Tag: Spirituality

7 Reasons Why Thanksgiving is Deeply Spiritual

There is something very spiritual about Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays because of GRATITUDE. Gratitude is especially spiritual. When we slow down and take the time to articulate the blessings in our lives, we necessarily venture into a higher plane of existence.  We transcend our yetzer harah (our inclination toward lustful neediness) to get in touch with our yetzer hatov (our inclination toward the good).  We discover the holy amongst the regular.

Gratitude is profoundly spiritual. 

As part of a bi-coastal family, I enjoyed the opportunity to twice articulate my gratitude: first, over the phone, to my East Coast family gathered at my brother’s home, and again, at our own California dinner table.

7 Reasons Why I Think Thanksgiving is deeply spiritual:

  1. I spend the week before and after, trying to touch base with members of our congregation who have lost loved ones since last Thanksgiving.  A caring community needs to remember those who have an empty seat at their holiday tables.  (Passover and Rosh Hashana are also great times to reach out.)
  2. Thanksgiving food is universally delicious.  When the senses (taste buds, smell, sight) are heightened, we recognize the beauty and holiness more).
  3. I usually get in a deeply restful nap between the meal and dessert. A rested person is more apt to recognize the spiritual.
  4. We gather family together for a non-rushed, gratitude-filled evening. Spirituality blossoms when we are relaxed.
  5. We try to open an especially good bottle of wine. (See #2.)  The smell of a great wine is as delicious as its taste.
  6. This rabbi has no responsibilities beyond helping prepare the meal.
  7. The family gathers for dinner at a normal time because this rabbi does not have to run out to lead services. (See #4)

In what ways do you find Thanksgiving spiritual (e.g., meaningful, inspired, transcendent)?

What Am I Supposed to Do at Prayer Services?

“I show up at services to pray,” he said. “But what am I supposed to do there?”

There we sat at the coffee shop. He drinking his latte; me a spiced apple cider. While I tried to formulate an answer to his question, he hit me up with a barrage of questions intended to crack the cryptic code of the Jewish prayer service. One minute we were ordering our drinks; the next we were deep in a conversation about the frustration of being at services, and of trying to converse with God through the mysterious medium we call “Jewish prayer.”

“Rabbi,” he continued, “I can recite the prayers from memory. That, at least, I retain from that torture that passed for religious school when I was a kid. Thank God, that Or Ami’s school has more depth, creativity and openness than mine did! (I smiled.) But no one ever explained to me what happened in the synagogue. So I just went in and repeated the words I was taught. It felt empty. I stopped going. I just don’t know what praying is supposed to do. How do prayers work? When do I know if I was successful in saying my prayers? Sometimes I just sit there and absorb Cantor Cotler’s music. It takes me away. Is that part of praying?

Sometimes I find myself getting choked up singing the Mi Shebeirach. Is that emotion or spirituality? Sometimes I find myself so caught up on one of the gems of learning that you share in the service that I lose track of the words as I think the issue through. Is that sacrilegious? Often I wonder, is anyone listening out there?

In the business world, I am a powerhouse. People come to me for advice on how to navigate the world of commerce. Yet I have been a Jew all my life, and in services, or before my rabbi, I feel like a bumbling fool.”

10 Things to Do During Services:

  1. Say or chant the prayers.
  2. Let the music carry you away.
  3. Read through the English translations of the prayers.
  4. Close your eyes and just listen.
  5. Flip through the siddur (prayerbook) and soak up its wisdom.
  6. Meditate upon a single word or two.
  7. Sing loudly or sing softly.
  8. Give thanks to God for all the good things in your life or in the world.
  9. Take a break from the busy-ness of life to recognize the greater power within.
  10. Make up and say a personal prayer in your own words.

10 Purposes of Jewish Pray:

  1. To put you in conversation with God using age-old, time-tested language and sentiments to connect.
  2. To reinforce important Jewish values like Shalom-peace, Shema-Oneness and unity, l’dor vador-connections between generations, Hoda’ah-thankfulness.
  3. To build community (the 20th century German Jewish philosopher Martin Buber said that God can be found in the experience of individuals giving themselves over to each other)
  4. To build community (the 20th century philosopher Mordechai Kaplan said that reciting communally defined words of prayer reinforce the sacred community)
  5. To open us up to be vessels of God’s will (the medieval teacher Sefas Emet, Rabbi Yehuda Aryeh Leib of Ger, taught that prayer can lead us to let go of our own ego needs and thereby allow us to be filled with God’s divine purpose).
  6. To help us slow down and turn inward, thereby focusing on that which is truly important.
  7. To address the national and communal needs of the Jewish people by reciting bakashot, prayers requesting specific needs.
  8. To recognize how thankful you are for the blessings in your life.
  9. To practice the rituals that connect us to our past and to the present.
  10. To address the personal needs of the individual Jew by means of the silent prayer.

Why the Good Die Young

A Conversation with God about 4 Funerals, Illness and an Earthquake in Haiti

What a pair of months February and March were last year; so much tragedy. A 13-year-old was killed crossing the street. A vibrant teenager – a student at our local New Community Jewish High School – was lost in a car accident. A 21-year-old rabbi’s son was struck down by a car while at college. A 42-year-old mother – our congregant – died in a snowboarding accident. A 49-year-old “pied piper” of a man – another congregant – dropped dead from a heart attack. Thousands of people came to the funerals.

I noticed that God attended each funeral, but amidst the many tear-filled eulogies, there wasn’t time for God to speak. So God sat quietly at the side – listening, crying. God left quietly after each funeral ended, and almost no one realized that God had been there. I did take notice. Wondering what God might have said had God been invited to deliver a eulogy, I dashed out after the Holy One. Still reeling from these funerals, I wondered if God could make sense of these senseless deaths. I asked if God had time to talk, and God was willing. We strolled through the cemetery, talking quietly.

***

Man: So God, what did you think of the funerals?

God: (in a still, small voice) Teenagers died. A young mom, gone before her time. A college freshman hit by a drunk driver. It is all very, very sad.

Man: Which was sad, God? The funerals or the deaths?

God: Both. Two fun-loving kids; so much potential, such bright futures ahead. A beautiful mother, whose vivaciousness was surpassed only by her charitableness. But the funerals were sad, too. The speakers, caught up in telling their own stories, understandably left out Mine. They missed awesome opportunities to speak about My love, My pain, and My hope for your future.

Man: You mean you don’t agree with what the rabbis said?

God: Look, one said Baruch dayan ha-emet, the traditional words of “Blessed be the Judge of Truth,” suggesting that what happened was all part of a plan – My plan – while another suggested I took a boy’s life because he didn’t celebrate Shabbat that week. Some people, I suppose, find comfort in the idea that I have a master plan. Others find direction through religious rituals, which perhaps they believe help them beat the odds of life. If that brings them comfort, they can cherish those beliefs. But those ideas are built upon ancient words, misinterpreted to suggest things I didn’t say and I never meant. It’s neither who I am nor how I work. I don’t pre-plan untimely deaths and I don’t punish those who don’t keep the rituals. I am not responsible for those deaths.

Man: Wait, with all due respect, You created everything– spectacular sunsets, shooting stars and beautiful California coastline – But, you also created poisonous snakes and ferocious lions, as well as earthquakes, hurricanes and deadly diseases. And, forgive me, but You are the One who created the humans who created the automobiles that led to the deaths of three people. Just where do you get off abdicating responsibility for any of this?

God: There you go again! Blaming Me for what you refuse to acknowledge, what you fail to see. Yes, I created it all, each with its own purpose. Some of it blessedly benevolent; some of it potentially dangerous. So I created lions. Leave them alone and they are just gorgeous creatures. Bother them and look out!

Man: I don’t care about the lions? I’m talking about earthquakes and all those diseases –Alzheimer’s, AIDS, and cancerous tumors that ravaged my friend’s body!

God: I see how you might want to lay blame on Me for the creation of all of that because, yes, Creation was My idea and My doing. Call them the dreadful consequences of an imperfect Creation. Call it collateral damage of My desire to create humanity. Whatever you call it, know that natural disasters and unnatural disease were all unintended.

Man: How can you call these awful things, existing in the universe of Your creation, unintended?

God: Listen, each one pains Me. They weren’t in any plan. When I set out to create, I began with exactness and perfection. But when I began creating the universe, I failed to realize that I was creating something that was other-than-Me. And because it was other-than-Me, it was imperfect. All approximations are intrinsically imperfect. Your teacher, Rabbi Isaac Luria, articulated the story of creation well.

Man: You mean, the mystic from Tzfat, who taught the story of repairing the world, that we call Tikkun Olam?

God: Yes. First there was only Me. Everything was God. Ein Sof, Me without end. Then I contracted – tzimtzum – I pulled back to make space for Creation. I created the universe, as vessels, which at that moment were devoid of anything, including Me. Then I poured My light back into those vessels. But my light was too pure and too potent for the creation-that-was-not-Me. So it blew up – sh’virat ha-keilim – the vessel broke apart, sending shards of creation and sparks of My light all over the universe.

Broken world; bad things happen. The earthquakes and tsunamis. Cancer and heart attacks. Automobile accidents and incomprehensible tragedies on the slopes. All the result of a broken world, an imperfect world.

Man: So the imperfections were fundamentally a mistake. And as the Creator of All, they are Your mistake. But now I see that they were not Your Plan; rather they were an unintended consequence of Your desire to create our universe and us. Of Your aspiration to invest the universe-that-was-not-You with Your perfect light. Hmmm, it sounds like a beautiful experiment that sort of blew up. So how do you live with these tragedies, however unintended they may be?

God: I have tried to provide humanity with the ability to lessen their effect. Since earthquakes are unintended but inevitable, I make sure that everyone who buys a home (at least in California) has to sign a piece of paper acknowledging that they will be living near an earthquake fault and that they understand the danger. If I were human, I probably wouldn’t live there. But, given the whole “free choice” component I built into Creation, everyone gets to decide how to live and where to live. So with free choice, you get the freedom to make your own dangerous and foolish decisions.

Man: So if we want free will, we can’t really expect You to step in to protect us. Then we’d just be Your puppets. We get to make the choices and we have to live with the consequences. We shouldn’t blame you then for the car crashes if we have seatbelts but don’t wear them, and know about air bags but don’t insist they be installed in all parts of our cars…

God: But even if you use all this safety equipment, people will still crash and die, or be left brain-dead. Because Creation is fundamentally broken, imperfect.

Man: What about all those diseases, causing children to die young and my friend to suffer so intensely?

God: Unintended but treatable. In a sense, they’re similar to the seatbelt dilemma. I give you humans big brains and teach you to understand science and medicine. Then you must decide whether you will focus your time and research dollars on curing diseases like Parkinson’s and MS, or if you will instead use your God-given resources to build sophisticated smart bombs and laser-guided missiles. Collectively, you humans have the ability to cure all these diseases. Do you also have the inclination to make it the priority?

Man: Are you saying that although you led us to the secrets of building earthquake-safe homes, we freely chose to allow thousands upon thousands of people in Haiti to continue to live in sub-par dangerous housing until it collapsed like a deck of cards when the earthquake hit?

God: Mmm. And don’t get Me started on Hurricane Katrina. The knowledge existed about how to build levees, which could withstand a Level 5 hurricane; I made sure of it. But as a country, you somehow squandered the knowledge and resources. You want to blame Me? You left the poor to fend for themselves! …It pains me to watch you abdicate your responsibility, as you fail to live up to your end of our human-Divine partnership. I cry for each life lost. I cry that you humans are suffering, and will suffer. I cry for the pain that I let into your life the day I decided to pull back and give you free will.

Man: Truthfully God, when I hurt, I don’t always feel that You are close. Where do You go when I’m in real pain?

God: That’s just it. I am still here. By your side. I’m holding you up and making sure you get through the day. Do you ever wonder how you find the strength to get out of bed the next morning? That’s Me. Do you see all those people who came over to your house, to hug and hold your loved ones, to take care of the arrangements so you could fall apart. That’s Me too. I’m making sure you keep getting phone calls and e-mails and all those beautiful memories posted to Facebook. My Friends are your Facebook Friends doing My sacred work. And when you rage at Me in anger, or withdraw from Me in pain, I’m still here, waiting patiently. Still loving. Still helping. It’s the holy work I do.

Man: Okay, but honestly, with the universe so filled with imperfection and bad things that continue to happen, do You regret that you created us in the first place?

God: I wanted to give you life. Like a parent, I brought you into this world so you could love and dream and bring joy to each other and to Me. And I gave you minds to think and hands to work and hearts to lead with compassion. Some of you forget and think you are invincible. Or think it’s only about you. And so you end up hurting yourself and often hurting others in the process. This pains Me.

Man: So God what is it that you want from us?

God: I want you to learn from each loss. Learn to buckle up, to visit the doctor more often, to play safely. Stop sweating the small stuff, and fighting and kvetching. And you should count your blessings more regularly. And to get good grades and do good work, so you can use your amazing minds to repair our world, to create great manifestations of our shared compassion and justice. And I want you to speak truth to power. And speak love to pain. Make sure everyone can be healthy. That everyone has enough. You should go give tzedakah. Go repair your broken relationships before it is too late. And invite Me into your lives by acting humbly, and living ethically, and caring for everyone, whether you know them or not.
And you must remember the teenagers, and the mother and the men. Live up to the best that they were. And comfort their mourners, today, next month and next year, because their pain will continue. And spend time with the ill ones, bringing them comfort amid their suffering. And remember and never forget, that I, the Eternal your God, am always here. Caring, loving, open to listen, to holding you, and to helping you through.

Man: Is there anything else we can do?

God: You can try to make quiet time to meditate and pray. Daily. I do. I pray that the memory of your loved ones – and the teens and the mom and the men and unnamed ones in Haiti and beyond – bring you blessing and joy. And that those who are ill have hope. May you comfort each other, and feel My love, too, and may you find fortitude and courage so that you may endure the inevitable dark times. Remember, there also will be plenty of joy. I love you. I wish for you wholeness and shalom.
—

That was my conversation with God. Open, honest, thought-provoking. You might find those answers comforting, or you might have different questions or seek different answers. I encourage each of you to approach God with your own questions. God always listens, and often responds back. And of course, you can always come talk with me, your rabbi. Although I am not God, I will gladly help you deepen your own relationship with the Holy One. I hope you will. Now wouldn’t that make this New Year truly a Shana Tova u’Metuka!

When Nature Becomes the Jewish Text

Up at the Union for Reform Judaism’s Camp Newman in Santa Rosa, California, nature itself has become the text from which to teach a whole Torah’s worth of Jewish lessons. Daily, the four hundred plus campers, counselors and Rabbinic faculty study the myriad of religious sources to illuminate the religious truths hidden right before our eyes. Little did I realize when I received my “camp faculty marching orders” from a way too young but exceedingly creative visionary Rosh Eidah (unit head) Aaron Bandler that I would be blessed to witness some truly amazing moments of holiness. 

Lesson #1: Opening the Door to Inspiration
Twice this past week a group of wide-eyed Rishonim campers (8th and 9th graders) and I (camps’ rabbinic dean) braved the 87 degree heat to venture beyond main camp to explore Jewish theology about God’s role in nature. Armed with reusable water bottles and plenty of sunscreen, we made our way, boisterously, up a steep incline. We paused at the water tower mostly to catch our breath. There, we told the folk tale about a man who, searching for something of meaning, travels far and wide seeking inspiration, only to return to discover it right outside his backdoor.  Sitting together, staring out over a stunning view of the far reaches of camp’s spacious back country, the folk tale gave voice to a universal truth. Lost so often with our thumbs on the cellphone keyboard and our hearts caught up in the drama du jour, most of us miss out on the inspiring beauty surrounding us.

Lesson #2: With Eyes Open, Colors and Wonders Abound.
The Baal Shem Tov (“keeper of the Divine name”), founder of chasidism, once commented m’lo chol ha’aretz k’vodo, that the whole earth is filled with God’s magnificence, but we humans use our little hands to cover our eyes. Sometimes it only takes but one story to open our eyes from this temporary blindness.  The second leg of our hike, under an uncomfortably hot sun, was noticeably more inspiring. Eyes opened wide to the beauty around us, we noticed more colors, interesting plants, and “cool” rock shapes. Soon talk about cabin drama turned to conversations about how soil erosion can be both beauty and of concern.  Before we realized it, we were being treated to front row seats as a turkey vulture hang glided on the air currents.  So close that we could almost reach out to pet him, the bird gave us city folk a lesson on flight control in the wild.

Lesson 3: Exploring the Relationship between God and Nature
With our hike in nature as the text, our discussion delved into the subtext: What was the connection between God/holiness and nature? As we hiked on, I offered four statements to ponder about God and nature:  

  • That God was mainly just the Creator of nature.
  • That God was in nature.
  • That God was nature (and nature God).
  • That God was really unconnected with nature.

Our next break provided an opportunity for a Four Corners discussion. Campers divided into groups along whichever statement best described their ideas about God and nature and there came up with their three top reasons why that statement spoke to them.  I sprinkled their insights with connections between their ideas and those of famous Jewish thinkers – Israel’s Rav Kook, Baruch Spinoza, early Kabbalists, Reconstructionism’s Mordechai Kaplan – and with philosophical systems ranging from Torah’s creation story, Isaac Luria’s shevirat hakayleem/tikkun olam myth, monism, mysticism, pantheism, and panenthism.  Give 8th and 9th graders an opening, and the conversations become refreshingly intense and deep! 

Lesson 4: Mah Norah HaMakom Hazeh (How Awe-Inspiring is this Place!)
The Torah tells the story (Genesis 28:10ff) of our ancestor Jacob, who lies down on the ground in the middle of nowhere only to awake to find a ladder stretching up to the heavens, with God standing alongside it. After conversing with the Holy One, and gaining unprecedented assurances that God would be with him throughout his life, Jacob declared achen yeish Adonai bamakom hazeh (God surely was in this place) vanochi lo yadati (and I did not know it). Suddenly aware of what always was, Jacob said with amazement Mah norah HaMakom hazeh (how awe-inspiring is this place). Ein zeh kee eem Beit Elohim (it must be God’s temple) v’zeh sha’ar hashamayim (and this is the gateway to heaven!).  Standing above a scenic overlook, we agreed that although we all differed in our theological outlook, we each agreed on one thing: that we were surely standing in a holy place.

Lesson 5: Hitbodedut – Talking to God
Another perfect segue, and an opportunity to talk to the Holy One.

We Jews spend inordinate amounts of time saying prayers yet often the ancient words serve as  incomprehensible conversation stoppers, even to the fluent Hebrew speaker. Someone once compared trying to use the prayerbook language as a means of talking to God with trying to speak with a 21st century American using Shakespeare’s Olde English. Both throw up roadblocks to real conversation.

Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, recognizing the danger of a disconnect between formal prayer and the soul’s need to speak to the Holy One, encouraged his followers to engage in hitbodedut.  Hitbodedut, often translated as self-seclusion or intentioned walk-talking, refers to unstructured, spontaneous, individualized form of prayer in which one walks around and talks aloud with God. I first encountered hitbodedut when I was instructed to do it during a rabbi’s retreat at the Institute for Jewish Spirituality.  It moved me so deeply that I knew I had to teach the spiritual practice to others. 

Now imagine fifteen teenagers, usually hobbled with concerns about “what will others think of me?”, walking around in the hills, pouring out their thoughts and feelings to a God some of them weren’t even sure existed!? I encouraged them to suspend their disbelief and let go of their teenage discomfort.

The results were awe-inspiring. One teen spent his time talking to a bush (a la Moses and the burning bush), only to be rewarded with a sense that the bush talked back to him. A madricha (counselor) confessed that while during silent prayer in worship services she rarely says anything of significance, speaking aloud during the hitbodedut exercise forced her to focus her thoughts and open her heart. Others shared a sense of spirituality and a feeling that someone/thing/God was really listening.

Their words took my breath away. Just a the Biblical Jacob discovered, retreating into the wilderness can lead to deeper meaning and inspiration. With nature as our text and Jewish teachings as the subtext, eyes are opened, and lives are transformed.

Final Lesson of the Day: Send Kids to Jewish Summer Camp
That’s why I send my kids to summer camp every summer. And that’s why you will find me at Camp Newman in Santa Rosa every summer, volunteering my time. Because this kind of transformation occurs every summer at Camp Newman.  Sometimes it happens in the cabins. And we see it during a particularly raucous song session on the basketball court. For some, they discover it at the top of the 50 foot climbing tower. I was blessed to witness it firsthand, as one group of campers – 8th and 9th graders of Rishonim – found God also in the middle of nowhere, in the back country of camp. And their words inspire me.

Unchain Your Faith: One Rabbi’s Radical Ideas about God

Originally published in Tribe (February 2010)

When our Israelite ancestors participated in the Exodus from Egypt, they liberated themselves from much more than just slavery and Pharaoh’s taskmasters. By means of the Ten Plagues, which dismantled the Egyptian pantheon, the Israelites witnessed the defeat of the Nile god, Sun god and Pharaoh’s (false) god complex. Crossing Yam Suf (“Sea of Reeds”), they left behind 400 years of Egyptian-influenced preconceptions about religious faith.

In the intervening 3,000 years, we Jews again have found ourselves enslaved by a host of oppressive ideas about our Jewish religion. Some of these misconceptions arise out of selective misinterpretation of our sacred texts; others result from the growing misguided fundamentalism that has steadily seeped into our Jewish and non-Jewish worlds.

As Passover — our festival of liberation — again approached (and passed), perhaps it is time for our generation of Jews to liberate ourselves from a new set of preconceptions about what Judaism really holds to be true.

1. God Shaved the White Beard
With all of the Torah’s anthropomorphisms, it is difficult to escape the tendency to think about God as the guy with a white beard in a white robe. But God, as far as our Jewish tradition is concerned, ain’t no white guy and ain’t got no beard. In fact, if we take the Second Commandment seriously (“make no idol or image …”), we soon realize that God is a “nobody” and literally has no body. We Jews accept that God is the most real “nothing” around. God just is.

2. God Lacks Name Recognition
Contrary to popular belief in Jewish circles, God’s name is not Adonai, Yahweh or Hashem. “God” isn’t even God’s name. “God” is a title, a job description. According to Torah, our ultimate sourcebook for all things Jewish, God’s name is a four-letter word: Yud-hey-vav-hey (known as the Tetragrammaton). Like most four-letter words, it is unpronounceable. Literally. Each of these letters is silent until combined with a vowel, but since the Torah was written without vowels, it is impossible to figure out exactly how to pronounce God’s name. Some people pronounce Yahweh based on the vav being vocalized as the German “w.” Others read the yud as the German “j” and get Jehovah. Lawrence Kushner, the Reform Jewish rabbi-mystic, notes that each of the letters represents the non-sound of air moving through the throat and mouth. He once wrote that God’s name is the sound of breathing.

4. God Is Known by a Euphemism
Adonai means “my Lord” (or “my Lords”). Since we do not know how to pronounce God’s name, we need a creative way of addressing God. Adonai — “My Lord” — is a highly respectable, important-sounding euphemism. Adonai conveys that God is hierarchically the top dog. Within its Old World, aristocratic context, the lord was more powerful than the rest of us. It is like calling God the “Celestial CEO.” Of course, Hashem, favored by the Orthodox and the superstitious, means “The Name” and is a euphemism for “Adonai,” used lest we misuse the Holy Name.

5. God Is Not a Being; God Is a Verb
Torah understands God’s four-letter name as a meaningful combination of three verbs: Hey-vav-hey, or hoveh, signifying the present tense and meaning “Is”; Hey-yud-hey or haya, meaning “Was”; Yud-hey-yud-hey, or y’heyeh, meaning “Will Be.” In Torah and for Jews, God is that which was, is and will be forevermore. As we sing in the prayer “Adon Olam,” God is the sum total of existence. Don’t worry about whether you believe in God. It doesn’t matter. Because God just Is-Was-Will Be. The question, instead, should be whether you are willing to open your eyes, your mind and your heart to the continuously sacred flow of Existence.

6. The Best Place to Find God Probably Isn’t in the Synagogue
With apologies to the very institution that employs me, the synagogue probably is not the best place to find God. Although we usually expect to find God there (after all, God did say in Exodus “build me a sanctuary so that I may dwell among you”), the overabundance of ritualization and the proliferation of wordy ancient prayers often impede a person’s natural ability to bond with the Divine. God is best found everywhere in every moment. That’s why the ancient rabbis knew God as HaMakom, “The Place,” meaning God is in every place, everywhere: here, over there, up there (pointing skyward), down there (pointing earthward), in there (pointing inside you and me). Wherever we can stop focusing on ourselves and our own material needs as well as open our eyes to the reality and beauty surrounding us, we might find God. The kabbalists know God as Ein Sof (“No End”) because God is everywhere, the Essence that is without end. Moses found God on a mountaintop, and so can you. Miriam encountered God at the shores of the sea, and so can you. The Levites — originally ritual singer/musicians — heard God in the sweet multi-instrument musicals they played, and so can you. Elijah experienced God in the still small voice within that spoke to him and, yup, so can you.

7. Ordered Jewish Prayer May Not Be the Best Way to Talk to God
Almost two millennia ago, a bunch of now-dead white Jewish rabbis, culminating with Rav Amram Gaon (died 875), laid out a series of required prayers and prayer themes, which became the order of the service as we know it. They were concerned with creating a unified order of service for the far-flung Jewish community. Like the biblical ancestors who created a system of worship — animal sacrifices — that mimicked but Jew-ified the surrounding practices, these rabbis did what everyone else was doing, wove together words and biblical passages into prayers to create a new way of talking to God. Although the ancient words can be engaging intellectually, they are theologically 2,000 years old and feel like it. Even for a fluent Hebrew speaker, praying those words and allusions can feel like trying to talk to your friend using Shakespearean English. The words sometimes don’t let us speak the praise in our hearts.

8. The Big Secret Your Rabbis Don’t Want You to Know
You can talk to God using normal language as easily as you iChat with a friend. Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav (grandson of the founder of Chasidism), taught his students hitbodedut, an intimate way to connect with God. He told them to go off into a field and talk to God, aloud, just like you would talk to your neighbor. God listens, Nachman contended, and, following his lead, his students experienced deeply this powerful spiritual reality. I regularly practice hitbodedut out in the field. Or while driving in the car. Or sitting, waiting in the carpool pickup lane. It is wonderful and very Jewish. I feel listened to, heard and appreciated. I don’t ask for things; I seek understanding and strength. I pour out my heart and speak of my problems. God listens. I gain clarity. My thanks are spoken; God hears my praise. Try it. While you are alone. Or while sitting silently in the sanctuary while the cantor intones the ancient prayers. You might find a new friend in God.

9. God Facebooks,Tweets and Texts Along With Us
You won’t find God by friend-searching “God,” even if some jokers misappropriated the name. Instead, God Facebooks us through our friends. After all, our rabbis, responding to the question about how we can fulfill the commandment to love God, turned to Leviticus 19:18, equating loving God with v’ahavta l’rayacha kamocha (loving your friend as yourself). If you love your friends, treat them well, deepen connections that uplift but do no harm; then you have Facebooked the Holy One as well. The friend of your friend is … God. God also tweets us regularly. Those short 140-character messages come to us from all over — through the loving words of friends, the inspiring lyrics of songs, the uplifting news stories of people helping people, the wordless sound of wind blowing through trees or water crashing on the Malibu seashore. Those pithy little messages are easily ignored if you don’t read them for what they are — tweets from Tetragrammaton. Oh, and God texts us regularly. Choose a text — Torah, Talmud, Midrash, siddur — and get to know it. Like a message from a lover, God’s texts must be explored on multiple levels to uncover any hidden meanings or delicious nuance.

10. The Messiah Has NOT Come Yet
Let’s tell the truth. The Messiah — that figure who will bring an end to hunger, homelessness and violence and will lead us to universal piece — has not come yet. We Jews long ago rejected the idea of a Messiah who could die before accomplishing his/her tasks. That’s why Jesus, an inspiring teacher, was not our christ (Greek for “messiah”); why Bar Kochba, the second-century revolutionary once called messianic by Rabbi Akiva, was not the Messiah; and why Rabbi Menachem Schneerson, who died in 1994, is not the Messiah either. For Jews, the Messiah does not die. Instead, take a page from the Talmud: If you are planting a tree (or doing some other life-affirming act) and someone comes running to say that the Messiah is coming, complete your holy task first, and then go look later. Give tzedakah. Talk to God. Treat others with kindness. Don’t let all the Messiah talk turn you away from your holy work.

I Almost Made Myself Cry at the Bar Mitzvah

There we stood, Rabbi and three generations of the Tillis family, preparing to physically pass down the Torah midor lador (from generation to generation).  This primarily Reform Movement tradition makes manifest what is happening in fact and deed: that another young adult is receiving Torah from his ancestors.  At the end of this line of stood a young man Jared, who though he spent his life challenged by special needs and multiple treatments – a rare form of non-convulsive epilepsy, speech therapy, vision therapy, challenges reading and decoding – now stood ready to do what every other 13 year old boy does.  Jared was becoming a Bar Mitzvah. 

I looked out at the crowd of family and friends.  On their faces I saw utter amazement; reflected in their eyes was the wonder that this young man, in spite of all the challenges he faces, had led the prayer service so beautifully.  His Bar Mitzvah teacher, the incomparably talented Diane Townsend, had been by his side, pointing to each transliterated syllable so that he could chant the prayers at his own pace.  Too see how creatively she had retransliterated each word in a way that it would be comprehensible to this specific Bar Mitzvah boy is to witness a master teacher at work.  Yes, we had already each experienced that Shehecheyanu moment, that blessed happening that reminds us all that we were just touched by the miraculous. 

What words could I say which would further capture the holiness before us?  And how to do it in such a way that everyone would understand on their own level: the Bar Mitzvah boy in his specifically special manner of comprehension and the guests who had been touched by the Transcendent? 

We are taught that Torah was revealed in 70 languages at once so that each person could comprehend it.  Who is to say that which languages they were?  Perhaps some were the language understood by a child with special needs. Maybe the simple concepts that a profoundly challenged child could comprehend.

So I told them: We are taught that Torah was given to everyone at Mt. Sinai: the rich and the poor, the strong and the less strong, the healthy and the sick.  Yes, even those who stuttered (Moses), were leprous (later, Miriam), or were beaten down by the challenges of their lives (all the Israelites) received the Holy Torah.

I reminded them, lovingly, that sometimes we doubt who was able to receive Torah, but that as long as there are people who believe (I looked at Mom and Dad and older sister), everyone can grasp hold of the holy books. 

I said a bunch of other words too, but as I looked out at the congregation, seeing not a dry eye in the sanctuary, I started to choke up too, and mumbled something that I cannot remember anymore.

Then we passed Torah down midor lador (from generation to generation) completing the cycle.

Worshippers were moved.  One said, “Jared’s service was the most moving and touching ceremony I have ever been to” while another explained that she “will never forget Jared’s amazing ability to turn an ordinary ritual into a meaningful event that we will carry in our hearts forever.”  

I am left with three profound memories of this Bar Mitzvah service:

  • That this young man, standing on the shoulders of all the Jews who came before him, became a Bar Mitzvah just like the best of them;
  • That we are blessed to have a teacher as skilled as Diane Townsend who finds a way to point each child – no matter how challenged, no matter how reticent – toward Torah;
  • That the Holy One of Blessing (God) blessed us this day by allowing each of us to experience the transcendent holiness of this Bar Mitzvah. 

…Shehecheyanu v’kiy’manu v’higee-anu lazman hazeh – Blessed are You, God … for giving us life, for keeping us in life, and for bringing us to this special moment. 

(BTW, the other Bar Mitzvah boy earlier that day made me proud, amazed, and inspired.  Because he was special too. Not special needs.  Just special, like every child is special.  But that’s another blog post.)

Congregation Or Ami exudes openness and welcoming of families with children with special needs.  Read about it.

Tu B’shvat: A Person is Like a Tree in the Field


With Tu B’shvat (the Jewish Holy Day of Trees) coming up, I have been exploring the relationship between nature, trees, humanity and Judaism. I came across this quote from Rabbi Yisrael of Chortkov (in Ginzei Yisrael), who teaches hope in the face of dispair:

There is a lesson hinted at by Tu BeShvat, for “a person is like a tree of the field.” When the wheel of fortune has turned for someone and they are down, when they see no way to keep their head above water; they have lost all hope and are despairing – then they should ponder a tree in winter. Its leaves have fallen, its moisture has dried up, it is almost a dead stump in the ground. Then suddenly, it begins to revive and to draw moisture from the earth. Slowly it blossoms, then brings forth fruits. People should learn from this not to despair, but to take hope and have courage, for they too are like a tree.”

As Quoted in Yitzhak Buxbaum, A Person is Like a Tree: A Sourcebook for Tu BeShvat

How Does a Rabbi Replenish His Soul?

For years I have been studying Torah weekly with one or two Chevruta (study) partners through the Institute of Jewish Spirituality (IJS). I have studied with a Reconstructionist Rabbi from Cleveland (Steve Segar), a Conservative Rabbi from Portland (Dan Isaak), a Reconstructionist Rabbi from Malibu (Judith HaLevy), and for years, a Reform Rabbi from Los Angeles (Karen Fox). Recently, I have renewed my study with the Clevelander Rebbe.

We have never really sat in the same room to study. We study by phone, with texts before us, and headsets over our heads. (It has been suggested that we begin using Skype so we can face to face study. Something to consider.)

Often we spend 20 minutes of the study hour talking with each other about our lives, our families, the joys and challenges of being a pulpit rabbi, our spiritual struggles and successes. Acquaintances begun at a week-long retreat have blossomed into friendships that have sustained us through life’s challenges and struggles.

Each week, we receive by email a text. Our IJS teacher, Rabbi Jonathan Slater, sends weekly an email that gets us learning. It begins with a primary text (currently Degel Machaneh Efraim) – in Hebrew and English, Rabbi Slater’s explanation of the Degel text, some reflection questions and a guide for spiritual practice drawn from this text. The Chasidic texts are sometimes thick, laden with references to Zohar, Talmud, Midrash and other commentators. Thankfully, Rabbi Slater has done the heavy lifting by discovering and reprinting the texts cited. He also guides us through the sometimes incomprehensible discussion, pointing us always toward some deep insights about spirituality or life. The text study becomes the highlight of my week.

My learning this week?

In this week’s parasha, Shemot, we learn that vayehi ki yar’u hameyaldot et ha-elohim vaya’as lehem batim – And because the midwives feared God, God established houses (batim) for them (Ex.1:21). What does it mean that God established “houses” for the midwives? Connecting “houses” with vessels, Degel Machaneh Efraim leads us on a journey to realize that wisdom, when bounded and held in a vessel of fear/awe ensures that our wisdom is used for justice and good.

As Rabbi Slater explains:

“Fear gives boundaries to wisdom.” The basic understanding here is in the dynamic tension of the right and left sides of the sephirotic tree. Chokhmah (wisdom) is on the right side. Its tendency and desire is to expand, like love (Hesed). Yet, for wisdom to be useful, for it to apply in the world, it must have some definition, a framework in which it can be understood. That is the role of the left side, where Gevurah (which includes the quality of fear, yirah) constrains, sets boundaries and provides a vessel for Wisdom. This is the same process of constriction (tzimtzum) by which God’s vital force and light come to be contained and present in all creation. Fear – as limitation and gevurah – creates a home for God’s outpouring of life and wisdom.

As Rabbi Slater guides us:

R. Moshe Chaim offers us a practice insight here. What is wisdom? Ultimately it is the capacity to perceive and respond to the truth of any given moment, any given circumstance. We all know that there are times that we are clearer, more connected to our experience and so better able to choose how to respond, and times when we are not. On those occasions that we are not so free to choose how to respond – when we are surprised, angry, depressed, jealous, smitten by love, confused, etc. – it is not that we are not “wise”, but our wisdom is not connected to the totality of our experience. It runs wherever our passions run; it is misapplied. For our natural and acquired wisdom to be effective, for it to bring us happiness and benefit to one and all, it needs a container, a frame in which to function.

“Fear of heaven” is just such a framework. This is not fear in the sense of terror before pain or loss (although both may be present), or fear of punishment. Rather, it is the fear that arises when we recognize the unbounded and uncontrollable outcomes of our actions. We may strive to live impeccably, but we are likely to fail. That induces fear: awareness, caution, compassion for ourselves and for others. When we stop to consider the fact that every deed implicates us, it may become impossible to act. Yet, we must act. There is no holding back, no backing out. The goal is to act as much as possible, with our greatest wisdom and as well as we can to do justice, live with compassion and humility. And when we realize we have made a mistake, the challenge is to strive to rectify the mistake, to compensate – as best we can – for past mistakes, and minimize the mistakes we make into the future.

Learning with my chevruta (study partners) ensures that I replenish my Torah, the source of my wisdom and compassion. It points me to deeper levels of understanding and thus becomes a central part of my weekly spiritual practice.

So All Jews Can Worship Together at the Kotel

As we prepare for Shabbat, for relaxation, spirituality and community, we take a moment to recognize that there are some who would like to dictate how all Jews should celebrate this holy day. In Israel, some ultra-orthodox are pressuring the Israeli government to transform Israel’s holiest religious sites into orthodox synagogues, excluding progressive Jewish women. Before, or after you celebrate Shabbat, take some time to read and speak out:

FROM: Rabbi Robert Orkand, ARZA President, Response to Interrogation of Anat Hoffman, Executive Director of IRAC
RE: Interrogation of Anat Hoffman, leader of Israel’s Women of the Wall

On behalf of almost a million and a half American Reform Jews, I react with dismay and alarm to the recent report that Anat Hoffman, leader of Israel ’s Women of the Wall, was interrogated and fingerprinted on January 6 by Jerusalem police. She was told that she may be charged with a felony for violating the rules of conduct at what many consider to be Judaism’s most sacred site. The action against Ms. Hoffman who is the Executive Director of the Israel Religious Action Center, follows on the arrest in November of Nofrat Frenkel a member of the Conservative movement and a medical student. The crime: wearing a tallit (prayer shawl) not at the Wall itself, but at an area that had been previously designated a place where Women of the Wall can gather for a once-a-month worship, as they have done for the past 21 years.

These recent actions at the Wall insult all Jewish women for they are being reminded, as they have so many times in the past, that they are second-class Jews at a place that is not a synagogue but rather, an historic site of great importance to all Jews, not just those who are Orthodox. The insults to which Women of the Wall have been subjected cannot be repeated in polite company. The fact that the police have seen fit to arrest women who went to the Wall for peaceful prayer and not those who have screamed that the Nazis should have murdered these women is a stark reminder of the lengths to which the ultra-Orthodox in Israel will go to force their religious practice on an entire nation.

One must wonder why the people of Israel tolerate a religious fanaticism that is no different than what we have witnessed in Iran and elsewhere. There have been riots on Shabbat by ultra-Orthodox Jews protesting the opening of a parking lot near the entrance to the Old City of Jerusalem. There have been riots in Jerusalem protesting the fact that an Intel plant operates on Shabbat. There are now segregated busses in Israel on more than 90 routes, with demands that the number of routes be increased. There is a growing crisis in Israeli education due to the fact that there is not a core curriculum required of every Israeli student, which means that increasingly students are being exposed to a narrow religion-based curriculum and are not learning the subjects that will allow them to function in a modern society. In short, Israel is the rare democracy today that tolerates and even worse endorses religious discrimination against Jews. The promise of Israel’s “Declaration of Independence that Israel will be a homeland for all Jews appears to be nothing more than a dream.

Make no mistake: What appears to be a growing religious crisis in Israel is as much a threat to Israel’s survival as are the external threats, perhaps more so. Israel has shown that she can protect herself from armies and terrorists. Protecting herself from religious extremism may be Israel’s biggest challenge—a challenge that cannot and must not be ignored by those who care about Israel’s soul.

____________________________________

FROM: Anat Hoffman, IRAC Executive Director—Personal Call to Action A Call to Action—Make the Wall for all Jews

On January 5th, 2010, I, Anat Hoffman, Executive Director of the Israel Religious Action Center, and leader of Women of the Wall was called in for questioning and fingerprinted by the Israeli police. They warned me that I was being investigated for the felony offense of wearing a tallit, and holding a Torah at the Western Wall.

My interrogation comes less than two months after the November 18th, 2009 arrest of the Women of the Wall member Nofrat Frankel for wearing a tallit and holding a Sefer Torah at the Wall.

We are asking you today to contact your local Israel Ambassadors and Consulates and tell them that you will not tolerate religious discrimination or be forced to practice the religious ideologies of the Ultra-Orthodox community. You can write your own letter or sign the letter we have attached. (see below)

Israel must understand that the will of a small fundamentalist minority cannot take the Wall away from Klal Yisrael.

  • Please send your letter to your Ambassador Michael Oren
  • Send a letter to your local Israeli consulate
  • Please also send this communication to your friends and family so that the message will come from as many people as possible
  • Other ways that you can show your support are to purchase a Women of the Wall tallit (Karen@irac.org) or by making a donation to IRAC’s work advancing Jewish pluralism and tolerance in Israel and fighting to end religious coercion and discrimination. http://www.irac.org/Donate.aspx
  • Lastly, organize a solidarity rally or prayer service for the Women of the Wall on the next Rosh Hodesh, Erev Shabbat January 15th 2010

____________________________________

Local and International Advocacy Action within the Jewish community

Dear________________________

On behalf of the Jewish people fighting for religious pluralism in Israel , I am outraged that one of our leaders, Anat Hoffman, was interrogated and fingerprinted by Jerusalem police on January 5th, 2010. Police told Hoffman, Executive Director of the Israel Religious Action Center and leader of Women of the Wall, that she may be charged with a felony for violating the rules of conduct at what many consider to be Judaism’s most sacred site.

Hoffman’s interrogation came less than two months after the November 18th, 2009 arrest of the Women of the Wall member Nofrat Frankel for wearing a tallit and holding a sefer Torah.

We will not tolerate this discrimination and abuse to continue among our own people. Women are treated as second-class citizens at a holy and historic place that has great symbolic importance for all Jews.

We are shocked by the brutal and callous insults to which Women of the Wall have been subjected. Many of these curses cannot be repeated in polite company. Israeli police have seen fit to arrest women who go to the wall for peaceful prayer, and make no attempt to reprimand those who spit and curse at them, a stark reminder of the power enjoyed by the Israeli ultra-Orthodox, and their success in forcing their religious practices on an entire nation.

If this were to happen in any other country in the world, the Jewish community would be up in arms. Israel is the rare democracy today that tolerates and even endorses religious discrimination against Jews.

Make no mistake: What appears to be a growing religious crisis in Israel is as much a threat to Israel’s survival as are the external threats, and perhaps more so. Israel has shown that she can protect herself from armies and terrorists. Protecting herself from religious extremism may be Israel’s biggest challenge—a challenge that cannot and must not be ignored by those who care about Israel ‘s soul.

We cannot allow this discrimination to continue any further. We must protect our religious rights in Israel.

Pass on our message to the Israeli government, that the Kotel is the beating heart center for the whole of the Jewish people, and not an Ultra-Orthodox synagogue. The arrest and intimidation of women praying at the Wall must stop and it must become a place in which all Jews can pray and connect spiritually to Israel.

Why Do We Need to Use a Shamash Candle?

8 Blogs for 8 Nights of Chanukah
Blog #4: Making Chanukah Come Alive, Four Nights Later

Question: Why do we need to use a candle – the Shamash (helper) candle – when we can just as easily use a match to light the Menorah?

It has to do with the “Way of the Long Pole.”

Some background: Back in Biblical times, in the outer chamber of the ancient Jerusalem Temple, the Menorah stood in a special area called the heichal (sanctuary). The Menorah was a five-foot, seven branched candelabra of pure gold. Every morning, a kohen (priest, member of the Israelite clergy) filled the menorah’s lamps with the purest olive oil; in the afternoon, he would climb a three-step foot-ladder to kindle the menorah’s lamps. The flames burned through the night, symbolizing the light of the Holy One radiating throughout Israel and the world.

Interesting Pair of Factoids:

  • Actually, it did not have to be a priest (kohen) who lit the menorah. The Jewish law states that an ordinary layperson could also perform this mitzvah.
  • But there was also a law that restricts entry into the ancient Jerusalem Temple’s Sanctuary to priests only. In the ancient world, ordinary Israelites could venture no further than the azarah (Temple courtyard).

These two ancient laws created a legal paradox: a layperson can light the menorah; but the menorah’s designated place is inside the Sanctuary, where a layperson could not enter.

Talk about inconsistencies:

  • If an ordinary person should be able to light the Menorah, why doesn’t Torah instruct us to place And if the sanctity of the ancient Menorah is such that it requires the higher holiness found in the sanctuary, why does the Torah permit someone without a kohen’s level of holiness to light it?

This paradox, teach the Chassidic rebbes, is intentionally set up by the Torah in order to convey to us a most profound lesson. You are here, and you want to be there (“there” being someplace better, loftier, more spiritual than “here”). But you are not there, and cannot get there for a good while, perhaps ever.

So what do you do? Do you act as if you’re already there? Or do you tell yourself that here’s just fine, and who needs there anyway? You could, of course, become a hypocrite, or you could come to terms with the limitations of your situation. But there’s also a third option – the Way of the Long Pole.

The solution – the “Way of the Long Pole” – is that a layperson could light the menorah by means of a long pole. This ordinary Israelite stands outside the ancient Sanctuary, extends to the Menorah a long pole with a flame on the end, and thereby lights the Menorah.

What a great solution to a spiritual problem!

The lesson of the long pole says that we should aspire to spiritual heights that lie beyond our reach. We should not desist from our efforts to reach that place. Even when we worry that we, ourselves, will never be “there,” we can still act upon places in the distance, influencing them, and even illuminating them.

At times, this means that someone closer to those places – to the Menorah – needs to reach over and light it for us. At other times, it means that we contrive a way to reach beyond where we are at the present time. In either case, we turn to (or turn into) a “lamplighter,” a person who carries a long pole with a flame at its end and goes from lamp to lamp to ignite them; no lamp is too lowly, and no lamp is too lofty, for the lamplighter and his pole.

The shamash candle reminds us of the Way of the Long Pole. This Chanukah, if you are gathered with a group without the ability to physically get close enough to light the Menorah, allow others to illumine for you the way to a higher spiritual place. If you are able, let the shamash candle be your “long pole,” transforming you into the “lamplighter,” illuminating the way ahead. Either way, may this Chanukah be an inspiring one for you and your loved ones.

[Now read my post about being a Lamplighter.]

  • For Chanukah Resources to enhance your celebration – songsheets, blessing sheets, 8 Nights of Chanukah Tzedakah, 8 stories, and more – go to www.orami.org/chanukah
  • Come back each night to the blog (http://rabbipaul.blogspot.com) for more 8 Blogs for 8 Nights: Answers to Questions You Never Thought About, which enhance your understanding of Chanukah.
  • If you would answer today’s question differently, or have other Chanukah ideas/questions, please share your insights in a comment. I will make a donation to tzedakah for every comment written.

[Adapted from A Long Pole, an article by Yanki Tauber]

With Only Enough Oil for One Day, How did the Jews React as Nightfall Approached?

8 Blogs for 8 Nights of Chanukah
Blog #2: Miracle Meditation for the Second Candle and the Second Day of Chanukah

Question: With only enough oil to last for one day, how did the Jews react as nightfall approached at the end of that first day?

The miracle of the second candle is one of surprise, joy, and delight. With the benefit of hindsight, and with the story so entrenched in Jewish culture and consciousness, we have to work to imagine the anxiety, shock and celebration that must have ensued when the light burned past its time.

Picture the scene: Jews are gathered around the newly purified Jerusalem Temple. They hold one another, celebrating the victory, supporting one another over the losses. Nonetheless, they are keenly aware that the flame is about to go out in the Menorah. They feel the sadness that the oil, enough for one day, is almost fully consumed. This represents another loss, another bit of damage inflicted by Antiochus’ Assyrian-Greeks. Still, they congregate around the Menorah. This Jewish community wants to bask in the Light and celebrate the victory for as long as it will last.

During times of anxiety, people react in different ways.

For some, tension makes tempers flare. We imagine debates breaking out among the Maccabees over whether to continue fighting for complete political independence, or to be satisfied with having beaten the enemy back. Failing to appreciate the renewed light emanating from the Menorah, they begin arguing: “We have our menorah back: purify the oil, focus on holy, and light the flame of faith again.” “No, we must instead endure more darkness. Therefore, purify the oil, focus on the holy, and don’t abandon the fight until it is done.”

For others, miracles abound in every moment. For them, recognition grew that just being there – in Jerusalem, at the Temple, in front of the Menorah, was miraculous enough. They thought that it was foolish to waste precious moments arguing when the Light, so finite, was about to go out. They separated from the debaters to find comfort and strength in the illumination of the Menorah. And then…

Before anyone realized it, a buzz starts to go through the crowd. First one person and then another realized that the flame had been burning “too long.” There was more light, more hope, than they had dared to expect. Soon everyone was cheering and singing. The Light would not go out! The political choices were still before them, but the spiritual promise mattered more. The Light will not go out!

Tonight, as you light the second candle of Chanukah, strive to be like those who take comfort in the Light of the Menorah. Take care not to rush through the candle lighting. Take time to chant blessings, to sing songs. Tell the story if you did not tell it last night. Cherish light. Cherish family and friends. Recount the miracles, the joy and the surprises of your life.

Perhaps take a few quiet moments in front of the second candle or during the second day of Hanukah and consider:

  • What are the miracles of joy, surprise, and delight in your life?
  • Was there a time when you were you recovering from loss, or preparing to face an uncertain future, when you got a gift – a sudden surge of hope, of Light, a promise for the future?

For Chanukah Resources to enhance your celebration – songsheets, blessing sheets, 8 Nights of Chanukah Tzedakah, 8 stories, and more – go to www.orami.org/chanukah

Come back each night to the blog (http://rabbipaul.blogspot.com) for more 8 Blogs for 8 Nights: Answers to Questions You Never Thought About, which enhance your understanding of Chanukah. If you would answer the question differently, share your insights in a comment. I will make a donation to tzedakah for every comment written.

[Adapted from Miracle Meditations for Chanukah by Rabbi Debra Orenstein]

Kvelling about Your Jewish Experience at Temple

In so many synagogues around the country, people know how to kvetch complain) more than they know how to kvell (offer praise). At Or Ami, we have learned that if we invite people to share their Or Ami moments – experiences worth kvelling about – we discover quickly that we are touching people’s lives in deeply spiritual ways.

I received this email from an Or Ami family, and with their permission, share it here. I’m kvelling at their kvelling. (If you have an Or Ami moment to share, please add it in the comment space below.)

November 2009

Dear Rabbi Kipnes,

I am not quite sure where to start. Daniel and I joined Congregation Or Ami with our kids Zach and Jacqueline just over 2 years ago. From the very start, we were welcomed with open arms. We joined the congregation because some of our very best friends were members. We were looking for a place primarily to begin Bar/Bat Mitzvah training for our children. What we got is so much more!!!

Shortly after we joined, my mother, as you know, became very ill. The outpouring of support and caring from our temple friends, to congregants we hadn’t even met, to you, our Rabbi, was astounding. This really was our first real confirmation we knew we were in the right place.

Daniel and I both grew up on Jewish homes, with very little Jewish education. Mine was virtually non-existent. We had all of the traditions and values of a good Jewish home, but I had spent almost no time in a synagogue. Daniel became a Bar Mitzvah, but aside from that, his Jewish education was very limited as well.

So, we knew when we were joining a temple, we needed to find one that fit in with our goals for our children, but yet not be so “Jewish” that we would be intimidated. We did the usual “shul shopping”, and eventually decided upon Congregation Or Ami. Our decision was really based on the fact that some of our very best friends had become members, and oh yea…we kinda liked the Rabbi!

Our first High Holiday services with Congregation Or Ami further proved that we had made the right choice. The services were warm, inviting, inclusive and made someone with as little Jewish background as myself feel comfortable, eager to hear more, to do more, to embrace this “family” that we suddenly were a part of.

Tashlich was another awe-inspiring event that really opened my eyes up to the uniqueness of our temple. The fact that a couple of hundred of us could break bread, share wine and enjoy such an intimate, spiritual affair together on the beach just further discounted any fears we may have had that were not going to fit into a typical temple. This temple, we quickly learned, was anything but typical!

The past year has been so difficult for so many of us. Or Ami has been so responsive and respectful to the needs of its congregants. I was chosen to be part of a special Hayenu committed assembled specifically to make calls and just check in with the congregants to see if they had any general or specific needs or concerns that perhaps we, as a congregation, or you, as the Rabbi, could help with. EVERY congregant was called! Wow! What temple does that? Just as every new congregant gets a Shabbat welcome basket from the congregation and every member family gets donuts and other Hanukkah goodies personally delivered to their home every year. Again…anything but typical.

Nor is it typical that my husband and I were asked to carry the Torah at this year’s High Holiday services. We were certainly not asked because we are big donors. The feeling of support and family from this congregation…from you…is more than we ever could have wished for, hoped for, or certainly expected!

We continue to grow each time we step outside of our comfort zone and attend another temple event or function. While the kids and I raved about Mitzvah Day last year, my husband had to experience it for himself this year to understand the impact and breadth of this amazing community service event. He was like a little kid, racing around to see if he could be the one to complete the most backpacks for displaced foster children.

Today I attended my first Torah study. What do I know about Torah??? So little! But, you know what? I was comfortable, intrigued, engaged, and now eager to return to another one soon! Why? Because of the intelligent, passionate, educated, interested people who make up our temple! People who take time out of their busy schedules to schmooze and kibbitz and can appreciate the value of spending time like this with old friends and new friends.

I started this letter months ago, have put it aside, added to it, and could keep doing so until it is well… my own Jewish Journal. But, that is not the point. The point, the initial point anyway, was to let you know how happy we are to be members of Congregation Or Ami. To let you know we had many temples to choose from, and were not even sure we made the right choice when we chose Or Ami. But, it did not take long to realize there could not have been a better choice, or a better fit for our family. So much of it has to do with the congregation, but so much of this has to do with you. I never thought I would seriously join a temple where the Rabbi ever even learned my name. I certainly never thought I would be able to consider myself friends with the Rabbi. Well, I am happy you know me as Faryl, and honored to be a congregant…and a friend!

Thank you for welcoming us so warmly into your “home”.

Fondly,

Faryl Oschin