The room offers a breathtaking view of a glittering expanse of water, Governors Island, Liberty Island and other famous New York landmarks. The cast of characters is comprised of a gay transvestite whose Motorola phone intones "Droid" as an irritating and frequent occurrence, a Macy's employee who dated a Macy's security guard and thus knows exciting code words that she teaches the others, an accountant, a social worker whose son is serving hard time in jail because he murdered someone, a professor at the New School, a Marine, and several others among which can be numbered...a Hasid.
My Hasid. For the past three weeks, he's been serving as a juror on a murder trial. Only now, when the case is over and the jury has declared the defendant guilty of second-degree murder, is he permitted to talk to me about it.
It's not what most people would do two weeks before their wedding. But then, Heshy and I don't really qualify as most people. Our motto seems to be (sometimes intentionally, but most of the time without even trying), "Anything But Ordinary." We like it that way.
I found the ways in which the lawyers selected the jury to be fascinating. For one thing, they had to make sure that all ethnicities were adequately represented. They also had to ensure that the people who were chosen as jurors would be able to remain objective even if the person speaking to them were a police man or someone commonly assumed to be honest due to their position and status in society. The group was also asked whether they would be disturbed if they viewed graphic pictures that would be presented as evidence. This is aside from the common questions, such as whether they themselves had ever been victims of a crime, and if so, whether they felt that this would impair their judgment.
The case on trial was a murder-suicide with the attempted suicide having failed. Heshy and his fellow jurors had to determine whether the defendant was guilty at all and if so, whether he was guilty of manslaughter or second-degree murder. In pursuit of this, the jurors heard from many expert witnesses and psychologists, handled the evidence (including the murder weapon) and looked at pictures of the victim.
The raw emotion and reactions of the defendant and the victim's relatives were the most powerful and striking parts of the experience, Heshy said.
"What I felt was the saddest part," he explained, "was when one of the victim's close relatives took the stand. This relative was the one who had convinced the victim to date the defendant and you could see that she blamed herself for the outcome."
The question is: how to interpret this experience in light of its proximity to our wedding?
The power of judgment came home to me (and possibly to Heshy as well) because of this. Here he and the other jurors had the power to determine whether or not a man was guilty. The sentence is the judge's domain and its severity is determined by him or her. Yet without Heshy and his peers, sentencing does not even occur. Heshy was troubled by the outcome of the case. "What I could clearly see from this is that people hurt others when they themselves are in pain," he explained. The cycle upsets him because he feels that prison does not resolve the issues that lead to the crime. The defendant had had a terrible, violent, extremely abusive childhood and it followed that his pain and anger expressed itself in this awful way. Does that make him not guilty for his actions? This jury decided otherwise. But it causes the entire scene to seem more like a tragedy and less like simple justice.
This afforded me insight into God's perspective. On the day of our wedding, Heshy and I will be judged. It is our own personal Yom Kippur. God looks at us and considers us in light of our former actions and also our new ones. Have we attempted to serve Him? In what ways have we failed and in what ways have we succeeded? Unlike the jury, God does consider us in light of our childhood and where we come from. Rashi says this when he comments to Rivka and Isaac both praying for children. Rivka was the daughter of an evil person while Isaac was the child of a righteous person. Rivka was given credit for how far she had come, yet Isaac's prayers were still answered first. If God considers the families and forefathers from which we descend when it comes to our prayers, how much the more so when it comes to our behavior! There are even sins that are described as "punishment" for the children to the third and fourth generation because they are sins that are inherited from our fathers. By punishment, commentaries suggest these refer to the consequences of behaviors modeled by or inherited by the fathers, some of which becomes ingrained, but others of which the child could have chosen not to follow.
I felt that the fact that Heshy was chosen to judge a fellow human being was a prelude to us being judged ourselves. It was a demonstration. "Do you see how hard this is to do?" it seemed like God was asking. "There is so much at stake and so much to determine. And yet you only decide whether you believe a man is guilty or innocent! How much the more so when it comes to Me, who is aware of guilt and innocence, where I must determine your income, happiness and the allotment of challenges and joys that I will give you this year. And I must decide whether or not to offer you another chance when My knowledge is absolute, while yours is only predicated upon probability."
Unlike a jury, God is one solitary Mind. He will not declare a mistrial if verdicts are not unanimous. The formalities and appropriate behavior of a man aware that he stands before his judge ought to appear at the wedding as well, specifically under the chupah. For who is God if not the ultimate Decisor? And it is we who are on trial for our lives.
Friday, November 05, 2010
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Free Candy for College OU Alumni
If you or someone you know is a member of OU Alumni (meaning that they were a participant in NCSY, JSU or Israel Free Spirit) and they now attend a college within the USA or Canada, please have them sign up to get candy delivered to them on Jewish holidays!
Also tell them to check out the first edition of the OU College Alumni Newsletter!
Also tell them to check out the first edition of the OU College Alumni Newsletter!
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
Hello Mind
I'm very happy but there's so much sadness all around me so...do I have a right to be happy?
Right know I'm thinking specifically about RivkA of "Coffee and Chemo," who certainly wouldn't want me to be sad on her behalf. Her whole life's message was about love, joy, optimism, perseverance, determination and living inspired. But death is shocking, whenever encountered, and the question always arises: have I a right to be happy in the face of such sadness? People die and leave us and we become fragmented.
But surely we can't be sad all the time, so what then ought to be done?
Right know I'm thinking specifically about RivkA of "Coffee and Chemo," who certainly wouldn't want me to be sad on her behalf. Her whole life's message was about love, joy, optimism, perseverance, determination and living inspired. But death is shocking, whenever encountered, and the question always arises: have I a right to be happy in the face of such sadness? People die and leave us and we become fragmented.
But surely we can't be sad all the time, so what then ought to be done?
Sunday, October 31, 2010
A Beautiful Mind: Jewish Approaches to Mental Health (YU Medical Ethics Society)
Today was Yeshiva University's Student Medical Ethics Society's fifth Fuld Family Medical Ethics Conference. It was entitled "A Beautiful Mind: Jewish Approaches to Mental Health." The conference featured Dr. Esther Altmann, Rabbi Dovid Goldwasser, Dr. Karen Rosewater, Dr. Tia Powell, Dr. Trish Attia, Dr. David Pelcovitz, Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski, Mr. David Mandel, Rabbi Dovid Fuld, Dr. David Brent, Dr. Harvey Kranzler, R' Herschel Schachter, Dr. Victor Schwartz, Dr. Edward Burns and many breakout sessions. Their biographies are all available here.
Please understand that A) these are notes rather than verbatim word-for-word statements. I paraphrased and/or took down the concepts when people spoke too fast or I couldn't understand them. B) I am absolutely certain that I made mistakes so please remember that any and all mistakes are mine. If the ideas don't flow or there are absolute errors, it's my fault and nobody else's.
A Beautiful Mind 2010 Medical Ethics Conference
Please understand that A) these are notes rather than verbatim word-for-word statements. I paraphrased and/or took down the concepts when people spoke too fast or I couldn't understand them. B) I am absolutely certain that I made mistakes so please remember that any and all mistakes are mine. If the ideas don't flow or there are absolute errors, it's my fault and nobody else's.
A Beautiful Mind 2010 Medical Ethics Conference
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Come To The Conference!
Don't forget...."A Beautiful Mind" is taking place from 9-5 October 31st at YU! Come learn about Jewish Medical Ethics when it comes to Mental Health.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Conversation Starters: Pick One!
Today is let's learn about the lurkers and people who comment to this blog day!
Therefore, pick a question (or pick them all) and answer them in the comments. You can be as anonymous as you like, just pick a handle so that I can distinguish you from a different anonymous.
~
1. What’s your relationship to God like?
2. What’s the first thing you would do if you weren’t Jewish anymore?
3. If you could have dinner with three people throughout history, which 3 people and which restaraunt would you go to?
4. What character traits do you value in your friends?
5. What are your pet peeves?
6. Do you consider yourself a private person? Why or why not?
7. Which is more important: the pursuit of happiness or the pursuit of truth?
8. Let’s say your friend had betrayed you- would you want to know? Or would you rather just stay friends? What if it weren’t your friend but your spouse?
9. What’s the hardest thing about being religious (for you)?
10. What’s your favorite book/ movie and why?
11. What’s your favorite inspirational story?
12. When was the last time you cried? Why?
13. If you could be any character in any fiction book, which character would you be and why?
14. If you could live in someone else’s body for a day (someone living currently), who would it be and why?
15. What was one of your most lifechanging experiences?
16. What’s your favorite quote? Why?
17. Would you say you have a motto? What is it? Do you live by it?
18. If you had to lose one of your senses, which one would you choose to loose? Why?
19. If the world ran out of Perrier, what drink do you think gently-reared girls would purchase on dates?
20. What would comprise your dream vacation? Why?
21. If you could eradicate one bad trait from the world, which would it be and why?
22. If you had a million dollars, what would you do with it?
Oh, and of course, every University of Chicago application prompt possible to ask, as that school is fabulously awesome.
Therefore, pick a question (or pick them all) and answer them in the comments. You can be as anonymous as you like, just pick a handle so that I can distinguish you from a different anonymous.
~
1. What’s your relationship to God like?
2. What’s the first thing you would do if you weren’t Jewish anymore?
3. If you could have dinner with three people throughout history, which 3 people and which restaraunt would you go to?
4. What character traits do you value in your friends?
5. What are your pet peeves?
6. Do you consider yourself a private person? Why or why not?
7. Which is more important: the pursuit of happiness or the pursuit of truth?
8. Let’s say your friend had betrayed you- would you want to know? Or would you rather just stay friends? What if it weren’t your friend but your spouse?
9. What’s the hardest thing about being religious (for you)?
10. What’s your favorite book/ movie and why?
11. What’s your favorite inspirational story?
12. When was the last time you cried? Why?
13. If you could be any character in any fiction book, which character would you be and why?
14. If you could live in someone else’s body for a day (someone living currently), who would it be and why?
15. What was one of your most lifechanging experiences?
16. What’s your favorite quote? Why?
17. Would you say you have a motto? What is it? Do you live by it?
18. If you had to lose one of your senses, which one would you choose to loose? Why?
19. If the world ran out of Perrier, what drink do you think gently-reared girls would purchase on dates?
20. What would comprise your dream vacation? Why?
21. If you could eradicate one bad trait from the world, which would it be and why?
22. If you had a million dollars, what would you do with it?
Oh, and of course, every University of Chicago application prompt possible to ask, as that school is fabulously awesome.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Crunching the Numbers
Last night I attended a Young Alumni meeting at Yeshiva University. I learned the following things:
-Yeshiva University is currently running on a 22 million dollar structured deficit; the prediction is that President Joel runs out of cash (not endowment funds, but cash) next year
-Due to this, the plan is to cut 12 million from the budget by next year. That way, President Joel will have cash to play with for four years.
For anyone who is interested in more information about these numbers, why it is this way and what you can do about it, email Barbara Birch at the Office of Alumni Affairs at birch@yu.edu.
There was one point that President Joel made that particularly resonated with me. He asked us to image a world without YU. What would Judaism look like without YU? That's when it started to hit me- you'd have Boro Park and liberal Judaism, perhaps a few Jews drifting somewhere in the middle because they're graduates of Touro or TI-and nothing in between. Imagine a world totally untouched by YU: no college, no university, no RIETS Semikha program, no YU Rabbis, no YU Kollels, no Center for the Jewish Future programming, no Azrieli teachers in Jewish day schools, no doctors from Einstein, no psychologists from Ferkauf, no business majors from Sy Syms. Basically, imagine YU didn't exist at all.
If you're part of the circles in which I move, such a thing is almost impossible. Your everyday interactions revolve around some sort of Yeshiva University connection, whether it's a rabbi you respect, the fact that you were once a student there, the psychologist you see weekly, the doctor who gives you a check-up, the kid who donated bone marrow to you and swabbed at a YU Gift of Life event. Whether you realize it or not, you have been changed for the better because of something to do with YU.
What we have to realize is that the burden of supporting this institution falls upon our shoulders. It may not be everything that we envisioned and it cannot be all things to all people. But it holds a place of supreme importance in the Jewish world. And a Jewish world without YU and everything it entails is a scary prospect.
We give money all the time because we don't want to live in a world without the State of Israel. I'm not saying it's the same thing, because it's not (for one thing, because YU isn't a country) but it's still pretty important. Imagine America without Yeshiva University and you have dealt a death blow to committed, relevant Orthodox Judaism in the States. Whether or not you were a student at YU yourself, in some way, you've benefited from the institution. It's just good practice to say thanks.
-Yeshiva University is currently running on a 22 million dollar structured deficit; the prediction is that President Joel runs out of cash (not endowment funds, but cash) next year
-Due to this, the plan is to cut 12 million from the budget by next year. That way, President Joel will have cash to play with for four years.
For anyone who is interested in more information about these numbers, why it is this way and what you can do about it, email Barbara Birch at the Office of Alumni Affairs at birch@yu.edu.
There was one point that President Joel made that particularly resonated with me. He asked us to image a world without YU. What would Judaism look like without YU? That's when it started to hit me- you'd have Boro Park and liberal Judaism, perhaps a few Jews drifting somewhere in the middle because they're graduates of Touro or TI-and nothing in between. Imagine a world totally untouched by YU: no college, no university, no RIETS Semikha program, no YU Rabbis, no YU Kollels, no Center for the Jewish Future programming, no Azrieli teachers in Jewish day schools, no doctors from Einstein, no psychologists from Ferkauf, no business majors from Sy Syms. Basically, imagine YU didn't exist at all.
If you're part of the circles in which I move, such a thing is almost impossible. Your everyday interactions revolve around some sort of Yeshiva University connection, whether it's a rabbi you respect, the fact that you were once a student there, the psychologist you see weekly, the doctor who gives you a check-up, the kid who donated bone marrow to you and swabbed at a YU Gift of Life event. Whether you realize it or not, you have been changed for the better because of something to do with YU.
What we have to realize is that the burden of supporting this institution falls upon our shoulders. It may not be everything that we envisioned and it cannot be all things to all people. But it holds a place of supreme importance in the Jewish world. And a Jewish world without YU and everything it entails is a scary prospect.
We give money all the time because we don't want to live in a world without the State of Israel. I'm not saying it's the same thing, because it's not (for one thing, because YU isn't a country) but it's still pretty important. Imagine America without Yeshiva University and you have dealt a death blow to committed, relevant Orthodox Judaism in the States. Whether or not you were a student at YU yourself, in some way, you've benefited from the institution. It's just good practice to say thanks.
Monday, October 25, 2010
The Bride
The bride looks at her parents and tears come to her eyes. She knows she shouldn't cry because she has contacts in her eyes and she's nervous that maybe she'll cry them out or they'll get stuck or end up somewhere behind the back of her retina, which will make her rather miserable. But she can't help it. Because the enormity of what's happening is suddenly dawning on her. These are the people who raised her, from the time she was a mere baby until this day. The people who made sure she was fed, well-rested, bathed, had a clean diaper and felt safe and secure.
These are my parents, she thinks. The ones who heard me crying on the baby monitor and woke up many times each night just to make sure I was okay. The mother who I mercilessly kicked in the womb, not realizing that I was hurting her. I forced her to go through the agonizing pains of labor and delivery. This is my father- who looked down at me with such joy when I was born. I always wanted to live up to their image of who I could be. The question is- are they happy with me? Or are they disappointed?
This is my mother, who painstakingly mashed up freshly cooked sweet potatoes, carrots and yams to make a mush that she could feed to her child. She didn't believe in giving her daughter food that came out of a can that could be purchased in a store. This is my father who sang to me and rocked me and read me innumerable books. Who read me "Hansel and Gretel" and who always held my hand when we walked home from shul.
These are my parents, who had such hopes and dreams for me. The ones who cried for me when bad things happened to me and rejoiced with me when good things occurred. These are the parents who were proud of me for accomplishments both acknowledged and unacknowledged. These are the parents who glowed with pride whenever I did something, who didn't know that secretly, I felt inadequate- like I could never live up to them. That's because they're pretty amazing parents and they've survived, worked on, worked through and gotten beyond a lot of pretty heavy stuff that would have felled lesser humans.
These are the parents who attended my kindergarten graduation, where I wore a beautiful lacy dress covered with blue flowers. Who celebrated my Bat Mitzvah with me and laughed happily as I motioned to the entire room and talked about idols and filth and Jeremiah. Who come to my 8th grade graduation and heard me say my part in the Ketata, something about a kettle, a river and a bird. Who attended my 12th grade graduation, where they had commissioned a custom-made white gown for me since that is what I was required to wear. Who sat in the audience on a Friday afternoon as Mr. Dachille called down blessings upon us and told us that he hoped Yahweh would turn his countenance toward us and shine down upon us.
They saw me go to college and listened to my triumphs and defeats at school. I went all the way to New York and they missed me but also kept in touch with me, always sending me packages and goodies and acknowledging my special events. They were thrilled with everything I did well and were there for me when I was sad and in pain. They've listened to me and given me their sage advice through everything. They told me that I would end up happy. That it would be okay in the end. That God loved me. There were times that I didn't believe them.
And here they are and they're going to walk me down to the canopy where my groom is waiting, hoping. We hope for a future that thrills us and makes us dizzy with joy. Where we choose to mutually respect each other and love each other and work towards a better tomorrow. We have thought a lot about this and we realize that it takes work, very hard work, to make a marriage work. Luckily, we both want to try- and we want to try with each other. Luckily for me, also, my groom is a saint. He never invalidates my feelings; he always tries to understand me and care for me, whether with his words or his presence.
The familiar, everything I've ever known, is contained within these parents, so much hope and good will written on their faces. They'll be looking at me and wishing me luck on this momentous journey. I'll be overwhelmed with emotion- with the thought of what I am leaving behind and what I am becoming a part of. I am happy to marry Heshy but sad to leave my parents- even though I know that I'm not really leaving, that I can always come back to them. I know they'll want to see me at various occasions during the year, whenever I am able to take the time off so that can happen.
It will be hard to leave them, these parents of mine. Although I love Heshy very much, there is always an element of uncertainty to a marriage. Just the newness of it, how it is different and I must get accustomed to it- all these strange and peculiar sensations that now can and will occur. I'm leaving my house and entering another house, one that will be created by the both of us together, by the giving of ourselves. This is a special thing and I hope for it to be a beautiful thing as well. But it is also a trifle awesome. I feel like I stand before God and I am judged- and I wonder, am I found wanting? Will You give me happiness, God, or will You test me before I attain that?
It is very special to me that God heard my prayer. I feel like You are listening, God. I know that I have not been perfect. I know that I have committed many sins, ranging from those I am aware of to those I am not aware of it. I know that I am not deserving of the goodness that You will bestow because no human can deserve the bounty that You bless us with. I try to serve You the best way I know how but I always doubt and wonder whether perhaps I am wrong in the things I choose. I hope that You will clarify things to me so that I can serve You properly.
The day that I will be married is the day that I will stand with God, really feel at one with God, as important a day as the one that I was born or the one that I will die. I know that I will sense this deep form of connection and trepidation, the fear that comes of the immensity of the journey that I am about to embark upon. It is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I really feel like Moses at the Burning Bush or perhaps like the Jews at their revelation at Sinai. The day that I will be married is the day that both Heshy and I will see God- and live. Because in a way we will die. Our old lives, our old selves, our old sins- all these will slough away and die. We will be reborn, reunited. Our souls will be rejoined. And so we will die and live again- and thus we will have seen God.
I am looking forward to seeing God. I have so many things to say to my Creator. I have so many questions to ask, so many "Whys?" There are so many things I don't understand. There is so much to pray for. There is so much to thank Him for. There are my grandparents who are not at my wedding - and it hurts me that they aren't there in the physical sense. I want my Grandpa and my moonlit grandmother to dance with me. I am very sad that they won't be able to do so in the flesh. Heshy says that they will come to our wedding anyway and they will look down on me. Maybe that is true.
God has given me such an amazing, twisting, confusing and special life. I have not understood it; nor have I thanked Him for it. Often I rebel against it. Often He has made me angry. Often I have felt that the struggles He gave me were far too much for me. But I feel very blessed that He gave me Heshy to see me through them. Heshy is a very calming influence on my life. He is like an anchor. He is very stable. This is good, because I am like a candle that flickers in the wind. One moment I am burning brightly and the next moment my light has been doused. Heshy is like the everlasting match.
So I will stand and look at them and the moment will seem surreal. Because these are my parents and yet I am leaving them. This was my life and now it is no longer my life. How many tears have my parents shed because of me! I am sure they have gone to serve some useful purpose in Heaven.
I think that maybe all the people I love, or who have loved me, will be there secretly, somehow. I think God will gather their spirits and make me a necklace to hang upon my neck that bears their love. It will be invisible and weigh very little and I will be the only one to know that it is there.
I am excited to be united with the other half of my soul. I am also awed by the immensity of what is and what will be and what has been. It's not for nothing that God is called "I Am That I Am" or "I Will Be As I Will Be." God is the everlasting cycle, the turning of the clock. I am very small in the scheme of things, and yet I feel as though the whole world will stop as I walk down the aisle. Because every step I take brings me one step closer to completion- as I walk the path to the Garden of Eden.
These are my parents, she thinks. The ones who heard me crying on the baby monitor and woke up many times each night just to make sure I was okay. The mother who I mercilessly kicked in the womb, not realizing that I was hurting her. I forced her to go through the agonizing pains of labor and delivery. This is my father- who looked down at me with such joy when I was born. I always wanted to live up to their image of who I could be. The question is- are they happy with me? Or are they disappointed?
This is my mother, who painstakingly mashed up freshly cooked sweet potatoes, carrots and yams to make a mush that she could feed to her child. She didn't believe in giving her daughter food that came out of a can that could be purchased in a store. This is my father who sang to me and rocked me and read me innumerable books. Who read me "Hansel and Gretel" and who always held my hand when we walked home from shul.
These are my parents, who had such hopes and dreams for me. The ones who cried for me when bad things happened to me and rejoiced with me when good things occurred. These are the parents who were proud of me for accomplishments both acknowledged and unacknowledged. These are the parents who glowed with pride whenever I did something, who didn't know that secretly, I felt inadequate- like I could never live up to them. That's because they're pretty amazing parents and they've survived, worked on, worked through and gotten beyond a lot of pretty heavy stuff that would have felled lesser humans.
These are the parents who attended my kindergarten graduation, where I wore a beautiful lacy dress covered with blue flowers. Who celebrated my Bat Mitzvah with me and laughed happily as I motioned to the entire room and talked about idols and filth and Jeremiah. Who come to my 8th grade graduation and heard me say my part in the Ketata, something about a kettle, a river and a bird. Who attended my 12th grade graduation, where they had commissioned a custom-made white gown for me since that is what I was required to wear. Who sat in the audience on a Friday afternoon as Mr. Dachille called down blessings upon us and told us that he hoped Yahweh would turn his countenance toward us and shine down upon us.
They saw me go to college and listened to my triumphs and defeats at school. I went all the way to New York and they missed me but also kept in touch with me, always sending me packages and goodies and acknowledging my special events. They were thrilled with everything I did well and were there for me when I was sad and in pain. They've listened to me and given me their sage advice through everything. They told me that I would end up happy. That it would be okay in the end. That God loved me. There were times that I didn't believe them.
And here they are and they're going to walk me down to the canopy where my groom is waiting, hoping. We hope for a future that thrills us and makes us dizzy with joy. Where we choose to mutually respect each other and love each other and work towards a better tomorrow. We have thought a lot about this and we realize that it takes work, very hard work, to make a marriage work. Luckily, we both want to try- and we want to try with each other. Luckily for me, also, my groom is a saint. He never invalidates my feelings; he always tries to understand me and care for me, whether with his words or his presence.
The familiar, everything I've ever known, is contained within these parents, so much hope and good will written on their faces. They'll be looking at me and wishing me luck on this momentous journey. I'll be overwhelmed with emotion- with the thought of what I am leaving behind and what I am becoming a part of. I am happy to marry Heshy but sad to leave my parents- even though I know that I'm not really leaving, that I can always come back to them. I know they'll want to see me at various occasions during the year, whenever I am able to take the time off so that can happen.
It will be hard to leave them, these parents of mine. Although I love Heshy very much, there is always an element of uncertainty to a marriage. Just the newness of it, how it is different and I must get accustomed to it- all these strange and peculiar sensations that now can and will occur. I'm leaving my house and entering another house, one that will be created by the both of us together, by the giving of ourselves. This is a special thing and I hope for it to be a beautiful thing as well. But it is also a trifle awesome. I feel like I stand before God and I am judged- and I wonder, am I found wanting? Will You give me happiness, God, or will You test me before I attain that?
It is very special to me that God heard my prayer. I feel like You are listening, God. I know that I have not been perfect. I know that I have committed many sins, ranging from those I am aware of to those I am not aware of it. I know that I am not deserving of the goodness that You will bestow because no human can deserve the bounty that You bless us with. I try to serve You the best way I know how but I always doubt and wonder whether perhaps I am wrong in the things I choose. I hope that You will clarify things to me so that I can serve You properly.
The day that I will be married is the day that I will stand with God, really feel at one with God, as important a day as the one that I was born or the one that I will die. I know that I will sense this deep form of connection and trepidation, the fear that comes of the immensity of the journey that I am about to embark upon. It is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I really feel like Moses at the Burning Bush or perhaps like the Jews at their revelation at Sinai. The day that I will be married is the day that both Heshy and I will see God- and live. Because in a way we will die. Our old lives, our old selves, our old sins- all these will slough away and die. We will be reborn, reunited. Our souls will be rejoined. And so we will die and live again- and thus we will have seen God.
I am looking forward to seeing God. I have so many things to say to my Creator. I have so many questions to ask, so many "Whys?" There are so many things I don't understand. There is so much to pray for. There is so much to thank Him for. There are my grandparents who are not at my wedding - and it hurts me that they aren't there in the physical sense. I want my Grandpa and my moonlit grandmother to dance with me. I am very sad that they won't be able to do so in the flesh. Heshy says that they will come to our wedding anyway and they will look down on me. Maybe that is true.
God has given me such an amazing, twisting, confusing and special life. I have not understood it; nor have I thanked Him for it. Often I rebel against it. Often He has made me angry. Often I have felt that the struggles He gave me were far too much for me. But I feel very blessed that He gave me Heshy to see me through them. Heshy is a very calming influence on my life. He is like an anchor. He is very stable. This is good, because I am like a candle that flickers in the wind. One moment I am burning brightly and the next moment my light has been doused. Heshy is like the everlasting match.
So I will stand and look at them and the moment will seem surreal. Because these are my parents and yet I am leaving them. This was my life and now it is no longer my life. How many tears have my parents shed because of me! I am sure they have gone to serve some useful purpose in Heaven.
I think that maybe all the people I love, or who have loved me, will be there secretly, somehow. I think God will gather their spirits and make me a necklace to hang upon my neck that bears their love. It will be invisible and weigh very little and I will be the only one to know that it is there.
I am excited to be united with the other half of my soul. I am also awed by the immensity of what is and what will be and what has been. It's not for nothing that God is called "I Am That I Am" or "I Will Be As I Will Be." God is the everlasting cycle, the turning of the clock. I am very small in the scheme of things, and yet I feel as though the whole world will stop as I walk down the aisle. Because every step I take brings me one step closer to completion- as I walk the path to the Garden of Eden.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Favorite Literary Quotes, Excerpts or Passages
What are some of your favorite literary quotes, excerpts or passages?
As you might imagine, there are many that speak to me, but one of the top contenders is definitely the following excerpt from A Ring of Endless Light.
~
"When are you most completely you, Vicky?"
It wasn't at all what I had expected him to say. I was looking for answers, not more questions.
"When?" he repeated.
Maybe because I was feeling extraordinarily tired I was thinking in scenes, rather than logical sequences, and across my mind's eye flashed a picture of the loft, with the old camp cots, and the windows overlooking the ocean, and the lighthouse at night with its friendly beam, and on the far wall the lines of the poem Grandfather had painted there, If thou could'st empty all thyself of self...
I was not really myself when I was all replete with very me. So when was I?
"When you first took me to meet Basil [a dolphin]," I said slowly, "and when I was petting him and scratching his chest..."
"Who were you thinking about?"
"Basil."
"Were you thinking about you?"
"No."
"But were you really being you?"
"Yes."
"So that's the contradiction, isn't it? You weren't thinking about yourself at all. You were completely thrown out of yourself in concentration on Basil. And yet you were really being you.
I leaned my head against Adam's shoulder. "Much more than when I'm all replete with very me."
His right hand drew my head more comfortably against his shoulder. "So, when we're thinking concsiously about ourselves, we're less ourselves than when we're not being self-centered."
"I suppose..."
"Okay, here's another analogy. Where are you when you write poetry?"
"This summer I'm usually up in the loft."
"You know that's not what I mean. When you're actually writing a poem, when you're in the middle of it, where are you?"
"I'm not sure. I'm more in the poem than I am in me. I'm using my mind, really using it, and yet I'm not directing the poem or telling it where to go. It's telling me."
His strong fingers moved gently across my hair. "That's the way it is with science, too. All the great scientists, like Newton, like Einstein, repeat the same thing- that the discoveries don't come when you're consciously looking for them. They come when for some reason you've let go of conscious control. They come in a sudden flash, and you can receive that flash, or you can refuse to. But if you're willing to receive it, then for that instantaneous moment that you're really you, but you're not conscious in the same way you have to be later on when you look at what you saw in the flash, and then have to work out the equations to prove it."
I heard every word he said. And I think I understood. At the same time my entire body was conscious of the feel of his fingers stroking my hair. I wondered if he felt it as strongly as I did. But I asked, "Has that happened to you, that knowing in a flash?"
"Not in the way it did to Einstein with his theory of relativity. Or to Dr. O'Keefe, with his work on limb regeneration. But in little ways with Basil, yes. He's taught me more about himself than I could have learned with just my thinking self. And Basil- Basil has taught you, hasn't he?"
"Yes. Oh, yes."
He lifted his hand and stopped stroking. "And you saw Jeb with Ynid."
Yes, I had seen Dr. Nutteley with Ynid. In the midst of his pain, Jeb had been wholly real.
"What I think"- Adam's hand began caressing my hair again- "is that if we're still around after we die, it will be more like those moments when we let go, than the way we are most of the time. It'll be- it'll be the self beyond the self we know."
At that moment there was a rip in the clouds and an island of star-sparkled sky appeared, its light so brilliant it seemed to reach down beyond the horizon and encircle the earth, a ring of pure and endless light.
~ A Ring of Endless Light by Madeline L'Engle, pages 162-164
As you might imagine, there are many that speak to me, but one of the top contenders is definitely the following excerpt from A Ring of Endless Light.
~
"When are you most completely you, Vicky?"
It wasn't at all what I had expected him to say. I was looking for answers, not more questions.
"When?" he repeated.
Maybe because I was feeling extraordinarily tired I was thinking in scenes, rather than logical sequences, and across my mind's eye flashed a picture of the loft, with the old camp cots, and the windows overlooking the ocean, and the lighthouse at night with its friendly beam, and on the far wall the lines of the poem Grandfather had painted there, If thou could'st empty all thyself of self...
I was not really myself when I was all replete with very me. So when was I?
"When you first took me to meet Basil [a dolphin]," I said slowly, "and when I was petting him and scratching his chest..."
"Who were you thinking about?"
"Basil."
"Were you thinking about you?"
"No."
"But were you really being you?"
"Yes."
"So that's the contradiction, isn't it? You weren't thinking about yourself at all. You were completely thrown out of yourself in concentration on Basil. And yet you were really being you.
I leaned my head against Adam's shoulder. "Much more than when I'm all replete with very me."
His right hand drew my head more comfortably against his shoulder. "So, when we're thinking concsiously about ourselves, we're less ourselves than when we're not being self-centered."
"I suppose..."
"Okay, here's another analogy. Where are you when you write poetry?"
"This summer I'm usually up in the loft."
"You know that's not what I mean. When you're actually writing a poem, when you're in the middle of it, where are you?"
"I'm not sure. I'm more in the poem than I am in me. I'm using my mind, really using it, and yet I'm not directing the poem or telling it where to go. It's telling me."
His strong fingers moved gently across my hair. "That's the way it is with science, too. All the great scientists, like Newton, like Einstein, repeat the same thing- that the discoveries don't come when you're consciously looking for them. They come when for some reason you've let go of conscious control. They come in a sudden flash, and you can receive that flash, or you can refuse to. But if you're willing to receive it, then for that instantaneous moment that you're really you, but you're not conscious in the same way you have to be later on when you look at what you saw in the flash, and then have to work out the equations to prove it."
I heard every word he said. And I think I understood. At the same time my entire body was conscious of the feel of his fingers stroking my hair. I wondered if he felt it as strongly as I did. But I asked, "Has that happened to you, that knowing in a flash?"
"Not in the way it did to Einstein with his theory of relativity. Or to Dr. O'Keefe, with his work on limb regeneration. But in little ways with Basil, yes. He's taught me more about himself than I could have learned with just my thinking self. And Basil- Basil has taught you, hasn't he?"
"Yes. Oh, yes."
He lifted his hand and stopped stroking. "And you saw Jeb with Ynid."
Yes, I had seen Dr. Nutteley with Ynid. In the midst of his pain, Jeb had been wholly real.
"What I think"- Adam's hand began caressing my hair again- "is that if we're still around after we die, it will be more like those moments when we let go, than the way we are most of the time. It'll be- it'll be the self beyond the self we know."
At that moment there was a rip in the clouds and an island of star-sparkled sky appeared, its light so brilliant it seemed to reach down beyond the horizon and encircle the earth, a ring of pure and endless light.
~ A Ring of Endless Light by Madeline L'Engle, pages 162-164
Mornings are Good
"It's hard to be mad at someone who misses you while you're asleep."
~Calvin and Hobbes
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
I Don't Have To Apologize Because My Life Isn't As Wrecked As Yours
Something that I've noticed happens often on the blogs (and particularly on my blog over the course of the past five years) are the angry commentators who come along and start yelling at me because my life isn't as wrecked, unhappy, miserable or otherwise awful as theirs is. Due to this (according to their logic), I have no right to write.
You are correct. I am not:
-Dying in Rwanda
-A victim of the Holocaust
-Murdered
-Raped
-Infertile
-A victim of a terrorist attack
-Divorced and/or dealing with my partner's infidelity
-Starving
-Abused
-Related to cruel or unstable people
-An apostate/ heretic because I was molested by a Rabbi
And the list goes on.
At the same time, this doesn't mean that I cannot feel. I feel pain at times. It may not be pain that ranks particularly high on your radar. It may seem shallow, superficial or unimportant to you. But that's why you're not living my life for me. I don't have to apologize to you because my life isn't as wrecked as yours. You're not the one who gets to determine whether or not my feelings are worth feeling or writing about or otherwise discussing. Your attempt to say my feelings aren't valid makes you just one in a long line of people who have tried to sell me on that message.
I've been called stupid, pathetic, melodramatic, snob, braggart, crybaby, flirt, cruel, unfeeling, cold and so on and so forth. Do you really think your saying it, at this point in my life, will make any difference at all to me? Judgment (and judgmental crap) colors the air around me. People have chosen to pass judgment on me for all manner of things, ranging from the way I plan to cover my hair to the short stories I write to the fact that I attended North Shore Country Day. My best friend judged me and found me lacking, then cut off the friendship. One of my favorite teachers told me she was disappointed in me when I wrote the transsexual articles in The Observer. You think that didn't bother me? Sure it bothered me. But I refuse to let judgmental crap dictate my approach to life.
I won't apologize for my life. I won't apologize for living it on my terms. I won't apologize because my life isn't as sad, depressing and wrecked as yours is. I won't apologize for feeling because my feeling seems unimportant and invalid to you. In short, I won't apologize at all.
And I think it's time more people started taking that attitude toward their lives rather than cowering in corners and saying sorry in an attempt to please others. You don't have to please people who are acting inappropriately. And those who decide your feelings don't count because nothing "bad enough" happened to you are definitely not those whose opinions you need to respect.
You are correct. I am not:
-Dying in Rwanda
-A victim of the Holocaust
-Murdered
-Raped
-Infertile
-A victim of a terrorist attack
-Divorced and/or dealing with my partner's infidelity
-Starving
-Abused
-Related to cruel or unstable people
-An apostate/ heretic because I was molested by a Rabbi
And the list goes on.
At the same time, this doesn't mean that I cannot feel. I feel pain at times. It may not be pain that ranks particularly high on your radar. It may seem shallow, superficial or unimportant to you. But that's why you're not living my life for me. I don't have to apologize to you because my life isn't as wrecked as yours. You're not the one who gets to determine whether or not my feelings are worth feeling or writing about or otherwise discussing. Your attempt to say my feelings aren't valid makes you just one in a long line of people who have tried to sell me on that message.
I've been called stupid, pathetic, melodramatic, snob, braggart, crybaby, flirt, cruel, unfeeling, cold and so on and so forth. Do you really think your saying it, at this point in my life, will make any difference at all to me? Judgment (and judgmental crap) colors the air around me. People have chosen to pass judgment on me for all manner of things, ranging from the way I plan to cover my hair to the short stories I write to the fact that I attended North Shore Country Day. My best friend judged me and found me lacking, then cut off the friendship. One of my favorite teachers told me she was disappointed in me when I wrote the transsexual articles in The Observer. You think that didn't bother me? Sure it bothered me. But I refuse to let judgmental crap dictate my approach to life.
I won't apologize for my life. I won't apologize for living it on my terms. I won't apologize because my life isn't as sad, depressing and wrecked as yours is. I won't apologize for feeling because my feeling seems unimportant and invalid to you. In short, I won't apologize at all.
And I think it's time more people started taking that attitude toward their lives rather than cowering in corners and saying sorry in an attempt to please others. You don't have to please people who are acting inappropriately. And those who decide your feelings don't count because nothing "bad enough" happened to you are definitely not those whose opinions you need to respect.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
"You're Never Going to Get Married"
I figured it would be amusing to recap all the reasons that supposedly I was "never going to get married." These were all told to me by various people: parents, friends, teachers and so forth.
1. You went to a non-Jewish high school! And you switched out of Bais Yaakov to go there!
2. You're too well-read.
3. You're too intelligent.
4. You're too intimidating.
5. You walk outside in the street in a jean skirt thrown over pajama pants and a big comfy sweatshirt with ratty hair done up in a pony tied with a rubber-band while wearing flip-flops
6. You're not frum/ Charedi enough
7. You're too particular
8. You're not interested in going to a shadchan
9. You don't want to date all those boys you're friends with- what about what's-his-name from the Medical Ethics Club?
10. You're not interested in dating at all
11. You believe in fairy tales and this is reality
12. What you write is too controversial
13. You don't like the whole resume/ references/ research system
14. You read all of Shakespeare
15. You scare guys away (I didn't really understand this one but I guess the person thought that I take out my fangs and turn into a vampire on dates)
16. What you write is too graphic/ explicit
17. You're looking for something that doesn't exist
18. You live by your own rules/ march to your own drummer and boys don't like girls who don't want to live by their rules and in fact you ought to listen to your husband
19. You're too stubborn
20. I'm the one who really loves you and you won't date me, ergo.
21. I hate you and you ruined my life and therefore I hope etc.
Were you ever told you weren't ever going to get married? If so, what reason were you given?
Addendum: My mother would like me to clarify that she never told me I wouldn't get married, rather that I simply wouldn't look attractive in my shlumpfy clothes.
1. You went to a non-Jewish high school! And you switched out of Bais Yaakov to go there!
2. You're too well-read.
3. You're too intelligent.
4. You're too intimidating.
5. You walk outside in the street in a jean skirt thrown over pajama pants and a big comfy sweatshirt with ratty hair done up in a pony tied with a rubber-band while wearing flip-flops
6. You're not frum/ Charedi enough
7. You're too particular
8. You're not interested in going to a shadchan
9. You don't want to date all those boys you're friends with- what about what's-his-name from the Medical Ethics Club?
10. You're not interested in dating at all
11. You believe in fairy tales and this is reality
12. What you write is too controversial
13. You don't like the whole resume/ references/ research system
14. You read all of Shakespeare
15. You scare guys away (I didn't really understand this one but I guess the person thought that I take out my fangs and turn into a vampire on dates)
16. What you write is too graphic/ explicit
17. You're looking for something that doesn't exist
18. You live by your own rules/ march to your own drummer and boys don't like girls who don't want to live by their rules and in fact you ought to listen to your husband
19. You're too stubborn
20. I'm the one who really loves you and you won't date me, ergo.
21. I hate you and you ruined my life and therefore I hope etc.
Were you ever told you weren't ever going to get married? If so, what reason were you given?
Addendum: My mother would like me to clarify that she never told me I wouldn't get married, rather that I simply wouldn't look attractive in my shlumpfy clothes.
Things That Are Not On My Radar During Decorative Gourd Season
I am a bride. Possibly an unconventional one at that, but a bride nonetheless, and ye shall hear me roar.
1. Wigs. Are not the "desire of every kallah and her mother." Get a new tagline.
2. On the most recent episode of "Grey's Anatomy," Meredith remarked that her uterus is hostile. You know what else is hostile? Every frum store that sells beautiful, formal clothing, lingerie stores, shoe stores- you name it. Why? Because invariably they close at 5 or 5:30 or they're open till 7 but they're very far away in Brooklyn and thus inaccessible. They're hostile because they clearly don't take into account that there are people who work and are busy from 9-5. Actually, busy from 7:30-6ish if you factor in commutes. Therefore, those people can't get to your store/ boutique especially because you choose not to be open on Sundays.
3. I know that this will come as a positive shock to you, but I don't care about every fourth-cousin-once-removed who is in your family tree line. In short, if they can't understand me and are not likely to become my friend, it's highly unlikely that I will remember their names. I remember people who made an impression on me (read: people with whom I had a meaningful conversation), not faces.
4. I'm SICK OF THE FACEBOOK ADS that are geared toward engaged couples! They're so annoying. I want to punch the woman who consistently shows up on the righthand side of my facebook inquiring "Are you engaged?"
5. In my perfect world, people would actually give logical, clear, thought-through instructions that they do not choose to contradict moments later. It would be most exciting if this were to happen sometime in the near future.
6. If one more person remarks on shallow material things that I'm going to get, Heshy's going to get or that someone is dissatisfied we didn't get or decides we shouldn't get, I will absolutely scream. For example, this post is beyond awful because it demonstrates that the man has no idea what goes into a marriage or what he should be feeling for his wife; he's too busy being jealous of her possessions. It is shocking that your immediate reaction to hearing I'm engaged is "Oh, you're going to get so many nice things."
7. Dear People Who Flip Out About Nothing: A woman tore my incredibly expensive bridal veil while I was trying it on in the fitting room. I am talking about a foot-sized-hole where expensive fabric should be. I did not flip out about it. I simply stated that I would not be purchasing the new veil and either she or the store would be doing so. If I did not flip out about that, you certainly don't need to flip out about minutia. Calm down now.
ON THE BRIGHT SIDE
1. It's decorative gourd season! It's time to carve and shellac some pumpkins and get the creative juices flowing.
2. All the ingredients for the creation of French Toast are currently sitting in my fridge.
3. My job includes asking people to donate $1000 prizes to my organization. It's a lot of fun.
4. Heshy came over and, with the assistance of his friend, built 2 bookcases, one chair, 1 kitchen cart, 1 four-wheeled cart, 1 curio and disassembled and disposed of numerous cardboard boxes over the weekend. This was thrilling. My future husband is amazing.
5. It smells like pizza in my office.
6. A blind man from Spain called me "Madame" and it was really exciting.
7. My shoes have sequins on them. They're sparkly. I love sparkly shoes.
8. I was warm when I woke up this morning! The heating works in my apartment, praise be to God.
9. They're showing "Killing Kazstner" at YU tomorrow night and I'm really looking forward to seeing it.
10. It's almost winter and that means it's almost my birthday and time for my Birthday Masquerade!
11. I bet most people don't get to have three different versions of their wedding invitation. This is very unique. Also ludicrous, but mostly unique.
12. It's kind of fun to say I'm marrying a man who will walk around with a big furry wrap on his head, kind of as if he got confused and decided the mink stole that belonged to his wife really ought to perch precariously atop his hair.
Huzzah!
1. Wigs. Are not the "desire of every kallah and her mother." Get a new tagline.
2. On the most recent episode of "Grey's Anatomy," Meredith remarked that her uterus is hostile. You know what else is hostile? Every frum store that sells beautiful, formal clothing, lingerie stores, shoe stores- you name it. Why? Because invariably they close at 5 or 5:30 or they're open till 7 but they're very far away in Brooklyn and thus inaccessible. They're hostile because they clearly don't take into account that there are people who work and are busy from 9-5. Actually, busy from 7:30-6ish if you factor in commutes. Therefore, those people can't get to your store/ boutique especially because you choose not to be open on Sundays.
3. I know that this will come as a positive shock to you, but I don't care about every fourth-cousin-once-removed who is in your family tree line. In short, if they can't understand me and are not likely to become my friend, it's highly unlikely that I will remember their names. I remember people who made an impression on me (read: people with whom I had a meaningful conversation), not faces.
4. I'm SICK OF THE FACEBOOK ADS that are geared toward engaged couples! They're so annoying. I want to punch the woman who consistently shows up on the righthand side of my facebook inquiring "Are you engaged?"
5. In my perfect world, people would actually give logical, clear, thought-through instructions that they do not choose to contradict moments later. It would be most exciting if this were to happen sometime in the near future.
6. If one more person remarks on shallow material things that I'm going to get, Heshy's going to get or that someone is dissatisfied we didn't get or decides we shouldn't get, I will absolutely scream. For example, this post is beyond awful because it demonstrates that the man has no idea what goes into a marriage or what he should be feeling for his wife; he's too busy being jealous of her possessions. It is shocking that your immediate reaction to hearing I'm engaged is "Oh, you're going to get so many nice things."
7. Dear People Who Flip Out About Nothing: A woman tore my incredibly expensive bridal veil while I was trying it on in the fitting room. I am talking about a foot-sized-hole where expensive fabric should be. I did not flip out about it. I simply stated that I would not be purchasing the new veil and either she or the store would be doing so. If I did not flip out about that, you certainly don't need to flip out about minutia. Calm down now.
ON THE BRIGHT SIDE
1. It's decorative gourd season! It's time to carve and shellac some pumpkins and get the creative juices flowing.
2. All the ingredients for the creation of French Toast are currently sitting in my fridge.
3. My job includes asking people to donate $1000 prizes to my organization. It's a lot of fun.
4. Heshy came over and, with the assistance of his friend, built 2 bookcases, one chair, 1 kitchen cart, 1 four-wheeled cart, 1 curio and disassembled and disposed of numerous cardboard boxes over the weekend. This was thrilling. My future husband is amazing.
5. It smells like pizza in my office.
6. A blind man from Spain called me "Madame" and it was really exciting.
7. My shoes have sequins on them. They're sparkly. I love sparkly shoes.
8. I was warm when I woke up this morning! The heating works in my apartment, praise be to God.
9. They're showing "Killing Kazstner" at YU tomorrow night and I'm really looking forward to seeing it.
10. It's almost winter and that means it's almost my birthday and time for my Birthday Masquerade!
11. I bet most people don't get to have three different versions of their wedding invitation. This is very unique. Also ludicrous, but mostly unique.
12. It's kind of fun to say I'm marrying a man who will walk around with a big furry wrap on his head, kind of as if he got confused and decided the mink stole that belonged to his wife really ought to perch precariously atop his hair.
Huzzah!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Go Ahead And Laugh
Go ahead and laugh.
God knows I am. Hysterically. Mostly because I can't fathom how I'm going to drag all that down five flights of stairs. I don't suppose any of you are moving and in need of moving boxes?
I should be happy about this. Intellectually, I'm thrilled. It's very nice of everyone to give me gifts and the boxes are a consequence of the nice gifts. However. I can't handle it. It's overwhelming. And I think my super is starting to dislike me, mostly because this castle of boxes ends up where the garbage is at and he's upset because it's blocking the passageway. And I kind of wonder whether he thinks I'm Hermione and know magical shrinking spells. Although in truth, he's been super nice about the whole thing.
In any case. Point being: have a laugh. I am Queen of a Castle of Cardboard.
Necessities
I need:
-Places I can buy gowns for more formal Sheva Brachot
-Names of JEWISH TRAVEL AGENCIES and their phone numbers so I can get them to donate flights to a Chinese Auction
If you can provide either of these things, please comment. Thanks.
-Places I can buy gowns for more formal Sheva Brachot
-Names of JEWISH TRAVEL AGENCIES and their phone numbers so I can get them to donate flights to a Chinese Auction
If you can provide either of these things, please comment. Thanks.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
The Lion King
Tonight I saw "The Lion King" on Broadway. It was absolutely magical. Visually stunning, the exquisitely trained voices of the performers, their incredible costumes and beautifully choreographed dance moves and fight scenes were mesmerizing. I was completely blown away by the way that Zazu and Timon were presented. Each of them has an actor behind them who is mostly meant to fade into the shadows and indeed, these actors are supremely talented. Even while they speak, they make their character move so that you believe it is the character who speaks.
What is more, the voices of those performing on Broadway matched up to the voices of the characters in the film (especially by Mufasa, Zazu and Timon). Simba was played by the incredible Dashaun Young (whose voice is to die for). And the special effects were out of this world. Ranging from Scar grabbing a real mouse out of a shadow upon a curtain to Mufasa's ghostly visage appearing in the sky while Simba peers into a pool to an incredibly vivid wildebeest stampede, the special effects light up the entire show. The scenery, costumes, acting, dancing, singing and gymnastics, in addition to the brilliant way in which every inch of the theater was used (characters walked or danced down the aisles on their way to the stage in several scenes) was dramatic and gorgeous.
I've never seen such a colorful, vibrant show. "The Lion King" is bursting with life and energy. It's haunting, intense and simultaneously marvelous. The grandeur of the stage and set is unparalleled. The show also incorporates extra parts, such as a psychology lesson where Timon holds on to a tree-branch while over a plunging waterfall, reminiscent of Simba's hold on the branch during the wildebeest stampede. While watching the musical, I was powerfully reminded of "Hamlet." It wasn't much of a surprise to learn later on (while passing a gift-shop) that "The Lion King" was actually based on "Hamlet."
It also occurred to me that so many motifs range around the forbidden. Adam and Eve eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, Beauty goes to the West Wing and Simba goes to the Shadowlands. The allure of the forbidden is powerful. Somehow, through watching this very real rendition of the story of the boy-king who carries a powerful burden of guilt, so many beautiful themes really came home to me. Simba tries to evade responsibility, living by the motto of Hakuna Matata, but in the end must embrace it. Rafiki is the one who shows him this, hitting him on the head with a staff and then telling him "but it's in the past" to which Simba replies "but it still hurts!" Precisely. Just because something is in the past doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. But it's despite that hurt that one choose to change and one must remember, as Mufasa adjures, "You are my son." Simba must reclaim the Pridelands- and his own pride- for the sake of honor but also of personal growth. The messages are true and relevant for children and adults.
The audience went absolutely gaga over the show and we all applauded and offered a standing ovation to the incredible performers. This is easily one of the best Broadways shows I've ever seen- and it's great that it's family-friendly as well.
What is more, the voices of those performing on Broadway matched up to the voices of the characters in the film (especially by Mufasa, Zazu and Timon). Simba was played by the incredible Dashaun Young (whose voice is to die for). And the special effects were out of this world. Ranging from Scar grabbing a real mouse out of a shadow upon a curtain to Mufasa's ghostly visage appearing in the sky while Simba peers into a pool to an incredibly vivid wildebeest stampede, the special effects light up the entire show. The scenery, costumes, acting, dancing, singing and gymnastics, in addition to the brilliant way in which every inch of the theater was used (characters walked or danced down the aisles on their way to the stage in several scenes) was dramatic and gorgeous.
I've never seen such a colorful, vibrant show. "The Lion King" is bursting with life and energy. It's haunting, intense and simultaneously marvelous. The grandeur of the stage and set is unparalleled. The show also incorporates extra parts, such as a psychology lesson where Timon holds on to a tree-branch while over a plunging waterfall, reminiscent of Simba's hold on the branch during the wildebeest stampede. While watching the musical, I was powerfully reminded of "Hamlet." It wasn't much of a surprise to learn later on (while passing a gift-shop) that "The Lion King" was actually based on "Hamlet."
It also occurred to me that so many motifs range around the forbidden. Adam and Eve eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, Beauty goes to the West Wing and Simba goes to the Shadowlands. The allure of the forbidden is powerful. Somehow, through watching this very real rendition of the story of the boy-king who carries a powerful burden of guilt, so many beautiful themes really came home to me. Simba tries to evade responsibility, living by the motto of Hakuna Matata, but in the end must embrace it. Rafiki is the one who shows him this, hitting him on the head with a staff and then telling him "but it's in the past" to which Simba replies "but it still hurts!" Precisely. Just because something is in the past doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. But it's despite that hurt that one choose to change and one must remember, as Mufasa adjures, "You are my son." Simba must reclaim the Pridelands- and his own pride- for the sake of honor but also of personal growth. The messages are true and relevant for children and adults.
The audience went absolutely gaga over the show and we all applauded and offered a standing ovation to the incredible performers. This is easily one of the best Broadways shows I've ever seen- and it's great that it's family-friendly as well.
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
My Future Husband
My future husband is loving and touching and endearing and sweet. He's thoughtful, determined, kind and encouraging. He relates to God as though God were his eternal bride, much as the Rav speaks of his own romance with the Creator. His words are laden with sincerity. He's genuine and real and when he speaks, he means what he says. He has never lied to me. He has never broken his word. He cares deeply about God, about me and about us. There is a depth and a quality to his caring that is remarkable. It strengthens and emboldens me. I feel empowered because of him and because of his belief in me. It reminds me a little of the scene in "Finding Neverland" where everyone is urged to assert: "I do believe in fairies- I do- I do!" and to clap loudly in order to ensure that Tinkerbell survives. There are some people who never become what they truly are unless they are believed in, for that belief is the blood that flows through their veins, the elixir that strengthens them and allows the pink flush of health to warm their cheeks. I am such a person.
He is also playful. I am playful, too. The two of us have raced each other across opposite Moving Walkways in O'Hare International Airport, gotten stuck in an elevator together at the Marriott Hotel, lain on a blanket of grass underneath a starry night sky and sipped wine from champagne flutes, driven to Connecticut to observe a shechita, had water-fights with hoses in industrial-sized kitchens (Camp Stone's kitchen, to be precise), tried on lots of different wigs (ranging from rocker to bright pink to orange) in Abracadabra, eaten dinner and sipped Cokes on open rooftops, taken a tour of Pomegranate at 10PM, accidentally ended up in Queens one evening and purchased ice cream from Max & Mina's, have eaten Shabbat meals consisting mainly of cookies, have attended segregated Shabbat meals where we spoke with our eyes across a very long table, challenged one another to rhyming duels, avidly defended our interpretations of films, wandered through Barnes and Noble and Macy's while he's wearing a hat and bekishe, include double entendres and special meanings in nearly every conversation while suppressing the urge to break into hearty laughter, walked through Fort Tryon park together and so on and so forth.
He has many tones. I like the way his voice unconsciously sweetens when he speaks Yiddish to his younger siblings; he doesn't even realize it. He's made a habit of locating various and sundry chocolatiers in an effort to ply me with every single type of chocolate known to man (he likes to give me gifts for no reason) and a wicked twinkle comes into his eye when he stoutly informs me that he has a "surprise for me" (it's a book from my favorite series).
Well-meaning people used to call me to ask what I was looking for in a husband. At first I was flummoxed by the question- I couldn't describe what I was looking for because I was interested in so many different types of people! But at some point I came up with an answer (and it was my stock answer) and it went like so:
"In Bereishis, when Avraham sends Eliezer to look for a bride for Yitzchak, Eliezer asks for a sign. The sign should be that when Eliezer asks a maiden to allow him to drink, she not only gives him water but also waters his camels. Now, why was that an identifying sign? Because it shows Rivka's kindness. She was kind, not only to a stranger, a wayfarer, but also to his beasts of burden, who were also tired and thirsty. So we see in the Torah itself that the quality that one should look for in a partner is kindness. The most important thing to me is that he should be kind. Kind, honest, loyal and truthful- but most of all kind."
And that is the essence of Heshy. If Heshy is your friend, he will give you of his time, his money and his devotion without qualms- because to him, friendship is a sacred bond of the spirit. He is utterly loyal. And he is also very kind. Heshy's perception of the world and of people is that it is a world of growth. It is our job to grow, to work on ourselves, create ourselves and recreate ourselves so that we grow and become better people. He is very realistic about his expectations. He doesn't expect himself or those he cares for to change overnight. He realizes that to grow takes work, hard work, and effort and skill. People must want to change and change happens gradually. Heshy rejoices in this rather than feeling frustrated by it. To him it is a marvel, just as all of God's creations- and His world- is a marvel. When Heshy walks outside, he sees a beautiful world: one that is full of potential.
At the same time, Heshy has a very strong attribute of justice. He deals with people as they have dealt with him. Measure for measure and middah kneged middah resonate strongly with him. His personality is such that he could officiate over disputes- he is not swayed by emotions but rules via logic. To him, justice and righteousness are synonymous. You may love someone very much, but that does not make them correct. It's interesting that the same lips can speak words that act as paintbrushes, creating the markers and streetlines that one sees on the pavement, borders and boundaries. Out of his lips come these yellow and white painted markings on the black concrete...and then, light words that sparkle also come from his mouth. It only depends on his focus at that moment in time.
My future husband has been handed equal measures of sweetness and justice and he must determine which quality is correct according to the time. The seat of power is the tongue and all that it expresses.
I feel lucky that God bound me to a man who is so understanding. It's unique for one and the same person to be logical, kind, playful and loving. He balances me when I am caught up in dreams I never realize by pointing out that the mundane practicalities of life are important and, alongside him, could even be made fun. I love his complexity and the secret parts of his personality, the depth that is hinted to but never fully realized. I admire his ability to comprehend my attraction to darkness and to validate how I feel even if he disagrees. There is in Heshy a boundless ability to give. All the stars spinning throughout the milky way, the vastness of the known universe, the ineffable nature of God- none of these metaphors could express how much he is willing to give and how deeply he cares for others.
Which is why I'm lucky: because he's my destiny.
He is also playful. I am playful, too. The two of us have raced each other across opposite Moving Walkways in O'Hare International Airport, gotten stuck in an elevator together at the Marriott Hotel, lain on a blanket of grass underneath a starry night sky and sipped wine from champagne flutes, driven to Connecticut to observe a shechita, had water-fights with hoses in industrial-sized kitchens (Camp Stone's kitchen, to be precise), tried on lots of different wigs (ranging from rocker to bright pink to orange) in Abracadabra, eaten dinner and sipped Cokes on open rooftops, taken a tour of Pomegranate at 10PM, accidentally ended up in Queens one evening and purchased ice cream from Max & Mina's, have eaten Shabbat meals consisting mainly of cookies, have attended segregated Shabbat meals where we spoke with our eyes across a very long table, challenged one another to rhyming duels, avidly defended our interpretations of films, wandered through Barnes and Noble and Macy's while he's wearing a hat and bekishe, include double entendres and special meanings in nearly every conversation while suppressing the urge to break into hearty laughter, walked through Fort Tryon park together and so on and so forth.
He has many tones. I like the way his voice unconsciously sweetens when he speaks Yiddish to his younger siblings; he doesn't even realize it. He's made a habit of locating various and sundry chocolatiers in an effort to ply me with every single type of chocolate known to man (he likes to give me gifts for no reason) and a wicked twinkle comes into his eye when he stoutly informs me that he has a "surprise for me" (it's a book from my favorite series).
Well-meaning people used to call me to ask what I was looking for in a husband. At first I was flummoxed by the question- I couldn't describe what I was looking for because I was interested in so many different types of people! But at some point I came up with an answer (and it was my stock answer) and it went like so:
"In Bereishis, when Avraham sends Eliezer to look for a bride for Yitzchak, Eliezer asks for a sign. The sign should be that when Eliezer asks a maiden to allow him to drink, she not only gives him water but also waters his camels. Now, why was that an identifying sign? Because it shows Rivka's kindness. She was kind, not only to a stranger, a wayfarer, but also to his beasts of burden, who were also tired and thirsty. So we see in the Torah itself that the quality that one should look for in a partner is kindness. The most important thing to me is that he should be kind. Kind, honest, loyal and truthful- but most of all kind."
And that is the essence of Heshy. If Heshy is your friend, he will give you of his time, his money and his devotion without qualms- because to him, friendship is a sacred bond of the spirit. He is utterly loyal. And he is also very kind. Heshy's perception of the world and of people is that it is a world of growth. It is our job to grow, to work on ourselves, create ourselves and recreate ourselves so that we grow and become better people. He is very realistic about his expectations. He doesn't expect himself or those he cares for to change overnight. He realizes that to grow takes work, hard work, and effort and skill. People must want to change and change happens gradually. Heshy rejoices in this rather than feeling frustrated by it. To him it is a marvel, just as all of God's creations- and His world- is a marvel. When Heshy walks outside, he sees a beautiful world: one that is full of potential.
At the same time, Heshy has a very strong attribute of justice. He deals with people as they have dealt with him. Measure for measure and middah kneged middah resonate strongly with him. His personality is such that he could officiate over disputes- he is not swayed by emotions but rules via logic. To him, justice and righteousness are synonymous. You may love someone very much, but that does not make them correct. It's interesting that the same lips can speak words that act as paintbrushes, creating the markers and streetlines that one sees on the pavement, borders and boundaries. Out of his lips come these yellow and white painted markings on the black concrete...and then, light words that sparkle also come from his mouth. It only depends on his focus at that moment in time.
My future husband has been handed equal measures of sweetness and justice and he must determine which quality is correct according to the time. The seat of power is the tongue and all that it expresses.
I feel lucky that God bound me to a man who is so understanding. It's unique for one and the same person to be logical, kind, playful and loving. He balances me when I am caught up in dreams I never realize by pointing out that the mundane practicalities of life are important and, alongside him, could even be made fun. I love his complexity and the secret parts of his personality, the depth that is hinted to but never fully realized. I admire his ability to comprehend my attraction to darkness and to validate how I feel even if he disagrees. There is in Heshy a boundless ability to give. All the stars spinning throughout the milky way, the vastness of the known universe, the ineffable nature of God- none of these metaphors could express how much he is willing to give and how deeply he cares for others.
Which is why I'm lucky: because he's my destiny.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
Epileptic Peat
Today I was coming home from work and detoured to Times Square 42nd Street Station. There I saw a man in a gorilla mask playing the electric guitar accompanied by tunes that he had recorded and manipulated with his foot. I stopped, totally entranced and listened for a good 10 minutes. I wasn't the only one. There was something in this man's music- his strange ability to combine so many genres- that was deeply appealing.
I bought his CD. His name is Peat. He goes by the name Epileptic Peat. His CD is called "The Minstrel and the Shill" and it's a strangely beautiful mixture of guitar, drums, cello, violin, piano, bagpipes, banjo and the glockenspiegel. To me it seems reflective of many different parts of my nature. The album is also beautifully designed/ is rather artistic, courtesy of Luke Rains (www.caspianisdead.com).
In short, it appeals to me...and it's amazing to me that each track is able to touch on so many emotions. This is like the tune the Pied Piper played to ensure the children would be captivated by him.
I bought his CD. His name is Peat. He goes by the name Epileptic Peat. His CD is called "The Minstrel and the Shill" and it's a strangely beautiful mixture of guitar, drums, cello, violin, piano, bagpipes, banjo and the glockenspiegel. To me it seems reflective of many different parts of my nature. The album is also beautifully designed/ is rather artistic, courtesy of Luke Rains (www.caspianisdead.com).
In short, it appeals to me...and it's amazing to me that each track is able to touch on so many emotions. This is like the tune the Pied Piper played to ensure the children would be captivated by him.
Sunday, October 03, 2010
Simchas Torah in Bobov
Bleachers, to me, are reminiscent of a baseball game. I imagine Wrigley Field and the few Cubs games I have attended, the scent of popcorn, hot dogs and sweat in the air. People are cheering, loudly attired in the colors of their team. They bounce their children on their knees, dandling them there while they carefully introduce them to the intricacies of the game. Their expressions rise and fall with each pitch, hit or home run. The throng of people bands together in their shared concern and joy over the sight that takes place below.
As I look out over the sea of black, the flesh-colored hands clapping rhythmically, ecstatically together in joy, I am awed. Bleachers line all three walls of the shul and men and boys sway, stamp and jump ecstatically. Their hands are expressive, the outlet for their unified euphoria. The air is celebratory; below, in an expansive square bordered by tables draped in sparkling white cloths, fifty-two men hold fifty-two Sifrei Torah. They march together around the edge of this dance-floor, clad in their finest bekishes and shtreimels, some with young children in tow. In the middle of the dance floor, the king who presides over all, is the Bobover Rav.
The Rav, or Ruv as it is pronounced in the Hasidic dialect, wears a talis that is crowned by a silver atara. He pulls it over his face so that his eyes are completely covered and it hangs like a holy cowl; only his white beard remains uncovered. He wears a bekishe, white socks and black shoes. The energy in his manner and his dance is unparallelled. The tallis flies out behind him as he dances, forming the letters of the alef-bet with the patterns his feet trace across the floor; he looks like nothing so much as an angel. He holds out his hands before him and claps them vigorously, all the while dancing across the expansive floor, his men marching around him with their Torahs held loftily in their hands. The men in the bleachers focus on him; they clap in time with him. The energy that fills the air is explosive, combustible. This is not just joy; it is transcendent. The hall has been dipped in the elixir of ecstasy.
Those who are not jumping on the bleachers but stand outside of the white tables form a circle (really, it is more of a square), widthwise, five men across. Hundreds to thousands of men join this circle, each one putting his hands on the shoulders of the person in front of him. They bob up and down, jumping and singing passionately, their whole souls contained in these moments. They are carried forward by the momentum, a sea of black with brown shtreimels and black hats dotting the horizon. Children ride on their fathers' shoulders or scramble along within the crowd, thrilled by the rapture that fills the room. They are transported by the experience, taken to another world, a piece of heaven that is solely theirs.
These multitudes are observed by thousands of equally moved women, who fill two balconies that curve into an L-shape. The women stand atop chairs or shtenders; they clamber to the highest bench on the set of bleachers. They crane their necks, struggling to catch sight of the tremendous foray into exaltation below them. Their white kerchiefs make them identifiable to the onlooker, as does the sparkle of their jewelery. They lift up their children and struggle to locate their husbands, brothers and sons in the crowd. A curious sense of pride swells their hearts; they too vicariously take part in this fervent dance before God, the celebration of the gift of His holy Torah.
The hakafos go on till the wee hours of the morning. Men, boys and women are seen walking the streets till 4 or 5 AM, their menfolk having only just returned from the joyful celebration. While the Chasidim perform hakafos on Shmini Atzeres night and day as well, it's nothing as compared to the transcendent rotations they describe on Simchas Torah itself. That is the night when all is uncovered, the normally quiet man who is shy of demonstrating his feelings for God is lost in the incredible experience of being one with many in a blessed union with the soul of the Torah. Like an orchestra that is divided into many sections and yet all have their parts, so too this Simchas Torah celebration. The percussion section is perhaps equivalent to the jubilant men on the bleachers who stamp their feet, jump and clap together while singing joyfully. The strings section is comprised of the men within the white tables holding the Torahs, marching in a dignified fashion while still expressing their gladness. And the flutes and windpipes can serve as the men outside of the tables who form the mass of humanity that pushes, leaps and gambols forward with an intense, fervent concentration upon the holiness of the day. The Rav, of course, is the conductor.
The ecstasy does not end here. At the conclusion of the Shalosh Regalim, all of Bobov, men, women and children, gather outside of the Rav's house on 48th street. This ritual is called Neilas HaChag. The streets are shut down and police monitor them to ensure that nothing untoward happens. Usually it takes about 15 minutes, although this time the wait went for about 2 hours and 15 minutes. The Rav then steps out onto his porch to applause and singing, after which a shamash holds up his silent and the crowd goes silent. He speaks in Yiddish, wishing them a good year, a good winter, warning them against the evils of the outside world, telling them to be kovea itim (learn at set times) and wishing them joy in their smachot. He is their leader and they gather before him in nothing so much as a modern-day Hakhel. Instead of reading Sefer Devarim, however, he speaks to their hearts.
I am conflicted by these scenes. I am drawn to the beauty in them, the holiness, the spirituality, the transcendent and irrepressible joy. It calls out to me and my heart answers, for there is much in this that speaks to my soul. But the warning against the "goyishe velt" in which I live, the casual references to "my goyta" and what she has or hasn't done, the fact that shidduchim are determined at least in part based on "levush" and a b'sho generally involves having met only two or three times before one's marriage, the preeminence of white socks and beige socks in marital decisions, the idea that one marries the child of geirim as a last resort, if that- these things make me breathe a sigh of pleasure when I return to Washingon Heights, which is more of my home.
But it does not make me forget the sight that I saw in the twilight of Boro Park, the joy and ecstasy that filled the room, the creativity and beauty resplendent in their sukkot and the miniatures that fill them. Similar to the Macy's and Lord and Taylor Christmas windows, Bobov creates miniature figurines that portray Jewish scenes and displays them in their sukkot, although this year only the sukkah on 45th had them. These are masterpieces of artistry and creativity created by unprofessional bochurim who have never been taught art in a formal setting and they are beautiful.
The beautiful and the ugly lodge side-by-side, and in the night tinged with the scent of smoke from Yom Tov cigarettes, I find myself both moved and perplexed by what I see.
As I look out over the sea of black, the flesh-colored hands clapping rhythmically, ecstatically together in joy, I am awed. Bleachers line all three walls of the shul and men and boys sway, stamp and jump ecstatically. Their hands are expressive, the outlet for their unified euphoria. The air is celebratory; below, in an expansive square bordered by tables draped in sparkling white cloths, fifty-two men hold fifty-two Sifrei Torah. They march together around the edge of this dance-floor, clad in their finest bekishes and shtreimels, some with young children in tow. In the middle of the dance floor, the king who presides over all, is the Bobover Rav.
The Rav, or Ruv as it is pronounced in the Hasidic dialect, wears a talis that is crowned by a silver atara. He pulls it over his face so that his eyes are completely covered and it hangs like a holy cowl; only his white beard remains uncovered. He wears a bekishe, white socks and black shoes. The energy in his manner and his dance is unparallelled. The tallis flies out behind him as he dances, forming the letters of the alef-bet with the patterns his feet trace across the floor; he looks like nothing so much as an angel. He holds out his hands before him and claps them vigorously, all the while dancing across the expansive floor, his men marching around him with their Torahs held loftily in their hands. The men in the bleachers focus on him; they clap in time with him. The energy that fills the air is explosive, combustible. This is not just joy; it is transcendent. The hall has been dipped in the elixir of ecstasy.
Those who are not jumping on the bleachers but stand outside of the white tables form a circle (really, it is more of a square), widthwise, five men across. Hundreds to thousands of men join this circle, each one putting his hands on the shoulders of the person in front of him. They bob up and down, jumping and singing passionately, their whole souls contained in these moments. They are carried forward by the momentum, a sea of black with brown shtreimels and black hats dotting the horizon. Children ride on their fathers' shoulders or scramble along within the crowd, thrilled by the rapture that fills the room. They are transported by the experience, taken to another world, a piece of heaven that is solely theirs.
These multitudes are observed by thousands of equally moved women, who fill two balconies that curve into an L-shape. The women stand atop chairs or shtenders; they clamber to the highest bench on the set of bleachers. They crane their necks, struggling to catch sight of the tremendous foray into exaltation below them. Their white kerchiefs make them identifiable to the onlooker, as does the sparkle of their jewelery. They lift up their children and struggle to locate their husbands, brothers and sons in the crowd. A curious sense of pride swells their hearts; they too vicariously take part in this fervent dance before God, the celebration of the gift of His holy Torah.
The hakafos go on till the wee hours of the morning. Men, boys and women are seen walking the streets till 4 or 5 AM, their menfolk having only just returned from the joyful celebration. While the Chasidim perform hakafos on Shmini Atzeres night and day as well, it's nothing as compared to the transcendent rotations they describe on Simchas Torah itself. That is the night when all is uncovered, the normally quiet man who is shy of demonstrating his feelings for God is lost in the incredible experience of being one with many in a blessed union with the soul of the Torah. Like an orchestra that is divided into many sections and yet all have their parts, so too this Simchas Torah celebration. The percussion section is perhaps equivalent to the jubilant men on the bleachers who stamp their feet, jump and clap together while singing joyfully. The strings section is comprised of the men within the white tables holding the Torahs, marching in a dignified fashion while still expressing their gladness. And the flutes and windpipes can serve as the men outside of the tables who form the mass of humanity that pushes, leaps and gambols forward with an intense, fervent concentration upon the holiness of the day. The Rav, of course, is the conductor.
The ecstasy does not end here. At the conclusion of the Shalosh Regalim, all of Bobov, men, women and children, gather outside of the Rav's house on 48th street. This ritual is called Neilas HaChag. The streets are shut down and police monitor them to ensure that nothing untoward happens. Usually it takes about 15 minutes, although this time the wait went for about 2 hours and 15 minutes. The Rav then steps out onto his porch to applause and singing, after which a shamash holds up his silent and the crowd goes silent. He speaks in Yiddish, wishing them a good year, a good winter, warning them against the evils of the outside world, telling them to be kovea itim (learn at set times) and wishing them joy in their smachot. He is their leader and they gather before him in nothing so much as a modern-day Hakhel. Instead of reading Sefer Devarim, however, he speaks to their hearts.
I am conflicted by these scenes. I am drawn to the beauty in them, the holiness, the spirituality, the transcendent and irrepressible joy. It calls out to me and my heart answers, for there is much in this that speaks to my soul. But the warning against the "goyishe velt" in which I live, the casual references to "my goyta" and what she has or hasn't done, the fact that shidduchim are determined at least in part based on "levush" and a b'sho generally involves having met only two or three times before one's marriage, the preeminence of white socks and beige socks in marital decisions, the idea that one marries the child of geirim as a last resort, if that- these things make me breathe a sigh of pleasure when I return to Washingon Heights, which is more of my home.
But it does not make me forget the sight that I saw in the twilight of Boro Park, the joy and ecstasy that filled the room, the creativity and beauty resplendent in their sukkot and the miniatures that fill them. Similar to the Macy's and Lord and Taylor Christmas windows, Bobov creates miniature figurines that portray Jewish scenes and displays them in their sukkot, although this year only the sukkah on 45th had them. These are masterpieces of artistry and creativity created by unprofessional bochurim who have never been taught art in a formal setting and they are beautiful.
The beautiful and the ugly lodge side-by-side, and in the night tinged with the scent of smoke from Yom Tov cigarettes, I find myself both moved and perplexed by what I see.
Monday, September 27, 2010
the daily grind
So there are those of you who particularly enjoy the lighthearted, humorous, happy version of me.
Luckily for you, that version is now going to exist as part of a Team Blog which will include the doings of myself and my fellow twenty-somethings who work at the OU.
The plan is to post at least once a day (on all the days I'm in the office/ have access to a computer) and in this way to give you a taste of my life and the Orthodox Union.
Please comment on those posts over at that location rather than at this blog.
Welcome to: Life at the OU
Luckily for you, that version is now going to exist as part of a Team Blog which will include the doings of myself and my fellow twenty-somethings who work at the OU.
The plan is to post at least once a day (on all the days I'm in the office/ have access to a computer) and in this way to give you a taste of my life and the Orthodox Union.
Please comment on those posts over at that location rather than at this blog.
Welcome to: Life at the OU
Sunday, September 26, 2010
In Which I Make History
So this past Shabbat my parents made a kiddush in honor of Heshy and myself. It was supposed to take place in the sukkah of Shaarei Tzedek.
However...at first there were two sukkot at the shul.
Then there was one.
And then there were none.
At which point they decided to make a Women's Kiddush (since we aren't obligated in Mitzvos Asei She'Hazeman Grama).
And I got to say Kiddush for everyone! And make history at my shul- because a woman said kiddush for all the women and drank from the cup. Very exciting. Hurrah!
However...at first there were two sukkot at the shul.
Then there was one.
And then there were none.
At which point they decided to make a Women's Kiddush (since we aren't obligated in Mitzvos Asei She'Hazeman Grama).
And I got to say Kiddush for everyone! And make history at my shul- because a woman said kiddush for all the women and drank from the cup. Very exciting. Hurrah!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Calling All Teenagers/ High-Schoolers
If you are currently attending an Orthodox Jewish high school (single sex or coed), please email me at OliviaNCSY@gmail to answer the following questions (you can do this totally anonymously and I don't plan to share the information with any adults, teachers or other authority figures):
YOU COULD ALSO JUST CLICK HERE TO FILL OUT THIS SURVEY.
a) what is your experience of Judaism at home/ role modelled by your parents?
b) what is your experience of Judaism at high school
c) what is your experience of Judaism elsewhere/ outside of school/ summer camps or trips etc
d) what is your experience of Judaism on NCSY/ JSU programs
Do you keep half-Shabbos or full-Shabbos (basically, do you text on Shabbos), do you eat out at non-kosher restaraunts (and if so, by yourself, with friends or with family), have you been on Miami spring break and if so how would you describe your religiosity there? Is your Judaism meaningful to you? Why or why not? What (if anything) would make you care about your Judaism?
Please also just tell me whether you attend a single-sex all boys school, a single-sex all girls school or a coed school. If you can tell me which state it's located in, that would also be helpful.
Feel free to use fake names/ be totally anonymous.
YOU COULD ALSO JUST CLICK HERE TO FILL OUT THIS SURVEY.
a) what is your experience of Judaism at home/ role modelled by your parents?
b) what is your experience of Judaism at high school
c) what is your experience of Judaism elsewhere/ outside of school/ summer camps or trips etc
d) what is your experience of Judaism on NCSY/ JSU programs
Do you keep half-Shabbos or full-Shabbos (basically, do you text on Shabbos), do you eat out at non-kosher restaraunts (and if so, by yourself, with friends or with family), have you been on Miami spring break and if so how would you describe your religiosity there? Is your Judaism meaningful to you? Why or why not? What (if anything) would make you care about your Judaism?
Please also just tell me whether you attend a single-sex all boys school, a single-sex all girls school or a coed school. If you can tell me which state it's located in, that would also be helpful.
Feel free to use fake names/ be totally anonymous.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
And If You Offer Your Soul To The Hungry
There was one verse that stood out to me from yesterday's haftorah of Isaiah 57-58.
"And if you offer your soul to the hungry and satisfy the afflicted soul; then your light will shine in the darkness and the deepest gloom will be like the noon."
In the Hebrew, it is 58:10.
וְתָפֵק לָרָעֵב נַפְשֶׁךָ, וְנֶפֶשׁ נַעֲנָה תַּשְׂבִּיעַ; וְזָרַח בַּחֹשֶׁךְ אוֹרֶךָ, וַאֲפֵלָתְךָ כַּצָּהֳרָיִם.
The reason this verse speaks to me so profoundly- and this is without looking at the elaborations, explanations or commentaries to the verse- is because of the words used. Note that it does not say that one should offer food to the hungry but rather one's soul. Many times people are hungry for compassion, kindness or spirituality and these are not hungers that can be sated by anything less than the giving of a soul- and I have given my soul. I felt that God was comforting me. "You may have your sins- but you have given your soul- and I have seen it- I have witnessed it- and the strength of that soul outweighs the darkness of those sins. So be still, my daughter, for I have not left you yet."
The fact that the man who said Birkat Kohanim sounded exactly like my grandfather - he spoke with the same Chassidish pronounciation- made me feel like I was being blessed by my grandfather from beyond the grave through an emissary, which is especially important given that this is just before my wedding.
And the fact that a little old lady who survived Birkenau and showed me the numbers on her arm blessed me adds to that power. It is my custom always to ask survivors, especially those who remained religious, for blessings for I feel they have a merit that no one else can possibly attain unless they were burned in fire and tortured by water as one of God's chosen within His crucible.
God was close to me as He always is; I felt Him and I saw Him- in the faces of all those assembled, gathered only to do Yizkor. It is very powerful to me that even though one may not be at all religious still one comes to pray for the dead, for one's mother and father. It bespeaks a deep and inseparable bond between the parent and the child, a love that extends beyond death.
This should come as no surprise because King Solomon states that it is so.
See Song of Songs 8:6.
שִׂימֵנִי כַחוֹתָם עַל-לִבֶּךָ, כַּחוֹתָם עַל-זְרוֹעֶךָ--כִּי-עַזָּה כַמָּוֶת אַהֲבָה, קָשָׁה כִשְׁאוֹל קִנְאָה: רְשָׁפֶיהָ--רִשְׁפֵּי, אֵשׁ שַׁלְהֶבֶתְיָה. 6
Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm; for love is strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the grave; the flashes thereof are flashes of fire, a very flame of the LORD.
Love is as strong as death; this is why so many express their love by coming to Yizkor.
There is something absolutely haunting about the wailing cry, 'El Malei Rachamim.' I imagine that cry and see bodies piled up in pits, mass graves in Europe and I shudder in awe. It amazes me that man clings to God when God has hurt him- in the shadow of the death camps, in the darkness of the night, when no one else answers, all that we have is His. Our bodies? Our souls? They do not belong to us. We do His will for He gave us life; we try our hardest to do as He desires.
The part that touches me the most in the Shemoneh Esrei that we say on Yom Kippur is this paragraph:
"My God, before I was formed I was unworthy, and now that I have been formed, it is as if I had not been formed. I am dust in my life and will surely be son in my death. Behold- before You I am like a vessel filled with shame and humiliation. May it be Your will, Hashem, my God and the God of my forefathers, that I may not sin again. And what I have sinned before You, may You wipe away with Your abundant mercy, but not through suffering or serious illness."
The plea and the desire not to sin again before God again are a mixture of sweet and sad to me. This is everyone's most fervent wish- but in order not to sin one must know what the sins are. In a world that is very confusing with many divergent opinions it is hard sometimes to know if what one does, longs for, feels or acts upon is a sin or if it is not.
What I wish of God is to grant me the clarity to discern the sins from the good deeds so that I will then be able to fulfill this desire of not sinning again.
And may He shine His countenance down upon me like the sun, and my light and His will mingle and I shall be both awed and happy, cupped as I am within His Palm.
"And if you offer your soul to the hungry and satisfy the afflicted soul; then your light will shine in the darkness and the deepest gloom will be like the noon."
In the Hebrew, it is 58:10.
וְתָפֵק לָרָעֵב נַפְשֶׁךָ, וְנֶפֶשׁ נַעֲנָה תַּשְׂבִּיעַ; וְזָרַח בַּחֹשֶׁךְ אוֹרֶךָ, וַאֲפֵלָתְךָ כַּצָּהֳרָיִם.
The reason this verse speaks to me so profoundly- and this is without looking at the elaborations, explanations or commentaries to the verse- is because of the words used. Note that it does not say that one should offer food to the hungry but rather one's soul. Many times people are hungry for compassion, kindness or spirituality and these are not hungers that can be sated by anything less than the giving of a soul- and I have given my soul. I felt that God was comforting me. "You may have your sins- but you have given your soul- and I have seen it- I have witnessed it- and the strength of that soul outweighs the darkness of those sins. So be still, my daughter, for I have not left you yet."
The fact that the man who said Birkat Kohanim sounded exactly like my grandfather - he spoke with the same Chassidish pronounciation- made me feel like I was being blessed by my grandfather from beyond the grave through an emissary, which is especially important given that this is just before my wedding.
And the fact that a little old lady who survived Birkenau and showed me the numbers on her arm blessed me adds to that power. It is my custom always to ask survivors, especially those who remained religious, for blessings for I feel they have a merit that no one else can possibly attain unless they were burned in fire and tortured by water as one of God's chosen within His crucible.
God was close to me as He always is; I felt Him and I saw Him- in the faces of all those assembled, gathered only to do Yizkor. It is very powerful to me that even though one may not be at all religious still one comes to pray for the dead, for one's mother and father. It bespeaks a deep and inseparable bond between the parent and the child, a love that extends beyond death.
This should come as no surprise because King Solomon states that it is so.
See Song of Songs 8:6.
שִׂימֵנִי כַחוֹתָם עַל-לִבֶּךָ, כַּחוֹתָם עַל-זְרוֹעֶךָ--כִּי-עַזָּה כַמָּוֶת אַהֲבָה, קָשָׁה כִשְׁאוֹל קִנְאָה: רְשָׁפֶיהָ--רִשְׁפֵּי, אֵשׁ שַׁלְהֶבֶתְיָה. 6
Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm; for love is strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the grave; the flashes thereof are flashes of fire, a very flame of the LORD.
Love is as strong as death; this is why so many express their love by coming to Yizkor.
There is something absolutely haunting about the wailing cry, 'El Malei Rachamim.' I imagine that cry and see bodies piled up in pits, mass graves in Europe and I shudder in awe. It amazes me that man clings to God when God has hurt him- in the shadow of the death camps, in the darkness of the night, when no one else answers, all that we have is His. Our bodies? Our souls? They do not belong to us. We do His will for He gave us life; we try our hardest to do as He desires.
The part that touches me the most in the Shemoneh Esrei that we say on Yom Kippur is this paragraph:
"My God, before I was formed I was unworthy, and now that I have been formed, it is as if I had not been formed. I am dust in my life and will surely be son in my death. Behold- before You I am like a vessel filled with shame and humiliation. May it be Your will, Hashem, my God and the God of my forefathers, that I may not sin again. And what I have sinned before You, may You wipe away with Your abundant mercy, but not through suffering or serious illness."
The plea and the desire not to sin again before God again are a mixture of sweet and sad to me. This is everyone's most fervent wish- but in order not to sin one must know what the sins are. In a world that is very confusing with many divergent opinions it is hard sometimes to know if what one does, longs for, feels or acts upon is a sin or if it is not.
What I wish of God is to grant me the clarity to discern the sins from the good deeds so that I will then be able to fulfill this desire of not sinning again.
And may He shine His countenance down upon me like the sun, and my light and His will mingle and I shall be both awed and happy, cupped as I am within His Palm.
Guardians at the Gate
I find that the song "Guardians at the Gate" by Audiomachine pretty aptly describes my life.
There's a lot of running, a lot of being scared, an all-along tempo raising me higher toward what I think is my breaking point, terror and a deep sense of urgency, that if I do not do this now I will never do it, and alongside all of this the knowledge that this is what I was born to do. I must run- I must be scared- I must go forward anyway- I was created for this.
There's a lot of running, a lot of being scared, an all-along tempo raising me higher toward what I think is my breaking point, terror and a deep sense of urgency, that if I do not do this now I will never do it, and alongside all of this the knowledge that this is what I was born to do. I must run- I must be scared- I must go forward anyway- I was created for this.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Save The Date! - A Beautiful Mind: Jewish Approaches To Mental Health
Come one, come all! The Yeshiva University Student Medical Ethics Society is hosting a conference on October 31, 2010 entitled "A Beautiful Mind: Jewish Approaches to Mental Health."
Does your child, spouse, relative or perhaps you yourself live with a mental illness? Even if not, are you curious about mental illness and instances of it within the Orthodox Jewish community? Are you interested in learning about:
-Suicide and Depression
-Addiction and Substance Abuse
-Eating Disorders
-Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
-Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder
-Bullying and Harrassing
Come learn about this unfortunately stigmatized topic and become a better, more aware, more sensitive person.
See you on October 31st!
Does your child, spouse, relative or perhaps you yourself live with a mental illness? Even if not, are you curious about mental illness and instances of it within the Orthodox Jewish community? Are you interested in learning about:-Suicide and Depression
-Addiction and Substance Abuse
-Eating Disorders
-Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
-Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder
-Bullying and Harrassing
Come learn about this unfortunately stigmatized topic and become a better, more aware, more sensitive person.
See you on October 31st!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Color Dependancy
Never underestimate my devotion to Gossip Girl: I woke up at 6:30 AM in order to watch last night's episode.
Some people would find this pathetic, but I prefer to think of myself as enlightened. You see, the majority of you are dependant upon actual drugs. You need your caffeine and coffee fix. Without those roasted brown beans creamed with milk and stirred happily within your mug, you morph into terrifying monsters.
As for me, I just have color dependancy.
What, you ask, does this mean?
Mainly that I need bright, happy colors to make my morning a good one. So I dress myself in bright colors, watch TV shows that sport bright colors ("Gossip Girl" and "America's Next Top Model") and shop at stores which sell bright merchandise. If it's magenta or orange, it's calling my name.
In this way, I am not chemically charged by brown beverages and need never lament the lack of them. I just need to focus on the large Gucci advertisement in Times Swuare or the shockingly flourescent shoes that the kindly lady is wearing in an ill-advised effort to seem fashionable.
And that's why it's worth it to wake up at 6:30 in the morning to see whether Chuck and Blair got back together.
Huzzah.
Some people would find this pathetic, but I prefer to think of myself as enlightened. You see, the majority of you are dependant upon actual drugs. You need your caffeine and coffee fix. Without those roasted brown beans creamed with milk and stirred happily within your mug, you morph into terrifying monsters.
As for me, I just have color dependancy.
What, you ask, does this mean?
Mainly that I need bright, happy colors to make my morning a good one. So I dress myself in bright colors, watch TV shows that sport bright colors ("Gossip Girl" and "America's Next Top Model") and shop at stores which sell bright merchandise. If it's magenta or orange, it's calling my name.
In this way, I am not chemically charged by brown beverages and need never lament the lack of them. I just need to focus on the large Gucci advertisement in Times Swuare or the shockingly flourescent shoes that the kindly lady is wearing in an ill-advised effort to seem fashionable.
And that's why it's worth it to wake up at 6:30 in the morning to see whether Chuck and Blair got back together.
Huzzah.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Wedding Invitations!
My Hasid and I sent out our wedding invitations recently! Our motif/ theme/ monogram is as follows:.png)
As you might have imagined, our invitation incorporates our names (and my future last name- see if you can find the letter that starts it) and Beauty and the Beast. Our invitations were made by For You Custom Creations and their phone number is 847.404.5058. And they are absolutely gorgeous.
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As you might have imagined, our invitation incorporates our names (and my future last name- see if you can find the letter that starts it) and Beauty and the Beast. Our invitations were made by For You Custom Creations and their phone number is 847.404.5058. And they are absolutely gorgeous.
When Rashi Isn't Rashi
I love how I walk into Divrei HaYamim class and am happily informed, upon opening Divrei HaYamim, that the commentary that looks like Rashi and is entitled Rashi and quacks like Rashi is in fact not Rashi.
Huzzah for Pseudo-Rashi.
Huzzah for Pseudo-Rashi.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Flintbox
My chatan has a soul that is worth more than rainbows of diamonds,
glittering gems scattered throughout an everlasting room.
To scale him in amethysts would be no merit;
he could not be ransomed for his weight in gold.
A flint kindles a light that fills
worlds, the shadows banished into nowhere.
If you are the flintbox and I am the light,
there shall be no more darkness, nor any night.
glittering gems scattered throughout an everlasting room.
To scale him in amethysts would be no merit;
he could not be ransomed for his weight in gold.
A flint kindles a light that fills
worlds, the shadows banished into nowhere.
If you are the flintbox and I am the light,
there shall be no more darkness, nor any night.
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
Patience
I am used to walking through darkness alone.
Figments of my imagination and shadows of fantasies
lurk painfully in corners of my mind.
They call out- I turn to them- I pity them. I offer them food.
But the beggar ladies in my dreams
are evil
and burn me.
I look at the burn marks on my arms;
the scars are circular and smooth.
I touch one. It smoulders. A half-forgotten mark
of a survival I do not care
to remember.
But then came a companion
whose compassion was bottomless
and whose care was absolute
and who would not be deterred
by beggar ladies or burns.
And he took my hand
and walked with me
and we found ourselves in Paradise.
I torched it
because I was scared.
He rebuilt it.
I am afraid of ecstasy
and pleasure to me is a trap
that leads to torture.
But that's why he starts slow
and we meander thoughtlessly
through groves of orange trees
and mangoes.
Your hands are smooth and they are soft;
they are scented with the scent of tangerines
but though it is good to eat and would afford me much wisdom,
I refrain from this type of knowledge.
The tree we plant will yield fruit
and you will dig me out of the grave.
In my gratitude, what can I offer you
except my soul? But you'll refuse it.
I must give it to you with love
or not at all.
You do not accept debts.
With you, life is a constant Jubilee.
A green shoot blossoms in my heart.
It catches fire, a holy spark
of divine reverence. It is a fire-flower.
Nurture it, for you have the bellows.
A gust of wind
and I will glow.
And in the flickering light
I'll hide my face.
Afraid of yours.
Afraid I'll die.
"Be not afraid of God, love,
for this burning bush is your very soul
and you need not hide from it."
I'll wake up in wonder.
You'll have known all along.
"How did you know?" I'll ask.
"It's simple," you'll say.
"Your soul speaks to me.
I adore you and I worship you
and one day, you will be at peace."
I haven't found it yet.
But I know my companion is expert
at walking through forests tangled with thorns.
And though they rip his skin and he bleeds,
he tears his shirt to bind my feet
so the cloth protects me from harm.
Wordless within me lies my feeling;
I am afraid lest it escape.
Suppressed, I can manage it; if I gave it life
it would overwhelm me. I contain it.
But he senses it; he knows
one day.
Figments of my imagination and shadows of fantasies
lurk painfully in corners of my mind.
They call out- I turn to them- I pity them. I offer them food.
But the beggar ladies in my dreams
are evil
and burn me.
I look at the burn marks on my arms;
the scars are circular and smooth.
I touch one. It smoulders. A half-forgotten mark
of a survival I do not care
to remember.
But then came a companion
whose compassion was bottomless
and whose care was absolute
and who would not be deterred
by beggar ladies or burns.
And he took my hand
and walked with me
and we found ourselves in Paradise.
I torched it
because I was scared.
He rebuilt it.
I am afraid of ecstasy
and pleasure to me is a trap
that leads to torture.
But that's why he starts slow
and we meander thoughtlessly
through groves of orange trees
and mangoes.
Your hands are smooth and they are soft;
they are scented with the scent of tangerines
but though it is good to eat and would afford me much wisdom,
I refrain from this type of knowledge.
The tree we plant will yield fruit
and you will dig me out of the grave.
In my gratitude, what can I offer you
except my soul? But you'll refuse it.
I must give it to you with love
or not at all.
You do not accept debts.
With you, life is a constant Jubilee.
A green shoot blossoms in my heart.
It catches fire, a holy spark
of divine reverence. It is a fire-flower.
Nurture it, for you have the bellows.
A gust of wind
and I will glow.
And in the flickering light
I'll hide my face.
Afraid of yours.
Afraid I'll die.
"Be not afraid of God, love,
for this burning bush is your very soul
and you need not hide from it."
I'll wake up in wonder.
You'll have known all along.
"How did you know?" I'll ask.
"It's simple," you'll say.
"Your soul speaks to me.
I adore you and I worship you
and one day, you will be at peace."
I haven't found it yet.
But I know my companion is expert
at walking through forests tangled with thorns.
And though they rip his skin and he bleeds,
he tears his shirt to bind my feet
so the cloth protects me from harm.
Wordless within me lies my feeling;
I am afraid lest it escape.
Suppressed, I can manage it; if I gave it life
it would overwhelm me. I contain it.
But he senses it; he knows
one day.
Running Up That Hill
'C'mon, baby, c'mon, c'mon, darling,
Let me steal this moment from you now.
C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling,
Let's exchange the experience, oh...'
And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems
-"Running Up That Hill" covered by Placebo
*
God took my grandmother from me this year.
God gave me my husband.
כ וַיָּקָם אִיּוֹב וַיִּקְרַע אֶת מְעִלוֹ, וַיָּגָז אֶת רֹאשׁוֹ; וַיִּפֹּל אַרְצָה, וַיִּשְׁתָּחוּ. 20 Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground, and worshipped;
כא וַיֹּאמֶר עָרֹם יָצָתִי מִבֶּטֶן אִמִּי, וְעָרֹם אָשׁוּב שָׁמָּה--יְהוָה נָתַן, וַיהוָה לָקָח; יְהִי שֵׁם יְהוָה, מְבֹרָךְ. 21 And he said; naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither; the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.
~Job 1:20-21
Let me steal this moment from you now.
C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling,
Let's exchange the experience, oh...'
And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems
-"Running Up That Hill" covered by Placebo
*
God took my grandmother from me this year.
God gave me my husband.
כ וַיָּקָם אִיּוֹב וַיִּקְרַע אֶת מְעִלוֹ, וַיָּגָז אֶת רֹאשׁוֹ; וַיִּפֹּל אַרְצָה, וַיִּשְׁתָּחוּ. 20 Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground, and worshipped;
כא וַיֹּאמֶר עָרֹם יָצָתִי מִבֶּטֶן אִמִּי, וְעָרֹם אָשׁוּב שָׁמָּה--יְהוָה נָתַן, וַיהוָה לָקָח; יְהִי שֵׁם יְהוָה, מְבֹרָךְ. 21 And he said; naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither; the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.
~Job 1:20-21
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Unrequited Love
I watched a film recently and the following questions came to mind.
What would you do if you were a girl in love with a boy who was in love with a different girl?
Alternatively, what would you do if you were a boy in love with a girl who was in love with a different boy?
Let's assume the boy or girl you loved agreed to go out with you, maybe even consider you seriously, but they can't shake the fact that they are still in love with someone else.
What do you do then? Is that enough to live on? Suppose one day you go off and settle in Hollywood bliss- but you know your husband is still in love with a different woman, even if he also cares about you.
What would you do if you were a girl in love with a boy who was in love with a different girl?
Alternatively, what would you do if you were a boy in love with a girl who was in love with a different boy?
Let's assume the boy or girl you loved agreed to go out with you, maybe even consider you seriously, but they can't shake the fact that they are still in love with someone else.
What do you do then? Is that enough to live on? Suppose one day you go off and settle in Hollywood bliss- but you know your husband is still in love with a different woman, even if he also cares about you.
Monday, September 06, 2010
Tefillin, Bridegrooms, Deserts & Days of Awe
One of the things I always adored in Jewish liturgy is the passage men say when they lay tefillin. I only discovered it about a year ago (maybe less) and I think it's so divinely beautiful:
"And I will betroth you to me forever, and I will betroth you to me with righteousness, justice, kindness and mercy. I will betroth you to me with fidelity and you shall know God."
In Made in Heaven, page 50, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan writes:
When a man puts on tefillin, he winds the strap three times around his left middle finger and says, "I will betroth you to Me forever. I will betroth you to Me in justice, love and kindness. I will betroth you to Me in faith, and you shall know God" (Hosea 2:21, 22). The strap is thus a renewal of the "marriage" between God and Israel, and it is therefore wound around the finger just like a wedding ring. Then, just as the strap binds man to God, the wedding ring binds the bridegroom to his bride.
I find that image so incredibly, deeply powerful. It's an image which is echoed in so many of the Rav's writings, as he consistently speaks of his romance with the Creator. I love the idea of the relationship between man & God as being that of a lover and beloved, a bride and bridegroom.
I was thinking, in fact, of a point that is often raised in Israel's favor by God. God tells Jeremiah to call through the streets that He remembers the kindness of Israel's youth, how they followed him into the desert, a land that had no food.
ב הָלֹךְ וְקָרָאתָ בְאָזְנֵי יְרוּשָׁלִַם לֵאמֹר, כֹּה אָמַר יְהוָה, זָכַרְתִּי לָךְ חֶסֶד נְעוּרַיִךְ, אַהֲבַת כְּלוּלֹתָיִךְ--לֶכְתֵּךְ אַחֲרַי בַּמִּדְבָּר, בְּאֶרֶץ לֹא זְרוּעָה. 2
Go, and cry in the ears of Jerusalem, saying: Thus saith the LORD: I remember for thee the affection of thy youth, the love of thine espousals; how thou wentest after Me in the wilderness, in a land that was not sown.
The commentaries to this verse say that Israel here put her total trust in God; she followed Him even though the land was not sown and she did not know where she would get food to eat or water to drink from. She loved Him and this was enough for her.
I think the same relationship occurs by the bride and the bridegroom. Every marriage, even if one knows the other person well, allows for some uncertainty, so that one follows the other blindly, trusting to them and hoping that in the end all shall be well.
Betrothing oneself anew to God every morning is a re-commitment to Him and to loving Him for that day and a recognition, once again, that we shall follow Him into the desert despite their being no food, borne aloft simply by our love for Him.
It's very exciting because we are so close to the Birthday of the World, Rosh Hashana, the day that God created man, who then consistently chooses to bind himself to his Bridegroom. Rosh Hashana is like our anniversary; it's the day we came into being, the day that relationship between God and man was founded, the day we get to begin again. It's a joyous day- a holy day- such a happy day! We come happily to pray to the God who loves us and who formed us on this, the Birthday of the World.
"Hayom haras olam," was, since I was a little girl, my favorite part of the Mussaf Amidah. It made me very happy to think of the world having a birthday and of Hashem celebrating it with all of us present, of the way that we would go home to eat festive meals with pretty translucent honey-jars and have birthday parties in honor of creation. For me, birthdays were always so special- so it followed that the Birthday of the World was even more exciting!
And here we go again- we get to experience betrothals and birthdays anew in just a couple more days. Tis very happymaking.
"And I will betroth you to me forever, and I will betroth you to me with righteousness, justice, kindness and mercy. I will betroth you to me with fidelity and you shall know God."
In Made in Heaven, page 50, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan writes:
When a man puts on tefillin, he winds the strap three times around his left middle finger and says, "I will betroth you to Me forever. I will betroth you to Me in justice, love and kindness. I will betroth you to Me in faith, and you shall know God" (Hosea 2:21, 22). The strap is thus a renewal of the "marriage" between God and Israel, and it is therefore wound around the finger just like a wedding ring. Then, just as the strap binds man to God, the wedding ring binds the bridegroom to his bride.
I find that image so incredibly, deeply powerful. It's an image which is echoed in so many of the Rav's writings, as he consistently speaks of his romance with the Creator. I love the idea of the relationship between man & God as being that of a lover and beloved, a bride and bridegroom.
I was thinking, in fact, of a point that is often raised in Israel's favor by God. God tells Jeremiah to call through the streets that He remembers the kindness of Israel's youth, how they followed him into the desert, a land that had no food.
ב הָלֹךְ וְקָרָאתָ בְאָזְנֵי יְרוּשָׁלִַם לֵאמֹר, כֹּה אָמַר יְהוָה, זָכַרְתִּי לָךְ חֶסֶד נְעוּרַיִךְ, אַהֲבַת כְּלוּלֹתָיִךְ--לֶכְתֵּךְ אַחֲרַי בַּמִּדְבָּר, בְּאֶרֶץ לֹא זְרוּעָה. 2
Go, and cry in the ears of Jerusalem, saying: Thus saith the LORD: I remember for thee the affection of thy youth, the love of thine espousals; how thou wentest after Me in the wilderness, in a land that was not sown.
The commentaries to this verse say that Israel here put her total trust in God; she followed Him even though the land was not sown and she did not know where she would get food to eat or water to drink from. She loved Him and this was enough for her.
I think the same relationship occurs by the bride and the bridegroom. Every marriage, even if one knows the other person well, allows for some uncertainty, so that one follows the other blindly, trusting to them and hoping that in the end all shall be well.
Betrothing oneself anew to God every morning is a re-commitment to Him and to loving Him for that day and a recognition, once again, that we shall follow Him into the desert despite their being no food, borne aloft simply by our love for Him.
It's very exciting because we are so close to the Birthday of the World, Rosh Hashana, the day that God created man, who then consistently chooses to bind himself to his Bridegroom. Rosh Hashana is like our anniversary; it's the day we came into being, the day that relationship between God and man was founded, the day we get to begin again. It's a joyous day- a holy day- such a happy day! We come happily to pray to the God who loves us and who formed us on this, the Birthday of the World.
"Hayom haras olam," was, since I was a little girl, my favorite part of the Mussaf Amidah. It made me very happy to think of the world having a birthday and of Hashem celebrating it with all of us present, of the way that we would go home to eat festive meals with pretty translucent honey-jars and have birthday parties in honor of creation. For me, birthdays were always so special- so it followed that the Birthday of the World was even more exciting!
And here we go again- we get to experience betrothals and birthdays anew in just a couple more days. Tis very happymaking.
Guide To A Jewish Wedding
I recently attended an (Orthodox) Jewish wedding and they handed out this wonderful guide that I figured would be useful to type up so that everyone could see exactly how a Jewish wedding progresses. Otherwise, it can be a bit confusing- what's the deal with the chuppah? And what's going to happen next? So behold: the guide to a Jewish wedding.
Kabbalat Panim
On the day of their wedding, the bride and groom are likened to a king and queen. They greet their guests in two different rooms. At the groom's reception, the ketubah (marriage contract) is signed, which outlines the obligations the groom takes upon himself in marrying the bride.
Badekin
Family and friends dance with the groom as he enters the other room to see his bride. Upon reaching the bride, the groom places the veil over her face. This custom recalls the Biblical passage in which Rebecca covered her face with a veil upon seeing Isaac before their betrothal (Genesis 24:65).
Chuppah
The wedding ceremony takes place under the chuppah, or canopy, a symbol of the home that the couple will build together. The bride and groom are escorted to the chuppah by their parents. When the groom arrives, he puts on a kittel, a white garment symbolizing purity. The bride arrives after the groom, and she circles him seven times. The ceremony then consists of two distinct rituals that are separated by the reading of the ketubah.
Kiddushin
The first ritual consists of the blessing over wine and a blessing praising God for the sanctity of marriage. In the presence of two witnesses, the groom recites "Behold you are consecrated to me with this ring in accordance with the laws of Moses and Israel." He then places the ring on the bride's finger.
Ketubah
The marriage contract is read in the original Aramaic. It outlines the groom's responsibilities to provide his wife with food, shelter and clothing, and to be attentive to her emotional needs.
Nissuin
After the ketubah is read, the Sheva Brachot (the seven nuptial blessings) are recited over a second cup of wine. They acknowledge the Almighty for creating the universe and mankind, and they express hope for happiness, love and peace for the bride and groom. At the conclusion, the bride and groom drink the wine. The groom then shatters a glass with his foot, reminding us that even at moments of intense joy, we must remember the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash (The Temple) in Jerusalem.
Yichud
The bride and groom are danced away from the chuppah and escorted to a private room where they will spend the first few moments of their married life alone. This seclusion finalizes their marriage.
Dancing and Seudat Mitzvah
The wedding meal is then celebrated with a seudah, or festive meal. Following the meal, Birkat HaMazon (Grace after Meals) is recited along with the same Sheva Brachot (seven nuptial blessings) that were recited under the chuppah.
If you are interested in making a Jewish wedding or learning more about the origins of the customs and rituals, there's a wonderful, warmly written, explanatory book by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan entitled Made in Heaven: A Jewish Wedding Guide. And of course, you could also ask me questions, if you feel more comfortable with that.
Kabbalat Panim
On the day of their wedding, the bride and groom are likened to a king and queen. They greet their guests in two different rooms. At the groom's reception, the ketubah (marriage contract) is signed, which outlines the obligations the groom takes upon himself in marrying the bride.
Badekin
Family and friends dance with the groom as he enters the other room to see his bride. Upon reaching the bride, the groom places the veil over her face. This custom recalls the Biblical passage in which Rebecca covered her face with a veil upon seeing Isaac before their betrothal (Genesis 24:65).
Chuppah
The wedding ceremony takes place under the chuppah, or canopy, a symbol of the home that the couple will build together. The bride and groom are escorted to the chuppah by their parents. When the groom arrives, he puts on a kittel, a white garment symbolizing purity. The bride arrives after the groom, and she circles him seven times. The ceremony then consists of two distinct rituals that are separated by the reading of the ketubah.
Kiddushin
The first ritual consists of the blessing over wine and a blessing praising God for the sanctity of marriage. In the presence of two witnesses, the groom recites "Behold you are consecrated to me with this ring in accordance with the laws of Moses and Israel." He then places the ring on the bride's finger.
Ketubah
The marriage contract is read in the original Aramaic. It outlines the groom's responsibilities to provide his wife with food, shelter and clothing, and to be attentive to her emotional needs.
Nissuin
After the ketubah is read, the Sheva Brachot (the seven nuptial blessings) are recited over a second cup of wine. They acknowledge the Almighty for creating the universe and mankind, and they express hope for happiness, love and peace for the bride and groom. At the conclusion, the bride and groom drink the wine. The groom then shatters a glass with his foot, reminding us that even at moments of intense joy, we must remember the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash (The Temple) in Jerusalem.
Yichud
The bride and groom are danced away from the chuppah and escorted to a private room where they will spend the first few moments of their married life alone. This seclusion finalizes their marriage.
Dancing and Seudat Mitzvah
The wedding meal is then celebrated with a seudah, or festive meal. Following the meal, Birkat HaMazon (Grace after Meals) is recited along with the same Sheva Brachot (seven nuptial blessings) that were recited under the chuppah.
If you are interested in making a Jewish wedding or learning more about the origins of the customs and rituals, there's a wonderful, warmly written, explanatory book by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan entitled Made in Heaven: A Jewish Wedding Guide. And of course, you could also ask me questions, if you feel more comfortable with that.
Sunday, September 05, 2010
Magical Evening (Out Of A Film)
I just had the most amazing evening and it included drinking Cabernet Sauvignon out of crystal flutes on a grassy lawn under a star-studded sky alongside Heshy.
Thank you so much, Jeff!
Thank you so much, Jeff!
The Quality Of Your Kugel
I had seen a copy of Binah Magazine lying around and had been curious about it so I asked Ma for a copy of it. This is an old issue and I haven't read the most recent issue yet, but let me just say that if the woman in this story marries this man, I think I will scream in frustrated rage.
This is an excerpt from Chapter 26 of "Pass Or Fail" by Sara Wiederblank as published in Volume 4, No. 195 on August 9, 2010.
"I'm sure you do. But I really want to hear your answer to my question."
"What girls do in school? They learn, they have discussions, they socialize, they have activities...I'm not really sure what you're asking."
"The thing is, shouldn't they be doing more home economics and cooking, and less of the heavy-duty inside-a-sefer type of stuff?"
Bracha gave him a look. "Oh, not you now," she said.
"What did I say?" he asked plaintively.
"I'm surprised at you," she said reprovingly. "I expect- and I get- that question from my struggling students and their parents. But you, someone who learns in yeshivah- do you really think the quality of your kugel is more important than your wife's knowledge of Torah?"
Eliezer thought a minute. "I'll be honest with you- lots of guys, like myself, care about how good the food is, but don't care very much about how much their wife knows about the Ramban's wife of hashgachah pratis. Do you think we're wrong?"
"How can I say you're wrong if that's how you feel? But I do think it's shallow. If a boy is going to be learning- even if he's not- and he's going to have children, who are going to need to be raised in the proper path- the best cook in the world won't do as good a job supporting him and raising them if she doesn't have a deeper understanding of how to be a good Jew. At least that's my opinion."
Eliezer smiled. "Mine too. In fact- if a girl is going to be supporting someone in learning- shouldn't she make her career plans accordingly? To show that it really matters to her?"
Bracha straightened up. "Are you referring to me?"
"I guess so," he shrugged. "It has crossed my mind to be concerned about the financial aspect of things. Since I am planning on learning for a while, you know."
"I have quite a tidy sum saved up from my time in accounting," Bracha told him tightly. "And I can return to that field at any time. I am extremely committed to keeping a husband in learning."
He had the good grace to look chagrined. "I must apologize," he said. "That was very rude of me- grilling you on your financial status. I didn't mean for it to come out exactly like it did. I just have been wondering what your plans were, and it came out poorly. I have no doubt you're committed. It just seems strange- leaving a great job like you had for teaching."
"I do draw a salary here too, you know," Bracha informed him, not quite ready to forgive and forget.
He laughed uproariously. "You call that pittance a salary?" he asked, reminding Bracha that he was familiar with the field- intimately so.
When he saw the look on her face, though, he broke off laughing immediately.
"I'm sorry. You'll think I have no idealism. I do, really. It's just that...I'm also a pretty practical guy. That's all. Now, this conversation is not heading exactly where I wanted it to head. The thing is..." he leaned forward.
"We're getting to a point, well, where we should...you know...think seriously about what we're up to."
~
This piece infuriates me; it brings back all the reasons that I hate Bais Yaakov. Assumptions in this piece:
1. Girls' learning isn't important. They should just learn how to cook.
2. Rather than telling the man he is a COMPLETE IDIOT for saying that the quality of his kugel matters more than his wife's mind, the woman replies with the meek, "How can I say you're wrong if that's how you feel?" Let me tell you something! I, Chana, have no problem telling such a man that he is wrong and he's also a bleeping idiot and he can go to hell. At least, thank the Almighty God, Bracha tells him it's shallow.
3. This is just a critique of the story- one second Eliezer is saying that he thinks the quality of his kugel is more important than his wife's mind. All of a sudden, after a one-paragraph speech by her, he agrees with her opinion? What's up with that?
4. The avaricious entitlement of the Kollel approach, as demonstrated by the fact that he thinks it's fine to basically insinuate that this woman should leave her job teaching and go back to accounting simply because that way she'll be able to support their (assuming she marries him) prospective family better.
5. His insulting her ideals- "you call that pittance a salary?"
This man is a jerk and if this Bracha person ends up marrying him in the story I am going to scream. So someone who has read the rest of the piece, tell me, do I need to have a rage-fest or not?
Incidentally, the reason this bothers me so much is because all the impressionable young frum girls read this magazine and if the man ends up marrying the woman, they are going to come away with the impression that all the points I mentioned above (that girls should just learn to cook and make top-tier kugel and should get jobs that make more money so they can support their kollel-learning husbands) are correct and they should model themselves after this girl. Which is completely and utterly wrong and infuriating and I hate stupid men with their idiotic desire to have robotic Stepford Wives instead of people who actually think.
This is an excerpt from Chapter 26 of "Pass Or Fail" by Sara Wiederblank as published in Volume 4, No. 195 on August 9, 2010.
"I'm sure you do. But I really want to hear your answer to my question."
"What girls do in school? They learn, they have discussions, they socialize, they have activities...I'm not really sure what you're asking."
"The thing is, shouldn't they be doing more home economics and cooking, and less of the heavy-duty inside-a-sefer type of stuff?"
Bracha gave him a look. "Oh, not you now," she said.
"What did I say?" he asked plaintively.
"I'm surprised at you," she said reprovingly. "I expect- and I get- that question from my struggling students and their parents. But you, someone who learns in yeshivah- do you really think the quality of your kugel is more important than your wife's knowledge of Torah?"
Eliezer thought a minute. "I'll be honest with you- lots of guys, like myself, care about how good the food is, but don't care very much about how much their wife knows about the Ramban's wife of hashgachah pratis. Do you think we're wrong?"
"How can I say you're wrong if that's how you feel? But I do think it's shallow. If a boy is going to be learning- even if he's not- and he's going to have children, who are going to need to be raised in the proper path- the best cook in the world won't do as good a job supporting him and raising them if she doesn't have a deeper understanding of how to be a good Jew. At least that's my opinion."
Eliezer smiled. "Mine too. In fact- if a girl is going to be supporting someone in learning- shouldn't she make her career plans accordingly? To show that it really matters to her?"
Bracha straightened up. "Are you referring to me?"
"I guess so," he shrugged. "It has crossed my mind to be concerned about the financial aspect of things. Since I am planning on learning for a while, you know."
"I have quite a tidy sum saved up from my time in accounting," Bracha told him tightly. "And I can return to that field at any time. I am extremely committed to keeping a husband in learning."
He had the good grace to look chagrined. "I must apologize," he said. "That was very rude of me- grilling you on your financial status. I didn't mean for it to come out exactly like it did. I just have been wondering what your plans were, and it came out poorly. I have no doubt you're committed. It just seems strange- leaving a great job like you had for teaching."
"I do draw a salary here too, you know," Bracha informed him, not quite ready to forgive and forget.
He laughed uproariously. "You call that pittance a salary?" he asked, reminding Bracha that he was familiar with the field- intimately so.
When he saw the look on her face, though, he broke off laughing immediately.
"I'm sorry. You'll think I have no idealism. I do, really. It's just that...I'm also a pretty practical guy. That's all. Now, this conversation is not heading exactly where I wanted it to head. The thing is..." he leaned forward.
"We're getting to a point, well, where we should...you know...think seriously about what we're up to."
~
This piece infuriates me; it brings back all the reasons that I hate Bais Yaakov. Assumptions in this piece:
1. Girls' learning isn't important. They should just learn how to cook.
2. Rather than telling the man he is a COMPLETE IDIOT for saying that the quality of his kugel matters more than his wife's mind, the woman replies with the meek, "How can I say you're wrong if that's how you feel?" Let me tell you something! I, Chana, have no problem telling such a man that he is wrong and he's also a bleeping idiot and he can go to hell. At least, thank the Almighty God, Bracha tells him it's shallow.
3. This is just a critique of the story- one second Eliezer is saying that he thinks the quality of his kugel is more important than his wife's mind. All of a sudden, after a one-paragraph speech by her, he agrees with her opinion? What's up with that?
4. The avaricious entitlement of the Kollel approach, as demonstrated by the fact that he thinks it's fine to basically insinuate that this woman should leave her job teaching and go back to accounting simply because that way she'll be able to support their (assuming she marries him) prospective family better.
5. His insulting her ideals- "you call that pittance a salary?"
This man is a jerk and if this Bracha person ends up marrying him in the story I am going to scream. So someone who has read the rest of the piece, tell me, do I need to have a rage-fest or not?
Incidentally, the reason this bothers me so much is because all the impressionable young frum girls read this magazine and if the man ends up marrying the woman, they are going to come away with the impression that all the points I mentioned above (that girls should just learn to cook and make top-tier kugel and should get jobs that make more money so they can support their kollel-learning husbands) are correct and they should model themselves after this girl. Which is completely and utterly wrong and infuriating and I hate stupid men with their idiotic desire to have robotic Stepford Wives instead of people who actually think.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Broken Engagements
One of my best friends, Estee Goldschmidt, researched and wrote an article in The Jewish Press on "Broken Engagements, Shattered Hearts." And my lady of the radiance receives her public tribute as this blog is quoted.
A Happy God
Last night I had the great privilege and honor of attending a wedding that encompassed the union of a member of one of my favorite families to an incredibly lovely lady. The bride and the groom are both high achievers, clever and otherwise fantastic people.
Getting to that wedding was a whole adventure. It included a train-ride, a frantic dash, a bus to another bus and the bus-driver dropping us off half-a-mile away from the correct stop, another frantic dash only to arrive literally 2 minutes before the chuppah started. But we made it. As for my ride back, a couple was kind enough to drop me off by 59th Street Station and so I rode the 1 train home.
But that's not what I wanted to talk about.
I wanted to talk about the wedding. Because there was so much love and emotion in the air. It was simple and beautiful simultaneously. The groom was lucky enough to have his father, who is a Rav, as the mesader kiddushin. I think there's something so special about being able to have one's father act as person who ties the two of you together. But what I perhaps enjoyed most was the speech under the chuppah by one of the honored guests. He spoke about light and how the two people who were to be wed were so filled with light, even overflowing with light. I liked the image of light shining from the souls of the happy couple.
I also liked that after he broke the glass they paused and gave hugs to all of their family members under the chuppah. Only afterwards were they danced off to the yichud room.
There was something really wholesome about this wedding- you could see that it had been created without disagreement of any kind. In fact, the father of the groom spoke about what a pleasure it had been to work with his mechutanim to create the affair and how smoothly it had gone. I think the simplicity mixed with the redolent aroma of that fragrance from Gan Eden, the Besamim, was what I felt there. I also loved that the father of the groom wished his children the ability to create a miniature Gan Eden, a little paradise, in their house.
The father of the bride also spoke from his heart. It's rare to be at a wedding where people are not loading you up on pleasantries and flattering expressions but really saying what they mean. Short, sweet and real.
(I happen to love the couple's attitude in general. Earlier they had told me that they had a completely empty apartment at the moment- either it was with naught but a bed or they were hoping a bed would arrive before they had to move into it. I suppose as gifts arrive, they shall have unpacking frenzies! In any case, they seemed quite all right with this state of affairs. I'm a fan of people who are not excitable when it comes to these trivialities.)
And I was totally and entirely and truly happy at this wedding. And I felt like God saw everything and rejoiced. A happy God.
Getting to that wedding was a whole adventure. It included a train-ride, a frantic dash, a bus to another bus and the bus-driver dropping us off half-a-mile away from the correct stop, another frantic dash only to arrive literally 2 minutes before the chuppah started. But we made it. As for my ride back, a couple was kind enough to drop me off by 59th Street Station and so I rode the 1 train home.
But that's not what I wanted to talk about.
I wanted to talk about the wedding. Because there was so much love and emotion in the air. It was simple and beautiful simultaneously. The groom was lucky enough to have his father, who is a Rav, as the mesader kiddushin. I think there's something so special about being able to have one's father act as person who ties the two of you together. But what I perhaps enjoyed most was the speech under the chuppah by one of the honored guests. He spoke about light and how the two people who were to be wed were so filled with light, even overflowing with light. I liked the image of light shining from the souls of the happy couple.
I also liked that after he broke the glass they paused and gave hugs to all of their family members under the chuppah. Only afterwards were they danced off to the yichud room.
There was something really wholesome about this wedding- you could see that it had been created without disagreement of any kind. In fact, the father of the groom spoke about what a pleasure it had been to work with his mechutanim to create the affair and how smoothly it had gone. I think the simplicity mixed with the redolent aroma of that fragrance from Gan Eden, the Besamim, was what I felt there. I also loved that the father of the groom wished his children the ability to create a miniature Gan Eden, a little paradise, in their house.
The father of the bride also spoke from his heart. It's rare to be at a wedding where people are not loading you up on pleasantries and flattering expressions but really saying what they mean. Short, sweet and real.
(I happen to love the couple's attitude in general. Earlier they had told me that they had a completely empty apartment at the moment- either it was with naught but a bed or they were hoping a bed would arrive before they had to move into it. I suppose as gifts arrive, they shall have unpacking frenzies! In any case, they seemed quite all right with this state of affairs. I'm a fan of people who are not excitable when it comes to these trivialities.)
And I was totally and entirely and truly happy at this wedding. And I felt like God saw everything and rejoiced. A happy God.
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Tell Me What You Know. Tell Me What You've Gone And Done Now.
It's no surprise that I love Nickleback and specifically Chad. Lightman cannot stand the screeching sounds and raspy voices of the band but they make me happy.
Their album "Dark Horse" contains a song entitled Just to Get High which I seem not to have interpreted in its literal sense. Oh, I'm aware that in reality this song is about a drug addict but the chorus plays in my ears as strongly as a commandment from God. It fits the mood which we are in, that of the High Holy Days and specifically Rosh Hashana.
But I can still remember what his face looked like
When I found him in an alley in the middle of the night
Tell me what you know! Tell me what you've gone and done now!
Tell me what you know! Tell me what you've gone and done now!
Gonna do the trick, get it over with
You're better off
To take all that you've got and burn it on the spot
Just to get high-igh, igh, igh (high-igh, igh, igh)
Tell me what did, where you got a hit
Show me
What you really want, was it what you got
Slowly
Circle in the drain, throw it all away
Just to get high-igh, igh, igh (high-igh, igh, igh)
High-igh, igh...oooooh
And to me, what the song really seems to be asking is: what did you do this year that was wrong? What sins do you have? Tell them to me- tell me what you've gone and done now- and tell me- did you get what you really wanted? Was it worth it? Was the pinprick of pleasure that lanced through your lips worth the pain that followed?
"Tell me what you know; tell me what you've gone and done now," entreats God. And think about it. Tell me, Chana, my child, "what you really want, was it what you got?"
And I love the beginning of the song as well:
He was my best friend; I tried to help him
But he traded everything, for suffering
And found himself alone
I watched the lying, turn into hiding
With scars on both his lips; his fingertips
Were melted to the bone
That image is deeply evocative to me. Yes, that can be the drug addict hidden in the alley, having chosen drugs over his health. But is it so different from the one who chooses sin over holiness? Or stagnation over growth?
He was my best friend; I tried to help him/ But he traded everything for suffering
I also admire the fact that the song presents this as a choice. We choose suffering. Not always, but often. If we can choose suffering, it suggests we can also choose life.
And that's what God says in Deuteronomy 30:
יט הַעִדֹתִי בָכֶם הַיּוֹם, אֶת-הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶת-הָאָרֶץ--הַחַיִּים וְהַמָּוֶת נָתַתִּי לְפָנֶיךָ, הַבְּרָכָה וְהַקְּלָלָה; וּבָחַרְתָּ, בַּחַיִּים--לְמַעַן תִּחְיֶה, אַתָּה וְזַרְעֶךָ. 19 I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that I have set before thee life and death, the blessing and the curse; therefore choose life, that thou mayest live, thou and thy seed;
כ לְאַהֲבָה אֶת-יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, לִשְׁמֹעַ בְּקֹלוֹ וּלְדָבְקָה-בוֹ: כִּי הוּא חַיֶּיךָ, וְאֹרֶךְ יָמֶיךָ--לָשֶׁבֶת עַל-הָאֲדָמָה אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע יְהוָה לַאֲבֹתֶיךָ לְאַבְרָהָם לְיִצְחָק וּלְיַעֲקֹב, לָתֵת לָהֶם. {פ} 20 to love the LORD thy God, to hearken to His voice, and to cleave unto Him; for that is thy life, and the length of thy days; that thou mayest dwell in the land which the LORD swore unto thy fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give them. {P}
Did I choose suffering this past year? Will I choose it in the future?
And that voice, so commanding, sonorous in my ears: "Tell me what you know! Tell me what you gone and done now."
Their album "Dark Horse" contains a song entitled Just to Get High which I seem not to have interpreted in its literal sense. Oh, I'm aware that in reality this song is about a drug addict but the chorus plays in my ears as strongly as a commandment from God. It fits the mood which we are in, that of the High Holy Days and specifically Rosh Hashana.
But I can still remember what his face looked like
When I found him in an alley in the middle of the night
Tell me what you know! Tell me what you've gone and done now!
Tell me what you know! Tell me what you've gone and done now!
Gonna do the trick, get it over with
You're better off
To take all that you've got and burn it on the spot
Just to get high-igh, igh, igh (high-igh, igh, igh)
Tell me what did, where you got a hit
Show me
What you really want, was it what you got
Slowly
Circle in the drain, throw it all away
Just to get high-igh, igh, igh (high-igh, igh, igh)
High-igh, igh...oooooh
And to me, what the song really seems to be asking is: what did you do this year that was wrong? What sins do you have? Tell them to me- tell me what you've gone and done now- and tell me- did you get what you really wanted? Was it worth it? Was the pinprick of pleasure that lanced through your lips worth the pain that followed?
"Tell me what you know; tell me what you've gone and done now," entreats God. And think about it. Tell me, Chana, my child, "what you really want, was it what you got?"
And I love the beginning of the song as well:
He was my best friend; I tried to help him
But he traded everything, for suffering
And found himself alone
I watched the lying, turn into hiding
With scars on both his lips; his fingertips
Were melted to the bone
That image is deeply evocative to me. Yes, that can be the drug addict hidden in the alley, having chosen drugs over his health. But is it so different from the one who chooses sin over holiness? Or stagnation over growth?
He was my best friend; I tried to help him/ But he traded everything for suffering
I also admire the fact that the song presents this as a choice. We choose suffering. Not always, but often. If we can choose suffering, it suggests we can also choose life.
And that's what God says in Deuteronomy 30:
יט הַעִדֹתִי בָכֶם הַיּוֹם, אֶת-הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶת-הָאָרֶץ--הַחַיִּים וְהַמָּוֶת נָתַתִּי לְפָנֶיךָ, הַבְּרָכָה וְהַקְּלָלָה; וּבָחַרְתָּ, בַּחַיִּים--לְמַעַן תִּחְיֶה, אַתָּה וְזַרְעֶךָ. 19 I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that I have set before thee life and death, the blessing and the curse; therefore choose life, that thou mayest live, thou and thy seed;
כ לְאַהֲבָה אֶת-יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, לִשְׁמֹעַ בְּקֹלוֹ וּלְדָבְקָה-בוֹ: כִּי הוּא חַיֶּיךָ, וְאֹרֶךְ יָמֶיךָ--לָשֶׁבֶת עַל-הָאֲדָמָה אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע יְהוָה לַאֲבֹתֶיךָ לְאַבְרָהָם לְיִצְחָק וּלְיַעֲקֹב, לָתֵת לָהֶם. {פ} 20 to love the LORD thy God, to hearken to His voice, and to cleave unto Him; for that is thy life, and the length of thy days; that thou mayest dwell in the land which the LORD swore unto thy fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give them. {P}
Did I choose suffering this past year? Will I choose it in the future?
And that voice, so commanding, sonorous in my ears: "Tell me what you know! Tell me what you gone and done now."
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