Category Archives: religion

Sunday night dinner chez nous

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Further reinforcing my hypothesis that older people progressively allocate more time to traveling and invariably arrive early, our fathers came for 6pm dinner at 4:30pm, which coincides with the time-honored “early bird” hour.  Which makes one wonder whether restaurateurs named, rather than caused, the phenomenon.

I don’t know about other Jewish families, but the first dinner after the Yom Kippur holy day involves comparing Yiskor books (books of remembrance for those who have died) and book plate honors (having someone’s name put in a prayerbook) from the various synagogues to which various members attend.  It is a morbid combination of “Bingo”, “Wheel of [Mis]Fortune” and “Celebrity Match-ups”.  I like to think of it as “Did You Remember to Name that Dead Person?”

My dad was upset that he forgot to list POB’s (partner of blogger’s) mom (z”l).  I said, “Don’t worry.  You’ll remember next year, Dad.  We had her covered.”

I mentioned that we also covered several uncles and cousins and he mentioned a few we forgot and also the grandparents.  Oooooh.  Darn!!!  Missed that!  Harumph. We need to have a huge list for next year, even if the dollars pile up (wait, you thought it was free?).

But we had a book plate put in a prayerbook for Dad’s 90th birthday.  SCORE!!!  (POB is sooooo awesome.)

POB’s father and our son were watching the football games.  The other Jews shrugged and then started to talk about concussions and debilitating diseases, as a way of showing interest in the football game.

Then SOB (sister of blogger) wanted to take out the old family pictures so we can mount them on poster board for my Dad’s birthday party.  We all got a little teary-eyed about how young and vibrant everyone looked and how most are now gone.

So, to recap:  we have talked about death, destruction and death again.  Just what Jews need to work up an appetite.

POB made a delicious dinner, over which we discussed the importance of building that Islamic Cultural Center right where they planned it and argued about the meaning of life, chaos theory and the mysteries of the universe.  It got rather heated when we were contrasting a Jewish, G-d-centric approach that assumes that actions have meaning and can cause change versus the view that most of what we do doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.  I ventured that, while I am not so sure that I believe the former, if I in fact believed the latter, then what’s the point and POB should just get my life insurance.  At that point, POB’s father then asked, “how much?” in a very oddly interested tone.  My brother-in-law (the bird nerd from other entries), quietly advised me not to go anywhere alone with my father-in-law.  All this while I was choking over the salad course.

Dessert brought calm to the table as we talked about the Million Moderate March on October 30th and exhorted our TV-challenged relatives to tune into Jon Stewart on the web.  (I could not speak to Stephen Colbert, because I remember him when he was really a right wing-nut at Dartmouth.)

So, death, destruction, death, religion & chaos, politics and comedy.  Another excellent family dinner with the extended family.

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This Atonement Day and Beyond

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Yom Kippur started Friday at sundown.  We have our services at the Jacob Javits Convention Center.  It is a free service — no one is turned away.  Keeping an open door policy is part of who were are as a community because the synagogue was started nearly 40 years ago by gay Jews who were not welcomed anywhere as gays, as Jews or as gay Jews.  Now our synagogue welcomes people of all sexual orientation (including straight) and all gender orientations (I only know the two main ones, but I am told that there are as many points on that spectrum as, let’s say, colors in the rainbow).  Almost 4,000 people attended Kol Nidre on Friday night.

The senior rabbi is a woman in her late forties but she looks like a pre-pubescent, book-ish boy.  She is a thoughtful and insightful speaker.  And, she does have moments of levity, as when she announced that she would like to be known now as “Lady Syna-Gaga“.  Ok, there is a reason why our synagogue can never really go mainstream.

We ended around 10pm last night and started up again this morning.

This morning, we all went to the children’s service which had a fair amount of substance.  The rabbis talked about seeking forgiveness, saying, “I’m sorry,” etc., and otherwise tried to distill the elements of the Holy Day without dumbing it down too much.

Then we came home and I fixed our son a sandwich for lunch.  He is 8 years old, so he does not fast but we do put techno-toys away for the day.

I was about to sit down at the table to keep him company while he ate, but he said, “E-Mom, I would like to eat alone so I can think about all of the things I need to say sorry for and all the things I need to do better.”

Ok, my son is wonderful and all, but this is out of hand.  Reflexively, I asked, “Really?”

Right after blurting that out, I thought “I need work on not being so cynical and more trusting of my son’s motives, because we were at this substantive kids’ service and maybe something spoke to him —-”

My thoughts were interrupted by my son — ever the honest little boy, “Nah, I just want to play with the iTouch and I didn’t want you to see.”

At least he is honest.

We returned to synagogue for the late afternoon service through to the end of Ne’ila, the last service of Yom Kippur.  After services were over, as we poured into the street to find our ways home, two attendees who were, just minutes before, wrapped in prayer shawls, stole cabs from us. I started screaming at one in the cab that was then stopped for the light, “Yom Kippur is just over and this, this, is how you act?”

Then, I realized that my son was watching me and I thought to myself, “Yom Kippur is just over and this, this, is how you act?”  So, I stopped.

We hailed another cab and we went home, a tired but happy family.

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The Children’s Hour

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Every year, before and during Yom Kippur, I wonder if I will forgive G-d.  Then, I wonder if I believe in G-d.  (Ok, the order makes no sense.)

I wonder whether either or both statements are blasphemy, although the rabbi of my synagogue believes that G-d accepts non-believers.  Ok, so I may be in trouble for the first statement.  (Big trouble.)

And even if anyone (other than me) would venture that I had the right to stand in judgment, one has to tread lightly with the One who created Heaven and Earth, etc., because, well, power is as power does.  (If I were to make these statements in my sister’s presence, she would step away from me in anticipation of a lightening bolt striking.  It has gotten so routine that, with an almost imperceptible nod to her, she knows to move for safety and brace herself for the heresy that will follow.)

(As an aside, I wonder why G-d or anyone else would want to hear from me if I don’t have caffeine in my bloodstream and my teeth brushed.  Also, Yom Kippur is the one day each year when you have a guaranteed, no cancel-at-the-last moment date with G-d.  What’s wrong with a little lipstick?)

I recognize that humans created most, if not all, of the problems that are endangering our planet. But G-d let evil and injustice in the world, assuming one accepts the existence of G-d.  (You can see that I am having trouble both believing and not believing.)

Ok, so where are the miracles?  Where is the redemption?

Children.  They are the miracles and they are humanity’s redemption.  (Let me say that I feel this mostly when I am cuddling with my child or checking in on him after he is asleep.  Some of the time I think the devil lives in our house and he is our son, as evidenced by unseemly tantrums.)

Children.  They have wonder in their eyes.  Their emotions are real.  They play with any kid who is around, without regard to differences that parents point out.  They embody the best of humanity, until we ruin them.  They also embody the frustration and angst that we all feel, except they do it in tantrums in shopping malls or in front of our in-laws.  But, compare their tantrums to those adults in politics these days and you’ll find that they are more becoming on a 5 year-old than a 50+ year-old.

Children.  My mother (z”l) and my father always worried about what we were teaching “our” children.  They always looked to the children as a measure of society’s successes and failures.

Children.  Jews only believe in original guilt, not sin, so we are responsible for how our children treat Earth and each other.  In these times, when I feel a little lost and a lot hopeless about our country, our world, our common humanity, I look to the children.  My child, your child, our children.  They can change the world and we have to do our part.

G-d bless the children.

G-d, (assuming you are there), are you listening?  If so, tap me on the shoulder and freak me out.

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What is France thinking?

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Never known for its warm and welcoming manner, France has outdone itself.

First, it has deported Gypsies, an act condemned by the European Union.  But no sanctions were levied.

Now the legislature has banned burqas — the Muslim full-on veil.  Maybe people — me included — think that it is a little imprisoning to be totally covered at all times.  But the government of a politically democratic (and culturally snobby) country outlawing an outward sign of piety?  What if France wanted to outlaw the kipah (the beanie worn by religious Jewish men and cardinals and popes) or the sheitl (wig worn by religious Jewish women), would there be an outcry??  I think the answer is clearly yes.

Deportations . . . singling out customs of a religious minority . . . hmmm. . . . Is it Germany 1933?  Sad, but true, it is France 2010.

And don’t think this is an aberration.  Belgium and Spain are considering a burqa ban, too.

Lest we forget . . .

First, they came for the Jews.  But I was not a Jew, so I did not speak up.
 Then they came for the communists.  But I was not a communist, so I did not speak up.
Then they came for the trade unionists.  But I was not a trade unionist, so I did not speak up.
And when they came for me, there was no one left to speak out for me.

(Attributed to Pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984))

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Back to School — FINALLY

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So we have been torturing our son with our rendition of the parents’ back-to-school jig made famous on last year’s Staples commercials.  Our son is alternatively amused, and a bit peeved, at his parents’ dancing around like we’ve won the lottery.

After much lobbying, we agreed reluctantly to buy our son Lunchables for the first day of school only.  Lunchables is some chemical and saline combo-fest that passes as food per the FDA.  There is a special place in hell for parents who feed Lunchables to their kids.  Of course, the mushballs that we are, we also ate dinner out and let our son have french fries since it was — after all — the night before school FINALLY starts.  He did have a grass-fed beef burger at least.  POB (partner of blogger) swears we are just going to put a salt lick in our son’s room to satisfy his salt lust; we are not sure how to deal with the grease lust.  Seriously, he would give us up in a New York minute if someone guaranteed him french fries every day for life.  No contest.

It is the middle of September and he is just now going back to school.  Now I understand it when my parents used to say — sarcastically, I assure you — that they paid private school tuition so we could have more vacation than at public school.  In 1971, when SOB (sister of blogger) started at a private school in Manhattan (where nearly all the students were Jewish), my dad had to go to school and speak to the headmaster to make sure that a teacher had to postpone a test scheduled for Yom Kippur.  Even in 1981 at our little private school, Jewish students were excused from class on the High Holy Days but school was open.  Now, schools in Manhattan give off the major Jewish holidays, as a matter of course.  A lot has happened in 30 years.  Maybe next year, the kids will have off for the festival end of Ramadan.  It is only fair.

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Happy Birthday Humanity

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Tonight is the beginning of Rosh Ha-Shanah, the Jewish New Year.

According to “the rabbis” (which makes me think that you can say whatever you want as long as you preface it with, “according to the rabbis”), it is the birthday of the world.  The world took 6 days (or 30 billion years, whatever) to be created, so which day is the birthday of the world?

According to our rabbi, who said, “according to the rabbis” (so we know she could have been making this up), we celebrate the day on which humankind was created, which is the 6th day (or, if you are thinking the evolution of homo sapien sapiens, 30,000 or so years ago).

The rabbi’s point (among many in her drash) is that we are not celebrating anything particularly Jewish.  We are celebrating all humankind.  As we are getting increasingly (and depressingly) politically polarized and religiously sectarian the world over, the invitation to step outside of these paradigms and celebrate the whole wide world is exhilarating.

Adam and Eve (or Joe and Jane Homo Sapien Sapien) were not Jews, Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, Sikhs, Jainist or anything.  They were humans.

As the rabbi went on in her drash about the importance of supporting the Islamic cultural center in lower Manhattan, she invited people to voice their issues with it.  There were those in the congregation (happily, just a few vocal ones) that couldn’t step back from the polarization.

As Jews with non-mainstream sexual orientations and gender identities (I am a little too middle-aged to understand all the complexities here), I couldn’t imagine that anyone in the congregation would not see the opposition to the cultural center as fear-mongering and scapegoating.  But there it was.  Complacency and fear are the enemies of the ideals that make America great.  And they make Jews forget that “we were strangers in the land of Egypt” and enslaved.  This sad devolution of the American Jewish experience fell starkly against the backdrop of Jews marking the birth of humankind.

I must admit that I started the evening and this holiday “just going through the motions,” with my head still in a deal at the office.   But this concept hit me in a way that unexpectedly woke up my emotional need to “connect” (to what, I am not yet sure).

So, even though it is a Jewish Holy Day, I am celebrating everyone, everywhere (ok, I draw a personal line at the extremists of any faith or philosophy, into which categories I include the left wingnuts of the Democratic Party).

That is a good feeling.

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Burning the Quran is bad for all of us

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General Petraeus commented that burning the Quran is dangerous for US troops. (See below.)

It is dangerous for all of us.

The Nazis burned books. The Communists burned books. The McCarthy-ites burned books.

Is this really what America stands for?

And just a little side note:  and these Quran burners call themselve the DOVE WORLD OUTREACH CENTER?  Really?  Really?

P.S.:  ONLY C-SPAN and CNN carried live the interfaith press conference denouncing the burning of the Quran. Fox News Channel had no coverage and MSNBC did not carry live coverage.  WHAT DOES THAT SAY???

****************************************************************************************************
By KIMBERLY DOZIER, Associated Press Writer Kimberly Dozier, Associated Press Writer Sept. 7, 2010

[Truncated; excerpt only]

KABUL, Afghanistan – The top U.S. and NATO commander warned Tuesday an American church’s threat to burn copies of the Muslim holy book could endanger U.S. troops in the country and Americans worldwide.

Meanwhile, NATO reported the death of an American service member in an insurgent attack in southern Afghanistan on Tuesday.

The comments from Gen. David Petraeus followed a protest Monday by hundreds of Afghans over the plans by Gainesville, Florida-based Dove World Outreach Center — a small, evangelical Christian church that espouses anti-Islam philosophy — to burn copies of the Quran on church grounds to mark the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks on the United States that provoked the Afghan war.

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Square Peg; Oval Office

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I listened to President’s Obama’s speech.  I did not listen to the pundits.  But let me make some educated guesses:

If you are a GOP candidate or in the GOP leadership, you thought (i) he was short on specifics for economic recovery, (ii) he should have come out in favor of tax cuts, and (iii) he failed to vindicate the success of the surge in Iraq for enabling him to fulfill a campaign promise of ending the combat mission in 18 months.

If you are Keith Olbermann (and sometimes Frank Rich), you wonder why he didn’t renounce war all together, and how he could possibly mention George W. Bush and patriotism in the same sentence.

If you are Maureen Dowd, you wonder what happened to his passion and why, even though we elected Mr. Spock, he didn’t somehow morph into Dr. Spock.

If you are Chris Matthews, you are joking about how his eyes fluttered from time to time because you really can’t cope with your rock star hero’s having to represent the establishment he ran against.

I will go out on a limb here and have an opinion:  I liked his speech.  I thought he spoke movingly of the sacrifices of our troops.  He heard our fears about our economy and tried to be reassuring — as reassuring as one can be in the twenty minutes of prime time allotted.  He danced around the backlash against Muslims and building of mosques and community centers.  That was disappointing, but “politic”.

So, if you are the opposition, you hated it.  If you are among the democrats who wanted public health care and war crimes tribunals for Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld (I don’t disagree) you are frustrated to the point of distraction.  If you just want the President to do his job and you appreciate even a little what an impossible job it is, you thought he did fine and just want him to keep trying.

So, how did I do?  If I hit 75% accuracy, I will have saved two hours of my life by not watching talking heads or reading pout-y Op-Eds.  How liberating.

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Wednesday Date Night with Friends

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I arrive early.  A possible stolen moment of mindfulness and relaxation out of a harried day.  But this is New York City, where quiet was expunged from the lexicon long ago.  And I am a consummate New Yorker so I must email something to somebody.  And so I did, to POB (partner of blogger) and FOPOBAB (friends of POB and Blogger) who were joining us for dinner.  Witness my descent into madness.

—– Original Message —–
Sent: Wed Jul 28 18:00:35 2010 [I am 14 minutes 25 seconds early, standing outside a pulsating restaurant]

A hopping place we picked. Such an active bar scene that if you were here early I wouldn’t be able to tell. I am sweltering outside listening to Dancing Queen (they pipe out the music for the pleasure of the passersby). I am trying not to sing along.  I wish there were drag queens around to dance with. My inner 20-something

Sent: Wed Jul 28 18:03:45 2010 [3 minutes and 10 seconds later]

Cabs are so plentiful I want to hail ALL of them.

Sent: Wed Jul 28 18:08:58 2010 [5 minutes 13 seconds later]

Men’s fashion is getting pushed to the limit. It is only ok if [husband of FOPOBOB, who always looks fabulous] would wear it. That is my litmus test.

Can you tell I am overwhelmed by the bar scene raging inside. Ok, a couple with a two year old are considering coming into the restaurant. Mean, evil parents. Toooo much. I am going to try to take a picture surreptitiously. [Unfortunately, I was unable to get my blackberry camera in focus quickly enough]

Sent: Wednesday, July 28, 2010 7:10 PM [one minute two seconds later]

I am going inside. I am brave.

No one would seat me even though we had a reservation.  We ALL had to be there.  I had visions of being in a suburban steak house located in a mall where they say, “Ma’am, if you have a seat after your party has arrived, we will call you.”  And then you wait to hear, “Blogger, party of four!! Blogger, party of four!!”  Ok, I CAAAAN’T GO THERE.

We all arrive and sit down and everybody is chatting and happy to see each other.  I turn to the wife of FOPOBAB and ask, steeling myself for the answer, “how is your sister?”  [note: her sister had cancer].  I knew it was gutsy. 

Although time seems to evaporate when we all get together, it has been quite a few months and ANYTHING can, and does, happen.  I see the look on her face. 

Pause.  Pause.  Momentary out-of-body-experience.  Back in my body and wishing it lacked a mouth.

“She died.” 

[Why do I forget that I have a big S on my forehead for SCHMUCK?]

“We’ve seen you since then but we were with the kids, and I couldn’t go there.”

“Some hors d’oeuvres?” I say.  NO, NOT REALLY.   She tells me a hilarious story that happened as her sister literally lay dying that involved a nun.  There is humor in these moments.  I remember with my mother.  And if you been there, you can very comfortably listen and laugh along.  Because those stories help those still alive cope.

Meanwhile, POB and husband of FOPOBAB are talking about something else.  There is a break in the conversations.  I decided to catch up the others on our conversation. 

I turned to POB and said, “So, I asked about [wife of FOPOBAB]’s sister and she is dead.  But still we both have our appetites.  And, as you know, I have schmuck written on my forehead.”

Silence.

I turn to my friend and say, “in the future, just text us “worry” or “cry” and you fill us in on the details later.  Ok?”

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Hot Town, Summer in the City

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On Sunday, I went for a run along the Hudson River.  The City has constructed a bike/walk/run path all along the River.  It is really terrific.

Sunday was hot, hot, HOT in the City.  So, City dwellers actually had a fair reason to be scantily-clad (as opposed to other days when there is no good reason to flash so much flesh).  And runners were especially scantily clad.

I, on the other hand, wore knee-length, tight-fitting shorts under the usual running shorts.  If my legs didn’t do a jello impression when I ran, I would have just used the short running shorts.  But I am 46 and, at a certain age, more clothes are way more attractive.  So, athletic gear goes into my “more is better” category. Compared to others, I was dressed like a nun.

I am not a runner for the sake of running.  I run so that I can fit into my clothes.  I run outside sometimes so that my skin doesn’t have that pallor sported by Woody Allen.  Clearly, I will take any opportunity to stop.  By the time ran to the 79th Street Boat Basin, I was tired, bored of running, and wondering about do-it-yourself liposuction with a vacuum.  So, I stopped. Running that is.  I didn’t stop thinking about the DIY liposuction.

While I was heaving and coughing and making a mental note to Google liposuction, I noted two couples walking along the water.  The women had on hose and skirts and little jackets and the men were in ties and pin-stripe suits.  This was not the orthodox Jewish look and even orthodox Jews try to look a little casual on Sundays (as if just wearing a baseball cap will make a person forget the long beard, black coat, long hair locks and prayer garment fringes).

These were not the usual Sunday Church-goers.  The pin-stripes and the pantyhose indicated they were a special type of Church-goers. Of course, I had to investigate further and walked over to them as they looked out onto the Hudson River.  As a cover, I coughed and heaved a little more.

Before they moved away from me because I sounded like I had a dread disease AND I was sweating profusely, I saw that they had name tags (so convenient for me).  These were the kind that a hotel concierge has; ones that are used daily.  No throw-away types.  These people DO what their name tags say and what they do required TWO lines of print:

BELIEVERS IN THE

LORD JESUS CHRIST

Well, all right, then.  No other name necessary, I guess.  JC will cover it.

I walked away a little overwhelmed.  (And, wished I had a Dyke March t-shirt.)  Maybe I should have asked whether they were in town to catch some theater.  Maybe they were taking in a little theater while walking along the River.  Life IS a carnival.  And maybe they were someone else’s street theater, too.

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