Tag: relationships

I will not let you go until you have blessed me.

In the dark solitude of night Jacob wrestles with an unidentified man until dawn, but would not let him go, even after he appears to vanquish his opponent. Although the text says it was a man, the figure is mysterious and might have been an angel of God or possibly a demon from Jacob’s psyche.

 This remarkable story speaks to how we might make something good come from the troublesome or even the tragic event; for Jacob would not let go until he received a blessing.  Instead of fleeing, as Jacob has in the past, Jacob only grapples with it. Acknowledging this event is now a part of him, Jacob holds on.  Jacob emerges from the scuffle physically injured, forever changed. But he still insists that something good comes of the encounter a blessing.

 So many of us confront tragedy in our lives.  And despite the pain and the suffering tragedy causes, people often turn it in order to make something good as a result.  For example, the founders of Mothers Against Drunk Driving, MADD, were able to take the unspeakable horror of losing their children and create a crusade to save the children of others. Veronique Pozner, recently named as one of the Forward 50, lost her 6-year-old son Noah in Newtown and transformed her personal tragedy and grief into a rallying cry for gun control legislation in Connecticut.

 We are forever changed as a result of the harsh tests in our lives.  For Jacob, his hip was damaged and his name changed to always reflect that the event had irrevocably altered him.  Nothing will bring the lost children back to their mothers. Noah will never return to Veronique, but she celebrates his brief life, by working to create a better world.  May we all find the strength to do so.

~Thoughts on Vayishlach

Crisis Averted? Whose fault is this anyways?

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.” (Julius Caesar, I,ii,140-141)

 The political crisis in which we find ourselves is, at root, a case of getting what we deserve.  For too long we have abrogated our sacred responsibility to vote, many of us do not even cast a ballot and for those who do, there is a lack of desire to learn about those who have asked for the privilege to represent us.  We cast a vote based on party lines because we have not taken the time or effort to engage.  We just do not care enough.  Removing the labels will not help get a better representative.  It will merely create a blind gamble, betting that the law of averages gives the voter a 50/50 chance to get it right when choosing between two unknown candidates.

A government by, of and for the people can only exist if the people themselves demand no less of their government, otherwise the government and those who become part of it will become self-serving.  Unless and until we embrace our obligation to what remains a great noble experiment in governance, politicians will continue on their path of selfishness and divisiveness, which ultimately imperils us all.

Go Forth, But not Alone

Lech Lecha

I had the privilege of officiating at the funeral and first evening Shiva Minyan of a lovely man.  It came time to share a D’var Torah during the Minyan and I spoke to Lech Lecha, our Parashah and God’s command to Abraham to “Go Forth- to a land that I will show you.”  The Hebrew is in the singular, in other words God is speaking directly to Abraham, instructing him what to do.  As we learn in the story, Abraham does indeed venture out from his father’s house and into history, becoming our Patriarch, a father to those as numerous as the stars.   Abraham did need to respond to God’s challenge, but he was not alone.

Sarah was Abraham’s wife and partner.  Although God does tell Abraham to “Go forth,” Sarah stood by his side throughout the process.  The two of them acted together.  And there is significance in that.  As I ruminated over the circumstances in which my D’var Torah would be shared, I wondered if in fact the beautiful story of my friend, as related to me by his widow, was a representation of what Abraham and Sarah experienced.  It takes an extraordinary person to embark on an extraordinary venture.  But would he or she have the courage to do it without the love and support of a trusted partner? Could someone reach for the stars without a companion to provide strength, someone willing to walk with you by your side?  And even if a person were capable of achieving “greatness” without any one else’s support, could such a person be the progenitor of a people?

I believe the answer is no.  And herein lies a teaching of our Torah portion.  We cannot achieve true greatness without the support of others.  One can achieve, but without others to share and give strength, the venture is selfish.  Lech Lecha, you must do it but you cannot do it alone.

Remembering- Mom and Jean Nate

Our Jewish calendar provides us with time to remember those we have loved.  On their Yarzheits, or anniversary of passing, our thoughts turn to our mothers or fathers, our sisters or brothers, our husbands or wives, and for some of us, our children.

We struggle to remember, their presence remains powerful, but sometimes we struggle conjuring up memories that seem to fade a bit more in our everyday.  Often, people who were seemingly ever-present in our past become wistful moments in our present. A smile comes to our face and a tear to our eyes.  We are warmed by their reappearance, but our memories can fade if we do not try to remember specific things that link their presence to us.

As a small boy, it was hard for me to buy presents for either Mother’s day or Father’s day.  Many of us remember the days before the Internet, this extraordinary “point, click and automatic delivery to the door” of today’s reality.  Back then, Mr. Dykstra would let me call him and he would deliver flowers to the house and I would be there waiting with the money I had saved clutched safely in my hand, nervously counting and re-counting to make sure I really did have enough.

Sometimes many times, I could go with my mom shopping.  And there in the Drug Store, I found my “go to” gifts for both mom and dad.  Jean Nate Body Splash for mom and Pierre Cardin aftershave for dad.  Mom and dad always smelled good- distinctively like my mom and dad with the citrus scent that was at the heart of the respective fragrances.

Mom said she liked Jean Nate.  I remember the bottle- frosted glass with a round black cap containing the yellow colored “Friction pour le bain” as the bottle said.  I never knew what “Friction pour le bain” meant,  “Friction” seemed a strange word, but it was all appropriately exotic enough, being in French, even though I pronounced it JEAN like my mom’s first name.

Dad similarly always smelled like that sharp lemony odor contained in the modern glass bottle with shiny silver half circle cap, which reminded me of an old-fashioned keyhole on a lock.   I remember when I tried some of it, pouring some into my hand and they splashing or slapping it against my cheeks and neck.  It seemed to kind of sting and yet be cool at the same time.  But that was dad’s smell.

I do not know what it says about one’s fashion sense when you let your small child select your fragrance.  But it certainly says that the love you have for your child is infinitely more important.  Those smells still linger and are powerful memories that come rushing forth from the recesses of my mind.  And suddenly there is my mom as I remembered her with long dark hair and soothing voice.  There is my dad- for some reason in a wide-lapelled suit coat – I don’t know how he got stuck in the 70s, but at least it was not a leisure suit! But he was dressed and on his way to his business.  I was transported back in time, to a simpler time, a beautiful and uncomplicated time.  It washes over me as though it were yesterday.

I also remember the distinct smell of my grandfather and his cigars, and the room in my grandparent’s house in which my grandmother permitted him to smoke them.  I remember my grandmother’s kitchen, the smells of her chicken soup made with dill that was uniquely hers.  I remember the fragrance of Macaroni and cheese casserole wafting through my other grandma’s apartment and my grandpa’s cheek soft and smooth, scented with his shaving soap.

The smell of the food, the fragrance of the soap or eau de toilet, the remnant of the cigar- these are the memories of those whose lives have touched us directly.  We remember them vividly in these moments because we shared moments and life together.

But now, all that we have are the memories of that time together.  These recollections are bittersweet, bringing a smile to our lips and tears to our eyes. What we might give to have them with us now.  Just a bit more time together we wish, just one more memory to hold in our heart.  Husband or wife, mother or father, sister or brother, the memories of those whose lives were so intimately intertwined with ours remain.  And even though time passes and we try our best to move forward, the loss remains profound.

As we recall our loved ones though, it is amazing to notice how their hard edges have faded, the sharp lines are blurred.  In our honest moments, we know that there were times of stress.  Tension existed, tempers could flare and egos could get in the way. Each of us could fall victim to the thing called being a human being.   But here in this place, we remember with warmth and love the good things, the uplifting things, the godly things that make these departed loved ones cherished parts of our lives.  If only it was always so.

But we have the chance to do precisely this.  Yizkor is the opportunity for us to remember those who are departed.  It is a time for reflection.  We look inside and examine ourselves, not only confronting who we are, but also, whom we wish to be.  We take this special time and carve it out from this day and reflect on those who have touched us, shaped us and nurtured us.  For we have been forever changed by their presence in our lives.

Yizkor is our chance to remember them.  Zichronom Livracha, may their lives be a blessing.  As we remember their finer qualities and the beautiful memories, their memories become an inspiration.  The best they had to offer is what we remember.  And by keeping that in our hearts and minds they move us to live in better even more special ways.

When we remember that special thing about them that brings a smile to us, we remember.  But when we do that special thing for another person, not only do we make someone else smile, but our loved one comes alive in our hearts, whether it is cooking for someone you love or accepting the sincere gifts of another with grace and gratitude rather than judgment, as my mom and dad did with their son.

May we live fulfilling those aspirations and through this, honor those we have lost and keep them alive in our hearts.

Enduring Life lessons come from how we live- A message from Nitzavim

If you could choose your last words or final deeds, what would they be?

In Nitzavim, the portion we are about to read, Moses uses his final moments to share his parting thoughts with us– the final words that will linger in the hearts and minds of those there after he is gone.

 Choose life.  It is here.  It is now.   But the truth of it is, we really do not know for how long.  As we read in the Unataneh Tokef prayer, death comes in many forms, and we have been rather creative in coming up with a list.  We can only hope and pray for life and health.  But deep down, we all know that inevitable end of our physical life lurks waiting.

 I have had occasion to be with a family who knew death was coming.  The mother had some months to prepare; her cancer would not be stopped. I was with a family where the death of the father was completely unexpected.  A massive coronary took him in the middle of is regular bike ride with his wife.

Perhaps you might think that the first instance is easier.  You know it is coming, you can say goodbye, settle your affairs; prepare those you will leave behind.  Whereas when someone is taken in a moment, there is and no time at all.  It is abrupt and harsh.

 The truth is that no matter how you might try to prepare, it is merely an intellectual exercise.  Emotionally the pain of loss is just as jarring and real in the moment it comes.  So if we do not know the how or the when of it, you might be wondering if what I am talking about isn’t itself just an intellectual exercise.  How is it possible to plan when we don’t know how to measure what is left in days or in years?

 We have the opportunity to impart our final words through both words and deeds every single day. Truth be told, we do not share our final message in the final moments of our lives. That is not the time.  It is hard to think clearly, if you wrote it down, you likely you left it in your desk in another room, or your glasses are upstairs, so you cannot read your notes anyway!

 There is a Midrash about Jacob on his deathbed, surrounded by his children, wondering if he left them with the truly important lessons.  They responded with “Shema Israel, Adonai Eloheynu, Adonai echad” Hear oh Israel the Lord our God the Lord is one.  Given that Jacob’s name was changed to Israel, an alternative translation might be:

“Dad, you taught us your lesson well and we heard you.”

 I met an extraordinary man during an overnight rotation working as a hospital chaplain. I went to Jim’s room intending to console a grieving family.  But consolation was not going to happen. Jim was an organ donor and the Gift of Life team was preparing to bring life to several people who would benefit from Jim’s heart, lungs, liver and even his corneas. The people at Jim’s bedside were celebrating the man who continued to live and embody the ideals that made him beloved even after he was gone.

 Similarly, the funeral for our friend on his bike was a celebration of his life.  Each eulogy lovingly shared the joy of being counted as a friend.  And the woman, who had the time to prepare; that was my mom.  And I try to live by her values that still live inside me.

 Moses is about to tell us, “Lo BaShamiyim hi!”  It is not in the heavens, or someplace else out of reach, like your desk drawer.   We revere Moses not for his parting words alone, but for the gifts he gave us throughout his life.  And likewise for us, it is in the things we say and do everyday that makes the difference and endures as our legacy.

 Moses words still ring true; Not only is it completely within our grasp, it starts the moment we decide it to be so.  Let that time be now.  Take the hand of the person sitting next to you, whether it is someone you know or a complete stranger.    Take their hand for just a moment, look at them and smile, and together let us listen to the words of Nitzavim.

Syria- An American Jewish Perspective

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?

Ha’azinu- The name of this week’s parashah means to LISTEN IN

In his final moments, Moses sings a song to the people.  He calls upon Heaven and Earth to be witnesses to remember the extraordinary blessings of how God found Israel in the desert, shaped them into a people and chose them as his own.

But the blessings make us complacent, and we turn our backs on the very God who provided all that we have.  And in response, God “hides his face.” We suffer as a result of our own actions.  But there is the promise that God will be reconciled with his people.  That is the message of hope.

This message rings so true today and so desperately needs to be heard.

As a nation, we are war weary.  Iraq and Afghanistan have taken a horrible heavy toll.  These long protracted wars have left us wondering why we did what we did and to what effect?  Was it all worth it? The toll in the precious lives of our men and women that served, the incalculable cost and even our moral standing in the world.  I have long believed in the American ideals; that freedom and truth and democracy were the American shining beacons upon the world- the lights unto the nations.  But these lights flicker, the result of so much we have done in the harsh realpolitik of the global stage in the beginning of this century and the century before that.

We are not the world’s policemen. But on some level, the relative stability that world has enjoyed is a Pax Americana, maintained by the dominance of the worlds only superpower projecting its influence across the globe.  And despite the cynicism, the byproduct of protecting economic and political self-interest, our guiding principles still echo in our hearts and minds, principles that focus on protecting those who are not empowered or capable of doing so themselves.  As Americans and as Jews we are compelled to respond to the travesties and tragedies that so completely offend our sacred sensibilities and values.

As Jews we are uniquely attuned to the issues of power.  Our Jewish tradition has been built on a system of ethics and morals- what we should do, what we are obligated to do, because we have historically often found ourselves outside the protection of power or civil society.  We are charged to care for the poor, to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless because these are the people that are the vulnerable and powerless amongst us, the most ill-equipped to care for themselves

We listen to the cries of suffering of the common people of Syria as they find themselves the victims of the brutal civil war that rages.  100,000 people are dead.  Millions have fled seeking safe haven from the death and destruction that rains down indiscriminately.  Women, children, and men it makes no difference.  Fighter or Innocent bystander, it makes no difference.

The war seems to descend lower and lower into more vicious and more brutal attacks.  Sarin gas has been used and an estimated 400 children maybe 1500 adults have been murdered.  Although the numbers are not clear, the effects are.  The sound of death is excruciating; the whimper of someone struggling for breath, the moan of someone whose body is racked by pain.  Gas or bomb- a slow agonizing death is a horrible thing.

The use of chemical weapons is particularly deplorable.  But, I do not think the red line was using chemical weapons.  To me the red line is to exterminate people in the name of political power.  That line was crossed years ago.  That line resonates within me and within every Jew.  We often ask, “Why didn’t the allies stop the holocaust?”  If they only destroyed the train tracks leading to the death camps, conceivably millions could have been saved.  The world turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to the pleas of 12 million victims whose only crime was they were Jews or Catholics or gays or gypsies, or the physically or mentally handicapped.  Can we continue to be deaf?

I do not know what a punitive strike against the Assad regime means.  I know that the politics of action are complicated and the potential ramifications are ominous. But the results of our inaction are equally problematic.   Assad is no friend of the US or Israel and those seeking to topple him are likewise.  So to ask if intervention directly serves American security interests, the answer is likely no.  But if we instead ask the question: “can we stop the barbaric bloodshed?” Then the answer is “maybe so.”  Stopping the barbaric bloodshed however will serve an important political interest however;  for the millions streaming across the border have a hugely de-stabilizing effect on Jordan, Turkey and thereby also threatening Israel.   It is my sincerest hope that President Obama speaks to the nation this Tuesday evening cogently and honestly explaining what it is his proposed military intervention is expected to do. We deserve to hear no less.

There was a time when I thought a Bosnia-like approach to intervention could have forced the war-makers on both sides into neutral corners and saved civilian lives.  But our current redline and subsequent delay until everyone is in agreement makes the military option much less viable with every passing day.  The open debate is important, but it changes and limits the effective options available.

Assad is Russia’s ally.  We might be able to push Putin to replace his current dictator with another dictator.  Although Putin may not be predisposed to listening, we could make rather persuasive arguments, ones that might resonate. Hopefully that was part of the private discussion today between Presidents Putin and Obama in St. Petersburg.  And if the United Nations Security Council is immobilized, we can still rally a substantial portion of the international community.  Whatever we do, our commitment must be to the voices of the victims whose voices cannot be heard.  We must answer the question: “What can we do to save the innocents?”

If we only are concerned with protecting American security or economic interests, then intervention in this place and the great American experiment is nothing but an exercise in selfish world dominance that will surely end as every empire before it has ended.  But I believe the American experiment remains noble of purpose.  It is grounded in the ideals that the individual has value, honor and dignity; that each person has a voice to be heard.  The peal of freedom’s bell can and still does cry out.  If only we would listen.

What is prayer? Lessons from Channah

Why do we pray?

The Haftarah portion for today is taken from the Book of Samuel.  This is the story of a barren woman, Channah,  one of two wives of a man named Elkanah.  Elkanah loves Channah and tries to show her affection.  But this is insufficient for Channah and she goes to Shiloh to pray for a son who she would dedicate to God’s service.

What is it to Pray?

Is it asking for something?

God I want a pony.

I have a vision akin to sitting on the lap of a giant Santa Claus asking for stuff-

A new iPhone, maybe a new Audi convertible or

if you like cooking gadgets as I do,

a new Vitamix 7500.

Stuff that makes us feel good on the surface- But this is a rather pediatric view of how God fits into our lives.

 

A more sophisticated version of prayer is to seek connection;

to reach out,  wishing someone you love will be healthy,

that the distance we often feel from another person will be bridged

and we are reconciled.

Prayer is to admit a feeling of emptiness or a void and a yearning for it to be filled.

Channah’s story is fascinating.  She yearns for a child.  The void is in her life is both spiritual and physical.  Her husband, clueless, as many of us are, tries to assuage her with baubles.  He even lavishes attention on her.  But none of this can penetrate beyond the surface and is essentially meaningless to Channah. She turns to prayer.

 

Prayer is actually difficult, it is uncomfortable because it requires of us to be vulnerable.

We must bare our soul- to God and to ourselves.

We must look into the mirror, as it were,

and see that in the cold harsh light of reality,

the reflection we see is not as beautiful or perfect as we pretend.

That new vitamix is a great toy, but if I do not have someone to cook for

it is just another expensive gadget collecting dust on the countertop.

 

So Channah prays a fervent prayer.  And as if to emphasize the point, our great prophet Eli mistakes this woman for a drunkard and harshly rebukes her.

But the prayer Channah prays gives her strength,

she becomes resolute enough, comfortable enough in her own skin, not to accept the scorn of the Prophet and speak in his presence explaining herself.  It turns Eli’s heart.

 

Prayer is powerful it can be awesome and even frightening.

Do we have the courage and inner strength

to look honestly inside ourselves and see truth,

our unvarnished reality with its shortcomings and desires unfulfilled?

It is hard and scary,

but if we are willing to try,

the results can be extraordinary.

And now we read the story of Channah.

 

The Kotel holds a mystical sway over so many

I recall the evening I landed in Jerusalem at the beginning of my year in Israel, the start of my journey to become a rabbi.  I dropped my bags and headed to the Wall.  I was thoroughly exhausted.  It was very late and I had not slept for way too long.  But I needed to go there.  As I stood before her, I was overcome with emotion.  My eyes filled with tears and my heart raced as I slowly and deliberately made my way to touch the massive stones.

As a rational person, I can argue for why the Wall should not be important.  It is perilously close to idolatry, it is only a retaining wall, the religion I embrace has moved beyond this physical space, etc., etc.  And yet I was awed and inspired none-the-less.

Each of us proclaiming our Judaism has a right to be in this place.  We all are entitled to encounter Judaism and therefore this extraordinary manifestation of it in our own way, on our own terms.  To those who claim I am not a good Jew based on their understanding of Judaism, all I can say is, we each have our paths.  I do not ask you to agree with mine, only to respect my path and my sincere efforts to engage Judaism as best I can. Likewise, I shall extend the same courtesy to you.  Although we do not agree, we are both part of Am Yisrael.

The Sharansky plan to bring various streams of Judaism to this special place is what we each should expect and deserve.  Robinson’s Arch is part of the wall, as is the southern wall. But something about the area we all call the Kotel is special.  Thus, the Sharansky plan is the acceptable and appropriate way to move forward.  Providing space elsewhere is just that, providing space elsewhere; and therefore that is unacceptable.  If the actions of the liberal community are offensive to my more traditional brothers and sisters, it would matter little where we might go.  We will not force you to participate and I hope we will not be “in your face” and incite you.  No legitimate authority can take away our precious place away from us as they could not deny it to you.

Trayvon and Judaism

With Trayvon Martin gone, the question is not whether justice has been served or if George Zimmerman was really guilty.  The Jewish question before us is, “How do we prevent another such tragedy from occurring?”

 There is no justice to be served here.  A seventeen year-old boy is dead.  Trayvon Martin’s parents will be forever changed by the death of their son.  George Zimmerman will spend the rest of his life knowing he left his home one evening filled with the self-importance of a neighborhood watchman and returned home later that night a murderer.  Nothing we can do can change what has happened, we can only hope to change what will happen.

 At this time of year, we begin to look toward the High Holidays and we begin the process of preparation.  We engage in introspection and self-reflection as we search our souls thinking of our own shortcomings, asking for forgiveness and planning to make the coming year better if only we are so blessed with the precious gift of life.  Yet there are other questions we are compelled to ask.  We look at the world in which we live and ponder what we can do to make it a better place; to leave a place to our children that is better, safer and more secure than the one we inherited, moved ever slightly closer to repair through our actions.  What is our role to make society more civil and more just for everyone? That is our historic mission, the essence of being chosen to receive the extraordinary gift of Torah at Mount Sinai and the real hope for being written into the book of life.