Tag: Spirituality

Calabasas Boy Overcomes Serious Disabilities to Become a Bar Mitzvah (Acorn, 5/24/07)

The local weekly, The Acorn, tells us about one of the more emotional events at Or Ami, the upcoming Bar Mitzvah service of Brandon Kaplan. Brandon cannot write or speak, but he understands Judaism and loves Torah. And on Shabbat this Memorial Day Weekend, he becomes a Bar Mitzvah. I suspect there will not be a “dry eye in the house.”

But lest we think otherwise, B’nai Mitzvah for kids with special needs is not out of the ordinary, at least at Congregation Or Ami:

[Rabbi Paul] Kipnes emphasized that no matter what a child’s needs are, it’s never a question of if a child can have a bar or bat mitzvah- it’s when the ceremony will take place.

“There are two values being played out, simultaneously,” Kipnes said. “Brandon is a kid like any other kid created in the image of God, worthy of love.

“But Brandon is also a special kid and there is an honor and joy to the congregation that he participates to the fullness of his abilities. So he’s normal and special, but here’s the secret: so is every other kid.”

Congregation Or Ami has programs geared toward helping families with special needs children. One major program involved a coordinator calling all appropriate families to prepare them for the program or find ways to change it to make it work for them, Kipnes said.
Or Ami also has a support group for parents with special needs.

“There is a sense that children with special needs, physically, emotionally, mentally, don’t have a place in the synagogue, in the Jewish community,” Kipnes said.

“That’s just not true, particularly here. We have celebrated b’nai mitzvah with children with autism, emotional developmental problems, intense dyslexia, Tourette’s syndrome – the Torah and Judaism are available for all of them.”

Shavuot: Seeking the Light of Torah

We gathered at Karen and Bill Harris’ home for Shavuot. It was an evening of talking Torah, chowing on cheesecake and receiving the gift of the light of Torah.

Greeted by Karen’s delicious homemade cheesecake, we recounted the tradition of eating dairy on Shavuot. Some explain that Jews were given the laws of kashrut (kosher dietary laws) when we were given the Torah on Mount Sinai. Before the Israelites received the Torah, we did not keep kosher. After we received the Torah, we began to keep kosher but we did not have the utensils needed to prepare kosher meat. Thus, we initially ate dairy food. Others argue that Shavuot is linked to the Exodus and the journey to the Promised Land. It is written in the Bible, “From the misery of Egypt to a country flowing with milk and honey…” (Exodus 3:8-17) Still others drash (interpret) that eating dairy food, rather than meat, shows restraint. When the Jewish People accepted the Torah and committed ourselves to follow the commandments from God in it, we committed ourselves to leading lives with restraints. However, my favorite explanation is that of the not-so-sage-like RiPiK (that’s me: Rabbi Paul Kipnes) who teaches, based on the insights of his father Kenny: “You need an excuse to eat great cheesecake?!?”

We learned Torah. The Sefat Emet – 19th century Polish chassidic Rabbi Yehudah Aryeh Leib of Ger – taught: The light of the Torah is garbed in the enactment of the mitzvot as they are in this world… It is within the power of a Jew – when one engages in Torah and mitzvot – to arouse the inwardness of Torah… For when people do not engage in Torah, then the light (hidden within) is not revealed, and it remains concealed within the outer garment… Similarly, the person who engages in Torah is a ben-horin (a free person)…

What a discussion ensued! Hidden within each person is a light – of understanding, of full comprehension, of truth. It is the same light from that first day of creation, when one would have been able to see everything, everywhere. It is the light of Torah with which existence came into being. And it is there, hidden within each one of us, awaiting those moments when we peel away the layers that hide our reality.

We received Torah again in a ceremony Kabbalat Matanat Torah (Receiving the Gift of Torah). Standing in a circle, listening to the shofar sound more and more loudly, we passed Torah from arm to arm. Holding Torah, often like a baby, sometimes with tears flowing, each participant spoke poignantly about how Torah is/was/will be a light for them. And then, na’aseh v’nishmah (we will do and we will learn), we put arms around each other, singing Shehecheyanu, thanking the Holy One for the unique sacred opportunity to again take the light of Torah into our arms and hearts and minds.

Chag Shavuot Sameiach!

It is All about Community, Stupid!

I am amazed and saddened by the depth of dissatisfaction people express with their spiritual lives and their spiritual searches. As the new synagogue year approaches, I am sitting successively with dozens of individual Jews and couples who express a distaste and dissatisfaction with the communities they have joined or their inability to find a spiritual community which speaks to them. Many, particularly the men, describe the drudgery of their youthful Religious School experience, where the teachers failed to speak to their souls. Others decry the formality which characterizes many of the rituals and services they have attended. How is it, that in seeking to allow Judaism and Jewish spirituality to touch lives, the larger Jewish community has so alienated a generation?

To borrow a phrase from our political world, it is all about community stupid! [Forgive the use of “stupid.” In our house, we don’t say “stupid.”] When a Jewish community – the synagogue, a JCC, a Jewish organization – fails to realize that people seek community – deep, meaningful, touching community – they might as well close up shop now.

People want to walk in the doors of a synagogue and feel like they matter. They want to call up and have a warm voice answer the phone, and let them know that we care. After entering the synagogue (where we hope a friendly face greets me), will I sit anonymously in the pews? Or will someone else welcome me, invite me to sit with him or her, and make sure I meet the rabbi? At the Oneg Shabbat (dessert following the service), will people come up to me to say “hi,” or will I languish in a corner or at a table alone, until my pride sends me fleeing home?

It is about community, stupid!

I think that our Congregation Or Ami is growing and thriving because, like the Cheers bar of TVland, it is a place where everybody [tried to] know your name. Name tags at services (blue for members, red for guests) allow everyone to recognize and welcome the stranger. We take a break in the service to welcome guests, inviting them to introduce themselves, allowing the regulars to say “Shabbat Shalom,” reminding everyone that “before you go get a cookie at the Oneg, make sure to introduce yourself to someone you do not know, and invite him/her to join you at the Oneg.” And the Rabbi is ready and willing and accessible to sit down and talk, to share a phone call or enjoy an email with you.

The 20th century philosopher Martin Buber taught us that God can be found in the meeting between two people, when we truly connect. God is in the I-Thou, the close relationship of openness and vulnerability.

Yes, Torah and Lifecycle and Prayer and Israel (and … and … and) are all important, but only once you are (I am) feeling comfortable, at home, as part of the community. That’s why I love our Congregation Or Ami, it approximates the community of caring and welcoming that we all seek!

Special Needs Leads to Especially Meaningful Bar/Bat Mitzvah Services

I love officiating at Bar and Bat Mitzvah services. Watching young one grow up – sometimes during the process of studying Torah, sometimes right before our eyes as they chant Torah on the bimah – is a moment of kedusha (holiness). Kal v’chomer (“how much the moreso”) when the Bar/Bat Mitzvah is a child with special learning needs. Over the years, we have celebrated Bar/Bat Mitzvah ceremonies with children with autism, ADHD, auditory processing problems, OCD, motor and munipulation issues, dyslexia, and a whole alphabet of other challenges. Each service was unique. Most were tear-jerkers. All were REAL and fully within shalshelet hakabalah, the unbroken chain of transmission of Torah from generation to generation.

Though we kvell (praise) especially joyfully at these services – “look at how much this or that child has been able to do” – I often wonder if it is we who miss the point. Of course the child became a Bar/Bat Mitzvah, because Torah beckons him/her, like every other kid, to take his/her place with in the chain of transmission. It is always an honor to help figure out how to make this happen.

I recently read an article about involving children in the religious experience by Rabbi Joanne Yocheved Heiligman, the parent of a child with autism spectrum disorders. Rabbi Heiligman writes:

With all the energy that it takes to help our children succeed in their everyday school settings, sometimes the thought of enduring a similar struggle for their religious lives can seem so daunting that we postpone their religious education and/or participation long past the time we would provide it to a typical child. I have the dual perspective of being the parent of children with autism spectrum disorders as well as being a rabbi. I’d like to share some of what I have learned, from both sides, about integrating our children into faith communities.

Rabbi Heiligman’s article is an important part of this ongoing conversation. I encourage you to read it! Read more.

Basketball and Boxing: Lessons on Forgiveness

Another sports story which teaches an important Jewish ideal:

Almost thirty years ago, Rudy Tomjanovich was punched ferociously by Kermit Washington in an NBA basketball game, leaking spinal fluid as a result. There in the ICU he wanted to return and smash back in return. The doctor told Tomjanovich, “You have to get on a path to healing, and any negative thoughts are going to hurt you.” The star athlete reflected: “I was like anybody else. I had a lot of negativity in my life. Over the years, I’ve learned to look at life a different way. I had to. When I had to recover (from drinking), I had to have a psychic change. You have to change everything, from the inside out. I had to learn to get rid of resentment, anger, being a martyr, being a victim. I’ve learned to let those things go.”

And so it is with life. Teshuva (repentance) and forgiveness aren’t just about fulfilling some Yom Kippur ritual. They are about transforming ourselves and our approach to the world, so that our future encounters can be unencumbered, wholesome and holy.

Coping in the Shadow of the Virginia Tech Shootings

The Virginia Tech shootings are horrifying. Within each of us wells up a mixture of reactions: worry, anger, anxiety, sadness and more. We wonder how to respond to our children. We struggle with our own fears and pain. With the help of our Union for Reform Judaism, I offer these prayers, readings and suggestions for how to help children cope. Read prayers.

Helping Children Cope: There is no easy formula for what to say to children following tragedies like the shootings at Virginia Tech. Clearly, the images and discussions of the violence are so prevalent that we cannot completely shield our children from seeing or hearing them. Questions you may face include:

1. Am I safe? Is it going to happen to me?
2. What can we do to help?
3. Why do people hate?
4. Why did they do this to us?
5. What will happen next?
6. Are we in a war?
7. How can we defend ourselves?

Years ago, after 9/11, some thoughtful articles were published on what to say or do with children. Cautioning you that each parent needs to evaluate where each individual child is developmentally and emotionally, I make them available to you again. Remember also that we need to consider both short term worries and longer term fears. Read more.

Speaking Out for Religious Freedom and Marriage Equality


Religious leaders must speak out on the moral issues of our day. The prophets did it. The sages did it. Rabbis throughout their time did it. Earlier this month I did too.

I lent my voice, and my understanding of the evolving Jewish tradition, to two efforts occurring in the State of California regarding Marriage Equality. In addition to supporting an interfaith amicus brief asking the California Supreme Court to decide that it is a violation of the California Constitution to deny same sex couples access to civil marriage, I wrote a letter to The Honorable Mark Leno (13th Assembly District), which said the following:

Along with other religious and spiritual leaders, I join with California Faith for Equality in writing to you in strong support of the “Religious Freedom and Civil Marriage Protection Act” (AB43). I commend the protection this legislation provides for religious freedom while ensuring equal treatment under the law for same-sex couples.

I affirm the right to freedom of conscience and recognize that the state may not require religious groups to officiate at, nor bless, same-sex marriages. By the same token, I oppose appeals to sacred texts and religious traditions for the purpose of denying legal and social equality to same-sex couples. The state may not use the religious convictions of one faith for civil law that affects people of all faiths and people without religious affiliation. Furthermore, clergy should not be placed in the position of treating some couples they marry differently than others.

I thank you for setting a standard of leadership and integrity by exercising your legal right and your moral responsibility to pass legislation to end marriage discrimination in California. The right to love and to form a family through marriage is a fundamental human right, and was so recognized by the California Supreme Court in 1948. California public opinion has been moving with remarkable speed to support fair and equal treatment for same-sex couples. History is clearly on the side of full civil rights for all.

I commend your demonstrated respect for our constitution, for the separation of church and state, and for loving, law-abiding families. I join with you in standing on the right side of history, and in standing on the side of love.

History, and a compassionate honest interpretation of Jewish tradition, shows that this is the right path, the moral path, for us to support. I was honored to be able to raise my voice in support.

The Daily News: Seder Need Not Be Boring!

The LA Daily News highlighted our engaging seder.

The dinner table at Rabbi Paul Kipnes’ house was topped Monday night with more than the ceremonial food associated with commemorating the Exodus from Egypt. The arrangement of bitter herbs, parsley and matzo also included a football, history book and corkscrew. The purpose of Passover, which began at sundown Monday, is to remind Jews of their deliverance from Pharaoh and to educate Jewish children about the seminal story of their people. So Kipnes, leader of Congregation Or Ami in Calabasas, regularly uses props to spark discussion on Passover. The football, his guests usually say, refers to the angel of the Lord passing over the Jewish homes and sparing their first-born sons. The history book often incites debate about whether the Exodus is the literal history of the Jewish people or a mythical story. And the corkscrew, well, some say it represents the work required to release the joy of life; others the treatment Pharaoh gave the Jews. “It’s the story of the Jews throughout history,” Kipnes said. “My kids are pretty comfortable and well off, and they need to learn from our history and our traditions that their responsibility is not to sit back and enjoy it but to bring others to the table, into freedom.”

Read more.

Can We Eat Beans, Rice, Corn and Peas on Passover?

Jewish Tradition on Kitniyot and Chametz

Every year, we struggle to recall and understand the Jewish tradition regarding what to eat and not to eat on Passover. With the help of our former Rabbinic Intern Eric Berk, we are pleased to offer this article to clarify the difference between chametz (we don’t eat!) and kitniyot (you may eat).

Simply put, it is okay to eat beans, rice, corn and peas on Passover. Why? Read on.

“God is a Fraud!” Cries the Woman Caring for her Elderly Mother

Sarah walked into my office, sat in a chair and confessed, “My mother doesn’t know me anymore.” Tears began streaming down her face. I recognized that a while had passed since I saw her around the synagogue. She continued, “My mother Barbara sits in the convalescent home, weeks now after her fall. Her hip is on the mend, but her mind continues to deteriorate. I tell her, ‘Ma, it’s me. Your daughter.’ Sometimes she looks confused. Sometimes she smiles. Then … then it is as if she’s gone. She just doesn’t remember me.”

“Rabbi, I haven’t been to services in months. I really want to come to temple – to be with friends, to hear the Cantor’s calming music. But I can’t. Because every time I hear the Mi Shebeirach prayer, all I can think is, God is a fraud. I wanted to come by to tell you that. So you will know…”

God is a fraud. Those are harsh words, but not the first time I have heard that sentiment. And the concept is not nearly as harsh as the new life stage which this woman and her mother have entered into. Roles had suddenly switched. The nurturing mother and her rebellious daughter have now become the cared-for elder and the care-taking adult. Neither saw it coming; neither was prepared for the emotional, spiritual and physical turmoil this change forced upon them. Neither could understand why the Source of Life could allow their lives to become so painfully messed up.

So I held onto Sarah’s hand as she cried in my office. We spoke about God. I said, “The Holy One can hold onto both your love and your frustration and even anger. Your pain will not, and cannot, overwhelm God like it so often overwhelms your relatives and friends. The Source of Life stands with you throughout all the stages of life, not just the easy or the pleasant ones. Know that when the exhaustion overwhelms you such that you wonder if you can even get out of bed to face a new day, God is there patiently prodding you on. When sadness seeks to smother you, God offers you the strength to still play catch with the kids, or sit down and pay the bills nonetheless.”

“You know, the Mi Shebeirach is about healing, not necessarily curing. In my reading of Jewish tradition, I have not found any guarantee that God offers a cure. To cure is to remove the illness, the depression, or the disease from our bodies and minds. But the One Who Heals always offers us, and our loved ones, the promise of refu’ah, of healing. Healing is about finding a way to face whatever is ahead. It is about shalom, that sense of wholeness, amidst the brokenness of our lives. Healing is about chometz lev, the courage to go on and face the new day.”

“So perhaps next time you hear the Mi Shebeirach, you will think of your mother, and ask for shalom. Maybe you can say it for yourself, asking for the strength to get up each day, the courage to sit through the visit with your mother, to have the willingness to do homework with your two kids even though you really just want to collapse into bed. Yes, the Mi Shebeirach can be a source of comfort for you, when you are ready to receive its blessings. And we at Or Ami are prepared to listen and hold your hand through it all.”

Postscript: It was not long before we began seeing Sarah at services again. More recently, she began to reach out to other adults struggling with the newfound role of being caretakers. Together they are finding a way to offer each other support.

Living as Part of a Family with Addiction: Courage, Hope and Love

Since it warmed up here in Minnesota, I took advantage of the balmy 9 degree weather by taking a walk outside around the lake. Though chilly, it gave me a chance to reflect back on a day that warmed my heart.

This second day spent in the Family program at the Hazelden Addictions Treatment Center in Minnesota provided me with a glimpse of the heartwarming acts of courage displayed each moment by the families of addicts. As a participant in Hazelden’s Spiritual Care Provider training, courtesy of a grant from the Reform Rabbinical organization CCAR, I was honored to witness the gutsy honesty with which spouses, parents and children of addicts processed the past and looked into the future as relatives of people in recovery. [All the names, situations and stories are composites. In order to protect the confidentiality of all involved, I generalize from my experiences and those of my colleagues.]

A Story
A woman seeks to leave a room. There are only two doors – door number one and door number two. She opens door number one, takes a step out where a person holding a stick whacks her in the head. (Pardon the violent image.) She stumbles back into the room. A little while later, she decides to try again. She opens door number one, takes a step out where a person holding a stick whacks her in the head. She stumbles back in the room. Some hours later, the same thing happens. Opening door number one, getting whacked in the head, and stumbling back inside. This goes on and on. At some point, she opens door one, peers outside, and notices that the person with the stick is no longer standing outside. What does she do? So she begins to look around to find the missing man.

This then is the dilemma of an addict’s family. After living the pain-filled life of one who loves an addict (addicted to drugs, booze, cocaine, pills, gambling, sex or…), is there a point that you stop looking after him or her? Is there a point that you just go through a different doorway and get on with your life? And what is going on inside of you that keeps steering you back toward door number one when you know from experience that you will be whacked in the head?

Here at Hazelden, we are learning that after years of focusing on the needs or dysfunction of the addict, each family member begins to transition into focusing back on him/herself. That transition is incredibly difficult.

We learned that when the loved one descends into the dark pit of addiction, the family member might want to begin a process called “detaching with love.” Detaching with love is not about anger or resentment, fear, anxiety, judgment or numbness. Rather, detaching with love is about taking responsibility for oneself and letting go of responsibility for the actions of the addict.

I learned that in homes of addicts, family members often try very hard to keep the addict from using. Hiding bottles or censoring words or watching what you do, all to ensure that you do not set her off on a drinking or drugging binge. Detaching with love helps you transform your own mindset. No longer must you walk on eggshells. Now, when you say something without intention of hurting anyone that makes her angry, that’s no longer your problem. (It is the addict’s problem.) Detaching with love is about setting boundaries of acceptable behavior.

It also requires one face difficult questions:

  • Will our marriage survive?
  • Should it?
  • Can I trust her?
  • Am I responsible for the past, or for the future?
  • If I still love him, how can I not try to save him?
  • But if I cannot save him, what am I to do?

I spent today with tears in my eyes, my heart filling with awe as regular people wrestled with intense issues. No surefire solutions guaranteed; none were really offered. Just a group of normal people, walking a painful path, struggling with their feelings and sharing insights with each other. No mystical heroes here, just regular Joes and Janes trying to figure out today and hoping to make it to tomorrow. No perfection here, just processing life.

They inspired me with their courage. I will keep them all in my prayers.

The post-LASIK surgery moments of amazement still continue!

In November 2006, I had LASIK eye surgery. You can read about my experience elsewhere on my blog. The post-LASIK surgery moments of amazement still continue!

I am in Minnesota for advanced pastoral training in addictions counseling and spiritual care at Hazelden. It is just above zero degera now and snowing. I grew up in Massachusetts and remember the downside of being out in the snow was the flakes fogging up or smearing my glasses.

Today, for the first time in my life, I looked up and watched the snow fall. No glasses to fog up or smear. Very cool.

Later while walking in the 2 degree weather, I looked over at my friend and saw that the steam from her breath was fogging up her glasses. Though my face was wrapped in a scarf, and steam rose from my breath, I did not have any glasses to fog up.

Flying Home: Sadness Mixed with Inspiration

A picture from our archeological dig…
I found a little piece of pottery!

Later, on the Airplane…

It is Sunday early morning. I am somewhere in the sky between Tel Aviv and Los Angeles International. The world flies by at some 504 miles per hour (according to the seatback trip update) as we sit cooped up in an El Al plane. I recall an old physics brain teaser: if you were riding in a closed, windowless train box car on a frictionless train track, how would you know when you arrived at your destination? We would break our heads trying to discover the answer. Of course, we never guessed correctly because there is no answer. In that situation, you cannot discern either when you are moving or when you are stopping. Think about it. The air within the boxcar is motionless within its closed system. The frictionless track ensures that you feel no movement from the outside. Its like that old question: if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a noise. We face an uncomfortable reality: if our senses cannot immediately perceive something, than how do we know if it is real?

I suspect I focus on these conundrums because in just a few hours (3 hours 38 minutes, again according to the seatback trip update), we will land again in Los Angeles and quick enough return to the world as we once knew it. Having spent ten glorious days in Israel, we now depart for home. I wonder if my experiences there – the utter joy and elation of being in and part of this holiest of lands – will be sealed off, as in a closed boxcar. If I am no longer in the forest (Jewish National Fund forest, perhaps?), will I still hear and feel the experience? I now wonder how we can really sense what is happening in Israel and continue to live with that holy history in my heart? Said differently, I am asking myself the same question I asked our trip participants just before Havdala on our last Shabbat: what will I do in the weeks to come (beyond reviewing pictures) to keep this Israel experience and my connection to Israel alive and well?

What makes traveling to Israel so special?

For the Jew, traveling to Israel is not like taking a vacation to Greece or to Mexico. Though each can be historically and culturally interesting, and can provide hours or weeks of relaxation and enjoyment, trips to Greece and Mexico do not generally claim the soul of the Jew in the way that Israel does. For the Jew, to travel to Israel is to simultaneously experience history and holiness. In Israel the reconstruction of our people’s ancient past provides signposts pointing toward the individual’s future. Though a tourist in Israel may be enjoying the nightlife or mall-life of Tel Aviv, his mind can never really separate from the city’s historical significance as the first modern Jewish city outside of Jerusalem. Floating in the water of Dead Sea, (its 30% salt content lifting you up), she is regularly returns to the eerie story of Lot’s wife, who looked back to witness the Biblical destruction of Sodom and Gemorrah and was turned into that pillar of salt. Shopping for beautiful art in the northern city of Tzefat, this tourist cannot help but relive the cosmic connection between the visionary creativity of these artists of modern times and the inspired imagination of the sixteenth century Jewish mystics who rewrote Jewish spirituality in these same hilltops. Go down south, try to flee the “meaningfulness” of Jerusalem and the north, and even a jeep ride up Machtesh Ramon yields another example of Israel’s distinctiveness: that this huge machtesh (crater that is not really a crater) is unique that it is the only geological formation of its kind in the world. Go hike a wadi – An Avdat, for instance – and you begin to wonder which of the rocks lining the road might have been the one that Moses struck, and which of the Ibex were descendants of the mountain goats that so captured the inspiration of the Psalmist.

Or travel to the Northwest of the country to the seaside city of Nahariya just below the Lebanese border. You might expect to find lightness or quiet beauty in this beach town, or lahefech (the opposite) a trembling anxiety in the aftermath of the Lebanon 2 (this summer’s yet-to-be-named war). Yet even in Nahariya, the post-war stories are unbelievable. What inspired the (initially derided) decision of the Western Galilee Hospital’s head build an underground hospital complex that just happened to save the lives of thousands this summer? What guided (or misguided) the katusha rocket to fall exactly between this heavily populated apartment building and that Beit Knesset (synagogue) so that it harmed no one? Where did that amazing 14 year old post-Bar Mitzvah boy find the strength to carry on after his aunt was the first to be killed by katusha in Nahariya? The answer might be found in the same inspiration that leads him to work as a shaliach tzibur (musical prayer leader) at the local progressive synagogue Emet Veshalom.

Israel is filled with amazing stories, spiritually moving sites, and poignant historical places. It touches the heart and transforms the soul. Baruch Ata Adonai, Elohaynu Melech HaOlam, Shehecheyanu, v’kiyimanu, vihigeeanu lazman hazeh. Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Guide of the Universe, for giving us life, for keeping us in life, and for bringing us – ME – to (and through) these special moments.

We are almost back home to Los Angeles, and I am already planning the next trip! (Probably an adults-only trip, four to five star experience for 8 days in February 2008 – interested? Email me/Rabbi Paul Kipnes).

Kinneret, Tiberias, Tzefat: Feeling Fabulous in Northern Israel

I’m in heaven again as I watch the sun rise over the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee). This beautifully blue body of water (famed of late as the setting for Jesus’ Gospel miracles: turning water into wine, walking on water, multiplying fish and bread into enough to feed hundreds) also has the distinction of being the source of much of Israel’s drinking water, fresh water sports, fishing and boating. I had the pleasure of arriving early to give my (now healthy) daughter a half day away from the group so she could recover from a slight fever and cold that was making its way through the group (worry not, everyone is fine!).

From our 16th floor window at the Tiberias hotel, we had a gorgeous view of the bright blue sea. During our hour walk around the area, we stopped at a charming “beach” (some rocky sand down by the seashore) lined with palm trees. Not a wealthy town, Tiberias nonetheless was clean, calm and welcoming.

I have fond memories from my year-long stays in Israel (a year after high school, another year at the start of Rabbinical school) of trekking around this northern region. The lush greens of the hillsides, the deep colors of the agricultural land that checkerboards the valleys, and the flocks of birds flying to and fro. Getting me out of Miami Beach-like Tel Aviv and into the Galilee (north) is like taking basic yellow cake (tasty but unimaginative) and covering it with a layer of rich chocolate frosting. And here I was, walking with my eldest child, tasting the ta’am (flavor) of this Jewish city in this Jewish land. In fact, were it not for the regular rain and the biting winter cold (two things that in time I could get used to), I could make my home away from home here. I felt giddy.

The drive up north to catch up with the group in Tzfat (Safed) was equally magnificent. Our cranky cabdriver in spite of himself shared a bit of his history. I kvelled with joy as my little used Hebrew grew stronger and stronger as the conversation meandered from history (his family has roots in the north going back almost 100 years) to family (five children ranging from high school to post-Army grad school – one each studying law and psychology) to Kinneret water levels (still too dry) to the summer’s war (in spite of missiles landing nearby, they did not flee because “this is our land”) to where we needed to be dropped in Tzfat (clearly, he did not know that area).

As we drove up the winding road from northern point of the Kinneret to Tzfat, we were delighted at the simple splendor that greeted us. I nudged my daughter out of her book. Look there at the greenery. Look here at the rocky hillsides. See there, wildflowers. See here, clear blue skies.

We encountered the group outside the synagogue of the AR”I (Rabbi Isaac Luria), the famous 16th century mystic. A quick tutorial on Kabbalah, a quick tour of the ornate crammed shul, and a quick pause on the raised bimah to offer a Mi Shebeirach for many (including Linda Fingleson’s parents – she clearly would love being in the home of Jewish spirituality). Soon we were off for a lesson in Kabbalistic artistry with an artist cum educator. Shin, Mem, Aleph. Prime letters drawn in prime colors. Basic shapes – triangle, rectangle, circle. Circles within circles signifying the varying levels of awareness. Perceptions within perceptions. Are the concentric circles telescoping in or out? (Both.) What does this teach us about reality? (That we can observe holiness on both the micro and the macro level.) Ayin Sof (meaning, “That which has no end.”) The connections between colors and lines and shapes and concentric circles are those invisible lines of connections (a la Rabbi Larry Kushner) which illumine the ineffable. The Holy One, a.k.a. God. The experience meshed well with my Institute of Jewish Spirituality retreat program over the past two years. Connections within connections. A comforting alternative to radical individualism.

Oy, so much to consider. Some much we learned. Time to put it aside to do some serious shopping in the Artists Galleries of Tzfat. L’hitraot… See you (blog you) later!

Jon Wolfson Contemplates Leaving Jerusalem

We are driving down to Masada. Jonathon Wolfson contemplates leaving the holy city of Jerusalem:
As we leave Jerusalem, I have mixed feelings. On one hand, I am sad to be leaving this spiritual place, this heart of the Jewish homeland. We have spent an amazing five days exploring and learning about this special place. On the other hand, I am very excited about climbing (metaphorically…really in a cable car) Masada and continuing our discovery of this amazing land and history. I hope that everyone at Or Ami has a chance to travel with their family to Israel and make the all important connection to Israel, the land and its people!