State of Origin

I'm writing this post from NYC. I came to see the Hunter College High School production of Damn Yankees. I'll write a complete review later, but I will say that the kids did a great job and I enjoyed it thoroughly--both times that I saw it!

I'm staying in NYC for a week, taking advantage to see as many friends as I can. I'm also going to check out an exhibit at the Museum of Design and go to some Judaica shops to buy some books. I've already picked up some shoes, and I'm eyeing another pair. It's great to traipse around the City. New York has one of the most extensive public transportation systems in the world. And unlike San Francisco, you can walk most anywhere and not have to face any hills on route.

As much as I'm enjoying myself, I do feel a change in my relationship with the City. It's the little things. I tend to wait for lights to turn green before crossing the street, not just forge ahead, dodging the cars like most New Yorkers. There has been so much turnover in the buildings, both the physical structures and the commercial occupants that make many places unrecognizable from my memory. Although I have more of a familiarity here, the comfort level I feel is not much more that what I feel when I'm visiting Brent and Sharon in Sydney.

I grew up on Long Island always aware of living in a suburb of Manhattan. I worked in Manhattan for ten years and lived there for eight of those ten. Those were formative times in my life, and had a great influence on who I am. April 1st will mark 21 years of living in San Francisco. It is the place I feel I was destined to be--the place I truly came into my own.

Am I a New Yorker or am I a San Franciscan? I suppose I can be both. But I'm still not sure what to answer when asked, "Where are you from??"

What a Good Publicist Can Do

I use a personalized excite.com page as my browser home page. I choose to get the AP Entertainment News headlines among the available categories. Today, the headline Israeli Sings for her Estranged People caught my eye. The lead paragraph reads:

"A mainstream pop album is an unlikely place to encounter an ancient tongue known to a total of 705 people in the Holy Land. But tucked between the smooth chords and Hebrew vocals on Israel singer Sofi Tsedaka's debut CD, listeners can hear the lilting language of the Samaritans."

The article goes on to recount the Samaritan background of Ms. Tsedaka, an apparently well-known Israeli actress, seen in soap operas and children's TV. She left the ancient sect, now numbering 705 by their own count, after finishing high school and converted to Judaism. The Samaritans excommunicated her.

My interest was piqued, and I googled "Sofi Tsedaka" to find out more, but the same AP story came up on different sites, with the one from the Boston Herald containing a photo. Now, I'm no where near famous, but there are more hits when you google my name than hers--even when you discard the German pages that deal with Marilyn Monroe and "Some Like It Hot." ("heiss" is "hot" in German). So there was no presence of her as an actress that I could find. And if you want to listen to her, you're out of luck. I couldn't find a place to buy the cd nor could I find a download.

Now, maybe some AP reporter in Israel needed a human interest piece and found her. Excuse my cynicism, but it seems more likely that this story was planted. She knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody, etc., at the AP.

I wonder if this will pay off, and news of her music spreads. One piece of advice to her manager. If you're going to plant an article internationally in order to influence people to listen to her music, you shouldn't include this quote from Ms. Tsedaka, "I'm not a great singer - I'm not Whitney Houston." I'm glad she's no Whitney Houston, but I don't know how smart it is to admit your failings as a singer when you're publicizing your new cd. . .

Don't Mess with the Rally Rabbi

Last night the Golden State Warriors played the Dallas Mavericks in Oakland at the Oracle Arena. The Mavericks are the best team in the NBA right now, coming into the evening with a 17 game win streak and the top candidate for MVP, Dirk Nowitzki. The Warriors are struggling to make the final playoff spot in the West, praying that Baron Davis' knee will stay strong enough to keep him on the court.

Last night was also Jewish Heritage Night at the Arena. There was a tailgate party before the game hosted by Chabad and T-shirts with גו ווריורס - Go Warriors in Hebrew - printed under the Warrior logo for all who got their tickets through the participating Jewish community groups.

Although Hanukkah is long past, you could say that "A Great Miracle Happened Here." The Warriors smoked the Mavs, ahead by as much as 32 at one point, winning by 17. They were able to neutralize Nowitzki and cause a ton of Dallas turnovers. The crowd was electrified and it was just a great night.

During the first period, the stadium MC stood with Rabbi Yosef Langer, a Chabad rabbi complete with black hat and beard, while he blew the shofar in his role as the official Bay Area "Rally Rabbi." You've got to wonder whether this made the difference. . .

Hard to Imagine, But One Can Dream . . .

Some made it happen; some had it made from birth; some took what they had and made even more. Forbes has released the list of the world's billionaires. I haven't looked at all of the 946 names, but of those I've seen my favorite is J.K. Rowling, the only author on the list. She has the rags to riches story that is most writers' dream.

We Can Do It and We Will

This month marks my six year anniversary of taking on the mitzvah of wearing tefillin. I had been attending minyan for five months at that point, and was ready for the next step. I will always remember that first moment of standing in the Beth Sholom chapel, slipping the yad tefillin--the one for the arm---up above my elbow, tightening the loop, feeling the box touch my breast. It was like an electric current traveled straight to my heart and soul. I said the first blessing and wound the leather strap seven times around my arm. I donned the head piece and finished the wind for my hand, forming the shin, dalet, yud representing Shaddai--one of the names of God. I had, in the words of the Shema, bound the sign on my hand, and the frontlets between my eyes.

I still get that electric feeling when I put on my tefillin. I've been on a bit of a journey with the sets that I've used, but that's added to my appreciation of the ritual. I bought my own set when I first made the decision. I then switched with my brother, who couldn't use the set he received on the occasion of his bar mitzvah because the straps were not long enough. I never felt comfortable with his set. One reason was that they wound away from me Sephardic-style and I prefer the Ashkenazic-style of wounding towards me. Plus there was this inherent feeling that they just were not my tefillin.

I then got a set from my dad that was part of our family heritage. He didn't know whose tefillin they were, maybe they belonged to his dad, maybe one of my grandmother's brothers. I had them checked and although they were probably about one hundred years old, they were still kosher. I replaced the straps and had them reblacked and they were mine. I loved those tefillin. They were small and fit me well. It gave me a tie to past generations, although I'm not sure how the original owner would have felt if he knew someone of my gender was using them. I like to think that he would be proud that they were being used.

About this time last year a bag with my tallit, yad, kippot, and those tefillin were stolen from the trunk of my car. I was devastated. It was like stealing a piece of my past. I went back to wearing my brother's set, but now they felt even more foreign to me. I spoke with my brother, and he agreed to switch back. So I've now come full circle.

I still mourn the lose of my ancestor's tefillin but I have to admit that the set I use--the set that I bought when I started--feel closer to me than those. They really feel like mine. I own them, just as I own this ritual that so many would like to keep from me.

But we, Jewish women, have always been able to take on this mitzvah and more of us are now doing so, proudly and publicly.

כן יהי רצון Ken y'hi ratzon - May it be so.

Gladness, Joy, and Fear

Although I've been reading and studying Torah weekly for about 9 years, I often find verses that are new to me. That is part of the joy of studying Torah. I often hear something similar from Rabbi Lew, although for him it's more of a new way of thinking about the words rather than the words themselves.

I'm not as familiar with the Prophets (Nevi'im) and the Writings (Ketuvim) parts of the TaNaKh as I am with the Torah. When I read those sections there are large parts of the stories that are new to me. Megillat Esther, the section of Ketuvim that we read on Purim, falls into that category. Sure, I know the basic story from my childhood but the written tale has complexities that they never taught us in Hebrew school. As I found with the story of Hanukkah, there is a level of violence and bloodshed that is excluded from the children's version.

This year there was one verse that stood out as I was following the reading. It's the last verse in Chapter 8, verse 17:

"And in every province, and in every city, whithersoever the king's commandment and his decree came, the Jews had gladness and joy, a feast and a good day. And many from among the peoples of the land became Jews; for the fear of the Jews was fallen upon them."

When I heard and read that, I was particularly struck by the idea that people became Jews out of fear of otherwise being attacked. This fear was understandable, given the massacres that occurred when King Ahasuerus empowered the Jews to slaughter their enemies. It just seems like such a role reversal.

The history of the Jews in the Diaspora is filled with persecution. I'll never forget a comment of one of my classmates in Western Civilization 4A class at CCSF, which covers ancient times up to the Reformation. She said, "you know, when things aren't going well, they just blame the Jews. " Sad, but true. Throughout the ages we have been the ones in fear, constantly in exile, constantly in danger of annihilation. Many are the stories of Jews who had to hide their identity in order to survive.

Even Queen Esther had to hide her Judaism from the King. It was only through her courage and the courage of Mordechai that the tables were turned and our people were saved. And while we read about our triumph over our enemies and celebrate their downfall, we are also told to ". . . keep the fourteenth day of the month Adar, and the fifteenth day of the same, yearly, the days wherein the Jews had rest from their enemies, and the month which was turned unto them from sorrow to gladness, and from mourning into a good day; that they should make them days of feasting and gladness, and of sending portions one to another, and gifts to the poor." (Esther, Chapter 9:21,22) Even at our most joyful we must remember those less fortunate than us.

I'm not sure why the verse with "the fear of the Jews" strikes an uncomfortable chord with me. But it does, which means it is something to note and come back to in the years to come. It opens another opportunity to see what our ancient texts have to teach us in our modern world.

21st Century Esther

The Purim of my childhood was definitely a kid event. Okay, maybe because I was a kid at the time. But the Purim I remember was basically a Hebrew School event. I have a dim memory of some evening readings, but not with adults dressed up in costumes, only the kids. I certainly don't have any pictures in my mind of adults drinking in the sanctuary.

Since joining Beth Sholom in 2000, I have been able to celebrate Purim to the fullest, with the participation of both children and adults. This year was no exception. The only difference with years past is that since our building is under construction we joined with the two other Conservative congregations in San Francisco, Ner Tamid and B'nai Emunah, to make it a community event. But most of us--from the youngest to the oldest--were decked out in some semblance of a costume. And many of the adults were tasting different sorts of alcoholic beverages that were making the rounds. After all, the Talmud says you are supposed to drink until you can't tell the difference between "cursed is Haman" and "blessed is Mordechai."I will say, quite modestly of course, that my etrog infused vodka was particularly tasty this year. We had a costume parade accompanied by our very own community klezmer band, a Purim shpiel put on by the religious school students that was a hoot, and the reading of the Megillat Esther with the requisite noisemaking to drown out the name of the evil Haman.

At Beth Sholom we read the Megillah at morning minyan once again. It is important, since the tradition says that every Jew should hear the megillah read each year, and many either can't come in the evening or, like me, prefer to concentrate on the festivities rather than the story. We also chant Torah on Purim morning--the verses from Exodus in which the Israelites prevail against the attack of Amalek just after they cross the Red Sea (Ex17:8 - 15).

Although I was almost called into service this year, I have managed to get away with not yet learning the trope for Megillat Esther. I would much rather celebrate in the evening with no responsibilities. So for the morning service I volunteer to read Torah each year. The service itself is usually a low key affair--no costumes, although we still make noise to blot out Haman's name.

This morning, I decided to go in costume. There was something empowering for me to have "Queen Esther" read the Torah--in tefillin, no less. In many ways, I stood there for all the little Jewish girls who dress up like Esther on Purim--a most popular Purim costume for many generations past and one that I dare say will continue for generations to come. But when I was a young Esther there was no Torah reading for me. I wasn't counted in minyan or allowed an aliyah.

The girls and women of today can have that access to our traditions. I often wish it had happened sooner--my life path might have taken a very different route. But at least it happened soon enough for me to partake fully in the practice of Judaism, and to help the next generation of Jewish women to fully realize their spiritual potential within this rich tradition.

So to all the young Esthers out there, I say...

YOU GO, GIRL!!

Big City, Small World

People often complain about the isolation of city life. In the Stephen Sondheim musical Company, there's a line in a song about "a city of strangers." There's talk of no real community, no feeling of neighborhood. But I have lived in two different cities for all of my adult life--New York and San Francisco--and in each place I have found a tightly-knit community. I still consider my friends in New York my family although I haven't lived there for more than 20 years. This week in San Francisco, I have experienced the joys of a strong community and the care of good neighbors.

As I mentioned in my previous post, Ken and I traveled to LA last weekend to join with my family in celebration of my mother's 80th birthday. We hit the road early Friday morning. Since Friday is our garbage collection day and we left before the trucks arrived, we had to leave our bins--recycle, compost, garbage--in the front of our house. The hope was that there would be no strong winds to topple our bins and send them rolling down the hill. And then there was the thought that popped into my head about an hour into the drive--I had forgotten to cancel our newspaper delivery. This meant that three days of the SF Chronicle plus the Sunday New York Times would be piled in front of our door when we returned Monday evening.

These things are not terrible but, in the case of the bins, they could be a nuisance to others and cause us the expense and hassle of getting new bins. And the pile of newspapers could make our house a target for thieves as an indication that the inhabitants are away.

About a year ago, Jeff and Julie moved into the house just up from ours. We wave to each other when we meet, talk about the neighborhood, give our opinion on house colors, admire each other's new cars--normal neighborly small talk. But this weekend they showed themselves to be the neighbors anyone would want for their own. Realizing that we were away--I'm assuming because the garbage bins remained out and my car was no where to be seen--they took our bins and dragged them to a sheltered area in front of our house where they wouldn't be subject to falling down the hill. And not only did they retrieve our papers from the front of our house, but they dropped them back when they saw we had returned. These gestures may seem small, but to me they show a caring that you don't always experience in this world. Thank you, Jeff & Julie. I am happy to be sharing this city space with you and hope we live next to each other for many years to come.

My sense of community was further reinforced with the celebration of the wedding of my friend Erica Milsom to her boyfriend of three years Ben Choi. I thought my time between announcement of wedding to ceremony was short--6 weeks--but Erica far eclipsed that. Read this excerpt from an email I received on Feb 12th, sent to about 50 of her friends:

"We were happily lounging at Ross and Karen's birthday party and I said, hey, let's get married next week. And he said, What? And then he said, that seems rather rushed, what about the week after that. And I said, sounds great! Then we kissed each other. And marianne took a picture with her cell phone. Then I think we played a game of Galaga . . . . And so we're having the legal ceremony on Feb 23rd at the SF courthouse, to be followed that evening by Karaoke celebration at Encore Karaoke Club at Polk and California. . . . So, if you're available Friday night Feb 23, please come and join us for karaoke at Encore. . . . Thanks for being such a loving and wonderful group of friends! Yay! Love!"

How can you turn down an invitation like that?? So this past Friday evening we found ourselves at Encore Karaoke Club celebrating the newlyweds. Erica is one of those people who creates her community and keeps widening the circle. I met her when she interviewed for a job as assistant editor on a project I was working on, a series of videos for an after school program run by the city of Los Angeles. She got the job, far above any of the applicants we interviewed. We quickly bonded and she's become a close friend that I cherish. And so, I join the circle.

There was so much happiness in the bar Friday night. Not just among the celebrants, it spread to all who were there. And as often happens in communities, there was cross over to other parts of both Ken & my lives. Erica works for Pixar, which is one of Ken's clients, so he know some of her work buddies. Then there were her friends from when she worked at Apple, one of whom is married to someone who works at Phoenix Editorial, another of Ken's clients, so there was another connection. And then there were her friends from BAWIFT--Bay Area Women in Film and Television--one of whom is also involved in Mission Minyan which is another connection for me.

So, even in a big city---it's a small world.

And yes, in case you're wondering, I did take a turn at the mike, singing "My Guy" I'd never done that before and don't know if I'll do it again--it's a strange sort of embarrassing fun. . .

Have Podcasts, Will Travel

Last Sunday, February 18, was my mother's 80th birthday. In honor of the occasion Ken and I spent the weekend with my parents and my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew in LA. This meant another road trip for us, and another chance to experience the wonders of traveling with an iPod.

I reported on this in an entry about our excursion to Vancouver in August. On that trip we used the iPod to listen to music. Since then I have discovered the wonderful world of podcasts. Now I can download various programs that can inform, amuse, and entertain us on our journeys. I've just started delving into this territory, so my range is somewhat limited. If anyone has any recommendations, please let me know. For this trip I chose selections from Fresh Air, Garrison Keillor's Writer's Almanac, Nextbook.org, and Speaking of Faith.

Our favorites for the trip down were two different interviews with Aline Kominsky Crumb. Ms. Crumb is a women's comic and graphic book pioneer. A Jewish girl from Long Island, she is someone who is, to quote from Sara Ivry's article on Nextbook, "known as the brassy but forgiving wife of legendary cartoonist Robert Crumb [and] has charted her own equally rebellious life course."

We first listened to an interview Terry Gross did with Aline and R. Crumb from the February 2nd edition of Fresh Air. In listening to them respond to questions about their life together I could feel the love and respect they have for each other. There was a sweetness between them that I hadn't sensed in anything else I had heard or read about them.

Then we listened to Sara Ivry's Nextbook interview with Aline Crumb. It was interesting to hear her talk about herself and her family from a Jewish perspective. I particularly loved her story of having to take her Great grandmother Sophie to synagogue each Shabbat. It was an Orthodox shul where the women sat upstairs behind a black curtain. When 8-year-old Aline asked her great grandmother why they had to sit upstairs behind the curtain the reply was, as Aline remembers, "we can't look at the Torah because we're women and we're dirty, or something like that." From that moment on, Aline would not go in and would wait outside on the synagogue steps with a book until her great grandmother came out and she would walk her home. The punchline to this story is that Aline's grandmother and great grandmother were president of the Sisterhood and raised a lot of money to build a new synagogue building. The women wouldn't hand over the money until the men agreed to change their affiliation to Conservative so the women could sit downstairs. That was when Aline realized that "my Great grandmother Sophie was a true feminist."

Our favorites on the trip back to SF were two programs from Speaking of Faith with Krista Tippett, a series of interviews dealing with a wide range of spiritual topics from American Public Media. It is coincidental that these programs are also interviews with women--one with the Jewish Torah and rabbinic scholar Aviva Zornberg and the other with author, scholar, and journalist Karen Armstrong.

In the program with Aviva Zornberg, Exodus, Cargo of Hidden Stories, you get a glimpse into the way this learned, creative, modern scholar interprets the ancient texts. I can't even begin to try to repeat them here, so I will quote from the website, "[Zornberg] guides us through the Exodus story that is remembered at Passover, and that has inspired oppressed peoples in many cultures across history. We find meaning in the text that Cecil B. DeMille and Disney never imagined — about the worst and the best of human nature, and the realities and ironies of human freedom." I already own her commentary on Genesis, "The Beginning of Desire," and I plan to get her Exodus commentary, "The Particulars of Rapture." These are not books you can read cover to cover. Like the commentaries of Nechama Liebowitz, you need to study in bits, moving from one parsha to the next. It is not meant to be easy reading, but the work put into the study is well worth it. As I said, listen to the podcast and you'll hear what I mean.

While the Aviva Zornberg program was Ken's favorite, mine was the interview with the writer Karen Armstrong. She talks about her early life as a nun, why she left that life, and what brought her back to a spiritual practice. Her personal path back to religion--she calls herself a "freelance monotheist"-- came through the study of the other monotheistic religions of Islam and Judaism. It was her description of Judaism that most affected me, and has stayed with me. She talked about Judaism as a religion of doing rather than being, of practice rather than faith. It's not that faith isn't important, but that the way to the faith is through the practice.

This truly resonates with me as I travel on my spiritual path. There are times I'm not sure what I believe or why I'm doing what I do--daven each day, keep kosher, follow the Jewish cycle of ritual. But it is through the practice, to continue doing even when believing is hard, that brings the faith. The practice brings me a code of ethics to work with, a way to help those within my community and without, a place to release, to empty out the anxiety and make a place for faith. The practice is the gift of Judaism. Thank you, Karen Armstrong, for sharing that with me.

Baruch Dayan Ha-Emet - Molly Ivins, 1944 - 2007

Molly Ivins was my kind of gal--a woman with chutzpah. She called it as she saw it. It was more than just not mincing words, she was so good at her craft that she could make you both laugh and cry at the absurdities of those who misuse power. For more on her life and words, read this article from today's Star-Telegram.

Molly Ivins really became my hero in February 2002 as I was in the midst of treatment for breast cancer. At the point when I was about to start chemotherapy, the February 18 Time magazine cover story was "The New Thinking on Breast Cancer." Molly Ivins wrote a sidebar story, "Who Needs Breasts, Anyway?" -- she was diagnosed in 1999. She wrote about her experiences with the same straightforwardness that made us all see the political ironies around us. I quoted her opening to that article many times that year, and have continued to share the line with others in the years that have followed.

"Having breast cancer is massive amounts of no fun. First they mutilate you; then they poison you; then they burn you."

I laughed, and I cried. Her words comforted me, and gave me strength to face what I had to go through.

Zichronah l'vracha - She left us many words which we are blessed to keep in our memories.

All Minyan, All the Time

There's a corner of Borough Park, Brooklyn, NY, that epitomizes the New York moniker as "the city that never sleeps" in a way one wouldn't normally expect. In this article in today's NYC edition of the New York Times, you can read about:

". . . Congregation Shomrei Shabbos, a 24-hour synagogue where a service begins every 15 minutes. What started more than three-quarters of a century ago as a tiny congregation has grown into a mainstay of this community: transit hub, soup kitchen, community center, bookstore and prayer hall all in one."

I definitely have my issues with the Jewish Ultra-Orthodox and their relationship to the world, but I have to smile as I read this even as I know my full participation in their minyan would not be welcome. It's fascinating to read how the surrounding environment has grown around the activity generated by the shul.

Thanks once again to orthomom for showing me different places in the Orthodox Jewish world. I have a feeling this article will be making the rounds in the Jewish blogsphere.

Ahead of the curve

I have always lived with clutter--I'm convinced it's just part of my nature. In fact, it's when I straighten things up that I have problems locating the things I need. In what looks like a complete mess, I can usually get to the object I want fairly quickly. I'm not really proud of this, but I've come to accept it and just try to not let the mess get overwhelming. When that happens, I'm usually spurred to clear it up and vow to keep it neat. But within a short amount of time, the piles reappear and the cycle starts again.

You can imagine the smile on my face as I read the article in the January 29th issue of Time Magazine, Messy is the New Neat. The first paragraph goes right to my heart:

"Neatness is overrated. Let those stacks of paper pile up on your desk. Don't worry about the laundry tossed in the corner. Let the icons clutter up your computer screen. And whatever you do, stop obsessing over your letter-perfect filing system. Bless your mess, says a new group of "mess-iahs" spreading the gospel of healthy disorganization."

The article continues with quotes like "Moderately messy systems outperform extremely orderly systems," "Filing away loose office papers can be similarly counterproductive," and "Decluttering [your home] not only wastes time but also saps a home's sense of character."

It's nice to know that I've been on the right path all along. Now, if I can just stay in the "healthy disorganization" zone and not go too far over the edge, I've got it made.