The Right To Dream

10/19/07

2007-12-01T18:54:00.000-08:00

Hebrew is my language. i cannot read, speak, or write in it fluently, but it is still mine. Its the language of my ancestors, the language of the tanach. its the language of my home. Its mine. My children shall be raised in this language. Whether by dicitonary or Ulpan, I shall learn my language. i will think, act, and be in Hebrew. Why am I so motivated to learn Hebrew? I want my dying words to be in Hebrew, but more importantly, I want my life to be in the same language.

10/18/07

2007-12-01T18:49:00.000-08:00

Across the dimly lit room hang two nooses suspend over an open drop in the center of the room. This hemp I hold very dear. Some view it as a method of death, but I see it as a method of birth. Those that died here in Akko died for a dream: they died hero's. And for the moment of reflection before their murder, they felt most alive. When the level was pulled, my hero's candle did not get snuffed out. No, it burned brightest. Death isn't an end to life. Death is a continuation of life in another world. And this will be like my aliyah. I can choose to mourn all those familiar people I'll leave behind: friends, family, loved ones. Or I can choose to live. I can move on to another world and fell most alive. Death isn't a destination, merely a journey. Let me live my life the same way.

10/13/07

2007-11-24T16:01:00.000-08:00

The ball was weightless, gliding ever so softly, so rhythmically. Another bounce, another shot and the ball was set free to soar once more. The boy handled the rubber in the same way one would handle a woman: caressing it softly, delicately, and ever so gently. The ball was an attachment of his body, his heart contained in the sphere, his soul a piece of each dimple. A crossover between the legs and the wall returned back to the boy. ZOOM OUT.
His mother sits at a distance. A breeze plays with her hair and her eyes rest upon her son. Her two other children laugh joyfully as they voyage down the plastic slide. This is her life, her life locked within her three boys. Nostalgically she gazes on, a faint glint in her eye reminds her of years gone by; untold memories behind hazel eyes. The breeze comes once more and this time she lets go. She allows herself to be carried away on the wings of angels. ZOOM OUT.
The four lay on the grass, letting each blade levitate them. The sun envelops the four, all wearing matching shirts in a blanket of warmth. And slowly they sit up independently of each other and gaze at the mother. They move their eyes to the boys and the basketball and the slide. The breeze whips by once more and for a split second there is peace. The warmth of the sun, the softness of the grass, the laughter of the boys, the bounce of the ball, the gaze of the mother, the nostalgia of the four all combine. Love and peace unite and the sweetness of the wind touches their lips. They get up and walk back, back to their lives. Only the smell stands as a reminder. A yellow flower remains behind in contrast to the emeralds of grass. The garden of Eden another day.

10/12/07

2007-11-24T15:56:00.000-08:00

The boy leans against the railing gazing out over the kibbutz. On the horizon, mountains loom majestically playing tag with the clouds. The sun dips in and out between the heavenly shapes, sending out beacons of light to the earth below. The boy's bangs whip against his forehead in the wind as he absorbs the grander. His birthday is five days away and he silently dwells on this fact. At age 13 he had stayed up on many occasions sitting with folded arms with the wish of being 17. The freedom is what he envisioned. True, he had freedom, but he had so much more. He had loved, lost, cried, rejoiced, and known so much in these four years. The sun began its lazy decent casting long shadows on the boy. The wind continued to glide over the boy and brought a coolness to his brow. Up in the tower the boy felt like a spectator. Those with their feet still planted on the ground had no knowledge of the boys presence. Life went on without the boy, birds still chirped, turbines still churned, and cats continued to wander without destination. The boy could call out or go down the steps and make change, but decided to remain still and smiled. There was peace in watching life. The boy felt like G-d. Sure 17 was coming for the boy, but life was waiting for him right then. The boy decided to return to his mother earth.

10/09/07

2007-11-24T15:53:00.000-08:00

Each revolution of the wheel was a yard of beauty. A masterpiece flying by. Although cautious and slow, the thrill of the chase was ever present. The citrus grove surrounding our convey provided a welcoming relief to the long and tiring days ahead of us. however, I was happy and continued to push harder on the petals. And then it was over. Eight kilometers covered in the blink of an eye. But that blink was a long one, it held the image of the Mediterranean as well as the land of milk and honey. I'll try and keep my eyes open though; a blink now is a memory lost forever.

10/08/07

2007-11-24T15:51:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow starts the treck from one end of the country to another. Only with this fact do I realize how small Israel actually is. A tiny country, less than the heigh of my state, and yet so special to so many people. Will I allow my mind to wander as I walk? Will it fill my thoughts or will the beauty shine through? What will be found, and what will be left? A thousand questions for a thousand steps...

10/04/07

2007-11-24T15:44:00.000-08:00

Jubilation. I've always tried to imagine what the Israelis felt while receiving the Torah. If it was anything like my walk to the Kotel, I'm sure it was pure jubilation. The songs came in peaks, each verse a wave and each crescendo a crash against the rocks. We walked, skipped, and danced the whole way there. The Torah, our most treasured possession carried in the highest of honors to be reunited with time gone by. I cannot describe the joy in our faces as we navigated the city streets of Jerusalem. I was in the heart of Israel bringing the Torah to the Kotel. I was in jubilation.

10/03/07

2007-11-20T12:24:00.000-08:00

His eyes are aflame with joy, passion flowing through the bulging veins in his temple. Raising his hand to his ear in the same manner that a quarterback would, he beckons "louder!" I move rhythmically in the sea of chaos, mesmerized by the shouts of those around me. Each syllable of "Torah" given full emphasis with my lungs. The waves of our echoes fill the room and crash against each mans body reverberating his soul. Each jump is a hear beat, each yell keeps our pulse alive. We rejoice with the Torah, a king triumphantly celebrated in full glory. And at that exact second, loose myself, I let myself go. Held up by the firm grasp of the chazzan on my shoulder, my body leaps on its own accord. My soul becomes intertwined with the hakafah around me. "Louder!" Once more the mass strains against itself. The screech of metal rubbing against knotted wood turns itself into an accompaniment by the angels. When our group finally exits the lively synagogue, the stillness of the night air serve as a sudden contrast to the previous events. Beads of sweat still cling to my brow and my pulse still begs to be set free. The stones of Jerusalem serve as canvases absorbing the shadows cast by the moon. Each step echoes between the cobblestone streets. My mind wanders back to the synagogue, and the excitement I fealt. The image of the chazzan's eyes, full of fire and passion have burnt themselves into my subconscious . The fire and brine that befell the Israelis receiving the Torah were contained within his pupils. Finally I understood.

10/02/07

2007-11-20T12:20:00.000-08:00

Can one define Zionism? Is it the feeling that a Jewish state ought and has the right to exists? Or is it something more? Is it the tear that forms when Hatikvah is sung? The goosebumps when reciting the slogan of the paratroopers? The lump in your throat when a rocket falls near the gaza strip? Zionism can't simply be left to black and white definitions in a history book or dictionary. Zionism is alive and breathing today. Zionism is Am Yisrael. Zionism is the students of this seminar choosing to take two months to come to a foreign country. Zionism is my choice to make aliyah. Zionism is now!

9/23/07

2007-11-20T07:45:00.000-08:00

We're all just candles. Our lives start out as wicks and as the years go by we accumulate more and more wax. Day by Day, a new drip is added. Each new experience adds a swirl here, a color there, or a pattern in the facade. And at the completion of the candle we're left with three options. We can bring beauty in the world and stand on a "mantelpiece" for all the world to behold. Or like any flame we can get out of control and cause destruction and hurt those we love. Lastly though, for one fleeting moment can bring light and warmth to someone before we fizzle out. The svatt candle factory stands as a testament to this and more importantly tradition. In an age of electricity we hang on to the custom of still making candles. And we incorporate beauty into the candles. Art and the value of beauty evolve over the years, but a candle stays steady. A candle burns steady. Drip, Drip, Drip. History locked in it's wax.

9/27/07

2007-11-20T07:39:00.000-08:00

The day of Yom Kippur. Surreal? Yes. A long cobblestone road flanked by flowers and succulents leads to it. Outside of its windows the walls of the old city rise majestically. Inside Elijah on the left, Ezra center and David to the right. This is my first Ashkanazic service and of all days- Yom Kippur. Most of the congregants native tongue is English and in the small synagogue a sea of white envelops the panoramic. And although the service is beautiful (one of the best I've been to ), it's the situation that's truly moving. A small north Carolinian 6,000 miles away raised "ultra reform" can come into an Orthodox service on the holiest holiday of the year and feel at home. Judaism can't just be categorized as a religion or a people- it's a family. No matter how distant the relatives may be, their home will always be your home and we shall always know love. Move ahead five hours to the backdrop of the kotel. Facing the kotel I start to talk to G-d. With shofars sounding in the distance, prayers being recited 360 degrees around me, I talk of true repentance. And I don't just mean it, I feel it. I saw G-d in the eyes and voice of the homeless man on Ben Yehuda street, the angel and the trashcan. I have repented and G-d has forgiven me, but more importantly I have learned. I am doing. Am Yisrael Chai.

9/21/07

2007-11-20T07:37:00.000-08:00

This night of Yom Kippur. The book is open, yet to be sealed. Jerusalem gleans in the moonlight, and breathes a sigh of relief. The busy foot traffic on Ben Yehuda street has disappeared as well as the noisy tour buses riding the curb. Peace fills the alleyways between souvenir and shwarma stands. The minds of all are turned to teshuva, of forgiveness for past infractions. This land rests from tears shed, blood spilled. Next year in Israel.

9/20/07

2007-11-20T07:34:00.000-08:00

This campus is full of gems that get passed over to the usual onlooker. A mural of a mountain landscape overlooks the classroom square. And yet its taken two weeks of me walking this campus hundreds of times to notice. I fear the same might happen while I'm in Israel. I have only one chance to see certain sights, one chance to take it all in. What will I capture, and what will I miss? Will I be lucky enough to see something no one else does, or unlucky enough to miss it for the rest of time? I figure it doesn't matter, there's nothing I can do about it. I can only keep my eyes open and let whatever happens carry me away. I guess I can let go for this trip, no second guessing or stressing. Let me just jump back onto Israel and see where it takes me.

9/17/07

2007-11-20T07:26:00.000-08:00

I woke up to darkness- the type of darkness that's so intense it can only be described as blinding. On the horizon loomed the objective for the day- Massada. Little did most realize, but this was a goal shaped not by a day, but a lifetime. After an hour and change we won our race with the sun and reached the summit. Surrounding our group of forty were ruins made of faded stone. But even to the lame observer, these stones held more than any tour guide could explain. These stones had witnessed love, true love and the sacrifice that must be made in its name. I continued with the tour that was led by David. He took us to one of the mikvah houses . Sitting in limestone dust overlooking a sheer cliff to our left, David began to explain the last moments and choices the Judeans faced. Pulling out a large knife for the sole purpose of graphically demonstrating the method of death, the true nature of the act came to life. But instead of grotesque disdain or disgust, I felt comfort in seeing the method of execution. Each man was responsible for their own family and rightfully so. Each man could make sure the cut was clean and fast. They could cause the most minimal discomfort to their loved ones, as well as being able to deliver a final goodbye. At that moment in the dusty mikvah room, Massada was less about war, less about the glory and honor of their persistence, and more as a monument of love. This heep of rock, these piles of stones will always be glorified in my mind as a testament to the true nature of love even in the most extreme of cases.

9/16/07

2007-11-20T07:22:00.000-08:00

One million Jews marching to the kotel. ONE MILLION! One might be inclined to ask "was there shoving?", "what if you had to go to the bathroom?", "what if someone fell down?" I ask this: where are the one million Jews today? When have on million Jews, even 100,000 Jews come together again. "Oh, your asking for the impossible!" You know the last time One million Jews were together? The Shoah. If we can't unite ourselves, someone will always be willing to do it for us. We have a blessing for when 600,000 Jews are found together. One day this blessing will be recited. Will I be among those its recited over? As Jews, we're all brothers, and as such have the power to change the world. Will we choose to march, a million strong or simply worry about ourselves? I know I will march, even if it means pulling a few with me.

9/15/07

2007-11-16T14:58:00.000-08:00

My back popped while the muscles in my forearms bulged almost at the point of ripping. I shifted my center of gravity as I placed more body weight towards the back of the board. The sail started to raise, slowly skimming over thew aves at first, and then faster in a continuous swift motion. Finally reaching its peak it stood for a brief second majestically basking in the sun. However, no sooner had I raised the sail then a breeze of wind caught it- sending me overboard with the sail. The crash into the Mediterranean came quickly and my body was visible through the transparent waters. I was here. Israel. Bobbing up and down, simply carried by the current a setting sun on my back. The purple haze wove in and out of the clouds still aflame as I starred out into the distance. "The sand and the sea, the crash of the waters..." This was Israel, and this was indescribable. It was simple yet extraordinary. Simply yoffi.

9/14/07

2007-11-16T14:53:00.000-08:00

The street in front of the synagogue was devoid of any observable life. Obviously the beit knesset was bustling with life on such a day as Rosh Hashanah. The adjacent streets however were half lined with parked cars and mothers trying to navigate the bustling streets. The previous night I was the taught the town held an unofficial compromise, the street in front of the shul would only be open to foot traffic, even though several stores and restaurants littered the same street. This town one of the first Aliyah towns had reached a simple peace between the secular and religious. This town was about living in harmony; a mutual coexistence with respect for both similarities and differences. Only B'Yisrael.

9/12/07

2007-11-16T14:48:00.000-08:00

The view from the top floor is indescribable. It's panoramic, Haifa to the North visible in all its bright glory while billions of stars blanket the sky. The air is cool with a slight breeze blowing in from an unknown direction. This is Zichron Yaacov, this is Israel and this is home. The town's square is quiet because of the sabbath and coming Rosh Hashannah, but cobblestones underfoot still resonate the delicate mix of old town with busy streets of anew. On one side of the street a blockbuster sign with porn: blow job impossible volume 3 and pop to fuck, while the other end holds a hundred year old synagogue with as much history as it has bricks. This is where I can imagine raising my family. A world of compromises and paradoxes. Rosh hasnanah is soon and I'm excited to experience the holiday is Israel. Anticipation and excitement race through my blood where adrenaline used to pulse. I don't know how many of my ancestors and family have looked at these same stars, but long after I'm gone my children's great decedents will view the same stars. Einstein wasn't correct there are two constants for human life- the stars overhead and eretz yisrael beneath my feet.

9/10/07

2007-11-16T14:43:00.000-08:00

It's interesting what one first thinks of when in a foreign land. I remember the food, but that's probably because it brings me back to home. Cubed strips of chicken or lamb coating in humus, wrapped in Israeli salad and laffa. Oh, shwarma! The warmth hits my taste buds and takes me back. My sixth birthday at the science factory. I don't remember any of the faces in the crowd, but I remember the warmth I felt at that moment. The tin foil coating the laffa takes me back to Baltimore. Chipotles with Misha, Sam and Adam. It was the second to last time I would see Misha and the others in the gang. Even now, it's harder and harder to picture their face from memory. But for a split second when I bite into the food I'm taken back. I see their eyes staring back at me and I find comfort. Only when the faces disappears into a pile of napkins do I truly long for their company. For them? I'm not entirely sure, but for the memories always. Never look back- I've never heard more true words.

9/9/07

2007-11-16T14:35:00.000-08:00

The steps leading up to the kotel lay as a testament to the grandeur of the wall looming in the distance. Each step was larger than the next, each stone the size of G-d's own fist. And suddenly there it was. White Jerusalem, as high as one would be willing to gaze. Made up of thousands of stones; as numerous as the sands of time, they came together to form a beauty in the same way a painters brush strokes combine within a masterpiece. And i between the shades of weather foundation, a face emerged, not the face of G-d, but the face of a simple boy. A small freckled Orthodox boy- peyos and all- looking out with empty eyes into the distance. However on this day the boy's eyes weren't filled with longing, but rather welcoming. In his own simple way he was giving me permission to take the steps he was never able to take. This was the first time I had seen his eyes since visiting the Holocaust museum to see him starting from the gas chambers. I took the steps.

My trip to to the kotel wasn't a choice- it was an obligation. I had been entrusted in performing a burial right no committee would ever be entrusted. Matt has formed a link connect our soul's into a single living, loving, breathing heart. His wishes, dreams and loves paralleled mine. His struggle was my journey and with this mentality the kotel was no longer a wall in between myself and what lay behind, but rather the destination by which all other points are measured. With the memory of a friend in my heart, my lips recited the watchword of our people....

(reflection upon hezzekiah's water tunnel)
What was going through their minds? Toiling away day after day, strain after strain. The dampness proving slight refuge to the claustrophobic work that consumer their days. A trust walk of the sacrificial kind. With only the though of families to defend, these men embarked into the depths of hell. Nor for a glorious death in the field of battle; which could bring infamy and a plague. Their only consolation would be that at the very least they would have tombs had their plans failed. With hearts full of love and hands full of bronze these unnamed men broke through the breach. Clang by clang- drip by drip- for freedom, for love, for G-d.

Journaling

2007-11-16T14:32:00.000-08:00

For the past two years now, I've been keeping an almost daily memoir of sorts. I chose not to include day by day accounts of what happened in my life, but to reflect upon the day and any philosophical questions or debates that were going in on my head at that time.

I've decided to post some of my journal entries from Israel because of the lack of posts for the past three months.

Food for Thought

2007-08-13T14:01:00.000-07:00

I'm going to jump on the blogging band waggon and admit that this past week has been a reform Judaism roller coaster. From shouts of revolution in the beginning of the week, to subtle changes in a single word, my thoughts, fears and hopes have really pushed me to rethink what I am, and what I am going to do. I don't have a pretty little box of my insight to share, but I surely am happy. I thought I'd share some questions I've been posing to myself over the past week. Maybe you have a thought I haven't thought of, but I hope at the very least they inspire you to continue questioning.

Why can't we just all call ourselves Jews and leave it at that?

Should reform Judaism have any principles of faith or tenets, that its adherents must follow?

If there really is a need to feel "included" why can't we just start a new denomination called "pluralism"?

Why does this matter so much?

If Judaism values itself on Khillah, why must be separate ourselves and distance ourselves from our fellow brothers?

Who are we to say G-d values "the ethical commandments" over "the ritual commandants". If anything, a quick read of the Torah shows breaking an "ritual" commandment has stricter consequences?

Where do we, and where should we draw the line between choice, and obligation?

Is our whole debate on choosing a denomination in itself commandments/halacha? Wouldn't labeling our self as part of a greater organization that is not inclusive just means we want to feel "special"?

Do we really have the knowledge to make the choices?

On a more optimistic note, even though everything at times might seem wrong, rethinking everything has never felt more right.

A Hopeful Revelation

2007-08-10T12:24:00.000-07:00

I'm flipping through thousands of pictures of Jews from the last hundred years. One picture shows a Jewish quarter of Russia ravaged by the pogroms. There are tears on the women's cheeks from their now late husbands and children. Another picture shows a boy chanting his Torah portion for his Bar Mitzvah. The wall opposite the boy has been blown out from a explosive, but joy still emanates on all his relatives faces. Yet another picture shows newly immigrated Jews kissing the ground of the land promised to their ancestors.

Sure, the book is retracing the history of the Jews of the twentieth century, but the words almost seem irrelevant. Sadness cannot be put into words, and joy cannot be typed out. But for a brief second, the speed of a shutter click, I'm invited into these individuals lives. I'm given the honor of seeing the true effects of raw hate. I'm allowed to celebrate the bris of a baby boy in Tel Aviv. My connection to these individuals is limited to two dimensions, but those two dimensions speak volumes to my heart.

I have only met a Holocaust survivor once in my life, but the pain behind his eyes was enough to influence me to this day. And however intense his pain was, even stronger was his hope. Hope is what lies dormant in these pictures. These individuals do not call out from their eternal sleep to tell of their lives. They call out to be remembered for their hope.

A man hopeful for peace dons his Tefillin one last time as SS troops enter the city. A women hopeful for a friend, shares her last rations with a stranger. And a farmer, hopeful for a future, plants an citrus tree in the deserts of Israel.

I'm going to honor their memories by having the one thing that can never be taken away. No matter what perils come through my life, whatever obstacle blocks my road, hope will always win.

"For thou art my hope; O Lord G-d, my trust from my youth"
-Psalm 71:5

www.kiva.org

2007-08-08T22:18:00.000-07:00

Her name is Maria. She's got the brightest smile and has four beautiful kids, age 21-27. She's been married to her husband for years and they share a great relationship. I've never met this women, and I wouldn't be able to find where she lives on a map. However, myself and others without ever coming face to face have changed this women's life for as long as she lives.

You'll notice above the posts the nice little link to www.kiva.org , a site that allows you to make micro loans to those who are in poverty and struggling throughout the world. It's not charity; it's a loan to help them get out of poverty and make a new life for themselves. This was the highest level of Tzedakah according to Maimonides, and this is the quintessential truth of what it means to be Jewish.

Two individuals from totally different worlds, almost guaranteed not to meet in their lifetime are connected. B’tzelem Elohim, Tzedakah, Hashomer achi anokhi; every one of us is connected to every other person. The majority of us only realize this "brotherhood" in times of disaster or trauma. This action allows us to experience that connection to humanity on a personal level at all times. Even if you don't make a loan, we can all become inspired to help one more person escape the chains of poverty.

Lailah Tov

For the vision of one man lends not its wings to another man.

2007-08-06T23:08:00.000-07:00

"...If he is indeed wise he does not bid you enter the house of his wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind. The astronomer may speak to you of his understanding of space, but he cannot give you his understanding...."

- The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran

Justice, Justice You Shall Pursue

2007-08-03T22:22:00.000-07:00

Both Kings Nebuchadnezzar and Achashverosh had one thing in common. A rule written down was in no way shape or form flexible. Both the fate of Daniel to be thrown into the lion's den and Persian Jews to still be slaughtered after Haman's death could not be stopped because previously written rules had already sealed their fate. A parallel can be drawn to Orthodox ideology.

But what would reform Judaism have to say? True, rules (in most cases) are there for a reason; whether it be to protect individuals, help them, or just even the playing field, rules come in handy. But what happens when one is broken? Is the prescribed punishment always the solution? It would seem to me to stay consistent with Reform ideology, the entire picture should be looked at. What were the reasons for breaking the rule? Was it a break based on a purposeful act or based on omission? Last and most importantly, does and should this act overshadow the history and character previously demonstrated?

If we are to truly live our lives as reform Jews maybe we should rethink punishment. Consequences should be seen less as "one size fits all" and more tailored for the individual. Only then will it be justice, justice that we pursue.

Lost

2007-08-02T20:32:00.000-07:00

The Constitution of the United States has long been valued for its ability to reform itself through changing times while still holding on to key values and principles.

Sounds Familar...

It all started with the adoption of the CCAR's Pittsburgh Platform. After a few decades Rabbi's started to rethink the BAN on aspects of Judaism (Zionism, kashrut, ect.) Next came the Columbus platform, and in their own words decided to "start anew". Like putting a band aid on a gunshot wound, they did an about face on several issues without any explanation. Furthermore, they only hinted to the allowance of "certain customs... {which} possess inspirational value". Trying to decode what reform Judaism's principles and beliefs were made Nostradamus pale in comparison. This trend continued and can still be seen in the last "Pittsburgh platform (1999)", which was puzzling as much as it was humorous.

However much these documents lack in terms of substance, it's very understandable. Reform Judaism (in America) has only been around a century and a half. I mean the URJ and CCAR have put out countless amendments which have really clarified and promoted what's really important to Reform Judaism. That talk of circumcision being barbaric, psh, that was the 1800's. People today are more accepting of pluralism and not saying whats tradition and whats not.

WRONG.

Excerpts from the URJ's Adolescent sexuality resolution:

...For example, we do not tell our kids that sex before marriage is forbidden. Since many of them will not marry for 15 years after the onset of puberty, it is unreasonable to suggest that this traditional standard should be maintained for young people who are adults....

(and it's just as unreasonable to expect me not to steal- I mean who's going to pay 500 dollars for an iphone?)

...On the other hand, we say in the clearest possible way that high school students should not be having sexual relations... This means that students in high school are not yet ready for the loving, mutual relationships that make sex an experience of holiness....

(remember kids wait until your at college and there's booze involved- if you can't remember, it never happened!)

My point is this: Reform Judaism needs a set of unified standards, principles, beliefs- whatever you want to call them. I'm as ideological as the next guy, but even I know that there is an extent to what reform Judaism is and allows. Given the right Constitution that's flexible to most (by appeasing everyone, you end up appeasing no one), individuals and congregations can then make their own decisions while staying under the reform Judaism umbrella.

Yes, its easier said than done, but what are the alternatives? Sticking with what we've got? To be perfectly honest, I'm not really sure what we've got...

Good Shabbas

2007-07-27T16:20:00.000-07:00

Fromt he book of If:

If you could make someone else live one moment from your own life, who would you select, and what moment?

Shabbat Shalom

Questioning Authority

2007-07-26T20:28:00.000-07:00

From Maimonides' 13 foundations of being a Jew:

"...Principle XII. The era of the Messiah
And this is to believe that in truth that he will come and that you should be waiting for him even though he delays in coming. And you should not calculate times for him to come, or to look in the verses of Tanach to see when he should come. The sages say: The wisdom of those who calculate times [of his coming] is small and that you should believe that he will be greater and more honored than all of the kings of Israel since the beginning of time as it is prophesied by all the prophets from Moses our teacher, peace be upon him, until Malachi, peace be upon him. And he who doubts or diminishes the greatness of the Messiah is a denier in all the Torah for it testifies to the Messiah explicitly in the portion of Bilam and the portion of “You are gathered (towards the end of Deut)”. And part of this principle that there is no king of Israel except from the house of David and from the seed of Solomon alone. And anyone who disputes this regarding this family is a denier of the name of God and in all the words of the prophets..."

On one hand I believe as Jews (and as humans) we are not to sit on our hands and wait for the messiah to bring peace, but start the job ourselves (It is not up to you to complete the work {of perfecting the world}, but neither are you free to refrain from doing it), while on the other hand I'm supposed to wait for the messiah:

Is it possible for Andrew to start building his toys while waiting for Hannukah Harry to bring them?

Judaism is a Baskin Robins

2007-07-08T22:01:00.000-07:00

There actually is a conscious reason why I haven't written in this blog for decades. I promise. I've been reading Telushkin.

Seriously.

About three months ago I purchased A code of Jewish Ethics, and instantly became unraveled. Until this time my "Jewish brain" was a dried tumbleweed blowing through town. I'd pick up something here, reshape myself here, but I was always dry and ready to ignite.

Barely twenty pages into the book, I came across a passage from Isiah(58:5-7). It explained that G-d will not accept out pleas of forgiveness on yom kippur (or any day of offering) if out hands our stained with blood. The mere implication that G-d would wish for us to be feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, or stopping a genocide rather than sitting through a four hour service that cost forty dollars for the ticket was just the spark I needed. I burst into flames.

"Instead of wasting my time with these long prayers, G-d would rather me go and help my parents"
"I should be giving back to the community instead of selfishly reading this week's parsha"
"Why not take the money I would save by not buying my 5.99 a pound kosher chicken and give it to the poor?"

Once I had calmed down enough from the initial shock wave, I let it sit. Fast forward to last Wednesday's fourth of July celebration. I spent the 4th at a Chabbad barbecue. Surrounded by six year old's with peyos and talk of what Torah portions to read on Tish B'av, I started to connect the dots. They were different. But somehow they were just as jewish...

A poignant story of the Holocaust came to mind. A self- admitted non observant jew held in a concentration camp had only one half of a tefillin set. His son's Bar Mitzvah was coming up and he wished to get the other half from someone. Hearing that the other half existed in another camp , he escaped to retrieve the tefillin. A day later the man stumbled up the steps of his cabin clutching the tefillin next to his chest. Blood poured out of his body and pooled on the floor with every step he took. One of the other prisoners questioned, "Why would you give your life for some leather and a box which you've never put on before?" The man with his last breath responded, "I've never understood or followed this commandment. But this commandment is bigger than me, and bigger than my son. This is G-d, and I am finally one with him." The man was later buried still clutching the tefillin against his chest.

Judaism isn't only about keeping kosher, and isn't only about giving to the poor. It's about character. Whether you exhibit perseverance by refraining from all you can eat crab legs, or showing respect by refraining from lashon hara, it's all in the character.

The question is not whether to be observant or ethical (there's room enough for the two in this town), but rather to be Respectful or Trutstoworthy? Caring or Brave? Loyal or Helpful?

I like to think of character traits as ice cream flavors. I pick my favorite flavors, and eat. Some days I'm in the mood for a new flavor. Some days I'll eat them all. And even though my friend might not like cookie dough, he still likes ice cream.

That's what makes us all Jewish- we eat our own flavors, but it's still ice cream.

Good eats!

Wateringhole

2007-01-05T14:14:00.000-08:00

I'm hoping this will let Jews from around the world and of all denominations to talk about what matters to them in their Judiasm.....

Or if all else fails a bunch of teens who have too much time....

A walk to Remember

2007-01-04T18:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I took a walk. Or a hike- whichever term you prefer. I brought my usual arsenal: cargo pants, first aid kit, pocket knife, matches- my survival pack. I started to follow the stream that crisscrosses the wooded terrain and eventually would take you to the boondocks. The stream itself periodically transforms itself from a gushing "river" to a lazy swamp. And as I trampled through the dense foliage and began to take in the beauty nature had to offer, I got lost.

Best damn thing that ever happened to me.

I had started my journey with a single goal- to follow the water wherever it took me. Sure I had followed the water before, but because of the ever-changing terrain, each experience took me through land I previously had never stepped on.

So I decided to sit down and take in everything around me. The sound of running water, the smell of fresh algae, the sight of light reflecting through the encompassing foliage, the taste the breeze carried with it, the squishing of the mud underneath my shoes. Then I started to feel it all. I started to feel the rhythm of the water in sync with the rhythm of my heart. When I closed my eyes I was a part of it all. I was the forest. At that moment I was no longer lost. I was back at home. To leave that place would be getting lost.

Sometimes we take for granted what’s around us. Those trees always in the distance sometimes take on a new light if we give them a chance. Those same prayers we say every day, just look at them one more time. That same melody we sing every Shabbat, maybe hum it just once more. Changing something isn't always the answer. Sometimes we can gain a sense of appreciation for what we already have. We can't always look for change in our Judaism. Sometimes we need to look for change in ourselves.

Take that walk through the woods. Just go, go get lost. Get lost in your Judaism. Because when that happens, you won't feel lost at all.

You'll finally be back home.

Giften Knowledge

2006-12-22T16:51:00.000-08:00

I hope this little web gem helps. It's my Hanukkah present to you.

A fight for the ages

2006-12-22T16:12:00.000-08:00

A little bedtime story for the last night of Hannukah:

ENTER MACABEES AND "LESS OBSERVANT" TOWNSFOLK
Macabees: We've just reclaimed Jerusalem, and now it's time to get back to the way things should be!
Townsfolk: We'll we've kind of made some new traditions while you guys were gone and would like to keep them.
Macabees: Too bad.
Townsfolk: YOU suck
Macabees: We'll your going to die.

ENTER BBYO AND NFTY PARTIPANT (OR ANY OTHER ORGANIZATION FOR THAT MATTER)
NFTYites: Hey guys it's sundown, so let's daven havdalah services.
BBYO's: Ok, but we're not going to sing any of those stupid songs!
NFTYites: Hey, what's wrong with some music?
BBYO's: Because you guys are all a cult.
NFTYites: You guys are just a bunch of man-whores and sluts.
BBYO's: We'll your mom should die.

Looking through urbandictionary.com's definitions of BBYO, USY, and NFTY it became all too apparent- for many Hannukah is still about the latkes. The true story of Hannukah came after the war was fought. Those (some say radical) Macabees returning home from the war had their own interpretation of how Judaism was supposed to be run. And those not involved in the fighting usually had another interpretation. They fought, and they spilled blood over a differing of opinions. Blood might have been shed, but tolerance was massacred. Candles or not, the story of Hannukah exists to teach tolerance.

But how far will tolerance take us?

The smartest bit of information I've heard in a while came during a fall kallah in which I was told "You know what? As long as you’re doing something Jewish, who cares what organization you belong to?"

That’s tolerance in its truest form.

And what if we feel a component of a particular organization is doing more harm than good? Enter education. Rather than plastering a website with unfair critiques, harmful libel, or sickening imagery, why not do something. Go to an event: start a revolution. Spread a message of positive choices, rather than negative dislikes.

Start teaching and you'll be heard. Start listening and you'll be taught.

Judiasm: It's About The Struggle

2006-11-28T16:19:00.000-08:00

Change Happens

2006-11-28T15:27:00.000-08:00

"Hanukkah celebrates the fact that we won our religious independence to practice and worship in whatever manner we found fit."

Exactly one year ago I wrote that this was the most important reason to celebrate Hanukkah. Looking back, I realized how much I've changed in my "philosophy" of Hanukkah. But not only Hanukkah. Over the past year, the way I observe, the way I relate, and the way I question have changed dramatically. And it's going to continue to change. I think that's at the heart of Judaism.

Our religion is like watching a boy grow up. His dreams might change as he grows, but his identity will always stay the same. Change is funny like that. The boy’s always dreaming about it, but can’t remember when it happens. It just does. The recipe doesn't change, but every year the hallah tastes a little sweeter. The wax doesn't change, but the havdalah candle flickers a little brighter. The trope doesn't change, but the words sound a little softer. Change Happens.

A Winter Wonderland

2006-11-27T10:35:00.000-08:00

So deep down in the lower depths of the bible belt, Hanukkah harry strikes again. In the land of Christmas tidings, a underdog has emerged. Yes, that's right - Kosher meat emerges! G-d bless trader Joes!

Poetic Justice

2006-11-26T15:01:00.000-08:00

"R'Zera said in the name of Rabba bar Zimuna: 'If the earlier ones were sons of angels, then we are the sons of men. If the earlier ones were sons of men, then we are like the sons of donkeys, and not even like the donkeys of R'Chanina ben Dosa and R' Pinchas ben Yair, but like others donkeys" (Shab. 112b).

So I'm going to take a big step and admit a few things. I'll never be as "Jewish" as Moses or Aaron. I'll never be as "Jewish" as Issiah or Amos. And I'll never be able to be as "Jewish" as the previous generations.

And I'll go even farther. I'll go past everything I've ever heard, learned, or been taught: I'll never be able to be as "Jewish" as Orthodox Jews.

I don't care.

I'm fine with that. I share a philosophy with other reforming and progressive Jews around the world. We've chosen to learn and then to choose our observance, spirituality, and and all aspects of Judaism. But we've decided to include something else: to be good humans. We say that's really what G-d wants. G-d doesn't care about how many Rams we sacrifice for sin offerings. G-d wants us to get along with our neighbors, or at the very least not wrong them.

So lets be real. Who cares if were not as "Jewish" as John Goldstein. We need to stop comparing ourselves to everyone else. How about I'm as "Jewish" as Andrew Yosim. How about your as "Jewish" as you are. That's all I care about, and I'm pretty sure G-d would agree.

Quote of the Day

2006-11-01T15:59:00.000-08:00

Remember how you used to post to a blog?

-David Singer

A Restart

2006-11-01T15:13:00.000-08:00

What would happen if we handed a thousand Jewish teenagers tanach's and told them to give a book report on it. Rachel's report would focus on the sense of community that ties the bible together. Jason's would focus on G-d's need for sacrifice at the temple. Sarah's report would focus on the message of Justice and helping those around you. In short you would end up with a thousand different book reports.

But what would happen if they were first taught about the bible. What if they were given an overview of the major stories of the bible? A teacher would go through the main characters and how they were important to the Jewish story. What then would the teenager’s reports look like?

Pretty much the same as the next one.

And that’s how we’re teaching the youth. We’re not asking them to open up a Tanach and find something that's meaningful to them. Were not asking them to read a chapter of their choosing and ask questions. Were telling them what's important.

We’re giving them the Spark-notes of their religion.

And it's not just Reform Judaism. It's all over. Since the creation of written word men in power have always assumed the "common man" wasn't smart enough to learn or make decisions for himself. Look at Martin Luther, look at the Electoral College, and look at Hillel. We've told ourselves that we're giving the kids a foundation. Were leveling the ground so when they get more advanced they'll have a starting point to work off of. But we failed to build them a house; we failed to make them a sanctuary. Were not teaching these kids it's ok to ask questions. Were not encouraging them to explore. Were encouraging them to learn while chained through the shackles of our own personal curriculum.

So I tried something a wise man once did for me (cough cough David Singer). I copied him and threw a few of my students a Tanach and told them to read. And then something happened that would make Maimonides smile. One of my students asked a question. But even before I could answer it, a fellow classmate gave his input. And that started a discussion. And I just sat back listening as students started to argue their points. And they started to use verses from the Tanach as evidence. And finally when I was grinning from ear to ear, one of my students sent the final blow to me. He started to argue about the interpretation of the verse.

This fourth grader did something many of us (including me) have trouble doing. He gave his own interpretation of the verse, without the aid of a biblical Rabbi. Jewish education is so overwhelmed with the vast history of Rabbis and teachers throughout the ages. But at a certain point their opinion gets so intertwined with the Tanach that we loose our own opinion. We see the word Tzedek and instantly think of Justice and everything we've been taught about being just. But we tune out the little voice inside of us asking what it really means to be just. Instead of having an internal debate about what to do with Tzedakah, we turn to what Maimonides says and consult our Rabbi on what the right percentage is.

Sure were learning, but at what price? What's it going to take for us to start asking ourselves the tough questions? What's it going to take to start disagreeing with the Rabbi? What's it going to take for each of us to give our own book report, and still agree on the same book?

I don’t know.

But in the meantime, I’m going to start reading and asking questions. Won't you join me?

Go G-d Go!

2006-09-20T17:46:00.000-07:00

I love Rosh Hashanah, the apples, the honey, the New Year, I love it all. I realize how important the holly day was to the ancient Israelites and I try and mimic it.

On the other hand, I don't really get a lot out of the Yom Kippur service. I don’t have anything against the holly day itself, only the service. I still agree with the several concepts presented in the service.

I love the concept of asking for forgiveness for the sins we have committed. In this sense we're affirming with G-d that the Jewish people are one people and are all-responsible for each other. That’s what it means to be the chosen people. We're not a community of "I's". We’re a single community of "we".

I agree that with the concept of G-d "pardoning" our sins against G-d, but man must forgive sins against man.

And I agree with asking forgiveness for sins we did not intentionally mean to do. We recognize the fact that were not perfect and even as hard as we try, sometimes we do some things wrong unintentionally.

I just can't bring myself to feel true with G-d when I'm stating this is my "judgment day". Every day we're judged, and every day we should repent. I don't see why when the high priest of the Israelites would enter the holy of holies and say G-d’s name, it would usher in the Day of Judgment. G-d gives second chances. Nothing in the book of life is ever permanently sealed. For even when you die your "destiny" is yet to be determined.

I support the idea of community and all of us being accountable for one another. I realize that some people do not have the means of praying for themselves and it's our obligation as a community to support them. So I do the best thing I can do. I support the temple members who can feel connected on this day and I help the community by teaching the youth.

I realize this day is special. I realize on this day that Tikkun Middot (repairing one's self) is not the most important point. On this day it's not all about making sure your name is on the waiting list. It's all about making sure the K'hillah's name is on the waiting list. We are one people. We are Jews. We are Israel. And together we shall repent.

My Great-Great-Great... Grandfather invented History

2006-09-20T17:35:00.000-07:00

So I just finished reading Thomas Cahill’s: The Gifts of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels. The book was a large recap of major stories and events in the bible, with the biblical and historically information presented simultaneously. The main points the author summarized on Judaism deferred from the rest of the world's religions were profound, but came too late for my opinion.

A Pain Of The Heart

2006-09-14T15:36:00.001-07:00

It hurts.

I was doing research on Crime Lab Analysis’s, and somehow arrived at a website entitled "The Christian Way". I was curious and decided to scroll down and see what is was about. A lump formed in the back of my throat when I started to read. A survey/petition was being offered to send all African Americans back to Africa. The site claimed over 3,000 participants had taken the survey and over 90% in one form or another wanted to expel African Americans. They were “generously” offering to compensate for the move by offering 35,000 dollars from the government.

I built up the courage to click on the other links on the side of the page. One such link brought a mixed feeling of curiosity and anxiety to me. I clicked on the "Talmud" Link to discover quotes from great men throughout history. Somehow in all of my history classes and lectures I had missed these quotes. Listed right next to Adolf Hitler were "quotes" from George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin.

The lump in my throat grew larger when I came across the sites "facts are facts"(a listing of "quotes" from the Talmud proving Jews are plotting everything from the overthrow of the government to ritual Christian sacrifices in G-d's name). After overcoming the initial shock, my fingers went right to work. I started to check their sources.

And the lump grew larger. In the process of "disproving" their first ten "facts", I came across a discovery. These same "facts", some word for word were all over the Internet. Thousands upon thousands of sites claiming Americans and Christians were blinded by the real threat of the Jews. I found Church websites linking to these same sites. And worst of all I found them spreading. Blogs and myspaces were trading messages containing this "vital information".

But wait. Before I go on, let me clarify one thing. I'm not trying to bash the Christian religion. I realize that this is not the message being taught in Sunday schools. This information is merely a radical way of though in the same way as some Americans believe 9/11 was a military operation by the government. And in no way shape or form does this radical philosophy apply only to Christians. The same can be said for radical Jews who most of us try and shun or forget about. The same can be said in the exact same manner and volume for every other religion and the propaganda it spreads. The reason I'm focusing on Christianity is merely because those were the only sites I had the "privilege" of viewing.

But it still hurt. It still hurts to know there is a group of people who "primary and instinctive mission in life" is to expel African Americans back to Africa. It hurts to know that groups still rather spread propaganda about not sitting with little Billy at lunch because of the color of his skin, or his religion. And I knew this all along. But I chose not to acknowledge it. I chose to look at the world through rose-colored glasses.

But the thing that hurts the most, it was written down. I'm a lover of the written word, I've told people that before. I have every single letter my girlfriend has every given me on my wall. I have every printout of the Talmud I received from Kutz on my wall also. I value these. They're a part of my history, my memories. Someone else took the time to collect their thoughts and put them down on paper. The ordinary, the mundane, we don't record it. Those who write diary's don't record how long they slept or what soap they used it the shower. Only the extraordinary, the exciting, the IMPORTANT information gets written down. And that's why I cherish it.

It hurts to know that this wasn't the frustration of someone spouting his ideas to his buddy over a cup of coffee. This wasn't a town hall style meeting to raise support against their "cause". This was important to them; they took their time to write it down.

"You can do whatever you set your mind too", "You can achieve whatever you start", "You can choose what’s important in your life and live it!” They chose to make persecution important to them.

And that's why it hurts.

A Word Is Worth A Million Memories

2006-09-12T17:03:00.000-07:00

Go to http://mattstamm.com/music.htm and click on summertime forever...

Well I only wish that we could stay and
Spend the rest of everyday
In the place where it's summertime forever
I'm gonna dream about the time we spent and
Send my love to all my friends
And I'll see you when summer comes again
When I close my eyes I see your face
And I realize how much I love this place
And I know that this is where I wanna be
With you right next to me
You'll always be

The feelings that I get
Stars in the sky
And I will not forget the summers of my life
Where the days are weeks and each hour is a day
Please don't go away
Please don't go

The good times, the moonlight
A campfire, and poolside
A food fight, and those nights
When we must have seen a million shooting stars
A first kiss, a big crush
I love you, and so much
The big fields, the veggie meal
I'll see you in Israel
The tower, I'm so scared
You told me you'd be there to catch me if I fall
The kickball, the free time
The bunk time, it's our time
I wish there was more time
I think about you all the time
The pine trees, pagodas
The bug juice, a soda
The rainy days and the games we play
And the twisted candle burning burning bright
You borrowed my flashlight
We stayed up the whole night
The counselors
I can't wait for the color war
My best friend, the chapel
And snack time, an apple or ice pop
And don't stop, and don't stop, and don't stop

I pack up my car
I'm on my way
My parents say it isn't far
I have been counting the days
And the butterflies as I drive through the gate
Not everything's ok
Now everything's ok

If a picture is worth a thousand words then a word is worth a million memories...

Shalom

Write out Loud

2006-09-10T17:15:00.000-07:00

Today the teacher I madrich for gave me a large collection of his books. Mr. Kelley, a college professor had them for his personal reading/research and was getting rid of them. Rather than give them to a library, he thought he would give them to me and I eventaully would pass them on. Guess who's Hanukah just came early?

So now I'm looking at a couple hundred books ranging from Jewish Sports legends to the civil war. As I organized books with titles of "The Hittites", "The Phoenicians", "The Celts" I realized something. A civilization made up of hundreds of years, thousands if not millions of individuals could be summed up in one book. And I began to question: could this happen to the Jews?

If hundreds of years from now the Jewish population disappeared like the Romans, would authors be able to shrink our story into the confines of a single book? Would five thousand years of history be able to be replicated with 500 pages of text?

No, Of course not! As Jews, we've changed the world. Since the invention of writing around 10,000 years ago, half of those years have been spent by writing Jews. And then it dawned on me; my writing was continuing a tradition thousands of years old. My writing today about being a progressive/reforming Jew has the same purpose as Jews writing during the inquisition. In this day and age a religion cannot be measured military might (we do not measure Christianity by the crusades). Rather, a religion is measured by its writings. But Judaism’s writings don't just mean the Tanach, it means the Midrash. Judaism is a living breathing religion. And so too should it's midrashim be.

So go on, write. Write a blog. Write in a journal. Write a letter to your Rabbi or congregation. But don't ever underestimate the power of the written word.

Shalom

Sunrise in the Darkness

2006-09-08T18:04:00.000-07:00

A boy stands praying to G-d. Like generations before him, he follows the traditions of the Kabbalat Shabbat. The same candles, the same niggun, the same tunes, and the same prayers. The Jew praying is me. But there is one problem; I'm alone. With only the light from the moon and candles to illuminate the Hebrew, I feel like the Macabees during Hanukkah. I feel like I'm hiding.

Because I am.

I'm hiding from everyone around me. I'm hiding from my family, my community and my friends. I'm an outsider in my world. I want to be part of the community. I want to go to services, but my parents have prioritized a "game night" to be a higher cause. When I do go, I want to stand for the Amidah. But I can't, I'm a distraction. Everyone around me sits after G'evurot, so my defiance doesn't go unnoticed. I want to talk to a friend about a question I had, but I can't. They have no idea what I'm talking about.

And so I reach out.

I reach out to anyone reading this. I reach out to Jews across the world. I reach out to the Jews from the eastern U.S. who I see six times a year. I reach out to the Jews from across the U.S. , for whom I see once a year. I reach out to those I can't see in person. You are my safety net, your my shield. When I slow, you push me. When I trip, you catch me. When I have fallen, you raise me up.

And for this, I thank you.

And now, I've made it my mission to be what you are to me: a friend when help is needed. I've made it my mission to be there for those that need it. Those that struggle and need a push to get back on the path, I'll be there for you. In a way, I'm passing it on. But I'm not; it's never going to leave me. And the same energy I use to help someone will one day come back to help me. And in this way the spirit of Judaism will never diminish. Brother helping brother.

Your all brothers in my book.

Shabbat Shalom