What if...

I'm currently reading a very well written book by Noah Hawley called The Good Father, about a father's journey to discover if his son killed the soon-to-be President of the United States and what his intentions are. Here are some thoughts that surfaced as I read, bringing home many Jewish values which I have discussed throughout the year.
 

What would you do if your son killed someone? You come home from work, turn on the television, and are faced with a terrible tragedy, one that opens the door to dismay and anger and shock. Minutes later, you discover that not only are you mourning the loss of this political figure, but that your son is behind the killings.

            How does one wrap his or her head around that knowledge? Knowing that one’s child killed another human being, even without premeditated thought is harrowing. It sends confusion and disgust from my gut. Yet at the same time, I know that I love fiercely. So what to do with that feeling sharply contrasted with the pain and desertion I felt.

            First of all, I have no children. So, honestly I don’t know. What I do know is that I am against killing, guns, violence. From my experience (not that I have much in my 23 years), killing people for a crime, or for any reason, is almost always illogical. The defense attempts a plea of insanity, claiming that the person was temporarily insane, or even permanently dealing with a mental illness. Yet, these people all have guns. Even someone suffering from a personality disorder has lucid moments where they function. Paranoid schizophrenia is the diagnosis for many people having killed political heros. They carry this label as a protection, as a badge, a way to explain why they would do such a thing. But truly, it seems like an excuse (this coming from someone who supports proper mental illness diagnosis and treatment).

            However examples of murder, flat out killing another, stem from the bible. We see Cain bring Abel to the field and killed him. The verse, Genesis 4:8, makes it unclear as to whether or not Cain killed his brother with pre-meditation. One interpretation is that Cain spoke to his brother. And some time later, they were in a field and Cain happened to rise up against Abel and kill him. Another interpretation is that Cain spoke to Abel and told him to come to the field, where Cain killed Abel. This particular version of the story settles the guilt squarely on Cain’s shoulders, showing him as someone wanting to kill his brother.

            God punishes Cain, although he first simply inquires as to where the boy’s twin has disappeared. Cain quips that he is not his brother’s keeper, giving Judaism the famous ideas of necessity to care for our brother and help keep them. I digress. The punishment Cain receives is one of becoming a wanderer and fugitive, not welcomed anywhere from that point forward. Yet nowhere do we hear of Adam or Eve’s sadness or disappointment or frustration over either the death of their son Abel or their son Cain’s murderous tendencies. Instead, all we hear is that Eve bore another son, naming this one Seth. The name does have some undertones of sadness, of reminiscence, as appointed by God, or a replacement from God. The name comes form the Hebrew root shin, yud, bet, meaning to apply, point or place. God has placed this new son in the presence of Adam and Eve to help them heal from the death of their son. Yet this is the ONLY mention in this verse of Adam and Eve having any emotional reaction to what occurred with both of their sons. Even more interesting, the next chapter does not even mention Cain and Abel. Rather, it goes from the creation of male and female, to Adam having a son, Seth. Interestingly enough, the killing of one’s brother does not warrant being discussed or depicted more than once!

            It would seem God is showing the Jewish people an example, one to consider for parents of children who have killed another human being (although I am not sure I would ascribe to this same logic had it been my son found holding a smoking gun). God demonstrates that one who kills another does not receive a place in the story, does not deserve to prosper and continue. Killing is wrong, a sin. Although the Ten Commandments had not yet been transmitted, we receive the sixth Commandment, do not murder. The actions of killing are not to be permitted, are to be punished.

            Yet what does the parent do, when their child is the one who commits the killing? Is it a parent’s responsibility to stand up for his or her child, or do they also need to condemn the individual for killing? Should a parent stand behind his or her child, unwavering in support? Personally, I do not know what I would do, faced with a child who had killed another. I don’t believe in guns and do not want them near me. I am a proponent of giving back to the earth, not taking from it. I am someone who champions the underdog, always giving my love to as many individuals as I can. My hope is that I will never need to face a situation where a child of mine intentionally or even unintentionally acts against all in which I believe. But faced with that circumstance, would I condemn my own flesh and blood? Would I be able to look him or her in the eye? Frankly, I do not know. What I do know is that I hope never to be faced with that dilemma!

Mea Shearim: A world within a world

I'm reminded of the song from fiddler on the roof: at three I started Hebrew school at five I...." Although I don't necessarily remember the words of the song, the idea is of importance. Starting at the age of three, orthodox, but especially Haredi children have their first hair cut, begin wearing Tzitzit katon and peyus, and most port antsy, start going to school. The learning process is not held off until the rest of the worlds kindergarten, but rather begins at three.

The father brings his son into the school, wrapped in his Tzitzit, eyes covered for fear he will learn bad ways. In the school, he does not even have a ball to tempt him into the other, secular world. Rather, he must learn the ways of his forefathers, first learning the aleph bet and slowly immersing himself in the words of Torah and the rest of tradition. By the time a child is six, he will have learned all of berashit and shemot (genesis and exodus) by heart. He learns the words as well as the commentary associated with it. And  the time he is bar mitzvah age, he know the tanach as well as Talmud and Mishna by heart. Then, it's off to yeshiva to do the real learning and debating. Although I'm really not sure what they learn there...maybe ,rabbinic commentary?

Regardless, this knowledge comes from today's visit to Mea Shearim, which it turns t is much smaller than I initially realized. The neighborhood itself is a cross section of the ultra-orthodox world, representing Haredim, Litvaks (ultra orthodox from Lithuania), mitnagdim, and chasidim. Each group has their own special way of dressing and interacting with the general public (as Michael Marmur said at the beginning of the year, there are many different shades of black). Some may avoid a female gaze while others simply want to inform.

The neighborhood itself is full of small alleyways and men coming in and out of the synagogue all throughout the day. At all times, for the most part, there is a minyan, ten people, prepared to daven together. The mikvah being located right next door is convenient, and offers the members of the community their daily necessity of cleansing (and gossip) before they are ready for the day. Directly across the street are two schools, one lLitvak and one Haredi. We entered the Litvak one and were immediately assaulted by loud screaming. Turns out the children were on a break and playing on their playground located in the dirt center of the three story building. The building , with rooms on each side, contains classrooms the size of a small dorm room, with as many as thirty children stuffed into benches, seated with the Chumash on the thin table in front of them. They chant along in unison with the rabbi, their teacher, as he translates the Hebrew or Aramaic into Yiddish. All the learning is in Yiddish, although outside of the classroom it would seem everyone speaks Hebrew.

The synagogue itself is a work of beauty, with the ceiling painted in the style brought over from Lithuania, with the names of the months on one half of the ceiling and the names of the twelve tribes of Israel on the other. Next to each is either the zodiac sign associated with the month or the symbol associated with the specific tribe. The room itself is set up for hevruta study, with benches facing each other and a table in between. A few pairs of old men and young boys sat opposite one another, engaging in reading and dialogue, but the room  a mostly empty. However, from the looks of the books strewn across the tables, Torah study or Talmud was a regular practice in this space.

Most surprising to me was our ability to walk into this building, no questions asked. Although we were with a former member of Mea Shearim, I still didn't expect to be able to walk in and peek around. Yet peek we did, as the children peeked back at us from behind their hands. The wide array of white, blue, gray, and black that stared back at us was unsurprising, but for its openness.

The principal came up to us on the stairs and started talking about the school, about the importance of teaching these children from a young age and what exactly is taught. It turns out that the children learn math and grammar, but only at a young age and only until a basic level of understanding. They learn how to add subtract, multiply and divide, using fractions and decimals, but after that there is no need. They will be learning for most of their lives and therefore don't need to engage in what the rabbi called לימודי חול, or secular learning.

Previous to this encounter, we passed a girls school, which is supposedly one of the last remaining schools of its kind. It is taught only in Yiddish and goes up until the ae of 16 or 17, when a girl is suitable to start finding a husband, or being attached to her chosen match. The school's main purpose is to teach a girl what she will need to know in married life: sewing, cooking, knitting, laundry, family expenses. She may learn a very selected version of history, and maybe math, but there will be no Talmud study. Not funded by the government, this is a very extreme version of ultra-orthodox education. The more popular kind of learning for females is at beit yaakov, which is partially government funded and therefore teaches more of the secular subjects.

Showing up in my jeans skirt past my knees and long sleeved purple shirt, I thought I was dressed modestly. It turns out that it wasn't what they consider modest, due to the colors in my clothing and the length of my skirt, not to mention a small part of my chest showing. Although I am aware that this is the lifestyle that has been chosen, as a way to remain connected to what they consider the true way of practicing Judaism, I became immediately sure that this was not the world I wanted to live in, nor was it the world in which I was prepared to raise a family. Jewish values are important to me and always will be important, but so is the modern world. Technology is an asset in the world (for the most part) and I believe that as Jews, but also as people, we have a responsibility to participate with the rest of the world in making this a better world in which to live. If they want the messiah or messianic age to come, how is studying Torah going to bring that about? What will the words on the page do to make this world better? Studying Torah and learning Judaics is a way of looking at the world, of developing a belief system, but there is more to life than that. It is our responsibility to take what we learned and then go out into the world and affect change from our own actions. We must, as Ghandi said, be the change we wish to see in the world. Only then can we start to see what a messianic age might look like and how we can be a part of it.

Being a reform rabbi may not be the path I need to take to get to affecting that change. However, people will always need counselors and therapists, people who are both spiritual and secular guides as they traverse the confusing world. That in and of itself is helping make the world a better place, both directly and indirectly. Indirectly, it is helping people find the greater wholeness inside of them to do good and directly it is helping them believe in a power that is greater than themselves. Prayer is a way to connect, to feel a community around you. And that allow one to know that he or she is not alone in the task of making the world better. Is it my destiny to be a rabbi...that is yet to be seen. But it is my destiny to help others and touch the lives of those around me. And that I am looking forward to doing.

Adventures Accompanied by Aaron

            Shabbat is about an hour away, and I am fully wiped. This week has seen me completing my work for the semester, visiting Tel Aviv and Haifa, riding over 50 miles, taking over 150 pictures, cooking three different dinners, and so much more. Oh yeah, and the arrival of Mr. Aaron Alexander Mosher.

            Aaron and I have traversed this country in just a few days, taking just about every kind of transportation imaginable (bus, sheirut, taxi, train, bike, foot) and covering many miles. Yesterday we were in Haifa to see the Baha’i gardens, and we got a surprise by running into Carly and her boyfriend, Jonathan. The four of us went to lunch after the tour, where Aaron and Jonathan got into a discussion about engineering and Carly and I discussed Rabbinics. However, the most fascinating conversation regarded a Jew marrying a convert. Our discussion revolved around the idea that a convert did not grow up Jewish and therefore doesn’t necessarily know about all the traditions, songs, or childhood activities. No matter, we were all engaged and all made to think about what was discussed.

a little bit of the symmetry of the gardens

            However, let me return to the gardens for a brief moment. The symmetry and cleanliness that abounded in the gardens was absolutely magnificent. Everything had its equal match, demonstrated by looking from one side to the other. Aaron also noticed that on almost all the tiers, there was only one rose left on each side. Our guide said it was accidental, but neither of us were so sure. The 18 levels, nine on top and nine on bottom, represent the 18 initial followers of Baha’u’llah starting in the mid-eigtheen hundreds in Persia (present day Iraq). The religion was founded under the auspices of eliminating warfare. There seemed to be so much destruction and war in the world, and these men and women simply wanted peace and humanity to exist as one. Baha’i followers believe in the institution of marriage, as the foundation for how we learn and grow, and stand for equality between men and women, as well as among all people of the earth.

            These beliefs resonated with me, as ways in which I want to live my life, how I want to go about changing the world. Yet, I feel so strongly about Judaism that I am not sure that this other faith would be possible. Especially because the Baha’i prayer practice is individual, can take place anywhere, and only necessitates two or three prayers, said 2-3 times a day, depending on the person and the practice. In addition, there is no specific time necessitated for it.

            After considering my options (I am in Rabbinical school after all…), I recognize that I agree with the message, that all men are equal and deserve opportunity regardless of their age, race, religion, nationality or any other identifying factor. However, I can enact change right here in Judaism as well, as a Rabbi and as a person. I may not be an extremely charismatic leader, but I do have passion. I love Judaism, I love life, I love people, and I love helping. Those four things, mixed with another of smaller adventures and additions, can help me build a world that will be better than how I found it. That is the most important thing. I spiritually and religiously connect with the Jewish tradition, and will continue on my current path. But I recognize the importance of taking the time to consider other options, other messages, and truly hear what they have to say and how they are said.

            Leaving Haifa, Aaron and I returned home to race through the shuk in time to pay my landlord. Once he left, we made an incredible white wine lemon chicken and garlic bread. The icing on top of the cake was the fact that we were able to just sit and talk for hours (about 3) and just be. We weren’t at dinner or anything and there were no distractions. Plus, we also had chocolate lava cake with whipped cream (so truly, almost icing and cake!!)

Aaron and I at the gardens

            Today dawned early, with me thinking this head cold had taken an even stronger grip. After a shower and some time, I felt good enough to accompany Aaron and Oren on the bike ride to Yad Kennedy. Although Aaron was full of energy and gleeful like a child, I was more subdued, just enjoying being alive.

            We came back, both of us tired. Except it was now time to start preparing for the 13 guests coming for dinner. We made challah (after ruining the yeast two times), apple-strawberry crisp, lentils, and will have salmon. Re-arranging the apartment took some time, as did cleaning up so there would be room for everyone.

The door is open. I'm coming in!

            As I said, it is now 15:48 and the Shabbat siren will go off in about 20 minutes. 

 

The future holds many things, none of them certain. I just look forward to opening the window, and then the door, feeling my way in the dark until I find the light. The light will come, maybe even has come. Regardless, I know I have many people rooting for me, ready to lend me a hand when I fall, or laugh with me along the way. Aaron is one of those people. Ken Yehi Ratzon!

Why I am in Rabbinical school #5

You know you're in Rabbinical school when you get incredibly excited about finding books for your final paper in the library, because you end up with five instead of 2...

Books can come in all shapes and sizes

It turns out I am a nerd. Now, this is not a new fact by any stretch of the imagination, but I need to put it out there for the entire world to be privy to. In addition, this is not a bad fact or characteristic to demonstrate. Rather, it allows me to fully take advantage of the life I am currently living, because (surprise, surprise) I am in Rabbinical school where it is practically required to be truly enjoy school and relish learning. Fortunately for me, I am reminded of this fact often enough that the amount of class I am forced to slug through on a daily basis, and then the homework I stare at blankly for hours afterwards, become less daunting and more of a small hindrance.

But, back to the topic at hand: learning! I ventured into the library to procure a book or two in order to write my final paper for Israel Seminar. Having chosen a topic of Mt Herzl, collective space, and Yad Vashem (surprising, I know, to find that I chose to write about the Holocaust, or at least death, in any case), I looked to two different places in the library and came across a veritable plethora of treasures. Almost all of the books were on Israeli Judaism and/or civil religion in Israel. In and of itself, a fascinating topic; I could have remained among the old spines for hours, whispering with them and determining their not so ancient secrets of this secretive people (Israelis).

Not only was my adventure within the narrow alleyways of the library part of my mental stimulation, but my lunch partners previous to this were just as engaging. Andrew and Justin had spent the morning visiting Mea Shearim, Ben Yehudah, and Machene Yehudah; peeking into bookstores and chachky stores alike, looking to see what secrets these opposing universes held. While one was full of black and white, a disparate neighborhood just waiting for a welfare board to come in, the other is packed full of food and shops, the hustle and bustle here one of productivity and prosperity. Oddly enough, having been in Mea Shearim yesterday, the comparison seems rather hollow. Both places are alight with productivity, seemingly like bees abuzz. Both are crowded with bodies, moving every which way, noises ricocheting off the construction, store counter and cars alike. But the backbone of the places is inherently different. One is based on religion, on commandedness. The other, on culture and social society.

Regardless, Andrew and Justin were leaving a venture into both worlds, one after the other. We met up for lunch at Mandarin, to enjoy yet another culture experience, that of Chinese. Over egg drop soup (for me) and vegetable Lo Mein (for them), we discussed Hebrew as a language, philosophy of religion, the future of the Reform movement (as well as all the movements), and again touched on monogamous versus 'accepting' relationships, and where the biblical basis for this comes.

Piggy backing on the discussion we began last night, on whether or not it is permissible to be in a relationship with one person, but then have extra-marital sexual relations with another, if it is previously agreed up, we continued discussing. Although I am not one for multi-partner monogamous relationships, both gentlemen made a decent argument. I disagreed, but a fragment of my being can see their point and appreciate where they are coming from. However, I then remember that the entire conversation began talking about arranged marriages in the Orthodox world and the whole conversation changes. Therefore, I suggest, if you are not part of that Orthodox world, that it is worthwhile to find a partner with whom you agree and can be satisfied without the necessity of an outside, third party interloper.

Market day on the side of the road in Ethiopia

Regardless of where this conversation began, we ended up talking late into the night last night, almost like I was back in college, at least what it would have been like if I wasn't in bed by 11:30 most nights...Anyway, we discussed adventuring the world and communicating with people, showing them who you are and learning about how to read people, how to understand the pain and suffering seen in the world, or at least steps to take in order to alleviate that pain [read: Elana talked about her time in Ethiopia and the pain and suffering she saw and began to work to combat]. We discussed the horrors that I saw there, the open wounds and the pain and desolation. The scent at the Mission, where I went for almost two weeks straight and often spent time with the children, making up games and languages, has stuck with me to this day. However, I met a man who showed me that the impossible is never that. There is always a way to do more, to make changes. That man, Dr. Rick Hodes, was the first one who really demonstrated to me that I need to persevere in this world if I truly want to make changes. I have always kept that teaching and those lessons in mind, even as I struggle to do a daily task.

Dr Rick Hodes, with his son Mesfin, in Addas Ababa

In the midst of that conversation, we all three realized that the work each of us want to do will change the world for the better. We are working to become positive role models for the coming generations, each in our own way (Rabbi (Elana), clean energy engineer (Justin), educator (Andrew)), but we all knew from an early age that we wanted to make a change in the world. As I told the two guys last night. You can teach someone what they need to know. You cannot teach compassion. Nor can you teach passion. Passion is something that burns within. And that is the motivating factor that ultimately underlies the work each of us will do to change the world.

The cycle of our days

Sunset from Kibbutz Gezer

ופרוס עלינו סכת שלומך

The Hebrew prayer Hashkiveinu, asks God to protect us throughout the night, that we may rise the next morning to life renewed, safe and full. The request, and the simple idea of asking God for something that isn’t even tangible, the guardianship of our soul, is an incredible one. We ask daily that good guard us, and in the morning pray again, thanking God for returning our soul to us, for allowing us to continue God’s work.

            The miracle of the morning is indeed incredible. Awesome, some might say. To me it surly is. Life is about each day, about the adventures we take and the people we will find. Who are we to take advantage of the time we have here on earth, to mess with the amazingness that is each one of us. Our unique qualities, combined with those around us, create daily blessings, ones we simply have to look for in order to appreciate.

            However, with each life, as with every thing in its time, the final moments arrive. Still, as Jews, we say Hashkiveinu in the evening and Modah Ani in the morning. Whatever opportunity is the last to be given us, we have thanked God for our souls, either for protecting them in advance or for restoring them to us. And in the end, there is thanks. Maybe not in that specific moment, but in some moment. We all matter. We all have souls, Nishamot, worth saving and protecting. We all need to remember to shelter ourselves, to protect ourselves, to nurture ourselves.

            Judaism teaches that if you save a man, it is as if you have saved an entire world. In this case, if you save yourself, you will save whatever might be coming next. Consider it. You too are important. You too are worth saving. Maybe prayer is not the way you need to do it. Maybe words and God are not your modus operendi. But whatever your way of connecting with the world, recognize, even for a moment, the power of you.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?” –Marianne Williamson

Life, Love and In between!

"That's not a good way to die - before you've told the end of your story."

From the Mount of Olives

             Everyone has a story to tell, a unique tale that weaves the intimate details of their lives into a single narrative, capturing who they are, from where they come and to where they will go. Each time we sit down to write such a narrative, it seems overwhelming, a task too daunting to allow completion. However, if we consider life as a series of vignettes, the story all of a sudden takes on a less terrifying component. Instead, it becomes a story, easy enough to write in the span of an afternoon.

If we are not careful, if for some reason we choose not to continue documenting our time and efforts, that story can be lost, or at least not transmitted by our pen. Instead it may become part of proto history, spread by someone else's voice instead of our own.

Always consider what you want your story to be. Never forget that your story will end. Live a life filled with love, compassion, choice, freedom, light. Find what makes you glow.

Yesterday I participated in the Jerusalem Pride Parade. I wasn't sure I wanted to at first, seeing that I was tired from our biblical history tiyul. However, I decided that going to the parade was way more important than my participation in a wine festival. (Both events were on Tu B'Av, the Jewish Day of Love). The experience of seeing so many people out, happy, and able to express themselves was utterly fantastic. These displays of affection were beautiful, acceptable, even wanted, and demonstrated how important it is for communities to be open, accepting and equal to all members. Although I did not buy a flag, I willingly waved one throughout the parade and am proud to have stood with so many people. Just as the religious of Jerusalem have a right to their voice and their space, so too does every other person deserve their voice to be not only heard, but actually listened to. Yesterday, I learned the importance of both a single voice and a crowd. Next year, in Jerusalem, may there be equality. This year, in Jerusalem, may there be equality and may everyone be heard.

Let everyone write their life story as truthfully as possible. How will you write yours? What will your story demonstrate?

Following the Footsteps: What Comes Next

What happens when we die? It’s something humans often thing about, wondering where they are going, if they will see loved ones, what the future holds. We want to have the answers to every questions, to make that unknown a little more fathomable/less overwhelmingly scary. Yet, by coming up with solutions and answers, are we not in some way belittling the entire experience, condensing it into something earthly and almost tangible, rather than completely unknown and scary.

            However, the IDEA of death is what scares people; the unknown. If we knew what came next, death would still be scary, but I imagine to a much lesser degree. With the process understood, the actual event would hold less value. That is why people come up with “reasons” for a young child’s death or the sudden passing of a loved one. We need to put value on the life, rather than the death; find meaning in their death, rather than focus on the senseless grief springing from their absence. When someone dies in Judaism, the Mourner’s Kaddish is recited. This prayer, while said by people who have lost someone, says nothing about death. It is about celebrating life, remembering the person and all the good associated with them. Therefore, the prayer acknowledges the importance of life and living, telling the mourner that they too need to continue living in order to maintain the memory of their loved one.

            A writing in Mishkan T’fillah starts: “It is a painful thing to love what death has touched.” That pain, the anger, the guilt even, all of those emotions can overwhelm us, when those important to us pass away. Anita Diamant, in her novel Good Harbor, offers another way to look at death, to perhaps make it less scary. Buddy says to his wife, while she is preoccupied with thoughts of breast cancer and death, that he “ think[s] of [dying] as following. Following the rest of them” (p. 117). In that way, death is much more about making connections and finding those people we love. Death becomes more reasonable, more tenable. We are more able to actually wrap our heads around the concept.

            Death is never easy. Sitting in a room with someone who is dying/about to die is incredibly painful and often overwhelming. We all find ways to cope with that pain. We all attempt to comfort ourselves and those around us in whatever way we know how. Sometimes we just need to put a different spin on it. Reaching out is always a good start. Where can you find strength and get courage from?

A vessel of prayer

We had our first day of Ulpan today. It was challenging, no doubt about it. However, I am eager to learn and see where this path will lead me. Hebrew is a wonderful language to explore and each day provides me with new opportunities to not only use my skills but interact with incredible people!

Before Ulpan, we had Shachrit. Here is my reflection on that experience:

Breathe. Choose a partner. Just one person and turn towards them. Look into their eyes. Watch their face. Wait. Sit with the discomfort. See who they really are.

            Spirituality is filled with so many crevices and alternative ways of connecting that we often miss what is right in front of us. Instead of seeing the beauty of a prayer, we get caught up in the meaning of the words or the distraction of the person beside us. Instead of feeling connected to God, we feel distant, unworthy of connecting or completely closed off from the world of prayer. Experience in spirituality works to fight those more negative aspects.

            There are two words in Hebrew that go hand in hand, Kevah and Kavanah. Kevah has to do with routine. What we do each day, regardless of how we feel or what a prayer means to us (either that day or always). Prayer is a continual experience, not to be halted just because one day we “don’t feel like it”. Kavanah on the other hand is about intention, the why behind the prayer. This is where we take the time to really figure out how each prayer is meaningful to us as individuals. Spending time wrestling with the language and the meaning is imperative, as only then is one truly able to lead others and stay spiritually whole as an individual.

            Exceptions always exist. There may be that one person who connects to Judaism so strongly and has been praying with a certain Kevah for his or her whole life. That person may be an incredible service leader. No system or ideological framework works for one person all of the time. It should be kept in mind that the congregation can often tell if their service leader is not being honest throughout the worship experience. However, for the most part, finding those connections and maintaining a constant relationship of learning, struggling and growing will further the power of prayer and service leadership. And nerves will make it blossom and explode! Take hold of a siddur and see where it can take you!

Higher Moral Self

A higher moral self. We often strive to be the best person we can be, either in terms of living up to our own expectations, or working to achieve morality through the eyes of another. Sometimes those expectations are well founded, seeded in reason, common sense, and love. At other times, they are deeply rooted in anger, frustration, denial, or pain.

            No matter from where the experience ultimately stems, we become focused on living life for the present and the future: who we are and who we want to become. Life becomes a path to take to achieve powerful self-ideology and image, a road towards wholeness and trust. We cast aside the hateful thoughts, those aspects of ourself that we don’t necessarily respect or want within. We focus on doing good, helping others, giving back. We are determined to move forward.

            As with any endeavor, we can easily stray from the mark. We may quickly lose our identity in the quest for self and end up stranded on an island of isolation and despair. We may feel physically lost, as though the path itself has been erased from right in front of us. Or, we may just be floating along, buoyed by unconscious thoughts and unceremoniously tethered here and there.

            However, the more powerful and positive aspects carry with them reward and tremendous opportunity. With these, we recognize our flaws and those aspects of self that have the potential to grow with us. Instead of bowing to the dissonant voices calling us away from our goals, we instead move towards a strength of will and mind that seems only to come to those truly searching for meaning and intent. There, we find who we are, who we will become. There, we truly hold love, life, learning, laughter and so much more to a higher standard and therefore have a greater appreciation for the intricacies that they may bring.

            Life always presents obstacles. How will you maneuver through them?

Learning, Lounging and Living

I’ve slept at Jeff, Nicole, and Ted’s apartment more times than I’ve spent in my own bed. This has nothing to do with not liking Mariel, or disliking my bed (okay, it has a little to do with that), but more to do with these three individuals. All three are incredibly caring, warm people. They have a sharp wit, full of sarcastic remarks but also profound thoughts. The late night conversations the three of them engage in deeply resonate with me, pushing my thoughts to higher and better things. I feel elevated around them, as though I am capable of more things. Every conversation they have, whether I am participant or observer, I come away with a different view on life, or at least a new perspective on a traditional topic. No matter the hour, they are willing to begin a verbal spar, because most likely the opinions are opposing, but the end result is concurrance. That atmosphere is a hard one to cultivate and is definitely one I am drawn to. Most likely, I crave intellectual stimulation, and since I spent so much time searching for it instead of accepting those around me who would actively aid me in it, I need to re-learn how to spark it and therefore participate in it. These three individuals have helped me find a portal for introspection and ideology, self-respect, representation and conversational prowess that I both didn’t know I possessed and wasn’t sure I would ever find.