I’m not going to go here into the waste of public money and resources that surround the entire concept of “city rabbis”. As a religious Jew living in Petach Tikva, I have no use for these rabbis. I’m pretty confident the secular majority in the city has no use for them either.

What caught my eye this morning was the picture of Micah HaLevy, the national-religious Ashkenazi rabbi, pictured below on the right:

Now, if I were to show you this picture and ask: what religious movement does the rabbi on the right belong to? I’m betting the vast majority will answer: charedi. (A few connoisseurs might ask themselves why rabbi Stav is shaking a charedi rabbi’s hand). With the hat, the beard and the black suit, Micah HaLevy looks entirely charedi.

This picture symbolises the sad reality of the national religious movement in Israel. The “charedisation” of this movement is a well-known thing. It turns out that even when it is Mafdal, the national religious party, manages to secure a political post for a rabbi, the candidate needs to look and dress like a charedi. Gone are the days where the national religious were proud of the fact that they looked and dressed like the general population.

(שמות י”ב, א’-ג’)

Just before leaving Egypt, the Torah stops the narrative of the plagues to talk about the Pessach sacrifice:

And the Lord spoke to Moshe and Aharon in the land of Egypt, saying: This month shall be to you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year to you.

(Shemot 12, 1-2)

Rashi says that God showed Moshe the moon and told him that every new moon means it is the first day of the month – rosh chodesh. This is the mitzvah of sanctifying the new month (קידוש החודש), which was fulfilled in the days of the Temple by witnessing the new moon and declaring the new month. Rashi, in his commentary on the first verse of the Torah, says that this was the first mitzvah that was given to the people of Israel.

The first mitzvah? Surely other mitzvot qualify more. How about “I am the Lord your God”, or “You shall love your neighbour as yourself?”. Why does the sanctification of the new month “deserve” to be the first mitzvah? And if it is so important, why was it given in Egypt, and not on Mount Sinai?

The simple answer is in the following verse:

Speak to all the congregation of Israel, saying: In the tenth day of this month they shall take to them every man a lamb, according to their fathers’ houses, a lamb for a household.

(Shemot 12, 3)

The people were told to pick a lamb on the tenth of the month of Nissan. In order to know when the tenth of Nissan is, they had to determine when the first of the month is. Therefore, they needed to be commanded about sanctifying the new month.

But we are looking for a deeper meaning to this mitzvah.

Every holiday we recite the verse from VaYikra: “These are the appointed seasons of the Lord, holy convocations, which you shall proclaim in their appointed season.” From this verse we learn that we were given the power to determine the holidays, though the mechanism of the new month. R. Akiva says that even if the Sanhedrin mistakenly, or even purposely, sanctify the new month on the wrong day, it is still the new month.

This control over time is illustrated in the Midrash Tanchuma. A king is in possession of a very valuable clock, and when his son comes of age, he hands it over to the son. (Not unlike the Patek Philippe ad: “You never actually own a Patek Philippe. You merely take care of it for the next generation.”) God does the same: he hands over the responsibility of keeping time to the people of Israel, now that they have come of age.

But why in Egypt? Because until now the people of Israel were slaves. They did not control their time; someone else did that for them. A man who is not in control of his time is not able to assume any responsibilities. Before receiving the Torah and the responsibility of mitzvot, the people of Israel needed realise they are switching to a new phase: being in control of their own time. The divine responsibility over time has become a human responsibility, to prepare them for the real responsibility of accepting the Torah and its commandments.

The lesson for us is obvious: do we let time control us, thus enslaving us, or do we control time and become free to assume our own responsibilities? As the medieval poet, R. Yehuda HaLevi, wrote: “The slaves of Time are the slaves of a slave; Only the slave of the Lord is free.”

The book starts off with a well known mafia boss who decides to call it a day and turns himself in to Montalbano (who agrees to stage his arrest to make the retirement respectable). The mafia boss has information that helps the police solve a theft case involving a supermarket delivery truck, and leads them to a cave used by the mafia as an arms stash.

So far, a typical mafia crime story. But Montalbano notices the cave has a sealed secret passage that leads to a second, smaller cave. In the inner cave he he finds the bodies of a young couple, together with a statue of a terracotta dog, a bowl of water and some coins dating back to the second world war. The bodies and the objects are arranged in what appears to be a ritualistic burial setting.

This finding intrigues Montalbano, even though it is clear, fifty years since the crime was perpetrated, that whoever killed the young lovers is long dead, or at least very old. He embarks on a journey to discover why they were killed and placed in the cave. This journey is the real heart of this book, and makes the inspector learn about old traditions and buried secrets.

Reading Camilleri is not easy, given that many of the dialogues are in Sicilian dialect. Here is an example of a short exchange between Montalbano and his housemaid Adelina, who is worried about his eating habits and hygiene (p. 362):

“Vossia non mangiò ne aieri a mezzujorno né aieri sira!”

“Non avevo pititto, Adelì”

“Io m’ammazzo di travaglio a fàrricci cose ‘nguliate e vossia le sdegna!”

“Non le sdegno, ma te l’ho detto: mi faglia il pititto”

“E po’ chista casa diventò un purcile! Vossia ‘un voli ca lavo ‘n terra, ‘un voli ca lavo I robbi! Havi cinco jorna ca si teno la stissa cammisa e li stessi mutanni! Vossia feti!”

So aside from the many words I either need to look up, or guess from the context, there is also this continuous guesswork about the Italian equivalent of the Sicilian slang. Some are easy (aieri = ieri; sira = serra), but others are not so self-evident (took me a second to realise mutanni were mutande). And yet, discovering this special dialect through the machinations of Montalbano adds to the pleasure of reading.

Ne’emanei Torah Va’Avodah (“Ne’emanei”) was established in the mid 1970s as a movement with political aspirations, but very quickly turned into a non-political movement affiliated with the Religious Kibbutz. Its mission: to promote the values of Torah Va’Avodah. Like many other ideological organizations it had its share of rifts and breakups, but it never lost vision of its main mission. It does so by means of a journal (De’ot), conferences and lectures, press releases, etc. I joined the movement as a member a few years ago, when I was still living in Japan.

Some of the topics and issues brought to public debate by Ne’emanei may seem inappropriate to mainstream national-religious Israelis, who prefer to ignore reality or at the very least avoid airing dirty linen in public. Sadly, a complex and critical approach to life has never been the forte of this mainstream. I can understand how narrow-minded people can get scared when confronted with issues like Torah study by women, or the separation of religion and state. Fear is not conducive to rational debate; it is far easier to discredit the person you don’t agree with. And this is exactly what has been happening to N’e’emanei these last few weeks.

Ne’emanei came under attack by a group I have never heard about before: Ra’ananim (literally, “the fresh ones”). The accusation: Ne’emanei is funded by the New Israel Fund. This fund has been the target of incessant attacks by right-wing politicians and activists in Israel in recent years, who view it as “anti Zionist” and “pro Palestinian”. In some circles, the New Israel Fund is seen as a group of self-hating, back-stabbing Jews. Misguided in the best case; traitors in the worst case. Ne’emanei has traditionally been associated with the modern Orthodoxy wing of the national-religious sector and therefore a “natural suspect” for being left-wing and quasi-traitorous itself.

Ne’emanei were quick to publish documentation showing the funding did not come directly from the New Israel Fund, and that in any case it was marginal in nature. The minute I saw their response, I knew it would be a waste of time. Personally I don’t see a problem with getting funds from the New Israel Fund, so naturally I don’t see the need for any justifications. Needless to say, I also don’t have a problem with “leftist” views, even if I understand why Ne’emanei prefers to stay out of the political debate. But even if any of these allegations are true, facts are the last thing that will deter the likes of Ra’ananim from spewing their hatred.

The real problem is how easily a movement like Ne’emanei can be dragged publicly in the mud, using ridiculous (and probably false) allegations. Last shabbat, Ra’ananim published a full-page ad in one of the ubiquitous synagogue rags, using the word “infiltrators” (מסתננים), which to Israelis has connotations of Arab terrorism. And Ne’emanei is not alone; the ad had the logos of other national-religious movements, all belonging to the so-called “modern Orthodox” movement. The fact that tiny bunch of fanatic activists can so easily blacken the name of movements that promote values such as tolerance, justice, democracy and equality, says a lot about present-day Israel.

We travelled to Malta on Christmas Day, with a direct Air Malta flight from Tel Aviv. Our hotel was located in St. Julian’s, facing Balluta Bay on the Northern shores of Malta. As it was still early to check in, we took a walk along the promenade, which was quite deserted; not surprising, considering the date and the fact it was rather chilly, even though the sun was out most of the time. We walked through the quiet streets of Sliema, a residential neighbourhood with a pleasant mix of old and new buildings.

After checking in and receiving our room (upgraded thanks to my status; thank you SPG), we were too tired to leave it again, so we had a lazy late afternoon. We organized lunch with some food we brought from home, and ate it on the balcony of our hotel room, overlooking the bay, and, beyond it, the Mediterranean (the view is quite impressive).

After finishing the meal, my son asked about dessert, and just as we were deciding what to have for dessert, there was a knock on the door. As a welcome gift, a plate of chocolates and a bottle of wine (which we exchanged for a few bottles of water) were delivered by the hotel staff. We are still searching the room for listening devices…

Later, we watched “The Maltese Falcon” on DVD, which I thought was appropriate given our location. My son couldn’t get over the fact the movie was made seventy (!) years ago and all of the actors were long dead. He didn’t think “video”, as he put it, was around back then.

We lit six Chanuka candles and retired to an early night.

Monday – 26.12

First morning in a long time that I didn’t wake up with an alarm clock, or the sounds of my children or my wife getting up for school/work. And yet, I was up by 8:30am. Upon opening the curtains, I was greeted, on my first ever morning in Malta, with this magnificent view of Balluta Bay:

We left the hotel and took a bus into Valletta, the capital city. The weather was mostly sunny, but the strong winds and high waves were early warnings of what was to come. The bus terminal in Valletta is conveniently located at the entrance to the old city, which is where everybody was heading anyway. This medieval city, like many in Europe, has become a shopping mecca. However, it is big enough to have many side streets that are not spoilt with commerce and where one can enjoy some peace and quiet, watching the distinct architecture of Valletta.

We headed to the Upper Barrakka gardens, which offer some breathtaking views of the bay, as well as the “three cities” to the east of Malta:

Underneath the balcony from which these pictures were taken stands the Saluting Battery, a remnant of the old city cannons that used to announce the passing of noon and other important events. A few minutes before noon, a lone uniformed soldier uncovered the leftmost cannon and prepared it for the daily firing. Precisely at noon, on the last chime of the cathedral bells, he shouted out something indistinct and pulled the fuse. There was a loud bang, the throng of tourists duly applauded, and that was that.

We stopped for coffee at a local place, and their cappuccino was remarkably good: the right mix of coffee and milk with the perfect amount and consistency of foam. I find that in most places outside of Italy (where you can get a perfect coffee almost everywhere, even in gas stations), unless you know where to go, baristas have a difficult time coming up with a decent cup of the stuff. This coffee shop in Valletta (unfortunately, I don’t recall its name), therefore deserves a special mention.

As does a pharmacy on the main street of Valletta, sporting this sign:

The most formidable structure in the Valletta is the co-Cathedral of St. John’s. My son asked what the “co” stood for; I had no idea. We thought perhaps it meant several Christian denominations shared the cathedral. As that as likely as two Jews sharing the same synagogue on a desert island, we looked it up. Turns out “co” is short for “conventual”, i.e. the place served also as a convent, hence the duality. Having paid 6 Euros each, we entered this magnificent structure, a monument to the wealth of the Catholic Church. Truth is, the frescoes and statues are indeed impressive, but the most outstanding feature of this cathedral is the Caravaggio paintings it hosts; particularly the large painting of the beheading of John the Baptist, hanging up in the oratory. From the audio commentary I learnt about the chiaroscuro style, characteristic of Caravaggio’s work. Unfortunately, photos of the painting are not allowed.

We then headed all the way down to St. Elmo’s fort and some more beautiful views of the bay. By this time, the wind had really picked up and the first drops of rain started falling. A storm was heading for the island, as was clear from the waves:

We made our way indoors for a late lunch (some unremarkable sushi) and a taste of the local beer: Cisk. The ride on the bus back to St. Julian’s was longer, due to some heavy traffic in Sliema. A visit to the hotel fitness centre, a relaxing soak in the hotel pool, and we were ready to light the seventh candle of Chanuka and head to bed. Tomorrow, we plan to visit Gozo, the northern island of Malta.

Tuesday – 27.12

Today was a long day. We booked a sightseeing tour to go see Gozo, the northern island of Malta; one of those hop-on, hop-off buses, with the open roof, where you get to meet and spend the day with annoying people of many nationalities. A bus picked us from the hotel to take us to Cirkewwa, the northernmost point of the island of Malta, where the ferry leaves for Gozo. The crossing takes about 20-25 minutes, arriving at Mgarr harbour.

Our first stop on Gozo island was Ggantija, site of ancient temples, dating back to between 3600 and 2400 BC, allegedly making them among the earliest standing man-made structures in the world (older than the Pyramids or Stonehenge). It was raining pretty heavily, so we just had a quick look inside these ruins before heading for shelter.

The next stop was the cave of Calypso. According to Greek mythology, the nymph Calypso seduced and kept Ulysses prisoner in this cave for seven years. A short walk from the bus stop took us to a platform with a stunning view of the sea. But we saw no cave, although I’m sure there must have been one somewhere. The view alone was worth the stop.

We asked a young woman who was with us on the platform to take our picture. She was with two other women, and as I heard them speak English, Italian and Russian I asked where they were from. The answer sounded like a bar joke: they were three students – a Turk, a Russian and a Ukranian – studying in Bologna.

Hopping back on the bus, we headed to Victoria, the capital of Gozo, also known as Rabat (not to be confused with the Rabat on the island of Malta, or Rabat, the capital of Morocco).

During the drive, we noticed that electricity lines are very peculiar. Instead of electricity poles, the lines weave their way through the buildings themselves. So basically, if you live on the first or second floor of the building, chances are you’ll have electricity lines going through the length of your balcony. I wonder what all that electromagnetic current does to the average Maltese brain.

At Victoria, we climbed up the road from the bus terminal to get to the most striking building in the city: the Citadel. This fortified castle is a true marvel: alleys, staircases and buildings spread over the top of a hill, dating back to medieval times. The views from the top of the Citadel were absolutely stunning; the rain had stopped, and the sun was making attempts to break through the clouds, making visibility clear in all directions. Unless something spectacular pops up in the next couple of days, this will surely qualify as the highlight of our trip. Here are some pictures:

Moving on, we headed to our last stop on the island: the village of Dwejra, home to the most famous site on Gozo, the Azure Window. This natural phenomenon, pictured below, was created when two limestone caves collapsed. Much like a dolmen, two gigantic columns, each about 40 metres in diameter, support a horizontal block, about 100 metres long and 20 metres high. This creates a “window” through which the azure sea (the sea here is deep, hence the colour) can be seen, hence the name “Azure Window”. The rock surface we walked on to reach the window was a phenomenon in itself: the rock was laced with the remains of crustaceans, as if someone took thousands of ceramic vases and broke them over the entire area.

(Warning: there is one coffee shop next to the Azure Window. Whatever you do, even if you are dying of thirst, do not get a coffee or a hot chocolate there. Trust me on this).

By this time it was already 4pm and getting dark. We took the next bus straight to the harbour to catch the ferry back to the island of Malta. We were pretty tired by the time we arrived, but unfortunately our day was not to end so quickly. The bus that took us back to the hotel broke down and we had to wait for another bus to come pick us up. A journey of 30 minutes ended up taking almost an hour and a half. Fortunately we had a sympathetic family from Haifa with us on the bus, which helped pass the time.

Back at the hotel we lit eight candles on this last day of Channuka, and placed the channukia facing the Church of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, itself all lit up for Christmas. You can just see it in the background of the picture below:

Wednesday – 28.12

Nothing to report today. We decided to have an extremely lazy day. Got up late, spent some time in the pool, read and fell asleep by the pool, went for a short walk, spent some time in the gym. That’s pretty much it. We retired early to bed, for a well-deserved rest.

Tomorrow, our last day in Malta, should be more eventful.

Thursday – 29.12

For out last day in Malta, we took another hop-on, hop-off bus, this time to the northern part of the island. The bus drove through Valletta and on to the centre of the island. We got off at Tá Qali, to visit the Malta Aviation Museum. This is a three-hangar complex, housing planes and other paraphernalia from World War II, during which Malta was a base for the Royal Air Force. The museum had a rundown look and could use some renovation, although some of the planes were in very good condition. There was also a chart of rescues made of pilots whose planes went down in the sea (see picture), noting who was recovered alive and who was not.

Hopping back on the bus, we travelled the short distance to Mdina, the old capital of Malta. Its origins may be traced back 3,500 years ago. Basically, it’s a renovated old city, in the tradition of such old cities across Europe. In the middle of the city lies the cathedral, facing a fairly large square. The entire area has a very touristy feel to it, much more than in the old city of Victoria on Gozo island (see above). For example, there were the obligatory horse-driven carriages, with the odd Japanese or English tourists atop them, looking dumbfounded. To top it all, the horses all had a feather stuck on their head. We fled from Mdina to stroll through the streets of Rabat. The rain caught up with us in front of the Church of St. Paul, but we couldn’t complain, as most of the day we had fair weather.

The bus then drove through Golden bay and St. Paul’s Bay, two resort areas that looked pretty gloomy and abandoned. (My son notes that I was asleep during this part of the journey, so no wonder everything looked abandoned…). We got off at Buggiba, another resort town in the northeastern part of Malta. The town was infested with English tourists, most of whom were sipping beers; I hate to think what the place looks and smells like during the summer months.

We headed to the Malta Classic Car Museum, not hoping for much after the Aviation Museum. But, we were pleasantly surprised, as this museum was a real gem. For 7 Euros we gained access to two floors, housing a wide array of cars and motorcycles – British, German, Italian, American and more – all in pristine condition. There were fancy cars, such as old Spyders and Corvettes, as well as standard cars, like the Fiat 500 or the Ford Cortina. It was a shame one couldn’t touch the cars or sit in them. Oddly enough, there were also a couple of new Subarus and a Fiat Punto. Here are some pictures from this lovely museum:

That was our last stop of the day. The bus took us back to St. Julian’s, where we spent the last few hours in Malta languishing in the hotel lobby, waiting for our middle-of-the-night flight back to Israel.

In summary, Malta has turned out to be a surprisingly beautiful holiday destination. This is not big news, as apparently there are two million tourists who visit the island every year (approximately four times the local population). Even though most of them probably come here for the beaches and the sea sports, it is the history of the place and the landscapes that are, in my opinion, what makes Malta almost magical.

The Economist reports this week on three scientific studies dealing with “mind reading”, or more accurately, the ability to find out what a person is thinking by scanning the activity of his or her brain.

In the first study, scientists in Germany managed to “read” the actions of people in their dreams. In the second study, scientists in the US managed to reconstruct movies watched by people based on activity recorded in their visual cortex. And a third group of scientists in the US managed, to a certain degree, to find out what objects people were were thinking about.

The bottom line from these studies, as The Economist puts it, is that mind reading has become a reality. Admittedly, it is still making its firsts steps and the results are somewhat crude, but it will undoubtedly improve over time, as scientists refine their methods and take advantage of advances in technology.

The implications of these studies raise deep ethical questions. Just like atomic energy, this technology can be harnessed to help humanity (severely disabled people will be able to perform tasks simply by thinking about them), but it can also be used for nefarious purposes. If authorities can find out what people are thinking about, there will be nowhere to hide. Lying will become impossible. That will bring an end to the world as we know it, because as we all know: lying makes the world go round.

You think I’m exaggerating? Just imagine a world where everybody tells the truth:

Many blame the “disengagement” of Israel from Gaza in 2005 for this situation. Some hark back to the Israel withdrawal from Lebanon in 2000, the “original sin”. By withdrawing unilaterally from these areas, the argument goes, Israel has played into the hands of the terrorists (Hezbollah in the north and Hamas in the south), creating an untenable situation wherein Israel is unable to defend its citizens from attacks.

It is convenient to fall into the trap of this simplistic and seemingly logical argument. It is convenient to forget how Israel bled (not only in the physical sense of the word) during its occupation of southern Lebanon and the Gaza strip. It is convenient to believe that if only the IDF would re-occupy those territories, Israel will be immune from attacks.

The truth is the solution lies elsewhere. It is not in reversing the justified unilateral withdrawals from Lebanon and Gaza. It is in implementing the second piece of those withdrawal plans: the promise of the Israeli government to retaliate should Israel be attacked from those territories!

For years Israel did next to nothing while Hamas held sizable portions of southern Israel hostage to their rocket launches. Then came operation Cast Lead in 2008, during which thousands of Palestinians lost their lives. And, lo and behold, here is what happened to the number of rockets launched towards Israe after 2008l:

(Source: IDF spokesman. Note the sharp decrease in 2005, the year Israel withdrew from Gaza).

The problem is not Israel’s presence in Gaza. The problem is the Israeli government is unwilling to perform its duties of protecting citizens from attack. Deterrence is not just a nice word. It can’t be earned by making fiery speeches and empty threats. Deterrence is earned with hard work. If you allow your crazy neighbour to throw rocks at your house without throwing back bigger rocks at his, you don’t have the right to complain that he does not respect you.

It is time our “brave” prime minister, so good at making speeches at the UN, starts acting like a leader. Rhetoric alone will not deter our crazy neighbours. It’s time to do more and talk less.

PS – After operation “Cast Lead” I proposed an idea for a deterrent Israel could use against rocket launches from Gaza. Surprisingly, my suggestion was never implemented. As far as I know, it wasn’t even considered. Shame…

His new book is not a novel. It is an account of a series of conversations he held with Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein, head of the Har Etzion yeshiva, and one of the most prominent Jewish thinkers of our time. The book was released a few months ago, accompanied by an aggressive media campaign by the publisher (Yediot Ahronot), that labelled it as “The most important book of Jewish thought since Rabbi Solovietchik”.

Given that Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik was the foremost Jewish thinker of modern orthodoxy in the US during the 20th century, and given that Rabbi Lichtenstein is Rabbi Soloveitchiks’ most prominent student and his son-in-law, this was some pretentious claim. Accordingly, expectations were set.

And shattered.

The book is a huge disappointment (given the expectations). It is by no means a book of “Jewish Thought”. Each chapter in the book deals with a different subject, ranging from philosophical themes like the religious experience or universal moral values, to contemporary issues like Zionism and the State of Israel or feminism in Judaism. The first page of every chapter has a series of quotes from things Rabbi Lichtenstein says during the conversations recorded in that chapter. I found these quotes to be unnecessary and repetitive, as the chapters are not that long anyway. At the end of each chapter, there is a small extract or two from Rabbi Lichtenstein’s writings, dealing with the subject just discussed.

The conversations themselves are pleasant and easy to read, but they provide only a superficial insight into the complex personality of Rabbi Lichtenstein and his views. If there is anything about “Jewish Thought” in this book, it is the short passages from Rabbi Lichtenstein’s writings at the end of each chapter. But why would you need a book to read these extracts if you can read the originals?

As a friend of mine described the book: “it is a notch above a newspaper interview, nothing more”. So true, and so disappointing.

But you learn something from every book you read. One thing I took upon myself after reading this book is to study the Ramban’s commentary on the Torah more seriously. Rabbi Lichtenstein praises this commentary and goes as far as to say that if “The Guide to the Perplexed” by the Rambam would have been lost, it wouldn’t have been such a great loss; but if the Ramban’s commentay on the Torah would have been lost, it would have been a catastrophe. Such a statement from Rabbi Lichtenstein certainly warrants a more serious study of the Ramban.

Three people I know personally are interviewed in this movie. Click on the picture below to watch it (in Hebrew, 43 minutes):

In short (full story here):

Last year Aviva Shalit received a dollar bill from the wife of a Jerusalem rabbi. This dollar bill was given to the rabbi’s wife by no other than the Lubavitcher Rebbe (who was in the habit of handing out dollar bills to those who visited him). The bill bore the Hebrew date, so the story goes, of 20 Tishrei 5751. Gilad Shalit was freed on 20 Tishrei 5772, exactly 21 years later. The very same day! A miracle indeed!

But as some of you may have guessed from the title of this post, there is something fishy about this story. Let’s take a look at the “miracle dollar bill”:

The handwritten note on the top of the bill says: “To Hanna Kantermann, 21 Tishrei 5751, Wednesday”. The word that is crossed out is Tuesday. A quick check will show that 21 Tishrei 5751 was indeed a Wednesday.

So it’s 21 Tishrei and not 20 Tishrei. Bummer.

Why spoil a good miracle story with the facts? That would not be in line with the best practices of Voodoo Judaism…