Night Will Shine Like Day
Aviatar Banai
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Foam
Take me to the seashore,
The waves caress the sand.
Walk me nowhere with you,
In foam where sea meets land.
Footprints melt and mingle,
Dissolve beneath the waves.
And all there is is now,
Sea, foam, me, you, your face.
If our path disappears,
And you sift through my hand,
Then foam lasts forever,
Like our walk on the sand.
Footprints have been covered
By snow and by the waves.
The years have washed away,
And so we keep the days.
I am from the ocean,
And you are from the land,
Meet me on the seashore,
In the foam, on the sand.
Monday, October 05, 2009
Education
Last fall I wrote Funny Words about how I had knocked myself out getting my degree in Jewish Studies. Actually, getting the degree was pretty easy; getting it with a few funny words added on was what almost killed me. I was writing to two people. To a former friend that had decided late in life to do what I had done, not to further her profession or for pleasure, but for "self validation" and "peer recognition". Poor reasons, I pointed out from experience. She cut me off crude and final – she knows it all and wants some paper to prove it, and if I can't cheer her on, I was dead weight she didn't need. True.
The other person I was writing to was myself. There were two things I could do to move forward with that degree of mine; go and get my MA - research. Or put it in practice. I wasn't about to imprison myself in musty libraries and submit to moldy minds, so that left practika. But this time, I swore to myself, no trying to excel or shine. Just do it and get it over with.
Fringe benefits beyond the curricula share the bench with me. A know-it-all carrot farmer, a wealth of (often inaccurate) information. Two hot lesbians in heat have almost convinced me that what you need to really turn a woman on is to be a woman. The corrupt army retiree starting his second career – heaven help his future clients. A hippie in denial. A Torah observant moshavnik that thinks Jesus is fascinating. I could go on and on. I'm sitting on a gold mine of character types.
.
The other person I was writing to was myself. There were two things I could do to move forward with that degree of mine; go and get my MA - research. Or put it in practice. I wasn't about to imprison myself in musty libraries and submit to moldy minds, so that left practika. But this time, I swore to myself, no trying to excel or shine. Just do it and get it over with.
It wasn't an issue of being qualified; just this little matter of being certified. Half way through now, and there hasn't been much I haven't at least heard about. Jewish Studies is a wide field. But I did learn a few things since then.
For one, the one thing I'm certain of is that I don't want to be certified. Knowing it is one thing, trying to spin it is another. The logical thing to do would have been to quit, and to try and get my tuition money back. But then it occurred to me that I have an opportunity here to see for myself the entire country of Israel in the space of a little over a year. Virtually every little corner, from several different angles. Even in a small country, that's no small thing.
The classroom experience is also unique. That's because most of it isn't in a classroom. Days in the field start early in the morning and end late, and if I nod off here and there it's middle age, not sensory deprivation. Our teachers are almost to a man leaders in their fields. They speak in the first person. I found. I discovered. And if what they show us isn't from personal experience, they are on a first name basis with those who are. A generation from now, academia's best will be someone who read the books that our instructors wrote.
.
For one, the one thing I'm certain of is that I don't want to be certified. Knowing it is one thing, trying to spin it is another. The logical thing to do would have been to quit, and to try and get my tuition money back. But then it occurred to me that I have an opportunity here to see for myself the entire country of Israel in the space of a little over a year. Virtually every little corner, from several different angles. Even in a small country, that's no small thing.
The classroom experience is also unique. That's because most of it isn't in a classroom. Days in the field start early in the morning and end late, and if I nod off here and there it's middle age, not sensory deprivation. Our teachers are almost to a man leaders in their fields. They speak in the first person. I found. I discovered. And if what they show us isn't from personal experience, they are on a first name basis with those who are. A generation from now, academia's best will be someone who read the books that our instructors wrote..
.
.
Fringe benefits beyond the curricula share the bench with me. A know-it-all carrot farmer, a wealth of (often inaccurate) information. Two hot lesbians in heat have almost convinced me that what you need to really turn a woman on is to be a woman. The corrupt army retiree starting his second career – heaven help his future clients. A hippie in denial. A Torah observant moshavnik that thinks Jesus is fascinating. I could go on and on. I'm sitting on a gold mine of character types..
But more than the subject matter or observing my peers, I've discovered a new side of myself. One that couldn't care less; one that makes its own rules and doesn't play ball with the establishment. I complete assignments, bring them to class and then let them stay in my bag when asked to turn them in.
The climax was midterms. I decided not to take them, but was told that I can't continue unless I take the exam.
"Okay, I have to take the test, but I don't have to pass, do I."
"True", I was told.
So halfway through the exam, suddenly I had enough.
The climax was midterms. I decided not to take them, but was told that I can't continue unless I take the exam.
"Okay, I have to take the test, but I don't have to pass, do I."
"True", I was told.
So halfway through the exam, suddenly I had enough. I handed it in incomplete, and and spent the time remaining on a bench by the sea reflecting on my achievement. I don't know if I passed or failed. It may be the first time in my life that I flunked at anything, and boy, it feels good.
Be a flunky or flunk – those are my choices and I've made mine. Validation isn't earned in institutions, and I don't know if my peers recognize me, but more significant, I see them.
I've learned alot about myself this time around.
Be a flunky or flunk – those are my choices and I've made mine. Validation isn't earned in institutions, and I don't know if my peers recognize me, but more significant, I see them.
I've learned alot about myself this time around.
Now that's what I call an education.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Torn Between Two Women
.
Most are at least familiar with the account of Mary queen of Scots' imprisonment and execution at the hands of her cousin Elizabeth I, but a less known tale is that of the relationship that developed between Mary and her host/jailer, George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, and his wife Bess of Hardwick. Philippa Gregory breathes life into this historical footnote in her novel, "The Other Queen".
A sincere man of honor, George accepts Elizabeth's charge to hold Mary as his unwilling guest, but in the style she is accustomed. His wife Bess is less than enthusiastic about the prospect of entertaining royalty.
Two women under one roof – big mistake.
.
.
Bess is a "much married woman". She describes herself as "self-made" and has made a career of bettering herself through strategic marriages and then helping her spouses rob the Catholic Church which is being dismantled by the Protestants that have seized control of England. By marrying husbands above her station and then carefully husbanding the profits, she successively gains leverage to yet better matches in turn. George is her fourth, the crown of her achievements, joining his noble blood with her new money in a blend that mixes well with the cream of Elizabethan society.
Mary has been to the alter more than once herself, but that's where the resemblance to Bess ends. She is the product of careful breeding and carries in her person the keys to power, a "queen three times over" heiress to the thrones of Scotland, England, and France. Raised as a princess, she takes the trappings of royalty for granted and holds court even in captivity, at the expense of her hosts. Bad enough for ol' Bess that has slaved for every penny, but what gnaws deeper is having a woman said to be the most beautiful in Christendom and half her age to boot sharing her "husband the earl's" attentions.
Indeed, George the jailer is captured by his prisoner's charm and torn between Mary and his wife, the lady of the house out ranked by her guest. He's an honorable man, so there's no question of loyalty. On the contrary, he is played by both women. He tries to make Mary feel as welcome as possible under the circumstances, but she returns by exploiting his goodwill to hatch ever new plots to recruit spies and allies to overthrow her rival. And Bess for her part thinks nothing of spying on her husband and the "other queen" for Elizabeth's henchmen.
On the canvas of 16th century England's religious struggles, Gregory has painted a metaphor of those two bridesmaids of Christ; the Catholic Church and that peculiar invention, the Church of England. Catholic Mary has the pedigree and holds court in grandeur. She's beautiful and glamorous, but has the heart of a harlot and seduces men to rebellion and death. Bess is the Anglican. She serves a bastard queen, a self-made religion conceived in lust by Henry VIII and nursed with greed by Elizabeth I, robbing Catholic sacraments and Protestant reformation to cloth herself in legitimacy. She thinks she's fooled everyone, but even her own husband sees a common thief underneath the trappings of nobility.
And George is the Bridegroom. Grieved and deceived by Mary's scheming and Bess' grubbing, he turns his back in sorrow on both. As if to say, in the words of the poet in Elizabeth's court, "A plague on both your houses."
.
Most are at least familiar with the account of Mary queen of Scots' imprisonment and execution at the hands of her cousin Elizabeth I, but a less known tale is that of the relationship that developed between Mary and her host/jailer, George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, and his wife Bess of Hardwick. Philippa Gregory breathes life into this historical footnote in her novel, "The Other Queen".
A sincere man of honor, George accepts Elizabeth's charge to hold Mary as his unwilling guest, but in the style she is accustomed. His wife Bess is less than enthusiastic about the prospect of entertaining royalty.
Two women under one roof – big mistake.
.
.
Bess is a "much married woman". She describes herself as "self-made" and has made a career of bettering herself through strategic marriages and then helping her spouses rob the Catholic Church which is being dismantled by the Protestants that have seized control of England. By marrying husbands above her station and then carefully husbanding the profits, she successively gains leverage to yet better matches in turn. George is her fourth, the crown of her achievements, joining his noble blood with her new money in a blend that mixes well with the cream of Elizabethan society.
Mary has been to the alter more than once herself, but that's where the resemblance to Bess ends. She is the product of careful breeding and carries in her person the keys to power, a "queen three times over" heiress to the thrones of Scotland, England, and France. Raised as a princess, she takes the trappings of royalty for granted and holds court even in captivity, at the expense of her hosts. Bad enough for ol' Bess that has slaved for every penny, but what gnaws deeper is having a woman said to be the most beautiful in Christendom and half her age to boot sharing her "husband the earl's" attentions.
Indeed, George the jailer is captured by his prisoner's charm and torn between Mary and his wife, the lady of the house out ranked by her guest. He's an honorable man, so there's no question of loyalty. On the contrary, he is played by both women. He tries to make Mary feel as welcome as possible under the circumstances, but she returns by exploiting his goodwill to hatch ever new plots to recruit spies and allies to overthrow her rival. And Bess for her part thinks nothing of spying on her husband and the "other queen" for Elizabeth's henchmen.
On the canvas of 16th century England's religious struggles, Gregory has painted a metaphor of those two bridesmaids of Christ; the Catholic Church and that peculiar invention, the Church of England. Catholic Mary has the pedigree and holds court in grandeur. She's beautiful and glamorous, but has the heart of a harlot and seduces men to rebellion and death. Bess is the Anglican. She serves a bastard queen, a self-made religion conceived in lust by Henry VIII and nursed with greed by Elizabeth I, robbing Catholic sacraments and Protestant reformation to cloth herself in legitimacy. She thinks she's fooled everyone, but even her own husband sees a common thief underneath the trappings of nobility.
And George is the Bridegroom. Grieved and deceived by Mary's scheming and Bess' grubbing, he turns his back in sorrow on both. As if to say, in the words of the poet in Elizabeth's court, "A plague on both your houses."
.
Monday, May 25, 2009
More Than The Matrix
(With school, tax time and summer, I haven't been able to free my mind and my schedule to blog anything new. Shavuot (Pentecost) is here, and More than the Matrix seems to be in the spirit of the holiday.)
Netanel and I are into The Matrix trilogy. For those who haven't seen or at least heard of it, it's about Neo who is a cyber messiah, mankind's last hope in the face of a race of robots that sustains itself by turning human beings into living batteries. It's a kind of alternate energy nightmare.
Neo has the perfect life. His day job is hacking into the robots' network ("the Matrix") and playing the ultimate computer game on line, beating up bad guys that look like grown ups in business suits. After a hard day of kicking the crap out of adults on line, Neo retires to human kind's secret underground base ("Zion") with his hot babe and they go to this great trance party.
"Mr. Smith", a personified antivirus program inventing by the robots to protect the Matrix from hackers like Neo that has shorted out and is running amuck. Out of control and driven by hatred for humans and robots alike, Smith becomes a menace to one and all.
Morpheus, the prophet that discovered Neo, is convinced that he will save mankind. In the end, Neo martyrs himself for the sake of humankind (and robotkind) in a classic 'good triumphing over evil' battle, and defeats Smith.
Humans and robots, now friends, are all grateful and The Matrix ends with the promise of a brighter tomorrow for everyone.
But what then? Do they have a party? And what about the computer games?
Did the Israelites think their deliverance from Egypt was a cosmic version of The Matrix? There was this big bad villain and God saved them with lots of special effects and pyrotechnics. Did they figure that they were free to pursue their own devices? Because that's what they did.
Just as soon as that old fuddy-duddy Moses had his back turned and was busy hammering the Ten Commandments out of stone on the mountain, they rigged up a golden calf and had a trance party.
They didn't get it. God didn't free them from the flesh pots of Egypt to set up new ones of their own. Salvation is an opportunity to start a life that means something. God expected more of them. And He expects more of us.
Passover is not only about freedom from slavery, but also about liberating ourselves from the Egypt within. About finding more in life than pleasure and self gratification.
I don't think that Neo gave his life in order that those he left behind could carry on hacking into 'The Matrix' and partying like there's no tomorrow. He died to give them a chance to build a new world; one with meaning. Not a virtual simulation on a computer program, but a real life with substance.
Neo wanted humans to live like he lived, to love like he loved.
Neo expected more of men than The Matrix.
Netanel and I are into The Matrix trilogy. For those who haven't seen or at least heard of it, it's about Neo who is a cyber messiah, mankind's last hope in the face of a race of robots that sustains itself by turning human beings into living batteries. It's a kind of alternate energy nightmare. Neo has the perfect life. His day job is hacking into the robots' network ("the Matrix") and playing the ultimate computer game on line, beating up bad guys that look like grown ups in business suits. After a hard day of kicking the crap out of adults on line, Neo retires to human kind's secret underground base ("Zion") with his hot babe and they go to this great trance party. "Mr. Smith", a personified antivirus program inventing by the robots to protect the Matrix from hackers like Neo that has shorted out and is running amuck. Out of control and driven by hatred for humans and robots alike, Smith becomes a menace to one and all.Morpheus, the prophet that discovered Neo, is convinced that he will save mankind. In the end, Neo martyrs himself for the sake of humankind (and robotkind) in a classic 'good triumphing over evil' battle, and defeats Smith.
Humans and robots, now friends, are all grateful and The Matrix ends with the promise of a brighter tomorrow for everyone.
But what then? Do they have a party? And what about the computer games?
Did the Israelites think their deliverance from Egypt was a cosmic version of The Matrix? There was this big bad villain and God saved them with lots of special effects and pyrotechnics. Did they figure that they were free to pursue their own devices? Because that's what they did.
Just as soon as that old fuddy-duddy Moses had his back turned and was busy hammering the Ten Commandments out of stone on the mountain, they rigged up a golden calf and had a trance party.They didn't get it. God didn't free them from the flesh pots of Egypt to set up new ones of their own. Salvation is an opportunity to start a life that means something. God expected more of them. And He expects more of us.
Passover is not only about freedom from slavery, but also about liberating ourselves from the Egypt within. About finding more in life than pleasure and self gratification.
I don't think that Neo gave his life in order that those he left behind could carry on hacking into 'The Matrix' and partying like there's no tomorrow. He died to give them a chance to build a new world; one with meaning. Not a virtual simulation on a computer program, but a real life with substance.
Neo wanted humans to live like he lived, to love like he loved.Neo expected more of men than The Matrix.
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