Home away from home

No matter where you are in the world, a Jewish mother is a Jewish mother to everyone regardless of familial affiliation.  For those who are unfamiliar with Jewish mothers, here are some basic rules and guidelines:

1.  Never say no to an offer for a meal.
2.  Never say no to an offer for more food at said meal.
3.  Never say no when offered a ride home at night because "It's dark out and I'll  never forgive myself if something were to happen!"

Last night I went to Friday night Shabbat services where I sat next to the same woman from last week (whose name I've only heard once and have since entirely forgotten).  Middle-aged and very kind, she asked me about my week, told me about her husband who works in China and had just returned home for the week, mentioned her job as a lawyer, and invited me for dinner, all before services began.  After services she introduced me to her husband and we walked to their house on the kibbutz.  I talked with the husband for a bit and he told me about his job in pharmaceuticals and how he recently started working in China - four weeks there, two weeks here.  He seems to like it, though.

At their house we found their daughter and son-in-law with their own adorable six-month-old baby who was apparently fascinated by me.  "Ani chadashah!  Mah?  Mah?" I said to him while he continued to stare at me with the most intense and inquisitive gaze I've ever seen on an infant.  We waited patiently for the other guests to arrive while Mrs. Kind Israeli Woman finished the salads.  Her daughter told me that as a student of the current Ulpan, I should consider myself adopted.  Apparently with every Ulpan (and there are two per year), this woman brings home at least one or two students and "adopts" them into her family, offering them a meal any Shabbat they don't have other plans.  One of the other guests coming that night was adopted from last year's Ulpan at this time and had since made aliyah (moved to Israel and become a citizen), and the daughter told me about one of the first adopted girls who, fifteen years later, has a husband and child and still keeps in touch with this family.

By the time we sat down for dinner there were nine of us, including another couple (another daughter and son-in-law?) and their son (not the adopted one).  Dinner itself was a spectacular feast of various salads, two rice dishes, stuffed peppers, beef, chicken, and probably a few other things that I didn't see across the table.  We sang Shalom Alechem, made kiddush and hamotzi, then dug in.  It was glorious!  I didn't realize until that moment how much I was missing a good home-cooked meal.

I was thankful to have the ex-Ulpan guy there since he grew up in Australia and thus had no trouble speaking English with me.  Meanwhile, everyone else spoke Hebrew and despite the whole five days of classes I've had so far, I could barely understand a word.  That's alright.  It was enough for me to be in their presence.  On Shabbat.  In Israel.

After dinner I helped clear the table with everyone else, then we sat down for a dessert of fruit salad, nuts, cookies, and rugelach.  Per Israeli custom on Shabbat, the TV was turned on.  I watched a couple news segments in between talking to Mr. Australia-turned-Israel, who told me some fascinating things about Israeli politics, social structure, and customs.  And he told me about the amazing phenomenon whereby Christmas and Easter go completely unnoticed.  He's making a convincing case for making aliyah. ( But don't worry - my degree would be worthless here, so I'm not really considering it).

My attention back on the TV, I noticed how wonderfully strange it was to hear news casters signing off with a Shabbat Shalom on national television.  Once the news was over, the channel was changed to the Israeli version of Saturday Night Live.  I thought "Oh goodness, everyone will be laughing but I won't have a clue as to what's going on."  Wrong!  Sure, maybe I couldn't understand the words, but the make-up, music, backgrounds, characters, and mannerisms were hilarious in and of themselves.  If Israelis know how to do anything, it's make fun of themselves, and they did a fantastic job.  There is also no such thing as being "Politically Correct," which means they have no problem making fun of their Arab neighbors as well.  I can't wait until I can understand it!

Even though I was less than a ten-minute walk from the Ulpan and the worst that could happen to me is to be jumped on by a large dog (which happened the other night with a dog twice my size), I couldn't back out of being given a ride back.  I also have an open invitation for any future Shabbat dinner, so I'm sure I won't be a stranger in their home.

I'm told that of all possible landings in Israel, landing on a kibbutz - and this kibbutz in particular - is one of the softest.  I'm thankful for that.  I'm thankful for the community, the strangers who quickly become relatives, the watchful eyes and helpful hands, and the knowledge that whenever I really miss home there are many in close proximity that are willing to take in an extra daughter.