Life’s Pathway: Inspirations to Fire the Soul

I just finished and published Life’s Pathway: Inspirations to Fire the Soul, my second book.

Immediately comments began to pour in like, “This is very different from your last book.”  “I was very surprised because it reads in such short snippets.”

As I consistently heard similar comments I thought it best to explain why I wrote this book and why it is so wildly different from Journey to the Soul.

So much has changed in my past thirty years in the rabbinate.  I used to preach and pepper my talks with Yiddishisms or at least tell a long-winded joke and have the punch line in Yiddish.  I can no longer do that because I have to explain what the words mean.  Few are the laughs because they don’t get it.  

If members did not keep kosher they knew what they were doing wrong.   Nowadays, it is not so.  I used to assume that most of the congregation kept kosher.  That too has changed.

Facility with Hebrew is down.  One of the dominant issues facing all synagogues is how to make their services accessible to those who cannot read Hebrew.  Or make services shorter to become more tantalizing (or less brutal in length).

Intermarriage used to be an issue that was both rare and vexing.  It is neither today.

It is the same with knowledge of Jewish texts, support of Jewish causes, davenning, putting on tefillin….

I am not bemoaning these changes. 

I take them as a challenge.  My driving question today is how to make Judaism both meaningful and practical.

Story: A poor couple came to a rabbi who was famous for his power of prayer.  The couple came to the rabbi to ask him to pray on their behalf for a child.  The rabbi agreed to pray for them, but only for five hundred dollars.

The couple could not afford that much money, yet mindful of the rabbi’s reputation, they asked if he would do it for $100.

The rabbi refused, insisting he would only do it for $500.

After much argumentation and frustration they said, “Forget it, rabbi.  We do not need you.  We will go home and pray on our own.”

They left and the rabbi smiled.  That is precisely what he wanted them to do. - Reuven Bulka

This is essentially why I wrote Life’s Pathway: Inspirations to Fire the Soul.  Between its covers are daily readings – like the one above – that allows the reader to feel, learn, and even practice the touchstone of our faith.   No lectures or diatribes.  No guilt (Boy, do I feel guilty about that!)  And no major Hebrew hurdles or mental gymnastics.  With pithy ancient sayings and wise parables the book provides easy access to Jewish principles for living.  And not only is it painless, it is fun! 

For more, see http://www.outskirtspress.com/webPage/isbn/9781478738015

What I Want in a Synagogue

            I want a community of peers, not just congregants.  There is a great difference between the two.  In the first instance we stand shoulder-to-shoulder bearing Beth Shalom.  In the second instance, there is an imbalance when one person sings boisterously in a largely silent community or a cantor cants alone.  I want you to know that one of the primary reasons I wanted to join you is because I perceived this to be community of involved, interested people.  I liked what I saw heard when we first met. 

I do not like “singing” alone.  My first comment to the leadership of this community many months ago was that I liked to strongly encourage congregational participation.  For me, the ‘kiss of death’ of my professional life is when a congregational service is a performance.  It must never become that.

I read with interest a recent article in "Conservative Judaism," which told of a worshipper who was chastised for “singing to loudly,” (check it out on the Spring issue 2008).  Reading the story made me cringe.  How awful!

In an opera house it is impolite (to say the least) to cough, chat or make any kind of disturbance.  In some houses of worship, it is much the same. Members are supposed to sit with their hands clasped front of them, resting in their lap, silent and attentive.  That is not the Jewish ideal; it is not even Jewish.

The Jewish way is leading with the voice.  It is singing, full-throated and filled with zeal.  The aim of prayer is to touch the Almighty.  One does this by entering into a dialogue; singing praises, crying tears of hope and despair, reaching out of oneself to find a connection with the Holy One.  Go to any uplifting service and ask yourself why it was so meaningful.  The only consistent answer is participation.  Where the members sing out loud and put their soul into their prayers it becomes a spiritual and meaningful event.  I am no different from you: I seek the same experience.

I sometimes wonder if I became a rabbi not because of what I saw as a youngster but despite it.  Services were dull.  The only good part was sitting next to dad and playing with his tzitzit…and later on with mine.  I wondered then if there was a way to change that.

Nowadays when somebody sings too loudly I bless them.  When someone shouts out an “Amen!” I am buoyed.  When members yell, “yasher koach!” after someone receives an aliyah, I grin.  That is the way it is supposed to be.

God doesn’t like quiet.  Does that sound absurd?  The Talmud actually says that in different words.  The Talmud instructs us that when we pray, “Our ears must hear what our mouth is saying.”  In other words, there is no ‘silent prayer.’  Ever.

We pray with our mouths and bodies (traditionally, called ‘shuckling’).  We talk to God in much the same way that we speak with one another.  We express ourselves in voice that sometimes rises and falls, with our hands as we gesticulate and with expressiveness that marks our sincerity.

It is time to leave behind the traditional Protestant modality that we have absorbed a bit too well.  Jews don’t sit still.  We never did.

I hope you find your voice at your shul.

A Wedding

Rabbi Yehuda taught that 40 days before a child is conceived, a voice from heaven announces who this child is going to marry; this is literally a match made in heaven! In Yiddish, this match is called "bashert," the word meaning fate.

The Talmud and Jewish tradition through the ages states that a marriage is satisfied through three criteria: money, contract, and intimate relations.

The “money” is represented by the ring, which must have an ascertainable value.  Made of a specific element like gold or platinum, the ring cannot be adorned with any gems.  It must be round (symbolizing the fullness of life) and uninterrupted (symbolizing the fact that love and fidelity must be ever present).  The ring must also be owned; it cannot be borrowed.

As part of the wedding ceremony, there must also be a ketubah. The word "Ketubah" comes from the root meaning "writing." The ketubah is the official marriage contract. The document spells out the husband's obligations to the wife, inheritance upon death, and general obligations regarding the support in the event of divorce.

The third element is the intimacy or consummation of the marriage that seals the wedding.

All three of the aspects are performed in a modern Jewish wedding.  One or two rings are exchanged during the ceremony.  At the time when the ring is place don the finger there is a pledge of love and loyalty recited.  The ketubah is signed and witnessed before the ceremony begins and delivered near the end of the wedding.  Two witnesses are required to affix their Hebrew signatures to the document.  At the close of the wedding ceremony, the couple is secluded in a private room.  This act is indicative of the final consummation sealing the marriage.

A typical wedding occurs under a Huppah, or canopy.  The Huppah represents the home that the couple will craft together.  Often the Huppah is a Tallit that the bride presents to the groom and that he will wear for the rest of his life.

Come to the Cabaret!

 What is the first record of a talent show in our faith?  “And Miriam the Prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a tambourine in her hand, and all the women went out after her with tambourines and all the women danced.” (Exodus 15:20 )

Alright, not exactly a talent show but it was a celebration!    Whereas Miriam’s brother, Moses, only sang, Miriam showed all the men and women how to dance, sing, and celebrate before God.

Life is meant to be a celebration of the many good things the Lord God has given us.  It is not for no reason that we celebrate but as an appreciation of the breath of life that each of us possess.

You probably are familiar with the tradition of dancing with the Torah on Simhat Torah.  We grasp the holy scrolls as we whirl about the Sanctuary in an expression of utter joy at the gift.  We hold onto the Torah with all our strength because if, God forbid, we drop it we begin a forty day fast.  It does not make for great ease or carelessness when dancing with the Torah but it does make for being very mindful.

Perhaps this is what makes these performances so riveting and meaningful.  The singer, actors, and dancers have put tremendous energy into their performances and we will experience the power and energy they bring.

It is said that Elijah the prophet once met a man who was assured a special place in Paradise.  Elijah asked the man what he did to merit such a position.  He answered, “I was an entertainer.  I made sad people happy.”

True, there are times to mourn.  And there plenty of them in life.  It is at least equally true that there are times to be joyful.  In the spaces of joy we can glimpse real meaning.

Enjoy the celebration.  Laugh lots.  Move your feet.  And take home some the joy.  Spread it around.  It is good for the soul.

What Dad Told Me....

Dad said that nothing in life was free.  “You pay for everything,” he told me.  “Anything that is free is worth it.”   In other words, it was worth nothing.

I learned this well with my foray into the world of purchasing a time-share.  A novice, I was edged into their world with the promise of lush gifts, free vacations and open apartments…with NO CHARGE.  All I had to do was sit through a three hour lecture and tour.  Guess what?  Dad was right. 

Perhaps it was time well spent that day because it proved something I had been taught long ago.  But there was the kernel of something even more profound at work here.

There are many interesting things about children.  One of them is their unswerving ability to pry apart all my well-made plans.  I can carefully plot out a party, excursion or date and have them shot to smithereens with a single swipe from my youngest child.  A well-timed scream or fit can do it.  Children can fell us with a barb that would make the Marquis de Sade quiver with anxiety.  At the same time, when the world seems crushingly oppressive they can sing a little song in the aisle of K-Mart that will cause me to double over in laughter.

The way to reward a child for good behavior is the yawning gift of the great giraffe that greets kids into the emporium of toys.  Yet, every now and again it happens that it yields the wrong, unintended result.  Let me explain.

Being given the opportunity to get a new Barbie, my daughter questioned me on the way home, “Do I really deserve this, Abba?”  I tried to keep on the road.

I think one of the most important aspects of living is to get what we believe we have earned.  A raise not given when we have worked hard, a compliment unsaid can be both maddening and disappointing.  It is also true that most of us are focused on trying to make up for past deficits (think: psychotherapy).  Yet, what may be worse than going unrecognized for our contributions is getting something undeservedly, for free. 

L’foom agra, sachra says the Talmud.  “According to the effort is the reward.”  We would usually read this to mean that we gain more when we put forth greater effort.  Yet, the ancient ones meant that our effort is our reward.  In other words, we gain a sense of pride and joy when we place real energies into work.  Or as Saadya Gaon put it, “The more valuable the thing, the more effort it demands.”

Relationships here are key.  This is the one no-price-tag item which requires the most effort and gives no immediate tangible reward.  No easy feat to raise children.  It is also no small matter to remain in a loyal dyad -- and not just live together -- but to continue to work together at the most difficult of times.  Commitment, in a word. 

The essence of marriage is not that it promises an everyday romance but the willingness to forgive.  Just think how long a relationship would last if a partner would not forgive the foul mood and bad-temper days.  Successful parenting is no different.  It is the commitment to forgive and move on. 

The wonder of a marriage that does not just weather the passing of years and decades, is the reward in itself.  I have asked many people who have celebrated fifty years of marriage the secret of their long-lasting relationship.  Invariably they respond with something like “I always listen to her” or “We have an agreement to always work out our problems.”  I have never heard anyone say to me that their marriage was an effortless endeavor.  They are happy in the twilight of their years with the pride that has come from making it a lasting relationship.

I see people peripherally attached to their roots come in droves to Synagogues on these coming Days of Awe.  I marvel at the sight of hundreds converging at the Synagogue.  For many, the experience of coming to Shul works.  For others it does not.  For all those who are not touched read on.  Question: Why are others moved by the service?  What does it do to them that does not touch my soul? 

Rosh Hashanna has two names, Yom HaZikaron and Yom Teruah.  The first term means Day of Remembering.  At once from heaven and earth there is a reconstructing of the year’s events, good and bad.  God recalls all that we have done in these past twelve months.  Yom HaZikaron conjures up all the deeds we have performed before placing them on the great balance of life on Yom Kippur.  While the Holy One does this we do the same from the pew.  We assess who we are based upon how we have treated others, ourselves, the world and God.  Knowing that God is doing the same is a sobering thought.  Remembering without defensiveness is no easy feat.  It requires fearlessness.

Would we like us if we viewed ourselves dispassionately as a friend or enemy might?  Does God approve?  How often did we lie to protect our interests?  Cheat?  Steal?  These items we place on our personal altar before the Lord. 

Yom Teruah, according to Samson Raphael Hirsch, is the willingness to take seriously what we have just found and make a break with the past.  That is why one of the names of the Shofar blasts is called teruah.  It is filled with breaks to signal a real change in behavior.

Like a relationship with another person, we talk out our problems with a commitment to change.  When we treat the dialogue with seriousness and create parameters of change (teshuvah), we earn the gift.  We feel uplifted by what we have contributed because we came prepared to be honest with ourselves and God.  Services are not like the theatre; this requires our soul participation to make it really meaningful.  Anything that comes too cheaply we instantly recognize for what it is, worthless.

Perhaps the old wish for the New Year should be revised to: May you make this year a sweet one.  Earn it.