Hanukah Fire

Last week I had a wonderful conversation with my friend Nino who works in the administrative office here.  She told me about celebrating Hanukah with her family and friends, and said it was good to think of the happy things.  She had been so worried about the fire up north near Haifa when it was still burning.  For a whole day, she said, she couldn't stop checking the news.  Millions of shekels of damage and nearly 4 dozen deaths were reportedly the result of a careless teenager and some hot coals.  Some houses and neighborhoods were taken, and others just nearby were spared. Nino even recognized a woman she new among those whose houses were lost.  But the next day, she decided to stop focusing on the bad news and spend more time thinking about the good.  The fire has since been contained. 

I asked Nino if it is hard during Hanukah, a celebration of a great miracles, to consider sad news where people really needed a miracle.  She said, "Some people think, we have too many sins, and that's why our brothers got the fire.  But it's all the way you think.  Not everyone thinks that way.   Look how we have breath every day.  That is a miracle.  Look at how the city is at peace, with nothing bad happening.  That is a miracle.  There are always miracles around us.  Every day is a miracle." 

Hanukah

What would a stay in Israel be without celebrating Hanukah?  We were invited to the home of Eran and Naama Hayet on the second night of Hanukah.  Eran is the Associate Director of the Jerusalem Center and lives in Modi'in, a 45 minute drive from Jerusalem.  Their daughters Noa, a videographer in the army, and Hadas, who is Lisa's age, graciously hosted 11 playmates.  Kent Jackson and Jeff Chadwick were experienced Hanukah guests, but this was our first time at a "real" family Hanukah celebration.

We arrived at 5:45 and walked up stairs past potted herbs to a warm, bright two-story house with a terraced yard.  The kids immediately found the swing hanging from a tubular steel sukkah and entertained themselves with a hammock, trampoline, and soccer ball while the grownups chatted.

After socializing, we gathered around a table and watched Hadas and Lisa light candles on a pair of Hanukiah as the family sang traditional songs of blessing.  Next came more songs, Sevivon about a spinning dreidel and Maoz Tsur or Rock of Ages (below).  

MAOZ TSUR
Click to hear song on YouTube

Ma'oz tsur yeshu'ati
Lecha na'eh lesha be'eh'yach
Tikon beit te-fi-la-ti
Ve sham toda neza'beh'eh'yach

Leh et tachin mat be-yach,
Mi tsar ham'na be-eh-eh-ehyach
Az egmor beshir mizmor
Chanukat hamizbe'eh'yach
(repeat last two lines)

Rock of Ages let our song
Praise thy saving power
Thou amidst the raging foes
Was our sheltering tower.

Furious, they assailed us,
But thine armour veiled us.
And thy word broke their sword
When our own strength failed us.
(repeat last two lines)

Then the Hanukah Menorahs were placed in the windowsill. The children got to paint wooden tops and pots made of clay. 

We all ate cauliflower, potato, and sweet potato latkes (click here for recipes). There was also yogurt and little smoothies (kinda like Danimals). For dessert we had donuts filled with jelly, chocolate, and halva. We hadn't seen any donuts here until Hanukah, and now they are everywhere!

 

Everyone enjoyed the evening and we were all sad to leave this fun family--tears were shed as the young ones bid adieu to Noa's Playmobil knights and castle. Hadas saved the day and ended the tears by handing out chocolate coins as we departed. 

Besides the wonderful social, cultural, and worshipful experience of Hanukah, the events commemorated at Hanukah played a pivotal role in the prelude to Christianity.  Had the Maccabees not revolted against Antiochus in the intertestamental period (2nd century B.C.), the Syrian ruler would have succeeded in obliterating every trace of Jewish culture and covenant, and, some1, including Jeff Chadwick, assert that there would have been no Jewish community in Nazareth nor Bethlehem into which the Savior could have been born.  The letters on the dreidel stand for "nes gadol haya sham," or, "A great miracle happened there."   The military victory and preservation of the Jewish people is a great historical miracle, and yet the holiday is named "Dedication" in honor of the spiritual miracle, the multiplication of oil to complete the rededication of the temple.  May the miracles all around us, great or small, remind us to rededicate ourselves to the best and the brightest lights we can!  Hag Sameach !

Galilee

This was only a quick trip, but so enjoyable it really refreshed those of us who weren't preparing for 7 field trips in 11 days.  Frank and the students had spent nearly a week in Galilee by the time we joined him, and lingered for 4 days after we returned home, but we drove up to join him for three days and 2 nights.  After school on Friday Nov 19th, we drove north through the Jordan Valley road, which twists and turns from one "dangerous curves" sign to the next.  The road dips down below sea level and follows the Jordan River from the Dead Sea to the Sea of Galilee, or Kinneret.  Megan pored over the map as we caravanned with Julianne Muhlestein and her kids.

All went well until we reached the checkpoint heading out of the West Bank.  Right during my standard "just act natural and don't insult guards with automatic weapons" speech, Emily threw up and her sisters started screaming.  I tried to be calm as I showed my passport, but there was so much commotion in the back of the van that I don't recall what I was asked or what I answered.  Mercifully we were waved on, then I pulled over and ran a quick triage on the problem.   Luckily, depending on how you look at it, Emily's favorite blanket contained most of the biohazardous material, and we arrived at Ein Gev ready for a buffet dinner and a comfortable room. 

We were located only meters from a sandy beach on the east side of the lake.  On the far side, we could see the lights of Tiberias, where the meetinghouse was located.  We woke up early Sabbath morning for our turn at the buffet, then boarded a bus for a 45-minute drive around the lake.  The meetinghouse is in a converted home, and the view is breathtaking. 

Weekend Fun

During the closing prayer of our Relief Society meeting this week, the sister giving the benediction declined to use the microphone. I think she prayed in her first language, Russian, but I couldn’t really hear her because just at that moment, the Call to Prayer began streaming in through the windows. It seemed like the Arabic chant was the closing prayer for our meeting.



I was surprised one Sabbath to hear the sacrament prayer spoken in Arabic. Two brethren from Bethlehem were ordained to the office of Elder at District Conference on November 6. Up until this time, two couple missionaries and the primary and Relief Society presidents have been providing the leadership for sacrament meeting in a member’s home in Bethlehem each Sunday. This important development may open the door for the Bethlehem group to someday become a branch.

Amanda was invited to a playgroup with her friend Vincenza and several other girls from the school.  Amanda is the only American in her class, aside from her teacher and the TA.  Her classmates are from Spain, France, Africa, England, Sweden, and more. Most of their parents work for their nations’ consulates or the UN.   They had a fun time playing hide and seek, screaming, and throwing plastic food.  Meanwhile the grownups talked, snacked, and talked some more.

Six year olds with hot dogs and missing teeth--some things just go together perfectly!

Obeying the sign, we parked with one wheel on the street and the other on the curb.

Cooking

This post is for my dad who is worried that we eat nothing but Malt-O-Meal cereal.  The rest of you can move along if you aren't curious about an activity which consumes 1/5 of our waking hours.  Maybe 1/6--I've been awake a lot of hours recently.

It is a minor miracle when a meal turns out here, a cause for great celebration even more than it was back home. The satisfaction of negotiating a foreign grocery store and finding oranges which are actually orange instead of green, seedless grapes, cottage cheese, or canned whole tomatoes is very sweet.  Paying with  shekels still feel like play money, maybe because we're so removed from a cash-based society at home, but I think in shekels more instead of translating into dollars each time.

In addition to the thrill of the hunt is the joy of being able to turn ingredients into a meal while juggling tablespoons and milliliters (1:15), fahrenheit and celsius (approximately half), bagged milk, and cooking directions in Hebrew.  Sometimes in my relief at a meal well done I gesticulate broadly like Tom Hanks' character on Castaway and declare in a deep voice, "Look what I have created!"  (I also use this line when my dishes are all washed and stacked up like a crazy plastic sand castle on the drying rack.)

 How grateful I am for the use of a car, for a monthly mileage allotment (240 mi:400 km), for produce sales on Mondays, for the pita factory (4 shekels for 10 pita), and for service couples that have shown me how to get to stores when no map or driving directions would do.   I'm also grateful that the Jewish and Arabic shopping centers celebrate different holy days, so that during Rosh Hashana we could shop at the markets in Wadi al-Joz, and this week when Palestinian stores are closed for Eid al Adha, we can still buy groceries by Hebrew University or Ramat Eshkol. Unless it's after 4 on a Friday. 

The pita factory deserves more description.  It's up a tiny one-lane dead end alley in a nondescript one-story building next to wrought iron gates.  I park on a 20% angle and promise myself I'll remember to take off the parking brake, then greet the proprietor or his family members who take the pita from shallow trays and bag them in groups of 20 or 25 before your eyes.  One day I said, "One hundred.  Miyye."  I showed my kids the equipment around the corner, where a huge mixing vat, rising racks (think Krispy Kreme) and conveyor belts wait for tomorrow's work.  We returned to the front, where the bags were still being filled and piling up.  I repeated, "One hundred.  Miyye."  The gentleman said, "One hundred bread or one hundred shekels?"  That would have been 250 pitas!  I'm lucky to fit 80 in my freezer. After I load up the bright pink or yellow bags, I can usually count on someone helping guide the car as I reverse in the small parking area. 

Some successful meals: Pita pizza, pita tacos, pita calzones, lasagna (in 4"x8" flat sheets, no precooking necessary), chicken noodle soup with big fat carrots and skinny celery, baked ziti, and of course the fresh local produce makes great stir-fry.  Tomato paste comes in big cans, so spaghetti is a staple here as it was at home, although I haven't made meatballs yet.  Somehow meat occupies a smaller portion of our plates here.  Beef, ground turkey, and chicken are delicious but expensive.  Same with cheese; I was proud of myself when I could read the word מוצרלה; the other cheese we like is גלבוע**.   The avacados and pomegranates are amazing-one pomegranate yielded nearly 3 cups of seeds.  Amanda likes to nibble the juicy end of the seed and spit out the rest.

Some less successful meals:  Chicken divan didn't translate well, considering the stronger mayonnaise and the redder curry powder.  The salsa I bought had a strong eggplant flavor, but the green enchilada sauce turned out fine.  At the Mahane Yehuda shuk I bought a mix for fried zucchini balls which gave me a parsley aftertaste for days.  That same day I bought some halva as well (sweetened sesame paste pictured above) but ate most of it myself.   Ice cream here tastes like flavored whipped topping, unless you buy Ben & Jerry's at the Dominoes pizza place.  The strawberry imitation jello from the Jewish stores is runny and pale pink to avoid gelatin derived from animal parts and red food dye made from beetles. Makes you want to run out and buy Utah's Official State Snack, doesn't it? 

Here is a recipe I typed up for a friend. Frank and all the students are in Galilee, so we lonely leftovers ate a potluck dinner together in the cafeteria.  Can you follow all the directions?

Whole Wheat Bread (or rolls)

3 C very warm water, but not as hot as the Jerusalem Center tap water at maximum heat
1 1/2 T instant or quick rise yeast.
1/3 c vegetable or canola oil
1/3 c honey—this is precious, 42 shekels ($12) for a 3 cup jar, so no changing your mind after this point, not even if you realize you don’t have enough whole wheat flour.
1 T plus 1 tsp. salt
6+ c whole wheat flour (or 3 c wheat flour and 4 1/2 c white flour)
1/2 c whole oats (or oat bran for texture-challenged kids)
1/4 c gluten (optional, and maybe unavailable here)

Combine the first 5 ingredients and mix, preferably in stand mixer. Try to add the honey before little helpers join you (honey + hair = bath night). Add 5 c flour, oats, and gluten. Mix long enough to help a 4th grader put away the clean silverware. Continue to add flour slowly until the dough forms a ball and scrapes the excess dough off the sides of the bowl. Remind preschoolers that we never ever reach into the mixing bowl when it’s turning. Continue to mix for 5-10 minutes, as long as it takes a 6-year old to write ten spelling words 3 times each. Preheat oven to 100-125 degrees or 50 C, lower oven racks, then double check first grader’s b’s and d’s and hunt for an eraser. While mixing, sniff-check the hands of any children who claim they just barely washed, then stand your ground until they do it again.

Finish kneading dough by hand on an oiled countertop, or better yet, a jelly roll pan with sides high enough to contain the flour. Resist urge to roll your eyes when flour spills on the newly washed floor. (Note to self: knead bread before washing floor.) Slice dough with a knife into 2 large or 3 small loaves (or 24 rolls). Pat down and roll into loaf shape (or rolls) then put into greased bread pan (or WELL GREASED muffin cups). Remind six year olds to turn their heads before coughing near food. Google cooking temperatures needed to kill germs (150 F or 70 C internally for 10 minutes). Turn off your oven and cover loaves loosely with saran wrap, and put in a warmed oven to rise until double (about an hour). Meanwhile search Power Point for a button that will reverse text direction for a junior high Hebrew class assignment. Remove loaves from the oven and preheat to 350 degrees (or 180 C). Bake loaves for 25-30 min (or rolls 15-20 minutes. Ask the fourth grader to show you how to set a timer on your cell phone). Remove from pans immediately and place on a wire cooling rack.  Persuade high school kids that it is more rewarding to wash crusty muffin cups than to eat rolls before dinner.

**( מוצרלה=Mozzarella; גלבוע.=Gilboa is a smooth pale yellow cheese which I just discovered is made from sheep's or goat's milk.  Hmm.  To tell the kids or not to tell the kids?)

South West Temple Mount and Christian Quarter

Last Sunday we visited some sites outside the south west corner of the Old City.  The kids all came along and loved pairing up with the students.  After the 1967 war, Jewish archaeologists uncovered homes which date back to the destruction of the second temple in 70 A.D, with charred wood and tiles as evidence of the fire that engulfed the city.  The excavations were covered by public buildings, but can still be seen in these basement museums.   

The basin above is the style a servant may have used to wash his master's feet.  Or vice versa.

  The beautiful mosaics on the floors reveal that these were well-to-do residents, maybe even priestly families.  

High up in the air just under Robinson's arch, an inscription from Isaiah 66:14 can be seen. 

"And when you shall see this, your heart shall rejoice, and your bones shall flourish like an herb." The smooth margin which frames the block identifies this as a stone made under Herod the Great. 

This massive corner stone was likely pushed off the pinnacle of the temple to the stones below.  The inscription reads, "To the place of trumpeting, to..."  Perhaps the trumpeter announced the arrival of the Sabbath as Josephus indicates. 

Impressions from this field trip:  the proportions of the wall are immense!  The temple mount was designed to accomodate huge crowds and to amaze the pilgrims and worshippers with its grand scale and brilliant beauty.  It is hard to imagine the wall being built without labor-saving devices, and it is also hard to imagine the wall being torn down and the temple destroyed over and over. 

Two days after our tour of Jewish sites, we visited several churches in the Christian quarter of the Old City.  Speaking of rebuilding, The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, build under Helena the mother of Constantine, was partly destroyed and rebuilt on a smaller scale.  Helena's clue that this was the right place was the existence of a Roman temple to Jupiter intended to vex the Christians.  

Here are the vaulted windows over the front door.  No one can agree on whose job it is to move the ladder.  Tales of territorialism cast a small shadow on this huge edifice commemorating some of the most sacred events in world history. 

The decor is more elaborate than Mormons are accustomed to seeing in our churches, and it is clear that the outward ornamentation represents the faith and sacrifice of thousands who contributed. Here again, the scale of the building is meant to draw the eye upward in awe at the majesty of God.

The stone of unction, where the Savior's body would have been prepared for burial.

To touch the stone of Calvary, one must kneel and reach into a hole, to feel without seeing the rock that lies beneath.  That may be a good metaphor for visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.  The physical surroundings may force our knees to bow, but it is up to us whether we achieve attitudinal humility, not just postural humility.  The apocryphal book of Manasseh has a relevant image: "And now behold, I bend the knees of my heart before thee."

The earliest stones of Calvary and the tomb have been covered or reshaped in ways that seem to distance them from the mental picture I have of the Savior's death, burial, and resurrection. (For example, waiting in lines, time limits on meditation in a tiny chapel with 5 other people, unfamiliar iconography.)

Yet beneath the external representations and the practical requirements of the pilgrimage, there was a deep feeling of holiness.

  The financiers, the builders, the caretakers, and the pilgrims, all chose to actively do something about their faith in Jesus Christ.  All wanted to show outwardly the devotion they felt inwardly.   Here in Jerusalem, this may have historically been a competitive demonstration, but I have to applaud the principle that faith in Jesus Christ changes us and motivates us to action.   I know the events commemorated here truly happened and have changed me personally. 

We visited other wonderful churches, The Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, the Russian Orthodox Church, the Syrian Orthodox church (I heard the Lord's Prayer sung in Aramaic), and the small tailor shop probably visited by Orson Hyde.  I don't know where those photos disappeared to...

If you still have time, you really oughta click here for Faces of Jerusalem, a photo essay fresh from the cameras of Scot and Maureen Proctor, editors of Meridian Magazine.

Holidays of all shapes and sizes

Last week was eventful with field trips, a birthday, two lost teeth, and two holidays.  I think the tooth fairy didn't have our address in her GPS, because she was tardy for the first tooth but finally delivered the goods.  The second tooth came out a few days later, and the tooth fairy had no problems that time.

We celebrated Christmas on October 31 in Shepherd’s fields (timed to coincide with the class discussion of the Savior’s birth).  But first we toured the ruins of the Herodian, King Herod’s retreat, fortress, and burial site.  In the photo below, we are sitting on an "island" in the middle of Herod's immense swimming pool at the foot of the volcano-shaped Herodian--no water in the swimming pool any more.

The juxtaposition of King Herod and Jesus Christ made a vivid contrast:  The first, a monument builder whose paranoia and excesses destroyed the lives of his kinsmen and subjects, was buried in an elaborate tomb of his own design, which was later defaced by vandals; his infamy has outlived all his beautiful buildings.  On the other hand, the King of Kings came to earth in humble circumstances, served and saved all mankind, and lay in a borrowed tomb until His glorious resurrection.  His life changed the world, and His life continues on. 

We shared testimonies and sang Christmas carols (Lisa sang Guard Him, Joseph) until well after dark.

The other holiday was Halloween, which we celebrated on November 2 after the students' exams ended.  So for once in his life, Frank's birthday was actually after Christmas and before Halloween! His students surprised him with a party, complete with an original song and a framed photo of a shepherd with sheep by Kevork Kahvedjian (He may sell his photos in Utah next conference.  Mr. Kahvedjian is pictured in the Faces of Jerusalem link below).

   After trick-or-treating and a dinner of cornbread and chili, we enjoyed a carnival with facepainting, veggie carving, and a cakewalk.  

We visited the Kotel Tunnel, "Kotel" referring to the Western Wall, which is the beginning point of the tour.  The tunnel goes north along the west side of the temple mount, passing through ancient arches, cisterns, excavations, and even a reservoir full of water.   One cool feature was to see the massive stones that support the foundation of the temple mount.  Lisa is pointing to one end of the monolith, and the stone extends just as far in the other direction!

Here the tunnel is at the level of the ancient street.  Lisa and Amanda are sitting on a rock that should have been fitted into the street, but construction suddenly stopped for some reason, even leaving the rock behind them partially chipped away.  We followed the tunnel all the way to the reservoir at the north end, then we returned the way we had come back to the Western Wall.