Memorial Day - in honor of my uncle Eddie

This morning at minyan I commemorated the yarhzeit of my uncle Eddie. Eddie was a bombardier during World War Two--one of those who did not make it home. As I speak of his life and death and recite the El Malei prayer,  deep emotions are stirred within me; tears pour out and my voice catches. I feel so connected to this man who I never knew. I mourn for the love and laughter he would have added to our family. I mourn for my father's loss of his brother and mentor; for my grandparent's loss of their oldest son. On this day I channel their grief.

This particular yarhzeit has taken on a significance that goes beyond the personal. Unsure of the exact date of his death, I decided it was appropriate to observe Eddie's yarhzeit on Memorial Day. And although I now know the exact date and circumstances of his death due to records that are available on the internet, I continue this commemoration at the insistence and support of my minyan community, sharing these words so we all can channel a bit of that grief and remember the reason we mark this day.


"Pa - so you thought I forgot your anniversary. Well, at least Ma stood by me. I'm glad you liked the card. . . I received a letter from Seymour {my dad} on Tuesday and he tells me that he made PFC {Private First Class}. You can't imagine what a kick I got out of hearing this. I went around and passed cigarettes to the boys just like a father passes out cigars when he gets a baby"

"You ask what's new with me. There is still nothing definite to tell you. We may as well not kid each other - when I finish my training here I will be due to go over. . . Please don't start worrying about me - there is still plenty of time for that. . . I'm not worried about anything except that you are worrying about me. This is a great experience for me and I'm sure I will benefit by it. Why, there must be a million fellows who would do anything to trade places with me and get on a B-29 crew"

Those words were written by my uncle, Lieutenant Edward Heiss, US Army Air Force, in letters to his parents, my immigrant grandparents, Sam and Pepi Heiss, in January and February, 1944. He signed off, as he did all his letters, with "I am feeling fine. So long. Lots of love, Eddie." One year later, on January 11, 1945, his B-29 fell to the ground in pieces somewhere over Malaysia. Of the eleven crew members, only three made it out alive---he was not one of those three.




When I was growing up, a colored version of this photo of my uncle was on my grandmother's dresser. I was curious who it was, but somehow, never asked, and no one ever talked about him. I don't remember when or how I found out who he was. Once I did, I wondered how my family's life would have been different if he had come home.

What was he like - this man so often photographed with a smile; the one who, as my father tells it, convinced my dad to go to Yankee Stadium one Rosh Hashanah afternoon.








The commanding officer of his squadron wrote my grandparents, "No matter how fatigued he may have been, or how he felt personally, Edward always had a laugh and a word of encouragement, to cheer the other members of his crew and squadron. . . He undoubtedly was one of the best liked officers in this organization."





For years after my uncle's plane went down my grandfather held out hope that some miracle would find him alive. After all, no body was ever found. A musician--string bass and tuba--who worked many high society events attended by high military brass, my grandfather would go up to those generals and ask, "please, find out what happened to my son."

My Uncle Eddie received a Purple Heart, posthumously.

I would have rather had him in my life.

On Memorial Day we need to remember that war, justified or not, will always take its toll.

Zichrono L'vracha
His remembrance is a blessing to my dad, to me, and to all with whom I share his story.

Minyan is for your sake

היום אחד וארבעים יום, שהם חמשה שבועות וששה ימים, בעמר

Today is forty-one days, which is five weeks and six days, of the omer
יסוד שביסוד
A day of foundation in a week of foundation

Practice has become my theme of this week of foundation. So on this double day of foundation, I honor the most foundational of the foundations of my Jewish practice---minyan. To do that, I once again share the words of my teacher, Rabbi Alan Lew, z"l, who gifted me with this practice.

There have been many times in these past 15+ years, for many different reasons, that I've wanted to just stop going to morning minyan. But each time, I could hear Rabbi Lew in my head, "Marilyn, you can't just give it up because you don't like it now."

Keeping up the practice is the practice. It both renews and strengthens the foundation.

Minyan is for your sake - Rabbi Alan Lew, Nov 1996

Our daily minyan is one of the great treasures of our congregation. It provides our members and people all over Northern California with a place to mourn, to observe yarzheits, or to simply turn to God in the traditional Jewish way at times in their lives when they feel an urgent need to do so. 

But the greatest beneficiaries of the minyan are the people who attend every day. Why is this so? According to the Midrash Ein Yakov, Yehudah HaNasi once asked three of his students, "Mah Hapasuk Hakolel Biyoter Batorah-- what is the most inclusive verse in all the Torah?" Ben Zoma chose the Shema -- "Hear O Israel, The Lord is our God, The Lord Alone!" Ben Azai made another obvious choice -- "Vi-a-havta li-reacha kamocha -- You shall love your neighbor as yourself." Then Ben Pazi, a much more obscure rabbi then either Ben Zoma or Ben Azai, chose a verse which was also much more obscure -- one of the laws of the Temple Sacrifice from the Book of Numbers: "You shall offer up one lamb every morning and one lamb every night."

"I agree with Ben Pazi," Yehudah HaNasi said. His students were dumbfounded. How could he prefer this apparently trivial verse to a fundamental statement of principle like the Shema, or a great ethical concept like the commandment to love one's neighbor. The reason, I think, is precisely because they were principles and concepts. The implicit message of this Midrash is that it isn't principles or concepts which really count-- rather it is what we do every day. "You shall offer up one lamb every morning and one lamb every night." If we express our faith in specific, concrete deeds, and if we do so rain or shine on a regular basis, then we are engaged religiously in a way that mere thoughts and good intentions can never engage us. 

Daily minyan is the modern version of the single lamb our ancestors offered up every morning and every evening. Praying every day we come to know the full range of human spiritual potential; from transcendant exaltation to stultifying boredom; from the frustration of not quite knowing what we're saying to the joy of being swept up in a spiritual energy larger than our own. Praying every day with others we get a very real sense of how difficult it is to join in real communion with others, and how wonderful it feels when we finally manage to do so; praying every day with others we come to explore that tenuous boundary between self and other which is always the real locus of the spiritual experience. 

The holidays are great; they lend a sense of spiritual structure to the cycle of the year. Shabbat is wonderful. Our practice of Judaism deepens precipitously when we begin to take Shabbat seriously. But daily minyan represents another quantum leap altogether. As both Ben Pazi and Yehudah HaNasi affirmed, it's what we do every day that builds a sense of Jewish spirituality into the warp and woof of our lives. And in the Jewish tradition, daily minyan is the principal medium of daily spirituality. 

This is why we have mounted a campaign to get more of you to minyan this year. Not for the minyan's sake; the minyan is doing fine, and will continue to do fine for the foreseeable future. We are mounting this campaign for your sake. We want you to get a taste of what a daily spiritual practice can do for your soul. Judaism, after all, is a religion of life, and life is what happens every day.

Minyan Moments

היום ארבעה ימים בעמר
Today is four days of the omer
נצח שבחסד
A day of perseverance in a week of loving kindness

At this morning's minyan, the gathering for prayers, we had one of those "it takes a village" moments. There was no clergy; we made the necessary 10 and a couple more, with a group of core regulars. Because it is one of the intermediate days of Pesach, there are more rituals than a normal Wednesday morning. We sang Hallel, read Torah from two different scrolls, and had a musaf, additional liturgy that is added on these days. There were lots of roles to be filled, and everyone stepped up to make everything work. And as I was not as prepared to chant Torah as I could have been, it was great to know I did not have to read alone, being gently corrected when I mangled the words or started to run through the end of a verse.

At these times, I am reminded that our rituals are meant to be communal, not hierarchical. Our rabbis are our teachers, but each of us has the ability to lead. This is one of the strengths of Judaism, and one of the reasons why we have survived for so many centuries.

And so, on this day of perseverance in loving kindness, I bring you another minyan moment from 2010 when we were able to support those in our community.
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At Beth Sholom, we ask anyone who comes to minyan to commemorate a yarhzeit--an anniversary of the passing of a loved one--if they would like to say a few words about the person they are remembering. It adds an extra level to the experience when the El Malai prayer is chanted--for the survivor sharing the memory and for those of us standing in support. At that moment, we all hold that person in our heart.

This morning, my friend Katherine shared the connection she felt between working with her son on the chicken coops they're building and the time her dad spent working with her on the Future Farmer of America projects of her youth. It was one way she could pass the love her father had for her on to her children. לדור ודור – L'dor v'dor - from generation to generation.

Another woman, Penny, was there to commemorate the yarhzeit of her husband. She told us they met in USY--the national youth organization of the Conservative Movement. They had 17 years together, were married for 11 years, and this was the 25th anniversary of his death. She shared this knowing we would understand the connections to her youth, to her Judaism. We could share the pain of her loss, no matter how long ago.

In these moments, as I place my hand on each shoulder and chant those ancient words, I feel humbled in the presence of enduring love and am honored to share in the stream of their lives.

Sometimes it all just works . . .

היום שלשה ועשרים יום שהם שלשה שבועות ושני ימים בעמר

Today is twenty-three days, which is three weeks and two days of the omer
גבורה שבנצח
A day of strength in a week of perseverance

Yesterday was one of those days that worked from start to finish. A day to remember when things go awry.

I led minyan in the morning, and was surprised at the end of the service with a visit from an eight-year-old friend who had to run in to give me a hug before she boarded the bus for school.  She and I have always had a bond, and I know I will be a role model for her. So for her, a woman reading Torah, leading services, and wearing tefillin will be as it should be. May it be so for all of her generation.

Then home to put the finishing touches on my lessons plans for that evening. There are times that can be a struggle, but yesterday it was smooth sailing. In my course on the Jewish experience in America, it was time to teach the Jewish role in the Civil Rights Movement--a favorite lesson of mine. Sadly, these kids are fuzzy on that part of American history in general, most of them just knowing about Martin Luther King and little else. So it's eye-opening for them to learn about the rampant discrimination of the time and the actions of those--so many of them Jews--who fought to help right the wrongs.

Teaching my 7th grade Torah study class has been so difficult this trimester. Things that have worked with other classes just didn't work. The biggest issue is a couple of students who not just refuse to participate, but seem determined to make sure that no one got a chance to learn. Not really wanting to once again put a lot of effort into something that was sure to fail no matter what I did, I chose to show them the G-dcast on the Parashat Masei, use the accompanying curriculum, and hope for the best.

Then it was off to tutor a bar mitzvah student. He's a nice kid, but the training has gone a bit slower than I'd hoped. His Hebrew is not great, which definitely hinders the process. But the system I've developed is kicking in, as he can take the trope that he knows and layer that on the haftarah words. He's doing the decoding, often without my help. I told him how proud I was of him, how he has persevered, how he is really thinking and putting it all together. The smile on his face was a great reward.

Then it was off to teach. And to my surprise, it was a good double-header. It wasn't a surprise that the Jews in America class was engaged--most of them are interested in the topic. But it was nice that in our discussions they referenced earlier classes, making comparisons of the different eras in American history. I really feel like I'm teaching them something they will remember and apply in their lives that lie ahead.

But it was the Torah class that sealed the day for me. It wasn't the most enlightening class, I don't know what the kids will retain, but, for the most part, they followed along with the plan. And the activity, to make up a plan for a city, integrating ecological factors, housing and schools, transportation, commerce, power sources, entertainment and green spaces--intrigued them. There was silliness, but at least they created their towns. The most interesting moment was when I had to take a phone away from one of my most difficult students. She balked at first, but it was her third strike and she had to give it up. She pouted for a bit, but then, lo and behold, became more involved than she had ever been, and seemed not to miss the phone at all. She didn't whine about it, didn't bother me to give it back to her. In fact, I handed it back to her at the end of class without her even asking. A minor triumph, but a triumph none the less.

A true day of strength and perseverance, for both my students and me.

Not just another Shabbat

Judaism is not so much a creed as a series of concrete activities. Shabbat is a vivid spiritual experience if we make Kiddush and Havdalah and fill the space in between with traditional Shabbat activities: study, prayer, singing, dancing and festive meals. If we don’t do these things, Shabbat is just another Saturday.

                 "The Year is like a River" - September, 1996

This Shabbat is certainly not just another Saturday. This Shabbat marks four years since the passing of Rabbi Lew. I share those and other words of his, and I write these words of remembrance to honor this man whose life and teachings taught me and so many of us how the concrete activities of Jewish life can bring us the spiritual experience we seek.

One of my favorite teachings of his, one that comes up for me again and again, is his teaching from the 15th century commentator Don Isaac Abravanel in his description of the Torah, the five books of Moses, as a blueprint for a spiritual life. This teaching echoes the path of Rabbi Lew's life, as well as holding the gifts that he brought us.

Bereshit - Genesis, the stories of our tribal origins, represents the personal spiritual seeking, ending in a leave-taking. Rabbi Lew’s personal spiritual journey is well known, and we were lucky that his path led him here. For he was able to reach out and speak to the spiritual seeker in all of us.  And he was able to show us how the rich traditions of Jewish ritual can act as signposts along the way.

Shemot - Exodus, our formation as a spiritual nation, represents revelation—hearing the words and concepts that will guide our lives and form our community. Through his teachings, Rabbi Lew brought us different meanings and interpretations of those words and concepts, showing us that revelation is not a one-time event of ecstasy, but something that can enrich our daily lives.

Which brings me to Vayikra - Leviticus, the nuts and bolts of the practice. Rabbi Lew was never one to water down practice simply to make it easier to follow. Instead, he inspired us to look to the deeper meanings, opening up the rituals in ways that made us want to participate as fully as we could.

Daily minyan is the modern version of the single lamb our ancestors offered up every morning and every evening. Praying every day we come to know the full range of human spiritual potential; from transcendent exaltation to stultifying boredom; from the frustration of not quite knowing what we're saying to the joy of being swept up in a spiritual energy larger than our own. Praying every day with others we get a very real sense of how difficult it is to join in real communion with others, and how wonderful it feels when we finally manage to do so; praying every day with others we come to explore that tenuous boundary between self and other which is always the real locus of the spiritual experience.

           “The Minyan is for Your Sake” – November 1996

Bamidbar - Numbers, the forging of community as we wander for 40 years, is about bringing the practice into our lives. And that is where, I think, our debt of gratitude to Rabbi Lew is at its greatest. For he made it his mission to share with all of us his love of Judaism and the deep spiritual sense it has brought to his life. That's what made his sermons so special—he didn’t just talk about the practice, he lived it. He didn’t just teach about the benefits of meditating, he was there at 6 a.m. He didn’t just preach the importance of keeping our minyan vibrant, he participated fully. He kept looking for ways to reach us all.

As a case in point, I looked to one of my favorite sermons of his, one given Rosh Hashanah 5760, in 1999. It's a sermon that demonstrates why we will always be filled with respect and love and honor for Rabbi Lew.

He first sets a scene of a news crew filming meditation—"Apparently, this is a thing of great amazement – a bunch of Jews sitting in the room without talking; quick,  get the cameras! Let's run this on the 6 o'clock news." They also film minyan. His description of minyan focuses on the time-honored Beth Sholom tradition of saying "Yasher Koach" – loosely translated, may the force be with you -- to everyone who participates in the slightest manner. Why do we do this? Rabbi Lew said: "We are congratulating you because of all the places you could have put your energy in this world, of all the forces you could have aligned your force with, you freely chose to be here, to put your energy here, to align yourself with the three thousand year old stream of spiritual energy we call Judaism"

Later in the sermon, Rabbi Lew goes on to relate that "Yasher Koach" moment to a moment in this country that demonstrated that same spiritual achievement — that moment in 1995 when Cal Ripken, shortstop for the Baltimore Orioles, played in 2,131 straight games, breaking Lou Gherig's record. Rabbi Lew understood that this achievement of being present and showing up each day made the difference in a world that doesn't always show up as we would wish. Rabbi Lew said "simple human presence – simply being present, simply persisting in being here – has tremendous spiritual power, It has the power to heal. It has the power to nurture."

Which brings us to Devarim - Deuteronomy, Moshe's last words to the people he has guided through the desert. I never heard Rabbi Lew mention Devarim in his Abravanel teaching, so one day I asked him what part of living a spiritual life did that book represent? He answered, “Devarim is about preparing for one’s death.”

Rabbi Lew left us too soon, but in the life he led, he understood that recognizing our mortality is an integral part of living a full life. And we have many of his teachings on this, as he spoke and wrote about Yom Kippur, the day in Jewish practice when we look to the meaning of death in our life. As he wrote in This is Real and You are Completely Unprepared:

This is the only life we have, and we all will lose it. No one gets out alive, but to lose nobly is a beautiful thing. To know the core of our being is to move beyond winning and losing.

It is to enter that moment where life is deep and rich and God is present for us. We all lose, some of us nobly, and all of us with a certain amount of tragedy. But as Rabbi Zimmerman (a.k.a. Bob Dylan) reminds us, “there’s no success like failure,” and any loss that carries us closer to the core of life is no loss at all.

Zichrono L’Vracha

His memory, living on in his teachings, is a blessing

"The river of life is inexorable. It will carry us to the end no matter what we do. Our activities, Jewish or otherwise, are unlikely to effect the outcome very much at all. But they can effect the quality of  the experience very deeply – in fact, they can transform it”

Zichrono L'vracha - Joseph Salem

היום שנים ושלשים יום שהם ארבעה שבועות וארבעה ימים לעומר
Today is thirty-two days, which is four weeks and four days of the omer
נצח שבהוד
A day of perseverance in a week of humility

There are many joys involved in being a part of a multigenerational community, but along with that comes sharing in the sorrows. Today marked the burial of a wonderful man, Joe Salem, who passed away on Sunday at the age of 89. Joe was a loyal member of the Beth Sholom minyan community for many years. He was there when I began attending in November of 2000 until a couple of years ago when his Alzheimers kept him confined to a home. He had a loving family--his wife of 62 years, a daughter and 2 sons, 5 grandchildren who he adored.

Being a part of daily minyan meant he became part of our family as well. When his health began to fail and he could no longer drive, we organized rides for him so he could still attend. And for some years after that became untenable, his son brought him to this place that was a comfort to him--a place that, even with the onset of his dementia, he felt at peace and could still follow and participate in the rituals. A strong, elegant yet quiet man, he had a wonderful sense of humor that would manifest in one line zingers that would make us all smile.

Zichrono l'vracha -- his memory is a blessing to his families--those related by blood as well as those related by community. We all hold him in our hearts.

Rosh Chodesh Sivan

היום חמשה וארבעים יום שהם ששה שבועות ושלשה ימים בעמר
Today is the forty-fifth day, making six weeks and three days of the omer
תפרת שב מלכות
A day of compassion in a week of majesty

Chodesh Tov! Today is the first of Sivan--six days to revelation.....whatever form that takes :)

I fulfilled the promise made in yesterday's post and dedicated my Rosh Chodesh Torah reading to Noa Roz and the Women of the Wall (WoW). Responding to a message from WoW posted on Facebook, I sent them the photo you see below so they can document the support coming to them from all over the world. I was glad to have my 90-year-old Russian friend Yitzchak in the photo with me. Sadly, because of circulation problems, he can no longer wear his tefillin. But he is proud and happy that I wear mine.

לדור ודור –– l'dor v'dor
from generation to generation
all genders included.

Shabbat Shalom

Losing a Practice

היום אחד וארבעים יום שהם חמשה שבועות וששה ימים בעמר
Today is the forty-first day, making five weeks and six days of the omer
יסוד שב יסוד
A day of foundation in a week of foundation

We didn't make minyan this morning. This is becoming a more frequent occurrence these days, closer to a weekly rather than a monthly event. More and more, I feel that within a couple of years we will not be able to sustain a daily morning minyan and need to move to a different, part-time schedule. I sincerely hope that I am proven wrong, for attending morning minyan has become a touchstone for me and for my practice.

As Leviticus is the book teaching us the practice, Bamidbar is the book that contains the lessons of bringing the practice into our lives. Participating in morning minyan is one way I am able to do that. I can't help but start my day with thankfulness and mindfulness--the poetry of the liturgy guides me along. The words don't always stick :), but they're there for support when I need them. Just as I am always able to support those who are saying kaddish, the mourners' prayer, for loved ones--those whose grief is still new; those who share cherished memories of friends and family long passed.

Starting your day at morning minyan is one of those hidden gems of Jewish practice. In some ways, it's like having a mini Shabbat each day. Your only obligation--be present. And you're always welcome for coffee and a snack afterwards :)

So to all those of the Jewish persuasion who are reading this, wherever you are--think about finding your local minyan, maybe check it out. You get to support those in your community, and you will be surprised at the support you will get in return.

Morning Queries

היום שלשים יום שהם ארבעה שבועות ושני ימים בעמר
Today is the thirtieth day, making four weeks and two days of the omer
גבורה שבהוד
A day of strength in a week of humility

My favorite section of prayer in the Shacharit - morning - service is at the beginning. Starting with the morning blessings, I then check in with my relationship with myself, with others, with God. There's a Shema, the opportunity to study a little Talmud, and a chance to pay homage to the teachers in my life. Then there's a psalm of thanks, and the section ends with mourner's kaddish, taking me from my personal prayers into support for those around me. I've been saying these prayers for ten years, yet I still feel the power of their words, as strong as the first time of realization.

In my first one-on-one meeting with Rabbi Lew at the start of my first Makor Or practice period in 2001, he asked me if I had any questions. I had none. He then asked if I had any answers. No to that as well. He told me that my questions were out there, that they would find me. I felt a bit lost, not knowing how that would happen. But like the thoughts that come up in meditation, I let it go while still keeping it in my memory. And my meditation into minyan practice continued.

By that time, I had been going to minyan for about three months and was used to going with the flow of the service, even if it was too fast for me to concentrate on the meaning of the prayers. But there were those moments when certain words and phrases would catch my mind, bringing my davening momentum to a stop as I contemplate their meaning. Soon after that meeting with Rabbi Lew, I had one of those moments. Saying the prayers right after the litany of morning blessings, these words leapt out to me, seemingly for the first time:

What are we? What are our lives? What is our loving-kindness? What is our righteousness? What is our salvation? What is our strength? What is our might? What shall we say before You . . . ?

I had found my questions--or, I should say, they found me. And they find me each morning, helping me start each day with mindfulness.

Standing in the Stream of Life

היום הששה ועשרים יום שהם שלשה שבועות וחמשה ימים בעמר
Today is the twenty-sixth day, making three weeks and five days of the omer
הוד שבנצח
A day of humility in a week of perseverance

At Beth Sholom, we ask anyone who comes to minyan to commemorate a yarhzeit--an anniversary of the passing of a loved one--if they would like to say a few words about the person they are remembering. It adds an extra level to the experience when the El Malai prayer is chanted--for the survivor sharing the memory and for those of us standing in support. At that moment, we all hold that person in our heart.

This morning, my friend Katherine shared the connection she felt between working with her son on the chicken coops they're building and the time her dad spent working with her on the Future Farmer of America projects of her youth. It was one way she could pass the love her father had for her on to her children. לדור ודור – L'dor v'dor - from generation to generation.

Another woman, Penny, was there to commemorate the yarhzeit of her husband. She told us they met in USY--the national youth organization of the Conservative Movement. They had 17 years together, were married for 11 years, and this was the 25th anniversary of his death. She shared this knowing we would understand the connections to her youth, to her Judaism. We could share the pain of her loss, no matter how long ago.

In these moments, as I place my hand on each shoulder and chant those ancient words, I feel humbled in the presence of enduring love and am honored to share in the stream of their lives.