The Rabbi

The swell of mail that reaches my desk on Monday mornings is daunting enough to want to stay in bed a few minutes longer than usual. There are many letters from communal packs, pressure groups, organizations that are seeking funds, groups that want support and, if I am lucky, some missive that actually connects me to my people.  

These letters (I won’t even mention the e-mail), covering a good portion of my work area, have the tendency of shortening the morning but sometimes making me feel a bit taller. It reminds me of the beautiful story of the venerable old Rabbi was dying. As his disciples gathered around the rabbi’s bed they begin to extol his virtues. One remarked, “His piety will never be equaled!” Another exclaimed, “Such learning surpassed the greatest sages of ancient Israel.”  A third stated that his kindness was akin to that of a tzaddik. During this time only the soft wheezing of the old man could be heard from the bed. Then the rabbi lifted his weary head, glanced around, and asked, “Is no one going to mention my humility?”

The positive side to all the attention brought to the congregational Rabbi is that it provides some measure of stature. It is nice to be reminded that one matters. All the eager lobbyists that continually badger the rabbi in the hope that their product will be sold to the congregation has an upside. They all insist that their interest is of prime concern and go on to demand that the next weeks sermon or message be devoted to their cause- Save the whales, environmental issues, school problems, nuclear proliferation, peace talks, electric cars, anti-Semitism, and you name it.  While I deeply appreciate the high regard they hold the office of the spiritual leaders of the Jewish communities throughout America, I believe they have mistakenly taken the relationship between Congregation and Rabbi to be as between newscaster and audience.  A close colleague pointed out, their interference in congregational work fits about as “snugly as a mother-in-law.”

The sermon, the talk, and the article, are all the immediate concern of the congregation. The relationship between Rabbi and community is close, personal and vital as a marriage. It must be continually worked, respected and never allowed to become outdated.  Therein lies the integrity of our relationship. It shall not be violated.

Why do I have to go to Hebrew School?

Why do I have to go to Hebrew School?

The simple answer is, you have to go to Hebrew school because I say so.  Not all children will go to Hebrew school because not all parents insist upon it. However, most parents do demand that the children attend a school of religion. Not many opt out.

When I was young my mother made me ingest all kinds of foods, which I hated. You name it, asparagus, lentils, and chopped liver. All sorts of terrible things. With the fullness of my heart I believed it was child abuse. Was my mother, and by extension all of the mothers in the world, guilty of cruel and inhumane treatment?

It must have been hard for her to coerce me into eating things that were not on the par with a Milky Way. Sometimes I would resort to dramatic measures like spitting the food out, refusing to eat it, crying, yelling and generally being disagreeable. Still, she remained firm and resolute in her demands. It would’ve been a lot easier for her to capitulate and fork over the gummy bears in place of the carrots but she stuck to her principles.

Why go through all the fights and the aggravation to convince me to eat those awful things? She could’ve made it easier for self as well as me. Why then?  Because she cared enough for me to insist upon something that was important, gummy bears are not good for me while carrots are.

It is the same with religious studies. I would have preferred playing baseball, or even, God forbid watching All My Children. But Hebrew school was like carrots on the dinner table. No plea-bargaining. Why? Because she loved me.  There is more to it than that.  She also cared that I would identify with something she cares deeply about, Judaism. It was critical that the next generation be given the opportunity to learn about Noah’s flood as well as how to celebrate Pesach and ask the Four Questions. And think of all the things you now know because of afternoon school. You can read a language that any of the kid in school would think would be some sort of secret code or mysterious language. At the bar mitzvah ceremony you learned and demonstrated how to lead services while your non-Jewish friends will never have anything like that opportunity. You are familiar with Torah, its stories and laws. The festivals are known to you as well as Jewish ethics and ideals.

If we did not have to attend religious school we would not. Right? Then what? We would be like everyone else. Jews with some disappear. After all, with nothing particularly distinctive about being Jewish, like being familiar with Hebrew or knowing how to chant the Kiddush, we would soon vanish from the face of the earth.  Unless we teach our faith it will wither and die. After so many thousands of years you wanted to disappear now? On your watch? Imagine grandpa’s face when he hears that news. Besides, it is just not fair to do such a precious treasure.

Thank of it this way: Isn’t get sad, bordering on tragic, when someone you love forgets to say happy birthday?  Isn’t it terrible when you never hear from your aunt or uncle? Our imagination tells us that they must have better things to do than keep in contact with us and remember our special day. That is hurtful makes us sad. Think of how all our relatives and ancestors would feel if we moved away from what they believed to be the most important asset in the whole world?  Forgot them and everything they believed in? That which some of them even gave their lives for?

There is a reason why many millions and millions of Jews feel so strongly attached to the roots. It may be a long story now but religious school tries to uncover the mystery by giving clues so that one day you too will feel strongly about giving your children, the next generation, a Jewish education.  After all carrots helps give you better vision.  Gummy bears only make cavities.

On the High Holy Days

Services are long.

As we cross the threshold of another year, we consider our presence during the season. What are appropriate expectations of our prayers? What is reasonable? What is unreasonable? In the end, we will ask of Him everything. All our hopes and aspirations lie before the Holy One. But what is the right path?  The holiest prayer we bring to God?

There is a discussion of prayer in the Talmud that is preceded by a brief description of the Hurban, the destruction of the Temple.  There, Rabbi Chanina opined to the question of whether our prayers are worthy of being heard by God.  In case they are unworthy because we may be distracted Rabbi Chiyya tells us to study Torah in the hopes that this will elevate our consciousness.  What happens if that does not work? he asks. Then try again; this time with greater fervency. (Berachot 32b)

This frank and human discussion wonders whether we can find the words to penetrate the highest spheres of heaven.

A parable. There once was a king who lived in an immense castle. Many were the entrances to his abode yet only one revealed the true way to the monarch. To confuse foes and attackers the king constructed the castle with only one real entrance.  Even that entrance took so many twists and turns that only the experienced person could gain access to the king.  Merely to have byways explained would not suffice, for a traveler had to be familiar with the passageways.

It happened yet the prince went on the long voyage and did not return for many years.    Having claimed great victories the proud son returned home. However as the prince approached the castle he discovered much to his chagrin that he forgotten the route to his father. As hard as he tried, the maze of entrances and side excursions defied his memory.

So too, we enter these days of awe; strangers to our Father’s palace. Familiarity lurks in every crevice and around each corner. But the mazes are too difficult to see your way through. There are too many distractions. Too many opportunities for choosing the wrong path.

Which is the way to HaKadosh Baruch Hu?  Do we extract meaning from the ancient rituals and service?

We turn the heart to prayer itself. We venture into the celestial chamber with no baggage, no threats or promises, no requests or indictments. God does not want claims made on Him before we even draw close. It must be enough to enter into his domain.

The spiritual longing for the Holy One will direct our hearts toward the truth. Love and devotion requires no personal gain, although we are always beneficiaries. We are not thoughtful to those whom we love for any obvious goal. It is enough that we love.  Once we have directed ourselves towards Him the passage becomes easier, more accessible. The illumination provided by the first journey will enable us to make other journeys. Once we have found the palace, there is comfort that we can locate it when we need it most of all. 

And if our success is not ours to claim at the first do not give up. The king’s son must try it again and again to find the correct entry point.  Above all, “Hope in the Lord and be strong. Let your heart take courage, hope in the Lord.”

Us and Them

“Public fasts should never be declared on Thursdays in order to not cause a sudden rise in market prices.” ~ Taanit 10a

We are attentive to life’s movements. This means that when nature seems to declare war on humanity or a spate of bad things happen to us we suddenly become superstitious.  Even if we disparage it at other times in our life it is hard to avoid wondering if something we did is bringing all this ill will upon us.  Remember the lucky rabbit’s foot?   Throwing salt over the shoulder?  Saying kana harato ward off the “evil eye”?  There must be hundreds of thousands of other superstitious action people take to keep them from powers of destruction.

The Rabbis of old recognized this human propensity.  So they enacted laws to assist people with their impulse to “keep the demons at bay.”  One of the ideas they brought out was that when a person feels afflicted they should engage in a fast to plead with God to remove the decree that they believe has befallen them.

Even though the Sages understood the value of taking action to ward away evil spirits they also enacted other counter-measures so that society would be protected.  In the instance of a fast they felt it was important to not allow a public fast to come on a Thursday as that was traditionally the day when everyone went to market.  A fast would have the effect of seriously harming merchants, perhaps even causing some to go hungry.

Idea: We are important to God.  How we feel, what we do, what happens to us matters a great deal.  Yet, society is greater than the individual.  The welfare of our community should always take precedence.  Our humanity will be challenged when we place our concerns above our neighbors.

Respect people and their boundaries.  No one is exempted from this mitzvah.  G.K Chesterton wrote: “You can free things from alien or accidental laws, but not from the laws of their own nature…Don’t go about…encouraging triangles to break out of the prison of their three sides.  If a triangle breaks out of its three sides, its life comes to a lamentable end.”

A Primer on Prayer

A Primer on Prayer

Relax.  Don’t agonize over keeping up with the pages.  If you find a prayer whose words touch you, stay there.   No need to rush.

Try not to carry on conversations.  Not just because of decorum but because chit-chat undermines the mood of refection and deep thought for you as well as others.

Come early.

Stay late.

A brief encounter may leave you cold.  Tap into the sprit of the day.

Relax again.

Think about you.  Think about God.  Perhaps try not to think at all.

Bring your whole self to the davenning. Put yourself into it. God loves you, haven’t you heard? And He wants to hear from you. Pour your heart out. Speak to Him. And listen.

Listening is critical. Do not just “read” the words of the siddur. Prayers were written by religious and psychological geniuses. When we open our hearts, the prayers the words form into a symphony.

Davenning is a privilege.  You are participating in a mystical colloquy with God, man, Israel and the Jewish people-past, present and future.

Participate in the Torah reading. Visualize the event. Ask the actors why they are doing what they are doing.

Don't take your pulse. If you’re enjoying the services, let it take you. Forget yourself.

If it feels good and right, belt it out.

Waiting

Waiting for Godot.  I have never known whether to laugh or cry at the play. The simple story is about an absurd conversation between two people, Gogo and Didi, who wait for their friend Godot to arrive.  Daily they meet in the place under a tree where Godot said he would meet them, only to find that he never comes.  Still they wait.

Is tragic to watch the terrible waste of two lives. The only thing that could have made Samuel Beckett’s play even more terrifying would be if Kafka wrote it.

The play reminds me of the horror I once felt when I learned that people sleep away 1/3 of their lives.  Then I reconsidered: If we were to efficiently use the rest of our waking hours efficiently, the scant third spent sleeping would be labeled as productive.  

Beckett’s characters represent humanity, us.  Our physical demands occupy a huge segment of our precious allotment of time. We have to work in order to eat which brings with it all sorts of unwanted aggravation. We have to pay the bills. The budget needs balancing.  The house requires attention.  The needs of our family are paramount which means shopping, consoling, loving, car payments, doctors appointments, cleaning house and being sympathetic to troubled times and friends.  Time becomes so fragmented that our actual productive time is negligible, leading us to wonder if we are wasting our lives.  

When we meet I will ask, “How are you?” Sometimes the response is, “I am tired” or “I am so busy!” or “It seems I have less time than ever before.”  I think of Waiting for Godot.  

Awful visions are conjured up, of regrets piled high, of years frittered away. What portion of our life will have been well spent? Waiting for Godot can be a long process, as long as waiting for the Messiah.

The Fall will soon be upon us with the High Holy Days, school reopening and all the demands of the New Year. Many of our members have been involved with changing the face Columbia with me. I will ask you again to become a partner in continuing this powerful process through the good works of MORE Justice.  New beginnings.  Finishing old business.  

In the meanwhile I have a suggestion: Maybe this summer we can begin to worry less over the hardening of the arteries and work related problems and more about whether we make time to play in the sun. Remember the summers of your youth. Take a trip. Listen to some music.  Let your feet lead you into a dance with someone you love. Wander in the woods.  Walk on the beach and skip rocks.  Take time to breathe, live, pray and be home.

Sweet is the light and it is good

For the eyes to see the sun.

For if a person lives many years,

Let him rejoice in them all.  -Ecclesiastes

Faith in

Hasdai Ibn Shaprut was a courtier and advisor to the caliph Abd er Rahman III in Córdoba, 10^thcentury Spain.

The Jews of another western European city were not faring so well. In Toulouse, the community was subjected to a yearly humiliation. Every Easter the citizens of Toulouse were compelled to gather at the Cathedral gate in the main square. The bishop would order the Jews to appear before him led by the Jewish elder. The elder would have to kneel before him, apologize, and present the bishop was 30 pounds of wax for use by the church for its candles.  The bishop would respond by slapping the Jewish elder across the face. The whole procedures served to remind the Jews that Judas betrayed Jesus for 30 pieces of silver and that they would have to pay for that cost for eternity.

In this particular year, the bishop accepted the offering of the wax. But when he struck the elder he hit in full force with a closed fist and killed him.

The Jews of Toulouse sent a message detailing what had happened to Hasdai Ibn Shaprut.  They requested that he -an advisor and courtier to the caliph in Cordova intercede for them in this abominable practice and put an end to the shameful procedure.

There is no more information about the story and we do not know what became of their plight. What is most illuminating is the fact that the Jews of Toulouse believed that they could change their situation. They firmly accepted the notion that the present could be altered despite their subservient position.  The Jews of Toulouse did not put their faith in the government but in a single man, Hasdai Ibn Shaprut.

We look to people to save us, the president of United States, the president of the Synagogue, the mayor, wife, even our children. Looking for solutions in people is why we create so many cultic figures. We make icons of people we revere.

Even though we do not know the end of the story of the juice of Toulouse, it is apparent that there is one powerful moral that emerges: do not assume that any person will be able to save you.  You have to save yourself. If the doctor tells you to lower your intake of certain foods you do not expect others to do that for you. 

Like the patient with the doctor, our unwavering trust in people sometimes leads us to make absurd decisions. For example, is it not absurd to expect our children to be Jewish if we have no religious home observance?  By placing our faith in the practice of the synagogue and its leaders we relieve ourselves of religious behavior. Is it not similarly absurd to believe that we will always have services? Sooner or later, may the time to be far removed from us, our steady committed individuals will no longer be here. Then what? Who will attend?  Who will work to propagate Judaism if not to you? Here is the person you should put your trust in. You. Not others. Do not wait.

The River

Time is like a river; it flows and when we stop for a moment to contemplate it the water has already rushed by and has been replaced by other waters. The movement is unstoppable.  We cannot hold onto time except in our minds.

Events of the past stand like immobile staves ensconced in the reaches of our memory.  They are frozen on the landscape of personal history.

Our holy days are sacred because they endow time with a familiarity that warms us.  Each time Passover comes we find ourselves nostalgic, evoking memories of years gone by.

High Holy Days, Hanukkah, the rotation of the ever-cycling year brings comfort in the face of an aging body and family.

When they come we open our doors and beckon them, “Welcome, old friend.  I have missed you.  Come in.”

Death

What do you say to your friend whose wife just passed away?

Does it bother you to not know what to say to a mourner?

These questions deeply affect many people. They know neither what to do nor what to say.

Some people, more experienced in this sort of thing the most, have a small repertoire phrases, comments and questions. They might ask, “Was he old?” Hoping the answer to be affirmative they will go on to say, “At least he had a long life.” Needless to say, that does not work if the deceased was in his 50s. Another well used question is to ask if his demise was sudden. This query is more helpful than the former because it gets the mourner to talk. They have to respond by way of an explanation of the events leading up to the death. Still, this may not be the most helpful approach as it does little to give comfort to the bereft.

The Bible records a magnificent passage in Genesis, which states, “After the death of Abraham, God blessed Isaac his son.” God Himself acts as a comforter to the grief stricken. The concept of comforting the bereaved what is a mitzvah of the highest order. To do so for our fellow man is an act of gemulute hasadim, genuine kindness. The impact of our physical presence and soothing words is inestimable.  We soft in the emptiness and overwhelming to spare and being alone.

But what words do we say? How do we keep from saying the wrong thing like, “They are better off now” or “It could’ve been worse”? When entering the house of mourning, it is easy to see those with greatest discomfort squirm and furtively gesture as if looking for the right thing to say. It is the feeling of tremendous discomfort. I have no doubt that some people never attended Shivah precisely because of that awkward feeling.  Needless to say, that is the least helpful and in many instances the most hurtful thing we can do. What we can offer that will be constructive and helpful?

In Great Britain, the Jewish community has adopted the practice of saying, “I wish you long life,” to the mourner. The phrase is enigmatic and confusing but everyone uses it. Anglo-Jewry always have something to order before the briefed. What a relief that would be for us to have something that we could offer.

There is an ancient Jewish formula that we can give that is of helpful nature to the mourner.  HaMakom Yinakhem Etkhem is a bit of a mouthful been very difficult to remember for those of us with not taking conversational Hebrew. It means, “May God console you.”

“God console you” is much easier to remember and a lot easier to pronounce.

“God console you.” Tape these words to your refrigerator or cut them out and insert them into your wallet.

You do have something to offer.

Truth

Pretending, make-believe, is a game we are good at playing and winning. It enables us to be many things we would otherwise be unable to be. Mask wearing offers many benefits but has equal number of powerful drawbacks.

Leaders, who hold empires on the illusion of control, are carrying an enormous burden. Not only do they have to exercise control over their environment but must keep their own emotional needs constantly and check as well. During times of emotional stress the burden becomes overwhelming.

The trouble with the façade is that it is not as stable as the stuff underneath.

Kabbalists, mystics, call this universe “Olam Sheker,” a universe of deceit.  Pretenses obfuscate truth and do not allow us to see reality. The next world however it’s called “Olam Emet” because everything is in accordance with the Divine Will. It is complete truth.  All is as appears.

A little boy was called to the witness stand. The prosecuting attorney cross-examined him and then delivered what he thought was a crushing blow to his testimony.

“Your father has been telling you how to testify, hasn’t he?”
“Yes,” the boy answered.

“Now,” continued the lawyer, “tell us what your father told you to say.”

“Well,” the boy began, “Father told me that the lawyer would try to get me tangled up but if I would jus tell the truth, I would be right always.”

Talmud says, “Truth is the seal of God.” (Shabbat 55a)

Mountains

Everyone is afraid of something.  Some people are terrified when they attempt to balance their checkbook (and therefore never do).  Others recoil at the thought of death and some shy from financial obligations.  We have all met people who are terrified of flying.  Some call these various fears, phobias.  Maybe they are.  All I know is that we all have dark corners in our self.  We are very different and have varying shadows that cause us fear and pain.

I remember officiating at a funeral in Massachusetts where I was told by the family in mourning that their mother missed out on much of life because she refused to travel anywhere.  As a result, they told me, she had led a lonely life.

Most of us do not let our disabilities get in the way of living. Nonetheless, they may still haunt us and deprive us of becoming whole.

Viktor Frankl, a survivor and analyst, wrote, “The crowning experience of all, for the homecoming man, is the wonderful feeling, that after all he has suffered, there was nothing he need fear anymore-except his God.” What a powerful affirmation of life! For Frankl, after his bid or years spent in Auschwitz there is clarity of vision. Life is for living. Without fear.

This from Dag Hammarskjold: “When all has become silent around you, and you recoil in terror - see that your work has become a flight from suffering and responsibility, your unselfishness a thinly disguised masochism: hear, throbbing within you, the spiteful, cruel heart of the steppe wolf - do not anesthetize yourself by once again calling up the shouts and horns of the hunt, but gaze steadfastly at the vision until you have plumbed its depths.”

Mountains are only obstacles when we can see no way around or over them. To a slightly different eye, they represent a journey, a new possibility of exploration and wonder.

Knowledge of Life

When God created the universe He decided to plant a special gift, a hidden treasure. There was, He decided, the need to have a place to ensconce the wisdom of the world.  With such a trove distant but available, people would be energized to seek and value the most wondrous offering God ever left.

The problem was for God, where to put the gift? One angel suggested that it be placed on the highest mountain.  In that way only the most committed would be able to achieve it. “No. That would put it out of reach of all but the most hardy,” explained God. Another one of the Hosts posited that such wisdom belongs on the bottom of the ocean. “Too wet,” God countered. So it went until one meek angel offered, “Why not put it in people’s heart? That way, the wisdom is always with a reach but the people have to struggle to find it.”  So it was.

We toil for truth. We sweat to find our place on the wheel of life. There are many paths but only one is right for you. It emanates from those secret recesses of your heart.

James Webb write, “Honor begins who is accepting that what we do, large and small, matters. When I was first appointed Secretary of the Navy, a reporter mentioned how important he thought his job was and I agreed, but I also told him that when I die, God is not going to ask me if I had been secretary of the Navy.”

It is all there, in the secret places of the heart.  You know what to do.

When Death Visits

We dance about death in a staccato rush of steps and carefully studied movements.  Evert Jew knows about Shiva and its accompanying rituals. Our hearts have been pierced by the rending of the tiny strip of cloth, nondescript ribbon attached to our clothing. We have all experienced the pain of throwing down the final clods of earth at the interment service.

Intricate customs surround the emptiness and angst of death.  Some, we are familiar with, others we must learn.  Yet, the question ought to be asked, for whom are these traditions observed?  For the living?  Or for the dead?

If the rites of mourning are for the living, provide a sense of simplicity. We bury all those who have passed from this world in the same way: the body is treated with dignity and reverence.  We do not allow autopsy to destroy the remains of our beloved. Gently, the body is cleansed and robed and holy shrouds – tachrichin –that comes from the holy land.  The decedent is then placed in a simple wooden vessel.

There is more.  Jewish tradition demands that the mourners participate in the physical interment. The reality of death is confronted as shovels of earth are lifted and emptied.  Denial of death is unlikely.  Our faith posits that the bereft must deal with the pain of their loss and accompanying pain.  We do not shrink from its reality.  This is the way of psychological wholeness and healing.  The eating of eggs, returning from the cemetery, the prayers and kaddishes, the sitting on low stools for seven days all act in concert to heal the soul. In our tradition we allow ourselves the privilege of crying as much as we need.  And this, says Judaism, is healthy.  One must shed tears and reflect on our personal misery so that we may return to life with fewer scars later.

Or. Are these ancient laws for a different universe?  Do they exist for some other hidden reason?

Among the long discourses of our Sages, of blessed memory, is the statement that the soul peregrinates from the body upon death.  Enduring terrible pain because of its own earthly sinfulness, the soul (neshama) is excoriated for one year in the netherworld called Sheol. Only the most pure and pious ones escape a fate.

However, the faith of the living has the power to banish the torment of the neshama.  The holy words uttered in their memory alleviate the pain of the dead.  Kaddish is the way in which the living attend to their beloved who have travelled to the next world.  In this way the living penetrate the thick veil of death for the sake of Divine forgiveness and mercy.  We urge God to hear our prayers on behalf of our lost love.   when we mourn, as we inevitably will, for whom do we go through the age old rituals?  For the living?  The survivors?  Or the dead? The answer is clearly both.

Frankly Speaking

Another meeting that drones until 11 PM. It amazes me how many times and ways the same point can be stated and restated.

”How do you do it?” she asked me.

”The late hours?”

”No,” she shook her head. “The stress.”

Hmmm.

I walk in the front door and there is my answer.  With tones that makes me smile and sway.  Frank.

I pop in one of his great golden crooning hits.  Who cares? I am swept up, gone.  He booms through the speakers making me tap and begin swirling in the living room.  

A few years ago I watched a part of his biography on television. Terrible life. Immoral. How can I face my beloved icon after such an awful depiction? He really did naughty things in this time. Fortunately, he was now too old to get away with much more.

This is a major existence of crisis. On the other hand, chocolate is on a par with Sinatra. It may do no good for the body but it makes this heart sing. Yes!

“Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Carnegie Hall.  Here is Frank Sinatra!”  The bands winds up to life as I’ve lunge to my feet and sing with so much passion that people run for cover.

All worldly concerns melt into the distant past of the instruments feel my head and invigorate every pore of my body.

Who cares of tomorrow or Sunday and it will rain all day long? Winter is a meaningless word. April 15 might as well be 12 light years away. Boring meetings? I don’t see any meetings, do you?

“You make me feel so young.  You make me feel that spring has sprung…”

On those dark dreary days when nothing seems to go right, light radiates out my home.  It pulses with joy and celebration.  Everything is fine. I knew it would be anyway.  Yes!

Midges

“Sex, the food chain and the habits of the National Park Service are slowly doing them in.”

Catchy Huh? This title splayed across the byline of a major article some years ago. The real story goes like this:  every evening at sunset, tiny midges begin to mate. Just as the lustful urges begins to beg these insects on, the flood lights in the National Park bring on a nocturnal daylight. Throngs of frenzied midges while responding to the instinctual urges are undone by the lights and in swarms they crash into lamps and thick columns.

Their bodies become delicious meals for spiders, which feast on the midge body parts, scattered over their webs and strewn over the ground. Birds then swoop down to enjoy spider a la mode. And the National Park Service is wringing their hands because concrete and marble are eroding from the mess.

Kids are kind of like midges. In the aggregate they make a mess. One will leave one or two toys in variety of places. Another child comes along deposits some crayons in the corner. The next one as spoon. And so on.  You get the idea.

Finding one one potato chip is no big deal. Neither is an aveira (sin) but they tend to mount and accumulate.  One aveira begets more.  So it is with mitzvot.  Our sages declares long ago, “mitzvah goreret mitzvah.”   Another will soon follow. Just like evil is catching, so is goodness. I like to think of this when I see a baby spell her bowl of cereal on the floor. For the third time. I also like to think this when I have the opportunity not to pray. Or kick the dog when no one is looking. Or cheat on my taxes.

Love

Love means trying. I believe most people buy into the myth propagated by the film industry and romance that love is free; it comes without thought or effort. We meet a beautiful person and “fall in love.”  The two then ride on the steed into the sunset. It is moving vision but one steeped in non-reality.

Closer to the truth is that boy meets girl, falls in lust, generally assumed to be love, and they beget children. She wakes up one morning to find that he is a monster and he loses the sense of thrill that he once knew. Troubles begin because initial expectations were too many, too high. Real love is not like that.

Love means continually trying.

Love means waking up with the baby at midnight.   It means listening to the screams of labor pains and weeping at the sight of a newborn miracle.  It is handholding when friends disappear (they cannot be there all the time). It is enduring the great fights of intimacy and withdrawal.  And surviving.

Creation of love is realized after laughing hysterically until tears roll down the cheeks and crying until the heart nearly splits causing  pain. Nobody hurts us like the people who love us. No one could. By definition, the people who love us most hurt us the most. After all, if an unknown insult us that is hurtful, but when our love is in jeopardy or so many causes of pain that cuts down to the marrow.

Love must be worked on. From the little I know, and less understand, of the business world to make money one needs to invest great amounts of energy. We put ourselves into our work to become successful. If that is true to make a buck, doesn’t it make even more sense to work hard at a love that will comfort us when we are bleeding?  No friend will stand by us like they will. Lose the soul mate and a lot more is been jettisoned than any ephemeral profit margin.

I am truly amazed that so many people expect so much from love, free. It is not free.  For the sake of love we must give more than we get.

If after a hard day, I come home angry and brooding I expect my counterpart to be there with a comforting word and soothing touch. I want her to act the part of my mother easing the furrows from my brow. But who is to say that she has not had a more difficult day than me? That is an unknown.   

Are you such a thing as bliss. Eden really exists. But it is only located after much work. I’ve seen many couples well into the senior years still in love. And I ask them, “What is your secret?”  They answer, a willingness to contribute daily to the basket of love. Here is a blessing I give to all the couples I marry, “Grow old together.”  That means giving every day, every moment.

Change

Changes are difficult. Transition means adjustment. Adjustment brings pain.

All changes are difficult. Nobody really likes change because of the upheaval that often accompanies it. Sometimes we recalibrate the change and face it with excitement and anticipation. Some people shy away from anything that smacks of change while others run headlong into it. 

Moshe Dayan once famously said, “If I had to choose between peace without Sharm-al-Sheihk (a beautiful port city that now belongs to Egypt) and Sharm-al-Sheikh without peace; I would choose Sharm-al-Sheikh.”   Yet, he was one of the Israeli leaders who willingly traded the city for the promise of peace.

The moral of the story could be that peace is worth any price. Maybe so, maybe not. The moral of the story is that change begets change. Knee-jerk reactions are not befitting of mature human beings. Yet they are at the hallmark of most people.

The human spirit is tested by its ability to work for and with change, not against it.