or with Eretz Yisrael, and in his final moments he acts to ensure his return to both of them. This is an important correction to the personal story of Yaakov, so it belongs in this parshiyah, and not with the other stories of his death in the chapters that follow.
When Yosef saw that his father was laying his right hand on the head of Ephraim, it displeased him. He raised his father's hand, to move it from Ephraim's head to Menashe's head. Yosef said to his father: "Not so, my father, for this is the first-born; put your right hand upon his head." (48:17-18)
This scene is very reminiscent of Breishit chapter 27, when Yaakov took Esav's blessing. In both cases the aging patriarch, near death and unable to see, wants to bless his descendants. In both, there is debate over whether the older or younger son should receive the primary blessing. And in both, a parent of the two kids tries to maneuver this blessing to the "right" son when the patriarch seems to be getting it "wrong".
But at the same time, the manner of the blessing is very different, and so are its results. It is hard not to see this blessing as a "tikkun" or reparation for the deception regarding Yitzchak's blessing, and also for the favoritism Yaakov had shown to Yosef before his kidnapping. The mistakes which had been made in the previous two generations, leading to bitter and violent conflict between Yaakov and Yosef and their respective brothers, are repaired in the blessing of Yosef's sons. Here both brothers get the same blessing, and only in passing does Yaakov mention that Efraim's blessing is more substantive. Also, in contrast to the exclusion of Rivka and Yaakov's wives from the blessing process, here Yosef is present and can argue the details of the blessings until he is convinced that they are acceptable. And perhaps most importantly, both brothers are present when each other's blessings are given. This seems like a minor point, but I think it leads to a degree of understanding and acceptance which was sadly missing among the previous sets of siblings.
In later Jewish history we find many conflicts between Israel and Edom, and between various alignments of the tribes of Israel. But there was never a tradition of conflict between the tribes of Efraim and Menashe, despite their proximity and power. The thoughtfulness of Yaakov's final blessing may be one reason why.
They sent a message to Yosef, saying: "Your father did command before he died, saying: 'Say thus to Yosef: Please forgive your brothers' transgression, and their sin, in that they did evil to you.' And now, please forgive the transgression of the servants of your father's God."
And Yosef wept when they spoke to him.
And his brethren went and fell down before his face, and said: "Behold, we are your slaves." (50:16-50:18)
I have two questions here, which I think are related. First, why does Yosef cry in the middle of the brothers' plea for forgiveness, making it seem like the end of the plea - where they put themselves at his mercy - would not induce him to cry? Secondly, if Yaakov wanted to ask Yosef to forgive the brothers, wouldn't he have asked Yosef directly, instead of having the brothers quote his words? Yaakov and Yosef certainly had plenty of opportunity to talk before Yaakov's death!
I suspect that the brother's quoting Yaakov is a bad lie - Yaakov never actually said what the brothers quote him as saying - and Yosef knows it. Our story has an interesting parallel in the previous generation, when Esav postpones his plan to murder Yaakov until after their father dies. It seems the brothers assume Yosef will do the same, and the only way to save themselves is to invent a story which makes Yaakov's opinion relevant after he is physically gone. As unlikely as it is that Yaakov would have made the statement to the brothers and not to Yosef, the brothers are so desperate that they feel forced to tell this particular lie. Yosef is shocked to learn that they are so terrified of his imagined vengeance and will go to such extremes to try to escape it. There is a gigantic gap between their conception of him and his real intentions, and Yosef cries upon learning that the divide between them is so deep. He learns of this gap not from their request for forgiveness, which he could reasonably have expected from them, but from the lie which they felt forced to tell and which he detects.
UPDATE: Two insightful articles.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Ve'erastich le betzedek uvemishpat uvechesed uverachamim
Last night I went to the wedding of someone I know from, um, college. The word had gotten out that people who knew the couple, but were not formally invited, were welcome to come anyway. And indeed, when we got there, on the name-card table there was a sign which said something like "Anyone who doesn't have a card - feel welcome to come in and sit at one of the open tables!" These open tables turned out to be something like a third of the wedding hall, and they were mostly full.
I don't know if this was typical for Israeli weddings (this is the first one I've been to), but it left me with a very good feeling. The chupah is shaped like a tent without walls. As such is bears a striking resemblance to Avraham and Sarah's tent according to the midrash, which was also open on all four sides, so as to encourage guests to visit and partake in their hospitality. By implicitly welcoming and invitating anyone who might come along, the couple gave us a nice reminder of the behavior of Avraham and Sarah. I can't imagine a more auspicious beginning to one's married life.
I don't know if this was typical for Israeli weddings (this is the first one I've been to), but it left me with a very good feeling. The chupah is shaped like a tent without walls. As such is bears a striking resemblance to Avraham and Sarah's tent according to the midrash, which was also open on all four sides, so as to encourage guests to visit and partake in their hospitality. By implicitly welcoming and invitating anyone who might come along, the couple gave us a nice reminder of the behavior of Avraham and Sarah. I can't imagine a more auspicious beginning to one's married life.
Monday, January 01, 2007
When "rats with wings" doesn't mean pigeons
Sometimes I wish I had a digital camera, and this afternoon was one of those times. I was walking along and happened across a 6-inch-long bat laying motionless on the sidewalk. It had probably been living in one of the caves in the Carmel and, um, drank antifreeze or something. Anyway, it was the first bat I can ever remember seeing, and probably the coolest animal I've seen since my last trip to the zoo. And now, I will now add the obligatory relevant cool link.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Hypocrisy
I don't have time to make a thoughtful post of my own, so I'll just post an insightful link. Please ignore the hypothetical possibility that I might have had ample time to find and read that link.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
On the twelfth day of Chanukah, Achira ben Enan gave to me...
On Chanukah we read what may be the most boring part of the Torah: the list of the twelve princes and the gifts they presented at the dedication of the Mishkan (Bamidbar 7). Though all twelve princes give exactly the same gift, the exact description of the gift is repeated almost verbatim for each of the twelve. Describing each gift takes more than 150 words (in my English translation) - so the overall passage comes out to 89 verses and more than 1900 words, with about 1600 of those words being exact repetitions of what was previously stated. Unless you have an an extremely good baal koreh, it's almost impossible to pay attention to the whole thing.
Hoping to explain why the repetition is necessary, I dredged my memory and came up with recollections from my college graduation, which took place 1.5 years ago. My college included about 10 different "schools" for different subjects, which wore different-colored skirt-thingies at graduation and, in some technical sense, graduated separately. As a result, the "formal" part of graduation took quite some time to finish. Here's my best recollection of what the university president said during that part of the ceremony.
"My greetings to the students of the School of Arts and Sciences. [One or two cheesy lines which I don't remember.] I hereby ordain you as graduates of the University of ************, and confer upon you all the rights and privileges which that status entails." (Cheering)
And next:
"My greetings to the students of the School of Business. [A different one or two cheesy lines which I don't remember.] I hereby ordain you as graduates of the University of ************, and confer upon you all the rights and privileges which that status entails." (Cheering)
And after that:
"My greetings to the students of the School of Engineering and Applied Science. [More cheesy lines which I don't remember.] I hereby ordain you as graduates of the University of ************, and confer upon you all the rights and privileges which that status entails." (Cheering)
And so on and so on, until the graduates of each of the ten or so schools had their status conferred upon them. (By the way, I have yet to see any rights or privileges as a result of graduation. Except for the right to receive fundraising emails and the privilege of trying to recover financially from $160000 in tuition bills. Thank God for the right and privilege of having my parents.)
Why didn't the university president simply lump all the statements together? As in: "Hey Business, Engineering, Nursing, Med School, Dentistry, and Arts and Crafts students - you guys are all graduated now. Now go home and get drunk. But pleeeaase, don't forget to finish your incomplete Jewish Studies papers, I'm begging you!" That would have saved her at least ten minutes which could have been productively spent looking for suicide bombers to take pictures with.
Well, it was important not only that we all received degrees, but that it was publicly and formally announced that we had received them, from the president specifically. And part of being a formal announcement means that you go over the details unnecessarily. One one hand, these were "magic words" which (like signatures on legal documents and the diploma itself) cause a change in status without any physical action, but only if the correct formula is recited. On the other hand, the very fact that they were said in an abnormal manner emphasized that this was not just another lecture or pep rally, but was instead an extraordinary event with extraordinary meaning.
I think both explanations apply to the dedication of the Mishkan, which like graduation was a formal ceremony to commemorate a change in status. First of all, the dedication was a very unusual event, and describing it in a different style makes clear that it was unusual. Secondly, the gifts of the princes were qualitatively different from other gifts to the Mishkan - from the "terumah" used to build it, and from the "hekdesh" and voluntary sacrifices contributed after it began functioning. Instead, I think the gifts served to connect each tribe to the Mishkan. The Mishkan was not meant to be a disembodied shrine, but rather a means by which God would dwell amongst Israel. In order for this to occur, each tribe of Israel had to individually and formally connect to the Mishkan through a gift. (This may be the deeper meaning of the midrash that each prince's gift was different from the others.) The point of the gift was not the "bottom line", the weight of gold or number of animals, which could be summarized. Rather, the important thing was the gesture that a gift was given, and summarizing the gift would impair the gesture.
A third possible reason for the repetition is to increase our tension and anticipation as we get to the climactic last verse-and-a-half of the chapter: "...This is the dedication of the altar after its anointing. And when Moshe entered the Tent of Meeting to speak with [God], he heard the voice speak to him from above the cover of the ark of testimony, between the two keruvim - and he/it spoke to it/him." Finally, after all the delay, the the Mishkan is complete and God can communicate with Israel (and/or vice versa, depending how you translate the last phrase). This is a historic moment in Jewish history, and by reading a very long "lead-up" to it, we anticipate it and hopefully realize its importance when it comes.
Hoping to explain why the repetition is necessary, I dredged my memory and came up with recollections from my college graduation, which took place 1.5 years ago. My college included about 10 different "schools" for different subjects, which wore different-colored skirt-thingies at graduation and, in some technical sense, graduated separately. As a result, the "formal" part of graduation took quite some time to finish. Here's my best recollection of what the university president said during that part of the ceremony.
"My greetings to the students of the School of Arts and Sciences. [One or two cheesy lines which I don't remember.] I hereby ordain you as graduates of the University of ************, and confer upon you all the rights and privileges which that status entails." (Cheering)
And next:
"My greetings to the students of the School of Business. [A different one or two cheesy lines which I don't remember.] I hereby ordain you as graduates of the University of ************, and confer upon you all the rights and privileges which that status entails." (Cheering)
And after that:
"My greetings to the students of the School of Engineering and Applied Science. [More cheesy lines which I don't remember.] I hereby ordain you as graduates of the University of ************, and confer upon you all the rights and privileges which that status entails." (Cheering)
And so on and so on, until the graduates of each of the ten or so schools had their status conferred upon them. (By the way, I have yet to see any rights or privileges as a result of graduation. Except for the right to receive fundraising emails and the privilege of trying to recover financially from $160000 in tuition bills. Thank God for the right and privilege of having my parents.)
Why didn't the university president simply lump all the statements together? As in: "Hey Business, Engineering, Nursing, Med School, Dentistry, and Arts and Crafts students - you guys are all graduated now. Now go home and get drunk. But pleeeaase, don't forget to finish your incomplete Jewish Studies papers, I'm begging you!" That would have saved her at least ten minutes which could have been productively spent looking for suicide bombers to take pictures with.
Well, it was important not only that we all received degrees, but that it was publicly and formally announced that we had received them, from the president specifically. And part of being a formal announcement means that you go over the details unnecessarily. One one hand, these were "magic words" which (like signatures on legal documents and the diploma itself) cause a change in status without any physical action, but only if the correct formula is recited. On the other hand, the very fact that they were said in an abnormal manner emphasized that this was not just another lecture or pep rally, but was instead an extraordinary event with extraordinary meaning.
I think both explanations apply to the dedication of the Mishkan, which like graduation was a formal ceremony to commemorate a change in status. First of all, the dedication was a very unusual event, and describing it in a different style makes clear that it was unusual. Secondly, the gifts of the princes were qualitatively different from other gifts to the Mishkan - from the "terumah" used to build it, and from the "hekdesh" and voluntary sacrifices contributed after it began functioning. Instead, I think the gifts served to connect each tribe to the Mishkan. The Mishkan was not meant to be a disembodied shrine, but rather a means by which God would dwell amongst Israel. In order for this to occur, each tribe of Israel had to individually and formally connect to the Mishkan through a gift. (This may be the deeper meaning of the midrash that each prince's gift was different from the others.) The point of the gift was not the "bottom line", the weight of gold or number of animals, which could be summarized. Rather, the important thing was the gesture that a gift was given, and summarizing the gift would impair the gesture.
A third possible reason for the repetition is to increase our tension and anticipation as we get to the climactic last verse-and-a-half of the chapter: "...This is the dedication of the altar after its anointing. And when Moshe entered the Tent of Meeting to speak with [God], he heard the voice speak to him from above the cover of the ark of testimony, between the two keruvim - and he/it spoke to it/him." Finally, after all the delay, the the Mishkan is complete and God can communicate with Israel (and/or vice versa, depending how you translate the last phrase). This is a historic moment in Jewish history, and by reading a very long "lead-up" to it, we anticipate it and hopefully realize its importance when it comes.
Useful references sites
Want to translate a technical term which does not appear in your dictionary? Go to Wikipedia, find the term, and click on the side bar to get the equivalent page in a different language. And if you need a good dictionary, look here.
Need the Israeli equivalent of Google-Maps? Try Mapa. (No Google Maps API though, I asked them, although if you pay for a subscription you can get a partial equivalent.)
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Need the Israeli equivalent of Google-Maps? Try Mapa. (No Google Maps API though, I asked them, although if you pay for a subscription you can get a partial equivalent.)
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Monday, December 25, 2006
Return? Right...
It's time to replace the phrase "right of return". By using the phrase (which is likely to become much more common the next few years), you implicitly accept two weighty but false Palestinian claims. The "right of return" is in fact not a "right", because international law does not guarantee refugees the right to return home, but only the right to humanitarian accommodations which do not cause political instability. Nor for the vast majority of Palestinian "refugees" would it be "return", because not they, but rather their uncles or second cousins or grandparents, left Israel in 1948. And nowhere in international law is there the idea that the descendants of refugees have the same status as refugees themselves. There needs to be a phrase which will allow discussion of Palestinian "refugees", without immediately prejudging the issue in the most extreme and destructive direction.
How about "demand of displacement"? "Demand" is a much more accurate description than "right", and "displacement" correctly focuses attention on what both Israelis and Palestinians know is the real point at issue - whether or not the Jewish state will be demographically overwhelmed by Arabs. You wouldn't even have to give up the alliteration.
How about "demand of displacement"? "Demand" is a much more accurate description than "right", and "displacement" correctly focuses attention on what both Israelis and Palestinians know is the real point at issue - whether or not the Jewish state will be demographically overwhelmed by Arabs. You wouldn't even have to give up the alliteration.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Imagine you're Bashar Assad
Goal: You want to start a war and defeat Israel.
Complication: Israel's army is way, way stronger than yours and would quickly destroy your army without expending too much effort.
Solution: Build civilian villages along the border, in the middle of the projected battlefield. When war comes you'll be able to hide behind the newly settled civilians. Israel will have moral qualms about attacking with so many civilians around, but you won't, so you'll gain the advantage.
But of course, only Israel commits war crimes in the Middle East.
Complication: Israel's army is way, way stronger than yours and would quickly destroy your army without expending too much effort.
Solution: Build civilian villages along the border, in the middle of the projected battlefield. When war comes you'll be able to hide behind the newly settled civilians. Israel will have moral qualms about attacking with so many civilians around, but you won't, so you'll gain the advantage.
But of course, only Israel commits war crimes in the Middle East.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
You want to inspect what?
If you go here you can see the Google Maps aerial photograph of the Dimona umm.. textile facility. It's the darkish gridlike thing right in the middle with a road around it. If you want, zoom out to verify that the location is more or less correct (Google Maps doesn't have actual maps for Israel yet so you'll have to trust me at some level). And notice the very oddly-shaped lake to the lower right.
Next, check out the Israeli equivalent map site. The same oddly shaped lake is there, now much clearer because of the higher image quality. But where on earth has the textile factile gone?
Next, check out the Israeli equivalent map site. The same oddly shaped lake is there, now much clearer because of the higher image quality. But where on earth has the textile factile gone?
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
New Chanukah song
With apologies to Chad Gadya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soo-oo-oof-ganya, soo-oo-oo-oo-oof-ganya
Dezavin abba bitrei zuzei, soofganya, soofganya,
Soofganya soofganya...
Dezavin abba bitrei zuzei, soofganya, soofganya,
Soofganya soofgan-
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Veata hutra, vehika lekalva
Denashach leshunra, deachal lesoofganya
Dezavin abba bitrei zuzei, soofganya, soofganya,
Soofganya soofganya.
and so on.
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soo-oo-oof-ganya, soo-oo-oo-oo-oof-ganya
Dezavin abba bitrei zuzei, soofganya, soofganya,
Soofganya soofganya...
Dezavin abba bitrei zuzei, soofganya, soofganya,
Soofganya soofgan-
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Soof-ganya, soof-ganya
Veata hutra, vehika lekalva
Denashach leshunra, deachal lesoofganya
Dezavin abba bitrei zuzei, soofganya, soofganya,
Soofganya soofganya.
and so on.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Dreidels are Chukat Hagoyim
Or so it would seem from here.
I don't know how reliable that is, but at the very least it's quite interesting.
I don't know how reliable that is, but at the very least it's quite interesting.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
REALLY only in Israel
can you find a spring-semester freshman physics textbook with an appendix, written by the campus rabbi, on "How to clean your dorm room in preparation for Pesach".
Or do the two secular-looking guys sitting behind you in the computer lab argue with each other over whether to light Shabbat or Chanukah candles first, and come to the correct conclusion for the correct reason - a conclusion which your yeshiva-educated self didn't know off the top of his head and had to go read up on afterwards.
Or do the two secular-looking guys sitting behind you in the computer lab argue with each other over whether to light Shabbat or Chanukah candles first, and come to the correct conclusion for the correct reason - a conclusion which your yeshiva-educated self didn't know off the top of his head and had to go read up on afterwards.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Best vending machine ever
You know those vending machines that sell hot coffee? Yesterday I ran in the coolest such machine in the world. It sold a number of varieties of coffee, of course. It also offered various other drinks, such as carbonated apple cider. But, best of all, you could buy CHICKEN SOUP. Only in Israel. Only in Hadar.
Monday, December 11, 2006
And you think I'm joking
I wonder if this article sheds light on the Jewish-articulated idea of women's "bina yeterah".
Friday, December 08, 2006
Hadran alach, masechet dark-field fotolitografia
You know you're taking your engineering classes too seriously when you look at a street sign and think, "Oh look, a schematic of polysilicon channels on an implanted diffusion substrate!"
Or when you read the words "kibul hadam" in shacharit (korbanot) and think, "Capacitance of the blood? How many picofarads would that be?"
Seriously though, it feels like the first few weeks of yeshiva all over again: meeting a gigantic, diverse yet coherent body of knowledge with which you're barely familiar at first; struggling to reach levels of background and language proficiency which are second nature for everyone else; and finding long textbooks which you know are interesting and useful but which you can't get to because you're so busy with other textbooks. Now, if only I had a good "chavruta" to study with. And a hot mehadrin kosher lunch every day.
Or when you read the words "kibul hadam" in shacharit (korbanot) and think, "Capacitance of the blood? How many picofarads would that be?"
Seriously though, it feels like the first few weeks of yeshiva all over again: meeting a gigantic, diverse yet coherent body of knowledge with which you're barely familiar at first; struggling to reach levels of background and language proficiency which are second nature for everyone else; and finding long textbooks which you know are interesting and useful but which you can't get to because you're so busy with other textbooks. Now, if only I had a good "chavruta" to study with. And a hot mehadrin kosher lunch every day.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Only in northern Israel
On a clear day recently, I was looking at the view towards the east, and saw a small, white, cumulus cloud on the horizon.
But soon, I noticed that this cloud was more than a little strange. For one thing, it was the only cloud in the sky. And when I looked back a little later, its position and shape were exactly the same as before. Furthermore, it had a weird shape for a cloud. Its upper edge was jagged and well-defined. But its lower edge was perfect straight, but fuzzy, as if the cloud were gradually thinning out of existence instead of ending at a certain point in space.
Suddenly, I realized that this was no cloud. I was looking at the snowy peak of the Hermon mountain, 100 kilometers away, rising above and through the haze on the horizon.
But soon, I noticed that this cloud was more than a little strange. For one thing, it was the only cloud in the sky. And when I looked back a little later, its position and shape were exactly the same as before. Furthermore, it had a weird shape for a cloud. Its upper edge was jagged and well-defined. But its lower edge was perfect straight, but fuzzy, as if the cloud were gradually thinning out of existence instead of ending at a certain point in space.
Suddenly, I realized that this was no cloud. I was looking at the snowy peak of the Hermon mountain, 100 kilometers away, rising above and through the haze on the horizon.
Fulfillment
"From the perspective of his two wives, Yaacov’s burial has an ironic twist. During their lives, Rachel and Leah each longed for what the other had. Rachel longed for children, and Leah longed for the attention of her husband.
In their deaths and burial, they each received what they lacked in their lives. Leah lies side by side with her husband, while “our mother” Rachel lies on the road waiting to welcome her children, the exiled of Israel, when they return to their land."
(Source)
In their deaths and burial, they each received what they lacked in their lives. Leah lies side by side with her husband, while “our mother” Rachel lies on the road waiting to welcome her children, the exiled of Israel, when they return to their land."
(Source)
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