Yom Kippur remembered

Yom Kipppur is the holiest day of the Jewish Year and is one of several fast holidays. (It's not true that every Jewish holiday is celebrated with food!). At Temple Jacob in Hancock, Michigan the congregation is small and there is no regular rabbi, but one is always hired for the High Holy Days of Rosh Hashanah, the New Year, and Yom Kippur, the Day or Atonement. Unlike Christian sects which are preoccupied with sin and salvation from it, for Jews Yom Kippur is the only time of the year that Jews talk about sin. It is a day-long service with a mid-afternoon break, and concludes with Yitzkor, a prayer service in remembrance of the dead, and, finally, Neilah which ends at sunset with the final blowing of the shofar ram's horn.
At Temple Jacob there is a stained glass window on the western wall, and the setting sun shines through it, casting a square of bright light on the wall above the bimah where the torah scrolls are kept. As the concluding prayers are recited, the congregation all standing for what, after a day of fasting, is a very long time, that square of sunlight against the wall gradually rises as the sun is setting, and finally fades out as the sun is down, marking the conclusion of the service. It is a very spiritual period, for the light of the setting sun as it fades is a vivid sign of the day of repentance. It was a moment I always appreciated, for it is a reminder of our own mortality and limited length of days.
May all my readers be inscribed, as we say, in the Book of Life, for a year of good health, prosperity, and peace. May the Lord bless you and keep you. May He shine His countenance upon you and grant us all peace. Amen.

A Bubbe Meyse

This short story, a monologue, will be performed at the Terwilliger Plaza talent show on September 28. It is included in my collection of short stories "Misplaced Persons" which is available as an ebook at Amazon.com and B&N for the Kindle and Nook and as a handsome paperback from lulu.com.

A Bubbe Meyse

a monologue by

Harley L. Sachs

What’s a Jewish mother to do? You struggle, you try to make a good life for your children and what do they do? We say small children small tzuris, big children, big tsuris. But back to the beginning I should go.

We’re a poor Jewish family living in a country under foreign occupation, those Romans, ptui, ptui, ptui, I should spit three times to ward off the evil eye. It’s not bad enough that we have to live under those arrogant, brutal legions, strutting around in their breastplates, helmets and short swords like they own the place. Which, in fact, they do.

Unfortunately this time there’s no Judah the Maccabe to throw them out like happened against the Assyrians. The Maccabes set up the Hasmonean government. True to form, power corrupts, and the Hasmoneans were a shande, a disgrace, so its no surprise that now we got the Romans, those Pagan goyim.

At least as long as we pay our taxes and don’t make trouble, they more or less leave us alone. You should hear them bragging about it, the pax romana, they call it, the Roman peace. Peace! Tyranny, I call it.

As if occupation weren’t enough, we have to deal with that Jewish traitor, that Herod, that megalomaniac. Mister big shot. He skims from the taxes and builds himself palaces, temples… there’s no end to it. You should see the fortress he built on Masada, as if putting himself up there would keep him safe in case we ever stood on our hind legs and revolted. This I would never do or even be a part of. Like I always say, don’t make trouble.

It’s not safe to stand out from the crowd. Just mind your own business and keep your head down, I always say. If anything, my husband Jossele, is too meek. Let me tell you how meek, that schlemiel. I was nine months pregnant, about to deliver, and Joseph says we have to go back to the old neighborhood and register for the census. At least he puts me on a donkey so I don’t have to walk the whole way, but you should try it, nine months pregnant and on a donkey. Oy, gevalt.

Not only that, but do you think Jossele, that schlemiel, at least would get us a room reservation so when we got to Bethlehem there’s be a decent place to stay? No such luck. The best he could do was gets us a bed of straw in the stables. What kind of a hotel accommodation is that for a dutiful Jewish wife?

So as luck has it, I deliver. It’s a nice baby, a boy. Shayne punim. You’d think a mother with a newborn should have some privacy, but no. Who shows up but three clowns dressed up like they’re going to a costume ball with crowns and the whole bit. Me, I think they’re like Harry, Mo, and what’s his name. They say they came to the stable following a star but what star? They argued the whole time, this star, that star, a vision. And they bring presents, frankinsence, myrr. What I needed was a decent bed to lie in, a clean blanket, decent food. Believe me, if I have to bring something to a baby shower it’s ain’t going be frankinsence. I’m alleregic.

It didn’t help that Herod, that Jewish despot who sold out to the Romans so he could be Mister Big Shot, also suffered from an unhealthy paranoia. Someone told him that a Jewish baby, a boy, would be a threat to his position. So what does he do? He says all the male newborns are to be killed. Jossele doesn’t have to be told twice to take the hint, so off we go, again with a donkey, to flee the country, go to Egypt, and hang out there until the heat blows off.

Fast forward a few years. We’re back in the homeland. Little Yeshua is learning carpentry, an honest profession, a good trade. With carpentry you can make a decent living. Naturally the Romans are still in charge, and Herod is lording it over everyone in his palaces and fortresses, the great defender of the status quo while he skims from the Roman tax coffers.

My Yeshua is a nice Jewish boy but he’s got big ideas, a rebel. The whole business of animal sacrifices at the Temple Yeshua sees as little more than Roman paganism. What matters, Yeshua insists, is Torah, the five books of Moses who got our people out of Egyptian slavery. Maybe Yeshua thinks he’s going to be another Moses and get us out  from under the Romans and Herod. What do I know? The Ten Commandments, Yeshua insists. Like the Torah says, love thy neighbor like yourself. Not love the Romans, of course, but your Jewish neighbor.

Yeshua went meshugga when he saw the temple functionaries insisting that Roman coins not be used in Jewidsh prayer. So they change the money for shekels, taking a nice commission into the bargain. But Yeshua makes a scene and drives them out. This is not a smart thing for a young man to do. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself.

But no, Yeshua is full of himself, like so many young people these days. He goes around preaching, neglects his carpentry work, takes up with a kurve, that whore Mary Magdeline. This is not the sort of girl a good Jewish mother wants her son to take up with. I warned him. Stay out of trouble, I said. Don’t get big ideas.

But you know how gullible people are. Someone gets up on a soap box, gives a few speeches, and that next thing you know he has a following.

For what? Jeshua ain’t going to be part of the Sanhedrin, the high Jewish court. That bunch of judges think they have authority, but it’s only over religious matters. They have no voice in politics. For that you got Herod, that arrogant figurehead—ptui , ptui, ptui—he should grow like an onion with his head in the ground, and the Romans, oy. From them we don’t even speak. It’s too dangerous.

No matter how much I kvetch, Yeshua doesn’t listen. He says he’s a reformer. He’s going to bring us Jews back to the law of Moses and to heck with that Temple cult business. Worse yet, he’d so intoxicated by the adoration his misbegotten, fawning followers lay on him that he’s beginning to believe it himself. That’s what a bit of fame and celebrity get you—a big head.

If he would only keep his head down, not make trouble, be a nice carpenter. It’s a good trade. But no. Jeshua starts bragging. He goes completely meshugga. He develops this messiah complex, like maybe he’s another Judah the Maccabe, tough guy. But the Romans aren’t Assyrians. They may hang around and get fat on our local figs, olives, and dates, and patronize the local Jewish whores, but you don’t want to mess with the Romans. They are plenty tough guys.

So you probably already heard. The straw that breaks the camel’s back. Yeshua goes around bragging that he is the king of the Jews. You think Herod, Mr. Big Shot, is going to take that lying down? The Sanhedrin know what side their bread’s buttered on. They rule that what Jeshua says is blasphemy, but blasphemy is nothing to the Romans. They already got a king they appointed, Herod. From the Romans point of view it ain’t blasphemy. It’s sedition.

No little Yid like Yeshua is going to overthrow the Roman government, Herod or not. I warned him. Yeshua, shut up. Be a nice carpenter. Find yourself a nice Jewish girl and make me a grandmother. If you keep up this nonsense they’ll crucify you.

And they did.

Why the "birthers"argument doesn't matter

The so-called "birthers" make a big fuss about Obama's birth place or birth certificate, claiming his citizenship is questionable and, therefore, his legitimacy as the President. The problem is, wherever he was born doesn't matter now because now he is the President.
 Just to give you another example of the "birthing" issue, consider this: the Apostles' Creed states that Jesus was conceived of the Holy Ghost, born of a virgin, was the sole son of God, was crucified and resurrected, and that acceptance of him as your personal Savior gets you eternal life after death. Aha, but did Jesus have a birth certificate? Is there proof that he was born of a virgin? Proof that he rose from the dead? Or does it matter? It doesn't, because if you believe Jesus is your personal Savior, that's it. Done. Birth certificate or none, he is your Savior.
 Of course, Obama is not your Savior, all political posturing to the contrary. Obama is your President, at least for now, and unless you question or doubt any part of the Apostle's Creed, Jesus can remain your Savior. That's called faith. If you doubt... there's the rub.

Understanding ghe vampire phenomenon

The Hebrew Bible, a.k.a.. Old Testament forbids the eating or drinking of blood as "the blood is the life." Under the Jewish dietary laws, animals must be bled out or the meat is not kosher. Blood sausage and blood pudding are forbidden to Jews. Yet, there are people who do eat blood and even use it in their sacrament: Christians.
What is a vampire? A creature that enjoys everlasting life on earth by drinking the blood of his/her victims. For the Catholic in particular, through the Eucharist, the drinking of "the blood of Christ" is essential if Christ the Savior is to provide everlasting life after death. So there's a parallel here: drinking of blood, which is forbidden by the Bible, is a means of achieving eternal life, either on earth or in heaven, depending on whether you are a vampire or a saved Christian.
To my mind, the idea of those horrible, blood sucking vampires is a subconscious aversion to the idea of drinking blood, period. It's against the Bible, a heresy if you will.  If you believe the drinking of blood is forbidden, the act of drinking "the blood of Christ", the Jew, is a forbidden, disgusting, primitive act.
No wonder then that people fear vampires, and ward them off with the Christian cross.
This is also related to the infamous blood libel, the belief that Jews use the blood of Christian children to make matzoh. The earliest blood libel I remember is Hugh of Lincoln, believed in Chaucer's day to be a saint, a child murdered by Jews for his blood. The Catholic church has since rescinded any saintliness of the apocryphal Hugh of Lincoln, but the blood libel persists. Jesus, of course, was a Jew.  Jews, forbidden to eat or drink blood, would not use it in any sacrament. The blood libel, blaming Jews for drinking blood or putting it in matzoh may also stem from the aversion to the symbolic drinking of Jewish blood in the Eucharist.. It's a form of psychological transference.
Someone recently posted a cartoon of a mosquito who got power from sucking the blood of a Christian. Presumably that would a a "saved" Christian. Now you have the tools to analyze that one. Go for it.

How to fund health care in America

As a Danish and Swedish pensioner I get annual tax returns which reveal differences between those countries and the United State. For one, my Danish and Swedish tax forms are one page, not half a dozen schedules and a thick, incomprehensible book of  instructions and rules. In Denmark there's a line for the health tax. It's 8 percent and finances the national health system. We should take the burden of providing health benefits off the backs of employers and establish a trust fund, like social security is supposed to be-- a separate tax everyone pays. National Health programs are, like the VA and Medicaid, more efficient than what we have today. My Michigan pension benefit got turned into a Medicare "Advantage" program which costs more and buries us in paperwork. In Denmark, Sweden, and Scotland we never got a medical bill, zero paperwork. Just medical care. My Swedish tax was steep, but now I get a small Swedish pension. Unfortunately, both the Swedish and Danish pensions, small as they are, are penalized 50%, the amount taken off my Social Security, and I am taxed on the full amount, so I'm taxed in effect 65%. No one in America is taxed more than my rate. Romney's 13% income tax is a joke, a bad one.

The GOP's 15th Century platform

Malleus Maleficarum  is the title of the translation of the 15th century book which defined what constitutes a witch: 1) contraception, 2) abortion, and 3) adversely effecting a man's virility. This tract was endorsed by the pope and became part of the Catholic dogma leading to the burning of a million women for witchcraft. The echo of this monstrous view of women as witches prevails today in the Republican platform and among some Christians. Are Republicans back in the 15th century? You can get the Malleus Maleficarum as a 99 cent download for the Kindle.
This superstition and hatred from the 1400's persists here in the 21st Century. We don't burn women as witches any more, but are willing to charge them with murder of an unborn child. I once interviewed two picketers outside Planned Parenthood. They both believed in the death penalty for murder even though they  were right to lifers, but one said he wasn't so sure that a woman who had an abortion should be executed for murdering her unborn child. Wasn't so sure? But maybe?