Mothers' Day 2014

Its Mother’s Day and I am sad.

Firstly, because I think that it’s an arbitrary day to celebrate the women in our lives who so vastly influenced and it seems silly to even try to cram all our admiration into one arbitrary day.

And secondly, because I can’t celebrate with my own mother.

My mom was and still is one of the most amazingly accomplished women I have ever known.  She was a cool, chic, avant- guard personality before any of those things were cool, chic, or avant- guard. Imagine Auntie Mame and Marmee Marsh in one. She led an interesting exciting life before having children and then she instilled in each of us the tools to create our own lives. She loved us unconditionally and supported us in all our paths and always made sure we knew we would have a home if and when we needed or wanted one.               

My mother can walk into a room full of strangers and come away with more details of people’s lives than their best friends know. She is the person at the supermarket or doctors office of food court who starts a conversation and is more interesting than the book you have been carrying around waiting to read. She is fascinated by people and she is fascinating.

She also doesn’t often remember that.  In fact she often doesn’t remember a lot of things.

My mother, who studied Talmud in junior high school, traveled extensively, dated a son of a future king, appeared in plays with future Oscar and Tony winners, made lifelong friends, raised three children, crocheted blankets, owned her own antique store, ran a multimillion dollar nonprofit organization, appeared in a full length feature film and survived a broken back has always been a positive role model for me, and my family and friends.

But you won't hear that from her. It is painful to know that as often as we forget who she was, she forgets even more.

One of the hardest parts of senility is that as your memory diminishes, it seems like others' memories of you diminish as well. 

Conversations with her are sometimes difficult. Often she doesn’t recall even broad topics we have discussed and certainly details need to be repeated.

And so Mothers Day is sad for me. My mother is often absent and talking to her is not the same as talking with her. O course, it’s not all bad; interspersed, there are wonderful lucid moments where my mother shines and the woman she was pushes through. It happens in the third time she asks the same question and then stops herself and completely and correctly summarizes the last two times I answered. It happens when she forgets to call on my anniversary but a card that she remembered to buy and send comes perfectly timed in the mail. And it happens when she recognizes my voice on the phone and I hear that smile of joy she has always had whenever I or any of her kids or grandkids approach her.

Happy Mother's day to all the women who are and were our mothers.

Parashat Dvarim- Moses as Teacher

This was first delivered as a dvar Torah while I was a rabbinical intern.

     At the beginning of the book of Deuteronomy, Moses is no longer the lawgiver, for the law has already been given. He is now the law’s interpreter. This is the source of his title Moshe Moreinu, Moses our teacher. Here in this book which has been called his last will and testament, Moshe is no longer imparting wisdom and knowledge to which he alone has access. His new role is to teach, to repeat, explain, expound, rephrase and interpret the traditional material contained in the Torah to make sure it is understood by the next generation.
     He is giving an historical account of having led their parents. He is asking Israel to remember its history. These people were not at Sinai, they are the next generation. They must be taught the Torah.   

     An important lesson is being learned here, No one becomes a Jew without being taught how to be a Jew. That’s why we stress Torah, avodah and gemilut hasadim, Study, Worship and Acts of Generosity. Jewish ancestry may be one of the conditions for Jewish identity but it is not sufficient in and of itself. What is necessary is the daily activity of keeping faith with our ancestors, and emulating them, their study, their worship and their acts of generosity, those things about which Moshe reminds the children of Israel.
      Why does Moshe remind them? Because the Jewish past demands a continual response from the present generation. In our prayers, we thank God for freeing US from Mitzrayim, from Egypt, for giving US the Torah. US not THEM. WE were not there, but we are responsible for and to the consequences of what transpired there. We are part of that legacy and tradition. In parashat Devarim, Moshe begins the repetition of the Torah by teaching the children of Israel that the new Jewish life in the Promised Land begins with accepting the Jewish past and building on it, according to God’s commnndments. 

     In commenting on why Moshe must repeat the story of the Exodus from Egypt and the nation’s travails in the desert which have brought them to this spot in history listening to Moshe, Rashi writes that the people needed to understand the Torah in order to accept it. We are defined by our attachment and devotion to the Torah and it forms a basis for Jewish tradition. There can be no Jewish people without it. Therefore they must understand it.
     This reminds me of a story.
     Some poor man has been stranded alone on an island for years. Finally he sees a boat in the distance and starts a fire and signals the boat. A sailor rows ashore with a pile of newspapers and magazines and says to the castaway... ‘The captain sent these newspapers for you to read so that you can decide whether you want to be rescued.’
     This I think is the purpose of this week’s parasha, and of the entire book of Deutoronomy. Moshe is recounting the tale of our relationship with God. This is what has happened. And the children of Israel need to decide whether they want to be rescued.
     No body becomes a Jew without being taught how to be a Jew and that is what we do as we read the Torah each week, teaching ourselves about the past so that we can build a Jewish future.
     Shabbat Shalom

vayishlach - reconnecting

This week’s parsha, Vayishlach, tells the story of reconciliation between Jacob and Esau. Recently I coordinated a three part series on Islam. We, Jews, are descendants of Jacob while Moslems are descendants of Esau. We ended our series with an evening of discussion on open dialogue between Jews and Moslems.  One of the things we heard during the sessions was how similar the religions are to each other. We are, after all, cousins; descended from the same brothers, and from the same grandfather, Abraham. What could be a more appropriate message for today than that of reconciliation shown in the embrace of Esau and Jacob when they meet after so long?

A lot has been written about what we learn about family dynamics from the characters in Genesis. It always strikes me as a shame that for twenty years these two brothers not only didn’t talk but didn’t have any news of each other. But, they obviously didn’t talk to each other as youngsters either. These boys were a rough pregnancy for Rebecca. She evens questioned God about why she had to suffer so much. And their rivalry culminates in Jacob fleeing for his life from his brother and their home. But after twenty years, the brothers have grown up, built their own lives and feel so secure in themselves that they can now let go of the rivalry. They reunite and reconcile and bury their father together.

We’ve just finished celebrating Thanksgiving and Chanukah is next week. We gather family and friends to share our lives. We commemorate the miracles of the first years in America. Chanukah is a rededication of our spiritual and communal connections. We celebrate the miracles of rededication of our Temple. And, like Esau and Jacob did, we celebrate our reconnections to each other.

The Lessons of the Lollipops

Honey and very sweet food enlighten the eyes of man. (Yoma 83b)

I have become the lollipop lady.

For the past few years, I have been giving caramel apple lollipops to kids on the first day of school. Besides the idea that all learning, especially Jewish learning should start with sweetness, the caramel apple flavor seemed to fit right in with the holiday flavors. We eat apples and honey, why not apples and caramel? 

And then I learned of the wonderful SImchat Torah tradition the synagogue I am currently working with has of giving lollipops to the students starting their Jewish education. We had a whole gaggle of kiddles on the bimah, covered by a large talit, being blessed by the pulpit as they formally begin their lifelong learning. But, I realized that for many of the community, the only contact they have had with me is through a lollipop.

Once the dancing and the hakafot began, I was approached by child after child to request a lollipop. And, while I apologized to several parents who (I hope) jokingly said they would send their dental bills to the synagogue, I got to meet and talk with (albeit briefly) all the children in the room. I had the opportunity to meet younger siblings of our current school children and to meet many of the LGA and the Gan Keshet students.

I even made some friends. One little girl gave me her half eaten apple to hold while she danced and came back to nibble when she wanted (of course, she wouldn’t give me her lollipop to hold; she hung on tightly to that).One little boy sat next to me for a long while and generously gave me his sticker for my sweater. One older boy was curious about the stickers and three older girls wanted all their stickers to match. Obviously, the lollipops served as a sweet entry point to conversation.  

Besides Shabbat, there are no more Jewish holidays for almost two months. We have started our year with this amazing assortment of holy days. Rosh Hashanah which jump-starts the spiritual journey, Yom Kippur in which we dig deep inside ourselves to find a way to better connect our lives to God, and Sukkot which reminds us of the fragility of life are all followed by Simchat Torah which seems to incorporate all the swirling emotions of the past few weeks.

I had one more wonderful conversation at Simchat Torah because of the lollipops. One girl wanted to look at several of them to find the ‘prettiest swirls’. She looked for the colors and for the patterns and finally chose the best one.  I think we can all learn from her approach. The lollipops lasted through the evening, but the memory of the sweetness lasts longer.

The holidays are over but their sweetness will last for awhile.

Of Prisoners and Watermelons

As I watch the images of Gilad coming home, the parades and groups of people outside his hometown, I can’t help but rejoice but I am also conflicted. I firmly believe we should not negotiate with terrorists and yet I firmly believe that we should do anything we can do to bring every Israeli soldier home.

I think about Gilad and I think about his parents, friends and family. 

I also think of all the others who will be impacted by the release of hundreds of terrorists. I realized this week that it is 25 years since I was discharged from the IDF.  Time has flown and time has crawled and times - they have certainly changed.

I was in uniform in 1985. I served in a smaller outpost just south of tzomet Mickey Mouse; named not after the efficiency of the soldiers but after the shape of one of the original building which ( I was told) looked like Mickey Mouse ears. When I first arrived on the base in January, it was a pretty relaxed place. When we weren’t on guard duty we would often change into civilian clothes and walk down the hill into the Arab village and buy fresh bread and cremebo-im. The locals greeted us warmly and sometimes saved loaves of bread for us. There was no bus service into the base so we would be trucked down to the nearest Egged stop and left alone to wait for the bus. To be honest, in the first few weeks, I would often hitch hike home to Beer Sheva rather than wait for the bus to Jerusalem and then take another bus south.

By March, there had been some terrorist activities in the area. Couples out walking in the hills had disappeared and were later found dead. A number of soldiers were taken from trampiadas and killed. Security in our area was increased. We were no longer allowed to wander into the villages in the evenings. If we went during the day to buy fresh bread or produce, we were only allowed to go if one of us was armed, and female soldiers were discouraged from going at all. The truck which took us to the bus stop to go on leave now waited with us until we got on the bus. I was told by my commanding officer that if he heard I was hitching, he would never give me leave again.

But, the villagers were still friendly for the most part. The children would wave to us as we drove through and the adults waved and smiled.

When the prisoner exchange was arranged, there wasn’t the same oversaturation on the news. Granted, in 1985 nothing was as oversaturated in the news and our little outpost had only a radio for news and music and of course, cable tv wasn’t standard issue with our uniforms.  I know that there was concern. We went into full alert, no leaves, more guard hours and we were armed all the time, even on kitchen duty. Of the roughly 1500 prisoners, convicted terrorists and felons, roughly 800 were expected to return to their homes in our area. The army set up road blocks in the villages and our small outpost became headquarters for part of the added security and intelligence gathering teams who were supplementing the regular teams.

It was a strange place for a woman soldier to be. Theoretically, women were still not allowed to be on the front lines. And yet, the front lines had come to us. I think had they been able to evacuate us, they would have. But, there wasn’t time or capability and so they left us on the base, with our male counterparts. We served as front gate guards, radio room operators, and kitchen cooks, just like the men did. The only thing we were not allowed to do was to walk the perimeter. But, when the road blocks were set, the men were taken to ‘man’ them and the women were left to fill in on the base. Instead of one shift a day at either the front gate or the radio room, we were now doing two shifts, one at the radio room and one at the gate. And of course, there was still kitchen duty and more mouths to feed because of the extra teams.

One of the things I am most proud of is my IDF training. Because of the division I served with I had more in depth training, more on par with a typical male soldier than a typical female soldier. I was trained to serve on an outpost and to be part of the non-gender specific team, including being qualified on many of the ‘larger’ weaponry and potential bullet wounds. We had been trained to be soldiers and yet somehow, the nascent Jewish mother genes kicked in.  I, and the other women who served on that outpost at that time, were more concerned with whether our men were getting enough to eat at the roadblocks than whether we were being shot at.

The first couple of days, we sent food to the roadblocks. We baked, and cooked and sent the best pieces of chicken, and the freshest produce out to them. In fact, I have vivid memories of trying to keep my gun slung over my shoulder onto my back while taking trays out of the oven. The first day, they came back to the base grateful for the wonderful chuparim( treats). But the second day, they brought back some of the cookies and fruit we had sent them but also a couple of watermelons which hadn’t come from the base.

It turns out that some of the villagers who had been stopped at the roadblocks  had taken pity on the soldiers and left them with watermelons, and in the coming days, peaches, avocado and fresh bread. Relationships which had been developed through the years of soldiers walking into the villages for produce and ice cream were still intact. For the week the blockade was up, we had more fruit and vegetables on the base than we ever had before.

We also had our military incidents as well. If you have ever gone to bed with the sky lit up from flares, or to the sound of not so distant gunfire, then you know how easy it is to fall asleep when you need to. I have been fired at and returned fire and consider myself lucky that I don’t know if any of my bullets actually hit anyone.  And in those weeks which followed the prisoner exchange in 1985, we were in more overt danger than we had been before the exchange. Combatants were injured on both sides, as were civilians.

But, I would not have told the government to not exchange prisoners.

As I watch the images of Gilad coming home, the parades and groups of people outside his hometown, I can’t help but rejoice; just as I can’t help but think of the soldiers in the outposts. I hope that someone is saving them the best bread and watermelons.

Welcome home Gilad.

Can Atheists be Good Jews?

This originally appeared in the American Jewish World

Judaism and atheism - AJW article 2009.doc

Can atheists be good Jews?

My simple answer is no. Atheism is not only the belief that there are no gods but also that the belief in gods is wrong. I believe that true atheists are few and far between and that they would not be able to connect to Judaism because of the second part of their belief.

But, questioning the existence of God, agnosticism, does not conflict with Judaism. The name Israel means to have struggled with God. To be the Children of Israel connects us with a heritage of struggling not only with what God wants of us but also with the belief that there is God. Each generation has struggled with the relevancy of traditions and how to be good Jews while balancing input from society around us. The joy of Judaism is the nuances, the variety, and the potential for personalization of the communal responsibilities.

Jewish rituals and traditions are beautiful. As we practice them, we each find different interpretations and symbolism which makes them our own. For some of us the belief that the practices connect us to God is important. For others, connecting to our heritage and to our history is what’s important. While we may not be certain there is a God, connecting to our ancestors who were certain, allows us to continue our own questioning and our own struggle.

True Atheism believes there are no gods. They are done wrestling. Judaism is challenging. It challenges our spirit, our bodies and our minds. And by wrestling through the challenge, we grow; not only as Jews but as human beings as well.

Am I Ever Bored At Services?

This originally appeared in the American Jewish World newspaper:

Are You Ever Bored In Services?

Rabbi Charni Flame Selch

There is a wonderful midrash in Shir Hashirim Rabbah which starts, ‘Once, when Rabbi Judah Hanasi was teaching, the congregation became drowsy…’

Imagine, people at the time of the Talmud were bored sometimes, so why not us? The simple answer is yes, I do get bored. And I’m in good company. Everyone is bored at one point or another.

I think the issue of being bored is what we do about it. It helps to ask why we are bored. Do we not understand the prayers? Do we not like the tunes? Do we need to connect to God in a different way? Are we relying on someone else to engage us?

Boredom is not the end. It should be a beginning The cure for boredom is curiosity. The midrash about Rabbi Judah says that when he saw that the congregation was drowsy, he changed his tactics and told an engaging story to grab their attention and nurture their curiosity

We are each responsible for our own approach to God. When we are bored, we owe it to ourselves to change our own tactics and approach the situation in a different way. Sometimes when I’m bored I will re-read the English while we chant the Hebrew or read other excerpts in the Chumash. Other times, I watch others around me and enjoy their sense of connection. That’s why communal prayers are so important. They give us a framework in which we can indulge our boredom and cultivate our answers to it.