Tekiah Gedolah

Still recovering from my post Yom Kippur gluttony, I awoke early to read the New York Times and came upon an article on Mark Zuckerberg and Marc Benioff, two Jewish techno-billionaires, blowing the Shofar. The digital version of the article featured a video of the Zuckerberg, in his ubiquitous long-sleeve tee shirt, blowing the shofar at home while an unseen child wailed in the background.  (https://www.nytimes.com/2018/09/17/style/marc-zuckerberg-blowing-shofar.html)

Like the Shofars (Shofarim? Shofarot?) used in my synagogue during recent High Holyday services, Zuckerberg’s Shofar appeared to be approximately four-feet long, it’s length far exceeding the length of his left arm which held it in place. At our synagogue, we had four men (although I do not believe any of them were techno-billionaires) with equally elongated Shofars serenading us with Tikiahs, Shivarims, and Truahs from different parts of the sanctuary.  The coordinated blowing was orchestrated to create a dramatic impact on the Rosh Hashanah worship. Unfortunately, it also confused the more senior members of the congregation.  All around me, octogenarians were seen adjusting their hearing aids. 

My friend Sandy turned to me and commented “I don’t remember Shofars being so long”.  Certainly, that was my memory.  Shofars used to be of the 10-inch variety, carved with small notches along their edges. Shofars today all seem to be in the 3 – 4-foot helix variety - far cries from the diminutive size of our youths. 

What also seems to have become elongated is the “T’kiah G’dolah” – the final blast of the Shofar in each cycle on Rosh Hashanah and at the end of Nelah, the concluding service on Yom Kippur.  In my synagogue, it is not unusual for the T’kiah G’dolah to last 30 seconds or more, causing the blower’s face to turn a brilliant shade of red.  I am concerned that one of them will have an aneurysm.

While I recognize that, to paraphrase, Freud, ‘sometimes a shofar is just a shofar’, to my thinking, the growth of elongated shofars and the final blasts of T’Kiah G’dolah, marks the rise of “Macho Judaism”, where men demonstrate their virility and alpha dominance, within the of context our Jewish rituals.  These are, in fact, “the Days of Awe”.

Another demonstration of Macho Judaism seems to be the “Hagbai” clean and jerk.  Each year select men are called upon to demonstrate their vitality by lifting the Torah after the reading has been completed.  The contestants demonstrate their strength and skill by seeing how many sections of the Torah they can unravel before the lift.  I believe the requirement is three, but, this never seems to suffice.  Seven or eight will ensure a positive murmur.  I do admire these kosher strong men but also worry that a slight misstep will require all of us to fast for 40 days.  I have nightmares of unrelenting caffeine withdrawal headaches. During these moments during the service, I was contemplating the need for a new pharmaceutical product “Jewagra”, to enable men to keep their horns and scrolls aloft longer.  Jars of Alex Jones’s “Super Male Vitality” supplements might also do the trick.  I added an additional “Al Chet” (“For the Sin”) for these wayward thoughts. 

My synagogue is fully egalitarian, and women participate in all aspects of the service.  But, in the 12 years I have been a member (and, perhaps, for the 60 years or so I have been attending synagogues), I have never seen a woman called to blow the shofar or lift the Torah.  Women in our country join the Marines, are fighter pilots and serve as police officers and firefighters around the world.  One would think they have the capacity to blow a shofar and lift a Torah.

The High Holy Days have passed, and Sukkot is upon us.  Around the world, Jewish men will be hoisting long stalks of bamboo atop our booths.  At our synagogue, the men will sanctify the holiday with “Cigars and Scotch in the Sukkah”. While I admire the alliteration, as a non-meat eater and non-smoker, I will demure. Don’t get me started on the Lulav.  Sometimes a palm frond is just a palm frond.   

We All Need More Bina

"How much better is it to get wisdom than gold! and to get understanding (Bina) rather to be chosen than silver.” Proverbs 16:16

One of my favorite Jewish jokes speaks of the difference between the Jewish pessimist and the Jewish optimist.  Says the Jewish pessimist: “Things are terrible, they can’t get any worse.”  Says the Jewish optimist: “Things are terrible, but they can always get worse.”  Thus, my reaction to the current national and geopolitical dynamic along with growing climate instability is that it is hard not to be a Jewish optimist, comforted, in our uniquely Jewish way, that everything can always get worse.

In an era where there is so much that is troubling and frightening, we all need more Bina. In Hebrew, Bina means “wisdom”, however, in Jewish tradition, ‘Bina’ goes beyond knowing – it is knowledge based on understanding, tempered by contemplation and reflection. It is knowing how to employ all we have learned with thoughtfulness and framed with humanity.  Linguistically, ‘Bina’ is linked to boneh or l’vnot – builders and the act of building.  Thus, we learn that to truly have Bina, our knowledge must be built and built collectively.  Conversely, we cannot build a society and a world of purpose and of values without Bina.

I am struck that, in a number of African languages, “Bina” means to sing and to dance, as well as the quality of freshness.  In Hindi, Bina is a musical instrument.  And, again, in the context of today’s challenges, we all need to sing and dance more and seek the qualities of newness and freshness in ourselves and in others. 

This summer, our family was blessed by the arrival of Bina Mazal

– Jo and my first grandchild, daughter of Keith and Nomi Adams, and niece to Alya and Jacob.

Neith, Nomi and Bina

My daughter Nomi spoke beautifully at the Simchat Bat:

“I can understand her desire to stay in. For her last couple of months in there, she was getting a steady supply of pizza bagels and chocolate ice cream, and the outside world seems like a pretty scary place right now. There’s a lot to be afraid of. I would be lying if I said that I had no worries about raising a child in our current times. There are so many unexplainable things going on that she’s going to want to be explained to her, so many changes we need to work for. But at the same time, that’s what’s exciting about bringing a new life into the world. We have the opportunity to raise a woman who will hopefully be kind and caring, who will work for change, who will fight for what she believes in, and who will love as much as we love her. 

I cannot be more proud of my daughter Alya, who said:

“For Bina, I wish the same things for you that I wished for your mother before she had you. I wish you joy and I wish you love.

I wish you curiosity. The desire to explore the world and to learn new things and meet new people 

Alya and Bina

and hear new ideas, secure in the knowledge that you have this family and home and community always waiting and supporting you.

I wish you grace. In this world of increasing uncertainty and unkindness, I hope you walk through life leaving peace in your wake. I hope you bring light to those around you.

And of course, to echo your name, I wish you wisdom and I wish you luck. The wisdom to listen to all sides and come to the right choice.”

Finally, I share my wonderful son-in-law Keith’s, words: “So, with this name, may our daughter be grounded in her self-determination and may she also find her way to respect and protect our ultimate collective inheritance -- this earth and its inhabitants, one and the same, engaged in a unity for peace.”

Jake and Bina

At a time of great change and challenge, all of us will benefit from curiosity, the desire to explore, and the support of others.  We will benefit from grace and the wisdom to listen to all sides and make the right choices.  We share the responsibility to raise children and to elevate ourselves to be kind and caring, to work for change, fight for what we believe in, and love and be loved. Let us all find the way to respect and protect our ultimate collective inheritance -- this earth and its inhabitants, one and the same, engaged in a unity for peace.

Now is not the time for optimism or pessimism, Jewish or otherwise.  Now is the time for Bina.

My fondest regards to you, your family and your friends for a Shanah Tovah U’mitukah – a happy, healthy and sweet New Year.

5777 Parts A and B

The Jewish year of 5777 will bring forth my 65^th birthday. Thus, as Rosh Hashanah approaches I contemplate many things; what is truly important, how do we frame our core values; what is life’s true meaning; what Medicare plan should I sign up for?  Medicare is our nation’s way of saying that growing old does have its benefits; and it is time to schedule your next colonoscopy. 

As I contemplate the days ahead, I’ve been reading about mindfulness, have begun meditating and attempting to live more in the moment.  This, I find, is a perfect framework for my complete lack of short term memory.

I am also coming to peace with all I have hoped to accomplish and perhaps what may now be beyond my grasp.  For instance, I am now fully at peace that no matter what I do, I will never be able to fold a fitted sheet.

I have begun taking yoga and, to date, I hate it.  I often feel like a downward facing dog, and thus I see no reason for me to assume a position of such.  Let’s be honest, I’m in it for the spandex.

I reflect on my life and think about the choices I have made.  In wistful moments, I wish I had flossed more regularly.

But Rosh Hashanah reminds us that “Hayom Harat Olam” “Today is the birthday of the world”.  My sense is that the rabbis hadn’t concluded that this is, in fact, the day the big bang occurred 5,777 years ago.  Rather, I’d like to think that they are reminding us that every year, and on every day, we have the opportunity to recreate the world anew.  It is a compelling message of hope and opportunity.  At every age, in every time, new opportunities await us to find meaning, to make a difference, to enrich our lives and the lives of others.

Few experiences opened my eyes to the glorious possibilities and potential that lie in our collective future than Nomi and Keith’s wedding this past summer.  The weekend gathering of friends and family concluding with the wedding ceremony and freilich celebration that followed was a joyous affirmation of love, hope and faith.  Read more at http://draphael-emuse.blogspot.com/2016/09/nomi-and-keiths-wedding.html. 

As always, my family continues to anchor me and ground me. In moments of darkness thinking of them frames my life with joy and meaning.  Alya will spend Sukkot with us, and can’t wait to recreate memories of her childhood by making chains out of construction paper.  She is now using her science background, her skill in communications and her overall extraordinary competency and thoughtfulness as part of an innovative digital marketing team focusing on health and medical related firms. Esteban is a lead professional at a firm that creates customized DNA for research and pharmaceutical purposes.  He promises me that there are ample safeguards in place to prevent a dystopian future.  Nomi continues her studies at the University of Maryland School of Social Work and thinks about working with inner city children and building community gardens.  Keith teaches music at the Friends School and the Baltimore School of Rock.  Jacob is working in a local movie theater, and, on off hours, focusing on his writing and building a wonderful social network of friends.

Jo continues her work at the Epstein School as the counselor for the younger grades and her mixture of kindness, thoughtfulness and strength are a gift to children and families.

I remain the Executive Director of Boston University Hillel, a position that brings together extraordinary opportunity and, at times, overwhelming challenges. Working in Boston and living in Atlanta is difficult and, as a long-term life choice probably makes little sense.  So, life decisions lie in the near future.

The great joy of Nomi and Keith’s wedding in July was followed by difficult doldrums of August when work challenges seemed to wash over me in waves.  During stressful and painful weeks I was so bless to be able to reach out to dear friends and family for counsel and comfort. 

These are the great blessings, the great gifts that God has given me.  I am thankful to all of you who have and who continue to enrich my life in so many ways.

May you have a happy, sweet, healthy and meaningful new year.

Suburban Zen

Our home and yard are shaded by a canopy of beautiful tall trees; pines, poplars and oaks that provide valuable shade during the oppressive Atlanta summers.  Unfortunately, as summer turns to autumn, the trees also deposit a cache of leaves that, in the weeks before Rosh Hashanah, begins as a lovely wafting of greenery and elevates by mid-November to a vegetative torrent and, I would add, torment.  As a dutiful suburbanite I spend each Sunday during this period accompanied by my electric leaf blower, rake, broom and Costco leaf bags blowing, pushing and bagging.  It is not a task that lends itself to a sense of accomplishment as, invariably, as soon as I have moved the last bag to the curb a breeze wafts through the neighborhood and leafy stragglers descend to litter the driveway. 

Not wanting to make leaf collection my sole preoccupation during these months, I have adopted a mantra, which I call suburban Zen: “There are always more leaves”.

Perhaps this is the lesson of the sixties – my sixties that is (I won’t try to fathom the lesson of the 1960’s).  No matter how hard we work, our lives seem to tilt towards entropy.  We literally and figuratively rake, mow, sweep and brandish our hot air but “there are always more leaves”.  Or as Rabbi Tarfon would say upon viewing his lawn: “You are not obligated to complete the task, but neither are you free to desist from it”. 

Perhaps this is also a lesson for the High Holy Days. It is a messy, unfinished, oft frightening leaf-filled world, perhaps more so every day. Even if we can never solve every problem, resolve every conflict and address every local, national or global challenge; we need to keep raking.

This is our partnership with the Almighty; she will continue to provide trees and leaves and we must keep raking.  And that’s the good news.  

Life in the Slow Lane

In the first week in my tenure as interim director of Hillel at Boston University I walked to Best Buy to cruise the Labor Day sale.  Students and parents rushed through the aisles of Best Buys snatching up air conditioners, iPad, TV’s and stereos.  A small microwave oven for $54.00 beckoned me as did a flat screen TV for $189.  But I demurred.  A simpler life beckoned me.

My small one bedroom apartment on Bay State Road is the definition of Spartan functionality.  It has all I need but very little more.  In the days ahead I will return to my well-furnished and provisioned home in Atlanta but here in Boston, life is much simpler. I have two double beds, one love seat, three chairs, two bar stools, two end tables, coffee table and a 6x8 rug.  I have a set of four each of dishes, eating utensils, mugs and glasses.  I have, as of yet only used two of the dishes, one of the bowls and one of the coffee mugs.  Oddly, I have managed without my precious expresso machine.  I have yet to do the laundry, but when I do I will fill my pockets with quarters and trek downstairs to the washer and dryer, which shares a small room with the buildings boiler. 

Everything takes a bit longer.  I make stir fry for dinner.  In the absence of a microwave oven I boil the rice.  Impossibly, it takes 6 minutes rather than one.  There is no dishwasher and so I wash each dish, utensil, pot and glass by hand.  I sweep the small kitchen floor and hand wipe it with a spray cleaner and a small rag.  That deliberate quality of life is pleasant; perhaps, functionally meditative; slow down, embrace the quieter moments. 

Without a Boston-based car, I walk everywhere.  Trader Joe’s is a 20 minute stroll as is Whole Foods.  The walk over is pleasant.  The returning walk with hands filled with groceries a bit less so. The dry cleaner is four blocks, the drug store six.  My commute to Hillel is a 10 minute walk.  I discovered that my iPhone is tracking my steps and I am averaging about 12,000 a day – about 4 miles. 

I sit on a park bench along the Charles River and watch sleek shells with determined rowers glide by.  I walk along Beacon Street admiring the beautiful Victorian era row houses.  I rent a bicycle and pedal to Harvard Square buy a used book and read while sipping coffee.  After a long, difficult day at work I grab a bottle of light beer, head into the bedroom (the only air conditioned room in the apartment) sit on an old office chair, place my feet on the bed, my computer on my laps and watch a movie on Netflix on the 14 inch screen.  It seems overly indulgent.

Perhaps the simpler life will get old soon.  I will long for the convenience of a microwave; the comfort of the full size leather sofa in my den, the convenience of a car and the mindless pleasure of a large flat screen TV.  But a quieter, simpler life has its pleasures.  These pleasures are all in the moment – and none are taken for granted.  It seems to me that is a core message for Rosh Hashanah; enjoy life in the moment for the simple pleasures it offers.  In the absence of the layers of possessions that surround us we become more attuned to gentle joys of God’s creation; trees, a soft breeze, new and old friends, our loved ones.  Among those great pleasure is our own journeys of thought, imagination and wonder.  Today is the birthday of the world, enjoy.