Did my first WordPress upgrade this morning. It went without a hitch (yippee!).

Contemplated getting rid of most of the categories for blog links and sticking the majority under “More Blogs”, with Highland Park Blogs still existing. Decided to leave as is for now. Hint: two of the bloggers under “Jewish Blogs” are also Highland Park residents, but they don’t blog much about our borough.

I plan to post a text-based virtual walking tour of Highland Park soon. Meanwhile, be sure to visit the environmental virtual tour. I started redoing that start page of the tour in Flash, but I was two-thirds of the way done and got interrupted by my paid work. When I finally had time to get back to it, Actionscript 2 had been replaced as the standard by Actionscript 3. So I haven’t had the energy to get back to that project yet.

Arnold Clayton Henderson, the wonderful writer of Highland Park Environmental News has been away, but I did find out that Edison’s Triple C Ranch is holding their annual CBC today. Birding is popular in this area!

“Shemot is the best parsha in the universe!” declares my daughter. And no wonder…it’s action-packed, with women heroes, defiance of a totalitarian dictator, and the Children of Israel enslaved, but not for long. For her, the best part is how little Moshe is taken from the water by the daughter of Pharaoh. Miriam is standing nearby, and the daughter of Pharaoh’s servants are close by as well. Miriam will soon get her mother, Yocheved, to come nurse her own baby. See my daughter’s rendition of this event by clicking on the thumbnail.

When Moshe is born, Yocheved sees that he is “good”, ‘ki tov’. Aren’t all little babies good? Rashi explains that when he was born, the whole house filled with light. Rashi is referring to a midrash that it was supernatural sign, and therefore she hid him. He is alluding to the light from Breishit, where it also says ‘ki tov’, and it was good.

In his book Exploring Exodus Nahum Sarna points out the language here is not only an echo of Breishit, but later, when Yocheved places Moshe in a basket, it is called a ‘tevah’, echoing the language of parshat Noah.

These two literary allusions tie the book of Shemot (Exodus) back to the book of Breishit (Genesis). Just as God created the World, so He is the one who saves Moshe and will take the Children of Israel out of Egypt.

Sarna writes further about the word ‘suf’:

The container that held the infant Moses was placed among the “reeds”, in Hebrew suf, a term borrowed from the Egyptian for “papyrus/reed thicket.” The idea of the mother was to make sure that the infant would not be carried downstream. It may well be that the rare word suf has been selected in the present text because it is allusive, prefiguring Israel’s deliverance at Yam Suf (Sea of Reeds).

And for your listening pleasure, be sure to check out Ka Ribon by Pharaoh’s Daughter.

When I was a kid, I used to be afraid to answer the phone. And I never liked making phone calls. I have this early memory of answering the phone and not being sure what to say. Someone at the other end must have thought I was very cute. For stumbling. And the person laughed. I was sure they were laughing at me, for not knowing what to say. So I really hated picking up the phone. Sometimes it would ring and ring in my family, and no one really wanted to pick it up.

I conquered some of my phone fears by working as a temp at the end of college in a variety of firms in the Boston area. And when I worked at MIT, I actually started enjoying answering the phone. “Good morning, this is the MIT Laboratory for Computer Science, how may I help you?” Since I was an early bird and I often got to work before the receptionist, the early morning phone calls were often a professor or researcher from Europe, speaking in some kind of thick European accent. Usually quite friendly. A fun element was added to answering the phone. But what helped the most was having a script. There was a formula for what to say, so it made the process easier.

Now that I have kids of my own, I often prod them to make their own phone calls (when they are little; not teenagers!). And I give suggestions for what to say–”Please”, “Thank You”, “May I please speak with…”, “so-and-so is not available; can I have them call you back?” If they give me that “Ma, leave me alone” look, I know I have succeeded, and I back off.

A few years ago our Cub Scout Pack held its annual food drive, and a friend and I wrote a script for the Cub Scouts to use as they asked neighbors to donate food. I think having a script helped build the boys’ confidence in making the requests.

The worst part of the phone is that it interrupts. What’s a good time for others may not be a good time for me. I am not a night person, so those evening phone calls are always bothersome for me. But early in the morning I can send five emails, and I haven’t woken anyone from their morning slumber!

Anyone out there have any phone phobias to share? Or maybe you have email phobias, or commenting on blog phobias…

At the end of Parshat Vayechi, Yaacov dies. Or does he? The Torah uses the term vayigvah, “he expired”, וַיִּגְוַע which leads Rashi to say Yaacov never died. More on Yaacov not dying here at parshablog.

In an illuminating essay on Rashi by Elie Wiesel, Wiesel cites a Hasidic text that claims that Rashi did not die a natural death; rather, he ascended to heaven alive.

What is this about people important to us not dying? I will leave that topic for another post or another poster.

Getting back to Rashi: Rashi certainly made an impact on Elie Wiesel. “He had been sent into this world mainly to help Jewish children overcome their fear of ancient texts.”

So who is Rashi? For an introduction, you could read the Wikipedia article on Rashi to find out he was a commentator on the Torah and Talmud who lived in France from 1040-1105. Or you could read Wiesel’s essay to find out why so many find Rashi’s commentary so essential to the study of Torah and Talmud:

“His commentary is never an end but a beginning, an eternal beginning. It begs for more, always more. Thus the student, the reader becomes his associate, his partner, his fellow seeker. Together they go deeper and deeper into the secret workings of seemingly simple words in complicated sentences.”

More on Rashi’s effect on Wiesel:

“Also, I remember, as a child, I would be so happy to stumble on one of Rashi’s confessions of not knowing. For then, in turn, I could avoid the tutor’s question by saying: if Rashi doesn’t know, how can I know?”

Who is Elie Wiesel? Elie Wiesel is Andrew W. Mellon Professor in the Humanities at Boston University, a Nobel Prize Laureate, and Chairman of the ‘The President’s Commission on the Holocaust’. And a prolific author.

What do Rashi and Elie Wiesel have in common? Both survived periods of great tragedy in the Jewish community. Elie Wiesel, a survivor of Auschwitz and Buchenwald, lost most of his family in the Holocaust. Rashi and his community were spared the massacres of nearby communities in the Crusades. Both have used their experience with tragedy as a way to teach the next generation. Wiesel writes about Rashi:

“Some of his commentaries on Psalms resonate with his pain over the tragedies that befell his people in his own time.”

This essay and others, including one on the tragic King Saul and one on the enigmatic, humble but not timid Rabbi Tarfon, are part of Wiesel’s book, Wise Men and Their Tales, Portraits of Biblical, Talmudic and Hasidic Masters.

Finally, if this introduction to Rashi has whet your appetite, I also recommend What’s Bothering Rashi? by Avigdor Bonchek, a set of books that may help you understand how the commentator came up with his explanations of the text.

No, this is not a post about the importance of eating your veggies (although you probably should). It’s about the huge amount of waste produced from those styrofoam take-out containers. It’s a real pet-peeve of mine and I actually go so far as to bring my own containers! The wait staff usually rolls their eyes, but I think it’s worth it.
One day a few weeks ago I went out to lunch with a friend and forgot my container. I had a half a sandwich left and asked the wait person to please just put it in a piece of foil because I don’t want styrofoam. Well, they put my little half of a sandwich into a huge container and in a plastic bag!

As I was leaving, I felt the urge to talk to the manager. I didn’t want to get the individual waiter in trouble, but wanted to ask about alternatives to this wasteful practice. The hostess looked at me like I had two heads as I explained my environmental concerns. Then the manager came over and told me he was concerned about this topic and would talk to corporate.

I don’t know if he really meant it, but I was glad I did it anyway. Maybe if more people brought it up, things could slowly change. Until then, I hope that people consider bringing their own reusable containers and withstand the eye rolling and blank stares. It’s many people making little changes that really can make a difference.

Attention local history buffs! Here’s a book you won’t want to miss:
Voices of Etz Ahaim. Nathan Reiss and Seth Rubenstein paired up to create a wonderful collection of biographies of many of the diverse congregants of Congregation Etz Ahaim, a Sephardi Orthodox synagogue in Highland Park, New Jersey.

Learn about how Rabbi David Bassous was born in India, grew up in London, became a rabbi in Israel, had his first pulpit in Vancouver, and then came to Highland Park. Liselle (Elisheva) Badache grew up in war-torn Algeria. Behzad Hakakian, brother of Roya Hakakian, speaks of growing up Jewish in Iran. One of the oldest members of Etz Ahaim, Al Benzilio, whose parents were from Salonika, reports on the original building in New Brunswick, and how the synagogue was named after one in Salonika.

Pictures enhance each of the biographies. Twenty two people of varying ages and backgrounds were interviewed for the book.

The book is available via the Etz Ahaim website, store.etzahaim.org; from there, click on ‘Books and CDs’ to order the book. There is one copy in the reference section of the Highland Park Public Library.