Taste the Divine
I hope that we were able to find some additional support for our constant seeking of a connection to the Divine yesterday on Yom Kippur.
I know that I discover again, as I often do ,that to seek the Divine in community is a truly Jewish way of seeking.
Some may go the the mountaintop- other descend into underground caves in order to establish their connections.
But, yidlach, we do it together, stuffed side by side in a room, with
raspy voices and bad breath; fighting caffeine headaches and beating our
chests as our souls cry out to each other, the the Universe, the
Divine we are your people and we have crowned you God the Sovereign who
is Reality,-let us taste of the Divine.
As I break the fast on bagels and lox, I taste the Divine.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Opening the Door
In a few days we launch a new project, establishing temporary housing for those who live in permanent housing.
This bit of play acting is commendable of course; learning the lessons of fragility useful in acquiring greater appreciation for all we have. But, somehow I'd hope that we would invest our time building permanent housing for those living in temporary shelters.
What, however, I do find attractive is the open door policy of our thatched booths.
We invite our ancestors and all those who we wish were there with us.
Sometimes we play the game of asking guests to suggest who they would invite, if they could, from any place in time in history, or what fictional character would make their day if they were sitting shoulder to shoulder in our sukkah.
some years we are joined by Einstein and Spinoza, other years by Emma Bovary and Odysseus. Superman makes an appearance as does Wonder Woman.
Mostly we invite projections of ourselves to sit beside or across from us. We engage them in conversation and hope that we acquitted ourselves well.
We hope that as we schep nakhas from them they will schep nakhas from us.
Our temporary huts provide fleeting celebrations. This, too, is a reminder of the fragility of our lives
In a few days we launch a new project, establishing temporary housing for those who live in permanent housing.
This bit of play acting is commendable of course; learning the lessons of fragility useful in acquiring greater appreciation for all we have. But, somehow I'd hope that we would invest our time building permanent housing for those living in temporary shelters.
What, however, I do find attractive is the open door policy of our thatched booths.
We invite our ancestors and all those who we wish were there with us.
Sometimes we play the game of asking guests to suggest who they would invite, if they could, from any place in time in history, or what fictional character would make their day if they were sitting shoulder to shoulder in our sukkah.
some years we are joined by Einstein and Spinoza, other years by Emma Bovary and Odysseus. Superman makes an appearance as does Wonder Woman.
Mostly we invite projections of ourselves to sit beside or across from us. We engage them in conversation and hope that we acquitted ourselves well.
We hope that as we schep nakhas from them they will schep nakhas from us.
Our temporary huts provide fleeting celebrations. This, too, is a reminder of the fragility of our lives
Monday, September 13, 2010
Awesome Days
The Awesome Days
10 days in between.
RH was very successful. But what does that mean? Did people change their lives.
In my case it meant that I lost my voice and that our services were full.
This last part is always the anxiety of a pulpit rabbi, Will anyone show up?
Two services on RH: 8-11 and 11:30 to 2:30 .
First is shakharit with an "unetaneh tokef" thrown in.
The second, musaf- with a little of the AM preliminaries thrown in.
Waiting to do two Kol Nidres (always a thrill) and then the two services on Yom Kippur and then the rest of the day.
Neila is always stirring. Passionate and enthusiastic. They say they love it, but will they love us on Sukkot.
The High Holiday fix. A strange phenomenon.
I've been kidding for years that I don't mind if folks come two-or-three days a year.
Just let me pick the days they come.
"For you a Shevous, for you a Shabbas Rosh Hodesh, for you a Tisha be'Av. I'll sign off with the Aybishter and you'll get credit for the days you were in shul during the year." It would save a lot of the tararam we go through every fall.
But it is not to be.
Instead we invest all of our koykhes into these Awesome Days. The voice will return.
10 days in between.
RH was very successful. But what does that mean? Did people change their lives.
In my case it meant that I lost my voice and that our services were full.
This last part is always the anxiety of a pulpit rabbi, Will anyone show up?
Two services on RH: 8-11 and 11:30 to 2:30 .
First is shakharit with an "unetaneh tokef" thrown in.
The second, musaf- with a little of the AM preliminaries thrown in.
Waiting to do two Kol Nidres (always a thrill) and then the two services on Yom Kippur and then the rest of the day.
Neila is always stirring. Passionate and enthusiastic. They say they love it, but will they love us on Sukkot.
The High Holiday fix. A strange phenomenon.
I've been kidding for years that I don't mind if folks come two-or-three days a year.
Just let me pick the days they come.
"For you a Shevous, for you a Shabbas Rosh Hodesh, for you a Tisha be'Av. I'll sign off with the Aybishter and you'll get credit for the days you were in shul during the year." It would save a lot of the tararam we go through every fall.
But it is not to be.
Instead we invest all of our koykhes into these Awesome Days. The voice will return.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Luck
Luck
The bullet grazed his grizzled chin entering his throat and lodging in his thyroid.
How ironic to die in Bedford-Stuyvesant grocery store after surviving Stalin’s army and the devastation that was his life up to now.
Working furiously to remove the bullet without grazing the larynx not wanting to muffle the screams and shouts that had resounded through his hollowed existence up to now.
Digging within to find a way out.
Digging in to find a way in.
Luck had everything to do with it.
Without luck the best of talents are swallowed up like a suppository entering a sphincter.
The luck of the Irish and their famished drunken tirades of the glorious past embittered by occupation and denial.
The luck of Gandhi whose enemy did not shine to mass murder.
The luck of the defeated laid low by a burst of bravery, but
left stranded on fields of sudden pain and followed by tranquility.
You could live if they let you, a Yiddish bromide smirks.
But there are only a few who have such luck.
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