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Nostalgia Sunday – Shaare Zedek Hospital’s Schwester Selma

I didn’t know Schwester Selma but there is one time when perhaps our paths might have crossed. That would be in 1973, when my sisters and I were rushed to Jerusalem’s old Shaare Zedek hospital after a car accident (we came out with minor cuts, bruises, a few stitches in my sister’s forehead and a lifetime of self-enforced responsible driving ahead of us). Schwester Selma served from 1916 as head nurse and retired in 1973, so who knows?

The country’s first trained nurse, Schwester Selma was one of those legendary Jerusalem institutions from the pre-State era that people of my mother’s generation knew well, their children knew somewhat and their grandchildren know not at all. I encountered Schwester Selma’s biography while looking into the background of a series of photos documenting the old hospital building, which believe you me, was nothing like the new one – I can still remember the patchwork of floor tiles – but thank goodness the hospital was easy to reach and not in the middle of some out-of-the-way forest like some other Jerusalem hospitals I could mention if I cared to.

Here it is on Jaffa Road. The building now houses the Israel Broadcast Authority offices.

Then, as now, Shaare Zedek prided itself on being the only centrally located hospital in Jerusalem. There were the Misgav LaDach birthing hospital and general hospital Bikur Holim was under construction but Shaare Zedek was pretty much it during the World War I when Selma Meyer arrived to do her wartime service in Palestine (the Turkish Ottoman Empire was allied with Germany during the war).

Her autobiography includes a couple of juicy tidbits about illness and cure back in the so-called Good Old Days: “There were two epidemics right them. We were the only Jewish hospital in the new city. The old Bikur Cholim had also started building in the new city, which, however, could not be continued because of the war. Typhoid, typhus, and meningocael meningitis, all very severe cases, were hospitalized with us. Thousands of typhoid cases were passing through our hospital, probably caused by dirt; there was hardly any water. Additionally the people suffered terribly from hunger; there was hardly anything to eat.” Out of discretion to the reader, I’ve cut out the part about the lice bath.

It must have seemed like heaven for patients to come to a place like Shaare Zedek, which had a European-trained staff and clean sheets. There was no running water, but who had running water in those days?

After all, Jerusalem was no modern city. “There was still no transportation. The transportation of patients was therefore still very complicated. If somebody had to be brought it would have to be done by stretcher. We did not have enough personnel to send along and therefore the relatives had to help or hire two porters.”

During the global polio epidemic, Schwester Selma ran the country’s only isolation ward. “In those days the isolation department was even more primitive than the main house. The bathtub was made of tin, on wheels. It used to be filled with water that was brought in and then wheeled into the respective room. The toilets had no plumbing. Of course there was no heating system. In spite of all this I can maintain with a good conscience that we ran this department as a real isolation station even if this demanded many many efforts, which were well worth it in every respect.”

Schwester Selma founded the country’s first nursing school in 1934 over the objections of her hospital director who believed that too much theory and not enough practicum was a bad thing in a young nurse. But Selma, together with one father who wanted to make sure his daughter got a good education, prevailed. (Selma seated 2nd row, 3rd from left).

In recognition of her achievements, “Schwester” Selma Meyer was named a Worthy Citizen of Jerusalem (Yakir Yerushalim). She died in 1984 at the age of 100.

More amazing photos of Shaare Tzedek hospital and other Jerusalem landmarks, can be found at Photography in Jerusalem, an online archive sponsored by Hadassah College Jerusalem and educational website Snunit.

Foto Friday – Reli Avrahami’s “Diary”

Beer Sheva-born Reli Avrahami is one of Israel’s premiere magazine photographers. A new exhibition of her work, “Diary”, will open next week at the Hadassah College in Jerusalem, where she once studied and is now a lecturer.

Avrahami has worked as a freelance portrait photographer since 1986, shooting celebrities, artists and politicians for Israel’s main newspapers and weekend supplements including “Maariv”, “Yediot Aharonot” and “Haaretz” where she is best known for her long-running series of Israeli family portraits.

In “Diary”, Avrahami invites viewers to look in on three generations of her own family: celebrations and tragedies, weddings and funerals, everyday life and unique occasions.

Her daughter – Botticelli curls cascading down her shoulders – en route to a Scout trip…

…the morning of her son’s induction into the IDF…

…her mother, fast asleep in a Netherlands zimmer motel…

or a “Girls Night In” with her sisters and mother.

“Diary” opens at 6:00pm, November 5, 2009 at the Hadassah College, 37 HaNeviim Street, Jerusalem.

Picture of the week: October in the Old City

It’s October.

The evenings are getting cooler and Jerusalem is one of the first places in the country to feel the change in seasons.
In the evenings, the Old City walls are lit up, creating interesting shadows. Photo by Miriam Alster/FLASH90.

When’s the right time for a rite of passage?

It’s generally accepted that the Israeli perspective on the bar/bat mitzvah ceremony is different from its counterpart in the US.
I remember when Susie and three of her closest friends decided to celebrate their bat mitzvahs together – they were all around 40-years-old at the time.
They had been studying Torah as a group in Jerusalem for a year and a half. It all started when Boston-born Susie, who had already been in Israel for more than 20 years, started to feel that while her Jewish identity was her primary identity, which is why she had moved here, it was time for her to confront her “awe of the Torah.”
Sally, Ruti and Janet had also been in Israel for a couple of decades and for various reasons, none of the four had had a bat mitzvah back in the States. In fact, the first bat mitzvah was held by American rabbi Mordecai M. Kaplan, a major figure in Jewish thought and the founder of the Reconstructionist movement, for his daughter Judith in 1922.
So the culmination of 18 months of study and learning to read from the holy book was a ceremony at Jerusalem’s Kol Haneshama .
Now the idea didn’t resonate with everybody, but at that June ceremony 12 years ago no one could fail to be moved by the four women’s obvious quiet joy and pride in their achievements.
The bat mitzvahs of those forty-somethings inevitably came to mind when I received an e-mail recently, telling me about another group of delayed bar/bat mitzvah celebrants, en route to Israel.
Some of the participants at the upcoming celebration will be using walkers. Oxygen and wheelchairs will be available for emergencies. Five nurses will be traveling with the group. The average age of the participants in this particular version of the Jewish coming-of-age ceremony? Eighty-five.
Read more

A Jerusalem encounter

Jerusalem has always been a volatile place, but the last week of protests and rioting by local Palestinians in the Old City and east Jerusalem over what they claim to be Israeli efforts to move in on the Temple Mount really show what a tinderbox it is.

But sometimes, trying to hone in on a human aspect instead of looking at the dismal macro situation can provide a differnent view of the situation that Jews and Arabs find themselves thrown in together in the place both sides call their home.

I was waiting for a bus yesterday across from the Regency Hotel near Hebrew University’s Mount Scopus campus to take me through the tunnel and to Ma’aleh Adumim. A short distance away, at the intersection that leads to Wadi Joz, the police had blocked off the road and were redirecting traffic – evidently a common procedure during the busy days of Hol Hamoed Succot when so many extra visitors come to Jerusalem, but undoubtedly mighty annoying for residents of the area.

There was one other person at the bus stop, a young man in his 20s, wearing trendy sunglasses and holding a small overnight bag.

“Are you going to Beit She’an too? he asked me in Hebrew, revealing with his accent that he was Arab. I told him no, and we started talking about his journey.

“I’m going to Jordan to visit my sister. She’s lived there for years,” he said. “It’s easier for me to cross over the border at Beit She’an.”

Turns out his name was Khaled and he lives in Shuafat, the Arab neighborhood that borders the Jewish neighborhood of French Hill, next to Hebrew University.

We started talking about Jordan, and he offered some tips about visiting our eastern neighbor. “There’s not much to see in Amman, it’s best to just go to Petra. But don’t go to Akaba, they don’t like Jews there.”

“Are things quiet in Shuafat now,”? I asked, referring to rock throwing and tire burning that had taken place there in recent days.

“Yes, but you never know when it will start again. There’s a few instigators who start doing those things,” said Khaled, who said that he was entering his last years of a Master’s degree in business administration at the university.

“I don’t like living here,” he added, pointing to the roadblock a few feet away. “You can’t go where you want. When I finish my Masters, my girlfriend and I are leaving – to America, or maybe Europe.”

We tossed things around for a few more minutes until my bus arrived. Khaled and I shook hands, wished each other well, and I got on the bus leaving him waiting for his.

On the way back home, I reflected on the encounter and felt a certain sadness – if decent people like Khaled are throwing up their hands in despair and leaving the fate of Jerusalem to the rock throwers and tire burners, then our future looks bleak. I wanted to get off the bus and go back and tell him, ’stay here, help us build a society that we can all live in together.’
But my bus was already entering Ma’aleh Adumim.

Mama Mamilla

Even though I should be used to it, I can never seem to get over what a hopping place Jerusalem can be. Maybe it’s from growing up in a small New England city where three cars at a red light constituted a traffic jam.

Yesterday, part of the family took a stroll along the Alrov Mamilla Avenue, the posh outdoor shopping promenade that opened up a year or so ago, just outside the Old City walls. Granted it’s during Hol Hamoed Succot, so people are on vacation, but the place was bursting – like the Maine Mall on Black Friday after Thanksgiving.

Around a third of a mile long pedestrian mall with mostly upscale shops and restaurants geared to tourists, the $150 million, the classy avenue was designed as a luxury destination in the style of Los Angeles’ Rodeo Drive or The Grove. Of course, those places don’t have The Tower of David looming over it in the background.

There’s about 140 businesses, including international names like Rolex, H. Stern, Nike, Polo Ralph Lauren, Nautica, and Tommy Hilfiger, as well as local chains like Castro, Ronen Chen, Steimatzky Books, and Cafe Rimon.

The Alrov Mamilla Avenue also includes the luxury David’s Village residential project, the David Citadel hotel, the Karta parking lot (site of plenty of haredi Shabbat protests recently) and the newly opened Mamilla Hotel. During the Ottoman period and the British Mandate, Mamilla was a successful financial district, but in the 19 years between the War of Independence and the Six Day War, Mamilla fell into decay. Looking at the area now, it’s hard to remember how dilapidated it was only a few years ago.

We stepped in to check out the first Gap store in Israel, and enjoyed ogling the merchandise, while rolling our eyes at the prices, browsed through the crafts fair on the upper level, and enjoyed the street musicans along the way. The place was bustling with energy and excitement, and provided further proof that Jerusalem is one rocking place.

Inglourious Basterds strikes a chord in Israel

I finally got a chance to go to the movies on Saturday night in Jerusalem and see Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. I’ve been troubled ever since.

It’s not that I didn’t immensely enjoy the over-the-top Tarantino blood and dialogue trademark and the standout performances by Brad Pitt and Christoph Waltz as ‘The Jew Hunter.’ I could even turn a blind eye to the Holocaust revisionism for the sake of comic book adventure heroic Jews who give Hitler and company what they deserve.

What proved most unsettling, more than the scalpings and crushed skulls via baseball bats, was the audience reaction at the screening. A good percentage of the sold-out crowd consisted of teenage Israelis and young American, religious students apparently studying here for a year.

Whenever another Nazi got his just reward, the crowd broke out in lustly cheers as if Alex Rodriguez had just hit another one out of the park. I know they’re heartless Nazis, but I felt like I was at a Kach rally.

On the one hand, it was liberating to be the avengers of the six million Jews killed by the Nazis, but on the other hand, maybe we shouldn’t have been so happy about it.

It turns out that my colleague Dina Kraft over at The Faster Times related to the same issue in her much better post .

It is this ingrained Holocaust consciousness that colors Israelis’ alternating repulsion, delight, and fascination with the movie hailed abroad as “Kosher Porn,” a fantastical universe of Jewish revenge on the Nazis. It’s been playing to packed theatres and in some cities seats need to be ordered at least a day in advance. The audiences heartily cheer, clap and laugh through their cinematic ride with a band of Nazi-scalping U.S. Jewish soldiers alongside the accompanying parallel plot of a beautiful, blond Jewess plotting her final revenge.

Kraft quoted some of the viewers walking out of the screening, who had differing opinions on what they had just seen.

It was a pale, shaken-looking Erez Makovy, 31, who emerged from a darkened 500-seat theatre, filled to capacity. The crowd had gone silent watching the carnage climax in which the Nazi leadership is devoured by flames and automatic gunfire. But it broke into loud applause when Brad Pitt’s swash-buckling U.S. lieutenant character carved what became a trademark swastika into the forehead of the S.S. officer who serves as the film’s villain in chief.

“The movie left me with a bitter taste in my mouth,” said Makovy, a musician who was disturbed by the audiences’ cheers.

His friend, Itai Zangi, 27, a music producer, however, was among the laugh-out-loud, clapping masses. “It’s nice to be on the winning side, for once. I liked that he (Tarantino) turned things totally upside down.”

Nearby, also contemplating the experience, was Hila Schuman, a 32-year-old biologist. “It’s a bit too over-the-top. For Israelis, it’s hard to take a story out of the context we know so well. So we’re left asking: Is this a parody? Is it serious? … Or is this just what revenge would look like on LSD.”

As the film goes to DVD in the coming months, more Israelis will be able to ponder the same questions.

Autumn Nights in the Old City

There’s nothing like a Jerusalem night. After a hot day, it cools down but not so much that you’re shivering. That’s one reason the city is sponsoring its free “Fall Nights in the Old City” festival now until October 26 – it’s a way to get out and have some shirtsleeve fun while exploring the city’s historic Jewish Quarter.

Last night’s show was the Marsh Dondurma band – a motley crew of 15 brass musicians playing traditional ethnic music from around the world with a heavy emphasis on jazz, klezmer, funk and a smattering of pop too (I’m pretty sure I heard snippets of “Rock Around the Clock”).

The band includes trumpets, trombones, clarinets, saxophone, and assorted percussion instruments.

There’s no way to leave a Marsh Dondurma concert without a huge grin on your face. The music is infectious and the band members seem to be having such a good time on stage. And when do you ever get to see a dancing tuba player rocking out at close range.

The setting was spectacular – the Gan Hatekuma amphitheater set along an ancient wall not from the Western Wall itself. The audience was as eclectic as the performers – religious, secular, Jerusalemites and Tel Avivi’s with their shaved heads and small round glasses.

We were sitting right up front when some of the band’s fanboys started dancing right in front of us. Such chutzpah, we thought, to block everyone’s view like that. But when the bandleader exhorted the crowd to get up and boogie, we figured if you can’t beat them, join them.

Before long, a good portion of the crowd, which numbered in the hundreds, was grooving up front.

Marsh Dondurma has played all over Israel as well as at the Guca Trumpet Festival in Serbia (2006), The Montreal Jazz Festival (2007), and at venues in New York and Croatia. The clip above is from their Montreal performance.

You can catch more music from the band on their MySpace page.

The next show at Gan HaTekuma will be klezmer kings Oy Division on October 12. The full schedule is here.

Foto Friday – Sukkot in Jerusalem

The awe-ful part of the Days of Awe are behind us and now it’s time to party! Sukkot, the Feast of Tabernacles, is the holiday when Jerusalem gets itself all decked out…

© RomKri

…and small wooden sukkot, or tabernacles, spring up overnight…

© monti_clif

…dotting the urban landscape.

© Pes & Lev

The Municipality of Jerusalem gets into the act too, with a large public sukka – the perfect opener to this month’s Autumn Nights Festival…

© RomKri

…as well as the annual Jerusalem March, attended by walkers from all over the country…

© monti_clif

…and from all over the world!

© monti_clif

Another event taking place at this time: the International Christian Embassy’s Feast of Tabernacles festival, this year celebrating its 30th anniversary. The festivities begin today with a worship concert at Ein Gedi, continue with a week of prayer and Bible teachings, and conclude with the Jerusalem March on October 6th.

Below is a montage of photos from last year’s Feast of Tabernacles. The photos above are courtesy of the wonderful Jerusalem Shots website – always worth a visit. And here’s wishing a Chag Sameach (happy holiday) to us all!

Feast of Tabernacles 2008 Photo Montage from ICEJ on Vimeo.

It’s a wonderful life

It was one of those pre-Rosh Hashana crunches that most of us have experienced – a bunch of meals to shop for and cook, a house to clean, phone calls to make, and errands to do. That’s why two last-minute calamities almost did us in.

First was the emergency light in the car going on indicating a malfunction in some vital system. The second was evidence that the pipes leading from our bathrooms were totally clogged. Erev chag, Friday morning, while my wife waited for the plumber (who happens to be a good friend in the neighborhood), I took my chances and drove into my garage in Jerusalem, knowing that the window of opportunity to get it fixed in the few short hours they were going to be open were slim.

Sure enough, after rigging up the computer to the engine, Shimon the mechanic said, indeed there was something wrong with the car (gee, thanks) but that they wouldn’t be able to check in depth until Monday, after Rosh Hashana. He advised that I not drive the car until then, meaning leaving it with him.

However, we already had plans at our congregation in Jerusalem, where we drive to on Shabbats and holidays – my wife had an aliya honor scheduled and we had a meal planned with friends. In addition there was still a trip to the supermarket on tap, and various other tasks requiring a car.

I called home and relayed the bad news that we were going to have to cancel our plans and stay close to home for the holiday, and started walking toward a bus to go home. As I passed an Avis Rent a Car, I thought of the old Devo song, “Are We Not Men? No, We Are Devo” and thought, what would an adult do in this situation? Rent a car, of course.

So, ignoring the flashing overdraft in my bank account, I went in and walked out 20 minutes later with a chugging Suzuki sedan with stains on the upholstery.

Meanwhile, back at home, our plumber was solving that problem, and when hearing about our transportation woes, immediately invited us for dinner that night, along with two other families we were friendly with.

So, a few hours after we started with no car and clogged toilets, we had a rent a car, clog free pipes, and a great dinner invite. We brought our food we had already prepared along with us, and had a delightful time. The rest of Rosh Hashana was great, my wife shined on her aliya to the Torah, the Suzuki ran like a bumpy dream, and our bank is happy at getting that additional interest we’ll be paying on the overdraft.

Shana Tova!

 

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