Old Posts rediscovered to inspire!

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http://www.israelnationalnews.com//News/News.aspx/130359
We can make it again if we want bs’d

Unity of the Bands drew about 700 people to the Great Synagogue in Jerusalem, almost all of them young American yeshiva students. Proceeds of the ticket sales went to charity.
First place went to Az Yashir from Yeshivat Kesher. Second place went to Jesse and Hello Sid from Yeshivat Reishit. Tied for third place was The 104 from Yeshivat Sha’arei Mevaseret Tzion and the Levi Teitz Band from Yeshivat Har Etzion. For a full length interview about Az Yashir, the winning band, and their songs based on real life experiences in Gaza, visit http://www.israelnationalnews.com/News/News.aspx/130333

Help us make a change and difference again http://www.israelnationalnews.com//News/News.aspx/133312

This is the current cause which needs help urgently now… #Goodweek! #Special #Mitzvah #Opportunity http://t.co/lCRFWSr #make a #difference http://www.betshemesh-educenter.org.il/

And then we can move onto the Unity concerts …

Fire On the Mountain- Reflections on the Air of Destruction by Yaakov Lehman

17 Tammuz, 1,941 years ago- The siege of Jerusalem commences ultimately leading to the destruction of the Holy Jewish Temple and the subsequent 2000 year running exile of the Jewish people.

 

 

 

17 July, 11 days ago.  The Jerusalem forest bursts into flames destroying 37 acres and forcing an evacuation Holocaust memorial Yad Vashem.

 

Walking atop their respective ruins, I reflect…

 

 

 

Born into the aftermath of destruction.  The charred remains still throb with fire, searing my lungs, burning my eyes, emptying my heart of seemingly all consolation.

 

Enchanted garden, once so lush and teaming with life vibrancy, flittering with the exuberance of everything so fresh, so alive, so real.

 

Reduced now to a scarred memory, former magnificence staling with each gust of exhausted wind.   A battlefield sore and aching, casting sordid sorrows into the soul of the earth.

 

Disheveled survivors of the infernal deluge lay scattered about.  Disfigured forms of former splendor.  A tree stump smoldering in the morning sun, offering a final prayer to the heavens as its very existence dissolves into a steady breath of charcoaled steam.  A few ancient rocks lay bear and exposed, all compassion and life singed from their blackened facade. Mounds of chalky ash projecting an icy complexion from the earths surface; a lifeless canvas unwittingly playing host to a handful of expiring shadows.

 

Destruction.  It is has come, it has passed; a reality to accept.

 

Move on.  We shall.  Affirming the belief that life can be rebuilt atop the dregs of death.  To flourish in the face of suffering- it is our unmitigated destiny.

 

But before we take that brave step forward; into dream and ambition, accomplishment and success.   Before we transition into the action which is indeed our calling, let us step back; pause, ponder the silent casualties of our past. Reflect and retreat into a space of unspoken stillness.

 

You and I, we were born after the destruction.  We saw not the tears, heard the screams, nor smelled the fires of expulsion, exile, and extermination.

 

Yet were we not born of their very ashes, memories terminally encoded into the exalted algorithm of our spiritual DNA?

 

If only…

 

If only we cultivate the proper will.  If we expend the necessary effort.  We can relate, understand and empathize with the historical roots upholding our bodies and soul.  We can consult the time weathered spirit of our illustrious ancestors; those who came before, who planted the seeds which govern our blooming fields of perception.

 

The soil of our secluded forests may be covered in soot.  The stones of our sacred temple may be trampled underfoot by google-eyed tourists imagining they are at some cotton candy dispensing archeological amusement park.

 

Nevertheless, a true spirit lies dormant underneath; gestating, germinating, each mitzvah performed catalyzing the process of redemption one step closer.

 

Life: tis’ a journey untamed, a long-winded process bringing us to our eventual destination.  We the travelers, our goals and values at the wheel, our good deeds providing the combustion that powers us forward.

 

Hope, persistence, optimism: these constitute our windshield into the future.  Yet as a people we must from time to time glance up into the rearview, backtracking our trajectory to ascertain how we arrived here, from where we initially departed, and where it was we sought to travel in the first place.

 

It makes no difference whether the flames subsided 2 weeks or 2 thousand years ago.  Our future is seeded in our past.  The past is the key to our future.

 

To quote a contemporary non-Jewish sage of the musical persuasion, “We know where we’re going, we know where we’re from, we’re leaving Babylon, going to the promised land”

 

We must dance between these two immutable spheres of reality, gliding with pure intent along the rhythmic contours of time and space.

 

Alive and awake, delighted and dancing, we shall persevere.

Yaakov Lehman
יעקב בן ראובן    李家樹
Jerusalem, Israel

Fire On the Mountain- Reflections on the Air of Destruction by Yaakov Lehman

17 Tammuz, 1,941 years ago- The siege of Jerusalem commences ultimately leading to the destruction of the Holy Jewish Temple and the subsequent 2000 year running exile of the Jewish people.

 

17 July, 11 days ago.  The Jerusalem forest bursts into flames destroying 37 acres and forcing an evacuation Holocaust memorial Yad Vashem.

 

Walking atop their respective ruins, I reflect…

 

 

 

Born into the aftermath of destruction.  The charred remains still throb with fire, searing my lungs, burning my eyes, emptying my heart of seemingly all consolation.

 

Enchanted garden, once so lush and teaming with life vibrancy, flittering with the exuberance of everything so fresh, so alive, so real.

 

Reduced now to a scarred memory, former magnificence staling with each gust of exhausted wind.   A battlefield sore and aching, casting sordid sorrows into the soul of the earth.

 

Disheveled survivors of the infernal deluge lay scattered about.  Disfigured forms of former splendor.  A tree stump smoldering in the morning sun, offering a final prayer to the heavens as its very existence dissolves into a steady breath of charcoaled steam.  A few ancient rocks lay bear and exposed, all compassion and life singed from their blackened facade. Mounds of chalky ash projecting an icy complexion from the earths surface; a lifeless canvas unwittingly playing host to a handful of expiring shadows.

 

Destruction.  It is has come, it has passed; a reality to accept.

 

Move on.  We shall.  Affirming the belief that life can be rebuilt atop the dregs of death.  To flourish in the face of suffering- it is our unmitigated destiny.

 

But before we take that brave step forward; into dream and ambition, accomplishment and success.   Before we transition into the action which is indeed our calling, let us step back; pause, ponder the silent casualties of our past. Reflect and retreat into a space of unspoken stillness.

 

You and I, we were born after the destruction.  We saw not the tears, heard the screams, nor smelled the fires of expulsion, exile, and extermination.

 

Yet were we not born of their very ashes, memories terminally encoded into the exalted algorithm of our spiritual DNA?

 

If only…

 

If only we cultivate the proper will.  If we expend the necessary effort.  We can relate, understand and empathize with the historical roots upholding our bodies and soul.  We can consult the time weathered spirit of our illustrious ancestors; those who came before, who planted the seeds which govern our blooming fields of perception.

 

The soil of our secluded forests may be covered in soot.  The stones of our sacred temple may be trampled underfoot by google-eyed tourists imagining they are at some cotton candy dispensing archeological amusement park.

 

Nevertheless, a true spirit lies dormant underneath; gestating, germinating, each mitzvah performed catalyzing the process of redemption one step closer.

 

Life: tis’ a journey untamed, a long-winded process bringing us to our eventual destination.  We the travelers, our goals and values at the wheel, our good deeds providing the combustion that powers us forward.

 

Hope, persistence, optimism: these constitute our windshield into the future.  Yet as a people we must from time to time glance up into the rearview, backtracking our trajectory to ascertain how we arrived here, from where we initially departed, and where it was we sought to travel in the first place.

 

It makes no difference whether the flames subsided 2 weeks or 2 thousand years ago.  Our future is seeded in our past.  The past is the key to our future.

 

To quote a contemporary non-Jewish sage of the musical persuasion, “We know where we’re going, we know where we’re from, we’re leaving Babylon, going to the promised land”

 

We must dance between these two immutable spheres of reality, gliding with pure intent along the rhythmic contours of time and space.

 

Alive and awake, delighted and dancing, we shall persevere.


Yaakov Lehman
יעקב בן ראובן    李家樹
Jerusalem, Israel
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