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.

Nomi and Keith's Wedding

Yet again there shall be heard... in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem​.

The voice of joy and the voice of gladness,​ the voice of the bridegroom​m and the voice of the bride.

Jerem​iah 33:10-11

Jo and I traveled to Baltimore several weeks before the wedding to meet Keith’s mom and attend to details at the Pearlstone Center where the wedding will be held.  Nomi sent invitations to friends to join us for Shabbat dinner at her home and fifteen attended, some with young children in tow.  Nomi and Keith had set a long narrow table in their living room/dining room with place settings many of which bore a striking resemblance to the stoneware pattern Jo and I had chosen in our wedding registry.  Those 35-year-old dishes have never seemed so beautiful.  The women gathered in the living room around the Shabbat candles, each lighting two for their own families and, in unison, they waved their hands, covered their eyes and recited the blessing. Arm-in-arm, we sang Shalom Alechem and I was given the honor of saying Kiddush.  They honored Shabbat traditions and have created their own; as Nomi said the blessing over the Challah, each individual touched each other to share in the mitzvah.

Thirty-five years ago, Jo and my wedding was a traditional affair – formal evening dress, color coordinated bridesmaids, a choice of chicken or fish.  Nomi and Keith’s wedding, was nothing of the sorts: they stood outside, under the chupah, surrounded by the lake and fields and the vegetable garden.   Music was provided by “Charm City Klezmer” followed by “Jackass Flats” a bluegrass band.  The dress code is cited as “farm chic” and jeans and overalls were as popular as sport jackets and dresses. 

But the wedding was also steeped in our Jewish traditions: We gathered with family and friends for a beautiful Shabbat dinner, Shabbat morning davening and, as the sun set over the farm, gathered for Havdolah. Accompanied by small groups of friends, Nomi and Keith, rose early in the morning to dip in the mitkvah.  Following the tisch, and led by guitars and mandolins, the men joyously dance and accompanied Keith as he walked to Nomi for the Bedekin.  Friends presented them with a beautiful hand-written and designed Ketubah.  

Nomi and Keith’s wedding was so wonderfully emblematic of the Jewish lives they are building together; ancient customs fused with new traditions; Judaism that is grounded in tradition but brought to life and framed
by who they are and the values they hold dear. Judaism is infused into who they are and who they aspire to be.

Nomi talks about “intentional communities” and organizes conferences at the Pearlstone Center to advance the state of the art.  As a Hillel Director, I contemplate what this means for my campus and my community.  How does one build an “intentional Jewish community”; one infused with the values and spirit of our Jewish heritage, legacy and culture? How do we frame and articulate a compelling encompassing mission and vision?  How do we model and advance Jewish values and Jewish consciousness in each moment in our encounters with students and members of our campus communities?  Perhaps of greatest importance is how we help our students find and embrace a deep and meaningful Judaism that infuses their lives with meaning.

Rabbi Ben Zoma taught: “Who is the rich person; the one who is happy with his portion” (Talmud—Avot 4:1).  Still aglow with the great joy Nomi and Keith’s wedding, I turn on my computer and begin another day of work at Hillel. I am so grateful for the wealth that God has given me. 

Stone Mountain Revisited

Barely a week after we moved into our home in Sandy Springs, Georgia, the Weekend edition of the Atlanta Free Press arrived at our doorstep.  Tucked within its pages was a full-page ad for a Scottish festival at Stone Mountain. In oversized letters, the ad's banner read:" Meet Your Clan Members Here   ." The “C” vs. “K” notwithstanding, I found the invitation startling. 

You may recall the reference to Stone Mountain in Martin Luther King Jr.’s renowned “I Have a Dream” speech: “Let freedom ring from the Stone Mountain of Georgia.” King’s reference alluded to the November 1915 Stone Mountain gathering of the hooded charter members of the Ku Klux Klan to create a new iteration of the Klan.  

Stone Mountain is now carved with the largest bas-relief in the world depicting the three key Confederate figures during the Civil War: Stonewall Jackson, Robert E. Lee, and Jefferson Davis.I find this quotation by Jefferson Davis to be especially revealing:

The slaves in their present condition in the South are comfortable and happy; they see them advancing in intelligence; they see the kindest relations existing between them and their masters; they see them provided for in age and sickness, in infancy and in disability; they see them in useful employment, restrained from the vicious indulgences to which their inferior nature inclines them.

“Meet your Clan Members Here” and “Meet your Klan Members Here” seem to overlap with far too much ease in the South. Our comfortable suburban lifestyle overlays a history of profound evil. I am reminded of a line from a Yehuda Amichai poem: “And already the demons of my past are meeting with the demons of my future.”  My sense is that, in the south, the demons of the past have not yet been expunged, truly recognized or, for that matter, accounted for as demons.

I am intrigued that, just this year, the state holidays Confederate Memorial Day and Robert E. Lee’s birthday have both been struck from the Georgia State calendar and quietly replaced by the generic term “State Holiday.” In commenting about the change in holiday designation, Brian Robinson, a spokesperson for Georgia Governor Nathan Deal, said the state still intends to celebrate the days even if it doesn’t “spell it out by name.” “There will be a state holiday on that day,” he said. “Those so inclined can observe Confederate Memorial Day.”  It is hard not to hear a coy concession to political correctness in his remarks.  Tim Pilgrim, a leader of the Georgia division of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, said he was concerned about the shift. “We don’t want Georgia to turn its back on history,” he said. “They can’t erase and remove our history. That’s unacceptable for us.”[2]  Precisely my point.

One would be wrong to draw broad generalizations about the South and Southerners, where, as in any region, you will find the best and worst of us.  I have been so fortunate to meet people of extraordinary kindness and warmth here. 

Additionally, racism in our nation or the history of prejudice and social and economic injustice is not unique to the South. The frightening release of racial hatred during this presidential primary season speaks of the unfinished business of collective nation building required in our country.  In these past months we have witnessed the frightening exposure and embracing of our inner demons along with the concurrent subjugation of our better angels.

Stone Mountain represents a striking and frightening metaphor for the normalization and glorification of hatred and racism that is so enmeshed in the history, culture, consciousness and sub-consciousness of the South, and more broadly, our nation. Approximately 260,000 travelers from across our nation and around the world fly in an out of Atlanta each day[3].  Most of them will spot Stone Mountain as they approach or leave Hartsfield-Jackson Airport.  What will they see? What will they think about?  Will they see a glorification of an age marked by profound moral evils or will they think about man’s inhumanity to man and commit themselves to ensuring that the demons of our past do not also represent the demons of our future?

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[1] https://www.archives.gov/press/exhibits/dream-speech.pdf

[2] http://www.ajc.com/news/news/confederate-holidays-booted-from-state-calendar/nnFFF/

[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hartsfield%E2%80%93Jackson_Atlanta_International_Airport

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.