Falling for fall

Fall in the PAC NW is turning out to be absolutely stunning. Every way you turn, it's as if you're looking at a postcard. And then yesterday, walking through the neighborhood, I noted that Mother Nature had busted out a whole new set of paints. The colors, textures, and vibrancy of each tree, leaf, cloud and even puddle truly popped to my eyes. What an uplifting way to enjoy a Sunday morning. 

What beauty have you witnessed in your environment lately?

It's time to get the guns

"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed."

Anyone, including certain judges and justices who have denigrated their calling, who actually thinks that the intent of the Second Amendment to the Constitution protects or enables an individual to acquire, carry and use a gun is just wrong; this is not a matter of opinion, it is the absolute truth. It is far beyond time that we in the United States allow special interests (ahem, the NRA) and unsophisticated gun lovers to browbeat the legislative process into submission to their absolutely childish and cowardly “need” to allow weapons to be held by anyone who so chooses. Enough already.

And historic precedent wholly supports this cause, no matter what the special interests would foolishly have us believe the 2^nd Amendment means. Former Supreme Court associate justice John Paul Stevens addresses the issue quite adeptly in his book Six Amendments: How and Why We Should Change the Constitution:

For more than 200 years following the adoption of that amendment, federal judges uniformly understood that the right protected by that text was limited in two ways: First, it applied only to keeping and bearing arms for military purposes, and second, while it limited the power of the federal government, it did not impose any limit whatsoever on the power of states or local governments to regulate the ownership or use of firearms. Thus, in United States v. Miller, decided in 1939, the court unanimously held that Congress could prohibit the possession of a sawed-off shotgun because that sort of weapon had no reasonable relation to the preservation or efficiency of a “well regulated Militia.”

When I joined the court in 1975, that holding was generally understood as limiting the scope of the Second Amendment to uses of arms that were related to military activities. During the years when Warren Burger was chief justice, from 1969 to 1986, no judge or justice expressed any doubt about the limited coverage of the amendment, and I cannot recall any judge suggesting that the amendment might place any limit on state authority to do anything.

Organizations such as the National Rifle Association disagreed with that position and mounted a vigorous campaign claiming that federal regulation of the use of firearms severely curtailed Americans’ Second Amendment rights. Five years after his retirement, during a 1991 appearance on “The MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour,” Burger himself remarked that the Second Amendment “has been the subject of one of the greatest pieces of fraud, I repeat the word ‘fraud,’ on the American public by special interest groups that I have ever seen in my lifetime” (Bold emphasis added by this blog author).

Prohibitions on carrying concealed weapons, or on the possession of firearms by felons and the mentally ill, and laws forbidding the carrying of firearms in sensitive places such as schools and government buildings or imposing conditions and qualifications on the commercial sale of arms are specifically identified as permissible regulations.

Thus, Congress’s failure to enact laws that would expand the use of background checks and limit the availability of automatic weapons cannot be justified by reference to the Second Amendment or to anything that the Supreme Court has said about that amendment. 

Unfortunately, the influence of the gun lobby reminds me of an old Jewish joke about the supremacy of one’s belief vis-à-vis fact. It used to be available as a tongue-in-cheek logo t-shirt, which read:

Maven University

Opinion above Knowledge

Sadly, we have allowed this once-witty aphorism to bully our society into accepting as inevitable such episodes of tragic violence that are directly related to lack of regulation on the pervasive availability of guns. This we must change. 

Gone Phishing, Puget Sound style

People in this area, the whole northwest of the country, are absolutely fascinated – no, better “obsessed” – by salmon. And it’s not really hard to understand. Salmon dominate the ecosystem – from environmentalism and agriculture to arts and business – these creatures are the talk of the town, and its bosses too. Now, let’s be clear as well: “salmon” does not refer to a single unique breed of fish; heck, only since moving to greater Seattle last year did I learn that there are no less than seventeen variety of salmon inhabiting the rivers, inlets and tributaries of the Puget sound alone! Coho, Sockeye, Chinook, Chum, Pink, and on and on…

Visiting the Issaquah Salmon Hatchery today (www.issaquahfish.org) just days before the annual Issaquah Salmon Days Festival – yes, this is really a thing, and it’s a really big thing; go to www.salmondays.org – I was delighted to witness zillions of these extra-large aquatic dudes (mainly Coho, which are bred at the hatchery) hanging out, doing their thing, putting on a show. Watching them in the Issaquah Creek, and trying to jump into and over the mini locks that are part of the hatchery, I am reminded of our long-standing and necessary, connection to the natural world. I am certainly no angler; as a matter of fact, I can’t even eat salmon without getting ill (the mere smell of it gets to me). And yet, observing part of its natural life-cycle, and knowing how vital it is to the life of this region, clearly demonstrates something very primal about our historic human symbiosis with the other living things that make up our earth’s system. Unfortunately of course this is something we often overlook.

So these coming days, our little town will be caught up in celebrating the indigenous water-bound master – there will be food and music, arts & crafts galore (how many salmon earrings, statues, batiks, paintings, sculptures and t-shirts does ANYONE really need?), and educational programs on the mating habits of Oncorhynchus kisutch. Our two kids will play in the high school marching band as part of the parade. And I will be there to cheer them on, and to praise the mighty salmon.

Reflections, revisited

Just processing the memories.

The following reflections are based on remarks I originally made on September 17, 2001, just days after the terror attacks, living in greater NYC.

 

Today, September 17, 2001, we face a very different world than we expected even just a week ago.  Our world, our very sense of security and safety, was shattered by the unimaginable events that took place last Tuesday morning.  I imagine that for many of us, the questions concerning those attacks on our nation and upon our human brothers and sisters keep flowing into our minds and hearts.  I know that my own sense of identity and mortality has come sharply into focus.

At this moment, I would not attempt to discuss the nagging issues of “who did this”, or “why” or “how”…there are many experts at work to resolve those problems.  Rather, I would share with you some thoughts about how the incidents affected me, how I initially responded to them, and perhaps what the message of this episode is for us as individuals and a community, as Americans and Jews.

* * * * *

If you recall, last Tuesday morning, September 11, was an absolutely gorgeous day. The sun was shining, barely a cloud in the sky. My day began as many of yours did: with a million things to do.  Incidentally, my biggest goal for the day was to finish my remarks for this evening.  So much for planning. I had an early appointment. By 10  a.m., I made my way to the cars, hurrying off to other places.  My habit is to listen to the radio even before shifting out of park. As I turned up the volume, I realized this was not regular programming. The station had turned over to NPR for ongoing coverage of breaking events….

I listened to a repeat of what had just occurred:  two planes flown into the World Trade Center towers…a third aircraft struck the Pentagon….and then, reports of a fourth crash outside Pittsburgh. I remember quite distinctly the wave of unsteadiness that overcame my body.  “What’s going on?”  I cried.  Then, “This can’t be true!”

I pulled out of our parking lot, making my way toward the JCC in Bridgewater, where I was due for a meeting.  The true horror had not even yet begun.  On my way over, I started to feel the two emotions that have tugged at me, and all of us, since this began. Desperate sadness. Uncontained fury. This is not supposed to happen to us.  Not here. Not at home.

The TV was on at the JCC, and I joined the small group huddled together.  It seemed that we actually drew close to one another for warmth and protection.  Moments later, we watched in disbelief as the first tower crumbled to the earth. A friend took me aside and asked “how do we respond to this?” Before I could speak, she continued:  “Better yet, now as the parent of two children, what do you say to them?” I’ve been dwelling on that one ever since.

Like everyone else, I spent the next several hours trying to get in touch with the people I love. No matter where they were, I wanted to know first-hand that they were safe.  Sitting on the curb of the JCC, I finally got through to my parents, who live outside Boston. They had been out that morning voting in the local primaries. My dad and I just sat together, over the phone, sharing our anguish. Like some of you who are here with me this evening, he remembers Pearl Harbor as a day of great change for him, for our country, and for the world. Yet, according to him, this most recent attack is of a much different nature. For it struck at the very heart of our society, the very core of our national sense of being. And for us here tonight, it struck too close to home.

From there, I tried to stay tuned to the news while joining Debra for lunch. We sat eating, listening to the continuing accounts of what was happening in New York and D.C. I looked at my daughter Vered, who is only today six weeks old. In my heart, I knew that my world and hers, was changing before our eyes. Growing up, my generation only had vague memories of Cold-War atomic bomb shelters. We’ve never known war as did our older brothers and sisters, and especially not like our parents. Yet even they did not see hostilities on this soil.  Terrorism was a dirty word that happened to other people, in other places. Would Vered and Benjamin know a different America? Will our children grow up without the safety we’ve come to expect? Can we guarantee that they will be secure in body and spirit? What’s happened to our homeland – a land we’ve come to embrace as insulated from such acts of senseless violence and hate? Unfortunately, the answers to these matters, and so many more, will take a lifetime to figure out. Yet I pray that ultimately, and perhaps even soon, we will all be blessed to know a greater measure of well-being than we have in recent days.

By the time I returned home that afternoon, I was exhausted. The constant barrage of new information, images and conjectures wiped me out both physically and emotionally. Though closer to what was going on than friends and colleagues elsewhere in the country, I know that I was lucky to be outside the city itself. So many innocent people have been lost. So many brave and concerned citizens – our fire-fighters, police, medical personnel – have responded to the crisis with selfless zeal. And many of them, too, have paid the ultimate price on behalf of others they never knew, and likely never even reached in the rubble and ruin of lower Manhattan. It is to honor them that we must carry on with dignity and conviction that what is good will yet prevail over evil. More precisely, good people will prevail over those who perpetrate violent acts of hatred upon others.

* * * * *

It was already late into the evening.  I made one final call for the day, to Erie, Pennsylvania.  My best friend had just been married nine days before. Scott and his new wife, Erica, were due to fly back home from Paris that very day. With all the day’s tumult – the grounding of flights, the closing of airports – I wondered where they were, and when they’d return. Anita, Erica’s mom, was relieved that I called.  “The kids are safe,” she told me. “They reported in from Amsterdam a few hours ago.” Their flight from Paris had been aloft for two hours when they received the order to land. Unexpectedly, their honeymoon was extended. And this is only one personal story, one of hundreds and thousands about individuals, real people, who were touched on that day. Thankfully, theirs had a happy ending. Many, of course, did not.

In the end, the whole day was, simply, a big mess. It was beyond surreal. It was more like watching a very expensive Hollywood production – one of those science fiction movies about an alien attack. And that’s just what it was, my friends – and alien attack. The people who planned and executed this monstrous crime are exactly that. No, of course they are not from other planets. But yes, from a different world. We need to recognize this very fact if we are to make sense of what has happened. Their thinking and their behavior is alien to us. They do not share in our understanding of the sanctity of human life.  They do not recognize the kinship of the entire human family. They do not even value their own existence. Not in any way like we do.

And so, I hope that we are able to “hunt down and punish those responsible”, as the President has said. Like so many, my rage burns hot.  Whether it is comfortable or not for us to think about, there are those who are beyond chesed, beyond mercy. There are instances when it is necessary to discipline wrongdoers. And not merely with symbolic acts. It will take time, yet it is upon us to exact justice from anyone who was involved with this whole affair. 

We, however, need also to look beyond this moment, and go forward.  First, we must come to grips with the enormous loss of life. Statistics do not suffice. This is surely a massive tragedy, a disaster without compare in modern history. I reminded myself of one very important teaching: when it comes to such large-scale catastrophe, such uncountable loss of human life, numbers can never be enough. It cannot be that “two hundred and seventy-something people died in the plane crashes.” It cannot be that hundreds are unaccounted for. It is not that X thousand innocent civilians lost their lives. No – we must recall that it was one plus one plus one. Each one precious. The extent of this slaughter can only begin to be fathomed when we start thinking that it was so-and-so, our neighbor, and so-and-so, somebody’s mom or dad, and so-and-so, my friend’s cousin, and so-and-so, someone I knew from work. When we think of the victims in this way, it quickly becomes real to us. The magnitude of this loss begins to take shape.

And yet, let us not despair. 

In this coming year, we will journey together, continuing the sacred path of life. May the words of our mouths and the deeds of our hands always be blessed. And may we find the strength not only to carry on, but to do all that it takes to make the world a better place –simply for our having been here.

Tenor Madness - Sonny Rollins turns 85

At some point during grad school, we finally decided to get a CD player. We decided on some fancy new-fangled “shelf unit” that had all the components stacked in one fairly compact piece (and I think it cost more than our first two cars put together). I remember the first disc I played on the machine – a copy of Sonny Rollins’ The Bridge (one of the first three albums we received from BMG Music Club, no less!). Though already listening to jazz for several years at the time, I wasn’t yet too familiar with his work. And from the first notes of “Without a Song,” I was hooked. Something sweet, complex and emotional always came from Sonny’s horn. As my love for his music grew – from that first album to Way out West and Saxophone Colossus to This is What I Do, Road Shows and Sonny, Please – I have cherished what feels like a personal connection also to the greats whose legacy he carries on: Bird and Diz, Lester Young, Coleman Hawkins and Miles himself.

As Sonny turns 85 today, I admire his unflagging energy and spirit, his indomitable talent, and especially his love for the history and impact of his genre. Just listening to him speak so lovingly of the jazz past assures me that his present will long continue to carry us into a future of sublime and significant art.

Happy birthday Sonny Rollins – a colossus among giants.

Filthy McNasty

Today is the anniversary of the birth of Horace Silver (b. 1928, d. June 28 2014), who has remained one of my all-time favorite musicians. He had a long, illustrious, productive career, and played with most of the giants of the genre. I came late to the party - only really learning of him when "Hardbop Grandpop" came out in 1996. I remember the moment - seeing the very cool looking Horace, wearing black suit, purple shirt and awesome hat - staring back at me from the front of a CD rack at Borders Books and Music (in White Plains, no less). The rainbow lettering drew me over; I asked the nearest clerk what he knew about the album, which wasn't much. "He's some old jazz dude." Thanks I replied. I thought I'd give it a try, so I bought the CD, brought it out to the car (my oh so hip '96 Saturn), popped it into the deck...and WOW. I think I grooved to that album for the next 3 weeks straight.

Now there's a whole lot of musicians I love - Oscar Peterson, Sonny Rollins, Ron Carter, Hank Mobley, Lee Morgan, Charlie Parker, Lester Young, and of course Miles Davis (how I love me some Miles!). And yet there's something particularly magical in my ear and heart about Horace. The composition...the virtuoso playing...the collaboration...it all adds up to be one of the more creative inspirations I've ever enjoyed. Whether writing, event planning, consulting with others and even playing music on my own - a little something extra seems to pump the blood and brain if Horace is on in the background. 

He's been gone just more than a year. Thankfully his musical genius lives every time we hit "play."

Happy birthday dear friend, for the 30th time!

Thirty years ago this week, I entered as a freshman at the American University. Following yet another summer as a camp counselor, I hopped in the car with mom and dad to drive from Boston to DC. I don’t remember much about the trip, except we stopped in Brooklyn to visit my grandmother who was in the hospital (and then dad showed me the location of the family bakery – building still intact – at Coney Island and O). We made our way to the nation’s capitol, and stayed overnight in nearby suburban Virginia. We spent time with my aunt Enid, visiting her son Tommy who lived and worked locally, and spent an eve celebrating her birthday at a French dinner-burlesque show (only slightly awkward for an eighteen year-old with his parents). Of course most important was finally moving onto campus, finding my way to my room in Letts Hall, the dorm – oops, I mean “residence hall” – that I would call home for my first three years at school.

Mixing and mingling with the other new and returning students, I was introduced to one fellow freshman whose friendship I cannot overemphasize to this day. Scott and I met as (myopic yet) wide-eyed newbies at the introductory meeting led by the RA on our floor. We hit it off right away, and now seem to have accomplished a great majority of life’s deeds together: from intramural soccer and softball and student activities to movie nights with Armand’s Pizza and pining over girls, and yes even successfully navigating our course work – I had a friend and partner through the ups and downs of college life. We’ve shared holidays and family time, both as young adult sons in our families of origin as well as being husbands and fathers ourselves. Scott schlepped to Minnesota for our wedding at the end of one very cold December; I had the privilege of officiating at his wedding another memorable weekend in Erie, PA. We’ve visited and shared, watched (and marveled) as we became parents, and our children continue to grow…

And yes, that week we met, also coincided with Scott’s birthday – which he’ll again celebrate this week. So we celebrate 30 years since first meeting that fateful day at AU – I wish you all the best now and always. Happy birthday Scotty – you’ll always be Senor Smoke.

If I were a bell...

What's your favorite single note in any song?

What? What kind of question is that? It's hard enough to think about favorite single musicians, or songs, or even genres. Favorite single note?

Well, for me, at least at the moment, my favorite single note is the ringing guitar chime at the opening of "The Kids are Alright." It's just so filled with energy, possibility, and the appropriate amount of angst. One resounding blast, followed by the plaintive lyrics...

I don't mind other guys dancing with my girl

That's fine, I know them all pretty well

But I know sometimes I must get out in the light

Better leave her behind with the kids, they're alright

The kids are alright

Sometimes, I feel I gotta get away

Bells chime, I know I gotta get away

And I know if I don't, I'll go out of my mind

Better leave her behind with the kids, they're alright

The kids are alright

I guess just another way to say, well, if I were a bell I'd go ding dong, ding dong ding.

Consuming our fill

Toward the opening of this week’s passage, we find the verse that is customarily held to be the basis for reciting birkat hamazon – the traditional blessing after meals:

For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land with streams and springs and fountains issuing from plain and hill; a land of wheat and barley, of vines, figs, and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey; a land where you may eat food without stint, where you will lack nothing; a land whose rocks are iron and from whose hills you can mine copper. When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you (Deuteronomy 8:7-10, JPS translation).

Usually we pay most attention only to the last line – v’achalta v’savata uveyrachta et Adonai elohekha – “When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to the Lord your God…” If this were only to indicate our obligation to recite thanks for our dietary sustenance, our understanding is insufficient; the paragraph refers to ALL the bounty of the Promised Land – natural resources, nourishing foods, precious metals – that is, the entire range of what we need to flourish and succeed. This in mind, we should read the passage as “when you have *consumed* your fill,” as consumption is much broader than eating alone. Consequently, this also broadens our responsibility to express gratitude for what we have. It is not merely following meals that we give thanks; it is for each and every time we “consume,” make use of, that which is provided for us. Imagine – an even greater prompt to utter praise for the things we have and what we do with them.

Soon after, recounting Moses’ need to create a second set of tablets (the Ten Commandments) following the Israelites’ episode with the golden calf, the text goes on:

And now, O Israel, what does the Lord you God demand of you? Only this: to revere the Lord your God, to walk only in His paths, to love Him, and to serve the Lord your god with all your heart and soul, keeping the Lord’s commandments and laws, which I enjoin upon you today, for your good (Deut. 10:12-13).

Only this?!?!? Well, at least this easy listing is meant for our good. Modern commentator Jeffrey Tigay suggests that “’And now’” means ‘Now, then.’ In other words, ‘Your history of rebellion shows that you lack the following qualities, to which you must dedicate yourselves in the future’” (JPS Torah Commentary – Deuteronomy, p. 107).

So how do we begin (or continue) to tackle this “mere” listing of virtues that enable us to overcome our past foibles? The answer is already given in the earlier part of the text: by always cultivating an “attitude of gratitude”, in giving thanks for what we have, our ability to use them for good, and our opportunity to share our advantage with those around us.

And now, it remains our turn. 

a thought for erev July 4th

Fireworks into nerot, a keg for Kiddush

Sheet cake flag unfurled, stripes intertwined like challah

“When in the course of human events” urged by

Vay’chulu hashamayim v’ha-araetz…

The self-evidence of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness

Finally allows for shavat vayinafash

A wider tent

Mah tovu ohalekha ya’akov mishk’notekha yisrael

How lovely are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling-places, O Israel!

Jewish daily morning prayer opens with these words that transformed the prophet-for-hire Balaam’s intent to curse the Israelites into an eternal blessing for the people. Recognizing and affirming the beauty and sanctity of the community and all its members is a standard we have strived to achieve throughout the generations. It takes compassion, generosity of the spirit and a true concern for our fellow human to overcome those obstacles – racism, misogyny, bias of all types – that have diminished some in the eyes of others.

This morning, we were woken to the news that the Supreme Court, ruling regarding same sex marriage, had relied upon upholding the 14^th Amendment (which asserts equal protection under the law) to safeguard marriage equality. In closing the majority opinion, Justice Kennedy wrote these words, which are already receiving much-due attention for their content and eloquence:

No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.

In recent memory I don’t think read a more “Jewish” plea for social justice and civil rights than these words today. Yes, ours remains a culture that is challenged by a range of social ills from poverty and homelessness to inequality of pay. Today’s decision by the Supreme Court renews hope that our society still has what it takes to mend the world’s brokenness, and that the “American dream” is within reach of all.

 

Mah tovu – today our tent got a little wider, and a little more beautiful.

Nuances of rebellion

This week’s Torah portion, Korach, is customarily seen to illustrate a paradigmatic example of rebellion against authority. In it, Korach and his followers apparently rise up against Moses’ leadership, and question his right to lead the people. At the outset they suggest that Moses is no more suited to hold that station than anyone else in the community, as all of them are holy, and God is among them (emphasis mine). Throughout the ages there have been discussions of this incident: Korach’s jealousy of his cousin Moses; whether Korach’s perspective is worth consideration; how to squelch such tumult; Moses’ response(s); and so on…one’s understanding of these issues is based upon the idea that Korach and his followers present themselves in a defiant stance. Is it possible that the text offers different possibilities? Of course, if we but explore the wording itself, paying particular attention to the verbs in use.

In the standard JPS translation (among the most widely used Jewish versions) we read:

Now Korah, son of Izhar son of Kohath son of Levi, betook himself, along with Dathan and Abiram sons of Eliab, and On son of Peleth – descendants of Reuben – to rise up against Moses, together with two hundred fifty representatives of the Israelites…

Here, the main protagonist is clearly Korach, who takes himself (and the others along the way) in order to challenge Moses. This wording opens a chapter of rebellion. We find a difference in both focus and intent in the classic Soncino Pentateuch and Haftorahs, edited by Dr. JH Hertz – likely the leading English language Torah used for the majority of the 20^th century:

Now Korah, the son of Izhar, the son of Kohath, the son of Levi, with Dathan and Abiram, the sons of Eliab, and On, the son of Peleth, sons of Reuben, took men; and they rose up in the face of Moses, with certain of the children of Israel, two hundred and fifty men…

In this version Korach is not entirely singled out in the leading role; he and the other named character “take men” (as opposed to betook himself”) in order to present themselves unto Moses. Perhaps, as they make their case, it is to relieve Moses of the overwhelming burden of managing the Israelites – just as his father-in-law Jethro had done immediately prior to receiving the Ten Commandments. A thought to ponder.

Robert Alter, in his masterful The Five Books of Moses, offers another possibility, retaining the ambiguity of the original Hebrew:

And Korah son of Izhar son of Kohath son of Levi, and Dathan and Abiram sons of Eliab and On son of Peleth sons of Reuben, took up, and they rose before Moses, and two hundred fifty men of the Israelites…and they assembled against Moses…

In his commentary, Alter notes that “took up” is vague at best; the common completion of the phrase, “took up men,” is merely *understood* – whereas it can also easily be read to mean that he (indicating Korach, as Alter points out that the verb is singular, referring mainly to him) “took it upon himself” or “steeled himself up” and therefore “rebelled.”

Finally I would include the rendition offered by Everett Fox in his groundbreaking Five Books of Moses (yes, we aren’t that innovative when it comes to titles). His work is fascinating because of his very particular attention to idiom, and the preservation of Hebrew words and phrases in the text for their specific merit/meaning. Fox advances:

Now there betook himself Korah son of Yitzhar son of Kehat son of Levi, and Dathan and Aviram the sons of Eliav and On son of Pelet the sons of Reuven – to rise up before Moshe with men-of-stature from the Children of Israel, 250, leaders of the community…

Again in this instance, Fox’s account – while suggesting that Korach’s own plan to confront Moses is his alone – allows for the possibility that the entire episode is not necessarily rebellious in nature from the outset. This gathering of men of stature could be viewed as a demonstration of the importance of what they had to say to Moses – perhaps insubordinate indeed and yet maybe something else – which remains important to consider.

So this is often true for the situations we meet, when we are faced by others. If we jump to conclusions about their intentions from the outset, without (patiently) weighing additional possibilities, the only expected outcome can be devastating conflict – usually difficult to overcome. Yet not every encounter needs to be a challenge, not every interaction a trial. We have it within us to express greater measures of compassion, kindness and generosity toward one another – which might yet mend the world.

More than enough

True contentment is an elusive feat for us to achieve. Shouldn’t it be enough to have a loving family, a safe roof over our heads, and the opportunity to wake up every day and do something of worth and value with my life? The answer is – certainly. However, it’s hard to keep these things in mind all the time. It can be easy to fall back on thinking about those issues of dissatisfaction or incompleteness. We all struggle with overcoming this notion of emptiness. The ancient Rabbis offered timeless wisdom. They taught us, “Who is rich? [It is] the person who is content with what he [or she] has” (Pirkei Avot 4:1). When we remember this simple formula, when we overcome our penchant to be *miton’nim*, “complainers,” we too can be content with our lot.

Wishing a Shabbat of contentment, and peace...

Pete Townshend and the ancient rabbis - a birthday post

Introspective. Elegant. Angry. Honest. Powerful. Disturbing. Uplifting. These and a host of other terms come to mind when I think about the work of my favorite songwriter, Pete Townshend, whose birthday is marked today. For this kid, who grew up inspired by the words of Jewish tradition and the lyrics of rock’n’roll – PT emerged for me as the poet laureate of his generation. The ancient sage Hillel proposed “If I am not for myself, who will be for me,” as Pete declared “Don’t pretend that you know me – I don’t even know myself;” Hillel continued “If I am *only* for myself, what am I?” to which Townshend responds “Can you see the real me?” Knowing our understanding evolves, Ben Bag Bag (with perhaps the most fun name in Jewish tradition) taught regarding Torah, “Turn it and turn it again, for everything is in it;” a tormented PT offers “the music must change.”  Torah demands, “Justice, justice shall you pursue, that you may long live and endure…” and Pete screams, “Long live rock!” Ultimately, we are urged to “love our neighbor as yourself,” as the poet pleads “Love, reign o’er me,” and we are transported to the world that ought to be.

The timeless and the timely again intertwined in the oeuvre of a beloved, conflicted, struggling artist. Beautiful and ironic, as we celebrate the 70^th (!) birthday of the guy who splashed onto the scene some 50 years ago with the iconic youthful anthem “hope I die before I get old.” The rabbis, with their own sense of mocking wit, have declared “at seventy, one reaches the fullness of life.” And rather than lamenting his perseverance, Townshend has grown into an elder statesman of our musical world. And he continues to move and arouse us. There is still no one who can match what he and Roger can accomplish on stage – with his fiery playing, arm-swinging guitar bravado, and plaintive vocal virtuosity.

PT has spent a lifetime tilting at his own windmills like Don Quixote (ooh, see what I did there?), and teaches us what it is to be comfortable struggling with our own demons. Without his angst-driven emotional explorations – with both guitar and pen – we would not be blessed with the hard rock, heavy metal, punk and grunge as we know today. No one exemplifies the extremes of expressive possibility of gear and jargon as he has for the last half century.

Pete – as you continue, as the rabbis urge ad me’ah v’esrim – until 120 – may it ever be for you that

You know in some strange, unexplainable way

You must really have something

Jumping, thumping, fighting, hiding away

Important to say

Continuing evolution of Jewish marriage?

On the occasion of the 30^th anniversary of its publication, I am re-reading and studying Eugene Mihaly’s Responsa on Jewish Marriage. To introduce this brief piece, Dr. Mihaly (z”l) states:  “A number of colleagues, prompted by the recently published and widely circulated statement, questions and answers entitled “Reform Rabbis and Mixed Marriage,” addressed a series of questions to me related to Jewish marriage. I shall address myself to four of them…” (p.9).

As the seeming “traditional” stance of the rabbinate had been to deny interfaith officiation, and while instances of intermarriage expanded exponentially especially following 1970, Reform Judaism had taken to wrestling with the matter (note, Mihaly indicates that officiation at interfaith marriages has “agitated” liberal Judaism since at least the Braunschweig conference of 1844). It seemed that the issue pitted the customary ideal of Jewish endogamy (in-marriage) against the vaunted Reform principle of autonomy and choice regarding personal practice, including rabbinical. The “statement” suggests the autonomy of Reform rabbis to determine their stance on officiation, while expressing that “Rabbis who do officiate at mixed marriage ceremonies do so contrary to the clear guidelines of their rabbinic organization.” This is perhaps the greatest dilemma that faced the Reform rabbinate, and community, over the past generation.

In his treatment of the topic, Mihaly examines historical and halakhic resources and standards related to such things as rabbinical authority, the limits of coercive power of denominations/professional organizations over its members, and most especially, traditional technical terms like kiddushin (marriage/sanctification) and kedat moshe v’yisrael (according to the law of Moses and Israel). I recall in seminary more than twenty years ago, when the clear overwhelming majority of American rabbis did not officiate at interfaith ceremonies, including Mihaly’s text was heated, if not controversial. Some (including myself) saw its intent to “force” those who didn’t wish to officiate to do so. As young professionals, our own struggle to decide on this issue was so heated that we generally avoided discussing officiation altogether.

Re-reading this work now is fascinating – as our Jewish world, its demography & sociology, has changed so dramatically (even see Hayim Herring’s current piece on paradigm shift, http://ejewishphilanthropy.com/educating-rabbis-for-jews-without-borders/), as I guess so have I. If Judaism is truly progressive, which I ultimately believe, so too must Jewish marriage continue to evolve. Most powerfully regarding rabbinic officiation, Mihaly writes:

The Jewish validity of marriage is not dependent on what the rabbi does or does not say. What matters is the intent of the bridegroom and bride and what they say to each other. The authors of the Statement themselves clearly affirm, “It is not the Rabbi, according to our Jewish tradition, who marries a couple; the bride and groom marry one another (p. 20).

Don’t get me wrong – serving as the rabbi at weddings has been one of the great joys I've experienced. Thankfully, though perhaps not necessary Jewishly, an officiant is mandated in our society legally. I am not, and would never, advocate for ceremonies without the guidance, presence and involvement of trained and skilled clergy. Rather, I know that in our world, especially in our day, we need to be as inclusive and expansive in how we embrace those who wish to marry. Concluding his essay, Dr. Mihaly writes:

Whatever alternative we as Reform Jews adopt, however, we cannot, we must not and, with the help of a benign Providence, we will not deny the blessings of Judaism to our children. If we are to speak with the young men and women whom we consecrated and confirmed, we must be prepared to say, as our ancestors heard the good Lord Himself say to His beloved people: “Your pain is My pain (‘Immo ‘Anokhi betzarah).” “Your joy is our joy; we are with you in your soul struggle, in your travail – open, accepting, loving, understanding. We face this together” (p.83).

Took me only 20 years to understand the good Dr. had it right all along…

They say it's your birthday!

"They say it's your birthday - it's my birthday too, yeah..."

Aah - the classics...

So celebrating my birthday today, I'm enjoying the loving outreach from so many friends, near and far. As I look to each message, I'm visualizing the connection to every person who sends: from my very longest-time friend and our childhood schoolmates to those from camp, high school, youth group, the college years, professional colleagues, various neighbors, musician friends, co-teachers, fellow activists and even a few I've only met in recent days...It's exciting to see the spectrum of my life captured in such a relatively brief span of time - first birthday wish actually arrived the other night (nearly two days early) and will likely continue over the several hours ahead. It's also fascinating to see how many of these seemingly disparate individuals overlap in the many areas of my life...(I am thankful to David Hachen for initially turning me onto the formal study of network theory).

Through the earlier part of the day, I was trying to come up with something witty, profound or even meaningful to write to capture my thoughts and feelings on this occasion. Yet I've been writing less these days, and couldn't find a prompt for my ideas. And it struck me - after some 45 years of writing - that expressing ourselves in words is much like playing music: no matter how long we've done it, how successful we've been at it, how much we might be gifted to do so - it requires continued, ongoing practice and repetition - not just to get "better" at it, yet even to maintain the ability we cultivate. Though somewhat like riding a bike (which supposedly you can't forget how), it takes discipline and dedication to articulate ourselves well.

So I guess that's my birthday gift to myself - rediscovering my enjoyment of writing, and rekindling my desire to do so. And now that I'm finally recuperating from a recent significant injury to my left index finger ("frankenfinger") I can get back to seriously playing the guitar, typing my heart out, and finding my voice. In favorite words from my favorite writer:

You can walk, you can talk, you can fight

But inside you've got something to write

In your hand you hold your only friend

Never spend your guitar or your pen

The personal Seder plate - what prompts YOUR story?

The central task of the Seder is magid - retelling the story of the Exodus to teach its themes of freedom, redemption, empathy for the plight of others and our hope for the future. To emphasize this importance, the ancient rabbis said, "In every generation, one is to regard oneself as if personally taken out of Egypt. We ourselves are to understand that our own lives are stories of liberation, moving as it were from avdut/slavery toward cherut/freedom.

For the noble task of meaningfully recounting the age-old Passover story so it resonates with us today, the Seder table is filled with symbols that engage all our senses in the experience: there are sights, sounds, tastes, smells, touches that enhance the spiritual and intellectual journey intended as part of the celebration. In addition to the matzah (which certainly embodies all the senses; what else feels like matzah crumbling in our hands, or has its unique taste and texture?), the Seder plate has six items for our considerarion (z'roah/shankbone, charoset/mortar, maror/bitter herbs, karpas/greens, chazeret/bitter leaf and beitzah/roasted egg) representing various elements of the narrative. And it is never sufficient merely to refer to these things: we point to them, lift them up, touch and taste, smell and sometimes even combine them to take in all they have to offer. Additionally, we have salt water, Elijah's cup, the four children and have added Miriam's cup and an orange, and much more...This multi-sensory approach is why the Passover Seder is perhaps the single-most instructive annual Jewish ritual.

I've been thinking lately "what about my own PERSONAL Seder plate?" That is, if I were to come up with certain articles that each prompted me to recall or tell something significant about my life's journey - what would I choose, and why? For this year's Seder, I ask you to do the same. What are the symbols on the Seder plate of your life? Thinking about them, and using them to share your story, may you fulfill the command to tell you child: "it is because of what God did for ME, when I myself went free from Egypt."

CHAG PESACH SAMEYACH - Wishing a joyous Passover to all.

Tu B'shevat - planting for the future

Jewish tradition has taught for generations about "paying it forward." In one famous Talmudic tale of Honi the Circle Maker, we read:

One day, Honi the Circle Maker was walking on the road and saw a man planting a carob tree. Honi asked the man, “How long will it take for this tree to bear fruit?”

The man replied, “Seventy years.”

Honi then asked the man, “And do you think you will live another seventy years and eat the fruit of this tree?”

The man answered, “Perhaps not. However, when I was born into this world, I found many carob trees planted by my father and grandfather. Just as they planted trees for me, I am planting trees for my children and grandchildren so they will be able to eat the fruit of these trees.”

This story is often used to express the Jewish value of providing for the future in fundraising campaigns - reminding us of another rabbinic teaching: eyn kemach eyn torah - "without flour (sustenance=$$=diñeiro) there is no Torah." That is, without financial support of our institutions and causes, there can be no substantive learning and activity. How true. 

Of course, there are myriad additional ways for our community to "pay it forward" for the generations yet to come. This evening begins the holiday of Tu B'shevat - the Birthday of the Trees. Traditionally associated with the time that sap begins to run again in the trees in the land of Israel, it is our celebration of our commitment to maintaining the natural world. Somewhat of a Jewish "earth day" and environmental lollapalooza.

What are you doing to plant trees for the future? 

what's on YOUR playlist?

In his latest book titled Playlist Judaism: Making Choices for a Vital Future, Rabbi Kerry Olitzky of the Jewish Outreach Institute (www.joi.org) constructs a brilliant metaphor regarding modern Jewish life. He demonstrates that in today's world, unlike that of our parents and grandparents, Jews (and people of all religious denominations) wish to create, extremely autonomously, their own "set list" of religious involvement, institutional and otherwise. Whereas previous generations "bought the whole album" even if only looking for the one or two hit singles they enjoyed, our contemporaries are picking and choosing only those programs, opportunities, experiences and activities that are personally appealing and potentially fulfilling.  Introducing the concept in the book's foreword, insightful teacher Ron Wolfson makes the case, describing the evolution of recorded music over his lifetime. After fondly recalling purchasing singles and LPs, he notes:

...perhaps the most frustrating aspect of the experience was the necessity to endure those B-side tracks and the selection of mediocre songs that came as part of the album when it was really only one or two hits you wanted to hear. Today, of course, there is no need to buy the whole album or put up with an inferior B side. Today, internet-based technology enables me to choose only the songs I really want, the songs that really speak to me, the songs that make my own heart sing. Today, I create my personal playlist, my own mixtape of voices that move me. Today...the oft-cited aphorism "We are all Jews by choice" finds its ultimate expression in this twenty-first century Playlist Judaism. The question is, What shall Jewish communal leaders, clergy, and educators do to engage a population that refuses to buy the whole album and increasingly picks only those experiences that resonate with who they are and where they are on their very personal spiritual journeys?

This shift in perspective outlined by Wolfson and explored further by Olitzky has significant ramifications for the "organized" Jewish world. There are of course financial, programmatic, and institutional implications to be considered and navigated. More so, this new reality implies substantial consequences regarding people, personnel and what it means to create community. These are among the issues that Olitzky (and so many others of us today) are attempting to address.

So my question is: given the availability of such a wide range of entry points for involvement, and so many options for Jewish expression, what are those that you place on YOUR own playlist? Let me know...

Toxic Emotions, revisited

Peter J. Frost, Toxic Emotions at Work and What You Can Do about Them

Boston: Harvard Business School Press, 2003.

 

This is an oft-overlooked gem that should be read by every organizational leader, volunteer, and participant - especially regarding those times of challenging transition that seem to plague every type of outfit you can imagine.

 

Insightfully, Frost does not come up with a magic list of reasons for the toxicity that troubles our businesses, agencies, congregations (and even families). Rather, he forces the reader to confront the inherent reality of these difficulties (the nasty co-worker, the problematic situation, the tough merger....); whether or not the effect is a toxic one is dependent on the response to the given condition. He writes:

 

Pain is a fact of organizational life. Companies will merge, bosses will make unrealistic demands, people will lose their jobs. The pain that accompanies events like these isn't in itself toxic; rather, it's how that pain is handled throughout the organization that determines whether its long-term effects are positive or negative. What turns emotional pain into toxicity, especially in organized settings, is when others respond to that pain in a harmful, rather than healing, way (emphasis mine).

 

Ok - how many of us have experienced such behavior? Each and every time, it is that response - the harmful instead of healing one - that actually adds to, even multiplies, the poisoned state of affairs. And, these emotional toxins are just as insidious and dangerous as any harmful agent introduced to the body...

 

Frost goes on to discuss the "toxin handler" - that person in the organization who deals with the emotional and functional fallout that occurs. More often than not, this person isn't specifically designated - i.e. not necessarily part of the HR team. There's always that one person (or a few) that becomes the "go-to" resource for bitching, moaning, complaining, and ultimately brainstorming and repairing that which can be fixed. Important to note - through processing the toxins out of colleagues (and perhaps the system), the toxin handler also needs a great measure of care and cleansing - to purge the accumulated contamination. Organizations that do well in cultivating an atmosphere in which toxins are eliminated and toxin handlers are well cared for are better positioned to thrive.

 

And those who don't...