Who shall live, and who shall die...

Who shall live out the limit of her days, and who shall not?

This words are from the Une-tanah tokef prayer we say each Rosh HaShonah and Yom Kippur. It came to mind today when I saw the notice of the death of Debbie Peterson in today's SF Chronicle.

Debbie was one of the women in my support group at Kaiser when I was going through treatment for breast cancer. It is true, as her obituary says, "[She] had a huge heart, a huge smile and a huge capacity for letting others know they were loved." She was a fighter who knew how to be an advocate for herself and others. I remember that various doctors were trying to push her into having a surgery she felt was unnecessary. She did the research, found some alternatives, and bucked the system. She was funny, even through sickness, and was a joy to be around.

This makes two women lost from that group--Miriam Engelberg died in October, 2006. Why them and not me--that's a question that cannot be answered. What I will share with you is a poem I wrote while I was going through the treatment process--a time when I wasn't sure what my prognosis would be.

What have I been given?
By glimpsing death,
I touch my nefesh—my soul.
Through the sadness,
I touch my soul.
Through the uncertainty,
I touch my soul.
Don’t harden against thoughts of death
Look at them,
and let them see you.
Join with your soul

Zichrona L'vracha, Debbie.
I know your memory will be a blessing to all those whose lives you touched...like mine.

Did they have bagels and coffee?

My husband Ken often has great insights into various parts of scripture from both a Jewish and Christian perspective. His mom, Val, is Catholic, and he grew up with church practices. He went to Catholic elementary school and was an altar boy. When he was about 12/13, he was done with it, and through the years has come to his own spiritual base.

Living with me, especially in light of the last 10 years where my involvement in Jewish practice has increased exponentially, has given him new ways to understand certain parts of Christian scripture while also giving me new insight into Jewish scripture.

He recently told me in the Christian Bible there is often mention of people waiting for Jesus while he's off praying--in the morning, in the afternoon, or in the night, but most often in the morning. In fact, it is remarked how he prays for an hour every morning. But Ken now laughs--after all, what's the big deal. Ken understands that Jesus is at his shul's Shacharit minyan. He watches me go to my Shacharit minyan 4 or 5 times every week.

And that's what I like about Jesus. He was a practicing Jew who really got the spiritual hit as well as the moral blueprint for living in this world. He understood the power of prayer on both an individual and group level. He was a minyan regular, just like me.

I wonder what their kiddush was like..........

Gay Gezinteh Hait

My friend and minyan buddy Yitzchak is always trying to teach me Yiddish words and phrases . Last week I learned the difference between "zei guzent" - be healthy, be well - and "gay gezinteh hait" (sometimes shortened to just "gay guzent") - go in health. Zei guzent is a way of warmly wishing someone well, often used when saying goodbye. Gay guzent is a sarcastic phrase, the Yiddish version of "go, have a good time, don't let the door hit you on the way out." I don't remember how we got on to this, but I knew it would be a phrase I would be using--I just didn't realize how soon.

This week's Canadian Jewish News posted an article on synagogues affiliated with United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism who are now planning to leave the organization.
From the article:

Rabbi Steven Saltzman, spiritual leader of Adath Israel Congregation, said last week that his shul’s board of directors has voted “overwhelmingly to leave USCJ, effective immediately, because they feel it has not met even the bare minimum needs of our community here.”

Ideologically, he said, “we find the chasm between Conservative Judaism in the United States and Conservative Judaism here to be growing larger and wider.”

Canadians, he said, are much more traditional than communities across the border, and the egalitarian movement in the United States includes women being part of the services, the ordination of gay and lesbian rabbis, and patrilineal descent. “Frankly, [USCJ] no longer represents what and who we are.”

If these congregations can't stand to be associated with a group that supports egalitarianism and equality within the framework of our rituals, I say "Gay Gezinteh Hait!"

Breaking the Silence

When I stopped writing this blog, I figured that no one would really notice. But there have been more than a few people in the last few months who have asked why I've stopped posting. I wish I had a good explanation--I don't. It's not like I haven't had anything to say, I just chose not to share my thoughts. But I realize that I felt better emotionally and spiritually when when I wrote regularly. With Nisan starting next week marking another Jewish New Year, it seems like a good time to start.

And, of course, it's time for baseball.............

Sharing the Joy of the Season

I don't live close enough to my family to celebrate Hanukkah with them. My husband is not Jewish, so although he has been known to participate in some celebrations he doesn't really share in them. But I do not celebrate alone this season, and last night was an example of how the joy is spread.

Kenny Altman and I were invited to the Sequoias-an assisted living complex in San Francisco-by Hilda Richards-a long time congregant of Beth Sholom-to lead a Hanukkah celebration. This was a return engagement, as we led a Passover seder there this past April. Many of the participants brought their hanukkiahs, and we started the program with candle lighting. We then led some spirited singing of various Hanukkah songs. I gave a little talk about Hanukkah, speaking from the heart about how the rituals of our Jewish practice keeps us in touch with the the cycle of the seasons as well as giving us a way to renew an awareness of ourselves and our place in the world. I talked about Hanukkah as our culture's, our tribe's version of bringing light to a time of darkness. I also brought up the theme of dedication--the actual meaning of the world Hanukkah--as a reminder to look at where we need to dedicate our hearts and minds.

It was a short program--just a half-hour, but it was nice to share the time with these people who, while I don't know them personally, are part of my greater community. Their voices, their smiles, their spirits feed my soul.

Then it was off to the Beth Sholom community celebration held at the Jewish Community High School. Here, I was able to party with my "mishpachah," my extended family. We had latkes and music and dancing. The kids prepared a little play and a dance performance. There were more than a few little ones who were celebrating their first Hanukkah of their lives. They won't remember this, but we will remember for them. The room was filled with joy.

Recently, I was asked why do I involve myself in Beth Sholom and the greater Jewish community to the extent that I do--what do I get from it. I think of last night and I know the answer.

For today gift, here's a song from one of my favorite songwriters, Tom Lehrer--with a bonus feature at the end. Enjoy....

The NBA learns about Hanukkah

Hmmm, no, there are not a lot of Jewish professional basketball players. Let's face it, we are not, by and large, a tall people......

Happy Hanukkah

Nothing like Hanukkah to give me a kick-start on my writing. It's not like I haven't had any thoughts to share--I just haven't gotten out of my head to the screen. But writing each day, sending you little virtual "gifts" for the holiday will hopefully give me the momentum I need.

To start the holiday off right, there's nothing like Adam Sandler's "Hanukkah Song." I found lots of versions online, but opted for what I think is the original airing of the song. It is destined to become a classic. Enjoy!!

We now return to our regularly scheduled blog.....

I know, it's been a while and I apologize to any regular readers I may still have.

It's been a bit of an internally quiet time for me. I'm still working on clearing my clutter--physical, mental, spiritual. But I am missing my writing practice so I'm back on the blogging path.

I can see that some features have been added to Blogger while I've been away, and I need to see if they can add any value to your reading and viewing experience. So thank you for your patience with me. I will try to write more often to make up for the delay.

Words to Live By

Feeling tired and a bit cranky, I decided not to go to minyan this morning. I stayed in bed longer than usual listening to Morning Edition on KALW. And while I missed the sounding of the shofar, I got to hear this week's edition of StoryCorps.

Antoinette Franklin and her niece, Iriel, former New Orleans residents and survivors of Katrina, speak from the heart of the effect of that tragedy on their lives. But through the pain, Antoinette speaks of what she gained:

"I've learned that love and family and faith are more important than anything else in the whole world. I used to say it, but now I've experienced it."

In this month of Elul as we look for Teshuvah, a turning in our lives, I encourage you to read this story and the others you will find on the StoryCorps page at NPR. There you will find the Teshuvah others found in their lives that can inspire you to look towards your own.

Turning and Returning

We are now in the month of Elul, the final month of the Jewish calendar, a month of introspection and contemplation culminating in Rosh Hashonah and the Days of Awe.

This is the time in Jewish yearly cycle that Jews are asked to focus on Teshuvah--a word often translated as repentance, but one that actually means return. It is a time to look back over the past years, reflect on the actions of your life and see what can be turned towards building and, often, rebuilding a better future. The break down to the depth of the soul began at Tisha b'Av. Now is the time to set the cornerstone for the coming year.

Teshuvah is a very personal, individual endeavor. Each person must decide each year what work needs to be done. For me, this year is a time to finish the transition forced upon me with my cancer diagnosis, and fully accept and embrace the opportunities this phase of my life has to offer. I am trying to rid myself of the clutter I have accumulated these past 5 years, of clutter both material and emotional. I am trying to clear my house of unnecessary possessions that just take up space and clear my mind of fearful thoughts that hold me back.

Each morning of Elul the shofar is sounded, not a call to arms but a call to peace--a peace within our hearts and soul. May we all find a way to turn to that peace and carry it with us into the new year.

Sports Miracles - large and small

Like many professional endeavors, sports of all kinds have become huge, global businesses. Fans all over the world are complaining about the high costs of tickets and the astronomically high salaries paid to the players. Many people yearn for the "more innocent" sporting experiences of their youth. If you have any doubt of this, just read the comments sent in to the BBC program (or, in British English, programme) Have Your Say aired this past Sunday.

Then there's the pressure on the players themselves that manifests in many ways. And it's not just about steroids and other performance-enhancing drugs. Other problems these players may face become amplified when they are surrounded with people who just care about money and fame, not the person who needs help. I gave some example of this in postings two years ago, The Hard Reality of Sports and It's not just steroids . . .

There is a tendency to look at times past nostalgically, with rose-colored glasses. There has always been a dark side to professional sports. It was just on a smaller scale with much less public access. And our present times can also bring us an upside to sports, on both local and global levels.

A week or so ago, Iraq won the Asian Cup in soccer, beating Saudi Arabia 1 - 0. A country being destroyed by sectarian violence had a brief moment of unity in support of their national team--a team that includes Sunni, Shia, and Kurd. Sadly, the celebration came to an end with the news of the death of 50 people with bombs detonated in Baghdad by insurgents. But at least, like the 1914 Christmas Truce between the Germans and the European Allies that resulted in the famous soccer match between the trenches, there was a moment of joy that could be shared by all sides.

In my own corner of the world, there is the story of the Oakland Royals, a baseball team started by an Oakland couple to keep their kids and others away from the crossfire of a neighborhood notoriously known for drug dealing and drive-by shootings. Roscoe Bryant and his wife Lehi had no budget or coaching experience but they managed to field two teams. Scott Ostler of the San Francisco Chronicle picked up on the story and due to an article he wrote on June 22 of this year, more than 600 people, organizations and clubs came through with all sorts of support.

Ostler wrote a follow-up column published in today's sports section chronicling the accomplishments of this organization due to that show of support from the community. The help that has come in the form of donations, contacts with local companies and links to various grants and loans has encouraged the Bryants to enlarge their dream. They now hope to be able to open a youth center.

There was one more outcome of the establishment of these teams--something no one could have envisioned. "The local drug dealers watched what we've been doing," Roscoe says, "and they formed their own softball team. So they're off the block for a couple hours every night."

Some moments of violence stopped in streets of Baghdad and in the streets of Oakland. May we find ways to string more of those moments together to create a world of peace.

Some Devarim on Devarim

I'd like to blame the lag in writing this week on the amount of Torah I've been chanting these weeks. The time I would usually spend on the blog has been devoted to practice. But I'm taking a few moments here for some words--devarim--on Devarim/Deuteronomy, the last book of the Torah that's now at the forefront.

Basically, Devarim is one long sermon--Moshe pouring his heart and soul out to these people he's lead for forty years. It's his last chance to speak with them--they're going on to "the Land," he is not. So while some people find it repetitious and preachy, I'm drawn to the emotion behind the words and the directness of the language.

Chanting the Hebrew, I'm very aware of Moshe speaking to you--you, the people and you, each individual. There's not much of the standard "God spoke to Moses and said...." that you get in Bamidbar/Numbers. It's more like "God told you, God showed you, God will guide you." Moshe wants us all to hear, to listen, to understand. It's no coincidence that the Shema--the prayer closest to our hearts and souls, is first spoken in Devarim.

Yes, there is a lot of fire and brimstone--and a lot of "If you don't obey...."; the consequences are grave and long-lasting. But the covenant assures that we are not forsaken. There's always a path back with guidance along the way, using Torah as our map.

Devarim is the book that draws me in. I can remove myself from the stories--it's about them in that time, not me, now. But in Devarim, Moshe speaks to me--I am part of the "you." Reading it at this time of the year helps prepare me for the reflection of Elul and the reckoning of the High Holidays. And as I continue to study, it brings me new personal spiritual insights that I then bring to the next yearly cycle.