Tu B'Shvat

Happy Tu B’Shvat! Wait- you don’t know what Tu B’Shvat is? Well, neither did I until yesterday, the first time I attended a Tu B’Shvat seder and celebrated the holiday with some Jewish friends. The holiday originated with God’s command in Lev. 19:23-25 not to harvest fruit from trees until they reach a certain age. So, in order to measure the age of trees, Jews celebrate a birthday of sorts for our arborous (word?) friends every year around this time. I heard that the holiday is big in Kabbala Judaism, complete with a seder (a meal with certain rules and regulations to be followed- the Passover meal is another example of a seder) and all. It is customary here in Israel to plant a tree on Tu B’Shvat to celebrate the special day.

Any ways, I was able to attend a Tu B’Shvat seder last night. In the course of the meal, there were cups of wine (starting with white and proceeding to darker varieties) that represented, if I remember correctly, the progression of the season from budding and new growth to harvest. In between the glasses of wine we ate several different kinds of fruit, each representing different categories of harvest here in Israel (example: one course had bananas and kiwi, because they are fruits with a tough, inedible outer skin). By the end of the seder, we had all eaten a lot of fruit. Many people celebrate the holiday today as well so, as I’m sure you can imagine, there are plenty of gassy people walking around Israel. Personally, I bought an air freshener for our room yesterday because it got so bad.

There are toothpicks here in Israel, but they're often incredibly difficult to find. Israeli society isn't nearly as coutreous as American society. Most felafel stands (serving a very messy product, mind you), don't even carry napkins. This leads to an oft-times barbaric, but strangely gratifying, eating experience.

Since tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, I’d like to share with you about all the romance I’ve had here in Israel. Basically, I haven’t had any (and the prospects aren’t good). There are plenty of attractive ladies here, don’t get me wrong, but they’re all Jewish. I take very seriously the Apostle Paul’s (and God’s) admonition in 2 Cor. 6:14 not to be “unequally yoked together with unbelievers,” so dating is out of the question with Jewish ladies. Thus, I’m a free man this semester, without any worries about what the girls might think. I don’t have to suck in my belly, comb my hair, or even take showers (although I do the last one out of propriety). I’m single and free, thank goodness, without a female in the world to please. I think it may be appropriate at this point in my life to say that I’m in love with Jerusalem. Be that as it may, I’d like to send along my best wishes to everyone back at home for a blessed and content St. Valentine’s holiday.

Speaking of love and romance, I was involved in my first riot the other day. Well, I wasn’t involved, so to speak, but I did witness it. I arrived at the scene just as the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) were breaking-up the scene. Apparently, some Muslim youths with ties to Hamas were burning a Danish flag outside the Damascus Gate to the Old City (this is the entrance to the Arab shook where I always buy my vegetables and pita). Things got out of hand, so the IDF decided to put a stop to the demonstration. One thing led to another, and the youths began assaulting the soldiers. Soon enough, the Israelis were chasing around the Palestinians with clubs and throwing stun grenades and smoke bombs (enter Jason to witness the fray). It was incredibly exciting, as I was by myself and witnessing a real Arab-Israeli conflict, but I learned an important lesson: Don’t mess with the Israeli army. They always win.

My Great-Aunt Pat Steidl passed away last weekend. If I were in the States, I would probably fly back to her funeral in Ohio. I always enjoyed talking to her and Uncle Andy at family reunions -- something I missed greatly after they moved out to California. If I ever become a policy-maker involved in government, my platform on social security and Medicare will reflect the conversations I had with Aunt Pat. Another thing I will always remember Aunt Pat for were her hugs and kisses. As a young kid, I’d always run away and hide from her when she arrived at family get-togethers because I knew she’d give me a big smooch on the cheek. She always found me, though, and I always gave in to her hugs and kisses. As I got older, I came to appreciate and look forward to her warm greetings of love.

On another sad note, my friend, who flew back to the States because his mother was on the verge of death, is today mourning at her funeral. He and his family are “sittin’ in the need of prayer,” as the song goes, so please pray for them if you can. May God welcome Aunt Pat and my friend’s mother into His Kingdom of everlasting life, and give comfort to all those whom they’ve left behind. As believers, we can praise God for the hope of eternity with Him in the presence of our Savior. “O death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory?” (2 Cor. 15:55).