Three Things I Learned This Week

Yes, yes. I know, it's been . . . well, too long, since I have written. But here's the deal. School (MA in Political Science at Hebrew University), Work (Translating/Writing for the Reform Movement in Israel), and Love (1.5 years with the world's "best" dresser; "best"=he likes blue . . . a lot . . . so much so that an entire blue outfit--something resembling Papa Smurf--is high on his list of favorite outfits), and Life (see above) has been keeping me very busy.

That is, until now.

Last week, as the holidays--Passover and my 25th birthday--descended upon us in a frenzy of cleaning up bread crumbs and drinking ourselves silly in Jerusalem's newest "Irish" pub, Dublin's, so did a period of freedom for yours truly. Freedom from Egyptian slavery, yes, and freedom from the "daily grind." School is on hold for two weeks and work for one week. I've been sleeping in, hiking, eating matzah-ball soup, watching movies, and buying kitchen appliances--all in all, a good vacation.

But despite the blender-buying excursions and the attempt to be creative in the culinary world ("What can I make with matzah, a cucumber, an egg, and the tail of a newt?"), I have had time to think. And I've learned a few things this week:

1) On your birthday, always drink one less beer than you think you should, especially if you live in a country that has beers with stronger alcohol content than the one you went to college in. Note: You cannot trust your friends to cut you off because sometimes they are more intoxicated than you are.

2) Do not celebrate your birthday (read: drink too much) on a night when the clocks change to Daylight Savings time. That hour of sleep is crucial to your post-birthday recovery.

3) "Kosher for Passover" labels have gone too far in this country. This just in: Kosher for Passover diapers have been spotted in several supermarkets in the Holy Land.

But there is actually a fourth thing I learned this week, something more serious than the light-hearted comments above. And that is that life is precious. Today, now, I am waiting to hear that someone's brain surgery--to remove a tumor from her brain stem--has gone well. That she will be healthy, pain-free, and without side effects. That she will return to be the wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, teacher, friend, living being that she was before the tumor was found.

At the end of the Passover seder, we say, "Next year in Jerusalem!" sometimes not even realizing that neither of these things are promises, but rather, hopes. Today, I saw the Jewish "pilgrims" pouring into the city I call my home to visit the Kotel (Western Wall) in order to be present for Birkat ha-Kohanim (Priestly Blessing, now conducted by those who are part of the Kohayn Tribe). This Sunday, Easter, Christian pilgrims will make their way along the Stations of the Cross, retracing the steps of Jesus, their connection to the Divine. These people, all of them, are here in an attempt to touch something holy, something beautiful. I hope they find it, I hope we find it. This year, next year, wherever we may be.