Judaism – Page 4 – Don't Gel Too Soon

WELCOME TO NABLOPOMO! HOW I SOLVED THE SABBATH PROBLEM

This is a very exciting undertaking – a blog post a day for thirty days! A little scary, but exciting. For me though, it offered an extra challenge, one that forced me to drop out last year. I can’t work on the Sabbath. Every Saturday I observe Orthodox rules about the kindling of light, whether it be a spark plug in a car, a doorbell or a reading lamp. God told us to rest, and every Sabbath we pray the He be "please with our rest." It’s a pretty big thing. And it’s lovely; beginning with the lighting of Sabbath candles on Friday night and then a festive dinner. I’ve come to love the peace of it even though before we began our observant life I thought it was nuts. It was a great lesson in not prejudging. Ever.

So of course, there was no way that I could post on Saturdays. I can’t use the computer. Fortunately, technology solved the problem. I figured out that if it’s ok to use timers for the dining room lights (it is) then I could set a timer for my post. I’m writing each Saturday post in advance and setting it to be posted on Saturday morning. And I’ll be in Israel for almost half the month so this will also be a great diar. I’m looking forward to this.

SUKKOT, HOLIDAYS, IS GOD AROUND HERE SOMEPLACE?, ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

This is a Sukkah. More on that in a minute.

My mother always used to tell me that it was better leave a party before you wanted to. "Leave while it’s still fun" she would say, "and you’ll have loved every minute you were there." I always thought that was a rationalization for wanting me home at a decent hour, but I think, as in many things, she was right. We are now awaiting the last three days of what will be, in September and this week of October, ELEVEN days of limited activity and expected entertaining. OH – and religious services, of course: Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and the first and then final days of Sukkot. All of which fell on Thursday and Friday. Leading into Saturday. Which is the Sabbath. SO. No TV. No phones. No computers. No e-mail even. No cooking for many of those days and ONLY for the day in question the rest of those days.

Remember, these are very holy days, too. You have to be sure to keep that in your mind; go to services and try to connect. Our services are very uplifting and moving; we’re there all day and there’s lots of singing and shared emotion. You really know you’ve been praying and it’s a time when it’s easier to connect with one’s faith (at least for me.)

It also means, however, that on Rosh Hashanah (the New Year) there was dinner Wednesday night, Thursday night and Friday night and lunch on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. On Yom Kippur, a fast day, there was just preparation of a meal the night before. That’s 7 meals. We got through this fine – hosting three meals; and going to others for the other four. It was a lot of cooking and enormous anxiety but it all was in the service of sharing and honoring these remarkable holidays with those we care about; our older son and his girl friend were even there for part of it; all worked out well.

So where’s the BUT? You know there’s one coming. Well, five days later we hit Sukkot — the holiday where you have to eat outside in a "booth" (you can see the commandment here and an explanation at the bottom of this post)– to commemorate the Jewish people’s time living in booths in the desert during the Exodus. That’s ours in the photo (undecorated because I can’t take photos on the holidays when it IS all set up.) Again, two meals for two days at the beginning running into the Sabbath and two more at the end next week running into ANOTHER Sabbath. AND you have people over the in the days in between too, at least a little bit.

Most people I think are exhausted – hardly any have issued meal invitations although I hosted one lunch last Friday and we went to another family for dinner. That still left three of the five uninvited. That’s as stressful as cooking for the ones we host. Where were we going – who was going where we weren’t? Why did it matter? What about praying – why is this temporal stuff on our minds at all?

I have to admit it bothers me a little; others I know are supremely troubled by it. I feel like such a whiny little brat. Here we are just celebrating our
third year as active participants in this life and almost into our
third living in this community – having gained and learned so much –
and I’m complaining. It’s so not what faith is supposed to be about but it’s still a real issue – especially when you haven’t been doing this long.

This is the first year we’ve really hosted people in our Sukkah and so we wanted all to be just right; mostly we have done great except for those invitation gaps. I’m disappointed about that. And I’m ashamed of us for caring at all. These holidays are supposed to bring us closer to God but after seven days with three more coming all I feel close to is exhaustion. I’ve spoken to many friends about this; the women, upon whom the cooking seems to fall, are more pissed but the guys are also tired. Everyone is a little cranky. (My husband suggests that he is both tired AND cranky and the one doing most of the "taking inventory.") That’s probably true but it’s contagious!

Worst of all, it’s so anticlimactic. I wish you could have been with us on Yom Kippur. This holy day, which I had always experienced as solemn and sad, is, in our synagogue, a day of happiness. We are there because of the gift of repentance, we are participating in a service that is thousands of years old, the music is just extraordinary and the ritual moving and humbling. The young doctor who leads our service is profoundly spiritual and an amazing musician – here’s a sample of my favorite.

; I call him the Bruce Springsteen of prayer because of the energy and depth he offers us, and we leave uplifted and inspired.

So maybe the rapid slide into STILL MORE holiday after something so profound robs us of the full celebration of our Yom Kippur prayers – cutting off our feelings from that day but, as I write this, perhaps reminding us that one day’s repentance isn’t going to carry us through the year – or even the week – and that we must continue to try to find ways to follow our faith each moment, not just revel in past moments of spiritual ascendance. And I guess each emotion is a brick in the road to where ever we’re bound – this though is certainly not one I’m proud of.

***One rabbi explains:
THE SUKKA reminds us of Israel’s honeymoon with God in the hostile desert (of
cruel history– there must be more shade than sun in the sukka), and of Divine
clouds hovering over them (= eventual redemption; stars must be visible thru
the sukka roof– Rav Riskin); God’s protection against forces of evil, when the
Jews seem most vulnerable (e.g. 1948, 1991 and Purim), climaxes in the pre-
Messianic battles of our Haftarot. Then God will raise up David’s fallen
"sukka"– the 3rd Temple, preceded by the rediscovered tabernacle. Discomfort,
e.g. rain, exempts one from Sukka– but those truly great stay, experiencing
no discomfort when surrounded by God’s glory (The Berditchever). The sukka is
a symbol of peace, for it is open— to the elements of nature, to the heavens
above and, foremost, to guests, far and near (Rav Avigdor Hacohen). As we
invite guests to our sukka, not only do we do a good deed of kindness and
spread holiday cheer, but we also imitate God Himself, the Ultimate Model Host,
Who constantly feeds, clothes and houses all His creatures; we thus develop our
own Divine Image.

YOM KIPPUR – REDUX

This is Safat – a mystical city in Israel — with the sun setting on a summer evening. Tonight is Yom Kippur and so I offer this lovely photo along with wishes for a happy and healthy year whether you are Jewish or not.

Last year I wrote about the holiday – I’m repeating it here because it says most of what I feel and believe about this day.
Here goes:

September 26, 2006

If you’re Jewish this is a particularly important time of year. We just
celebrated Rosh Hashanah – the New Year – and now are in the ten days
between the New Year and the Day of Atonement – Yom Kippur – the
holiest day — the day of repentance. It’s interesting to have an
opportunity once a year to examine one’s life and seek improvement.

Where I grew up most people were Catholic and so I know a bit about
Confession in those terms, but what we do is a bit different. We must
seek forgiveness from those we have harmed – and take responsibility
for our sins. It is our duty to give extra charity and to fast and to
seek a better self beyond the confession of past transgressions. If
you take it seriously it’s a valuable exercise.

I have been fascinated in my now three year adventure with a more
religious lifestyle – to notice the similarities between Judaism and 12
Step programs. I’m involved with Al-Anon – for people affected by the
alcoholism of others – but here are some of the 12 Steps from AA – they are remarkably similar to redemption within faith:

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

I guess it makes sense – there’s a reason AA works and it’s probably got
a lot to do with the same phenomena that enable us to find true penance
on Yom Kippur or the other rituals of penance in other faiths.

Anyhow, it’s a beautiful fall day, I’m working on my penance and the privilege
of a new year – and wish you all the pleasure of the autumn sunshine
and a peaceful heart.

A NEW YEAR, A 36th WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, A LOT TO THINK ABOUT

Tonight begins Rosh Hashanah – the New Year celebration that launches the holy season of the Days of Awe that continues until Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement. It’s also a huge day for me – in more than one way. Rick and I were married 36 years ago today. On a boat on the Monongahela River. We’ve been through a lot – maybe more than most couples – but we’ve hung on and we’re reaping the rewards of a shared history. So to have this remarkable landmark fall on the eve of a holy day of renewal is really something.

This is another anniversary, too. Our third living an observant life. We first came here for Rosh Hashanah services 4 years ago, met our remarkable rabbi and began the journey that has led us to a new, moving, inspiring, frustrating, challenging, occasionally painful, sometimes completely uplifting life. We share new feelings, new friends, new aspirations to goodness and a sense of God, new challenges and inspirations. AND we’re still sharing them with each other. That too is remarkable.

Now as we move toward observance of these days, toward prayers and meals and friends and — especially joyful – a visit from one of our sons and his girl friend, I am both grateful and anxious. We are supposed to think about debts and obligations, sins and redemption. I still carry a painful family resentment – toward someone I love but who has hurt me deeply and , I suspect, believes that I hurt her. I need to deal with this but am still struggling to figure out how. But I know I will – that I must. That’s the other gift of this season – a confrontation with the personal flaws that impede our prayers and our happiness. My dear one, if you read this, know how much I love you and that we will find our way past this – I promise.

To those who have offered us so much guidance and support, with whom we’ve had such fun and such meaningful prayers (and meals – and visits) I wish you the gift of as much goodness as you’ve brought us – an enormous deluge of joy. To our dear rabbi and his family a special thanks for being our gateway to this new life and all that it has meant.

And to Rick, my partner, love and best friend, eternal gratitude to you for your courage and determination, love and generosity, talents and humor and incredible incredible soul. Happy anniversary. Thanks for the memories, the adventures, our amazing children, and this astonishing, still emerging journey. L’shana tova.

WEDDINGS, WITCHES AND JEWISH LIFE

Weddings are life markers – milestones on a singular journey. Every time, just like today, the two whose lives are joined know that their wedding is the most meaningful, the most special, of all. Every time, just like today, their family and friends smile and sigh, nod knowingly or watch in wonder. Most times, just like today, there is feasting and dancing, laughing and crying, present and past.

The couple in this picture are grownups with jobs, a just-completed dissertation and a real sense of wonder that they found one another and managed to make their way to this day. They planned the wedding, designed the exquisite chuppah (wedding canopy) that has been part of Jewish marriage for centuries, and worked to make the day special in every way (they succeeded.)

This is the third wedding I’ve attended this year and the third traditional observant Jewish wedding ever. That’s very unusual for someone my age but we’re blessed with friends who have made us part of their extended family and asked us to share these blessed days with them. Today, for the third time in a year I watched a groom led to his bride by a swarm of singing, dancing men; I’ve watched him lower the veil over the face of the woman he now knew for sure was his beloved. (Jacob was duped and married the wrong sister; at least 600 years old, this tradition evokes that story and acknowledges its power.) When I first learned of it it sounded barbaric to me. Men taking possession of property, I thought. Check out the goods.

Somehow though, in the years I’ve spent moving toward an observant life, it’s come to mean something quite different: a reverent bow to the centrality of a sound life partnership – not for everyone but certainly for those who choose to marry. Marriage is not just the economic and legal partnership so often described in political conversation, it’s an ancient entity with real resonance and a gigantic role in the preservation of a humane, loving and sometimes sacred society. It requires tradition carried on; it requires the presence of ceremony and ritual to link it to the couples of past generations.

On my favorite guilty pleasure, Charmed, rituals of birth and marriage are attended not only by those who share the lives and loves of the Halliwell sisters (yeah they’re witches and their story spent 8 TV seasons enchanting us all) but also by those who came before. They summon, "through space and time" all members of "the Halliwell line." Surrounded by these transluscent figures of past generations, today’s Halliwells celebrate marriages and new arrivals. Those fully and those ephemerally present conclude together "blessed be."

What does this have to do with Jewish weddings — or any other terrestrial weddings for that matter? A lot. Eight years on the air, the longest running show with female leads, it dealt often with travel through time and space and dominions never imagined. But when really important events arose, all the magic was supplanted by a single, simple spell that basically –well — brought the family together. For them it was across ghostly generations…it was a show about witches after all. But that really is what weddings do, and in my limited experience, the weddings of observant Jews are events with special power because they consider a wedding the "creation of a home" where Jewish life will be lived and celebrated. "Home" is represented by the wedding canopy, or "chuppah" under which the bride and groom marry, surrounded by loved ones of prior and subsequent generation: grandparents and parents, aunts and brothers, sisters and nephews.

This particular chuppah was built from branches rescued from a clearing near Boston and covered by a tablecloth that had belonged to the bride’s grandmother, who had died the year before. My husband’s and mine was covered by the prayer shawls of our grandfathers – mine near death and too frail to attend, his gone just a couple of years before. Again, instinctively, we, like this bride, sought connections over time.

I"m not saying this well but what I think is that we’re hardwired to want to be part of something "larger than ourselves" and faith and family are that something. For observant Jews, these connections are manifested throughout the ceremony and the traditions surrounding it. That timeless ritual and all that surrounds it bring the gift of place and meaning – the reminder that as we celebrate a marriage we join the circle once more, honoring all that has been given us and accepting the responsibility to pass it on.

REBIRTH OF WONDER (REDUX)– DEATH AND LAWRENCE FERLINGHETTI

One more deadline, one more rerun- the last for a while, I promise.

In A Coney Island of the Mind, San Francisco poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti wrote of a search for a rebirth of wonder.* It’s out there – that wonder — sometimes in the strangest places.

Here is what I know: Some things in life surprise us — not with shock but with wonder. Today we flew to Boston for Rick’s dad’s funeral. It was a beautiful day – sunny and almost as warm as spring. With Rick and me traveled not only our remarkable rabbi, but also two of Rick’s dearest friends. Despite the mid-week madness of Washington, they had chosen to leave their work and fly north to support us. In addition, the sisters of two friends unable to come arrived as their surrogates. That was the first wondrous thing.

An Orthodox funeral is deceptively simple. The coffin is a plain pine box held together with pegs. As it leaves the hearse it is borne by the mourners to its place over the grave. On the way, Psalm 91 is recited and the procession stops seven times. Once the coffin – reverently referred to as the "aron" is in place, the service proceeds.

With our rabbi leading the service, each step along the way was accompanied by warm and loving exposition: Why do we do this? — How should we participate? — What is the blessing of bearing the aron and seeing to its burial? As he led the prayers and answered these questions, it was with such love and individuality that participation became a privilege and a comfort. That is the second wondrous thing.

As the service moved toward conclusion the rabbi explained the final act. We, not the cemetery employees, would bury the coffin – my husband’s father. One by one, we took up the shovels and poured earth into the grave. Not until the grave was full and the coffin covered did we leave… and then, all those in attendance formed a double line so that Rick and his brother could pass through, moving from the funeral to the initial mourning period, or Shiva.

This last, loving duty is perhaps the most remarkable of what an Orthodox Jewish funeral offers mourners. At the funerals of each of my parents, way before we moved into this new life, the cemetery distributed little envelopes of "dirt from Israel" which attendees dropped on the coffin. We all left then, and the cemetery employees finished the job.

I told my sister about the custom that mourners fill the grave, thinking that she, who is not thrilled with our decision to live a more observant life, would be appalled. Instead, she said "That’s so great – leaving them covered and at peace. I felt so badly leaving Daddy there so exposed…." That’s probably the most critical. Imagine the difference, at the close of such a painful day, filled with loss and grief, if you knew you’d bid a farewell that leaves your loved one cared for and at peace. Imagine, too, that those you love – beloved friends and family members – have all left a part of themselves there in the grave; that the final resting place includes their loving labor. That’s the final wondrous thing.

We’re nowhere near the Age of Wonder, that’s for sure. But we are occasionally given a peek. Today the window opened and a bit emerged — not quite a rebirth but present nonetheless — just enough to help us see what’s possible. If that’s not wonder, I don’t know what is.

*I Am Waiting
I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting for someone
to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting
for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting
for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

SHARING HAPPY DAYS

For the past month I’ve been working almost all the time. Between all the blogger work I do and the benefit I co-chaired it’s been madness. Still is, a bit. But we’re rolling up to two summer weddings and a weekend at the beach so I will recover I’m sure. We spent a good deal of this past weekend celebrating with our friends in the last official activity before their wedding – it’s called an aufruf and it’s part of the Saturday morning service. The groom reads from the Haftorah and then – I know it’s goofy — everyone throws soft candy at him. It’s kind of a welcome into the almost-married state.

I was surprised at how moved I was; seeing a young couple of whom we are so fond pass another milestone on the way to their wedding in July. I am always struck at the value of ritual — something I suspect I’ve spent much too much time avoiding. Because we have been part of this relationship for some time, and because my husband was part of the service and all those called to bless the Torah were close both to the groom and to us, every moment was rich with meaning. The more I learn about the value of these moments the more I see the value behind religious observance. There are many days when I just get angry – don’t want the restrictions and rules and dos and donts. Days like Saturday though, I understand the connection between the lovely and the difficult. Just like the rest of life in some ways I guess.. only more so.

Chuppas, Kallahs and Spiderman

Today I went to a wedding – the first in the new building donated to the Ronald S. Lauder Foundation for its work helping to rebuild Berlin’s Jewish community. This is the bride (Kallah) and groom. Here are a couple more:

The bedeken – where the groom lowers the veil over his wife-to-be’s face in recognition of the ploy that led to Jacob’s marriage to Leah when he thought he was marrying his beloved Rachel —

Men dancing in celebration.

This was the first Orthodox wedding I’ve ever attended – and since almost everyone was from someplace in Eastern Europe- especially Russia, – it had an exotic flavor anyway. I have lots to say about it but I wanted to post the photos now because I have to think a bit about how to describe the intense feelings it evoked.

Strangely – we decided this evening to go see SPIDER-MAN 3 in German, since it wasn’t playing in English except way downtown. It was just such an interesting contrast – a quiet reverence and sense of something sacred at the wedding, and brash, crashing violence and special effects at the movies. I speak almost no German yet only had to ask Rick what was happening maybe 2-3 times since almost none of the exposition was verbal. It does make you wonder how to understand one’s modern self as respect for old, old traditions grows with understanding.

I’m grateful for days like today, when my life lives up to the title of this blog — never gel. “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Another, more attractive (at least to me) movie hero said that….

THE ADVENTURE THAT IS BERLIN

That’s the door to the apartment we stay in when we’re in Berlin (oh – we’re in Berlin.) It’s in a part of town that was far into East Berlin when the Wall divided the city and the magnificent old buildings were devastated by neglect. Slowly, building by building, that’s been changing in the years we’ve been coming here. It’s quite thrilling to see.

This neighborhood, Prenzlauer Berg, is kind of like Soho was in the 70’s — pioneers, cool galleries and an amazing yarn store, more people on bicycles than in cars (though that’s changing) and an air of expectation, thought and excitement. It’s a joy to be a (pretend) part of it in our little weekly rental.
I want to tell you all about it – the way this city puts your brain into overdrive, the restaurant a block away where President Bill Clinton turned the town upside down by coming to dinner, the parent- created playground, the fancy apartment house that used to be a Gestapo HQ – but I’ve been up for 24+ hours so all that will have to wait. We’re here and it’s cool to be here and I’ll share as much of it as I can over these next few days. OH – and for all my Jewish friends who “will never go to Germany” – I respect your feelings but one of the most exciting things happening here is the re-creation of a young, vibrant Jewish community by Jews determined to go past the Holocaust and take their rightful place. More on that later, too.

BLAME IT ON THE ROLLING STONES

Here I am, working in my office with the TV on for company. It’s behind me on a filing cabinet so mostly I’m really listening. And I hear "Christmas, Christmas time is here, time for joy and time for cheer…" It’s Alvin and the Chipmunks – the sped-up voices singing every December since I was in junior high – and they’re singing now because they accompany the opening credits of ALMOST FAMOUS — Cameron Crowe’s wonderful film about an aspiring rock journalist who wrote for ROLLING STONE, and it has emerged on TBS.

Immediately I’m transported back to the "community room" of Thomas Jefferson High School on Route 51, 6 miles south of Pittsburgh. Sock hops. Standing along the wall waiting for someone to ask you to dance. Crying in the girls’ room when they didn’t. Driving around for hours in Barbara Morton’s dad’s convertible listening to our "Daddio of the Raddio" Porky Chedwick.

Beyond it all, the transporting power of the music. It’s actually kind of weird; this week I was in a Torah class studying ancient rules about when men are, or are not, permitted to listen to a woman’s voice. The rules are very different for the singing voice than for the speaking voice. Yeah – both of them are a bit peculiar but it is fascinating that as long as people (mostly men) have been thinking about these things. they’ve been aware of the power of music to distract, seduce, inspire and arouse.

However disturbing it may be to learn that our long-ago sisters, in all cultures, not just Jewish ones, were isolated because of the perceived dangers of what might arise between women and men if relationships were allowed to emerge, they weren’t wrong about the underlying power of the music.

The theory — at least one — was that listening to a woman’s voice, asking how she is, even, could lead to dangerous interactions. I’m not here right now to discuss this topic, but to observe that as long as man has been making music it has been seen as dangerous and seductive.

Nothing too profound, but it’s Saturday night. What do you want?