Genuine Love

All love that depends on a (transient) thing, when (the thing) ceases, the love ceases; and (all love) that depends not on a (transient) thing, never ceases. What is the kind of love that depends on a (transient) thing? Such was the love of Amon for Tamar; and (what is the kind of love) that does not depend on a (transient) thing?  Such was the love of David and Jonathan.  -Avot 5:16

Love full.

A Little Shul

Rabbi Akiva was asked, “Since your God loves the needy, why doesn’t 

He care for them Himself?”

The sage responded that, “God, Father of rich and poor alike wants His children to help each other. The Lord desires a world of love.”

Thousands of people have passed through our humble little shul.    They have come through these doors seeking the touchstone of existence.  We too come to this place to reclaim our sense of being and renewed purpose.

In the annals of every Jewish community we participate in the drama of a congregation that moves from an idea into a fully functional community.  Making a real community is a bit like a marriage; people touching people.

Our purpose is never to merely survive. Survival itself is not noteworthy.  We celebrate marriages where we have sweated under the chairs of the bride and the groom. We honor the bereft whose shoulders we have supported.  We celebrate warm friendship on Shabbat morning. The evening minyans where we gathered at a house of death. We sing and dance countless baby namings and brit milahs.  We remember our little ones who spilled wine on the carpet and those stains still remind us of that day, even now. They now have children of their own. We recall Friday evening dinners. High Holy Days. Relationships cemented. In those walls we celebrated wars and peace, love and forgiveness.

The Puritans called marriage “the little church within the church.” Every day, without letup, for untold years every Synagogue has functioned as the sacred place where love and forgiveness have been recycled endlessly. That is what a marriage is; that is what a community does.

George Halas, owner of the Chicago Bears, worked well into his 80s. He was once asked, “George, at your age, what are you doing here working?”  Halas replied, “It’s only work if there’s someplace you’d rather be.”

Rabbi Akiva was right.  “God, Father of rich and poor alike wants His children to help each other. The Lord desires a world of love.”  This is our charter; to be there for one another as we have throughout all the past millennia.

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.

The Visit

Relatives come to visit a few times each year. The ones who live nearby drive over and enjoy a relaxing cup of coffee. Occasionally, we will go out for dinner together but mostly we sit, banter and share more than a few private jokes.  Easily skirting portentous issues they soon depart, leaving behind faint splotches on cheeks, warm hugs, lingering stale perfume and assorted mugs and dessert dishes piled up in the sink. Not a lot of clearing up to do after the visit. The worst of it is, the bathroom needs minor disinfecting.

The work comes when the out-of-towners arrive for an extended stay. Days of preparation herald the arrival of them. Meals need to be prepared, activities require careful planning, rooms have to be readied by dusting, washing, waxing.  Appointments are put off until later. Then, when in the midst of the frantic preparations, a door slam is heard outside, we know they have arrived. They bring with them endless reading material to be disbursed all around our neatly arranged house. Unwanted presents are devotedly offered and are readily accepted.  Bathrooms are hijacked.  Diapers suffuse the house with a novel, distinctive odor.  Crackers are observed making their way to off-limits places in the house.  Within hours, an immaculate house has been transformed.

I have always been amazed at the amount of time that it takes for the minute hand to make a single revolution on my watch.  Eventually, however, the suitcases are repacked. Goodbyes are stated with noticeably less enthusiasm. Then silence as the car disappears around the corner and out of view. We turn back into the house.

Heavy, and showing signs of cracking, the heart feels like it is made from stone. The aftermath is horrible.  The very walls of the house resonate with pain. Restoring the house to pre-visit cleanliness is a worthwhile, meeting list. What is the use?

It is hard to push down the swelling in the throat. Who can remain in the home that was once filled with joy that now throbs with emptiness?  

And yet.

Such is the joy of gathering and departing.  Knowing all this makes the ingathering so much more beautiful.

What's Real

Too few of us are willing to take the biggest risks of life. Safe, small but usually win out in the end. The sure things in life are little league baseball, work, even over time, cleaning, love, giving tzedaka, watching things --like TV going to movies and plays, eating out etc..

These activities are good. Most warm self. Some are wonderful. The one aspect they all have in common is that they are not concrete. They are of the genre that can be called “avoiding life.”  As one sage put it, “It is far easier to love the starving Ethiopian than own family.” We run from the concrete into the arms of the ephemeral for gratification.

They are distractions that remove us from the real fields of human life. Here is a great truth: the place where all the most important decisions are reached is around the kitchen table. Note that it is not sitting around the expensive in frilly divan. Not at the fancy-schmancy restaurant. Or on vacation in the Bahamas. They happen in the same place with the most angry confrontations occur. The kitchen.

In rabbinical school one of my teachers, a famous scholar and author, lamented, “Most people don’t go to Shull because they are afraid of really meeting God. They are frightened that may be during prayer God will actually appear and scare the dickens out of them. Worse, then they will have to do whatever God commands. They will be hopelessly trapped.”

I laughed.

I see now that what I took for a joke was more true than I was capable of understanding back then.  People are genuinely afraid of commitments which involve a deep emotional component. That is why falling in love is so easy -- and revered  in youth when there is little commitment but lots of palpitations -- and being in love is so trying. Being in love makes real emotional demands while falling in love is hedonistic far less dangerous.

So it is with three-day-a-year religion, dance classes, yoga and horticulture.

The biggest risks in life are the ones most richly rewarded. True, the feeling of wonder that accompanies the first shoots of life in the garden and the great pride comes with graduation are lovely. Far greater than these, though, is the knowledge that your children will carry on after you; that they will continue to live Jewishly; they will be moral.  Or a lasting love, one where we have worked and invested our core self. There are a few of these kinds of risks. We only have three or four of them. But they are without peer in power and meaning.

Part of risk taking means drawing lines. Saying “yes” or “no” to looting, lewdness, lying, allowing our children to inter-date or a living to Jewish lifestyle are a few examples of that kind of risk taking.  It is far easier to insist on good grade than moral backbone or mowing the lawn on Shabbat instead of spending a thoughtful day with family.  There are very few lines in a person's life that must be drawn in the world to chief the height of a lifetime’s success.

What is yours?

“Why you spend money for what is not bread?

And your wages from what does not satisfy?

Listen diligently to Me, and eat what is good.”  Isaiah 55:2

Ode to a Synagogue

Rabbi Akiva was asked, “Since your God loves the needy, why doesn’t He care for them Himself?

The sage responded, “God, the father of rich and poor alike wants his children to help each other. The Lord desires a world of love.”

Our purpose is not merely to survive.  Survival itself is not noteworthy or even worthy of comment.

So what then is our purpose?

We celebrate life, those who preceded us and upon whose shoulders we stand. We celebrate marriages when we sweated under the chairs of the bride and groom. We celebrate the warm friendships on Shabbat morning.  The evening services where we come together to console the bereft at the house of death. We celebrate the countless baby namings and Brit Milahs. We remember the little ones who spilled wine on the carpet who now have children of their own. We relish the Passover Haggaddas whose pages are stained a dark hue. We remember Friday evening dinners. We revel in recalling High Holy Days and our precious relationships.  The loves, the tiffs and the forgiveness.

The Puritans called marriage “the little church within the church.” Every day without letup our synagogue functions as a sacred place where love and forgiveness are continually recycled. Just like marriage. That is what community is.

George Hallas, owner of the Chicago Bears, work well into his 80s.  He was once asked, “George, at your age what are you doing here working?” Halas responded, “It's only work if there's some place else you'd rather be.”

There is no other place we would rather be than standing shoulder to shoulder with devoted members of our sacred community. Our children have played together.  They have learned in the classrooms.  All of us have grown up together and fought for the sake of goodness throughout the years.  After all this, we still say, there is no place we rather be.

There is a reason we call the place where we pray a "Sanctuary."  It is a place of respite from harm, malcontent and soothing our roughest edges.  When we gather later this month to celebrate our freedom from bondage, remember that it is not our survival that brings us together.  We collect ourselves to remember that we must aid one another.  Our task is to bind the wounds of our sisters and brothers.

Invite someone new to your seder.
Focus on the lesson God wants you to learn from the Haggadda's narrative and then be that change.   Pay for someone you do not know to come to the congregational seder.  

Rabbi Akiva was right, “God, the father of rich and poor alike wants his children to help each other. The Lord desires a world of love. This is our charter.

Love and Marriage

Love means trying.

I believe that most people buy into the myth propagated by the film industry and romance writers that love is free.  It comes as a life-long gift, welcome without a lot of thought or effort.  Oh yes there are the trials of all romance novels but that is just for the sake of a riveting story line/  You meet a beautiful person and “fall into love.”  The two then ride off on a steed (or VW Beetle) into the sunset. It is an emotional scene but one removed from reality.

Closer to the truth is that boy meets girl, falls in lust (generally assumed to be love) and begets children. She wakes up one morning to find that he is monster and he loses the sense of thrill that he knew when he first met her on a steamy date. Troubles begin now because initial expectations were too many and too high.  Real love is not like that.

Love means trying.

Love means waking up with the baby at midnight. It is listening to the screams of the pains of labor and weeping at the sight of the tiny miracle. It is handholding when all your friends disappear, after all everything changes when you are part of a dyad. It is enduring the great fights intimacy. And surviving.

The creation of love is realized after laughing hysterically until tears roll down your cheeks and crying until the heart nearly spills on the body because of the deep anguish. Nobody can hurt 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 someone unknown insults us that is hurtful but when our love is in jeopardy or our soulmate causes us pain that cuts down to the marrow.

Move is working progress. From what little I know, and less that I understand, of the business world, to make money one needs to invest great amounts of energy.   We place our whole self into work in order to become successful. If that is true to make a buck, doesn’t it make sense that we must work tirelessly at love that stays with us and will buffet us when we are bleeding?  No friend we’ll stand by us like they will.   Lose a soulmate a lot more has been lost than an ephemeral profit margin.

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

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

There is such a thing is bliss. Eden really exists.   But it can only be located after much effort and hard work. I’ve seen many couples well into their senior years still in love.  I ask them, “What is your secret?”  The answer, “a willingness to contribute daily to the basket of love.”

A blessing that I offer each couple that stand under the Huppah, “May you grow old together.” 

That means giving every day, every moment.