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There will never be a moment in our lives that we feel completely settled and in control. Perhaps a few moments of clarity appear, but they soon fade. The Shema prayer is a roadmap to how to be happy during our journey, no matter what happens.

We will continue our discussion about the Shema this Sunday, 5/20, 11am at Adat Shalom. Even if you were not here for the previous session, don’t worry, we will get you up to speed quickly. Everyone is welcome.

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My first and greatest theatrical performance was as a tree in the Einstein elementary school production of Where the Wild Things Are, though it was the only time the phrase wooden was used as a compliment for my performance. Little did I know that the book our play was based on was already being banned in many communities around the country, and is still not quite universally accepted.

Where the Wild Things Are became one of my all time favorite books, and Maurice Sendak became one of my favorite authors, not just favorite children’s book author. I would like to share why I loved him and his books so much, never more so than when I became an adult and a teacher and a father myself.

Let me review the plot of book for a moment and then share why the book was banned and then I will tell you why I think it was really banned.

It takes place in a very small and cramped apartment in what seems like a very modest section of Brooklyn, where Sendak grew up as the son of refugees from Poland.

 Max is a little boy with a great deal of energy. His mother asks him to be quiet. He refuses.

His mother sends him to his room, which is very small. The room becomes a magical forest, and a boat appears. He takes the boat to the land where the wild things are.

They seem quiet scary and try to frighten him. He refuses to be afraid. They make him their king, and he makes them his friend. A wild rumpus ensues. Max eventually becomes homesick and wants to go back. The boat reappears and takes him back to his room, which is not only much bigger, but has a nice warm meal that his mother left for him.

The main reason offered by those who banned this book was that it was too scary for kids. If you have ever read your average Grimm fairy tale you will immediately understand that this excuse was nonsense.

There are two real reasons the book was banned. The first is that when Max mouthed off to his mother, she did not smack him, as would have been expected when the book came out in the early sixties, but she stayed calm and gave him a time out. She even acted lovingly toward him before he apologized for his behavior. This may not sound like such a big deal now, but it was radical at the time and was seen to be undermining parental discipline. Unfortunately, for a lot of children, their houses are still pretty scary places.

This brings me to the second reason for the ban. The purpose of fear in stories up until that point was to intimidate children into proper and docile behavior. The message to children was that as long as you behave perfectly, nothing bad will happen to you, but if you misbehave terrible things will happen. Not a good way to go through life. This was the basis for a lot of religion, too.

Sendak was banned because he refused to tell children that there was nothing to be afraid of if they behaved perfectly at all times and he would not say that they did not have to worry about anything unless they misbehaved. Children know that the world is scary often for no reason. Sendak validated many children’s real concerns and told them that you could face that fear with courage and humor and still stay yourself, though a bit wiser.

Maurice Sendak was one of the first authors to really see children as people. They were far from perfect, but they were worthy of having their inner lives respected. He said, “I find children on the whole more direct and honest, but being a child doesn’t automatically make you superior. Although usually it does. On the whole, children are better and more touching. They aren’t racists and liars… If we don’t look, and if we don’t listen, and if we don’t do something, kids will be lost.”

Sendak helped me raise my own wonderful children to face the wild things in their lives, and someday, to have children of their own running around in wolf suits, eating meals that are still hot, and living where someone loves them best of all. Rest in peace, Maurice, and thank you.

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The Shema is usually understood primarily as a declaration that there is one God, and that we have an obligation to serve that God. The Shema, though,  is really a brilliant structure that allows us to connect to our deepest spiritual selves and by doing so, liberate our selves to have happier relationships with others, ourselves, and maybe even to God, too.

We will meet this Sunday, 4/29, at 11am at Adat Shalom Synagogue. Everyone is welcome.

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Shmini 2012

 

One of the most painful and challenging stories in the Torah is that of strange death of the sons of Aaron, the High Priest.

 

Aaron’s role was to bring sacrifices on behalf of the people. He would wear special clothes, and carefully and precisely make the offering. His sons, Nadav and Avihu bring a burnt offering on their own, without being asked.

 

They were literally playing with fire. Their actions do not end well. A fire consumes them.

 

Why they died has been debated. Some blame them for doing something they had no permission to do. Others say it was just the tragic, but accidental result of people trying to do something they were not trained or qualified to do.

 

I want to focus on what happens after. God tells Aaron not to mourn, but to return to his duties. The people would mourn instead.

 

This sounds cruel, but I think it might be kind on God’s part.

 

God is telling Aaron and the people that Aaron was not at fault about his sons, and that he is still qualified to be a leader and fulfill his duties. The people should realize that Aaron is human and in need of comfort from his people. God does not want Aaron to hide in grief or shame.

 

We often blame ourselves for the behavior of others, particularly family, when something bad happens. We go from feeling bad to feeling responsible to blaming ourselves.

 

The Torah is saying that a lot of people, including our loved ones, do destructive things to others and to themselves, but that it is not our fault. We can try to help as much as we can, but ultimately the ones who cause the harm are responsible for their actions.

 

We are entitled to live our own lives. We do not have to sacrifice who we are because of the decisions of others. We do not have to make our selves a victim.

 

It also means we have to let other people help us. Aaron may have sealed himself off from the people. God wanted him among the people because he knew that Aaron’s sorrow could only be healed if he allowed others in, instead of trying to solve all his problems himself.

 

We read this story between Passover and Shavuot, the giving of the Torah. God is telling us that real liberation can only begin when we stop blaming ourselves for the bad decisions of others. We must realize we can try to make things better, but that we cannot fix everything, and that we are entitled to live our own lives. Only then will there be room in our hearts for the wisdom and compassion that God wants for us.

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The Jewish mystics developed a wonderful meditative practice for learning how to integrate our physical and spiritual selves. It is based on the counting of the Omer, the period of time between Passover to Shavuot, the Holiday of the giving of the Torah.

We will study the different aspects of Kabbalah that relate to this sacred time, and learn to meditate on them, and develop our own meditative practices that will address the things we want to work on individually.

We will meet this Sunday at 11am at Adat Shalom Synagogue. Everyone is welcome.

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This is a new track I created based on a Yemenite Hebrew Poem.
It is called Enlighten the Darkness

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This past Shabbat was Shabbat HaGadol. Literally “The Great Shabbat” that occurs the week before Passover begins. The question is, what is so great about it?

For many years rabbis would give very long talks about the laws of Passover that morning, sometimes lasting hours. There were of course a couple of problems with this. The people in the synagogue did not think it was so great to sit and listen to the rabbi for several hours. It was also a little late to do anything about it, anyway.

The real reason for this Shabbat to be called Great, is that Passover traditionally is considered to be the time of the coming of redemption, the beginning of the Messianic era. The Shabbat before would be one of preparation.

The way we prepare for this redemption is not obvious, and has to do with Elijah the Prophet. Elijah has a prominent place at the Passover Seder. We fill a cup of wine and leave it on the table. At a certain point in the Seder a young child goes to open the door to allow Elijah in, who then drinks from the cup. This of course opens all sorts of possibilities for adults to try to trick the children, particularly those adults who have already had at least their required amount of wine.

I always thought it was kind of strange that Elijah could make it around the world to everyone’s house, but could not get in the door himself. I eventually learned the real reason for the cup of Elijah.

There is a debate in the Talmud over how many cups of wine we should drink at the Seder. Some say four, others say five, depending on the interpretation of a particular verse in the Torah. The rabbis decided to compromise. We would drink four cups of wine, and leave a fifth on the table. When Elijah comes, meaning during the Messianic period, of which Elijah was the announcer, then we will know the final answer.

This means that the cup of Elijah is a symbol of compromise. Compromise in fact is what will bring redemption.

We live in a time when people think all the world’s problems, or at least their family’s problems will be solved if only people do exactly what they say, without compromise or change. People believe so much in the righteousness of their opinion that they are willing to end relationships and connections over their convictions.

My father taught me that being right does not always help. In fact you can be completely right and still spend the rest of your life on the couch.

Judaism values the process of decision-making as much, if not more than, any conclusion. A process that honors all opinions will build a much more solid family and community than a fight to the bitter end, no matter how right we think we are.

This is a good idea to remember at Passover, when a lot of families get together for the first time maybe since last Passover. Our homes have a daily reminder of the value of compromise. The mezuzah on the door posts of our houses and Jewish institutions are set on an angle. This, too, was a compromise. One group said it should be vertical. Another group said it should be horizontal. They compromised at an angle. It was more important to live in peace than to insist on getting one’s way.

Our tradition teaches us that the greatest thing we can do to bring redemption to the world is put our egos aside and learn to listen to others and find a common ground.

I wish all of us a Passover of joy and peace.

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Challenges in life can sometimes harden us more than is healthy. We become cynical. We avoid certain people and situations or even just truths about ourselves, because we just don’t want to deal with them. We cannot avoid them forever. Big family holidays, such as Passover, are often where a lot of the things that make us uncomfortable converge.

We will talk about, and do a guided meditation, on how to open and soften our hearts, and still feel safe and happy, especially as Passover approaches. We will discuss ways of actually enjoying each aspect of Passover, including the matzah.

Our session is this Sunday, 3/18, at 11 am at Adat Shalom. Everyone is invited. This is part of the larger hamakOhm series, but you did not have to attend the earlier sessions to come to this, or any in the future.

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This is a very rhythmic track I wrote and produced based on a Yemenite Shabbat song.
This is the Day (Zehu Yom)

I have a lot of other tracks I created on the music page.

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Terumah 2012

A few years ago I was leading a tour for people who had never been to Israel. At the end of one of the days in Jerusalem a few of the men mentioned they had never been to Meah Shaarim, one of the more traditional neighborhoods. It was around midnight, but I suggested we go anyway. Jerusalem at night has its own magic.

 

We were walking down one of the main streets, and I saw that one of the Yeshivot for the followers of Rabbi Nachman of Breslove still had its lights on. Rabbi Nachman is one of my favorite rabbis and biggest spiritual influences. He believed that joy, even in difficult times, was the thing that God most wants for us.

 

I knocked on the door, and asked the person who opened it if we could look around. He was very welcoming. One of the first things I noticed was an elaborately carved wooden chair that was in a glass booth.

 

I had heard that Rabbi Nachman had a beautiful chair, almost a throne, that was made for him by one of his followers. I could not believe that I was now looking at it. I did not know it survived.

 

The person from the yeshiva told me that the chair, which had been in the Ukraine, had been cut into six hundred pieces and distributed among dozens of followers who vowed to meet in Jerusalem. Every single follower and every piece made it. The chair was reconstructed and is now safe in that yeshiva.

 

The chair itself seems out of character for Rabbi Nachman, who was very modest. Rabbi Nachman said that every moment that the craftsmen spent making the chair his heart was was elevated and filled with feelings of holiness. Rabbi Nachman knew that this chair was not just for him, but was a vessel for others to do holy work.

 

I think this is why God asked the Israelites to build a tabernacle, a mishkan, a place for God on Earth. The tabernacle was to be made from gold, silver, copper and precious fabrics, but also from cheap hides and balsa wood. Each material was considered just as precious as the next.

 

After the materials were donated they would be crafted a particular way, assembled and then carried throughout the wilderness toward the Promised Land.

 

God created the design for the tabernacle out of the materials that the people had, and with the knowledge, skills and abilities that they had. They had just left Egypt, and could only take with them what meager possessions they owned, plus whatever reparations they could get from the Egyptians for their centuries of slave labor. Some got gold. Some got goatskin.

 

Some Israelites were skilled artisans, others were strong lifters. God saw all of their abilities and potential and designed a system that would allow each person to feel that he or she had a real contribution to make, and that they were valuable and critical to God’s plan.

 

The Torah is teaching us that when we use or own gifts and skills to help others, no matter what profession we are in, or what volunteer work we do, are any way we support our family and friends, is holy work. God wants us to use who we are to make a difference in the world, not try to be something we are not.

 

God says in the Torah, build me a sanctuary and I will dwell among and within them. It does not say God will live just in the sanctuary, but within all of us. When we celebrate who we are and what we can do, and cherish the same in others, we build God a sanctuary every day, in every place.