Chinabound

China. Pesach. What a swell idea. If we’re on this side of the hemisphere anyway, how could we not make some sort of attempt to get ourselves there? And therefore that is exactly what Adam Finck and I have decided to do. We have the perfect excuse to go; Pesach. How could things work out any better?

Our primary strategy for getting ourselves to the wild wild East is work. Of all of Asia, I found only two Pesach hotels and one is in Guan China (the other is in Nepal). I can’t think of a better set-up; getting jobs as mashgichim, flown to China, and paid all the while! I myself worked under R Morris of the OK last Pesach (which I must add; was amazing) and I left a strong impression (I was called again to work at a restaurant in NY. He also said I would definitely be working wherever he is again next year. Of course, that was before I knew I’d be in Australia) which will be real handy should I need a reference. We wrote cover letters for ourselves and are yet to email them in. Hopefully we’ll get hired (heck we’ll work for free if it means a ticket to China).

If not then we have a plan B; Shlichus! Adam and I know the Shliach of Beijing’s cousin who could put in a word for us. Two bochurim want to come help out and they’re gonna pay for most (or all) of their ticket. You tell me what Shliach would say “nahh I don’t need the free help.”

Realistically, getting jobs as mashgichim is probably unlikely, which means we have to start thinking about fundraising now. That should be a pinch. Of course we still have Yeshivabound.com as a source, but also, when we were working in camp, we discovered that we had wicked creative ability when it came to writing witty and funny lyrics of songs and skits (it was a whole show we did). Apparently, here in Melbourne, Purim is when all the bochurim go out and collect cash for shlichus. Therefore Purim is going to be our big go-out-and-get-cash day as well. We just have to put together a great presentation, and go door-to-door wowing (and collecting from) our fellow Jews.

So far, just about every big thing I’ve pursued so far has come to fruition. I’d say in a few months I’ll be writing about how cool it is to be in China.

An Original Thought

I was listening to a shiur (I don't remember who) and I caught one of those "hm" thoughts.

He spoke about those stories you hear in which a bochur was smacked or scolded by his rebbe and, lo-and-behold, the bochur left the yeshiva for who-knows-what. Of course people blame the actions of the rebbe in such cases. But what people don't realize is it's never a two step process. They assume that; step one is the rebbe giving the smack or a severe scolding, step two is the bochur goes off the straight path.

Wrong. It's a three step process. Step one is he was raised with such a mindset that, when step two happens, he will react in just that way.

Martin Luther King Day and Crown Heights

This Monday is Martin Luther King Day. Obviously it goes without saying that this master of rhetoric is responsible for a fundamental change in American society. A day that commemorates such a leader is more than deserved. When I was in yeshiva in Crown Heights we had half a day off on President’s Day, even Labor Day a nothing holiday, but Martin Luther King Day? No way. What’s so great about him? Just some shvartza.

My whole life I had never experienced or witnessed racism. Not until I came to Crown Heights. I was more shocked than appalled. My own landsmen, so ignorant and insidious? At first I was angry, insulted, and disgusted by the attitude (especially since my father [step-father technically, but that is completely irrelevant.] is black) My whole life I had been taught how America had moved past such old and hateful convictions, yet here it is, in Lubavitch of all places. It isn’t however, what I call, a malicious racism. They are not constantly going on and on about those “damn blacks” like some southern hillbilly. Malicious racism means you don’t have anything to do with them, on the contrary, you wish them harm. Rather in CR it’s more like a passive racism. It’s a general mindset of “the shvartza” and you can hear it in the everyday conversations; “the shvartzas…” “some shvartza on the subway today…” “quit acting like shvartzas and be menchin!” It’s passive racism. Once in a while if someone was really going off I would simply point out that my father is black and watch their reaction in amusement, “oh I’m not racist in fact my neighbor is black and we get along fine and I have a friend who’s black too. I’m just saying…” every time. And of course it’s always pointed out how the prison is so filled up with blacks. I don’t know maybe it is, but I also know that prisons and jails everywhere are filled up, and in places where there are very few blacks, somehow those prisons get filled up too. It is irrelevant none-the-less. I simply say that if your mind wasn’t as narrow as a pencil you’d realize that even if most people in our prison system are black, most blacks are just normal descent people.

After a while I became desensitized. I simply accepted the fact that I was just a little more civil and carried a broader perspective than the rest of CR. I began to grasp where this mindset came from. In CR, almost everyone who’s not Jewish is black and the ones who live in Brooklyn really are hoodlums- it is Brooklyn. However, since they are like that, then everyone else must be like that as well. It starts w/ parents who develop convictions (perhaps from the CR riots) and raise their kids with the same outlook. In turn the children grow up with a predetermined attitude which is bolstered by what they see in Brooklyn itself. The ill frame of mind is then sustained thanks to a lackadaisical attitude and ignorance of the world outside CR. It’s just simple narrow mindedness. It’s what really bothers me the most about CR; the “Whistle off the world” syndrome that seems to be cultivated there. To an extent such an approach is good, but not when exaggerated to the point of—to save myself from elapsing into a bashing-rant, to the point of a lot of things.

I thank G-d I was raised and think differently than most people. Unfortunately, the entire world has lost all sense of dignity and respect. A few decades ago people would actually pull off the road out of respect for a funeral procession. Now you can witness someone honk because of the irritation. What happened to people?

What is nice to take into account is the people I came across that were the most outspokenly racist were those that already seemed to me as unintelligent as it was. Nevertheless, racism is just the product of a bigger issue that irks me; Whistle off the world syndrome.

The Epic Walk

Every time we take the kids to line-up, Adam and I look to the distance and see the most epic sight; A huge tree at the top of a story-book hill straight out of a children’s tale. I had been wanting to walk to the tree for the entire duration of camp. Finally on the last day, Adam, myself, and our mutual friend Shmaya were planning out a time to hike. We decided to hike in the afternoon. However, in the meantime we knew not what we would do. I proposed we walk to the story-book tree.

I had assumed the tree was at the end of the road that was right across the street. So we started on our way. Hardly a second passed when we came across a horse. We scooped up handfuls of grass and allowed the horse to take it from our hands. It’s always a funny ordeal. We continued and came across ponies as well. We walked and walked soaking in the scenery of the distant hills when the road began to turn the other way. We just followed it w/ the faith that it would take us to out tree, but then it ended. And our simple walk wound up being far more interesting than expected.

The road led right up to a gate into a big field. Luckily the gate was latched but not locked. W/ no one watching we simply opened the gate and slipped in. We immediately discovered that we were not alone in the field. A dairy cow, the proper kind white w/ black spots, greeted us w/ relentless and very loud moos. I suppose it was not happy w/ us there. Since the field was bordered by a barbed wire fence, and we would have to cross it eventually to get to my tree, and because the cow was unhappy w/ us in its field, we used a nearby tree to hoist ourselves over the barbed wire into a sort of field-between-fields. We stared walking up the hill toward an opening to the next field. We finally came up to the cow (still mooing) and fed it some grass from our hands. It came and stuck out its large tongue and we had a pretty fun time w/ the cow for a bit. We continued up the hill where the fences on each side of us eventually wedged together. Luckily there was an opening in the fence to the next field. When we crossed over the sight was spectacular. The hill was covered in daisies and we could look down the rolling hill to a pond at the bottom. There was a patch of thorn w/ lovely blue flowers within in one part of the field and the rest was just an endless curved world of daisies and dandelions. The gentle breeze from the west sent waves along the sea of flowers that surrounded us. Never in my life had I seen such a place. One might have thought they were fast asleep and dreaming.

We began walking still to our ultimate destination, being sure to make noise, wary of the poisonous snakes that are likely to lurk in the tall grass. We came to another barbed wire fence that also had and opening into yet another field. A little further and we came to small farm w/ a dozen cows. We were separated from the cows by a fence giving us the field to ourselves. We came across a gigantic tire which I wanted to roll down the hill, but since we were on someone else’s property, refrained from doing so. Our tree was dead ahead now- protected by a barbed wire fence. The fence was well maintained, constructed w/ planks of wood and four taught strands of barbed wire. There was a top wire that was simply a smooth wire across the fence. My friend Shmaya warned it could be electric. I thought nonesense and was just about to put my hands on it to climb over when I heard a distinctive SNAP SNAP. Shmaya had already drawn his knife to use it as a conductor between the smooth wire and the barbed wire. I was ^ this ^ close to touching it!

So it was. We could not reach our tree. We started to head back, heading on a lower part of the hill to check out the pond previously neglected. As we approached we could see a mound of dirt that formed a sort of bridge to the other side. However a cow conveniently blocked our path. Not only this, but a barbed wire fence served to deter us. Luckily we found a section where the middle wire had been cut and we went in one at a time; One of us held the wires apart, while the second went in, and the third guided them so as to not come in contact w/ the menacing fence. We checked out the pond, nothing there, and the guardian cow was gracious enough to let us through. A little more walking and fence jumping and we were back on the main road to camp.

Alas, we never made it to our destination and may never will, but this is a clear example of how it’s the journey that really counts!