We are Jews First

An Israeli friend said to me, "This (Yom Hazikaron) is a very sad day for Israelis." 

So I said to him, "In the US (and I'm sure across the world), Jews commemorate Yom Hazikaron also. It's sad for us too, because we are all Jews first."

We're all Jews first and we forget that all the time.

We aren't American or Israeli or South African, or British, or Irish, or Greek or Spanish.

We aren't black hat, white kippa, kippa sruga, or black velvet.

We aren't shaitels, tichels, hats or bare headed.

We aren't democrats, republicans, leftists, right-winged, conservative or liberal.

We aren't them and us.

We are just Jews.

First and foremost, we share an incredible legacy and an incredible bond because we are brothers and sisters.

It's not that just Israelis were killed in the war, it's Jews that were killed.

We are Jews.

You and me.

And the guy next to us.

We are Jews.

You are hurting, so we are hurting.

Because we are all Jews.

No matter where we are in the world, what other values and beliefs we ascribe to and what other cultures we are part of.

We are all Jews.

You must not forget.

We are on the same side. Don't cut off your nose to spite your face.

Because, most importantly, we are Jews.

His name used to be"Ronnie"

I’m sitting here in my freezing, new and empty apartment, wrapped in a blanket and eating dried mango I just bought from the shuk. Tears are streaming down my face as I read the heart-wrenching stories from R’ Paysach Krohn’s book, In the Spirit of the Maggid. He marvels, in many of his stories, both tragic and joyous, how one small act or word changed someone’s life forever. I have experienced this phenomenon many times and speak about it in this poem I wrote a few years ago, and now in this story I want to share with you.

In the 1970’s my father and mother both became religious while they were in their early 20’s in Seattle. My father was born and raised in Seattle (in fact my Great-grandmother was as well) and my mother, originally from Chicago, came to Seattle in her early 20’s to live near her sister. My parents had both been involved with Chabad at the beginning of their process of becoming religious, but not long after had moved to NY and joined the community in Far Rockaway before returning to live in Seattle 10 years later. I never really thought much about their process of becoming religious and how life may have been very different if they had not become more observant.

About 30 years later, in 2005, after two years of seminary in Israel, I moved to NY and studied at Lander College for Women. I met a girl name Chani Raskin and we connected right away but it wasn’t until after a year or two of knowing each other I finally made it to her house one Friday night to join her family for Shabbat dinner. 

We were sitting around the table with her family, and her father starts asking me the usual ‘get-to-know-you’ questions about where I am from etc. I responded that I was from Seattle and he responded curiously, “Oh really?” “I was a bachur there on shlichus many years ago.”

  

I always get excited when I meet people who have been to Seattle so I respond, “How cool! When were you there and who do you remember?” 

It turns out that he was there in the mid-70’s at the same time that my parents were there and becoming religious. Since he was involved in Chabad I mentioned that my parents were both involved in Chabad a bit when they were becoming religious. 

Now it was his turn to get excited, “Who are your parents? What is your last name?” I tell him my family name and he says, “Wow that sounds so familiar! What is your father’s name? So I reply, “Isaac Velvel but he used to go by his English name, Ronnie/Ronald.” 

His response still gives me chills when I think about it.

WOW, “he astounds, I remember your father! I kashered his first kitchen! 

My eyes started tearing up as it hit me; I was sitting there as a religious girl, studying in an Orthodox college at the table of the man who kashered my Dad’s first kitchen. A man who saw the beginning of my Dad’s journey of re-connecting to God, and may have even been someone who encouraged and motivated him to continue learning Torah, is now seeing the “result”. All of the sudden I saw what could have been and what was; my dad became religious and now here I am, religious too. If my Dad had not become religious, I may not even exist, let alone be sitting at my friend’s Shabbat table in Crown Heights. The incredible amount of divine providence involved in every detail that led up to that moment felt literally awesome. And for my friend’s dad to see the product, so to speak, of the work he did in Seattle 30 years before - how powerful.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this story recently. Of the deep connections we make and the powerful impact we have, even when we are unaware. It is incredibly difficult to live life being constantly conscious of what we are saying, to whom we are speaking, what we can do for someone and how we can make an impact. But, as you can see from this story, we have no idea how far-reaching our words and actions are. If you would have told my dad and this young bachur in the 1970’s that their daughters would become friends at an Orthodox college in New York, I’m sure they would have laughed. 

But look who’s laughing now?

Strangers? I think not.

This morning I sat by myself at breakfast this morning speeding through the pre-conference survey for the Muslim-Jewish Conference until I got up to the part that asked questions about how I interact with Muslims. I have NO idea, I thought, I’ve never really interacted with Muslims before. Anyone that knows me will tell you I will talk to any stranger (much to my grandmother’s chagrin) but I started getting nervous; is there a specific way I’m supposed to interact with Muslims, am I going to say something offensive? I looked around the room and saw women with hijabs and men with traditional Muslim garb and thought, oh shoot, I should have been more prepared. 

But then we started talking; one conversation after another, and then we shared a joke and connected over trying to find flat water in a country of carbonation (and potatoes). And after an intense day of speaking about sensitive and emotionally charged issues, both on a collective and individual level, and scouting out the local pubs in Bratislava, these survey questions are no longer relevant. I learned, yet again, that humanity is universal and people are people everywhere.

Amidst our visual differences lies a human soul, a human spirit, and a human psyche that has experienced joy, pain, loss, suffering, challenges, happiness, ecstasy, peace, turmoil, humility, embarrassment, shame, guilt, loneliness, misery, depression, sadness, goodness, times of plenty and times of lacking, spirituality, anger, rebellion and much, much more.

I won’t pretend that in one day we solved the world’s problems, or that I now know everything about Muslims and I no longer have any stereotypes, but I can tell you about the people I met. The people who are kind, interesting, wise, open and warm. The people who share my sense of humor and sarcasm and can laugh at themselves. The people who can speak honestly and respectfully, who are curious and genuine and who are here to make a human connection with people who are truly foreign to them.

So next time I’m meeting a new person I won't be fooled by the language they speak or the clothing that they wear, because underneath it all we are both speaking the same language; the language of the human experience, the language of the soul.

P.s. Savta, some strangers are okay :) 

That was just my stomach talking

I just wanted to get lunch. But the sidewalk was crowded with protestors, and barricades because of the protestors. "Anarchists, is what they call themselves," one policeman said, "we're here because of potential looting and vandalism."

"Great, a bunch of aimless hippies and hooligans who are wasting MY tax payer dollars on police force, and for what?" I grumbled.

But that was just my stomach talking.

And as the protests went on I ranted to a friend, "I agree with their message, but they are so scattered and they aren't fighting for something specific. They have no action plan!"

Who was that, making those cynical comments about activists?? I didn't recognize myself as I touted my nose at them.

But tonight, they sparked my soul.

I just wanted to get to the subway and go home. But there were thousands of people in the streets; protestors, journalists, spectators and police, who were yelling, singing, handing out newspapers and fliers, and chanting. And as I walked those 10 blocks filled with thousands of  hippies, business men and women, activists, students, doctors and mothers who just want justice, I remembered my soul.

Every day I go to work to help create a more just world and everyday I forget that we live in a world full of people who are struggling and suffering. I get caught up in the stresses and busy-ness of life and work, I get caught up with e-mails and logistics and I forget the fight. I forget who we are fighting for, what we are fighting for and why we are fighting!

And these hippies and hooligans; they filled me in.

We are fighting for the people. For us. For our families. For the children we don't yet have.

We are fighting because we are human and our greatest need is to unite with others, survive and actualize.

We are fighting because we care and because the world needs our passion.

We are fighting because there's a world of generosity and kindness waiting to erupt.

We are fighting because a world of greed and lies is poison.

We will fight today, tomorrow and even after the protestors go home.

Because we know deep inside that something's not right.

My stomach has quieted and my soul is now yelling.

Will you care?

Will you join the fight?

Invisible Heroes

It felt historic. The cavernous walls, the sweet scent of incense and the warm candles danced off the room creating the perfect ambiance as everyone took a seat and greeted one another. The air was rich with kind and eager eyes as Ilan Sibony, owner of Darna, spoke to us and I felt everyone's guards begin to fall away. Ilan explained to us that his dream for his restaurant was to be a home, "for all those who dream about a true peace between ourselves and our neighbors." What better place to bring together people who are so courageously fighting for peace?

 Just 30 minutes earlier we had walked into Mamilla hotel lobby and were greeted with a mixture of "Shalom" and "Hello" from the group of men standing there. The group was comprised of 1 Rabbi, 5 Jewish Israeli soldiers, 4 not Jewish American soldiers, the Attorney General of Washington State, the First Gentleman (the Governor's husband), the Director of Veterans Association of Washington State and his wife who is a bodyguard for the Governor of Washington.

 Then there was us.

My aunt, Paula Begoun, who is an incredible firehouse of a woman, was sponsoring a dinner for Hope for Heroism, an organization that helps wounded Israeli soldiers heal their physical and emotional wounds and piece their lives back together.

 Passing by any of these unsung heroes on the street, one would ever know what they have done and what they continue to do for their country. There was no pretense, there were no false cheers or placating; there were just people trying to connect and understand one another, creating a true feeling of brotherhood between people, who from face value, couldn't be more different. But here we all were, breaking bread and sharing stories, advice and blessings, at a Moroccan restaurant in Jerusalem.

 The soldiers began to speak and my heart did as well:

 My heart broke as the soldiers described how they had to fight for their benefits once they left the army, either because they were injured or because their service was up.

 My heart raged as they explained that they had to get proof that they were injured with letters from their superiors and their doctors and tests and more.

 My heart cried as they described the loneliness and pain of living with PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) at a time that no one knew what it was.

My heart cried again when they spoke of returning to a home where no one understood what they had gone through, who called them lazy and good for nothings demanding, "What's the matter with you?”

They felt their sense of manhood and sense of self wither away day by day.

But then my heart rejoiced when I saw a room of soldiers, politicians, civilians and rabbis from all religions and ethnicities unite over a shared experience, as their guards came down, religious difference were swept aside and all that remained was their humanity and their longing to be whole and to heal.

 As an American, and a Jew I have immense amount of gratitude to both the countries that I call my home.

Everyone in the world should have immense amount of gratitude to any army that is fighting evil and uprooting destructive forces. Even if it's not in your neighborhood, it reverberates throughout the world. Even if you don't support the actions, we must support the men and women who, too often and literally, sacrifice their lives so we can live in a safer world.

 It is so easy to forget that we are at war and that there are people every day, people who are mothers and fathers, wives and husbands, sons and daughters who are fighting for us; for our safety, for our peace of mind and for our lives.

When they come home from war is the time our support is needed most. For many people who can no longer serve, who are disabled in their early 20's, a time when most others are at their physical prime, we need to remember that it is because of them that we can sleep at night. It is because of them that we can send our children to school and know they will be safe and it is because of them that we can live.

 Next time you get upset about the war and want to complain, instead, say a kind word to a neighbor, smile at a stranger, give your seat to someone who looks weak, or make peace with a relative.

These brave men and women are giving their lives to bring peace in the world; at least let's support them in that.

Cinco Pesos?

Tienes cinco pesos?

Que?

Cinco pesos.

That's all he wanted.

5 pesos.

The young boy of 11 had seen us arriving in the wooden row boat and had come running. His face was serious and curious and his eyes followed our every movement as we got out of the boat and walked towards our car.

Cinco pesos. It's less than 5 cents.

I only had a few big bills in my hand that I needed to give to our guides who took us to Los Haitises so I said in my broken Spanish, "No tengo. Es por hombres."

As I walked back to the car I felt his eyes pore through my back. I wanted so badly to give him something so when I got to the car I sifted through my bag and found a one dollar bill.

My flip-flops shuffled through the unpaved lot and I kept eye contact as I approached the boy.

I reached out my hand and asked, "Quieres es?"

What a beautiful smile he had.

I have never seen someone's face light-up the way this young boy's did and I have never seen one dollar mean so much to anyone.

It was bittersweet and I felt both enlivened and saddened that I had the power to transform this boy's day with one dollar bill.

This is tragic.

This is poverty.

Back to Basics

*
While walking in Central Park I was struck for the first time in my life by the beauty and blessing in the lack of color that the winter months bring to the world. The winter allows us a break from the intense sensory stimulation of the other months in a lot of ways and gives us the opportunity and reminds us to move away from our distractions and re-focus our minds, hearts and souls.


The sky and ground are white and the trees are brown and bare

Stillness and simplicity mark the world of winter

"Stop," it says

The distractions are gone, it's time pay attention

There are no luscious, green swaying trees or magnificent, brightly hued flowers to marvel at

There are no dogs barking on the street or the squeals of children playing in the bright sun

There is just you

Your steamy breath

Your careful steps

Your silent thoughts

Walk carefully over the white powder so you don't slip

And make sure to breathe the fresh air as you walk out the door

It's time to get back to the basics of breathing and walking

To find peace and stillness within as there is peace and stillness without

To once again become centered within yourself

So you can grow from within instead of reacting from without

Use the silence to reconnect

Just breathe and walk back to your basics

Ever Elusive Emotions

*I just watched 'Across the Universe' and so many of the struggles of apathy, radicalism, war, hate etc... resonated within me because of what is going on in the world today. In Israel, in Darfur, in Iraq and unfortunately the list goes on and on. But no matter how sad and tragic it is, it is a constant struggle to really internalize what is going on and even more so internalize it enough to act. But to what extent do we need to?

We try to sympathize

We try to feel their pain

But until there are bombs in our backyard

We don’t get it

Until our children our kidnapped

We don’t act as fast

Until our homes our taken away

We don’t feel their shivers

Until our families are ripped apart

We can’t know how to respond

We are only human

We feel pain

We feel sadness

We experience the tragedy

But only when it’s knocking at our door

And even when it’s knocking on our door

Can we truly respond?

Can we muster the strength

Can we help heal?

Can we provide support?

Can we provide love?

Can we provide courage?

How can we truly understand someone else’s pain if we’ve never experienced it ourselves?

And do we need to?

One language from Kabul to NYC

I felt as though I was reading the story of my life. I was not born in Afghanistan to a rich family, nor am I the only child of a widower, and nor have I committed a crime, but the tale of The Kite Runner is not bound to the factual details of time, place and characters. Rather, this powerful novel transcends the physical details of life and speaks of the human story; it speaks of deep loss and pain, of immense joy, of fond memories, of yearning for the comfort of the familiar. It describes a place of happiness, peace and safety, and tells a story of moving on, of hiding, of feeling like a burden. Most importantly it shows the power of self-redemption; of freeing yourself from pain long past and surging forward, of reaching your potential and living your dreams, of finding the strength you never knew you had and letting it take you to a new place in life.

The story of humanity is universal and is embedded in every person, in every soul. The face may look different, the country may have a different name, and you may call your mother by a different euphemism, but that's all it is; a euphemism.

Amidst our visual differences lies a human soul, a human spirit, and a human psyche that has experienced joy, pain, loss, suffering, challenges, happiness, ecstasy, peace, turmoil, humility, embarrassment, shame, guilt, loneliness, misery, depression, sadness, goodness, times of plenty and times of lacking, spirituality, anger, rebellion and much, much more.

So when you meet another person, don't be fooled by the language they speak or the clothing that they wear, because underneath it all you are both speaking the same language; the language of the human experience, the language of the soul.

Are you there?

Joy. Love. Joy. Challenges. Joy. Sadness. Joy. Peace. Joy. War. Joy. Blessings. Joy.

Time rolls on. Life rolls on. Where are we going? Where have we been? How are we going to make the most of our journey here? We are all given gifts, blessings, joy, love, struggles, challenges, sadness, and pain. Everything we are given is to guide us in our journey; to help bring us closer to and discover ourselves, others, and the secrets and wonders of our universe. We just need to open ourselves up and create a vessel for all the blessings, revealed and concealed, to flow into.

Cherish every moment. Let the petty things fall to the wayside because they will not join you in your times of joy, they will not comfort you in your times of sadness and they will not bring you closer to the people you love. Embrace meaning, depth, and truth in your life because it will bring joy into your life, it will lift you up when you are sad, and it will authentically connect you to the people around you.

Life is there. The Joy is there. The Love is there. The Blessings are there.

Are you there?

Soul Revival

* I don't recall why or when I wrote this, but I found it tonight while I was searching for a piece of writing to comfort my soul. I was feeling the reality of all the losses I have experienced in my life and feeling an intense but calm sadness. I know that everyone experiences pain, difficulties, and loss in their life at some point (some more than others) so I am posting this in the hope that it helps you retain your sense of hope and provides even a glimmer of light during a dark time. With much love and blessings I wish you all a life of both internal and external peace.

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There will be times when the world will seem overwhelming and there will be times when the world seems frightening and there will be times when you will feel like you are alone amidst a sea of fragmented lives. 

But know that those times will be followed with a spark of light, a glimmer of hope, opportunities will arise and love and kindness will find its way to you. 

Even when you are in the depths of darkness, desperately groping to find a hand, there will be one soon. You just have to keep feeling, keep your eyes alert and your heart open to the possibility. 

You must retain your hope. 

Because, I promise, the joy will come, the peace will come, the love will come, and the kindness will come. 

Please wait for it. Do not give way to the heaviness in your heart and soul. Life has a way of reviving the tongues of those whose lives seem to be filled with sorrow. 

Please don’t let your body give way to the desperate temptation of the sleep in the hours of the sun-filled hallway of potential. 

Arise and greet the petals of hope and blessings that flutter in the wind of our day. 

Goodness awaits you at every corner. Open the door and greet it with peace.

A Miracle on the Hudson

It was a miracle on the Hudson.

There is no other explanation for it.

155 people survived a crash landing in the Hudson river.

Everything that could go right in an emergency landing went right, nothing failed. There was a clear space on the Hudson for the plane to rest, the heroic and courageous pilot landed the plane perfectly, the fuel tanks didn't rupture allowing the plane to remain buoyant even as it filled up with water, the remarkable crew and passengers worked together to get everyone off the plane safely and in an orderly manner, and the rescue teams arrived immediately and were able to get everyone to safety within minutes.

The pieces lined up like a slightly scratched up jigsaw puzzle. It was the perfect ending to an American drama, and all the news stations marveled at the incredible stream of coincidences that avoided a tragedy.

A day that could have gone down as a day of mourning, will now be celebrated as day of rejoicing.

We were blessed to see a miracle.

A man who was sitting next to the engine that blew was asked what happened on the plane and what people were doing. In response he answered, "To be honest, everyone was saying prayers."

'They' say there is no atheist in a foxhole. I think 'they' are right.

When a fellow passenger told him no one had died in the crash, a man sauntering off the M98 Limited bus shook his head, waved his newspaper and exclaimed, "There is a God!"

Governer Patterson has coined this incredible event as, "Miracle on the Hudson." But let's not forget that this is a revealed miracle that were blessed to witness.

Let's not forget that every day we are witness to hundreds of miracles in just our little lives. Let's not forget that every day that we wake up breathing and in good health, that too is a miracle.
Let's not forget that every day that we wake up to someone we love, that too is a miracle.
Let's not forget that every day that when we wake up and have a job to go to, that too is a miracle.
Let's not forget that every day that we can hear the sound of the cars driving by and see the rain falling from the sky, that too is a miracle.
Let's not forget that every day that we have another opportunity to smile and do good things in the world, that too is a miracle.
Let's not forget that everyday that we have a chance to call someone and say hello, that too is a miracle.
Let's not forget that everyday that we can cross the street safely, and get a steaming, warm cup of coffee from Starbucks, that too is a miracle.

Every moment of every day miracles abound. We just need to be more attune to them.

A miraculous plane crash may jolt us to be awed for a day or two, but when our inspiration passes how will we maintain our appreciation for the gift of life?

Connect to each moment. Remember it is precious. Remember that there is meaning to every moment of every day. Remember to count your blessings. Remember to open your eyes. Remember that the world is a beautiful place.

Remember, miracles do happen.

After all, there IS a God.

Life is Beautiful

I'm just looking for a little inspiration, a little meaning in my life.

I go from night to day, day to night, trying to find that surge of meaning out of something that doesn't have inherent meaning. Trying to connect to people I don't have an inherent connection with.

But life's a journey, it's a process. Not a destination.

I spoke with my soul sista' tonight and, as usual, we were on were on the same journey, just different details. We connected, we shared our struggles, our feelings of emptiness, of no motivation, of not caring.

"But Raiz, its from these phases that real determination to GET THERE sprouts. That's how I feel...just got to get up and move," She said, emphatically.

Just get up and move.

Just get up and move.

So we plan. How will I move? Where will she go?

And then Matisyahu raps from my computer, "Exaltation my G-d of salvation..."

and

"So high, so low, I don't know where but we've got to go there.."

Just get up and move.

Just get up and move.

Life is not a destination, it's a journey.

Life IS up's and life is downs.

Life IS conflict.

Life IS struggle.

But you gotta keep moving.

Stay connected to your journey.

Because...

Life IS also Beautiful.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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

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.

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