Category Archives: Judaism

Do we own our Jewish history?

 

 

I read something from an unlikely source that struck my deepest core as a Jew, and came to a full stop at a passage from the first chapter of “How to be an Anti-Racist”, a new book by Ibram X. Kendi. I’m sure Dr. Kendi did not intend this outcome, in fact, I feel guilt at even sharing this, because I personalized a phrase he used to illustrate a core issue of his, one that influenced his childhood and his present thoughts about racism.

Perhaps in writing this, I am part of the problem he was writing about: maintaining my narrow vision; not seeing the entire picture he was portraying and co-opting a phrase instead, one that relates to my world. But I am compelled to write this and soon, will return to the book when I can focus my proper attention on the larger issue of racism.

For now, as a Jew, I am not able to move past the part where he writes about how his parents came to their revelatory understandings about Christianity.

Dr. Kendi’s description of his parents’ journey to Christianity was stated so simply and powerfully, and I was struck by its truth and how for me, it applies to Judaism, to our own history. And I wondered why we don’t own our own reality.

Kendi writes about his parents’ college years as Black Americans, when his parents began to crystallize their thinking—defining Christianity on their own terms:

“What is your definition of a Christian?” Dad asked in his deeply earnest way. Cone looked at Dad with equal seriousness and responded: “A Christian is one who is striving for liberation.” …… Receiving this definition was a revelatory moment in Dad’s life. Ma had her own similar revelation in her Black student union—that Christianity was about struggle and liberation.                           

                        

Christianity was about struggle and liberation.

Oddly enough, in the instant when I read that description, it resonated with me. I feel that we share that story, even if not in the same way. It seems to be our story too.

Let me say first, that I don’t want to play the comparison game about who struggled more, blacks or Jews. It’s like asking who suffered more, someone who survived the death camps or someone who escaped from slavery?

Some things defy comparison. Our compassion needs to be for ourselves and others. It’s in our Jewish DNA.

So we can pay attention to our own history, and begin to actually own it.

The Jewish story, our history, could be distilled in that one sentence….Judaism is about struggle and liberation.

From slavery in Egypt/mitzrayim to freedom in the desert/bamidbar—our freedom came with even more challenges.

Throughout our history we struggled to be free.

From the destruction of the First Temple to the riches of Babylonia. From the Crusades to the Golden Age of Spain. From the destruction of the Second Temple to a reformulation of what it meant to be Jewish. From the death camps to Israel.

The times when we were truly ‘liberated’ during our thousands of years of history are minuscule (click here to read our history in more detail).

 

Our very name, Yisrael/Israel is derived from the Hebrew root Yud-Shin-Raysh which means to struggle with, contend with, be upright with—and the ‘with’ is none other than God.

We are truly Children of Israel/B’nai Yisrael when we sit with the struggle. When we challenge and when we obey.

Struggle and Liberation….

And it is often a struggle to come to terms with liberation.

Thousands of years of disgrace, discrimination, and hatred seemed to disappear ….until now. Now, we are dealing with hate speech.  Antisemitism. Death threats. BDS. Academic Freedom. Muggings. Killings.

In North America, it is a struggle to maintain a strong Jewish identity in a free society. It is a struggle to be different. It is a struggle to have faith.

Israel’s challenges are borne in part, from her liberation as a free state, which seems to foment hatred by others.

Freedom has a price. It demands our attention and not taking anything for granted.

May we be strong enough to struggle, may we be able to appreciate our freedom while being strong and bold enough to stand up for ourselves as Jews. May we stay the course, not to survive, but to thrive.


Shema: Searching for the “One”

The Experience of the Holy

This post is not about matchmaking, or even the journey to find your ‘soul mate’.

Here, searching for the “One” refers to our deep desire to achieve integration, to be at ‘one’ with who we are on the inside with how we behave on the outside. To feel whole.

The challenge is that often, although we know who we want to be in the ideal, we often behave in ways that don’t hit that target. Syncing doesn’t always occur, mainly because life gets in the way and we don’t pay close enough attention. It takes an awful lot of work and there’s only so much bandwidth.

So we need a tool, and reciting even the first line of the Shema prayer (Deuternonomy 6:4) might get us to focus on who and what “the One” refers to. The Shema affirms the Unity of God.… but this goes beyond mere numbers. We don’t say that God is “one” as opposed to “two”….we say that God is all encompassing. Oneness as in totality. Everything.

The verse also demands that we pay attention. 

Shema Ysrael Adonai Eloheynu, Adonai Echad. 

Listen up Israel, the Lord is Our God. The Lord Alone is One.

The word Shema is often translated as “Hear” but one can hear without listening. We do that most of the time when we don’t work  hard enough to be fully present in our conversations. The command (and it is a command), is for us to listen, as a person and as a people, to what it means that God alone is “One”.

Actually, the Shema is a very compassionate statement. God’s singularity is unique: God alone is One. We’ll never approach the integration we’re seeking because, well, we’re human. The very name Israel means struggling with God, yet being on a straight path toward God. Layers of understanding are provided for us in these words.

Since we are created in God’s Image (B’tzelem Elohim), we are tasked with emulating God. It is a goal that we strive for but will never be able to reach in our lifetimes. Our fallibility as human beings is our constant search for our innermost essence, our spiritual side, the truest part of ourselves, yet we always have to deal with the physical reality of our bodies.

It is our challenge to navigate between the physical and the spiritual.  We are physical creatures who yearn for glimpses of a spiritual existence. We want what we can’t have, but still, we can experience tiny morsels of an elevated existence.

We can teeter above our baseness by trying some of the tools we have available: meditation, study, prayer, fasting, blessings, chanting and more. Venturing too far off by exclusively immersing ourselves in these practices is not the Jewish way. We don’t remove ourselves from our reality. We don’t take on extreme behavior. We want to experience and enjoy all the gifts of this world.

Our task is to connect with God and others, and build loving relationships.

So we live within the struggle. Body and Soul. Head and Heart.

May you experience, even for brief moments, the glory that is within you.

May you be in alignment with your truest essence and live with the joy of knowing that you were created in the Image of God. 

 

 


Yom Kippur Juxtapositions

How can I reach the heavens when all I can think of is that I need some caffeine?

Yom Kippur heightens the juxtaposition between the holy and the mundane. It is a day when we suspend our daily functions (e.g. eating, bathing) in order to help us reach a higher, less base level of existence. Those unfamiliar with the rites of the holiday often focus on the strange edict of fasting as some type of divine punishment, some way of beating us into submission. Others see it as it is intended, as an opportunity for us, for just one 25 hour period, to transcend our animal instincts.

The challenge of Yom Kippur for me is putting all my effort into staying in the world of the holy, paying attention to my soul’s yearning for Divine inspiration and not getting pulled into the forces of my ego-self. The self who is absorbed with what I need to do, what I think about things, what I will do next. Almost every few minutes, countless temptations attract my baser self. Remaining in a higher realm all day is really, really hard work, and more difficult than one might imagine.

Forcing myself to focus in on the liturgy and not have my mind stray is a persistent challenge (uh oh, I forgot to make an appointment for the oil change……..did I send out that email?…..how long will we be standing? I should have brought a sweater…..).

Another challenge is not veering off into the land of judgement. How can I do that on this auspicious day? Yet, I need to continually refrain from seemingly harmless thoughts that are, in fact, evaluative (why are people talking during the service? I can’t believe I just heard someone’s cell phone go off…..Why doesn’t the cantor sing melodies I’m familiar with?…).   

The hardest part is realizing that even in this battle I wage to stay in the purest of realms, God is aware of it all—and that thought fills me with dread. I am not reaching my highest potential, I am not measuring up. I am falling short.

Yet, it is God who created my conscience (Psalm 139:13) and often is my higher self that realizes exactly when I am being petty, when I’m being judgmental, and when I am not acting in a God-like manner.

My effort to polish my soul, to continually strive to be my best self is that place in me where God resides. Despite my failings, God has put faith in me that I will be able to change, to be a better person.

“God, you have examined me and You know me” (Psalm 139:1).

God is the still, small voice in me that urges me on, the One who is my cheerleader, who believes that I will live up to being B’tzelem Elohim, created in God’s image. I will steadfastly work on changing the behaviors I know I need to, hoping that God will continue to have patience with me.

May God grant us the opportunity to live lives of honor, in recognition of the Divine gift of life, and not stray from our obligation to honor others.


Woodstock: is there a Jewish part of the story?

 I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him, where are you going
And this he told me
I’m going on down to Yasgur’s farm
I’m going to join in a rock ‘n’ roll band
I’m going to camp out on the land
I’m going to try an’ get my soul free
We are stardust
We are golden
And we’ve got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

Joni Mitchell, Woodstock

Woodstock

There are plenty of stories about the “half a million strong” that were part of Woodstock, and even more about the festival itself, but I was prompted to learn more about Max, the farmer who hosted Woodstock. It was during an anniversary show about the festival that these facts were revealed. The town of Walkill, NY rescinded its offer to host the music festival, deciding that opening their town to thousands of “hippies” who “do drugs” and were “war protesters” was not in their best interest. Unfortunately, this occurred after preparations were underway and the stage was already being built on a property. Time was growing short, and there was only about a month left before the concert was to take place. Three weeks before the concert, promoters were still desperately looking for a venue.  A real estate connection introduced the promoters to Max Yasgur. Joel Rosenman, one of them (in PBS’ American Experience, “Woodstock: Three days that defined a generation”) said that he thought Max had a soft spot for him. I wondered if there was any Jewish connection and searched a little further. Max and Miriam Yasgur were dairy farmers in Bethel, NY (Hebrew translation: House of God) who sold most of their dairy products throughout upstate New York. Max’s parents were Russian immigrants, and although he was raised in New York City, one can’t help thinking that his upbringing contributed to his decision to lease his land for the festival. It was not without consequence. There were threats of arson, boycotts, and a law suit.  His wife, in an interview, said that town residents erected signs not to buy “Yasgur’s milk” since he loves the “hippies”. The many forms of protest only strengthened Max’s resolve to go through with his commitment. After the festival, he was shunned by townspeople and no longer welcome, even in the general store. He was also sued by his neighbors for damage to their properties. What makes this all so unusual, is that although Max was a conservative Republican, in favor of the Vietnam War, his desire for freedom of speech (and maybe his personal history) was the overriding value. Max and Miriam moved to Florida and he died four years later, at the age of 53. Max did get to see and tour Israel , about two years before his death.Although I could not find any exact quotes relating Max’s Jewish heritage to his decision, I can’t help but think it played a part. 


The Fruitless Pursuit of Organizational Self-Interest

Are you only seeing yourself?

I am amazed at the ingenuity of companies borne from the vision of a shared economy. Homes, cars, clothes, specialized equipment, bicycles and toys are just a few of the possessions that have morphed from sole ownership to group use.  In the recent past, it was unthinkable for us to share our homes with strangers who were just ‘travelling through’.

Just a decade ago, Microsoft’s proprietary encyclopedic platform called “Encarta”  tanked, superseded by the open-sourced Wikipedia (tagline free encyclopedia).  My family members would make fun of me when I quoted  my source as Wikipedia (others also thought to make fun, see here ). Now it is a respected resource on the web.

Open source has won out and collaboration is the preferred business model. Are we learning from this?

Organizations benefit from participating in a shared economy. A true approach would not be the result of the latest round of downsizing, or mergers….cost saving measures that don’t speak to an organic strategy. The culture that spawns innovation is different.

Organizations need to begin to think about their success in terms of others’ successes.

About a year ago, I was invited to a “Bring Your Parents To Work Day” at Amazon, and was treated to a day-long experience of multiple educational workshops in which representatives of various divisions shared the mission and passion of Amazon. Among other ideas, what sticks with me is how open the company is to collaboration with their customers and even with their competitors.

For sure, companies and organizations need to perpetuate themselves, but even Amazon’s Founder and CEO, Jeff Bezos said “One day Amazon will fail” however employees need to postpone that eventuality by “obsessing over customers” and not worrying about its own survival: “If we start to focus on ourselves, instead of focusing on our customers, that will be the beginning of the end…..we have to try and delay that day for as long as possible.”

Even Apple has ventured into these waters. CEO Tim Cook speaks about the key traits of employees who are oriented to collaboration and not attached to personal recognition. (For sure, there is still a long way to go, even there).

I would love to see more examples in the Jewish community of true collaborative models. Often, there is a tendency to put up even more barriers, in an attempt to save whatever constituencies there are from falling away. I often have a hard time making distinctions between the nuanced missions of organizations who seem to have similar goals.

It just makes sense, in an era of diminishing resources, to be nimble and humble enough to actively seek partnerships. The willingness to share derives from an organizational culture that supports it, not as puffy words in a mission statement, but as a core part of the organization’s strategy and direction. Not simply as a survival mechanism, but because working together ultimately makes the most sense. Rather than duplicating resources, organizations can exponentially expand their reach if they buddy-up.

This take more up-front work, more of a focus on long term vision than short terms gains.  This concept is already noted in our tradition:

“One time I was walking along the path, and I saw a young boy sitting at the crossroads. And I said to him: On which path shall we we walk in order to get to the city? He said to me: ‘This path is short and long, and that path is long and short.” Talmud Eruvin 53b

Meaning, sometimes the most expedient way takes more up front time and effort. Ultimately, the choice is ours.
Do we want to take shortcuts that might put the goal even further away? Do we focus on the here an now, the short-term results and worry about the consequences later? Do we busy ourselves with the everyday so we can’t focus on strategies that make sense for the long-term?
We need to take the longer road, but doing that takes patience and commitment. It also assures us that we will arrive where we want to and be successful once we get there.

Shavuot: reminding me of who I need to be

It is hard for me to personalize Shavuot, though I know there is great spiritual meaning to be found within it.

Shavuot is one of the three major holidays named in the Bible.  As such, there is special designation as one of the Shalosh Regalim (literally three legs–meaning pilgrimage festivals). Then, it was a time of a huge in-gathering of the Jewish people who trekked to Jerusalem to celebrate the harvest. In later rabbinic times, Shavuot was designated as the time of the giving of the Torah.

Important, right?

But, embedded within the two other holidays, Passover and Sukkot, there are tools that help me imagine as if I was truly there. In the Haggadah, phrasing like “Avadim Hayinu” (we were slaves) helps me get back to that time of bitter slavery. The salt water, the charoset, the naming of the plagues…all those are brilliant memory instigators that tend to stick. The sukkah that my husband builds and we eat in during Sukkot is a substantial trigger of transport, to what it was like being in the desert and living out in the fields. The lulav and etrog are physical reminisces of the harvest.

Those are palpable reminders that help me take a journey back into my imagination, to a different time, and allows me to think of myself as part of a larger picture. Shavuot has no such tools for me.

“What about the Omer you say? Isn’t that tangible?” Right, yes, the counting of the Omer, sefirat haOmer, is a concrete way for me to bridge Pesach and Shavuot (the counting begins on the second night of the Seder until day 50, Shavuot), and offers me a spiritual time of introspection and momentum-building.

But yet, I am searching for a ritual that has some heft to it, and not the kind you get from eating cheesecake and dairy foods.

Shavuot is a much harder holiday to grab onto, and there are no built in ‘bells and whistles’ to easily awaken us to the grandeur of the experience. Shavuot demands something much more difficult and in some ways, more subtle.

We commonly refer to the chag as commemorating an event, the giving of the Torah, but we are discouraged from thinking of it as a one-time event. Instead, it is what we try to commemorate everyday as a constant unfolding of the Torah’s principles and teachings within our lives, as we commit to live by it everyday. Truly, it is an overwhelmingly awesome holiday.

In opposite ways, the desert and the fields during harvest were times of intensity, and brought us together as a people in distinctive ways that we get to revisit every Passover and Sukkot. But I need a way to bring me back to the time when I was part of that nation standing before Sinai….a nation, a people. A people united in spirit. With a message to offer that emanated from the charge to live life in an elevated way. To be holy. To strive to be something better. I need to experience that.

As a people, we face the experience of the Torah alone, but together. Each person is a witness of themselves, and what they know to be a higher standard of behavior.  But we are also responsible for one another. In these times, simply regarding our own journeys does not serve us as a people, and today, that might seem more challenging than ever.

We can not only ask “How do I measure up?” but “how do we measure up as a people?”

I need to regard myself as part of a people on a regular basis. I need to speak up when we are not living our highest ideals, even when it is difficult to do so; to put myself and my opinions ‘out there’. I need to be a participant and not a spectator.

Perhaps this Shavuot we will inch a little closer to the realization that Am Yisrael Echad, the people of Israel are one.

May you experience the blessings that Shavuot offers us.

 

 


Will you value your baggage more than a life?

What would you do in an emergency?

I heard something disturbing that I couldn’t shake off. This is not what I usually write about, but I feel compelled to not let this incident go by without a comment.

A Russian jet crashed, on the runway, the rear of the plane totally swallowed up by flames as it made its emergency landing. The circumstances and causes are still under investigation. Seventy-eight passengers were on the plane, 41 of whom died.

The whole event was upsetting, but what struck me was how the reporter ended her report:  “…..some were fortunately able to leave the front of the plane with their luggage”. This did not strike the reporter as odd, and there was not further comment as the station moved on to the next story.

It was the phrase “with their luggage” that got me sick. I couldn’t help visualizing the entire frantic situation (this is why I can’t watch violent movies)…people hysterically trying to get off the plane, escaping immanent death, while people were going into the overhead bins to get their luggage. 

How could people think about taking their belongings at a time when seconds count? The aisles are narrow, people need to wait for others in front of them, any delay could be tragic. Would people value their own possessions over the lives of others? What does this say about how we honor ourselves as God’s creations? Everything in our Jewish tradition is about the preservation of life, not the preservation of things. On the holiest of days, even if it means breaking the rules of observances, we are taught that the value of life is above all else, a value that is known as “Pikuach Nefesh”.

I wanted to find out more information about evacuation procedures. Can people opt to hold up the evacuation process because they want to take their belongings? Doesn’t the Federal government have regulations about that? Google complied and with speed. Some things were upsetting but unfortunately not surprising.

This 168 page report, from the National Transportation Safety Board describes results of multiple evacuation procedural trials and sadly concludes “that most passengers seated in exit rows do not read the safety information provided to assist them in understanding the tasks they may need to perform in the event of an emergency evacuation, and they do not receive personal briefings from flight attendants even though personal briefings can aid passengers in their understanding of the tasks that they may be called upon to perform

The pertinent section for this discussion, Retrieval of Carry-On Baggage, states in passenger pre-flight briefing materials along with pictures, that “carry-on luggage should not be taken during an evacuation” (p. 78) making the message clear. In addition, flight attendants commanded passengers to “leave everything” during the evacuation. Despite these methods, passengers often took their belongings. In one episode, “nearly 50 percent reported attempting to remove a bag during their evacuation” (p.67). 

The report noted that flight attendants receive training on ways to efficiently maintain a constant flow of passengers out of the emergency exits, however, “flight attendants reported that their attempts were often thwarted by passengers’ insistence on retrieving their carry-on luggage before evacuating” (p.67).

This has me shaking my head: “Passengers exiting with carry-on baggage were the most frequently cited obstruction to evacuation.” (Ibid). “By retrieving luggage during an evacuation, passengers increase the potential for serious injuries or loss of life.”

It seems that other posts have been written about this issue: “Don’t Be Selfish And Do This is an Emergency Evacuation” is an example and offers video clips of passengers evacuating an emergency exit with their bags.

I hope and pray that I will never be in the situation that people found themselves in today. I can’t imagine how frightful it must have been to be in that plane. I am trying very hard not to judge those who left the plane with their bags. Maybe getting their bags was their security. Maybe they resorted to robotic behavior. Maybe in times of crisis, they weren’t able to think clearly.

I learned a lot about human behavior today, and was mostly saddened by what I read. I know that as human beings, we so often rise to the occasion to help others, and I will focus my attention on that.

 

 


When “Never Again” becomes “Yet Again”

Yet Again?

This piece in The Hill, written by Rabbi Steinmetz, senior rabbi at Congregation Kehillath Jeshurun and editor-at-large at J’accuse Coalition for Justice is a well-expressed post about our inability to respond properly as a Jewish community to recent tragic murders. These are heart-wrenching tragedies borne of the oldest hatred, Antisemitism. Please click here to read the post and be informed. Comments welcomed.


How to Approach Passover Like a Teacher

crocus-flower-spring-buhen-55828

For those of us hosting a Passover seder, there are often so many preparations we need to do in advance: buying, organizing, cleaning and cooking are just a few things we’re involved with. Yet sometimes, planning for the seder itself gets lost in the mix. How do we encourage ourselves and our guests to feel what we need to at the seder? How can we enhance the retelling of the Exodus story as if we too, are in the midst of leaving a narrow place and entering an expansive place of freedom?

Why not spend some time now, before the activity rush hits, of planning what will occur at your seder? This might seem like a ridiculous notion, since the word “seder” already implies that there is an order to what will occur during the experience. The Haggadah pretty much spells that all out for us. Yet, often we settle for the time-honored (and boring) tradition of taking turns around the table, reading from the Haggadah.  Think about this for a minute——did you ever enjoy this practice or find it meaningful? For some, reading the entire Haggadah is the only way to fulfill the obligation to retell the story, which alone takes a lot of time, so this post will not be relevant for you. 

Passover is the consummate educational event in many households, and there are so many opportunities to infuse the meal with intentionality. If we approach the seder with the attitude of a Jewish educator, we might think of it the way we would plan a lesson, and the best lessons offer these components:

  • A set induction, or commonly called a trigger to set the stage for the lesson. It can be thought of as a commercial for what’s to come. An example: Which of the symbolic items on the Seder plate do you most relate to and why? A deeper question:  Like Pharoah, has your heart ever been ‘hardened’? . Another option: make a ‘Haggadah gallery‘ by displaying  all the different Haggadot you own on a table, vote for favorites and explain why. Alternatively, you can ask guests to bring their favorites from home.
  • Essential questions to  frame the lesson (also called Questions of Meaning). Examples might be: What is your Egypt (what ‘narrow’ place do you need to leave behind that is ‘enslaving’ you)? “Let My People Go” is a powerful statement in the Torah, yet it is not recounted in the Haggadah.  Why do you think this is so?  OR “Let My People Go” is only a partial part of what Pharoah is asked to do. What is the second part of that phrase? Why is that often left out?  (you can find this phrase  here and here. You can also discuss the differences in the text. 
  • Learning Outcomes: what will people be walking away with? What deep learning will occur? An example is: How did the notion of obtaining a people’s freedom spur on different revolutions for self-determination, which have ripple effects even today? For some background on this idea see “What’s Your Exodus Story?  Powerful statements have often rallied people behind a cause. Think also of: “If you will it, it is no dream”, ‘I Have a Dream”, or “Give me Liberty or Give me Death” . Is there a call-to-action today that resonates with you? Why or why not? What other sayings can you think of that would inspire others? What theme resonates with you: Being a small minority among the majority? Holding on to your traditions despite any danger this might hold? Enjoying the predictability of life versus the freedom of self-determination? The idea of freedom with or without responsibility? 
  • Learning Activities: what will your guests be doing to get them to the end point? Examples might be new sensations of taste, or a twist on traditional customs (after the dipping of the Karpas —parsley or potato—why not offer other dips?). What simulations can spur on discussion? Who can act out the best scenarios of the each of the plagues? What debate can you engage in?

Our opportunity at the seder is to tell stories and pass them on through the generations. It is part of the reason why the tradition is so compelling, year after year….and why Passover is the most celebrated holiday by American Jews (according to this source, 70%). This is what brings us together as a people. 

May your seder experiences be fulfilling.

Chag Kasher v’sameach!

haggadah1   haggadahhaggadah2 haggadah3


Care for Your Soul

green leaf plant palm

How are you tending to your soul?

“People are such perfectionists when it comes to clothing their bodies. Are they so particular with the needs of their soul?”  Sara Schneirer (1890-1935).

Your soul is not separate from you, it is you. Everything you do makes a mark on your being. Your very presence is a gift from God. How are you caring for yourself? How are you tending to your soul?


Purim and Personal Responsibility

This Purim, start a chain reaction against Hatred and Antisemitism

 

When did you need to step up or speak up in your life? Were there opportunities you missed? Hatred and Antisemitism begin with words…..we read this, in the Megillah, the scroll we read on Purim:

“There is a certain people, scattered and dispersed among the other peoples in all the provinces of your realm, whose laws are different from those of any other people and who do not obey the king’s laws; and it is not in Your Majesty’s interest to tolerate them.” Esther 3:8 

That’s it. A people who are set apart, with different laws. Different practices. That’s enough to set things off. It’s reason enough it seems, to murder people.

“Accordingly, written instructions were dispatched by couriers to all the king’s provinces to destroy, massacre, and exterminate all the Jews, young and old, children and women, on a single day, on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month—that is, the month of Adar—and to plunder their possessions.” Esther, 3:13 

So, if there is one thing you might want to commit to this Purim, in addition to four mitzvot of Purim, of hearing the Megillah, eating a festive meal, sharing gifts of food, giving food to the poor, it might be doing one small thing to helping get rid of Hate. How? It’s an overwhelming problem, but it can start by being kind to a stranger, speaking up when you see injustice, writing an op-ed about the hatred you see around you, donating to an organization committed to ending Hatred and Antisemitism, signing a petition, and taking your place as a person with the right to speak up.

“When the storm passes the wicked are gone, but the righteous are an everlasting foundation.” Proverbs 10:25 (edited for gender)

To see my source sheet with more questions and texts, click here and you’ll be taken to Sefaria.org


Make Your Mornings Special

How do you wake up every morning?

Do you have a particular ritual? In Judaism, we have a tradition of waking up with a declaration of gratitude. It’s not really a prayer, it’s more a statement of deep appreciation. We say the Modeh Ani in the morning to express our appreciation for waking to consciousness.

What we say is: “Modeh Anee Lefanecha Melech Chai v’kayam, She-he-chezarta-bee Nishmatee B’chemla Raba Emunatecha”.

I offer thanks to You, living and eternal King, for You have mercifully restored my soul within me; Your faithfulness is great(For the Hebrew, please click this link to see the source; some computer programs do not show the Hebrew properly.)

The word Emunahtecha can be translated in several ways but most commonly, Emunah means faith, persistence, and a sense of steadfastness. Emunatecha means your faith, your steadfastness—in me! 

Let’s dwell on this concept a bit. Each and every morning, upon waking from sleep, we take a moment to appreciate the miracle of life, of wakefulness and that The Holy One has faith in us.  Faith that we will make the best of every day. We express thanks and appreciation for our soul (nishmatee), for that which makes us human. We’ve been given yet another chance to prove we are worthy of this life. Every day, a new start.

We begin again in our quest to be a better person, and The One Above is giving us another shot at life.

This video might inspire you to begin this practice everyday. There are many melodies for Modeh Ani, see which one resonates with you. Try this one by David Paskin or this Hasidic melody by Avraham Fried, or this, with English translation by Elana Jagoda.

Wishing you special mornings of appreciation,

Ruth

 


Antisemitism, BDS, and the fight for justice

This new non-profit organization hopes to bring these issues to the forefront. Please read an excerpt from its website below:

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“Antisemitism is on the rise, from all sides of the political spectrum.

In some cases, bigots are straightforward in their disdain for Jews, likening them to termites or mowing them down in a house of prayer.

In others, they mask their own discrimination, cynically claiming the banner of human rights. They use exaggerated criticism of Israel as an excuse to bully, ostracize, and silence both Jews and their nation state. Lacking adequate counterweight, the world increasingly views Israel through a morally relativist or plainly antagonistic lens…read more here


Bringing God Home from Jewish Summer Camp

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Take a moment to truly see

Jewish summer camp was an incredible oasis where I received daily doses of spiritual inspiration. At 10 years old though, my first summer at camp was more of an annoyance. There was too much praying and too much Hebrew. I didn’t understand why there were  classes at camp, after all, it was supposed to be a fun place. Looking back, why wasn’t I suspicious that the What to Take to Camp list included a Bible?

It took a few summers before the rhythm of the summer’s spiritual essence took hold of me.  The experience was so compelling that I craved it every summer season, participating first as a camper and then in successive staff positions, which took me through my college years and way beyond. Although almost two decades have passed since then, I still can conjure up memories of those times in an instant.

I told my adult friends that the summers were like an inoculation against Jewish apathy; an injection of Judaism that carried me through an entire year’s worth of holidays, services, and events that paled in comparison to the energy and exuberance of living Jewish at camp.  My beloved suburban friends couldn’t understand my desire for the hang-my-towel-on-a-rusty-nail experience. No air conditioning, worn out mattresses, and splintered floors  were a small price to pay for the inner peace and joy I felt immersing myself in the waters of Torah and learning.

There were speakers, experiences, texts, and interpretations in abundance, and there was no end to what I could learn. I filled myself up from the constant buffet of knowledge from visiting scholars, teachers, Israeli staff, and resident educators.  I spent 9 weeks during the summer as an active member of a vibrant and observant Jewish community–something that I have yet to experience in a sustaining way. I felt God’s presence all the time, in the prayers, in the natural setting, in the deep discussions,  and in the special sweetness that appears when a community comes together.

As those days came to an end in my adult years, I wondered how I would ever feel that way again. Where would I experience God now? How could I possibly recreate that exquisite sense of overwhelming quiet that prompted my new spiritual awareness? There, you feel God’s presence….you can’t help it. You are primed for it. Those starry nights were a Hollywood-like backdrop for thinking deep and spiritual thoughts.

I realize now how much that immersive experience contributed to my life as a practicing Jew and when I started to think about camp’s overall impact on me, it brought me to wonder once I put those years behind me, how I ever made the transition from being ‘there’, in a spiritually charged place, to being ‘here’. I needed to discover what it meant to seek out my connection with God and figure out how to make those feelings easier to grab onto.

Well, I did eventually figure it out. I brought God back home with me. I do remember that I decided that it was up to me to bring God into my life. I would no longer depend on what the outer environment offered me. I need to be in charge of my own experience….and I could alter my perception of things. I could capture moments of awe. It is all accessible to me, every single day. It just took looking and seeing beyond the surface. I would be able to see the Holy One’s work in a pebble, in a leaf, in a daffodil. I was responsible for how spiritual I felt, not camp.

So, now I have teary, heart-to-heart conversations with the One Above, the One who is everywhere. In my car. In my quiet times. Sometimes in the emerging light of the dawn and more often, in the darkness of night. And at those blissful times, as more and more of them fill my day, I thank The Holy One of Being for Being.

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Post Note:

I was fortunate to attend many of the Ramah camps as a camper, teacher, staff counselor, and Assistant Director.  The ones I attended—one of which no longer exists—-included those in New York (Nyack, Glen Spey, Berkshires), Massachusetts ( Palmer) and Pennsylvania (the Poconos).

Related posts: 

Parents: Don’t let summer choices drive you crazy

Seven Things to Do When Teens Come Home from Jewish Summer Camp


There’s no secret sauce: we already know the recipe for Jewish engagement

pexels.elephant-trunk-hand

          How many ants does it take to move an elephant?

That’s what the traditionally bureaucratic Jewish community feels like to me sometimes, like ants trying to move an elephant. No matter how many ants you have, there won’t be any way to move that elephant unless you think about other ways of tackling the problem. Similarly, some Jewish organizations are adding more and more to their offerings (more ants) but not really tackling the issue of increasing Jewish engagement in different ways. Many have written about this, most recently, Ron Wolfson in “It’s About People, Not Programs.” 

There are all sorts of traditional tactics that different organizations use….from offers of ‘free’ programs to urgent requests to sign this petition or that (they even provide the pen), to guilt-laden messages like ‘if you just cared a little bit…’.  And then there are the organizations that use fear. They report some of the worst anti-semitic attacks from the past year, complete with the horrid pictures, and also offer statistics about assimilation. As if it is not hard enough to read headlines about hatred just once,  these are delivered into my mailbox, just for me.  I recently read yet another mood-boosting online article:  “A Bleak View of American Jewry” 

The fact is, I care a lot about the future of the Jewish community, so I need to know that the elephant can, in fact, move. So, wouldn’t it be wonderful to read, just now and then, about stories of success? There are many good ones out there. How did you engage people in your efforts? Tell me some stories, we love stories.

I’m lucky, in my work, to hear moving experiences almost every single day. I hear from people who have been touched in a deep way and it has brought them closer to their faith, their families, and places of worship. I will make a commitment to myself to write about that more. I know that being in fellowship changes people. It’s a slow and steady process of relationship building that bears the sweetest and juiciest fruit.

A Chabad Rabbi said it so simply. When asked what his techniques were for engaging so many young students Rabbi Yosef Kulek, at the University of Hartford, summed up Chabad’s approach and success in one word: Love (a dose of great marketing doesn’t hurt). “I know that sounds cliché but it’s really true,” he said.

Chabad has expanded its reach by 500 percent over the span of 15 years. Since 2000, their presence on campus has increased from less than 30 to over 198 today. Yes, growth in the Jewish community.

Unfortunately, there’s no short-cut for the kind of persistent and loving approach that is needed to engage people in a tradition that is overflowing with richness and beauty. Relationship building takes an enormous amount of time, and doesn’t show up in data on how many followers an organization has, how many posts were Favorited, or how many clicks per view a website link got.

It’s about a whole lot of attention and love. That’s what I think will move the elephant.

pexels-elephant sunrays.