That Time I Did Hagbah at Minyan

Dear WilliamtheTrainer,

Since I don’t speak Spanish and as an immigrant from Ecuador, you probably don’t speak much in the way of “Jewish worship,” I’ll do my best to explain this thing that happened on Saturday morning that you helped make possible.

In the middle of Jewish worship services on the Sabbath and festivals -- and on Mondays and Thursdays in more traditional congregations – Jews read from a Torah scroll, which contains the Five Books of Moses – Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. The text is handwritten in Hebrew by a specially trained scribe on animal skin parchment and considering its contents, the scroll is treated with the utmost respect.

After the Torah reading has been completed, it’s customary for one person to come forward to “do hagbah,” which entails lifting the open scroll overhead so the congregation can see the text that was just read. This custom derives from a verse in the Book of Nehemiah that says: “And Ezra opened the book in the sight of all the people.”

So, back to last Saturday…

We were all standing around the lectern where the Torah had just been read and my friend Roz had finished her first-ever aliyah (reciting the blessings before and after the Torah reading itself), which she’d done in honor of her husband’s 93^rd birthday, coming up in a few days. Then, the rabbi invited me to help with hagbah, an honor usually reserved for a strong man because some scrolls are extremely heavy – and the last thing anyone wants is for a Torah scroll to fall or be dropped.

Thinking about those Hoist weight machines, the free weights, the rowing machine, the treadmill, the crunches, the running, the jumping, and all the other hard work I’ve been doing with your help throughout the last six weeks, I hoped I was up for the challenge. With guidance from the rabbi, I took hold of the bottom handles of the scroll, bent my knees to get some leverage, and to my incredible delight, lifted it and turned so everyone could see the text, although it wasn’t open very wide at all (and the rabbi was “spotting me” to ensure nothing bad would happen).

Returning the Torah to the lectern, I helped tie the two parts of the scroll together, replace its velvet cover, silver breastplate, and  yad (literally “hand”), the pointer that the Torah reader uses to keep his or her place while reading. Once it was safely on the shelf where it would remain for nearly the rest of the service, I returned to my seat in the pews, but not before the rabbi said that the expression on my face during hagbah was “worth the price of admission.”

Indeed, it was an incredibly exhilarating and powerful moment-- not only for the chance to give honor to the Torah in a way I never had done before, but also as a reminder that hard work, commitment, and pushing yourself in new and different directions often have unexpected, wonderful rewards.

Thanks for the reminder…see you in the gym!

~ JanetheWriter

Heading to a Place We Do Not Know With Trump at the Helm

Dear The Mums,

This weekend was Shabbat Lech L’cha, your favorite parashah, with its connection to the immigrant experience and the perennial promise of America as the golden medina that always was so close to your heart.

After Tuesday’s stunning upset of Hillary Clinton by Donald Trump (yes, you read that correctly), it seems to be a most fitting portion for this week. Indeed, many of us feel as Abraham must have felt: we are going forth from the America we know to a land we truly do not know – at all.

Sadly, this country is not, as so many of us expected it would be, anticipating the historic inauguration of its first female president. Instead, we are on the brink of inaugurating Donald Trump as the leader of the free world, despite his proving again and again throughout the campaign that he and many of his supporters are racists, bigots, misogynists, xenophobes, homophobes, Islamaphobes, anti-Semites, and more. (As for his supporters who may not themselves be these horrible things, I cannot wrap my head around how any of them -- particularly women -- could possibly have voted for someone who is so demonstrably all of these things.)

With control of Congress in-hand and a vacancy on the Supreme Court to fill, Trump and his team threaten to unravel many of the hard-won freedoms we hold dear. Equally disturbing, he regularly incites many followers to spew hatred and violence against fellow Americans, especially those who look unlike them, believe differently than they do, or who see the world through a different prism.

This is a divisive, difficult, and frightening time in our country and it is up to each of us to remain vigilant in our efforts to identify and stand up against civil and social injustices on behalf of anyone who is threatened, endangered, unsafe, or wronged. (In an effort to get ahead of the curve, many of us are donating (or increasing our support) to Planned Parenthood, the ACLU, and organizations that provide services to refugees and immigrants, including HIAS, which has roots aiding many of our own people, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free, as they made their way from pogroms and persecution to freedom under the watchful eye of Lady Liberty.)

Friday night at services, “God Bless America,” which really is a prayer, was the closing hymn. As I sang loudly and clearly, with chills of patriotism running down my spine and giving me goosebumps, I don’t think I’ve truly ever wanted anything quite as badly as I want that blessing.

God bless America, land that I love
Stand beside her and guide her
Through the night with the light from above

From the mountains to the prairies
To the oceans white with foam
God bless America, my home sweet home

From the mountains to the prairies
To the oceans white with foam
God bless America, my home sweet home
God bless America, my home sweet home

Miss you…xoxo.
~ Boo!

P.S. Have you run into Marcus yet? You may also see Edie Miller "around town." She'd be fun to have in your Torah study group, too. God knows she'll tell it like it is!

What Feels Like Injustice May Be a Chance to Honor a Friend

Dear The Mums,

Yesterday in the minyan, we read from Ha’azinu, which, if I had to guess, is your least favorite Torah portion. Anyone who ever studied with you at this season in years past knows you were ever annoyed with God for telling Moses in no uncertain terms, “You may view the land from a distance, but you shall not enter it—the land that I am giving to the Israelite people.” (Deuteronomy 32:52)

The day before, we had a stark reminder of another of life’s injustices as hundreds of us gathered to say goodbye to Marcus Burstein, our friend, colleague, incredible mensch, and gentle soul extraordinaire. Marcus had died two days earlier, just after Yom Kippur drew to a close.

Like you, I want to be mad at God for allowing such an injustice, for letting an incredible, universally beloved human being suffer and die at 45. However, that would dishonor the memory of someone who had deep faith in God – in good times and bad. Instead, I’m going to try to honor his memory in ways that embrace the fullness of the life he crammed into those 45 short years.

I’m usually not one to dance, but I think a spin or two around the bedroom every so often with iTunes cranked would be a fitting tribute.

Unlike Marcus, I’m not a cook or baker, but perhaps I’ll bake a batch of magic cookie bars for Sukkot. (Another friend posted this recipe, one of his favorites, online and since they're "foolproof," I'm hopeful that even I can handle it.)

Smiling more, listening well, seeing the good in others, and embracing life and its blessings – those in plain sight and those that are hidden – are other ways I can try to honor his memory and his well-lived life.

I hope you’ve made peace with God over God’s injustice to Moses. I, too, will try to make peace with God over what feels like a huge injustice to Marcus, his family, and all the rest of us who knew and loved him. If he shows up in your Torah study group in olam ha-ba, I know you’ll be glad to see him – and that he’ll flash that wonderful smile at seeing you, too.

xoxo,
~ Boo.

P.S. In spite of the circumstances, it was good to see so many people I don’t see often enough anymore – lots of whom you knew, too, from the days of the New Jersey-West Hudson Valley Council.

Connecting Torah to Today's World: How Cool Is That?!

I disagree with the assertion made by many people that the stories in the Torah are not relevant to us today. Even tales that at first blush seem to have absolutely no bearing on our 21st-century lives can be unpacked and examined in ways that offer connections, lessons, applicability, or even just wonderful “aha moments.”

Two examples come immediately to mind.

On Saturday, September 11, 2010, the Torah portion was Haazinu. I know that because I remember when, during hagbah (lifting the open scroll so the congregation can see the text), the cantor who was leading the service pointed to the text. I was stunned by how the ancient portion’s two columns reflected the shape of the Twin Towers. How cool is that?!

And then last week this happened: In Philadelphia on Thursday evening, Hillary Rodham Clinton accepted her party's nomination as the candidate for president of the United States – the first time a major party has nominated a woman for the highest office in the land. An historic moment for sure. 

Two days later, we read from Parashah Pinchas about Zelophechad’s five daughters – Mahlah, Noa, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah – who, having no brothers or other male heirs, asked Moses and the community to grant them a share of their father’s land as an inheritance. Unsure about an appropriate response, Moses asked God, who tells him that the women’s request is just, and so they are granted the inheritance they deserve, an historic moment that defies eons of patriarchal dominance. In this election year, these two events converged in precisely the same week. How cool is that?!

When we study these and other stories, often we can associate events in the ancient adventures of our people with the ongoing happenings in our own world – drawing out timely connections, lessons, and messages that bring new meaning, insights, and “aha moments” to our lives each week.

That Time When Uncle Irv Came to Torah Study

I think it might have been the ripe, red strawberries on Cantor Dubinsky's milestone birthday cake that brought Uncle Irv to Torah study last Shabbat.

During minyan, she'd chanted from Kedoshim, beginning with verse 23:

When you enter the land and plant any tree for food, you shall regard its fruit as forbidden. Three years it shall be forbidden for you, not to be eaten. In the fourth year all its fruit shall be set aside for jubilation before the Eternal; and only in the fifth  year may you use its fruit -- that its yield to you may be increased. I the Eternal am your God.

After we'd all enjoyed the cake and the celebration, our Torah study conversation started with a discussion of trees and fruit -- and the difference between letting ripe fruit drop to the ground versus not letting it grow in the first place. All of a sudden, it was as though Uncle Irv was sitting next to me in that already crowded classroom. I remembered the bed of strawberries Amy and I planted and watered under his firm tutelage -- with a row of alternating marigolds and bachelor buttons in front, one way organic gardeners keep the bunnies away.

How excited we were when green shoots, followed by vines and then small white flowers finally appeared. And, oh how disappointed when he instructed us to nip off every last one of the delicate, yellow-centered flowers.

"Why??" we whined, less than thrilled by the whole gardening thing he was trying to teach us. According to Uncle Irv, it would ensure a bountiful crop of sweet berries in a few years.

Who knew we were learning Torah right there in the backyard?

T’rumah: The Give and Take of Giving

This morning, I was honored to give this d'var Torah on Parashat T'rumah, which was my bat mitzvah portion four decades ago.

This week’s portion opens with these words:

The Eternal spoke to Moses, saying: Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart so moves him. (Exodus 25:1-2)

Although this translation in the Plaut-Bamberger commentary is an accurate representation of the Hebrew, several people have suggested this more literal translation of the passage:

The Eternal spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the Israelites and take for Me gifts from everyone who is offering of his heart; [from him] take My gifts.

This more literal wording, which is perhaps more accurate, tells us something important about gift-giving, whether the gift is a present to a friend or an offering to God. It reminds us that when we give, and give freely and willingly, we are always blessed to receive something in return, even when the receiving is not our intention at all.

Let me illustrate this dynamic of giving and taking with two instances of gift-giving in my own life:

In the first, 40-some-odd years ago, I was the giver. The gift was a set of bed linens covered in an all-over pattern of Ziggy, the bald, big-nosed, and pant-less 1970s cartoon character, and his small white dog Fuzz. Although I’d found the sheets quite by accident and long before her birthday, they would, I knew, be perfect for my sister, with whom, at the time, I followed the daily antics of Ziggy and Fuzz on the comics’ page of our local newspaper.

When her birthday finally arrived, it was I who was eager and excited – perhaps more than she was – for her to unwrap my package. Although I was the giver, I took from the experience as well – an understanding of the pure delight of giving and what it means to bring joy to another.

The second experience was much more recent, and came in the form of a friend’s holiday card that said this:

Sometimes, an idea is worth continuing. The needs of our world are great! Our giving continues to help alleviate strife and improve life in small but cumulative ways.

I hope you will once again join me in giving by designating and forwarding the enclosed check to the charity of your choice. I wish you very happy holidays and a new year full of health, happiness, and the delights of giving.

The check, with its blank payee line and my friend’s signature, was made out for $50, but the amount is irrelevant.

This time, even though it was I who was blessed with the gift, as the recipient, I took from the experience as well – the exact same understanding of the delight of giving (and in this case, the means to do so, too) as when I gave my sister those Ziggy sheets more than four decades ago.

I imagine my friend, too, took great satisfaction from his ability to give and, through the checks returned to him, from the many acts of tikkun olam his generosity made possible. Indeed, it is my hope that his gift to me and to others will, as he so rightly noted, “continue to help alleviate strife and improve life in small but cumulative ways.”

No matter what our gifts – whether cartoon character linens or making giving possible for others – may our giving always come from a willing heart, and may we always take to heart the lessons borne from the giving itself.

#BlogExodus: A Roundup of Beginnings

Although it may seem odd to begin with a roundup, today, 1 Nisan, presents a confluence of beginnings.

Not only is it the first of the month of Nisan and the first full day of spring, it also is Shabbat Ha-Chodesh, which marks the beginning of one of the four new years on the Hebrew calendar. This day begins the liturgical year as was referenced in the Rosh Chodesh parashah we read this morning:  “God spoke to Moses and Aaron when they were in Egypt and said, ‘This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months; it shall be the first of the months of the year for you’” (Exodus 12:1-2).  The liturgical year ties all Jewish festivals to the Exodus from Egypt so its beginning now -- less than two weeks before Passover -- is most apt. 

Coming Soon: Tweet #Torah to the Top

Last night during Shabbat services, we counted the 45th day of the Omer, which means that Shavuot is only five days away.  Along with cheesecake, Tikkun Leil Shavuot study sessions, and Confirmation, Shavuot brings us "Tweet #Torah to the Top," an effort to get #Torah to "trend" on Twitter.  (Here's what I wrote about it last year.)

With that in mind, do not be alarmed when, this coming Tuesday, my Twitter and Facebook posts are early, often, and filled with #Torah.  Although those of us who participated in recent years have not been successful in getting #Torah to trend, perhaps it will happen this year.

Stay tuned...and plan to join us!

Hey, That's Not Our Scroll!

Yesterday at the minyan, we worshipers were thrown for a bit of a loop when Rabbi Strom (this one, not this one) took this scroll from the ark at the beginning of the Torah service:

We, of course, were expecting this one, which we see and use each week:

As it turns out, Temple Shaaray Tefila was lucky to be hosting--for about 48 hours--the "guest scroll," which is in the midst of making its rounds throughout North America on its way to Israel.  Its journey began in San Diego, thanks to the generosity of Congregation Beth Israel and Rabbi Michael Berk.  Once in Israel, ARZA will present it to Women of the Wall to use at its monthly Rosh Chodesh service.  Here's more about the scroll, including a travelogue, if you will, of its journey.

So, although technically speaking the scroll doesn't belong to our congregation, it does, in fact, belong to all of us whose story is detailed in the carefully lettered words on its parchment.  Indeed, our guest scroll belongs to all of us just as does the Western Wall--into whose dry cracks and crevices we have been tucking our memories, stories and prayers, rolled thin like chiffonade, for much (but not all) of the last few millennia.  

As they gather to welcome Rosh Chodesh Tammuz by singing, celebrating, and retelling a piece of our people's story, may the women (and men) of Women of the Wall find that this scroll--our scroll--brings new meaning, energy, and the spirit of each of us (and our individual and collective stories) to their celebrations and their work.

Torah and the Law (Firm)

Cataloged by the Nazis 

Last week, Neil Yerman, a well-known sofer, was in the URJ's New York office to assess the condition of several of the organization's Torah scrolls, including one from pre-war Czechoslovakia that now is on permanent loan from the Memorial Scrolls Trust based in London's Westminster Synagogue.

When two colleagues and I entered the room where Neil and an assistant--whom he is training as a soferet--were working, there were introductions and handshakes all around: He introduced himself as Neil Yerman and his colleague as Nomi Lerman.  When I introduced myself, he invited me to join them in their work, quipping that the new firm would, of course, be known as Yerman, Lerman and Herman.

My colleagues and I chatted with him about his work, watching as he "erased" dirt and oil from the parchment of an open scroll, taking along with the debris some of the ink of the beautifully written words that tell our people's story.

Without correspondence to write or blog posts to edit, I could have watched and listened all day, but alas, it was not meant to be.  Taking my leave after 20 minutes or so, I thanked him for his time and the interesting conversation. On the way out, I quipped that I'd definitely be in touch when I'm ready to join his firm.

Hmmm...that exchange gives a whole new meaning to JanetheWriter, wouldn't you say?!

Thanks, Golda!

Dear Golda,

Thank you!  Your words of inspiration from nearly three weeks ago did help me to trust myself and made me more of the kind of self that I'll be happy to live with for the rest of my life.  Most of all, you helped me to fan tiny, inner sparks of possibility into flames of achievement. 

No, those flames aren't yet strong enough to roast marshmallows, and no, I'm not going to cantorial school anytime soon, but I did chant the goings on from the fifth day of creation during today's Rosh HaShanah service.

You don't get all the credit here, though. 

It truly took a village to get me onto that bema and I owe a debt of gratitude, too, to Jesse Berger for inviting me to chant in the first place, to Cantor Maria Dubinsky for making the recording that I think I listened to 3,765 gazillion times, to Rabbi Victor Appell for listening to me read the Hebrew, to Cantor Caitlin Bromberg for talking me off the ledge and then for color coding my copy of the text to illustrate which melodies repeat themselves in the verses.  

Thanks, too, are due to my father, who sat next to me in the pew and to my mother, who was there, too.  Her tallit and love both, I know, were wrapped around me this morning.  Although I don't wear the former too often, today was the perfect day to do so, and the latter, without a doubt, is with me each and every day.

I'm not especially superstitious, but if this morning was a sign about the year to come, I think good things are in store.  Or, as some of my friends are fond of saying at this season, "shofar, so good."

Thanks again, Golda.  I appreciate your support...and that of the rest of my village!

Shana tova,

~ JanetheWriter.

A Change for the Better: A #BlogElul Post

Dear Cantor Dubinsky,

Thanks for taking time during your busiest season of the year to meet with me this afternoon.  Most of all, thank you for helping me change my attitude about chanting Torah on the second day of Rosh HaShanah from mild panic to I-have-some-prep-to-do-but-I-can-handle-this.

With your calm, no-nonsense advice, I know that it's a matter of changing the way I look at and think about the text.  Rather than viewing it as one long paragraph, I now see that it's more important to focus on small pieces, to pay careful attention to the Hebrew, and to note the places where the melody repeats itself.

This change in perspective is a change for the better, and I expect to make some solid progress before we meet again on Friday.

Thank you again,
 ~ JanetheWriter.

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima,this post is one in a series marking the days of the Hebrew month of Elul, which precedes the Jewish High Holidays and traditionally serves as a time of reflection and spiritual preparation for the new year.

Gotta Go Study!: A #BlogElul Post

I consider myself a lifelong learner.  Having recently completed a master's degree a full 27 years after finishing my bachelor's degree is, I think, fairly good evidence of this self-characterization.

And then, of course, there's the less academic learning that goes on in the course of any given day.  Today, for example, in perusing the URJ's Facebook page, I learned this:  Food encased in dough is popular for Rosh HaShanah because of the visual reminders of being "sealed" in the Book of Life in the coming year.

I re-posted a slightly edited version of the text on my own Facebook page and, not unexpectedly, a conversation ensued:

Wendy:  Hence, kreplach!
  
JanetheWriter:   And for Jews in other cultures, there are wontons, empanadas and Hostess fruit pies!

Karen:  Saw that too - was thinking ice cream sandwich!

JanetheWriter:  And for Indian Jews, samosas!

But back to the more serious learning for a moment...  

Now that I'm not reading and studying so rigorously on a regular basis, I find that I do, in fact, miss the intellectual stimulation and the way graduate school continually expanded my horizons.  So, I've taken on a new learning challenge. This one, however, has a very short time frame:  Between now and the second day of Rosh HaShanah I will learn to chant in Hebrew (using the High Holiday troupe, of course) these four verses from Genesis:

God said, "Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and birds that fly above the earth across the expanse of the sky."  God created the great sea monsters, and all the winged birds of every kind.  And God saw that this was good.  God blessed them, saying, "Be fertile and increase, fill the waters in the seas, and let the birds increase on the earth."  And there was evening and there was morning a fifth day.

This challenge, too, like my graduate studies, provides further evidence of my status as a lifelong learner.  After all, the last time I chanted Torah was at my bat mitzvah -- in 1976!

Gotta go study! 

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima,this post is one in a series marking the days of the Hebrew month of Elul, which precedes the Jewish High Holidays and traditionally serves as a time of reflection and spiritual preparation for the new year.

Trust Yourself: A #BlogElul Post

Dear Golda,

You've always been my favorite Israeli politician, but I don't think it has anything to do with politics.  I think it's because you remind me of my Tante Laura, my grandmother's older sister.. The two of you were about the same age and the way you pulled your hair back with combs was the same way she always did it.  And those black clunky shoes?  Clearly you had the same sense of style and shopped in the same kinds of stores as she did, even though you lived in Milwaukee and she lived on New York's Lower East Side, on Second Avenue, above Provenzano Lanza Funeral Home.

When I first moved to New York nearly 11 years ago, my mom loved the fact that I, too, lived on Second Avenue, even though it's 30 blocks north of where Tante Laura and Uncle Max lived. Ironically enough, my synagogue is on Second Avenue as well -- even further north, at 79th and Second.

When I was there a few weeks ago, one of the congregants who leads the second-day Rosh HaShanah services asked me if I would chant Torah at that service.  Although I haven't chanted Torah in 37 years (yes, the last time was at my bat mitzvah), and his question struck fear in my heart, I understood that just being asked was an honor and I didn't want to say no.  And so, Genesis 1:20-23 (the fifth day) is mine.  One of the cantors has made a tape for me, and I've got my work cut out for me during the next few weeks.

I'm sure you can appreciate, then, how glad I was to find this quote attributed to you:

Trust yourself. Create the kind of self that you will be happy to live with all your life. Make the most of yourself by fanning the tiny, inner sparks of possibility into flames of achievement.

As I work to learn to chant those few lines of text, I will think of you and trust that I can successfully achieve this goal. Thanks, Golda, for the inspiration to rise up and make the most of myself, which is exactly what the High Holidays are all about. 

With much fondness,

~ JanetheWriter.

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima,this post is one in a series marking the days of the Hebrew month of Elul, which precedes the Jewish High Holidays and traditionally serves as a time of reflection and spiritual preparation for the new year.   

Torah on the Farm

Last Thursday evening, I updated my Facebook status:

“Must go pack...my least favorite chore. The trade-off, however, is a weekend trip to Baltimore with teens from Temple Emanu-El - Edison, New Jersey and their rabbi, David Z. Vaisberg.”

One of my Torah study buddies commented:  “Have fun.”

“I'm sure it will be fun,” I said, “but I will miss the Temple Shaaray Tefila minyan and Torah study. See you next week!”

And, of course, I did miss my regular Shabbat study buddies and our “city routine.”  However, the Sunday morning our group of five recent Confirmands and two adults spent around the farm at the Pearlstone Center overflowed with hand-on Torah study. 

Under the guidance of Laura Menyuk, Pearlstone’s Education Programs Coordinator, we began by getting the lay of the land as it relates to water:  rain, run-off and filtration, before visiting the steamy greenhouse, the compost pile (pew wee!) and the outdoor fields of strawberries and still-green wheat.  The wheat stalks, once they’re fully grown and harvested, produce enough grain for about eight challot.  Finding and plucking a few of the ripe red strawberries, we recited the blessing for fruits that grow in the soil:  Baruch atah Adonai elohaynu melech ha'olam boray pri ha-adamah. Yummy…and absolutely nothing like those grocery store berries.

Moving on to the goats, our plan included milking and cheese-making.  As is often the case, though, der mentsh trakht un Got lakht (man plans and God laughs).  As we approached the goat pens, we learned that Hannah, one of the mama goats, had just given birth to a long-awaited baby…and that perhaps another was on the way.  We crowded around to watch Mimi, the goat doula, and Jane, a volunteer, do their thing.  Before too long, another baby did emerge, but this one wasn’t breathing.  Acting on instinct, Jane picked him up to be sure he was alive and, as she told me later, “Voila, he started to breathe.”  A truly holy moment in the circle of life…and a shehecheyanu occasion, indeed!

Reluctant to continue on, we were drawn to the older baby goats nonetheless and spent a bit of time getting to know them.  In this case, pictures tell a better story than words:

Our farm adventure continued back in the dining hall where we helped make a simple farmer’s cheese by pouring distilled white vinegar into simmering milk at just the right temperature.  Health regulations prohibit Pearlstone from using the unpasteurized goat’s milk for this activity so a gallon of whole milk from the grocery store had to suffice.  A few minutes later, we were enjoying warm homemade cheese curds on crackers.

While we waited for the milk and vinegar to curdle into cheese, Laura reminded us that many of our Biblical forebearers, including Moses, were shepherds, and she told us this story from the Mishnah:

Out grazing his flock of goats, Moses noticed a small, young goat that had wandered away. Afraid that it would get lost and die in the wildness he followed after it, only to find it drinking at a spring.  When the goat had had its fill, Moses picked it up and carried it on his shoulders back to the flock.  Only after God had witnessed Moses’ act of compassion toward the smallest and weakest of creatures did God select him to be the shepherd of the Israelites.

Our last stop on the farm tour was at the pile of hay and bupkis (goat poop) that accumulates when the goats’ pens are cleaned out.  The good news is that it’s the perfect ingredient for composting, so as these photos show, we shoveled and shleped it down to the compost pile where it will do its part in the circle of life:

Our farm adventure ended, as it began, with a blessing. This one was impromptu, with each of us focusing on an aspect of what we’d learned and for which we are thankful. 

Mine went something like this: Baruch atah Adonai elohaynu melech ha'olam for so many reminders and new knowledge about the interconnectedness of our world and our responsibility to cherish, preserve and protect it. 

Amen.

Let the #Torah Tweets Begin

For a people with just one God, we Jews sure do a lot of counting. 

Three patriarchs, four matriarchs, six days of creation, eight nights of Hanukkah, 12 tribes, 40 years in the desert, 70 years in a life--80 if we’re really robust.  You get the picture…

In less than 10 days, we’ll reach Day #49 in the counting we’ve been doing since the second night of Passover.  Known as “counting the omer,” (an omer was a measure of barley used in ancient times for sacrificial purposes) we Jews literally count each and every day for seven consecutive weeks--from the first day of Passover all the way through to Shavuot, the pilgrimage festival that commemorates the giving and receiving of Torah atop Mt. Sinai.

On May 14, which is erev Shavuot, we will have finished counting the omer and (some—and hopefully many—of us) will begin “tweeting #Torah.”  Begun by Reconstructionist Rabbi Shai Gluskin in 2009, tweeting #Torah was designed to bring Torah to as many people as possible with a secondary goal to see #Torah trend in the top 10 on Twitter during the day.

Using hootsuite, tweetdeck or other social media tools, it’s easy to schedule tweets for the overnight hours—especially if you start now, lining up a few each day—and, later, to watch the flurry of #Torah tweets and retweets scroll by on the screen.

Here are a few of the #Torah tweets I’ve contributed to this effort in past years:

So many Jewish books open on my desk in prep for Tweet #Torah to the Top that I look like a real yeshiva bucher.

Behold, how wonderful it is for people to dwell together in unity. #Torah

Mah Tovu: How fair are your tents, O Jacob, your dwellings, O Israel. #Torah

Blessed are you Eternal our God, Sovereign of the universe, who has made me a Jew. #Torah

Thus the Eternal blessed the seventh day and called it holy. #Torah

Never again did there arise in Israel a prophet like Moses--whom the Lord singled out, face to face. #Torah

I’m certainly no Pollyanna, but Tweet #Torah is fun, easy, inclusive, and, most of all, does, indeed, bring people to #Torah and #Torah to people.

I hope you’ll join us in this year’s effort.  Although we can't count on it, wouldn't it be great if #Torah was a top 10 trend?!

Keepsakes From a Life

I spent most of this afternoon cleaning out my mother's desk.  Although there was much that could be tossed from the drawers--old buttons, grocery receipts, newspaper clippings, pink ribbons (oh if only she'd known), countless pens advertising Zithromax, Procardia XL and the UAHC Department of Adult Jewish Growth, as well as business cards from clergy and now-defunct stores and start-ups--many items remain neatly tucked away there, keepsakes from her life.

Of course there are photos.  Many of my mom--as an infant, a child, a college student, a young married woman, a new mother, and a new grandmother--filled one folder.  Images of  other relatives--some from decades ago--filled another.  My sister, Ian and I, mostly as babies and in classic school photo poses are well represented, too.

Keeping company with the photos is my parents' wedding invitation and many mazel tov telegrams sent care of the Free Synagogue of Flushing, where they were married just a few years after my mother attended a friend's confirmation there.  Also in that drawer are the announcement of my birth, the program from her college graduation, a similar booklet from one of my father's master degree ceremonies, my mother's Gratz College valedictory remarks from the spring of 2001, a d'var Torah she delivered at a long-ago editorial board meeting of RJ magazine, and the booklet from her 50th high school reunion.  (The senior yearbook photo reproduced in that booklet bears a striking resemblance to this writer.)

An embroidered LWV name tag and one from the NJWHVC of the UAHC made the cut as did her college ID, her first driver's license (issued by the State of Maryland in the 1950s, when my parents lived at historic 105 Council Street in Frederick), and a small yellow disk etched with her name and birth date, which my father identified as a children's ID tag, required during WWII.  The newspaper notice of my parents' marriage, a few notes, cards and clippings from her work as an early childhood educator six decades ago, and a campaign button for Adlai Stevenson, as well as a handwritten letter from the politician remain in her desk as well.

Two items from her wallet so touched my heart they're now tucked into my own wallet.

The first, a light-blue three by five card, folded and refolded, taped and re-taped is printed thusly:

The Gift of Blessing

May Adonai Bless you and keep you 

safe...

May Adonai cause the light of the Divine 

Presence to shine upon you and be gracious to you...

May Adonai be favorable to you and 

give you wholeness, completeness and 

Peace.  Amen.

(Name Your Blessings Here)

Bob

Jane and David

Amy and John

Claire

Family and Dear Friends

The second, a one-inch by two-inch clipping from a Jewish newspaper (I presume), will surprise no one who ever studied Torah with my mother.  That she saw fit to carry it constantly with her speaks volumes about her love of Torah, Jewish learning, and Moses.

Torah haiku

by Ron Kaplan (Is it this Ron Kaplan?)

Va'ethanan

Even dead, Moses

can't enter Israel.  Sad

fate for a great man. 

And yes, as one of her rabbis suggested to me soon after her death, I believe she's reveling in hakn[ing] Adonai a tshaynik about what a raw deal Adonai dealt to Moses.

The Big Umbrella of Torah...in a Small Jewish World

I love that the umbrella of Torah is so big and wide that this past Friday's edition of the URJ's Ten Minutes of Torah was about BRCA mutations and Hereditary Breast and Ovarian Cancer (HBOC).  I'm honored to have been able to use such a widely read forum to raise awareness about this topic, and I appreciate all the wonderful feedback I've received about it.

First prize, though, goes to Marvin Freedman, who printed out a copy and, when he saw me at yesterday's family bar mitzvah, asked me for my autograph!  Marvin, who served on the URJ board of trustees with my mom, and I are not related, but might best be considered "kissing cousins."  His wife, Sherry, is a cousin of the bar mitzvah boy's paternal grandfather, z'l, and I'm a niece of the bar mitzvah boy's paternal grandmother. Small Jewish world, indeed!