Theories about the creation of people, that I know about anyway, seem to come down to three:
God created Adam in the Garden of Eden.
All people evolved somewhere in Africa.
Some combination of the two happened.
Maybe that is 2 1/2 theories.
In any case, it hit me that they all have something in common. At some point, there was only one: one creature of both sexes or one man (depending on the version of the creation story you are reading in the Torah), or one person (beginning the evolutionary chain).
One. One body. One soul.
Think about that. Today there are over 7.5 BILLION. From one to 7.5 billion.
(You can watch the world population number go up here: http://www.worldometers.info/world-population/ if you are that kind of person. Apparently I am. I found it oddly fascinating to watch the page tick off births, deaths, and today's population increase.
And I had to check: The US has the 3rd largest population in the world. Israel has the 98th largest, which is kind of scary.)
Anyway, back to the point... which is that everyone alive today is, at base, related. We all came from that one body and one soul.
Religiously I'd been taught that before but it never really resonated with me. You know how sometimes something is just words, then suddenly you realize, on some deep level, what the words mean. I had been told many times that the reason God made only one man during creation was so that no one could claim their ancestors were created before other peoples'. After all, everyone came from that same guy.
And I've read a little about evolution. In fact I have a book in my unread book pile about evolution right now. (Perry Marshall, Evolution 2.0 - no recommendation, after all it is in my unread pile, but it seems like it will be a fascinating read when I get to it. He is a Christian who believes in intelligent design and science. This book is his reconciliation of the two.)
Yesterday, my rabbi was NOT talking about this. But, in talking about repairing the world, he explained that we could envision that original one soul being fractured, like dropping a very large glass bowl, into millions of pieces. (He went on to say it is our job to help find and put all the pieces back together, but that is not what this piece is about.)
That image, though, shook me up and gave me one of those "light bulb" moments.
We all came from the same soul, the same breath of God being breathed into one lump of clay. Or, if you don't believe in God, from whatever evolutionary nudge caused an aquatic creature to become a land based creature drawing its first breath of air.
It was a wake up moment for me. That that first breath of air (wherever it came from) was my first breath of air, was everyone alive today's first breath of air.
Yoko Ono, of all people, (not my favorite anything I have to admit, even though I don't think she broke up the Beatles. If you don't know who the Beatles are, don't worry about it) did write a poem I always thought was kind of profound. It's called AIR TALK and strangely enough, it sums up what I've been saying:
It’s sad that the air is the only thing we share.
No matter how close we get to each other,
there is always air between us.
It’s also nice that we share the air,
No matter how far apart we are
the air links us.
No matter what some racist, pseudo-scientists may say about the inherent differences between the races, that first breath of air links us all. It will always link us all.
It might be a better world if folks would think about that before maiming and killing; or even before just being rude or nasty to other people who share the same life's breath.
I am certainly going to make an effort to keep it in the front of my mind before I open my mouth to deliver, what would previously have been, some off-hand cutting remark to the person next to me who shares the air.
Sunday, June 11, 2017
Thursday, February 2, 2017
My name is Issac. My father tried to murder me this morning.
My father – a holy and revered man, a good man. No, more than good, the best man I know, whom I love.
Abraham – known to all as a man who walks with God - brought a knife so close to my throat that I could feel the trickle of blood when, at the very last moment, he pulled it away.
I couldn’t move when he untied the knots that bound me there. He had to help me up. That’s when I noticed I had wet myself and the blood at my throat matched my face burning red with the shame of it.
He set me down well away from the alter, as though he was now trying to protect me from harm. He carefully slaughtered the ram, then said grateful prayers to his God. I began to shake.
I’d wondered what we were about from the beginning of the journey, when my father woke me, so careful not to wake my mother. Why would he not say goodbye to his beloved wife? And if we were to make a sacrifice, where was the animal? But I had known since I raised up my eyes and saw the great mountain surround by God’s presence. The others who accompanied us could not see it. I knew why I could. It was the place of my death.
I felt the Adversary taunting me. “Run you fool! You know you are the animal! He’s old and weak! You can get away!”
We came to the high place and began stacking the rocks, then placing the wood. Creating the place of Sacrifice. “Father,” I finally ask, “where is the animal?”
Refusing to look at me, he said “God will provide, my beloved son.”
Adversary: “Beloved? He’s about to slaughter you! Perhaps he should! You stand there holding the rope! Perhaps you are an animal! Fool! Run!”
I could have, you know. I could have knocked him to the ground. He would not have tried to hold me back.
I saw he hoped I would run.
I saw the tears he was holding back.
I saw the pure love he had for me.
I saw his determination to do what he felt his God wanted him to do.
How do I know that God ordered him to kill me? My father didn’t tell me and God has never spoken to me. Although sometimes I feel as if I have had little glimpses of him – just a brush of awareness like the brush of a bit of fabric on your arm as someone walks past you. I think of Him as my father’s God, but I know He is mine too.
And I’ve spent my entire life listening to my father teach and watching his joy when God is with him.
I know.
I know because my father would not do this thing on his own.
I know because the Adversary taunts me with it again and again: “Boy, stupid, stupid boy. God, your God,” he sneers, "wants you dead. Has ordered your own father to kill you. You obviously do not know God. But you know your father. Do you think he will refuse?"
And then, far worse than the sneering, he laughs... And laughs... And laughs. I would cover my ears, but, of course, that will not shut out this sound.
I am terrified. I want to run. Fast and far. Never to come back.
But I look over at my father. On his face determination warring with love. Love. Who does my father love? Me? God?
Isaac: “Be gone Adversary. Did you really think I would so dishonor this good man who loves me – who I love?”
Although who might not fight or flinch or run at the last moment. Standing beside the stones and the wood I have helped my father pile up, I look him in the eye. With a slight smile I lay down.
Isaac: “Bind me tightly, Father. I would not inadvertently hurt you, or flinch and ruin the sacrifice.”
Or run. How much I want to run. I turn my head away and whisper “I love you.” To my father? To God? Perhaps to my mother, of whose love I have no doubts?
When it is over, the ram dead and burned, the prayers said, my father walks toward me, perhaps to embrace me. I look down and back away.
I cannot bear to look at my father, to walk beside him, as if nothing has changed between us. So I lag behind, returning home alone. I carry the rope with me. It is never out of my hands. I jump at the smallest sound. I have no appetite. I do not sleep. I cannot bear the nightmares. But the waking visions are worse. Waking or sleeping I see it. I feel the knife at my throat. Sometimes I simply stand and shake: Will God demand this of my father again? Will He demand it of me?
And yet…
I am almost certain I felt the tip of an angel’s wing come between me and that knife. Did my father’s God, my God, save me in the end? And if he did, why demand my death in the first place?
And why, oh God why, did my father not refuse?
I cannot discuss this with my father. I cannot discuss it with anyone. Not now anyway. Perhaps not ever.
My mother would have understood, I am sure of it. But after the walk back through the dessert, which seemed so much longer than the walk to that mountain, I am faced with the news of her death. Her heart had simply stopped when my father enthused to her over the wondrous thing that had just happened to her son. Her only son. The one that she loved.
What will I do now? Who can I share my secrets with? Who will comfort me?
Will God demand this of my father again? Will He demand it of me?
I run my hands over the rope.
Abraham – known to all as a man who walks with God - brought a knife so close to my throat that I could feel the trickle of blood when, at the very last moment, he pulled it away.
I couldn’t move when he untied the knots that bound me there. He had to help me up. That’s when I noticed I had wet myself and the blood at my throat matched my face burning red with the shame of it.
He set me down well away from the alter, as though he was now trying to protect me from harm. He carefully slaughtered the ram, then said grateful prayers to his God. I began to shake.
I’d wondered what we were about from the beginning of the journey, when my father woke me, so careful not to wake my mother. Why would he not say goodbye to his beloved wife? And if we were to make a sacrifice, where was the animal? But I had known since I raised up my eyes and saw the great mountain surround by God’s presence. The others who accompanied us could not see it. I knew why I could. It was the place of my death.
I felt the Adversary taunting me. “Run you fool! You know you are the animal! He’s old and weak! You can get away!”
We came to the high place and began stacking the rocks, then placing the wood. Creating the place of Sacrifice. “Father,” I finally ask, “where is the animal?”
Refusing to look at me, he said “God will provide, my beloved son.”
Adversary: “Beloved? He’s about to slaughter you! Perhaps he should! You stand there holding the rope! Perhaps you are an animal! Fool! Run!”
I could have, you know. I could have knocked him to the ground. He would not have tried to hold me back.
I saw he hoped I would run.
I saw the tears he was holding back.
I saw the pure love he had for me.
I saw his determination to do what he felt his God wanted him to do.
How do I know that God ordered him to kill me? My father didn’t tell me and God has never spoken to me. Although sometimes I feel as if I have had little glimpses of him – just a brush of awareness like the brush of a bit of fabric on your arm as someone walks past you. I think of Him as my father’s God, but I know He is mine too.
And I’ve spent my entire life listening to my father teach and watching his joy when God is with him.
I know.
I know because my father would not do this thing on his own.
I know because the Adversary taunts me with it again and again: “Boy, stupid, stupid boy. God, your God,” he sneers, "wants you dead. Has ordered your own father to kill you. You obviously do not know God. But you know your father. Do you think he will refuse?"
And then, far worse than the sneering, he laughs... And laughs... And laughs. I would cover my ears, but, of course, that will not shut out this sound.
I am terrified. I want to run. Fast and far. Never to come back.
But I look over at my father. On his face determination warring with love. Love. Who does my father love? Me? God?
Isaac: “Be gone Adversary. Did you really think I would so dishonor this good man who loves me – who I love?”
Although who might not fight or flinch or run at the last moment. Standing beside the stones and the wood I have helped my father pile up, I look him in the eye. With a slight smile I lay down.
Isaac: “Bind me tightly, Father. I would not inadvertently hurt you, or flinch and ruin the sacrifice.”
Or run. How much I want to run. I turn my head away and whisper “I love you.” To my father? To God? Perhaps to my mother, of whose love I have no doubts?
When it is over, the ram dead and burned, the prayers said, my father walks toward me, perhaps to embrace me. I look down and back away.
I cannot bear to look at my father, to walk beside him, as if nothing has changed between us. So I lag behind, returning home alone. I carry the rope with me. It is never out of my hands. I jump at the smallest sound. I have no appetite. I do not sleep. I cannot bear the nightmares. But the waking visions are worse. Waking or sleeping I see it. I feel the knife at my throat. Sometimes I simply stand and shake: Will God demand this of my father again? Will He demand it of me?
And yet…
I am almost certain I felt the tip of an angel’s wing come between me and that knife. Did my father’s God, my God, save me in the end? And if he did, why demand my death in the first place?
And why, oh God why, did my father not refuse?
I cannot discuss this with my father. I cannot discuss it with anyone. Not now anyway. Perhaps not ever.
My mother would have understood, I am sure of it. But after the walk back through the dessert, which seemed so much longer than the walk to that mountain, I am faced with the news of her death. Her heart had simply stopped when my father enthused to her over the wondrous thing that had just happened to her son. Her only son. The one that she loved.
What will I do now? Who can I share my secrets with? Who will comfort me?
Will God demand this of my father again? Will He demand it of me?
I run my hands over the rope.
Friday, December 30, 2016
I have some serious issues with the Binding of Isaac.
I have some serious issues with the story of the
Binding of Isaac.
Throughout his life, God continually tested Abraham and I’ve always thought he failed this test. After all, he argued with God about the destruction of the
people of Sodom and Gomorrah, you’d think he could have come up some argument
to at least try to save his own son. Since my Orthodox teachers say Isaac was
37 when he walked up Mount Moriah, I think
he was the one who passed the test. Abraham was over a 100 years old at
this point. Isaac was younger and stronger than his father, he could have
gotten away. But he chose to honor his father, to honor God by allowing himself to be bound on that
altar. Some stories say he even demanded to be bound so that he would not
flinch away when he saw the knife descending and thus ruin the perfection of
the sacrifice.
Discussing this with a Rabbi I know he told me I was wrong, that
I didn’t understand what the test was.
Me: “Kill your son?” No. “Do whatever God tells you to do
without question?” No.
Rabbi: “Consider… what is the most important thing Abraham would have lost if he had sacrificed
Isaac?”
Me: “Ummm…” Not my most impressive response.
Later I spend some time trying to figure that out, by imagining
myself into Abraham.
The presence of God says: “Sacrifice your son, your only
son, the one you love.”
Confused, Abraham finally stammers: “What?”
But God is already gone.
Abraham plops down in the desert, frowning, thinking: What
just happened? Surely, the God I have loved and worshipped all these years
wouldn’t command me to kill Isaac. Surely I must be mistaken! He promised me
that Isaac would carry on my name, my work; that, through him, my offspring
would be as numerous as the stars!
Kill him? Surely not.
I must have misunderstood. He’s
always told me He didn’t want human sacrifice and I’ve taught that to everyone.
Sarah, my beloved Sarah, will never forgive me!
And what of my followers? They will all think that I’m a
hypocrite, a liar, a charlatan! That
I’ve misled them - for some nefarious purposes of my own. My followers will all
desert me. Sarah will leave me. I’ll be completely alone!
And will they be wrong?
I’ve told people for a hundred years that the one God of the
Universe doesn’t require or want human sacrifices. I meant it, didn’t I? It’s
true, isn’t it? Or have I been deluded all these years, not truly understanding Him.
Or maybe He was indeed communicating with me, but I
misunderstood what He revealed. After all, I am not one who sees God face to
face. Do I truly know what he wants of us – of me?
He wants me to kill my son.
He wants me to kill
my son.
He wants me to kill my
son.
No matter how he says it, or how many times he says it, Abraham
has trouble bringing himself to believe it.
Killing anyone is morally wrong. How can it possibly be
right to kill my beautiful boy, my wonderful boy. Flesh of my flesh. Whom I
love beyond all things. My Isaac?
But… God did command me. I am certain He did. Why would He
do that? Why would he do that to me?
Haven’t I served him long and faithfully? Haven’t I done all I was asked to do?
Left my home and my family. Travelled through
hostile lands. Risked my wife’s virtue, even her life. And my own, for that
matter.
I already turned out one son at God’s word. How can He ask
this of me? How can He? Isaac is innocent… a good man… He loves God!
An old man, crouching in the desert, weeping, alone.
Standing finally, staring up at the sky. Softly, so softly: All
I can know is that You are. And I am certain You did command me. I’d like to
think there must be a good reason, but I don’t know what it is. Perhaps it is something I can’t know.
Abraham, wiping tears from his eyes, walks slowly back
toward his tents. And after stopping for a look at his sleeping wife and son, he begins to prepare the items he will need for the trip he will begin in the
morning. The task will not be easier if he puts it off.
It will be a long sleepless night. Perhaps for the first
time since Isaac was a baby, Abraham sits and watches him sleeping.
I will lose my reputation. My life’s work.
But You are God and you commanded it.
I will lose my wife. My descendants.
But You are God and you commanded it.
I will lose my son. My only son. The one that I love.
But You are God and you commanded it.
Who am I to ask You to spare me this?
If the test was the question “Are you willing to lose
everything you value because I commanded it?” And the knife at Isaac’s throat
was the answer, then perhaps Abraham did pass.
But I have to say, I am still not entirely convinced. God
took everything from Job, and he cried out at the injustice of it. Why didn’t
Abraham?
Thursday, November 10, 2016
I'm not going to let my passport expire
Everyone,
well... at lot of people, and a lot of people in various religious
communities, are writing about the election, so probably I shouldn't.
But, never being one to allow rules or logic to stop me, I'm going to anyway.
Yesterday
at work I was a mess. I came home last night and locked myself in,
and couldn't make myself go out again for any reason. I had cereal
for dinner because that is all I had in the house. I wasn't even willing to go to the grocery store, and
it's downstairs. I turned off a show I usually like because they were
doing an episode about computer hackers taking over an election. It made
my stomach hurt.
Sometimes
something happens that is not quite a miracle, but it is the exact
right thing at the exact right time that lets you know God is peeking
out from behind the curtain (like the Wizard in the Emerald City) and pushing something in front of you
that you ought to pay attention to. I had one of those Divine
Coincidences happen to me today.
I
was looking for some comfort music to go along with my comfort food
of choice, today chocolate. I listened to every version of Leonard
Cohen's "Hallelujah" I could find, and there are a lot of
them. Then I moved on to Mahalia Jackson, Joshua Nelson, and Debbie
Friedman. Finally I randomly stumbled across a song from the Color
Purple soundtrack, "Maybe God is Trying to Tell You Something (Speak Lord)".
I
listened to it a couple of times. And in addition to helping me get
through the day, it occurred to me that maybe God was
trying to tell me something.
You
probably already know this, but the popular vote in the election was
split almost exactly 50/50 with Hillary Clinton actually getting a
few hundred thousand more, 59,938,290
votes to Donald Trump's 59,704,886. Neither candidate got more than
50 percent of the vote: As of noon Wednesday, Clinton stood at 47.7
percent and Trump at 47.5 percent.
(http://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2016/11/09/501393501/shades-of-2000-clinton-surpasses-trump-in-popular-vote-tally)
Hillary Clinton will become the fifth U.S. presidential candidate to
win the popular vote but lose the election.
Here's the thing I realized: No matter who won, approximately 50% of the people were going to be pissed. And I'll be honest with you, I'd rather it was Hillary's half since I don't think they're as well armed. That's just my opinion and I have been wrong about such things... from time to time.
But just knowing that 50% of the people didn't vote to have me (and a lot of other folks) killed (or some other Really Bad Thing) gave me at least a glimmer of hope. I think that is the something that God was trying to tell me. So I'm going to blow on that little, tiny glimmer however I can and trust it will be a spark that will someday turn into a roaring fire of sanity.
I actually went out to services tonight to pray for that. I'm going to put my faith in the Divine: that God will let me know when it is no longer safe to stay in my home country. I will hope and pray that that realization never comes to me.
But since God helps those who help themselves, I'm also going to keep my eye on the cheese. And stuff a few dollars under the mattress and not let my passport expire.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Some random articles:
Not at all religious:
http://thebloggess.com/2016/11/08/its-going-to-be-okay/
But a good read in its own way and it includes this comment: “For those who could use some support, text 741741. Free, confidential, anonymous. There may be some slower response times than the usual < 5 minutes, but crisis counselors are doing an amazing job responding to such a huge influx. LGBTQ, people of color, assault survivors, differently abled, other religions – ANYONE feeling overwhelmed about what this means for you? Feeling alone, anxious, maybe even in despair? There is help. Sending you love. Just in case anyone reading this needs help tonight or another night.”
Religious:
Monday, October 17, 2016
At Least You are Not in Jail
"Well ...at least you are not in jail."
That's the way my mother summed up my life many years ago.
The unspoken part was: You're a failure. These
words have continued to rattle around in my head through the years.
I'm not rich or famous. My mother didn't really care about those
things. She did care that I didn't become a doctor or a lawyer. I didn't marry one either. I
didn't have children (at least not of my body and my mother didn’t understand
any other kind.) I knew those things
were my mother's dreams. I don't think it ever crossed her mind that they might
not be mine.
But, even so, is that the best that she could have said about my life?
When I was a kid, I read almost all the books in the children's section
of the library. It was across the street from the University of Southern
California. It was a good sized library.
I'll be 70 at the end of this year. I've supported myself since I was
19 years old. At the time that I left home, leaving home was a life decision.
And except for three months when I was saving up for a car, after my VW bug
lost its transmission, I never went back.
At one point I created a random goal for myself to make $100,000 a
year, and I did get a contract for that amount. Due to me breaking one of the
cardinal rules of my life "never work for crazy people," I never
actually got the money but I had the amount as my salary on paper.
Contract aside, I've never had a huge amount of money. But I've shared what I had by giving to charity, and where I couldn't
give money, I've given my time.
I've organized others to take food, and have taken food myself, to a
women's homeless shelter for the last ten years. I'm currently running a
project to make quilts for all the beds in that same shelter.
A group I am in wanted to donate 150 blankets to the shelter and I was
the one they contacted to get it done. That happens a lot when someone wants to
donate something, they contact me.
And this will be the third year I'll be organizing and helping to serve
brunch for 300 at a homeless shelter for men on December 25th.
I've driven across the US by myself three times. I've gone to England,
Scotland and the Continent. I've lived in Texas, California, Colorado,
Virginia, Pennsylvania and Maryland. I owned two houses in Colorado, and one (the
dream house that got away) in Virginia.
Despite my longstanding hatred of exercise, I've participated in three
5K races in the last few years. I staggered in hot, sweaty and dead last in one
of them, but I finished. And I've volunteered my time to the club that runs the
races enough that folks at races know who I am.
I've had two articles published online, and three in print. Most were
not anything amazing, but one was. It was published on a huge Jewish website
this past year and it was one of the high points of my life.
I was part of an international medieval reenactment group (the Society
for Creative Anachronism - the SCA) for 17 years. I was an officer at the city,
state and multi-state level and I received their highest award for organization
and service. Another high point for me.
And my “kids” are folks I helped get their start in the SCA. Like lots
of children, they outdid they parent by leaps and bounds. I couldn’t be more proud of them if they were the children of my body.
I taught myself about relational databases, HTML coding, CSS and WordPress.
I am a power user of Excel, and I taught myself QuickBooks. I also taught
myself to read business Spanish. I created a functioning 24/7 call center in an
empty room. I built a couple of computers just to see if I could.
I had my fair share of lovers; and even better had, and have, some
smart, talented, truly amazing people that I am proud to say were and are my
friends. I had a decade long relationship with a man who is absolutely one of
the nicest people I have ever met. I am happy to say he still likes me, in
spite of the fact that the reason we are not together anymore is all on me. For
that matter, I am proud to say I am friends with his current wife.
I lived through all the alcohol and noxious chemicals I put into my
body in my 20s and 30s, and through a combination of not being genetically
predisposed to addiction and the ability to "just say no" to some
things, I walked away from all of it when I decided to do so. (Well... except
for white wine and margaritas now and again.)
I put myself through college. I had some good years while there when I
was as skinny as I ever was in my life. I looked pretty darned good. I was also
a great stage manager, and got to work on several major college productions. I
was accepted into graduate school, though I didn't end up going.
I also had a few terribly bad years right after college when I somehow
lived through the serious effort I made to end my life. I still don't know how,
but it felt as if I walked through a door and once I got to the other side, I’m
glad to say that killing myself stopped looking easier than living.
I studied with three rabbis before I found one that I clicked with, and
it was five years from the time it crossed my mind to look into Judaism to the
time I went to the mikvah to convert. But I stuck with it. I'm proud I'm
still learning Torah.
A rabbi I know said everyone is someone’s teacher. Strangely enough,
there are a number of Jews of my acquaintance who use me as their authority on
matters Jewish. I always think that’s weird, but I do my best for them. I created
a Haggadah for some friends whose only Jewish activity is hosting a Passover Seder.
I've spent a good part of my life dealing with things my mother said to
me. Somehow no matter how many times someone else has said something that
contradicted something she said, what she said is still there and overrides
everything else. My relationship with her was the most horrid, the most intense
and the most important of my life.
After all these years, I realize that when my mother told me I was a
failure, what she meant was that she was a failure. She hadn't been able to
make me do what she thought was important: things she hadn't been able to do
herself.
When she said those words to me all those years ago, I was stunned. I
couldn't respond. But if my mother said that to me now, I could reply. I’d say:
You're wrong. I'm not a failure.
And neither are you.
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Flawed Thinking
I am
reading this book called "As a Man Thinketh" by James
Allen. (Free Book or YouTube) Its premise, as I understand it, is
that your circumstances are a reflection of your thoughts. To some
extent I can understand this. I understand self sabotage. I
understand that if you don't think you deserve to succeed you
probably won't. I understand that clearing out the demons of your
past will allow you to focus on getting to your future goals.
But I am
not sure I am convinced that "good thoughts equal good
circumstances and bad thoughts equal bad circumstances" is an
immutable law of the Universe.
Mr.
Allen wrote:
It
has been usual for men to think and to say, "Many men are slaves
because one is an oppressor; let us hate the oppressor." Now,
however, there is amongst an increasing few a tendency to reverse this
judgment, and to say, "One man is an oppressor because many are
slaves; let us despise the slaves."
The
truth is that oppressor and slave are co-operators in ignorance, and
while seeming to afflict each other, are in reality afflicting
themselves. A perfect Knowledge perceives the action of law in the
weakness of the oppressed and the misapplied power of the oppressor;
a perfect Love, seeing the suffering, which both states entail,
condemns neither; a perfect Compassion embraces both oppressor and
oppressed.
OK.
Obviously, I'm black, female, and Jewish; as are the scenarios that
flashed through my mind:
- a black person living in Africa during the 17th century, who ended up working in the hell of a sugar plantation in Jamaica, with a life expectancy of 9 years at best.
- a young woman, almost anywhere in the world today unfortunately, abducted, drugged into addiction, tortured into submission and forced into prostitution.
- a Rabbi in Germany during the 2nd World War, suffering in the camp and dying in the gas chambers at Sobibor.
Each of
the above with thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of others.
Of
course I have no way to know, but what if these people were moral in
their thinking before their circumstances changed? What if they even
managed moral thoughts afterward?
Or does
what happened to them, to all the "thems" it happened to,
mean that they were all weak, immoral thinkers?
This is
what I am struggling with.
It seems
to me that there must be circumstances beyond anyone's
control. I am not saying there are not choices a person may have
about how they deal with their circumstances, but I am having trouble
wrapping my mind around the idea that an ordinary person, going about
their lives on an ordinary day, who ends up the next week, enslaved,
prostituted, or dead had this happen to them because of their
disordered thinking.
The only
people I can think of who deserve the fates of the people above, are
the ones who did it to them. Despite what Mr. Allen says to the
contrary, I have no sympathy for the perpetrators. Perhaps that is a
flaw in my thinking.
The book
was written in 1902. In England. And near the height of the
British Empire. So maybe that is where this type of thinking comes
from. As we might say today "first world" thinking. From
the rulers. I wonder if those they ruled thought the same things.
I'm not
even sure why this bothers me so much. Except that some of the book
seems to make sense and some of it seems so fundamentally wrong.
I'm
wondering, perhaps hoping, that I'm misunderstanding.
But right now what I really most want is to stop thinking about this. Maybe my thinking really is flawed.
Monday, September 19, 2016
Blessings & Smoked Salmon
This
past Sunday morning, just as I was about to eat a lovely Eggs
Benedict made with smoked salmon, I thought to myself how grateful I
was that I had gotten up early enough to get to the restaurant while
there were still enough open tables that I didn't mind taking up one
for a “just one?” as the server always says when I walk in.
But I
was a little sad that I couldn't express my gratitude for the food by
saying a bracha. For one thing I didn't know what the correct blessing
would be. I only know two relative to food, the one over bread and
the one over wine. And I'm not sure the one for bread would have been
appropriate over an English muffin. What I do know is that which
blessing is said when and over what is complicated.
And
second, I know you're not supposed to say a bracha over treif food,
even if it isn't one of the forbidden foods. As far as I've gotten on
the road to keeping kosher is not eating pork, shellfish or meat and
milk together (although I have some issues with chicken and milk,
that whole cooking a chicken in its mother's milk thing, but that's a
post for another time). Still whatever the food is, if it is not
cooked in a kosher kitchen, it is still not kosher.
Not
being able to say brachas over food has bothered me for awhile, since
one of the things that attracted me to Judaism was its built in
mnemonics to help me remember to be grateful for the everyday things
that it is so easy to take for granted. And goodness knows, I love to
eat (if not to cook since it seems to me cooking for one person isn't
worth the effort of the clean up) so I have lots of opportunity to be
grateful for my food. But since it is usually food from non-kosher
restaurants, I can't express it. (I know. I know. Eat in kosher
restaurants. I know of two close to where I live, neither of which is
especially good, though I eat at one of them anyway because I like
the folks who run it.)
I was
thinking about all of this as I was enjoying the lemony hollandaise
sauce and I decided that even if I couldn't fulfill a commandment
there was nothing stopping me from saying some words to express my
gratitude.
These
are the blessings that I have come up with so far:
“Thank
you G-d for... “
...the
food and the money to buy it with and tip the server (This wasn't
and isn't always true for me.)
...being
able to hear the screaming child at the next table (A couple of
my friends are having hearing problems and would probably love to be
able to hear that child, at least for the first minute or two.)
...getting
home without hurting myself or anyone else or damaging any property;
and without anyone else damaging me or my property (I've been in
a couple of car accidents lately, one that was and one that wasn't my
fault. Always happy every time I drive somewhere and nothing happens
except I get where I am going.)
...keeping
my home safe when I am here and when I am not here (It hasn't
happened lately, but several places I've lived have been broken into.
The worst part isn't that they take your stuff. The worst part is
they take away your sense of security inside your own home.)
I have a
long, looong way to go on the road to being more observant.
And I know that the letter of the Law matters. I can honestly say I
am sincerely working to learn more of the letter of the Law.
But, in
the meanwhile, I also think G-d knows my intent – to express
gratitude for this amazing world I live in and all the gifts I have
been given... which is to say pretty much everything. I think G-d
understands and accepts all expressions of gratitude however, and in
whatever language, expressed.
And I
think that the expression and the intent will help motivate me to
learn more.
For this
day, this hour, this minute... I think, I truly hope, that's enough.
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
I need to recharge my emotions
I was talking to my friend about my need to be alone to recharge my emotional batteries. He burst out with “You are such a chaim!” Me: “I'm sorry. What?”
It turns out there is a Jewish personality profile (developed by Rabbi Noah Weinberg z”tl and written about by Lori Palatnik here) that comes as close to describing my personality traits as anything else I've seen. It is based on the personality traits bracha/blessing, tov/good and chaim/life. According to this system, everyone is a mixture of all three, but two are our defaults: one for our souls and one for our bodies.
Reading Lori's article, I can easily see that my friend was right. My soul most takes after Jacob, whose personality inspired chaim. Jacob stayed in his tent, and studied all day. Some of my main drivers are learning and understanding. I am deeply introverted and not very good at relationships or at dealing with arbitrary rules and regulations. (And I think all rules and regulations are arbitrary. What can I say?) I stay home alone as much as I do because I like staying home alone. And you will definitely find me off in a corner in social gatherings, possibly talking with one person when I can stretch myself; or contentedly and quietly watching everyone else interact when I can't.
I'd say my second, soul driver is tov, based on Issac who followed the rules and did what was right. Well, I skipped the part about following the rules and I'm pretty sure I don't always do what is right. But as a tov personality, when I am given a specific project I am highly organized. One of my talents is figuring out the most efficient way to get something done, or to make a system function. And I can put 110% of my concentration and energy into seeing a project through. On the down side, I have a tendency to say “yes” whenever someone offers me a project, whether I honestly care about it or not, just for the fun of the challenge. These words have gotten me into so much trouble: “I can do that. I can do that... better!” Often I can. Sometimes though, I take on so much the whole pile threatens to come tumbling down.
I think I have the least of the bracha type it is possible to have. A bracha soul (based on Abraham, the man of the heart) is all about being extroverted and loving to be surrounded by people. I hate being surrounded by people! (Though arguably I have a bit of an excuse having spent a week with half a million people once.) Still I am rarely bouncy and outgoing, although I can occasionally fake it with one or two people (certainly not more – horrors!) for short periods of time. And the weird thing is, I like people. Just not everyone and not all the time. But being around people, as I said above, sucks the energy, and eventually the sanity, right out of me. That's why I prefer to go visit my friends rather than have them visit me. When I run down, I can run home... to the comforting quiet.
My body, on the other hand, is about 50/50 chaim and bracha. The chaim part is intuitive and empathic. I am very aware of what other people are feeling and sometimes being surrounded by negative energy, or even too much of any kind of energy, can make me physically ill. On the other hand, much as I hate to admit it, I am, as Lori says in one of her videos, a “lazy, lazy person.” In the same way I can push myself when I am interested and involved in something, I can put just as much energy, in a manner of speaking, into doing nothing. And I love to sleep. I have just enough tov not to turn into a complete lump on the couch, but sometimes it seems a near thing.
I was surprised at how accurately this system described me. I've taken a couple of personality tests recently, all producing profiles more complicated than this. I can't say they were any better.
I have to remember to thank my friend for calling me a name. (j/k) Because I really am grateful to him. If he hadn't said what he did, I never would have learned all this.
It turns out there is a Jewish personality profile (developed by Rabbi Noah Weinberg z”tl and written about by Lori Palatnik here) that comes as close to describing my personality traits as anything else I've seen. It is based on the personality traits bracha/blessing, tov/good and chaim/life. According to this system, everyone is a mixture of all three, but two are our defaults: one for our souls and one for our bodies.
Reading Lori's article, I can easily see that my friend was right. My soul most takes after Jacob, whose personality inspired chaim. Jacob stayed in his tent, and studied all day. Some of my main drivers are learning and understanding. I am deeply introverted and not very good at relationships or at dealing with arbitrary rules and regulations. (And I think all rules and regulations are arbitrary. What can I say?) I stay home alone as much as I do because I like staying home alone. And you will definitely find me off in a corner in social gatherings, possibly talking with one person when I can stretch myself; or contentedly and quietly watching everyone else interact when I can't.
I'd say my second, soul driver is tov, based on Issac who followed the rules and did what was right. Well, I skipped the part about following the rules and I'm pretty sure I don't always do what is right. But as a tov personality, when I am given a specific project I am highly organized. One of my talents is figuring out the most efficient way to get something done, or to make a system function. And I can put 110% of my concentration and energy into seeing a project through. On the down side, I have a tendency to say “yes” whenever someone offers me a project, whether I honestly care about it or not, just for the fun of the challenge. These words have gotten me into so much trouble: “I can do that. I can do that... better!” Often I can. Sometimes though, I take on so much the whole pile threatens to come tumbling down.
I think I have the least of the bracha type it is possible to have. A bracha soul (based on Abraham, the man of the heart) is all about being extroverted and loving to be surrounded by people. I hate being surrounded by people! (Though arguably I have a bit of an excuse having spent a week with half a million people once.) Still I am rarely bouncy and outgoing, although I can occasionally fake it with one or two people (certainly not more – horrors!) for short periods of time. And the weird thing is, I like people. Just not everyone and not all the time. But being around people, as I said above, sucks the energy, and eventually the sanity, right out of me. That's why I prefer to go visit my friends rather than have them visit me. When I run down, I can run home... to the comforting quiet.
My body, on the other hand, is about 50/50 chaim and bracha. The chaim part is intuitive and empathic. I am very aware of what other people are feeling and sometimes being surrounded by negative energy, or even too much of any kind of energy, can make me physically ill. On the other hand, much as I hate to admit it, I am, as Lori says in one of her videos, a “lazy, lazy person.” In the same way I can push myself when I am interested and involved in something, I can put just as much energy, in a manner of speaking, into doing nothing. And I love to sleep. I have just enough tov not to turn into a complete lump on the couch, but sometimes it seems a near thing.
I was surprised at how accurately this system described me. I've taken a couple of personality tests recently, all producing profiles more complicated than this. I can't say they were any better.
I have to remember to thank my friend for calling me a name. (j/k) Because I really am grateful to him. If he hadn't said what he did, I never would have learned all this.
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
I was in Germany once. It didn't go well.
I was in Frankfurt, Germany once.
I hadn't thought about that trip in
years. Until I heard Mrs. Chana Silver speak in synagogue on the
Fast of Tisha b'Av. She leads tours of Poland for young women.
They see the places where Jews lived and where they died – cities,
ghettos, graveyards, and the work and death camps.
I was there forever ago, when I was in
my 20s. Long before anything Jewish had touched my life, except I
had, for some unknown reason, read Hitler's Mein Kamp. I had
gone to London with a backpack, a round trip ticket and $100 in my
pocket.
I went with a group of my friends and I
knew they had arranged inexpensive or free places for us to stay. So
I really only needed money for me to eat. Still $100 wasn't enough
money and I knew it. The closest thing to being out of the US I had
been at that point in my life was crowding 5 people into one of the
original VW Beetles, and road tripping to the California border town
- Tiajuna, Mexico. I didn't know when, or if, I would get another
chance to go to Europe. I guess I hoped my friends, who were probably
every bit as broke as me, wouldn't let me starve, so I shrugged my
shoulders and I went. Dumb or ballsy. Nah, definitely dumb.
We were supposed to do a musical play
called Viet Rock at the Edinburgh Scotland Theatre Festival
Fringe (the part where anyone can show up and do a show). We were
young, crazy and running on more hash than food. As well as, how
shall I put this delicately, extremely sexually active with
interchangeable partners in the group. What can I say? We were
California kids, with delusions of being hippies. We were in a
foreign country, living and working together 100% of the time. It
went about as well as you would expect. In one of the inevitable
seismic social shifts, the lead in show ended up being given to a
person who was one, convinced she couldn't really sing and two, had
crippling stage fright the size of the state of Texas. Yup, that
would be me. I lasted about two rehearsals before I melted down and
quit after the girl I had replaced complained to everyone that I was
off-key. Which, to be fair, I probably was. So at least partly
because of me, the group completely imploded at that point and we
never did the shows.
We had some time on our hands, so half
dozen of us took off for the Continent, with no specific destination
in mind. We took a train as far as Frankfort. Then my friends decided
to go on to the Black Forest. Because of the cake I think.
I had been getting more and more
uncomfortable from the time we crossed the border and I was in a low
level state of panic by the time we got off the train. I can't really
describe how it felt. It was like I couldn't breathe and I knew I
couldn't be there, even though I had no idea why. So I refused to
continue to the Black Forest. And they left me. I can't really blame
them. I wasn't their responsibility and I had just ruined the reason
we had come in the first place. Plus we were at an age, and in a
time, when we thought a woman could hitchhike by herself and be safe
doing it.
So there I was. By myself. In a country
where I didn't know anyone or speak the language. With almost no
money. Again dumb on my part or ballsy. No again, definitely dumb.
But I can still feel the way I felt then, uncomfortable and short of
breath. I had to get out of there.
I took what little money I still had,
and went back to the train station. I kept enough for the ferry back
to the UK, counted the rest and figured out I could get as far as
Luxembourg. Wherever - as long it was out of Germany and in the
general direction of “back to the coast”. I breathed a sigh of
relief when I crossed the border a couple of hours later. I felt as
if something had fallen away.
In a continuation
of “let's see how dumb I can be”, I took a ride with an Austrian
trucker who bought me some really excellent sausage and bean soup
(which I'm sure I couldn't eat now) and later tried to get me into
the bed built into the cab of his truck. Who even knew there were
beds there? When I politely declined, he dumped me by the side of the
road, in the middle of the night, and I ended up sort of sleeping in
a field. There were a lot of little animals resenting this human in
their field and I could hear them moving around all night. None of
them joined me in the sleeping bag, but worrying that they might
accounts for the “sort of” slept. I also had a, thankfully, very
short visit from four guys who stopped and stared at me from the
road. I stared back and they moved on. Perhaps I should say I was
dumb and lucky. The next morning I was able to get a ride to Calais.
Later everyone
re-grouped in London and we went off to the place where I developed
my terror of crowds. A rock festival on the Isle of Wight where I
spent a week with half a million people (& heard Jimi Hendrix,
The Doors, The Who, poor Kris Kristofferson who got booed off the
stage by a rock and roll crowd who had no interest in country, Sly of
Sly & the Family Stone, who could barely walk but could still
sing, & a long list of other legendary musicians). I also dealt
with continual noise and people moving, restrooms that were trenches
in the ground, and having the only space I could call my own be the
area on the ground my sleeping bag covered. The music was amazing.
The rest of it, not so much.
But the really
weird thing is, none of the above were the weirdest thing that
happened on that trip.
My mother saw my
friend's mother hugging her when we were saying good-bye at the
airport and she awkwardly hugged me. That is the only time I
can remember her hugging me. In my life.
Freaking out in two
countries? Hitchhiking by myself? Living with 500,000 people? Nope.
That was the weirdest thing that happened.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
None of Us Are Free
I was born in December 1946. The 13th Amendment to the US Constitution which abolished slavery was ratified in December 1865, only 81 years earlier. My great-grandmother, who died when I was a teenager, may not have been born in slavery, but her mother most likely was. I don't know for certain because slavery wasn't something we talked about in my family when I was young. Our ancestors were victims, but we, the children of the victims, were ashamed, as if it was their fault they were slaves... as if it was our fault. In any case, there are possibly only two “greats” and four generations between me and slavery. 81 years. Not very much time at all.
And these verses are in our Torah, in my least favorite book:
Leviticus 44 to 46: “Such male and female slaves as you may have — it is from the nations round about you that you may acquire male and female slaves. You may also buy them from among the children of aliens resident among you, or from their families that are among you, whom they begot in your land. These shall become your property: you may keep them as a possession for your children after you, for them to inherit as property for all time. Such you may treat as slaves.”
Although there are restrictions on keeping other Jews as slaves, it is OK to enslave non-Jews “as a possession for your children after you, for them to inherit as property for all time.”
With very little research it is possible to find verses in all five books of Moses that accept the institution of slavery. Obviously this is something that affects me personally. And it is a part of the Torah that has always bothered me a greatly.
When I was taking basic Judaism classes before I converted, and I was asked a question to which I did not know the answer, nine times out of ten “Because we were slaves in Egypt” would turn out to be correct. The liberation of Israel from Egypt is part of the central narrative of the whole history of the Jewish people.
So if Torah is about liberty and human dignity, why the acceptance of what I've always thought of as the Great Evil: slavery? Why didn't the Torah just outright ban slavery?
Rabbi Tzvi Freeman, a senior editor at Chabad.org, says it is because “On the one hand, the Torah speaks from a future that has yet to occur, inspiring us with its vision, pulling us toward that time. And on the other hand, the Torah must deal with the world as it is, not artificially imposing upon it a foreign mold, but bringing it on its own from the place it stands by nature and circumstance to the place it truly belongs.”
He gives this example:
“Take an agrarian society surrounded by hostile nations. Go in there and forcefully abolish slavery. The result? War, bloodshed, hatred, prejudice, poverty and eventually, a return to slavery until the underlying conditions change... Not a good idea.
Better idea: Place humane restrictions upon the institution... Yes, it's still ugly, but in the meantime, you'll teach people compassion and kindness... Eventually, things change and slavery becomes an anachronism for such a society.”
Others I read also give the same general answer: G-d and the sages knew slavery was wrong, but in that time, in that culture, in that place, they could only mitigate it to some extent, they could not abolish it.
From my perspective: that of the great, great granddaughter of slaves, that seems more a rationalization than an argument. But let us assume it is true: Torah times were a long
time ago, it was a very different culture, it was a very different place.
There is still that scant four generations, that mere eighty one years between my birth and slavery in the United States. That is not a long time ago, it is not a very different culture, it is not a very different place. One has only to read the news these days, if you can stand to do it. The battle of the hashtags (#blacklivesmatter, #alllivesmatter #policelivesmatter) and the heated rhetoric of the Republicans and Democrats says clearly (at least to me) that there is a legacy of distrust and dislike that shows the U.S. is not so different 151 years after the abolition of slavery.
Of course, some things have changed.
I remember as a child, standing on my front porch, watching the trucks roll by filled with young National Guard troops, going into Watts (near Los Angeles, California) to put down the riots after Martin Luther King Jr's death.
And now, within my lifetime, there is an African-American man in the White House, whose greatest competition for the job, from within his own party at least, was a woman. (Who just shattered a major glass ceiling of another kind, winning the Democratic nomination for President a few nights ago.)
Whatever you may think about the current President, having him win the nomination, and the election, showed that some major changes have happened in this country recently.
So why do these verses about slavery bother me so much – here and now?
Because, according to the State Department, there are as many as 27 million modern day slaves worldwide, with as many as 50,000 slaves trafficked into the US from foreign countries, along with 244,000 kidnapped and exploited US citizens. That’s here and now.
In addition, the WARChild International Network reports that 250,000 children are actively deployed each year, fighting in almost 75% of armed conflicts worldwide. Here and now.
27 million slaves worldwide. I don't even know how to understand that number. 250,000 child soldiers each year. I don't know how to understand that number either.
I'll be honest with you. These numbers stun me. In this time, in this modern culture, in this place. Here and now.
I wish I knew what to do to make slavery something that only happened a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far way.
But it isn't. It just isn't.
Like Anne Frank I have to believe that “In spite of everything ...people are really good at heart... [And even though] I can feel the sufferings of millions ... if I look up into the heavens, I think that it will all come right, that this cruelty too will end...”
Change is possible in human nature, but it can take so much time. G-d may have infinite patience. But I don't. I think G-d, and our sages, wanted slavery abolished, and that they want that still. But it must be done by us, by free human beings who have come to see, of their own accord, the evil that slavery is and the evil it does.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, formerly Chief Rabbi of Great Britain, said: “The G-d of history, who taught us to study history, had faith that eventually we would learn the lesson of history: that freedom is indivisible. We must grant freedom to others if we truly seek it for ourselves.
“Egypt was the Jewish people’s school of the soul; ...its ongoing seminar in the art and craft of freedom. It taught [us] what it felt like to be on the wrong side of power. Jews [are] the people commanded never to forget the bitter taste of slavery, so that [we] never take freedom for granted. [Because] those who do so, eventually lose it.” Or as the song by the great blues singer Solomon Burke puts it: “None of us are free, as long as one of us is chained, no one of us is free.”
I feel that this is on us. Slavery still exists. And we are the people charged to remember it, and learn from it, and hopefully, end it... soon, in our own time.
Over the past few years, the number of countries, which includes the US, that have taken steps to implement the UN Protocol against Trafficking in Persons has doubled.
And this is a good thing at that level. But what can we, as individuals, do?
We can educate ourselves about what is going on. An internet search using the words “human trafficking” or “child soldiers” will bring up page after page of unbelievable statistics as well as information about the red flags that may indicate human trafficing, and things we can do to help stop it. As a first stop, go to CNN’s The Freedom Project
Lastly, Anne Frank, in her famous diary, also said: “How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”
So let us not wait a single moment longer to begin working to truly abolish slavery so that at some point someone reading about slavery in Leviticus or any part of Torah, will simply be able to shake their heads in wonder at what would by then have truly become an institution of another time, another place, another culture.
And these verses are in our Torah, in my least favorite book:
Leviticus 44 to 46: “Such male and female slaves as you may have — it is from the nations round about you that you may acquire male and female slaves. You may also buy them from among the children of aliens resident among you, or from their families that are among you, whom they begot in your land. These shall become your property: you may keep them as a possession for your children after you, for them to inherit as property for all time. Such you may treat as slaves.”
Although there are restrictions on keeping other Jews as slaves, it is OK to enslave non-Jews “as a possession for your children after you, for them to inherit as property for all time.”
With very little research it is possible to find verses in all five books of Moses that accept the institution of slavery. Obviously this is something that affects me personally. And it is a part of the Torah that has always bothered me a greatly.
When I was taking basic Judaism classes before I converted, and I was asked a question to which I did not know the answer, nine times out of ten “Because we were slaves in Egypt” would turn out to be correct. The liberation of Israel from Egypt is part of the central narrative of the whole history of the Jewish people.
So if Torah is about liberty and human dignity, why the acceptance of what I've always thought of as the Great Evil: slavery? Why didn't the Torah just outright ban slavery?
Rabbi Tzvi Freeman, a senior editor at Chabad.org, says it is because “On the one hand, the Torah speaks from a future that has yet to occur, inspiring us with its vision, pulling us toward that time. And on the other hand, the Torah must deal with the world as it is, not artificially imposing upon it a foreign mold, but bringing it on its own from the place it stands by nature and circumstance to the place it truly belongs.”
He gives this example:
“Take an agrarian society surrounded by hostile nations. Go in there and forcefully abolish slavery. The result? War, bloodshed, hatred, prejudice, poverty and eventually, a return to slavery until the underlying conditions change... Not a good idea.
Better idea: Place humane restrictions upon the institution... Yes, it's still ugly, but in the meantime, you'll teach people compassion and kindness... Eventually, things change and slavery becomes an anachronism for such a society.”
Others I read also give the same general answer: G-d and the sages knew slavery was wrong, but in that time, in that culture, in that place, they could only mitigate it to some extent, they could not abolish it.
From my perspective: that of the great, great granddaughter of slaves, that seems more a rationalization than an argument. But let us assume it is true: Torah times were a long
time ago, it was a very different culture, it was a very different place.
There is still that scant four generations, that mere eighty one years between my birth and slavery in the United States. That is not a long time ago, it is not a very different culture, it is not a very different place. One has only to read the news these days, if you can stand to do it. The battle of the hashtags (#blacklivesmatter, #alllivesmatter #policelivesmatter) and the heated rhetoric of the Republicans and Democrats says clearly (at least to me) that there is a legacy of distrust and dislike that shows the U.S. is not so different 151 years after the abolition of slavery.
Of course, some things have changed.
I remember as a child, standing on my front porch, watching the trucks roll by filled with young National Guard troops, going into Watts (near Los Angeles, California) to put down the riots after Martin Luther King Jr's death.
And now, within my lifetime, there is an African-American man in the White House, whose greatest competition for the job, from within his own party at least, was a woman. (Who just shattered a major glass ceiling of another kind, winning the Democratic nomination for President a few nights ago.)
Whatever you may think about the current President, having him win the nomination, and the election, showed that some major changes have happened in this country recently.
So why do these verses about slavery bother me so much – here and now?
Because, according to the State Department, there are as many as 27 million modern day slaves worldwide, with as many as 50,000 slaves trafficked into the US from foreign countries, along with 244,000 kidnapped and exploited US citizens. That’s here and now.
In addition, the WARChild International Network reports that 250,000 children are actively deployed each year, fighting in almost 75% of armed conflicts worldwide. Here and now.
27 million slaves worldwide. I don't even know how to understand that number. 250,000 child soldiers each year. I don't know how to understand that number either.
I'll be honest with you. These numbers stun me. In this time, in this modern culture, in this place. Here and now.
I wish I knew what to do to make slavery something that only happened a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far way.
But it isn't. It just isn't.
Like Anne Frank I have to believe that “In spite of everything ...people are really good at heart... [And even though] I can feel the sufferings of millions ... if I look up into the heavens, I think that it will all come right, that this cruelty too will end...”
Change is possible in human nature, but it can take so much time. G-d may have infinite patience. But I don't. I think G-d, and our sages, wanted slavery abolished, and that they want that still. But it must be done by us, by free human beings who have come to see, of their own accord, the evil that slavery is and the evil it does.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, formerly Chief Rabbi of Great Britain, said: “The G-d of history, who taught us to study history, had faith that eventually we would learn the lesson of history: that freedom is indivisible. We must grant freedom to others if we truly seek it for ourselves.
“Egypt was the Jewish people’s school of the soul; ...its ongoing seminar in the art and craft of freedom. It taught [us] what it felt like to be on the wrong side of power. Jews [are] the people commanded never to forget the bitter taste of slavery, so that [we] never take freedom for granted. [Because] those who do so, eventually lose it.” Or as the song by the great blues singer Solomon Burke puts it: “None of us are free, as long as one of us is chained, no one of us is free.”
I feel that this is on us. Slavery still exists. And we are the people charged to remember it, and learn from it, and hopefully, end it... soon, in our own time.
Over the past few years, the number of countries, which includes the US, that have taken steps to implement the UN Protocol against Trafficking in Persons has doubled.
And this is a good thing at that level. But what can we, as individuals, do?
We can educate ourselves about what is going on. An internet search using the words “human trafficking” or “child soldiers” will bring up page after page of unbelievable statistics as well as information about the red flags that may indicate human trafficing, and things we can do to help stop it. As a first stop, go to CNN’s The Freedom Project
Lastly, Anne Frank, in her famous diary, also said: “How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”
So let us not wait a single moment longer to begin working to truly abolish slavery so that at some point someone reading about slavery in Leviticus or any part of Torah, will simply be able to shake their heads in wonder at what would by then have truly become an institution of another time, another place, another culture.
Friday, July 22, 2016
I Don't Love My Mother
My mother’s Yahrzeit was this last week. I went to synagogue and said Kaddish (the prayer for the dead) for her.
When I came to Judaism both my parents were dead. When I stand to say Kaddish for my Daddy, I do it with love in my heart and tears in my eyes. But when I stand and say the same words for my mother, there are no tears – and, unfortunately, no love.
I don’t have any children and I don’t have any regret about that. Even though it was a decision I made when I was still in my teens, I never changed my mind. I was terrified I’d be the same kind of mother my mother was; who was the same kind of mother her mother – my grandmother – was; who was the same kind of mother her mother – my great-grandmother – was. I was lucky, or unlucky, enough to have known them all.
Several years ago, for an all-night Shavuot study session, I took the opportunity to learn more about, and to speak about, the challenging (at least for me) commandment to honor your parents. Well, specifically for me, to honor my mother.
The fifth commandment is just these few words from Deuteronomy 5:16 (though it is found in other verses as well)
Honor your father and your mother, as the Lord your God has commanded you, that you may long endure, and that you may fare well, in the land that the Lord your God is assigning to you.
I started with researching the simple meaning of the words. Christians (on the internet anyway) seemed to have more of a tendency to equate honor with love – which does not seem to be the general Jewish perspective – and to interpret the phrase “that you may long endure” to refer to individuals – also not the general Jewish perspective.
So what was the “general Jewish perspective?”
Let's start with the easy part, at least for me. The end of the verse: “that you may long endure, and that you may fare well, in the land that the Lord your God is assigning to you.” The Jewish perspective is that the “you” in this verse refers to the Jewish people as a group, in the sense that if children respect their parents, and carry on the Covenant from generation to generation, then we will remain in, or return to, the land of Israel.
This makes perfect sense, as most Jewish texts tend to be phrased in the plural and the only way for Jews to survive as a religious group is if children continue the faith of their parents. As far as this influencing our return to the land, well, that is an entirely separate conversation.
Now the hard part, the beginning of the verse.
The 5th commandment to honor our parents is on the first of the two tablets given at Sinai along with other declarations concerning our relationship with G-d. G-d is considered to be the third “person” involved in the creation of a child and thus to “Disrespect to our biological creators is not merely an affront to them; it is also an insult to the Creator of the Universe.” Several of the sources I've read said that this commandment is considered the most difficult one to fulfill because no matter what you do, there is simply no way you can ever show enough gratitude to equal the great gift of being given life.
And in a general way, I’ll agree that that is true.
I've said I was grateful to my Daddy, not for giving me life since, of course, he didn’t, but for being such a good father to his step-child.
But if I am honest, I would have to admit, I wasn't at all grateful to my mother for the “great gift” of my life. I spent all of the years before I was 30 being ragingly suicidal because after all, if my mother didn't love me (since I thought at time: of course, all other mothers love their children) I must be beyond worthless.
I can remember laying curled up in bed, and thinking maybe I should just go ahead and kill myself now just so I wouldn't use up air a more deserving person could breathe.
So when I read the lists of actions that you should do to fulfill this obligation of showing regard, concern, and affection to your parents (I'm not going into the full list here as it is easy enough to find online) and it became obvious that this commandment was primarily about adult children and their relationship to their parents, especially to their aging parents, I was first surprised and then, way less than happy.
I did a very bad job (thank goodness) of cutting my wrists when I was in my late 20s. Then I moved thousands of miles away from California, mainly so my mother couldn't drop in to visit me. I finally stopped taking her calls, because it would take me weeks to regain my equilibrium after I talked with her. I couldn't change her, but I could get away from her. So I ran away to Colorado to save my life. I was still crazy, but I firmly closed the door marked “suicide is easier than living like this.”
So where does the commandment stand on parents who neglected their children or subjected them to either physical, mental or emotional abuse as they were growing up? Does that whole laundry list of duties still apply?
A Rabbi from the American Jewish University says that some Rabbinic authorities maintain that these duties apply even to the worst of parents, and they remove our duties to our parents only if they are bad in the extreme. One does not have to have terrific parents to be obligated by the duties to honor and respect them.
He continued by saying that it is possible for one to honor one's parent for being a parent, and not for how well or how poorly that parent has lived up to the demands of their role. Whether by refraining from a public response of anger or by observing mourning practices and reciting Kaddish after a parent has died (emphasis mine), an individual who incurred emotional or physical harm at the hand of a parent could still affirm the importance of parenthood itself, even while rejecting her particular parent as a model for how that role should be fulfilled.
Reject the specific role model, affirm the importance of parenthood. I felt I could do that. Whatever my feelings about my mother, I do, in fact, respect and admire folks who are good parents. It is not an easy job.
It occurred to me, though, that as a convert, perhaps the obligation to observe the Yahrzeits of my parents didn't even apply to me?
Although naturally not all Jews agree, The Jewish Virtual Library has an article on conversion which contains the following: “Nevertheless, proselytes are still obligated to fulfill the biblical commandment of 'Honor thy father and mother,' and therefore the Jewish laws of mourning must be observed by the proselyte when his non-Jewish parents die.”
So it would seem that even though my observance of the Yahrzeits of my parents is not equally heartfelt, it is still my obligation, and I am fulfilling it. A Rabbi I know once told me that the reason the commandment is worded to “honor” is because we can't be commanded to “love”. Not having to equate honor to love helped me a lot in accepting this commandment.
One of the interesting sources I found, when doing my original research, was a biker (as in rider of a Harley Davidson) Christian theologian. One of the reasons I may have found him so interesting is that it turns out that his mother was also an abuser. He did write a, mostly mainstream Jewish perspective, blog article about the 5th commandment, but it’s something he says while writing about Mother’s Day that really struck a chord with me.
He said
“It was not until just before my mother died… that I came to grips with my relationship with her. I finally recognized that she had her own demons to wrestle with and that she did the best she could given who she was. Her best was not good enough, but I could not change that and finally accepted that fact and forgave her in my heart.” An echo of what the Rabbi from the American Jewish University said above.
In my case, it was after my mother died that I slowly began to come to grips with my relationship with her. I know that she was the mother that her mother and her grandmother taught her to be. I think I might well have been the same kind of mother. Living with the memories of my childhood is an ongoing and still painful process. I am glad I didn't pass it along to another generation. I am still trying to forgive those three generations of mothers... in my heart.
I loved my Daddy, and I treated him as respectfully as I knew how while he was alive. And, had he still been alive when I became a Jew, I would have happily risen every time he walked into a room and all the rest of that list of actions to show how very much I willingly honored him.
I’m not one of those people who love their abusive parents anyway. The best I could ever do, late into middle age, was a hard-won emotional neutrality. Given I am pretty sure my mother never changed (my grandmother and my great-grandmother never did) I am also sure that distance continued to be my only protection.
I am very grateful now that my sister was there for her. And if I had been Jewish while she still lived, I hope that I would have been able to honor her by helping my sister with her care… but it would have to have been from afar.
Learning about this commandment allowed me to experience again what a good man my Daddy was and how lucky I was to have known him.
And it helped me to work through some of the lingering pain of my relationship with my mother.
A major thing I learned was that “to honor” may also mean “to forgive”.
- - - -
Sources:
Online:
Chabad
http://www.askmoses.com/en/article/609,142170/How-do-I-fulfill-my-obligation-of-honoring-my-father-and-mother.html
Must One Honor an Abusive Parent?
While fully aware of the corrosive effect of abuse by parents, rabbinic literature still encourages expressions of respect and honor for such parents.
By Rabbi Peretz Rodman
http://www.myjewishlearning.com/life/Relationships/Parents_and_Children/Childrens_Responsibilities_to_Parents/Honoring_an_Abusive_Parent.shtml#also
Parashat Aharei Mot—K'doshim
Leviticus 16:1–20:27
May 2, 2009 / 8 Iyyar 5769
http://www.jtsa.edu/x11774.xml
This week's commentary was written by Dr. Judith Hauptman, E. Billi Ivry Professor of Talmud and Rabbinic Culture, JTS.
Commandment Five
Rev. Dr. Monte Canfield, Retired Protestant Pastor and Theologian, jointly credentialed in the United Church of Christ and the Moravian Church
http://open.salon.com/blog/monte_canfield/2009/12/03/honor_your_father_and_your_mother
Shabbat Parashat Yitro - 22 Shevat 5770 - Parents and Children -
February 6, 2010 / 22 Shevat 5770
By: Rabbi Elliot Dorff Rector and Distinguished Professor of Philosophy at American Jewish University
http://judaism.ajula.edu/Content/ContentUnit.asp?CID=912&u=8446&t=0
When a Child Should Disobey a Parent
Jewish law recognizes several categories of actions that should be avoided even if one is directed to do them by one's mother or father.
By Rabbi Nachum Amsel
http://www.myjewishlearning.com/life/Relationships/Parents_and_Children/Childrens_Responsibilities_to_Parents/When_a_Child_Should_Disobey.shtml
Honoring Parents Who Are Abusive
By Benzion Sorotzkin, Psy.D.
http://drsorotzkin.com/honoring_abusive_parents.html
Reprinted (with minor modifications) from:
The International Network of Orthodox Mental Health Professionals - NEFESH News
Aseret ha-Dibrot: The "Ten Commandments"
Judaism 101
http://www.jewfaq.org/10.htm
“Real” Books
Biblical Literacy: The Most Important People, Events, and Ideas of the Hebrew Bible, Rabbi Joseph Teluslikin
Jewish Literacy Revised Ed: The Most Important Things to Know About the
Jewish Religion, Its People, and Its History, Rabbi Joseph Teluslikin
TANAKH: The Holy Scriptures, JPS
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