Plaid Friday: life lessons from recent shoe shopping

Posted on November 27, 2015 by Michal Kohane מיכל כהנא

In Oakland, we have Plaid – rather than Black – Friday. But no matter how it’s called, shopping and I have never been great friends. On a list of my top 10 favorite activities, shopping will come in a close 11th. I hate going and once there, often can’t remember why I ended up in an airless store with a full cart, standing in line with other, equally frustrated, strangers. And even my online ventures… consider my recent effort at getting new Puma shoes. I have two falling apart pairs I inherited from my kids (that’s how it works here -) and, I figured, it was time to get my own.
So I looked. And looked. And did my research. And clicked the ‘submit your order here’ button. Then waited. And waited. And waited. I looked forward to having them already for the next time I go dancing, walking, hiking…
Then the package arrived.
I opened it carefully, slowly unwrapping the crinkly white paper, barely containing my excitement. The smell of fresh shoes welcomed me. I took them out and looked at them, touching, feeling the soft leather. I fell in love immediately. Then I put my hand inside.
The arch seemed a little high, a little stiff, but then, that’s ok, isn’t it? New shoes, it’s always like this. I put my foot in, and tried to stand, my toe contesting. I tittered to the mirror and looked. They looked good. No. they really looked great. I turned sideways this way and that. An excellent fit. Inside, while the left foot was almost bearable, the right, protested louder now. But I figured, they’ll soften, won’t they? And anyway, I don’t have time for this now. I’ll deal with it later.
But later was the same.
Last night, I looked at them again. Then I opened my computer and googled the return policy. While doing so I was reminded of something I started writing, titled: everything I ever learned about life, I learned from buying shoes.
Here goes, and please note, this only a theory:
1. Contrary to advertisements and wide-spread FOMO, you don’t need to try the infinite number of options out there. Life’s too short for that. Find out who you are and what works for you. Make choices based on your comfort, your well-being. You’ll need your feet for a long time. Support yourself. Listen to yourself. Love yourself.
2. At the same time, dare to try something new every so often. Life is too short not to spread out your wings and flap a bit. Make some noise. Be alive. Don’t blend. You might be ridiculous, out there, “different”, so what. Celebrate who you are. Enjoy your journey.
3. No matter what, chances are, sometimes, you’ll fall. Or have blisters. You’ll be tempted to berate yourself… Don’t. No matter what, not everything will work out. Expect some failure (and no, not all failure is positive and it’s not possible to learn from all our mistakes).
4. Doubt is the greatest enemy of shoe shopping and so much more in life. It’s destructive and leads nowhere. Make your decisions, and move on with the rest of life. There’s lots more to do (if I can brace myself, I‘ll check out dresses and accessories -).
5. Don’t feel the need to travel through life caring everything you’ve ever bought. Once in awhile, go through your “closet” and get rid of some stuff. There might be “shoes” that were once in style and a good fit, and now are passé. Say good bye with appreciation. There’s life in the future too.
And now I’m off to returning my pumas.

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Heading out: on the need to journey

Posted on November 20, 2015 by Michal Kohane מיכל כהנא

Why did Jacob leave his parents’ home for Haran?
Of course, we “know”: he had to run away from Esau, his brother, who was going to kill him for stealing his blessing. But then, there are so many places he could go. Even the ancient midrash tells us that Jacob did not go directly, but stopped at a yeshiva – an intense study place – of back then for 14 years. What?! That sounds fantastical! A yeshiva? back then?? But the writers of the midrash might want to tell us something. One, that he was learned and seeped in spirituality, and the other, that there were other places where he could be safe. Indeed, this portion is called Vayetze -“and he went out” rather than Vayivrach, “and he escaped”, implying, a deliberate departure. Yet, he opted to go much further and to a very different place from his childhood home.
So maybe he had to travel so far north in order to get himself a wife? But then, he too could have sent a messenger, like his grandfather did when it was time to marry his father to his mother, especially since it’s not like he is looking to marry a stranger. Chances are, someone could have brought him the right woman, and do so with much less trouble than he’s gotten himself into.
So why go?
One of our earliest descriptions of Jacob (Genesis 25:27) is that he is “ish tam” – a totally dedicated man (Rav Hirsch’s translation); a quiet man (Mechon Mamre), wholesome (the Stone Chumash). Jacob is not restless, not running around in the field seeking game. He dwells in the tent (yoshev, as in “sitting”, being stable). He is wholehearted, complete. At a young age, he’s reached life’s goal of peace and tranquility, like a noble yogi. From here on, life should have been coasting for him.
But, it’s no big deal to be “complete” in Isaac and Rebecca’s home where it’s comfortable and spiritual and loving, and life starts agitating him, pushing him out of the “womb” again to continue to grow.
He is forced to leave that place where everything is “perfect” for him, and go; go live with a person who is deceitful, greedy, manipulative and evil, and still, not a far away enemy but part of the family, as if emphasizing that all these qualities are not somewhere “else” far away but right at home, within. Jacob has to face this other world, learn to be “in it but not of it”; he has to learn to find G-d in everything, everywhere. Only then, he is ready to go back. Only then, he will become Yisra’el, the one who struggles with (hu)man and G-d and prevails. And by the way, “prevail” won’t mean he had an easy, pleasureful, painless life with everything going his way. He didn’t win the lottery; he worked hard against all odds. When he thought he’s on route home, his beloved wife died, and when he was about to rest, his favorite son disappeared. “Prevail” means that through his struggles, the ups and downs, he ultimately lives closer to G-d. And at the end, he is also the only one whose children (all of them) become known as “the Children of Israel” to this very day.
My mom used to say that in her past life she must have been a gypsy, since she traveled so much. Living on the other side of the world, I can obviously relate. At this point, traveling to the “other side of the world” is one of my defining characteristics so I always thought it was “genetic”, but just recently found out that there is actually a gene that controls our wandering. Which made me wonder, considering the relatively high compliance with the tight laws of marriage in the Jewish community, is it possible that inadvertently, we’ve bred people prone to wandering, feeling “called” to journey?
I wonder (and wander-), what might be the implications of this? What does it mean to educate carriers of this gene? Is it really possible to tell them to “sit down and just listen”? What does it mean about the future of Israel? What does it mean to our own life goals?
Last but not least, Jacob journey begins with a famous dream about a ladder, a way to connect heaven and earth, with rungs. The journey is not smooth, nor speedy or direct. It takes time. We are invited to climb; we are likely to slip down too. Along the way, we might meet angels, there to help us in our journey, even those – or especially those – who challenge us and push our limits. They too. Because this is what it’s about: not the arrival but the “stuff” we meet along the way, not the “tomorrow” and “when are we going to get there”, but here and now.

Shabbat Shalom.

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First Love, part II

Posted on November 7, 2015 by Michal Kohane מיכל כהנא

Abraham, who first encountered love in the most unexpected circumstances, bequeathed it to his son, Isaac, who in turn shared it with his wife, Rebecca. Thus, the first love between a man and a woman in the Torah was born, and here too, it did not come about in the way we would “expect”, but then, why would it.

Isaac, whose Hebrew name means “he will laugh”, is not an obviously funny character, but rather pensive and thoughtful. Some describe him as withdrawn or even depressed, stricken by PTSD from the knife hovering over his eyes, but Jewish mysticism ascribes to him the quality of strength – not the strength of loud wars and noisy fist fights, but a quiet, solid, measured kind of strength. He is the embodiment of gvura, whose counterpart is chesed, kindness. The latter is the quality most often associated with Abraham, but also – with Rebecca.
We know the story: Abraham, after the binding and Sarah’s death, calls his trusted servant and sends him back to his homeland to find a wife for Isaac. Isaac, by the way, at that time was already 40 years old, and yet he is not the one rushing from home to find her. In fact, he’s not rushing to do anything. That too is part of his quiet strength.
The servant heads north with 10 camels, arriving at the well. Beautiful maidens come and go. How will he know the right one? He asks for a sign, and utters what must be one of the first – if not the first – prayers of supplication in the Torah: “G-d… please, cause this happenstance to occur” (Genesis 24:12)… but how can one ask for a chance meeting?? If it’s a chance, then doesn’t it just happen by itself? And if it’s planned – by humans or the Divine – then why would it be called a chance?
19 century Rav Hirsch connects the root used here, k.r.h. (happen, chanced) and k.r.a (to call on someone), saying, that when someone speaks of the things that “happened” to him, he actually refers to things that he did not “call”, but rather, they (these events) “called” him to them, by a Higher Power. If we mix the Hebrew letters of the word “mikre”, chance, you can get “rak meh(ashem)” (only from G-d”), and coincidentally, we can also get the word “karma”. So which way is it? Chance or Pre-destiny? Yes. Absolute order leads to determinism, while absolute happenstance leads to fatalism, illusions and inability to plan anything. It must be both. Chance needs some anchors. Careful planning needs room for G-d.
The sign that the servant decides on, is also telling. I’m reminded of my teens years, when we used to count red cars. Then, the next boy who will speak to you, that’s a sign… We could count all we want; we could change the count, ‘actually, that one was dark red motorcycle so actually it doesn’t count’… But the servant’s sign is very clear: she must be kind, not only to a rich traveler who bears gifts of a golden nose ring and bracelets, but to animals too. And by the way, though camels must have been the choice travel mode of back then, the fact that there are exactly ten of them, like the ten bracelets and ten other things in the Torah, and that the Hebrew word for camel, gamal, shares its root with gemilut chasadim, doing acts of loving kindness, emphasizes this quality of chesed further.
But chesed alone is insufficient. Unlimited kindness can be harmful to the giver and the receiver. It needs its counterpart. Rebecca must have known that, and so when asked whether she would go, she says yes.
The text tells us, in what to us might be an unusual order of verbs, that after they met, Isaac “brought her into the tent of Sarah, his mother. And he took Rebecca (some translate here “and he married her”) and she became his wife, and (then) he loved her, and (only then) Isaac found comfort after his mother(‘s passing).” (Genesis 24:67). Not like they didn’t have a romantic 1st meeting before, with him walking meditatively in the field during sunset, and her “falling off the camel” as soon as she saw him, even before asking the servant who was this man. But love meant purpose and partnership, and love took time.

* * * * * * *
I get up early to write but Zoe decides that if I’m already up at this hour, I should really check out the starry sky. Just before dawn, an amazing canopy spread over me. A bright moon shines in the southeast, accompanied by Mars and Venus. I bundle up for the morning air, and find, there’s always some surprise in last year’s pocket.

Shabbat Shalom!

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ReJewvenate @ Pardes, Summer 2015

Posted on November 2, 2015 by Michal Kohane מיכל כהנא

ReJewvenate @ Pardes, Summer 2015

Two letters from our “ReJewvenators” who participated at Pardes Summer Institute this past summer through the ReJewvenate grant.Apply for next year, if you’re over 40, interested in immersive Jewish learning and haven’t had an opportunity to do so.

The Tale of A Brand Evangelist
Melinda Jones – Australia

If I told you I was going to study in a Yeshiva or a Seminary – or even that I was going to study Talmud – you would immediately make assumptions about the learning environment. First, it would be divided upon strict gender lines. Then there would be a dress code – at least the women would be very conservatively dressed, certainly not in pants or leggings, and possibly cover their hair. Then there would be judgment – not about your level or learning or success in existing studies – but about your level of observance. So before you even consider applying you have to decide how much of you will be checked out at the door.

Returning to Australia after having the most amazing summer of my life learning at Pardes, everyone I spoke with made the assumption that if I was engaged in Jewish learning all of the above would pertain. I can do OK on all the above criteria, so it was one thing for ME to learn – but the assumption was that there was no place for them. So I have slowly been disabusing them of these assumptions.

It is also true that I have wanted to learn more Jewishly for a long time. So the opportunity provided by receiving the Rejewvenate Grant was life-changing. The level & quality of the teaching and the scholarship of the staff was as exceptional. There was a range of classes in every slot that made the question of prior learning a nonissue – at both ends and across the spectrum. There was no one whose learning needs weren’t accommodated.

But I really have to say that even beyond this – for which I am very grateful – I had no idea about what to expect about the learning environment. Not only was there no need to check our identities in at the door – the diversity of the learning community was welcomed. Male or female; young or old; Orthodox, secular, Reform or anything else; straight or gay; black or white – there was only one criteria of entry – the desire to learn.

The open learning environment, where no question was wrong, no perspective belittled, no assumptions about people made and no judgment, was something almost impossible to imagine until you have been there. Working with different classmates, chevrutah style, from class to class allowed for bonding as learners but also as friends. We were from such diverse backgrounds and different ages, but none of that mattered. The enthusiasm and thirst; the fact that at the end of the three weeks almost all of us felt we were just at the beginning; the reality that people come back year after year is evidence of something special going on here.

We all want Pardes to come to our communities and offer ongoing programs so that we don’t have to pigeon-hole our Jewish learning. There is, of course, Limmud – which is always a festival of Jewish learning. If you haven’t experienced it, you must. Limmud is held in lots of cities around the world and in my experience is full of great classes and lots of surprises. But this is also one or two days in most places. In many ways, Pardes is like Limmud on steroids.

There is an idea in the world of ecommerce and social marketing that the way to success is through brand evangelism. The idea is that you sell your product in such a way that users become enthusiasts and try to convert their friends and colleagues to your brand. Well, I am a Pardes evangelist. I’m sure many of the wonderful people I met over summer are, too. What could be greater sign of the passion for Jewish learning that Pardes contains and maintains in us all.

Ahavat Israel – Love of Israel
Tye-Tyrone (Tuviyah) Powell – CA, USA

After I return home from ISRAEL July 28, 2015, I see my life in a different way. I am finding that the most challenging part of my Pardes summer experience is in returning to my life in the US. This experience was so profound and I have returned with not only a more developed understanding of Jewish Studies and Education but a closeness to community, social values and “ahavah”: Love.
My goal this past summer of learning at Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies was to acquire a deeper understanding of the traditions, values and of Jewish communities. I wanted to learn the ways one can provide visibility to these communities and maintain the traditions alive.
The most monumental achievement I participated in however, was the trip to Old City and My personal davening time at the Kotel. Wow… is all I can say for this experience.
Having done all this studying at Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies I wanted to feel more about the sense of involvement or uninvolvement to natural situations in a Jewish State (Israel), and I more than met my original goals. I not only learned the ins and outs of beginners Gemara, Mishna and Talmud, but received more education on Jewish Philosophy, Maimonides and Rabbi Soloveitchik which I received first-hand knowledge or learning experience being taught by some of the top scholars and instructors in Israel.
I have said it before and I will say it again, Pardes summer program is an essential piece of Jewish education and helping to ensure we remain Jewish.
At Pardes I saw the friendships and fun in meeting people from around the world. I engaged in creative evening programming that was happening in a thoughtful and intentional Jewish environment.
More than ever, I know that Pardes Summer Program is an essential piece of the Jewish puzzle. I know of no better way to engage in a Jewish environment with my peers and non-Jews yet have them love Judaism and being Jewish.
If you are concerned about the future of Judaism, connect with Pardes Summer Program or Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies and help support it, it is an investment in the future. I hope I see you next summer at Pardes 2016!

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First Love

Posted on October 31, 2015 by Michal Kohane מיכל כהנא

The Torah reading for this week is packed with famous stories. Abraham and Sarah and their generous hospitality; the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah; the birth if Isaac, the expulsion of Yishma’el; the binding of Isaac. And somewhere near the end, we are introduced to a most important word for the very first time. That word is love.
Until now, we did almost everything: the world was created; we lived in the Garden of Eden and we were kicked out of the Garden of Eden; we saved our family and many animals; we developed languages and tools and farming and music; we traveled back and forth; we had children and children and children. But – no love.
Love appears in one of the most horrific stories of the Bible. I say “one of” and not “the most” because though the beginning is bad, the ending is good. Which is not what I can say about many other stories that start lovely and end terribly. But is hopefully what I can say about love.
That word, “love” appears first when G-d instructs Abraham to take Isaac and bring him up as an offering: “Take your son, your only one, whom you love, Isaac, and… offer him up as an offering on one of the mountains that I will tell you… (Genesis 22:2). And my question is, what is the added value in saying here “whom you love”? G-d could have just said, ‘take Isaac’!
The midrash (ancient commentary) points to the build up in the verse: “take your son” – Abraham might say, which one? I have two! “your only son” – but each one is the only one from his mother, “whom you love” – but I love both of them! Then G-d names him: Isaac. Boom. Now he knows.
Maybe.
Maybe, because there are many ways to identify a child, and I want to know, what is love doing here; what is love to Abraham; how did he know what the word means.
I’ll back up for a moment:
Abraham is the one who follows G-d to a land he knows not. He’s the guy who steps outside his tent for a one on one casual, theological bargain with G-d. And G-d listens. G-d is also the one who interferes in Abraham’s marital relationship, siding with Sarah, not with Abraham, “his favorite” and trusted servant; and He is the one who tells him to send Yishma’el away, which we can explain in many ways but must have been very painful for Abraham.
And after all this, the word love appears. As if Abraham already knows it. How would he??
I would like to suggest that Abraham learns about love from G-d. Because love is the closest thing to G-d on this earth. Whether towards children, parents or one’s partner, it is what stretches us beyond our limits, beyond anything we’ve ever imagined. When we’ve “offered up” everything, it will ask for one more “little something”. It will take something – and someone – that makes sense, and turn them all completely upside down, down to destruction. Then it will take a gloomy day, and make it sunny and bright and most beautiful ever. In short, it will make sure that when we think we know how it all works here, we’ll be reminded, we don’t know everything. It will force us to stay open to the unexpected and unknown. In short, it will put us face to face with what’s beyond us, with what is Godly in the world.
After the binding, Sarah dies and G-d never speaks to Abraham again. Abraham still lives a long life, has more children and much wealth but the rest doesn’t matter anymore and much of it not noted. Some will say, he past all tests. Others will say he failed. Today I think, he learned what love is. That is what life is all about.

Shabbat Shalom.

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That Too –

Posted on October 24, 2015 by Michal Kohane מיכל כהנא

On a bus the other day in Israel. The usual crowd. The usual route. Then someone notices something suspicious. “An Arab!”, he yells out “Get the police!” The dark skinned young man looks around and realizes he’s the one. He pulls out his Israeli I.D. And his I.D.F. I.D. A policeman and woman arrive on the scene. They do their routine search. She smiles reassuringly at the passengers. He talks with the guy. The young man is calm. Everyone cooperates. Everything checks out. The uniforms get off the bus and ride resumes. The guy takes out his phone. He calls his mom and cries.

* * * * * * *

Abraham is NOT the first monotheist. And not the only one. When G-d’s booming voice echoes in the Garden, Adam never says, ‘I wonder who’s calling me now’. Noah doesn’t say, ‘The Lord who? I’m going to get myself another bid on this construction project’. So what is it about Abraham?
If you pose the question to young children, they tell you, it’s because he smashed his father’s idols. And because he saw the sun and the moon and realized there’s a greater power out there.
But these are stories, midrash. What we know from the text itself is that G-d told Abraham to go. And he does. What happened before that? Did He ask others? What did they say?
Noah had some details, what to build, what’s going to happen, how he and his family are going to be safe. Abraham, at this point, gets very little of it. Things will be ok. You will be a blessing. The rest, you and I will have to work out along the way.
So maybe that’s what it is. No big words, no assurance, but a great journey, and a meaningful relationship and a hope.

There is a rabbinic teaching that Abraham had 10 tests, and that once he passed all these tests, G-d doesn’t talk to him anymore. There are arguments how to count the 10, which event in Abraham’s life is in and which is out. But I’d like to suggest another read, and accordingly, G-d never talks to Abraham without Sarah.
Abraham and Sarah begin their joint journey in last week’s Torah portion. And after she dies, G-d does not speak to Abraham ever again. Throughout their life they act sort of like an antenna and a radio. The radio might make all the noise, but it is useless without the antenna. This is expressed in their name change: “You will not be called Abram but Abraham… And Sarai too, will now be called Sarah” (genesis 17:5-16). Some say, Sarai’s last letter, the tiny yud which in numerical value is 10, gets divided equally between the two of them, in 2 heys, one in each of their names. Unlike other name changes, they each get a silent letter, a breath of air, G-d’s presence in their midst.

Shabbat Shalom.

 

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Noah, his wife and some

Posted on October 17, 2015 by Michal Kohane מיכל כהנא

Noah’s wife. Perhaps the most unsung hero of the Bible. “Hi Honey, how’s your day? I just got great news! you and me with our three lovely children and daughters in law, are going on a dream cruise! I’m just going to take the next 120 years to build this “thing”, which looks like a box the size of a football field with no windows, and bring 2 of every animal – at least – into it, and then, any minute, we’ll be on our way…”
How was dinner at their home on, let’s say, Sunday night, week 18, year 29 into the project? She packs him some snacks as he heads out the door to look for a rare something or another… “text me when you get there!”, she can’t say, “I did see in the news that stormy weather is expected in only 90 years, and by the way, don’t worry about me, the children, the house, the neighbors or anything else I wanted to talk with you about…”
Her name is not known and the word for love has not appeared in the Bible and yet, Noah’s wife has to be one of the most loving people ever.

*******

Parashat Noah must also be the saddest Torah portion for the animals: In the Garden of Eden everybody was a vegan and now, humanity is officially starting to eat meat. Of course, there is a practical reason to doing so, for nothing will growing on the ground when they exit the ark, but then the habit – lingers, and the compromise gets established as a way of life. Rav Kook and others (including my daughters) speak in length about this: there can’t be peace in the world as long as creatures eat each other. While we too work with our compromises, let’s remember the ideal.

*******

I must be spending quite a bit of time in kita alef (1st grade) because slowly the whole world starts looking like their playground: it’s always someone else’s fault when someone is crying. Us teachers watch the constant “he did it”, “she did it”, as so often the same kids, in a variation on same situation, over and over again, as if trying to resolve something very deep within them – but doing so with another. We try to teach them to stop and say please and thank you and let’s share and please and thank you and let’s play nicely and please and thank you…. I wish we could go into the sandbox of the world and suggest a little nicer play there too.

*******

Trader Joe’s a few minutes before Shabbat at the end of a long week and long day. The cashier says, “oh, looks like your bag is broken; here, take one, it’s free (Alameda county charges 10 cents per bag now), I’ll double bag it for you, and I hope the rest of your day and your weekend is better”. I almost start crying. There is nothing like a small act of kindness, one human seeing another and offering a hand, for seemingly absolutely no reason at all.

Shabbat Shalom.

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Few Thoughts for Rosh Hashana

Posted on September 13, 2015 by Michal Kohane מיכל כהנא

I spend Shabbat rummaging through a box of old letters from the mid-late 1980’s to mid 1990’s, real letters, thin paper, bluish aerograms, (a word that Microsoft Word doesn’t even know), glorious postcards from around the globe, colorful cards, beautiful stamps. There must be hundreds of writings between my mom and me; thoughtful words from my brother on official office paper; best wishes for a holiday, a birthday, a simcha (happy occasion) from my aunts, uncles, the kids’ grandparents, cousins; drawings from my nephews; fuzzy photos that didn’t get a second, third and hundreds’ take; dear friends from Israel who didn’t give up on me in spite of the distance and any choices I’ve made; people I’ve met around the world; someone who just drove by, just visited, and still, reaches out  to say hello.
There’s more than two decades between me and these letters. Many of the writers are no longer alive. I recognize the handwriting as soon as I see it. I know what’s inside. They are all various degrees of love letters, letters with so much love in them, if only for the effort that went into getting the card, sitting down to write, going to the post office to stand in line, mailing it, then waiting for a reply….
I think about them today, erev Rosh Hashana, as my inbox floods with brief wishes where I am one of tens and hundreds of “recipients” all carefully hidden in the “bcc”. And don’t get me wrong: I too will post something, semi-generic – at best, on facebook. Sure, I really do want to wish each of my 600+ “contacts” a heartfelt Shana Tova.
And yet.
It makes me wonder about what happened to time and friendship. I’m thinking, maybe in honor of this New Year, I should go get myself a book of stamps.
* * * * * * *
Friday was 9/11. Like with other tragedies, the horrific events of the day also opened a window to a world of good. Rosh Hashana is considered the birthday of the world, and so I hope this story is extra appropriate. It’s long enough so needs no additional introduction. Just this: it’s worth the read, and there are lots of meals. If not now, maybe print and share later.
* * * * * * *
Parashat Nitzavaim which is always read on the Shabbat before Rosh Hashana, includes so many beautiful teachings. The whole idea of “nitzav” (translated standing, but really means being attentive and ready to do something useful; used elsewhere for the pillars of the Tabernacle and G-d Himself); the idea of our ability to choose between good and bad; the idea of “teshuva” (literally, coming back or finding an answer), the push to use our time, and the idea of “lo bashamayim” – it is not in the heavens, but close to our hearts to know what is right to do. I especially like 29:27 (Deuteronomy, that is): “the hidden (things) are to our G-d and the revealed to us and our children to do the words of this Torah”. And the question is, where is the comma??? Is it before “and the revealed” or after?? Worse yet, the Torah trope, which suppose to help us know how to break a sentence, leaves “the revealed” hanging with an unattached marking, as if, well, you know, it can go either way. At first I think, hey, I want an answer! And then I think, yeh… maybe that is exactly how it is. The hidden are things are obviously hidden, but even the revealed. There are days we have an illusion that we know what’s going on, but then, there is so much mystery in the world. I have to remind myself not be so haughty to think that even what seems obvious, is really known.
* * * * * * *
My students and I talk about tefilla (prayer) before the High Holidays. Services are so long! Why??!… tefilla is so hard!! And yet, it’s the easiest thing in the world. The book is there to help you, not for you to help it. Don’t worry about long paragraphs and incomprehensible words in a foreign language. Just sit for a moment and let the whole thing wrap you. The melodies have the power to sink into the soul like water into end of summer parched, cracked soil.

Shana Tova u’Metuka!

 

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Alef and new beginnings

Posted on August 29, 2015 by Michal Kohane מיכל כהנא

The first graders end the first week of school with a circle of the floor. I ask them to think of something they are thankful for, before leaving for Shabbat. Some are thankful or P.S., some for math. Some are thankful for “surviving” and even enjoying this first week of schooling. I can hardly begin to tell them all the things on my mind, and stay with being their teacher, which includes jumping rope with them at recess. JUst when I think we’re done, one who has been thinking for a few moments says in a triumphant voice, Hebrew! That’s it, I can go home now.

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Alef is all we do. We’re in Kita Alef (1st grade), and it’s our first letter. We write it, read it, cut it, paste it, draw it, paint it, sing it, march it, whisper it, almost yell it. By the end of the week, surely we know it. But Alef must be the most mysterious of the Hebrew letters. Try to pronounce it without vowels. It has no sound. The first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, the letters that according to our tradition G-d created the world with, is silent. Maybe even the alphabet is humbled. After all, how much can you say with words.

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Alef is also the first letter in the name of this month -Elul. Until the Babylonian exile the Hebrew months were counted numerically, first second etc. The months’ names came later, accordingly, Elul is from the Akkadian word for “harvest”. But tradition has it that it’s an acronym for “ani ledodi vedodi li”, meaning – I am to my beloved and my beloved is to me, symbolic of the upcoming High Holy Days, and yearning for tshuva, “return”, finding an “answer”, coming home.

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This Torah portion is loaded with do’s and don’ts. One of them is “hashavat aveida“, returning a lost object, and there are many beautiful commentaries and stories associated with it. Rav Hirsch adds and says that this mitzvah is “naturally” connected to the previous one, which is attending to the burial of the dead, for “a corpse is nothing but an aveida (lost property), the person’s fallen-off physical frame”.

The sun is setting and my thoughts are still incomplete, but I’m wondering if and what is the connection between this “hashava” – returning of lost objects and “tshuva“, our return to the right place for us. Maybe G-d models this “hashavat aveida” by bringing us back when we lose our right path for a new beginning.

Shabbat Shalom

 

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On Seeing, Flow and More

Posted on August 14, 2015 by Michal Kohane מיכל כהנא

We open our eyes each morning, and see.
But then, if it was so simple, there would be no need to actually command us to do so.
Re’e, see, says the Torah in its first word of this week’s section (and the word has its own, stand-alone trope!). Stop, for G-d’s sake, and actually notice what’s in front of you!
Today. Each day.
There’s “blessing”, and there’s “no blessing”.
And that’s it.
There’s nothing in between. There’s nothing that 50-50, and everything else is by default, one or the other.
Wow.
There is a midrash based on the space between the verse, “and Abraham lifted his eyes and saw that place”, and the next verse, when he instructs the lads with him to stay with the donkey (Genesis 22:4-5). What happened that’s missing from the text? Supposedly, Abraham saw G-d’s presence on the mountain. He checked in with Isaac, who told him he too saw the same thing. Then he asked the lads accompanying them who said they saw nothing. He then told them to stay with “donkey”. The word for donkey in Hebrew, chamor, comes from the same root as chomer, materialism. Real seeing is therefore much deeper than just noticing “stuff” around us as is.
And what are “blessing” and “curse” (in the singular)?
We can look at the root for bracha (blessing) & klala (curse), respectfully. Rav Hirsch connects the b.r.ch root to p.r.ch and p.r.k. Without getting overly technical, a number of the Hebrew words starting with p.r. have to do with things coming apart. The b.r. have a similar connection but with a motion forward, a flow. Thus we find bara, create; barak, a flash or lightening; berech, the knee joint; and brecha, a pool of water, all related.
Bracha, says Hirsch, is “a condition of unarrested development, of progressive prosperity”. This is what psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi in his 1990 book describes as Flow, the optimal experience.
What would be its opposite? The Hebrew for klala is related to kilkel, to spoil or ruin something, and klokel (spoiled, but also empty). We can learn about this from another “opposite”: kavod, honor, comes from the same root as weight, heavy. For things to matter, they have to have presence and take some space. So the opposite to blessing is not only stagnation, which maybe still implies a struggle to move ahead, but more like apathy, emptiness. The worst thing is to be nothing while the ultimate happiness, “blessing”, is to be part of Flow.
And one more word: the word following the opening re’e, see, is anochi, a fancy way to say “I” (like in the Ten Commandments). Originally intended for G-d, some commentators stretch to suggest that the seeing depends on the “I”, like when holding our hand, or a coin, in front of our eyes, and a small object can cover the whole view. What’s between us and that which we see? The Torah is big on choice: we can choose, today, every day, who we are, how we see things and what’s in our life.
Shabbat Shalom.

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