Teach them Diligently Unto your Children

I woke up this morning like I do most mornings.  About 3 hours after my husband to a friendly lick on the knuckle by my dog Scout.

It was 8:30 am and he was right, time to get up.  If I chose to ignore this gentle wake up and "hit the snooze" (that is, roll over and ignore him) then the more insidious, double-dog bark alarm would go off in about 14 minutes which is a terrible way to start the day.

I reached for my phone... come on... you all do it don't you?... and oh... yes... right.  My beloved Israel, being defended on Facebook by all my friends and bashed in the real world by pretty much everyone else. Another day of trying to stay away from, but being drawn into the conflict that consumes my heart, my faith and my people.  And trying not to take personally the vitriol, the negativity, the biases that I am reading.

And then it hit me.  I mean it really hit me.

I was meant to come back to being a religious school director at this time for this reason.  To continue the path of peace.

I have always taught peace in my schools, and urged my teachers to do so as well, no matter how we may have felt in our hearts.  Every generation MUST be taught peace, and the faith-based classroom is the perfect place to do it.  You may think that their parents are teaching their children this lesson at home, but I will challenge you with this: if that is the case, then why are we still seeing kids bully other kids for looking different? For being gay? For praying in a different building? Parents continue to teach their own biases, sometimes deliberately, and sometimes not.  It's only with mindful parenting that the cycle stops with the next generations.

But we can challenge it in the classroom.  We can send those kids home with a simple question and maybe, just maybe change the conversation at the dinner table.  Or at least the language.

It's time for me, and the brilliant teachers and Rabbis I will have by my side, to teach peace while we teach everything else we do.  Even if sometimes we feel like we want to have a different discussion.  Because that's where peace will really start.

With our children, and then, with theirs.

Not just in Israel, but in the Ukraine. (Did you see the news today?)

And on the playgrounds in the USA.

And in all places where there are people who need this now.

Once In A While You Get Shown the Light

August 6, 2013

I'm in the midst of composing two other posts... but this just happened and for all of you teachers, educators, and counselors out there who wonder why we keep fighting the good fight... this will remind you, and make you feel like truth, justice and the American way is on your side.  Or at least you'll feel all warm and fuzzy for a few minutes.

I got a call from my son yesterday.  He works at the URJ Eisner Camp, so a call is rare.  He was on his way back from a doctor's appointment so he had time to chat.  (Let's not think about the fact he was using his phone while driving, okay?)

First things first.  How'd the appointment go? This is not germaine to the blog, but as a Jewish mother, I wouldn't want you to think that we didn't discuss my son's health.  He and I then checked in on the rest of the family, and I told him about some adventures I had. 

Then this.

Mom, do you remember a kid named Alex P. back from when you were the principal at Temple B'nai Emunat Yisrael? 

YES!  Of COURSE I do!  I LOVED Alex!  

Well, he is in my friend Steve's bunk, so I don't know him that well. Apparently he had a pretty good first half, but then all his friends left, and he's struggling during the second half of camp.  When he comes to adventure he seems like a good kid but Steve said he's starting to act-out in the bunk.  Then when they were at Limmud (the educational period of camp) he was asked who his role model was. He said, "Juliet Barr."  I wasn't there, but Steve figured out that it was you, Mom.  So I reached out to him, and told him who I was, so he would know he had a connection and a friend.

I was temporarily speechless.

Then I went on to tell my son about my special connection with Alex, and what I thought might work... he was really great with younger kids and took on responsibility very well.  I felt like reaching out to Alex's mom, but I might just hold on to this moment.

I am his role model.  Why?  Because I saw past his behavior and into his heart?  Because instead of punishing his "attitude" I saw something beyond it, found a way to turn it around and allowed the synagogue to become a safe place.  I'm sorry the rest of his teachers and counselors still aren't seeing this too.  

And how wonderful that I found out.  That somewhere at Eisner Camp, a counselor put two and two together, with this exotic last name of BARR and mentioned it to my son, who actually remembered to tell me.  So I can know that that meeting when I stood up for this child and explained that punishment and make-up assignments would do absolutely NOTHING to help him, but having him help in the first grade class would, actually did.

May all of you teachers have a moment when you hear that you are a student's role model, hero, or favorite teacher.  I feel like SuperWoman today.  Where's my cape?


Of course the name of the student and the synagogue have been changed.  The name of the camp really is Eisner Camp and magic happens there.  And my name is actually Juliet Barr.

Oy, Another Storm Already?

What if the Jewish People Named the Storms?  A short and obvious blog post on Erev Nemo.

Weather alert... such a cute icon for such dangerous conditions.
Kinda like the name Nemo.

We don't name them.  Someone else does, while we do other jobs.  But what if we did?

First of all, being a Reform Jew, I'd have male and female names together on the same list, and of course mix the classic with the modern depending on my mood.  

Here goes.

Asher
Bruriah
Cantor (no-brainer on this one)
Delilah (also good for the Deadheads)
Elijah (especially fitting if you think the end is near)
Frieda
Gad (I played Gad in the Brandeis version of Joseph*, always have a soft spot for this brother)
Hymie (too obvious?)
Izzie  
Judah
Keshet
Lior
Miriam
Natan
Oded
P'nina (Can you just hear Jim Cantore announcing that Superstorm P'nina is working it's way up the coast?)

I'm sort of stuck on Q.  I'll take any suggestions from the readers.

Raisel ... or Reuben ... can't decide.  Need another girl's name, but I love a good Reuben.
Shmendrick
Tekiyah  
Uriel
Vered
Wolfie

X ... no X names exactly, so I went and got the Jewish name dictionary.  There was Xavier, which means Savior.  So, technically we could put in Mashiach here.. but I think I'll leave X blank as well.

Yadin (could have gone with my Hebrew name, Yaffa, but that's more like a wimpy tropical storm.)
Zahara

So there you have my suggestion for Jewish storm names.  I will be happy to edit this list if you make a good case for changes.  Everyone enjoy Nemo, and Shabbat Shalom!

So, pretty much everywhere???

*Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.  Google it. It's still great.

Thank you to devoted reader RMK, who suggested Qadisha for the letter Q.  Very exotic, and works well with Black History month too.

Well, it seems that my blog inspired a guest blogger, and stage and screen actor, Geoffrey Cantor, to create his own list, ostensibly to give Jewish names to the second year (5774) of storms.

A- Adonai (For who else could create such a storm)

B- Bupkus (You call this a storm?)

C- I've nothing to say

D- Daven (Bowing to the power..) David (a king of a Storm)

E- Elijah (Storms always mean SOMEthing is coming)

F- Frumah Sarah (What is this about you snowblowing your DRIVEway? Yes your                     DRIVEway!)

G- Golem (If it's a monster of a storm) or Gornisht (See Bupkus)

H- Hamen (It's bad, and you have to get so drunk that you can't tell it's a storm)

I- Isaac (Good name and the meteorologist who screwed up on Galveston)

J- Jesus (He was Jewish)

K- Kedusha (It's reverent), or if its a wet snow? Kreplach

L- Latke (It's...cute)

M- Moses, Mordecai, Maimonides

N- Nimrod

O- Oy VEY!  

P- Pinchas

Q- Quetzalcoatl (nod to my Native American brothers)

R- Rivkah, Rebecca, Rachel, Ruth, Rugelach

S- Sarah....SO NU?

T- Tevya

U- Ushpizin (That's some visitor)

V- VODKA (what Jews in Russia Drink when it snows)

W- WODKA (what Jews in Poland Drink when it snows)

X- Xander

Z- Zaftig (if it's a hefty storm), or ZION.

The author, and the guest blogger, in a moment of sibling mock strangulation and  iphone-foolery.

Hold the Onions

I bageled someone in the airport yesterday.

It's not as invasive as it sounds.  It's our (the Jewish People's) way of finding out if a stranger is a Member of the Tribe (MOT*), or just someone from Manhattan.

I could have come right out and said, "So, are you rushing home for Kol Nidre?" 
But that would be too obvious. 

So, I waited til the conversation naturally came around to the perfect moment.

We are sitting in the fairly comfortable Sea-Tac (now I understand... Seattle-Tacoma! Ah-hah!) waiting area for our flight.  Facing the big window and watching the planes.  I'm on my laptop.  She's on her phone.  She's speaking so loudly that I can't help but hear every word of her conversation, which is not unpleasant, but just a bit distracting. Lots of food mentions.  So far these are my three clues, not to stereotype my own people or anything.  But, actually no mention of Rosh HaShannah, the Jewish New Year I assume she has just celebrated with them all, or Yom Kippur, the mighty day of awe I figure we are both trying to get back for.  More clues are needed.

She's off the phone. Brand new iPad is out.  She is complaining loudly to it.  Hmm. So she's richer than me, and probably older than me, but this is also not a dead give-away.   She's muttering about how to get "the Internet hooked up" around here.  I'm pretty sure I can help... do I dive in?  No need, her phone rings again.

Why am I compelled to connect with this woman in the airport who might be Jewish?  Is is because I have been travelling already half a day and have hours more, and just want to chat with someone?  Is it because I feel the need to find another MOT (member of the tribe, remember?) in middle of an area where we are so few? Or maybe, during these "Days of Awe" as we call them, when we are supposed to take time to reflect, I have been so busy I have not stopped to BE.  And seeing this woman made me feel that it was time to come home to my people.  (Which I literally was on my way to do...)

And then my chance came.

She hangs up the phone, and this time I had been so deep in my thoughts, and updating my Facebook page, that I actually had not been eavesdropping on her conversation.

"Excuse me...?"  It's her! 
"Yes?"  She has an upset look.
"Do you know what kind of plane we will be on?  My daughter just told me it's a small one.  I'm nervous."
"I do actually.  I looked it up.  It's a 737.  It's two rows of 3 seats.  A lot bigger than the plane I took here from Portland."  
"Is it safe?"
She's serious.  Wow.  Isn't every plane pretty safe except when it's not?  
"Yes!  Of course... and look, it doesn't even look like it'll be that crowded... When I flew out here, every seat was filled and I had a middle seat.  I'll tell you, I had such shpilkes**"

That was it.  I had my chance.  I bageled her.  She not only forgot she was nervous, she took the bait, or shall  I say, the lox, and we had a great conversation about Judaism.  She shared some of her story with me, and I shared mine.  And she WAS in fact, rushing home for Yom Kippur, as I was.  There we were, the only two Jews in all of Sea-Tac, finding each other at gate N-9, waiting for a plane.

Later on the plane, I heard two people from the exact same tiny  town in Minnesota make a similar connection.  I wonder what they call it?  Beef Jerkeying each other?  

I wanted to say good-bye to her when I saw her at the baggage claim, but, of course, she was on her phone.  So I gave her a little wave and went on my way.  

I didn't make up the term "Bageling," and I don't remember who did, but I love it. If you have a similar story, I'd love to hear it.  And now back to preparing for the awe-filled days of awe.

Yep, I traveled on Air Alaska. For the record, just as sub-par as the rest of them.

*Thanks to Marjorie S. for this nifty new abbreviation!
**Shpilkes:  When you cannot possibly sit still one more second.  

The Festival of Freedom... but Whose?

I just watched my older son and daughter drive down the street from the bathroom window.  In our house the bathroom window overlooks the driveway and rather than have them see me standing in the driveway staring at them, I snuck here.  From this vantage point, I can open a spot between the white horizontal blinds and watch the car make its way down our street.

 My kids, enjoying a little together time before they say good-bye

For nearly a week, the house was full again.  More than full at times, with all three kids, my in-laws, and various  friends, a boyfriend, and a couple of sleep-overs of friends. My husband took off time from work.   We ran the dishwasher, the washing machine, and drier more times in a week than we usually do in a month, and went through more Poland Spring 5 Gallon jugs than the state of Maine probably exports in one week.

And the matza!  Like fur when my dogs are shedding, there are crumbs absolutely everywhere, even in places where I know that matza was not eaten.  (My bed?  The bathroom? Well, lets just say, it better NOT have been eaten in those places!) 


This was the joyful week of Passover... long anticipated and over so quickly.   We also call it the Holiday of Our Freedom, although that seems like a bit of an ironic joke if you are looking at it from my perspective.  Yes, of course we celebrate the freedom from slavery and we tell our children the story of the Exodus from Egyptian bondage.  But looking back at this past week, it only just now feels that I have even enough free time to finally reflect.


We are certainly bound to eat only very specific foods.  No bread, of course, but in our house it does not end there.  We, and when I say we, what I mean is, I clean the pantry, the snack drawers, and the refrigerator and remove every food item which contains any bit of "hametz," the generic term for food which contains flour, corn, soy, yeast, wheat, or anything which could act as a leavening agent.  I take this opportunity, as many people do, to thoroughly clean, wipe down, spray and re-line the shelves of the pantry.  This is both time consuming and cathartic.  I donate a few bags to the Center for Food Action, I throw away half finished boxes and bags, and I line up items on the counter for the kids to finish, much to their delight.  

I don't know why we do this, but we buy chocolate and other candy during Passover that we would never  EVER buy during the rest of the year.

Then there is the the cleaning of the rest of the house.  Depending on how early a start I have gotten, the de-cluttering will go one of two ways... true de-cluttering or shoving everything into boxes and bags and putting it all in the office.  I had to go with the latter this year, as my in-laws arrived on Thursday, and the first Seder was on Friday.  Today I will begin going through all those boxes and bags and looking for all that important stuff I buried a week and a half ago.  I carved a pathway to the computer so I that I could do my work and my son and I could manage to keep up with Facebook during this week. 

Next we have the cooking.  If you celebrate Passover, you know that the cooking does not stop after the first two nights... Oh no.  Because we are so fussy about what we eat, we pretty much eat at home all week.  So we are cooking (and in this case, it is "we") a LOT.  And though we cut out things like corn, rice, and pasta, we get very creative with other carbs like potatoes and quinoa.  This year, as it happens many times, Passover week was school and work vacation... so everyone was home and the kitchen was the hub of activity. 

Our Seder Table... almost ready.

Nana helps with the eggs.  

Can you say SCHMALTZ?  I know it's not healthy.  I know it's wrong.  But for one week a year, I cook with chicken fat.  I didn't read it in a cookbook, and my mom never told me to do this, but what can I say?  It's in my DNA.  And while I'm at it, I start speaking with a fake accent as if I'm from the old country, I cook and eat Matza brei, which I don't even like.  Gefilte fish and hard-boiled eggs make their way to every breakfast table.  Whipped butter appears, because it's so delicious on matza.  Some traditions I learned from my parents, some we started ourselves.  And I know my children will pass them along just as surely as I know they will tell their children that "we were slaves in Egypt."    I know that the taste of my matza-ball soup on their tongues tastes like Judaism as much as the sound of the chanting of the Shema sounds like Judaism.

Last night, I stood at the ironing board, ironing out number 2 of 4 antique tablecloths that were my grandmother's.  (I hope to beat my previous record and have all the tablecloths and napkins ironed and put away before Rosh HaShannah.)  I came across a new wine stain, and wondered if Grandma, known in her later years as GG (for Great Grandma) would be happy or furious to see that now-dulled to a rusty-red-colored mark.  Would she be glad to know that I use these so many times each year for all the Jewish holidays?  Or would she scold me (as she so often did) for not taking better care of her heirlooms  i.e. leave them folded up in the drawer and use a new tablecloth from Bloomingdales?  


So when will the feeling of freedom come?  When the mountains (literally) of laundry are done?  When the ironing is finished?  When the kitchen finally gets clean?  When I find the box that contains the two paychecks that I mistakenly put in a pile in the office somewhere?  


Or, wait a second.  


Am I feeling it now, in the luxury to ignore all those tasks, plus hours and hours of work (you know, the kind that pays the bills) that has been put on hold because I have had the freedom to give myself over completely to my family and my holiday.


Z'man Heirutainu... The Time of Our Freedom...is now.

This is actually the pile of laundry I'm ignoring while writing this blog posting.

Not exactly essential, but really helps with the feeling of freedom.
Let's call it the suggested Pesach aperitif.

I'm Dreaming of a Green Hanukkah

This is my article from the Rockland Jewish Federation Reporter December Issue.  Thought it would make a good blog posting as well.  Enjoy.

I’m “rededicating” myself to Hanukkah.

Get it?

As far as Jewish holidays go, Hanukkah is aminor one.  It pales in comparison toRosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur, Sukkot and Simchat Torah.  But still, it’s here in December when thedays are short and cold.  It celebratesmiracles and light.  There are gifts andgelt.  And latkes.  Not a bad list for a minor holiday! 

The days of being volunteered by my kids tobe the class “latke mom” are behind me. I am no longer in a position to buy 300 bags of nut-free gelt to feed anentire Hebrew school.  By the time theholiday arrives, chances are I won’t have told the story or recited theblessings over a dozen times. 

Hanukkah, which means “dedication”remembers the rededication of the Holy Temple by the Maccabees .  So, I am rededicating myself to Hanukkah thisyear.  I am looking for ways to find newmeaning in the holiday, while not losing the aspects I love about it.  By a small coincidence, I’ve come up witheight.

1.      Fair Trade Gelt:   The truth is, I don’t even likechocolate.  But my family does.  So this year, I am getting guilt-freegelt.  After just a little bit ofresearch, I found two great options, and there are probably more.  Equal Exchange (www.equalexchange.coop) sells what they call “non traditionalHanukkah pieces.”  A bag of little darkchocolate pieces, saving the hassle of the gold foil wrappers from getting allover the place.  And they donate $.15from each sale to the American Jewish World Service (www.AJWS.com). If you feel like you are not ready togive up the good old gelt shape just yet, there’s Divine Chocolate (www.divinechocolateusa.com). They have a bag of gold coins that you can feel good about giving.  Both products have Kosher certifications.

2.    Home-made candles: I can’t remember thelast time I took the time to make beeswax candles with my kids.  This is a fun and easy project that makes thefestival of lights more meaningful. Buying the beeswax and rolling your own candles is a nice way to connectto the holiday, and even little hands can do it.  Homemade candles also make a nice gift if youare invited to share a night of Hanukkah with friends or family.  You can buy a kit that will make enoughcandles to last all eight nights from Kosher Krafts (1-800-9KRAFTS or www.kosherkrafts.com) or other craft supply stores. 

3.    Use less wrapping paper:  I won’t pretend that I don’t appreciate anicely wrapped gift, but let’s face it… gift wrap is a waste of paper.  If you are not ready to eschew the use ofgift wrap altogether, why not pick one night where you don’t wrap thegifts?  Or use the Sunday comics to wrapyour gifts?  At the very least, recyclegift wrap and reuse!  Your family won’tmind.   This year I am going to trywrapping gifts in scraps of cloth and use ribbons to close them.  I’ll let you know how that goes.

4.    Donate a gift:  Pick one night and have that be a night thatyour family shops to donate a gift to a toy drive.  Teach your children valuable lessons aboutG’milut Hasadim (Acts of Loving Kindness) by doing them!

5.    Teach: I mentioned earlier that this year, I may not have taught the story ofHanukkah dozens of times by the time the holiday arrives.  But that doesn’t mean I should not teach itat all.  As a parent, don’t leave all theJewish education up to the synagogue! Teach your children and learn with them. Tell them about the Maccabees, read a good book to them or tell how youcelebrated when you were their age.  Orfind a new way to explore the holiday!

6.    Tzedakah night:  On one of the nights of Hanukkah, when youare lucky enough to have your whole family together, I might suggest Friday, have an agenda.  Set a tzedakah box in the middle of the table.  and introduce a family tzedakah project forthe year.  Take suggestions.  What is meaningful to all of you?  Did you know that Heifer International(www.heifer.org) works to end hunger and poverty on family at a time?  Or that the Jewish National Fund (www.JNF.org) not only plants trees in Israel, butprovides clean drinking water for Israelis, not to mention the safe playgroundin S’derot.  And, I can’t help butmention our own Federation right here in Rockland County (www.jewishrockland.org) where your dollars go to educational, social,and supportive programs here and in Israel. Once your family decides on a cause, every Friday each person can put adonation into the tzedakah box before Shabbat. See how  much you can accumulatebefore next Hannukah and make a nice donation from your family at that time.

7.    Share: I think about sharing Hanukkah in two distinct ways.  Share the holiday with friends, both Jewishand non-Jewish.  Try someone else’s latkes,even though you know yours are better.   Invitea family with young children if your own are long grown and moved out… or adopta grandparent if you are missing yours. Most synagogues are great resources for helping make theseconnections. 

8.    And Share again: The other way to sharethis holiday is to share what you have with others in a more anonymousway.  Donate your coats and warm clothingto those who need them.  Tell yourchildren to find 5 books or toys to bring to the shelter.  Help the food pantries keep their shelvesstocked.  Other faiths are celebrating aholiday that is, in fact, a very big deal, and people of all faiths are stillfeeling the burden brought on by our recent financial recession.  If you are in a position to help others,there are countless ways to do so.

So, there you have it, my eight ways torededicate for each of the eight nights of Hanukkah this year.  No matter what you celebrate, it's time to thing about celebrating more consciously and with a conscience.    If you have any more ideas, I’d love to hear from you.

Highs and Lows

I made the team!
I got grounded.
I got my permit!
Our soccer team finally lost.


In most of the classes I teach, I start with a check-in with my students. I call it Highs and Lows.


"What was your high point and low point  since I saw you last class?"


Seems simple right?


It's easy and it's profound.  When I explain it other educators, they either find someone else in the room to talk to, or they have an "ah hah" moment.


Highs and Lows.  We go around the room, and each of us shares our high and low point of the week.  That's it.


But first we have to learn how to speak to one another.  Class one:  Shmirat HaLashon...Quite literally: Guarding your Tongue.  No gossip, no mentioning of anyone's names, no bad language.  
And we have to learn how to listen to one another.  No judgement.  No rolling of the eyes.  No exaggerated sighing.  This is quite a challenge for the middle school and high school students I teach.  Not always a piece of kugel for the adults I work with either!


The first few weeks we share very easy, close to the surface highs and lows.  


I got an A on at test!
Our trip to Philly was cancelled.
I got a new phone.
My sister borrowed my new shoes and ruined them.
My socks don't match.
My crush finally said hi to me!


Class starts on time. Once you've been in the class for a while, you want to get there on time because you don't want to miss Highs and Lows.  You don't want to miss your turn, and you don't want to miss hearing everyone else's H&L's.  There's a sense of belonging and being part of something special that is initiated with the Highs and Lows.  When I feel that my lesson for the week is too full, and I occasionally try to do without our weekly check-in, the kids call me out on that.  They've been thinking about their Low since the car accident, or their High since the College acceptance letter arrived the day after our last class met!


This works nicely at meetings too.  I usually set the tone by modelling for the group.  Will I share something deep, or keep it light?  Will I open with a nifty piece of text from this week's parsha, or show off yet another picture of my kids?


It's November now, and we are becoming a community.  Our class is our safe place.  I can now use the Highs and Lows to take the pulse of the class, it's an instant barometer.


My dog died.  I know it's not like a person or anything, but I can't stop crying.
I got the lead in a play. I can't really brag at school because my best friend didn't even make the chorus, but I can tell you guys.  I'M SO PSYCHED!
My grandma has Alzheimers.  I'm scared to go visit her because I keep thinking each time I go is the time she'll forget my name.
My parents said I could get a smart phone if I keep my grades up one more marking period!  I thought that bribing for grades was considered bad parenting, but I'm not going to tell them!


This week I actually set aside my lesson plan and spent the class discussing Bikur Holim, the mitzvah of visiting the sick, when three of the students shared that their "Lows" were that people close to them were ill or had recent surgery.  (I also ask their permission to take information that I learn from H & L's to the Rabbi, Cantor, or Educator if that is appropriate, and invite them to share newsworthy items in the Temple bulletin as well.)


So, I'll leave you with this...my favorite High and Low of the week... maybe the year.  From an eighth grader in New Rochelle, NY.


Okay, so, my low... well, I got a C on a math test that I thought I'd do really well on.  
Class responds appropriately.
But my High... he pauses for dramatic effect, and reaches into his backpack...is that I got this LASER POINTER!  Look at this!  He shines a beam of green light around the classroom to oohs and ahs...Oh, wait a sec, no, my high is that it was my Bar Mitzvah on Saturday and my second high is that I got this laser pointer.  


What was your high and low of the week?

It's The Time of the Season

This is not as long as it looks.  I used a very large font.  Mostly so I could read it myself.  


Z'man Simchateinu... the time of our joy.  How can you NOT love Sukkot?  For those of you who are perplexed (read: are not Jewish, do not live in New York or did not attend Brandeis) let me explain.  On the other hand, if this feels like Mrs. Nussbaum's 3rd grade class at Temple Beth Shalom Tikvah Emmanuel, feel free to scroll ahead.

Fall painted our backyard with a delicate brush.

Most non-Israeli, Jews who identify themselves as liberal (with a small "l") live by two calendars.  The secular calendar and the Jewish calendar.  Depending on your level of observance, where you live, and your personal choices they may be sitting side by side, or one may be a few pencil marks within the other.  (For me, the two are deeply embedded within one another, since I live in the secular world, but I make my life's work in the Jewish world. I suspect this is the case for most people in what I like to call "the Jew Biz.")  By the end of the summer as the school year looms ahead, we start to think about our big holiday season.  Just like every child knows, the new year does not start January 1, but it starts in September.   That is unless Rosh HaShannah comes at the end of August or the beginning of October.  (Why can't we pick a date and stick to it? Ah hah!  We did!  It happens to be the first of Tishrei without fail.)


(Want more info about the Jewish calendar? Click here to go to Hebcal.com.)


Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur are our way of saying to ourselves:  Here comes a new year.  A new chance to start over, make what's wrong right.  Correct what you don't like about yourself and polish up what you do.  I thought a lot about writing a blog entry for these days, but I was too busy processesing them.  This was the first time in years (possibly 20 or more) that I did not have some kind of work obligation during these Holy Days, and I was trying to enter into them completely open.  


(Need a real lesson on the Jewish Holidays?  Try the Reform movement's website URJ.org or Conservative Judaism's website.  Or any of the myriad of choices out there.  Or, a book!)


Right after Yom Kippur,  comes the festive holiday of Sukkot.  That means it's time to build the Sukkah for a seven (or eight) day holiday where we are commanded to "be joyful."  A Sukkah is, by definition, a temporary hut that we put up outside.  The idea is to "sit" or "dwell" in it as much as you can.  Some families eat in there every night, others try for one meal a day, some have sleep-overs in their sukkot (plural of sukkah).  We decorate them, we light them up and bring food out for back to nature dining, unless the weather is just so rainy that it will ruin the food.  

The dog is overseeing the progress.

Almost done...

Close-up of the Eastern Wall.

I love our Sukkah.  We've built one every year since our oldest child was a toddler and asked if we could build one when he learned about it in his nursery school.  Yes, he gets the credit for it.  (That is, for us building a sukkah, not for the entire holiday.  I'm a big fan of his, but let's not overdo it.)  As much as my children have life long memories of beach vacations and family trips to Maine, I know that time spent in the Sukkah, eating, singing and laughing together, is also part of the fabric of their shared family history.

Lulav and Etrog, with Holiday candles. 

So, tonight at sundown, we'll go out there and maybe have our dinner.  The fact is, it's been raining all day and we may just say the Hebrew prayers and retreat to the cozy kitchen tonight.  But we have a week to enjoy this beautiful Sukkah.


So, between all these Jewish holidays, what else is happening in my so-called life?  


I am thrilled but incredibly nervous that Gilad Shalit may be home before long.  I know that they are working out the details now, and we will know soon.  As a teacher, two important topics come to mind to discuss with my classes.  One... that this one young man... the son of every mother in Israel right now... is worth over 1,000 Palestinians.  What does that say?  And two... 5 Years in captivity.  How old were you five years ago?  What has happened in those five years?  What if you had to miss it all?  




My neighbor is having her driveway completely excavated today.  Why?  To put in heat sensors to melt the snow and ice when winter comes. Yes.  This technology exists.  All I can say is this is brilliant.  I applaud her.  Her kids are grown, I imagine her house is paid for, and she can afford it.  Now, on those ridiculous winter mornings, when I am out there, dressed in so many layers I can't bend my elbows, hacking away at the snow with that tool that's likely to take off a toe someday, I know my neighbor can sit in her house, at her computer, reading my blog, and  watching the snow melt off her driveway.

October is breast cancer awareness month... in an upcoming blog I plan to write about cancer (yes, that should be a fun one) and I'd welcome your personal stories if you want to share.  You can email me or send me a note in the comment section below.  


I was very sad, along with the rest of the world, to read about Steve Jobs' death this week.  Here is the quote of his that really resonated with me.  I got it from Cory Booker's facebook page, he quoted it from the famous 2005 speech that Steve Jobs made to the graduating class at Stanford: "For the past 33 years I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: 'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?'  And whenever the answer has been 'No' for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something."


I wish you and your friends and family a time of joy... whether you celebrate Sukkot or not.  Go and look at those leaves before they are gone.  Bite an apple that was just picked, smell anything cooked with cinnamon, and figure out how to get some hugs from the people you love.

Juliet Comes Alive

I got about 4 inches cut off my hair yesterday.  Nobody noticed.  That's not to say no one saw my hair.  It's a curly mop of mostly brown and some leftover gold from the summer mixed with what my long-time hair-dresser* says is much too much gray.  (She wants me to color my hair.  I'm fine with the gray, but she had a compelling argument... "Everyone else is doing it." ... Where are we?  In middle school?)  I digress.  


I saw several people I knew today when I ventured in to my my town's delightful farmers' market.  Every Sunday from May through October we host this...and today was a glorious day.  Vendors were out in full force, the sun was shining, leaves just starting to change and the weather was perfect, high 60's.  There was a guitar player singing Dylan, Jorma, and CSNY.  When he finished, a jazz quartet set up under a tent.  Everywhere I went, from the soap maker to the pickle guy, I ran into friends, acquaintances,Temple members, and, to my delight, even my Rabbi!  I struck up conversations with strangers, as people are prone to do on days like this.


As I say, no one noticed that my hair was shorter, but everyone has noticed that I seem very happy.  For one thing, it's Sunday and I am out and enjoying a fall day.  This is something that I have not had the luxury of doing in, well, about 30 years.  As a religious school teacher and then long-time Hebrew school director, Sundays have always been my big work day.  I have not had a school-year Sunday off in years, or if I have, then it's because I have something else to do, or I am sick in bed.  So to be enjoying a fall day and buying artisanal breads while listening to Gershwin is just a joy.


Halfway through my life I changed jobs.  


I like change.  I like to try new things.  Just this year I have tried Thai and Indian food.  This very day I baked an apple crisp for the first time.  (None of these were great, but I did try them all!) I now no longer sit at the helm of one synagogue's school, but find myself in a new role, as a consultant and regional educator to many synagogues. I am also teaching more this year.  I love the field of Jewish Education.  You might say I found my calling at a very young age (20) when I started my first job as a Sunday School teacher during my senior year of college.  I adored it, I didn't mind waking up early on Sundays, and I was a natural. Now, 32 years later,  I haven't left this cherished world of Jewish ed, but I do have my Sundays back. 


I am really enjoying the new challenges of these new jobs and the welcome surprises that the change of the schedule has brought me.  I have found some focus and renewed energy on work, family and fun. 


Why did I make this change now?   I had to.  It was time. Maybe that's fuel for another blog entry.  


For now I will enjoy my time and ponder the bigger questions.  How can I use my experiences to help others?  How can I continue to make the ancient Jewish texts relevant to the students who are even more over-programmed than ever?   Is the smoked mozzarella at the farmers market really smoked, or do they use chemicals to give it that flavor?  Should I consider moving away from the 1978 Frampton Comes Alive style haircut? 

Classic Rock

SEPARATED AT BIRTH?

* Sorry about the word hairdresser.  It's the woman who cuts my hair.  It's a dorky word now that I'm typing it, but what else should I call her?  What would she call herself?  Probably a stylist.  I can't even believe the whole first paragraph is dedicated to my hair, though I was sitting at the beauty parlor (there I go again... salon) yesterday musing to myself how much time and how many dollars people, mostly women are spending on their hair.  So I guess one paragraph (well, now two) is okay.  


And an apology here... I just realized after I published this that clicking on the links to hear the music takes you away from the blog, rather than opening up a new window to hear the music simultaneously.   Sorry about that.  I'll work on that.  I do recommend checking out the music, of course.  Just don't ADD yourself right off this page into a YouTube frenzy of classic rock clips and forget to finish reading.

All We Are Saying...

Today is September 12, 2011.


Yesterday the world stopped to remember a day that we still cannot get our brains around.  


The very anticipation of the Tenth Anniversary of September 11 felt like a slow drumbeat to me. 


It began in July, when I visited the site which is no longer called Ground Zero.  I was invited in to hear strangers' stories, thanks to a program hosted by Facing History and Ourselves and the World Trade Center Tribute Center.  When I arrived at the World Trade Center area I was struck by the intensity of thousands of people, moving in all different directions. People in business suits, and in shorts. Techies, tourists, teachers, analysts, lawyers, financial people, construction workers, security people, and lots of police trying to move human beings and traffic.  It was a Tuesday.  A beautiful Tuesday... just like... don't think like that.... I looked up.  A new skyscraper was being built.  I had no idea.

On that day in July I learned the power of the personal narrative.  I shared mine, and got tears in my eyes as I heard others tell theirs.  


Yesterday, when I watched the survivors' families reading the names of those lost I could not stop thinking that every one of the nearly three thousand lost souls has a story.  Some of the readers shared tiny windows to  their stories with the world yesterday.  A little boy, nearly ten, had never met his father, and thanked him for loving him.  A woman was still in so much pain she could barely pronounce her husband's name.  A father lost his son and daughter-in-law... a whole generation gone. 

Click here to see photos of the Memorial


People my age do not remember Pearl Harbor, and we are a little too young to have been felt the full impact of the weight of the assassinations of John F. Kennedy or Martin Luther King.  But we are the generation that will forever share this.  I know that everyone goes through terrible life-changing crises ... a near death experience, an illness that leaves them changed or scarred, the loss of someone dear to them... but a catastrophe shared by so many on a such a deep level leaves a profound mark on a generation.  


There is a movement to make September 11 a day of service.  A mitzvah day.  Will that keep the haters from hating? Of course not.  Will that bring back the deceased?  Nothing will, but I guess it will honor their memory a lot more than turning to hate.  Every generation must become more loving, more compassionate, more tolerant than the one before it.  That is the only path to peace.  I know that not everyone feels that way.  But it's the only way.


Give peace a chance.