In honor of Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day, which is tomorrow, I wrote this short piece, which was Thursday's Ten Minutes of Torah.
Two years ago, I wrote this post on Yom HaShoah, and in 2009, this was my Yom HaShoah reflection.
As a witness to history, it is my responsibility to remember...on Yom HaShoah and always.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Monday, April 21, 2014
The Presence and the Loss
A friend, after reading my annual pre-Pesach letter to my mother, had this to say:
This morning, having made it uptown with time for a leisurely walk from the bus stop to the synagogue, I took this photo along the way:
The morning came full circle when, during the Yizkor portion of the service, the rabbi read "We Remember Them," the well known poem by Sylvan Kamens and Rabbi Jack Riemer:
Poignant piece. The ache never fully goes away. Yizkor on Pesach was a wise decision of our rabbinic forebears. We feel the presence...and the loss...of our dear ones most keenly on this festival.Indeed, I felt the presence and the loss intensely today...
This morning, having made it uptown with time for a leisurely walk from the bus stop to the synagogue, I took this photo along the way:
The morning came full circle when, during the Yizkor portion of the service, the rabbi read "We Remember Them," the well known poem by Sylvan Kamens and Rabbi Jack Riemer:
At the rising of the sun and at its going down, we remember them.
At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter, we remember them.
At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring, we remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer, we remember them.
At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn, we remember them.
At the beginning of the year and when it ends, we remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as we remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength, we remember them.Today, a day truly marked by the opening of the buds and the rebirth of spring, did I feel intensely the presence and the loss of so many, but none more keenly than my mom's. Indeed, it is her presence and her loss that live in me, each and every day, from one spring to the next, from season to season for all time.
When we are lost and sick at heart, we remember them.
When we have joy we crave to share, we remember them.
When we have decisions that are difficult to make, we remember them.
When we have achievements that are based on theirs, we remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as we remember them.
Labels:
#BlogExodus,
#Exodusgram,
death,
family,
memories,
memory,
mourning,
Passover
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Leslie Bruni and Panera Girl
Photo: Panera Bread |
They were standing in line in front of me--a bat mitzvah-ish age young woman with, I surmised, a bubbe and a tante, out for breakfast together during spring break. Surly, exasperated by their questions about what she might like to eat, and preoccupied with her phone, she could learn a thing or two from Leslie.
Had it been appropriate, I might have made these suggestions to "Panera Girl" as we waited in line:
- Smile, say cheese, and take some selfies of the three of you. Bubbe and Tante will be amazed at what your phone can do, and someday you'll treasure those photos.
- Give them your earbuds and let them listen to some of your favorite songs. Tell them about the singer or ask them about their favorite songs.
- Tell them what you're learning in history class. Ask if they remember that time; they just might be able to give you a first-hand, one-of-a-kind perspective that's not in any of your textbooks.
- Ask them what books they read in junior high school. Jane Eyre? Anne of Green Gables? A Tree Grows in Brooklyn? Try to find one or two of them the next time you're in the library or at Barnes and Noble. You might be pleasantly surprised with what you'll find in the pages of these classics.
- Ask where they went on their honeymoon. How did they get there? How long did they stay? What did they see and do?
As the three of them carried beverages and a small tray of goodies to a table, I left with my coffee. I hope they enjoyed their breakfast, found some common ground for conversation, and created a few sweet memories to treasure.
Monday, April 14, 2014
#BlogExodus: Be
We Jews are a kvetchy people.
Tonight, when we gather 'round our seder tables, before the first glass of wine is spilled and before the Four Questions are asked and before the Hillel sandwiches are eaten, let us just be.
Let us be thankful for the friends and family who surround us, whether across the table or across the globe, and for the sweet memories of those whose chairs are now filled by others, but who live always in our hearts.
Let us not worry about whether the matzah balls are sinkers or floaters, but let us be grateful for the abundance of nourishing food we have to sustain our bodies each day.
Let us not grumble about the wooden folding chair beneath our tushies (or begrudge those who are sitting in padded chairs). Let us glance appreciatively instead at the ceiling above our heads, recognizing its value not only on this warm spring night, but especially on each of the many frigid nights that preceded it.
Let us put aside the first-world Egypts that challenge us from day-to-day, vowing instead to be...just to be...and to revel in our families, our friends, our freedoms, and the many other blessings that are ours.
Chag Pesach sameach!
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
Tonight, when we gather 'round our seder tables, before the first glass of wine is spilled and before the Four Questions are asked and before the Hillel sandwiches are eaten, let us just be.
Let us be thankful for the friends and family who surround us, whether across the table or across the globe, and for the sweet memories of those whose chairs are now filled by others, but who live always in our hearts.
Let us not worry about whether the matzah balls are sinkers or floaters, but let us be grateful for the abundance of nourishing food we have to sustain our bodies each day.
Let us not grumble about the wooden folding chair beneath our tushies (or begrudge those who are sitting in padded chairs). Let us glance appreciatively instead at the ceiling above our heads, recognizing its value not only on this warm spring night, but especially on each of the many frigid nights that preceded it.
Let us put aside the first-world Egypts that challenge us from day-to-day, vowing instead to be...just to be...and to revel in our families, our friends, our freedoms, and the many other blessings that are ours.
Chag Pesach sameach!
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
#BlogExodus: Ask
This afternoon, a letter crossed my desk in which a parent indicated that a son had been "barmitzvah'd."
As is my way, I quipped about it on Facebook, to which a non-Jewish friend responded, "Wait, is there something wrong with that?"
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
As is my way, I quipped about it on Facebook, to which a non-Jewish friend responded, "Wait, is there something wrong with that?"
Her question prompted me to respond with this bar mitzvah primer:
Bar mitzvah is Hebrew for "son of the commandment." (Bat mitzvah is the Hebrew for girls -- "daughter of the commandment"). A young person becomes bar mitzvah or bat mitzvah upon reaching the age of 13, at which time he or she is considered to be an adult within the Jewish community. Although many young people mark the occasion in synagogue by reading from the Torah and Haftarah for the first time, in reality, no action is required to become a bar mitzvah or a bat mitzvah. Despite its (mis)usage in the letter received in my office today, "bar mitzvah" is not a verb. I'm sure if any of my explanation isn't correct, my clergy friends will chime in.
Although they didn't chime in to correct anything I'd written, they did add to the conversation:
"It's not a verb," said one.
"Many of my colleagues and I have been fighting the 'bar mitzvah'd' battle for years. Clearly we are losing," said another.
A third offered this mnemonic device: "At the initial meeting of my b'nei mitzvah, I teach the word BMINAV (bar/bat mitzvah is not a verb). They seem to remember that, at least for a little while. :)"
To which my friend had this to say:
"Ahhhhh. I thought it was the name of the party. See this is the problem with this town. Not enough Jews to help me with this stuff."
Her comment sent the conversation in an entirely new direction, when I responded with this:
The party has nothing to do with anything. Ask my dad about his bar mitzvah and he'll tell you that he and his father went to shul (synagogue), he did his thing, they ate some honey cake, and that was the end of it. (Apparently, there was a luncheon afterward, but it was during the war -- 1945 -- and so the celebration was much different than the over-the-top, tasteless extravaganzas that reign supreme today.)Kudos to another rabbi friend who provided this terrific summary of the discussion:
"More BAR than MITZVAH." --And kudos, too, to my friend who initially launched the conversation by asking a question, simply because she wanted to know more. May we always have the freedom -- and the desire -- to ask questions, to explore, to learn, and to grow.
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
#BlogExodus: Learn
Like others, I try to learn something new everyday. Today, I learned about the hydraulic rescue tool known as the "Jaws
of Life."
Thanks to my colleague, Jake, I now know that the
"Jaws of Life" is the brand name for a piece of rescue equipment
manufactured by Hurst. According to the company's
website, "Hurst Jaws of Life® rescue systems have been instrumental in
saving hundreds of thousands of lives" in the more than 40 years since the
equipment first was patented. Like Kleenex, Xerox, Band-Aid, and
Dumpster, among others, the brand name "Jaws of Life" has become synonymous with the object
itself.
As we prepare to retell the story of our exodus
from Egypt, may we never again find ourselves so inexorably trapped--in a car,
in a job, in a relationship, in a place that we just do not want to be--that it
takes the "Jaws of Life" to extricate us from our personal slavery.
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima,
this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan
leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you
want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
Sunday, April 6, 2014
#BlogExodus: Prepare?
Dear The Mums,
Once again, the Jewish world is preparing for Passover -- boiling up chicken soup with matzah balls, buying brisket like it's going out of style, and sweeping nearly year-old chametz crumbs from toaster ovens, countertops, cars, and couch cushions.
For the fourth time, we're doing it without you. But, truth be told, we're not really doing it. With Aunt Claire in Detroit, Amy, Daddy, Ian, and I (and perhaps a friend or two of Amy's) will be at Amy's for the first night. She and Ian will be leaving for DisneyWorld the next day -- it'll be Ian's spring break -- so it's certainly not going to be a full-blown seder. In fact, I don't think that Daddy will even bring the yellow haggadot that I compiled about eight or nine years ago. Of course, we'll all be together for dinner, but, as I'm sure you've surmised, we haven't had a full-blown seder since the last one you and Daddy hosted at 12 Webster Road. Passover was always "your holiday," and the preparations are so very different now. I think it's what's called the "new normal," but no matter how many times we do it, it will never feel normal to me. I suppose that's no surprise given that we did all the preparation in 2010, but then didn't celebrate at all. Sometimes at this time of year, it feels to me as though I am trapped in the Egypt of that particular Pesach season.
Thankfully, as I've been doing for years (but not in 2010), I will once again celebrate the whole megillah on the second night. From dipping parsley into salt water to washing my hands twice, and from building and eating a Hillel sandwich to dodging bugs and lice and hail and boils as they're bandied about, and finally singing corny songs after the door's been opened for Elijah, rest assured that I'll be among friends who feel like family, observing the second night of Pesach as I have been since moving to New York.
Without much need to prepare for the seder, I am, as has become my minhag, writing to update you on what else has been going on in my life...
On many weekends during the past few months, I have been occupied -- after minyan -- with researching, writing, and editing a large freelance project I was able to secure back in the fall. The bulk of the work is finished now, although there will be some photo captions to write and some proofing to do a little later in the spring.
About a month ago, Daddy and I went to Baltimore for Mrs. Steinberg's unveiling. As with you, it was totally surreal to once again stand in the cemetery, trying to wrap our heads around what is supposedly the "new normal." If you ask me, it just feels empty and sad and different. In fact, it's anything but normal.
In some happier news, two weekends ago, I was the keynote speaker at a Sisterhood Shabbaton at Congregation Beth Or in Maple Glen, PA, the theme of which was women's health and healing. I spoke -- as I have several times in the last year or two -- about BRCA mutations and the path I've traveled since finding out that ours is an affected family. The congregation's not too far from Terry, so we were able to make a weekend of it, which was especially nice because Matthew was home for spring break. Hard to believe that he's nearly finished with his freshman year. As an added bonus, Terry was able to hear me speak, and I was glad to have her there.
I've spent a good bit of this weekend getting my new computer (a MacBook Air) up and running. It's a totally different process than it was seven years ago when I went from a desktop to a wireless laptop, but it seems that it still takes more time than anyone anticipates. On the positive side, everything runs more smoothly on a Mac, and as I understand things, there's virtually no need for virus protection software because there are no viruses on Mac computers.
There's lots more to tell you about, but it's late and I'm tired. Suffice it to say that no matter how much we might pretend to prepare for Passover, the holiday's just not the same anymore. Besides the seder and all the prep, I miss your matzah farfel stuffing, the first morning of the chag at 12 Webster Road, where having finished with the major clean-up the night before, all that remained was to return the wine goblets and the gold flatware to their rightful cabinets and drawers before sitting down to a leisurely cup of coffee, creamy with milk, a tad bit of sugar (used at no other time of year) and soaking bits of matzah farfel -- the quintessential Pesach breakfast...and one of the things I miss most.
xoxo,
~ Boo!
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
Once again, the Jewish world is preparing for Passover -- boiling up chicken soup with matzah balls, buying brisket like it's going out of style, and sweeping nearly year-old chametz crumbs from toaster ovens, countertops, cars, and couch cushions.
For the fourth time, we're doing it without you. But, truth be told, we're not really doing it. With Aunt Claire in Detroit, Amy, Daddy, Ian, and I (and perhaps a friend or two of Amy's) will be at Amy's for the first night. She and Ian will be leaving for DisneyWorld the next day -- it'll be Ian's spring break -- so it's certainly not going to be a full-blown seder. In fact, I don't think that Daddy will even bring the yellow haggadot that I compiled about eight or nine years ago. Of course, we'll all be together for dinner, but, as I'm sure you've surmised, we haven't had a full-blown seder since the last one you and Daddy hosted at 12 Webster Road. Passover was always "your holiday," and the preparations are so very different now. I think it's what's called the "new normal," but no matter how many times we do it, it will never feel normal to me. I suppose that's no surprise given that we did all the preparation in 2010, but then didn't celebrate at all. Sometimes at this time of year, it feels to me as though I am trapped in the Egypt of that particular Pesach season.
Thankfully, as I've been doing for years (but not in 2010), I will once again celebrate the whole megillah on the second night. From dipping parsley into salt water to washing my hands twice, and from building and eating a Hillel sandwich to dodging bugs and lice and hail and boils as they're bandied about, and finally singing corny songs after the door's been opened for Elijah, rest assured that I'll be among friends who feel like family, observing the second night of Pesach as I have been since moving to New York.
Without much need to prepare for the seder, I am, as has become my minhag, writing to update you on what else has been going on in my life...
On many weekends during the past few months, I have been occupied -- after minyan -- with researching, writing, and editing a large freelance project I was able to secure back in the fall. The bulk of the work is finished now, although there will be some photo captions to write and some proofing to do a little later in the spring.
About a month ago, Daddy and I went to Baltimore for Mrs. Steinberg's unveiling. As with you, it was totally surreal to once again stand in the cemetery, trying to wrap our heads around what is supposedly the "new normal." If you ask me, it just feels empty and sad and different. In fact, it's anything but normal.
In some happier news, two weekends ago, I was the keynote speaker at a Sisterhood Shabbaton at Congregation Beth Or in Maple Glen, PA, the theme of which was women's health and healing. I spoke -- as I have several times in the last year or two -- about BRCA mutations and the path I've traveled since finding out that ours is an affected family. The congregation's not too far from Terry, so we were able to make a weekend of it, which was especially nice because Matthew was home for spring break. Hard to believe that he's nearly finished with his freshman year. As an added bonus, Terry was able to hear me speak, and I was glad to have her there.
I've spent a good bit of this weekend getting my new computer (a MacBook Air) up and running. It's a totally different process than it was seven years ago when I went from a desktop to a wireless laptop, but it seems that it still takes more time than anyone anticipates. On the positive side, everything runs more smoothly on a Mac, and as I understand things, there's virtually no need for virus protection software because there are no viruses on Mac computers.
There's lots more to tell you about, but it's late and I'm tired. Suffice it to say that no matter how much we might pretend to prepare for Passover, the holiday's just not the same anymore. Besides the seder and all the prep, I miss your matzah farfel stuffing, the first morning of the chag at 12 Webster Road, where having finished with the major clean-up the night before, all that remained was to return the wine goblets and the gold flatware to their rightful cabinets and drawers before sitting down to a leisurely cup of coffee, creamy with milk, a tad bit of sugar (used at no other time of year) and soaking bits of matzah farfel -- the quintessential Pesach breakfast...and one of the things I miss most.
xoxo,
~ Boo!
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
Friday, April 4, 2014
#BlogExodus: Free
Don't get me wrong...I loved that Dell, which was my constant companion throughout an extended stint in graduate school. It was the first computer to which I downloaded iTunes, the place where JanetheWriter Writes... was created, and the computer that kept me connected to the outside world as I recovered from numerous surgeries in recent years. At the moment, it still holds all my Word, Excel and PowerPoint documents. They can be transferred to the new computer only when I can leave both machines at the Apple store for up to 48 hours, which definitely is not something I want to do over the weekend.
In the meantime, I am now free from computer viruses, long tech support calls to Mumbai in the wee hours, and schlepping around an increasingly slow machine that likely weighs as much as a newborn child. Instead, I'll be able to write in coffee shops easily, blog from wherever I happen to be, and FaceTime with my nephew, and my sister when she's traveling. (In fact, she's currently in the Cornhusker State and we had a nice face-to-face chat tonight after dinner.)
I recognize, of course, that what I've described here are first-world freedoms and, in reality, none of us is free until all of us are free--free from want and hunger, free from abuse and violence, free from discrimination and bigotry, and free from pain, injustice, and more.
Would that the Apple store could sell us those freedoms, too, right alongside an AppleCare Protection Plan, helping to ensure that those who most need the freedoms many of take so for granted have some assurance of receiving them.
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
#BlogExodus: From Enslavement to Blessing
When I first started to think about what I might write in a post around the theme "enslave," this paragraph from The Union Prayer Book popped into my head. (Yes, I hail from the generation that can recite it in its entirety from memory.):
In chatting with a friend yesterday, she shared that when she finds herself similarly enslaved, she counts her blessings -- literally. Each night, she says, she records three blessings from the day just ended, focusing on good, positive events and experiences in spite of whatever frustrations, disappointments, or difficulties may have dogged her during the day.
Last night, I gave it a try, jotting these notes in a journal:
In fact, I think I'll try it again tonight...
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
May the time not be distant, O God, when Thy name shall be worshiped in all the earth, when unbelief shall disappear and error be no more. Fervently we pray that the day may come when all men shall invoke Thy name, when corruption and evil shall give way to purity and goodness, when superstition shall no longer enslave the mind, nor idolatry blind the eye, when all who dwell on earth shall know that to Thee alone every knee must bend and every tongue give homage. O may all, created in Thine image, recognize that they are brethren, so that, one in spirit and one in fellowship, they may be forever united before Thee. Then shall Thy kingdom be established on earth and the word of Thine ancient seer be fulfilled: The Lord will reign forever and ever.It's not superstition that enslaves my mind, though. It's negativity.
In chatting with a friend yesterday, she shared that when she finds herself similarly enslaved, she counts her blessings -- literally. Each night, she says, she records three blessings from the day just ended, focusing on good, positive events and experiences in spite of whatever frustrations, disappointments, or difficulties may have dogged her during the day.
Last night, I gave it a try, jotting these notes in a journal:
April 3, 2014Although this practice certainly isn't a panacea for the ills of the world, it can help me stay focused on the goodness that comes my way, recognize my gratitude for the blessings in my life, and let go of some of the negativity that I seem to collect so easily.
Three Blessings
1. Conversations with friends
2. 30 minutes of relaxation (Jeopardy)
3. The brightness and warmth of sunshine at lunchtime
In fact, I think I'll try it again tonight...
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
#BlogExodus: Tell
Although I'd like to tell you more, the one thing I can tell you for sure is that I'm too old to stay up until 1:30 a.m. -- even if it's to watch a live-stream of 70-some rabbis having their heads shaved to raise awareness about and funding for pediatric cancer research.
Suffice it to say that for now, the next time I hear this:
I'll be waiting for the waters to part, paving the way for me to escape my Egypts, and giving me lots of opportunities to open new and different doors and windows in all facets of my life.
I look forward to telling you all about them after the fact, but for now, it's off to sleep for me.
Lailah tov, friends.
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
Suffice it to say that for now, the next time I hear this:
I'll be waiting for the waters to part, paving the way for me to escape my Egypts, and giving me lots of opportunities to open new and different doors and windows in all facets of my life.
I look forward to telling you all about them after the fact, but for now, it's off to sleep for me.
Lailah tov, friends.
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
#BlogExodus: Believe
A walk in the concrete jungle today at lunchtime made me believe that spring actually may be just around the corner.
May my mind and heart always be free enough to see the color and beauty in my midst.
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
May my mind and heart always be free enough to see the color and beauty in my midst.
Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)