Sunday, November 27, 2005
Last night I went with a friend to see "Ushpizin," a movie I linked to a while back. It was my first movie theatre experience in years. It was very good, I recommend it highly. The husband and wife in the movie are actually married in real life. I was very touched by the way he looked at her in the movie, I was a little embarrassed. The intensity of his love for her was obvious. I sat next to a yenta who "yented" during the film, so that was a bummer.
There was an interesting preview for a film called "Paradise Now," a movie about suicide bombers. It was made by Muslims. It's about these 2 young men who are assigned to bombing missions, but end up having moral and ethical quandaries about it. The premise sounds great, but I can't allow myself to have sympathy for these people. Besides the fact that I'm not about to start seeing movies on a regular basis. The one gripping scene in the trailer was when the bomber was about to board a bus, and he sees a toddler by the token machine. I can't explain the feeling I had seeing that. My whole body felt this yearning and aliveness. Very ironic to see such a preview before "Ushpizin" - people were actually booing.
This morning my mom called me and told me our neighbor died. He lived in the corner house, a Jew married to a non-Jewish woman. He had a family with her, a life. A Christmas tree every year. Still, he was a Jew. He had an unusual last name, one you wouldn't recognize unless you were familiar with yiddish. It's actually the maiden name of my beloved Canada-friend. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer 2 weeks ago, and died yesterday. Shocking, right? My mom told me and I thought - "wow, so beautiful to pass away on shabbos kodesh." I feel sad. I know he won't have a tahara, that even in his death his essence will remain unrecognized. I won't be able to attend his burial, but I wish so much that a Jew would. Someone to say tehillim for him.