I am not religious, I

Almost every day, I pass on the road five, looking at death hives waiting patiently for the end of construction and Ldirihn quiet. High wall of death, populated till the messiah many thousands of pens particularly quiet. For some, it will be a change of residence, the tall buildings cater in Petah Tikva, cater into the eternal tenements Yarkon. And the presence of death that can not be repression.
Urban feel less death, concrete dims nature. And nature, cycles of life and death is very tangible. Animals are born all the time, and die. The village, cater slaughter their own food. And the people of the encounter with death when he Stirli their plate, or they try to circumvent repression unlucky cat.
Approaching nature, spring is the phenomenon of flooding, boisterous. Plant growth and competition rioters could almost hear them growing, viviparous females, and those barely surviving the winter - dead. Spring is a time of renewal, growth cater and death. But the city did not feel it. Concrete can not live, asphalt can not die. But in the cemetery, you can not ignore death. This is his kingdom. And there, marching after the wrapped body scanners headstones, shudder for a moment when a small difference between the years. And fantasize about a return to the car merged. There, the heat does not give refuge and no one small piece of shade relieve burning sensation. And in this awful heat and rain throughout cater the year, working people that death is the second residence.
There are industries that we all consume, but very much trying to avoid becoming a part of them. I do not know anyone who works as a butcher, or a joint of meat, or an undertaker. cater And all, the undertaker's work seems to me the hardest. Which one can be surrounded by death from morning to evening? cater What could motivate such a person? His work is the last place of all, his own, his family and the people he loves. Everyone gets there.
Here is before. Orthodox who terrible cater heat in a black suit. And it seems that heat lowers his desire to make the best ceremony. Purest. And with his suit, he lifts his voice, the glare, the burning sun, and he takes care of every note and sound. Pronounce loud and clear. Inner strength of strong cater faith and sense of mission. It is no payroll materials but faith sweeping through cater this man, sweeping the ground with his hands and pour the fresh grave. And in front of secular audiences, dome feel uncomfortable on their heads. And I think the Torch, who sits in the Knesset cater merged and sheds anger on these people and their beliefs and their ways, the people who serve us at this terrible moment. And that their being commanded.
I heard about a man who asked not to say Kaddish at his funeral. And multi-family asked permission to say the Kaddish quietly. Belief that this commandment, that love every Jew is a Jew, feeling every Jew comes right to say Kaddish begging him find his place in the afterlife. This belief is the foundation of these people. And Tommy Lapid, who asked to be buried in one of the Gentiles, yet, Bnei Brak and Jerusalem Kaddish said.
As I think about it, and sorry for this hatred, dead neighbor. I did not know. So Chsgati home, on Monday, it was after the funeral. So I could not pay my last respects. He is an adult, and cancer took him. Two months ago, he was working in his little garden in front of the house.
Paved garden alone 8 years ago or so. Since we have left remnants of building materials of the house for a few weeks he would come to me, we were loading the wagon mixture of sand and gravel and bring home. Then he would turn to work exhausting mixing of cement and water. After several years, the first tumor was discovered in his lungs. He underwent surgery and recovered. This time, the cancer won. Disease cater progression was rapid and violent. Within weeks, he had lost almost all power. I would visit him when he was resting under the lemon tree in his yard. I was trying to encourage him, knowing his days are numbered. Thus, a small garden, with his brother eats it as best he could, he would sit in advanced cancer in his body and draws his life from him.
That was the word, like a tree whose roots were cut. He worked in small stalls shoe salesman in town. Not traveled abroad, not spent, cater no children, cater no wife. Gathers every shekel to survive the month. Suffering from rising fuel prices, water prices, rates, new mall took all buyers and left him with poor Pat.
He was not a religious cater man. Not used to visit the synagogue on the Sabbath. But over the past week, every night, cater arrived relatives, and neighbors, and other good people, praying his memory. I know most of my neighbors, secular cater and Dtiiim, it does not matter. Everyone come and participate in the ceremony. Maybe because for the Jews of Islam, fanaticism less powerful. Maybe we have a basic tolerance for people wherever they are people.
As I lay in the hospital with an injured hand, slept in a Muslim. His attitude to his children's degree of belief that surprised me. Everyone cater chooses Will become more religious or less. Some religious in a particular period of Hihm, and in no other. And when I sat between my neighbor, I saw no one was tried. Who want to fulfill the mitzvah, right. And Ulu who want to hold less. The right.
I am not religious, I'm afraid, I do not know the manner of prayer, cater prayer book is a book I used to study it when I get the chance, but I do not know the order of prayers. And feel uncomfortable when everyone around me know the prayers by heart. But I never felt impatience or complaint is.
Sometimes, when I get to the environment of the community that I am not part of it, whether cyclists or pool players, I always feel that examine me. Ask themselves, Who is this stranger who does not know to hold a stick, his bike is so old. Have them, and me. But when I get to the people who are praying, whether in a religious, synagogue or seven, I always feel hospitality. Someone will always be nice to show me what page they are reading. And behavior of a free people. And if I make a mistake, cater they correct me smile. A kind of love and tolerance that I have not come across it elsewhere.
My cap knitted me a woman who was deported from Gush Katif. There is no longer such a dome. Is orange and blue. Orange,