To: God@heavenonline.org 

From: guiltymother@jews.com 

Subject: Confessions of a Jewish mother 

Dear God,
Please forgive me because I have sinned! I have spent a year not being a very nice person and more importantly a good Jew. This Yom Kippur I am not only seeking forgiveness for breaking at least some of the commandments but I am also guilty of not being there for anyone quite enough.
You see God, I had a conversation with a mother today who has just changed her career. She was stressing about the ways it was affecting her children. "I'm not always there when they get home from school she complained... They are arguing with me about about what they have for dinner and when I ask them what they did at school today they shrug and say nothing. If I was at home I would be ale to put dinner on the table each night and meet them at the school gates. I worry that things are passing me by and I am not on it as I once was" my response was, I hope reassuring; "you are setting your daughter a wonderful example" I responded. "You weren't happy in your career so you changed it. You're showing them that they can do anything if they work hard and you're showing them that life for mothers doesn't start and end with their children. But do I really believe what I was saying or was I telling myself that to make myself feel better? After all God, I am a working mother. I went back to work when my youngest was only five months old. I went away to Prague for the weekend when my kids had chicken pox. I frequently miss my sons gymnastics lessons. So here is my confession; I don't really believe what I told this mother... I think she is letting her children down, just like I am. Thank goodness, it is Yom Kippur and I can ask for forgiveness from you god; for failing my children, for not being made in your image and for letting you down 

Yours faithfully 

A guilt ridden Jewish mother 

To: guiltymother@jews.com 

From: god@heavenonline.org 

Subject: confessions 

 Dear Guilt ridden Jewish mother, 

When I created men I did so in my image. I saw what I had created and it was good! However, so many people stop reading there and they strive to be created in God's image but to be honest that is where they sometimes fail. Carry on reading the book of Genesis and it's so much better than anything currently on TV. There's drama, bloodshed, sibling rivalry, broken promises, natural disasters, deceit and even hints of incest. When I created man I did so in my image but even I make mistakes and am not perfect! 
When you have children you are bound my Jewish law to circumcise your sons and to pass on Jewish values. You are even obligated to teach them how to swim (at least that what the Talmud says which was written by some of my learned followers). Nowhere in Jewish law does it command you to see your child do a headstand at gymnastics or to meet them at the school gate everyday without fail or even make a delicious home cooked meal each night. You are commanded to pass on the traditions that you hold dear, to set a good dugma (example) and to love and protect them. You can do that by teaching them independence and a degree of self- reliance. Yom Kippur is a time of reflection and seeking forgiveness but it isn't a time of setting unrealistic goals. You are a working mother. Accept it and move on. Use Yom Kippur as an opportunity to think about how you can make the time you have as a family even more precious, think about what you can do with them to make every minute count. Stop checking your emails when your'e not at work. Focus on them when you are with them and ensure they learn how to swim; give them the tools to live safely and securely and love them.
If this fails, I'll speak to you next Kol Nidrei 

B'shalom 

God

Cancer, loss and the world of social media

Ten years ago this year my mum was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I remember the date and the conversation like it was yesterday. I remember the day she told us it had spread, the day she told us it was terminal and the day she passed away so clearly it cold have happened this morning. The pain, the shock, the horror and the utter sadness and desolation dulls over time but is still there. My mum died weeks before my first child was born and therefore his birthdays mark both happiness and sadness that my mum isn't visibly there to see what a mensch we have somehow managed to create. I often talk about my mum to people, although not really her cancer or her final hours. I decided along time ago that I didn't want my memories of my mum as a bald cancer patient, unable to see, bloated from steroids and needing help with everything and so although I think of them I rarely share them with others.
When my mum was diagnosed, I told my closest friends. They told others on a need to know basis. They let me cry, they let me be stoic. They let me panic that she wasn't going to make it to my wedding. (I got married weeks after she finished her first round of chemotherapy) Other then wait for news, sit by a hospital bed, read the newspaper to her I couldn't do much else.
After her diagnosis, one thing my siblings and I did was complete the London moonwalk. Between us we raised over £3,000 and it was great to see mum at the end , in her woolly hat cheering us on. It was a great sense of achievement and for the first and only time in her cancer battle I felt as if I was doing something productive with her diagnosis and with that felt slightly less powerless.
Over the past ten years, unfortunately cancer hasn't gone away. My aunt and my cousin have successfully fought breast cancer in the last decade and there are many more others who have lost loved ones to what my dad calls the 'bastard disease'
These days, everywhere I turn I see that someone is watching someone they love fight cancer. Is cancer more common or is it just the world we live in is so much smaller that everyone shares their lives with everyone else. Over the past month I have been following www.supermansamuel.blogspot.co.uk as well as the wonderful www.turboshrimp.wordpress.com that have dealt with cancer and how to react and get through it and it has bought me into this whole new world of putting your personal feelings out there for all to see. Do I feel comfortable with that? If my mum was diagnosed in 2013 rather than 2003 would I have done it? I'm don't know the answer but I know that writing is cathartic and hopefully these blogs have given at least the writers the ability to breathe out loud (watching someone you love fight cancer seemed to me like I was permanently holding my breath).
I have also been amazed by the success of the #spitformum campaign that has attempted to find a bone marrow for leukaemia suffer, Sharon Berger. The courage of the family spearheading this campaign and the way they have put the selves out there is nothing short of remarkable. Jewish bone marrow donor registrations have risen by approximately 400% as a result of their campaign which has been conducted mostly by social media.
Ten years ago, when my mum was diagnosed, Twitter was a newborn and Facebook was still a twinkle in Mark Zuckerberg's eye. At times I was so frustrated with the way life carried on as normal for other people I wanted to scream from the rooftops 'my mum's dying, you must do something' but was simply unable to do it. In 2013, we have social media to do it for us... It is the prefect way to air frustrations and share problems. However, this means that there is an inevitable clash of our real life, rather than our anecdotal life. Are we happy about that? 
For me, I'm glad that social media can be that vent. Some of my friends were amazingly supportive during this tough period of my life when I had no vehicle to use to shout out and share. I'm delighted that those who have shared have felt courageous enough to do so and hope that they are able to use it to get the strength that they needed get through these dark times. 
As for me, who didn't get the happy ending in this case, I have learnt one thing; find your happy endings elsewhere and be delighted for those who get theirs.

The following people have led me to writing this: the Slaters, the Pressers, The Blakes, Danny Fresco, Rachel Fidler, Debs Blausten, the Bergers, Ben Braude, Rabbi Phyllis Sommer and her SupermanSam.

Four guests

When I was young the Jewish year at my house was punctuated with three events; staying up late to break the fast on Yom Kippur, going to an Israel Independence Day party and of course the annual Seder Night. My memories of Seder night are particularly good, My great aunt and uncle used to come up from Brighton, others came across London from Hackney and my sister and I were allowed to stay up late whereas my younger brother went to bed after dinner. My sister and I took it in turns to read different parts of the Seder and our favourite part was deciding which one of our family was going to be the wise, wicked, simple or son who couldn’t speak.

As I have grown up my Seder experience is has massively changed but is still my favourite part of the Jewish year. These days, the Seder is at my house and the people sitting round the table are not just the people from my past but also my present and my future. As I think about the people who are coming, make the phone calls and send the emails, get the extra chairs down from the loft and borrow fold up ones from the mother-in-law I think about the guests I am going to pick to be the four children (the grown-up version has become an egalitarian one!)

The wise guest is the guest who says “What can we do?” This guest sees themselves as part of the bigger picture; what they can do to make the Seder a positive and meaningful experience for everyone else? The wise guest is not necessarily the most knowledgeable or religious but is the most open to the idea of the Seder and its meaning. The wise child is inherently altruistic and believes that everything they do is for the greater good.

The wicked guest is the guest who is there solely to please others; this guest does not participate in a positive way and will talk over others reading and not join in. By not joining in or embracing the Seder experience the wicked guest excludes themselves from the Seder tradition.

The simple guest is the person sitting round the table who is dumbfounded by the whole experience. They attend the Seder because they are invited but don’t really see the point of it all. Moreover, they expect to be told the meaning of the Seder rather than uncover it for themselves.

 And as for the guest who doesn’t know how to ask? This guest watches the events of the evening unfold, neither wanting to be involved or uninvolved...they simply cannot understand what is going on and whether that is because of the tradition or family politics is anyone’s guess.

One of the great things about Seder night is the fact that it is one of the few things that many Jews still do. It might well be different from the seeders of their childhoods, it might not restart after dinner, it might involve too much wine and not much bitter herbs,  but it is a Seder night  and is one of the millions that takes place in Jewish households across the world. The mixture of people that sit around my table are my family, friends, in-laws, religious, the non-religious, non-Jews, the people who take Seder seriously and the people who are there just to please others. They will also be wise, wicked, simple or without a clue. But, whatever they are they will be my guests.

In 2013, in our community, there is far more religious and cultural diversity amongst us that ever before. This diversity becomes even more apparent when we read the story of the four children and choose which one of our guests represents each child. This community is full of the wise, the wicked the simple and the Jews who cannot even ask. Each one contributes to our changing community in different ways, some contributions are obvious. There are members of the community who fundraise, the members who sit on synagogue councils and boards, the members of school PSA’s, the members who stand outside our Jewish buildings doing security. Others are less obvious, the members who sit in the pews at synagogue, the members who continue to support local Jewish businesses and donate to local Jewish charities. Each one of us has a different persona... the question is... are you happy with what yours is?

Jews, eating and body confidence

This week I heard heartbreaking words from my youngest (who's 4!) "why am I bigger than Oliver? " he asked. Oliver is his 6 year old brother. As brothers go, they are very different, both in looks and personality. Oliver is thin, to the point of being able to count his ribs. He brings new meaning to the term 'waif'. Although he is incredibly small for his age (he still wears age 2-3 trousers) his thinness makes him look relatively lanky. He had thick hair, long eyelashes which he batters frequently and is a good looking, effortlessly stylish kid. People have often suggested that I should take him to a modelling agency and with the thought of a bar-mitzvah, Israel tour and university fees to think about sometimes I think they might be right. Something stops me however. Sammy on the other hand is blessed with my height; short; and my figure stocky. Sammy has hair that grows in several different directions and is permanently Unruly. Sammy is not stylish but looks like a little boy should; messy!
So Why am I concerned? It's not a crime for brothers to be different or to look different. Oliver has always been small. As a premature baby his weight was always an issue. He was weighed every week, had prescribed milk and food and was on a relatively strict eating regime. When Sammy came along, he weighed seven pounds, had a healthy appetite and ate like a Gina Ford baby. Sammy loves food, he wants to try different foods and enjoys mealtimes. For Oliver, mealtimes are an interruption to whatever else is going on. Food is what he eats because mum and dad say he has to, not because he wants too. So why am I concerned?

Issues with food are a plague within our society. When we are upset,we are given food to make us feel better. We are from the generation that were told we had to empty our plates because there were starving children in Africa (I never quite got that... Were we going to send them our leftovers?) At a synagogue meeting last night the food available was cake and weight watchers Swiss rolls, but no fruit. Food dominates our lives and our relationship with it is becoming more and more unhealthy.

Sammy at the age of four has realised that he is fatter than Oliver and that is probably our fault. He knows he weighs more ( it was a thoughtful member of the family who thought that might make Oliver eat better) and knows that this isn't the right order.
So what to do? Whilst the use of underweight models by fashion chains continue to be criticised by food addiction charities, whilst there is a backlash against stick thin celebrities in favour of their curvier counterparts perhaps the real changes need to begin at home before our kids are even aware of this culture. Rather than making food an issue, we need to build it into our lives. Let's not use it as reward or as a punishment but as something vital to life. And let's embrace the fact that some of our children no matter what, will be skinny or chubby. Let's not criticise them for it but enable them to be comfortable in their own skin.

Tsunami, trekking and text messages

Eight years ago I was lucky enough to be enjoying a holiday of a lifetime in South East Asia. My husband and I had planned the holiday meticulously and it had been over a year in the making. A visit to Hong Kong, Singapore and Borneo were on the cards. Whilst we were there however, the trip of our dreams was a trip that we would remember forever for reasons other than the sights. Eight years ago today something terrible happened that changed areas of South East Asia and the lives of over a million people forever. The day of the Tsunami, we had travelled inland to the heart of the Bornean jungle. We were spending a night in a longhouse followed by a jungle trek (more of a nature walk if I'm truly honest). The weather was appalling and as we kayaked down a river, our guide commented on how the water level was much higher than when he had been there the previous week and there hadn't been so much rain to warrant it. We didn't take much notice of it really and concentrated on not capsizing. Not having any phones or anything other than essentials was bliss and on our return to the coast we mourned our return to civilisation. 
When we arrived at our hotel the mood was sombre and it seemed like there was no one around. We went straight to our room to shower and in the course of reintegrating we turned on our phones. There were 62 text messages waiting for me! Slightly astounded I started to read them
"Please call re earthquake" Dad
"Please call re earthquake and tidal wave" Dad
"Haven't heard from you... Are you ok? Please call or text Dad
"Hi mate, been watching news and hoping your'e both ok" Chris
" News here terrible. Do me a favour and call home" Angela
"Deb- Please call, travel agent and foreign office not telling us anything" Ben
" I'm telling your dad not to worry, but it would help if you could call us' Lauren
And they went on. It wasn't until we turned on CNN that we realised what all the messages were from. Whilst we were trekking in the jungle a massive earthquake and consequent tidal wave had hit South East Asia and had spread as far as Sri Lanka and the Maldives. When we first heard about it ten thousand were estimated to have been killed. Within days, these figures had risen to an astonishing one hundred and twenty five thousand deaths and then to a quarter of a million. These people were not just from Asia but were from the UK, USA, Scandinavia  Australia, Canada and all over the world. People who were backpackers, tourists staying in luxury hotels, waiters, beach hawkers, sailors killed by the biggest natural disaster in history. We stayed in Asia for ten days after the Tsunami. We donated to the Malaysian Relief fund and like everyone else in our resort remained slightly dumbstruck at the results that unfolded.
As each Boxing Day passes, I remember the tsunami that claimed the lives of so many, I remember the panic and relief of my dad when I spoke to him and remember those who never received that phone call. Eight years on, My dad still calls me every day at 8.15pm. Sometimes we speak for under a minute, sometimes we speak for five minutes. The general gist of the conversation (we generally don't have that much news) is are you OK? Are the boys Ok? Good, speak to you tomorrow. Sometimes it drives me crazy because I really don't have anything to tell him! But today of all days I'll be glad to get that call, knowing that for so many, today is the anniversary of the day that the phone call never came.

Seasons greetings and all that Jazz

This is such an interesting and fabulous time of year. The end of what has been an amazing year to live in London, a year where I have finally got rid of nappies from our household, a year when I said goodbye to my trusty golf and got a car where I didn't need to consider the size of the boot, a year where there were more joyful events than sad events, a year where I became closer to forty than thirty and a year where there were no major earth shattering dramas, no hospitals, no heart attacks, no redundancies and no cancer.
But here we are having just celebrated Chanukah and having to deal with the complexities of being a Jewish parent in a secular and Christian world. For me, it's the only time of year where I seriously consider the merits of making Aliyah. 
I grew up in a very anti Christmas household. On Christmas Day, we didn't get dressed, ate cheese on toast for lunch, watch top of the pops and the Christmas BBC afternoon film ( which tended not to be a repeat in those days) When I got married I was introduced to an entirely different Christmas tradition, one that was to close to the bone for me. The family went out for dinner Christmas Eve where they donned party hats, ripped crackers and ate turkey. They hadn't seen each other since Rosh Hashannah so there was a lot to catch up on! It was generally a great night but too Christmassy for me. 
Over the past six years, the tradition has been to go to my dads. My cousins generally come and the kids get presents as my brother is down from the South West and hasn't seen them over Chanukah and my cousins and I and the kids generally swap presents too. We don't call them Christmas presents or Chanukah presents so what are they? We don't have a tree, or decorations or crackers. We don't eat turkey. So are we doing something wrong? To some maybe we are to some we're not. At the end of the day it's a bank holiday so is there a better time to get together and do what Jews do best? ( eat copious amounts)
My views on the festive season are mixed and confused, I like the Pogues, Band Aid and am annoyed by Mariah Carey. I like going to see the Christmas lights on Regent street and think the lights on some of our neighbourhood houses look great. However, I draw the line at decorating my own. It might have been the festival of lights for Jews but my version of that is having our four Chanukiyot lit and placed in the window rather than illuminating the neighbourhood, increasing my electricity bills and my carbon footprint.
As my kids have continued to prosper at school and we have got to know more families we have realised that everyone has their own tradition. Many Jewish families in our area have Christmas trees. Many families get Chanukah and Christmas presents. Many embrace the holiday season in American 'happy holidays style' . That's not for my family. We are British and Jewish and proud of who we are but Christmas is not our festival! We lit the Chanukah candles to recall the story of fighting for religious freedom and as I watch some of my Jewish friends and neighbours celebrate Chanukah and Christmas I am glad that they have the religious freedom to do so. The Maccabees might have considered them Hellenists but I think they are trying to do the best they can in the complexity that is the modern world and there is nothing wrong with that.
I intend to enjoy the holiday season... I want to reflect on the year that's gone and look forward to what is to come. I want to spend time with the three most important people in my life and just enjoy each other. I don't want or need tinsel, crackers or pine needles on the floor of my lounge, I only need more of what 2012 has bought me, good health, happiness and a large slice of religious freedom!

"Chanukah is, the Festival of Lights. Instead of one day of presents we have eight crazy nights" Adam Sandler, the Chanukah Song

Picture this... your kid come home from school and ask you when you are decorating the Christmas tree... or are asking whether Christmas and Chanukah are really that different. They have been writing their list of required gifts for several weeks. You are exhausted! How do you make sure that Chanukah is a week to remember and not eclipsed by the other 'C' festival a week or so later. Here is my guide to making Chanukah meaningful

1. Tell the tale

Do your kids know the story of Chanukah? Invest in a few books for your home. The story is an exciting one for kids, filled with epic battles and despair and hope and a happy ending. Great books to order are Maccabee by Tilda Balsley or All about Hanukkah by Judyth Groner (both available from Amazon). For older children you can use Hanukkah around the world (by Tami Lehman-Wilzig) to highlight different Chanukah traditions celebrated by different Jewish communities.

2. Energy Conservation

The relighting of the menorah by the victorious Maccabees provided the symbol of God’s existence in the Temple. We have an obligation to bring God into our everyday lives by caring for the world that God gave to us. One way to do this is by conserving energy at home. Make a list of eight different ways you can conserve energy at home. Give your kids a colouring sheet of a Chanukiah and each time they conserve energy they can colour in a candle. The goal is for every candle to be completely filled by the end of Chanukah. 

"Christmas brings enormous electric bills.  Candles are used for Hanukkah.  Not only are we spared enormous electric bills, but we get to feel good about not contributing to the energy crisis.  ~KOACH Humor, "Holiday Distinctions Finally Explained"

3. Make dinner

To remember the miracle of the oil, it’s traditional during Chanukah to eat fried foods. Many Jews fulfil this ritual by making latkes. Recipes are commonplace but the general idea is this: grate some potatoes and an onion. Beat an egg and add to the potato-onion mix. Add salt and pepper to taste, then form into patties. Even the smallest of children can participate by shaping the batter into patties and by adding the seasoning's.

4. Attend communal candle lighting

Many Jewish communities build large outdoor Chanukiah’s to fulfil the ritual that we should light our candles where they can be seen by everybody. Instead of lighting candles in your home, gather with members of the community to light candles together. Contact your nearest synagogue to find out about their communal lighting

5. Think of others

Reinforce the notion that Chanukah is not primarily about receiving gifts by setting aside one night during the holiday not to open any. Shop with your kids for toys they would enjoy, and have them deliver their purchases to a children’s charity. Camp SImcha run a wonderful project in the weeks leading up to Chanukah where you buy  an extra toy that is redistributed to a sick child and their family. (www.campsimcha.org.uk)

6. ‘Dreidal, dreidal, dreidal, I made it out of clay’

A dreidal is a four-sided spinning top with a Hebrew letter on each side. Outside of Israel, the letters stand for the phrase, “A great miracle happened there In Israel, the last word—which means “there”—is replaced with the Hebrew for “here,” Legend has it that the dreidal game was popular when Antiochus ruled. Jewish people, struggling to keep their faith alive, would gather together to study the Torah, which had been outlawed by Antiochus. They would keep the dreidal nearby so that if soldiers appeared, they could hide their books and pretend to play a game. “Dreidal” is derived from the German word “drehen,” or “turn.” The dreidal game is played by giving each player a number of tokens; you can use coins (chocolate or real!), raisins or counters. Before spinning the dreidal, each player puts a fixed number of their portion into the “kupah” or kitty. Each player in turn spins the dreidal. When the dreidal falls, the player acts according to the rules for each letter:

Nun—Do nothing, play proceeds to the next player.

Gimel—Take the whole kitty

Hey- Take half of the kitty

Shin- Put some in; players agree on an amount before the game

Play dreidal as a family and try making up some of your own rules. For example, choose a fact about yourself or a family memory to share for each letter, such as something you like to do, a person you like and why, an animal you like and why, a place you like and why. Or, make up more active rules, such as running once around the table, hopping on one foot, spinning or rubbing your stomach while patting your head. You can raise the stakes as well:  Shin might mean you have to do the washing up, while gimel can mean you get to choose the destination for the next family day out.

7. Embrace diversity.

There is no greater time than while celebrating Chanukah in the midst of the Christmas season to reflect on ‘being a stranger in a strange land’ (Exodus 2.22) about being a ‘stranger in a strange land.’ But there are positive lessons to being part of a minority community. Invite non-Jewish friends or neighbours round for candle lighting one evening and share festive season experiences.

8. Appreciate the season

Try to avoid the stresses of the season: don’t expend too much worry about securing the must-have gifts or dividing equal rations of time amongst all the branches of the family tree. Instead, take a cue from your kids, who surely have been enthused by the joy and general merriment in the air. 

Chanukah, or any Jewish festival for that matter becomes a meaningful experience when you create positive memories and associations with it. Use the next week to create your own traditions and then enjoy a meaningful Chanukah. CHAG SAMEACH

A day that will live in infamy

Today, Thursday November 15^th is a day that the lives of a few in the Middle East have changed forever. They have lost one of the people they have loved most in the world, the person who helped them make sense of the world they live in and the person who taught them right from wrong.

The life of the person left behind will never be the same. Whether they have read the tweets from those comforting them who they have never met and never lived the life that they have or they have read the tweets from those demanding revenge that they have never met and never lived the life that they have, they do not feel any better. Whether they are reassured by their leaders that their person has not died in vain or not, they still don’t feel any better. What they want is their person back, laughing, loving and living with them. That cannot happen. What they want is to share the events of the day and concerns about tomorrow. They cannot do that anymore.

They might listen to the news and realise that their loved one is merely a statistic. They might think of all the others that hear the news and carry on doing whatever it is their doing, whether it’s driving to pick up kids from school, eating dinner or meeting up with friends for a drink and wonder whether anyone even cares that their life will never be the same. Even though others have suffered, they might feel alone.

What side of the border does this person live? Do they live in Kiryat Malachi or do they live in Gaza city? (is there really a difference- the people are living in fear wherever they are) Are they an active part of this increasingly bitter yet futile escalation or merely in the wrong place at the wrong time? The fact is that whatever side they are on they are suffering. No child wants to lose their parent in this way and no parent wants to lose their child ever. Listening to the various media outlets and reading various twitter feeds throughout the day I know that one of the reasons why this conflict has become so polarised is because each side sees the other as being devoid of humanity. A Palestinian clearly doesn’t care about the loss of life and neither do Israeli’s according to much of social media. We read of the political motivation behind this current escalation and wonder whether it is just the governments and extremists that are devoid of humanity rather than the people themselves? Or, we tar all Palestinians and all Israeli’s with the same brush. We ignore the story of Gazan civilians being taken to hospital in Be’er Sheva and threats of incursion and assassination made by an inferior government ministers with virtually no international profile. We ignore the fact that that Hamas were elected by Gazans because we deplore the views and their subsequent crackdown on human rights and political diversity. We ignore the fact rockets have been launched from Gaza consistently over the past several months because it suits us to see Israel as the aggressor. We ignore the fact that some Israeli’s see Gush Katif as an integral part to the biblical homeland because they are Jews.

We ignore lots of facts about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict because it suits us. What we cannot ignore today is the fact that someone in the Middle East lost someone they love today and does not know how life will ever be the same again. If we cannot pray for a realistic and lasting peace, let us at least pray that the bereaved will find a source of comfort in the memories of their loved ones rather than their hatred of the enemy.

Peace between us and between our people              שלום בינינו ובין בני עמנו

Jewish Mums- A reality show for the 21st century?

There are several competitors, each one righteous and courageous in their own ways. Each one has had their faith tested and each one has been faced with difficult decisions.

The first one is Eve. Her and her partner Adam have been thrust together but have created this idyllic paradise in which they live. They are completely comfortable with each other and are happy to be isolated. However, Eve is an impressionable young woman, she is easily led astray by others and  at times seems incapable of making decisions on her own and then taking responsibility for them. Eve has two sons that do not get along, one is jealous of the other and there seems to be an unhealthy amount of resentment between the members of the  household.

The second competitor is called Sara. She is an interesting woman who is one of those 'older' mothers. Basically, she waited so long to have a child that when she finally gave births to a son, she was besotted by him. Her husband has another son from a previous relationship and Sara is anxious that her son maintains his position as the Favourite. If she had it her way her husband would have no contact with his firstborn.

Hagar is our third contestant and this is where our world reveals a web of connections. Hagar is the former partner of Sara's husband. She works tirelessly for her son to maintain a relationship with his father. Sometimes Hagar gets depressed as she fears for her son's future when he clearly lacks a positive male role model. She tries to do the job of two parents but this is sometimes to no avail.

Rebecca is the next candidate. Demure and poised Rebecca seems to be the young woman that others want to be. Kind hearted and with a generous spirit it seems as though Rebecca is wise beyond her years. She married her husband after a whirlwind romance and became pregnant with twins quite quickly. As a mother Rebecca changes somewhat as she cannot help but favour her youngest twin. He is studious and and respectful of her whereas her eldest son is much more of a boyish boy and has a great relationship with his father. Rebecca wants her youngest to be in favour with her husband and will Do whatever it takes for that to happen.

Rachel and Leah are sisters and although they get on we'll they have committed the crime of falling in love with the same man. This man cannot decide between them and although he loves Rachel more he maintains a relationship with Leah. He has over a dozen children with four different partners. He too has his favourites and this leads to untold jealousy and resentment and fighting between the brothers.

These women have a point of view and they stick to it. These women want the best for their children (some of them anyway) and like any Jewish mum will do whatever it takes to help their children progress in life. Although in some cases, their actions to some might be seen as deplorable but are they wicked people? Not really, just a little misunderstood.

In recent weeks many Jewish women across the UK have been both appalled and entertained by channel 4's 'Jewish mum of the year'. I have found it cringeworthy at times and like many others have questioned the wisdom of the Jewish news and the contestants in taking part in a programme that in many cases reinforces stereotypes, shows Judaism as a religion without depth and has taken the most extreme personalities and put them together and waited for the fireworks to begin. ( contrived TV more than reality TV me thinks). However, what the programme has also shown is the strength of Jewish women, regardless of their religious affiliation, their marital status and the number of children they have produced ad most importantly, all are proud of their Jewish roots (otherwise they wouldn't be on the show in the first place.)

Like the book of Genesis that we are currently reading on Shabbat, the show is like a soap opera with a balanced amount of tension, rivalry, laughs and tears. The protagonists might not be the role models that we are looking for in the Jewish community but then again Anat Hoffman, Laura Marks and Elaine Sacks organising a Jewish Care outing to West-cliff might not make compulsive viewing!

A post card from Egypt

We have just returned from twelve days in Sharm-El-Sheikh. It was our first holiday together for nearly eighteen months and the plan was totally Jewish... To eat, drink (diet coke and bottled water), lie  in the sun and be waited on. within 40 minutes of our plane landing in the Sinai wilderness we were checking into the Hilton and being shown to our upgraded suite ( being a relative of Mister Ben in these parts has untold benefits!) and immediately started the holiday process of relaxation.
The next twelve days followed a very similar pattern. Breakfast followed by the morning at the water-slide pool. Lunch followed by a sleep for the boys and an hours quiet reading by the pool a stones throw from our hotel room the afternoon ended with a snorkel in the Red Sea and watching the sun set with apple juice and water in the pool bar. The day ended with dinner followed by ice cream in Soho Square and a visit to the mini disco.
Friends of mine were surprised that we were visiting Egypt. Why are you going to an Arab country even my most liberal friends would ask? "It's about £1500 less than a trip to Eilat and Israel" my husband would grumpily respond. "They hate the Israeli's" people would tell me... "So do the extremists in the UK" was my response. The fact that Israel and Egypt have been living in relative peace my entire lifetime seemed lost on a huge number of people. The fact that the revolution and the moderate violence that took place in Cairo was  practically a day trip away was also lost on people who were warning me to stay away from large crowds.
Throughout our holiday we spoke to a number of holidaymakers who were returning to Sharm for the umpteenth time. Why were they returning agin and again? The service, the friendliness, the reef and the weather all formed part of their answers.
For me, as a person with the tendency to over think and as a lover of people watching and wondering I spent time on the holiday wondering about the people who were at my beck and call. Amongst a huge staff, there were only two Egyptian women. In fact there were relatively few women on show throughout my time in Egypt. as someone for whom gender equality plays an integral part of my work I was concerned about the role of women. what kind of country that professed to be modern would have such a male dominated industry? It actually got me thinking about the economics of Sharm. Tourism and the Suez makes Egypt a comparatively  wealthy country in the Arab world. Over 39% of Egypt's hotels are in Sharm. Over 95% of Sharm tourist workers come from other parts of Egypt. The working conditions at first glance are horrendous. Our waiter started worked at 7am and finished at 10.30pm. He worked everyday for a month and then had ten days off (during which time he returned to Cairo to see his mum!) his pay was about £25 a week (apparently that is much higher than Cairo wages) not including tips and he got board, food and transport to Cairo and back. He firmly  believed that he was one of the lucky ones. Most waiters were young men who considered themselves to be the lucky ones. I was aghast and indignant for a while on their behalf. The loneliness and isolation they must of felt was unthinkable. The long hours and little pay, the shared living quarters screamed exploitation to me and within a few days of the holiday I was determined that this would be my last trip to Egypt. However, less than a week later my views changed as I realised I was thinking about exploitation In the context of my life, not theirs. Whilst I couldn't imagine working thirty days in a row in shifts of approximately fifteen hours for a paltry amount our waiters saw it as an opportunity. The very reason I declared that I would stay away is now the very reason I want to go back. These people were warm and friendly and couldn't do enough for us. My children fell in love with Samy the MaitreD and Adriano our waiter and I think they fell a little a bit in love with our boys. Over twelve days they became part of our Egyptian family and within that we got to experience the warmth, optimism and reality of being an Egyptian. The Egyptian people have been through a lot over the past two years but there was a mood of optimism amongst those that we met. Inordinately proud of who they are and how far they've come. We are often told that we should model exemplary behaviour for those Arab countries embracing change. After two weeks in Egypt I'm not sure we need to.

A musical Utopia

I have always considered myself somewhat musical although the only place that my singing has been good for is the shower and the car. I haven’t picked up an instrument since learning to play Maoz Tsur on the recorder when I was at Primary school and wouldn't exactly say I had ‘the voice’ However, in recent weeks I have been reminded just how much I like music and that I used to spend every spare bit of cash I had on CD’s.

A friend of ours who regularly is in London on business and uses us as his base spent the evening with us several weeks ago. We spent the evening reminiscing about songs from our late teens and university years and singing at the top of our voices. It was the best evening I’ve had in a while (which possibly says more about me than I’d care to admit!)

This Shabbat I am in West Wales. I am currently looking out at the Irish Sea hoping to see an Orca or some sort of wildlife that makes me feel that I am at the edge of the world. There is no phone signal and the only connection with the outside world is wifi in a small office which often has several people sitting in checking and responding to emails. There is something great about being unconnected and as the drama of the London Olympics begins it is quite nice to be far from the maddening crowd.

However, there is something strange going on in this micro community that has been created and that it music. Cantor Zoe Jacobs and the musical maestro that is Josh Nelson are teaching a group of 60 teenagers how to song lead. Their enthusiasm and love for music has affected all of us and will inspire approximately five hundred young people who have chosen to have an RSY-Netzer summer. It has shown me that you don’t have to be musical to be inspired. Music does do wonderful things for people. Whether you are a One Direction or a Beethoven fan, the wonderful things about music is that you get lost in it. It can make you happy, sad, inspired, excited and wistful of the past, present and future. It is a mood changer. A life time of my memories (and yours) is associated with music.

This Shabbat on RSY-Netzer we have created a real moment. An opportunity to use our voices and rhythm to engage and inspire and create moments in the lives of our participants. Josh Nelson sings Dor V’ador, from generation to generation and today I have witnessed the transmitting of Jewish music, its meaning and its memory making.

As Shabbat draws near and the atmosphere on camp starts to change I find myself missing my boys singing Shalom Aleichem. However, as my musical epiphany continues I find my soul warmed at the fact that Shabbat angels are being sung a wonderful welcome all over the place!

The Making of a Mensch

In December 2011, I was privileged to meet Rabbi Phyllis Sommer, one of the Rabbi’s at Temple Am Shalom in Illinois. Rabbi Sommer is one of a relatively small but growing group of US Rabbi’s who are working tirelessly to encourage communities to send their kids to camp during the summer. Many of the things she said in our conversation resonated with me in terms of what I could take back to my community but also what she said about being a parent and how we use our own experiences to make choices for our children in the hope they will do better than we did. What I have learnt since, is that my children live in an entirely different world to me and my husband. The world is smaller and more open than ever and our children live in a society where everything is a race.

This week,  my son came home with his first school report. Now obviously we think our kids are particularly spectacular but it is somewhat of an ego boost when other people comment to that effect regarding your kids. During a week in Tuscany for a family wedding, our relatives, young and old would say to us; “aren’t they good”, “don’t they get on well” with looks of incredulity on their faces because two boisterous boys clearly couldn’t be counted onto behave. But they did. They coped with the late nights, the adult conversations, the hanging around because it took an hour for all the family to get anywhere and we were proud. We congratulated ourselves on having such wonderful children, who miraculously were able to behave in restaurants, be quiet during the chupah and smile when the photographers were taking their one millionth photo.

OJ’s school report seemed to confirm what we already knew; that he was a quiet, good natured boy who acted compassionately and with respect towards his peers and teachers therefore making him popular with everybody. He is a boy who enjoys school, shows commitment to learning and self discipline. This is nothing we don’t already know but to hear it from someone else is mind-blowing. Do I want to shout it from the rooftops I asked my colleague and friend, Rachel the following day? Do I want to be one of those parents who tell everyone, how wonderful and advanced he is at the tender age of 5 (even though as a newborn he had a fairly dodgy start). Do I want to tell my family, my friends and my community that he is the Moses they are looking for? Do I want to become the parent who declared that their child slept through at four weeks, or who sat up at three months and walked at eight? Do I want to be the parent who brags to the point where I put such a tremendous amount of pressure on the child to be perfect that I cause him to rebel? 

As parents living in a competitive, busy and driven world where educational, financial and social success means everything are we damaging our children by singing their praises to the world? Rabbi Sommer told me that her greatest parenting achievement was being told by one of the counsellors (youth leaders) on Camp Osrui[i], that her son was becoming a mensch. As she said it she became emotional and I thought that is all I want my kids to be. Sure, I want OJ to be a rabbi (I think singing the Shema to himself whilst he is on the toilet might be a good sign!) or a doctor (he has diagnosed me with several ailments including a broken leg!) Sure, I want OJ to do well at school and not struggle with algebra, French or Art as I did. However, what do I want most? I want him to be a good person, someone who is happy in their own skin, someone with the confidence to do what is right (even if it is not popular)... in short a mensch! If his school report is anything to go by, he might actually become one.

So how did we react to this school report? After speaking to our parents and deciding to scan it so we could email a copy to OJ’s aunt who is on a ten month honeymoon with her new husband, we gave him a kiss and told him we loved him at that we were proud to be his mum and dad. There were no gifts or expensive gestures. It was business as usual... after all should we reward our lovely boy for being himself or just expect it?

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[i] Osrui is a URJ camp situated in the wilds of Wisconsin, USA. For more information please visit www.osrui.urjcamps.org

“Have you heard the latest about the Cohen Bar-Mitzvah?” I was asked at the school gates this week? “No” was my reply. “They’ve booked JLS to appear” I was told. “They went to a BM in North London and JLS were there so the Cohen’s have decided to have them too.” I didn’t really respond because I didn’t quite know what to say. Obviously I think it is ridiculous and completely excessive to go to such an expense but being a closet JLS fan I suspect that I would have been slightly overwhelmed were I to be at the Cohen’s BM party.

I have been and heard of Bar-Mitzvah parties where there have been captain Jack Sparrow lookalikes, Britain’s got talent finalists, FA cup replica’s in a variety of places from the Natural History Museum, Pinewood Studios and a marquee in the back garden. Each one has had its merits and downfalls. Each one is a great party and I’m sure the Bar-Mitzvah family were very proud. However, I have been wondering in recent months how much of the Bar-Mitzvah is about the ritual or about the party. Nothing has made me think about this more than the watching the film Sixty-Six, Strictly Kosher and the story of Saul (http://www.judithtrust.org.uk/learning-disability-and-mental-ill-health/case-studies/sauls-story/)

Sixty-Six tells the story of a thirteen year old who is not only hoping that his Bar-Mitzvah is going to be a more sprauncy affair than his brothers but also has to deal with what many summer born Jews have had to deal with in the past, that he shares his Bar-Mitzvah with a football match (which in Bernie’s case happens to be the world cup final). On Strictly Kosher we watched Jack Aizenberg celebrate his Bar-Mitzvah at the age of eighty-five. Jack was a survivor of the Shoah and had spent his early teens in Buchenwald concentration camp. Saul is a teenager, born with a genetic disorder that means he has severe language and communication difficulties and learning needs. He is the boy at the centre of the Judith Trust’s inclusion campaign. What have Saul, Bernie and Jack got in common? Their Bar-Mitzvahs’ was a massive deal to them and the people around them just didn’t seem to get it. Saul’s rabbi told him that he couldn’t be Bar-Mitzvah, Jack’s family seemed to be distinctly unimpressed at Jack’s service and Bernie’s family were far too worried about the difficulties of the daily grind to worry about his coming of age.

Bearing all that in mind, are we to blame for the change in the way we approach Bnei-Mitzvah? Is it about finding the right venue, outfit and X-factor reject? Is it about showing your parents and family that you are officially a grown up? Or, is it about showing your community that you too are taking on the responsibility of being a proud and responsible Jew?

After all, it doesn’t say anywhere is Jewish writing that a Bar-Mitzvah is about celebrating the wonderfulness of your child.  In fact in the Talmud and Mishnah the only reference to Bar-Mitzvah (and even that is still tenuous) is that at the age of thirteen a boy must take on the commandments of the torah. The idea of the ceremony itself did not develop until the Middle Ages so the concept of becoming Bnei-Mitzvah is still relatively new! And as for the party, Medieval Rabbi, Jacob Ben Asher says in his compilation of Jewish law that "It is a mitzvah for a person to make a meal on the day his son son becomes Bar-Mitzvah as on the day he enters the wedding canopy" A-ha, so that’s where the Cohen’s got the idea from!

Not having had a Bat-Mitzvah, I cannot tell you what it feels like. But I can tell you that as much as I hear about the fabulous parties held by the families of the ‘park round the corner and pretend we walked’ variety of Jew I also hear about the boy who did a sponsored bike ride for Rabbi’s for Human Rights to commemorate his coming of age. Or the boy who walked across every Bridge in London to raise money for a cancer charity. How about the girl who twinned her bat-mitzvah with a victim of the Shoah and then traced his family so they could share the simcha? Many of our teenagers are making their Bnei-Mitzvah’s meaningful and we need to applaud them for that. Research coming out of the USA suggests that an increasing number of teenagers are trying to make their coming of age meaningful by asking for gifts to be donated to the local children’s hospice, by completing sponsored events and giving 10% of their gifts to charity. It is refreshing to think that our teenagers are happy to show the world that their Bnei-Mitzvah is not just about them but is about the world around us as well. As Jews we are instructed to pursue justice (Deuteronomy 16:18) and many of our teenager’s are using their moment in the spotlight to remind everyone of that. Maybe that is what the Cohen’s should be focusing on rather than the star studded line up of their party!

You choose

My kids have a book called You Choose[1]. The book gives the reader a choice of where they want to go, who their friends and family are, where they want to live and what they want to put in their homes, what food they want to eat, what they want to work as and what they want to do in their spare time, what pets they want and where they want to sleep. The book illustrates to me, the differences between my boys; Sammy chooses to live in the toadstool every time whilst Oliver’ choices vary between the castle, mansion (the house with lots of rooms) and tree house. Sammy always wants to eat Spaghetti Bolognaise whereas Oliver goes for the cake, jelly and ice-cream. Sammy wants a pet unicorn and Oliver in recent weeks has graduated from the dragon to a more practical (and perhaps more realistic) hamster.

In some ways I love and hate the book. I hate the fact that we have to read it practically every day, that Sammy is stubborn about his choices and that Oliver no longer wants a princess as his friend because in his words; “I’m a boy and boys don’t like princesses”. However, what I love about the book far outweighs what I hate. I love the fact that the book has become aspirational to the boys. Both boys want to be a pilot, want to ride in a space rocket and want to score a goal at the world cup. The book allows them to be whatever they want to be and do whatever they want to do. There are no limits.

What would it be like to live a life with no limits? To live in a world where all five year olds were able to travel into space, where all seven year olds could go to Cinderella’s ball, where no teenager suffered from acne or social awkwardness, a world where all A-level students could go to university without worrying about lifelong debt, to be certain of a job upon graduation, to be certain of finding a life partner, of having children easily and bringing them up safely and securely.

If we lived in a world with no limits, would we be any happier? Probably not. Knowing my limits and trying to conquer them makes me happy. I am in control of my own destiny. I know I won’t be living in a toadstool but I am going to do what I can to make myself happy and my life fulfilling.

There are two things that I think is true of everyone. No one is born lucky or unlucky and everyone has a mission in their lives to fulfil.  Of course there are people who have terrible things happen to them and we empathise with them and say they’re unlucky. When my mother died people said how unlucky I was. My attitude was that I was lucky enough to know it was coming and say everything I wanted to say. Not everyone has that opportunity.

Choices, destiny and luck; is there a difference? I believe so. I don’t think luck really exists. We make our own luck, it’s not lucky to be offered a great job, you worked hard for it, it’s not lucky to go on holiday and have great weather, it’s the weather patterns. Our destiny is something that is predetermined, the realisation that our world is greater than just the here and now, it’s the contribution we make to our family, our community and our society. Choices. That we have full ownership of. When we face barriers, it’s our choice about whether to dismantle them or find another route. When we are unhappy, we can choose to bring about a change to that situation which brings about a return to our happiness. When we are told no, we must choose to find out why and use that to move forward. Everyday, we make choices, big ones, small ones, ones which will have no impact on others, ones which will change everything.

Sometimes I wish I was five years old again when the choices amounted to whether to live in a castle or a tree house, whether to have cheese or quorn sandwiches in my packed lunch or what fruit to choose at snack time. Life was definitely simpler then. But the fact is today, even as I enter my mid thirties, I still believe that we have the power to make positive choices about the way we live and learn from the consequences of making the wrong choices. We are in control. I think the biggest weakness and our biggest challenge is not making a choice at all and staying on the fence because we are fearful of the consequence of that choice. No one is perfect, everyone makes mistakes and there is nothing weak about making choices. The weakness lies in those who don’t make any choices or those who would rather shout at the world for being unfair, than be proactive about making a choice.

2012 is a year in Britain for being part of history; The Olympics and the Jubilee have made us want to be a part of history. I wonder this year how many of us will be conscious about the choices we make and about writing or rewriting our own history?

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[1] You Choose, Nick Sharrett, Pippa Goodhart, Random House publishing

Kristallnacht- May 2012

The night of broken glass was the moment in Nazi Germany that changed things for German Jews. Not that thing’s hadn't been bad before; but Kristallnacht showed German Jews that their future in Germany was doomed. The orchestrated violence was sanctioned by the Nazi government openly and without fear of condemnation from its neighbours. In terms of Kristallnacht, the rest they say is history.

Fast forward seventy-four years and what do we see on Wednesday night in Tel-Aviv? The wanton destruction of property, increased talk about foreigners threatening Israel’s social fabric and national security (said by the ‘mainstream’ Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu) and talk of deportations. Deportations. The Jewish world should shudder when hearing the word deportations as seventy years ago the term meant something very different.

So why has this group of nationalist Israeli’s forgotten the very events that led to the establishment of their state?  There are currently approximately 60,000 African refugees living in Israel (About 1% of the population). They are mostly from Sudan and Eritrea and have paid exorbitant amount to be smuggled into Israel; a state that was founded on the premise of being a tolerant and just society. Israel however sees up to 90% them as economic migrants. This is in sharp contrast to the UK where over two thirds of Sudanese and Eritrean migrants are granted refugee status.  Israeli newspapers such as the Jerusalem Post have suggested that the migrants have taken over neighbourhoods and harass women and have shown no willingness to conform to Israeli society. However, history shows that it’s only second generation migrants that really adopt their new country’s culture and values, the first generation are too busy setting everything up to conform. After all how many of our great grandparents spoke anything other than Yiddish?

Israel is not the first country to have issues over immigration. Throughout Europe and the USA immigration issues are often on the agenda and are often used as a cover by extreme groups to gain the respect of the mainstream voter. Is that what has happened in Israel? Has settler leader Baruch Marzel climbed in the anti-immigration bandwagon to deflect attention away from the continued expansion of settlements in the West Bank? Has Likud MK and former IDF spokesperson, Miri Regev, who described illegal immigrants as a "cancer in our society”, done so to try and increase her notoriety and move up the party list? The motive of these politicians to speak in such a pejorative and racial manner does not need to be called into question because there is nothing acceptable about a crowd of people screaming ‘blacks out’. It is not acceptable in any country but especially in Israel, by a people with such a strong history of persecution. Leviticus 19:34 states “The stranger who resides with you shall be to you one of your citizens; you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” Perhaps this group of protestors need to go back to their bible.

Bar Kochba and the brazen foxes

We currently have a family of foxes living in our back garden. Two adult foxes (who we are presuming are the mum and dad) and six of their cubs are currently living under the decking at the back of our garden. Between 4-7pm everyday they are outside, playing on the trampoline or just lolling about in the late afternoon sunshine. (The irony is that we built the decking so we could take advantage of the late afternoon and evening sunshine so at least someone is getting use out of it!). In the course of the invasion I’ve learnt several things about these urban warriors. Firstly, they aren’t considered pests so the council won’t get rid of them, secondly, for a fox to have six cubs is very rare and thirdly they are the most brazen animal I think I have ever seen. They simply have no fear of us and have been frequently gaining the upper hand in the staring competition that my family engage in every evening. So, I’ve concluded that we just have to accept that they’re there and hope they soon decide that they’ve had enough and move on.

The head of the fox family reminds me of that famous Judean warrior, Shimon Bar Kochba who was a leader of a rebellion in Judaea against the Romans in the second century. He was the commander of a revolt that began when the Emperor Hadrian broke a promise that he would rebuild a temple for Jews on the site of the destroyed second temple. As this promise failed to materialise the remaining Jews in Judaea sought to overthrow the Romans. The rebellion lasted three years and was not a success. Many historians believe that it was this revolt that finally led to the collapse of ancient Israel and the dispersal of Jews into the Diaspora.

In spite of early successes the rebels were defeated by the Romans. The ringleaders were caught and severely punished and surviving Jews sold into slavery and sent to other parts of the Roman Empire. So, why did the rebellion fail? Bar Kochba was referred to by Rabbi Akiva, as the ‘son of a star’[1] and it was thought that Bar Kochba was the messiah. So, what changed?

Jewish sources estimate that Bar Kochba had over 10,000 fighters in his rebel army. He was clearly recognised as a great leader and had the support of learned rabbis as well as all the different factions of Jews that lived at the time. However, The sages believe they lost because they were too arrogant[2]. Having tasted victory they adopted the attitude of, "by my strength and my valour I did this." (Deut. 8:17)

Bar Kochba’s failure was that he started to believe in his own hype. He heard people calling him the Messiah. Certainly, if Rabbi Akiva thought so, then he had the potential to be Israel's Ultimate Leader. He also became corrupted by his power and even beat his uncle, the great Rabbi Elazar HaModai, to death, having accepted false accusations that he was a Roman spy. Because of these faults he began to lose battles and was forced into retreat. Whether you feel that Shimon Bar Kochba is a great leader or not, the evidence that he wanted Jews in Judaea to live independently and practice freely shows that at the beginning he cared about his people and their destiny.

So, back to the fox family currently making the Juggler back garden their home. Mama Fox (at least that’s what I call her) is bar Kochba in a nutshell. Brazen, a great leader (those cubs never step out of line) and is staying her ground. Her followers are inspired by her brazenness, cunningness and rebelliousness. They don’t care about the noise we make, they aren’t bothered by the anti-animal spray. They aren’t bothered that whenever we have visitors to our house between 4-7pm, the boys drag them to the back door to show them our ‘guests’... they have simply decided that they like the look of our place and for the meantime, that’s where they are going to stay. I, on the other hand hope they continue to be like Bar Kochba and start to believe they are invincible. And then I will put my plan of defence into place. (Not that I know what it is yet so any ideas will be gratefully received!)




[1] Bar Kochba's success caused many to believe that he could be the Messiah. He was nicknamed "Bar Kochba" or "Son of Star," an allusion to a verse in the Book of Numbers (24:17): "there shall come a star out of Jacob." This star is understood to refer to the Messiah.


[2] This is mention in a discussion in the Talmud ta’anit 4:5

Have many friends do I have?

I didn't join facebook until 2009 so was quite a late starter in the social media world. At first I thought it was because I didn't want to get back in touch with those who were no longer part of my life. Then I thought it was because it wasn't necessary to let people know that my left knee had turned purple because I had walked into a filing cabinet the previous day. Then I worried about my house being burgled if I announced on fb that I was enjoying two weeks in the Maldives and then I worried about strangers looking at photos of my children. When I did eventually sign up it was almost by accident. A parent at work complained that a youth leader had posted something on facebook about a youth event. To find the said comment I had to set up an account and without even knowing it my relationship with facebook began.

So what do I use facebook for? Well, on Sunday it was a great way to connect with one of my oldest and dearest friends. Her daughter was having a tantrum in Westfield and she had posted a photo of it on said website. I was stuck in a traffic jam queuing to get into Westfield, saw the photo, phoned her straight away and we met up for a good catch up.

I also use the said website to connect with friends that I had in my misspent youth. Many a facebook status has been spent reminiscing about Jimmy Saville impressions, bar brawls and camping by the Dead Sea that was part of my year course experience.

The said website also became a way for two of my friends to announce the birth of their children. In fact, when I noticed that one heavily pregnant friend had stopped updating her status regarding her swollen ankles I wondered if she had actually gone into labour. ‘No such luck’ she texted me back, ‘wireless on phone’s not working properly’

Facebook has appealed to my voyeuristic side as well. Why has Benjamin ________ checked into the airport in Vancouver; where is he going? What does Katherine____ mean when she says she is having a bad day? FB is an ideal way to find out what people are up to and how they’re feeling. It enables charities and businesses to spread their message and it is one step to making the world that little bit smaller.

So, the question is; is Facebook harmless? In some senses it absolutely is but I do have one concern and this is something that has been on my mind for a while. To what extent are the friends we are sharing information with, actually our friends? One parent told me a couple of weeks ago that her daughter (who is about to go on Israel tour) now has 1,000 fb friends. That is 1,000 people knowing that she is nervous about her forthcoming drama exam, that she is delighted to be on tour 2 and that she is looking forward to her friend sleepover at the weekend because the said friend’s parents are away. Are these 1,000 friends going to wish her luck and tell her she’s amazing at drama? Are they going to tell her that tour 2 is indeed the tour to be on? Are they going to turn up at the sleepover? Who knows? The parent wasn’t delighted that their child was so popular but was concerned that the 1,000 friends were people she didn’t know and people her daughter barely knew. But although she barely knew them, they knew that she loved listening to glee on Spotify, that she supports spurs (kind of) and that she is a big fan of One Tree Hill. Is this OK?

As a parent of children who have not yet discovered facebook do I become one of those parents who ban their children from it and hope that they don’t then develop this secret life? Do I allow my children to enter the world of social media expecting that they make sensible decisions regarding giving out personal information; Or do I just close my eyes and hope for the best?

I suppose, the facebook issue and friends issue is an issue that should be discussed at ante-natal classes. It is OK to want to punch the child who snatched your child’s favourite toy at the toddler group (as long as you don’t actually do it). It is OK to want to follow your children into school on their first day and ensure that they eat all their lunch without you having to negotiate the nature of desert should they eat all their vegetables. Is it OK to cry when your children go off to camp for the first time (although not in front of them) and it is OK to insist that you know who your children’s friends are. My parents used to insist that they would pick me up rather than let me get a taxi and when I started driving they insisted that I had to call them if I was going to be later than a certain time (obviously the one time I didn’t they were sitting anxiously at the bottom of the stairs obviously wondering what ditch I was lying in!) And although I resented it at the time, in hindsight their behaviour was completely normal and OK.  I will be happy to pick my kids up from a party at midnight because it will mean that I know where they are.

In the world of social media and virtual community, we are more worried about our children than ever. However, that doesn’t mean we have to hark back to the simpler days of when we were young or just pretend that this world that your child is a part of doesn’t exist. What we must do is protect them and urge them to express caution when revealing information about themselves online. But what else should we do? Ensure we do exactly the same.

At the next election I will...

Last Thursday, I didn’t vote. I could wax lyrical about my vote being wasted, about not wanting to vote for the lesser of two evils and about Epping Forest being a safe council, but the truth is that I didn’t vote because I simply couldn’t be bothered. We had it all worked out, the kids were off school as their school had been turned into a polling station so we were going to walk down to the polling station and try to explain to them what all the fuss was about and then vote. However, firstly it rained so we didn’t walk, secondly I worked late and it then took me two hours to get home from work so by the time I got home I was tired and in a bad mood; in short no mood to vote!

Would I have voted if it was a general election? Maybe. Would I have voted if it was a Ken Versus Boris character showdown? Maybe. Obviously I don’t know and only time will tell. But I wasn’t the only one who clearly just didn’t have the interest or passion to vote. Last Thursday’s turnout was the lowest in 12 years, only 33%. How this contrasted to news at the weekend from the French election where just under 80% turned up to vote for either Nicholas Sarkozy or Francois Hollande. It was a two horse race and one that would determine the economic and social direction of the country over the next five years.

So are the French just more passionate about their politics? Are they optimistic? Do they think their world is going to change because they have a new President?  Are they just ever hopeful that their lives will get better? Maybe there are more differences between us and our European partners than we like to think. So where do we go from here? David Cameron and Nick Clegg have declared that they are sorry about the state of our country and they will try harder in future. Ed Milliband on the other hand, and declared victory and that the people have spoken. ‘Really Ed?’ I shouted at the TV on Friday, ‘Do you really think that victory is yours when only a third of people actually voted? Do you really think that the British people have given you a mandate to rule?’ The British people only told you that they couldn’t be bothered and that the vote wasn’t important enough.

So, the question is what will make the vote important enough to make the effort, to interrupt our busy lives and actually get our backsides down to the polling station and cast our votes? One of the great things about the French election was the fact that every vote counted. Every single person who voted actually helped Hollande to victory and Sarkozy to defeat. Every single person went to the ballot box and cast their vote knowing it would be counted. Even those who spoilt their ballot papers to show that no candidate met their requirements still turned up at their polling station. The way that the French felt compelled to participate in their political process is admirable and for the first time, I actually feel we have a great deal to learn from our cousins across the channel.

So where am I going with this? I can only make apologies to Emily Davison and my mother for not voting. I can only promise that I will, in spite of my tiredness and arguments with the north circular that I will vote next time around. But what do I want in return? My list is quite small but important (i think)

I want candidates with creditability. I don’t care if my representatives went to Eton, lives in a Victorian house backing onto Clapham Common, or if their father was a university professor anymore than if their father was a coal miner, they grew up in an estate in Tottenham or they are a single parent. What I want them to be is honest. when they are struggling; I want to know about it. When they are unsure of what to do for the best, I want to know about it. I want my politicians to be normal human beings who laugh and cry when watching TV, who give their kids a happy meal occasionally.

If you can find me this representative... I’ll promise I’ll vote next time!