Original Article Published On The Jerusalem Post

In these troubles times, with anti-semitism and worse apparently on the rise everywhere, it’s not a bad idea to learn some kind of self-defense. The fact that lots of other people are doing so is demonstrated by one simple statistic: The martial arts industry reportedly generates annual revenues of more than $1 billion.

The Jewish segment of that market is, understandably, much smaller. But there are ways to protect body and soul with a Jewish twist, or kvetch.

You might start out with an Israeli technique. Recent ads in New York’s Village Voice for krav maga (translated as contact combat) invite people to “learn street effective techniques designed by the Israel Defense Forces” at http://www.kravmagainc.com). The history of krav maga provided on another site, http://www.kravmaga.com explains how Imi Lichtenfeld, born in Bratislava, developed the form in Israel just prior to independence, when “Israelis were not permitted to bear arms, yet individuals needed to defend themselves.”

Martial arts in Israel have a rich history. At http://www.geocities.com (site of the Hisardut [Survival] Dennis Ju- Jitsu Foundation), learn how founder Dennis Hanover left Moshav Moledet, and opened a dojo in Tel Aviv in 1966. He taught Budoka (the first multiple martial arts style), then Judokwai, the first Israeli mixed judo-karate-jujitsu program. You will also learn about Japan disinviting Israel from a karate tournament in 1979 (“under Arab pressure,” it says), and about the debate (at the time) over whether martial arts in Israel should be taught under police supervision.

http://www.jujitsu.org.il notes that jujitsu’s roots are ju meaning “gentle” and jitsu meaning “art” in Japanese. On this site, you can also view actual techniques (with a warning that they are “dangerous and it is forbidden to do them without guidance”). There’s also a list of dojos, or clubs, in Israel.

If you are more comfortable reading than kicking, go to http://www.kodesh.org “Tora-Torah” is a weekly column on the portion of the week, with insights into the inner aspects of Jewish martial arts as taught by Grand Master H.I. Sobers Association.

For another faith’s take on martial arts, read “Should a Christian Practice the Martial Arts,” at http://www.equip.org Or try http://www.probe.org to read entries like “Self-defense or turn the other cheek?”
Finally, you can read about Rabbi Sarah Graff of Palo Alto, California, at http://www.jewishsf.com She “combines the movements of tae kwon with the traditional cantillations used in the Torah reading, saying, “I teach the side kick, which resembles the wishbone shape of etnachta [one of the cantillation marks, or tropes], with the chanting of etnachta.”

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Original Article Published On The Jerusalem Post

Madonna is not the fist singer to write a children’s book but she’s probably the first to name a character “Bina” – “understanding” in Hebrew. In “The English Roses,” the four other main characters are jealous of the blonde-haired Bina’s seemingly perfect life. And Madonna’s likely also the first who offers “special thanks” to a rabbi and rebbetzin: “Harav and Karen Berg for their infinite wisdom and support.”

“Harav” is the controversial Yehuda Berg of the Kabbalah Centre, long an inspiration for the singing kabbalist. An article posted on the “men’s portal,” http://askmen.com re-ports that Madonna recently told Matt Lauer on NBC’s Dateline that she has been “a kabbalist” for seven years; she claims that its teachings have taught her to be more patient and less demanding.

At www.madonna.com, the writer/singer’s authorized site, where you can preview the beautiful illustrations by Jeffrey Fulvimari for “The English Roses,” the home page offers a link to http://www.spiritualityforkids.com, a Kabbalah Centre site, where you learn the oversimplified version of what kabbalah is – “the original spiritual wisdom… its purpose is to illuminate the minds and hearts of man” – in addition to info on the Kabbalah Centre, and about Karen Berg’s audio program for raising spirituality-minded children.

From there, you can click a link to http://www.72.com where Yehuda Berg, author of “The 72 Names of God – Technology for the Soul,” invites you to download a screensaver, http://www.72.com that “allows you to meditate on the power of each of the 72 names (of G-d) while your computer is idle.

Madonna has gone further than simply downloading the screensaver; she reportedly has “the Holy Name of God” tattooed to her right shoulder, a fact that catches the attention of Rabbi Ariel Bar Tzadok in his article “Madonna’s Kabbalah – Not Kosher” on his website, http://www.koshertorah.com Tzadok also has choice words for Berg, who he feels has provided a “gross misrepresentation of the true teachings of kabbalah” – an opinion rather common among rabbis and Jewish experts on Jewish mysticism.

To get an overview of non-Madonna kabbalah, try http://www.aish.com or http://www.myjewishlearning.com or www.jewishencyclopedia.com, where you will find a good explanation of the classical mystical work, the Zohar. Or take an on-line Zohar course “from a liberal perspective” at http://www.kolel.org

If your real interest is celebrities, an article on http://www.webprowire.com reports that Britney Spears, of infamous TV kiss of Madonna fame, is reportedly “studying occult techniques of the mystical kabbalah.”

You never know where a kiss can lead.

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Original Article Published On The Jerusalem Post

Relentless Israeli tennis player Anna Pistolesi, nee Smashnova, is racking up the wins, mostly Howard Blas New Haven Just before the U.S. Open in Flushing Meadows in late August, Anna Pistolesi faced the world’s No. 14 player, Vera Zvonereva of Russia, in the second round of the Pilot Pen Tournament in New Haven, Connecticut,

comebacks in the history of women’s tennis.” After being down 0-6, 1- 5 the 27-year-old Israeli won the second set 7-6 and the third 6-2.

No less an authority as Serena Williams has said of Pistolesi, “She’ll probably tire you to death or run you to the point where you just can’t run anymore – then she’ll probably come up with winners in the third set.” But even the toughest and fittest must give somewhere, and Pistolesi lost to Jennifer Capriati in the third round, 6-2, 5-7, 6-1, breaking off a series of 14 victories, which had seen her win home titles in Poland and Finland, and taken her to the no. 21 place in the world ratings. In the U.S. Open, seeded 22, she crashed out in the first round.

Pistolesi is a fairly new name on the women’s pro circuit, but Anna isn’t. Until she married her Italian coach, Claudio Pistolesi, in an Italian civil ceremony in December 2000, she was known as Anna Smashnova and still signs her autographs that way.

Smashnova sounds like a great name for a tennis player, but it was hardly apt in Pistolesi’s case – she hardly ever ventures to the net and is far more well known for her relentlessly steady baseline ground strokes than overhead kills. Said Capriati, after their New Haven match: “She’s like playing a brick wall. She really moves well out there. She fights for every ball, just tries for everything.”

I’d heard that Pistolesi receives death threats at tournaments as an Israeli and therefore only talks about tennis. But speaking with her after her amazing second round recovery in New Haven, she warmed up, sharing her family’s immigration and absorption story with the same comfort as her tennis story.

The modest, 5-foot 2-inch Pistolesi arrived in Israel with her family from Minsk, Belarus, in September 1990 at the age of 14, the number one player in her age group in the Soviet Union. Asked about the move, she says, “We came to Israel because we are Jewish. And yes, it did

help my tennis – there were more opportunities and more chances to succeed in Israel.” Pistolesi credits the authorities for helping her in her acclimation to Israel, as well as her engineer father Sasha, mother Zina and brother Yura. “I was very happy, excited to come to Israel. Everything was new. I went to school and played tennis,” Pistolesi recalls happily. “For me, everything was very organized.”

For her parents, though, “it was very hard, very tough… They didn’t know the language, the people. But Israel really helps immigrants. They took very good care in the beginning.” Pistolesi also feels that her parents, who view themselves as both Russian and Israeli, “have given a lot to the country.”

In 1991, a year after arriving in Israel, Pistolesi won the French Open junior title. In 1994, while still a student at the American International High School in Kfar Shmaryahu, outside Tel Aviv, she turned pro, and was named Tennis Magazine/Rolex Watch Female Rookie of the Year. In 1995 she made it to the fourth round of the French Open. Unlike her professional peers, Pistolesi took a slight detour the next two years, returning home to serve in the Israel Defense Forces. While she doesn’t feel she received preferential treatment as a soldier – she served with a select group of prominent athletes – she suggests that her army duties were less than rigorous. “We worked in the army 4-5 hours a day, but we had all kinds of excuses [to be let off] – practice mornings and evenings, travel, tournaments. I did whatever I could.”

In 2000, Pistolesi attended the Vavassori Tennis Academy in Milan, Italy, where she met Claudio Pistolesi, a former No. 71 player in the world, with a fine reputation as a “tennis technician.” She later began training with Claudio, who now runs the Tennis Academy in Rome.

But Pistolesi hasn’t said goodbye to Israel. “I have been playing for Israel for 12 years in the Federation Cup. Every tournament I play, I represent Israel,” she says, and emphatically denies having any problems or uncomfortable moments on the tour because she is Israeli. “No, actually it is very nice when I come to a tournament to be Israeli and Jewish.”

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Original Article Published On The Jerusalem Post

It’s the Wednesday afternoon before the Shabbat of my student’s bar mitzvah. Jake has been working hard for the past hour and a half, quietly reading his sermon and loudly belting out songs as Cantor Lisa Hest accompanies him on the guitar.

Jake is a young man with a range of special needs, and when his parents consulted me about his bar mitzvah, they’d told me they might wait until he was 15 and more mature. When I met him, however, it was obvious that his love of music, his good ear and his determination would make a bar mitzvah at 13 possible and special.

Now, with three days to go, Mom, Dad and sister Emily are assembled at the synagogue for the dress rehearsal. “Dress” may be slightly overstating the case. Jake is wearing his New York Yankees T-shirt and tallit and has a bare head. Emily, fresh from soccer practice, is wearing her gym shorts and her “Em’s Bat Mitzvah” T- shirt from her own celebration three years ago; I came in shorts, T- shirt and Teva sandals. Only Jake’s mother, in slacks and a white button-down shirt, and his dad, in a suit, dress shirt and yellow power tie, are dressed for the occasion.

As Cantor Lisa is packing up her guitar for her next gig, I open up the Torah scroll for Jake and Emily to practice. Just then, I look up to see two men at the entrance of the synagogue. It’s 7pm and I’m exhausted. But the two linger at the entrance, so I go over to see if I can help. The hasidic men, one 70 and the other 30- something, both wearing black frocks, black hats and payes, smile and say that they simply wanted to see the shul.

The synagogue that intrigues them is the 88th Street building of Congregation B’nai Jeshurun on Manhattan’s Upper West Side – a Conservative congregation that uses an electric piano on Shabbat, adds the Matriarchs to the amidah prayer, and offers joint aliyot to gay couples as they come to the Torah in celebration of their brit ahavah commitment ceremonies. The exquisite sanctuary building is only used for Friday night and special Shabbat minhah services. When the roof of the 88th St. building collapsed over 13 years ago, the synagogue began renting space from the Church of Saint Paul and Saint Andrew on West 86th Street on Shabbat mornings, for the larger crowds the congregation now attracts.

Many religious Jews will not enter a non-Orthodox synagogue (let alone a church). Why had these two ultra-Orthodox men wandered in to BJ at precisely this moment, when a boy with special needs and his immodestly dressed sister are about to read from the Torah? The visitors move closer to the ark and listen as Jake begins to read. The older gentleman points to his own head, kindly requesting that Jake put a yarmulke on his head. Emily rushes to the bin and brings skullcaps for Jake and Dad. I explain to the guests that Jake is celebrating his bar mitzvah this Shabbat. They listen for a moment as Jake reads from the Torah, smile, and leave.

Rewind 13 years. Following Jake’s birth, he underwent a series of surgeries and long hospitalizations. During one hospital stay, he shared a room with a little girl from a Brazilian Lubavitch family. Each day, men would come so the baby’s father could pray in a minyan. One day, an older man asked Jake’s mother if she was Jewish. She said she was. He asked if she lit Shabbat candles. She replied that she did not. She then offered that her husband was not Jewish, but that they were raising the children Jewish.

The man asked, “Did the boy have a bris?” She explained that he did not, but that he had an in-hospital circumcision. “Do you have a mezuzah up on your door?” he asked. “No,” said the mother. “Can I bring you one tomorrow, a real mezuzah with a kosher scroll inside?” “That’s very nice, but, thankfully, we are leaving the hospital tomorrow.” “Can I mail it to you?” “Absolutely.”

Several hours after Jake and family came home from the hospital, the phone rang. “I happen to be in your neighborhood,” a voice said. “Would it be OK if I drop off the mezuzah and put it up?” Minutes later, two men appeared at the door. The parents, both in shorts and T-shirts, greeted the guests. “I brought along a mohel,” the man said. “He would like to perform a ceremonial bris, if it’s OK with you.” The sleep-deprived parents agreed. “Any wine in the house?” the mohel asked. “No.” “Any alcohol?” “There’s a beer in the fridge.” “Get it.”

The rabbis finished the ceremony, put up the mezuzah, and promised to go to the Lubavitcher rebbe to offer a prayer for them. They left, as swiftly as they had entered.

These mystery men may not have been the same curious visitors to BJ. Then again, why not? See you at the wedding.

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