On Account

            At the Phoenix House in New York, the celebrated drug rehabilitation center in New York City, newcomers arrive and gather for their first session.  They sit around in their chosen seats and gab.  Then, someone will say something like, “It isn’t your mother or society or even the pushers who put the needle in your arm.  You did.”  Only then does the therapeutic process begin. US News and World Report

Most of what we have leaned is due to pain.  We suffer and grow.  Who among us cannot attribute innumerable physical and psychic scars to moments of shame, despair, and loss?  No one seeks pain but we all grow from it.

They say that nothing is assured except “death and taxes.”

Regarding the first, we are all survivors.  As we age the scythe of the Angel of Death comes closer and closer and we feel more vulnerable to its sharp edge.  Judaism has many prescriptions for addressing death.  You know what they are: immediate burial, shoveling earth into the grave, sitting shiva, observing the eleven months of mourning, yahrzeit…  I find most folks nowadays want to remove themselves from the process.  They want to get it over with quickly and “move on.”

Life waits for no one and we have to run if we expect to keep up.  It is shame.  

I wish society would turn back to when time was not a commodity but a luxuriant gift.  With a determination to sit, tells stories of the dead, say kaddish, and openly weep we give ourselves the gift of healing.  We take responsibility for the true loss we have experienced.  We own it, understand it, and learn from it.  And such time is a luxury.

What do we learn from such attention to the time of shiva and going to say kaddish on yahrzeits?  One lesson is that we are far less than we think we are.  In the end we are dispensable.  We may attempt to stave off the claws of the death but it will only be a temporary stay.  Then what will happen to our clients?  People who depend on us?  They will “move on” and forget about us.  This is one of the lessons of being quiet and waiting for the lesson.

An idea from our past: the kaddish is the prayer that asks God to acquit the dead.  It is an altruistic prayer, a gift to the souls who have passed.  That is noble.  It is also an act of memory and who does not want to remembered after their life is over?

Another item learned from saying kaddish is the broad path that is left by death.  When we stand to say kaddish in a community we are rarely alone.  Looking around we see others who have suffered. We knowingly look at them and they at us as we share a bond, a sacred unspoken bond.  We support one another.  That is why kaddish happens only in a minyan, in a community.  It is never to be said alone.

Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote, “God is concern, not only power.  God is He to whom we are accountable.  In the wake of religious insight, we retain an awareness that the transcendent God is He to Whom our conscience is open.”  In other words, God wants us to be accountable.  He does not desire us to pass by the many roads of life without looking both ways.  We are supposed to laugh, cry, talk, be silent at all the appropriate times.

And regarding taxes (see third paragraph), a law student was finishing a course in federal income tax.  As he was walking in to take the final he spotted a penny, heads up, on the ground.  He picked it up and said to the professor, “It must mean good luck for the exam.”

“Not necessarily,” he replied.  “But it does mean you have taxable income.”

Be accountable.  Be responsible.  It is God’s gift to you and the best gift you can give yourself.

A Thought as the Year Draws to a Close

Middle School.  As a child, I intently read George Orwell and wondered if Big Brother would really be watching me in 1984.  I remember watching 2001 A Space Odyssey with rapt attention.  To me it seemed pretty realistic at the time since space exploration was sprinting toward the newest frontier.  I was breathless with anticipation.

Frankly, each New Year does the same thing to me on a slightly smaller scale.  The news magazines list the necrology of the past year while the very next article delineates the coming advances of the techno-age.  Invariably, I forget what year it is for weeks after the change of the last digit.  What this year brings is the turn of all four digits, something humanity has not seen in one thousand years.

When 1984 arrived it was a bit anti-climactic.  We still lived in a democracy.  Nothing even close.

2001 came and went and HAL (that renegade computer in the distant expanses of space) is still he stuff of fantasy (but getting closer every day), I realize that progress is not as novel and frenetic as my imagination would paint it.

My confession: I wanted to be a space cowboy.  As a child I dreamed of rocketing off to the reaches of the universe in pursuit of the great secrets of that dark, diamond-studded universe.  I wrote to NASA and obtained their latest information on lunar probes, the lunar mobile, satellites, the space station and fact sheets on astronauts that I proudly hung on the wall above my bed.  The disappointing reality is that we are on the eve of the second millennium and I am tooling around in a car just like my dad’s 1970 Olds.  Bummer.

I guess my childhood hope was that time was going to create quantum leaps in the way I lived.  I too, have listened to many of my colleagues –both Jewish and Christian – as they revealed their secret belief: with time we become more civilized, better people.  Both our dreams have proved to be nothing more than fantasies.

An ancient belief states that there is no experience that does not contain the kernel of a great truth.  Our task?  To uncover that truth.

What these disappointments have proven is that time is not a vehicle; it is a gift. 

Remember the trips where we invested copious amounts of energy in the planning?  Anticipated for months, we finally embark on our journey only to find that the vacation turns out to be a dud.  The lesson?  Maybe the trip itself wasn’t supposed to be the best part.  Maybe the passage of time is the greatest gift to be celebrated.  Stopping for a drink, seeing the rolling hills, laughing with one another may be better than arriving.

Time is holy.  It is to celebrated.  Whatever happens along the road is simply to be absorbed and enjoyed.  In fact, time is much more holy than space.  Think of it: holy days mark our religious and secular calendars.  They are simply moments set aside.  Abraham Joshua Heschel, a Jewish theologian of the past generation, said that when we appreciate and sanctify time, we build glorious castles out of those moments. Expectations of what will come invariably disappoint.  Reality can never match the creations of the mind.  Instead, our job is to enjoy the holy passages of time.  What happens if we are preoccupied with thinking about what should happen rather than revel in the present?  Time goes and it can never be recovered.  There are no ‘make-ups’ in real life.

Perhaps the greatest blessing of the second millennium is that it has the potential to make us aware of the holiness of time.  I don’t know what will happen on December 31 and January 1 but I am willing to bet it will be a unique event.  As unique as January 2, 2018.

Holy Time!

Middle School.  As a child, I intently read George Orwell and wondered if Big Brother would really be watching me in 1984.  I remember watching 2001 A Space Odyssey with rapt attention.  To me it seemed pretty realistic at the time since space exploration was sprinting toward the newest frontier.  I was breathless with anticipation.

Frankly, each New Year does the same thing to me on a slightly smaller scale.  The news magazines list the necrology* of the past year while the very next article delineates the coming advances of the techno-age.  Invariably, I forget what year it is for weeks after the change of the last digit.  What this year brings is the turn of all four digits, something humanity has not seen in one thousand years.

When 1984 arrived it was a bit anti-climactic.  We still lived in a democracy.  Nothing even close.

In 2001 HAL (that renegade computer in the distant expanses of space) was the still the stuff of fantasy, I realize that progress is not as novel and frenetic as my imagination would paint it.

My confession: I wanted to be a space cowboy.  As a child I dreamed of rocketing off to the reaches of the universe in pursuit of the great secrets of that dark, diamond-studded universe.  I wrote to NASA and obtained their latest information on lunar probes, the lunar mobile, satellites, the space station and fact sheets on astronauts that I proudly hung on the wall above my bed.  The disappointing reality is that we are well into the second millennium and I am tooling around in a car just like my dad’s 1970 Olds.  Bummer.

I guess my childhood hope was that time was going to create quantum leaps in the way I lived.  I too, have listened to many of my colleagues –both Jewish and Christian – as they revealed their secret belief: with time we become more civilized, better people.  Both our dreams have proved to be nothing more than fantasies.

An ancient belief states that there is no experience that does not contain the kernel of a great truth.  Our task?  To uncover that truth.

What these disappointments have proven is that time is not a vehicle; it is a gift. 

Remember the trips where we invested copious amounts of energy in the planning?  Anticipated for months, we finally embark on our journey only to find that the vacation turns out to be a dud.  The lesson?  Maybe the trip itself was supposed to be the best part.  Maybe the passage of time is the greatest gift to be celebrated.  Stopping for a drink, seeing the rolling hills, laughing with one another may be better than arriving.

Time is holy.  It is to celebrated.  Whatever happens along the road is simply to be absorbed and enjoyed.  In fact, time is much more holy than space.  Think of it: holy days mark our religious and secular calendars.  They are simply moments set aside.  Abraham Joshua Heschel, a Jewish theologian of this past century, said that when we appreciate and sanctify time, we build glorious castles out of those moments. Expectations of what will come invariably disappoint.  Reality can never match the creations of the mind.  Instead, our job is to enjoy the holy passages of time.  What happens if we are preoccupied with thinking about what should happen rather than revel in the present?  Time goes and it can never be recovered.  There are no ‘make-ups’ in real life.

Perhaps the greatest blessing of the second millennium now that we are well into it is that it has the potential to make us aware of the holiness of time.  I don’t know what will happen on December 31 and January 1 but I am willing to bet it will be a unique event.  As unique as January 2, 2018.

* Adam West, star of Batman passed away this year.  What would he, or Robin, say?  Probably Holy Time, Batman!

Tick, Tick, Tick

Norman Vincent Peale remarked that when he was young the ticking of his grandfather’s clock was ponderous.  “It seemed to say, “There—is--plenty – of –time.   There—is--plenty – of –time.  There—is--plenty – of –time.   There—is--plenty – of –time.”  But modern clocks, having a shorter pendulum with a swifter stroke, seem to say, “Time to get busy!   Time to get busy!    Time to get busy!    Time to get busy! ”

We have as much time as our ancestors had.  In fact, we have more because we live longer!  Then why does it seem that we have less time? 

We run from appointment to appointment.  Our calendars are so jam packed that we actually schedule “free time”  (if we can squeeze it in between frenetically sprinting from one meeting to the next).

All of those gadgets that are supposed to make our lives more condensed, safer, and swifter contribute to the problem.  A text “dings” in the middle of a meeting. The phone “jingles” in conversation with a friend.  We are on the phone wile driving to work.  Our kids play while we receive yet another “tweet.”  The car sounds when we forget to put on our indicator when we notice the lady driving towards us is “texting.”

Remember when Moshe rabbenu was on the mountain as heard the Voice telling him to take off his shoes while standing on holy ground?  Would Moshe even hear God speaking today with all the noise?

The prophet Habakkuk seemed to anticipate this when he said, “Let the earth be silent.”  In order to hear the supernal one speaking we need to quiet the noise in our head.  That means slowing time.

In the Talmud, a sage observed, “not all people, and not all places, and not all moments are the same.”  Every meeting, each touch, and all moments are unique events.  They happen once and can never be relived or re-done. Once gone, it is gone.

Rabbi Al Lewis used to tell that story of a young man applying for a new job.  “How long did you work for your last employer?” he was asked.

“Thirty-five years.”

Puzzled, the interviewer asked, “How old are you?”

“I am thirty,” he replied.

“Then how can you say you put in thirty five years in your former position?”

“I put in a lot of overtime.”

Is this you? 

Time is relentless but it is not infinite. 

King Solomon gave the best advice for a healthy life many thousands of years ago.  Enjoy life with your wife [read: family], whom you love, all the days of this meaningless life [read: the efforts we expend for empty endeavors] that God has given you under the sun--all your meaningless days. For this is your lot in life and in your toilsome labor under the sun.

Solomon was not being negative: he was witnessing the human proclivity to place value of things of little consequence.

We all know what is right and good and lends meaning to life.  In fact our tradition demands it.  Here are five:

1.                    Shabbat is meant to be spent with the people you love.  It is sacred, holy time.

2.                    Candles are beautiful.

3.                    Food is to be consumed but blessed.

4.                    Holy days and Shabbat, when spent with family and singing at shul, adds immeasurably to the value of our meager time.

5.                    We work to live not vice versa.

Mazel Tov!

Mazel tov!

Everyone, Jew and gentile, has heard this phrase.  We take it to mean, ‘Well done!”   Or “congratulations!”  Actually, mazel tov means “good luck.”   

The words are meant to ward of the “evil eye.”  Ok, say something good happens to you.  If someone comes up and says, “What a wonderful thing to happened to you” (i.e. I am envious and it should have happened to a nicer person) they would be putting the “evil eye” on you, this is wishing something bad.

Another generation may remember saying “kayna hara” after hearing good news, which are words to chase away and bad wishes or spirits.  Going back another generation, some will even remember spitting over their shoulder when something good was spoken to chase away a possible curse.

“Mazel tov” – good luck -- was originally a way to disrupt the pathway of the evil eye.

Going back even further in time, “mazel” was how the star lined up.  “Mazalot” means constellations.  In Israel there are star charts of the floors of some synagogues.  Astronomy was an important way to chart of the passage of time.   One scholar, Rabbi Shmuel was said to be more familiar with the pathways of the stars than the streets of the city where he lived.

Going back millennia, mazel tov indicates a wish for the stars to align in a favorable pattern to bring about a good outcome.

A Time Anomaly

Moses dispatched twelve spies to determine the viability of the Land.

Tisha B’Av (forty days later) the Jews deny their heritage in fright and refuse to enter the Land.  They are sentenced to forty years of wandering.

The first Temple was destroyed on the same date.

The Second Temple was destroyed on the same date.

The Judean revolt was quashed leading to 2,000 years of exile.

Ferdinand and Isabella expelled all Jews from Spain.

So, is Tisha B’Av fated to be a day of darkness and excruciating pain?   We will fast and read Lamentations on this date.  Is the ninth of Av cursed?

Is there such a thing as good or bad luck?  Are things fated by the universe and therefore we are trapped? 

I remember my father telling me when I was saddened to hear about all the tragedies on Tisha B’Av.  He soothed my anxiety by telling me that the Mashiah would be born on this day.

Maybe we can change our ill fortune; God has not written our lives before they have been lived. 

We are not as stuck as we feel.

We are not fated or slated for anything but are ever free to choose our own destiny.

In the seventeenth century Italian violinists kept toads in their violin cases.  Before a concert they would pull out their toad and stroke it for good luck. Centuries later it was discovered by herpetologists that toads secrete alkaloids that dry out skin.  Toads actually helped them play better because they fingers did not stick to the strings!

Maybe there is no mazel tov: there are only the results of our efforts.