CHANUKAH, OH CHANUKAH- Revisited

A year ago I was kicked off a website called Kveller, for sounding off against Reform Judaism for muddying the issue of Jewish identity. It's a theme which I tend to go on about, I must confess. Kveller is a good website; it's about Jewish parenting and there are many contributing bloggers who write about diverse topics (I was Resident Bubbeh and people wrote in to ask me questions. When I wrote my rant, I was not in Bubbeh persona, I was just a commenter in a thread, but unfortunately I was not incognito so bye-bye Bubbeh. Anyway.) But there is this thing at Chanukah time on Kveller, now too,  (see for yourself <www.kveller.com>) about presents, presents and presents, for everybody, not just kids; for Mom and Dad and Bubbie and Zeidy and brother and sister and aunt and uncle and OMG it never ended, and I respectfully submitted the following article which didn't get published; and then I was ejected from the Kveller family. And then I became Doctor Booba who can say whatever she wants and doesn't need to tippy-toe quite as much as Bubbeh had to.
So this is the piece. I'm trying to say that Chanukah is NOT about presents, dammit! It's a celebration of Jewish identity and pride.

CHANUKAH, OH CHANUKAH

I love this time of year. I love Chanukah; I confess, I also like that I live in a secular, loosely constitutionally Christian country (Australia) where we are allowed to practice our customs in public, and happy festive non-Jews and Jews celebrate their customs without fear of punishment. It wasn't always like this, I am sure you know.

Chanukah seems to be about presents and parties, eating yummy fried foods, singing, playing dreidel and lighting the candles in the Chanukiah, the 8 + 1 branched menorah. What does it all mean?

How can you understand the meaning of anything without knowing some history? And boy, do we Jews have history. So here's a little bit; please bear with me!

Chanukah, like Purim, is a post-biblical holiday, unlike Pesach, Shavuot, Rosh haShana, Yom Kippur and Succot. These were all mentioned in the Torah, the 5 Books of Moses; but Purim took place in the era between the 2 Holy Temples, around 4th Century BCE, in Persia; and Chanukah in the 2nd century BCE. The Biblical, ie 'Heavy' sort of holydays, have a lot of do's and do-not's and can be pretty solemn at least some of the time. The other two are 'lighter', with fewer restrictions and prohibitions, and so they are often thought of as being less important. But in fact, these festivals 'speak' to us sometimes even more powerfully; not just because they are more fun! But because they celebrate and commemorate in a more immediate way, the same sort of trials which we face today.

In Purim, a Persian vizier, Haman, sought to annihilate the Jews, 'Man, woman, and child'. And today, a Persian leader, Ahmedinajad, wants to do the same thing; and in between, there have been plenty more 'Hamans'.

Chanukah is different; the bad guy Antiochus IV 'Epiphanes', a Seleucid (Syrian by geography, Greek by culture) sought to stamp out the practices of the Jews. He managed to kill a lot of people, including Chana and her 7 sons, but the idea was not to kill everyone, like Haman; it was to kill the Jewish identity. Jews could live, as long as they acted Greek- a spiritual death. So no holydays, no circumcision, no dietary laws, and no worship of the One G-d, HaShem; those who refused to 'Hellenize' were tortured and killed. Many did, in fact embrace Hellenism - worshipping strange gods, worshipping the body, adoring Reason, Intellect, Logic, Philosophy, Beauty; and following the practices du jour.

But Antiochus pushed too far when he insisted that a pig be sacrificed in the Temple. The Cohen Gadol, Matisyahu, refused; and when another Jew offered to do the deed himself, Matt killed him in fury and started the Maccabean revolt with the cry 'Mi LeHaShem, alai!' - whoever is for G-d, to me! (sounds better in Hebrew as a rallying cry.) His sons, the most famous being Yehuda, known as Maccabee, meaning 'the Hammer', led a small army which then defeated the large Seleucid/Greek army. A miracle! And then they sought to rededicate the Temple (Chanukah means Dedication), lighting the 7 branch Menorah with pure olive oil. A small sealed jug of oil was found- another miracle!- enough fuel for a day. But it burned for 8 days -yet another miracle!- which was enough time to make fresh, pure olive oil. And why the 25th of Kislev? Because that's when the fighting stopped; Chanu-Kah also means 'they rested on the 25th.'

SO. That's why:

1) 8 day festival starting on the 25th of Kislev.

2) Accent on lighting a candelabra commonly called a 'menorah', but really, the Menorah had 7 branches, and was in the Temple. What we light is 9 branched, a Chanukiah; 8 lights, one for each day, and the 9th for the Shamash, the candle that 'serves' by lighting the other candles or oil lamps, and by giving light which we can read by etc, unlike the other 8 lights which are not to be used for anything other than commemoration. THIS is the real heart of the festival, and there are rules and regulations about the blessings etc. We are celebrating the miracle of the oil, not the military victory. We sing special songs after lighting; I guess singing always makes things more special.

3) Fried foods! Latkes or doughnuts, the oil reminding us of the miracle of the oil.

What about the games? Different reasons are given, but one is that the Jewish kids would get together and learn Torah, but if a Greek soldier discovered them, they would pretend that they had just been playing with the Dreidel, a gambling game; that was OK. The dreidel is no holy artefact, but it is a tradition to play Dreidel for nuts or chocolate money; and by extension, many people have games nights with other board games; not so much real gambling with cards etc but I've heard of it. (Feh!)

And parties? Apparently after the initial Chanukah, there was an annual feast and party given by the High Priest/ leader.

And what about the presents?

The really traditional present is actually money, 'Chanukah gelt'. This originated from a Talmudic custom of going from door to door to ask for money to buy oil/candles for lighting as even the poorest Jew was supposed to light candles. So today we give money gifts to children for Chanukah. So if they are given chocolate money, they are not really getting anything of value; so we give them a gift that they will appreciate, a toy etc.

The whole lavish gift exchange thing is actually thought to be a result of Jews living among Christians and taking on the customs so that Jewish children wouldn't feel left out. This started as recently as the 1950's in the US. Christmas envy? I don't know. 

Chanukah celebrates and commemorates the spiritual deliverance of the Jews; Purim celebrates the physical deliverance of the Jews.

These are not at all trivial festivals, and it is only through lack of education that Jews can be a bit dismissive of them. They're not just for kids; there is a powerful message for us all today, about pride, about identity. Hellenism is alive and well today: the worship of strange gods- money and power: the worship of the body- 'nuff said; the adoration of Reason, Intellect, Logic, Philosophy, Beauty; and following the practices du jour. Not much difference, apart from the absence of a murderous tyrant (although Stalin would have fit that bill not so long ago). And the threat is as real; spiritual death for the Jew.

So many of us are like little lost children, unclear of our identities, ignorant of our customs and history. Education has to be the way to remedy this and give us a future as Jews. That, and having fun, too! 
'They tried to kill us, we won, let's eat!' Latkes, anyone?

NOT-SO-SUPERHEROES

Ever since the Golem of Prague, we hunger after a superhero who can vanquish our enemies with his super-human strength and then, when we don’t need him any more, go back into his box and not bother us until we call him. Superman in his Fortress of Solitude. Batman in his Batcave. All with the secret identities that can be shed instantly to save us. We love them, all the Avengers and the X-Men, the Marvel and DC pantheon, in comic books and in the movies, with their troubles and all, as long as they can save us when we need saving. Which is most of the time.

But the non-super hero, he goes way back further than that.

What is a hero?

"In mythology and legend, a man or woman, often of divine ancestry, who is endowed with great courage and strength, celebrated for his or her bold exploits, and favored by the gods." (mythweb.com). Every culture has a version.

In everyday use, more like a person who does something dangerous to help somebody else.

Enter the Anti-hero. The Anti-hero is not a villain. He is a literary device. He is a protagonist who lacks the usual heroic qualities of courage and idealism. So he can be vengeful or mercenary or a nutter but still do good things. Or maybe not do good things. Or mean to do good things, but it’s not so clear why. Batman. Don Quixote. Inigo Montoya (from The Princess Bride, for the 2 of you out there who don’t know.) Neo (but he’s more complicated because he’s not just a slacker-turned-hero, he’s The Chosen One. That taps into a whole other Messianic thing). Most modern heroes really have a bit of the anti-hero in them, because that’s the way we like it. Complex. Dark Side etc etc. Or he’s just a regular, imperfect dude thrust into a difficult situation, kicking the villain’s ass and saving the good folks. John McClane. Han Solo. Luke Skywalker, for that matter. Rooster Cogburn.

So what is James Bond? A drinker. A womanizer. An assassin. So why do we love him? 50 years of cinematic Bond, but the Bond of Ian Fleming’s novels well pre-date even that, and we loved them too. Bond has all the hallmarks of the Anti-hero; BUT he gets the job done, vanquishes the usually extravagantly villainous villain, risking life and limb, all for Queen and Country. So he has ideals, but he is essentially a low-life. It’s all rather confusing. Of course, I love Bond, and I think Daniel Craig is the last word in Bond. I don’t miss the slightly camp Roger Moore, although I liked the rather arch Pierce Brosnan. Timothy Dalton was a bit too angsty and George Lazenby was a shtick holtz. But Sean Connery…Oh, Sean, Sean, you sexy, hairy Scot, Sean was the greatest…until Daniel Craig, who looks like a cold-eyed blond British bastard, which fits the bill nicely. And of course, great supporting actors like Judi Dench and Ralph Fiennes don’t hurt either. And Javier Bardem; superb villain, one of the best ever.

Who else is out there? Jason Bourne. Well he was a screwed-up assassin with a military background (check: patriot) who only wanted to find out who he was (check: confused) and it turned out that the bad guys were home-grown, but he does a lot of ass-kicking and saves the girl/USA. So a hero. But a really really violent one. And now there’s a ‘Legacy’ so who knows how long that franchise will go on for? Jeremy Renner is great but the action is so extreme, he’ll wear out faster.

Ethan Hunt. Before Tom Cruise, who is a nutcase megalomaniac yet manages to be appealing and very watchable on screen, the IMF (Impossible Missions Force, not International Monetary Fund, though they both undertake impossible missions) comprised a team where everybody got a chance to do heroic things in their own way, but Tom turned it into more of a one-man-band with some appendages for humorous relief. But I won’t lie, I enjoyed all of the absurdity. Yet, Hunt could in no way challenge Bond, because he is Tom Cruise now. The role can’t transcend the actor in the same way.

And now Tom thinks that he can be Jack Reacher. Lee Child’s Reacher is a true fictional hero. He hates bullies and he will always fight for the underdog, just on principle, with no thought of himself. He owns nothing but a toothbrush and wears clothes for 3 days, then discards them and buys a new set, so no laundry, no (physical) baggage.  He pays cash. He hitches rides or takes buses randomly, though lately he has been trying to get to Virginia to visit a woman to whom he has only spoken on the phone, and that’s how he meets people and gets into action as needed, helping the innocent victim, kicking the villain’s ass etc. Then he leaves, hitching the next ride. There’s an element of superhero-ness about him and his uncanny sense of time and his ability to deduce anything from zero evidence, but that’s OK. And he’s an expert marksman, and that’s cool too. And he can explode into action when it’s needed. But he is always described as an enormous man, 6’5”, ex-military cop (and they are always big and imposing so as to break up fights and stuff just by showing up), ex-Special Investigations Unit, big hands, hulking figure, gorilla-like etc. So Tom, what are you thinking? With respect, dude, you are what, 5’7”? 130lbs maybe, in a wet overcoat? Sure, you have the moves, but…I’ll have to go see. He’ll probably just be Tom Cruise. I’ll probably like it anyway.

So we like our heroes to be heroic and we forgive them their imperfections. And then we close the book or leave the cinema or put the Golem back in the box and go on our way. Until the next outing.

Bond. James Bond. Long may he live to vanquish those who threaten Her Majesty and the Free World.

BEHOLD THE BEACH BABE- NOT

There comes a time in the course of human events when it becomes necessary to chuck out the chlorine-eaten, faded and near-transparent swimsuit and go shopping for a new one.

Sisters, is there anything more traumatic in the world of clothes shopping than seeking new bathers? Seriously, is there ever a time that we are more confronted by the disasters that have befallen our figures? The extra chocolate bonbon. The decision not to take a post-prandial walk in the evenings. The gym membership, unused. The 6 pregnancies, the last 2 when over 30 and your body just doesn’t kind of bounce back, if it ever did before. The passage of time. The assault of gravity.

In the past few years I have found what I needed for swimming and water aerobics in good old Target; a simple, black maillot, or, not to be fancy, one piece swimsuit. Easy peasy. But this year the buyer must have been replaced by a pretentious cokehead, because they have forgotten who actually shops at Target. 20-year-old svelte models? No. Who shops at Target if not middle-aged, middle-class Aussies with big middles? Who needs bikinis and tankinis and other aberrations? So I was disappointed by Target.

Soon after, I found myself in Rebel Sport, only because I was there with a daughter, and knowing I was setting myself up for failure, I chose a few one-piece Speedo suits to try. Now, here’s where the manufacturers really don’t get it. I took size 16, because that is actually my size, but what I found I was trying on was size 8, kind of scaled up a few inches here and there, but completely missing the point, which is that size 16 women have BOOBS. And a BUTT.  And we don’t want to expose either. And we want them to be supported. And the sales girl didn’t care.

Onward! I couldn’t quit, I was too embarrassed to wear the old swimsuit. I had to find something! So to Swimwear Galore, which is where I should have gone in the first place. They really do carry a lot of stock and, more important, the sales assistants are WILLING TO HELP. Do you hear that? Not little snots who are thinking of their next smoking break or the hot date that night, but good-natured, smiling HELPFUL staff.

The first armload of swimsuits was disappointing though, and had me sounding like a madwoman, muttering audibly in my little cubicle about buttfloss and boobs plastered down or popping out yada yada. So when the assistant asked so chirpily how that went, I was very grumpy. And she looked so sad to have disappointed me, I had to apologise. And then we looked at the racks again. One piece. Chlorine resistant. For actual swimming, not for lounging. Some ort of bra, but no underwire. No miracle suits. No wardrobe malfunctions. She found me more to try on, saying that these suits were more…she groped for the word. Supportive? Opaque? Comfortable?  No… MODEST! That’s the word. Hallelujah! That’s what I want! Coverage!

And so it was. A swimsuit model I never was and never will be, but these bathers are Good Enough and they do the job and I look OK. And I had a lovely swim yesterday and today.

They say that retail in Australia is dying, that the stores are in trouble, that people are choosing to shop on-line rather than in stores. Well, that won’t stop happening; but take heed, retailers! If your SALES ASSISTANTS actually ASSIST the customer, you will make more SALES. And if you lose track of your demographic, you will stock your store with things that people don’t want. Don’t blame the internet, pals, blame yourselves.

OH NO, NOT AGAIN.

As I write this, there is talk of a ceasefire and a halt to the IDF ground incursion into the nest of murderous jihadists Gaza. Part of me is relieved and part is angry and frustrated. Part of me wants the IDF to get in there and just end it, just stamp out the terrorists who fire rockets so incessantly into Israel that it’s not even newsworthy in Israel (unless you live in Sderot and your children have been turned into bed-wetting nervous wrecks who are afraid to leave the bomb shelter), let alone the rest of the world. But the rational part of me knows that it will never end. All we can hope for is a few years rocket-free before it starts again. Some breathing space.

For while the peace-loving, democratically elected Egyptian prime minister, who is mediating a deal between Hamas and Israel, is solemnly promising that no further war materiel will enter Gaza through the Egyptian border (Hey, Mohammed! Abdullah! Open up the smuggling tunnels! You’re back in business, dudes!) we know that there will be more dickheads on ‘peace flotillas’ who will attempt to break the sea and air blockades of Gaza, and more international condemnation of Israel for corralling the poor Gazans and yada yada ad nauseam.

And Israel keeps sending in humanitarian aid into Gaza. During war. This stuff is instantly commandeered by Hamas, of course. So in effect, Israel is supplying its own enemies who are unapologetically and openly pledged to the destruction of Israel, sorry, the Zionist entity. (Can’t call it ‘Israel’ because that would acknowledge that it was a sovereign state, and Hamas can’t do that.) So Israel is feeding the hand that bites it, if that is a phrase, and nobody thinks that this is bizarre.

We keep hearing how the IDF is not at war with the Palestinian civilians, but with Gaza. Hence the humanitarian aid. And part of me is proud of Israel’s honorable stance, but most of me is annoyed.

An Arab journalist, Khaled Abu Toameh, has something to say about this.

http://www.icjs-online.org/index.php?article=4272#.UKvzUhxjICU.facebook

Hamas was democratically elected. So was Hitler. Once in power, Hamas destroyed the democratic apparatus that voted them into power- as if such an election was really anything like what we call democracy anyway. These places will never have, nor do they want, our version of a free democratic secular society. They only know how to run a fear society. According to Natan Sharansky, who knows a thing or two about this, having been a prisoner of the Soviet system for some years, it is easy to tell a ‘free’ from a ‘fear’ society. Just stand in the market place and loudly condemn the Leader. If it’s a free society, nobody will take any notice. If it’s not, well, the police will be knocking on your door at 2am and you will be taken away.

So I understand that most Gazans, and most Egyptians and most Iranians and most people living in these societies would like nothing better than to live in freedom, but fear for their lives and the lives of their families; and it is only the minority of extremists who bay for blood and send in bombers and rockets etc. But it is worth remembering that it was only a minority of Germans who were Nazis. There were never more than a few thousand members of the Nazi Party, and a few thousand more sympathizers, maybe, out of millions of Germans, who just wanted to live their lives; but that didn’t stop Hitler and his henchmen from carrying out the worst atrocities in history. Unfortunately, the innocent are collateral damage in war, all war. I guess the Yanks could nuke Hiroshima and Nagasaki and napalm the Vietnamese, and the Brits could firebomb Dresden to ash and rubble, but the IDF dare not harm a hair on a civilian, or the combined wrath of the West will come down on them. I’m not advocating genocidal total warfare, I’m just pissed at the lies and accusations leveled against the IDF by western journalists and UN representatives and anti-Zionist activists, when the IDF is the most moral army in the world, putting its own soldiers at risk in order to save Arab civilians, some of whom end up being hostiles anyway. I’m thinking of Jenin here. But it still goes on.

And you cannot imagine how enraged I am when Western journalists toss off phrases like ‘cycle of violence’, again, in today’s Australian by John Lyons, ME correspondent. It isn’t a bloody cycle. It’s the Arabs trying to kill the Jews and the Jews defending themselves. I’m also sick of these leaders and statesmen urging Israel to have ‘restraint’ and not to retaliate ‘disproportionately’. It isn’t tit-for-tat and it isn’t a game. It is Israel under constant threat from hostile neighbors and under existential threat from Iran and its proxies, Hamas and Hezbollah. It is Israel, a democratic, free society, the only one in the Middle East, asserting its legitimate right to live in peace and security.

I haven’t finished on this whole subject, not by a long shot, but I have other things I need to be doing, so I have to stop.

I pray for peace, I pray that this conflict will be resolved without further loss of life, but I fear that the implacable hatred of Hamas will never end and can never suddenly blossom into peace and love for Israel and the Jews. We need Moshiach, and soon.

Yisrael batach beHashem, ezrom uMaginam hu. Israel trusts in Gd who is her help and shield.

Am Yisrael Chai.

TIME WILL TELL- WHAT?

It’s been a busy week, for a change.

Firstly, my birthday, whence collided my Hebrew and English dates, my age being a multiple of 19 (I really don’t get that, but it seems to work). So no, I’m not 38!! Haha! I’m 57. I have to look at that a few more times just so I can get my head around it.  57. It used to represent Heinz’s 57 varieties of something, and now it’s my age.

Then, the day after my birthday, my lower back suddenly started to hurt. I might have sneezed or something and suddenly, awful pain. I’m happy to report that it settled with some anti-inflammatories and stretching, oh, who am I kidding, just luck.

And then we had the race that stops a nation! I refer of course to the US presidential election. Or maybe to the Melbourne Cup horse race. Either way, it’s a bloody great gamble. I’m not going to discuss Obama’s victory because I’ll talk about how America has chosen suicide, and then somebody will say, but the Republicans are bad with women’s health and the issue of legal abortion, and then somebody will say yes, and the Dems will legalize same sex marriage and how that is such a good thing, and then somebody else will say that it’s a sin against G-d and we will all fry in hell, and yada yada yada. So Obama got in. Deal with it. I personally think that he has debased America in the eyes of the world and that his economic policies seem disastrous, and he is no friend of Israel, but, hey, what do I know.

And then, for Wednesday, Thursday and Friday after the Cup/US election, I did a medical refresher course which I have done most years since it began 35 years ago, where I hear all sorts of things about the latest medical treatments etc relevant to GP’s. It is very educational, and I always come away having learned new things, most of which I don’t put into practice, because although I am officially in General Practice, I actually only work with mothers and babies in the field of breastfeeding problems. Pretty niche practice. But I do want to keep my registration so I do all these courses etc to keep up points. Costs a fortune, all this registration stuff. On top of which I have to recertify as a lactation consultant every 5 years, which I just did.

Anyway, in this Update course, there are generally 2 types of speakers; specialists who discuss their fields and what is new and relevant to GPs, and GP academic types who might have their special interests but have managed to publish stuff or attain professorships in the College etc. Either way, I always feel that I have sort of failed to amount to anything professionally. Plus the fact that it always takes place on or around my birthday, always leaves me feeling this way. On top of that, I am now older than most of the speakers. And some years, you would not believe the beautiful young women who step up to the podium with a list of published articles as long as your arm and alphabet soup after their names who are associate professors of this and that, and they look like they could be models. This year, not so much, thank goodness, I was depressed enough already. What is the opposite of Schadenfreud? Is there a word for when other people’s success depresses you?

So I ponder, what can I do about this? I know how it happened; I had 7 kids and I have a husband who has a very busy career of his own, so although he is a good guy and all, it’s not as if he can put everything on hold while I chase the dream. I have to be the woman who is behind the successful man, right? Corporate wife and all. Entertain and stuff.

Now the kids are grown and the pressures are different, but they are still there, and so are the grandchildren whom I never feel as if I have done enough for.

So I know that my little practice in my mickey-mouse sort of field actually does help people, actually does make a difference; but there are times when I feel that ‘I coulda been a contender’ and now that chance is lost. Could I retrain as- what? Psychiatrist? That was the original ambition, but do I still want that? I don’t think I want to be even more involved with people than I am now, I think I’m already burning out. I’ve always loved the idea of Humanity but it’s people I have trouble with.

No, I think I have to strike out in another direction entirely and get my damn cookbook published. Doctor Booba Cooks! There’s a title. Hands up who would buy one! Really, it’s good, it’s the culmination of years of cooking for a family, lots of good tips, full of wisdom. No photos yet, that’s the next step. And finding a publisher.  Maybe before I turn 60. Oy.