Je suis Jeuf.

I am Jewish. My religious roots go back as far as I know, and I wouldn't want it any other way. If you dislike me because of my faith, then leave my blog. I don't need your visits. Furthermore, I fully support Israel and her need to protect herself from terrorist attacks. I am sick of the United Nations condemning Israel for her acts of self-preservation while having nothing to say about the horrors of ISIS.

Antisemitism is once again on the rise, with an over 300% increase in Europe. As a result, I have no plans to visit this part of the world anytime soon. Antisemitism first showed its ugly head in 586 BCE (Before the Common Era) in ancient Babylonia when Jews refused to worship Khnum, the Egyptian Ram God. Soon after, the first temple was destroyed. This occurred in what is now Israel, long before Palestinians even existed.

Basically, hatred for Jews has followed a repeated pattern of a ruling factor saying, "You will do this."

While Jews replied, "We will not."

Some 400 years later, Egyptians frowned upon Jews who worshipped one God as opposed to multiple Gods. Yet, we Jews refused to give up our practices.

With the antisemitism among the Roman Empire, how in the world do people believe the lie of Jews killing Jesus? Jews had no power and were a small and intellectually divided community. In fact, many Jews were nailed to the cross for refusing to practice the Roman religious ways. Plus, the Romans destroyed the second temple in 70 CE.

Throughout history, Jews have been a convenient scape goat due to our refusal to assimilate. We did not cause the black plague; we just didn't catch the dreaded disease because we kept our houses clean. Or, er, my ancestors did. ;) Nor, have we sacrificed humans in bizarre rituals. However, people believe what they want to believe.

At the beginning of this article, I claimed that I wouldn't want to deny my ancestry. Throughout history, my ancestors have repeatedly had threats to their lives. I am proud to be the child of the survivors. I am also amazed at the persistence of those who try to convert me. My ancestors refused conversion over the threat of death, yet you think you can ring my doorbell and expect me to drop my religion for yours. No apologies to you. I refuse to spit on my ancestors graves.

#AtoZ : Matzah

It's time again to give up real food for flat crackers that give one digestive problems. We can purchase all kinds of derivatives for matzah, such as matzah fartful, too. Oh, yeah, don't forget the Gas-Ex with the Passover supplies. And remember, Moses's line, "Let my people go," takes on a whole new meaning.

It's going to be a great week!

Musical Monday: Brandon Walker

I eat Chinese food on Christmas and go to the movie theater, too; because there ain't much else to do on Christmas, when you're a Jew.

Come join Music Monday and share your songs with us. Rules are simple. Leave ONLY the ACTUAL LINK POST here and grab the code below and place it at your blog entry. You can grab this code at LadyJava’s Lounge Please note these links are STRICTLY for Music Monday participants only. All others will be deleted without prejudice.




PS: Because of spamming purposes, the linky will be closed on Thursday of each week at midnight, Malaysian Time. Thank you!

Wordless Wednesday: Mazel Tov!

This past weekend, our nephew was ordained as a reform rabbi.

 

The synagogue was gorgeous.

Soon he will lead Rhonda's congregation in Auckland, New Zealand. What a small world! 

 

Six13 - Pesach Shop (2013 Passover Jam)

Come join Music Monday and share your songs with us. Rules are simple. Leave ONLY the ACTUAL LINK POST here and grab the code below and place it at your blog entry. You can grab this code at LadyJava's Lounge Please note these links are STRICTLY for Music Monday participants only. All others will be deleted without prejudice.



PS: Because of spamming purposes, the linky will be closed on Thursday of each week at midnight, Malaysian Time. Thank you!

Theme Thursday: What's Cooking? NADA

How ironic to be given a prompt asking, "What's cooking?," the day after my twenty-six hour fast. Yesterday, Yom Kippur––The Day of Atonement, meant a full sundown to past-down-again of reflecting, praying, and empty bellies. 

Each year, I'm amazed to see how easy fasting is for me. In fact, I was so involved with getting my house ready for the break fast, that I failed to watch the clock and went five minutes past supper time! I confess, I did a little evening cooking and baking, but no tasting. If I can go a full day without food or drink, why can't I say, "No" to that second helping or fattening dish? Our minds truly contain the potential to control that thing called our body if we're serious enough to do so.

Last night, a story circulated from one of the Orthodox synagogues in town. A teenage girl fell ill due to lack of food and passed out during the afternoon service. Someone made the mistake of yelling, "Is there a doctor in the house?" 

Practically the entire shul rushed to her aid, with the exception of a couple dozen lawyers pondering, Who pushed her? or Is there a loose tile below her feet that would make a good suit? And of course the temple contained those mentally challenged folks who became accountants. Cool your jets––I'M KIDDING! But in all honesty, we are quite an educated group of people.

The girl was fine. Her ego contained a few bumps and bruises, but no more than those I acquire daily.

If I have offended anyone this year–like accountants, please accept my humble apologies, but also realize I attended Kol Nidre services. This is a most important time when we admit to G-d that we'll probably sin all over again because after all, that's what humans do.

#AtoZ : Melting

I grew up in a Reform Jewish family in a secular community of St. Louis, yet someone near and dear to me has made the shift to Orthodoxy. During his transition to the religious life style, I flew into an airport on a Friday night, which is our Sabbath. He who shall not be named drove his car to the airport and picked me up. When we reached our destination, an ice cream cake was waiting for the birthday boy who had just driven a car. He refused to blow out the candles on his cake because it was the Sabbath, so we watched the cake melt all over the table.

 

To make matters worse, I'm posting about this on a Saturday, our Sabbath. If you don't see my post on Monday, you can assume God struck me dead from  a bolt of lightning.

I close with a re-post of one of my faves.

#GBE2: Pet Peeves

When it comes to "Pet Peeves," there are two types: a few that matter and most that don't. Which reminds me of a speaker at a gifted teachers' conference years ago. She spoke about little quirks present in our smart students, how we probably share these, and finally it's not an accident that we ended up teaching these perfectionist kids.

If you want to drive a gifted kid nuts, it's easy. All you have to do is hang one poster at an angle instead of straight. You do this, and I guarantee most intellectually gifted kids will be focused on that crooked poster because this is THEIR pet peeve. Of course, I could never perform this monstrous task because it would drive me mad too.

Although my house is far from spotless–perfectionism gone too far–when folding towels or bedsheets, those corners better match up. Peanut butter must spread across every square inch of bread, and toilet paper drops from the top. Annoyance at seeing a sloppy job is a silly pet peeve of mine. Furthermore, I can't stand to have the light switches positioned the wrong way. After all, up is for "on" and down is for "off." I will tread across a dark room at the risk of breaking bones rather than flip the switch in the wrong direction. As you read this, half of you are thinking, she's nuts, while the other half is nodding in agreement. Either way, my gifted class is just like me, so maybe there's something to this?

And here's another one... see pants drop.

I also have multiple pet peeves when it comes to drivers, but I've already written about this:  Idiot Drivers

Now on to a pet peeve that matters a little more.

Religion. 

I know many feel like they are doing G-d's work or saving my soul when they try to push me to believe what they believe, but I find it nauseating. I don't tell you who or what you should worship, so how dare you try to push your beliefs on me! Missionaries who venture into some Arab countries have found themselves in fear for their lives. While I don't condone putting missionaries to death, I certainly understand the anger. People who have been practicing their beliefs their entire lives don't appreciate some no nothing telling them they are wrong. Just like you value your religion, I value mine and others value theirs. I don't tell you that your life learnings are incorrect nor do I tell you you're going to H*ll if you don't believe what I believe. So, this is my true pet peeve... leave me alone.

At the same time, I can appreciate those missionaries who have made a difference in the lives of starving people in third world countries. It's all a matter of who they approach and how. Along this line, I have friends who have told me that they pray for me. While I appreciate their concerns and know they do it out of love, if they are praying for me to change my religion, they're wasting their time. I love my faith.

My intelligent and learned brother has seen the end of missionaries trying to convert him. The last poor guy to walk across his threshold found his beliefs thrown back at him in such a way that he had no choice: he could admit that what he preached was messed up or give away his pants. The missionary left in his underwear.☺

The Writer's Post: Walking Away

Walking away is normally not tough; but tonight, I just don't think I can manage it. See, several weeks ago, I think I did something to my leg in Mr. Mario's elementary school running group. The PE teacher had us hopping over cones. This is easy peasy for nine and ten year olds but not for old ladies like me. After that workout, the area behind my knee started to ache.

Mr. Mario said, "It sounds like your hamstring."
I told him, "Can't be. I'm Jewish, and Jews don't eat ham."
He didn't buy it.

I've lived with mild pain for almost a month, but it hasn't been too bad; so I've continued running. Sometimes it hurts when I start, other times when I'm in motion, but always after a good run. On Saturday, I ran five miles and felt it after mile four.

Today Mr. Mario had us sprinting the length and width of a soccer field then resting for a minute and a half before going at it again. Turns out some of those little turkeys have been making fun of my great running talent. They must be jealous because I am consistently last, and they haven't learned how to be consistent runners.

It's okay. I have tough skin, but my porkstring, not so much. I guess instead of walking away, I'll have to limp… and you expected a deeply emotional post about "Walking Away?" Pffft.

 Lashana Tova to all my Jewish friends. I'll be out of commission (and the refrigerator) for a good part of the week-end, so I'll catch you later.