Tag: Spirituality

Prayer for a Cure for Cancer

I just learned that two relatives of two people dear to my congregation and to me were diagnosed with cancer. Seeking solace, I found a prayer written by my friend Rabbi Zoè Klein (Temple Isaiah, Los Angeles):

Prayer for a Cure for Cancer Words of healing By Rabbi Zoè Klein We are sometimes mistaken when we fear that which is big. Godzilla, King Kong, Asteroid, Armageddon. At least we can see it when it comes. We are sometimes mistaken when we fear that which is big. Change, birth, death, love. At least we can throw our arms wide around it.
God of big things, God of great deeds, God of the drama of the Exodus, the parting of the seas, the fire on the mountain, the creation out of nothing we are wonderstruck by You, dazzled by big things.
But are You not also the God of the small, God of the turning leaf, God of the grain of sand, God of the passing shadow, God of the rotting fruit? I address You now as God of the small, because sometimes we are mistaken when we fear that which is big, when that which is most frightening of all is small,
the size of a melanomic cell, the size of a metastatic pinpoint, the size of a golfball, the size of a grapefruit growing where there is no tree.
That immutable danger that makes us victims of our own soft tissue, lymphnodes, and blood, that devastating fear that stalks us out of passing shadows, out of the mist of pesticide, tar, benzene, p.c.b. toxicities, out of the glow of gamma-rays, x-rays, ultraviolet rays, aluminum foil, out of the silicone, the tobacco, the skin of an apple, the high saturated fats, the low fiber, the vegetable hair dyes, out of nothing, out of nothing You are good at that God, Creation out of nothing.
I pray to You now, God of small things, God of miracles-barely-perceived by the naked, mortal eye, I pray to You now, God of small things, for a spontaneous global remission. For erasure of that word that lurks darkly behind our words.
When Moses’ sister was struck Moses spoke five small words to You. El na rafa na la. God please heal her please. You answered, and You healed her. El na rafa na la. El na rafa na la.

Conviction: Love Story, Religious Persecution, Poignant Performance

Last night, in the new and beautiful Calabasas Civic Center outdoor amphitheater, we watched the brilliant one man play, Conviction. It was a poignant production made all the more moving by the powerful performance of Ami Dayan (the play’s director, sole performer and co-translator).

Conviction is based on a true story of a beautiful love affair doomed by religious persecution in Inquisition Spain. In present day Madrid, an Israeli scholar is detained and questioned by a Spanish official for stealing a confidential Inquisition file. Together, interrogator and interrogated, are drawn by the files, wrinkled yellow pages into the torrid love affair of the converted Spanish priest Andres Gonzalez, and his Jewish wife, Isabel.

We who grew up in the Holocaust generation consider that horror to be the yardstick by which to measure man’s inhumanity to man. Though the Nazi Holocaust has significant roots in Christian anti-semitism (and though the Church was more than complicit in the Nazi’s work), nonetheless, the Nazis practiced a more secular form of genocide. With Conviction, we are reminded that history is littered with the inhumane misuse of religion as an instrument of death and destruction. The Inquisition of the 15th century, though reflecting significant political machinations between the rulers of Spain, the Pope and surrounding monarchs, nonetheless represented the use of a religious institution – the Church – to carry out (and bless!) the forced conversion, murder and exile of a people. Modern Islamic extremists seem to take a page from the dark story of the Inquisition.

I was honored to co-lead a talk-back with Ami Dayan and a Christian Deacon, following the play. The audience was full of comments: about Mr. Dayan’s amazing performance, about whether religion is inherently an instrument of evil, how the play has affected Mr. Dayan’s Jewish and Israeli identity.

For me, one of the most fascinating elements of the play was the singing of a portion of Kol Nidre. Kol Nidre, the most solemn prayer intoned by the Chazan (Cantor) on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year, provides forgiveness to those who have made vows under duress. More than one modern scholar has suggested that the prayer survives in our liturgy only because its music so touches our hearts and souls. What modern Jew would countenance a prayer which forgives us for vows made under duress, when few of us in these modern times make such vows. Yet here, in the play Conviction, we see the words of Kol Nidre spoken more to their purpose: seeking forgiveness for the thousands of conversos (crypto-Jews) who converted to Christianity to save their lives, while still secretly practicing Judaism as children.

Bravo to Mr. Ami Dayan for his performance and his co-writer Mark Williams, to Linda Purl and all of the principals in the Rubicon International Theatre Festival, to the Calabasas City for supporting this production and making it the first cultural presentation in the new Calabasas Civic Center. I hope that one day we can bring Mr. Dayan back to Calabasas so that others may learn from his poignant producction.

Conference Art: Doodling During Discussions

I have discovered that if I really want to soak in the discussions during conferences or classes, I need to take notes. In recent years, I have taken to creating what I call “Conference Art,” doodles done during discussions which keep my mind focused (multitasking, of course), and capture significant ideas or experiences. Sometimes these doodles are the work of one session; often they – like the conference – span a few days or a week. For me, they help me retain the essence of the experience.

At the recent Institute for Jewish Spirituality, Hevraya retreat in West Cornwall, Connecticut, we explored prayer, our prayer lives, and how every moment of every day can – with attention and intention – be a prayer. My Conference Art captures the spiritual exploration.

Prayer in My Life: Some Reflections

I just returned home from the Institute for Jewish Spirituality (IJS) Hevraya (spiritual alumni) retreat in West Cornwall, Connecticut. Five days of Jewish mindfulness meditation, yoga, intense study of Chasidic texts, self-reflective silence (for 15 hours a day), and some of the most uplifting prayer I have ever experienced. Rabbis, cantors, educators (my wife!) gathered together in spiritual exploration. We focused on prayer, and how every moment of every day can be a prayer of holiness. The retreat provided ample opportunity to reflect on my relationship with prayer. In preparation, I wrote a short exploration of how I felt about my own prayer life. Excerpts are below:
I stood on the bimah one Rosh Hashana, closing my eyes for Shema. We sing it with a contemporary tune – Listen written by our Cantor – which often sends flutters into my heart. Opening my eyes during the “Baruch Shem Kavod,” I saw a good percentage of the congregation standing with arms around each other. Some had their eyes closed; some were crying; some swaying slowly. I flashed back to Martin Buber’s teaching that when two people engage in authentic meeting, becoming I and Thou, God is in that moment. A colleague once explained that God is “in the hug.” I flashed forward to a teaching that echad means more than “not two” (as in Zoroastriansim) and “not three” (as in Christianity) and “not many” (as in ancient Greek or modern Wiccan polytheism). That echad speaks of oneness; we are all part of the Oneness of YHVH (Adonai/the Holy One/God). In that Rosh Hashana moment, as we stood arm in arm, declaring in unison the Oneness of God (and that we are all part of that Oneness), I experienced the Presence of the Holy One. In the words and in the community, achen yeish Adonai bamakom hazeh – God is surely in this place and I did not know it!
I also recall: In recent years, during times of greatest need, I have turned to God. I first encountered such personal prayer at our final IJS retreat here at Trinity Retreat Center, when we experimented with Nachmanian hitbodedut (personal prayer). I remember walking around on the grass, outside the meditation building, for forty five minutes, arguing vociferously – angrily – with God. Thankfully, God seemed to listen. Since then, our conversations, whenever I opened them, have been calmer and very efficacious. When I had tsuris (problems) with one of the kids that ripped at my heart, when an employment issue required I quickly find skills that diverged radically from who I was, when I had to make decisions for the synagogue mediating between my deeply held beliefs and the demands (the realities) of the moment, I sought support from the Holy One. Sometimes we speak when I am driving in the car; sometimes I interrupt my davening at shul, placing the open siddur against my chest, so I can silently speak my words directly to God. My prayer is a simple variation on: “Please help me find the strength and the skills that I need to face that which we are facing. I do not ask for a particular outcome – though You know the desires of my heart – but I ask merely for the wherewithal to be able to figure out what to do and to help those I love navigate the current difficulties.” In recent years, each time I have turned to God, God has turned to me. While in the short term things do not always turn out as I might have preferred, nonetheless the long term results have been pleasing. In each case, I have discovered the strength and courage that I needed to face the future.

In Loco Parentis: Camp Staff Are Crazy for their Camper Kids

On Friday night, the Beit Tefillah, Camp Newman’s main amphitheater outdoor sanctuary, is an ever moving sea of white shirts, kippot, and smiles. Hundreds of campers and staff join together for a guitar and saxophone-led singing tribute to holiness and the Holy One.

At one high point in the service at the URJ Camp Newman, the Reform Jewish Movement’s summer camp in Santa Rosa, counselors rise from their benches, stretch their arms out over their campers’ heads, and bless them with Birkat Kohanim, the “priestly benediction”. It is both touching and incredibly symbolic. Touching, because you can see how much these college-age counselors love their campers. Symbolic, because it captures the essence of what being a Jewish summer camp counselor is all about.

Some background: On Shabbat eve in Jewish homes around the world, parents place their hands on the heads of their children and bless them with Birkat Kohanim. Originally recited by Moses’ brother Aaron (on God’s instruction) and the other Kohanim (biblical priests) over the entire Israelite people, Birkat Kohanim became a mystical moment of duchenun, when those claiming to be descendants of the Kohanim would rise up, cover themselves with their tallitot (prayer shawls), and bless the congregation. Today, rabbis and cantors bless babies and bar/bat mitzvah students and wedding couples with the same words of Torah.

Still, when 19 and 20 year old camp counselors bless their campers, you know that this is a moment of transcendent symbolism. With this ritual act, these counselors offer more than words of blessing. They are demonstrating their acceptance of the sacred responsibility of caring for other people’s children.

Sending Your Kid to Summer Camp: Excitement and Worry
Plenty of parents send their kids to camp each summer without thinking twice. But parents approaching that possibility for the first time worry about who will ensure the safety and sanity of their young ones while they are away from home.

During staff week at the URJ Camp Newman, Camp Directors Ruben Arquilevich and Phil Hankin explain the sacred responsibility each counselor and staff member assumes when he or she accepts the responsibility to watch over and care for a parent’s child. The seriousness with which these young counselors approach this obligation astounds me. These counselors are but 18, 19 or 20 years old (supervised by a graduate school-aged Rosh, or unit head) , years away from contemplating the daily responsibility of raising a child of their own. And yet, they set aside their own need to play and be kids to make the camper’s well-being their number one priority.

But – from what I have witnessed here – being a Camp Newman counselor is more than assuming a quasi in loco parentis role. Sure, health and safety takes priority. You should see the seriousness with which they spread out to offer coverage during pool time or patrol the cabin area during shmira (late night coverage). What amazes me is the caring and compassion with which they attend to the campers’ emotional and spiritual needs as well.

Which circles us back to Shabbat eve’s Birkat Kohanim blessing. College kids blessing teenagers and elementary school kids. The spiritual life of the children second only to their physical safety. Holiness embodied as each finds the holiness within and shares it with others. Very cool. Very spiritual. Shabbat shalom.

Shake Up Your Seder: New and Collected Ideas 2008


Tired of the boring seder experience. Here are my new and collected Seder ideas for 2008/5768.

Check out the Seder Ideas!

By the way, the picture is from Or Ami’s annual Seder in the Wilderness Congregation Retreat. 400 people turn out for various Passover experiences. I was Pharaoh in 2007. View the pictures here. Join us at the retreat by clicking here.

Let me know if you used any.

Spirituality Work for Rabbis

JTA (Wednesday the Rabbi Sat Still), offered nice insights into the spirituality work being done by the Institute for Jewish Spirituality, my alma mater, the group that taught me to care for my soul.

“What we’re trying to do, on one level, is renew rabbis, cantors and educators whose jobs just drain them,” says Rabbi Rachel Cowan, the institute’s director and one of the founders of the spiritual retreat program. “It gives them rest and companionship. They’re really quite lonely.”

In the process, Cowan says, retreat participants report back that they are better at their jobs.

“Rabbis need to be genuinely present in people’s lives at times of pain and joy, not coming in with a formula,” she says. “What blocks them from doing that is overwork and emotional burnout.”

Simply put, the Institute for Jewish Spirituality retreats helped me find God (again). Important work. I miss it. Hopefully this summer I will be able to return for a retreat.

The Shabbat the Rabbi Made House Calls

Shabbat this past Friday was celebrated in six different homes in six different neighborhoods around the San Fernando and Conejo Valleys. Prayer services were led by regular Jews. Oneg Shabbat, sweet desserts, baked or bought, was enjoyed “pot luck” style. No need for the rabbi to lead services at Temple. So what’s a rabbi to do on such a Shabbat?

My wife Michelle and I love Congregation Or Ami’s annual Neighborhood Shabbat as it gives us the opportunity to celebrate Shabbat with a diverse group of Jewish individuals and families spread out from Tarzana through Agoura. (A few years ago, our North American Reform Jewish Movement won a creative programming award for this project.) Thanks to the organizational acumen of Calabasas resident (and Bay Laurel Elementary School teacher) Kathleen Sternbach, we joined over 100 Or Ami families who attend one of the Shabbat experiences in their own neighborhood. So, plugging six addresses into our GPS, we boarded our Shabbat-mobile (Honda Odyssey minivan) to experience Shabbat on the road. Thus the Rabbi began his house calls.
In living rooms across the Conejo and West San Fernando Valleys, with warmth and informality, we experienced a haimische (warm family friendly) Sabbath. We lit candles and blessed the wine and challah (bread) at the Spears/Ginsburg family’s Woodland Hills home, and then chanted Shabbat service prayers at the Barnes family’s Tarzana home and at the Sternbach’s Calabasas Park home. We ate a delicious dinner at the Melnick’s Calabasas Park home, followed by desserts at the Pattiz family’s Agoura home and at the Evans family’s Park Granada home.
What did this rabbi learn while making Shabbat house calls? Though we spent only a few minutes in each location, Michelle and I were moved by the pervading sense of warmth and community. Neighbors were getting to know each other by means of our age-old Jewish tradition. Relationships were being built upon shared experiences created in our own homes. Holiness discovered in the living room and around the dining room table.
We are told that our Biblical ancestor Jacob, wandering in the wilderness, dreamt of a ladder ascending to heaven, with angels climbing up and down. God stood beside the ladder and assured Jacob that God would be with him throughout his life. Jacob awoke soon after and called out, “Wow, God was in this place and I did not know it!”
One participant commented similarly that he never imagined that he could have such a spiritual, community experience in his own home. That’s why Or Ami dedicates one Shabbat a year as Neighborhood Shabbat. To remind people, or to teach them anew, that holiness can be found everywhere. I slept soundly that Shabbat, refreshed from an evening of spiritual house calls, renewed in my own commitment to the holiness of Shabbat in community.

Lessons From the Sabbatical #1

I have just returned from a month-long Sabbatical. I spent time in Israel with a congregational adult trip and the balance at home in Calabasas, CA. Highlights included Onion Soup and tei eem nana (tea with mint) with Michelle at a Jerusalem restaurant, the study of Mekhilta de Rabi Ishmael (5th-8th century Midrash) with my friend Rabbi Ron Stern under the guidance of Dr. Aryeh Cohen of the American Jewish University, and weekly Hebrew tutoring sessions with a private teacher. What did I gain from the experience? Some initial thoughts.

1. Disengaging: My sabbatical began when I disengaged. Technologically. I revised my cell phone message to say something like, “I’m on Sabbatical. For Or Ami business, please call the synagogue. Family and friends, please leave a message here.” Two minutes into my sabbatical, I also removed my Temple email from my Outlook, disengaged the same from my blackberry, and turned off my pager. Someone once said, “I think, therefore I am.” I say, “I disengage electronically, therefore I am not.”

2. Email #1. If no one emails me, do I truly exist? I went from receiving over 150 emails a day to less than a half dozen. Exclude the daily four from my wife (“did you hear that…” or items for the “honey-do” list) and you have one disengaged rabbi. Who am I if I am not my email? That, according to my wife, was the central question for my Sabbatical.

3. Email #2. At Or Ami, we say, people matter. Email, however, is more insistent. Email says, “Read me. Consider me. Respond to me. Now!” It knows no boundaries of time (the Blackberry places YOUR immediate needs in the holster at MY hip) nor space (no matter where I am, there you and your email are). If people truly matter, does that necessitate an immediate reply to each person’s email? Surely we can care about people without becoming enslaved to the constant pull of the constant contact?
4. Simple Pleasures #1: Sitting with a Book. I read a thick spy novel in just two days. I read from morning until night, doing little else of value. I read at night in bed. I read when I awoke. I read while making dinner. I read between meals. I read while the kids watched games on tv. There was nothing of value in the book I read, except for the thrill of reading the thriller. For a man who ruminates about significant issues in life, there is something simplistically pleasing as just sitting and spacing out with a book.
5. Sabbatical Struggles: What happens when you take the rabbi out of the rabbi? When you take the doing out of the doer? Can we be happy just “being”? I confess that the last weeks of the Sabbatical were filled with struggle, trying to find joy in just being. Driving carpool and schlepping kids was wonderful, but still it was not sufficient to keep my mind going and my heart content. I love my kids and enjoy the opportunity, but it is not sufficient. Walking with my wife was divine, but watching the world go on around me, left me, at times, feeling left behind. Hmmm… Should I have volunteered somewhere? Should I have scheduled more studying or doing?
6. Carpool Conundrum: What does one do with the extra time while sitting in carpool? Before I was on sabbatical, I would sit in my car, making Henaynu (caring community) calls, speaking with potential congregants, even counseling people in need. Being disengaged removes the need to “make good use of time” because I have fewer people (read: no one) who I need to call. Plus my friends are working and I often made phone calls to my family in the early morning after morning drop off. While sitting in the carpool line can be a pain, it can also provide plenty of extra time. So how did I spend my precious moments while waiting in line? I am not sure I ACCOMPLISHED anything in that time. Perhaps that in itself is the point: sometimes “just being” can be a gift unto itself.

Ein Avdat and Midbar Torah Study: Desert Spirituality

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Torah came alive in the Negev. Leaving our Dead Sea hotel early in the morning, we traveled down to Ein Avdat, a natural park/hiking reserve, encompassed within the vast Wilderness of Zin.

Alexandra read from Ezekiel, about God being found in the kol d’mama daqa, the still small voice. She recounted for us the challenges of faith. About how the Biblical Israelites drank water from the wells which followed Miriam around (or, which through her special skills, they always found), until Miriam suddenly died. Here – in the Wilderness of Zin – the Israelites kvetched from lack of water. Here, God told Moses to take his staff, touch the rock and speak to it, asking it to bring forth water. What happened next is the focus of much midrashic discussion: Moses yells at the people (calling them rebels), asks the people if “we” shall bring forth water from the rock, strikes the rock twice, and is famously excluded from the privilege of leading the people into the Promised Land.

Alexandra, our tour guide, invited us to consider what happened and why Moses was punished. Some said he lost his temper; a leader needs to set an example for the people. Others said that he claimed responsibility for the miracle (saying “shall we…” instead of “God will…”). Still others argued that Moses lost faith however temporarily and therefore could no longer lead.

Here we were, huddled together against the cold, standing within a wadi surrounded by awesome walls of rock, contemplating the most famous rock in all of Torah (rivaled only by the rock that served as Jacob’s pillow in the Ladder from Heaven dream). Far from the classrooms of our youth or the sermons of the synagogue. We were contemplating a anonymous rock and timeless teachings. Somehow, standing in the wilderness, this Torah story became real. The Torah study came alive through us. The discussion seemed to transform us from tourists to Torah scholars.

Someone asked to sing Shema and Listen. We gathered in a circle protected from the winds and intermittent drizzle, that the high walls of the wadi still let in. Eyes closed, interrupted only by a quiet whisper of the words preceding each sung verse so those new to the community could sing along, we sang about faith. We acknowledged the oneness we call YHVH, the Holy One. It was awesome; mystical even.

Like the prayer “Open Up Our Eyes”, this experience opened up our hearts to the awesomeness of Torah study and the poignancy of learning in the land of our ancestors. After a moment of quiet, we did open up our eyes to the sight of an Ibex sauntering across the mini-ledges of the wadi walls. There’s another. And another. It was like a gift from God. “Study My Torah,” says the Eternal, “And I will reveal to you all sorts of blessings.”

Hearts warmed, coats beginning to soak up the new rain, we hightailed it back to the bus before the rain way back there somewhere could translate into a flash flood here.

We did not make it back to the bulrushes and open lake in the middle of the trail as we had hoped. Which so many recalled as being among the most poignant sites on the 2006 December trip. Yet still, this year’s Ein Avdat experience had its own power – different but equivalent – to last year’s trek. About Torah we teach “Ben Bag Bag said, Hafach ba v’hafach ba, d’chola va (?) – Turn it over and over, everything is in it.” Perhaps the same can be said for the land of Israel. Each visit to each site evokes new emotions and new connections, each deeply meaningful.

[Historical Note: I’m writing this at 5:45 am on Wednesday, January 30th, the next morning. Out my window, the light begins to shine off the green-blue waters of the Dead Sea. No one is awake – at least in my hotel room and on the streets and walkways below. Peaceful. I’m wrapped in a bathrobe, contemplating putting on a sweatshirt. The breeze is just cooler than comfortable. I’m hoping that the generally good weather will allow us to venture up to Masada today, instead of bypassing it to rush to Jerusalem before the roads close from the expected snow.]

We visited David (and Paula) Ben-Gurion’s home in Kibbutz Sde Boker. Here is the father of modern Israel, its first Prime Minister, who left government early, of his own accord, and, though significantly older than the young founders, joined a kibbutz in the middle of nowhere. Believing that in the Negev Israel’s future would be found, that a people born in the wilderness needed to return regularly to the wilderness, Ben-Gurion “practiced what he preached.” We toured the archives, viewed his pictures, entered his modest home. I found myself profoundly overwhelmed by how much he inspired me (and millions of others). To make decisions not on what is possible but what could/should be. To live out a dream against hardships. To choose simplicity over opulence. To live with humility in the face of public celebrity. Juxtapose Ben Gurion with our leaders today: Olmert, Netanyahu, Bush, McCain (in his current incarnation)… Who inspires? Who is real? Ben Gurion seems so very real in contrast to them all. This could be the intentional manipulation of a “presidential library.” Or it could be just the way it was. Whichever, I thirst for leaders of this caliber.

Looking out over the graves of David and Paula BG, one sees the awesome stretches of the Negev. Too inspiring to put into words, this incredible view drudges up a vague memory that the Old Man chose this site himself, to ensure that his visitors left not with a memory of a gravestone, but with a picture postcard perspective of his great love of the desert.

[Wednesday morning note, 6:44 am: The sun is breaking through the clouds. A small pink patch among the blue-grey. A hopeful sign.]

Midbar Torah Study – there is a pluralistic, secular Torah study institution that brings together adults of all religious backgrounds for learning. They juxtapose Jewish texts (which, of course, even secular Israelis can read and have experience from High School reading), with modern Jewish thinkers like Rosenzweig, with psychologists like Maslow, with modern Israeli poets. The result is a redirection of understanding about what is Jewish learning and the opening of a pluralistic discussion about many issues. We talked about Why Was Torah Given in the Wilderness, which opened a great discussion about the how Torah is the property of all peoples, not just the Jews, yet it is also the property of all kinds of Jews, not just one tribe or one denomination. There was more, but too late to write now. Suffice it to say that the process was akin to a Reform Jewish pluralistic study. Perhaps through this secular organization, Progressive (Reform) Judaism can then find roots. Our people were very excited about the Torah study; some had never participated in this kind of deep study before.

Dinner in Yerocham happened in the home of one of the residents. A nice meal, the home hospitality sweet. Unfortunately, their ability to share their stories was not strong and the story we did hear – about someone who chose to move to a development town, was not what we expected to hear.

Incidentally, a lesson from a previous year’s Sefirah Study about contemplation in Torah Study.

Consider a coal that is not burning and the flame is hidden and closed inside. When someone blows upon it, then it spreads and flares and it continues to expand. Within this flame there are many different colors, which were not apparent initially; nevertheless, everything is coming from the coal.

So too with this Torah that is before us. Every one of her words and letters are like coal. When one sets them out as they are, they appear like coals, somewhat dim. If an individual endeavors to study her, then from each letter a great flame bursts forth, filled with many colors. These are the data that are hidden in each letter….as is explained in the Zohar…supernal lights shine on the letters. [From (KL’’CH Putchei Hochma 3) Moshe Hayyim Luzatti; From the introduction to Doorways to Wisdom cited in Marc Verman, History and Varieties of Jewish Meditation, 167.]

[My teacher Linda Thal once wrote: Torah is not studied with the mind alone. Contemplative forms of study help us encounter the text with a listening heart and a receptive soul. The goal is to enter the text and to dwell within its words, to be open and receptive to whatever sacred wisdom may come to you through the text or to the possibility of sensing God’s immediate presence within and between the words of Torah.]

What does it mean to make Aliyat Hanefesh? Why do I bring my people to Israel every year? This teaching from Hayyim Luzatti makes it clear: Just as the study of Torah allows the light to come forth from the coal of Torah, so too will every inch of Israel bring forth the passionate flame of the love of Israel from the heart of every Jew.

Co-Existence in Haifa; Spirituality in Tzefat

Monday, January 28, 2008 – 2:40 a.m. Tel Aviv time

Too much excitement sometimes leads to too little sleep. Luckily we travel today for two hours by bus to the Dead Sea so I can use that time for some (eventually) much needed shut eye.

I spent the past hour racing through the New York Times bestseller Three Cups of Tea, a book by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin about “one man’s mission to promote peace… one school at a time.” A gift of my brother-in-law Jeff who made two motivating comments about it – that it inspired him, and that the purchase sent money to a charity – the book is about selfless Tikun Olam (fixing of the world). The author Mortensen, a mountaineer who turned the aftermath of a failed experience trying to climb Pakistan’s K2 mountain into a mission that built fifty-five schools in the forbidding terrain of Pakistan’s boarder areas, is just that … inspiring. So fitting too, since today’s touring in Israel’s north opened our eyes to many non-Jewish members of Israel’s population and highlighted some poignant projects dedicated to coexistence between Israeli Arabs and Jews.

We found ourselves at Haifa’s Bajai Temple, home to a newer religion (few hundred years old). At once imposing yet serene, the Temple, surrounded by terraces of lush gardens, towers over the heights of Haifa. Where one might have expected a certain intolerance of yet another religious group claiming a sizable parcel within the Holy Land, we find instead an appreciation for the serenity of the site and a pride of hospitality. Haifa, a city with which I am only partially familiar, finds great meaning in its mostly successful quest to retain a certain healthy co-existence between its residents.

We met with Shaul ??, leader of Project TRIUMPH, which brings together teenagers – Jews, Muslims and Christians – for open discussion, leadership training, and development (by the teens) of co-existence projects. Or Ami congregant (and my executive coach) Steve Keleman became involved with this project, offering his volunteer services to teach the teens during their trip to California last year. Steve said “go and learn” so we did. Project TRIUMPH website features a poignant video about their work. It is exciting and important work. Shaul’s comment that they have learned to use music to begin connecting the teenagers’ parents up with one another resonated with many of our Or Ami group (we who believe that “music speaks louder than words”). We adults, so caught up in our own stories about rights and wrongs, sometimes miss opportunities to bring about coexistence. If “music can tame the heart of the beast,” Shaul and his partners are domesticating the wild hurt and anger to bring about a meeting of the hearts (and hopefully, minds).
http://projecttriumph.org/

Our exploration of Haifa continued with a walking tour of the work of Beit Hagefen, a coexistence organization that brings together Haifa’s various populations to create art. We walked down Derech HaShirim, a Walk of Songs, along which hung the lyrics of poems by Arab and Jewish teams. We marveled at the thought-provoking sculptures, paintings and installations integrated into the very walls of the walkways of Haifa’s neighborhoods. Most poignant were two works by a single author. The first consisted of a wall-sized picture of two boys, ensconced in a warm, flower-adorned frame. We later learn that the boy on the left was the Arab artist’s son by her first marriage to a Jewish man. We learn that this first husband tragically died. The boy on the right was the same artist’s second child, from her subsequent marriage to an Arab man. The artist’s two children, apparently happy siblings, offer a touching lesson on multiple levels: that Jews and Arabs are brothers, that if her children can co-exist then Jews and Arabs can also, that political barriers break down when binding relationships are formed.

Her second installation was equally affecting. Imagine a gated doorway, locked and seemingly abandoned. Graffiti spray-painted alongside it declares mishehu gar sham pa’am, someone once lived here. An enlarged key by the door suggests that the owner who left intended to return. The installation is located in an Arab neighborhood. Is the author raising questions about the plight of the people, probably Arab, who once lived in this house? Is her intent to declare her concern for their current well-being or to invite (force) us to confront the reality that even in the city of coexistence, all is not perfect? Perhaps she is wading into the recent ongoing skirmishes for historical memory being waged over the last decade between multiple narratives about the birth of Israel and the creation of the Palestinian refugees. The anonymity of its former occupants – mishehu – simultaneously shields us from the voyeuristic nature of “victim stories” even as it plunges us into gut-wrenching speculation about the “anonymous other”. Combined with Project TRIUMPH’s recent appreciation for the power of music, the work of Beit Hagefen reminds us that through art, we can burrow under the barriers we all have to inspire openness and truth telling.

A final note. Each year, Beit Hagafen directs its artist participants to focus on a certain theme. One year, they picked coffee. Like breaking bread, sharing a cup of coffee with someone else (or tea, for those who like me to imbibe the brown elixir) invites a sharing of much more – background, stories, family, hopes and dreams. Looking up at the oversized cup of steaming hot Joe adorning a busy thoroughfare, I realized just how brilliant these co-existence projects can be.

I should write about the lunch we had in the home of a Druze man. Heaping plates of spiced chicken, sweet rice with lamb, mini grape leaves, rolled cabbage, and the Mideast mainstay of humus and pita covered some folding tables. Following his family’s warm hospitality (and seconds on the lunch), we listened as he described the essence of his Druze life and their connection to the lands in which they live.

I should tell you about our experience in Tzefat (a.k.a. Tzfat, Tsfat or Safed), visiting the synagogue of the AR”I (Rabbi Isaac Lurie, one of the great Kabbalists), marveling at the craft of candlemaking at the Safed Candle store, meandering through the artist colony… It was calmer than I last remembered (perhaps because we had three tired but shopping-focused children with us on the previous visit). But also, the choosh, the atmosphere or flavor, of the town was open, light and airy. Of special joy was the opportunity, with the help of my sneaky shopping substitute Patti Jo Wolfson, to surprise Michelle with a gift of a chamsa (which Michelle favored but couldn’t decide whether to buy). I love Northern Israel, with its wide open spaces, lush greenery, mystical quality. Learning Tzefat boasts nice hotel and a plethora of bed and breakfasts, I made a note to make an extended visit during my next sabbatical. Mental note #2: it is time for Or Ami to bring in a significant, serious teacher of Kabbalah to educate and inspire about this growing Jewish mystical movement.

I should describe the delicious dinner we shared in Beit Hayeker (?), a winery in Rishon Letziyon. In our side room, long wooden butcher block tables were adorned with plates of salads, fresh greens, and refreshing orange and lemonade juices. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, the wine was tasty, the food delicious (Michelle and I raved over shared dishes of grilled salmon and the pesto ravioli, each served with divine sauces). We enjoyed relaxing conversation with our tablemates the Ellis’, Krasnoffs, Susan Gould and Bella Kaplan. Between courses, Michelle and I snuck off for a private wine-tasting where we enjoyed the reserve Cabernet Savignon and played with the sweet muscat. While departing, I noticed a map of Israel’s wine country (the Golan purportedly boasts a collection of boutique wineries. Mental note #3 (during sabbatical 2009): wine tasting our way through Israel’s northern wineries is a must.

Well, its 4:07 am. Tomorrow is going to be brutal if I don’t get any sleep. A peak out our eighth floor window at the Tel Aviv coastline and the road that lines it shows that few are awake in this part of Israel’s city that never sleeps. If only I was among the many who slumber. I suppose that since Michelle unintentionally kept watch over the wee hours of the morning yesterday, chivalry dictated that I take my turn. I only hope I can be as gracious under exhaustion as she! Laila tov (goodnight) for the next two hours…

“Happiness is Real only When Shared”, Alexander Supertramp

Last night, we watched Into the Wild, Sean Penn’s beautiful movie. Writes Rolling Stone:

Sean Penn has molded one of the best movies of a bustling fall out of Jon Krakauer’s best-selling Into the Wild. Krakauer told the true story of Chris McCandless, an honors grad from Emory University who walked into the Alaskan wilderness in 1992 to find himself outside the confines of estranged family, well-meaning friends and any governing impulse besides his own questing heart. If you read the book and pegged Chris as a wacko narcissist who died out of arrogance and stupidity, then Penn’s film version is not for you. If, like Penn, you mourn Chris’ tragedy and his judgment errors but also exult in his journey and its spirit of moral inquiry, then this beautiful, wrenching film will take a piece out of you.

Among other things, it is a beautiful meditation which juxtaposes the impulse for solitude with the human need for companionship. The conflict is one with which most of us can identify. Critic Roger Ebert captures it nicely:

For those who have read Thoreau’s Walden, there comes a time, maybe only lasting a few hours or a day, when the notion of living alone in a tiny cabin beside a pond and planting some beans seems strangely seductive.

For the Jew, character Alexander Supertramp (nee real life person Chris McCandless) resolves the apparent conflict as he concludes “Happiness is real only when shared.” Our rabbinic teachers came to a similar conclusion, Al tifrosh min hatzibur – do not separate yourself from the community. Whether with simcha (joy) or tsuris (sadness/problems), the community provides us with the means to heighten the joy or handle the adversity.

The communal impulse that Alexander Supertramp discovered, Congregation Or Ami enshrines: Happiness is real only when shared. Our (new, yet still in process) vision statement begins: At Or Ami people matter… We recognize the need and purpose of community. Our core values capture this impulse for companionship. We list among them:

  • Joy/Simcha: We celebrate life through word and song because we believe that life is filled with blessing.
  • Caring Community/Henaynu (we are here): We endeavor to be there for people through their joyous moments and their sad times.

Enough. Into the Wild is a great movie. Go see it.

Do I Direct God or Does God Direct Me?

Mei Hashiloach, my Institute for Jewish Spirituality study text for the year, asks the question on Mikketz: Who rules over whom? Do I rule over God or does God’s desires direct me?

Said differently: who gets credit for my successes? Do I? or am I just a vessel for the Holy One?

My teacher Jonathan Slater reminds us of the prayer:

Not my will, God, but Yours
May I become aware of how I might best act in this moment and the next
Make Your will known to me,
So that I might live with honesty and love,
To act with the greatest wisdom available to me, and
To make for a more just and compassionate world.

Now that is a prayer to live by…

Back on the Meditation Track

After 2 years of a meditation, yoga, text study and breathing spiritual practice, I have found myself falling away from my practice. Without my teachers from the Institute for Jewish Spirituality at my side, it became more and more difficult to fight the ever growing demands from my job, my teenagers, my family. Recently, a teacher suggested that I try to be more purposeful and planned in my approach to certain issues. It had a few immediate effects. First, I rethought how I would structure my sabbatical so that I could have time for processing and reflection. Second, I sat down – after a long hiatus, turned on my meditation CD, and got to work at not working.

How refreshing to breathe purposefully again!

Parents and Children: A Biblical Legacy of Dysfunction

Parents and Children: A Biblical Legacy of Dysfunction

Parents and children. Heartwarming. Challenging. Loving. Frustrating. Relationships fraught with misunderstanding. This jumble of emotions finds roots in our Biblical past. Even this week’s Torah portion recounts the challenging encounters between Abraham, Isaac and Sarah in the (Almost) Sacrifice of Isaac, the Akeda (Genesis 22).
[Read the Torah Story (Genesis 22:1-19)]
Sarah’s Story: A Mother’s Perspective

We were lying in our tent, enjoying a moment of quiet amidst the frenetic activity of desert life. And then Abraham began stirring, and with a sudden jerk, he sat up and called out, “Hineni, Here I am.” He was talking to God. At first what I heard made little sense. Though I could only hear Abraham’s responses, I understood that God requested something involving our son Isaac. Abraham’s usually strong, even voice was filled with shock, then anger, and finally acceptance. I was intrigued, and sat silently to hear more.

I started listening more intently. For a moment I thought I heard the word “sacrifice,” but I had to be mistaken. Then again, it sounded like “spiritual journey.” As Abraham spoke again, his words came as a choking sob from deep within his throat. My body started to shake with horror. This was a nightmare! Abraham thought that the Eternal One had requested that he sacrifice our only son Isaac. I wanted to hold Abraham in my arms, to cry with him, to help him rethink what God had said, to convince him to speak to God, but his eyes were distant and I was scared.

Isaac’s Story: A Son Reflects

How can I explain to you what really happened that day on the mountain? We hiked to the peak. Dad built an altar there; as usual he would not let me help. He laid out the wood. I was exhausted from the hike up. He wrapped me up in the blanket, laid me down. I could sense that he was going through with some sacrifice but I was too tired to think. I dozed fitfully.

Once again, nothing between my Dad Abraham and me was turning out as I had hoped. I felt straitjacketed, like Dad’s inability to reach out to me was tying me up, holding me down. His silence, that interminable silence, could have sliced through my heart like a knife. I vaguely recall Dad mumbling something, “Henini – here I am” (Genesis 22:11). Maybe he was trying to reach out to me. But it was just too late. I had hoped that this trip would change things. But it was just more of the same. Dad was supposed to bring me up to introduce me to God. We were going to sacrifice a lamb together. Instead, Abraham did it alone. Instead, again my dad sacrificed me.

Maybe, my wife Rebecca later wondered, Abraham really didn’t mean to hurt me. Maybe he was just trying to do what he thought dads were supposed to do – being strong. All I remember is that it hurt so much, that I had to break it off. After that trip, Dad was lauded world-wide for his unswerving faith in God and for ending the practice of child sacrifice. Thanks to the abundant fertility of my son Jacob – his grandson – Abraham’s descendents were as numerous as the stars in the heavens and the sands on shores of the sea (Gen. 15:18). But on that day, everything changed. Abraham returned to his servants, and they departed together for Beer-sheva. I left separately. I never talked to Dad after that. I was not with him again until my half-brother Ishmael and I laid his bones to rest at his funeral.

Abraham’s Story: A Father’s Regret

I know I was wrong. I hurt him so much. I tried to explain to him that I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt him. I should have stopped to think. I should have discussed it with Sarah. But I didn’t because I was so intoxicated with doing what I thought was right.

I swear I never touched him. What was I thinking? I was so impassioned with my own self-righteousness. I really might have killed my kid I hadn’t been stopped. Still, I never touched him. Without physical harm, you would think that the emotional scars would have healed by now. But now Isaac, my son, the one I love so, my Isaac won’t talk to me. He doesn’t read my letters or answer my calls…
Misunderstandings Abound: Relationships Destroyed

Relationships between parents and children are volatile and challenging. We think we are saying or doing the right thing but often, without thinking it through ahead of time, we often make things worse.

Did God really command Abraham to sacrifice his son as a burnt offering? Read the story closely. According to an 8th century commentary on Torah, Midrash Tanhuma, it all hinges on one word – olah. In the Torah, God said to Abraham v’haaleihu sham l’olah, bring up Isaac as an olah. The Hebrew word olah, comes from the root Ayin-Lamed-Hey, meaning, “to rise up.” Must olah here mean, “sacrifice,” as in the smoke of the sacrifice rises up? Or might it be connected rather to a more familiar word aliyah, also from the Hebrew root Ayin-Lamed-Hey, meaning “spiritual uplift?” In this reading, God only said, “raise up your son with an appreciation of your devotion to Me.” Perhaps Abraham was so dazzled to be speaking to God that he became confused. What if he misunderstood God’s intended purpose?

Rashi, an eleventh century Biblical commentator, also hangs his interpretation on the same word. He explains, perhaps God was saying, “When I said to you ‘Take your son’… I did not say to you, sh’chateihu, ‘slaughter him,’ but only ha’aleihu, ‘bring him up.’ Now that you have brought him up, introduce him to Me, and then take him back down” (Rashi on Gen 22:2). Instead of wanting Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, God really only wanted him to spend some spiritual “quality time” with his son. Had Abraham only slowed down to think it through, he might have spared himself, Isaac, and Sarah a significant amount of stress and pain.
Our Biblical Heritage: Volatile Parent-Child Relationships

What is it about fathers and sons, about mothers and daughters, that can be so painful, so volatile? Why is our Biblical text – the mirror to our souls – so littered with the remnants of once close relationships now destroyed?

Noah and his sons built an ark to replenish a new world cleansed of violence. Forty days later, with the world depending on their actions, Noah got drunk, enraged, cursed his sons, and brought hatred back into the world (Gen. 9:24). We seem to pass it down l’dor vador, from generation to generation. Isaac’s own son Jacob, so desperate for his father’s approval and love, and jealous of his father’s relationship with his twin brother Esau, took sibling rivalry to new heights. He stole his brother’s birthright inheritance, then fled Esau’s anger for forty years, never fully reconciling with his brother or his own guilt. Later, as a father, Jacob also played favorites by giving his beloved son Joseph that technicolored dream coat. And then young Joseph was sold off into slavery. Like his father and grandfather before him, Jacob failed to see the bitter jealousy and hatred that raged within his family.

Noted psychologists recognize that it is the nature of male familial relationships to be competitive and/or volatile. Mothers and daughters often bounce from intense closeness and heart-wrenching rejection. Of course, such tensions appear in all kinds of family relationships – among fathers and daughters, and mothers and sons too. None of us are immune.
The Or Ami Center for Jewish Parenting: Where Parents Turn for Guidance

At Congregation Or Ami, we take seriously the need to reexamine the relationships between parents and children. We understand that our children (and grandchildren) are growing up with pressures and challenges far surpassing those of our youth. The new Or Ami Center for Jewish Parenting aims to provide guidance and support for parents and grandparents as we navigate the uncharted waters of parenting.

There are few situations more uncomfortable yet central to parenting than trying to talk to and guide our children as they navigate the uncharted waters of their own sexuality. Encounters between parents and children over these issues greatly affect our children’s future self-esteem. We think we are doing or saying the right thing, but have we taken the time to (pre-)think it through? Done right, such discussions can draw us closer together. Mishandled, our relationships can begin to mirror those of Abraham, Sarah and Isaac, post-Akeda.
[Center for Jewish Parenting]

Sacred Choices: Thinking Through Teen Sexuality

In November 2007, the Or Ami Center for Jewish Parenting proudly invites Rabbi Laura Novak Winer, the Reform Movement’s leading teacher on teen sexuality, to advise us on two subjects:

Sacred Choices: Talking With Your Teens About Sex And Sexual Ethics. Monday, November 12, 7:30-9:00 pm. Adults Only. Gain insight and strategies on how to talk to your teen (or pre-teen or soon to be teen) about these important yet uncomfortable issues.

Hooking Up: Teens and Sex. Wednesday, November 14, 10:00-11:30 am. Adults Only. Beginning with a general overview of teen culture today and the challenges teens face, Rabbi Novak Winer helps us decipher and respond to the complex teen culture surrounding sexuality.

For 9th-12 Graders Only: Rabbi Laura Novak Winer will lead a special program on Sacred Choices for our older students. Wednesday, November 14, 6:30-8:00 pm. Participants must be Or Ami members, but need not be currently enrolled in Temple Teen Night. Non-TTN students must RSVP.

For 7th-8th Graders Only: Rachel Sisk, Regional Director of Informal Education and Youth, will lead a program for our younger teens on Sacred Choices. Wednesday, November 14, 6:30-8:00 pm. Participants must be Or Ami members, but need not be currently enrolled in Temple Teen Night. Non-TTN students must RSVP.

These sessions are geared to parents (and grandparents) of teenagers who are currently facing these issues, parents of pre-teens who are beginning to think about how to deal with these issues, and parents of younger children who want to lay the groundwork for future conversations, teachers, medical professionals, therapists and others who work with young people and want to better understand how Jewish values can inform their work, and anyone interested in deciphering the complex world to teen sexuality. For a taste of Rabbi Novak Winer’s teaching, listen to this recent podcast discussion with her Orthodox counterpart on teen sexuality.

Come reexamine the world of our teens and pre-teens. Gain valuable insights and go home with new strategies for how to navigate the minefield of the teenage years. Through the Or Ami Center for Jewish Parenting, we can improve upon the misunderstandings of the Biblical past as we map out new directions for our relationships with our kids.

[Listen to Rabbi Laura Novak Winer Discuss the Sacred Choices Perspective on Teen Sexuality]

Talkback

As always, I invite your thoughts.

• What successes have you had discussing sexuality with your teen?
• What questions do you have regarding talking to teens about sex?
• How do you react to this interpretation of the Binding of Isaac, that Abraham misunderstood God’s intent?