Wednesday, December 03, 2008

Do I wear black and white (or does it really matter) ??


*I wrote this about a week after the Mumbai attacks, but the relevance remains.

Every couple hours I get a new e-mail in my inbox pleading me to daven for another Jew who has been stricken with a disease, or has been severely wounded by a terrorist attack, or someone who lost a relative in attack, or a little baby born with severe birth defects, and the list goes on.

And I try to daven and I try to ask Hashem to help.

But then I challenge G-d, "You are the only One who can do anything about this! You caused this! Why do you refuse to heal?!?"

Every day someone dies when they should be stepping on a plane to visit their mother and everyday someone gets cancer when they should be going to school and everyday someone battles lukemia when they should be home tending to their child and everyday someone has a heart attack when they should be stepping into the office to close a deal. And everyday I beg G-d to stop the heartache and the pain, To stop inflicting our people with so many tragedies.

Global scale tragedies sometimes overshadow individual people's personal tragedies. When there is a global tragedy that affects the Jewish people we all pitch in a we daven and we raise money and we do what we can. But how about when we are not being attacked by terrorists, how about when anti-semitism is not on the rise, how about when we don't have to fear our lives when we are walking down the street? Can we stay connected to each other's personal tragedies? Can we connect to people who seem different than us when we are living in safety? Can we help when only we notice another's suffering and not just when the story is covered by every major media organization?

The saddest part of assimilation is that we lose our connectedness as a Jewish people, and that's when trouble starts. The power comes with the unity of a people. When there is a a million voices yelling together the message is much more clear. Assimilation is not about losing a religious Jew. Its about losing a voice, a Jewish voice, a Jewish link.

We, as a Jewish people, are a chain of souls that are intertwined with the destiny of one another. Someone hurts in China, and I feel the pain resounding in New York. The effect is unmistakeably powerful. The purpose of the world is about connection. Connecting to yourself, connecting to others, connecting to every organism and plant on this earth and connecting to G-d. Every action we take and every word we speak can be a point of connection or a point of disconnection.

Every second of every day we need to strive for connection and especially when there are external forces driving us to disconnect. It is times like these that we need to reach out. We need to stop focusing on what makes us different from one another and start focusing on how we are the same.

Most of us pick the community we live in because we share the same values, both external and internal. We like people who look like us, who talk like us, who think like us, and who act like us. But don't be fooled by the externalities. We are all just people. And we are all just Jews.

Every single aspect of this physical world can teach us something about the spiritual dimensions of our existence. We know that this is a transient world. And we know that our bodies will one day return to the ground from which it came. We know that we should not give inherent value to materialistic objects because they are fleeting. Their perceived permanence is an illusion. The same is with humans. We are all just souls clothed in different colors, shapes and sized bodies. There is no permanence to our bodies, so why get so attached to a persons external. If it is temporary how can it be as important as the eternal soul that it clothes.

We lost six holy Jews this last week in the attacks in Mumbai, India and the two souls who's lives have been highlighted in the news are the Chabad Shluchim who devoted their lives to opening their eyes to individual people's pain and struggles and connecting to others and G-d.

There is always so much to learn in this world and when every major media organization is talking about it, it is hard to ignore. So many people have written about taking our pain and channeling it towards goodness and towards bringing more loving kindess in the world. So here I am saying to please open your eyes to the individual pain of others and try to connect to your people. If not for any other reason, do it because Rabbi and Rivka Holzberg can't.

All it takes is stepping outside yourself just a little. Of being a little more "other" aware. Today I was walking up the subway stairs and I noticed an older woman struggling up the stairs and carrying two bags of groceries. So I offered to help and she accepted. As we walk towards her apartment she tells me her name is Sulema Polasky and that her family fled to Cuba in the early 1920's when Hitler was starting to rise to power and then she moved to the United States when she was a young girl. I did not know she was Jewish when I stopped to help her. All it takes is opening your eyes up a little, allow yourself to be a vessel for connections. Look for opportunities.

The world needs your smile.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

I'm Finally Home.


* I wrote this on my way to Israel on October 7th. This is the introduction to my transformative journey that characterized my trip to the holy land. More about the actual trip soon to come...

The Holy land awaits me. I have heard her calling my name for some time now.

The ache for her that lies deep in my soul has not waned, but has been covered by layers of dust of jaded cynicism.

But I am returning now, and as I get closer to her the ache increases and and my heart beats a little faster. The thought of kissing the ancient stones, of inhaling the air that has revived the soul of many, of hearing the vivacious tongue of the Jewish people alive in the streets, of seeing masses of Jews in search of their God, of His presence, trying to connect to the infinite and do what is right.

I remember the first time I went to Israel to learn the Holy words of truth in seminary. As we were driving back from the airport I gazed out the window into the the midnight-blue sky and the moon pierced my gaze, its brightness astounding my virgin-eyes. And then I recall smiling at the "nah, nach nachm.." graffiti painted with broad, bold strokes across the highway wall. I remember the newness, the excitement, and the thrill of discovering my true home; the land of my people.

Now, I am revisiting this dynamic and ever-changing world of people and I too am a new person. But the thrill of the newness I once experienced is soon to be replaced by the comfort of the familiar The world I am returning to, the world that transformed and shook mine upside down, is now receiving my presence once more with a sense of calm acceptance.

I was a different person back then. I was an 18 year old girl in search of my identity, confidence, a sense of self, excitement, adventure and truth. Now I am a 23 year old woman and am still in search of truth, but the tumult and turmoil that marked my adolescence has been replaced by a stirring for simplicity, peace, harmony, love, clarity and a deep and lasting connection with my people and my God.

The holy land beats in my aching heart.

I'm finally coming home.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

For the love of G-d

She did it for the love of God.

She strolled down the street with her hands in her shirt pockets, the humid and gray air building moisture on her forehead.
She did it for the love of God.

She chatted, laughed and then felt her hand graze over something in her pocket.
She did it for the love of God.

She looked down in surprise and to her shock and simultaneous amusement a folded $10 bill stared innocently back at her.
She did it for the love of God.

Stopping abruptly she turned her pocket inside out and let the green bill fall gently to the pavement below.
She did it for the love of God.

She stood around with her friends for a brief moment, discussing the fate of the $10 dollar bill.
She did it for the love of God.

She walked up to the man blowing leaves on the sidewalk and pointed to the money laying casually on the sidewalk.
She did it for the love of God.

"Go take it, " she said, "It's all yours. For it is our Sabbath and I cannot carry it."
She did it for the love of God.

She strolled away laughing with her friends at the leaf blower's bewildered look about the money that was no longer hers.
She did it for the love of God.

The question was posed; money or God?

And the answer was simple. The answer was clear.

And she did it for the love of God.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

I'm Almost There, My King

*A response to R' Simon Jacobson's 8th day in the 60 day journey through Elul and Tishrei.

He is in the field.

He is waiting for me to open the screen door and run in to His arms,

to speak to Him,

or at least give Him a little wave, make eye contact-something.

My King is waiting, He is knocking on my door calling out my name.

The blessings are imminent, "Just ask," He says.

The veil has been lifted it is just Him and I.

He wants to give. His love is real. His love is now.

He just wants acknowledgment. "Bring me into your life," He says. "I want to be involved."

I opened the door, peered through the screen and saw His form standing amidst my shrubs.

I cracked open the screen door and saw an arm waving.

I gingerly stepped outside and saw a smiling face beckoning with love.

"I know I've been distant," I said. "But I'm coming back to you."

"Please don't leave," I said softly, "I am mending a broken heart."

My King stood there offering comfort, catching my tears. "I am here forever and always," He said. "I will await your return, my precious one."

He stands right outside my door, His hand extended, His blessings abundant.

Where will I go?

How long will it take me to get there?

My King is so patient.

My King accepts my flaws.

My King lets me be me.

My King just wants my love in return.

But I have been wounded and I need time to heal.

I open the screen door, smile and give a wave.

"I'm almost there," I whisper, "I'm almost there, My King."

Friday, August 29, 2008

To My Special Sister,

*This post is a response to Gittel moving to an adult home with other young women like her.

To my Special Sister,

I have loved you all my life and I still don't know how to be with you or without you. We cannot communicate but with few words, hugs, kisses, and smiles and yet I feel so deeply connected to you. You will be leaving our home and venturing out on your own and I am scared.

I am scared that I will no longer know you.

I am scared that you will forget about me.

I am scared that our family is dispersing.

I am scared that I will forget your joys and your love.

I am scared that I will miss out on your life.

I am scared that you are not just leaving our home but our family as well.

I am scared that you might be scared.

I am scared that you might sad.

I am scared that you might miss us.

I am scared that they will not understand you.

I am scared that they will not love you.

I am scared that they won't tend to your holy soul.

I am scared that they won't appreciate your rythym

I am scared that they won't appreciate your uncanny memory for dates.

But mostly, I am scared of forgetting you and living a life that doesn't include you. I fear you will vanish from the outer circles of my world.

I don't want you to be the sister than no one knows about.

I love you with all my heart and all my soul and I want your loving, fun, happy, energetic and vivacious self in my life always and forever.

I love the way you look sad when you know I'm sad.

I love how excited you get when you see me and always ask when I am coming home next.

I love your stubbornness and the way you know exactly what you want.

I love the way you sigh in exasperation when your bored and say, "buzzzyyy..."

I feel lost, sad, and helpless when you throw up your hands in frustration and say, "forget it," when there is something you are trying to say and I just can't understand you.

I love how you love little babies and children and it breaks my heart when they are scared of your gentle soul.

I love the way you love my friends and have bonded with them.

I love the way they love you back.

I love how you bring cheer to so many people.

My heart swells with pride to hear about all the people who love you and see you for the incredibly special girl you are.

My blessings to you my dearest and darling sister is that HaShem send you an angel to care for you, who will guide you, let you grow, be independent and stay connected to our family and surround you with people all the time who love you, cherish you, strive to understand and appreciate you and will give you the best the world has to offer.

I miss you already.

My love forever and always,

Your Proud Sister

Friday, August 08, 2008

Redemption is Near

Where is my father?

I cannot see him.

He has gone away.


But wait.


There is a glimmer in the distance.


The scent of a rose.

The laughter of children.

The joy of newlyweds.

The chirp of a bird.

The miracle of a newborn.


and then.


A Jew extends himself for another.

A smile is sent across the room.

Two friends make peace.

A child respects his parent.

She helps an old man cross the street.

He comforts an ailing friend.

She calls a lonely woman.

He gives strength to a struggling soul.

She opens her home to those in need.

He prays for a soldier's welfare.


and then.


My father comes closer.

There is hope in the future.

The redemption is near.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

The World in the Palm of Your Hand

The wind blows, a leaf moves
an ant scurries, a dog barks,

Our lives continue forward, each step altering the next
Shaping history with a turn of the head
Each smile, each sneeze
a nod, a simple yawn
It reverberates around our great universe
Effecting change big and small
There is no way to know how far that whisper will reach,
where that pebble will land
who the bread crumbs will sustain
what your hello will do
A tiny action can impact millions
A small gesture can shake the world
A little thing can go a long way

So don't think about how little you are
But just how big your impact can be