Up and Eager for Study

Make your home a regular place for the scholars;

Sit eagerly at their feet and thirstily drink their words

(Avot 1:4)

The tradition says that some mitzvot are to be done with alacrity.  We are to make sure we get to a house of study. We should be eager to engage. We are not to pause or be distracted. Each Saturday morning I wake up with a sense of purpose. I am up and ready. I will have my coffee and walk 4 blocks to my home synagogue’s Torah study class at 9:15 AM.  

There are about 10 regulars and a larger group of another 20 people that come at least once a month. Our rabbi is a great scholar and an excellent teacher. He brings some substantial learning to our table to go with our knowledge and our Etz Hayim humashim. We “regulars” are thirsty for this conversation.

I am no stranger to Torah study or to Jewish texts. While certainly not a scholar, I have a decent understanding of text study and how the parshiot connect to the overall narrative of Judaism and Jewish history. I feel I also have something to bring to the table.

Hebrew Language

Many of the “regulars” were products of Jewish day schools and yeshivas. Others have been active members of the community and developed great literacy in Hebrew language. It is not uncommon for long passages to be read in Hebrew. The class is taught with some deference for the capacities and preferences of the more learned. I am sometimes uncomfortable and intimidated.  At times, I try to work harder to follow in Hebrew so I can learn a new word or see a familiar phrase. At other times I tune out. Our community is pretty stable. Occasionally we have a new prospect test us out. When they don’t return, I wonder if they were intimidated. I have chosen to stay at the table.

Close Readings

Many in the class prefer close readings of the texts. They will focus on words. They will explore a sentence from different angles. I am a generalist. In Meyers-Briggs I am an "N" - Intuitive. We intuitive people tend to see patterns and connections.  We are interested in different synagogues' experiences or even other religions.  We tend to see the forest more than the trees. This close reading often seems to focus on minutiae, on footnotes. Many are "S" types, called sensors, they prefer detail and set rules. I can be impatient when there seems to be a pressing ethical or theological question that I feel we are not focusing on. I may become impatient - but I stay.

Torah Truths

While I love Torah study, I am often frustrated by the Torah. I just can’t believe that God was not always against slavery or couldn’t hear our cries in Egypt for 400 years. I don’t believe that God really wants to oppress Job, or kill Isaac or wipe out the enemie’s woman and children. I can’t believe that God is really jealous of other gods the way I am jealous over a rival. I can’t believe all of the small things that one could be condemned to death for. A death sentence, really? I believe that the God that I would pray to is good and reflective, not reactive and vengeful. When scholars try to provide rationalizations for these doubts, I really do want to get up and leave.

I love the wisdom of Pirkei Avot. I turn to this section in Sim Shalom on Shabbat morning to revisit these sayings. I stumble, however, over one of its central claims, that our tradition comes word for word directly from God (Avot 1:1).

Moses received the Torah from God at Sinai,

He transmitted it to Joshua,

Joshua to the elders, the elders to the Prophets,

The Prophets to the members of the Great Assembly

Based on my travels, I feel there are many synagogue members who go to Shabbat services infrequently. When they hear these words about the literalness of Torah without the interpretative tools of our class or the mentorship of the rabbi, they may feel alienated from the text. Some won’t stay engaged. They will walk away.

Fortunately our class allows many approaches to these texts. While there are different views about the meaning of revelation, the group tends not to take the Torah literally.  They are comfortable with our capacity to learn from difficult texts and to come out of class the richer for the conversation.

I was heartened to hear Rabbi Brad Artson’s podcast on the Ziegler Rabbinic School web site, entitled "Passing Life’s Tests: Using the Bible as a Source of Wisdom (Even if it Never Happened)."  He said he spoke for those who believe that Torah is transmitted wisdom not necessarily history. Our Sages understood Torah according to the time they lived in.  I believe we need to be knowledgeable about the Torah and rabbinic wisdom. Like our ancestors, we need to be engaged in interpreting it. I can stay at that kind of table.

Torah Study Connected Vertically and Horizontally

Chancellor Arnold Eisen of the Jewish Theological Seminary was a scholar in residence at our congregation. He was talking about Conservative Judaism and its core values.  He noted the importance of making our Jewish connections "vertically." We are  vertically connected to our ancestors and to generations that have come before. When our sages and leaders have held a value to be sacred we are honor bound to study it, to take it seriously.   I like the idea that our class is connected to a longstanding process of learning. We treat the texts seriously. We honor them.

Eisen also talked about the importance of being connected "horizontally" to Jews all around the world. We know that other Torah study classes are engaged with the same parsha as we study. The prayers we say on Shabbat morning are the same prayers said in Prague, Moscow or Jerusalem. We are one family.

Reflecting on Learning

I teach congregational leadership. One of the attributes of successful leaders is a capacity for reflection.  I don’t recall if we have ever had a discussion about how the text study class is working for us. What is helpful? What is hard? Where are we on our journey? (Bob, what is it like to move from Ohio at age 60 and start over? What texts speak to this journey? ) How do these texts speak to us at this moment? Why do we stay? I feel I know enough to ask these questions.

While journaling is not part of our curriculum, I have taken this time to write about the experience. On reflection, I value teachers who connect us to sacred texts, sacred conversations and a sacred chevruta community.

When things get tough I try to reflect and not just react. On refection, I see that our class, while imperfect, gives us an opportunity to bring our life experience, our need for community and our thirst for learning to the foot of our Torah study table. I am glad I have stayed.

A Weight Shall be Lifted

It is the week before Yom Kippur and I am working on New Year’s resolutions.  I have been thinking a lot about the challenges of developing healthy habits. I have a friend who has been a participant in Weight Watchers for many years. He works at it. He shared a conversation he often has with his sister. She reports to him that “Weight Watchers just doesn’t work.”

He then asks her a series of questions about the program. Do you weigh your food? Do you count your points? Do you plan your grocery shopping around healthy meals? Do you weigh in and go to meetings? She shakes her head no after each question. So finally he says to her, “So are you really doing Weight Watchers?”

I have been in Weight Watchers for about six months and I have struggled with the program. I was trying to lose weight and all we ever talk about at meetings is food. At first, I saw myself as outside of these conversations. They were like a Weight Watchers soap opera- As the Scale Turns. One woman complained about her sister who always brought her chocolate covered caramels for the holidays. Another admitted that she would binge in the middle of the night so she tried to put up a barricade to the kitchen. I learned about all the ways people sneak their snacks. One volunteered to clear the table so she could eat off others’ plates. Then there were the home brewed remedies- a variety of unusual low point recipes. I felt I needed my mother’s old plastic index card recipe holder. I was clearly not comfortable participating in the drama.

I didn’t like the process either.  I told the trainer I am not one to count points all day, to write things down or to carry a scale. He smiled the knowing smile of one who has heard these excuses before.  He asked, “What are you good at?”  Well, I teach strategic planning. I believe a person should have a plan. He says, “so great, be a planner then, create a Weight Watcher’s plan that works for you.”

In the past three months I have gotten more into the program in order to develop that plan. I bought an activity monitor that tracks my daily movement. I go to the store with a shopping list. I count the points for the typical meals I have, Mediterranean salad with tuna, oatmeal and blueberries, chicken breast with broccoli, etc. I don’t weigh the food, but I cut my 12 oz. steak into two pieces and save one half for the next day. I have made Indian and Chinese food a rare treat. I get an honest Weight Watcher’s weigh in each week. Ok, I learned some of the permissible tricks. I take off everything possible at the scale, even my watch.  I even dabbled in some rogue activity like leaning on the counter at the scale. The staff raised their eyebrows and calmly (they have seen that one before) objected, “sir, could you take your hands off the counter for a second.” My path is often two steps forward and one step back, but the scales have begun to shift. I am beginning to create some new habits.

Keeping it Raw and Real

On Wednesday night we tell stories and applaud each other’s efforts. The class is about 90% woman so I often feel like I came to the wrong meeting. In the end I have come to appreciate the class. I have had a lifelong food addiction and addressing addiction is serious business. I am writing this before Yom Kippur. The shofar has sounded during Rosh Hashanah. The shofar is supposed to wake us up from our sleep walking. The sound of the shofar is emotional, raw and real. Everyone in the meeting room deserves some respect. They have disclosed some of the real and raw struggles they face. They have taken the time to take a  measure of things. They have made facing down their addiction Job 1. I am willing to disclose that I share their story, I have chosen not to stand outside their circle.

Participants come with different motivations. All want to look better, better fit into their clothes and to have more energy. It takes a good deal of endurance to move through the streets of NYC. Some are facing serious health challenges. Every year they carry the weight, they carry greater and greater health risks.

I am a story teller so I like to share my ups and downs. I have come to suspect that staff who are in charge of weigh-ins are listening with ears pricked at attention for people with great stories and disappointing weigh-ins , so I tend to be pretty quiet on poor weigh-in days.  I have heard stories that start “I gained three pounds, but I feel I have learned a lot.”  There is compassion. Perhaps some faint applause. I am just too competitive to use that lead! When I have had success I am full of helpful hints. I might share a healthy snack (apples, feta and walnuts) or a way to get a few more ticks on my Weight Watchers’ Activity Meter (walking from 43 and Second Avenue to Columbus Circle at 59th and Broadway to pick up the Uptown 1 train).

Keystone Habits           

 Regular exercise has really made a difference for me. Charles Duhigg talks about the power of some habits to lead to other positive habits:

Typically, people who exercise start eating better and becoming more productive at work. They smoke less and show more patience with colleagues and family. They use their credit cards less frequently and say they feel less stressed. It is not completely clear why. But for many people, exercise is a keystone habit that triggers widespread change. “Exercise spills over, “said James Prochaska, A University of Rhode Island researcher.  “There is something about it that makes other good habits easier” (Habit, NY Random House Charles Duhigg, p. 109).

Another habit that has made a difference is regular Shabbat services. I have made Shabbat a keystone habit. It helps me take time to reflect. Most of the themes of the High Holidays are present on Saturday morning. We are reminded of the wonder of God’s creation and the gifts of his learning and law. We are reminded of God’s relationship with our ancestors and his hopes for their descendants--us. We are reminded that God is eternal and that we are finite. Each week we are challenged to weigh our priorities and to try to put God first. Rabbi Alan Lew wrote a book called “This Is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared: The Days of Awe as a Journey of Transformation” (Little Brown, 2003). Because of my Shabbat habit, I am not completely unprepared for the High Holidays ahead.

Days of Awe--some

Last year my Rabbi gave an introduction to the Yamim Noraim--the Days of Awe. He said that we were all beginning a process. He knew that we all had different habits, different practices. Some would come for every service. Others would come in and out. Whatever our practice, he challenged us to really make an effort to do all of the rituals with intention and commitment. “If you really make the effort I promise you this:  At the end of these days you will feel lighter, a weight will be lifted.”

Some people are skeptical of my growing enthusiasm for Judaism. They say, "I have been a member, but I just don’t get anything out of services." “I grew up Jewish, but I just don’t see that it makes much of a difference in my life.” While these skeptics do not seem to be growing Jewishly, often don’t seem to have much interest in getting support to do more. I thought to ask those who say “that the Judaism program” is not working for them the following:

• Do you study Torah on any regular basis?
• Have you sought a teacher or stepped up to teach something?
• Have you participated in the singing?
• Have you reflected on those that are ill or whispered the name of someone you were concerned about?
• Have you thought about the generations that came before during the Avot or the generations that will come after you in “L’dor v’dor?”
• Have you honored someone’s yartzeit or helped another person honor theirs?
• Have you tried to learn about the prayers or disclosed to a friend or teacher how you really feel about saying them?
• Have you found some part of the community where you could make a difference?
• Have you considered how you eat? Have you reflected on the values you have around food and tried to eat with more awareness?
• Have you reached out to be known or welcomed someone who might want to know you?

If you have not done any of these things you may have to admit that you are probably “not really doing the Judaism program.” The High Holiday process starts with recognition. We make a heshbon ha-nefesh, a spiritual accounting. While your Jewish checklist might not be the same as mine, the High Holidays challenges each of us to have some kind of list for ourselves.

At its heart, Conservative Judaism should be about wrestling with issues and striving to develop our practices. We are trying to move up the spiritual ladder (Sulam). It is not an easy program, but our tradition suggests that one good practice can lead to another. When a Conservative Jew feels stuck spiritually I hope he/she would seek support to grow, to ask, “What is my next step?” I believe that by putting effort into Weight Watchers, exercise and Shabbat I feel less burdened by my past and more alive in my present.  Yes, as my Rabbi promised, I feel a weight has been lifted.                           

Building a House You Can Live In

“Building a House You Can Live In”

We are at the end of Deuteronomy. Moses will be handing over leadership to Joshua.  He tells the people that “as soon as you have crossed the Jordan into the land that the Lord has given you, you shall set upon large stones. Coat them with plaster and inscribe upon them all the words of this Teaching” (Deut 27:1).   He wants them to build their future homes shaped by the law. The tribes were divided into two groups. Six were to stand on Mt. Ebal to hear the Levites read the curses and 6 were on Mt. Gerizim to hear the Levites recite the blessings. After each statement, the people were to then say “amen”.

Can we say Amen?

In Midrash Raba, Rabbi Judah son of Sima said, "Amen contains three kinds of solemn declarations: oath, consent, and confirmation." The blessing  and curses of Ki Tavo enter us when we say, "Amen!" The blessings and curses come from on high. They are God’s words delivered from mountains. The people must have felt small at that moment.

The Lord will make pestilence cling to you, until He has put an end to you in the land that you are entering to possess. The Lord will strike you with consumption, fever, inflammation, with scorching heat and drought and mildew that shall hound you until you perish. (Deut. 26)

I am not sure I am ready to say “Amen”. I find that many of the Conservative Jews I meet, like me, struggle with the God of the Bible. They love the wisdom and truth of the Torah but many are not inclined to take it literally. In a post-Holocaust world they are not sure that God on high can be counted on to deliver us below or ensure our blessings.

Last Shabbat we discussed the tradition of reading the curses - the tokhekha (chastisement) in a quiet voice and in a hurried fashion. Our rabbi explained that one rabbi after the Holocaust refused to say these quietly. He was so angry at the hidden and silent God that he felt that we should yell to the heavens (not whisper).

Some of what is written in the Torah defies my sense of logic. I too, want to protest to the heavens.  I don’t believe in a God that would answer one mother with a dying child and not respond to another. Most adults that I know have prayed for healing and received none. I have personal experience with this. In a post-Holocaust world, what are the Jewish people to make of these texts where God claims that He is all-powerful and will act powerfully in history?

Certainly survivors of the Holocaust grew tired of waiting for God: Elie Wiesel stopped believing in the God that would act to redeem him. For him, God was silent. Wiesel rebelled and protested against him. What do you do when God is silent? Elie Wiesel wrote in his book The Fifth Son, "Your only chance of survival lies within the community; it needs you…you need it.”

I was thus  heartened to hear Rabbi Brad Artson’s podcast on the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies website, entitled “Passing Life’s Tests: Using the Bible as a Source of Wisdom (Even If It Never Happened)”.  He said he spoke for those who believe that Torah is transmitted wisdom and not necessarily literal history. Rabbi Artson’s credo, which appears on his web site, reads as follows:

“I refuse to read halakha or the Torah in such a way that it makes God seem cruel, nor will I sever the intimate connection between God’s will and God’s Torah”

I am open to the idea that God has chosen to be self-limiting in terms of power (does not intervene in the Holocaust or save a dying child) and does not act in history with a mighty hand. I like to believe that God is, however, unlimited in love and emotionally connected to us.

Be a Blessing

I would like to reframe the message from Mt. Gerizim. I do not want to wait for God to bless this world. I do believe in God. Yes, we should bring God our first fruits so that we remember to give God our best.  I believe we  do that by being a blessing. So much of blessings and curses is about our national destiny.  The children are blessed or cursed for the deeds of their parents. The people are blessed or cursed for thy deeds of their leaders. I believe we can put God first by taking personal responsibility to build a house of blessing.

Curse:  “If you build a house you shall not live in it “(Deut 28:30)

Let’s reframe this curse. If you follow a Torah guided path of Jewish living how might your life be become more of a blessing . How might you build a house you could  live in?

Here is how I answered this Elul 5773- “Building a House I Can Live In”

• I would learn more Torah and honor my teachers. I would live in a house of learning.
• I would share my Torah with others. My house would be a place of teaching.
• I would find new ways to contribute to the synagogue. I would lead Torah study or run a book group. My house would be a place of gathering.
• I would focus on the most important things in life (being a kind person, a friend, a father, a husband. My house would be a place of  compassion and kindness.
• I would find the words to describe why life is a blessing. My house would be a place of gratitude.
• I would try to help others find the words (like the priest receiving the first fruits in Ki Tavo) to praise God for His creation. My house would be a place of praise.
• I would take time to look for the divine spark in people and to appreciate their courage and grace. My house would be a place of hope.
• I would enjoy all permissible pleasures to the fullest. My house would be a place of joy.
• I would take time to see the wonders of God’s natural world. I bought a book about Central Park and I plan to ride my bike to see little glimpses of its art and craft. My house would be a place of awe.

A Prayer for the High Holidays

Rabbi Harold Kushner confirms in his book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People,  what we all know too well: the good often suffer and the evil often prosper.  While the Bible talks about God separating the Red Sea, in our times  it does not seem that God intervenes in nature to protect us from storms or reaches down to fix the scales of justice in this life.  Most of us do not know why. In a speech to survivors of Hurricane Katrina, Kushner said that God was not in the storm but in the still small voice of dignity that guided first responders. Blessings are not always shouted from mountain tops, sometimes they are whispered by caring community leaders. I agree with Wiesel, our “only chance of survival lies within the community;” it needs us all and we need it. To that I can say – Amen.

High Holiday Prayer: Dear God, help me make time to build a sacred community so that my house will be a place of blessing.

Lucky Us

It is a mitzvah to dance at a wedding. Judaism values sharing life’s joys together. So I traveled back to Ohio with great expectation to celebrate a simcha. I was not disappointed.

After a beautiful ceremony the wedding party was on. We dined. We drank. We danced. We were brought to attention when we saw that the father of the bride was standing at the front of open dance floor. Pride and joy filled his tuxedo. His shoulders back and his head up, he demanded out attention.  He is the father of three daughters. A quiet, unassuming and humble man, he grabbed the microphone with confidence and ease and began to give the wedding speech he was born to give.

Baseball had been special for him. Growing up in the South he had been a Braves fan. He told an endearing story of the time his daughter went to a Braves game with him. The fans dismissed the little girl at his side until she amazed them with her detailed account of the inning. After that they gave her their stat card and invited her to do it.

And so it went. We were privileged to leaf through pages of the family scrap book. When you immerse yourself in the power of another family’s memories, you begin to turn your own family album pages in your mind. My mind continued to turn those pages.

A wedding is full of family album photo opportunities. The photographer is busy capturing these memories. There are those, however, that cannot be in the pictures.

His father had died young. I knew one of the memories he carried forward was following baseball with his dad. I imagine them playing catch. He shared his gratitude for the years they had together and ended by saying…lucky us.

He spoke of his wife’s mother. She had died, far too young, of cancer. He shared his gratitude for the years they had together. Lucky us.

My lips began to form the words - like a collective amen - lucky us.

He mentioned a brother who was too ill to travel. Those of us who knew the backstory knew the sadness of this moment. Again, he shared his gratitude for the years they had together. These words were harder to say...but finally, lucky us.

The attendees have sent cards and gifts to celebrate the marriage. The bride and the groom are dressed in high fashion. At our tables we are well fed. What can be added? The father of the bride gives the ultimate wedding gift, a grateful heart.

"Lucky us" is not merely a description of the world we live in. It is an aspiration. "Lucky us" is a fundamental Jewish value. We start each day with morning prayers of gratitude for the gift of breath, for our bodies and for this world. We do this ritual to remind us to lift up our heads and look at our blessings, not just our disappointments; our opportunities, not just our challenges.

The father was probably too busy to notice that the week’s parsha was the story of the biblical scouts. They were charged to survey the land and to report if it was a land that would provide a blessed future for the people. They came back and focused on all the obstacles- not the blessings. Because of their lack of hope, faith and gratitude that whole generation had to wander for 40 years. They would not be able to come into the promised land.

The father of the bride knows that there are things to fear. Life can be precarious. Read the news! He gives the new couple a great gift - a grateful and hopeful spirit. He gives them a sense of a blessed future.

The wedding guests traveled to celebrate a simcha and we left with a wonderful lesson:

lucky us.

Scattering the Forces of Resistance (Parashat Be'ha'alotekha)

Parashat Be'ha'alotekha discusses how the Torah traveled in front of the people. We read the following in Numbers 10: 35-36:

When the Ark was to set out, Moses would say:
Advance, O Lord
May your enemies be scattered, and may your foes flee before You.
And when it halted, he would say
Return, o Lord,
You who are Israel’s myriad of thousands!

The text has a military theme. As the people march forward, God is protecting them. God scatters their enemies and clears the path for the people. Enemies flee.

The next passage abruptly shifts from the vision of a people on the march to their desired future to the complaints of the people looking to the emotions of their present and the prejudices of their past. The Torah (Numbers 11:4-5) says that the people complained before the Lord:

The riff-raff in their midst felt a gluttonous craving and then the Israelites wept and said, 'If only we had meat to eat. We remember the fish we used to eat free in Egypt.' 

Judaism does not require that we give up the joys of this world. We are permitted to eat well, just not to be gluttonous. We are permitted to have sensual desire but within the structure of sacred relationships.  We are meant to be fully engaged with this world but to remember that we are part of a design of ultimate purpose- the building of sacred community.

God is willing to walk with us but we need to join the procession. Every time the Torah is read we have the opportunity to get up and greet the Torah after the first text above is read from the bimah. Each week we have the opportunity to connect with God and to ask for God’s support in reducing the forces of resistance between our current lives and the lives we aspire to.

We know all too well that our higher aspirations are always be challenged by ours fears and doubts. Like the Israelites, we sometimes swing from sacredness to selfishness within the same Shabbat morning service. Such is our unsteady path.

When the Torah procession comes around the sanctuary, we have a chance to stand up and connect with the Torah. Its ways are ways of pleasantness and all its paths are peace. With this sure connection we surely gain strength - our steps the following week will be steadier. Surefooted, we will gain new capacity to scatter the obstacles before us.

The Curtain is Coming up on Passover. Where’s Moses?

March 24, 2013

Once we leave the book of Genesis we are involved with a story that stars Moses. Moses meets God face to face. He communicates God’s will. He is the ultimate Jewish role model. He is magnetic! Our eyes are on him.

As I prepare to lead our Seder tomorrow, I am a little nervous that all eyes will be on me. I thumb through the Hagaddah, with pen in hand, looking for places to engage different people. Can we sprinkle some humor into the night (we have some finger puppets for the plaques and jumping frogs)?  Where can I invite commentary? So, like most Seder leaders doing their stage direction notes, I am reminded that Moses is not mentioned in the Hagaddah script.  The curtain is coming up on our Passover Seder drama and Moses has exited stage right.

Where is Moses?

We begin the final part of the magid ( story) by saying, "...In every generation a person is obligated to see himself as having himself come out of Egyptian bondage."  The stage direction states that we all  belong on this stage. Chancellor Arnie Eisen argues that Conservative Judaism moves vertically to connect us with our ancestors and horizontally to connect us to Jews around the world. The Haggadah talks about our ancestors, but leaves Moses out. I think it is because we are meant to see that we are all  the inheritors of this tradition. We have parts in this drama - not just the larger than life actor, Moses.

Passover describes a redemption that is in the past. It ends with Elijah and the promise of a messianic future. What is sandwiched in between is “us”. Do we have the creativity to see ourselves as people who have the capacity to act as redeemers? Redeemers put the vision of the Jewish people into action. They seek to act out the change they seek.

In order to step up you need to believe in the future. Passover starts with karpas. Karpas are greens (like parsley) a symbol of spring, renewal and hope. Our hopes may be like fragile seedlings, but we can greenhouse them and protect their promise. The Seder is a greenhouse of Jewish souls. It also is tasked to nurture our sense of communal responsibility and justice. We dip the parsley into salt water. We need to understand that our leadership work will be challenging- there will be some disappointment and heartbreak (tears).  Leaders, like Moses, understand the world is difficult, but they remain hopeful and forward looking. We call this courage.

Jewish communal observers have pointed to the trend for many younger American Jews to believe that they are the sole arbiters of their values and priorities. They want to be their own director. Observers call this a focus on the “sovereign self”. One middle aged synagogue membership chair complained that “they”( next generation) were not stepping up. Recently a young rabbi made the case to me that his generation was not inclined to support the traditional synagogue. His friends can go and find resources and people (like them) on their own terms. If synagogue leaders want his generation “they” should get donors to subsidize most of the costs of synagogue life.

Passover has been described by some as the holiday that focuses on our collective redemption. Conservative Judaism is horizontal. It connects our Seder to Seders across the United States, to Israel and the world. It welcomes Jews  and non Jews of all ages, backgrounds and levels of knowledge. I believe it is about what “we” can do together…. not what some “they” can do for us.

The traditional Seder was big. We were commanded to eat a whole paschal lamb so we needed a big cast. Our Seder stage is large and generous to hold our regulars and welcome new guests each year. As a Seder leader, I am curious about how the cast’s personal stories will meld with the larger Passover story - a story of what  “we “ can all do together.

I think Moses would applaud  that story!

Tunnel Vision

Growing up in Springfield, Ohio, was peaceful, bucolic, steady and dependable. Respectable, boring and vanilla. Our occasional family visits to New York were like going to the land of Oz. From my Ozzie and Harriet little town I would find myself cast into a sea of every nationality, shape, size and accent. It was our big New York trip, so my parents worked to amaze us from FAO Schwartz to Broadway. New York had towering buildings that created urban canyons. The cabs whisked you  through these canyons like a white water raft. You held on, white-knuckled, until you arrived.

Fifty years later NYC still amazes me. That newness sort of defined how I went through the city. I have to commute from the Upper West Side down the 1 train, change at 96^th Street for an express to Times Square, then cross to the East on the 7 train. I emerge from Grand Central 25 minutes later. On these commutes I could not help but stare at the people on the subway. I am from a Midwest world and am quite the extrovert. The son of a salesman and a long-time salesman myself, I am gregarious. Looking up and about, however, can lead to eye contact – and eye contact can lead to chatting. Sometimes, even I  was speechless in the presence of strange events. There was the gospel quoting rapper; there was the young man who wore a British bowler hat, a punk rock t-shirt, a brown denim kilt with rubber snorkeling slip-ons. What can be said? I put my head down when a groups of young thugs started singing obscene songs as they hovered, menacingly, above what looked like two retired NY school teachers. I was afraid to say anything. When I saw someone seemingly normal with the makings of any kind of smile I might return that smile. OK, not everyone chose to look up.

I shared my experience with some longtime New Yorkers. Some just shook their heads. Even the kinder ones suggested that I not look for too much conversation from my fellow commuters. Finally one said, “Bob, as you look around, what do you see people doing?” The next day I watched carefully. Almost everyone had their ears clogged up with headphones and their eyes covered with a newspaper, book or iPhone. Others looked straight forward without seeing. It was if they had some kind of temporary cataracts that shielded their sight. I was trained in marketing. I am willing to look at things objectively. This was not a welcoming car.

Recently I sat on a bench at 50^th  Street while waiting for the uptown 1 train. A  young father had his 5ish son on his lap.  The boy, with his black curly bangs and a freckled face, looked like a young Beaver Cleaver. He had an infectious laugh. If his father put his hand on his head, made a face or covered him with his striped scarf...the boy convulsed. I just could not help but be charmed. It brought back memories of being the father of three young  boys.

We all got on the local 1 train to head uptown . Now seated in front of me, the comedy show  continued. This kid couldn’t stop laughing for the next 10 minutes . As people got on 59, 66, 72,79 , 86 and 96 they got drawn in. The entertainers seemed to be invigorated by the stream of new audiences. One by one, stop by stop,  they gained their attention and melted their  hearts. Some remained blind – as if they were in some kind of trance. Perhaps they had eaten a poison apple or had their finger pierced by a knitting needle with an evil spell. Even this most joyful sighting could not pierce the spell.

Shabbat Eyes

That night at Kabbalat Shabbat at Romeimu, Rabbi David Ingber asked us all to look around at our fellow members. Turn around a look.  Let your eyes meet theirs. He specifically asked us to overcome the “New York thing” where we don’t allow ourselves to look. He wanted us to shake that off – to pull back the veil. I thought, well, it’s finally time to give up my tunnel vision. As I walked out I greeted several people. This time their eyes met mine. Good Shabbas.

I have thought of that train ride and of the rabbi’s request. It seems to me that many of us have many veils that keep our eyes from connecting with each other. Some hide behind a veil of shame. They are embarrassed about what they have achieved, the decisions they made or did not make. Others are consumed by themselves. They don’t think to look up. Some are budget conscious. They limit the amount people they can know or care about others. They  have imposed an austerity budget of the spirit. Their batteries have run down- they can only engage for a short time. They can’t find  their chargers.

Our kehillot need to be places where you can be seen and see others. They need to be places that increase the amount of energy you have not drain your batteries.  The first century sage Shammai argued that we should “greet each person with a shining countenance.” We need to look up and show that we are happy to meet our neighbor. The next morning at Kiddush lunch  I was pouring  a cup of seltzer water when two kids came out from under the table and bumped into my leg. When the  water spilled on me I quickly realized that this spill would not leave a mark. I also remembered that real life is messy and you sometimes get a jolt. Shabbat challenges you to keep your eyes wide open for the sight of wonder- a laughing boy winning over a grumpy subway car or a pair of Shabbat munchkins finding so much joy hiding under a kiddush table. 

The Wonder of a Winter's Day

It is February in New York. Some are mumbling about the cold. Others warn of stronger winds coming- winds that drive the cold though your winter coat; winds that will sting their ears despite their best efforts to adjust knit hats and tighten scarves. Crowds walk by me on Broadway silently, bearing the assault. They see spring clothes (New Skinny Jeans in pastels colors)  in the windows of the Gap and dream of warmer days. One man’s misery can be another’s opportunity. I am not panicked. I am calm and hopeful! I read a poem by Robert Frost, Winter Eden, about the wonder of a winter’s day:

A winter Eden is an alder swamp

Where conies now come out to sun and romp

As near a paradise as it can be

And not melt snow or start a dormant tree

I am not willing to wait until spring for snow to melt and cold to fade. I decide to walk from my Upper West Side apartment to work on the East Side. I will cross the park. It is 27 but the sun is shining. It warms my face but it leaves the park a white winter wonderland. The sun makes the snow look like it is sprinkled with diamonds. There is no slush- scourge of New York winters.

Judaism celebrates the miracle of waking in our morning prayers.We thank God for our soul and  for returning us from our sleep (Elohai neshama) . We read prayers that remind us about thewonder of our bodies where so many things have to work to keep us going (Birchot Hashahar). We remember that we are temporary and that God is eternal. Lesson: We need to be grateful for every day (modeh ani) . We are not just to rise. We are to open our eyes to wonder.

So I am out and about. I take the train to 72th and then head through Central Park. I walk by the mosaic that honors John Lennon called Imagine. I walk down the hill, my eyes look up and down ,being careful not to slip on the odd sheet of ice. I raise my head and see the park open up below. I walk to a grand boulevard lined with park benches and statues of writers like Sir Walter Scott, Roberts Burns and near the exit to 59th Street, William Shakespeare.

I have been watching a PBS series called Uncovering Shakespeare. It explores 6 plays through the eyes of an actor that played a lead (Ethan Hawke played Macbeth) or a director who shaped a production. These narrators open my eyes and uncover an old love affair I have had with the writer. One thing has led to another. My winter romp with Shakespeare has snowballed, I have been reading Steven Greenbelt’s Will in the World about Shakespeare’s life. I went to see Much Ado about Nothing at the Duke Theatre. I have been finding myself reaching for old books of plays on my bookshelf. The pages aredog-eared, the columns have notes and there is the odd page marks. The page marks are faded but they bring back some sharp memoires of student life. I spent 1970 at Epsom College in Surrey England studying Shakespeare for A level exams. I was the only American in my class (nickname- The Big Yank). This flurry of Shakespeare activity has helped be uncover the wonder that I discovered when I first immersed myself in this strange language. Standing in front of the statue of my hero it all comes together. Shakespeare is not easy. You need to learn some things about his world. You need to train your ear to hear the poetry. You need to acquire a taste. Not easy, but worth the price.

The gifts of a winter walk are not always easy. You have to start earlier. You need to dress with care. You need to keep an eye open for moments of wonder while watching for a patch of ice.Sometimes you are stopped in your tracks by a statue like Shakespeare. At others times the gifts of a winter’s day are more subtle. The way the blue sky frames the building on the East side, a dog on a jail break, running across the lawn pulling their leash or some birds resting peacefully beak to beak like young lovers on a park bench. The poet, Robert Frost has trained himself  to see the wonder:

A feathers hammer gives a double knock

The Eden day is gone by two o’clock.

An hour of winter’s day may seem too short

To make it worth life’s while to wake and sport.

How do you make the winter seem shorter. Savor the joys of winter. Seize those sunny winter hours. Get up early. Say a prayer to get yourself moving. Prepare yourself for wonder. It’s worth it.

Seeing Like Barnes

On a recent trip to Philadelphia I had the chance to visit the new Barnes Foundation Museum.  As a visitor to the Barnes I would be invited to see art in a new way.

Between 1912 and 1951, Albert C. Barnes assembled one of the world’s most important holdings of post-impressionist and early modern art, acquiring works by avant-garde European and American artists. Barnes continually experimented with the display of his collection, arranging and rearranging the works in ensembles, symmetrical wall compositions organized according to the formal principles of light, line, color, and space, rather than by chronology, nationality, style, or genre. The ensembles changed as Barnes made acquisitions, trades and new visual connections between the holdings, which diversified with the addition of African sculpture, antiquities, Asian art, Native American ceramics, jewelry, and textiles, manuscripts, old master paintings, and European and American decorative and industrial arts. Integrating art and craft, and objects from across cultures and time periods. (barnesfoundation.org)

When you go to the Barnes Museum, you notice many things that are different. There are no titles for the paintings. There are no curator’s notes. The only verbal description is the name of the artist. Barnes wanted the student to see the art for themselves. He wanted them to experience the excitement he had experienced. He wanted to encourage students to develop an artistic eye-to gain the capacity to work with the key elements of a painting.

Looking for Themes

At the Barnes, a gallery wall may have two pictures with great perspective and depth juxtaposed with two paintings that are very flat. Barnes also moves beyond the boundaries of the canvas and uses a world of antique metal hardware to accent designs that exist in the ensemble.  Foreshadowing the “found art” movement of last 50 years, he collects all manner of metal knobs, hoods, and latches and places them above the painting like exclamation points. He collects antique chests and places plates, cups and candelabras on them. He book ends these walls with antique chairs of all shapes. He may highlight a narrow elongated figure by Modigliani with a pair of tall clippers. In contrast, he highlights the soft ample full-bodied bottoms of Renoir nudes with an oversized chair and a double U shaped piece of hardware.

Barnes challenges students to look for emerging themes. Why was the antique chest chosen for this wall? On further inspection, one may see that the green of the chest is present in all the paintings. The three emblems also suggest the way the figures are organized in the painting. The sketch below illustrates Barnes’s design to create a museum wall using his “ensemble technique”.  Barnes was relatively neutral about which painting a student might like best. He was deeply invested, however, in the students learning to gain capacity in the managing the tools of art (line, color, light, space etc.) that would lead to art appreciation.

Barnes came from humble beginnings in New York. He became a scientist, moved to Germany and invented the leading antibiotic of his time. He made a fortune and became a great art collector. To some of the established art community, he seemed an unwelcome intruder. In 1923, a public showing of Barnes' collection proved that it was too avant-garde for most people's taste at the time. The critics ridiculed the show, prompting Barnes' long-lasting and well-publicized antagonism toward those he considered part of the art establishment. Barnes was stung by the criticism. When you innovate, you take the risk that people will not respond. Many do not want to stir the pot, reimagine the elements or look for new themes.

The Art of Synagogue Strategy

When synagogue leaders begin to think strategically they can feel as welcome as a post-impressionist show at the Philadelphia Art Institute in 1923. Luther Snow (The Power of Asset Mapping: How Your Congregation Can Act on Its Gifts, Alban 2004) argues that congregational leaders can find innovative solutions by listing synagogue strengths and assets on cards and placing them on a wall. Leaders then move these elements around until they cluster into a theme.

They might take the social connections of their men’s group and connect it to the synagogue’s social justice agenda by creating a bike race to raise money for their cause. They might connect their commitment to more bar mitzvah tutoring support with potential several potential tutors from the men’s club. They might take note the baseball diamonds near the synagogue and organize and parents/kids softball game and picnic. Asset mapping helps leaders see all of the potential building blocks of synagogue success and to rearrange them into new programmatic clusters.

USCJ's new Sulam for Strategic Planners program is designed to help leaders think strategically. Just as Barnes helped art students to become literate in the use of color, light and shape, so too, we hope synagogue planners will become literate about the use of need assessments, vision, emerging themes, strategies and goals. In the end, we are not trying to create a specific strategic outcome.  Like Barnes, we are not providing curator’s notes that describe a specific holiday program or fundraiser. Like Barnes, we are very intentional about the exercises we want planners to go through to build their strategic capacity.

Parker Palmer once said of the master teacher, that they helped their students learn to make the connection by showing them how they as teachers made their connections.

“Good teachers possess the capacity for connectedness. They are able to weave a complex web of connections among themselves, their subjects, and their students so that the students can learn to weave a world for themselves.” (Parker Palmer, The Courage to Teach, p. 11)

With Sulam for Strategic Planners, we hope to juxtapose articles, case studies, planning tips and exercises in such a way that it encourages planners to think holistically- to make their  connections. Just as Barnes provides ensembles for artists, we will provide frameworks for planners. Our mission is to help them learn to put a frame around their synagogue situation and to imagine their next chapter as an emerging  work of art.