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May 24, 2001

Counting the Days

Sunday evening the Jewish world begins its celebration of Shavuot (which literally means weeks). In preparation for the holiday, the Torah orders us to count 49 days (seven weeks) from the second night of Passover until the festival’s start.

As the Bible states, “On [the 50th day] a holy gathering shall be announced” (Leviticus 23:21). Originally the day marked the end of the spring barley harvest and the beginning of the summer’s wheat harvest. Not until the destruction of the Second Temple did Shavuot emerge as the festival we observe today, one that celebrates the giving of the Torah.

During the time that leads up to Shavuot, each day is accompanied by its own numeric blessing. The ageless advice of the psalmist adds further importance to the 49-day count. “Number our days,” he teaches, “so that we may attain a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12).

In this week’s Torah portion, Bamidbar, the people of Israel are instructed by God to engage in a different counting. Moses is told to number each Israelite male over the age of 20 (Numbers 1:2).

Rashbam (Rabbi Shmuel ben Meir, from 12th-century France, grandson of the biblical and Talmudic commentator Rashi) argues that the reason for the count was to determine how many Israelite men were old enough to serve in the military. To Rashbam, the census was taken for pragmatic reasons, given that the Israelites would soon be entering Canaan.

On the other hand, Ramban (Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman from 13th-century Spain and Israel) suggests the reason for the tally was to teach Moses the invaluable lesson that each member of the Israelite tribe represented an individual. In other words, Moses wasn’t leading a group of people; he was leading a group of ones.

God didn’t need to count the Israelites; He knew how many they numbered. It wasn’t for God’s benefit.

The lesson of this week’s Torah portion, along with the lesson found in marking the days that lead up to Shavuot, is that we count for our benefit. All of us need to number our days and, in the process, make sure that each person we meet or associate with is viewed as if he or she is an individual and has infinite, divine worth.

Life is made more treasurable because a holy spirit is in it. The challenge we face is to be able to recognize that spirit. Without being able to see the divine in every human being, groups of people are nothing more than aggregate amounts. One person is no different than the other, and life is ultimately reduced to statistics.

Similarly, a day can be like any other day of the week, or it can be transformed into something sacred. There is no intrinsic worth to time. Only when it is viewed as a gift from God can time be fully savored and appreciated.

But, like Moses, we need to look more deeply into the days of our lives and the people with whom we share those days. Like Moses, we need to be ever vigilant in transforming time into something holy and seeing the holy in the times we share with our fellow human beings.

By counting, ironically, Moses figured out what truly counts — and so it is with us.

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Settlements Quandary

The Bush administration has let Ariel Sharon off the hook — for now. Israel this week welcomed the Mitchell Committee recommendations with reservations. It embraced Colin Powell’s interpretation — first a cease-fire, then let’s talk settlements — with relief.

Yet no one in Israel believes this is Washington’s last word. So far, Secretary of State Colin Powell is not making a freeze on settlement construction in the West Bank and Gaza a condition for halting the violence, as the Palestinians insist must happen. But the administration still views the settlements as an obstacle to peace. Its new trouble-shooter, William Burns, is enough of a Middle East hand not to kid himself that Yasser Arafat will rein in the gunmen and the bombers without a hefty quid pro quo.

“Colin Powell,” political analyst Hemi Shalev quipped in Ma’ariv, “makes diplomatic initiatives the way porcupines make love: very carefully.” Presumably, like the porcupine, he gets there in the end. “The question of the settlements, after the Mitchell Report, is like a horse that bolted the stable,” Shalev cautioned. “It is too late to bring it back. Sooner or later, Sharon will be asked to decide, one way or the other.”

Next to evacuating settlements, freezing settlements is the toughest decision any right-wing Israeli prime minister can face. For Sharon, it would mean changing the mind-set of a lifetime. Under Menachem Begin and Yitzhak Shamir, Sharon was the bulldozer who cleared the ground, physical and bureaucratic, for a huge expansion of settlements in the heartland of the West Bank. The settlers are his children.

Domestically as well as diplomatically, Sharon is coming under conflicting pressures. At 73, he is eager to erase the warmonger image that has dogged him since he led reprisal raids into Arab villages nearly half a century ago. He aspires to statesmanship. He won the February election on a platform of security and peace, not sacrifice and steadfastness.

The voters still yearn, in Foreign Minister Shimon Peres’ phrase of the month, for a right-wing government with left-wing policies. A poll published in the mass-circulation Yediot Aharonot on Monday registered 61 percent in favor of freezing all settlement construction in return for a cease-fire. Only 34 percent were opposed.

Critics remind Sharon that Begin, the first Likud prime minister, set a precedent by freezing settlement construction for three months after the Camp David agreement with Egypt in 1978. They add that it can be unfrozen if it doesn’t bring the desired results.

At the same time, however, Sharon is determined to meet the challenge of Binyamin Netanyahu and fight the next election as the champion of the “national camp.” Leaders of fringe rightist parties such as Rehavam Ze’evy and Avigdor Lieberman are threatening to quit the national unity government if Sharon stops building. Hard-liners in his own Likud, with Internal Security Minister Uzi Landau and Education Minister Limor Livnat to the fore, are warning him not to yield. So is the National Religious Party, from outside the coalition.

As long as most Labor legislators back the unity coalition, the hard right cannot bring down the government. But it can isolate the prime minister and turn again to the ever-ambitious Bibi. Sharon would enter the history books as a half-term premier.

His current formula for squaring the circle is to promise that his government will establish no new settlements but will continue to build to accommodate so-called “natural growth.” He can’t, he says, stop people from having babies. And, as he told the Foreign Press Association, he can’t order them to have abortions.

Yet this is widely seen as no more than a holding operation. The Palestinians don’t buy it. They have been there before. The Netanyahu and Barak governments exploited “natural growth” to build hundreds of homes. The Americans share their skepticism. So do the Europeans.

There is no objective need for new apartments in the 145 settler communities. According to government statistics, there are 6,130 housing units currently under construction. According to Peace Now monitors, thousands of homes built over the past six years are standing empty. In the West Bank bedroom suburbs of Ma’aleh Edumim and Givat Ze’ev alone, a total of 2,400 remain unsold. There are no takers for 76 percent of the 2,200 units offered in the new south Jerusalem development of Har Homa, below Bethlehem. It’s just too dangerous.

In the 16 microsettlements of the Gaza Strip, families are even pulling out. Daniel Ben Simon, who has toured the settlements extensively since the intifada erupted eight months ago, reported in Ha’aretz on May 15, “Nearly half of the 15 houses in Dugit stand empty. A new neighborhood in Nisanit looks like a ghost town. It’s the same in Elei Sinai. The government has built more than 100 cottages in Pe’at Sadeh. Only 15 families live there, and some of them are already planning to leave. In Kfar Darom, where more than 30 families used to live, fewer than 10 remain.”

Ben Simon dubbed the natural-growth argument a fraud. In an editorial last Sunday, his paper urged Sharon to impose a freeze. “Rather than giving the impression of surrendering to external pressure,” it advised, “Israel must willingly opt for moderation.”

Yet even the most dovish peacenik cannot guarantee that Arafat would respond by ordering a cease-fire, or that he would be able to deliver. Perhaps the Palestinian acceptance of the Mitchell Report is all bluff. But they’d like to see it tested.

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All Dressed Up

I remember what I was wearing on just about every first date with every boyfriend I’ve ever had.

I remember what I wore on the first day of fifth grade — a hand-me-down green flowered dress with red polyester kneesocks.

I remember the pastel, flowered, zipper-at-the-ankle Guess? jeans my mom bought me at full retail because I had stopped biting my nails for two weeks.

I remember the dress I wore to my senior prom, not because it was beautiful, but because it was returned. After spending all kinds of cash on college applications and SAT prep courses, I knew my mom was tapped out. I didn’t want to ask her for more money for a prom dress because I knew she’d find a way to give it to me, and I knew she didn’t have it.

My after-school job at Lombardi’s Sporting Goods wasn’t exactly flooding my coffers with cash. I got an idea: buy a dress from Nordstrom, renowned for its liberal return policy, tuck in the tags, and take it back to the store the next day.

I bought a stretchy black dress with spaghetti straps and a satin skirt. Shoes were courtesy of my friend Tasha, half a size too big, but a perfect match. I felt clever, but I also felt ashamed. The Nordstrom saleslady to whom I returned the garment shot me a look that said, “I have to take this dress back, but you and I both know you wore it to the prom last night.”

I had forgotten about that dress until I read about Dana Green, a 29-year-old freelance public relations consultant who started a program to provide nearly new, stylish formal dresses to young women for proms, graduations and other celebrations.

The idea started with the bridesmaid’s dresses in her own closet she knew she’d never wear again. She collected dresses from friends. She stockpiled shoes and accessories.

In two years, she has given away close to 100 dresses in connection with A Place Called Home, a youth center in South Central Los Angeles.

With a black beaded shift and a sea-foam green, sleeveless bridesmaid’s dress slung over my shoulder, I headed toward A Place Called Home to meet Green, who had set up a makeshift boutique in the center’s playground.

It was “Clothes Give Away Day,” thanks to donations from Temple Israel, and mothers, kids and strollers were crowded into a line, waiting in the late afternoon heat to go through the piles of clothes. Green was standing near a rack of gowns: yellow, pink, silver, all fresh from the cleaners in plastic bags.

I added mine to the rack and dropped off a couple pairs of faux pearl earrings to go with them. “This is a city of haves and have-nots,” Green told me, squinting into the sun. “This is a great way for people to share what they have.

“The reward is to see the smiles on the girls’ faces,” she added. “What girl doesn’t know how great it feels to put on a pretty dress? It builds great self-esteem.”

I sat on a nearby bench and watched a teenage girl twirl in a pink satin, floor-length gown, her jeans and sneakers peeking out from the bottom. Her friend had on a sophisticated silver silk number. Both were beaming.

“Some girls wouldn’t even be able to go to the prom at all because they couldn’t afford a dress,” Green explained.

Ray Gallegos, executive director of A Place Called Home, took me on a tour of the center, which has 4,000 members between ages 9 and 20. There’s a music room, a tutoring center, a kitchen that serves three meals a day, arts and crafts and a busy computer lab. Even a guy like Gallegos — who told me he was both stabbed and shot during his gang days — is hip to the importance of the right dress.

“After Dana was here last, the buzz went on for days. She gave the girls a whole new picture of themselves,” he said. It wasn’t just the dresses, he added, but “seeing people from an affluent background come down here and spend time with them, help them pick out clothes.”

The at-risk youth Gallegos works with have what he calls “a brick-around-the-neck stance,” something the dresses help alleviate, if just a little.

My frocks haven’t found a home yet, but when they do, they won’t have to be returned. In fact, Green tells me that the dresses are often passed along to a cousin or friend, recycled and given new life until they wear out.

Green is hoping to expand her program, so that next spring she can set up four different “boutiques” around the city. She needs shoes, new hosiery, makeup and, of course, those dresses you know you’ll never wear again but can’t bring yourself to throw away.

Dana Green can be reached at cinderellaproject@pacbell.net.

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Not for Keeps

There are lots of things wrong with awards, aside from the fact that I so rarely win one. First off, there are way too many of them. All some people have to do is show up, and you know there’s an award in store for them. Every time Steven Spielberg leaves his house, I guarantee he finds an enormous pile of plaques and commendations on his doorstep. All Jack Lemmon has to do is agree to make a movie and Mrs. Lemmon starts moving stuff around on the mantel to make room for the next load of trophies. I swear, the man collects Oscars and Emmys the way a dog collects fleas.

In case you haven’t noticed, every day brings a new awards show. As it is, with the Academy Awards, the Grammys, the Emmys, the Tonys, the Golden Globes, the People’s Choice, Kennedy Center, Screen Actors Guild, the Foreign Press and all those televised tributes to country-and-western singers, there’s barely room on the tube for “I Love Lucy” reruns. Things have reached such a point of zaniness that there are even awards for awards shows.

The thing is, once created, awards, like government bureaucracies, can never be killed off. For instance, take the Oscars. Back in the ’30s, with the advent of musicals, a category was created to honor the best song. Back then, when the likes of Gershwin, Kern, Porter, Berlin and Warren were writing the tunes for the movies, the likes of “Over the Rainbow,” “That Old Black Magic” and “A Fine Romance” used to wage battle year in and year out. The competition used to be so stiff that the Gershwins, whose output for Hollywood included such musical treasures as “They Can’t Take That Away From Me,” “A Foggy Day,” “Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off,” “Nice Work If You Can Get It,” “They All Laughed,” “Love Walked In” and “Love Is Here to Stay,” never took home an Oscar. If that doesn’t convince you how far we’ve fallen, consider, if you will, that such evergreens as “I Won’t Dance,” “Easy to Love,” “Pick Yourself Up,” “In the Still of the Night” and “Too Marvelous For Words” weren’t even nominated!

These years, when movie musicals are as passé as silent films, typically five songs without a discernible melody or a memorable lyric among them get nominated, and one of them eventually wins an Oscar that looks and feels exactly like the ones that went to “White Christmas” and “It Might as Well Be Spring.”

The truth of the matter is that most people who win awards don’t really deserve them. Eliminate politics, PR campaigns and bribes, and a lot of honors would go begging. When it comes to acting awards, it’s invariably the script that determines who deserves the victory. Or do you think it’s an accident that after winning an Oscar for Paddy Chayefsky’s “Marty,” Ernest Borgnine was never again even nominated?

The biggest problem with awards, though, is that once people win them, they get to keep them, no matter what they go on to do. At least in the world of sports, if you win a title you’re expected either to defend it on a regular basis or retire. But in the world of arts and entertainment, once they call your name out, the prize is yours, and nothing that happens afterward can force you to relinquish it.

To me, that’s just ridiculous. Consider Marlon Brando, if you will. The man has not one but two Oscars on his shelf, in his closet or stashed away on an American Indian reservation somewhere. I won’t argue that he didn’t have them coming for “On the Waterfront” and “The Godfather,” even if I hasten to point out that those were two of the best scripts ever written. (to Brando’s credit, he didn’t muck them up.) But are you going to tell me that he deserves to keep those Oscars? If a person can earn honor and esteem, can’t he also earn dishonor? And I insist that a bad review isn’t sufficient. When an actor plows on, turning out the likes of “The Freshman,” “Christopher Columbus,” “The Formula,” “Don Juan DeMarco” and “The Island of Dr. Moreau,” I want the Academy to send a couple of big guys out to Brando’s house to repossess the hardware. And in the future, he should be identified as Oscar-loser Marlon Brando.

I don’t want anyone to accuse me of picking on Americans. Take Sir Laurence Olivier. The man took home a suitcase full of Oscars for “Hamlet” and then got to keep them in spite of “Wagner,” “The Jigsaw Man,” “Wild Geese II,” “Clash of the Titans,” “The Jazz Singer” and “Inchon.” Hell, for “Inchon” alone, I’d have made him give back the knighthood.

Actors aren’t alone in this regard. The woods are full of people who should have to fork over Pulitzers, Peabodys and even Man of the Year tributes. Take Yasser Arafat. Please. Am I the only one who thinks it’s way past time that the Nobel Committee sent a bunch of big, tough Scandinavians over to his tent with orders to take back the Peace Prize?

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Hero With a Thousand Faces

The 60th birthday of Bob Dylan (né Robert Zimmerman) has created a bull market in baby-boomer nostalgia and soul-searching. In his 20’s, Dylan defined a generation. Perhaps even more significantly, he invested pop music with social meaning, giving future generations a powerful tool for defining themselves. His religious identity has always been a source of mystery (and obsession) to Jewish fans. He flirted with Christian messianism, sent his children to a Beverly Hills Hebrew school, nearly joined a kibbutz and danced with the Lubavitchers. A generation that looked to Dylan for The Way seemed forever disappointed that he was often lost himself. Four decades later, his spiritual quest and his musical achievements seem of a piece — a long strange trip, with so many of us as eager passengers.

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