My family is in America. I miss them. Oh. How I love thee, and thine money you send to pay for my livingith in thy Holy Land.
Israel is the family of my nation. The care and love of my national family is apparent. That familial care of a nation has shown this past year. The way we care and watch out for each other. It is unparalleled. Hence, I odeth thee with what I have merited to witness of thine glory.

The family of Israel cares. The care has not shown more than in this past year, where the whole country came together to complain about the price of flights.
Oh. How I love thee and thy financial understanding of supply and demand.

The care extends. Israelis are the first to help in crisis. The care for all life, willing to travel to first aid the citizens of the world. If things are bad, Israelis will be there. This is why they get blamed. They're always at the catastrophe.
Oh. How I love thee and how thy goesth to far off lands to stop flooding and saveth the lives of anti-Semites. Thy goesth to help, doing Mitzvahs, knowing thy willst be blamed for the deluge. How Jews start floods is another one of Gd's great miracles.

The people of Israel don’t say 'excuse me.' They care too much. There is too much love. Pushing and bumping is our Middle Eastern way getting close to one another. It's our national way of hugging.
Packed at the Kotel, we push. We even hold each other up by knocking into one another. It is how we celebrate what is known as Chagim. The holidays, where we come together as one by bumping a Jew you never met. In essence, a hug.
Oh. How I love thee and thine bumping into myselfith. Others considereth thee rude when they are hit, in their lacketh of knowledge of thine culture. A culture of warmth.

Israeli society is replete with statements of advice. When there is a bad day, somebody will say, 'Some days are honey, some are onions.' The way food is used to help one understand life is unparalleled.
Oh. How I love thee and thine knowledge of the spiritual application of vegetation.

My car wasn’t working, a guy passed me and said, 'Shower and drink coffee.' He didn’t fix my car, nor did he help me push it. Nonetheless, afterwards, I felt clean and more awake, allowing me to be more aware of how bad my engine problem was.
Oh. How I love thee and thine understanding of what it takes to driveth a car, awake and clean. Oh. How I remembereth that car I left in the street. The Ford Escort that was towed and never salvaged. As I abandoned thee and went to shower and drink coffee.

Why the beeping? Because Israelis care. I was stopped at a traffic light. They wanted to make sure I did not fall asleep.
Oh. How I love thee and thine ensuring of my preparedness for a green light.

Israel is one big family. Nowhere else in the world do strangers feel comfortable enough to criticize me to my face. Most citizens of other countries hesitate to tell me how ugly my sweater is. 
Oh. How I love thee and thine ability to tell me I am not good. You maketh me feel like I am at home. Without family, no one elseth will telleth me of how not successful I am.

Israel is family. Israel is a home for all Jews. We even accept immigrants from America, who tell us how we should live our lives in Israel; more like Americans. Any other country would kick Americans out for being annoying. But we are family.
Oh. How I love thee. Thine family of Israel. Oh. How I relish the shared love of food, going to the grocery store, sitting in the produce section and eating with my brethren. We may have gotteneth kickedeth out, but we have sharedeth in thine national family experience of not paying for groceries.

Author's Note: I feel that odes are more meaningful written in Biblical English. It is more prayerful.

I just started learning about Kibud Av vEim, honoring my parents, and I've messed up already. It's about to be Father's Day and I'm in Israel. Now what do I do?

​I Have Tried to Show Respect
I recently became more religious and told my parents I have to move to Israel, and they have to pay for me to live in Israel, because that's what my rabbi told me. Then, I told them that I can't eat their food anymore. I did this for my parents. I didn't want them to get an Aveirah. I didn't want them to sin. I believe I said that with respect. 'Mom. I can't eat your food anymore. I love your lasagna and quiches. I just don't want your food to land me in Gehenim.'
Last time I went home, I told my parents they can't watch TV on Shabbat. I am trying to make them better Jews, but they still insist on calling me Brian. I told them to never call me that again, or my Hebrew name, lest they say Gd's name in vain. And I did all of that in the name of the Mitzvah of Kibud Av vEim.
My parents told me they didn't like this new concept of Kibud Av vEim. But I insisted I have to honor them. So, they told me the best way to honor them was to not be annoying and to leave. It turns out they don't like the name Mikakel. And they said that Kaleekaku sounds wrong.
All said and done, this Father's Day I was stuck trying to figure out what to do.

My Dad is in America
I left home to go to Yeshiva in Israel. My parents appreciated that. Check for Kibud Av vEim. They had an extra room in the house to use for what they wanted. I gave them that. Check for Kibud Av vEim. So, they got a hammock put it in my room and threw out all my stuff. They expressed how appreciative they were of me leaving the house by also telling me that I won't have a place to stay when I visit. I feel like I showed a great amount of Kibud Av vEim by bringing them such great joy. I believe that when I stay at the hotel on my next visit, it will give them more room to relax and read on Shabbat. It will also give my mom extra time to make the oven Kosher for me. I think the Mitzvah is bringing our family closer.
I called my parents to say I wanted to visit for Father's Day. My father insisted I don't and said I brought him so much more Nachis from Israel. He didn't consider him having to pay for my flight from Israel to be a Father's Day gift.

What should I get my dad?
Give dad money. After much thought I realized dad doesn't want me thinking about what he needs. He just needs money for a new drill bit.
The problem is that I get my money from my Abba. My rabbi told me it's OK for my dad to pay for me while I'm learning Torah. I told my dad that this will ensure him a place in heaven. It turns out that my dad doesn't care about heaven very much. Right now he just wants some money. He is more worried about paying the mortgage in Frankville, AR.
I took all his money from him when I was a child. I was a good athlete and that is expensive. Which is why he gives me a look. It's a cynical angry look of love. When I see him, I don't know if he wants to shoot me or hug me. My friends in Yeshiva tell me all of their dads give them the same look. It means they love you. If your dad paid for your day school education, that is why he gives you that look.
After much thought and Torah, I decided I should give my dad a call. He pays for that bill too.
I called my dad. I let my dad know how much I love him and made things awkward between the two of us. There was 'love' and then silence. Love kind of made that relationship uncomfortable. 

Where Can I Find a Dad?
I realized I didn't have a dad in Israel. I wanted to show immediate joy to a father on this Father's Day.
I went to the stores. Tried to find a dad. I went to Fox. Dads don't shop at Fox. The shirts come too tight. I went to Shmulik's Hardware and Chumus. I went to Melech HaFalafel. They do not sell dads.
One shopkeeper was quite bothered by my idea of selling dads and insisted slavery was wrong and that the Torah never spoke of selling dads.
It was then that I realized you can't purchase or adopt dads. You can only adopt kids. I was stuck with mine. I told my dad I would write him a letter for Father's Day and he asked, 'Am I going to have to pay for that too?'

Follow Up Notes
I hope me and my dad can work through the love the next time I visit. It was a hard one. The statement 'I love you' is a very uncomfortable situation to work through. I hope we can overcome that.
My rabbi later taught me that Father's Day is not a Mitzvah. Honoring your father is a Mitzvah, and that must be done every day. I started calling my dad all the time. He didn't like that.
My rabbi then taught me that I have to honor him as well. This honor thing is getting to be a bit much. My father can't afford it.
I just saw an Israeli man in a really tight shirt. It was a bothersome moment for which I feel I must do Teshuva. Some Israeli men do shop at Fox. It was almost as bad as my first visit to the beach in Netanya. A horrific sight I went to the Mikveh for. I am still asking H' for forgiveness. No matter how religious I grow to become, I will never go to an all-male beach again. 

Lesson
Love your dad no matter how far away you are. Not having to pay for you to visit will make them happy.
Honor your father. Honor the one that gives you life. There is no substitute. You can't pick up a dad. These men don't want to have to pay for more people. You can't buy a dad. That's not a good use of money and they might lock you up for that.
The guilt I feel for not fulfilling this Mitzvah on Father's Day, though it's not a special Mitzvah is enormous. So much guilt. I believe that is the lesson of Father's and Mother's Day. Feel bad. Feel like you didn't do enough. I truly pray my father is able to put aside enough money for me to fulfill Kibud Av vEim the right way next Father's Day.

If there is one thing Israel has, it's food. Kosher food. This is why I moved to Israel. For the holy food. It's not just food. It's a holy connection.
The best kosher food is in the Holy Land. It is so much better than the kosher food in Topeka.
Oh. How I love thee. Kosher food that is not just pizza. 

Israelis love Tradition. 'The Taste of Yesteryear' is written on half of the falafel stands. For some reason, no matter what the spice of yesteryear they're using is, it’s cumin.
Oh. How I love thee and thy food that never changeth. Before thee I never knew what yesteryear tasted like. Nor did I knoweth it was a word. Tradition is at thy heart as is thine taste of cumin.

Jachnun, Malauach, Choolante. It is all for the taste of yesteryear.  Whatever yesteryear tastes like, before Israel I was scared to eat it. 
Oh. How I love thee. Your connection to thine past is never forgotten. Even if thine food is not fresh. Oh. The oil in thou addeth to thine bread.
​
Shoko BSakit. We have chocolate milk in a bag, so that when you think you finished it and think it’s done, it spills on you.
Oh. How I love thee and thine care for the environment. Always reminding me that I need to put my shirt in the wash after I drink thee.

We have coffee that doesn’t dissolve. It is a Turkish miracle. When I finish the coffee, there is more coffee inside the cup than when I started the coffee. The greater miracle is that Israelis invented the Turkish coffee.
Oh. How I love thee. Thine coffee that shalt never cease.

The whole food shopping experience is holy. We can eat whatever we want in the supermarket. If you can knock back an avocado while in the vegetable section, you don't have to pay. As long as it's in the Super, they don't charge for it.
In America, they have tasting stations. You can’t choose what you want to taste. You take something and they make you feel uncomfortable for opening the pack of chips and not buying it. Not very welcoming to have a guy rationing one chip at a time in a cupcake holder. In Israel, we take it and don’t ask, and it is fine. As long as you eat it in the supermarket, it’s free. It's like being at mom and dad's house.
Oh. How I love thee. Thy budget shopping hast never been better. How you care for thine people and have provideth a spit cup for the olives I eat by thee. And I thank thee for allowing me to taketh the shopping cart home. It is quite useful.

We can go to any falafel stand and eat for free. If you bring your own pita, the salads and dips on the side are free. Load it up. The key is to only eat the top layer of Salatim without hitting the pita. This allows for greater pickled vegetable allotment.
Oh. How I love thee and all thine Salatim on the side of thine falafel stand that I don't have to pay for. You have helped me many times when business was down. I pray thou forgiveth me for taking the Salatim cart. I was not aware that metal cart must stay.

We can take anything out of the hotel dining room. Nobody asks any questions. They have accepted our ability to find ways to take a rugulach tray out of the dining room with no shame. I was at the Dead Sea for breakfast and people were filling up shopping carts, taking it to their room for lunch.
Oh. How I love thee and not having to feel shame smuggling food out of thine buffet. I feel a connection to my brethren when I do so.

The Mangal. In American barbecues are huge. In Israel, the barbecue is intimate. A square made to fit six wings if you place them correctly, angled inside one another.
Oh. How I love thee. I will forever maketh my barbecues in tiny tin tray size form. And thine kindness shown when you wave to thou Mangal with your Nifnoofer. Oh. Thine tradition of celebrating every holiday with thine Mangal. As barbecues are an Israeli tradition.

Meurav Yerishalmi. The special food of Jerusalem. In Tel Aviv, they throw their trash in the garbage. In Jerusalem, we eat it. We're religious and we don't throw out food. Baal Tashchis. Kidneys, intestines, eyebrows. We make a dish of it and eat it along with the taste of Yesteryear.
Oh. How I love thee and thine ability to cook whatever cometh thine way, as thou believeth in H'.

I have put on a lot of holy weight since moving to thee. Oh. How I love thee and all the food you take credit for, especially pizza. I how I will never forget thine Turkish Coffee thou hast created. And thine tradition of celebrating Independence Day with a barbecue. Oh. How I love thee and thine traditions.

Yom HaAtzmaut, Israeli Independence Day is upon us it’s time to talk about what makes Israel special. I love the Holy Land. It's amazing and holy. Here's a little ode to my love of the amazing religious Israel. A religious people in a religious land, with people who also live in Tel Aviv. Here is my prayer of ode. Oh. How I love thee.

Mitzvot permeate all, making everything beautiful. Even the Mitzvah of settling the land is done daily. People doing renovations in the apartment above me, I heard, 'Motik (sweetie). We are settling the land.' And I did hear them settling the land while I was trying to sleep.
When the wife mentioned that their neighbor might be sleeping at 5:30am, her husband responded, 'Mikakel is getting Zechut for joining in the Mitzvah of us redecorating.' I missed Shacharit that morning. Yet, I felt connected to the land and my neighbor's investment in their apartment.
Oh. How I love thee. My dear neighbors who leave their garbage outside my front door. As thou ist religious and must keepeth your home's entrance clean and holy.

Voting is a religious duty in the Homeland. As the Shas party said, 'It’s a Mitzvah to vote.' I voted for Blue and White. I hope it's a Mitzvah to vote for Blue and White too. Maybe the Blue and White party have a rabbi that can get me into heaven as well.
Oh. How I love thee. And I thank thee for allowing me to fulfill the Mitzvah of voting for my government many times every year. Oh. How I thank thee for fulfilling the Hechsher Mitzvah of disbanding the Israeli government.

The sports fans in the Holy Land  are religious. The fans sing 'Mashiach Mashiach Mashiach' when their team is winning, because they know what redemption looks like, and that is Beitar winning a football match.
Oh. How I love thee. And I love to jumpith while I sing. Oh. How I pray Mashiach comes during halftime. Our Messiah will understand that it's rude to disrupteth the flow of the game.

Everything is a holiday in Israel. You have Yom HaAtzmaut, Yom Yerushalayim, Yom Revi’i. Translated, this is Independence Day, Jerusalem Day, Wednesday. Anything to not work. Most of the country takes off on Wednesdays. At least the workers at the post office aren't there when I need them.
Oh. How I love thee. And I love to celebrate even if I must guess when thou ist open for me to pick up my package.

Faith in H' abounds. The way people cross the streets, there is so much belief in Gd. I cross at crosswalks and look both ways. People put their head down and cross. No looking, middle of the road. Emunah is manifested. And the way people drive, the faith. Switching lanes with no blinker. Emunah.
I grew up in America and I am still working on my faith. Someday I hope to have enough Emunah to not look when crossing a road.
Oh. How I love thee. Driving and walking with thee hast helped me witness the presence of H' in our daily life.

The Bible is everywhere, even at the zoo. The Biblical Zoo in Jerusalem. Unique in all its biblical ways, with all the biblical animals like penguins.
Oh. How I love thee. I love all the biblical animals thou exhibiteth in the Holy Land that one may not witness anywhere else in the Middle East, such as kangaroos.

People quote Psukim. Torah is everywhere. When the mechanic overcharged me, he said, 'What is 400 shekels of silver between friends.' I thought that was a lot. I was fine with 400 hundred shekels. But the silver part brought up that bill. Yet, he quoted that Pasuk with a smile, and like Efron he took my money. And when he took my money, he smiled. I brought him so much Simcha. So much happiness.
Oh. How I love thee. You bringeth a smile unto my lips when thou taketh my money. Nowhere else in the world do I feel good getting ripped offeth.

You hear people saying stuff like 'HaKol Bidei Shamaim' (everything is in the hands of Gd). People who don't believe that work. They have jobs. Not us. We believe. And even the non-religious still take off Wednesdays. The non-religious still celebrate the holidays.
Oh. How I love thee.

And there is prayer. Tefillah is everywhere. The Land of King David's psalms. You hear people reciting Tehillim regularly. Especially when trying to cross the street. Focused on the prayer, meditating on the holy words of Tehillim. while walking.
Oh. To thee.

As I have learned over my many years in Yeshiva, the Super Bowl is a Jewish holiday. We will claim it as Jewish. Nobody is showing up to shul or learning Torah on Super Bowl night. Hence, it's a Jewish holiday, and there are traditions. Here are some of them.

Discuss How Jews Are Involved
If you know anybody at the game, you bring them up at the party.
A camera guy is a cousin of a friend's relative. Let the people know. It's tradition. A commercial actor who didn't make it in LA is in the background of a Super Bowl commercial. Let people know.
Nothing makes for more Jewish pride than saying there is a Jew there. Spotting a Kippah in the stands of a broadcast is Jewish pride. Note the Jew. The definition of Jewish pride is being able to say, 'I saw a Jew on TV.' It brings back memories of the pride I felt as a kid when I was watching two Jews fight on Springer with Yarmulkes on.

Make Somebody Jewish
Find a way to make somebody in the game Jewish. After going through the players and coaches, settle on the owner. As long as they're Jewish, it counts. Maybe a Niners fan is Jewish. The tradition is to say a Jew is involved.
Over the years I have learned to identify every Jew. As a Jew, I have learned to single Jews out of a crowd. If I wasn't Jewish, some might call me anti-Semetic. But I am Jewish, and I only do it to identify the bad athletes.
Turns out not the owners of the Chiefs or Niners are not Jewish. Though it makes the tradition harder, use that as a way to combat antisemitism. Tell your friends at work that Jews don't own everything, so they can find a different reason to hate us.
If finding a Jew is hard, find a Jewish connection. 'Mike Brown is a Christian Zionist.' Zionist is close enough to Jewish.
 
Figure Out Who Is Going To Win Based on Kabbalah
Somebody has to give a Dvar Torah. Somebody sharing words of Torah at the meal is tradition. They can't just sit and enjoy the game. They have to justify their watching the game with Torah, ruining the experience for me.
You can say something like, 'Eighty-eight in Gematria is the Hebrew Word for "Chief." There will be eighty-eight points.' We love predicting with Hebrew letters based on numbers. Now you can give a nice Torah speech at the party, and disrupt the game.
Note: The Kabbalistic prediction usually happens after the game. Don't use it to place a bet. Placing bets you'll lose is Asur.
 
Talk About How Much the Seats Cost
The commentators are pointlessly conversing about the catch made over the secondary. Why?! I want to know how much that guy paid for the ticket in the third row. That is more dramatic. Why are they not talking about Mark’s new business he opened and the Disney vacation he gave up for the seat in section 2A?!
Couple that with the conversation about how a half minute ad costs over five million dollars and you have fulfilled the requirement of the Super Bowl Seder.
 
Focus on the Commercials
...and the chicken wings.
What we will talk about on Monday. Not the game. I have never met somebody at shul who knew what happened in a Super Bowl. But they know what Dunkin' Donuts and State Farm did.
And watch the game during halftime. I don't know why. The game is not going on. It's tradition.

Prayer Break
Special mention to my devout brethren who don't watch the halftime show, as they don't want to end up in Gehenim for a football game.
The Maariv break is for the few Jews who understand the game. The ones that didn't grow up religious. They use the halftime opportunity to Daven. Fans of the Niners will put in a word to Gd on behalf of their favorite team. This of course assumes that H' is a football fan, which of course He is not. He is into cricket.
Note: The prayer break helps us if we're rooting for one of the teams. It focuses our Kavanah. 
 
We Eat
They tried to kill them, they lost, let's eat. I believe that's how it goes.

Set Up a Buffet
That's like a Kiddish. A Kiddish with brisket. Every Jewish holiday has brisket. Shabbis has chicken. Chagim have brisket.
And there is a tradition to have four bowls of guacamole.
If you truly are a fan and your team loses, question your faith, and eat more.

Stay Up in Israel
Stay up all night, till the students come to the rabbi and tell him that the time for the morning Kriyat Shema has come. I felt it was important to be blatenly obvious about the Pesach references. Jews should not be subtle at a holiday meal. I learned that from my aunt, who shares her politics while telling everybody else that 'we're not going to talk politics.'

Antisemitism
No Jewish event is complete without antisemitism. Robert Kraft made sure we will get our fill. A Tzadik.

I went back to my alma mater and I found so many anti-Israel protest tables on the quad. I had to stick up for Israel and our people. I won't say the name of the alma mater, as it is an Ivy League, and the students are apparently very dumb. I am worried for the Jewish students on campus now. H' Yishmor. Gd should guard us.
I had to argue with somebody who was vehemently pro-Palestine, which they figured is located somewhere near Thailand. And the arguments got worse from there. Here are some of the arguments I had with these very well-educated people.

It's Not Antisemitism Argument
I told them that their anti-Israel sentiments were exactly antisemitism. And I asked, 'Why are there always attacks on Jewish communities in America or Europe when Arabs attack Jews in Israel?!' One student exclaimed, 'Israel is located in Europe. You fool.'
I received a strong argument in return that it’s only anti-Israel, as a Jew right next to us with a Kippah was being chased by a Palestinian flag.

I had to explain to one pro-Palestinian protester that 'Allah Akbar' does not mean 'kill Jews.' I was personally offended when one student said it means to not have control over your vehicle when you're driving it in a crowd. When I told them that the translation is 'Gd is greatest,' they explained to me how it's the same thing. 
Later that day, they were not cheering 'Allah Akbar' anymore. They were just chanting 'Kill the Jews.' I asked why they took out 'Allah Akbar.' They explained to me that they checked with some of their Muslim friends what Allah Akbar means and their Muslim friends said Jews have the same belief. They said, 'If that's the case. We hate Akbars.'
I asked why these students for finger paint as a real art were so involved in this anti-Israel protest. They said, 'Because we are atheists, and we believe the Gd of the Muslims is the true Gd.'
How finger painting turned into a college course, I have to ask the administration. I believe there was a protest and they gave in.

One very bright Ivy League woman said they’re not anti-Semites. She was holding a banner that said, ‘All Jews should die.’ I asked how that’s not antisemitism. She said, ‘Jews should die. But I still love them.’

The What Hamas Really Wants Argument
It's hard to make peace with people whose only stated goal is to kill you. I let the student know that this is their goal. One student looked at me blankly, ‘Then what is the problem?’

I told one liberal who was chanting 'give peace a chance,' that this isn't Vietnam. I told them that Hamas wants to destroy Israel and kill the Vietnamese. They said, 'Because the Vietnamese are Jews.'
I showed them a video of Hamas leaders telling them to kill Jews. They kept on saying that is not what Hamas is about. They said they trust Hamas. I said, 'Then you should trust what they say.'​ They let me know that that sentiment is anti-Hamas 'which is very offensive, and I am hurt.' I was thus introduced to the logic of how Palestinians want peace with Israel when they say that Jews should die and that Israel should not exist.
I showed them the Hamas charter which says to avoid any negotiations for peace and to destroy Israel or die through martyrdom. They said, 'You still have to negotiate.' I reiterated that they are against negotiation. They said, 'Then you should negotiate with them.' When I explained that negotiations by definition need the other people, they said, 'Stop lying.'

Acts of Terror
I was not dissuaded when the non-student, who was apparently a student, somehow, though they were not part of the university, argued that shooting from behind their children is to be commended. I asked for an explanation, and they told me that 'as long as Hamas does it, it’s OK.'
It got out of hand when they argued, 'Using civilians to protect your fighters is a good idea. All is fair in love and war.' I exclaimed, 'But they are not fighting their own civilians.' To which they said, 'The Gazan civilians are Jewish.'
I told them about the inhumanity of the human shield. They said, 'And warriors have always had shields.' I told them that they had shields made of metal, not babies. They said, 'You use what you have.' 

Follow-up Notes
I have a hard time arguing with such hatred for the Olam, the world. There is no Emes in what these students that aren't students are arguing on behalf of their professors. I knew there was no coming back when the pro-choice girl said that rape is fine if it's part of your culture.
Then they blamed the Gazan Jews for hitting the hospital with a rocket through the Jews of Islamic Jihad. 
I hope I am better equipped to go back and educate them next week. I have to work on my ability to convince them that Israel exists in Israel.

***To Brachot and Kavod to our Holy Brothers and Sisters who went to Shamaim too soon. And may we see the return of our people that have been kidnapped, as we pray for their health and immediate return. Words can't express the devastation and concern for the loss and atrocities, and the heartfelt gratitude to our soldiers. Mishtatfim BTzar Shel HaAm

I never experienced Lag BOmer in my life. It was my first year in Yeshiva and I already messed up counting the Omer on day two. I had no idea what day thirty-three meant. I didn't even know people were still counting at that point. One of the students in Yeshiva made it to day twenty-eight without messing up. We now celebrate him as a Tzadik. So, I did what most people do on Lag BOmer. I went grocery shopping. I needed dinner.

On My Way Back Home
I was on my way back from the supermarket when I smelled a fire in the woods. I ran towards it and noticed that kids were burning stuff. I saw flames flying high and kids playing right by the huge flames. I thought it should be reported. It looked dangerous.
More people came to the spectacle. Yet, nobody said anything. Just the opposite. They joined and commended the kids. Tons of people were around. They saw it. They did nothing. They saw kids running and pushing each other near the fire. They said nothing. Adults even started their own fire. All while the kids' fire got bigger and bigger.
I asked the children if they knew how to make a fire, as I was a Boy Scout. They said, 'No. Only non-religious people learn stuff like how to make a fire. We have Emunah. Belief in Gd.' And their belief in Gd showed, as their fire got even bigger.

More Fires
I saw more fires starting up.
I thought it was weird to see children burning doors and carpets, but they were in the fire. Household appliances made their way to the flames. Anything that could burn or melt made its way into the fire. It must have been a miracle of Lag BOmer. One of the groups of kids playing freeze tag near the uncontained fire ran out of wood, yet they kept the fire burning with artifacts from their homes.
It looked dangerous, but the kids told me it was a religious thing. They said, 'On Lag BOmer, you're supposed to make huge fires with cleaning products.' So, I felt safe. When they told me it was spiritual, I felt even safer around all of the huge uncontained fires.
One of the children showed me his oven cleaning spray. It said flammable on it, as well as danger. He threw it right into the fire, as it was flammable and the fire started dwindling a bit. And it exploded. A gigantic flame flew, and happiness was had. The pride that kid had when he got the desired result of burning something illegal was the kind of joy one can only have when connecting to Gd.
They went on tell me that it was for Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai.  Why Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai likes fires so much, I don't know.

What Should I do?
At the moment, I thought I should save their lives and put out the fire. Smokey Bear always taught me to put out a forest fire. Smokey Bear also said to not burn plastic. However, Smokey Bear was not a good Jew. He didn't know Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. And he didn't understand how important an uncontained fire is to help one connect with Gd.
I put down my groceries. I went to join in more fire parties. I was not a bystander anymore. Once I noticed the police joining in, I became an accomplice. An accomplice supported by the cops.
Is this legal? They were doing it for tradition. Hence, it is OK. Only in Israel do cops let you do things that could be illegal and unsafe if you are celebrating a holiday. On Sukkot, they let you run through the streets holding a sharp spear looking palm branch, facing out. Why? Because it is tradition. And the cops in Israel know that if it is tradition, it is safe.
What a beautiful country. In America, when you do something dangerous, the police make you stop. However, in Yerushalayim, they know what a Mitzvah is.

More Lessons
I learned the tradition of fires and kids running around them with bows and arrows. Some kids were running with knives facing out. That wasn't a tradition, but it was also dangerous. So, it represented the Emunah that Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai had. What a beautiful Mitzvah?!

I turned around and my groceries were gone. The kids burned them. Bag too.

Follow-up Notes
At one point I saw a kid burning wood. I believe he ran out of plastic.
The following year I stood by my door. A kid tried to take it. I told him it belongs to my house. To help with his fire, I gave him a microwave that had broke.
One of the people told me that the fire was for Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai's Yahrzeit. Though I had lit a Yahrzeit candle before, I have a ways to go in my Emunah. I still don't feel comfortable lighting a bonfire on my kitchen counter.

Next year, we'll talk about my trip up north and how I made it to Mairon following fires.

My first time I went out in Israel it was for a drink. Me and a bunch of guys from the Yeshiva went out for a Lchaim. It was a Thursday night and we went for a beer. In Israel, Thursday nights are like Saturday nights, and I like that. It's better to bring a hangover to shul than work.
That first night out might have been a spiritual experience. I don't remember what happened. Though, it was Israel, so it was a holy night out drinking at the bars. I was new to the Yeshiva experience and I was good at it.

Once the High Holidays came, the spiritual experience of partying in Israel changed. Thursday night after Rosh Hashana, my friend Yanky said, 'Let's go out tonight.' So, I went.
You don't argue with Yanky, unless if you want a heated debate. He was a second year guy in the Yeshiva and he already learned how to scream at people when learning Gemara. Yanky was masterful at yelling at his Chavrusa, learning partner, which meant he knew what he was talking about. The more you reproach your Chavrusa, the better learner you are.
Being a Chavrusa to Yanky was an honor that very few had. He was the perfect Chavrusa for learning Gemara Baba Kama. No other Chavrusa had the ability to make you feel like you were being scolded and abused while learning the laws of damages.

We went up north. I thought we were going out. I didn't realize that meant a two hour drive.
Going up north in Israel is a spiritual experience, as roads are windy and not lit, and you're dependent on Gd to not get hit by the falling rock. There was a sign that read 'Falling Rock,' which kind of scared me, as that meant rocks were falling right now. Adding to the spirituality of Israel, I said my first prayer at that moment.
Not fully understanding the excitement of going up north, we ended up at the Rambam's grave-site, and Yanky started to scare me. I thought we were going out to party, and we were now at the graves of Tzadikim (righteous people).
I had no idea what to think. I thought I might've joined a Yeshiva full of hedonists, who have some kind of grave-site rituals. Maybe it was part of the Yeshiva hazing process, where they tell you about righteous rabbis and then leave you in the graveyard to get eaten by ghosts. I was scared.
And then the good times started to role. After the Rambam's Kever, we hit the graves of a few more rabbi's and even a prophet are two. We prayed. We had rugalach. We drank schnapps. And since then, going out has never been the same.

The coolest thing of all. We prayed. We drank and prayed. And I got back to Yeshiva alive. And I was scared to talk to Yanky for a month and a half after that.

Since that night out with Yanky, my life has changed. Now I know what going out means in the Frum world.

Follow Up Notes
It's a new form of partying I've taken on. That's how us religious people do it. What am I doing later tonight? I'm going up north and hitting some Kevers. It's just good times. The rabbis who have passed, Z"L, are what makes for the Thursday night experience.
Last time we hit the Kever of the Rambam. Then we popped over to Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. We even headed to Yonatan Ben Uziel. On the way back we stopped off at Rabbi Meir Bal HaNes. We got back to Jerusalem right when the bars were closing. Amazing. And we got free rugalach.
Rugalach is the backbone of all Jewish events in Israel. And when its free, it's a real Simcha.

Now I get excited to see dead people and take down a few. And I understand why Yahrzeit candles come in shot glasses.
Can't wait to hit the Ari's Kever this Thursday night. It's going to be dope. Hit the grave and then go for a dunk in the cold bath. The Frum people call it a Mikvah.

I used to do baseball tours. I now see there are Gedolim (important rabbis) that are buried all over the world. I'm going to definitely do a Kever tour of Europe. I think I'll enjoy seeing the graves more than the anti-Semites.

How do I know who the more important rebbes are? I judge by the size of the hole by their grave. The bigger the rebbe the bigger the pit at his Kever. This allows for more notes to be tossed in. Though, older rabbis and righteous ancestors don't have note pits. In the 1200s, people didn't walk around with pens and Post-its.
There are also more candles at holy Kevers of ancient rabbis. Tea lights also represent the holiness of our sages. The more tea lights the holier the sage. I'm still trying to figure out who the better rabbis are. It's very confusing. The Rambam's Kever doesn't have a tea light focus. Due to that, the Rambam's Kever is not a top party destination.

To sum it up, my name is now Mikakel Kaleekaku. That's how the good Jews know me. I don't say Gd's name in vain, and I will not allow my name to be the reason people are going to Gehenim. Thus, I added 'k's to the vowels.
My parents named me Brian. That was their mistake. I love them. To their defense, they didn't know that my name had a vowel. They didn't mean to be blasphemers, but they gave me the wrong name. It turns out they don't agree with that. And they also say I am still their child.
Here is the full account.

Visiting Mom and Dad
I came home and told my parents they gave me the wrong name. My mom wasn't happy. Why? I don't know. I thought they would be happy I was visiting. She also didn't like when I told her she bought me the wrong sweater for Chanukah. That was when I was in third grade. I still remember her telling me that I will wear the sweater.
They called our rabbi (at least it was their rabbi- I only grew up with him) and asked him and he said that Brian was my name. To quote, 'He always got called up to the Torah as Brian Ben Shlomo.' To note, my dad changed his name to Spencer. The rabbi refuses to call him up as Spencer. The rabbi was worried that the congregants wouldn't go for Brian Ben Spencer HaKohen being called up to the Torah.
My mom brought out the birthing records and the legal documents. She even showed me my social security card. She started yelling, 'All of these say Brian! Brian!!! We sent Brian to school! I gave birth to Brian!!! I think your dad even said, "If it's a boy, we're calling him Brian." I was in labor and he said Brian!!!!! Your name? Brian!!!!!!!!'

Follow Up Notes
My parents refused to call me Mikakel Kaleekaku. So we settled on Brykin.
After the whole debacle, Mom said we're eating dinner. I told my mom and dad that their dishes aren't good enough for me. They didn't like that idea either. I just don't think they understand what it takes to be a Jew.
They raised me a Jew, but they don't know what it takes to raise a Jew. I'll bring that conversation up at dinner tomorrow night. I hope they don't overreact to that too.

Kiddish Food Is Amazing
There was a great Kiddish at shul. I finished eating whatever I could at Kiddish and had a two mile walk for Shabbat lunch. I thought it was good planning. So, I filled up at Kiddish. Had the herring, kichel, schnapps, choolante, kugel, gefilte fish. I even had Danish, as that is Jewish cake.  I felt bad when some of the other congregants didn't get kichel and potato kugel, but I enjoyed it. It was a small plate, but I was right back at the table.
I didn't sit down at Kiddish, as that would interfere with the time I needed to refill my plate, possibly hindering my kugel access as well. I didn't move from the table. That was a technique I saw my friend Shloymi doing. He told me to that you pick a spot near the good stuff, blocking out other people from scooping it. The 'good stuff' means choolante to Shloymi; at least until the meat is gone.
It was an excellent Kiddish. The kind that makes it worthwhile to be Frum. It mamish makes you want to go to shul. A reason to pray. I ate. I started to walk. I should've waited. They had kishka in the choolante, and I still don't understand what that means. They told me it was stuffed innards. But it was pareve. I don't know how they created non-meat animal products. All I know is that I'm new to Frum living, so I haven't learned to time my kishka stomach abilities. 

The Walk To Shabbat Lunch
I started walking to lunch. Ten minutes in, my stomach was killing. Around twenty minutes in, I got the sweats. I couldn't hold it. As a Bal Teshuva (somebody new to being religious), my stomach was not yet coated for heimish food. I had to go to the bathroom.
What was I to do? Even my rabbi, who I asked later, had no idea. He said he hadn't had this Shayla (question) asked of him much before. I guess people don't share this issue publicly. They must go when they're stuck on a long Shabbis walk with no bathrooms. The rabbis must not consider that carrying.
I had no idea what to do. I can't knock on doors, going to strangers homes, 'My stomach is killing. I need your bathroom. It was a really good Kiddish.' They don't understand Shabbis or kishka.
Twenty-five minutes in, and I am walking slow, I had no choice. Each step, I'm taking a chance. I knocked on a door and scared the family. When they realized I wasn't there to proselytize, they threatened to call the police. If I tried converting them, they might've let me in. Converting them would've been the normal thing to do. They would've understood I had a reason to be there. 

Public Bathrooms Are Not Shomer Shabbis Friendly
Being that I couldn't knock on more random people's doors, to use their bathroom, I started walking real fast. I thought that was my only choice. That didn't help. 

I got to the library, which was open, though people don't use it. Problem! They only had electric doors to get into the library. Anti-Semites. They know Jews will hang out there on Shabbis if the doors aren't electric. The air-conditioning.
Seeing no Frum Jews, as we can't use electric doors on Shabbat, I waited there for somebody to walk in. I don't know how inconspicuous I was. I tried standing there right outside the door, waiting for somebody to return a book, with my suit and tie in the summer heat. My plan was to walk in right as they did, so that they would be the ones using the electricity. I was going to piggyback off their sin; hence; not sinning myself.
Finally, somebody came and I chased them into the library. I did everything I could to avoid triggering the doors. Sneaking behind people to get into a building takes tact. I definitely think they saw me. I was the only one going into the library on a Saturday with a suit, and it was a small doorway. I believe I rubbed up against the guy. The guy jumped a bit and I heard the guy cry out, 'He's chasing me.'
He must've thought I took his wallet. So, I ran. I made it to the bathroom real fast, before they got to security.

The toilet was electric. I hope I'm not going to Gehenim for the flush. I had to go. I jumped off the seat. I hope it didn't sense me. I hope it only flushed because there was a fly that ran past the censor. 
I couldn't wait there for somebody else who needed the bathroom. If I could've, I would've waited for them to need to sit, and jumped up right away.

Follow Up Notes
Security should know Jewish law. How many Jews throughout history have been convicted due to keeping the laws of Shabbat? Guilty due to needing a bathroom on Shabbat.
All towns with Jews should have Shabbis bathrooms between shul and the homes of the Frum Jews.

I hope Jews don't get a bad rap because of electric doors and elevators. Later that day, I had to go fifteen stories. I jumped into an elevator after that woman. She asked what floor I am on. I said I live on your floor. She was freaked out. She'd never seen me. She didn't know I was Shomer Shabbat, and just trying to get closer to the fifteenth floor, where the hosts for Shabbis lunch live.
I ran down two flights after we got off the elevator, and made it to Shabbat lunch before she could report me to security.

Next time, I'm striking up a conversation about the book. That will be more inconspicuous. As they come to the door, I'll ask what book they're returning. Ask if it's good. They'll think I'm one of those Blockbuster pros who knows how to pick out the VHS tapes right when they're dropped off. Then, when we get inside, they return the book and I'm off to the bathroom. Like they never met me.

​The Kishka was worth it. To note, pareve is Frum for vegan. Anything pareve is vegan, even eggs.
Now I know why orthodox Jews like to live next to the shul. I'm going to buy a house near the shul. My post Kiddish walking abilities are no more than ten minutes.

I said goodbye to my parents. They thought they were losing a son. They weren't losing me. I just wasn't going to see them anymore. 
My mom said I wouldn't call, but I told her that I have to. Kibud Av vEim is a Mitzvah, as I explained to my Mom that I would call her because God said I have to. So, she accepted God. She now liked God, and I did my part in Kiruv (bringing a Jew closer to Yiddishkeit- Judaism- I will explain every word, as I want you to also become religious).
​
​The flight was to Israel for Yeshiva. My parents wanted to know why I gave up. They assumed that giving up a steady job as an industrial engineer is not normal. They thought that it made no sense to give up a six-figure contract that was set for the next eight years. They've never been to Jerusalem. I told them, 'Torah.' It was then that they knew Torah was an excuse to not work. And I love Torah.
I made the flight on time. It was the first of many miracles. I was late. Saying goodbye to my parents took way too long. They never learned about Bitul Zman (wasting time from Torah). 
The greatest miracle was that half of the passengers on the plane were late. I am assuming that the pilots know it takes a long time to explain to your family that you are giving up your job for connection with God.
 
I got on the plane and sat next to a tiny human, called a child. Another great miracle. I had space. Then, a religious woman wanted to change seats with me. Not a miracle. That was my first test. As Avraham had ten tests, God was testing me as well (I don't say Lord, as I am not catholic- I am Jewish and thus I refer to God). Giving up a good seat on the plane was my first.
She said she wanted to sit next to her husband. She said it was my duty as a religious Jew to let her sit next to her husband. I had not yet learned that Mitzvah. But I was looking forward to learning about it in Yeshiva.
As I changed seats, I realized she just didn't want to have to sit next to a huge guy who insisted on lifting up the armrest, so he could have enough room to fit. She wanted more space. Maybe it's a Mitzvah to give people space. I don't know. I believe they bought separate seats, because there was one aisle seat, and there was no seat next to that aisle seat. And her husband wasn't going to not take the aisle seat. The huge guy, I ended up next to, taught me about the word finagle, as he was whacking me with his elbow and sweating on me.

There was no food on the first leg of the flight. The rabbi at shul didn't teach me that you have to order Kosher food, and then call to make sure they have your Kosher food, and then to check again to make sure they know, and then to explain that you really need a separate meal that is Kosher. I thought you just tell them you want Kosher and check the Kosher box, and then you'll get it. I hope the Gemara has a lesson on how many times you have to call the airline to make sure you have a Kosher meal.
On the second leg, another miracle occurred. I got food. The airline didn't have my name on the food list. But they had the name of the woman I gave my seat to. The next thing I know, they had an extra meal for me, and my name was Malkie. Then, I got another meal. Somebody said they didn't trust the Hashgacha (kosher supervision). I began to respect people who are Machmir (stringent), and don't trust other rabbis, and I had food.
Another miracle. The dinner was only enough food for a snack, and it lasted the whole flight. I am on my way to Israel and I am experiencing all the great miracles of our people. I told myself at that time that I would eat every day, to commemorate the little food that lasted the whole flight. I also committed to eating more than the chicken sliver strip if I was ever going to be Fleishiks again (Fleishiks means I meat, and once I eat meat I have to wait six hours to eat dairy- which is why Jews don't eat meat for breakfast, and why I will never eat meat before 8pm).
The greatest miracle of all. I fell asleep on the huge guy's chest. The little space I had on the plane, was enough to sleep for one night. And to this day, I commemorate that with sleeping. Judaism is about commemorating. I commemorate the oil that lasted eight days, the freedom from Haman, and being able to sleep in discomfort.

When I disembarked, I made it through security. That was a miracle, as I was smuggling in a lot of deodorant. B"H they didn't ask me.
It was God's hand involved in my trip. The Mitzvah of giving up my seat so that somebody else could enjoy the flight. The food that lasted me the whole flight. The not feeling bad about my parents crying as I left.
And the most amazing miracle of all. As I entered Israel, they all welcomed me. I don't know what they said. It was Hebrew. But they welcomed me in the holy language of the Torah. Such a Kiddish H.' Only in Israel do they speak Hebrew. In Israel, Brooklyn, and hotels around the world on Pesach. But they speak Hebrew in Israel too. And they welcomed me, 'Bruchim HaBaim HaBayta.' As I learned later, 'Welcome home.' With all the sad goodbyes, I was home. My belongings weren't there and I had to share a bunk bed with a thirty year old man, but I was home. And I told my non-religious parents I was home, and they weren't happy. And my mom doesn't like God that much right now.

My luggage wasn't there. Yet, they said you can live without your luggage. Only in Israel, the Holy Land, does one not need such physical Gashmiyus, like your belongings. You only need your Neshama and Tzitzis (which I was wearing).

When we stepped out of the airport, I was told to kiss the holy ground. Only in Israel is the ground so clean that you can kiss it.
Ten days later, my luggage came. Another miracle.

Follow Up Notes
I don't believe the holy ground was swept. I did take in a dust ball as I kissed the holy land.
​I still haven't called my mom. Nonetheless. I'm learning. ​If I ever get reception in Yeshiva, that will be another huge miracle. My mom will appreciate that miracle. Right now, she doesn't like God or Golan Telecom very much.
In Yeshiva, we learn in Aramaic. I understand none of it. I still can't tell you if it's a Mitzvah to give up your seat on the plane for somebody who wants a better seat. I am now saving up for a first-class ticket. I don't believe they ask you to do Mitzvahs in first class.
I understand that this story is inspirational. It has inspired many in their journey towards being good Jews. 

Valentine's Day just passed, so we can finally talk about love as Jews. There is time to Tu BAv, so let's start preparing now.
As I have recently turned religious, I have much experience dating, and I want to help us, as Jews, bring Kedusha (holiness) to the idea of love notes. Here are some Jewish love notes, that you can use.

I love you so much. I want to see you in a shaytel.
Make sure you really love them, before telling them you want to see them with a head-covering. You can't play with people's emotions. Especially telling them you want to see them in a shaytel, another person's hair; that is the next level love and commitment. Tichels or bandannas are not as intimate as another person's hair. 

You want to go to Kiddish with me?
Sharing Kiddish is an intimate experience. If you've been together for many years, you can let them know that you will make space for them to get to the choolante. Fighting off other people for them shows that you are their night and shining armor.

Your scholarliness makes me want to learn Torah with you.
That may be forward, as it shows a lot of passionate intention.

I want a beautiful Shabbat table.
That is the line. Nothing will win the love of a Jewish woman more than saying 'Shabbat table.' Just say 'Shabbat table' and you are good to go.

I want to share a Shabbat table with you, at my parents' house.
If you are young, that is a safer bet. You don't want to be stuck writing a note that requires you to make a Shabbat meal. It's easier to depend on your mother.

I want to introduce you to my parents.
They are going to be involved in the relationship. You have no choice. Might as well introduce them right away. Start off the relationship with proper expectations.

I love you so much, I will treat you to a Kosher restaurant.
That takes a lot of savings. Anything more than a Kosher pizza shop is going to force you to lose a lot of money.

I want to treat you to a candle lit dinner at a five star restaurant.
This is great, as there are no Kosher restaurants in your area. The thought means everything, and you save money. This is why you don't mention having a dinner at your place. You would have to pay for that.

Will you go to the separate beaches of Israel with me?
You have to go to different beaches. But to go at the same time, that is romance.

I want to see you on the other side of the Mechitzah.
Telling them you want to see them in shul, on the other side of the partition, is love. Only share this with somebody you want to marry. Remember, we don't play with emotions, especially when it comes to separating in public. With this note of love, you will also be suggesting that you will be driving to Frum weddings in the future, where you will not be seeing each other. 

Will you be my Shidduch?
You can even ask if they will be your spouse. Saying 'Shidduch' chases away less girls, and it can push off the marriage for many years. What's great about saying 'Shidduch' is that it allows you to feel like a whole community is part of your relationship. It also helps you feel like you are always on a first date, and that you have to report what happened to other people.

I am going to ask the Shadchan about you.
Wow. Hold on there young lad. That is as forward as you can get. Saying that you are going to get the matchmaker involved in asking her out, that is a bit crazy.
Getting a Shadchan involved is saying marriage. Once the matchmaker is involved, you are not going on dates to enjoy yourself. That's what I've learned over my time as a Frum Jew. You get the matchmaker involved and you're now accountable for your relationship, and birthing the next generation of Jews. That Shadchan is going to be following up on your relationship, daily.

You Want to be my plus one.
In the days of polygamy this was the number one sold Hallmark card. I believe our forefathers used this. 

I want five kids.
State the fact that you want five kids. Nothing else. No need to tell them with whom. Just stating it, they will know you are serious about a relationship. With whom is not important.

I had my tonsils taken out.
Nothing more intimate than sharing your medical history. Truth be told, any form of complaint is the greatest show of love to your Jewish romance.

Clean the fridge. And don't leave your stuff out.
Insinuating a fight should only be used if you are already engaged and committed to marriage.

Whatever your note, don't pull the strings of one's heart, unless if you are ready to commit to their parents as in-laws. You should all find love and share a home of many notes that don't only express anger.